#and he wants bill dead more than anything in the universe

[vivwritesfics]

Set The World On Fire

Chapter One

Lando Norris had been incredibly angry when they met. Incredibly angry, but sweet enough to help her. Turns out he just needed somebody to talk to, somebody to be there for him.

He was easy to fall for, and that put her in a world of danger

Mafia AU

1.9K

Series Masterlist

PLEASE READ!!: While this story is a part of the NNTA universe, the reader is no longer Lando's sister. To not spoil how people read NNTA, Lando's sister will not be given a name in this story. She will be referred to, but only as his sister (because it's very key for the plot)

They went on three dates before she worked out who he was. He was attractive, sure, but there wasn't much else to him. On the third date, she worked out what a waste of space he was.

The first instance was when she wolf whistled a waitress. It was disgusting, she was disgusted, and the waitress was definitely going to spit in their food. But she stuck it out, making a promise to herself that she wasn't going to call him after that date.

"Well," she said somewhat awkwardly after they had paid their bill, splitting it down the middle (he definitely had more drinks and the more expensive meal, but whatever. If she had to pay more than she owed to get away from him, then so be it). "Are you still okay to drive me home?"

"Sure thing, babe," he said as they walked across the car park, heading towards his shitbox of a car.

She scrunched up her face at that. Why did he have to call her babe? She wasn't anything to him and she never would be.

He got into his car and started his engine. For a moment she thought he was going to drive away without her, leave her stranded at the restaurant.

She quickly got into the car, kept her small back on her lap as he sped away. Everything was a blur, to the point where she couldn't tell which way they were going.

Turns out, it was the wrong way. The car stopped outside of a building with bright, neon lights. It was near blinding, and it definitely wasn't where she lived. "What the fuck," she couldn't stop herself from saying. "Why are we at a strip club?"

"Relax, baby." There was that word again. "Just come in with me. I'll by you a drink and then I'll take you home."

Yeah, she wasn't moving from the car. Anger simmered just bellow her skin as she fished through her bag and pulled out her phone. The phone she was sure she had charged before she left the house. So why the fuck was it dead?

She was at her wits end. "Well, you can stay here if you want," her date said. "But, uh, make sure you keep the car door locked."

It was the way he said it that had her climbing out of the car with him. She kept a tight hold of her bag as she followed him into the nearly empty club. It would be nearly empty, it was 7pm on a Thursday.

As soon as they were into the strip club, her date made a beeline for the bar. She followed him, out of necessity. After getting himself a drink, he sat himself in front of the stage.

Looking a little like a lost dog, she followed him to the stage. This was his regular spot, this much was clear by the way he greeted the other men around him. "The big boss is here," One of the men said to him. He nodded and looked back of his date, but she didn't hear it.

He smirked. How was the big boss going to act now that there was a woman in the club, one that wasn't working for him. He was known for being an asshole and abrupt when talking to people in his club. Lets just say, nobody stuck around for his friendly demeaner.

Whether the pair could feel the bosses eyes on them or not, he was watching. He sipped his whisky from his private booth at the back of the club as he watched.

She wasn't comfortable, that was for sure. She looked so uncomfortable sat in front of the stage, her eyes fixated on her shoes. She didn't once glance at the girls on the stage.

Lando felt so fucking sorry for her.

But he sat back and watched for just a few minutes more. Maybe they were just stopping in on their way to do something else. He didn't take his eyes off of her though.

They weren't going anywhere. After a good twenty minutes they hadn't moved, and she still looked uncomfortable.

Lando put his almost finished whisky down onto his table and stood up. Nobody would touch it if he left it there, he knew. Not if they wanted to keep their lives. He ran his fingers through his curls, shoved his hands into his pockets, and strode over.

The men sat around her were looking around at the others girls spread around the club. When they spotted Lando they visibly stiffened up and turned back around, facing the stage in front of them.

Lando was noticeably calm as he walked over, something they weren't used to. Normally, when Lando was walking over, it was to throw somebody out of his club. Normally, when Lando walked over, he was visibly angry.

But not this time. People moved their legs out of his way so that Lando could get past them, get to the girl sat in the middle of his club. Nobody looked at him as he tapped the girl on her shoulder.

"Excuse me," he said and she turned towards him, looking up at him. Unlike everybody else in the club, she didn't look terrified of him. "Can I help you, Darling?" He asked, although he didn't quite pronounce the 'g'.

He was... wow. Dressed in a black suit with the top few buttons of his white shirt opened, his blue eyes staring into her own. His skin was naturally tanned and his hair in dark curls. He was gorgeous. Once she saw him, it was impossible to look away from him.

"I don't work here." Why the fuck did she just say that? She hadn't meant to say that, but she couldn't stop herself. If this man was after a lap dance, she couldn't help him out.

Lando chuckled as he shook his head. But it wasn't a proper chuckle, one designed to make her feel foolish. "I asked if I can help you. Are you okay?"

She swallowed the lump in her throat. "I'm just waiting to be taken home."

Again, that wasn't what Lando asked. But he didn't push on the matter. Instead, he offered her his hand. "Come with me to the back office and I'll call you a cab," he said.

She didn't know anything about this man. He didn't look old enough to be the club owner, but he certainly looked rich enough to own a club. There wasn't a lot to lose at this point, she realised as she took his hand and stood up. And, if he ended up being a creep, she could always just kick him where the sun doesn't shine and make a run for it.

In the back office of the club, he offered Y/N some water. She accepted the bottle (which had never been opened) and sat on the couch opposite his desk.

She watched as he called up a cab and gave the company the address. As soon as he had confirmation, he put the phone down and looked across the desk, looking at her. "Bad date?" He guessed.

"Bad date," she answered. He kept looking at her as he came around to lean against his desk. So, she continued speaking. "I wasn't going to call him again after tonight, and I think he knew that," she muttered, resting her back against the couch cushions.

"I don't think I've been on a date in years," he said and laughed to himself. But, again, it wasn't a genuine laugh.

That was when she properly looked at him. His eyes were bloodshot, with dark circles beneath them. His knuckled were bruised and bloody, as though he had been punching at walls. "Hey," she said as she put her bottle of water down. "Are you okay?"

He smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. Didn't get close. "Just life," he answered simply. But she kept looking at him, the way she moved her head towards him urging him on. "Do you really wanna hear my problems?"

She shrugged her shoulders. "I'm just a stranger in a strip club with nothing better to do but wait. Of course I want to hear your problems."

So, Lando told her. He told her all about the arranged marriage between his sister and another man, something set up by his parents. He told her that his step mother was dead and his father was close, and there was no way to get out of it. He didn't tell her who his family was, what they did, of course. The pretty stranger in his club didn't need to know that.

When he was finished, she let out a low whistle. "That was... heavy. Do you even know the guy?"

He let out a dry laugh. "Yeah," he answered. "Yeah, we know him." But he didn't elaborate.

Suddenly his phone rang on his desk. He twisted his body, picked it up and placed it against his ear. His conversation was quick, just a few words exchanged between both parties. "That was your cab," he said to her. "They're outside."

Picking up her bag and the bottle of water, she walked out of the back office. He had his hand on the small of her back as he gently pushed her through the club, towards the doors.

Just as he had said, the cab was outside. He pulled open the door for her, holding her bag as she climbed in. "Thank you," she said before he shut the door.

He smiled, but this one seemed a little more genuine. He didn't shut the car door right away, instead leaning forward. "If you ever find yourself in need of company late at night, this door is always open," he said as he pointed his thumb back towards the club.

She looked past him, looking at the club. "Will you be there?" She asked, looking at him through her lashes.

He said something quickly to the cab driver and reached inside of his suit jacket, reaching into the inside pocket. He quickly pulled out a small white card and placed it into her hand.

"Call this number first and I definitely will be," he said and went to shut the door.

But she stopped him. "Who am I asking for?"

"Lando."

The car drove off, driving away from the club. She kept looking back at the club, looking back at the handsome man shrouded in neon. He stayed standing outside of the club, watching the car, until it turned the corner and disappeared.

Soft music filled the car. Y/N kept her head against the window as she told the driver her address as he took her home. He didn't try to make conversation, which she was grateful for.

When he stopped outside of her home she climbed out of the car and fished around in her bag for some money. But the cab driver held up his hand. "It's already been taken care of, Ma'am," he said.

"Really?" Y/N asked. How could a strangers kindness stretch this far?

The cab driver nodded his head. "Mr Norris must really like you."

Mr Norris.

Who the fuck was Mr Norris?

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Series Taglist (OPEN): @millinorrizz @cinnamongirlontv @sainzluvrr @urfavnoirette

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[sophiethewitch1]

What We Want - Chpt. 2 - First (Second) Introductions

In Which A Romantic Breaks The Universe

(Yandere!batboys x f!reader) 18+ MDNI!

SUMMARY

Another lonely birthday, another empty year. You miss your family. You're late for your bills and rent, and even then, you got robbed last Tuesday.

Still, you buy yourself a cupcake, because you need it. I mean, hey. What's dessert for if not to get over cheating boyfriends and dead relatives?

As you blow out the candle, watching the clock switch from 11:59 pm to midnight of the next day, you make a wish.

And because the world doesn't like to make much sense, it comes true. Your life is suddenly flipped on a dime, and you're stuck trying to catch up with it. Fantasy becomes reality. You're a Wayne now, apparently. Or you used to be. You're loved, you're rich, you're talented and powerful.

Well, sort of. Careful what you wish for, right?

(TRIGGER WARNINGS AND MASTERLIST HERE)

PREV - NEXT

Tim Drake was an obsessive creature by nature. Ever since he was little, he’d always been easily swallowed by his obsessions. His wants and desires, the little things that fascinated him. And, more than that, he never fought it. He gave himself into it, wholly. It was how he’d gotten this far in life.

He’d taught himself how to code, how to hack. He discovered Batman and Nightwing’s true identities. He’d learnt how to fight, how to keep the city safe, how to fling oneself off a building without fainting. He’s taped the family back together again and again after every splinter. He was one of only two Robins left, and that would soon be the only once Bruce retired and Damian graduated.

And this was all done through obsession. And it was obsession. He was self-aware enough to know that. While the rest of the family often indulged in delusions, he never had the time for them. He’d spent countless nights pushing his lagging body along with caffeine and sheer willpower. He’d often forget to sleep or eat even on the calmer days. All that was to say, Tim Drake was obsessive.

But, his obsessions never lasted. Sure, he’d keep the skills and the relationships he’d make, but when the dust settled, he’d find himself feeling empty. Tim Drake was obsessive yes, but his true obsession was the conquest. The rush he’d get when he finally claimed a new skill, a new person, a new piece of knowledge or wisdom.

And then, too quickly, far too quickly, the rush would disappear. The tingle in his spine would leave, the energy would disappear, and that feverish nature of his would flatten. Cool down. The others in the family knew it as one of his ‘moods’, but Tim thought it was probably more than that. Still, he was definitely in one of them right now.

It didn’t matter. None of it really mattered. The point was, right now, he was quite simply depressed. Bummed out, if you would. He’d finished a mission from Bruce, one that had taken him months of desperate, undying effort, and it was now done. And he didn’t have anything to do.

It sucked.

Boredom was a sinister demon. While Tim was by far the most emotionally stable of the family, he was still, well- not. Not by a long shot, honestly. The League’s mandatory therapy sessions had confirmed that. He just needed something to entertain himself, and quick. Usually, on a day like this, he’d be at home working on any random degree.

Unfortunately, he had responsibilities. He could not alleviate his boredom, because he was in the most boring place on earth.

A party. Not a party by any normal person’s standards, but one of his adoptive father’s galas. Even more horrifying, Bruce Wayne was in attendance. He was doing his billionaire playboy persona, and Tim couldn’t stomach it. It was no shock no one else had shown up. Even Dick was busy in Bludhaven, and he sometimes enjoyed these. Sometimes.

And once again, as every year, the birthday girl was nowhere to be seen.

Tim’s eyes rove over the very boring gala. Your gala, for your birthday. You weren’t here, because you never were. He couldn’t blame you. These balls sucked, even the better ones. This one was miserable, and the atmosphere was sombre. While it was your birthday, it was more than that, a day of death.

Your family had died, Bruce’s new wife had died, and all the siblings he never really got the opportunity to meet, gone in a brilliant flash.

And Jason. Jason, who now walked the earth again, flesh and blood. Jason, who tore himself through a wooden coffin and grave dirt. Jason, who even Dick couldn’t seem to bring back into the family. Jason, alive and well and probably spending the night at Roy’s house. It was still the anniversary of his death, and while Jason did his best to put on a front, anyone with half a brain could tell he found today… upsetting.

But, he was alive. That was more than Tim could say for your family.

None of these people knew that. They saw one of the great Wayne’s dead, and they mourned. They saw the new wife and step-children of Bruce Wayne dead, and they lamented. Tim was sure most of it was faked, at least in this gala. The rest of the city truly grieved the Wayne family's tragedy. Especially Jason, one of the princes of the city. But here? No, they just wanted to rub shoulders with Bruce.

The man you very clearly insisted had never been your father, and never would be, was… probably a little sad. Tim was probably a little sadistically pleased about that. He was bored, alright? Anyway, Bruce did not know how to deal with you, and you with him. Both of you were stubborn people, unable to communicate or reach a place of cooperation. You never showed up to the galas or the manor, you did everything in your power to never have to interact with anyone from the family. The only reason you even still lived in Gotham was to be close to your dead family. And above all, you made sure that everyone knew how much you hated Bruce. That the sight of his aging face made you nauseous. Everyone else found that hilarious, of course.

And Bruce, because he was stubborn, kept trying to reach you, despite your angry protests. Even if he had absolutely zero legal ties to you, he still kept trying. And so, another birthday party passes without its leading star. The memorial tomorrow would be missing you too. Christmas, easter, hanukkah, new years, Rosh Hashanah, you refused to show up to any of them.

Still, he had to agree with Bruce. They couldn’t just leave you. Not with the way you were.

You’d once quietly admitted to him that you hoped you’d one day go to sleep and not wake up. That you’d rot away in your room, disappear from the world entirely. That was one of the last few times he talked to you face-to-face. And then a few months after that, you’d blocked him on all social media.

He’d read hundreds of books on therapy, and he knew what suicidal idealisation looked like. Luckily for his sanity, he was not your therapist, nor was he your keeper.

That was poor old Dick’s job, and he was, hilariously, failing at it. Badly. Technically, you were the second massive failure Dick had taken on, and it was starting to show in his mental state. Old Dickie was spending more and more time in Bludhaven, preferring to patrol there instead of Gotham. Still, he insisted he could get through to you. Tim was doubtful. Dick had better luck with Jason, of all people.

Jason actually wanted to be a part of this family. You hated them all, viciously. And so, you’d obviously never show up at-

Wait. Wait, no. He definitely recognised that face. Why the hell were you here? Well, that was irritating. Tim prided himself on being prepared for any situation, for any unlikelihood. He was the son who would be taking over Wayne Enterprises, after all.

You being in the same room as Bruce Wayne was impossible. Completely impossible. At least willingly. You should be kicking and screaming, scratching like a hellcat at anyone who tried to make you stay. Instead, you’re standing in the middle of a crowd, chugging back champagne like your life depends on it. He could already imagine the chaos the media would be starting, to his misery. ‘Estranged ex-Wayne shows up at birthday gala and drinks like a fish’. Well, he had been complaining about being bored. Careful what you wish for, and all.

Shit. He was not prepared for this.

He was, despite it being your birthday, not at all expecting you to be here. He didn’t even have a present. Shit. He pulls out his phone and shoots off an order to his assistant, who would probably go to Dick’s for help.

He sees you over there, obviously uncomfortable, and realises he should probably rescue you. He tells himself he should, that he’s gonna get up and go do it.

Instead, he crosses his legs at the ankle, leans back in his chair, and watches. You won’t catch him off guard twice. He has his pride, after all.

You throw another glass of champagne back. Tim winces. Okay, maybe you might. This was all a bit of a shock. And the rest of the gala seemed just as surprised at your appearance as he was. They obviously didn’t know what to do about you, creating a wide ring of people who refused to step closer to you. And you seem oblivious to the social pariah you have suddenly become. Or maybe uncaring, as you’ve already claimed an entire buffet table and champagne tray for yourself.

Just… just drinking. You seem to only care about ingesting more alcohol and confectionaries. It’s your twenty-first, but uh… this definitely doesn’t look like the first time you’ve been drinking. Not that he cared if this was your first time drinking. He’d done his fair share of illegal activities. Sure, they were mostly superhero stuff, but still illegal. Frankly, it’s kind of impressive. You might even be able to drink Jason or Alfred under the table.

…Good for you, he guesses. A talent’s a talent.

