#and then I would potentially not see my family for years

[waynes-multiverse]

I was soooooooo excited for this! *breathes in sharply* Okay let's get started 🍿😎👏

“You have my blessing,” she said. “All I ask is that you don’t scar me with any gushy details afterward.”

I love their friendship so much 😂 And kudos to Dory. It takes a lot to agree to this. It could potentially get very awkward 😝

“You know, it’s been about twenty years since I’ve seen him,” she said. “We’ve had entire lives already. I see him now, and there’s some of the Russell I knew when we were kids, but…there’s just a lot I don’t know about him, who he’s become.”

God, I know. This is honestly what I think about the most when I watch Tracker. The whole story line is insane and intriguing and... 😅 I have a thousand questions, and there's so much you could do with it in fics. I love it (clearly) 😂🤍

Dory’s face tightened. “It’s a long story. I’ve told you some of it. But basically, after our dad died, nothing was ever the same again.”

I do think Russell knows a lot more about their past than he lets on. Also, he was way too chipper for someone who was accused of patricide by his own brother for twenty years. The dynamic between the brothers is just... interesting 👀

Barely a date, you reminded yourself, as you unlocked the door to your house. Barely a date, barely a date.

Right... 😆

“You’re a grown fucking man, Charlie! Do you really need me to give you the just say no speech?” you said. 

Oh, she's going full Reagan! 😂 I sense some trouble coming from the brother, though...

“Yeah well, maybe just for one night, I wanted to relax without you harping on my back,” he said, glaring up at you. “Is that too much to fucking ask? For you to give me some goddamn slack?”

Well, I hope he already picked out his casket... 🙈💀

“Hey, there.” He greeted you with a warm hand on your back. He helped you into your seat.

I'd be a puddle before I even made it to the damn seat 🫠

And they are literally so cute together! I'm full on swooning over here 😍

Russell nodded. He wasn’t sure how much Dory told you about their family business, but it dimmed his mood.

Ah, yes, the family business. Love that sublte hint 😆 Would be a good name for a brewery, tho 👍

He was starting to get a clearer picture of who your brother was. It struck at familiar chords inside himself that he wasn’t so comfortable with. He shifted in his seat, fingers flexing over his glass on the counter.

I like that you emphasized the darker parts of his life. Like I said, I don't buy his whole "I'm happy and funny and quirky" act. There's a lot more stirring beneath the charming surface 😅 (Another thing he has in common with Dean lol)

And oh, don't we love a good cry on the first date? Poor thing 😂🤍

“You gotta understand that me, my brother, my sister, we didn’t grow up like a normal family,” he said. “Yeah, I know,” you nodded. “Dory’s told me some of it. It sounded…rustic.” He snorted. “Putting it mildly.”

Indeed 😂 I would've loved to be a fly on the wall when Dory had this conversation with her lol

How he very eloquently avoided talking about Colter accusing him of murdering their father. I wanna be a fly on the wall for that future convo too 🤣

And he slapped you right on the ass.

Loved that she got a punch in before even Russell got there. He might have actually killed that pig lmao

“Aw, it doesn’t look as bad as all that. But can I see?” he asked. You allowed him to take your smaller hand in his. Your knuckles were red and tender to the touch when he gently pressed. You hissed in pain.

I'm having vivid flashbacks to Smoke Eater 🥵🔥

But his hands were gentle for you.

This line just about killed me... 🫠🫠🫠

“Three balls, huh?” you said slyly, and maybe, a little tipsy. “Might wanna get that looked at.”

I appreciate that kind of humor 😂😂

“Now, if I go in for a kiss goodnight, are you gonna deck me?” he asked, with a teasing glint in his eyes.

I absolutely can see him saying that 💯😂

He found no other recourse but to back you up against the side of his car.

Probably one of my favorite scenes is when characters are so hot for each other they lean against a car. There's just something so incredibly passionate about it 🔥🫠

“I’m staying at a motel, if you wanna…” he said, between kisses.

Oh, Russell, this is not what the lady wants to hear. Bless him tho 😂

And I figured she wanted more than a one-night-stand or fling. His job and lifestyle truly is a bit of a problem. But he wanted out anyways, so... 🤞

I loved their first date! 😍🤍 Hopefully, they'll see each other again soon and might give this another shot. I have a feeling it's gonna involve her brother's bullshit somehow 😅

Every Second Counts - Part 1

Pairing: Russell Shaw x F. Reader

Summary: One date with your best friend’s brother leaves you wanting more, even though his questionable job and vagabond lifestyle make you want to guard your heart. When your brother falls into trouble, however, Russell is the first one you trust to help you find him. 

AN: Finally, here we are at Part 1! Remember that A Line and a Half functions as our prologue here.

Word Count: 5.7K

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only for some mature thoughts. Fluff, angst and hurt/comfort, drug use, mentions of drug addiction and alcoholism, skeevy men, and a tinge of spice.~

💜 Series Masterlist

Part 1: "Permission Granted"

“Are you absolutely sure?” you asked, with your hands on your hips. 

You wanted no miscommunication here, no read-between-the-lines mishaps, no subtext or nuance to bite you in the ass later. So here you stood in the middle of your best friend’s office, still at the Wyoming University campus after your last class.

Dory had to laugh at you. She pushed away from her desk and threw her hands up.

“Yes, for the love of God, you can grab a drink with my brother,” she said.

After brushing a lock of blonde hair behind her ear, she went to you and set her hands on your shoulders.

“You have my blessing,” she said. “All I ask is that you don’t scar me with any gushy details afterward.” 

Your face began to heat up in a blush. You crossed your arms.

“All right, no one said there was going to be any of that,” you replied. “It’s just a date. Barely a date, mind you.”

“A-huh,” Dory said with a sneaking smile. “Out of curiosity, what was it about him that hooked you? You’ve been dodging Chris’s valiant attempts for like a month now.”

Chris was a French and Spanish professor. His office was on the same floor as yours, so you two occasionally crossed paths whenever you ventured into the teacher’s lounge.

He usually caught you in the morning while you were grabbing your free coffee fix at the Keurig. He’d chat you up about his classes and his dog and his new boat, and all the while you’d struggle to get a word in edgewise. Despite that, he was good-looking and pleasant, for the most part. It was just…

“I don’t know. He’s not my type, I guess,” you shrugged. You kind of liked conversations where both people got to speak.

“And Russell is?” Dory said, in a teasing tone. You chewed the inside of your lip, fighting a smile.

“I don’t know,” you admitted. “Kind of want to find out though.”

“Okay, well, let me know what you find,” Dory said, more wryly. You caught a bit of melancholy when her gaze drifted off. Your brows furrowed in concern as you drew closer, setting a hand on her arm.

“What do you mean?” you asked.

She was hesitant, but she eventually answered you with a confession.

“You know, it’s been about twenty years since I’ve seen him,” she said. “We’ve had entire lives already. I see him now, and there’s some of the Russell I knew when we were kids, but…there’s just a lot I don’t know about him, who he’s become.”

You could understand that. You squeezed her arm in sympathy.

“Well, he really seems to want to know you now,” you said. You remembered all the questions he asked you when he helped you carry your files back to your office after lunch today—most of them about Dory, about her career, your friendship, and ultimately, if she was happy.

“What happened to you guys?” you asked. “Why are you all so distant? Colter included.”

Dory’s face tightened. “It’s a long story. I’ve told you some of it. But basically, after our dad died, nothing was ever the same again.”

You dimmed at that. You knew their mother still lived in the cabin they grew up in, but Dory had never quite been able to tell you what happened to their dad. You’d never pushed the subject. You knew better than anyone what kind of pain that was. 

“I just wish we’d been able to stay with each other. Me and my brothers, at least,” Dory said. But she adopted a smile for you, before she returned to her desk.

“Okay. Go on your non-date at your favorite bar with Russell. I’ll be here, grading papers until Judgment Day,” she said, with a small laugh that felt like a coverup for thoughts she no longer wanted to think about.

You let her do it. You grabbed your purse and work bag off the spare chair in front of her desk.

“So you’re sure,” you wanted to confirm. “One last chance for me to tell him I came down with food poisoning.”

Dory collected her stack of midterm papers and gave you a cheeky look that said, class dismissed. Then she clicked her red pen and pointedly looked down at the first batch of papers to read through.

You smiled. Okay, you thought, giving her a little wave goodbye when you turned to leave. You had just a couple of hours to drive home and get ready to meet Russell.

“Goodnight,” you called.

“Goodniiight,” Dory replied.

You heard the smirk in her voice without even having to look back.

After fighting through rush hour traffic, you were exhausted when you got home from work. Your tentative excitement and nerves about tonight gave you some new energy though, even if you thought those nerves were silly to have.

