#motor-cycle the series

[amitsingh223]

#Bavaria Motors #Bmw Price #Bmw Price In India #Bmw X7 Price In India #Bmw X1 Price In India #Bmw Bike Price #Bmw 320d Price In India #Bmw 5 Series Price In India #Bmw 3 Series Price In India #Bmw Cycle Price #Bmw Bike Price In Pune #Bmw Electric Car Price #Bmw Electric Car Price In India #Cheapest Bmw Electric Car #Bmw Bike Price In Aurangabad #Bavaria motors pune

[itsonlydana]

"passenger princess" | epilogue

the hobbit | a modern!AU by itsonlydana

❱ pairing: Thranduil x fem!reader

❱ wordcount: 4,8k

❱ summary: Dating Thranduil Oropherion and the PDA that comes with it

❱ warnings: none

❱ an: here we go, one last night in this story✨️ title once again taken from hoziers "abstract" // also: are any of you interested in a official hobbit/thranduil taglist?

general m.list + series m.list

🌿 reposts and comments are appreciated, they motivate me a lot - especially with longer projects <3

THE MOMENT I KNEW I'D NO CHOICE BUT TO LOVE YOU

The evening welcomed you with a chilly embrace and whispered breezes danced through the coat you clung to, drawing it closer as you emerged from the car.

Your head lifted, attention drawn to the imposing building before you. Unbeknownst to you, your jaw subtly fell, lips parting in a muted "Oh" that almost escaped notice, barely reaching your own ears.

"It's quite a sight, isn't it?" Next to you, Thranduil closed the door to the passenger seat of his car after he had helped you out.

He handed the keys and a few notes of cash to a young valet, whose eyes widened as if he were to drive the Batmobile. The boy rushed to the driver's side of the car, the keys turning on the ignition, and the motor purred smooth like a cat.

You barely noticed it, only felt the vibrations of the car starting. Your eyes were glued to the building in front of you. "It's beautiful," you whispered in awe.

The Imladris Opera House lit up the sky's deep and endless midnight blue.

A washed-out white stone façade rose high up in front of you, its architectural features of multicolored marble friezes, columns, and lavish statuary were illuminated by what must have been hundreds of hidden lights. On either side of the left and right avant-corps two gilded angel figures reached their hands towards the center of the building where a glass dome made the highest point of the palace.

Frozen on the spot, you could not take a step on your own until you felt the gentle push of Thranduil's hand on the small of your back. Looking away for just a second, you glanced at him, shot him a bright smile, and let him guide you towards the building.

The weeks had swiftly slipped away, and it hardly felt like an entire season had passed since that fateful night spent cuddled together.

Late summer had given way to autumn, a season dedicated to delving deeper into each other's lives. Evenings were spent on his couch, sipping wine and sharing every detail about the paths you had walked before finding each other. The world transformed into a canvas of colors, with flaming red and orange leaves falling during your walks, and the glow of candlelight casting a warm ambiance as you lost yourselves between the covers.

Your friendship with Legolas grew impossibly stronger, too, with entire weeks now spent at their house. Clad in long sweaters that grazed your knees, you chatted day and night, studied from breakfast to dinner, enjoyed late evening snacks, and repeated the cycle the next day.

Time blurred into a mosaic of tender touches, lingering kisses, and laughter beneath the sheets.

Before you knew it, Thranduil had once again invited you to the Opera, and once again, you had gladly accepted.

As you got closer, the building grew and grew until you had to let your head fall into your neck trying to explore the intricate details you could only see up close, like the elaborate roses carved into the marble columns.

Thranduil caught your wandering looks and his hand slipped from your back to intertwine his gloved fingers with yours as he leaned down a bit.

"It is said that the architect only accepted the project in exchange for the hand of the king's one and only daughter- who was promised to a prince at the time." – Thranduil's voice reached a dramatic cadence, purely for effect – "No one else dared to take on the tasks of building this Opera, the king had ludicrous ideas of combining multiple styles into one that no other architect thought themselves sane enough to try."

You leaned into his side, your hands brushing against the expensive fabric of his knee-long, black woolen coat. When he started talking, explaining the history of this marvelous building you were so close to entering, his voice fell into the passion that you so adored to watch.

No building, even one as breathtaking as the Imladris Opera House, could be more fascinating than watching Thranduil explain something to you that he cared deeply about.

In the golden tones of the cast iron streetlamps flickering their lights, Thranduil's eyes had taken on a fascinated glitter. It disappeared when he noticed you staring up at him, a quick shadow passing over his usually composed face. "Excuse my rambling," he said and you pouted in disagreement.

"Don't apologize," you shook your head, "you know that I enjoy listening to you" And with a quick movement, you rose to your tiptoes, sneaking a peck onto his from the winter air cold lips. In a low and hushed voice, you murmured: "Talk architectural to me" and felt the blood rush into your cheeks when his eyebrows rose on his forehead.

His eyes crinkled at that, the corner of his mouth twitching in that tell-tale smirk that he reserved for those innuendos that passed between you two, ever since the slip of your tongue on the night he invited you to the Opera in the first place.

He planted a gentle kiss on your temple, his lips pausing briefly before he spoke again. "Okay, then, but feel free to interrupt if I start to bore you."

You nodded with enthusiasm. "Absolutely, don't worry. Although everything you say is interesting to me, you know that."

"I'll hold you to that when you start grumbling about your university papers and ask me to help you understand them," he teased.

"Uhmm– that has nothing to do with you," you rolled your eyes, not intending to mock him but to emphasize the sheer annoyance coursing through you at the thought of your coursework. "It's just that my brain ceases to function if I have to read another dull statement from some politician who kicked the bucket centuries ago and contributed nothing positive to society."

Thranduil chuckled and gently lifted your hands, placing another kiss on your knuckles. "I adore it when you're resolute about highlighting all their wrongdoings instead of doing what's required of you," his lips brushed against your skin, setting ablaze the areas he touched. "My firecracker."

You grinned and gave a playful tug on his hand. "Come on, then, enlighten me with the story behind this building."

Thranduil then began fulfilling your ask and since you had a few moments before you had to enter, he pulled you along the walls.

Whenever he talked about some fascinating architectural features ("There are multiple styles but the ones standing out the most are these elements of the Renaissance, Baroque and Neoclassical"), his long fingers pointed towards them, using statues to explain his statements.

You walked along the front façade until you could peek around the corner and he showed you one of the two pavilions- the other one was on the right side of the building, another mathematical symmetric design choice ("Which points to the architect's inspiration by the renaissance").

After that, you turned around again to walk towards the main entrance, where, feeding into your nervousness, a larger crowd had formed a line. Thranduil's hand in yours gripped you tighter as you approached those fashionable men and women who, in your mind, must have seen right through the smile you now wore more so as a mask than out of pure joy.

Despite all the dates planned leading up to this, starting with coffee dates turning into evening dinner outings at restaurants that you felt comfortable with until you let Thranduil choose some that he wanted to take you, you felt like a fish out of water.

Yes, Legolas had helped you select clothes that fitted the occasion, ones you already had because Thranduil would disapprove of you buying an outfit that served as a costume rather than what you felt comfortable with, but right now, staring at the elegant hats and lavish dresses, nothing seemed like the right choice.

Thranduil must have noticed that you grew quieter, answering what became a monologue rather than dialogue, with nods and "Hmms". He didn't say anything out loud, nor did he stop talking, probably relying on the whispered reassurance that you had given him one evening when he had fallen into a monologue such as this one, raving on about a book he had read when you'd admitted how much it calmed you to hear him speak.

You let him tug you under his arm, resting your cheek against his side while you slowly shuffled forward in the line.

Coming closer to the double doors opened wide enough to let golden light fall out into the night and bathe those entering into its nearly godlike shimmer, the storm inside you ebbed into a breeze, scarcely shuffling through some thoughts that your mind couldn't let go just yet.

Considering what you have gone through, this date shouldn't scare you. This was Thranduil beside you, the man who held your heart carefully in the palm of his hand as much as his arm secured you right now, he would make sure that this night would play out like you wanted.

"When we enter you will see–"

You interrupted Thranduil with a gentle nudge of your head against his chest. The smile that now graced your mouth was soft and real again, something Thranduil immediately caught onto.

"Thank you," you said without further explanation; it wasn't needed.

"You are welcome, my dear," Thranduil leaned down again, hovering over your lips as his eyes took you in as if to make sure to imprint your smile into his memory, before closing the gap between you.

There was no hesitation in the way he kissed you, his lips parted as soon as you lifted your chin higher to meet him and a barely audible but deep and sensual hum spilled into your mouth. One of his gloved hands cupped your cheek to angle your head and his thump stroked over your jaw. It fell open with the slight pressure performed from the finger, inviting him in to deepen the kiss.

Only the clearing of a throat behind you reminded you that you were for one in public, close to making out like teenagers, and second standing in line.

While you pulled away from Thranduil, your head flushed beet red, and muttering: "Sorry, I'm so sorry, yes, sorry, we will move", Thranduil looked awfully pleased with himself as he lifted his hand to wipe away some lipstick that had stained the corner of his mouth.

He shot you a wink as your eyes flittered over the deliberately slow movement of his thumb and you rolled your eyes, cheeks flaming hot.

You rushed to close the gap that had formed while you and Thranduil had been all over each other, giving the woman and her grinning husband another apologetic nod and smile. You pulled on the red scarf that Thranduil wore around his neck.

"You're impossible," you murmured, casting him a scornful glance, then burying your face in a cold hand, "Oh God, how embarrassing"

Thranduil's chuckle at your attempt to hide your heated cheeks and probably reddened lips only showed you how little he regretted the kiss.

"Darling," he began, still grinning widely and clearly proud of his talent for unraveling you in public like that, "If it bothers you too much, I'll restrain myself. However," – he leaned in, whispering the next words in your ear – "look how everyone looks at us. They envy me for standing beside you, for not having the most exquisite person in one of their arms."

You raised your head just in time to see a young man a few meters in front of you hastily jerk away and, promptly, dropped his ticket. When he stood up again after fishing for the paper on the ground, he looked back at you, then at Thranduil and oh, there really was something like envy in his eyes.

And because Thranduil was Thranduil, a cocky asshole at times, he smiled at the boy while his arm dropped to your waist provocatively.

You only rolled your eyes, yet this public display of affection and possessiveness had your heart flutter in your chest.

Heart pounding through your rib cage, his large hand holding you to him, you muttered something through your teeth.

Thranduil raised one eyebrow interested. "Could you maybe repeat that, I did not understand what you said."

"I said," you took a deep breath, huffing out air that dissolved into a white cloud, "–that I do not mind the kisses."

A grin filled with satisfaction spread across Thranduil's face at that, dimples carved out into porcelain skin. The hand on your waist held on tighter and it took a simple tug of him for your body to turn into his again, a simple twitch of his lips for you to kiss him.

This time though, you made sure to have it last no longer than a quick peck as the line moved and just when you separated, the crowd in front of you cleared.

"Good evening, Mister Oropherion! I haven't seen you in a while," a young woman greeted Thranduil, and overcome with shock you stared at your partner.

"Good to see you again, Sigrid", Thranduil winked at you, mouthing a "Later" when he noticed your bewilderment. Delving into the depths of his black coat, he retrieved a golden card – the Opera's emblem gleaming in the lantern light – as Sigrid waved her hand.