He realises, after a few minutes, that you have absolutely zero plans of socialising. You’d showed up here of your own free will, and then just scared off anyone who’d talk to you. Not that there’d be many who’d be interested in talking to the swaying woman who looked like a threat to herself and everyone around her. No, you were still just drinking. You’d gotten halfway down the buffet table, trying every single cake and a few of the savoury items as well.

You kept circling back to have more champagne and Victorian sponge, and then you’d go back to wherever you were in the buffet and try something from there. Your choices seemed sporadic, and more than once you spat something back out into a napkin. You look at some of the dishes like you think they might be poisonous, taking wide circles around them.

He rests his elbows on the table, leaning forward to press his face to his intertwined fingers. He’s definitely past the point where he should go help you. You’re making a mess, both physically and socially, and yet, he still just sits there. He can’t help himself, it’s interesting.

“Tim.”

Uh oh, your knight in shining armor is here. Or well, dark. Bruce had never been known for pastels. Tim turns his head to the giant man blocking out the light, giving his father and leader a smile.

“Hey Dad,” he greets, in an open attempt at manipulation.

Bruce shakes his head, not caving begrudgingly like he usually did. Shit, that usually worked. Guess he must be actually mad. He glances from Tim to the object of Tim’s apt fascination. You. He turns back, looking down at Tim with his ‘I’m trying to be a good dad’ look. It’s not very convincing.

“How long has she been doing this?” Bruce asks, straight to the point as always.

“Twenty-seven minutes. You’re ruining my process,” Tim replies, telling B to screw off in the kindest way possible. He doesn’t take the hint, because he’s a bit of an ass. Even Batman fanboy Tim could recognise that.

“You can’t just count when someone is getting drunk in front of the public. You need to actually do something.” Bruce shakes his head, hand lifting to massage his brow. It was just that easy to give the old man a migraine. Poor baby probably needed some Ibruprofen. Tim had some in his pocket, but he wasn’t going to offer.

“I was going to eventually. And aren’t you curious? She refuses to show her face for months, and then pops out of the blue to… what? Steal from your liquor cabinet? She knows she doesn’t have to come to get whatever she wants,” Tim ignores B’s nagging, turning his gaze back to you. You’re having a love affair with that cake, honestly. Oh, you’re going for another shot… You do realise the stuff you’re chugging goes for millions, right?

You probably don’t care. You never had about money.

“It doesn’t matter. She’s here, and we should be taking care of her. This is obviously her reaching out for help, and she obviously needs it,” B insists, splaying his worn and scarred hands over the table. Tim has the same hands, everyone in the family does. Vigilante work left scars and callouses.

“Then why hasn’t she come over here, yet? My theory is she’s just trying to smear your good image. Which doesn’t need smearing in the first place, but who understands the minds of young, drunk and miserable women?” Certainly not Tim, as he had proven in his relationship with Stephanie.

“Tim, enough with the sass. Go and help her.”

“She’s not your responsibility anymore, B.”

“Her mother would disagree. Now go,” Bruce orders, his words final. Because they always are, in the end.

Tim groans, letting his head fall back. He glares at the ceiling and all the sparkling diamonds strewn about, and then he pulls himself to his feet. Cracks his shoulders, and parts the Red Sea with a glance. The crowd in the gala splits so the young heir can easily find his way through, and he gives everyone he passes a kind smile.

He strides up to your side, calmly waiting for you to notice him. You’re still imbibing, completely oblivious to his presence. It’s funny. And fascinating. Usually, you were so paranoid that he wondered how you weren’t always a single breath away from a panic attack. Like a feral animal, ready at a moment’s notice to fight or flight.

He sees that you’re dealing with those social anxieties in a way befitting the Wayne name. Which is to say, absolutely shit. His head tilts eyes flickering over you. You don’t look too good, which is no real surprise. Even with your people’s perfect styling, they can’t cover up the shaking and sweating in your form. It might just be anxiety, but knowing you, it’s probably not. He wonders if you even notice how sick you are.

You don’t look like you notice much of anything. Maybe the cake, but that seemed to be pushing it.

“Oh, so you actually showed up? Colour me surprised,” Tim starts but is unable to continue when you spin on your heel and drop your flute of champagne. It crashes to the ground, and he finds his socks becoming uncomfortably wet.

The two of you look up from the mess and meet gazes. Your mouth is open in horror, eyes comically wide. Tim has to bite the inside of his lip so as not to immediately burst into laughter.

“I’m so sorry,” you say, you do a weird crouch-pop-up movement, and then your eyes swivel around frantically, “I’m- am I supposed to clean this up? I can totally clean this up.”

You look just about ready to kneel into a pile of thin glass shards, so Tim stops you. Because God knows Bruce would hang him from the rafters if he didn’t.

“It’s fine, it’s fine. Somebody else will handle this. It’s your birthday after all, right?” he says, giving you a charming smile. It’s sort of a shock when you don’t scoff at him, and instead just stand there with a deer-in-headlights sort of look.

“Hey, are you alright?” Tim asks when you don’t say anything else.

You startle, and then blink at him rapidly. Distracted and inebriated. Lovely. He doesn’t think you know what you’re doing here either, which was a bad sign for your mental health. Have you been refusing to go to your therapist again?

It wasn’t like he went either, so he couldn’t judge.

“I’m good,” you say, your words only slightly slurred. You blink again, your head cants towards the floor, and then you glance back up at him. You look like he’s caught you committing a crime. “Do you- uh, want some of the cake? Sorry for stealing it all, it’s really good.”

You were acting… really strange. Tim found himself with the undeniable urge to follow along with your strangeness.

“You know what? Yes, yes I would,” he says, taking one of the little plates of strawberry cake and a delicate three-tonged fork. He scoops up some of the cake, the cream and jam, and eats. Chewing he keeps staring at you, as you fidget awkwardly. It’s good, but all the food here’s good.

“Did you like it?” you try to smile at him, but it looks more like a grimace.

“I did. Javier did really well with these desserts,” Tim says, before waving over one of the staff to clean up the mess the two of you are ignoring. You look surprised when he offers an arm to guide you away, and he wonders if you’ll accept it. He can’t imagine a world where you would, but today seems to be full of surprises. In the end, you do, but it takes you a good five seconds of awkward staring before you take it.

He takes you over to one of the tables, careful to make sure you don’t slip and fall face-first into the spreading champagne puddle.

“Oh. Is he the chef?”

“He’s the pâtissier.”

You give him a blank stare. Right, you probably don't speak French.

“The pastry chef,” Tim clarifies, as he helps you find your chair. You slump down with zero grace, and for a second Tim thinks you’ll fall right off. You manage not to with a desperate grasp at the table. Good for you.

“Oh, cool. That’s super cool. I think I love this Javier guy, honestly.”

Tim snorts, taking his own seat, “He has that effect on people.”

You’re not looking at him, instead grimacing at the mess you made that two of the staff are cleaning up. Tim’s sort of surprised. It wasn’t that you had been particularly mean to the employees before, but you rarely acknowledged them. You had barely acknowledged anyone, completely unaware of your effect on the greater world. You didn’t care. To be fair, it didn’t seem like you cared about anything but your family’s gravestones and memorials.

Still, there was definitely something different about you, today. And he couldn’t blame it all on the alcohol. Today, you looked a little green about the whole accident. Like you actually gave a shit. Maybe you’d had a change of heart. He hoped you had, for Dick’s sake. You looked more alive, even if it was a confused, embarrassed, uncomfortable sort of alive. It was still an improvement. Usually, your expression was dead, a blank stare. It reminded him of Jason’s as he’d been lowered into the ground.

The two of you wouldn’t like that comparison. And it’s hypocritical too, Tim knows he sometimes resembles a zombie after one of his little sessions.

He can’t help himself. He’s curious, so damn curious. What had prompted this miraculous shift? And plus, you could still be planning something, even if it was seeming more and more like you’d stumbled in here drunk and confused, not able to remember you hated them all. Maybe you had a concussion or something. A head wound sounded like a good explanation for all this.

“Why’d you show up here today?” he finally asks, caving quickly to his need to understand.

You give him a weird look like he’s the one being strange.

“It’s my birthday.”

Tim tilts his head. “That it is.”

“Was that- that the wrong answer?”

“I don’t know, was it?” Tim knows he should stop playing with you. You’re making it far too easy, though. And he's bored, damn it.

“I don’t know either. That’s… that’s why I’m asking you.”

Before he can react to the strangeness of that comment some (awfully rudely, might he add) intrude on your conversation. One of the board members of W.E., someone he had to pay the proper respect to. When his hand slaps down on Tim’s shoulder, he has to suppress a withering sigh. There were less fun parts to his job, and this was one of them

“Drake! It’s so good to see you,” the old man greets, and it takes even Tim a second to remember his name.

“Lancaster! You as well,” Tim replies, noticing your barely there flinch.

“I’ve been meaning to talk to you tonight. My project’s funds are running a little low, and everyone knows you’re the one to go to for an easier time. Bruce is a great leader but…” the man chuckles, and Tim grins at him. It’s fake, of course. When in Rome, they say.

“A bit strict, yes. I have struggled with his attitude before, too.” Understatement of the century.

Tim glances at your quiet form, eyes set on the tablecloth in front of you. Even still it’s obvious you’re listening to their conversation, head cocked just slightly to the right. The board member doesn’t even seem to notice you. Tim’s curious if he recognises you.

You’d been out of the public eye for so long he wouldn’t be surprised if he didn’t. That’s the way you’d wanted it to be, after all.

“But let’s talk about this later, I’m entertaining a very tipsy birthday girl at the moment,” Tim says, hoping you don’t mind him using you as an excuse.

“Oh wow!” Lancaster cries, at your mere presence. Subtlety is not this man’s strength, “I didn’t see you there. Wow, jeez. Didn’t think you’d be here today. What made you change your mind?”

You give him a long, assessing look. Whatever you find makes you pull an expression like you sucked on a sour lemon.

“My assistant forced me to,” you answer honestly. Seems you’ve realised that ‘it’s your birthday’ isn’t an adequate reason. Not that you’ve never failed to reject any and all pressure to attend these events before. Like Tim had said, kicking and screaming.

“Ha! I know the feeling. Well, I’ll leave you two kids to it. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!” the old man chortles, gives you a wink, and leaves. Your gaze follows him into the crowd, and stays there, even when he disappears behind it.

It’s quiet for a moment. Tim waits for you to speak first.

“Who was that man?” you finally ask.

“Charles Lancaster, one of the newest board members of Wayne Enterprises,” Tim says, surprised you’re curious. You’d never been interested in W.E. or anything involving the family. Surprised, surprised, surprised. He should just accept any odd behaviour from you at this point, start expecting it.

You slump in your chair, pressing your forehead against the table. Then, you let out a long, unhappy, groan. Tim gets it, he really does. He does not get what you do next.

Your hands slap against your cheeks, and Tim jerks in his seat. Okay, maybe Bruce was right, you probably do need help. He couldn’t imagine the big guy sending you to Arkham, though. It was obvious you were only a threat to yourself. You take a deep breath, completely ignore his confused stare and get to your feet.

And you immediately fall sideways.

Tim’s arm shoots out, grabbing yours before you crash into the shining marble floors. You look down at him, mirroring his shocked expression. You look down further down, and Tim follows your gaze.

Your stilettoed heel looks the same as it always does. Still, you stare at it like it’s a shark biting at your toes. Tim thinks this is one of the first real emotions you’ve shown in months, and it’s desperate fear of your shoes.

“I told her I can’t wear heels,” you say, more to yourself than him.

“What? Yes, you can. You wear heels to all these events,” he replies anyway.

“What- Well, I meant… heels this tall. They’re really tall.”

He just blinks at you, at the inanity of your statement. They were really tall, but Tim had seen you wear taller. Why were you lying about something like this? Had you drunk too much and were too embarrassed to mention it? Or maybe you’d hurt yourself?

He looks down at your ankle again. No, the flesh seems unharmed. And you hadn’t been walking with a limp earlier, you were just stumbling around now. Must really just be too much champagne. You’d already dropped a glass earlier and had been obviously embarrassed by it. Even if Jeanine had swept in just like she was supposed to, fixing the situation. You’d apologised profusely.

He’d never heard you apologise before. It’s… well, it’s strange. That’s the only way he can describe this encounter.

“You can let go of me now. Please?”

Tim lets you go, and you rub your arm. Shit, he grabbed you too hard. He knew you were on the delicate side, wasting away both mentally and physically. You didn’t take care of yourself and rarely even left your apartment. Even now you looked oddly sickly.

“I’m going to uh- I have to go pee,” you say, and immediately wince at your words.

Tim, without thinking, replies, “Go piss girl.”

You make a shocked choke of laughter, nod at him, and then run off as fast as you can while grasping every piece of furniture in your reach. You look genuinely ridiculous. Well, it’s not the first time a Wayne gala has turned into a clown show. Compared to Dick’s younger years, this was completely unnoticeable.

Bruce still loved to complain about the chandelier he’d broken in an impromptu trapeze show. It’d been diamond, and over a hundred years old. The ones above him now were just as expensive, but not vintage. Jason thought it was hilariously funny, and was always trying to get Dick to do it again. Luckily, Dick had matured, if only a little bit.

Speaking of which, this is a perfect opportunity to mess with Dick. He pulls out his phone and the secure channel they use to communicate. Dick was in Bludhaven right now, probably on patrol. Doing something fun. Sure, tonight had gotten more interesting, but you’d just run off and with you his only entertainment. Tim was bitterly envious of Dick’s fun, and because of that, he had to make Dick just a little more miserable. Just to make things even, of course.

‘Smartest_Robin’: guess who just showed up to her own birthday party?

‘Underwear_guy’: you’ve got to be fucking kidding me. why?

‘Smartest_Robin’: hell if I know. she’s drunk as hell lmao

‘Underwear_guy’: please don’t let her do anything stupid.

‘Smartest_Robin’: yeah, yeah. i’m the idiot who has to deal with the fallout anyway

‘Underwear_guy’: how’s it feel being the ‘favourite son’?

Tim snorts. The media often called him that, purely because it was well known he was the one inheriting W.E. It was hot gossip that it was Tim and not Damian, the proudly stated ‘blood son’. They didn’t know Damian was inheriting an even greater responsibility. And it wasn’t like he particularly wanted it, he just knew he was best for the job and it helped the time pass in between missions. It was fun sometimes, too. He enjoyed giving Luthor Corp a good thrashing every now and then.

‘Smartest_Robin’: same as always. im bored, anything interesting going on over there?

‘Underwear_guy’: bludhaven’s my city, dickhead. go do taxes or something

Tim sighs, and puts the phone back down. He had to try, at least. When it becomes obvious you are absolutely not returning from the bathrooms anytime soon, he gets up, adjusts his cuffs, and walks back off into the fray.

He greets and shakes hands, he takes photos and makes deals. It’s all a blur, really. He does it with half his attention, the other focused entirely on you. Amidst all this pomp and splendour an intriguing new mystery has been born. A puzzle to hold his attention, just for long enough till he gets to the next one. And your sudden shift in personality is more than enough. And if he focused on that, he could get through all this politics.

He’s talking up a chairman of a rival company when the lights go out. When the windows shatter inwards, his heart starts to race. And when familiar masked thugs break in through the wide open doors, guns up and ready, he’s already prepared for the fight. People start screaming, scrambling, and even more gunmen follow through the side exits. While guards raise their own firearms, everybody knows they’re completely outnumbered.

The Joker’s here, and he’s brought his army. Well, shit, all this excitement, and Tim left his suit upstairs. Guess he’ll have to improvise.

MASTERLIST - NEXT

#Series:WWW #yandere batfam #yandere x reader #yandere dc #yandere batfamily #dick grayson x reader #nightwing x reader #jason todd x reader #red hood x reader #tim drake x reader #red robin x reader #damian wayne x reader #robin x reader

[deakyjoe]

Not A Place, But A Feeling

Pairing: Joel Miller x Reader (fem, she/her)

Category: angst and maybe a little fluff idk

Summary: They say home is where the heart is. And your heart is with Joel Miller.

Warnings: 18+, age gap (reader is mid 20s and Joel is 56), a rewrite of episode 3 basically, kissing (!!), groping (!!), implied smut, mentions of death & suicide (Bill & Frank, Sarah), reader is Bill & Frank’s adopted/surrogate daughter, guilt, sadness, grief, loss/bereavement

Word count: 3.9k

A/N: In celebration of Pedro’s birthday, have something I’ve been working on for literal months <3

Consider buying me a coffee :)

Bill and Frank were dead.

Their corpses sat rotting away in their bedroom, the door locked shut, as Ellie read their goodbye letter, a note of upbeat confusion in her voice. You couldn't blame the kid, she'd never met either of them.

Joel stood next to you rigid, unsure what to do or say as he just listened to the final words spoken by two of the few people he'd chosen to trust in this world.

