#does she hear herself when she talks.....

[loves1ckmoth]

CLINGY

Loser!Ellie x Reader

Warnings ♡: Fem!reader as always, needy/clingy ellie, Ellie cries after losing reader in the mall, reader comforts her, reader talks more than she usually does in my regular fics, she's more dominant as well, reader and ellie almost pounce on eachother, ellie helps reader put on a dress in a changing room, they kiss a couple times, petnames (my girl, els, darling)

Word Count♡: 1193

Clingy. A word Ellie heard all too often from previous partners. You’d never call her that, no, of course not. You liked her never straying from your side. But it got difficult in crowded areas. Especially on days like today.

You wanted to go out to the mall to pick up a few things. First, your favorite lipstick ran out. Then your friend texted you about an event, and then the dress you were going to wear to said event ripped when you tried it on. The nail in the coffin? Your favorite perfume ran out.

So here you were, walking around a crowded mall on a Friday afternoon. You would’ve prepared to wait, but the event was tomorrow and you needed your things now. Ellie said she’d tag along under the guise of wanting new games, but you knew it was because she didn’t want to be alone at the house.

Sadly enough for you both, everyone in their mother had decided to come as well. It must’ve been a big sale day. That only meant you’d have a better selection of things. While you were grabbing a new bottle at your perfume place, Ellie had distracted herself with some cologne. While you grabbed two bottles of your favorite, you saw a sign.

“Buy two get one free.” As if the universe had planned it all out, Ellie wandered back to your side. “Find something you like, darling?” You ask. She shrugs, but you can tell something’s caught her eye. She’s never been one for subtlety.

“Go grab it. The sign says it’ll be for free. But let me smell it first. I don’t want you smelling of something awful.” She beams and dashes off to grab it. When you sniff it, you find the smell more pleasant than most colognes. You agree and take it up the register. She taps her fingers impatiently as the woman behind the counter rings you up.

You lead her out of the store and she looks through the bag. She eyes your perfume. “Did you need two?” She asks softly. You nod in response. “I’d prefer to come back less. These last me a couple of months each. It’ll at least be half a year before we come back. Though… I did see some room sprays. Perhaps I’ll grab one if they’re discounted.”

You two walk in silence as you navigate through the crowd, trying to pinpoint which store you need to stop at is closer. You only notice her hand slipping from yours too late. By the time you’ve escaped the crowds and into the dress store, Ellie is nowhere to be seen. Your heart twinges and you’re sure she must be panicking somewhere by now.

You walk up to the store clerk and speak softly to her. “Hi, would you mind holding onto my bag? I’m here to buy a dress but I’m afraid I’ve lost my partner. I promise I’ll be right back.” The clerk nods and sets the bag behind the counter.

You leave the store and try to peer out into the crowds, your worry only growing when you don’t spot her. You tap an embarrassing amount of shoulders of girls who look like her, only to apologize when they aren’t. When you don’t find her in the crowds, you try stores. When she isn’t there, you finally check the mall bathrooms. There is where you finally find her.

The moment you walk in, you hear sniveling from a stall. You knock gently, prepared for the embarrassment if it turns out to not be her. “Ellie, are you in there?” Your voice gently rings out in the emptiness of the bathroom. A whimper sounds out from inside the stall and it slowly opens.

She sits there, eyes red and puffy and she grabs you tight. You coo softly, holding her back. “There’s my girl. I was looking all over. Stupid me, then. Should’ve checked my phone for you. Silly me, right?” Your voice is calm, and she looks you over. “Didn’t mean to let go. Shouldn’t have cried like this.”

You shake your head and kiss her lips. “You’re fine. We’ll get all this sorted, yeah?” You caress her softly and bring her out of the bathroom. You wash her face and dry her with a few paper towels before bringing her out with you. This time, you squeeze her hand extra tight so you don’t lose her.

By the time you manage to get back to the dress store, your hair is mussed up from brushing shoulders with everyone in the damn place. Ellie tries her best to fix it for you, and you giggle as she sticks her tongue out to concentrate. You nod and move her hands away from your hair, returning to what you set out here for originally.