"Ohh, you know I don't need to check your card, Sir!"

Thranduil laughed and the card disappeared in the pocket of his coat again. "I know, I know. I also know that your boss wouldn't like you skipping formalities just because it is me" – his mouth curved into a smirk, "ah and I have someone to impress tonight"

Sigrid leaned forward, a hand next to her mouth, to faux a whisper: "He may seem like an arrogant ass, but I can tell you– he is secretly a softie"

"What?" you faked a gasp, turning to look up at Thranduil who, to your surprise, blushed…blushed!

He playfully swatted your hips and shot Sigrid a warning look: "What have I ever done to you that you must embarrass me in front of the lady?" He sighed, though the corner of his mouth betrayed him, "Was it the time that I thought Legolas invited you over to…what did you call it, my love?" as if in deep thought, Thranduil lifted a hand to scratch his perfect chin, "Netflix and chill?"

"Oh my god–"

"Thranduil!" you cried, laughter bubbling up your throat before you could stop it. Out of pure condolence for the girl, you started shoving him into the entrance hall, away from the girl whose face turned beetred as she fumbled to stamp the tickets of the next couple.

"It was nice to meet you!" you huffed out, wrangling with the tall body of Thranduil who was snickering to himself, making it not easier for you to handle him.

"We should chat some other time! Legolas, some boys and I have a movie night once every while, you could join"

The invitation was clearly not enough to help the poor woman, Thranduils high-pitched laughter (so unusual for his usually deep and honeyed voice, that pure sound of his laughter) would probably haunt her for the rest of the evening given the look on her face.

However, she nodded frantically. "Sure, I will have Legolas send you my number," then she smiled, "Have fun tonight! You as well, Sir!"

"I'm sure we will," you called back and there was a phrase like "If you could behave the rest of the night" on your tongue, at the sight of the entrance hall however, it slipped away.

The hand that you had used to direct Thranduil fell and he used the opportunity where your mind stopped working, to take it back into his. If you weren't so busy staring at the interior of the Opera House you would have teased him for being so touchy tonight, yet there was nothing leaving your lips of that sort.

"Wow," you breathed out.

The red carpet you stopped on trailed further into the hall, ending shortly before a large ceremonial staircase of white marble with a balustrade of red and dark blue marble, which divided into two divergent flights of stairs leading to the second floor which overlooked the foyer through wide open curved outward balconies. Golden candleholders with what must have been hundreds of candles decorated the columns, lulling you into a trance with the flicker of their flames.

A finger trailed over your temple, sliding down behind your ear and your neck, and it came to rest with the rest of the hand on your shoulder. "For years I have gone in and out of these halls, impressed by their beauty. Now, with you standing right here, all the gold pales." Thranduil's words sent a shiver up your spine and you tilted your head to stare at the ceiling.

"There is no need for flattery," you said, wide eyes wandering over the balconies on which women leaned onto the balustrades with sparkling glasses of wine, to the grand staircase where the crowd trailed upward without a hurry, "You already have this girl speechless."

Thranduil's lips delicately brushed against the shell of your ear, as his hands leisurely traced the contours of your side.

"What a shame, though I would hope you will find your voice again," his voice bore semblance to a velvety purr, "–for I am genuinely interested in garnering your perspective on the private balcony, affording an impeccable view of the orchestra, that I had readied for us."

As your head swiftly turned to fixate on him, his rosy lips formed, in a manner not surprising anyone, that typical smirk that left you marveling at the intriguing resilience you had maintained in resisting its captivating allure. Every time you saw it, especially now with his icy blue eyes waiting, provoking a response, you were contemplating how you had never fainted at the sight of it before.

And the worst part was, that he knew what he could do to you with one single smirk, or just, and it was embarrassing to admit but you couldn't help but fall for it every time, one strategically raise of an eyebrow.

No matter how bewitching his smirk was, however, you were much more hooked by what he said.

The questions toppled over themselves in your head, a "WHAT?" knocked down a "You are kidding, right?" and then there were the big "Why?!" and "How?" that you were hung on.

Most of these questions resolved themselves; there was no need to reiterate what had already been sufficiently explained. Thranduil was undeniably wealthy, almost absurdly so in his own estimation.

This fact had been glaringly apparent from the outset when you only knew him as Legolas' father, the owner of a law firm that represented politicians and celebrities, often requiring him to work late. He indulged in whiskey from opulent bottles and drove the most extravagant car you had ever sat in. The first time you visited Legolas at their home, a gathering of Thranduil's colleagues celebrated his ascension to CEO, filling the mansion with the strains of piano music and the gentle clinking of delicate crystal glass flutes.

If it hadn't been clear, Thranduil's habit of spending a lot of money with and for you (whether it was in the form of gifts such as books, a new coffee machine for your dorm, or simply the dates he took you on) was explanation enough.

The man had been greeted by name at the entrance and like a few people, all dressed in fine clothes like him, he didn't have a ticket, he had a member card.

So you swallowed your questions, took the arm he offered you and let yourself be led through the beautiful and tall halls of the opera.

Why not savor both this gift and the delightful company of the man you've fallen for?

If it wasn't obvious that Thranduil was showing off a bit, come on, he had kissed you right in the middle of the grand staircase and grinned at every man staring at you on your way, it became more than clear when you walked down the hallway to the private rooms. Another boy in uniform opened a door as soon as he saw Thranduil walk up to him, greeting him by name just like Sigrid did.

Behind the door, you let out the quietest "Holy shit" afraid that the swear would taint whatever holy atmosphere vibrated around you.

The air was filled with the low murmur of people talking, shuffling towards their seats and you, you looked down on all of them.

Literally.

Beneath you a sea of stools stretched onward, a moving mass of hats and pinned-up hair.

You took a careful step forward, coming up to the balustrade, you laid your hands on the red velvet that cushioned the balcony.

Just like the other balconies on your left and right, beautiful wooden panels were creating an archway under which you stood, with roses and delicate swirls painted golden.

You had a clear view of the stage, up on the fourth floor as you quickly counted in your head. The stage was covered by maroon curtains that draped over each other instead of just framing the sides and ended in gold ornaments at the seams.

The dome, which you had seen from the outside, was hidden behind a slightly curved ceiling, the only telling of what rose into the sky behind it. Nevertheless, the ceiling was a view all of its own.

A piece of art.

Up there, a dark sky had been painted, sprinkled with tiny golden dots of stars and hanging perfectly centered not just to the painting but to the whole room, hung an enormous chandelier, dripping with crystals that reflected the light of the lamps, honey golden liquid broken down into a thousand shards and bathing everything in a spectacle of imitations of stars.

Thranduil stepped up behind you again. He slung his arms around you, pressing his front against your back to rest his chin on your shoulder. Silver hair fell over you as he nuzzled your temple with his nose, brushing and tickling the sensitive skin of your neckline.

Slowly he took on to unbutton your coat, his nimble fingers pushing one button after the other through the holes.

"Is this the time to tell you that I practically own this balcony?" his voice rolled over your body, words spoken close enough that you felt his lips form them.

"Yeah," you breathed out "I figured."

"And do you know what that means?" he asked while opening the last button.

You shook your head slightly so as not to knock him away.

"It means," he unfolded himself from you to pull away your coat. You turned and watched as he hung it next to his own, it looked small in his large hands. Your fingers dug deep into the velvet behind you, eyes locked with his. "It means we can come here whenever we want as well as leave whenever we want"

It wasn't what you had expected to hear, yet you let out another deep breath, basking in the residue of tension and heat that had lapped at you both and transformed into something softer, much more meaningful than desire.

"You are the most fascinating man I have ever met," you mused, tilting your head to look at him. Thranduil was dressed up in smart black (and snug) pants and his white blouse wore a stark resemblance to the one a character you had gushed over in a movie had worn.

That he had maybe chosen the article for that exact reason made your heart flutter in your chest.

He sauntered closer to you again, hands clipped together in his back and when he leaned against one of the two chairs, the only furniture except for a small table, it was nothing but graceful. He regarded you through hooded eyes, an expression in them that was so full of infatuation it should be too much for a relationship this young, this fresh but you had been ready to plunge into this deep and far ever since you had met him.

"I promise this is just to impress you," Thranduil smiled, and lifted one corner of his mouth higher than the other and it made him look almost shy.

"Mhmm," you hummed, stepping closer to him and when you reached out to cup his cheek, he leaned into it. His eyes bore into yours, the ice-cold blue melting every bone in your body into a puddle. "I think," you whispered and looked from one eye to the other, "you don't need anything to impress me except for yourself." Raising to your tiptoes, you smiled against his mouth "Thank you, Thranduil. This is the best gift anyone has ever given to me"

As you looked up at him through hooded eyes, his gaze became soft. His lips met yours in a gentle but playful kiss, one where he nipped at your lower lip and throat and did that low purr of satisfaction. It made your head swim in the best way possible, let all thoughts come to rest.

When the lights dimmed a short while later, you found yourself cuddled against Thranduil's side, his arm around as natural as everything had become between you.

The music swelled- the tunes of a piano mixing with the violins and cellos, increasing into the playful introduction that you had come to listen to whenever Thranduil drove you anywhere.

You allowed your glance to flee from the orchestra to Thranduil, watching his side profile next to you.

"I am so lucky," you whispered. It should have been spoken far too quietly to be heard in a room that was filled with a dozen instruments orchestrating the most gorgeous music.

Thranduil however, turned his head as soon as you said the words.

"You say you are the lucky one yet here I sit, unable to believe you are truly with me," he said and reached out to trace a finger over your temple down to your cheek. "There are so many things I would like to tell you, my darling"

You watched him, silently inquiring him to continue.

He sighed and the corner of his eyes crinkled in soft delight. "It's just– I feel so much more ever since you came into my life and while it's close to overwhelming– well, and I do mean that truthfully and wholeheartedly positive, it made me realize how much more enjoyable life is when I can share it with someone I l–like"

"That doesn't sound like something that's 'just' anything," your wavering voice betrayed how collected you wanted to sound. Feelings as hard as the waves during a storm crashed inside you, lapping up your throat trying to break out of where you dammed them away to.

"No," Thranduil shook his head "No, I dare say it's not just anything. It seems to be everything. You, you wonderful girl, you are everything"

Your breath hitched, caught in the mix of emotions in your throat. Fingers carefully lifted to intertwine your hands, coming together in your lap. He waited, you figured, he waited for you. He always waited for you. The music faded into the background as you reached for him.

Reaching and waiting, daring and yearning, teasing and loving.

He was the fine threat that pulled on your heart, tugging on it in the same rhythm as it beat inside your chest.

"Thranduil?" you fiddled with his fingers, tugging on them to have an outlet for everything rushing through you, leaving you restless with the want to scream your feelings into the world.

"Yes?" He sounded hoarse, unusually so, and it urged you on further.

"The moment I met you I knew you would take my heart and whisk it away." Grappling with the challenge of expressing just how much of an impact he had on you, you thought back to every big movie scene, every lovesong that you finally understood the lyrics to.

All of them felt bland in contrast to the cocktail of feelings that he evoked in you, the emotions that came from loving this man.

However, he beat you to it, articulating what had occupied your contemplation.

"I love you," Thranduil's voice resonated, gaining a steady cadence. "I love you. I realize it might be soon, and time lies ahead of us, but I wish to spend every moment with you, fully aware of the depth of my feelings."