You, on the other hand, felt as if the universe was crashing down around you. All blood had escaped from your body, seemingly draining out from your feet, as your head floated around in a storm of lightness that threatened to knock you unconscious at any moment.

Bill and Frank had raised you, the former finding you abandoned as a toddler when the outbreak had started. You'd stayed shut away in their own private community for years, Tess and Joel being the first people you could remember meeting that hadn't been your surrogate parents. And when Frank had come up with the genius idea to dump you in their responsibility so you could socialise some more and see the real world, you'd been all too eager to sneak back into the QZ with them.

You were beginning to regret that enthusiasm.

"And take care of our girl for us, we know you will." The final words of the letter hung in the air for a moment as Ellie lowered the paper into her lap, eyes flicking between the two people stood in front of her.

Joel said nothing. And you ran.

The front door almost fell off its hinges with the force of you swinging it open to get to the front yard. Barren flowerbeds were quickly flooded with the contents of your stomach. You retched at the floor, nothing else coming up but the feeling of needing to vomit still strong.

They were dead. Dead. Gone. Forever. What were you supposed to do now?

Your legs trembled beneath you, struggling to keep your weight as every fibre of your being just wanted to give up and collapse into the ground. This wasn't supposed to happen.

Trying to shake the feeling off, you pushed yourself into an upright position and started walking. To where? You didn't know. But this is what you used to do when you needed time to think, time to clear your head, time to escape. You walked the town. You hadn't had that same ease in the QZ, it was nice to have it back now. Even in the worst scenario.

You couldn't dwell on this for too long. People died. Regularly in this world you lived in for that matter. It was an inevitability. The loss of Tess had been a warning sign of that only recently. You'd been taught not to grieve too much, you didn't have the time for it. And it wouldn't change anything.

But you still ached, feeling as if a part of you had been ripped away and stolen for eternity. So, you walked.

Joel had watched you leave out of the corner of his eye, not surprised by your reaction at all. It was a little understated if anything. The men who had raised you were dead. Nobody coped well with the loss of family, he knew that better than most.

"You should probably follow her." Ellie said, looking towards where you'd abruptly left the house.

"She'll be fine." He insisted, rolling his shoulders back and taking in the room around him. He'd have to figure out everything for himself now that Bill wasn't around to help. So he got started on that, distracting himself by creating a mental list of inventory the group of you would need for your journey. And all of it was bound to be lying around here somewhere.

Ellie could only watch as Joel ignored what he really should have been attending to and took to wandering around the house instead, staying careful to keep clear of the downstairs bedroom.

It took two hours for you to reappear in the house again, acting as if nothing had happened.

You strolled in to find Ellie rummaging through a dusty old box with your name plastered on the side of it in block capitals, the black ink slightly smudged.

"Hi."

Her head snapped up to meet your eyes. "Oh, hi. I found this."

You shrugged. "My music collection, right?"

She visibly relaxed and smiled. "Yeah." Ellie wasn't a shy kid by any means and she certainly didn't have any trouble with her confidence or prying, but she liked you and didn't want to overstep since you'd been nothing but nice to her since you'd met.

You nodded. "I think I've got an old Discman around here somewhere if you want to take some of it on the road with you."

Before she had a chance to respond Joel stomped back into the room, gaze landing on you. He didn't say anything but his expression was questioning. You just gave a short nod which was enough for him.

"Take a shower and I can find some clothes for you both." You said, collapsing into one of the wooden chairs. It creaked under your weight but you paid it no mind.

The both of them could tell you still were not feeling quite right but didn't push it, Ellie disappearing upstairs to take advantage of the luxury of a shower that was actually hot with good water pressure. Joel silently followed you to a closet where the stash of unused clothes was stored away.

You found jeans for him and Ellie, a t-shirt for the young girl and a plaid shirt for him. It was one of Frank's. Joel watched you silently as you hesitated before passing it over to him. Luckily, neither of you had to fill the tense silence that followed as the shower switched off upstairs.

“I’ll go give these to Ellie then you can shower.” You mumbled, pushing past him when he gave no more than a grunt of acknowledgment.

You don’t know what you expected from the man, he wasn’t exactly well-versed in emotional support. Just something a little more would have been nice. You pushed the thought aside as you knocked on the bathroom door.

“Yeah?” Ellie called back.

“It’s me. I’ve got you some clothes.” You were slightly turned away from the door in case she decided to open it.

“Oh! Okay, hang on.”

There was muffled rustling from the other side before the bathroom door opened a crack and a hand stuck out.

You laughed and gave her the pile of clothes. “Should be some spare toothbrushes under the sink too. Maybe some toothpaste. If you’re, I don’t know, feeling extra hygienic.”

“Feeling extra hygienic.” She echoed back in amusement. “Thanks!”

The bathroom door slammed again and you rolled your eyes.

“You’re welcome.”

You trotted down the stairs to find Joel hovering by the door to the kitchen, surveying his surroundings. You recognised that look.

“What do you need?” You asked.

He shook his head. “Nothing. I’m fine.”

You sighed. “Don’t tiptoe around me, Joel. What do you need?”

His gaze shot back to yours.

Tense silence hung in the air for a few seconds.

Just as he opened his mouth to reply, Ellie came bounding down the stairs and collapsed in front of the box of CDs again. She didn’t seem to notice the staring contest going on between the two of you as she rifled through the music rapidly.

Joel’s mouth closed again momentarily before he appeared to change his mind. “You good here for a while?” He directed at Ellie.

The young girl glanced up from the box and nodded, finally noticing the atmosphere in the room.

Joel turned back to you and tilted his head towards the front door. "Let's take a walk."

You followed him silently as he walked past you and out the front of the house, not stopping his fast pace until he was well away from the building.

Falling into step beside him, you debated whether you should be the first to speak. Thankfully, you didn’t have to think on that for too long because as you reached the point where the boutique was coming into view, Joel stopped and suddenly turned on you.

"You should stay here."

The statement felt like a knife in your chest. The way he said with such finality, such conviction. Like he’d been thinking it for a while. You wondered if that had been his plan all along.

"What?" You didn’t let your confusion and hurt go amiss from your tone.

Joel could only repeat himself. "Stay here."

You scoffed. "Why would I do that?"

"It's safe." He pushed through clenched teeth.

You nodded. "Safe."

"Your home."

He’d completely lost you.

And yet you nodded slowly again. "My home."

He nodded tightly, wishing you'd stop repeating everything he said in that sardonic tone.

You clicked your tongue quietly. "You think this is my home?"

"Yes."

You glanced at the row of derelict buildings next to you, the cracks on the ground, the dead grass. "The place I left years ago, where I had no friends, where my parents have recently killed themselves, you think that's my home?"

Joel had never heard you directly refer to Bill and Frank as your parents. It pained him to hear the word used in such a horrific scenario. But he didn’t let up.

"You grew up here."

You laughed humourlessly. "You grew up in Texas. Do you still refer to that as your home?"

He'd like to. But didn't. "No."

"And what is your home, huh? What do you think of your home as, Joel?" Your brows furrowed together as you watched him thinking about it.

Sarah.

Tommy.

Tess.

...You.

You didn’t let him answer. "Bet it's not a place, is it?"

You were right.

You knew that so you carried on. "Bill and Frank were my home. Now they're gone. Tess was my home. But guess what? She's gone too. Tommy's gone fucking M.I.A.! So what am I left with, Joel?"

Him.

"I'm left with you." You shoved at his chest, surprised by your own strength when he took an unsteady step back. "So if you think that I'm going to stay in this fucking ghost town alone instead of following my home wherever he goes with that girl who needs us, then you really don't know me at all."

You went to push past him, to leave his ridiculous suggestion behind and maybe go clear your head with a hot shower, when he stopped you with a statement that felt like the knife he’d already plunged into your chest was being twisted around to hurt you even more.

"Tess promised Bill and Frank that we'd look after you."

The scowl on your face deepened and Joel knew he'd given the wrong answer but it was the only answer he knew to give.

"Is that what I am to you, Joel? A promise that Tess made?"

He didn't respond.

A sting that threatened tears bit at the back of your throat. "Because if I'm a promise that someone else made for you then fine, I'll stay. I won't burden you with having to take care of me anymore." You ran a hand down your face. "You've got your hands full with Ellie anyway."

“That’s not what I meant.” He tried.

And failed.

“Then what do you fucking mean?!” You wailed, fingers clawing at your scalp in frustration. “Do you want me to stay here for me or for you? Just spit it out, Joel! So I understand what the fuck you want!”

Joel Miller was an intimidating man. He marched around with a permanent frown on his face, his tall and broad figure parting any crowd that saw him coming. That's why, when he took a few sudden paces towards you, you inched back a couple steps. It was instinct. He was a killing machine. And he didn't look too happy with you right now.

But the pure shock that rocketed through your system when his large hands landed on each of your cheeks and he crashed his mouth against yours would have been enough to keep a whole city's electricity running for a month.

You froze for a moment, eyes fluttering shut in surprise, not sure what to do with yourself. Joel Miller was kissing you. Joel Miller was kissing you. Out of every possible outcome, you never could have predicted this. The older man who you had adored quietly for years and trusted with your life, with your soul, was kissing you.

Your fists curled into the front of the shirt he’d been wearing for days, fabric a little stiff with dirt and grime, using it as leverage to meet his lips halfway.

He kissed you hungrily, like a man starved, devouring everything he could possibly take from you. Fingers tangled in the back of your hair, tugging roughly to elicit soft whimpers out of you. He licked into your mouth hotly, tasting as much of you as possible.

The feeling of your palms sliding up his chest seemed to knock him out of his stupor, detaching himself from you and taking a couple of unsure steps back.

He looked at you surprised, almost like he couldn't believe he'd done that. "I-"

"Joel..." You trailed off when he gave you a warning look. So you went for another approach. "I thought you and Tess..."

His face tightened in frustration. "No."

You didn't believe that. "No?"

"No." He gave a subtle shake of his head. "Never."

He seemed adamant. And sincere. So you chose to believe him.

You weren’t shocked when he looked at you for just a couple of seconds more before spinning on his heel and started walking back in the direction of the house. He was like that. Joel seemed to enjoy ignoring his feelings.

But then he changed his mind and looked back at you again. "We can stay a couple of days and then we need to move again."

You nodded slowly. "Okay."

He tilted his head up towards the dull sky for a moment before turning again and stalking off.

You waited until he was out of sight before following him. If he was conflicted on what he’d just done, then pestering him with your presence certainly wasn’t going to help.

When you got back to the house, Ellie was still sat on the floor.

She didn’t even look up as she spoke to you. “The old man’s showering, thank god. Thought my nose was going to fall off.”

You stifled a laugh and set about finding out if there was any food in the pantry that was still good to eat. You knew there was an endless supply in the basement and garage, but something slightly fresher was more likely to satisfy the three of you for the next couple days you were apparently staying. Managing to find something mildly edible and leaving it out for the two of them to eat, you informed Ellie she could help herself to anything in the house before making your way upstairs to find some of your own stuff to wear in what used to be your old bedroom.

You’d miscalculated how long it would take Joel to wash away the days worth of dirt as he emerged from the bathroom just as you walked past it, hair damp and slicked back and new-ish clothes on. He looked good. Very good. And somehow better than usual.

You swallowed thickly and slid past him into your old bedroom, not saying a word as he watched you go. The knowledge that he felt something for you, you didn’t know just what yet, was weighing down on you. What were you supposed to do with the idea that he maybe liked you just enough to want to kiss you? Joel wasn’t the kind of man to suddenly open up about his feelings and tell you he was hopelessly in love with you. Maybe he was pre-outbreak, you thought. You’d like to have known the him that existed pre-outbreak, you decided. But he certainly wasn’t that man now.

You pushed your door shut behind you, leaning against the wood and letting out a long exhale. God, why had he decided now was a good time to make this more complicated than it already was? You almost despised him for it.

Shaking the thoughts away, you found yourself some clothes and traipsed to the shower. The hot water and steam would clear away the temporary worries whilst you figured out how you were going to address your own feelings for him. Sure, you’d always known you’d silently harboured a thing for Joel. But you’d always assumed that nothing would ever come of it, he was a lot older and Bill would kill him if he ever caught wind of anything, so you’d buried the feelings deep down inside of yourself. Until today apparently. When he’d decided to dig it all up by kissing you.

You scrunched your eyes shut and forced that thought out of your head. The memory of the way his lips felt against yours, the way his hands, his very large hands, held you, the way his tongue licked into your mouth, the way he groaned lowly deep in his chest.

Thoughts. Forced. Out. Gone.

The rest of the day was uneventful. The three of you ate in silence before Ellie declared she was tired and you told her she could sleep in your old bed. She seemed ecstatic with that as she’d admitted to snooping earlier and thought that the mattress looked comfortable. You’d laughed and waved her off. Joel had then mumbled something about supplies and had disappeared into the basement.

You took that as your opportunity to speak to Bill and Frank, something you’d wanted to do since Ellie had first read that letter. So you hauled yourself up from where you were sitting, padded down the short hallway to the room where their bodies rested, and promptly sat down right outside the door.

You spoke to them silently in your head, giving them updates like you would’ve done were they still alive and you were just visiting. Telling them about life in the QZ and what you’d been up to. In retrospect, it seemed ridiculous. But at the time, it felt right.

When you were done, you just closed your eyes and leaned your head back against the door.

"Don't go in there."

Your eyes shot open at the deep voice to find Joel standing a few feet away from you. Of course. Who else would it have been?

"I'm not. Just wanted to sit with them for a minute." You sighed and squinted your eyes at him. "I know that sounds crazy."

He shook his head in disagreement. "I understand."

There was a brief moment of silence.

He broke it. "It's late. You should go to bed."

"Ellie's in my bed.”

"Master bedroom." He countered.

You frowned. "I thought that's where you were sleeping."

"Couch." Joel’s line of defence was unwavering; you didn’t really know why considering you were having a simple conversation about sleeping arrangements.

So you pushed on. "Couch? Why? Isn't that uncomfortable?"

"I've slept on worse."

"What's wrong with the master bedroom?"

He hesitated. "That's where Bill and Frank used to sleep. Feels like an invasion."

Oh.

You hummed and nodded your head. "That's why I can't do it either."

"You can't stay here all night."

"I've slept on worse." You repeated his words back to him, surely he would understand.

He nodded and slowly offered out his hand. “Come on.”

You almost didn’t take it, shocked that he was doing it. But after a moment’s pause, you slipped your hand into his and let him pull you up. And when he didn’t immediately let go, and started to pull you towards the couch instead, you thought you might have a heart attack.

When the two of you reached your apparent sleeping grounds for the night, Joel turned back to look at you. Only to find that you were a lot closer than expected. He didn’t like the way you looked up at him because it reflected a grief he’d only ever seen in himself. It was too personal, what you were feeling. He hated it. And yet, he couldn’t help but feel tempted by it.

He’d already crossed that boundary once. What was once more?

You were less surprised the second time Joel Miller kissed you. In fact, you were more relieved.

One hand cupped your face, keeping you grounded, the other clutched at your waist, keeping you close. Whether that was for him or for you, you weren’t sure. But you weren’t going to complain either way. And when the two of you fell back onto the couch all bitter memories of loss, of grief, of confusion, of him all went away.

Joel could only wish that he was on the same mental path.

This was so unbelievably selfish of him. Bill and Frank trusted him with your safety and security. And here he was on their couch, the memories of their lives still dancing around him fresh, kissing their daughter as he groped and grabbed at you with lust fuelled energy. It was more than lust, Joel knew that, but the ghosts of Bill and Frank didn't.

You were on top of him, full weight pushed against his body, and Joel could think of nothing but how fucking soft you felt under his touch. He ignored the betrayal of two of his only friends, ignored the glaring age difference, ignored that he was feeling what he should have felt for Tess. None of it mattered when your skin was warm and velvety in his palms. None of it mattered when your tongue slid against his and you swallowed the soft groans he'd accidentally let loose every now and then. None of it mattered when you whispered his name against his lips almost checking like his was still there with you. And of course he was. He'd never leave you from this moment on.

He'd continue to be selfish and ignore all the reasons why this was so wrong because it just felt right. Like you'd said, he was your home. And you were certainly his. Maybe he could afford to be selfish for once in his life.

The kisses were sweet, almost as sweet as you, but Joel could feel you yearning for more. Your fingers itched against him, twitching in anticipation. He understood perfectly as he felt the same, letting his hands drift to wherever they wanted. And you had no complaints, arching into his touch as much as you could.

The two of you were like horny teenagers, making out on the couch and trying to stay as quiet as possible so as not to wake the rest of the house. The rest of the house being Ellie in this scenario. Although the teenager wasn’t stupid; she’d felt the tension as soon as she’d met the two of you. Even if you both appeared unaware of it.

