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ewanmitchellconnoisseur · 3 months

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"𝑻𝒖𝒓𝒏𝒆𝒅 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝑮𝒐𝒐𝒅 𝑮𝒊𝒓𝒍 𝑩𝒂𝒅"

A/N: This is part two of "You can't run forever". //Divider- @cafekitsune

Summary: Tom finally gets the chance to tell you how he feels and shows you how badly he wants to be with you.

Tw: fingering, unprotected s*x, degradation, public s*x, smut

<<Previous Part

After Tom's wake-up call, he got ready and walked across the street to your house. He knew you would be leaving for work any second now.

As you opened the front door you instantly saw Tom sitting on the bottom step and the scent of smoke in your nose.

"Mornin' Tom." You close the door behind you getting a glimpse of your mother sitting at the kitchen table who has a smirk on her face and gives you a wink.

"Love." Tom puts the cigarette out and stands up. "What we up to today then?"

"Workin'. Covering for Mandy, she's sick." You both start walking down the path. "You?"

"Not much." He watches the occasional cars pass by in silence. "Actually...I want to ask you something..." Tom grabs your hand and stops walking.

"Alright...what is it?" For a moment he just stands there staring at you. Tom had never had any struggles talking to women but when it came to you it is as if he forgets how to even breathe properly. "Tom?"

He blinks quickly and takes a deep breath in. Deep down you already know what he is going to say but you want to hear it from his own lips.

"I-I was wonderin' if you'd maybe want to...go out sometime? Just the two of us..." His heart is pounding in his ears as he waits for even the smallest of reactions from you.

The little girl inside you is jumping for joy. Tom Bennett just asked you out! But there is a woman who stands in her way from getting with her childhood crush. Tom ignored you all through school, flirted with friends and ignored you when you left for college. Now after all of that, he wants to take you out on a date? Yeah, not happening.

"Listen Tom..." His heart dropped, he already knew how this was going to go. "...For so long I had a crush on you and I waited for you to ask me out, but instead you flirted with my friends and then completely ignored me whenever I tried to talk with you."

"I know...I just. You've always been so good. You're smart, a good daughter, you help people without being asked and-" He cuts himself off and sighs. "I was worried that I'd ruin that, that I'd ruin your goodness."

Tom had never been one to talk about his feelings. He preferred to always be a jokester and run away from them. It was nice hearing him finally be open and honest.

"And me? I'm not even half of the person you are, and I never will be. But for you, I-I'd like to try." With your hand still in his he pulls you closer to him. "And I'd hate myself if I didn't. So...just like how I made you wait...I'll wait. I'll wait for you to tell me if we have a chance."

Before you can say anything he kisses you on the cheek wishes you a good day at work and leaves. You stand there on the sidewalk jaw slacked and wide-eyed...who was that? Cause surely that couldn't be your Tom.

Eventually, you realize you're going to be late and continue your walk to work. During your entire shift, your mind keeps running over his words. He sounded sincere, he looked sincere. It was only natural you still had your doubts and worries but you had wanted this for so long and it was finally happening.

In the week that passed Tom backed off a bit. He stopped smothering you and gave you the space you needed to think over what he said. Though he did occasionally walk you to work he'd stop you from giving him an answer just yet, insisting you think over it a little longer.

Today you finally got a day off and not just from work. Your dad was getting better and your mom had plans to stay home for the day. Lois had invited you out for drinks where she'd be singing for the night. You weren't one to go out really but Lois had been like a sister to you all your life and you wanted to support her and her dreams. Plus your mom insisted that you get out of the house and spend some actual time with people who weren't your parents.

So you sat at a table with some people all of you cheering her on as she sang. You hadn't dressed up too much but still wanted to look your best. For totally no reason at all and not for anyone in particular.

You offer to get a fresh round of drinks and head over to the bar. As you lean on the bartop waiting for your drinks you feel a hand snake around your waist. You immediately tensed ready to fight off whatever drunken idiot lost his mind.

"You're driving me nuts in this dress love." You relaxed as you realized it was Tom's hands. As his head rests on your shoulders you can smell that familiar alcohol smell. "Saw ya sitting next to Dan. Should I be worried?" You roll your eyes with a smirk on your face.

Dan had too shown some interest in you when you came back, but even you weren't dumb enough to get with him.

"That man is more committed to his beer than he is to women." You turn around and face him. Tom adjusts his hands so they're still resting on your waist. "You finally ready for my answer?"

Tom narrowed his eyes and stared at you for a moment before shaking his head.

"Not yet." You were starting to get annoyed. Although he said he would be the one waiting it felt like it was you. You could feel yourself getting irritated.

"Tom. I have an answer just let-" Tom pulled you in and kissed you. It was gentle and slow. Not the type of kiss you'd ever imagine having with him. You pegged him as an aggressive kisser type of guy but this was a pleasant surprise. Once he feels you relax into the kiss he pulls away slowly.

"I'll walk you home later. Tell me then yeah?" Tom walks away and joins his group of friends. You turn and grab the drinks you ordered and return back to your table. You enjoy the rest of your night and cheer on Lois.

When the night comes to an end you say goodbye and head out of the pub. As you step out you wrap your jacket around you tighter.

"Ready to go love?" You turn around and see Tom leaning against a wall smoking. He puts it out and walks over to you taking his hand in yours. You both begin walking. Tom's finger brushes over your hand gently as you walk. You can feel how clammy his hands are.

Once you two reach the last bit of walking before you're outside your house you stop holding his hand tightly so he can't walk away.

"Tom." You grab his other hand. "Can we talk now?" You sigh. "Listen-"

"Don't. Please." You were immediately confused. "I know your crush on me was a long time ago and we-" You put your hand over his mouth.

"Tom. Shut. Up." He stared at you wide-eyed. "I was ready to say yes to you the second you asked me." Within moments Tom's lips were on yours and his arms wrapped around you.

Tom leads you both down the alleyway behind your house stopping at your back door.

"I know it's not the most romantic of places but I can't wait any longer." He presses you against the wall as his hands dive in between your legs bunching up your dress and just brushing softly over your clit through your underwear.

He kept gently rubbing you through your underwear as he kissed you deeply, feeling you get wetter by the minute.

"Please..." You needed more. Tom smiled kissing the corner of your lips before moving your underwear to the side. He slowly pushed a finger inside painfully slow. You reached down and started undoing his pants.

"Is this what college turned you into?" He leaned in kissing your neck whispering in your ear. "A needy whore?" He curled his finger searching for that spot as he small hickeys over your neck. He adds another finger pushing in and out of you gently and agonizingly slow. "Always thought I'd be the one to take your virginity." He kept his slow pace. "That's alright. Ill settle for being the man who fucks you the best." He whispers in your ear.

You lean your head back against the cold brick of the building as his fingers do their work. Your moans get louder as he brings you closer to your peak. You cum around his fingers knees feeling slightly weak as he holds you up.

In an instant, Tom picks you up using the wall to help keep you steady as he frees his cock from the confines of his pants. He runs the tip through your folds covering himself in your slick.

"Tell me your mine." Hold holds himself just at your entrance teasing both himself and you. "Say it." He used the thick tip of his cock and circled it around your clit.

"I'm yours." Tom smiled and then slowly pushed himself in. As he bottomed out inside of you he let out a soft groan.

"Fucking perfect pussy." His hands go under your ass as he drags himself in and out of you watching how you coat his cock forming a white ring around his base.

He picks up pace pounding into you as his hands squeeze your ass chasing that feeling. You lazily wrap your legs around his hips locking him in place as his cock hits that perfect spot.

"Fuck! Right there!" Tom can feel you tightening around him. He moves from the wall and steps one foot up onto the steps leading up to your backdoor.

He lowers you deeper on his cock the only sounds in the alleyway being his balls slapping against your ass and your moans. He continues to fuck roughly into you as you both near your climax. Tom kisses you again as you both moan into each other's mouths.

"fuck fuck fuck." As his movements become sloppy your cum hard around him your legs slightly shaking around his body. You can tell he's close by how his face is screwed up. Just before Tom comes he pulls himself off and you take him in your hand finishing himself off, his cum coating your leg.

He sits on the steps with you on his lap and his head resting against your chest. "You meant it?" Tom mumbles. You lean back take his head in your hands and kiss him.

"Yeah. I did. Im yours." He kisses you again before helping to straighten back your dress and tucking himself back into his pants. You sit and talk on those steps for a while longer before you kiss goodbye and head into your house.

You silently close the backdoor and slowly remove your shoes while a stupid grin is painted on your face.

"Glad you went out then yeah?" Your mom doesn't look up from her book but has a cheeky grin on her face.

Meanwhile, Tom climbs up into his bedroom. The only thought on his mind is you as he revels in his victory.

"Finally turned the good girl bad."