You get your bag of perfumes back from the clerk, and Ellie checks inside to ensure you have all your belongings. Ellie is subdued slightly from her losing you earlier, but she does her best to help you pick out a new dress. You’d prefer one like the one you ripped, but when you don’t find something similar, you try to find something else you like. Ellie is attentive, doing her best to find something you’ll like.

Ellie prioritizes comfort overall, and as she looks at the dresses in the store, she realizes comfort might be harder to come by. But, she manages to find the perfect one. Appropriate for big and small events, and comfortable. She brings it over to you as you frown at an ugly feather dress covered in patterns that don’t mesh.

“You find anything good, Els?” You ask, slowly turning only for her to shove the dress in your direction and accidentally into your face. You splutter as you’re met with fabric and Ellie frantically apologizes and pulls it back. Once your face is out of the dress, you take it into your hands to study it. You smile up at Ellie. “This is nice. I assume you want me to try it on?”

She nods fervently, then shakes her head, then flushes bright red, leaving her face blotchy. “Pretty please?” The puppy face she has makes you want to tackle her and ravage her right in the middle of the store, but you hold yourself back. You have more self-control than she does.

“Come on, it’s got a zipper. I’ll need help putting it on.” That’s all you have to say to have her scurrying alongside you and shoving you into the dressing room. You slip out of your regular clothes and have her zip up the dress for you. You smooth it all out and look in the mirror. “Is it all good in the back, Els?”

She gulps, her eyes glancing between you and the dress. She nods slowly and twirls you around to get a better feel of the dress. “Perfect.” You smile and take it off again. “Good. We’ll get it, I’ll grab some new lipstick, and we’ll get you some new games. Alright?”

She hums an agreement this time and grips you tight as you leave.

Second post of today 😵‍💫 I managed to get a lot of writing done today ♡ Hope you all like this one!! Likes and reblogs are most appreciated ♡

[dandysworldhcs]

Suffering through school stuff right now... ough.... Could we have some wholesome headcanons? Doesn't need to be about any particular character but It would be so awesome to see at least one Goob / Craft siblings one hehehe

Also just to add a headcanon to the massive pile on this blog, Filipino Poppy, because of a stupid yt short I watched, hehe

we all need some wholesome headcanons in these trying times

-looey makes squeaky toy sounds when excited or frazzled and everyone thinks its adorable. some other toons have started imitating him subconsciously and now when theyre all excited or startled you hear over half of the toons make a squeak sound.its so sillycore

-flutter is very cuddly, physical affection is one of her biggest love languages

-pebble and coal both have service dog training. they can detect abnormal blood pressure, panic attacks, seizures, you name it. dandy, bobette and the handlers are aware of this and know how to recognize the alerts. the rock dogs are very proud of each other and look up to each other a lot :-]

-coal is actually bobette's service dog !! she has fainting spells sometimes and coal helps alert her before they happen so she doesnt fall and injure herself

-scraps and goob have their own secret nonverbal/sign language in the event that one of them has a verbal shutdown [ive talked about this in a previous hc dump i think]. they sometimes use the language when they wanna tell each other a secret, or just for the funny

-adults are welcome to play and interact with the toons as well !! sometimes people who didnt have great childhoods come to gardenview and ask to play with some of the toons and they arent shamed or questioned for it. gardenview is a safe space <:]

-teagan is secretly a huge dork that kicks her feet thinking about her friends.there is so much love in her heart

-connie helps grieving kids by saying stuff like "hey.i talked to your loved one in the spirit realm and they said that theyre very proud of you :-) and they told me to give you a hug on their behalf". parents and adults think that the handlers asked connie to do this but the handlers have no idea that she does this. she does it out of kindness

these are a lot,,sorry if these arent really wholesome and i misunderstood,,

[bktempted]

Her voice. You can’t get it out of your head. You’ve been pacing your apartment all evening, restless, the familiar itch building between your thighs. It’s been like this for weeks now — your body refusing to cooperate unless you hear her voice. Your best friend. She’s oblivious, of course, always happy to pick up when you call, her tone warm and easy, like she’s got nowhere else to be. You love that about her. You love a lot of things about her, but lately, it’s the thrill of what you do while she’s on the line that’s got you hooked.