The sun dipped below the horizon.

Hands dipped below waistlines.

A war raged through Joel’s mind. This was wrong. So unbelievably wrong. But you felt so right.

He broke away momentarily, running a thumb along your bottom lip. “Maybe you should sleep.”

You only nodded at him, eyelids half closed and pupils blown. Joel just kissed you again. Maybe his moral dilemma could be a problem for the morning.

A/N: When I say this has been sitting in my drafts for ages, unfinished, but calling to me. Glad I finally got around to completing it :)

#joel miller x reader #joel miller #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #the last of us #the last of us hbo #tlou #tlou hbo #the last of us fanfiction #ej’s fics #ej’s writing #deakyjoe’s fics #deakyjoe’s writing

[serosblunt]

BakuSquad Boys: Showering with Them (Pt. 2)

BakuSquad x (Gender-neutral) reader

Characters: Bakugo & Kirishima

Warnings: None really; mentions of nudity and hints at spicier things.

Description: What I imagine showering with these two would be like, from how often they shower to skincare routines and fun little quirks they have :)

—————

Katsuki’s a neat freak, you’d known that since you’d first met the man. So his personal grooming routine shouldn’t have been any surprise to you. What you weren’t expecting was for him to be quite possibly the most hygienic person you’d ever met in your entire life.

As a general rule, Katsuki preferred showers to baths. He had never been a fan of the idea of just sitting there, floating in dirty water. He feels like he’s never really getting clean.

He’s not opposed to them entirely though. If it’s been a particularly long or arduous day, he’ll drag you into the tub with him, holding you tightly to his chest as you soak silently for a while.

Of course, he then needs a shower afterwards to get rid of those “damn germs.”

Besides his wavering affections with baths, Katsuki showers almost as soon as he feel dirty, but his bare minimum is twice a day. Damn the water bill, in his eyes it’s a necessity.

This is partly due to his quirk relying on the use of his sweat. By the end of his shift, he’s often soaking.

If he can, he’ll shower at the agency, but it feels weird not being in his own environment, with you, ready and waiting to comb his hair.

While he does have his undercut, his dad started balding at quite a young age, and the blond still wants to lose his hair by choice.

He would never admit this to anyone, and he may actually kill them if they found out, but he was incredibly grateful when you introduced the idea of rosemary oil into his routine. He then practically melted when you decided to take over combing through and massaging the oil into his scalp each night, deeming your boyfriend’s yanking of his roots too rough.

While Bakugo has a much more extensive haircare routine then he does skincare routine, that’s not to say that he doesn’t have one at all.

The nature of his quirk often means Katsuki returns home to you with scarred palms and dry skin.

Washing the soot and ash from his face usually happens in his nightly shower, something you have been known to assist with if his hands are blistering or he’s badly hurt that day- this is normally something you have to ascertain for yourself, your boyfriend’s stubbornness often defending his pride a little too well.

But even the explosive blond couldn��t deny that the known universe itself seemed to stand still as your hands ever so softly rubbed at his skin, afraid to hurt him anymore than the world already had.

A hydrating moisturiser is then applied to his face, and burn ointment and vasoline to his hands, as he grumbles about needing yet another pair of gloves.

A small price to pay for being the number two hero.

Katsuki can’t go through a day feeling dirty. He refuses to sit down or touch anything if he has just come back from patrol, and he’d sooner be caught dead then having left the house without showering. He knows from an outside perspective, his habits seem insane and his self-maintenance rigorous. But he can’t help but to let out a chuckle at those thoughts as he’s applying his chapstick for the night, catching a glimpse of your puckered lips in his periphery, demanding your ritualised kiss.

Ever the gentleman, Kirishima believes it is a man’s duty to stare lovingly (or otherwise if you permit it) at your partner as they’re in your presence, especially if you’re naked.

There is not a single part of your body that this man deems unworthy of being drooled over, kissed over, and otherwise admired until you smack him up the side of the head and call him a perv.

He’s honestly just honoured to even be allowed in the same room as you while you go through your own routine. Genuinely, he’s just in awe of you every moment of every day, and to tell you the truth, he’s not entirely convinced he’s not dating some sort of ancient beauty, the likes of which he could never know or hope to achieve.

Once the red head picks his jaw up from off the floor, having gawked at you a little too long, he’s all about setting the mood.

It doesn’t have to be a special occasion for him to woo you, it just comes naturally to him.

Roughly once a fortnight, sometimes more, you’ll come home from a long day to find the bathtub filled with bubbles, a pair of glasses waiting closely nearby, and an array of scented candles surrounding the already romantic scene.

The first time Eijiro surprised you with it, you begun to cry tears of happiness. The big lug practically had a heart attack right there, thinking he had offended you in some way.

Later, he presented you with a trio of both of your favourite smelling candles- sandalwood and vanilla.

You loved the sandalwood because it smelt like Eijiro, something you missed deeply on his long missions away. And he fell in love with vanilla when he realised how much the calming scent was intertwined in your lives.

To keep the house smelling nice, you’d often boil vanilla among other spices on the stove. To him, vanilla was home, it meant you and him in the place you built together.

So, he had the two scents mixed and made into a set of three custom pillar candles.

You would often look back and smile as you remembered him promising to “always keep them lit for you, and to use them specifically when pampering you and massaging your feet.”

So far Kirishima was yet to break that promise.

The red head didn’t have much of a preference between baths or showers, but being the sturdy hero, he often found he couldn’t fit comfortably in the confined space of a bathtub.

Ultimately, it made no difference as he just viewed the time as an opportunity to hold you close, planting occasional kisses to your forehead before he volunteered to take you through your usual shower routine.

It was through these experiences that your boyfriend learnt your biggest tell- if you ever elected to wash your hair yourself, something was wrong. But no matter, by the end of the night, you were always balled up in his arms, safe and sound.

It took a lot of convincing to get your brick wall of a boyfriend to try using a moisturiser, on both his face and body.

He had some delusion that the hydration would somehow make his quirk less effective, but you insisted his skin was begging for it.

To compromise, you tested his theory on Tetsutetsu, essentially his twin. To Eijiro’s shock, the improved health of his skin actually made his sharp edges even sharper.

You cherished your victory in silence, just happy to have roped him into step one of your planned five-part skincare routine for him.

He was sooo in for it.

—————

#bnha ao3 #bnha bakusquad #bnha kirishima #bnha sero #denki kaminari #denki smut #poly kiribaku #bnha bakugo katsuki #bakugou fluff #bakugou x reader #bakusquad #bakugou katsuki #bakugo #bakugo smut #bakusquad smut #katsuki bakugo x reader #katsuki x you #katsuki x y/n #katsuki bakugo mha #kirishima ejirou #kirishima headcanon #bnha eijiro kirishima #kiribakukami #kirishima smut #kirishima x bakugou #kirishima fluff #kirishima x reader #eijirou x reader #mha eijirou #bakugo headcanons

[puppy-steve]

january fic rec

so i figured that instead of waiting until december to make a big long post of all the fics i read throughout the year, i'd break it down into monthly recs instead. i barely read anything at all last year, and it makes me feel awful every time i think about it, so hopefully this method keeps me on track so i can make some headway on the hoard of fics i have saved.

this also helps to boost fics that might've been missed or overlooked in the chaos and carnage brought by the passage of time.

these will include tumblr fics as well as ao3 fics!

general warning: smut will be included in these so please read at your own discretion and heed any warnings and tags!

▸ january fic rec - b sides

break the ice (i can't take anymore) - T, 2.2k, complete @matchingbatbites

tags: hockey au, established relationship, shower sex, secret relationship

“I’m surprised you’re still here,” Steve says as he leans into Eddie’s creeping touch, the little bit of contact more of a tease than anything. “Thought you’d be back at the hotel by now.” Eddie grins up at Steve and tugs him closer. “And miss the chance to congratulate you properly? To show you how proud I am of you?” Steve full on shudders at that, his mouth drops in a soft gasp and his hands push up into Eddie’s hair. “Eddie…” “I am, Stevie. So proud of you, my baby.” He leans in and presses a kiss to Steve’s jersey-covered sternum. “Tell me what you want, princess. Anything, and it’s yours.”

what's mine is yours (to leave or take) - M, 8.2k, complete @thefreakandthehair | througheden

tags: modern au, baker eddie, nurse steve, waitress-inspired, getting together

Eddie's an amateur baker who desperately needs a healthy dose of hope. He finds it in the bottom of a pie dish and the hands of Steve Harrington.

Tax Time - T, 922, complete @simplebtromance

tags: modern au, established relationship, domestic fluff, competence kink, appalachian eddie

Eddie throwing his hair back into a hair clip he stole from Chrissy, face determined as he opened up his laptop on their coffee table, that used to be his Memaw's, and got the binder of bills and receipts out to do his and Steve's taxes. (He still feels gooey and not very metal when he sees Steve Munson on any paperwork or mail, they've been married for over 3 years now and he doesn't think it's gonna stop any time soon)

group hangout - E, 3.3k, complete plutorose

tags: modern au, college au, dom/sub, first time

When Steve and Eddie start seeing each other, Robin meets Eddie's roommate for the first time.

A Little Show - E, 4.1k, complete ItCanBePalped

tags: exhibitionism, pre-threesome, dom/sub

Chrissy and Robin can't wait to get their hands on each other. Unfortunately, the room they find is already occupied. Or maybe that's "fortunately".

BABY SAID - E, 3.8k, complete dartlekey

tags: t4t steddie, transmasc eddie, transmasc steve, college au, bathtub sex, scissoring

Drenched by a sudden downpour and locked out of the youth hostel they were supposed to be staying at, university students Steve Harrington and Eddie Munson find themselves unwittingly and very much against their will trapped in night-time Rome together, and sharing a cramped hotel room. And a bathtub. Things kind of escalate from there.

Love from the other side - M, 6.2k, complete @sidekick-hero

tags: modern au, nurse steve, vampire eddie

In his mind Steve goes over the things he knows. Eddie is a vampire. A vampire who killed another vampire to save Steve’s life. To save Chrissy’s life. Eddie is dying. He may already be dead, but it looks like vampires can die again. Permanently. Eddie wants his blood.

the devil's water, it ain't so sweet - E, WIP hesjustlikemefr

tags: modern au, sugar daddy eddie, sugar baby steve, transmasc steve, slowburn, age difference

After Steve's parents cut him off financially, Robin comes up with a brilliant plan for Steve to be able to pay his bills. SweetShoppe, the most professional sugaring app on the market. Steve is skeptical, until he comes across the profile of Eddie Munson, a music producer and the hottest guy Steve has ever seen. Maybe this wasn't the worst idea after all…

like rabbits - E, WIP crybaby

tags: alpha eddie, omega steve, daddy kink, dom/sub, established relationship, pussy drunk eddie

Steve shaves his pussy and dresses up as a Playboy Bunny. Eddie handles it well.

usa hockey is do or die - E, 4k, complete @steddieas-shegoes

tags: hockey au, dom/sub, established relationship

“Everyone expects a lot from Team USA captain Steve Harrington and his first alternate, Tommy Hagan, but everyone’s a bit shocked at the choice for second alternate. What do you have to say about Eddie Munson being the pick, Jack?” Steve already felt anger bubbling under his skin, the annoyance of the last few weeks finally reaching a boiling point. “Well, we all know he’s one of the best goalies out there, but it’s rare to see a goalie with an A or C. I’ll be honest, I was surprised he was chosen over Gareth Emerson, who showed us three shutouts in the last month at Boston University. Eddie’s been proving himself in the AHL, but I don’t think he’s got what it takes to get the boys to gold. I hope I’m proven wrong, but his careless attitude makes me think he isn’t leading these boys to a victory they want.” The tv in the hotel room snapped off and Steve stood up, pacing the carpeted floors with his fists clenched at his sides and a scowl.

driver roll up the partition please - E, 4.5k, complete @steddieas-shegoes

tags: modern au, rockstar eddie, bartender steve, semi-public sex, light dom/sub

The bow tie around Steve’s neck was choking him. It had to be made for children, but when he’d asked one of the waiters before they went on the floor, he shrugged and said they all were like that. But the lack of oxygen to his brain didn’t excuse the way he nearly dropped a glass of a half-shaken, half-stirred -yes, really- martini when the hottest man he’d ever seen walked up to the bar. He was chatting with a few people, smiling at them like he was truly happy to see them even though he was dressed like someone who was crashing the party. Steve had done a few events like this before and was never disappointed with the eye candy, but this guy was something else. His curls were perfectly maintained, falling just right along his shoulders. Did they say the hair was the curtain to the soul or was he just that enamored?

steve tells eddie about his fight with billy - T, 4.6k, complete @solarmorrigan

tags: post-s2, canon racism and violence, mentions of drug use

“Motherfucker,” he hisses, shaking his hand out, because it had hurt, and then he winds up to do it again, to make it hurt more, because at least he’s in control of that much, at least it’s anything but what he’s feeling right now. “That’s a good way to break your hand, y’know,” a voice comes from the doorway, startling Steve into pivoting and aiming his fist at whoever is coming after him now.

doesn't have to be anything, but i could be everything - E, 4.1k, complete | part 2 @steddieas-shegoes

tags: camboy steve, rockstar eddie, modern au, daddy kink, dom/sub

Steve being a content creator ( cosplay, streamer, YouTuber, onlyfans, webcam boy, illustrator anything in that ballpark) that keeps on getting these messages and blocks them only to be accosted at a convention by this person and Eddie being a low key fan or what ever randomly stepping up to help out

first kiss - T, complete @mcdynamite

tags: first kiss, pet names, getting together, fluff

Kissing has never done all that much for Steve, if he’s honest. It’s just not really something he’s ever given much thought to before - the way someone kisses - despite the fact that he’s locked lips with plenty of people. For him, kissing has always been something nice, but not particularly special. It’s never been earth-shattering. Never taken his breath away, the way people talk about in movies and books. It’s just a way to be closer to someone, and it’s nice, but it’s never anything more than that. Then, Steve kisses Eddie for the first time, and suddenly he gets it.

Good Morning, Daddy - E, 906, complete unholy_forest

tags: dom/sub, morning sex, daddy kink

A short and sweet oneshot of loving, sleepy morning sex between Steve and Eddie.

girls of your dreams (you know what i mean) - E, 2/2, complete @maxineholtzmann

tags: figure skating au, hockey au, threesome, established ronance

The two of them continued, kissing quietly. Chrissy wondered how far she could let this go before they realized she was awake. She ached to touch herself, listening to the panting and low moans now coming from the other bed. Fuck it. Chrissy rolled onto her back and Robin and Nancy froze. She looked over at them, Robin on top of Nancy, pinning her hands above her head. The kissing sounds Chrissy had heard were clearly actually Robin working on Nancy’s nipples with her mouth–both of the cups of the negligee had been pulled down leaving breasts exposed. Chrissy sighed. Slowly moving her hand down her body between her legs she said, “You don’t have to stop as long as I don’t have to stop.” Chrissy started circling her clit with her fingers, arching her back. “Are you sure?” Nancy asked, still panting. “Does it look like I’m not sure?” Chrissy said, using her other hand to fling the blankets back, spreading her legs and making sure Robin and Nancy could see where her hand had traveled.

Your Love Calls Me Home - T, 1.8k, complete @simplebtromance

tags: modern au, long distance relationship, online dating

Steve and Eddie have been in a long distance relationship for three years, and they're finally meeting.

Buckingham revenge program™ - E, series, WIP thequeermoon

tags: oral sex, strap-on sex, dirty talk, semi-public sex

It was all murmurs and unsteady breaths between them, and they barely touched. Outside the door the group laughed suddenly, startling the both of them. Just then they realized how close they were. Just a little step and their bodies would've touched. "Right, okay… " Robin coughed a bit, going slightly backwards. " …do you want to-" She didn’t get to finish that sentence. Chrissy, in full panic of losing the only chance she might have, threw herself at her lips, kissing her. It lasted so little that Robin had no chance to answer it, but it felt like eons. Chrissy opened her eyes, watching at her. Her cold hands on her face, her lips red, slightly parted to show these little teeth Robin thought were so endearing.