Barely a date, you reminded yourself, as you unlocked the door to your house. Barely a date, barely a date.

The Ring Camera beside the door chimed when you entered the house, signaling your arrival. You had to wrinkle your nose at the dank-ass smell that greeted you.

Frowning in annoyance, you dropped your stuff on the kitchen table for now and shucked off your heels. You made a beeline down the hall, to the bedroom that lied across from yours. You pushed it open without knocking. There you caught your older brother, Charlie, snoozing in his bed with the covers half pooling on the floor.

His room was a mess, as usual. Your gaze locked on the evidence of half a blunt on his nightstand and two smoked roaches beside it. You were glad it wasn’t remnants of white lines of powder, like times before, but there was also a large bottle of whiskey. It was almost empty, and hanging loosely from his hand.

He managed to raise his head a bit when you came in.

“Hey,” he said, blinking bleary eyes. He cleared his throat and tried to sit up.

You shook your head and picked around piles of dirty clothes and a couple of used paper plates on the floor. You swiftly grabbed the bottle from his hand and slammed it on the nightstand.

“You promised me, Charlie,” you snapped. “You promised me for the hundredth time that you’d quit all this shit. Where even were you last night? You weren’t home when I left for work this morning.”

He sighed, frowning at how loud you were, and sat up in bed. He swung his legs over the side and held his swimming head in his hands, resting his elbows on his knees. He ran a hand through his hair. It was nearly black, like Dad’s had been, but he’d inherited Mom’s lighter eyes.

“I got invited to a party,” he said. “I’m sorry, I know. This is the last time.”

You expelled a frustrated breath and shook your head.

“You’re a grown fucking man, Charlie! Do you really need me to give you the just say no speech?” you said. 

“Look, I’m sorry. I don’t know how many times I can say it,” he said. He shut his eyes tight, probably trying to fend off a headache. 

Good, you thought. Let that be a reminder of how bad he’d screwed up again. 

“And while we’re at it, what about your half of the bills? You’re a week late,” you said, testily crossing your arms.

“Yeah, I’m a little behind,” he said. Once again, he cleared his throat past a wad of phlegm. He was still a bit crossfaded too, you could tell. “You know they cut my hours to part-time at the museum. I’ve, uh, I’ve been looking into getting another job—”

“I already paid the phone bill. And the internet, the water bill, the electricity,” you said. “The house may be paid off, but the least you can do is pay your half of living here.”

The longer you stared at him, seeing the guilt hidden behind drunken eyes, you realized he wasn’t just late on his half of the bills.

“How much?” you asked.

He frowned up at you. “What?”

“How much do you owe?” you said. Your voice was as cutting as your gaze. Charlie lowered his.  

“It’s okay, don’t worry—”

“How much,” you pressed.

He looked up at you again, this time with pursed lips. After a beat, he sighed and gave in.

“About two grand,” he admitted.

You raised your eyes heavenward, muttering a curse. Your hands went to your temples as you had to pace the room. You were angry and exasperated in equal measure.

“Who the fuck do you owe two grand?!” you asked.

Charlie shook his head. “It’s better that I don’t tell you that.”

You paused. As you looked down at him, your anger dissolved into sadness, like it always did.

“If Mom and Dad could see you now, they wouldn’t recognize you,” you said.

Charlie fought not to react to that, his brows furrowing. Instead, he just looked down, unable to answer you.

“Charlie, you need help. I can’t keep doing this with you,” you said. Your shaky breath gave way to the burn of tears.  

His red-rimmed eyes became glassy as well.

“I’m sorry,” was all he said.

He was always sorry. And you always had to be the one to nurse him back to health, pick up the pieces, pay the bills. You were exhausted. The bone-deep kind of tired that felt like gravity wasn't so much keeping you down, but pushing you.

“I’m going to ask for two things: do what you need to do to get paid, and clean up your shit. If you can’t accomplish that, then I’m taking you to rehab,” you said.

“You know I’ve tried that,” Charlie said, with a shrug of his shoulders. “Didn’t really work for me.”

“You left the program after two weeks!” you retorted.

“I did it on my own! I’ve been clean for months,” he argued.

“And what happened? You go to one party and all your good sense, all your training, mentally and physically—that all goes out the window?” you said. You had half a mind not to believe him.

“Yeah well, maybe just for one night, I wanted to relax without you harping on my back,” he said, glaring up at you. “Is that too much to fucking ask? For you to give me some goddamn slack?”

Your mouth fell open incredulously.  

“I’m on your back?” you said. “Okay. I’ll get off. Do whatever the hell you want, Charlie. I’m done.”

You left his room in an angry huff. You headed over to your room so you could take a shower and start getting ready to meet Russell at Howley’s. 

By the time you got to your bedroom, you heard the front door slam closed.

The truth was, you were no longer in a mood to have fun when you pulled up to Howley’s, but you needed to escape your house. Also, you weren’t someone who canceled on people last-minute, especially not on Dory’s own brother.

You found Russell waiting for you at the bar. He waved to you with a fifth of whiskey in hand and an easy grin. He’d saved you a seat beside him.

You found yourself smiling. Your mood began to lighten as you went over to him. He looked more or less the same, but this time the jacket and jeans combo was navy blue and dark wash, respectively. His hair was swept back, lightly gelled. You smelled the familiar, rich woodiness of his cologne when you drew near, along with a hint of spicy soap.

“Hey, there.” He greeted you with a warm hand on your back. He helped you into your seat.

“Hey, yourself,” you replied, and thanked him for the assist onto the tall stool. You’d opted for jeans and a blouse, paired with your favorite leather boots. It was less dressy than he’d seen you before, but that was “work mode.” This was a more casual affair, even if you’d spent at least twenty extra minutes on your makeup.

You were glad he picked a spot at the end of the bar though. It put some distance from the group of guys getting rowdy as they cheered at the football game playing on the TV.

“How was the rest of your day, Professor?” he asked. “And what’re you wanting to drink?”

You let out a long sigh and turned toward him, resting your elbow on the counter.

“Awesome. I’m going to need two shots of tequila and an order of something fried, and preferably covered with cheese, please,” you replied.

Russell’s grin deepened. “Okay, I’m thinking ‘awesome’ is code for something. But we can get started on that order of Forget Today’s Unfortunate Events.”

He flagged down the bartender with a raise of his hand, but he shot you a glance.

“Though I’m hoping it’s not all of today that you wanna forget,” he said.

Your lips threatened another smile, as the memory of your hand being swept up into his, and soft lips meeting the back of your hand filtered through your mind.

“Yeah, I don’t think that’s possible,” you said.

After about ten minutes of playfully debating the appetizer menu (you swore by the pretzel and beer cheese, but Russell had his eye on those spicy wings), he finally settled on ordering both.

“When in doubt, don’t go without,” he’d remarked.

You swept a pretty coil of hair over your shoulder and downed your tequila shots with a lime wedge. Meanwhile, Russell tried not to linger his eyes on the way your tongue swept over your finger to catch a drop of lime juice. Your nails were manicured, and the shade of the polish matched your lipstick.

Russell didn’t pretend to know the art and science of a woman’s wardrobe, but everything about you was thought out, it seemed, falling in line with what he’d expect from a (sexy as all hell) college professor. You’d also told him at lunch today that as of last year, you now had two doctorates: History and Ancient Studies.

Even with all that under your belt, you also seemed refreshingly down-to-earth, a lot like Dory in that sense. He could see why you two were friends.

“So, are you from here, or are you a transplant, like my sister?” he asked.

Dory hadn’t come to live in Wyoming until their aunt and uncle took her in, when she was about eight years old. Before last month, Russell hadn’t seen her since. It hurt his heart to think about, but he tried to focus on you.

You now seemed to be staring a bit listlessly at the glass of whiskey in his hands. He laid a hand on your arm and called your name.

“Hmm?” Your brows rose as you blinked to attention. “Oh! I’m sorry. Yes, I’ve lived here pretty much forever.”

“You okay?” Russell asked. “Tequila hit ya a little hard?”

You shook your head. “No, I’m sorry…”

You raised your hands up to your temples. You debated whether you wanted to open up about this, but…considering who Russell was, you thought he might just understand.

“Dory told me you’ve been trying to reconnect with your brother, right? Colter?” you said.

Russell nodded. He wasn’t sure how much Dory told you about their family business, but it dimmed his mood.

“Well, you could say I’ve got a brother issue of my own,” you said, laughing humorlessly. “You don’t have to talk about yours, but maybe you’ll understand… My brother is a veteran too. He was a Captain, air force pilot. He fought in Afghanistan, mainly.”