A/N: This took me so long to write! I have so many essays due! But I hope you guys like it! This is the last part, it was just a short story ❤️😊

General Taglist: @valeskafics @thought--bubble Series Taglist: @dixie-elocin

#ewan mitchell #best fanfic #ewan mitchell fanfic #ewan nation #ewanverse #ewan mitchell verse #tom bennet fanfic #tom bennet fanfiction #tom bennett #tom bennet x reader #tom bennett smut #tom bennett x you #tom bennett fanfic

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elizabethemerald · 5 months

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Servitor of a Death God

AO3

Kara Zor-El crashed into the street, shattering the concrete under her. She pushed herself shakily up for a moment before she collapsed again. She could feel every broken rib as a separate screaming pain. Blood bubbled and foamed at her lips as she forced her eyes to open. Kon slammed down only a few feet from her, a pained groan his only sound.

Doomsday had once again come to Metropolis.

Kal was fighting him as well as he was able and the rest of the available Justice League was doing everything they could to keep this from becoming a slaughter. However there was only so much any of them could do to even hold Doomsday back, much less stop the monstrosity. It was now even more dangerous and smart enough to overcome any foe.

Kara could feel the tremors from the blows of Kal and Doomsday as she once again tried to lift off and rejoin the fight. Wonder Woman had been thrown through several buildings. The Lanterns were all but broken. Aquaman was crushed under Doomsday’s foot with so much force that it was only Kara’s super hearing that told her he was still alive at all.

Kon forced himself back to his feet and used his telekinesis to throw a piece of rubble before he fell to his knees again. Kara pushed off from the ground and landed behind the behemoth landing several blows to hopefully give Kal a chance to regroup and attack with new energy.

Doomsday smacked her down and stomped her into the pavement. Oh blessed Rao that hurt. Kara could hardly hear past the ringing in her ears. She was only distantly aware of Lois holding Jon back and keeping him from joining the fight. If he did then the entirety of the surviving members of the Noble House of El would be fighting to stop this creature. And if they fail, the entirety of the House of El would die in the fight.

Several super powered punches knocked Doomsday back away from her as Kal tried to rally. He was bleeding, Kryptonian blood flowing, a rare sight. She could hear his heart racing and he kept rising to face the final gift and curse of Krypton.

She pulled herself out of the hole Doomsday had driven her into with difficulty in time to see Kal backhanded down the street. He skidded like a stone skipped across a lake. Kara roared in fury, her eyes blazing red as her heat vision blasted out catching Doomsday in the back and almost driving him to his knees. She held the beam, trying to force him down, but its strength and durability was greater than her stamina and it pushed through her heat vision to knock her to the ground.

Kara gasped in pain, then almost immediately choked as it slammed her into the ground several more times. Each blow brought a new wave of pain as her bones, normally strong as steel, shattered like toothpicks. Her invulnerable skin was torn to shreds under the claws and bone spurs of Doomsday. After one final all mighty blow, Doomsday picked her up and flung her from the battle.

She crashed to the ground, leaving a furrow carved into the ground like a meteor. Blood choked her as she tried to catch her breath. Her hands shook and she couldn’t feel her legs at all. She forced one eye open, her other swollen completely shut, if it even still worked.

It took several attempts for her to actually understand what was surrounding her. Tombstones. Doomsday had thrown her directly into a human graveyard. If she had any breath in her chest she would have laughed at the irony, because this would surely be where she died.

Kara couldn’t help thinking back about her childhood as blood poured slowly from her lips and her many, many wounds. She remembered the lessons she had about the history of the Noble House of El. They were once priests to one of Krypton’s gods. Dan-El, the dark god of death, the opposite of Rao’s light. As the people of Krypton developed scientifically and dedicated themselves to isolation, their gods fell to the wayside. The people lost their connection to death and to Dan-El as the years progressed.

Her father had mourned that so much of their culture was lost, so many of the messages and means of worship of the different gods vanished, and now with Krypton gone, and the last Kryptonians fighting to death in the city streets there seemed to be no way for the scriptures of worship to Dan-El to see the light again.

She turned herself over with difficulty, a choked scream gurling out of her at the unspeakable pain. She pulled herself to the closest headstone, her vision fading. One of the last scriptures of Dan-El that had remained was one promising that he would return to save the House of El, if they only would call on him.

“Dan… El…” Blood bubbled and foamed at her lips as she whispered to the headstone. “Please… please…”

Her vision faded almost completely, only a tiny pinprick remaining as her breath stuttered to a close. Over the ringing in her ears she could hear the beating of her heart slowing, and stilling… and stopping.

“Please…”

A bright radioactive green flashed before her eyes, as the last daughter of Krypton faded from her adoptive planet.

The sky over Metropolis split as a brilliant green lightning bolt flashed across the sky. Those who were sheltering away from the battle between Titans taking place in the streets shuddered in fear, terrified of what new threat could be appearing. Superman and Doomsday stilled in their calamitous fight as the lightning arced from the outskirts of the city to crash at their feet, driving them apart.

Clark fell to his knees as a being stepped out from the column of light that remained frozen there in the air. Even the pebbles and shattered glass thrown up by their fight moved as if in slow motion. The figure, back lit by the green lightning, was tall with fine white hair that floated as if he was in space. A cloak of stars and a crown of green fire graced the shoulders and head of the figure. Clark’s jaw dropped as he saw the Kryptonian God of Death, Dan-El, before him. He perfectly matched the historical records from the Fortress of Solitude.

Dan-El turned to him and Clark found himself frozen. He wanted to fight, to run, it couldn’t be his time to die yet. He had to defeat Doomsday, he had to survive, his family was counting on him.

“You are fortunate, son of El, that someone remembered the ancient prayers.” Dan-El spoke, his voice seeming to pierce directly into Clark’s brain. “It is not yet your time, you have many more lives to save.” Dan-El paused and glanced back at the column of light behind him, then gave Clark a kind look. “You have honored your ancestors, Son of El, your family is proud of what you’ve accomplished, and what you have yet to do.”

Then he turned and Clark felt like the entire weight of the sky had fallen from his shoulders. Tears sprang to his eyes at his relief even before he processed Dan-El’s words and the tears became a torrent. Then the God of Death turned to Doomsday and offered it a hand.

“Poor creature of destruction, Death was never the relief it should have been for you, only a new torture at the hand of your creator. Come to me, and come to your rest. Let Death finally embrace and hold you.”

Doomsday hesitated, its biologically prerogative screaming that it must always survive, no matter what, but after thousands upon thousands of painful deaths, what little of its brain was not dedicated to destruction desperately longed for peace. Doomsday reached out to Dan-El and the two turned and stepped into the burning light, until both disappeared in an instant.

Clark blinked the light from his eyes and looked around. The column of light had vanished and with it Doomsday and Dan-El. The fight was over. Metropolis stood in silence, stunned that Death had come to the city.

In the months following the fight with Doomsday, Metropolis recovered as it did after every fight, battle or invasion that happened in the city. The citizens held their breath in the hope that Doomsday was truly gone and would not return again to devastated their home. Each day that went by without his shadow darkening the horizon and no return of the flash of green lightning that had taken him away let the people breathe a little easier.

Superman healed from his injuries and was once again seen patrolling the skies over Metropolis and the rest of the world alongside his two sons. The world and the Justice League returned to their regular everyday levels of chaos and world ending threats, hopeful once again that the day would be saved by a hero in a crimson cape.

However there was one crimson cape that had not returned to the skies. Kara Zor-El, Supergirl never again took to the air over Metropolis after her confrontation with Doomsday. While she still lived, her time as a hero was over.

Her recovery took longer than Clark’s, her injuries were far too severe. Sometimes she could stand strong and tall just like any of the other Kryptonians. However, many times, her hands shook too much, and her legs couldn’t bear her own weight. The best scientists and engineers of Earth combined the best of human and Kryptonian engineering to create a wheel chair for her, yet still she did wish to return to combat.

Instead of facing down threats as a caped hero, she worked on creating a temple to the Kryptonian god of death, Dan-El. The temple had information and sacred rites of the almost forgotten deity, as well as the history of Krypton. Unlike the other museums and history books, the temple had the true and accurate history of those people. Their most arrogant and humble moments are all on display, along with all the average, everyday moments of life on a planet now long gone.

Kara had given up her red cape in favor of a black, floor length cloak, embroidered with the stars Dan-El loved. Her colorful skirts and outfits were handed in for the robes of the ancient clerics of the House of El. During and after her recovery she dedicated herself to serving the god that had stopped Doomsday.

The worship of Dan-El was at first limited to those within Metropolis, but slowly it spread across the globe with the help of Kara and her temple. She gave sermons that were broadcasted worldwide, whether she was standing proud or sitting in her wheelchair with her hands shaking so hard the rattling could be picked up by her microphone.

Some of the hero community were baffled by her choices, that she would willingly step away from saving people, none more than Clark. Even with her injuries she could still help the superheroes even if she didn’t want to be on the front lines herself, just like how Oracle still helped as a computer specialist. He brought it up with her repeatedly, but each time she turned him down and said that she was serving her purpose.

“Kara, please-” Clark tried again after one of her sermons on Dan-El’s teachings.

“Clark!” Kara interrupted him. She glanced at the followers who were learning how the Kryptonians venerated death before she led the way into her private office. “I’ve made my choice and you need to respect it.”

“Kara, you still have the power to help others. Don’t you have a responsibility to do so?”