A violin's sigh, a cello's resonance, a gasp.

"I love you too, Thranduil. So much."

Thranduil inclined his head, a golden aura enveloping his silver-blonde locks that cascaded around you like the rich, heavy red curtains.

At that moment, he resembled the Swan, exuding grace and elegance. His long, fair eyelashes cast shadows on his high cheekbones, and as he leaned in to kiss you, a profound sense of being utterly cherished and loved enveloped you, much like the crescendo of the music all around.

taglist [closed]: @mushroomemeralds, @mssuguru, @solartoge, @12134z03, @fruitymoonbeams-blog, @lady-of-imladris @finallyforgotten , @123forgottherest @tomhockstetter7-111 @marshymallo @emily-roberts @howlerwolfmax @tigereyesf @seththetinydemon

#📁files: passenger princess #thranduil x reader #thranduil fanfiction #thranduil x you #thranduil oropherion #thranduil fluff #lotr x you #lord of the rings fanfiction #lord of the rings x you #lord of the rings x reader #the hobbit fanfiction #lotr x reader #the hobbit x reader

[the1entirecircus]

The Batfam’s Pokémon Teams

Considering that I’ve already done the Justice League’s Pokémon teams and their enemies’ Pokémon teams, I thought to might as well give the batfam their teams. But since I already did Batman on the Justice League list, he will not be on the list.

---

Alfred Pennyworth

Indeedee (Male)- Alfred is most famously known as Batman's Butler, so giving him a butler pokemon would be both useful and helpful.

Leavanny- His day-to-day duties as the butler of Batman, Alfred is always repairing some type of clothing for the Batfam.

Drampa- It is commonly joked around in the community that Alfred is the one person in the batfam you do no want to mess around with. Drampa are known for their kind nature that comes with a destructive outcome if enraged or needing to protect the children it cares for which reflects Alfred a great deal.

Blissey- Another representative of Alfred's caring side.

Polteagheist- He's british and likes tea.

Inteleon- Alfred has a history in the military and being one of the few batfamily members to actually utilize a gun. Him having an Inteleon seemed like a No-Brainer to me.

Many of Alfred's pokemon were chosen simply because they could be found in Galar, which is the Pokemon equivalent of England. The exception of course being Leavanny, but it is still a fitting pokemon for him to have.

---

Nightwing

Hitmontop- This is a reference to Dick's beginnings as an acrobat in Haley's Circus. I can see this pokemon being one of Dick's first as he was given it when it was still a tyrogue.

Marowak- Both a nod to the fact that Dick is an orphan and how he covered for Batman.

Swellow- Visually speaking, Swellow slightly resembles Nightwing, especially if we're talking about his DCAU adaptation with the Mullet/Long Hair.

Rockruff- Yes, Haley is a shiny Rockruff with one leg.

Cyclizar- This was the last pokemon I had to come up with, and so my brain suddenly reminded me of Motor Cycle Monday from Teen Titans Go. Considering that Nightwing does use a motorcycle sometimes, this makes sense for him.

Greninja- A stealthy pokemon that relates to espionage in some way. Seems fitting for Nightwing during his time with Spyral during the New 52

I wanted to pay homage to everything well-known about Dick Grayson/Nightwing. With the exception of his bubble butt, his team references his time Haley's Circus, the fact he's an orphan and became batman, being Nightwing in General, and others.

---

Oracle/Batgirl

Swoobat- Considering her history of being used as just a love interest and not being regarded as an actual character, Barbara having a Swoobat felt like a decent choice.

Rotom- As Oracle, Barbara can hack and mess with enemy technology like how Rotom can infiltrate different machines.

Gardevoir- The reason I gave Barbara a gardevoir is sort of an edgy reason. Gardevoir's whole thing is that they are fiercely loyal to their trainers and will protect them at all cost. Now, what happened in the Killing Joke still happens in this universe, so that means that Bab's Gardevoir couldn't protect Babs. This would lead her Gardevour to become very depressed but overall determined to help her trainer more.

Mienshao- Barbara knows martial arts

Magnezone- Barbara is one of the most well-known (Idk if she was the first) person in the chair. So, her having a pokemon that can receive signals seems useful.

Venusaur- If you saw my Legion of Doom post, then you can recall that I gave Joker Toxicroak because of his adaptation in The Batman tv series. My choice in giving Babs a Venusaur is based on her relationship with Poison Ivy in that series. Not saying thats exactly the case in my HC universe however.

While some of the choices felt off even for me, overall I'm satisfied with what I did for Batgirl's pokemon team.

---

Red Hood

Old Team

Primeape- Many who think of Jason as Robin remember him as being angry and very impulsive, and while that isn't entirely true, this pokemon does reflect that side of him.

Fletchinder- The evolved form of the robin pokemon to represent Jason's intimidating side.

Snicket- Jason's Post-Crisis reintroduction showed him as a car tire thief of crime alley.

Cubone- A nod to how Jason was initially just a clone of Dick Grayson (in terms of character, not a literal genetic clone) and how it was his desire for his mother's love that got him killed.

Zorua- Although reflective of Jason's older-self, Zorua's tricky nature of disguising itself to hide from others is a good way to show what Jason would end up like.

Snubbul- Another representative of Jason's personality, many see him as a tough guy, but really he's just a sweet guy with attachment issues.

New Team

Annihilape- After the accident, Jason's Primeape would evolve into Annihilape. Annihilape reflects how the lazarus pit drove Jason mad upon his own revival.

Staraptor- An edgy bird pokemon that likes to be alone it does reflect Jason's isolating tendencies whenever he gets into fights with bruce.

Alolan Marowak- Since Batman and Nightwing both have Marowak, Jason holding having his Marowak post-accident is reflective of this. While his "Alolan" Marowak only became this way due to the Lazarus Pit, it still has the reasons for becoming one. Jason also possesses spiritual abilities thanks to his resurrection, and Alolan Marowak reflects that the best.

Hiusian Zoroark- According to the lore, Zoroark came back to life out of spite. While Jason had no choice in the matter, first being resurrected by one of Superboy Prime's reality-altering punches and then having his memories return thanks to the lazarus pit, if Jason could come back to life out of spite, he would.

Doublade- A reference to the All-Blades, Jason's Doublade is a meta-pokemon that has a new move Blight Slash and a new ability called All-Good. Blight Slash is a physical steel-type move that does super effective damage on dark type pokemon. All-Good resists the effects of any dark type move.

Hydreigon- For a while before the New 52, Jason was considered a complete villain against the batfam. Hydreigon's brutish nature is meant to reflect that.

The reason why I gave Jason two teams is because the explosion that killed him would also kill some of his pokemon.

---

Red Robin/Robin/Drake/whatever Tim goes by now

Talonflame- Talonflame is the most visually similar to Tim's uniform as Red Robin (I'm refering to the times he uses the Black and Red costumes of course)

Farfetch'd- A reference to the time he went by the Drake

Vikavolt- Tim is often regarding as the tech wizard Robin out of the five that have taken the title. This is also a reference to how Tim "died" by a bunch of drones firing at him.

Pancham- Given that Tim has many alternate versions of himself that are evil, Pancham reflects that given that it evolves into a dark type that needs the help of another dark type to evolve.

Komala- Tim is often given this headcanon that he is constantly sleep deprived and needs coffee. And while there is no coffee pokemon, there is a pokemon that is constantly tired.

Reuniclus- The time when Tim tried to clone Superboy to bring him back.

I will admit, I struggled with Tim's team. I wanted to give him a pokemon that represented his bisexuality, but none really fit.

---

Spoiler/Batgirl

Clodsire- You're going to look at me and tell me that Spoiler wouldn't own a Clodsire? It has her color scheme and everything (most of her color scheme anyways)

Swoobat- Steph was first introduced as a possible love interest for Tim Drake. She

Talonflame- A reference to her time as Robin.

Pikachu- This feels like a pokemon Steph would have

Espeon- Spoiler's whole gimmick is that she investigates a villain's scheme and then spoils it to the public. Espeon's ability to predict enemy attacks helps reflect this. Also gives her a counterpart to her bff, Cassandra Cain aka Orphan/Batgirl

Goodra- Goodras are silly and affectionate, and Steph is often portrayed so as well.

Most of these pokemon were easy to come up with.

---

Orphan/Batgirl

Banette- Banette is the most visually similar to Cassandra's costume

Noivern- Given that Noivern is the best looking Bat pokemon (fight me), it would be dumb not to give it to the best-looking batfam member

Sneasler- Given her ninja skills, Sneasler feels like a fitting option. And if you feel that isn't a good idea since Sneasler are probably extinct in the pokemon world, how do you know they're not in the shadows?

Umbreon- a representation of both Cassandra's nightly activities as well as her character arc.

Kommo-o- A representation of her time with the league of shadows.

Most of Cassandra's pokemon are reflections of herself like the other pokemon teams.

---

Robin (Damian)

Alolan Meowth- A reference to Alfred the Cat, Alolan Meowth was specifically chosen because of its...demanding nature and how it takes a close bond to make it stronger (or evolve it)

Noivern- A reference to Goliath, Damian's Noivern is a meta-pokemon with red fur and scales along with an extra set of wingless arms. It has the ability "Brutal Beast" which causes moves like Outrage to do 1.5x more damage.

Miltank- A reference to batcow.

Pawniard- Being that he was raised in the league of assassins, Damian would of course own a pokemon connected to

Fletchinder- He's Robin, of course he has a Robin Pokemon.

Lucario- A reference to Titus and how Damian grew close to him.

Damian's pokemon team was pretty simple given that he has his own collection of animals from his adventures of being Robin.

---

Batwoman

Gliscor- While a member of the bat family, Batwoman doesn't tend to follow the rules such as no-killing and no-guns. Yes I know Jason doesn't follow this rule either but still.

Bisharp- Given her military background, a Bisharp would reflect this. It would also hold an Eviolite.

Sawk- Batwoman has lots of martial artist training

I gave Kate a smaller team as she would rely on her guns more often. Also because I struggled to come up with anything else.

---

Catwoman

Meowscarada- While she is no magician, Catwoman is however quite elusive. Her having a Meowscarada as both her partner and starter pokemon felt fitting.

Persian- Selina Kyle in some continuities is the daughter of Carmine Falcone "The Roman". Persian is often seen by the side of the evil Giovanni, so the addition of this pokemon to Catwoman's roster felt fitting.

Sableye- Sableye reflects Catwoman's constant thievery of jewelry and such.

Lopunny- one of Catwoman's abilities is her athletic skill and she is often sexualized, so Lopunny is fitting for her.

Initially, I was going to give Selina a bunch of cat pokemon but then I felt that was too simple. She is more than just a Cat burglar after all.

---

The Signal

Midday Form Lycanroc- This pokemon was chosen because it prowls during the day just like Duke does.

Kilowattrel- Matches his color scheme

Gallade- One of Signal's power's is to see a little bit into the future by refracting light.

Same problem I had with Batwoman, couldn't come up with much.

---

Batman (Terry McGinnis)

Crobat- This one is obvious, but its because he's da Batman! (Or in this universe, he's Zubatman)

Toxtricity- This is why

Scrafty- Because of Terry's messy life, he picked pokemon that sort of reflect that attitude.