You grab your phone, thumb hovering over her number. One tap, and it’s ringing. Your pulse picks up, a steady thrum in your chest, and you shift your weight, already feeling that heat pooling low in your belly. She answers on the second ring.

“Hey! Was just thinking about you,” she says, her voice bright, cutting through the quiet of your room. “How’s your day been?”

“Oh, you know, same as always,” you reply, keeping your tone light, casual, even as you sink onto the couch and let your free hand drift down to the waistband of your leggings. “Just wanted to hear how you’re doing. Work still a pain?”

She laughs — a sharp, quick sound. “Yeah, you could say that. My boss had me redo this whole presentation today. I swear, she’s trying to kill me.”

You hum in response, listening, your fingers slipping beneath the fabric now, brushing against yourself. You’re already slick, embarrassingly so, and it’s only been a minute. Her voice does that to you — unravels you without even trying. You press a little harder, biting your lip to keep the sound from spilling out.

“What about you?” she asks, oblivious. “Anything exciting happen?”

“No, not really” you manage, your voice tighter than you’d like. You shift the phone against your ear, trapping it between your shoulder and cheek as you work yourself a little faster. “Tell me more — how’d that presentation turn out?”

She launches into a detailed breakdown, something about charts and deadlines, but the words blur together. All you can focus on is the rhythm of her voice, the way it dips and rises, the little huffs of frustration she lets out. Like she’s performing for you — showing you all the sounds she can make.

Your breath hitches, and you clamp your lips shut, swallowing the moan that threatens to escape. You wonder, not for the first time, if she’ll notice — if she’ll pause mid sentence and call you out. But she doesn’t. She just keeps talking, and you keep rubbing, chasing that edge.

“You still there?” she says suddenly, and your heart lurches.

“Yeah — yeah, I’m here,” you say, too quick, your voice a little shaky. “Just, uh, stretching. Leg cramp.”

“God, I get that. Sitting all day is the worst.” She sounds so normal, so unaffected, and it drives you wild — the contrast between her innocence and what you’re doing. You’re close now, so close, but one hand isn’t enough anymore. You need more.

“Hold on a sec,” you mutter, fumbling with the phone. You tap the speaker button and toss it onto the cushion beside you, freeing both hands. The sound of her voice fills the room now, louder, closer, like she’s right there with you. “Sorry, just getting comfy.”

“No worries,” she says, and you hear the faint clink of a glass on her end — she’s probably pouring herself some water. You picture her in her kitchen, leaning against the counter, completely unaware. It’s too much.

You tug your leggings down just enough, spreading your legs wider, and now both hands are at work — one circling, the other dipping inside. The wet sounds are unmistakable, loud in the stillness of your apartment, and panic flickers in your chest. She’ll hear. How can she not? You force yourself to speak, to cover it.

“So, uh — any weekend plans?” Your voice is strained, but you pray she doesn’t notice. The squelching gets louder, and you shift, trying to muffle it against the couch, but it’s no use.

“Probably just hanging out at home,” she says, casual as ever. “You should…come…over”

“Ahh — that sounds nice.” you breathe, too soft to be a real answer, but it slips out anyway as your fingers hit just the right spot. Did she say it like that on purpose? No, there’s no way. Your thighs tremble, and you tip your head back, eyes squeezing shut. You’re there, teetering, waiting for her.

“You okay? Anything I can do to help?”

“No — just — ahh, it’s okay — just reaching for something” you gasp, and then it hits, a sharp, shuddering wave that locks your whole body up. You bite down hard on your lip, stifling the cry, but a small, desperate sound escapes anyway — a whine you can’t take back. Your hands slow, slick and trembling, as you ride it out, her voice still in the background.

“I should probably let you go. Sounds like you’re finishing something up over there,” she says, and there’s something in her tone now — a lilt, a knowing edge you can’t be sure of. But you’re probably just imagining it, projecting through the haze of your release. No need to get paranoid.

“Yeah, you know me, always multitasking.” you pant, forcing a laugh. “But hey, same time tomorrow?”