She scowled at him. “I am helping people. I’m helping them come to terms with the vast world of Death.” Clark took a breath to speak, but she spoke over him. “And I am fulfilling my oath to Dan-El in exchange for his assistance with Doomsday.”

“Kara-”

“Listen to my heart, Kal.” Kara ordered.

Clark looked at her in confusion before focusing on her. She watched his face twist and fall in confusion and dismay.

“Wha-?”

“I died that day.” Kara snapped. “I breathed my last in the graveyard where I called him. He promised to answer my final request, to spare you from Doomsday’s wrath, without any obligation, in this life or the next. However, he offered me a chance, a chance to keep facing the world, despite my pain and my tremors. He froze my heart in between one beat and the last. I will never fully heal, so I have chosen to utilize the borrowed time to act as his Servitor. I will spread the word of Dan-El, the Phantom King of Death, to those of Earth. Because he gave me the time.”

Clark looked at her frozen, grief raging across his face.

“Kara, I’m so sorry, I didn’t know.”

“You weren’t supposed to.” Kara said simply, before she lifted the hood of her cloak over her golden hair. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have another sermon in a few minutes.”

From his frozen throne within the Infinite Realms, Danny Phantom, known as Dan-El to the Kryptonians, watched his Servitor. His name had all but disappeared from the thoughts of mortals, yet now it would once again be able to spread across the universe. He hoped that his message would help. Help prevent the fate of Krypton from repeating itself. Help prevent the fate of his own home universe, where the actions of a corrupt government led to all of life being cut off from Death. He had spared her, the last daughter of Krypton, in the desperate hope that all the various worlds of this universe, and the many universes they have contact with would spread his messages.

#danny phantom #dp x dc #death god danny phantom #kara zor-el #supergirl #doomsday

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pluckyredhead · 7 months

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How exactly was Jon Kent’s introduction handled? Did Clark essentially just bring him out like “hey guys, here’s my 10 year old son I haven’t told you about” ?

Thank you for giving me an excuse to talk about this, because it is Extremely Comics and I love it.

The short version is that Jon and his parents are from another dimension.

The long version is that prior to the New 52 in 2011, Lois and Clark had been married for years, so when that marriage was erased in the reboot, fans were pretty unhappy.

Then in 2015, DC published an event called Convergence. The plot isn't important, but basically they pulled in all these different versions of their characters from different universes: pre-Crisis Green Lantern, vampire Batman, 70s Wonder Woman, etc. And they brought back a LOT of pre-Flashpoint versions of characters. (I've always assumed it was a test to see if they should undo the New 52 and that the answer was a resounding yes.)

And so they brought back the pre-Flashpoint Lois and Clark just for this one event. In the four years since we'd seen the characters, Lois had gotten pregnant, and during Convergence, she gave birth to Jon.

At the end of the event, the pre-Flashpoint world was destroyed, but the Lane-Kent family was able to travel to the New 52 universe. Of course, the New 52 universe already had a Superman and Lois, so the pre-Flashpoint Clark and Lois decided to just...live like normal people, which they'd never been able to do before. They changed their last names to White and moved to California to raise their son in peaceful anonymity.

So Jon spent the first 10 years of his life in California as Jonathan Samuel White, and has no idea that he's from another dimension, that he's half alien, or that his father is Superman. But then his powers start to manifest, and it turns out it's really hard to keep a secret from a kid with X-ray vision, super hearing, and Lois Lane's smarts. Eventually, his parents have to 'fess up.

Here is the key point: when the Lane-Kents came to the New 52 universe, they arrived 10 years in the past. So if that story took place in 2015, when it was published, they actually arrived in 2005. Meaning that Jon developing his powers at 10 is happening in the present day. Does that make sense?

Soon after this, the New 52 Superman dies, and pre-Flashpoint Clark is like, "Well, someone should be Superman," so he puts his costume back on and introduces himself to the Justice League/the world as the Superman of another dimension.

A bit after that, the 2016 Rebirth reboot happened, which was deliberately designed to push DC canon closer to pre-Flashpoint canon.

Then the New 52 Lois also dies, and pre-Flashpoint Lois is like "I guess I'll just go to the office and pretend to be her," which is wild because she is at least 10 and probably more like 15-20 years older than New 52 Lois. Lois Lane ages like fine wine: confirmed.

THEN Mr. Mxyzptlk kidnaps Jon and traps him in a featureless void and makes his parents forget he exists. In that void, Jon encounters the souls of the dead New 52 Clark and Lois and accidentally swaps them with his parents. Then he yells "NO YOU LOVE EACH OTHER" until they remember who they really are and merge with their pre-Flashpoint counterparts to form new, cohesive versions of Lois and Clark who are simultaneously from the current universe but also have been married for years and love their son.

This also, you know, just casually reboots the universe so that everyone remembers Lois and Clark having been married with a kid for years. So Jon was incorporated into continuity as a 10-year-old, but then the rest of his life was retconned into existence so that, like, Perry and Jimmy remember holding him as a baby and stuff. (And Jon has no memory of living as Jon White or anything like that.)

Anyway, very straightforward and normal, not completely bonkers at all.

#of course this all makes other aspects of continuity more broken and confusing #like kon's entire existence #but shhh #jon kent #superboy

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missglaskin · 1 year

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Hii! I seen where you’re opened to Tom Bennett ideas..

Tom being a troublemaker and always in and out of jail. It stresses Douglas and Lois is worried about her brother. The reader isn’t an innocent girl but she has a good head on her shoulders. She has Tom’s behavior changed with a snap of a finger. Tom gets a smart mouth w/ Douglas when she is over. She looks at him with a look “Stop being a dick to your father”

Also Tom is protective over his S/O even before he left for the war. He comes back and it’s 1000% more, he has seen stuff and he doesn’t want it to come to you. You guys could be walking on a busy street, someone accidentally bumps your shoulder. Tom immediately stops and yells at that person. He automatically becomes a drunk chick in the club when someone bumps them. “Oh so bitches don’t know how to say excuse me now!” That’s Tom to a tee! You tell the person it’s okay don’t worry about it. Holding the back of Tom’s shirt and tell him to let’s go. The person is terrified to blink in Tom’s presence.

Also I think he clingy with his girl, in private of course. He gives me touch starved vibes, he loves to lay on top of you, boobs are his pillow as he holds you like a stuff animal. You’re cooking when he comes home and instantly behind you, holding your waist, burying his face in your shoulder. Asking about your day, how he missed you.

You don’t know the scream I let out when I saw this let's fucking go

Tom would absolutely love a woman who’d put him in his place. She kind of scares him and it turns him on. He's not gonna lie. Your presence has become well known in his house. Lois and Douglas love having you around. They feel as if you help Tom be a better person, helping him keep his head on his shoulders.

Tom is protective of you. Few of the times he got in trouble with the police is him having a fight with someone for you. Times, you have to hold him back before he goes after the person who catcalled you, still Tom gets the last word as he throws all sorts of insults towards them. When he came back after the war, his protectiveness went up to a max. If it isn’t you grabbing his shirt, urging him to let go, he’d perhaps find himself back behind bars. He’s also not above calling out one of your friends or colleagues if they make a joke he knows you don’t like.

Listen, he’s a softie, but only for his girl. But that doesn’t mean Tom isn’t above teasing you. You regret the day that Tom discovered you were ticklish. Also, sometimes like to scare you, creeping from behind and laughing as you playfully hit his chest and shoulder. Though only he can mess with you, no one else.

Tom is touch-starved. He’s perhaps the clingiest person you know of. Whenever he comes back home, he immediately wants to hold you. If you’re cooking or doing the dishes, he’ll hug you from behind, burying his face in your shoulder. If he finds you laying in bed reading a book, he’ll plop himself on top of you. His head is on your chest as his arms hold your waist.

I imagine he’d like dancing, but only in certain situations. Perhaps you’re mad at him and Tom isn’t the best with his words. So you’re confused when you hear him turn on the radio and a song comes in. Tom approaches you, grabbing your hands as he sways them. You try to still be mad at him, but a smile eventually creeps into your face and you wrap your arms around his neck. Your bodies sway to the music as his arms encircle your waist.

#yandere concept #tom bennett x reader #world on fire x reader #ewan mitchell x reader

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teatitty · 9 months

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LOIS FIGURING OUT CLARK'S IDENTITY BY EPISODE 4 I LOVE WHEN PEOPLE LET HER BE THE SMART REPORTER SHE IS WHAT A WOMAN

#my adventures with superman

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xxgoblin-dumplingxx · 1 year

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Can Ma Kent be the sweet old southern woman oddduck needs? Someone who listens and lets her talk about Bruce and her frustrations with Clark and Lois but not try to solve it or pry for more info or anything? I just want oddduck to have a safe space rn lol

"Ma I'm sorry I-"

Martha waved away his concerns cheerfully and kissed his cheek, "You know we'll be fine. Pa will be perfectly happy to watch the game and I'll go see Y/N-" Her eyes narrowed when her son winced, looking a little ashamed of himself.

"Ma I don't know if-"

"Even if she's irritated at you right now she'll be thrilled to see me," she snorted.

Clark nodded slowly and stooped to kiss her cheek, "Call if you need anything-"

"We''ll be fine," she assured him, watching him go. Shaking her head and picking up her jacket and her handbag.