Revavroom- In Neo Gotham City, a new species of Revavroom started to appear because of all the advanced technology. Now Steel/Electric, Neo Gotham City Revavroom races through the place as it hunts prey. It has the ability Surge Surfer to help boosts its already high speed so that foes can never gain the advantage. This choice was of course because of the flying batmobile Terry has.

Marowak- Terry lost his dad in the first episode.

Incineroar- Terry has to fight through a level of imposter syndrome in Batman Beyond: Return of the Joker. Incineroar reflects this through not being a fighting type but also having fighting type elements.

---

Up Next:

Titans' Pokemon Teams

Previously:

Justice League Pokemon Teams

Legion of Doom Pokemon Teams

#batman #nightwing #red hood #red robin #the drake #robin #batgirl #batwoman #the spoiler #orphan #dc orphan #dc spoiler #batfam #pokemon #pokemon teams #batman beyond #alfred pennyworth #catwoman #bruce wayne #dick grayson #jason todd #tim drake #barbara gordon #stephanie brown #kate kane #duke thomas #cassandra cain

[wheelsgoroundincircles]

1969-71 Continental Mark III

Iacocca’s Lincoln: The Inside Story of the 1969-71 Continental Mark III

Lee Iacocca is remembered as the father of the Ford Mustang and the Chrysler Minivan, but there was another Iacocca vehicle that changed the Motor City: the Lincoln Continental Mark III. 

In auto industry lore, the design studio guys hate it when the people from upper management start fooling around with their work. Nothing good can come from that, or so the story goes. But there’s at least one instance that cuts against the grain of that familiar Motor City tale. It was Ford senior executive Lee Iacocca who originated the two signature styling features of the Lincoln Continental Mark III: the classic stand-up grille and the faux tire bustle in the deck lid.

It’s no exaggeration to note that these visual features created a design theme and defined the Lincoln Mark Series brand for decades. Years later, lead designer L. David Ash would recall that neither he nor Styling VP Gene Bordinat had conceived these two now-famous design gadgets; no, in fact it was all Iacocca. “Neither one of us would have done it on our own, I’m sure,” Ash remembered. “I have to give Lee credit for that.”

As vice president of the Ford Motor Company’s car and truck group—top product boss, among other duties—Lido Anthony “Lee” Iacocca had at least two problems on his plate in the autumn of 1965. First, sales of the Ford Thunderbird had flattened out after a promising start years earlier. Meanwhile, Ford’s flagship Lincoln division wasn’t setting the world on fire, either. While the Elwood Engel-designed 1961 Lincoln was a style maker of the decade, it was nearing the end of its product cycle. Actually, Lincoln was a perennial problem for Ford senior management. According to Bordinat, it had never turned an actual profit since Henry and Edsel Ford acquired the company from the Lelands in 1922.

So a plan was hatched to build a new, small Lincoln on the same platform as the Thunderbird, which was switching to body-on-frame construction for 1967 (in part due to limited production volume). This would help the Thunderbird fill out production capacity at the Wixom, Michigan plant, and it would give Lincoln an entry in the rapidly expanding personal-luxury category, joining the Buick Riviera, Cadillac Eldorado, Olds Toronado, et alia.

The original body design by Ash and his staff, at one point named the Lancelot, was clean and elegant but lacked visual punch, one could argue. Iacocca’s fake-Rolls grille shell and spare-tire bump fixed that, creating a distinctive and memorable look. It was said that the chrome grille shell was the most expensive such piece in the industry, with a unit cost nearing $200. Ash and crew completed the theme by hiking up the rear quarters and deck lid two inches, scrunching the roof down into the body for a classic ’30s profile.

From its exterior appearance, you might never know that the finished design shared its greenhouse with the Thunderbird coupe, or its floorpan, black metal, and 117.2-inch wheelbase with the T-Bird four-door. When Henry Ford II saw the clay model in the studio, he reportedly said, “I’d like to drive that home.” With the Ford family’s seal of approval secured, the new car was christened the Continental Mark III, establishing its lineage with Edsel Ford’s original 1939 Continental and the Continental Mark II of 1956-57. At that point the previous Mark III, IV and V models of 1958-60 were conveniently forgotten—today it would be called a reboot.

Introduced in April 1968 as a 1969 model, technically (Lincoln division downplayed model year designations, trying to present the car as “timeless”) the Mark III was panned by the critics but embraced by the car-buying public. “The buffs may not like it but the people with money will,” Bordinat wisely predicted. The Mark wasn’t big for an American luxury car at just over 216 inches long and 4,800 lbs, but it was big enough, with solid road manners and a comfortable ride. Interior specialist Herman Brunn covered the seats with rich, pre-creased leather, like the easy chairs in a men’s club. Noteworthy technical features included an all-new 460 CID V8 and Sure-Track, an early form of antilock braking developed by Kelsey-Hayes.

With a base price of $6,758 compared to $4,807 for its Thunderbird cousin, the Mark III was quite a moneymaker for the Motor Company, spawning an even more popular and profitable successor, the Mark IV (shown with Iacocca below). The Mark series, which comfortably outsold the Eldorado and effectively doubled the Lincoln division’s volume at times, continued on all the way to 1998 and the Mark VIII, and Iacocca would to on to further glories, including the Chrysler Minivan.

#Continental Mark III #Continental #Iacocca #lee iacocca #car #cars #ford

[stevebattle]

Lu-Chi (ルーチ), Sega Toys, Tokyo, Japan (2000). Lu-Chi is a robot poodle in the KOKO-ROBO series of robotic toys. The Kokorobo are equipped with a "Kokoro circuit" that gives them a kind of 'biorhythmic' cycle. When you pet them, talk to them, or feed them, it puts them in a good mood.

"The poodle type "Lu-CHI" is equipped with the same dog-shaped heart circuit as Poo-Chi. The sensors and motors on the main body are the same as the Poo-Chi, with a switch on the head, a light sensor on the nose, and a sound sensor under the nose, and the motor moves the ears, mouth, limbs, and tail in synchrony. The difference from Poo-Chi is that the voice is higher, and the movements of standing and sitting are slightly faster. In addition, it sings 6 classical songs on the theme of love." – Friends of Sega Toys "Pooch" appear again - this time "flowers" and "dinosaurs", by Misuzu Kuwamoto, ASCII.

#cybernetics #robot #toy #sega #2000

[iwtvdramacd18]

This is part 1 of a series of fic recommendations for @iwtvfanevents Meal to Remember event! [part 2] [more still planned]

-Rumplesktilsin by @weather-mood

A weaving of fairytale trappings within the Dubai Penthouse, taking walls that we've seen Louis stride through with familiarity and grace and turn them alien and seductive. I love the structure of the fic, the set up of 3 trials establishes a rhythm only to ramp it up at the end. Special shout out to real Rashid and his suffering bearing witness to it all. Trying to stay as vague with details as possible because every new task really works best when not knowing beforehand.

For further reading I recommend Part of Your World, a loustat AU that also incorporates mythos and fairy tale set ups, and the Needle and Thread series for more Armand as well as Nicki.

-Alluviim by @knifeeater

One of my favorite incorporations of Louis and Armand communicating through the Mind Gift, using both prose and literal structure of words on the page to give a sense of merging and lurching thought patterns. The use of imagery casts the bodies of Louis and Armand into the inhuman, calling up topographies and minerals and weaving blood and warmth throughout.

For further reading I recommend Vanishing Point, another Loumand piece taking full advantage of Armand's motor cycle and Louis as his pretty passenger.

-Little Kidnaps in the Dark by @gayvampiredivorce

Literally a burgeoning novel not only giving a compelling view of a Devil's Minion through the lens of the show, it also emulates the feeling of recalling events oneself through the non-chronological nature of chapters. We jump from decades in the past to events after season 1, given snapshots of the relationship between Daniel Louis and Armand. All three of them feel so present and important and affected by different times in their lives and together. Daniel’s pov used to great lengths, taking in all the confusion frustration and fear and beauty in navigating being a human involved with two vampires. 

Since LKITD has many chapters my "further reading" is just gonna be chapters I love especially: 31 and 58.

#a meal to remember #iwtvfanevents #others fic #iwtv fanfiction #iwtv fic

[boyinafandom]

OOOKKK SO I wrote this originally on ✨wattpad✨ and it got like 2k reads? But I deleted it (because I’m an ungrateful brat that doesn’t deserve love or whatever) but anyway here’s some story notes before we start

(Also my dumb ass accidentally posted this when it was unfinished and then had to delete it and start all over so…😔😔)

•y/n is a 25 y/o MALE because we need more male y/n content

•ej,jeff and Toby have a a brother like relationship, Jeff’s the oldest and ej and Toby are around the same age so you can decide for yourself who YOU think is older MMMKAYYY (i say as I bat my pretty little eyelashes at you)

•TW hint at y/n having a past sh problem

•this story is one of those biker sand pit show thingys (i don’t know what there called) but anyway short summary, ej and Toby work there part time (and so does Kate but that’s a minor thing) they find y/n they tell them to leave, they don’t so they tell y/n to get in the cage and if they don’t cry they can stay, and Toby ruffs em up or whatever blah blah blah *blows raspberry*

•also ej and y/n are lowkey in a relationship/Situationship and he gets mad jealous when Toby so much as talks to you, so be ready shawty 😈

______GAY PEOPLE<3______

A story by Me…LN :3

(THATS NOT THE NAME OF THE STORY I SWEAR😭😭😭)

“You’re not going,Y/N. It’s not safe.”

-Jeff a total of 5 hours ago when him and the pastas that could conceal there identities said they were going to a “cool motor party” or somthin I don’t know I heard party and saw my change to finally get out of the house. So I took it and snuck away when Jeff wasn’t paying attention and now I’m at this big ass party- more like event. Jesus have you seen this place???

I roll my eyes at the thought, and take a look around, the first thing I see is Kate selling drinks,and I knew it was Kate because Of that jacket she always wears, with a motorcycle cycle helmet on, I guess the employees have to wear them? I don't fuckin no, so I walk over to the stand, the top of the gazebo is blue, probably one of those cheap ones from Walmart or some shit, anyway | greet her, she recognizes me and hands me a red solo cup of [insert what you want to drink here lolz] and I wave bye and walk off.

I stop at the gate, the motorists are practicing before the show, so everyone here has a chance to roam and stuff, and y' know, get robbed or something, anyway I'm completely focused on these men, just wandering about,engines blare, sand is getting thrown from the weals.

And then I feel it, hands,No knuckles, rubbing up and down my back, I whip around, about to slap the bee-Jesus (ya like jazz 🐝??) out of the person who had the nerve to touch me…and then I paused.

“Oh…hey Jack.”

He had a helmet on, to hide his..demonic..appearance but I knew it was him, from his gloves, he wore them so no one would see his claws

“Hello love, I thought you weren’t aloud to be out here?”

“Because Jeff told me it was “dangerous”? He literally uses me as a “get out of ass beating free” card every time we’re on a mission together, I don’t value a single thing he says.”

He places his hands on my hips, lightly pulling me in

“Well, it’s good to see you.”

He smiles. God why do I fall for the dorks..?

“It’s good to see you to.”

Then Toby comes up behind him, rolling his deep, dark umber eyes (yes I did google “different types of brown” for this,SHUT-)

“Jesus could you be any more gay???? Like seri-seriously. This is just sad.”