“Of course,” then her voice lowers, softening, curling around the words, “as long as you promise to be a good listener.”

[anpanman95]

Okay so I couldn’t wait for this I’m sorry. I need to talk about it because we might not get any answers any time soon — so I’ll create them.

Bear with me for a little while

Who is behind this?

My first suspect is Boss, for obvious reasons, but let’s think about it a little more.

Aside from the fact Yinwar are not that predictable, Boss has literally no motive to go after Jack/Joke at all, even if he hates them. He shouldn’t have any reason to want to hurt them cause his main desire is power. Money and power. How will he get power and money by kidnapping/keeping Joke hostage?

So here is my other guess. I’m sorry if this ruffles some feathers, but literally anyone could be behind this, knowing what Yinwar are capable of.

Apologies in advance, I’m gonna be brutal.

I suspect Nang and Rose

I know, I know, just hear me out

1. No auspicious date? Tragedy? I stand with Joke when he said “this is simply ridiculous”

Do you remember the last time Yinwar introduced a crazy, ridiculous idea (The Ring and its “power”), that ended up being false? (It was all a game from the Four Horsemen).

“you are also enemies” ?

My friend, they have literally never been enemies. Joke has never seen Jack as his enemy, not once. And Jack had never stopped caring for Joke, either. He had just been driven by anger and pain.

I understand they care a lot about this kind of thing in their culture, but the reasons P’Nang gave were simply not good enough. Telling them their union might become in tragedy? Why? Because they are enemies? They are NOT. They are literally NOT.

(my poor baby Jack fully believing it and Joke being outraged is the most accurate thing)

“You can’t be together” ?!? You’re telling me they’ve been engaged for a YEAR, and you choose this moment to tell them not to do it? Why are you dragging this out? Are you staling, perhaps??

I SAY SUS.

2. Rose not being helpful AT ALL.

I know she doesn’t really have any power, but what the fuck has she done to help them in this episode?

Girl did not lift one single finger except to try and hug Jack (yes that bitchy face did not escape me, Khun Rose)

My girl, I love you, but you could have done SO much more to help them. She didn’t do SHIT. Not ONE single useful thing.

Besides, everyone is talking about their loved ones being invited to this place, and then she casually says:

“It belongs to someone POWERFUL. Scarier and richer than Alice” — why would you say all that? Are you perhaps trying to pull them into a trap?

HUH? This brings me to the next one, actually.

3.How did everyone end up at the casino?

Let’s start with Nang’s scene learning how to drive. This scene irks me. She plants the “death” idea in Hoi, scaring him, unchaining the rest of the events.

Now, the rest of them:

Arun’s connection is his dad

Jack (and ultimately Joke)’s connection is grandma.

Hoi’s (and coincidentally Tattoo’s) connection is Nang.

Hoi is now scared

And loops Joke in to it.

More importantly, Nang gives the invitation to Hoi. Why did she give it to him?

Perhaps so he can show it to the rest? Tattoo, who eventually not only connects the dots for everyone to realize it’s a dangerous place, but also makes duplicates for all of them; to Joke, who realizes this might be the place where the stolen files went to, after Tattoo tells them it’s the same address Save sent them.

Also, did Nang go to this place, though? She was invited. Did Hoi tell her not to go? (I assume Jack stopped his grandmother from going. Arun might have done something similar, but then again, I’m not entirely discrediting boss as guilty)

Or did she actually go and we did not see her? You know, driving herself, as she now knows how to?

And WHY does she need to learn how to drive in the first place? And why didn’t we see where that ended? It felt so random, somehow. Does she need it cause she’ll be driving someone somewhere? Huh? Maybe to a house in the middle of nowhere? huh?

Last but not least,

4. Nang’s reaction to Joke ‘dying’

“If he didn’t die then it would have been you, Hoi” Excuse me, again, but why did anyone have to die? This is what I’m not getting.

How did Jack and Joke’s wedding result in someone dying? Is it because you don’t want this wedding to happen? Why could that be? Hmm?

It makes me wonder.

She also officiated the saddest, most depressing wedding of the century, and girl did not shed a single tear for a tragic dead of a friend. Not one single tear. That’s a biased opinion though.