Russell processed that with a nod. “Yeah, I was there too. Special Ops.”

“Wow, okay. Then you know what it was like for him, coming back home,” you said. Your gaze fell to your empty shot glasses. “It was hard, after…”

“After?” he prompted.

You sighed. “Near the end, he lost half his unit in a raid, off of some flawed intel.”

Russell’s brows knitted together. Hmm. Grief, survivor’s guilt, feeling like you don’t belong.

He was starting to get a clearer picture of who your brother was. It struck at familiar chords inside himself that he wasn’t so comfortable with. He shifted in his seat, fingers flexing over his glass on the counter.

You didn’t notice, but you did push the shot glasses away from you.

“I helped him the best I could,” you said. “I got him a job at the museum I interned at when I was in undergrad. He’s there as a security guard, but it’s not really enough, you know? It’s like, nothing satisfies him. I just…I don’t think I know how to help him anymore.”

You couldn’t help it. Emotion bubbled in your throat, making it close up on you as tears stung in your eyes. Your lower lip wobbled, and you tried to turn your face away. Embarrassment coiled up in your chest and made your face hot.

You felt a hand cover yours on your thigh, squeezing warmly. You looked up and met Russell’s gaze, both sympathetic and understanding.

“I’m so sorry,” you said, trying to calm your shuddering breath. “This isn’t exactly first date material. I can’t believe I unloaded on you like that.”

“Hey, it’s okay,” he said. “Believe me, I get what your brother’s going through.”

He pushed the plate with the last piece of soft-baked pretzel over to you.

“You finish that if you want, then you go ahead and pick something else off the menu. I won’t even argue with you this time,” he promised with a grin.

It got you to laugh, at least, and he gave you a napkin for your tears.

God, get it together, you told yourself. You’re a damn mess.

“Thanks,” you said. You managed to smile as you blotted at one corner of your eye. You hoped you hadn’t just irreversibly smudged your mascara.

Russell surprised you by brushing his thumb against your other cheek, wiping a stray tear away. Your face began to warm with a blush.

“Again, I’m sorry for dumping on you. We had a fight right when I got home,” you admitted.

“What’s his name?” Russell asked.

“Charlie.”

“Older or younger than you?”

“Four years older,” you replied. “He enlisted a few years after he graduated high school.”

Russell flickered at a smile. Enlisted, huh?

Yet another thing he and Charlie had in common, except Russell hadn’t made it through high school in the classic sense.

“What do you think?” you asked.

“I think your brother sounds lost right now. I’ve known a lotta guys like him, unfortunately,” Russell admitted. “Walking back into civilian life, it ain’t easy. That I know my damn self. Just like I know a thing or two about being an older brother. He’s probably doing his best to keep it off your shoulders.”

You shook your head at that. Trying, maybe.

You weren’t even sure of that anymore. Still, it made you all the more curious about Russell and his family.

“I know I said I wouldn’t ask this, and you don’t have to answer. But did you and Colter have a falling out or something?” you asked.

Russell expelled a deep breath and took a sip from his glass. How was he supposed to navigate this minefield with you?

“You gotta understand that me, my brother, my sister, we didn’t grow up like a normal family,” he said.

“Yeah, I know,” you nodded. “Dory’s told me some of it. It sounded…rustic.”

He snorted. “Putting it mildly.”

He shook his head and drained the rest of his glass. 

“Well, my brother’s got an idea about me that isn’t true,” he said.

Your head tilted in curiosity. “Which is?”

His lips briefly raised in a wan smile. 

“We don’t gotta get into that one tonight. But uh, the truth is, I’ve tried reaching out to him several times now. He just doesn’t wanna hear from me,” said Russell.

You considered him for a moment. You laid a hand on his arm, covered by his jacket. 

“Don’t give up,” you said, with a sigh of your own. “Despite some things I said to him today, I know I can’t. My brother’s the only real family I have.”

Russell grew curious then. “What about your parents?”

You gave a weak smile.

“They passed away when we were young, but…we don’t have to get into that one tonight,” you said, borrowing his words. 

His expression fell. “Jesus. I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Thank you,” you accepted, twisting the napkin around your fingers.

An awkward lull of silence fell between you, until Russell nodded and blew out a breath.

“Well. Heavy, huh?”

You chuckled and rested your head against your hand.

“I know. Again, my fault,” you replied. 

“It’s okay, swee—. Mmm,” he cut himself off, shooting you a knowing glance.

“Were you about to sweetheart me?” you asked playfully, nudging his hand. “You know how I feel about that.”

“No, ma’am. Not at all,” Russell shook his head. His smile gave him away though. You laughed and grabbed his arm.

“Come on,” you said.

He allowed you to lead him out of his seat. He already had a tab open, so he’d settle up with the bar later. “Where we going?”

“You’re gonna lose to me at pool,” you said with a smirk.

Russell laughed and wrapped his arm around your waist instead.

“Oh, okay. I’m gonna give you a run for your money, though,” he promised.

And he was true to his word.

Russell Shaw turned out to be a more than worthy opponent. You studied the board as you changed the angle on your cue stick no less than five times.

“You gonna make a move, or we going to be here all night?” he said.

He was smiling as he leaned against his own cue on the other side of the board. His clever moves had left you in a difficult position to get your three remaining solid-colored balls into the pocket.

“You hush. I’m thinking,” you said, fighting your own smile.

“Careful, you’ve got steam coming out of your ears,” he teased.

You shot him a narrowed look for that. But then you smiled, as the answer came to you. You walked around to his side of the board and nudged him with your hip.

“Excuse me, sir,” you said to him over your shoulder.

Russell made way for you, but his eyes followed the way you bent over to line up your shot. Namely the curve of your ass in those tight jeans. He could see you knew exactly what you were doing, in more ways than one.

You shot your shot. The solid green ball leapt over his white-striped blue one and managed to sink into the pocket. You straightened up and gave him a triumphant little smirk.

He tried to temper his smile (and ignore the way his cock twitched).

“All right, go on, do your little victory lap," he said. "But remember, I let you go first.”

“Like that matters,” you quipped back.

You went back to the other side of the board to line up your next shot. Russell noticed a pair of drunk men ambling your way from the bar, but before he could make a subtle move to put himself in between, one of the men’s gazes slid down your form and gave into the base urge to let out a low whistle.

And he slapped you right on the ass.

You gasped, grabbing hold of the pool table. Then your shock melted into ire.

Russell was already heading toward you with an angry frown of his own, but even he had to stop short, when he watched you throw a punch that cracked the drunken man across the bridge of his nose.

Good form, Russell thought, when the guy reared back with a howl. His nose dripped blood when his hands came away from his face.

His buddy started to raise his hackles, but that was when Russell stepped to your side. He angled himself toward you and loosely gripped his pool cue by his hip, like it was an extension of his arm. He was fully prepared to use it like one.

“Fucking bitch!” said the one who was still dabbing his nose in vain. He glared at you, his eyes watering involuntarily, while his friend tried to keep him upright. You rolled your eyes.

"You're the one who's crying, bitch," you returned. Russell held in a snort. He cleared his throat and looked on at the pair of idiots.

“I’d have a little sit down if I were you,” Russell told them, with a smirk. “Let that be a lesson to ya. And if it don’t stick? Well. Whatever you start, I can damn well finish.”

His steely gaze reinforced the promise of his words. The other men were still angry, but even drunks had some sense of self-preservation. They ambled toward the back of the bar to find another pool table.

Russell focused his attention back on you, finding you looking down at your hand, rotating your wrist and flexing your fingers.

“Well, look at you, slugger,” he said. You met his smile with one of amusement.

“That’s just what I needed tonight. A broken hand,” you quipped.

“Aw, it doesn’t look as bad as all that. But can I see?” he asked. You allowed him to take your smaller hand in his. Your knuckles were red and tender to the touch when he gently pressed. You hissed in pain.

Damn, she really gave it to him, Russell thought.

“Sorry,” he said, but your hand felt fine, at least. More than fine. His gaze flicked up to yours as his amused grin deepened. “Good hit though.”

If he liked you before, he might’ve fallen half in love with you right there.

You laughed through the pain. “Yeah, my brother did teach me something. Shit.”

Russell led you back to the bar after you grabbed your purse. There he called to the bartender for some ice. The guy nodded; he’d seen the entire exchange and was sympathetic.

You knew this sort of thing was just par for the course at this kind of bar, but they had the best drinks. Charlie had to carry you out of here on your twenty-first birthday, drunk off your ass. Not to mention, he’d punched out two handsy dicks that night.

You recounted the story to Russell over a couple more drinks. Your conversation was lighter then, filled with laughter and a warm, companiable feeling. He was still rather evasive about his job, but you supposed he had to be, since it was government contract work.