He says with a stutter

“Kind of hard to be a dick when you have a chronic stutter problem gay boy”

(GOD I FUCKINH LOVE COLOR CODING.)

He rolles his eyes, his face mask slipping lightly off his nose,so he moves it back up, then his phone rings,he huffs and pulls it out of his pocket and picks it up.

“WHAT.?”

Me and Jack look at each-other

“Jesus fuck Ben are you serious??? You had one job. One fucking job.”

He looks pissed, he wasn’t usually this easy to aggravate.Maybe his bipolar is acting up?I think he might’ve been out of those meds.

“You.”

Toby points at me.

“What.”

“You’re getting in the cage.”

“No the actual fuck he is not.”

Jack says, I can feel his grip on my waist tightening

“Fuck off Toby.”

“No. There not even supposed to be here. You heard Jeff.”

Jack let’s go of my waist, getting in Toby’s face

“Oh yea? And you’re gonna do what. Make them??”

“No. But how about this? They get in the cage, and if they make it out without pissing there pants they can stay. Ok!?”

Jack turns to look at me

“Sure I guess”

I say with a shrug

_____________________________________-_~____

As I get into the cage I feel Toby eyeing me from afar

“Ok so all you have to do is keep your arms up or close to your body, and if me or Toby hands you anything keep it close to your body ok?”

I nod

“Ok great, the show will start soon, so just be ready.”

Then he walks out of the cage and after a few minutes I hear engines blaring, people cheering, so I throw my arms up and wait, the black tank top I was wearing lightly rising up, and in a moment there was a man in the cage with me,the visor on the helmet lifted so I could tell who it was,it was Jack, I’m surprised he could operate a motorcycle with such lack of vision.

He did rings around the cage, as he went his hands layed on my chest, shoulders, waist and back, he loved to touch me, that was evident, his favorite activity when we were alone together was to trace my scars, getting visibly upset when I told him there was more then the ones on my arms, he hated the idea that I wanted to hurt myself, and that I used to.

After about 5 minutes of spinning he exits the cage, it goes silent for a minute, and it stays silent..and it stays silent.. I want to turn around, to see why it was so silent, and then the noise started back up again, thankfully, and Toby entered the cage.

He however was not as fun to be around as Jack, he was going insanely fast around the cage. Batting at me with his nails, leaving red marks and lashes all over my upper body, one on my face to, this went on for what felt like hours.

_________________<—>_______________________

Yet another unsatisfying ending from me :3

#creepypasta #ticci toby #writers on tumblr #eyeless jack #jeff the killer #kate the chaser #your mom #tumblr fanfic #creepypasta fanfic #motorcycle cage #BEN #ben drowned

[thefirstcourtesan]

List of Your Ten Childhood Ships

Thanks @lizzybeth1986 for tagging me. So I’m counting childhood as “before high school” so up until spring of 1997. I am an 80s baby, who was a 90s child (and a 90s/00s teenager, but that is a list for another time).

1. Zack and Kelly, Saved by the Bell

Saved by the Bell was one of my favourite shows in my tweens and I had a big crush on Zack Morris (yeah, he was blonde but the cocky, scheming type has always had appeal). I loved Zack and Kelly together and consistently rooted for them.

2. Jake and Tiffany, California Dreams

I watched a lot of Teen NBC when I was young 😂 and of course I liked the leather-jacket, motor-cycle wearing musician and his cute blonde surfer girlfriend. I feel like Jake Summers had a major impact on my taste for the rest of my life.

3. Lir and Amalthea, The Last Unicorn

This movie broke my heart at the age of 4. I always joke that this is what made me a villain lover, because I hated how Lir being a hero meant he had to give up Amalthea and let her save the unicorns 😂.

4. Sony and Brenda, General Hospital

I grew up watching soap operas, mainly General Hospital because it is the one my grandmother and then my mom watched. While Sonny and Brenda definitely influenced my teen ships years, they also influenced the pre-teen years and ai couldn’t resist this combo. “Why settle for a spark when you can set the world on fire?”

5. Anne and Gilbert, Anne of Green Gables

I am a Canadian girl, I grew up on the Anne books and I fell in love early with the spirited Anne Shirley and the incredibly patient (but not pushy) Gilbert Blythe. I love their love story.

6. Elizabeth Wakefield and Todd Wilkins, Sweet Falley High

This one did not hold up 😂 and the series itself did a good job of murdering this ship, but when I was a kid I loved them together and the one where he comes back after moving was my favorite. I remember I even specially ordered it because our local book story didn’t have it and neither did the library.

7. Cher and Josh, Clueless

I love Clueless, it is one of my all-time favorite movies and definitely influenced pre-teen Misha. Is the step-sibling romance a little weird? Yep. But at the time, all I cared about was the chemistry and that Paul Rudd was cute.

8. Westley and Buttercup, The Princess Bride

Again, I was an 80s child. I grew up on this movie. This is what true love was. And ok, the fact that the far:boy went off and became a bad-ass pirate was pretty cool.

9. Xena and Ares, Xena Warrior Princess

This is one that also falls into “high school” ships, but I started watching the show in elementary school, so it counts. I fell in love with Ares the first time he appeared, when he was very obviously the bad guy.

10. Sabrina and Harvey, Sabrina the Teenage Witch

I just thought these two were so sweet together (see I have layers, I like sweet ships too) and I liked that the obstacle in their relationship was never their feelings, it was everything else and Harvey was just such a perfect first boyfriend.

Honorable Mention: Blossom and Vinnie, Blossom

Tagging @jerzwriter @the-unconquered-queen @ladysophiebeckett @boneandfur @walkerismychoice @liliplayschoices @brightpinkpeppercorn @shynmighty @countessogilvy @hellomynameisdevi

#tag games #long post #first ships

[submissiveking99]

How would you do a 6 team Sentai based around videogames as a whole?

Data Sentai CyBreaker

Red, Blue, Green, Black, White and Pink. That is the colour layout I am thinking of.

Their transformation device is a flip phone, their gimick being a series of key cards that they insert into the base of said phones

Red is based on fighting games and is a bit over competitive. His mecha is a wolf that has a solo robot mode. Male.

Blue is based on shooters and is partnered with a jet mecha. Very cocky and things team work is a waste of time. Female.

Green is based on puzzle games, he uses a motor cycle mecha and he has an axe weapon. Very quiet and timid, but is the teams stratergist. Male.

Black is based around RPG, is weapon being a sword and their mecha is a shark that has a solo robot mode. Nom-binary. They tend to over compensate with readying for EVERYTHING.

White is based around rythm games, having a bow for a weapon and a rabbit as a mecha. Also a female ranger. She is a very casual gamer, but very sweet and kind.

Pink is the leader and a woman. She is based aroud racing games, her mecha being a race car that has a solo robot mode. She is the least experianced with games out of any of them, unsure why she was chosen to be the leader. But outside of Red, who happens to be her brother, she is the most skilled fighter.

Each of the solo robot's (Red's wolf, Black's shark and Pink's car) can combine with one of the other's for a combat mode. Blue combines with Red for a flying formation. Green's bike becomes a pair of back cannons for Black. And White's Rabbit becomes a pair of new arms for Pink's

"Data Gatta! CyBarrier!" Pink's Mecha becomes the core while Red and Black become arms. Blue becomes a backpack for flight White becomes the legs And Green becomes the chest plate, shoulder armour and the helmet

Their villains are a living computer virus that has escaped into the real world, made by Red and Pink's grandfather.

#mun talks #nerd talks #super sentai time

[writethelifeyouwant]

Made For You | Chapter 13

Summary: Dean and Sam like what they have together, and if screwing your brother screws with the universe’s “grand plan” while they’re at it, then even better. Neither of them has ever cared much for tradition or fate, but it turns out there are some destinies you can’t escape. Sometimes, someone is just made for you. 

Pairing: Alpha!Dean x Omega!Reader  Rating: 18+ Warnings: Incest Tags: AU, Time Jump, Omegaverse, Alpha!Dean, Omega!Reader, age difference, taboo relationship, scent attraction, true mates, Dean has intimacy issues, angst, denial, old wounds, rejection, hookup regret, emotional numbness, facing fears, second chances, confrontation, making out Bingo Squares:  @spnabobingo - Motor Oil / Cut Grass / Gunpowder | @supernatural-jackles TMAS - Quote H “Why are you scared of loving?” Word Count: 4.4k

Series Masterlist

The Next Weekend - Your POV

You’re back at work, Jo having very kindly covered the shifts you’d been scheduled for during the week, so you could take the time to recover from your heat. That’s what you told Ellen and your dad, at least. Jo and Ash obviously know that there’s more to the story than just a bad cycle, but they have both been surprisingly discreet about your activities with Dean in the mating room last weekend. Jo promises that she hasn’t told Ellen anything, and apparently she’d been so tired upon her return that she hadn’t noticed one of the mating rooms being occupied. Jo had cleaned up behind you before anyone else could learn what had happened this weekend, so Ellen doesn’t have the slightest inkling that you’re no longer a virgin, and therefore can’t have informed your father of that fact either. 

You know that your dad isn’t stupid, and he hasn’t totally bought your story of this cycle just being a particularly difficult one, but he hasn’t pried for information like you expected him to. He had been asleep when you arrived home Monday morning, and you’d washed yourself with half a bottle of body wash with added scent suppressant in an effort to disguise Dean’s aroma. It’s faded from all but your memory now, no trace of it lingering on your skin or at the Roadhouse. If your dad does suspect anything happened while he was on his hunt with Ellen, he hasn’t brought it up to you. Whatever the reason for his sudden respect for your boundaries, you’re grateful all the same. 

The embarrassing sting of rejection is still too sharp for you. Jo has tried to ask you about what happened, but you’ve avoided giving her any kind of details. All she knows is that your weekend of marathon sex hadn’t ended with a happily ever after or a new boyfriend. A new mate, your mind supplies unhelpfully, because Dean would have been more than a boyfriend; not just a fling or a dalliance, but your true mate. 

There’s a scratchy rattle in your chest every time your mind drifts in that direction, a feeling you’ve come to associate with the action of choking back the tears that come, unbidden, to your eyes each time you think of the alpha who’s abandoned you. It’s not a reaction you’ve been able to get under control. Any time the memory of Dean springs to your mind your body reacts viscerally to his absence, trying with monumental effort to alert you to the missing piece of your existence, the emptiness that allows your heart to drop from your chest into your stomach because there’s a hole inside you that by all rights shouldn’t even be there. 

A hand on your shoulder makes you jump in astonishment, shouting and nearly dropping the pint glass you’ve got in your hands. 

“I don’t think you could get that thing any shinier even if you sold your soul for it,” Jo quips with a meaningful look on her face, nodding to the glass that you’ve been polishing water spots off of. When you look down, you see that she’s right. It looks more like it belongs in a five-star hotel than a backroads dive bar. 

“Just making sure,” you say awkwardly, not meeting her inquisitive gaze as you put the clean glass away and grab for another one from the crate you’ve been polishing. 

“Right,” the blonde answers in a clipped tone, busying herself behind the bar and grabbing drinks for the table she’s just taken orders from. It’s a group of three ladies, all with the same multi-coloured patchwork on the arms of their leather jackets. Bikers, not hunters, you don’t think, but they aren’t anyone you recognise. 