Swift Wings and a Brave Heart - T, WIP @paperbackribs

tags: werewolf steve, bat eddie, shapeshifting, found family

The beast stops, gaze narrowing at the pulse pounding in Eddie’s neck, and he quickly slaps a hand over it, trying to limit the temptation of the tasty-blood slash fresh-meat vibe he must be giving off. Robin scowls at Eddie, stepping forward to bury her hand comfortingly into the plush of its furry neck. “Don’t listen to him, Steve. He’s just being a big baby." Eddie has never been a normal type of guy, but he's owned it: he's a gay metalhead in the heart of small-town America and nothing's going to phase him. Nothing except being told that his recent demo-bat injuries might turn him into a shapeshifter like Steve Harrington.

safe and warm - E, 958, complete @steddieas-shegoes

tags: dom/sub, cock warming, pet names, coming untouched

Steve on his knees was a sight he would never get tired of. Something about the way his eyes closed, a rare sign of relaxation spreading over him, made Eddie wish he could be like this all the time, that they could always be like this.

new year's kiss - G, complete @steddieas-shegoes

tags: new year's eve kiss, getting together, pining

He hides in the bathroom, looks at his reflection in the mirror and tries to smile. He used to be so confident, used to be able to tell himself to make a move and make it successfully. But it used to not matter, not like this does. No one has ever mattered the way Eddie does.

first choice - G, complete @steddiealltheway

tags: nye, getting together, pining

Steve runs a hand through his hair and turns back to his abandoned stack of tapes only to turn back around as soon as the bell above the door rings. He turns around with a heavy sigh as soon as he realizes who it is. "Great to see you too," Eddie says with a humorless laugh. Robin cuts in before Steve can. "Don't take it personally. He's just unsuccessful in his mission to woo a lady and get a New Year's kiss." "Really?" Eddie asks, leaning across the counter. "I think I'm coming across as desperate." "Because you are," Robin adds unhelpfully.

holes on the house - M, 404, complete @cranberrymoons

tags: modern au, meet cute, food truck owner steve

There it is: a bright pink truck with an open side, glittering under the streetlight with a loose line of people waiting to order, The Hole printed on the side in white stylized script.

alpha/omega true mates - G, complete @stevieschrodinger

tags: omegaverse, alpha eddie, omega steve, true mates, canon divergence

Eddie, fucking excited as all hell to meet his Omega finally, opens his envelope to find Steve Harrington's name starring back at him and Eddie just. He just can't. Steve's one of the biggest bitches at Hawkins high. And even if Eddie can, sort of, get past that, Steve's a snob. He lives in a fucking mansion and has a nice car and preppy clothes and yeah...Eddie is going to get rejected stone cold and that would be fair because he doesn't have a single thing to offer and Omega like Harrington. Eddie burns the envelope.

henderfam - G, complete @loveinhawkins

tags: canon divergence, eddie lives, steve and dustin behaving like brothers, pre-steddie

God, I love you, Eddie thinks. Maybe some would say that’s too big a declaration to have even in his own head for a mundane, sleep deprived afternoon in hospital. He doesn’t care.

play nice - M, 387, complete @wormdebut

tags: daddy kink, dom/sub, possessive eddie

Eddie has died and gone to Heaven. (If that Heaven is covered in leather and latex…that’s his business.) This is the only explanation, he thinks, as he stares at his boyfriend. His very hot, very muscular, very unclothed boyfriend. Decked out in only a strappy harness and the sluttiest little leather shorts Eddie has ever seen.

need - E, 404, complete @wormdebut

tags: dom/sub, anal fingering, hot boys whimpering

His eyes flick all over Steve’s perfect fucking body, stopping to admire that beautiful cock. “Christ—I’m gonna tear you apart.” His eyes snap up to look into Steve’s perfect blown out ones. He’s perfect, Eddie’s boy.

bake off - G, complete @hairmetal666

tags: gbbo au, baker steve, rockstar eddie, tv host eddie

Steve who goes on a Bake Off type show after Robin, Dustin, and Max set him up as a contestant. He doesn't want to, doesn't think baking or cooking should be stressful, but he's been wallowing since his knee surgery took him out of work and basketball, since his divorce. His first day on set, he's totally gobsmacked by the sexy host with all the tattoos and long, curly hair. Just, cannot take his eyes off the guy, blushing and stammering whenever he comes around to do interviews, obviously can't stop starring.

talk it through - G, complete @strangersteddierthings

tags: established relationship, insecurities, future fic

“I think we should break up,” is what Eddie blurts the moment Steve opens the front door to reveal him. Steve’s first reaction is anger -how dare he?- but he doesn’t do anything with that anger. Instead, he takes a deep breath through his nose, crosses his arms, and looks Eddie over. He’s breathing heavily yet his van is parked along the curb. He didn’t run here. His hair, while never tame, looks rougher. He is fidgeting but in a nervous way, not his usual too much energy way. His eyes are wide and scared. It’s the last bit there that drains Steve’s anger. Something’s happened. He drops his arms and says, “well, you’re not dumping me on my porch. Get in here.”

frat steve - G, complete @strangersatellites

tags: college au, established relationship, frat steve

when he gets there he’s met with two guys, freshman surely. letters emblazoned across their cutoff muscle tees and hats turned backwards and perched, very stupidly if eddie shares his piece, atop their heads. they stop him with a hand up and friendly smiles and mock bravado “three actives,” bro number one states. eddie barely holds back an incredulous laugh. “you cannot be serious.”

flirting - T, complete @jewishrat420

tags: pining, pet names, flirting, "first of all my name is baby so jot that down"

"Don't call me that." He chances a look over at Eddie, at the risk of appearing as vulnerable as he feels, and to his distress, he can't get a read on the man. His dark eyebrows furrow, brown eyes squinting slightly, and his lips part like he wants to speak. He licks them. Steve's eyes follow the motion unintentionally. "Call you what?" Eddie says on an exhale. "A brat?" Steve shakes his head. "Harrington. Don't like it when you call me that."

kink discovery - M, complete @eddywoww

tags: hair pulling, dom/sub, getting together

He touches him the second time. When they’re all hanging out and the lights are low and Steve does it again and Robin only halfway gives him a weird look. It doesn’t stop Steve form blinking tired eyes up at Eddie, watching the way he gulps and hovers a hand over Steve’s face. “I like when people pet my hair,” He says unhelpfully, so high he can barely concentrate. Eddie makes a soft noise and blinks down at him. “You should- you should do that.”

cherry - M, complete @eddywoww

tags: omegaverse, tattoo artist eddie, alpha eddie, omega steve, age difference

And then he gets into Eddie’s studio and like- okay, Steve has always had a type. Older men, men who wore suits, men who worked with his father. Unattainable, already mated. Steve sort of assumes this guy is mated too. He looks like it, has a bite that’s weirdly faded on his neck. But Steve can’t smell an Omega on him. Or a Beta or an Alpha. No one. So sue him if he gets a little flirty. It fuels his self esteem, knowing they can look but he won’t let them touch.

eddie lives - T, complete @bonitabreezy

tags: canon divergence, steve carries eddie out of the upside down, eddie lives (but not without consequence)

Any part of him that had leaned into the idea that it was over and that they were safe was immediately washed away at the sound. His blood started to zing with adrenaline once more and he became hyper aware of everything around them, scanning the trees for danger. “Was that--” Nancy started, her shoulders a hard line, her hands no longer shaking. “Dustin,” Steve said, and he took off running.

4+1 - G, complete @steddieas-shegoes

tags: 5+1, steve carries eddie, eddie carries steve, eddie recovering from the bites

four times eddie gets carried and one time he does the carrying

▸ more fic recs ▸ more ficlets

#cj talks #fic rec #steddie #buckingham

[hippielittlemetalhead]

So season 3. Let's do this!

This took so so so long and is not quite where/what I wanted it to be soooo... I am so sorry 😅🥲 this will most likely be 2 parts cause... Yeah, just life man.

Actually some dialogue in this one? Sure, a line or two, as a treat.

(Part1) (part2)

Steve had been working at Scoops Ahoy for a few weeks now and he feels like he's built a decent rapport with his coworker Robin. She's witty and snarky and opinionated and when Steve wears a more tinted lipgloss than he intended resulting in a customer clocking it and saying something rude that he can't help but smile his dead-eyed customer service smile at, she clocks out for her lunch early (and takes an extra 15 minutes) and comes back with a full face of makeup and shoos him into the back with the mascara she bought from the shop a couple stores over. They both start coming to work with at least mascara, eyeliner and lipstick and Steve loves it. He compliments the hand-drawn designs on her shoes and she asks where he got his rainbow heart pin. They mostly disagree on music they listen to -she still lets him drag her to a couple live music nights at The Hideout with him and Billy every now and then anyway- but their politics and basic life philosophies line up pretty well.

He could do without the 'You Rule / You Suck' board, especially when Billy gets in on it and adds tallies from a little notebook he starts keeping when he and Steve hang out outside of kids and work. And the jokes about his kids (and occasionally Billy) when they come through for free passage to the movies. And the jabs about his parents' money like he still has access to that or their house.

He doesn't tell her that he was cut off and disowned and kicked out. He doesn't tell her that he had to get a job to help pay for his community college courses because he was a disappointment that couldn't get into a pre-approved 4-year university and that meant no college fund and he was still a few years away from being 21 and having access to the trust fund his grandparents set up for him when he was still just a lump of forming cells. And even then anything in that will probably be blown on buying himself his own permanent place instead of just a hand-me-down trailer in the middle of the woods so he needs to save for things like bills and a mortgage.

He doesn't tell her that the reason he lets the kids get away with so much is because they're *his* and they've already seen more fucked up shit than the cops in this town (save Hop) and he'll be damned if they don't get to just be kids. He'll be damned if they decide he's someone they need to hide from and sneak around like they hide and sneak from Joyce and Hop cause that's how they didn't know about half the shit the kids got up to while the adults were doing their best to take care of things themselves. He doesn't tell her that he's paying "rent" to the chief of police (it's way less than he should be but it's all Hop would take).

He doesn't tell Robin a lot of things.

Then sometime after Robin finally warmed up to him but before Dustin comes back from camp, Eddie Munson walks into Scoops Ahoy, his metalhead nerdy entourage in tow. He orders a plain scoop of vanilla with sprinkles in a cup and one of the others also orders something small and simple (while longingly eyeing their diabetes-inducing, horribly artificial tasting, bubblegum flavor when Munson turns away) before all of them are squeezing into one of the largest booths, emptying out messenger bags and backpacks of overstuffed binders and scuffed up versions of very familiar looking textbooks. It's like looking at an older -slightly grungier- version of his kids.

"Gentlemen, now that 🎶school's out for summer🎶-" There's a musical lilt as he says it that sounds vaguely familiar to Steve, "-and it has been confirmed that I will in fact be held captive for yet another stint in the hell they call Hawkins High School it is time we confer and conspire for the next year of Hellfire and the little sheep that will be joining our flock." He kinda loses track of it after that because then his kids are rushing in demanding tasters of everything and edging towards the lifting part of the counter with a look in their eyes that speaks of mischief. He puts up the initial fuss about them only visiting him for his backrooms access and that they promised to only come over when there were no customers around. He lets them through anyway.

He notices Munson eyeing him as he puts the partition back in place shaking his head and Robin laughing at him as she washed their ice cream scoops. The one that's vaguely more familiar looking than the rest and reminds him of a taller, angrier, Dustin with a better hair regimen isn't quite glaring at him but is definitely paying more attention than the rest of Munson's posse and seems more suspicious than Eddie's curious.

The metalheads are still there when Billy shows up stinking of chlorine in clothes that are damp where they cling to his frame. The group loosens up a little when he shoots Steve his signature smug smirk as he shrugs on his denim jacket that -like Steve's own jacket hanging out of sight in the staffroom- had begun accumulating patches and pins since Neil's incarceration. Unlike Steve's, Billy's has homages to bands like Mötley Crue, Deff Leppard, Twisted Sister and Guns N' Roses with little trails of shakily embroidered flowers and constellations on the collar and hems and filling the spaces between the patches and pins. Billy also has a small pink triangle on the lapel where Steve has a rainbow. Steve pretends not to notice the way the group goes a little quiet as Billy starts his usual routine of sunnily demanding tasters of all the available flavors and then again with sprinkles to "-really get an idea of their ✨nuance✨, prettyboy" before deciding on a scoop of double chocolate with a scoop of raspberry vanilla in a cup with sprinkles and one of their fresh waffle cones on top. Like always.

"Really branching out there aren't ya, tough guy?" Steve keeps his face as stoney as possible but he can't help the humored edge to his voice.

Billy just winks at him running his tongue over his teeth as he gives Steve an exaggerated leer, "Gotta keep you on your toes, handsome." Robin fake gags and Steve laughs and Eddie Munson turns red as he stares at the two joking jocks. Billy goes quiet as he stares at his ice cream and Steve recognizes the look on his face, tells the blonde to go sit down in their usual booth and he'd be taking his break soon and they can talk about whatever's bothering him.

What's bothering him is Neill getting parole for 'good behavior', Jim only telling the Mayfield-Hargroves almost a week after he was let out because that was actually the same day he himself found out. Billy found out just before a summer basketball practice session and thinks he snapped at an underclassmen he's been trying to get to open up about what Billy is 90% certain is going on in the kid's home, but he knows that cops can't do much if the victim(s) refuse to trust in those trying to help them. He's worried about the kid he snapped at. Worried about Susan and Max. Worried that even with the restraining order Neill will try something. Billy tells Steve he had thought he saw Neill around the outskirts of town during errands or during his turn to haul the kids around a couple of times before Hop told them and now he's sure it wasn't just paranoia. Steve tells him they'll figure it out, reminds him he's not alone in this

That makes Billy smile, small and tired but real and grateful. His shoulders are still tense and there's still a wariness in the smallest crease between his eyebrows that makes Steve ask if there's anything else. They talk about some of the weird dreams Billy's been having that makes Steve encourage him to talk to El. Just to make sure Billy isn't going through what happened to Will the last alternate-dimension-go-around.

They make plans to head out to see the two Hoppers after Steve's shift. Come up with a basic timeline of when and where Billy thinks he saw Neil so they have something to start with for Hop. Put together an idea of how involved Billy wants to be in whatever plan Hop comes up with. They're interrupted by a group of girls swanning into the shop and Steve being yelled at by Robin to get himself back to work. As he gets up from the table Steve levels Billy with a look that makes the blond think about the way Max and the kids described Steve when they talked about how he fought off the pack of demodogs in the junkyard, planting himself between them and snarling snapping danger like Galahad himself.

Steve looks him in the eyes and says "I swear Billy, we're going to get through this, we'll take care of it and keep you and the girls safe. Hop knows what's going on and even Callahan can't get away with letting that piece of shit fall through the cracks after what he pulled." He leans in close and bites out probably louder than he should for the amount of people in the shop, "And if that fucker gets near any of you I've got Darling in Baby's trunk and I am not afraid to use her on a human shaped monster instead."

Author's (rambler's) Notes:

So, that's all I have for season 3 rn I am so sorry. 😭 I'm working on the next bit but I am so burnt out recently and now I'm unemployed cause of the ceiling at my job caving in which does not help the stress. So I unfortunately do not have a timeframe for you. 🥲 A couple of folks asked to be tagged so... Here you are? To be fair I'm not making any promises in regards to the taglist in the future, I will do my damnedest and y'all will have to bear with me.

I'm glad people are liking this and tbh this has gotten more attention than I expected so thanks? I appreciate the appreciation of my ramblings. Feel free to scream at/with me about this au in my asks box and I'll respond when/as I can. I'm just glad people are enjoying this. 🙃

@heartsong18

@knightofthieves

#punk!steve harrington #punk steve au #punk but make it preppy #punk!steve au #punk steve harrington #punk steve headcanons #stranger things thoughts #stranger things season 3 au #pre stobin #platonic soulmates stobin #i will die on this fucking hill #billy antis dni #not apologist #but billy hargrove deserves better #abuse victims deserve love and affection too #neil hargrove is his own warning #neil hargrove can fuck off #steve Harrington has shitty parents #bffs billy and steve #billy and the party #steve and the party #steve and the kids #eddie munson makes a minor appearance #Steve notices Eddie #Eddie notices Steve #bamf Steve Harrington #protective steve harrington #part 3 #rambler writes

[ckret2]

Me: Oh, Ford, apparently doesn't want anything bad happen to Bill! He didn't try to erase his mind with memory gun, he didn't try to keep him sedated, he didn't try to put that mind control tie on him!

*After seeing the description of the next chapter*

Me: Well... Ford still hasn't done anything bad to Bill.

I mean, all of those have an explanation.

He didn't try to erase his mind with a memory gun because the memory gun was broken at the end of the show. There is no memory gun. And it's caused so much trouble that asking Fiddleford to make a new one is unthinkable.

He didn't try to sedate him because in chapter six (yes it came up!!) Bill said if they try to keep him in an artificial coma, he might know a magical way to kill himself in his sleep, and Ford doesn't wanna call his bluff; plus, how hard it would be to keep someone perpetually sedated for weeks on end.

And he didn't try the mind control ties because I didn't consider them important enough to address lmfao but the problem is obvious: who the hell is gonna wear the other tie and dedicate themself to piloting Bill 24/7? Are they gonna control him in shifts? Even if so, that's hours on end piloting his body. You slip up for a SECOND and you've got a homicidal triangle desperate to do ANYTHING to escape. That's a terrible plan.