Private security, mainly. Or so he'd said. This man made you infinitely curious, and a bit apprehensive, if you were honest.

And yet, at some point while you two shared and laughed and split a hot sandwich with another round of beers, you realized it.

I like this, you thought. And I like him.

However, the night had to come to an end sometime. Your third involuntary yawn told Russell it was time to call it.

"I'm okay," you tried.

"Nah, you've gotta work tomorrow," he said. He signaled to the bartender. "Let me go ahead and close out my tab."

“Oh, I can pay for half,” you said, reaching for your purse now hanging from your hip.

“You kidding me? Put that away,” he said, guiding your hand with your wallet aside.

Smiling, you accepted his generosity with a small thank you. Then, you let him take up your sore hand again, just to carefully press the half-melted bag of ice over it.

“Feelin’ better?” he asked.

Your smile became softer. “Yeah.”

You had no doubt that this man, tall as he was, with his broad shoulders and the controlled way he carried himself, could’ve laid both of those drunken assholes onto their asses. His intimidating gaze had promised as much.

But his hands were gentle for you.

“I was about to win that game, no contest!” you said, laughing as you and Russell headed out of the bar and into the parking lot.

“Hey, hey, I still had time to win it back,” he argued. “I only had three more balls to go. I could’ve sunk that with my eyes closed.”

“Three balls, huh?” you said slyly, and maybe, a little tipsy. “Might wanna get that looked at.”

Russell snorted. “You think you’re funny, huh?”

“Hey, you laughed!” you said, pointing at him.

He shook his head, despite his amusement. He slowed to a stop in front of his car.

“Where’d you park, huh?” he asked.

“Over there,” you said, pointing several parking spaces down. Your eyes were drawn to his car, however. “Wow. This is your car?”

Russell grinned and patted the top of his black Chevy.

“Aw, yeah. That’s my baby,” he said. “She’s a Chevelle, 1967.”

You didn’t know much about cars, but you could see this was a classic beauty. You passed a hand over its sleek paint job without touching, so you didn't get any fingerprints on it. Though you quirked a smile over your shoulder at him.

“She?” you intoned.

“That’s right. She,” he confirmed.

You smirked and crossed your arms. You paused in front of the passenger door, and when Russell drew in closer, you had to crane your neck up to meet his warm gaze.

“Now, if I go in for a kiss goodnight, are you gonna deck me?” he asked, with a teasing glint in his eyes.

You tilted your head, your own eyes dancing.

“I’m sure you’re brave enough to find out,” you said.

Russell decided he’d take that bet.

He leaned in slowly. He made a show of hesitating, raising a brow, as if waiting for a blow. You were tempted to laugh.

But then he let loose a true smile, and he bowed his head to press his lips against yours. Your eyes fell shut, and your hands moved to flatten against his chest. A firm fucking wall. Jesus.

He circled his arms around your waist, bringing you in closer. Your fingers wound up in his hair, while he tilted his head to kiss you again. You met him with the same fervor with each new kiss, and the feel of your body, soft and pliant under his hands, each little sweet sound that you made, it all drove him to delve in deeper.

You moaned into his mouth at the first warm swipe of his tongue against yours. He tasted like the burn of good whiskey.

You pressed yourself flush against him on instinct. He found no other recourse but to back you up against the side of his car. His hand tangled into your hair, gripping, then easing through the soft strands.

Russell veered away from your soft mouth after a while, just to burn a line of warm, wet kisses along your jaw, and down your neck with the added rasp of his beard.

His lips found the sensitive spot where your neck met your shoulder. He kissed and sucked at your skin, even grazing with his teeth. You gasped softly in his ear, shuddering against him. You ran your hands over his shoulders and down his strong back out of a need to feel him.

His hands were heavy along the curve of your waist then, squeezing your hips. It all felt incredibly right. And by right, you meant body tingling, warmth churning in your lower belly, and wetness growing between your legs, for sure dampening your panties.

You tugged him back by his hair, so you could reach him for another steamy kiss.

“I’m staying at a motel, if you wanna…” he said, between kisses.

You paused against his lips, parting from him softly.

“Or not," he added. "Just thought I’d mention.” 

You giggled, catching your breath, and then smoothing your hands down his chest. The faint throb of your core was telling you one thing, but the warning signals of your more cautious mind were telling you another. You thought for a moment…but then you sighed. 

“How long are you really in town?” you asked.

His wet lips tugged to one corner, ruefully. “A few more days, probably.”

“Right,” you said with a frown. “Russell, I like you. I actually, I really do. If you were sticking around for a while, it’d be one thing. But you’re my best friend’s brother, and I—”

“No, I get it. I can’t predict when I’m gonna be able to swing back into town, and you’ve gotta live your life,” he said, but not without care. He curled an errant strand of hair behind your ear. 

Your heart tugged, almost painfully.

“You’re a good guy, Russell Shaw,” you breathed. “Why can’t you be a good guy who’s staying?”

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he said. Then he cringed, knowing how you felt about sweethearting men. “Ah, sorry—” 

You smiled and covered his mouth with your fingers. 

“It’s okay. You have permission to sweetheart me.” 

After blinking his surprise away, his face eased into a grin.

“Then I’ll wear that badge with honor,” he said. 

Your shoulders shook with laughter when you let your forehead fall against his chest.

Russell remained what he had been throughout the entire night: a gentleman, who accompanied you over to your car.

After another stolen kiss or two in front of your sedan, you parted ways from him with a bit of a heavy heart. You wondered if you made the right decision, or if you should’ve just gone for it for once, instead of second-guessing yourself like usual.

You did know this. The rumble of his Chevelle driving down the opposite road would be imprinted on your memory.

When you returned home, you realized that the house was empty, and in complete darkness.

Charlie still wasn’t home.

Worried, you flicked on the lights and began to text his cell, only to find a note for you on the kitchen counter.

And it worried you even more.

I’m sorry. I’m going to make it right. 

— C.

AN: 😬 Well then! lol We're diving straight into the drama and feels on this one. What did you think of her "barely a date" with Russell? 😂

And where do you think we're going next with Charlie?

Next Time:

Dory was sat next to you on the couch, rubbing your back with sympathy and concern in her own eyes.

“You should call the police,” she advised.

You’d thought of that, but if Charlie was doing something he wasn’t supposed to, then depending on what it was, you didn’t necessarily want him locked up in a cell. He wasn’t a bad person, he was just…lost. You wanted him to get help.

You set down the butterknife beside the jar and turned to her, after drying your eyes the best you could.

“Do you think your brother would be willing to come back to Wyoming?” you said. After a beat of hesitation, you specified:

“Colter, the tracker.”

▶️ Keep Reading: PART 2

Series Masterlist

Ko-Fi Me ☕

Russell Shaw Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Russell S. Tag List:

@kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @agothwithheavysetmakeup @jacklesbrainworms @foxyjwls007

@wincastifer @ades106 @iamsapphine @simpforbuckyb @roseblue373

@brianochka @branj19 @hazel-eye-coffee-shop-girl-blog @globetrotter28 @charmed-asylum

@waywardxwords @deanwinchestersgirl87 @this-is-me19 @rachiem4-blog @sweettimelady

@leigh70 @clinicallydepresso @xiphoidbones @skoveu @nyotamalfoy

@kmc1989 @jackles010378 @emily-winchester @waynes-multiverse @jessjad

@my-stories-vault @deans-spinster-witch @syrma-sensei @stellasfictionalworld @ultimatecin73

@jesllianaquilesrolonsworld @pieandmonsters @lhymer1995 @taehyungxjungkookistaekook @lovelystoriesaj

@nicksalchemy1 @spnwoman @onlyangel-444 @sexyvixen7 @illicithallways

@wolkenprinzessin007 @alwaystiredandconfused @carpenterswife @cheynovak @grilledcheeseandtomato

[theoddest1]

I have no idea what was the point of introducing Stolas and Blitzo as childhood friends. To make them appear as destined to be?

In fact, it just makes Stolitz creepier. This man just obsessed over a kid he knew for a day for the last 25 years and his first instinct is to bang him? It would have been a lot better for Stolas to witness how they treat imps at Stella's party, leading him to reflect on the classist treatment of people like Blitz. This leads him to grow a bit regretful and uncomfortable, leading him to go back to his study to think over things. There, he reconciles with Blitzo, who is trying to steal his book. Unaware of what's going on, Stolas strikes conversation with Blitz on what they've been up to. Blitzo believes this could be a way to distract him, so he's willing to play that part.