You’re self-conscious about being back at work, worried that someone who had been here last Friday and seen you collapse might come in again and bring up the whole Dean situation. You’re sure you must have made a pathetically memorable sight, fainting against a pool table and being carried off in the arms of an alpha old enough to be your father. A few regulars had been in that night, and you’re dreading seeing them again and facing the knowing looks or awkward questions. And what if one of them mentions the alpha to your dad? He usually stops in to have dinner and a couple drinks on the weekends that he’s home, which he is this weekend. You’re expecting him to drop by in a couple hours from now if he sticks to his usual routine. 

The front doors open and you look up anxiously to see who it is. A pair of truckers that you vaguely recognise come in chatting animatedly, and you feel a small wash of relief that it isn’t anyone you remember being here last weekend. But there’s also a small barb of something you weren’t expecting to feel that shoots through your chest upon seeing the newcomers, and it takes you a moment to identify the unanticipated pain. 

Disappointment. 

That’s what that blunt stabbing ache reminds you of, as your guts twist uncomfortably. And you want to smack your head against the bar when you realise why you’re feeling like this: you’re disappointed that it wasn’t Dean walking through that door. How fucking pathetic is it to still want someone who rejected you so callously, the way he did? You’re disgusted with yourself for still wanting him. You should want to run him over with a semi, and you sort of do, but you would settle for just seeing him again, and that makes you angry enough to want to run yourself over with a semi. 

Fuck him for making you feel like this. Fuck true mates. Fuck the whole fucking thing. 

It’s probably for the best that you’re never going to see him again. You just hope that this empty longing goes away eventually. It’s fucking humiliating. Even now, you still imagine you can detect his scent on the air, the inexplicably comforting sweetness of bourbon and sandalwood underpinning the heavy stink of stale beer and fry grease and the dry winter dust of the Nebraskan desolation that drifts in on the stinging wind each time the front doors swing open. 

Your stomach lurches as the door swings open again, and with a monumental effort you force yourself to not look up, focusing instead on the glasses that you’re still polishing madly, far beyond the point of necessity. Longing slashes across your chest with prickly insistence, and you find yourself beginning to choke back tears without reason for the umpteenth time this week. 

He’s not coming back. You need to stop this. 

The air freezes in your lungs as you berate yourself, and the glass in your grip slips through your fingers and thuds onto the counter of the bar as you clench your hand in a fist, digging your fingernails into the fleshy mound of your palm in an effort to distract your brain with a new kind of pain. Your neck is aching with the effort of keeping your head bent, refusing to look out at the bar just to see confirmation of your continued abandonment. You feel so fucking useless. What if this feeling never goes away? How could you have let someone you barely know gain this much control over you without even being in the same room. He probably isn’t even in the same fucking state. But it still feels like his presence is looming over you, his scent so clear in your mind that you feel almost as if you’re back in time, pressing close to him once again and breathing him in. 

Stupid, stupid, stupid. 

“Hey, you should be saying that to me, not to yourself,” Dean’s deep honeyed voice speaks, and you feel a tear finally escape the cage of your lashes. 

Great, you’ve officially gone insane. 

“Y/N, can you look at me? Please?” 

Your head shoots up in astonishment, the shock freezing your tears in their tracks. You aren’t going insane. Dean Winchester is standing in front of you, hands shoved self-consciously in his pockets, hair tousled from the brisk winds outside, cheeks burnished with a faint pink under the thick scattering of stubble, darker than you remember it. His brow is pinched, eyes narrowed in worry and pain, and those full pink lips you’ve remembered so frequently in the time you’ve spent apart are drawn and chapped. Somehow, even in his clearly haggard state, he’s still the most attractive man you’ve ever seen. Damn him. 

“Hi,” Dean clears his throat awkwardly when you don’t speak. 

You realise with horror that your mouth has been hanging open like a fucking cartoon character this entire time, your jaw practically resting on the bar in front of you, and you snap your lips closed, accidentally biting your tongue and wincing painfully. Dean notices, to your dismay, and winces in sympathy, but some semblance of tact—or maybe it’s just guilt—means he doesn’t comment on it. 

“Why are you here?” you whisper, looking back down uncomfortably under the intensity of the alpha’s focus on you. 

“Can we talk?” he asks haltingly, and it’s clear to you that Dean isn’t used to using that phrase. Considering how he’d left you last weekend, you're not the least bit surprised that he isn’t the kind of man to request a heart to heart about feelings. 

“Why should I?” you ask brusquely, but it’s a facade. Every cell in your body is begging you to hear what he has to say, because the dull throb that had settled over your skin in the past week has suddenly softened, and it’s clear that Dean’s proximity is the reason for the improvement. Your brain, though, is still clinging to its last shred of self-respect. Dean looks at you seriously and takes a deep breath. 

“Please?” he repeats, his voice cracking, to your great surprise. Your resolve cracks along with it. 

Nodding after a final moment’s hesitation, you walk around the bar and follow Dean’s lead as he brings you outside to the parking lot, where you can talk without being overheard by the few occupied tables inside, who had all been curiously watching your exchange from the corners of their eyes. The alpha leads you towards a long black classic car, clearly an old model but looking as if it has just rolled off the lot. He opens the passenger door and steps aside, waiting. You raise an eyebrow at him in perturbation. 

“I’m not getting in a car with you.” 

Dean’s face falls slightly, but he shuts the door, not pushing the point. 

“I just didn’t want you to be cold,” he explains. 

“I’m fine,” you retort sharply, willing your anger to warm your body for you because Dean is right, it is freezing out here. “You wanted to talk, so talk,” you huff, folding your arms across your chest, and you wait.

“I’m here to apologise,” Dean admits. “What I did to you was fucked up, I never should have said what I did. I never should have bothered you in the first place,” he scoffs under his breath as an afterthought, grinding the toe of his boot into the dirt of the parking lot. 

“So you’re here to apologise for sleeping with me? Thanks, that makes a girl feel special,” you bite back the tears once again threatening to make an appearance. “Sorry I was such a disappointing fuck.” 

“You weren’t!” Dean looks back up at you instantly, no hint of a lie in his eyes. “Y/N, last weekend was—” he breaks off, running a hand tiredly across his face. “Last weekend was the best I’ve felt in fucking years, okay. It was… look, I’m not good with pretty words and shit when it’s something like this.” The alpha looks at you despairingly, obviously struggling to articulate himself. 

“Something like what?” 

“Something that matters.”

The weight of Dean’s words settles uneasily between the pair of you. He’s waiting for you to say something, and help him direct the conversation, but you don’t know where you want this to go. You’re still angry, of course you are, but here is Dean, standing in front of you with an apology. He came back for you, just like you’d fallen asleep wishing for every night since he’d left. Except… he hasn’t said that he’s come back to be with you. All he’s said is that he’s here to apologise. 

“Why are you here?” you ask again, and confusion lights up Dean’s eyes. 

“To say sorry,” he repeats. 

“You have my number, you could have texted me. Or called,” you point out. “Why did you come back here?” 

Dean’s throat pulses as he swallows thickly, eyes darting away from you and back again as if he’s considering making another abrupt exit, but he stands his ground and launches into a breathless explanation of what the past week has been like for him.

Dean knows this is gonna sound bad, but Y/N probably already thinks he’s the biggest asshole on the planet—and she’s probably right—so he doesn’t see the point in coming up with some lie to paint himself in a better light. He’s here to eat crow and ask for a second chance, he deserves the humiliation that telling his omega this story is going to bring him. 

Fuck, when did I start thinking of her as my fucking omega? 

He has no right to think of Y/N like that. Not yet. They may be true mates, as reluctant as Dean is to admit it, but she hasn’t agreed to take him back yet. He may have to resign himself to a life of pain and misery. Maybe he can just let a werewolf tear his heart out for him and be done with it—unless Y/N kills him first for treating her the way he did. He wouldn’t blame her. 

“So I, uh,” Dean focuses on Y/N’s hard eyes, her expression cowing him into his embarrassing explanation. “When I left on Monday, I was in a pretty bad way still, with my rut, I mean. The need, it… it turned into some of the worst pain I have ever felt in my life.” He saw Y/N’s lips twitch in an almost self-righteous smirk. “And really, for a guy like me, that’s saying something, because I’ve almost died more times than I can even remember at this point.”

Y/N’s brows shoot up quizzically, and she opens her mouth to ask more about what that meant, but Dean holds up a hand to pause her. He needs to get through this, then she can grill him all she wants. Quietly, she sinks back onto her heels and the energy that had shone from her expression fizzles back into its former forced stagnation as she nods for Dean to continue. He shoots her a grateful half-smile and ploughs on. 

“I’ve never had a rut that bad before. I’ve been alone for ruts as often as I’ve been with an omega for them, and it has never been as excruciating as it was this past week. Every single part of my body felt like it was trying to pull apart from each other and walk itself right back here. I had to pull over on the road between here and Omaha god knows how many times to—” Dean breaks off, clears his throat. 

“Well, you know.” He hurries on, seeing the embarrassed flush on Y/N’s cheeks that he’s sure is echoed on his own. “I couldn’t shake it, so I went to find some… help. But I couldn’t… I didn’t…” Fuck why was this so hard to get through? He just needs to fucking spit it out already. 

“You couldn’t find an omega to help you?” Y/N asks, clearly not believing him. “But you’re—” this time it’s the omega who breaks off and clears her throat in embarrassment, and Dean wonders what she had been about to say. 

“No, I mean, I found someone.” Dean drags his hands over his face, tugging on his hair as if the pain will somehow distract him from the pain of this admission. “I couldn’t get it up.” 

There’s dead silence between them for a beat, and as Dean looks up from his hands, he sees Y/N staring at him blankly. She’s not laughing at his lack of manhood, or smirking at his pain—both possibilities he has been expecting—she’s simply looking at him. It dawns on him a moment later that Y/N had been a virgin until last weekend, and has had very limited dating experience from what she’d told him. She doesn’t understand why this is a big deal, or why it brought him to the realisation that it did. 

“I had been constantly hard for about twenty-four hours, despite my several roadside stops,” Dean grits his teeth at the painful memories. “I was desperate. The fleshlight wasn’t doing jack shit, my whole body felt like it was burning up. Fucking an omega should have fixed it. But I couldn’t get hard with her. My body wouldn’t let me, no matter how much I needed the relief, I couldn’t do it,” he pushes as much gravity into his words as he can manage, praying that Y/N will understand what that means. 

“So you came back to me because you couldn’t fuck another omega?” Y/N asks bitterly, kind of getting what he’s talking about but still missing the point. 

“I couldn’t do it because you were right,” Dean sighs heavily, letting himself sink back against the side of the Impala, his muscles sagging in defeat as he admits what he’s been dreading to say. “I think you were right about us, about being true mates. I can’t think of any other reason why I wouldn’t be able to sleep with someone else. My body knew that it was wrong, that it wouldn’t help the rut end any more than the fleshlight, because neither one of them was you.”

The look Y/N is giving him can be described as nothing more than an epic bitch face, and once again, Dean is painfully reminded of the little brother that he’s spent so long trying to move on from. It’s just another way for the universe to tell him that this girl has been made for him somehow. Like it’s giving him back some part of his long-lost brother in this small way, through the presence of a new person to love as unconditionally as he had loved Sammy. Not that he’s fallen in love with Y/N or anything, they still barely know each other. 