"Kids fighting, you think?" her husband asked.

"Not fighting," Martha said, kissing the top of his head and making sure he had a cold drink at hand. "I think, Clark has been meddling where he shouldn't-"

"With what?"

"Never you mind," she said smiling a little. What Lois had let slip and what she'd gleaned from talking to you briefly would have been enough to make the rest of his hair go grey.

"Martha-"

"Can't hear you I'm going to so watch a Lecture," she said, heading towards the University where you taught.

_________________

Martha snuck in and hung near the back. It was a big room and the students you were teaching were in various states of paying attention. But the ones that were? They were enraptured. And Martha understood it. She'd watched you hone this for years- ever since you were a little girl.

She didn't know if it was innate or if you practiced it in the mirror. But either way, she enjoyed it.

"Alright All, remember. Mid Terms are next week. And there are 3 essay questions- You only have to do ONE. If you do all three and get them right, there's extra credit in it for you-"

She watched you dismiss your class and waited, watching you gather your papers and your laptop, making her way down the steps, "Excuse me professor?" she teased. Beaming at you when you look up.

"I thought-"

"They got called in to work," she explained, "so I thought I'd come bother you. Make you get a slice of pie and some coffee with me."

You smile and pull out your laptop again, "Just let me email my next class and let them know they get a day off."

_______________

Martha listened for a little while. She knew there was a lot you weren't saying. About how annoyed you were with her son and his wife.

"I told them to get a dog if they want something to parent," you tell her.

"Good," she said, smiling a little. "Now about this man-"

"He doesn't even like me that way so I don't understand-"

Martha shook her head fondly. If he wasn't sweet on you, he wasn't as smart as Clark said. You're a cutie. Not a model. But there was a girl next door quality. A sweetness. A warmth. And you were smart? He'd have to be blind and stupid. And she could see, from the way you flustered a little talking about him, the way your cheeks heated that you liked him. "What's your mother say?"

You shrug, "I'm sure she'd have a lot to say if I told her anything-"

"Y/N."

"I mean why would I tell her after-"

"That wasn't your fault," Martha said softly, patting your hand. Trying not to worry about the fact that you'd only taken a couple bites of your pie and were now aimlessly picking. You were upset. This was bothering you.

"I chose-"

"You chose him because he lied to you, baby," she reminded you. "And then he left you."

You nod and Martha squeezed your hand again, hoping that Bruce knew what he was doing. He was going to have his work cut out for him if he was going to convince you of anything. And she hoped you were wrong. That he did like you enough to do the work.

#Bruce Wayne #Bruce Wayne x reader #odd duck!reader #ask answered #minors dni

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thirstnotes · 1 year

Text

| Rivals to Lovers with Clark Kent |

Summary: Just mindless jabbering about mild “Enemies to Lovers” with Clark Kent for @ramp-it-up . It’s not a story, per se, but this one’s for you, homie. Merry New Year lol

Warnings: Ramblings, opinions, jokes, attempts at humor, morally gray Clark, smut, NSFW eventually (not this part tho) so per usual, minors DNI, typos probably, poor writing (but if you don’t like it, don’t read it)

Pairings: Clark Kent x BlackAFABReader

You’ve been at the Daily Planet a little bit longer than Clark, so you knew the ropes before Golden Boy graced you all with his presence

You were a bad bitch, able to cover some of the toughest exclusives. From Bruce Wayne to Static Shock himself

But he started scooping you left and right and it was tap-dancing on your last nerve. But you respected how he was able to somehow get the story

You secretly thought he had to be Superman

Bc frfr the man was swole

“Scooped again,” you huffed quietly, packing your bag for the day, eyes flickering to the team congratulating Clark Probably-Superman-Because-What-Reporter-Has-A-Body-Like-That-Kent. You spotted him approaching from the corner of your eye and looked up with an enthusiastic smile.

“Well well. Congrats again, Clark.”

His dashing smirk grew a bit and he dipped his head with a laugh. “Thanks. You almost sounded like you meant it this time. The smile? Nice touch.”

“It was, wasn’t it?” you sassily agreed, a little proud of your own performance and he laughed. You looked out at the office. “Well anyway. Your adoring public awaits.”

“C’mon, YN, we’re going out to celebrate. Have a drink on me.”

He was always really sweet. That was one of the things that kinda bothered you. He was perfect. Funny, gorgeous, smart and a hell of a journalist. You couldn’t even have a serious rivalry with him because he was just genuinely a nice dude.

It was a rivalry you both enjoyed, because you could sass each other on a professional level and still have lunch and debate topics civilly (most of the time) with a mutual respect

Loathe as you were to admit it, you had a lot in common

“Can’t. I have things to do.”

“I promise not to brag much,” he joked, his arms folding expectantly. You rolled your eyes and mimicked his pose, shifting the weight in your hips.

“Clark, as much as I’d love to pour-have a drink on you, I actually have a life outside of The Daily Planet Crew-Heeeey, Luke!”

Clark’s eyes followed yours to the man perched in the doorway. You lit up so much at seeing him, Clark looked back at you with a judgy smirk but you ignored him.

“Hey, you need a ride to class?” Luke asked, looking between you and Clark, who perked up.

“Class?”

“Yeah, no, we do a cooking class together. International Cuisines over on West and Central. You should check it out,” Luke explained and Clark looked moderately impressed.

“Oh! I didn’t know you two were. Are you datin-“

“Oh, um,” you started.

“No, no, no,” he gargled out at the same time and Clark looked between you slowly.

“I mean, it is a couple’s only class, but, like, between us, we kinda fudged the details a little bit when we signed up,” you admitted, your embarrassment growing. It was enough that your secret alone time with the hot photographer was being revealed to Mr. Perfect, but to hear Luke so vehemently refute the implication that you were his girlfriend. In front of him. Of all people. It was too much. You swallowed your feelings and kept it together. “Anyway, yeah, I’ll ride over with you.”

With that Luke continued down the hall to the darkroom. You exhaled and and pulled your bag onto your shoulder.

“Not a word.”

“I didn’t say anything,” Clark smirked, rolling his lips, to keep from laughing at the juicy interaction he just witnessed. He watched you lock up and leave, that annoying shit-eating smirk on his ridiculously handsome face ever present. You knew he was judging you. Like Damn woman, I knew you were thirsty, but this is next level.

Not like he had room to judge. Lois Lane could wear his balls as a necklace and he’d thank her for her time and energy. You had to respect the hustle, however, because he was just as shameless as you were to get next to his boo. You weren’t mad at that. The struggle was real. Today, however, was a major blow to your pride and progress and honestly you didn’t even know why you even bothered getting into the car, let alone slog through another class next to a man who clearly didn’t see you as anything but a fwb. The benefit being that you were a woman he could finesse a cooking class with.

You were way too fine to be used like that

You knew that

But in a way you were using him to be in the class too. It had limited seats and if word got out that you two weren’t a couple, you’d be put out for sure, so, annoyed and lukewarm (I said what I said) as you were on him now, you were trapped in this one-sided arrangement for now

But damn. Pretending was hard. When that man smiled at you over a perfectly cooked plate of crullers that you both worked hard to make…Hoooo. You were goo. It was pitiful. You hated it, but there you were. Laughing at his corny ass jokes. Joking back. Completely ignoring how he threw your potential relationship under the bus earlier that day. The laughter died down and eventually it was just you two in the car. Him driving you home.

“Hey, you remember when Clark thought we were dating?” you asked, hoping to work around to a genuine conversation about the two of you.

“Woah right? That was close. I mean, not that you aren’t attractive. You’re gorgeous, of course.”

“Of course,” you smirked saucily, chest fluttering at the blatant compliment he was giving. But the other half of you was waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“But.”

There it was.

He hesitated, as if trying to find the words. He hazarded a glance your way. “Between us, Lois and I have been dating for a little bit.”

You then throat chopped him, causing him to swerve sharply, sending the car into a spin-out off the nearest bridge, thus killing you both and sparing you the humiliating dread of realizing you wasted your time simping over some dude that Lois Fuckin Lane had already secured between her legs ages ago

Just kidding. That didn’t happen, but you were damn sure thinking about it right then

You were truly at a loss. You were a top flight journalist, you should’ve picked up on it. Something. Anything. Sure, they hung out a bit between meetings, but you all did. Then again, they did spend more than a little time at each other’s desks, smiling and talking. Grabbing lunch or coffee for each other. But you thought it was business. You and Clark did that for each other all the time. Maybe you just ignored the signs.

“Oh. Shit. That’s-That’s great! Is it getting serious?” you asked, kicking yourself for the filler question. He took a deep breath.

“I think so. I mean, it’s going pretty well. I wish I knew what was going on in her mind.”

“Well I’m not gonna spy for you, if that’s what you’re working around to,” you joked hollowly, the sinking pain in your chest making you feel sick and stupid. He laughed and you forced yourself to as well.

“Man, that’s cold,” he chortled and it gave you a petty bit of satisfaction.