They begin to talk out their lives together: their highs, their lows, and their connections. While Blitzo shows little to no interest in Stolas' personal life, Stolas is shocked and saddened by Blitzo's background. While he became a high-ranking figure with a magical skill set and a family of his own, Blitzo's life has been nothing but pain, struggle, and a string of strained relationships. Despite this though, Blitzo continues to try to make a name for himself, whether as a good dad of an adopted daughter or as a successful boss of an underdog business.

Stolas, while sympathetic for Blitzo, tends to also find admiration in his ambition and work. Despite all the people he's hurt and all the people who've hurt him, he keeps moving forward towards a better way of life. They find an unlikely connection this way, leading to a weekly visit between the two. Despite their differences in class and style, they find comfort in each other and eventually become friends. Eventually Stolas grows interested in Blitzo's business life, leading him to lend him access to the Grimoire whenever his business requires it. Not in exchange for sex, but to help out a man he cares for.

Both Stolas and Stella in this rendition are unhappy rather than hateful of one another. For Stolas, he finds little to no interest in Stella romantically (since he's attracted to men). As for Stella, she has had a soft spot for him since their first encounters, much like Stolas with Blitzo. However, she is also unhappy with him both sexually and romantically, as her attempts at a loving connection always meet to no avail. She begins to grow saddened and bitter, believing she is incapable of finding love. Her parents already viewed her as a free ticket to a life of royal luxury, so why would her arranged husband see her more than a woman he's stuck with for an heir? Despite this, however, both Stolas and Stella attempt to make it work for their daughter Octavia.

Unfortunately, things begin to fall apart once Stolas and Blitzo grow into something more than what they believed they'd become. They grow from a pair of unlikely friends to a pair of friends with benefits. Things grow complicated between the two because of this. Blitzo begins to grow attracted to Stolas, which he cannot fathom due to his rank and his self-worth issues. Stolas also begins to grow attracted towards Blitzo, though he begins to question if this is worth throwing away his public image and family life for. Stolas becomes regretful over his feelings for Blitzo, while Blitzo becomes frustrated and worried.

Anyways, sorry for a bunch of rambling lol. Seeing the wasted potential this show has always pumps up my thought bubbles. I wanted to see a raunchy show with an assassin business with a romance subplot between two morally gray people, not what became of it. 

You gotta understand, Anon...this requires reliable writers to pull off and Arcane S1 levels of care, which Viv's ass doesn't have

Fr, this is really solid! There are a few things I'd change [slightly] here and there, but this would be such a solid way to handle their entire relationship. But Viv is a Fujo, so we are ROPED.

[jemilyvsjeid]

First fic ever doesn’t have a name yet I have ideas but ugh guys this is the first time I ever wrote something lowkey nervous let me know if you have any suggestions my anons are open my DMs are open comments…be kind tho like I said this is the first time I wrote something 😭🤚

Pics for reference 💀

Guys …

Ughhh here you go 😭🤚

Tw: language?

Quick Backstory

Sasha Simmons: 22, 6'3", model with a slender build. Naturally blonde but dyes her hair black. She has high cheekbones and icy blue eyes. Growing up in Brooklyn, NY, she's a true city girl, unbothered by the chaos around her. After her father abandoned the family when she was just 7, her mother never remarried. A selfish alcoholic, her mother uses Sasha to maintain her own precarious position in life. Sasha is an only child, with two close friends: Natalia, her childhood "sister," and Emily, who introduced her to modeling back in high school. Girly pop has a hard time recognizing her beauty.

Paige Bueckers:You all know what Paige looks like, so there’s no need for me to describe her appearance or go into a detailed backstory — unless you want me to.

— -

Sasha

Your alarm blares, no, actually it screams at you to wake up. You've hit the snooze button seven times already.

sasha’s mom hurries through the room and throws the phone towards the back of her head

“FUCK YOU!” Sasha bolts upright, searching for the nearest object to throw back, but her mother rushes out the door before she can retaliate. Scanning the mess around her bed, she finally finds her phone, just in time to see the glaring screen flash 8:05 AM.

“Oh no! Oh no! Fuck! Why didn’t you wake me up earlier, Mom? I have that casting call for Nike today!” She races to the bathroom, all the while her mother rolls her eyes, inhaling the smoke from her Winston Reds, which have completely taken over their apartment.The apartment where she spent the last 22 exhausting, painful yet memorable years. The place where she learned to walk, where she learned about disappointments, where she realized being skinny could open more doors than being happy ever would. She never felt fulfilled. Despite winning every pageant she entered, graduating from NYU with a full ride, and traveling to cities in Europe that most couldn’t even name, it was never enough. Deep down, what she always truly desired was a townhouse filled with both parents, a dog, and siblings close to her age—maybe to actually celebrate holidays.

Her mother’s cough, loud enough to be heard from blocks away, snaps her out of her thoughts. The time now reads 8:20 AM. Has she really sat on the toilet for fifteen minutes? She’s got to be at the shoot in forty minutes — twenty on the train! In a frenzy, she jumps into the shower. Within fifteen minutes, she’s out the door, her hair still wet and half-dried, rushing to make it to the train just in time.

---

Paige

As I watch the stylist sort through outfits for my potential partner for this shoot, I can’t help but wonder what this person will look like. It’s strange they waited until today to find someone, but given my schedule, I can’t complain. I know my energy effortlessly charms those around me, making it easy for them to work with me, even if it's an inconvenience. While it feels good to receive such attention, I must admit it’s also awkward to have everything done for me. Glancing in the mirror, I remind myself that I truly earned this moment. The countless hours I spent on the court led to my recruitment by the best program in the country, paving the way for my success and growth as a leader. I’ve faced adversity over the past couple of years, but each challenge has helped me learn more about myself, and for that, I’m eternally grateful.

Robbie, the casting director, enters, enthusiastically explaining that he's looking for someone who's my complete opposite. We've gone over this several times, but his vision of this “dream girl” seems to intensify with each discussion. He hands me a piece of paper.

1.Jet black hair

2.Icy blue eyes

3.Sharp features

4.Tall

5.Shalom Harlow with a twist

With an incredulous expression, I ask, “How is this the opposite of me?” He chuckles and surveys me with a quick up-and-down glance (classic sassy gay man), saying, “Well, love, this dream girl will be the black cat to your golden retriever vibe. Sure, you both have similar eyes and features, but you're kind and sweet; this girl will walk into the room with a cold energy that’s anything but sunshine”.

“Oh wowww, you really have quite an imagination,” I reply, slightly annoyed by his specificity, as if such a person even exists. “Shalom Harlow with a twist?” I murmur again, baffled. She’s one of the hottest models out there, yet I can’t fathom meeting anyone close to that in real life.Let alone at a Nike shoot.Dropping the paper on the table, I walk over to the window, where the breathtaking views of New York City never fail to captivate me. So many experiences, so many stories. I can’t help but wonder what our “dream girl” is doing right.

---

Sasha

Glancing at my phone, I realize I should be right on time. My hair has fully dried, but it's slightly puffy now. If only I had a few extra minutes to fix myself! The casting call requested no makeup and natural hair—just blow-dried, nothing styled. They asked for jeans and a tee, preferably with sneakers, as they wanted to see how we “carry ourselves.” Silly, but I guess there’s a reason behind everything. I press the button for the 18th floor and take a deep breath to calm my nerves. Despite never feeling confident, I've mastered the act well enough that anyone who sees me is impressed. As the elevator doors slide open, I’m greeted by what seems to be at least seventy girls, most already clustered in little groups. Casting a glance around, I note several familiar faces from previous shoots, some of whom are friends of Emily's. As I approach, the only thing I can hear is the name “Paige” around me. Who’s Paige ?

“Hey, you guys!!” I say with the most artificial smile I can muster. “I’ve missed seeing you! How is everyone?” To be honest, I could hardly care less about any of them, but networking is crucial in this industry. As we chat, I mention the mysterious Paige, “So who is this Paige girl? Is she a new model we should be watching out for?” Dolia giggles, giving me a pointed look before saying, “How do you not know who you might be shooting with? At this point just forget about even being here.” She bursts out laughing obnoxiously, solidifying my reasons to not befriend any of these people ever. Hannah, grinning from ear to ear, chimes in, “It’s Paige Bueckers! The basketball player from UConn! How do you not know this?” This is the second time I’m hearing about her; the first was when Emily’s roommate lost her mind over some “talent show” she joined last spring on her live. I still don’t know who this girl is, and frankly, I don’t care. I’m here to work with a major brand, and this could be my ticket to fashion week — possibly an invitation to the upcoming shows. After being ghosted by brands I’d previously collaborated with, last year’s New York Fashion Week made me a recluse.