….

Okay, now, why would they do this?

Well, Rose has a very obvious motive, everybody knows she might still have feelings for Jack.

Nang? Well, Nang will always be there for Rose. She cares for her, and let’s be real. They had a whole year to plan this out. Nang is always there for Rose, that much is clear. Even if that means breaking two people apart in the most horrible way.

Maybe they intended Joke to die and worked with carbon. Maybe they didn’t work with carbon and simply took advantage of the events to their benefit. Maybe they intended to abduct Joke all along.

Remember, it could be as simple as the person behind it being Boss, but Arun lives with him and how would he have not noticed his absence? Arun would have told his friends if his father disappeared or left somewhere.

And it doesn’t feel right. To me it wouldn’t make much sense that boss is the one behind this. I don’t think Yinwar will go down that route as it’d be too obvious. And so far, whenever they were obvious about something in the plot, they put it RIGHT on your face.

And another thing:

Joke’s reaction.

Joke looked both shocked and sad.

It leads me to believe it’s someone he knows and hadn’t expected to be there.

Look, I may be obviously wrong and they might be innocent, but I’m going out of my mind with grief at the moment and I need to analyze this shit to the bottom as a way to cope.

So, I know I might be missing a few things as I only watched properly once, so do let me know what you think. There is A LOT MORE to it, but my brain is all scrambled cause I only got these revelations an hour ago.

Do you guys think it makes a least a little bit of sense? Can you guys think of anyone else that might make sense other than Boss?

We can never be 100% sure, truthfully.

But if there’s one thing I do know, it’s that it’d be fucking awesome.

[karmanun]

OTP Questionaire

1. Who pulls the other closer while sleeping?

Jinx. She’s very touchy-feely and wants to be as close to Lux as possible. In her more vulnerable moments, it’s to reassure herself she’s still there.

2. How do they wake up next to each other?

Jinx is either spread-eagled or curled around Lux like a baby monkey and she definitely drools. Lux doesn’t move much in her sleep unless she had a bad dream and yet she always manages to have the worst case of bed head

3. What movie do they watch when they both had a bad day and want to turn their brains off for a little while?

Something dumb with a lot of explosions and B-list monsters, like a silver-age Godzilla sequel

4. Who picks something up, says a pun with the object and then laughs like it’s the funniest thing they’ve ever heard?

Lux easily. I can totally picture her making dinner, holding up a bean, then telling Jinx it’s them because they’re lesbeans. She’s such a huge dork and it never fails to make Jinx smile

5. How do they hype one another up?

Jinx enjoys giving Lux things, so she tells her she has a surprise for her and refuses to elaborate until Lux is practically bursting out of her skin with anticipation. Jinx doesn’t like surprises as much so Lux just talks about every little detail and exaggerates as much as she can because the bigger, the better in her partner’s mind.

6. When one of them gets a new outfit, how does the other react?

Jinx gets uncharacteristically shy. She’ll blush furiously and fumble her words as she tells Lux how pretty she is. Lux enjoys taking Jinx shopping and buying her new clothes, but even when she sees them beforehand they never fail to make her blush and get her horny

7. Who tries to playfully scare the other person and who always knows where the other person is?

Jinx can never resist pulling pranks like this on Lux when she’s absorbed in a book or has been working too long. Lux tries to get her back but because of Jinx’s enhanced Shimmer-hearing and lifetime of looking over her shoulder Lux is never quite able to sneak up on her, but she pretends to be surprised anyway

8. When they go to the grocery shop, what is one section they like to mess around in?

Oh, they’ll totally just run around and ride shopping carts up and down all the aisles (they are banned from several stores because of this) but specifically Jinx will deliberately loiter in the candy aisle with armfuls of candy until Lux has to playfully (but sometimes unironically) drag her out.