“Okay, I’m still hearing that you’ve come back because you think I’m the only person your body will let you have sex with,” Y/N scoffs, and Dean berates himself for not being able to explain this better. 

“No, it’s… that’s just why I realised you’re probably right about the being true mates thing. I came back to apologise for freaking out at you about it, and yeah maybe to see… to see if there’s something else here between us. To see if I haven’t monumentally screwed this up.” Dean feels a spark of hope brighten in his chest as he watches Y/N consider his words. 

“Are you…” Y/N stops, thinking for a moment before pressing on with her question. “Are you worried about being true mates because… you’re gay?” she asks hesitantly, shifting uncomfortably between her two feet. Dean blinks at her in astonishment before bursting into laughter, and the omega fixes him with another bitch-face. “It’s just, you mentioned that there was another guy before. And you thought…” 

Dean calms down his laughter enough to interrupt. “It’s fine, I’m not hung up by the fact that you’re a girl,” he reassures her, and he sees Y/N relax a little bit. “There’s a lot of things about this that made me hesitate, but I promise your pussy ain’t one of them.” 

Flirting at this stage is risky, Dean knows. He doesn’t want Y/N to get angry at him again, or think that this is only about the sex, but the comment makes her duck her head and look down through her lashes in a very pretty show of modesty, and Dean feels his dick twitch in his jeans at the reminder of her innocence. Taking heart that she hasn’t left him standing alone in the parking lot, or told him to get lost or go fuck himself, the alpha takes a wary step forward, closing the small distance between them. 

Carefully, he lifts the omega’s chin on his fingers, bringing her gaze up to meet his, and he sees a recognisable flash of heat in her expression. The same wave of desire washed over him when he touched her. 

“Why are you scared of loving?” Y/N asks him quietly, and Dean is taken aback at her straightforward assessment. “I’m not saying that I’m in love with you,” she rushes to clarify, misinterpreting the discomfort that Dean can feel twisting on his face. 

“No, I know,” he nods, soothing her outburst. He drops his fingers from her face and instead takes one of her hands between the both of his, squeezing gently. “But you’re right, I am, and that’s what made me uncomfortable about the idea of having a true mate. Because you’re supposed to fall in love with them,” Dean shakes his head and smiles wryly. “And the last time I was in love with someone, I was your age.”

“Ah,” Y/N’s face pinches. “It’s the age thing? That’s the problem?”

“That, and the fact that I don’t exactly have a great life,” Dean sighs. “The idea of dragging you around on the road with me… and I’d probably be putting you in danger if I did. It just doesn’t seem fair. I still don’t really know how any of this would work out,” he admits uncomfortably. “I just, I wanted to come back to see if there was even a chance that it might.” 

“Can I ask you a question?” Y/N is looking at his hands, big and calloused and clearly age-worn compared to her soft, unmarred skin and neat fingernails. 

“Yeah, shoot.” 

“Are you a hunter?” The omega looks up at him and smiles when their eyes meet, probably laughing at the gobsmacked expression that Dean can feel on his face. 

“How the fuck do you know that?” he asks incredulously. 

“I guessed,” she shrugs. “But what you said about almost dying a load of times, and being on the road, putting me in danger… It wasn't a hard leap.” Dean is still looking at her in astonishment. “My dad is a hunter,” she adds by way of an explanation, and now it makes sense to Dean. “And the Roadhouse is sort of a hunter’s way-station. Did you not know that? I thought maybe that’s why you stopped here.”

“No, I had no idea,” Dean shakes his head, looking back at the bar with newfound appreciation. “How about that.” 

“So, you were worried that I would freak out if I knew you hunted monsters for a living?” Y/N smiles up at him in amusement. 

“Uh, yeah,” Dean scoffs. “It’s usually a pretty big shock for most people.” 

“Well, that’s one issue out of the way then. Good first step,” she looks up at him hopefully, the last statement almost more of a question, and Dean nods. 

“Yeah,” he agrees. “Obviously, there’s a lot more we’ve gotta talk about, but I’m willing to give this a shot if you are.” Dean holds his breath, heart thundering in his chest. Its beats echo so loudly in his ears that he nearly misses Y/N’s quiet breath of ‘yes’. 

Instinctively, he draws the omega—his omega—into his arms and kisses her soundly. The girl melts against his chest, letting Dean wrap her up in him. The passion of the kiss quickly gets out of hand. Y/N’s hands are pressing into his chest, her weight urging him backward, and he spins them to slam the girl’s back against the side of his car, grinding their bodies together and sliding their lips and tongues together until the lack of air in his lungs becomes problematic. They break apart panting heavily, Dean resting his forehead on hers and allowing himself to breathe in her scent. 

“At least we know we’re good at this part,” he chuckles, only slightly embarrassed by how raspy his voice sounds compared to a moment ago. Y/N giggles and kisses him again, light and chaste, and much more sweetly, and Dean sinks into the serenity of it, feeling more calm than he has in a very long time. Deciding to indulge himself, he breaks the kiss and trails smaller kisses over Y/N’s cheek and down her neck, brushing his nose over her mating gland and enjoying the needy intake of breath it causes. 

The fresh, sharp aromas of salt and citrus are all as he remembers them, mixed up with the caramel sweetness and spicier undertones that become stronger when she’s aroused. His dick twitches in appreciation. But there’s something just a little different to the tones than how he remembers them. There’s an earthy quality, grassy or smoky… oily? It’s familiar but not because he remembers smelling it on her before. 

The slam of a car door, breaks the focus the Dean and Y/N have for each other, and they both jump at the noise, looking around for its source. The newcomer is staring at the couple, still pressed indecently against Dean’s muscle car, making it obvious what had been happening between them only moments before. 

“Dean?” the man speaks in a hoarse whisper, confirming what Dean couldn’t quite believe. Sam. Sam is standing in front of him after all these years. Sam. He feels like he can’t get any air into his lungs, and he peels himself off of Y/N in an effort to give his lungs space to expand. 

“Dad?” the omega squeaks, and Dean looks around in confusion. No one else is in the parking lot besides himself, Y/N and Sam. And Y/N has just said ‘dad’. 

My dad’s a hunter. 

There’s the sound of a safety clicking out of place, and Dean turns around again to see Sam levelling a gun steadily at his head. 

“Step the fuck away from my daughter.”

Sign up to my website for early access to Made For You (as well as access to new member exclusive fics each month!) and stay four weeks ahead of all my Tumblr posts!

Series Tags: @outofnowhere82 @ladysparkles78

We’re All Mads Here: @vulgar-library @negans-lucille-tblr @fandomfic-galore @petitgateau911 @schaefchenherde @kickingitwithkirk @little-diable @laxe-chester67 @kassyscarlett @austin-winchester67 @flamencodiva @katbratsupernaturalwhore @letsbys-library @fictional-affairs @leigh70

All SPN: @cemini-winchester @akshi8278 @stoneyggirl @deandreamernp @lyarr24 @lovealways-j @slamminmine @all-alone-he-turns-to-stone @alaufeyson @raidens-realm @tatted-trina6 @defenderrosetyler @cluz1babe @maliburenee

#spnabobingo #dean x reader #alpha!dean #omega!reader #smut fic #angst fic #supernatural fic #supernatural smut #wincest #omegaverse #made for you #series #please read warnings

[newgenog]

REVENGE

Notes: This is part four of chapter one. Much more than halfway through, and the parts will be super snack-sized until we get to the end. 😎 If you haven't already done so, please stop and read parts one , two, and three.

This fic is an AU based on the ABC tv series #Revenge. I felt like there were a lot of really cool parallels between the characters, and thought it would be fun to reimagine #Batwoman so that Ryan Wilder had a more deliberate pursuit for vengeance. 

CHAPTER ONE - DECEPTION (Part Four)

Summary: Robyn Wilde, formerly Ryan Wilder, continues to make connections that set the stage for her revenge. Wildmoore Week Prompt: Night Club

1 DAY BEFORE MEMORIAL DAY: SUNDAY, 10:00 AM

Kate Kane walks into The Hold Up before it’s opened. 

Jordan: “Your girlfriend’s here.”

Sophie: “I don’t have a…oh.” 

Kate approaches the bar, where Sophie is looking through a binder.

Kate: “Don’t look so happy to see me.” 

Sophie: “Just surprised. It’s usually Luke.” 

Kate: “He’s off today.” 

Sophie: “Good to know you give him days off.” 

Kate: “I’m not a villain, Sophie.” 

Sophie finally peels her eyes away from her binder, exasperated, and gives Kate the attention she came for.

Sophie: “What’s up?”

Kate: “You didn’t RSVP.” 

Sophie: “Huh?”

Kate: “The invitation? That Luke left…”

Sophie had forgotten she tucked the envelope in the back of her binder. She quickly flips to the back cover, and pulls it out of the sleeve. It hadn’t even been opened.

Sophie: “I’m sorry. It’s been so crazy around here…” 

Kate: “It’s a ticket to my parents’ Memorial Day Soiree on Monday.”

Sophie: “Oh, yeah… Mary actually begged me to keep her company at it, yesterday. So, I guess I’ll be there.”

She slides the unopened letter back over to Kate, indicating that she already has her ticket. It's possible that the envelope contains more than a ticket, but Sophie is okay with never knowing the answer to that. Kate seems to take the hint, at least for now.

Kate: “One more thing… You know I never charge your mom late fees, but she’s technically behind two months on the rent. I’m not sure how much longer my parents are going to let me keep this building if they feel like it’s losing money.” 

Sophie: “Aren’t losses a good thing when you run businesses?”

Kate: “We have enough of those for taxes. We got out of the real estate business a while ago, and this is the only one we keep, in part because I know what it means for your family. So, if there’s anything you can do to help me out…” 

Sophie: “That’s why I’m here, Kate. I’m trying to figure it out.”

Kate: “I know, and I’m sorry. I’ll let you get back to it. See you tomorrow.”

Sophie returns to her binder, appearing even more distant than before, and Kate about faces, making her way towards the exit, with the invitation in-hand.

7 YEARS AGO: POINT ROCK Kate was straddling her motor cycle with her helmet in her lap, and her bag wrapped up behind her when Sophie arrived. She’d texted Sophie to meet her out front. A few hours prior, she’d overheard some other cadets joking about how they thought Kate wanted to be one of the guys, and how they could show her how to be a woman. One said all he needed was one drink with her at a night club to turn her back right. She’d defended herself, and started an argument with them. Of course, she was reprimanded for instigating the situation. She felt the guys also should have been held accountable for harassment, but that would have required the Sergeant to acknowledge what was being said about Kate was unacceptable.  Kate: “I’ve got to get out of here.” Sophie: “What? We’re so close to graduation. Why do you even let the things those guys say get to you? They don’t matter!” 

Kate: “Sophie, I have never been closeted in my entire life. I want to be with you, but not like this. If you want to be with me too, I think you should come with me.”  Per usual, Sophie and Kate had lived completely opposite lives, and this was just another example of that. In the beginning, it was fun to sneak around. She’d noticed Kate noticing her, and she’d never had the chance to just let go and explore those feelings. When Kate finally approached her one day, she just went with it, and let herself feel what she was feeling.  But they were so different. Being gay in an organization that preferred not to recognize the existence of queer people was easier to get through if you weren’t doing it alone. But that was really the extent to which they had anything in common. And beyond having someone to take comfort in, and know your secret, they spent so much time disagreeing on things, it wasn’t actually that hard to convince people they didn’t get along.  Sophie: “That doesn’t make any sense, Kate. Why would you stay this long just to leave before you make it to the end?” Kate: “Everyone has their limit. I’m tired of hiding parts of myself, and feeling unwelcome here.” Sophie: “You’re at the top of the class, and everyone loves you. What are you even saying?”