Just then, the casting director bursts into the room, announcing his last-minute requirements. I dread these moments. “If you don’t have jet black hair, you can leave,” he shouts. As most girls exit, that dwindles to at least twenty of us. Then he states, “Anyone under 6 feet tall can leave,” and that knocks out even more girls. Now there are only fourteen of us left, mere minutes ago there were so many. My thoughts wander as I scan the room and catch sight of a tall blonde just a few feet away from the other room. She’s beautiful—really beautiful—and her laughter makes her glow like… sunshine? “If you don’t have blue eyes, you may exit, and thank you for coming,” the director retorts, pulling me back into reality. We’re now down to just five girls, all looking like identical versions of each other. We're ushered into a room where we're given instructions about what’s to come. I’m the last to go, thankful I can drift for a moment. Hunger and fatigue creep in, but I push it aside.I can’t help but drift back to the girl I saw by the door. I wonder who she is…

—

Paige

Robbie steps into the room, informing me that the number of girls has drastically decreased, and it’s almost time for the shoot. He gestures for me to follow him to another room where I’ll essentially rate the remaining girls. It feels somewhat wrong to assess others this way, but I suppose it's necessary. The first girl walks in—gorgeous, resembling Lauren Jauregui in build and hair type. She’s asked to walk, but struggles to keep up with the beat; she doesn’t stand out. The next girl has shoulder-length hair, giving major Kendall Jenner vibes. Another pretty face, but again, nothing memorable. As I zone out I can hear Robbie buzzing in my ear that we have one last person, and then we are done. Rubbing my temples in frustration, I suddenly hear footsteps approaching.A raspy but sweet voice breaks the tension: “Good morning, I’m Sasha Simmons.” My focus shifts back to the door, and time seems to freeze. The girl walking in ticks off every box. She exudes a captivating energy that pulls me in like a magnet. Our eyes lock, and it feels as if we can't look away from each other. This girl is it. She’s the “dream girl” for both Robbie and, I think, for me too.

As I shift my body and quickly adjust my top, pushing my hair back, I break eye contact with a nudge from Robbie. “I think we found the one,” he whispers excitedly. But like everyone else, he asks her to walk, which she does effortlessly. The silence in the room deepens as Robbie thanks her and tells her to step outside. Confusion knots my stomach as I jerk my head back at him, questioning why he asked her to step out. He brushes it off, mentioning it’s part of a procedure. Filling out a couple of papers, he then directs me to step into another room.

“I’d like to stay,” I insist, but he gives me a sharp look, stating it wouldn't be very professional for me to witness the one-on-one rejection talk. Reluctantly, I accept it and walk to the other room, still in awe. I finally know who the dream girl is… Sasha Simmons.

Sasha

As I’m asked to walk into the room, my eyes are immediately drawn to the blonde girl I spotted at the door earlier. Our gazes lock, and I notice her fidgeting with her top and running her fingers through her hair. A surge of curiosity hits me—did I make her nervous?.... Why would she feel that way around someone like me? She must be used to receiving attention from all the girls surrounding her.

I shift my focus back to the director, who gestures for me to walk for him. With a few swift notes taken, he thanks me and asks me to step out. The whole encounter was alarmingly brief, leaving me lowkey panicked; maybe I wasn't what they were looking for. I can practically count the minutes I spent in that room on my fingers.I make my way to a nearby seat, trying to steady my breath. One by one, the other girls are called back in for the results.

As I sit in my corner, I feel my mind dissociate from the chaos around me—at least now I know who Paige Bueckers is...

••• if you got all the way here thank you so so much for reading like I said it my first time ever writing anything. I’m open to suggestions and comments.I only read over it a couple of times so there might be mistakes. Let me know what you guys want for the next part I kinda have an idea on what I wanna go off of but you’re the reader lol let me know anons DMs everything’s open.

[cozymochi]

Hello hello, hope you're having a good day :DD

i wanted to know more about your OCs, more specifically, what Nyoka and Emilio were doing in Book 2 and Book 4?

Was Nyoka against Leona whole plan or didn't care? Was Emilio aware of Jamil's plans?

(thank u 🥺)

BOOK 2 NYOKA: Nyoka did not care (…p-positive). Leona just respects Nyoka’s space and vice versa, so whatever brouhaha Leona cooks up for #reasons, that’s none of Nyoka’s business as far as he’s concerned, but it was probably utterly brilliantly executed 👍 as expected from a Housewarden who truly embodies the spirit of the King of Beasts. Nyoka is more of a benchwarmer for Spelldrive anyway.

…Also he believes Leona can do no wrong ever—

BOOK 4 EMILIO: WELL… refer to this post about his signature spell/unique magic first AND SINCE I CANT HYPERLINK FOR SOME REASON IT HAS TO GO RIGHT HERE all ugly:

On a random day, Kalim thought it would be quirky to ask Emilio if his upcoming winter break would be extra fun this year. Breaking the “1 question 1 answer, and no more” rule towards asking about his future. And for something SO inconsequential and innocuous? How absurd and wasteful. But, anything for the beloved housewarden (<- sarcastic, Emilio does not care for Kalim that much, but he greatly prefers being in his favor for vanity reasons). Kalim isn’t really too concerned about the future anyway, so this was just a fun thing to try out and super cool and based and etc.

Emilio saw one vague possible future where Kalim is acting out and winter break is rather chaotic as a result. Anything regarding the future with Emilio will only net him potential outcomes, but any one of them will happen. So no, no fun to be had, just turmoil. (Note, since folk will misinterpret: He does not see the definitive events of Book 4 itself. Just that Kalim will not “have fun” and that the turmoil involves him.)

Kalim finds the answer a bit unsettling but laughs it off ultimately. Good thing the future is never set in stone. He’ll just make sure to have a lot of fun anyway!

And Emilio, being a freaking fleeing coward, used that smidgeon of knowledge he learned + Kalim’s “flip flopping” behavior lately to determine that something bad was potentially about to occur to basically get permission to dip from school not long before winter break even started. He went to the Headmage and lied about having a “dire family emergency” and that he just HAD to leave. Even used crocodile tears, a sob story and everything being the great actor he is (and Crowley orobably just relenting because bro was annoying and he’s just so kind and magnanimous).

So the bastard wasn’t even there for the events of Book 4 at all. 💀 He was just chilling at home. (and doing absentee assignments.)

So, did Emilio know about Jamil’s plans? No. I’ll give it a no for specifics as he didn’t know it was Jamil behind Kalim’s behavior and was hypnotizing him. Just that things were not gonna be great during the break and he didn’t want to be there for whatever it was.

I’m too fatigued to draw a doodle for this portion. So it’s only wall of text and I can only hope my point was made. 😔 This is a REALLY OLD concept, tbh. And I’m not personally sure if I even jive with the outline. It’s less complicated than it looks written out. But it is very Estéban Elena of Avalor coded to be an asshole and abandon people to save his own skin so maybe I’m just being picky.

So you can only imagine bro coming back to Scarabia only to find everyone and their mom hates Jamil. (Dw Kalim fills him in later when he stages that dorm meeting we see a glimpse of in Book 5)

[jinxposting]

Jason Todd x Jinx! reader Chapter 3

Promise

You spent the next several weeks training with the Boy Wonder. You hate to admit it but your fighting skills have improved greatly, still scrappier than the boy training you, but improved none the less.

This change didn't go unrecognized. Joker had taken note of your new found skills, specifically their familiarity.

"Jinx!"

It wasn't often Joker sought you out. Either he was there or he wasn't. Did you do something wrong?

"That's me!"

"I need to talk to you."

"Ya already are!"

You tossed the device you'd been tinkering with aside and turned to face the man. His infamous grin was as present as ever.

"That I am. But I'd like to discuss something. It has to do with those fancy moves of your's." Uh oh. "Now, just where did you learn to do that?"

Busted.

You smiled nervously with a shrug. "Hah. About that. I may be working on a little side project."

"Oh?"

"It involves a little birdy."

"Ohhh!" Joker chuckled lowly. "And how is our little Boy Blunder these days?"

"Naive. He thinks teaching me to fight makes us friends or something. Think he's trying to convert me."

"Haha! The apple doesn't fall far it'd seem. I've seen that boy fight. Violent. Not like the first one at all. If anything you should convert him."

You cast him a knowing glance. "Pff. If only. But he has-" You rolled your eyes. "- morals."

"The Bat's doing no doubt." Joker paused. "It occurs to me, the man trained Robin but I never really did the same for you."

"That's not true. You gave me my name! And-" You opened your arms wide. "- all the machinery I could ask for!"

He stroked his chin. "That I did. But I think it's time I gave you a very special gift. Something me and your mother share."

You stared into the swirling green chemicals below. The fumes were giving you a headache already.