The reason the Pines haven't done anything bad to Bill (I mean, worse than locking him up amongst his enemies and forcing him to ask permission to EAT) is because anything more would be senselessly cruel and/or risk Bill doing something even worse in retaliation. They CAN'T do anything bad to him... until they have a way to incinerate him that also incinerates the soul inside him.

I think the fact that this is a redemption arc fic—which means EVENTUALLY the Pines need to no longer want him dead—leads people to think that on some secret level they ALREADY don't want Bill dead. Particularly in Ford's case, folks assume that beneath all the hostility, he still likes Bill.

So lemme state for the record: right now, Ford's obsessed with Bill, but he doesn't like him. Ford frequently thinks back on when he used to like Bill, but he doesn't like him now. He honestly does despise Bill. Reminders of why he used to like Bill just make him resent him more. Ford's positive feelings for Bill aren't buried; they're dead. They don't need to be dug up; they need to be resurrected.

Sure, necromancy WILL be happening. But right now? I promise you, Ford wants incredibly bad things to happen to Bill. The only thing holding him back is the safety of the universe.

#anonymous #ask #about my writing #bill goldilocks cipher

[insanelyadd]

I’ve a feeling that Collector’s resentment of their siblings due to their imprisonment for hundreds of thousands, possibly millions of years would not probably never go away. We’d like to think that amount of time wouldn’t be anything to a being as old as the universe, a mere drop in the ocean, but… it could very well be the opposite.

Quoting Dream of the Endless, from Neil Gaiman’s “The Sandman”:

“Can you have any idea what it was like? Can you have any idea? Confined in a glass box for three score years and ten. A human lifetime. Time moves no faster for my kind than it does for humanity, and in prison it crawled at a snail's pace.”

And Dream was only trapped for a few decades.

On another topic, I can see Collector seeing Luz as a much healthier big sister figure (he probably already sees King as a big brother). Reached out to them despite everything they did, and even sacrificed herself to protect them. Odds are, at least one of their siblings are going to become very spiteful of that, especially since Collector might potentially disown them for leaving them behind. Might even try to find the first excuse to end her…

“Oh, this mortal was given the Titan’s power! Abd there’s tiny residual energy from it in her body! We’d best kill her, or she’ll become half-Titan again and try to kill us! Whoopsy, them’s the breaks! Sorry, Collie!”

Oh, I don't think they were imprisoned for that long. I have some evidence to support this, so I hope you don't mind me rambling about my timeline a bit in this answer.

I think the Collector was imprisoned for 2-5 thousand years and no more than that. Bat queen very obviously was the Titan's palisman and very much was the one who built King’s island and she said it's only been thousands of years, not tens of or hundreds of thousands. King was also incubating this entire time. Also, Bill. Bill claims to have been alive to see Papa Titan die, which means he must be as old as they have been dead plus a decade or so. Since he never personally slayed any Titans, I hc he was a child during this time, and I also HC that he managed to be long lived because. Well, it's quite morbid and horrifying, but hunters do normally eat the meat of the creatures they kill. And that's how I think he could have lived for thousands of years.

Also yeah he absolutely should feel resentful towards them, since they completely fucked up everything. Personally, I feel a bit merciful about his time imprisoned, and I usually imagine that until a tablet is activated, they are completely in stasis, a dreamless sleep. If the activated tablet is destroyed and no other tablet is active, then they go back into stasis. I HC it this way because the tablet feels like a Titan made Collection spell, and Collection spells keep the Collected in stasis. Still, there was a significant amount of non-stasis time with just Belos, which is perhaps 5x longer than what Dream went through in Sandman, with my current favored estimate being 350.

You're so right, I'm sure the Collector feels like King and Luz are like siblings to him. But he might also want to not associate them that way because of past experiences.

I think, though, that the Collector is prone to being easy to forgive, and if the circumstances are right, he might forgive his siblings. Depending on your characterization of the four of them, one to all might qualify for life shattering betrayal forgiveness (infomercial voice). Like with my own interpretation of the Archivists, Satellite and Solari were both young teens when everything happened, they had no say in what happened, they argued against what the elder two chose, and they would give up everything to keep their brother safe. Especially since their plan for if their brother returns is to take him and run away from Crescent and Penumbra. I think the Collector might forgive them.

I mean, he forgave belos who lied to and manipulated him for hundreds of years, who attempted to kill him basically, who did it all again just a few hours before he tried forgiving him. It's a reoccurring character flaw, but I think if any of the Archivists would turn against the others for the Collector and/or didn't participate in what happened to the Titans, then there might be a bit worth forgiving? Since at least then, he'd have people to live with who can raise him without worry they would die before he physically ages even a single year (that's a lot of pain for a small child).

They're far too young to be living on their own. It's not good for childhood development to be without a caretaker.

But if your version of the Archivists aren't worth forgiving then. Well. Obviously, he's justified for being as resentful as he wants to be and never forgiving them. This is still the case even if some turn out to not be completely vile bastards, but the Collector’s endless forgiveness and trust just doesn't show up at all wrt to his terrible siblings. Because they still were horrible to them.

My interpretation is just one where there may be room to forgive two of the four, mostly for practical reasons like the protagonists of the series being far better off fighting only two adult Collectors especially if they have the help of another two (though they might, justifiably, not be warmly welcomed to stay or drop by whenever they want). And also, genuinely by complete coincidence, their backstories and actions all sort of put them in a gradient of culpability for their terrible atrocities, and the twins just both happen to be on the low end, with Satellite being the absolute least evil.

#toh #the owl house #toh the collector #the Collector #toh the archivists #the archivists #toh spoilers #character analysis #toh theory #toh headcanon #sorry for any formatting weirdness i am answering this on my phone while i wait in a queue #its a long queue #answears

[coraniaid]

Does Joyce ever treat Buffy badly? Absolutely she does: telling her not to come back in Becoming is horrible, however much she obviously regrets saying it, the way she talks to her in the second half of Dead Man's Party is awful and deeply self-centered, and the retcon that she had her commited to a 'clinic' after Buffy first tried telling her about vampires before the show even began is (if one accepts it as canon) genuinely indefensible.

But the way Willow talks to Buffy in Dead Man's Party is also awful and selfish, and so is the fact Willow and Tara live in her house for free while she's struggling to pay bills and don't even offer to pay rent. And so is the way everyone treats her in Empty Places (throwing her out of her own house!), and so is the way Giles treats her in Helpless and in Season 6, and so is the way Xander behaves every time he opens his mouth in the first three seasons of the show, and so is the way that Angel and Faith and Spike and Riley treat her, constantly, which doesn't stop people somehow insisting that they are all good people who really want what's best for Buffy. Why are you so willing to forgive all of these people for what they are shown to do, and either reinterpret canon to make them as likeable and sympathic as you can or just insist that the writers wrote them out of character and they somehow really didn't do it, when you're not willing to show the same grace to Joyce Summers for the crime of being an imperfect middle aged woman who -- thanks to the premise of the show -- can't understand why her teenage daughter is suddenly behaving so differently and getting into so much trouble?

(To be clear: I think it is right to recognize all these things as unfortunate writing choices that don't actually make any of these people monsters. You should be charitable to Buffy's friends and take the show seriously when it tells you that they have a good relationship with Buffy. That is the way the show wants to be read. You should accept that Giles has an almost parental bond with Buffy. That is the way the show wants to be read. I do this myself. I'm just asking you to extend some of the same understanding to the only woman over thirty the show bothers to include for more than half a season before killing off or writing out of existence. The show explicitly wants you to think Buffy loves her mother and that her mother loves her. Why disagree now, when you didn't any other time?)

And, yes, in the metaphorical reading where coming out as a Slayer means Buffy coming out as bisexual, Joyce's attitude is -- to put it mildly -- not particularly commendable, her dubious claim to have "tried to march in the Slayer Pride Parade" not withstanding. But however compelling that reading is, understanding fiction is not just about finding a metaphor you like and ignoring the literal text. Especially when this is a reading that the show's writers probably didn't even intend and certainly don't fully commit to.

In the universe the show actually depicts, it is very understandable that Joyce isn't happy to learn that her daughter has spent the last two years risking her life fighting monsters every night (and has even died once while doing so!). Or for her to be unhappy to learn that she has been doing this largely at the urging of a strange man Joyce does't know, a man who has repeatedly done his best to convince Buffy that she should not tell her mother anything about it. (even when, as with Angelus, this came at a direct risk to Joyce's own physical safety!). This is, in fact, perfactly compatitble with the idea that Joyce is a good mother: she doesn't want her daughter to be hurt. It is very silly to pretend that wanting Buffy not to die young fighting supernatural horrors somehow makes Joyce a bad person.

(Frankly, if Joyce didn't seem upset about any of this I swear half of you would just use that as another reason to claim she's a terrible mother anyway.)

#btvs

[tsundere-isopods]

Please help me save my cat ~ Ko-fi link included

Edit: Thank every single one of you. I can't express how grateful I am to everyone who donated and reblogged.

Continued edit: Sebastian passed away on March 18th. The money that didn't go to vet bills has gone to his end of life care.

I genuinely think this might be the hardest post I will ever have to write. I have been trying to stay positive and keep hoping for the best, but I can't pretend like my cat isn't sick after this last week. And I am so scared. He's my best friend in the whole wide world. (As I tell him often "My sweetheart, my darling, my love, the light of my life, the wind beneath my winds and in my sails, I love you more than there are stars in the sky, fish in the sea, and atoms in the universe. I have never loved or will love anything more than I love you." Followed usually by "You absolute pest." or "Get up!")

I am apparently incapable of writing this in one go because I can't stop crying. Christ.

For the moment, there is an estimate of $1200 to do the biopsy on his liver (they need to confirm whether it is liver cancer before anything else). This includes ultrasound, x-rays, medications, and having it sent off to the lab. And I can't afford it. Plain and simple. So, I come asking for help. Because I don't want to lose my cat for being poor. It's not fair to him. He's 10, and I promised him that he'd be a fat cat in his late teens before we had to worry.

I don't want to make one of those donation posts where I can't give anything in return. Because I feel like I should show my gratitude somehow. I don't have the ability to draw or paint or anything like that. I have decent sewing skills, and I can write. It isn't much in terms of repayment, but it's all I can offer along with my eternal gratitude and a little bit longer with my best friend.

I have so many pictures of him (even some old ones from when I started this blog, if you can believe it. x x x x)

I am going to link my new Kofi page, and if you would like to donate through PayPal, please just message me. (I'm not comfortable sharing that because of dead naming.) I'm hoping I can offer 250-500 word stories for donors. (Possibly more. We can talk about details.)

For now, enjoy more recent picture of the Light of my Life, Sebastian.

#signal boost #cats #black cat #help #donations #sick pet #sick cat #offering commissions #commissions #please donate if you can #a reblog is also appreciated #writing commissions

[twistedtummies2]

Gathering of the Greatest Gumshoes - NUMBER ONE

HAPPY EASTER! TIME TO CELEBRATE WITH THE MOST NON-EASTER-Y THING EVER! Welcome, everybody, for the final entry of “A Gathering of the Greatest Gumshoes!” Throughout this month-long event, I’ve been counting down my Top 31 Favorite Fictional Detectives, from movies, television, literature, video games, and more! We’ve finally come to the end of March, and the time has come to unveil my topmost personal pick.

SLEUTH-OF-THE-DAY’S QUOTE: “Once you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth.”

NUMBER ONE IS…Sherlock Holmes.

Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s most famous creation is one of the most frequently adapted, reimagined, and referenced characters in the history of English literature. I think the only other pieces of literature who can compete are Bram Stoker’s “Dracula” and possibly Lewis Carroll’s “Alice” stories. Therefore, while so many other characters have carried the title in their universes of “the World’s Greatest Detective,” it’s no surprise most people still associate that phrase with Holmes, and it’s no surprise that Holmes takes the top spot. Through sheer universal appeal and constant reinvention, he’s clearly earned the rank. If Edgar Allan Poe invented the modern detective story with C. Auguste Dupin, then Doyle’s Holmes perfected the formula, and created the icon that pretty much every famous detective character since then has tried to emulate or push against since then.

It's not entirely clear WHY Conan Doyle made Holmes. I’ve heard multiple different accounts and explanations for how the concept came into Doyle’s mind, and what prompted him to create the great detective. However, if the reasons for his creation are unclear, what IS clear are Holmes’ origins. Doyle was chiefly inspired by a former teacher of his, Dr. Joseph Bell; a slightly eccentric surgeon who was one of the first forensic experts in history, and would eventually gain some recognition when helping the police on the infamous Jack the Ripper case. (He also may have taken some inspiration, according to at least one source, from the real-life Scotland Yard Inspector Richard Tanner, who worked on the slightly-less-well-known Franz Muller case - the first recorded murder committed aboard a train.) Mingling this inspiration with various unique qualities that seemed to stem from his own imagination, Doyle created the ultimate detective: the first Private Consulting Detective in fiction, and easily the most renowned.

It is humorous, in hindsight, to then realize that Doyle didn’t actually care that much for Holmes, overall. A bit like Agatha Christie with her own much later creation, Hercule Poirot, Doyle came to feel dissatisfied with Holmes. This wasn’t so much because of Sherlock’s personality or motivations, but simply because Doyle saw the Holmes stories more as a sort of lucrative hobby than anything else; he sensed that other works of his, which he felt far more passionately about, were being sidelined by this strange gumshoe. Doyle, like Christie, attempted to kill off Holmes…but unlike with Christie and Poirot, Doyle could not keep the detective dead. After a few false restarts, he finally brought Holmes back for good, and really didn’t stop writing for the detective till 1927, only three years before the end of his own life. The reason for this was simply money: Doyle came to realize that Holmes was what paid the bills, and what everybody wanted most to read. So, for all the other great things he created (Holmes was far from Doyle’s only literary claim to fame), it would be his contribution to crime fiction for which the good man would forever be best recalled. For better or worse, Doyle had created a character who truly seemed immortal.

The Sherlock Holmes stories set the benchmark for just about every famous detective to come. All of the classic tropes are basically here. Eccentric main character with multiple layers? Check. More mundane sidekick who provides an anchor for the audience? Check. A touch-and-go relationship with the official police, riding a fine line between rivalry and amiability? Check. Ability to solve crimes that no one else can seem to figure out? Obviously check. It all begins with Sherlock Holmes, before and beyond anything else. Nearly every character on this countdown up to now would not even EXIST if Sherlock Holmes had not been created, and had not been a success. He is the first great, true hero of literary fiction, I would argue: yes, there’s mythology, folklore, and other such things, but in terms of something with defined roots in what can be classified as resembling contemporary times, Holmes was the one who started everything.

Obviously, there have been way too many interpretations of this character to even ATTEMPT to list. I mean, for God’s sakes, I did a whole countdown – much like this one – where I listed no less than forty-one separate interpretations, including the honorable mentions. And even that one couldn’t cover EVERY version of Holmes I know and have some fondness for. He’s EVERYWHERE. He’s fought Dracula, Jack the Ripper, and Dr. Jekyll & Mr. Hyde almost as often as he’s tackled his arch-nemesis, Professor Moriarty. He’s been depicted in stories that are romantic, comedic, “edgy,” and every other tone you can think of. He’s made it into just about every medium there is, and has been portrayed excellently from seemingly all four corners of the globe. (Which is especially impressive, because a globe shouldn’t HAVE four corners!) From his roots in England, to America, to Russia, and even to Japan: Holmes is inescapable. Whether he’s focused on playing the violin, pumping cocaine into his veins, dealing with a three-pipe problem, or engaging in fisticuffs or even swordplay, he’s always on the move and always up to something odd, and we love him for it. I don’t think anyone would disagree with me when I say that, for sheer recognizability above all else, Sherlock Holmes more than earns my recognition for being My Favorite Fictional Detective. “It’s Elementary, My Dear Watson.”

Thank you all for joining me! Were there any famous detectives you like that didn’t make the cut? Any in particular you’d have placed higher or lower? Feel free to let me know! Take care, everyone, and make sure to get a clue. ;)

#list #countdown #best #favorites #top 31 fictional detectives #gathering of the greatest gumshoes #number one #sherlock holmes #mystery #crime fiction #murder mystery #literature #sir arthur conan doyle #film #movies #tv #television #anime #and everything else #seriously #sherlock is everywhere #for good reason

[thereareeyesinsidethetrees]

are you still taking asks? If so what’s your favorite (can be many if you want) Ford headcanon? No pressure to answer! hope you’re doing well :)

hi hello :) thank you for the ask! (im still working on the other one you sent- sorry its taking so long!)