Kate: “They love the version of me they’ve convinced themselves I am. They don’t even know me. Only you do.” Sophie: “No, you know what? That you can even ask me to walk away from this after I’ve invested so much, and you know what I have to go back to - you talk about them not knowing you, but do you even know me?”  Kate: “I know you’re better than these people. They don’t deserve you.”  Sophie: “I’m not doing this for them. I’m doing it for me, and my future. And if you don’t get the difference - that you have the privilege of walking away from something that you chose to do out of convenience and just happen to be great at, because you can be anything you want when you get home…and that I’ve had to give my all to even be seen standing next to you…Maybe it is best if you do go.”  Kate: “Are you serious right now? You want me to leave?” Sophie: “I don’t want you to do anything. What you decide to do is none of my business.” Kate: “Don’t be that way.”  Kate tried to reach out for Sophie’s hand, but Sophie wouldn’t take it. She realized that she’d been holding onto this relationship as some sort of safety net that she didn’t need. Kate wasn’t going to be who caught her if she fell. If Sophie fell, she’d pick herself up, just like she always did. 

~~~~~

To be continued...

Usual Reminders: I'm sharing these parts of chapter one of Revenge on Tumblr for @wildmooreweek. 2-ish more parts to go after this, and then the whole thing gets added to Ao3, so you can re-read it congruently, in one place (and comment, and such). And, I'll probably continue in this fashion for the length of the story (accept not updating daily; probably more like weekly).

All #Batwoman things I do are also in the name of #SaveBatwoman. Go follow all the social handles and support the cause, please.

[soleminisanction]

I saw the bingo sheet and have to ask, why do you love Cassie Sandsmark so much?

The short version is, the original Young Justice is a core memory of mine and she's really good in that book so she'll always be my leader and my Wonder Girl.

Cassie's also just a really fun character in general and I really wish I could play with her in a professional capacity, or see her get a solo where someone else got the chance to explore her more interesting nuances. She's got an interesting evolution. I love seeing her gradually grow into her own over the course of YJ, growing out of Diana and Donna's shadow, out of her fear that she won't live up to their legacy, and into a leader and hero in her own right. And I love her relationships with all of her teammates, especially Cissie and Tim. They all offer something different and they're all so important to me.

And then the Teen Titans series introduced the idea that Ares was trying to seduce her (for lack of a better term) into being his representative on earth, which I will always be sad we never got to see played out to its fullest because of editorial meddling. Now that there's some better editors running the show, I'd love to see threads like that picked back up, especially the threads about her descending from Zeus as a demigod.

When you think about it, Cassie really stands apart from the other Wonder Women because she's the only one who's not "really" an Amazon. I mean, she is an Amazon, obviously, but she's also...not. Diana, Artemis, Nubia and Yara were all born or reborn into their respective Amazonian cultures, and while Donna's got a million backstories, even when she's born in the world of man she's usually raised, trained, and/or blessed by some combination of Diana, Hippolyta and the other Amazons.

But Cassie? Cassie has a mortal mother who works a perfectly mundane mortal job. She goes to normal, mortal schools and, more recently, held down a mortal part-time job. She thought she had a mortal father, right up until she didn't. And her powers don't come from being an Amazon, they come, one way or another, directly from the gods; the Amazons could lose their blessings, lose their strength and their immortality and everything, and Cassie would be untouched. It's even reflected in her design -- everyone else wears armor, but Cassie wears t-shirts, blue jeans, hoodies, leggings, skirts and motor cycle jackets; mortal clothes.

She's basically a Percy Jackson character created a good 10 years before those books were a thing and dropped into the Wonder Woman canon by mistake. I just love her. I can't wait to see her take the lead in Young Justice: Dark Crisis.

#cassie sandsmark #dc comics #meta #rambling #wonder girl #my blorbo #character opinion bingo

[dancingintherainwithchifuyu]

hii!! I have been following you for a while and im obsessed with the baby sano series, bonten baby sano to be specific, i've had this idea for a long time but im too shy to ask..can we get a bonten baby sano school life?? i can imagine her classmates simping over her uncles😭

sure bby!

       ✩｡:*•.─────  ☆-☆  ─────.•*:｡✩

This Bonten Au only exist if we stick to the og plot of Tokyo revengers. So of course she in her teens in the future.

Raiden is such a protective friend at school, because of course Ran has planted it in his head how high school boys are. Raiden sometimes feel guilty for his crush on her.

But yeah she has some classmates who have crushes on her uncles, especially Ran since he's such a smooth mf.

Koko has some admirers too, because he's such a beautiful man.

So it's natural for some classmates to try and befriend her to hopefully get closer to the men.

But the friendship ends so fast because they either get scared or intimidated.

Not only by Raiden but also the men, Ran knows when classmates are using Baby Sano or when they genuinely want to befriends with her.

Baby Sano isn't much of a trouble maker, she attentends her classes and passes her classes. Cause there are 7 men who are surprising good at certain subjects that are always there to help her out.

Only problem the teacher have with her is that the girl beats up bullies, they can only handle so many angry mothers coming in to complain about the girl.

Luckily Koko has a silver tongue and quickly settles down the arguement, either by exposing the truth or just manipulating the mother's words.

Baby sano has a little gang of delinquents who like Toman stands up for people and their friend.

Sometimes it reminds Mikey of how he used to be with his friends.

Of course Mikey has Raidien report to him if there's any trouble.

He doesn't want his niece ever going through what he did as a kid.

Besides word on the street is that Baby sano is cleaning up sleeze bags gangs.

Baby sano is kinda clumsy on a motor cycle so Raiden usually drives the two of them around most of the time.

Or one of Boten's lackeys drive the teens around.

Speaking of Lakeys mikey has some of his men all over and around her school. Just as a safety precaution.

He can't risk someone coming in to target her.

#tokyo revengers x reader #tokyorev x reader #tokyo revengers x you #tokyorev x yn #tokyorev x you #tokyo revengers x yn #platonic tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers fluff #single dad shinichiro #baby sano

[dustedmagazine]

Laraaji — Segue to Infinity (Numero Group)

It was brass, as the artist remembered nearly four decades later, layers of brass harmony that remained somehow static, neither beginning nor ending. It was a pivotal moment for the then Edward Larry Gordon, whose middle and last names were eventually and ceremonially conflated to Laraaji. That moment of sonic vision led, with the inevitability of destiny, to the music in this 4-LP set containing some of his earliest released and recorded works.

While his most celebrated contribution is certainly his Day of Radiance album, an entry in Brian Eno’s Ambient series and produced by him, Laraaji’s discography is daunting, parts of it very difficult to track down. This set is a welcome addition to that catalog, documenting a formative phase of the instrumentalist and meditator’s journey.

As the liner notes attest, somewhere between that revelatory sound experience and these late 1970s sessions, the former comedian walked into a pawn shop and, heeding the intuitive voice he learned increasingly to trust, traded his guitar for an autoharp. Taking the bars out, he moved toward being the musician heard on that Eno collab and on his first album, Celestial Vibration, released in 1978 on the obscure SWN label and still under his birth-name. It’s the first LP in this set.

All of the trademark musical vibes pervade the two 25-minute pieces for electrified zither, peppered with effects and crackling with his trance-inducing rhythmic energy and focus. Even more wonderful is the music’s diversity as it either drives or insinuates a more sedate entity that it would be incomplete, even contradictory, to call motion. The sounds often emerge in cycles, sometimes engendered by the effects, creating a sort of rhythmically contrapuntal state that still avoids the goal-driven aesthetic associated with such conventional notions. These are overlapping and evolving cycles illuminating the path inward. The filtered resonances delineating “All-Pervading” sweep up and down the sound spectrum, invitations to partake in reflection even as the zither thrums with motoric insistence, leaving aside another more percussive sound entering a whole new harmonic area! Then, suddenly, only the complex sweep and rainbow-soft glissandi remain.

While such sounds embody and anticipate descriptors of the “New Age” genre, Laraaji’s music is far too complex for facile pigeonholing. “Bethlehem”’’s edgy opening, replete with scrapings, high-pitched rasps, rhythmic knocking and a few silences that either jar or seduce, defies all categorical felicity. Like the artist performing these vast sonic tone-paintings, the soundscape must be taken on its own terms.

The same is true for the three LPs of material only now seeing complete release. What a luxury it is to float down the titular piece’s flute-and-zither tributaries, each overtone beautifully captured as the flute traverses the stereo spectrum, gently ebbing and flowing through sound and silence until the cradling rhythms ensue. Those effect-driven eddies also permeate the bells and strings dialogue of “Koto,” placing even familiar sounds somehow beyond or just outside themselves. Tremolo, phase and vibrato carry and enhance each plucked timbre, liquifying the icy crystal transient peaks articulating their creation. The complex motions of hands or mallets on wire and wood are as faithfully rendered as the music’s raw power is both palpable and elusive.

By “Kalimba 4”’s hypnotic conclusion, during which the overtonally rich thumb piano articulations ultimately dissolve into a quietly salutary exhortation, a vast sense of completion is palpable. It is as if each of these eight excursions presents one facet of that harmonic revelation that put Laraaji on the path, each microcosmic repetition speaking to a stage in a development spiraling toward the unity at the music’s heart. This is now the most comprehensive collection of Laraaji’s work from this formative period, and the liner notes, including a wonderfully perceptive essay by Vernon Reid, give verbal voice to the celebration warranted by such a comprehensive package. 

Marc Medwin

#laraaji #segue to infinity #numero group #marc medwin #albumreview #dusted magazine #box set #electric zither #flute #kalimba #new age #brian eno #new york city

[theaudientvoid]

For a project, I am analyzing time series about different modes of transportation. I have monthly series for total motor vehicle miles traveled, air passenger miles traveled, and rail passenger miles traveled. (All series were obtained from FRED.) The vehicle miles series goes back to 1970, but the other two only go back to 2000, so the 2000-2023 is the period that I'm investigating.

Looking at some quick plots, all three series have pretty clear seasonal trends, which is what we expect. To get a better idea of this, I do a spectral periodogram for each series. Here's what the one for air travel looks like.

If you're not familiar with periodograms, the x-axis shows the frequency of the period in months, so a 2-month period would be .5, a 12 month period would be about .08, etc. The y-axis is a measure of how "important" that period is to the data, according to Fourier transform magic. The technical details are not important. What is important is that we see a small peak corresponding to a 12-month cycle, which is what we would expect. (I put a dotted line at 1/12 to emphasize this). What's interesting is that also there's a much larger peak corresponding to a 6-year (or 72-month) cycle, which I was not expecting. Does anyone with more knowledge of the air line industry have any idea what this might represent? I mean, it can't be a coincidence that the peak is exactly at 1/72, could it?

[ao3feed-pynch]

#IFTTT #AO3 works tagged 'Ronan Lynch/Adam Parrish' #pynch #TRC #spoilers