9. When their partner has a bad day, what is something the other picks up to try and make their day better?

Lux will order Jinx’s favorite dish from Jericho’s! Jinx will rent a cheesy movie or take her to the library

10. Who runs up and hugs their partner while the other catches them?

Smol gremlin bean Jinx is always childishly excited to see her partner and will straight-up jump on her - good thing Lux is so tall and strong and can carry her around

11. What song reminds them of each other?

Rebel Rebel by David Bowie and P.U.N.K Girl by Heavenly never fail to remind Lux of her little wildling Jinx. Jinx doesn’t normally listen to love songs but I Wanna Be Yours by Arctic Monkeys is her special song for her flashlight

12. Who presses their nose against their partner’s cheek before kissing them?

They both do! And they touch foreheads, and nuzzle their noses into each other’s necks and each other’s hair, and give each other butterfly kisses, and Lux will trace Jinx’s tattoos… they have so many little gestures of affection and can never get enough of each other

13. What small quirks do they love about each other?

Jinx makes faces (like scrunching up her nose) without realizing when she’s deep in concentration, which Lux could stare at all day. Lux trips over her words when she gets excited and has an ugly laugh, both of which Jinx could listen to all day. Honestly I could go on and on about this one, they love everything about each other.

14. Who accidentally snorts when they laugh and that makes both of them laugh harder?

Lux! Her laugh is one of the few unrefined things about her and that’s why it’s one of Jinx’s favorite things about her

15. What are some things they do for each other because they know the other hates it?

Lux talks to strangers (except when it’s a confrontation, Jinx is absolutely the “excuse me she asked for no pickles” girlfriend) and does the laundry - Jinx would rather (and does) live off the dirty clothes on her floor than do a load of laundry. Lux is also the better cook between them but it can be a chore for her, especially after she’s had a long day, so Jinx relishes every opportunity to make dinner for her sunshine

[vesna7s]

DAENERYS WANTS EQUALITY FOR EVERYONE On the cover of ADWD for Brazil, I placed Daenerys at the top of the Meyering Pyramid ladder. Undoubtedly, I was unconsciously influenced by the series. And George told me that DAENERYS WANTS EQUALITY FOR EVERYONE, SHE WANTS TO BE ON THE SAME LEVEL AS HER PEOPLE, so I made her come down to maintain consistency" — Mark Simonetti https://www.lagardedenuit.com/interview-de-marc-simonetti-2018/

And there's a reason this is important, because thrones and what they symbolize are a cross—cutting theme in the Daenerys books. Even when it's "unbecoming of a queen," Daenerys prefers a simple bench to a fantasy throne. She does not act in accordance with what is accepted and what is not accepted in society, but strives for equality and simplicity. She sincerely wants equality for everyone, even if it diminishes her own greatness. Even when others believe that a queen should put herself above her subjects, she doesn't.

There's a reason the books keep mentioning her thrones.:

Her waiting room was on the lower level, an echoing room with high ceilings and walls of purple marble. For all its splendor, it was a cool place. There once stood a throne, a fantastic thing made of carved and gilded wood in the shape of a ferocious harpy. She looked at it for a long time and ordered it to be broken into firewood. “I'm not going to sit on a harpy's lap,” she told them. Instead, she sat down on a simple ebony bench. It was convenient, though she could hear the maesters whispering that it was unbecoming of a queen. ― ASOS

Daenerys Targaryen preferred to conduct court sitting on a bench of polished ebony, smooth and simple, covered with cushions that Ser Barristan had found to make her more comfortable. King Hizdahr replaced the bench with two imposing thrones made of gilded wood, the high backs of which were carved in the shape of dragons. The king sat on the right throne with a golden crown on his head and a jeweled scepter in his pale hand. The second throne remained vacant. ― ADWD

Hizdahr's grotesque dragon thrones were removed on Ser Barristan's orders, but he did not return the simple bench with cushions that the queen preferred. Instead, a large round table with high chairs around it was set up in the center of the hall, where men could sit and talk as equals. https://rainhadaenerys.tumblr.com/post/188088487857/love-deejay-eldritch-crone#notes

[lostmythoftrueloves]

ekaterina (katherine) “fawn” p. sterling 🦌🚬🍀

she/her, nonbinary lesbian, 17 – 18 during wilderness

face claim: emily perkins as brigitte fitzgerald in ginger snaps.