(let me know if i need to tag any other warnings for this!)

my absolute favorite ford headcanon would probably be that he's got a ton of scars! it's something thats gotten me really confident with my own scars so i really like when people draw a bunch of scars on him

some other favorites are that he knows how to play piano (he makes up his own songs for it) and violin, and that hell play music for/with stan every now and again (stan plays ukelele). also that he helps stan get better at art and that they just draw together sometimes

theres some darker (? not entirely sure the right term here) headcanons that i really like, such as him struggling with eating and mental health. one of my favorite fics is about him starting to recover from his eating problem and i just like whenever other fics make note of it

my favorite headcanons that werent just stolen from other people are also pretty dark- and also directly tied to a headcanon that was stolen so idk

anyway, im a fan of the idea that ford died (probably more than once) during weirdmaggedon and was brought back each time by bill.

my personal headcanons are that he left behind a separate ghost for every death and that they stick around after weirdmaggedon, and that hes still technically dead by weird universe terms. so hes really cold all the time and vultures will follow him around sometimes.

recently ive added that ravens, crows, blackbirds, jackdaws, rooks, loons, and seagulls will also follow him around and even perch on him sometimes. birds a lot of people usually associate with horror, except theyre just hanging out around ford and keeping him company instead of doing anything evil. hes got bird friends :)

the seagulls are because i think itd be funny if stan was constantly having to shoo them off ford while they were sailing around the world

#i hope youre doing well too! (genuine) #im always taking asks i love getting them (also genuine) #seagulls can get pretty violent anyway (i think a lot more than the rest of the murder bird gang) #i can definitely see them following around a kind-of-but-not-really dead guy around #right and a warning and we can add this to the tags- #mention of death #ford pines #stanford pines #gravity falls #headcanons

[borrowedtimeandspace]

Caught Up in Circles

3. Impulsive

From this list of gt prompts.

AU: Time After Time; Twelve AU

~~~

As it turned out, patience and self control wore thin more quickly than Zepheera had expected.

The first few weeks were alright. She'd busied herself with setting up a home base, collecting things from various classrooms and offices that weren't the Doctor's (couldn't have him noticing things going missing and catching on before Zepheera was ready) and made comfortable enough accommodations under the floorboards. Right beneath the TARDIS. If it went anywhere, she wanted to know about it right away.

Observing the Doctor from afar was easy enough for a seasoned borrower. She kept to the shadows, always had one eye on his movements until she had a decent handle on his habits and schedule. He did have lectures to attend, and while he was there, she took the opportunity to explore his office, search through his things for any indication of when in his timeline this was, anything familiar to her.

She'd quickly found his pen cup full of sonic screwdrivers on his desk, a pair of which were the exact ones she remembered her Doctor using all those years ago. There were a few older models as well that she'd caught glimpses of before, and some that weren't familiar at all. If she weren't trying to keep her presence a complete secret, she'd give in and reach up to touch the devices for even a second of nostalgic comfort. This meant he had met her before, but how long ago was that? 

She also took note of the pictures that he kept there. One of a woman with an abundance of curly hair, and another of a young girl, both of whom were unfamiliar to Zepheera. The girl's photo looked older, black and white and all, while the other one seemed more recent. A faint memory tickled in the back of Zepheera's mind, of the Doctor mentioning a granddaughter. Perhaps that was who the girl was. She had nothing to go on about the other woman, but he must have cared a lot for her to have her picture up near that of his long lost family.

All that she found in her search led to more questions than answers. Even though it seemed that it would cause no harm to her personal timeline to approach this Doctor here and now, there were still so many uncertain factors. After months, the TARDIS still hadn't moved, and it seemed as though Bill's account of the Doctor's decades-long tenure at the university would indicate that perhaps he had retired from all the traveling. Maybe he'd finally settled down somewhere, a feat that her Doctor would have never managed. If that were true, then having Zepheera pop up out of nowhere might bring up memories of a time he'd rather forget.

Or fond ones.

Zepheera would obviously hope for the latter, but there was simply no way for her to know. She needed more information, and not just facts. She had to get to know the Doctor, this Doctor, without actually interacting with him at all.

So she continued to wait and watch, for months on end. Watching him foster a student-tutor relationship with Bill Potts, waiting for…something. Zepheera didn't quite know what she was looking for, but she was certain she'd know it when she saw it.

Despite her lack of communication being a completely voluntary choice on her part, it started to take a toll on Zepheera. Part of her wanted nothing more than to pop out of hiding and tell the old man that she had found him, that she had missed him and his box and the amazing adventures they'd had, and that her life could never be the same after meeting him.

Another part, in equal measure to the first, was terrified by that same idea.

One day, while one of Bill's tutoring sessions was wrapping up, Zepheera couldn't take it any longer. She watched the Doctor drag Bill around the shelves to collect a handful of books on whatever subject he was on now, one eye on them and the other on Bill's satchel on the floor by the Doctor's desk. When both of their backs were turned, she broke into a dead sprint and didn't stop until she'd climbed into an all-too-familiar pocket.

Before Zepheera could put a second thought into this spur-of-the-moment decision, the human snagged the bag and left the Doctor's office behind.

~~~

Bill had not a single notion that anything was different as she made her way home. Most of her mental bandwidth was taken up processing all the information the Doctor had presented to her, and wondering about the passages he'd indicated in the books he'd leant her. She had the whole weekend to go over it all and take a few notes before her next session.

For now, she aimed to have a relaxing night in.

She called out for her foster mum when she got home, partly relieved to be answered with a silent flat. Moira wasn't so bad most of the time, but Bill was hardly in the mood for another lecture about how much time she was spending with her tutor.

Heading right for the kitchen for a cuppa, she set down the small pile of books in her arms  and dropped her satchel onto a stool without much thought.

Until she caught the slightest "Oomph!" coming from it.

Bill froze and stared at the bag while her brain caught up with what she'd just heard. "Uh…hello?"

After only a beat, the side pocket of her satchel squirmed, and a familiar bob of brown hair popped out of it.

"Zepheera?" Bill's eyes widened. It had been months since she last saw the borrower, and she'd had no contact from her since Bill smuggled her into the Doctor's office.

Tiny violet eyes met Bill's after Zepheera brushed her mussed hair out of the way. "Heya, Bill," she sighed, like this were any other day and they were passing by one another.

Bill had so many questions, she didn't even know where to begin. Had Zepheera been living in that office? Was she spying on the Doctor, and Bill by extension? Once in a while, she thought she'd noticed something moving out of the corner of her eye during her tutoring sessions, but there wasn't anything there by the time she looked. Was that her all this time?

Eventually, she settled on, "Are you alright?"

A tiny hand waved off Bill's concerns. Obviously she would have been more careful if she knew her bag had a passenger. "Barely bruised," Zepheera murmured.

Bill was relieved that that seemed to be true as Zepheera climbed out of the pocket and onto the seat of the stool with no issue. Still, Bill noticed something off about the woman. They hadn't exactly gotten to know each other well when they met last, but there was something sheepish about Zepheera's manner. Bill hadn't exactly banked on seeing her again after they'd parted ways. Maybe Zepheera hadn't exactly expected to come here, either.

"Do you want a cuppa?" Bill offered. 

Even at her significant height advantage over Zepheera, she could see tense little shoulders slump. "Tea would be lovely, thanks."

#gtjuly #gtjuly2023 #giant tiny #gt #giant #tiny #doctor who gt #doctor who g/t #the borrowers #doctor who crossover #the borrowers crossover #OC #borrower OC #Zepheera #Bill Potts #time after time #Twelve AU

[callipraxia]

Hii! I’m curious about your opinion re: one of the most controversial questions in this fandom, the Reverse Portal AU. What would have Ford, as we know him in canon, done if Stan went through the portal instead? Saved him or prioritized what he then considered a “greater good”? From the fanfics I’ve encountered, people definitely disagree on this, but they can be pretty biased. I’m personally of the opinion he would have saved Stan despite all his chiding about responsibility -- considering his decision to succumb to Bill’s blackmail and give him the universe in Weirdmaggedon, he’s a tiiiny bit hypocritical/contradictory in this regard (as well as in many others), hahah. I’d say it was pretty clear that he valued family above everything then, at least, but researcher!Ford... I am not 100% sure. To me there’s a difference between what Ford considers Danger with a Capital D™ (Bill Cipher) and what he didn’t even stop to consider was dangerous (Stan’s life in the streets). Stan going through the Portal That Made Fiddleford Crazy would fall into the former. Still, I don’t want to be seeing all of this through rose colored brotherhood glasses and it’s hard to get fully rid of my own bias. What do you, who wrote a huge wonderful canon analysis about him, think?

Hm, you know, I had never really thought about this! It is a tricky question, considering that the post-Portal version of Ford we know best can be considered a very different person from the pre-Portal Ford...except for all the ways in which they're exactly the same, of course. Thinking on it, though, there are some bits and bops I can use to speculate...Short answer, I think you're right that "there's a difference between what Ford considers Danger with a Capital D and what he didn't even stop to consider was dangerous" (a much more succinct summary than I could have made, lol) and that, despite their estrangement, Ford would have...at least wanted to rescue Stan. I also think that he would have at least been delayed by the need to get Fiddleford back on board, though. Considering Ford's tendency to assume the worst, it also seems quite plausible that Ford could quickly come to believe that rescuing Stan would be impossible, either due to Fiddleford's lack of cooperation with anything that involved opening the Portal back up to the Nightmare Realm or due to assuming/being convinced that Stan was dead. From either of those solutions, I reckon there's a number of ways things could go.

(notgonnawriteit, notgonnawriteit, notgonnawriteit....)

Ahem. To expand on that:

I’ll begin by addressing the counterargument. It's fair to point out that even when he wasn't in a distinctly grandiose frame of mind ("save the world or lose my life in the attempt"), Ford does have a tendency to lash out at Stan in a way that could be interpreted as suggesting that he values [whatever he's mad about] as more valuable than his brother. On the night of the science fair, Ford came into the living room looking like he was spoiling for a fight before Filbrick interrupted; on-screen, Ford and Stan come to blows three times, and on two of those occasions, Ford is the one who swings first. However, I think it's equally important to note that on both of those occasions, Ford's also the one who first realizes oh my God what am I doing? and tries to deescalate it again. In the 1981 flashbacks, he immediately backs off once he realizes Stan had gotten injured on the machinery, and when it looks like Stan might still want to fight, he keeps backing off for the rest of the scene despite the great big gaping, gravity-altering doorway to another reality being both turned on and right behind him. In 2012, he punches Stan on autopilot after going straight from a grenade-tossing and death ray-wielding and up-against-impossible-odds space battle to the ruins of the basement, but when Stan tries to escalate the conflict into an outright brawl like the one they had before, Ford is cross but relatively calm, and merely restrains him instead of indulging in further violence (I suppose his entry into the multiverse was a mistake he actually learned from and didn't care to risk any chance that he might repeat). So, to conclude the argument on this point - I don’t feel it’s really reasonable to assume that “Ford wanted to beat the tar out of Stan” in any way implies “Ford would have callously written off Portal Stan as a necessary sacrifice and then gone on his merry way.” One of Ford’s major flaws is a failure to accurately assess and deal with his own emotions and how they affect his relationships, and he’s pretty consistently shown to be far more sentimental about his attachments than he thinks he is. And even if he weren’t, well, good grief – even if he had genuinely hated Stan or considered him a totally worthless person, there would still be a long, long way between “I would like to beat this guy up” and “I am sufficiently jaded that I won’t feel a bit bad about it if my actions accidentally lead to Something Truly Horrible happening to this guy.” When we look at Stan and Ford specifically, we also have to factor in both that Ford had apparently (if the scattered references in the Journal are anything to go by) been thinking of Stan semi-fondly/at least ambivalently again for a while before he contacted him in the winter of ‘81, and what Ford’s mental state was at the time. He had very little life experience involving other people/outside of a laboratory and he seemed to be on the brink of an anxiety-and-sleep-deprivation-fueled psychotic break. He may have very well enjoyed lashing out at Stan in the moment, directing his bottomless pit of unpleasant emotions outward toward this Other who conveniently looked just like him instead of inward at himself, but I really do think he would have freaked out and felt incredibly guilty and upset had Stan actually gone through the Portal.***

Now, as for how he might have reacted instead of going on his merry way…in the possibly unlikely event anyone is still reading, then that’s where things get really interesting.

To begin on a gloomy note, I don’t think Ford could have launched an immediate rescue attempt for Portal Stan, no matter how much he wanted to. It’s made clear that he doesn’t understand everything about the Portal, and hinted that he actually understands even less than he thinks he does. When Ford writes in the Journal about the early stages of building the Portal, he makes it clear that, for whatever reason, he could not finish without Fiddleford, who understands the plans so well that he is able to suggest improvements and see the danger in them; when Ford writes in the Journal about the “Better World” dimension, he makes it clear that Parallel Ford was unable to achieve anything until he persuaded Parallel Fiddleford to come back. If AU Ford tried to retrieve Portal Stan, then he’d first have to persuade AU Fiddleford to help him, and it is extremely unlikely that AU Fiddleford would have allowed even a brief connection to the Nightmare Realm before he stabilized the Portal for good, even if Ford begged him on his knees to do so – not least because Fiddleford, having seen what was on the other side for himself, probably would assume that nobody who went through without a rope could possibly survive long. I suppose it’s possible that AU Fiddleford could at least outwardly convince AU Ford that he has to give up any hope of retrieving his brother in the service of the Greater Good – perhaps even that this is the universe’s punishment for being presumptuous and toying with Things Man Was Not Meant To Know – but I find it hard to imagine that Ford wouldn’t be severely haunted by this even in the best-case scenario. Worst-case scenario, that would have been the straw that broke the somewhat mentally unstable camel's back, with who knows what results.

(notgonnawriteit, notgonnawriteit, notgonnawriteit.…)

However, there’s a number of other solutions besides "gave up, regardless of the reason or how he felt about it." One might be Ford going out into the multiverse at a later date, after Fiddleford somehow figured out how to make the Portal work without going through Bill’s domain, in search of his brother, in the slight hopes that Stan might have survived long enough to dimension-hop. Another might involve him staying in his home dimension, but secretly experimenting behind Fiddleford’s back in an attempt to figure out if Stan’s still alive – I say ‘experimenting’ because the original Portal was a doorway, essentially, but it seems to have exceeded that mandate when it found Ford for Stan over the course of Season 2A. It's possible that some of the “components held together with duct tape” that Ford mentions might represent Stan-made modifications of the design intended to make it do what Stan wanted it to do. If it was modified, that could also explain why its final activation was so much more violent and unstable than the other two times it was turned on. Gravity behaved anomalously when both Fiddleford and Ford went through the Portal, sure, but it seems to have only done so in extremely close proximity to the device. When Ford came back the other way, half the buildings in town seem to have been lifted clean off their foundations. Something about that third time was...different. Though, of course, it's always also possible that Stan just hoped Ford would have stayed in place for thirty years and thus did simply open the Portal back up - as for why it took so long, it's implied at one point that Stan had trouble getting his hands on enough toxic waste to adequately fuel the thing - and that Ford happening to be in the Nightmare Realm right then was either because of Fate or sheer dumb Pines luck.

I could go on further (about how Ford might half-convince himself he doesn't care at all, with this having zero impact on how he actually does, or how the 'tinkering behind Fiddleford's back' thing could lead into a script flip of "Not What He Seems," or...etc.) but it gets increasingly speculative/like I'm drawing up plans for a specific plot. Hopefully something in all this managed to answer the question to your satisfaction, Anon, and hopefully it was at least mildly entertaining even if it failed in its primary mission? Glad you enjoyed the canon analysis!

***Another important factor to consider in all this may well be that Ford and Stan both trained as boxers for a long time - possibly for as long seven or eight years, probably for five at a minimum. They both knew all about punching, both how to dish it and how to take it with minimal damage, and the photo in Stan’s car indicates they at least practiced together. I suspect (despite having never punched anyone, either in or out of a boxing ring) that punching someone in boxing gloves when everyone involved has consented to getting punched at some point is a lot different than punching someone in anger and with your bare hands, but "try to punch Stan in the head" is still something Ford probably did many times when they were younger, all without a hint of ill will existing on either side. Ford might therefore not necessarily think of ‘hit Stan’ as an action that would or even could seriously harm him, even if done in anger instead of as part of a recreational sport. Plus, while he was almost certainly using violence as an ineffective form of communication before the end of the 1981 fight, he started it when he was alarmed, not enraged, and he was shocked/horrified out of being angry the instant a factor other than just the two of them trying to pummel the stupid out of each other directly got involved. It's certainly worth noting that Stan, at least, didn't seem to take "Ford punched me in the face before I could say hello properly" or "I then tried to hit back because I was annoyed about that punching/lack of gratitude business" as indicators that the situation was beyond salvaging; he only seems to have given up on any hope of reconciliation at the very end of ATOTS, after Ford first talked civilly with him, then made a joke with him, and then calmly announced that he was basically going to take his toys and go play alone in the basement until Stan went away. Years earlier, after the science fair, Stan also seemed to initially shrug off how Ford had blown up at him and to have assumed that he could smooth things over at first; it's Ford's silent, seemingly more miserable and conflicted than fisticuffs-inducingly angry, refusal to intercede with Filbrick on his behalf, after the initial outburst of temper has ended, that finally gets to him and prompts him to loudly and unconvincingly declare that he doesn't care anyway before he storms off. They...both really need to work on improving those verbal communication skills.