“That’s life.*”

‘Biotch’.*

“That’s what people say,” he joked back, quoting the song. Though while he was riding high in April, it was you that was shot down in May. You were relieved when you saw home, nearly opening the door while the car was still in motion. You couldn’t wait to get inside and have a nice hot bath and a stiff drink.

Usually that was your time to unwind and read in the warm candlelight, or even touch yourself, if you felt so inclined to do so, but tonight, you weren’t feeling anything. Much less yourself.

You couldn’t help but think about how Clark was coping with all this. Provided he even knew. You could see him, the absolute Labrador of a man, reduced to nothing me than a kicked puppy at the news of his beloved Lois dating anybody that wasn’t him

Part of you was hoping he was Superman, so he could freak out and smack the shit out of Luke for doing this to you. Well. The petty part of you was kinda hoping

It wasn’t anybody’s fault, you knew that, but you just wanted to feel less like a fool and more like the confident woman you woke up as that morning

The next time you saw Clark, you debated not telling him anything, but you weren’t willing to let anybody go out the way you did. So eventually, over coffee, you broke it to him casually

“I know.”

“S’cuse me?”

“That they’re dating? I already know that,” he said, adding more coffee to his mug to make it less sweet. He was either taking this remarkably well, or he was playing it off like he was totally fine. Which would add amazing acting to his already impressive list of things he could do well.

“Then why are you still fawning all over Lois like it’s Single’s Weekend?”

He laughed with a shrug. “They’re dating, not married. She could change her mind.”

Part of you felt a small spark jolt through you. You always imagined Clark the traditional type. But there he was literally—openly—declaring war on your crush. Threatening to steal his bae.

“Oh. Okay. My bad.”

Part of you was cheering for him to.

(Part 2)

#reader insert #Black Reader #dc comics #fanfic #clark kent #clark kent x reader #rivals to lovers #superman x reader #Superman x Black Reader #thirstnotes

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forestdeath1 · 6 days

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A malewife is like Phil and Claire from Modern family or Peter and Lois from Family guy, it’s when the woman is the smart one in the relationship and somewhat a “girlboss” and the man simply adores her and acts dumb

I think the answer is in your question? James wouldn't act dumb all the time (sometimes we all act dumb), and Lily doesn't seem like the kind of person who only wants everyone to do things the way she decides. And why is Lily smart and James dumb? They're both not stupid. And I don't like when only James adores Lily. Let them both adore each other. I don’t know why people write this trope, I find it at least weird.

#jily

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haggishlyhagging · 7 months

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In the silent-film era, Hollywood's film industry grew quickly to meet audience demand, and thus it was more pragmatically welcoming to women writers, editors, directors, and producers than it would be at any other time afterward. Directors like Dorothy Arzner, Lois Weber, and Alice Guy-Blaché (the latter widely considered to be the first true "auteur" of cinema), and actor-producers like Mary Pickford (founder of United Artists studios) and Clara Bow created films that weren't the escapist fantasies Hollywood would come to prize, but human stories that included complex relationships and forward-thinking subject matter: Weber's The Hand That Rocks the Cradle, for instance, was about the need for legalized birth control. At one point, women headed up dozens of production companies. But, as film journalist and historian Melissa Silverstein notes, "As it became more about money, the women behind the scenes disappeared." The expensive technology that turned silents into "talkies" beginning in the 1920s necessitated the involvement of Wall Street, which invested in young studios and became the big bosses of directors and producers, imposing a masculinized and increasingly sex-segregated workforce as part of the burgeoning corporate studio system. Women in powerful creative and decision-making roles were suddenly seen as amateurish and unprofessional; for the male-dominated financial forces that took charge of the Hollywood economy, and with larger and larger amounts of cash at stake, they were simply too much of a risk.

Onscreen, representations of women followed a similar trajectory. In what's now known as the pre-Code era of Hollywood films, women were smart, professional, ambitious, forthright, opaque, tricky, even criminal. They blackmailed bosses, had babies out of wedlock, seduced other women—and the thrillers were even steamier. Jean Harlow's Red-Headed Woman was a brazen social climber more than willing to seduce any man to get what she wanted; Barbara Stanwyck, in Baby Face, was an exploited young woman who used sex to move from penniless to paid ("She had IT and made IT pay" leered the film's poster). And, of course, there was Mae West, the bombshell vaudevillian, playwright, producer, and model for every one of Samantha Jones's Sex and the City single-entendres, whose winking catchphrases—"Come up and see me some-time"; "When a girl goes bad, men go right after her"—have long epitomized pre-Code Hollywood's sassy repartee. It's not that the heroines essayed by these dames were like men; they weren't. They were simply as human onscreen as the men, as full of appetite and humor and stubbornness and fallibility. And that was part of the problem that the Hays Code was enacted to fix.

-Andi Zeisler, We Were Feminists Once

#andi zeisler #hollywood history #womens history #men menning

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redwiccanrobin · 8 months

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The Demon & The Bat

In the early ‘70s, a new character was unleashed on the Batman mythos; her name was Talia Al Ghul. Daughter of the mysterious Ra’s Al Ghul.

She was a captivating and beautiful woman, quite frankly. We met her for a few fleeting pages but we already had the firm grasp on who she would grow to be. She was kind, smart, could take care of herself. And, despite being raised in a league of assassins, she felt an immense amount of guilt when she had to kill a man in order to protect Batman. Crying and collapsing into the vigilante’s arms. He simply held her and allowed her to do so.

Perhaps it was the compassion he showed her in that moment. Perhaps it was his intelligence that she saw shine through. Perhaps it was the mystery. Perhaps it was all of the above but soon Talia fell for the caped crusader. Found herself enraptured by him and wishing to be by his side. Which led to Ra’s to kidnap Dick Grayson, Batman’s ward, to set up the arrangement. A bit dramatic, Ra’s. You could have just invited the man to dinner.

He asked the dark knight to marry his beloved daughter. Batman was shocked that this was the motive for taking his son. Once he got his bearings straight, he swiftly declined.

Though the refusal of the proposal, Bruce couldn’t help but fall in love as well. She was a woman unlike any other. And he soon found himself a moth to her flame.

Bruce and Talia would found themselves married some years later. The Demon Trilogy written primarily by Mike W. Barr is the quintessential Bruce/Talia love story. It shows the almost overwhelming feelings they possess for each other. The overwhelming want and need to be together. But things rarely go right for Bruce, the marriage somewhat crumbled apart. He had to leave, she had to stay. Leaving them separated by a cruel fate once more.

Throughout the 70s-90s it was made abundantly clear just who Talia Al Ghul was. She was meant to be the end all be all. The love of Bruce’s life. His soulmate. His Iris West or Lois Lane. The flame he held for her was brighter than any before. We, as readers, held out hope that, one day, they would be together forever.

Sadly, Talia was mischaracterized so horribly that it followed her for years. It was when Scottish writer, Grant Morrison, took the reigns on her. I will not be going into too much detail on the matter as I have spoken about it at many points on here. It is also very triggering for many as well as myself. I do not know what the motivation was in writing her so out of left field. But regardless of whether Morrison had malicious intent or not, the damage had been done as many Talia fans know.

This caring, kind woman who felt guilt rack her at the idea of taking a life was shattered. For decades, she was cold, callous, and blood-thirsty. It was hard to see her transpire to that. For so long, Talia fans felt hopeless. Felt as though we would never get our true Talia back. We missed her.

However, it is to be noted that over the last few years, there has been a slow and steady shift. More and more we are getting the remnants of Talia from the past. This is due to Talia fans who have missed her now coming in and writing for her. Things are not 100% perfect right now, but we are getting there. And with the characterization of her finally being on the right track, we are seeing that love between her and Bruce once more. We see the overwhelming want and need for each other again. Maybe she’ll be centered as the love of his life once more. Maybe she’ll be portrayed as his soulmate yet again. At least, that is what I am hoping and wishing for.

#dc comics #batman #batman meta #brutalia #bruce wayne #talia al ghul

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natusvincere · 9 days

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Lois Lane Reporting Live|| Felix and Vic

Timing: About a week ago Location: The Grit Pit Partings: @recoveringdreamer and @natusvincere Summary: Vic has somehow come up with the idea that the Grit Pit is operating as a secret underground ring to harm vampires, Felix becomes the unfortunate victim of her investigation. Warnings: N/A

Felix had been… employed by the Grit Pit for some time now. They’d fallen into the routine of it, even if they wanted, more than anything, to get out. They knew the people who were there regularly, from the frequent spectators with their loud voices and angry words to the upper management and their cruel games. More than anything, though, Felix was familiar with the other fighters. They’d faced most of them in the Pit at one point or another, and the ones they hadn’t fought, they’d seen in the locker room often enough to recognize them on sight. Most of them didn’t bother with small talk or getting to know one another — it made things a lot easier if you weren’t friendly with the people who you might be asked to brutally beat at any given moment — but Felix recognized them all pretty well. Even newer fighters were typically paraded around by someone proud of having trapped someone new, even if the fighter in question was still unaware of how binding their contract was.

So it was a little weird that Felix didn’t recognize the woman standing in the locker room tonight.