"This is where I became who I am. The Joker. Clown Prince of Crime!" The man gave a theatrical wave of his hand. "It's also where Harley pledged her loyalty to me. And now..." He turned to you, a hand offered. "It's where you will make me a promise."

"What?"

"You've been my protege for seven years now, give or take, and you've just officially started fighting Batsy." You took ahold of his hand. He pulled you to the edge of the catwalk. A vat of Ace Chemicals sat beneath you. "So I think it's time you were baptized the same as us. One big, happy family."

His smile was twisted. You could tell this was more for him than it was you. Despite that you couldn't help but feel a pang of something. Acceptance? Joker may not be a caring individual - if being with Harley taught you anything it was how to spot a sociopath - but he did take you in when no one else would. Saw your destructive tendencies and viewed them as potential. He gave you a home.

"This is a promise." He spoke in a serious tone. It was rare to see this side of him. "Your promise to me. That you will always be the Jinx you were born to be. That no goody two shoes Bat will ever change that."

You stared down at the bubbling chemicals. Then back at Joker. Wordlessly, he gestured you closer to the edge.

"Promise."

You jumped.

The short breeze was transformed to warm liquid as the acid engulfed you. It tingled against your skin with rapid carbonation, before transforming into a sharp sting. You refused to open your eyes, part of you scared you'd lose your vision. When you did finally surface the air was steamy. The smell reminded you of the chlorine in a swimming pool. Before your eyes could focus you felt the surface of the chemicals break once more. After a short moment you heard familiar laughter.

You opened your eyes to see Joker, dripping with thick, green liquid. You briefly wondered if this is where his hair color came from. Would you still have to dye your's?

"HAHAHA!" Joker turned to you, gleeful laughter bouncing off the walls. "Can you feel it? That stinging sensation? That's the feeling of change, Jinx, my dear!"

You couldn't help the breathless chuckle that escaped you. Before you knew it you were both laughing hysterically. Tears broke through the chemicals on your face. In that moment you were so unbelievably happy. You belonged. And Joker had acknowledged that. Acknowledged you.

You are Jinx.

[diminuel]

Ace confessing he was thinking about using Edward hit me hard in the feels because yeah, that is on one hand funny and on the other angsty:

🔥: Nearly used your name, glad that I didn't now because that's embarrassing.

WB: no no, please feel free to use it, you're my son now, we can tell everyone Rocks was you being a rebelling teenager

🔥: 😦

But on the other hand I can see that revelation about Crocodile considering him at one point as a father/family bringing up guilt. When going with Rocks D. Crocodile, I headcanon that Whitebeard either assumed him dead and felt guilty about it, or that maybe Big Mom took him because she's big about family/that's a bloodline she would be interested in keeping. Either way, years later Crocodile hunts him down and confronts him about how he claims all these people as his children but abandoned him when he was a literal child that grew up with him, and they fight and Crocodile looses a hand due to that tho I think that would be either an accident or because of other circumstances surrounding the situation (I read a story once in which he lost his hand because he tied himself to something so he wouldn't drown but consequently killed the blood flow after leaving the Moby). Ace being on the Moby could maybe lead to him tentatively seeking out Croc again to see if they can finally reconcile or at least find some closure.

And yeah, Marineford is really weird when you get more information later on, like Sengoku is confirmed to have cared for Rosinante so it's weird that he should care that much about parentage with Ace. I think the WG basically forced the Marine's hand and ordered the public execution to eradicate the Roger bloodline and display their might while also hoping to get rid of WB. And they had to announce Ace's parentage because they needed a reason for this kind of spectacle, especially when we see who else just gets thrown into Impel Down, executions in the One Piece world seem kinda rare, either the criminals die before they're caught, they end up in Impel Down, or the WG just Buster Calls everything but executions by the Marines? Can't remember any besides Roger's and Ace's.

There's a lot of potential to give Crocodile a sad/ traumatic backstory when it gets to his loss to Whitebeard. I like pretty much everything! No idea what I'd go for (though in my Rocks D. Crocodile post I suggested that Crocodile reached out once for help but WB denied him - it would still fit in with Croc's potential rage that WB takes on everyone needing help, a home, a family. Everyone but him.)

And a Whitebeard and Crocodile reconciliation via Ace does sound very nice ;w;

Yeah, Marineford was a trap for WB and a display of their might but it seemed like a pretty foolish decision on the Marine's side because so many things could have gone wrong. And since it was broadcast - but only selectively (they conveniently cut out the parts of it that would show the marine's less than savory actions), they clearly wanted to tell a particular narrative. Still. Hmm. *squints at Sengoku*

[kwamiwayzz]

Do you have any jeckole Headcanons?

Or:

Jecka Headcanons/Nicole Headcanons (seperatly)

<33

Brain rot coming in. I also want to mention that a majority of these headcanons are rooted in my “Jeckole moving away after graduation and eventually healing years later despite still being a bit fucked up” headcanon. Some headcanons are also inspired by the ones from people who were once super active in the fandom months ago.

Jecka ends up getting accepted to a university in California which leads to her ticket out of her shitty town (she starts with Undecided for some time but ends up choosing pre-med to eventually become a doctor).

Nicole ends up tagging along with her out of convenience at first (she was a bit hesitant at first because she knows she’ll probably bring Jecka down whatever bullshit she gets herself into, but it beats being alone). She also ends up moving out with Jecka because LA is where she’s wanted to go for some time. Also, her mom was actually planning on kicking her out for good (even though her loser brother still gets to freeload).

I personally see Nicole as someone who suffers from extreme depression and self-worth issues due to her upbringing and is more on the cusp of having ASPD (but also, I’m still learning about ASPD, so correct me if it doesn’t work that way).

Jecka has the capability of becoming as fucked up and abusive as her dad. I mostly say this from the scene in Flip Side where she yells at Crispin telling him to off himself, unprovoked.

I also see Jecka as a potential alcoholic with anger issues (if she stayed with her dad any further).

Nicole has a form of cPTSD from her unstable environment and the implication that one of her stepfathers abused her. Even if she were to be placed in a stable environment after high school, the damage has already been done, and she’d still find ways to fuck it up because she every time she felt genuinely a little happy/satisfied with her living situation, it would disappear in puff of smoke.

Nicole ends up on meds and therapy years after moving out of Virginia, but it’s off-and-on.

Jecka also goes on meds and therapy after having a mental breakdown in med school and also after shoving Nicole against a book case during one of their arguments (she’s more consistent with it than Nicole).

During their time living in LA together, Nicole goes homeless three separate times, with one of them being her getting kicked out after Jecka finally had enough of her shit. The last time Nicole goes homeless, it’s after having an extremely difficult time adjusting to the meds and therapy and her cPTSD makes her want to leave because actual stability was getting too real for her.

Despite kicking her out for her bullshit, Jecka still lets Nicole live with her because she’s still codependent on her. Nicole is one of the few people she can be her fucked up self around, and also asked her to come to LA because she didn’t want to be alone either.

Nicole is 1/4 Asian on her dad’s side.

Following Progman’s fic, Jecka sees herself as Nicole’s savior but not entirely in an “I can fix her” type of way.

The only people from high school they still keep in touch with is Emily, with Kelly and Ari added after meeting again at a bar a decade later.

Even though Jecka’s doctor money keeps them both afloat, Nicole ends up working at a bar as a consistent job just to keep herself busy.

The only person from Jecka’s family that she keeps in touch with is her mom. She stays in contact with her dad for financial reasons, but cuts him off after she doesn’t need him anymore.

Nicole cuts off everyone from her family.

Nicole ends up getting sleeve tattoos after being sober from cutting for a significant period of time (I don’t know what the designs would be though).

aurawra21 also mentioned this, but Nicole would probably lean more towards a masc/butch look years after high school. This would include chopping her hair to shoulder length.

I also agree with the general headcanon that Jecka would have abs and have a more toned body compared to Nicole’s stick noodle-like figure.

Nicole would be the type to throw Jecka’s textbook out the window to force her to take a break while studying for med school.

Nicole is a secret nerd/geek (knowing that manga should be read from right to left, liking Mythbusters, used to play video games with her brother—all mentioned somewhere in the original game and Re-Up).

If she cared about school more, Nicole’s favorite subject would probably be chemistry.

Jecka sometimes gets very overprotective over Nicole especially after 1) getting shot by the crazy cop (Re-Up), 2) having nightmares of running to Nicole too late during the People Pleaser Route (Class of ‘09 Suicide Ending), 3) finding out Nicole overdosed/got poisoned by opioids during the very last time she went homeless (Future Timeline headcanon).