#gravity falls #gravity falls characters #gravity falls theory #gravity falls au #asks #thanks for the ask! #ford pines #stan pines #impromptu essay

[stormyoceans]

top 10 most romantic vice versa moments? :)

SFJKSGFKGSKDGJSG SHORT ANSWER WOULD BE ALL OF THEM THEY LITERALLY INVENTED ROMANCE!!!!!! but apparently i like to hurt myself and aim to lose whatever sanity i have left so HERE WE GO I GUESS

1. the kitchen scene in episode 12. most of the time romance isn't actually in the grand public gestures but in the small ones we share every single day in the privacy of our homes and this scene is a perfect example of it like THE BACK HUG. THE CHEEK KISSES EXCHANGE. "WHATEVER COMES FROM YOU IS SO GOOD". PUEN TIGHTENING HIS HOLD AROUND TALAY AND TALAY'S HAND REACHING FOR PUEN'S OWN INSTINCTIVELY. "THANK YOU FOR COMING BACK AND SEARCHING FOR ME. AND THANK YOU FOR TAKING AWAY MY FEAR OF TOMORROW". PUEN'S HANDS ON TALAY'S WAIST. TALAY CUPPING PUEN'S FACE. "I THANK YOU TOO FOR BEING BORN SO THAT I COULD LOVE YOU". THE QUICK KISS AT THE END THAT'S JUST SO CASUAL AND INTIMATE AND SOFT. i've literally never seen two people be more domestic in love and enamored with each other in my entire life im sorry but this is truly peak romance to me!!!!!!

2. the reunion scene in episode 11. romantic scene moment sequence of events of all time OF ALL TIME truly changed the trajectory of my life my outlook my values the very foundations of my personhood i genuinely can't have more than surface level thoughts about this scene or else i'll go insane fr. LOVERS TRASCENDING SPACETIME AND FINDING EACH OTHER AGAIN IN THE SAME PLACE ONE OF THEM FIRST FELL IN LOVE WITH THE OTHER BUT IN A DIFFERENT UNIVERSE IN A DIFFERE BODY!!!!!! “TALAY” BEING THE FIRST WORD OUT OF PUEN’S MOUTH!!!! TALAY BEING SO OVERWHELMED HE CAN’T SAY ANYTHING AT FIRST!!!! “AI’DANG”!!!! THE BONE CRUSHING HUG!!!! "YOU MUST BE VERY TIRED. FROM NOW ON THINGS WILL BE OKAY"!!!! THE WIFE TEASING BECAUSE THAT'S EXACTLY WHO THEY ARE BICKERING BANTERING NERDS ABSOLUTELY SMITTEN FOR EACH OTHER!!!! THE HEARTACHE THE LONGING THE REALIZATION THE RELIEF THE COMFORT THE TENDERNESS THE UNDERSTANDING THE JOY THE LOVE!!!!!! losing my mind my marbles my capacity for rational thought and my grasp on reality

3. the hat scene in episode 9. doctor jimmy fucking pay my therapy bills and answer for your crimes in a court of law i watched this scene 9373828 times but also i can't look directly at it because i'll implode instantaneously. he really was out there that day making the most choices looking awestruck to the point of reverence and giving so much adoration tenderness wonder devotion LOVE!!!!! AND IF PUEN'S REALIZATION OF WHO TALAY IS WASN'T ALREADY THE MOST DERANGED EMOTIONALLY CHARGED INSANE SHIT EVER PUT TO FILM THEY ALSO GAVE US ANOTHER CONFESSION!!!!! "NO MATTER WHAT WILL HAPPEN, ALL I WANT IS FOR US TO REUNITE"!!!!! "I THINK I AM FALLING FOR YOU"!!!!! "CAN'T YOU TELL? IM FALLING FOR YOU TOO"!!!!! LIKE NOT ALL OF THIS ON TOP OF THE SOULMATISM THING PLEASE IM ALREADY ON THE FLOOR WAILING STOPPPPP KICKING ME WHEN IM DOWN

4. the post reunion scene in episode 11. so you get the reunion scene and are now agonizing on the floor partaking in fits of female hysteria trying to get a hold on yourself but hey, you think, at least that's the most romance they're gonna give in an episode, right? you're safe.... right???? FOOL!!!!!! YOU'RE NEVER SAFE IN THIS SHOW!!!!!! and what's more devastatingly romantic than puentalay just being puen and talay and talking about their feelings like THE RETURN OF "DO YOU KNOW HOW LONG THOSE 43.200 MINUTES I WAITED FOR YOU FELT LIKE"????? "IT WAS NO DIFFERENT FOR ME. BECAUSE FOR ME IT WAS 2.592.000 SECONDS I WAITED FOR YOU"????? "IM SO HAPPY"????? PUEN FIXING TALAY'S HAIR????? THE FOREHEAD KISS????? "DOES IT STILL FEEL LIKE A DREAM? OR DO YOU WANT ME TO DO MORE"????? THE HAND HOLDING????? "PROMISE ME YOU WON'T LEAVE ME AGAIN"????? "I WON'T LEAVE YOU AGAIN. I PROMISE"????? THE KISS????? anyway i'll be clinically dead for up to three business days do not contact me im becoming one with the soil

5. the greyllery confession in episode 8. look i know im biased but if you don't think this is one of the most romantic confession scenes in the history of television you're just lying to yourself. THE FACT THAT IT HAPPENS WHEN THE LIGHTS ARE OUT TO EMPHASIZE THAT THEIR FEELINGS AREN'T ABOUT THE BODIES THEY INHABIT BUT ABOUT WHO THEY ARE????? TALAY CUPPING PUEN'S FACE AS IF HE'S HOLDING THE MOST PRECIOUS THING IN THE WORLD IN HIS HANDS????? "I HAVEN'T EVEN SEEN YOUR REAL FACE YET I LIKE YOU"????? PUEN BEING SO OVERWHELMED WITH EMOTIONS HE NEEDS TO GRAB TALAY'S WRIST TO GROUND HIMSELF????? TALAY REPEATING "I LIKE YOU" 4 TIMES????? "I LIKE YOU TOO. I LIKE EVERYTHING ABOUT YOU"????? THE KISS????? THE TEAR FALLING DOWN PUEN'S CHEEK?????? i need to be institutionalized rn

6. the hourglass scene in episode 12. i guess puen declaring his feelings for talay to the world would be the easiest choice here, but it's in the quiet moments just between the two of them where i always feel my heart swelling and overflowing with emotions. AND WHAT A MOMENT THIS ONE IS!!!!!! "i didn't need to look at it (the moon) and imagine your face anymore"!!!!!! "i don't want to leave you"!!!!!! THE HOURGLASS WITH THE SAND THAT DOESN'T FALL!!!!!! "I DON'T WANT TIME TO GO BY WITHOUT YOU FROM NOW ON"!!!!!! TALAY HUGGING PUEN FIRST!!!!!! PUEN STROKING THE BACK OF TALAY'S HEAD!!!!!! "FROM THIS MOMENT ON IT'S YOU AND ME. TALAY AND PUEN"!!!!!! MORE HUGGING AND HEAD STROKING!!!!!! CITY PLAYING IN THE BACKGROUND!!!!!! friends im not gonna lie. im on the verge

7. nivea bathtub scene my beloved in episode 3. im physically incapable of watching this scene without giggling twirling my hair kicking my feet pausing and screaming into a pillow. THE WAY TALAY LOOKS AT PUEN JUST RELAXING IN THE BATHTUB WITH HIS EYES CLOSED AND DECIDES TO CLEAN HIS FACE AND DOES THAT SO GENTLY AND INTENTLY????? THE WAY PUEN BRUSHES THE COTTON PAD ON TALAY'S CHEST AND SAYS "IF THIS CAN BE USED TO WIPE AWAY DUST, I SHOULD USE IT WITH YOUR HEART. I THINK YOUR HEART HASN'T BEEN USED IN A LONG TIME"????? and i always praise jimmy for his insane ability of expressing so many emotions through his eyes alone but sea is honestly just as good THE WAY TALAY'S EYES LOOK SO BIG AND DEEP AND INNOCENT AND VULNERABLE IN THIS SCENE AND HE CAN'T HOLD PUEN'S GAZE FOR TOO LONG????? the tension the yearning the electricity THE ROMANCE

8. the first bed scene in episode 6. talay admitting out loud everything he missed about puen while puen is asleep!!!! just because he feels like saying it!!!! and all of those things being intrinsically PUEN!!!!! "I MISSED YOUR ANNOYANCE, YOUR SHYNESS, YOUR NICE SINGING VOICE, YOUR CARE, AND LASTLY JUST YOU"!!!!!! HE BASICALLY CONFESSED RIGHT THEN AND THERE AND DIDN'T EVEN REALIZE IT!!!!! AND THEN PUEN WAKES UP AND SAYS ONE OF THE MOST RIDICULOUS FLIRTY LINES I'VE EVER HEARD AND I RESENT THE FACT THAT I LIKE IT SO MUCH. thank god talay didn't get it but also i wish he did because "i like the sound of the sea" LIKE PUEN REALLY SAID HE LIKES THE SOUND OF TALAY AND SOMEHOW THAT MAKES /ME/ BLUSH????? and then they decided to make things even more disgustingly romantic by having PUEN GIVING TALAY AN EAR MASSAGE TO HELP HIM FALL ASLEEP????? is my mental health a joke to these people

9. the missing you scene in episode 6. TALAY LITERALLY POWER WALKED TO TUN'S PARENTS' HOUSE JUST SO HE COULD SERENADE PUEN AND TELL HIM HE MISSED HIM AFTER NINE DAYS OF NOT SEEING EACH OTHER. and that's pretty romantic as it is, right??? you'd really think that would be more than enough to get the point across, but since no one in this show seems to be satisfied if they don't make any scene as deranged as possible, we have TALAY LOOKING STRAIGHT INTO PUEN'S EYES WHILE SINGING "OH DEAR LOVE, I LOVE YOU". WE HAVE THE OG "DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW LONG 12.960 MINUTES I WAITED FOR YOU FELT LIKE?" "I KNOW. BECAUSE FOR ME IT WAS 777.600 SECONDS THAT I SPENT MISSING YOU LIKE CRAZY TOO". WE HAVE THEIR FIRST REAL HUG. honestly everyone involved in this show should be in JAIL

10. the helmet scene in episode 3. there are romantic puentalay moments that actually make me tear up from the sheer immensity of their feelings for each other and then there are romantic puentalay moments THAT HAVE ME GAGGING ON THE SIDE BECAUSE PEOPLE IN LOVE STINKS!!!!!! this scene definitely belongs to the latter group like PUEN GLUED TALAY'S HELMET SO WHEN TALAY FINALLY GOT IT OFF HE COULD READ THE WORDS WRITTEN ON THE BACK!!!!!! TALAY LITERALLY HAD THE SAME THOUGHT AND WROTE ON THE BACK OF PUEN'S HELMET TOO!!!!!! "THE ONE WEARING THIS IS CUTE" AND "YOU'RE SO GREAT"!!!!!!! and even before we got to that they were just standing there saying stuff like "im so lucky to have you"!!!!!! "im also glad i have you"!!!!!! "i'll live tun's life to the fullest. to the best. with you"!!!!!! THE PINKY PROMISE!!!!!! I HATE THEM ACTUALLY THEY'RE INSUFFERABLE

#CURRENTLY THROWING UP BLOOD BECAUSE I LEFT OUT SO MANY SCENES #ESPECIALLY THE SECOND BED SCENE IN EPISODE 6 AND THE RIVER BANK SCENE IN EPISODE 10 #ANON I LOVE YOU BUT THIS HURT ME DEEPLY #also no one should ever let me talk about vice versa but god. the serotonin shooting through my brain every time i get to do that.... #truly unparalleled #anyway thank you so much for asking anon!!!! #i hope you're having a lovely day!!!! 💜 #m: ask #vice versa #puentalay

[celestemagnoliathewriter]

Just wanted to say that I love the artwork of Teddy and Hope. Also, how did you come up with Teddy’s sister?

I haven’t read your story yet but once I get some free time I’ll definitely check it out. I know that I’ll love it, I’m glad to have discovered your writing 😍😍

Also, if I may add my name is Hope and it got me excited to see that name as a character that you are writing about. 🥹🥹

Well, thank you, Hope and I hope that if/when you read Cariad, which features Hope more prominently, you'll enjoy it! I'm also glad you liked the art :)

I'd love to tell you about Miss Hope Lupin (the second). Per Remus's bio page on wizarding world, his mother was called Hope Howell (get it? HOWL? As if Werewolf McWerewolf wasn't enough for Remus, lol). As a lot of the characters in the HP universe seem to name their kids after dead people, Hope's name was easy, but I do like that name for the Lupins' daughter, because like Bill and Fleur's Victoire, it shows something brighter for the future.

This is an AU story, and below I've got some mild spoilers, but nothing that should give away the whole story:

In Collide and Cariad, I gave the Lupins four children. I like giving Remus a whole brood of kiddos whenever I can. Dad!Remus is one of the best things. To tell you about Hope, I will also tell you about Teddy.

In Cariad, I wanted the Lupins to have a daughter after Teddy. She comes 3 years later, and when she does arrive, she's inherited some of her dad's lycanthropic tendencies. In chapter 25, Daughter, I explain how this works. She's not a werewolf, but she's like Bill, where she's got some symptoms and it's chronic. I liken it to a mild form of anemia and chronic fatigue. As a result, Hope is born smaller than expected and will always be small for her age. Physically she's not as big or strong, but she's bright and determined.

I have her look a lot like Tonks, without the morphing. I intentionally made Hope an 'average' witch, in that she's not a Metamorphmagus. This creates an interesting dynamic for her in the family, as she doesn't have anything especially unique about her; Tonks and Teddy are Metamorphmagi and Remus is a werewolf. Not that Hope wants to be a werewolf, but she's the second child in a family where there are many expectations. Tonks is a celebrated, talented Auror. Remus is a decorated war hero. Teddy gets the brunt of this because he's the firstborn, the oldest, and he deals with prejudices very early in his childhood, which later impact his view of the world. He understands, from an early age, that he's got a lot to live up to, and even worse, with his dad as a werewolf, he's very aware he's got to be on his best behavior to avoid any scandal.

Hope doesn't quite get that message. She instead sees a near-perfect older brother, two incredibly talented parents, and then she's just...her. She's a little sickly, a bit small, but clever and stubborn. She gets the feeling early in life that she's going to be just as talented as the rest of her family, even if it's hard.

She later becomes an older sister to twins. That makes her a middle child, and in doing so, she begins shouldering some of the same 'older sibling' responsibilities that Teddy has, but she's now a middle child who longs to stand out. Her younger brother, Alex, will suffer a similar feeling, as the other twin, Minnie, is also a Metamorphmagus and will easily stand out for that trait.

Hope is motivated by love of her family, desire to prove herself worthy and strong, and dismay that the world isn't as cheerful as she once believed. Teddy learned early on that the world wasn't fair and he was a good brother, hiding Hope from it as much as he could. But Hope does learn, accidentally and purposefully, that werewolves aren't always welcomed, her parents are flawed, and she's just one small witch in a bigger world.

She's stubborn, determined, and while she takes after her mother in looks, she's an extraverted version of Remus. Meanwhile, Teddy is an more reserved, introverted version of Tonks. Hope gets the extraversion from her mother, Teddy gets the introversion from his father. As a result, Hope will be a Gryffindor, because while Teddy is brave, he is above all loyal to his family, extremely hardworking, and perfectionistic. Hope is all these things, but with the distinction that she is more daring and willing to take risks that Teddy wouldn't.

In Collide, I gave her the pairing of Frank Longbottom, the son of Neville, but I've been thinking of changing that in Cariad. I haven't decided yet. Either way, I do plan on having her become an Auror, because like her mother, she wants to make the world a better place. Teddy will be a Healer.

#cariad #remadora #remus lupin #nymphadora tonks #hope lupin #hope lupin the second #teddy lupin #the lupin family #my ocs #my writing #ask me about my ocs #ask me about my fics #ask me about my wips #thank you for the ask