She wore thick-rimmed glasses, though Felix wasn’t sure if there was actually a lens in them. She held a notebook and was dressed in a smart suit. She looked like a cartoon of a stereotypical journalist, and it put them on edge just a little. Strangers in the locker room were never great, but strangers who looked like they might start asking questions were worse. Ducking their head, Felix did their best to slide by the stranger without attracting any attention.

Victoria was not a stranger to violence. In her over three centuries on the Earth, she had seen more than her fair share of it, even before she was undead. Her own death and turning (and subsequent years after as a baby vampire) were full of particularly violent memories as well, despite how much she wished to forget them. But violence, and all that came with it, were never something she enjoyed. She couldn’t understand why people would come to a place like the Grit Pit, where fighters were paid to be screamed at and beat the shit out of one another. It seemed extremely barbaric and inhumane. Over time, she had convinced herself that there had to be something more going on there. Somehow, she now believed that it must have been a front for something even more nefarious than just overt violence- was this part of a larger trick to destroy vampires? One that she had missed back when she was on the wrong side of morality when it came to the beasts?

She wasn’t sure. If she were more of an objective person, she might have been able to step back and see that this sort of conclusion was not a logical one to jump to. But her determination to be a better person had been having its way of superseding logic altogether lately, which is how she had ended up at the Grit Pit with a fake journalist pass and a mission to out them for their ways altogether.

“Hey you!”, she called to the person seemingly avoiding her eye contact. She had watched them hesitate in their fight multiple times mere moments before- maybe they were just the person she needed to get to the bottom of whatever was going on here. She tried her best to hide any hint of Sweden in her accent, which still seemed to peak through despite speaking English for hundreds of years. Her attempt at a ‘journalist’ accent was somewhere between Brooklyn and Australian. “I’m workin’ on a beat for Wicked’s Rest Times.” Did the town even have a working newspaper? “About thriving local businesses. Why don’t you sit down and tell me about how you came to work for this fine establishment?”

They’d never been particularly lucky. Their entire life seemed to be a reflection of that very simple fact, shining through so brightly that it was blinding. From their mother’s death to their father’s overwhelming grief to Leo’s manipulation to the Grit Pit, Felix’s life seemed to be a snowball of bad luck rolling down a hill, growing larger and larger with each inch of ground it gained. So of course they couldn’t avoid the attention of the stranger in the locker room. Of course she’d call out to them specifically in an accent that was… strange and hard to pin down. They shouldn’t have been surprised about it in the slightest.

They tried to pretend not to hear her, tried to hurry the process of shoving their things into their duffel, but the luck that had never been on their side before didn’t seem keen on running to meet them now. They dropped a sock on the ground, leaned down to pick it up only to knock their duffel over and spill the contents on the floor of the locker room, effectively trapping them for the amount of time it would take to clean it all up. That gave the woman — the journalist, because of course she was a journalist — plenty of time to approach them. Felix tried to suppress a groan.

What was she asking about? Thriving local businesses? Was that what the Grit Pit was? The reminder of their contract’s nondisclosure clause churned in their gut, and they shook their head quickly. “Um, no, sorry, I don’t — I mean, I don’t have a lot of time. I have, uh, somewhere else to be right after this, and I’m not very good at talking to people anyway, so you probably don’t want to interview me. Um, there’s a guy over that way who might be able to answer your questions, I bet.” They gestured vaguely to where Wyatt had disappeared, feeling a little guilty for throwing him under the bus but knowing he’d be better at getting rid of the journalist, anyway.

—

This person must have been nervous. Clothes were tumbling from their bag before they even had a chance to muster a response, and Vic glanced down at them before she stepped closer to her interviewee. There was a small part of her that felt bad that they were nervous, but a bigger part that reveled in it. Nerves put people on edge, and Vic knew from experience that people on edge were more prone to spilling their guts. In the least literal way, of course. Even if the information they gave her was miniscule, Vic was hopeful whatever she got out of them would leave her closer to rescuing vampires from whatever was going on at the Grit Pit. Ignoring their protests and their gesture to someone unknown behind her, she held out her hand for them to shake.

“The name’s Missy Spitz.” Believe it or not, Vic had come up with that alias hours before. No one would trace anything back to her if this person came up with any good juice. “You know, an employer isn’t allowed to keep you from talking to the press, nor are they able to retaliate for information released.” She wondered if her lies would cost this person their job. Perhaps they’d find something upstanding and nonviolent instead. Maybe this would work out well for everyone.

“This won’t take too long. I just need to know a bit more about your employer and I’ll be on my merry way.” As if to show how unthreatening she was, Vic leaned down, picking up one of the fallen shirts and helping to fold it. It was stinky and sweaty, and although she folded it neatly, she pinched two fingers together to hand it over. “Now, how long have you been working for the Grit Pit?”

—

Her hand was directly in front of him, and Felix was a little too polite not to reach out and shake it, even if they had no real desire to continue the conversation. They glanced back towards where Wyatt had disappeared to, but he’d already exited the locker room and seemed to have no plans of returning. Felix did another quick sweep, hoping to find some familiar face to rescue them, but it was no use. It wasn’t a full moon, which meant Samir wasn’t around, and most of the other fighters didn’t talk to him. Even if they did, it seemed everyone else had already dispersed. No one seemed keen on hanging around the locker room too long when the night was over, especially not when some stranger was there asking questions. Felix was on their own here.

“That’s not your name,” they blurted, then immediately regretted the outburst. “Sorry. I mean, maybe — maybe that is your name. But it doesn’t really sound like a real name. I don’t know anyone named Missy Splitz. I don’t even think Splitz is a name. Missy is a name, maybe, but it’s more of a nickname. Isn’t it? Is, um, is your name something else, and people just call you Missy? Or did you choose the name Missy? It’s not a bad name. I think it’s fine. I just don’t think — I’m not — Um.”

Maybe this would work in their favor. If Felix couldn’t convince the reporter to leave by asking, maybe they could make conversation so incredibly awkward that she’d choose to go away just to get out of it. It didn’t seem like the kind of thing that would happen quickly, however. She began making claims that an employer couldn’t make you not talk to the press, and Felix let out an awkward, uncomfortable laugh. An employer, he wanted to say, could make you do a lot of things when that employer was something like the Grit Pit. But just thinking the words made their tongue burn, either because of the contract or because of some mental block their mind had created to protect them from it.

Still stuffing their clothes into their bag, Felix avoided eye contact. “I really, um, I’m sorry, but I don’t — I don’t really have a lot of time to talk. I have to go home to feed my cat. She has to eat at the same time every night, or else she gets mad. And I don’t — I don’t want her to be mad at me, so I’ve gotta… I really can’t stay. Sorry, uh, Miss Splitz. Missy Splitz. Are you sure that’s your name?”

—

Vic put her hand on her chest, feigning shock and offense at the person’s declaration. “Excuse me?”, she said, accusatory and flushed. “It’s Missy Spitz. Not Missy Splitz. And I sincerely hope you didn’t just insult my reputable mother and my extremely loving and attentive father, who are both alive and well, by insulting the name they gave me when they laid their eyes upon my small, newborn face.” She worried, for a moment, that she was taking this character too seriously, but that moment was brief. “Missy. Spitz.”, she said, interrupting them with finality. “No nicknames, no jokes, just a given name. It’s generational, actually. Passed down… from my mother’s side. I’m the 17th Missy Spitz in my family.”

She didn’t need their eye contact to win them over, all she needed was for them to give her the information before someone more important caught her back here. She adjusted her fake press pass she had made, hoping he realized she meant business. “Your cat can wait. It’s important for children and animals to experience age-appropriate uncomfortable emotions, so that they’re better equipped to process them. It helps with a trusted adult guiding the way, of course, but your cat can wait. The skinny on the hooey? It needs to be spilled now.” Years ago, she read a book about a journalist who used that term. Thank goodness for her extensive research.

Again, this person was insulting Vic’s pretend name. She was starting to get for-real offended, instead of just in-character. “You cannot seriously be throwing around such raucous accusations when you yourself have yet to even tell me your name. How am I meant to write a proper report without your name? Go on, fighting-person. Tell me your name, so I can mock you as well.”

—

“Oh! I, um, sorry! I thought — I thought you said Splitz.” Felix turned bright red, hands trembling a little as they continued stuffing things into their duffel with a desperate speed. This, of course, caused its own issues; the trembling made it hard to get things into the bag properly, and more items were dropped and picked up and dropped again. “I’m not — I wasn’t, uh, insulting anyone. Especially not your parents! I was just, um, you know, it’s not — I haven’t heard that name before. I just — I was curious if you chose it yourself or not. I know, you know, a few people who have chosen their own names, and I think it’s cool. I don’t think I’d be able to choose my own name. I’d get overwhelmed, because there’s so many names out there. Like, where do you start? Right? But it’s cool, uh, that your parents named you Missy when — when you were a baby. And it’s cool that it’s a family name! Do you, um, did your dad… take your mom’s last name, then? If it’s from your mom’s side? I think that’s cool, too. I think it’s weird how people expect a woman to take her husband’s last name, but not the other way around. Right?”