I sometimes see Jecka as a pretty neurotic person, who tries and fails to hide it.

When really affectionate, Jecka really loves to kiss Nicole’s neck (angsty reasons in one of my original posts lol).

The two simultaneously make each other better and worse.

They enter an off-and-on situationship for a number of years until they decide to get court married for the benefits.

They wear fake marriage rings when out in public in an effort to try and ward off desperate men. It doesn’t always work, but they’ll never admit to each other that they actually do like wearing them.

Aaaannnddd these are the most that I’ve remembered at the top of my head. I might add more as time goes on, but I love the idea of them reaching adulthood and becoming somewhat more well-adjusted over time.

[the-rat-eatery]

Do I care that I am currently in an echo chamber of how fun Hazbin is? NO!

I AM A SAD TEENAGE GIRL MY MIND WAS CREATED TO PING PONG AROUND ECHO CHAMBERS

[violettierre]

Society has fallen down ever since Shio stopped making an appearance in chapters.

[faaun]

pls i need to provide updates

[cburambles]

Speaking as someone who ships Ruiri but try to keep away the shipping glasses from my eyes here, I think it's more the case of said partner showing him a glimpse of what life could be for him & him deciding to explore that on his own as ultimately, he is still rather self-driven.

It would be someone who actually has influence on him but also he can relate with, which would push him to "lower his defences" & get him out of his isolation because of his curiosity while they also themselves remain assertive about themselves & vice-versa. ( see his attitude toward Ramza in Dissidia or the way he start to respect a bit more Evan when he shows some backbone). In short, more of a partnership where both partners benefits from it in term of development & safety but also provide some excitment in their lives while also being on a similar wavelenght.

In the novels, you get the sense he's still isolated but some attempt of the group try to get him out this state are made like for example Reno who tries to have him connect with his little brother but not understanding why Rufus doesn't feel like it. And that's because he can't really relate with Rufus on that domain. Rufus doesn't perceive his siblings the same way a normal person would. They are at best here to ask money from him & at worst, potential competition.

There's him & Elena who unintentionnally get to be better people when one take a decision with the other in mind or cooperate on a project together. There's also the fact they could relate on a lot of things (their love for customized fancy guns & fashion, coming from emotionnally neglectful families & competition with siblings, both are cunning & can be ruthless & like having some exctiment in their lives, show some interest in Shinra's buisness side, Elena who can't help liking the fact he's willing to lead alongside his men despite the danger etc...) But it's also confimed that in rebirth that she want to retain a sense of normalcy in her life while Rufus in TKAA start wondering & blank when he tries to imagine what a normal life is but also is implied to envy Evan for having the chance to get one (hence why I see their relationship being the one with the most narrative potential in term of character developpment in the group post-BC/ OG.)

Tseng...doesn't seem to bother. He most of the time defer to him, even when it make him feel bad, & you can feel there's some negative point of tension between him & the rest of the group that need to be resolved. Rude is here along the ride with Reno and likes his life as a Turks but doesn' try to get involved much with Rufus.

That's why it feels there's some wasted potential & that there's a lot missing. You get the feelings the like of Rufus or Elena are basically the little siblings in the group who needs to grow. Tseng need some resolution about his relationship with his job & maybe point of negativity with the other members of the group which would be an interesting arc for him. & Rude & Reno are a bit stagnant as characters.

It's like there are those entries & end points between various cliffes & what's lacking are the bridges between them so it's a bit frustrating, in particular knowing it would make a compelling story for them.

You get the idea that there's supposed to be some kind of found-family in their relationship who gets to become better together while retaining their edges but by the end of the novels/AC, it lacks the meat & journey to be called that way. It feels more like just camaraderie with Rude & Reno's being the most preominent relationship because it has already been established for years that they have the strongest bond in the group.

But maybe it's supposed to happen after AC. I don't think they gave much more thought to it tho as I remember reading the script of the movie where all the Turks are seemingly absent/ dead by the end of it, with Rufus laying on the pavement while his geostigma is getting healed bcos Tseng & Elena are not here to save him & Reno & Rude just left him there lmao (which could explain why they were just silent at the end of the movie. Maybe the 5 of them being wasn't the plan & was a last minute addition) ACC/COS & TKAA wasn't clearly not a concept yet at the time.

I was remembering discussing the missed opportunity of FF7 expanding on the faction of nobles/old money on Gaia with @cburambles and I had some rambly shower thoughts. I also may just be reading too many fantasy webtoons, but anyway...

I could absolutely see President Shinra feeling like he has to compete with and outdo the existing wealthy before, and while, Midgar was being built (unless he fucking lied about his background. I think it's possible). It would explain his awful and gaudy taste. The 70th floor office is something I am constantly horrified by. But the rest of the building is actually not that bad. It's like a combination of trying to be different than, better than, and the same as wealthy people with poor taste. His office is so high up, it's like he was trying to separate himself from everyone else. And perhaps, it was an effort to alleviate any insecurities when comparing himself to the established wealthy, because he doesn't have to be reminded of them.

I have considered the impact this may have had in Rufus growing up. That perhaps he tried to mould his son into something that's the same as, but also better than, these other people. An improved version, you could say. Another way to say "Shinras are better than these old snobs." By having him thoroughly educated (judging by how Rufus speaks), for example. Although, it's not clear how many of his current skills are because he was self-driven or not. It's possible that certain things were forced on him with no rational reason given (I can relate to this. Abusive parents don't explain, they just demand). But anyway, I think this would just further drive the two away from each other, because President Shinra wouldn't be able to relate to Rufus and whatever he's taken an interest in and exposed to. He seems to have an interest in fashion, judging by his clothes, for example. And it already seems like Rufus has quite a few different ideas than his father, judging by how he is in Before Crisis. It's hard to tell what is being rebellious and what is a result of being a different person.

I think President Shinra having a son he was constantly annoyed with is something he did to himself. Even if that wasn't true, these two were always going to clash. They are both driven and controlling individuals. I honestly think he felt somewhat threatened by Rufus. Why else would he bristle at Rufus questioning him during a meeting (again, in Before Crisis), while, in contrast, Reeve is thinking about what "a fine young man" Rufus grew to be. Unfortunately, Reeve is too young to be Rufus's father, even when Rufus was canonically 25 years old in FF7. :(

[lesbiansanemi]

Was doing so good holding it together today but now that I’m laying down and trying to sleep I’m tearing up and I can feel that I’m about to burst into tears any second now

[nichiperi]

Ya know, I've been seeing a lot of stuff for the hc of Zim and Dib as found family lately, and something about it was actually bugging me a bit. Like, I really like zade, zadf, and zadr, and I just couldn't understand why I couldn't really get behind zads.

And then I realized it's ENTIRELY because of Professor Membrane.

I do not like the idea of Zim being absorbed into the Membrane family dynamic, because in the show (the IZ source I'm most familiar with) Professor Membrane is a really shitty parent, and there is nothing satisfying to me about Zim just hanging out at that house with Dib and Gaz, adding another sibling to an already fairly miserable household situation. Sure, they can support each other. But what is the point of keeping them stifled in that environment if Membrane is not present and being a parent?

BUT, consider the alternative: Dib and Gaz saying 'fuck this shit I'm out', and spending more time with Zim at his base. Eventually they just go off on space adventures or something because why not? Found family in space! No shitty dad! Maybe if you reeeeally want a parental figure, you could throw in a dash of the dad-nar hc in there for some extra spice. And THEN you could have Zim deal with his feelings about HIS 'parental' figures. If Lard Nar starts being a real dad to this group of ragamuffins, how does that reframe the way Zim feels about the Tallest? How does Dib feel about the fact that an alien could (most likely) be a better dad than his own father? How do the two of them react to getting positive attention they've never received from a parental figure before?

And when I started thinking of it that way, I saw the potential. I still don't think it's my favorite. I think I definitely enjoy more room for flexibility and ambiguity with Zim and Dib, and making them view each other as siblings almost boxes them into that role a bit. But I can see the potential for a really interesting story there!

Provided Membrane is out of the picture.

[immortalbutterflycos]

Guess who's in the direct path of this hurricane~

[loafbud]

The first Splatoon game turned 8 yesterday!

[positivelyapunovexponent-good]

I am visiting extended family and experiencing a spectrum of shrimp emotions both positive and negative. Positive because I love them and love spending time with them. Negative for reasons I feel so self conscious about I can’t bring myself to explain them outside of the tags even in my anonymous personal blog. I can’t sleep even though I’m exhausted. every night I’m pacing from anxiety as I try to figure out which parts of me to be honest about and which to conceal for the sake of not? Deeply hurting the people I care about? Even though I haven’t done anything wrong so if they are hurt that’s not on me.