They were hoping the cat excuse would get them out of this, but Felix had never been particularly lucky. The journalist — Missy Spitz, not Missy Splitz — was adamant, and Felix was bad at saying no even when they couldn’t say yes. Their eyes darted to the door of the locker room, though they weren’t sure if they were hoping for another fighter to come in and take Missy’s attention or a higher up from the Pit to come yell at her to go. Both options seemed cruel in one way or another. Missy earning a spot on the Grit Pit’s radar was a bad thing, and wishing for another fighter to be put in an uncomfortable position like the one Felix was in now seemed mean spirited. But Felix wasn’t equipped to handle this, and they knew it. “I don’t — I don’t have any… skinny on the hooey. Honest. I just, um, I’m just trying to go home.”

Wincing as she claimed they were insulting her again — they really hadn’t meant to! — Felix kept their gaze trained on the duffel that they’d more or less given up on packing. Their hands were shaking so much now that the bag’s zipper was banging absently against the bench every so often, the hollow thunk seeming to echo through the empty locker room. “I don’t — I don’t really think you should write a report. There’s a lot of cooler things to report on! Have you seen the leg? You should write a report on the leg!”

—

It was almost comical how the clothing kept falling in the bag as the Wildcat was trying to load it up. If Vic really worked for the newspaper, she might have drawn a silly comic of the sight Missy Spitz was a professional, though, so she had to find a way to stifle her amusement. “I’ve never heard anyone call their child ‘Wildcat’ either, but you don’t see me questioning you, now do you?” She kind of liked this strange, anxious groveling the fighter was doing, and she smirked with a weird sense of power as they continued to fawn. Yes, she was important. Yes, this person should be worried about how they made her feel. Is this how CEOs felt? Maybe once Rosie was grown up, Vic would try her hand at being a CEO. She would only hire grovelers of course, and people who didn’t like pineapple on pizza.

Wildcat’s question threw her off, and actually made her drop her smug, satisfied look. She hadn’t thought of that little detail when she made up the lie about 7 generations. “Oh, of course! My very loving, feminist father didn’t dare dream of asking his wife to take his name. He even made our beds every morning. I had a lovely childhood.” Vic was starting to feel sort of jealous of Missy Spitz and this fantastical life she led. “It’s unequivocally weird. Society is not as forward thinking as it assumes it is.”

“The leg is not a thriving small business. What good would that do my reputable article?”, Vic accused, now feeling annoyed. Wildcat wasn’t giving answers, and their eyes were shifting anywhere but Vic’s, seemingly looking for an out, so she knew it was time to pull out the big guns. Like the paparazzi did in hollywood. No more asking if she could ask questions, she just needed to ask them loudly until she got an answer. “Do you have any comments on the rumor that the Grit Prit is just a front for more nefarious ongoings, including the planned harm and destruction of specific groups of people that occupy this town?”, she asked, holding an invisible microphone near his face. It felt more official, somehow.

—

“Well, that’s a nickname! It’s not on my driver’s license. Which — Which is a valid driver’s license, by the way. It doesn’t expire for another year.” They weren’t sure why that felt important to add. In all honesty, Felix was floundering. They felt like they were in trouble, and they didn’t want to be. “Um, is Missy a nickname? Is it short for — Missandra?” They wanted the conversation to stay away from the reason she’d come here, even if that was probably impossible. Felix wasn’t enough of a wordsmith to properly distract someone from their intended conversation. Felix was barely enough of a wordsmith to carry on any conversation at all.

At least Missy Spitz, like most people, didn’t mind talking about herself. That was a nice way to distract people, sometimes. Felix liked to think it made them happy, too. People liked sharing little facts about themselves, like the fact that their families had nice fathers who took their mothers’ surnames and made the bed without asking. Felix tried to swallow the envious feeling at the idea of Missy Spitz’s father, who had probably never sent them into the woods with a shovel and a corpse and refused to let them back in the house until the grave was filled in entirely. “That’s cool. Your dad sounds really cool. What, uh, what’s his name?”

The conversation was spiraling, getting away from Felix in a way they didn’t know how to control. The leg wasn’t what Missy Spitz wanted to talk about. Missy Spitz’s forward-thinking, feminist family wasn’t what Missy Spitz wanted to talk about. Felix’s inability to get their sock to stay in their duffel wasn’t what Missy Spitz wanted to talk about. Missy Spitz wanted to talk about the Grit Pit, and Felix didn’t. Their heart picked up its pace as she asked a particularly hard-hitting question, their stomach churning. They felt sick, felt uneasy, and they didn’t know how much of that was the contract and how much of that was them. These days, that was something that happened a little too often. “I think I left my stove on! I really need to go turn off my stove. I’m sorry I thought your name was Missy Splitz!”

—

Oh. That made way more sense. Of course they would use nicknames in a seedy place like this. Vic should have known. This just pointed to more nefarious activities at the Grit Pit. She wrote the word ‘fraud’ with a sad face in her little notebook, the first note she had jotted down since she’d arrived. “So what’s your real name, then? Does it worry you to utter your real name in earshot of your controlling boss, or is that anxiety I’m picking up on about something else?” She paused, though not because she realized the irony that she was faking her own name, just like the wildcat, but to come up with a believable answer to his question. “It’s short for Misandry, actually”, she deadpanned. She wanted to smirk so bad, because that was funny, but instead, she just stared at them.

The mention of her father took all the joy out of her mind. Although, she supposed Wildcat wasn’t asking about her father, they were asking about Missy’s. Misdandry’s. “His name? His name is Franklin Delano Spitz. Although most people lovingly refer to him as D-man. He’s very jolly too, you see? I’m sure he’d disapprove of whatever is going on here too, but I wouldn’t want to worry a sweet, old man with the likes of this.”

Journalists lied all the time, right? Vic wondered how far of a lie she could tell without the whole situation becoming a bit ethically gray. Was it wrong to let this person think that wonderful fathers like Franklin Delano Spitz existed in this cruel world? Wildcat seemed to be going through a sort of moral crisis on their own, too, and Vic was beginning to wonder if she was pushing this too far. Sure, she hadn’t gotten too much information about the Grit Pit yet, but the confirmation that something else was going on was the definite first step she needed to pursue this further. “Well that was irresponsible of you. Don’t you have a neighbor you can call to check it before you get there?” Even with her harsh words, Vic finally allowed some distance between herself and the fighter, closing her one note notebook in the process. “Listen. I’d hate for you to start a fire just because you stuck around for an interview. I think I have all I need. Unless… there’s anything else you think might be valuable?”

—

They debated whether or not it was wise to give a journalist their real name, conflict rising in a way they hated. It wasn’t fair not to, was it? Missy Spitz had given Felix her real name, complete with its origin and a brief family history. Wouldn’t it be cruel to deny her the bare minimum in response. “Um, I’m — My name is Felix,” Felix said, stomach churning with doubt the moment the name was out. Did she have a point? Should they be worried about saying their name to a reporter where their bosses might hear? Felix had heard rumors that fae could take someone’s name — what if that was the punishment for this? Their eyes darted towards the door that led to the offices, their palms sweaty. They needed to get out of her before they really messed up. “Oh, Misandry is a beautiful name,” they muttered, afraid to comment anything else.

“D-Man. That’s cool. I like it when people have nicknames.” They felt another wave of guilt at the idea that they were doing something to upset Missy’s father, though they didn’t know the man at all. Disappointing fathers was something Felix had some experience in, but they didn’t think it was the sort of thing made easier by experience. “Oh, I don’t think he should be worried. Everything’s fine!” It wasn’t. Nothing was fine. Felix felt like they might be sick.

They shook their head quickly, deciding to cling to their flimsy excuse of a stove being left on. “No, I — I don’t have any neighbors. I, um, I’m a — a hermit. I live, uh, out in the woods.” Well, not anymore, though they wouldn’t say that to Missy. They needed to remove themself from this conversation before it became too late to do so. “I’m — I’m pretty irresponsible. I’m working on it, I’m trying to be better.” That wasn’t a lie. Felix knew they needed to improve on… more than one aspect of their life. But they wanted to be better. They really did. “No,” they muttered, looking down at their bag again. “I’m — I don’t have anything valuable. I’m sorry.”

—

“Felix”, said Vic, nodding in absolution. Felix the Wildcat. It was as solid of a name as any. She pretended to write it down in her notebook, although their name was never what she was after, just the information they could have provided. She hoped they wouldn’t be too disappointed when they never ended up featured in a newspaper article. Maybe she could write a fake one and send it to them, just in case. “Thank you”, she said. “My ancestors 17 generations ago thought the same thing.” She wondered what kind of life Rosie might have if she went around with a first name like Misandry. Either really horrible, or absolutely fantastic, probably.

“Oh, so does he. He loves anything fun, and indulged in my hobbies as a child.” Maybe she should write a children’s book about this fictional Misandry and her wonderful parents. Her life seemed fascinating. Poor Felix still looked like they were going to pass out, though, so she decided to stop fantasizing and pay more attention to the task at hand. She knew all the first aid she needed to for a 3-year-old, but she wasn’t sure she’d be able to revive an adult. Maybe all that fighting was getting to their head after all.

“Go”, she said, shooing them away with one hand and using the other to put her notebook in her pocket. “Before you make your hermit village into a forest fire and cause another travesty in this wild town.” She reached down to grab a last discarded shirt, placing it in their hand before they had a chance to leave. “And Felix? Don’t you worry. With a little hard work, we can all overcome irresponsibility and solitude.” Vic was proof of that, if only Felix knew the real her. “Don’t worry. Your secrets are safe with me.” With that, she tipped her makeshift journalist hat, smirking as she watched Felix scurry away. Maybe she didn’t get a ton of information about the Grit Pit like’d wanted, but she knew Missy Spitz work as a journalist was far, far from over.

#w:felix #w:llrl #w

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lucianoirlmurdervictim · 8 months

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Hello Tumblr

I wanted to tell you that while my boyfriend was over we decided that Vietnam Hetalia had T-Girl swag and is basically like China's sister right and that China respects her pronouns and identity as a woman but thinks she was better off as a man and goes now you so ugly, your hands are like oars, you such an ugly woman. He thinks nobody will want to marry her but Vietnam doesn't care about marriage she's too busy being the most stressed out woman in the world and being married to her job. And China is super super rich but acts like he is so poor and has to save money to afford enough grains of rice to feed his kids. Most of his "kids" are actually his younger cousins that he adopted as his own kids, except for Hong Kong, who is his biological son and the one he ironically hates the most. He sold him to England for opium. China also refuses to get rid of shit even when its old and broken. Hes been using the same bong since the BC era and its 86% duct tape now. He likes Kiku because Kiku got that smart kid ultra-organized autism. But Hong Kong got that anti-social gay ass autism(my kind). He thinks hanging out with Iceland was what gave his son autism. But like if one of his kids or family members tries to come out to him as gay or trans or whatever he just waves his hand and says I dont care, as long as you marry rich I dont care. He also loves Family Guy and watches it on full volume in the living room and it annoys everyone but he doesn't care. He says Lois is the ideal wife. Based half this shit off of my boyfriend's IRL parents lets give it up for asian swag!!!

#asian swag #hws china #china #hetalia #hetalia china #china headcanons #china lore #hws japan #hws vietnam #vietnam headcanons #lore of vietnam #brother made me post this shit oh my god #hws hong kong #hetalia character's opinion on family guy: part 1 #t girl swag

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cardcaptorsakura96 · 6 months

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Taxes, Taxes, Taxes- Chapter 8

Fandom: Supergirl

Characters: Kara Danvers, Clark Kent, Samantha Arias, Lena Luthor, Lillian Luthor, Ruby Arias, Oliver Queen, John Stewart, Diana Prince, Bruce Wayne, Barry Allen, J'onn J'onnz, Alfred Pennyworth, Lois Lane

Summary: What if superheroes had to pay a property damage tax every time they had a fight in the city?

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7

Lena stared at the communication device that Kara gave her. She read over the itinerary once more before pressing send. She started to type out another message but stopped herself.

Do I have the right to ask for details?

She kept typing and erasing her message over and over until she heard someone say, “Why not just press send already?”

Lena yelped and looked up. Sam was staring down at her with a smirk on her face.

“When did you come in?” asked Lena while trying to steady her breathing.

“I came in about five minutes ago watching you fret over what to send to your special friend.”

Lena rolled her eyes and muttered, “She is not my friend. We have a business relationship and that is it.”

“You have been glued to that communication device that Supergirl gave you the last three days. Do you always do that with your other professional relationships?” asked Sam while smirking.

Lena looked down and twiddled her thumbs.

“I admit I was concerned after what my friend said happened at S.T.A.R. Labs.”

“You mean Dr. Snow?”

Lena nodded.

“Isn’t this the same lady that said that the Flash and Supergirl were at death’s door after the fight and the Justice League had them replaced with clones until they got better?” asked Sam warily.

“Yes.”

“Lena, I know this lady is your friend, but are you really going to believe they have clones out there fighting in their places?”

“The video she sent was kind of compelling though,” muttered Lena.

Sam sighed, “I saw the same video. All it proved is that the Flash and Supergirl were injured. There weren’t any clones.”

Lena leaned back into her chair and sighed.

“I don’t know about clones, but Caitlyn was partially right about something.”

Sam sighed and said, “What is that exactly?”

“I managed to get in touch with Supergirl just now. She said that she wasn’t able to answer because she had been unconscious the last several days.”

Sam raised an eyebrow and said, “Really? I wonder why they would want to perpetuate that she was up and about then.”

“Probably so that the cities that the Flash and Supergirl defended didn’t go into an instant crime spree while their defenders were away.”

“Smart. Wonder how they did it?”

Lena cocked her head and sat thoughtfully for a moment.

“If I had to guess, the Martian was involved. He has shapeshifting abilities.”

“But the Flash and Supergirl have been seen the last couple of days in different places across the world though.”

Lena leaned back into her chair and sighed.

“Either he wasn’t as severely injured as her or they used another shapeshifter or possibly magic user.”

“The lengths they would go through to make sure everything is okay,” murmured Sam.

“I hate the deception, but I get it. Unfortunately, we live in a world where people like Livewire or Captain Cold would hear about the heroes being disposed of and take the opportunity to cause chaos in the city. Better the illusion instead of the alternative.”

Sam nodded and said, “That’s true. Well, now that we know she is not a clone, how did she sound?”

“What do you mean?” asked Lena.

Sam raised an eyebrow and asked, “Don’t tell me that after pacing back and forth over this woman, you didn’t ask her if she was okay?”

“I wasn’t pacing,” Lena muttered while looking away.

However, Lena knew that was a bald-faced lie. When Caitlyn sent her the tape of Batman carrying Supergirl out of the lab, she looked lifeless. The super annoyed her, but she didn’t want to see her get hurt. Watching the video made her realize that she didn’t have any knowledge about Supergirl at all.

She went on a deep dive into different news articles and videos about Supergirl’s heroic adventures. It kind of alarmed her how many videos she watched of the blonde. It did give her more insight into her personality. She seemed way more personable than Superman. He always helped but held himself above everyone else like no one was superior to him. Supergirl was more friendly and liked to help the everyday person. She could stop a train and help retrieve a cat stuck in a tree. Nothing seemed too big or small for her to do. Not enough heroes realize that while people need help with the big things like attacks and invasions, the community also needs help at the local level. She was glad that National City finally had someone that realized that.

Sam narrowed her eyes and said, “You were pacing and holding that device of hers. Just admit that you were concerned.”

Lena rolled her eyes and said, “Fine! I admit I was concerned. I didn’t want to see our investment go down the drain.”

Sam smirked and asked, “Is that the only reason?”

Lena pouted and said flustered, “Oh, just shut up!”

Sam chuckled and said, “Ah, I hit a nerve. Fine, I will stop teasing. Although, you didn’t answer my initial question. Did she sound okay?”

Lena looked down while twiddling her thumbs and said, “She sounded fine. She said that she would be able to do the photoshoot tomorrow.”

Sam smiled and said, “Great! Were you able to go over the itinerary with her?”

“I sent her the itinerary and things to bring.”

Sam frowned and asked, “Why would she need to bring anything other than herself?”

“Well, I thought that she may be more comfortable in different clothing considering the activities she would be doing tomorrow.”

“What things did you think she needed to bring?

Lena went through the communication device, pulled up the message she sent Supergirl, and handed it to Sam.

She quickly scanned through the email and then looked back up at Lena with a raised eyebrow.

“What?” asked Lena.

“You really thought that it was appropriate for you to ask her to bring this stuff?”

“I think it is reasonable considering the activities we would be having her doing.”

“Wasn’t the point of this whole thing to have her wear her costume so people understand the partnership?”

“I wrote on there that the clothing in question needed to have her insignia on it.”

Sam looked back down and read again. She shook her head and chuckled.

“You have it in very tiny writing.”

Lena looked away and said, “Well, she supposedly has good eyesight. That shouldn’t be a problem for her.”

Sam handed her back the device while smirking.

“I didn’t realize how smitten that you were with Supergirl.”

Lena looked up baffled and said, “I am not smitten. I just asked her to bring clothing is all. This will be all professional and tastefully done. You’ll see.”

Sam shook her head and chuckled.

Lena frowned and asked, “What’s so funny?”

Sam smirked and said, “I am just looking forward to tomorrow is all. I am curious to see how Supergirl responds to the stuff you asked her to bring.”

Lena smiled confidently and said, “She will be professional. You’ll see.”

Sam shook her head and smiled as she turned to walk away.

“I’m going to head out for the day. I’ll see you tomorrow morning with Ruby.”

Lena frowned and asked, “Wouldn’t Ruby be in school?”

Sam cackled and asked, “Do you really think that my daughter, who started a Supergirl fan club at school, would really sit out this opportunity?”

Lena chuckled and said, “I didn’t think she liked her enough to want to miss school over it.”

Sam smirked and said, “This coming from the same woman that snuck out of the house and stole her mom’s car in order to see the Backstreet Boys concert.”

“I hate when you use my own past against me,” muttered Lena.

Sam laughed and said, “I love you too, Lena. See you tomorrow!”

After she left, Lena scrolled through the itinerary one more time and frowned.

This is appropriate. Yeah, she will come with something professional tomorrow.

Read the rest on AO3

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