PRE-CRASH: moving to wiskayok with her adoptive mother, she has a hard time settling in. her home life is rough and she struggles to adjust to the changes, moving through high school as a ghost, almost invisible, until she joins the soccer team. all she wants is to get away from her controlling mother, but finds that she actually likes the sport, and more importantly, the team. she befriends shauna (and by association, jackie) due to their shared interests, as well as lottie, LL, and misty. she's highly introverted and thus comes off as an enigma, or more likely, simply forgotten as another background character. if she were a little more outgoing, she would definitely be labeled as the “weird kid” for her off-putting speech pattern, repetitive actions, and very slow mental processing. for first impressions, she comes off as guarded or even hostile, she doesn't really enjoy meeting new people, and has a habit of self-sabotage. despite this, she grows closer to shauna before the crash, hanging out outside school to study and talk about their favorite classics, or ramble on about their favorite music artists. she also relates to lottie, who appears far more observant and shy than she lets on, and they share a quiet connection this way. they like to people watch together!

WILDERNESS: fawn’s life is unmoored, her shaky foundations crumbling as the life she's worked to build up falls away. was this karma? punishment? did god grow bored, and this was His entertainment? she can't answer any of those questions, but she does know that she needs to stay alive. she helps bury the dead from the crash, and like lottie, reluctantly follows the team to the cabin. she knows her mental is basically fucked at this point; without her pills, paranoia sets in. figures stalk the edges of her visions, she talks to nobody, her mind begins to run wild as her thoughts become disorganized and confused. she does her best to provide– she can hunt and cook, that much she knows. when everyone is out doing… whatever it is they do and fawn is alone, she goes to the lake and writes in her journal to her heart's content. she draws animals, alive and dead, records the flowers and plants she recognizes, and leaves small diary entries in between. this alone time is the only thing that keeps her tethered to reality, the sun warming her hunched body as she scrawls across the pages.

her faith is undoubtedly wavering. she needs something to believe in. the séance scares her further as she begins to separate herself from lottie, even though it hurts to grow distant from her friend. instead, she relies more on shauna, javi and laura lee.

then, boom. laura lee is gone in an explosion of fuselage and debris. she can't help but hold onto lottie even as the taller girl thrashes on the shore. she becomes even more reserved after that. she spends her nights completely sleepless, standing by the window in the cabin after everyone has gone to sleep and staring wide eyed at the treeline. the shadows shift and shiver and she swears she can hear wolves howling. doomcoming is spent staring at the night sky, far from the group and the hunt. the trees whisper. the earth whispers. she doesn't understand their words. when she returns, she is confused by the tension that crackles through the air.

and then shauna is pregnant. and jackie is— jackie is—

she doesn't have the stomach to eat.

after that night, she isolates herself entirely. lottie’s wilderness cult scares her more than anything, and shauna’s mourning is something she can't help with. so she makes herself useful by ice fishing or volunteering to hunt with nat, enjoying the silence of winter. the trees whisper to her, and she turns her head away from them.

her death heralds the coming of spring. after javi dies (how could they let him? how could they eat him? he was just a kid. she could have saved him, she should have–) she becomes despondent. with no cabin, they migrate further into the forest. pulling the queen card is mercy. she does not sacrifice herself, but runs as fast as her legs can carry her, the wolves nip at her heels, she runs and runs,

but then she is on the ground. immobile. she tripped on a tree root, or a stone, it doesn't matter, and it hurts and she can't move and she can't breathe, why can't she breathe? is that blood?

javi crouches down where she can see. his eyes are so kind. lake water pools from his clothes, his hair flat and dripping.

“aren't you cold?” he asks. (yes, yes, yes) “i can help you.”

death, to her surprise, is warm.

TRIVIA:

she is autistic, schizoaffective and has DPDR and OCD

before becoming an orphan, she grew up on a farm where she had experience with manual labor and hunting, which is where she gets most of her survival experience in the wilderness. despite this, she does not actually remember most of her childhood due to her trauma, but her body remembers for her.

an insanely good cook and loves playing the guitar, woodcarving, drawing, journalling, and knitting. likes hiking and other outdoor-sy activities. her special interests are bugs (particularly beetles), plants/flowers (particularly how they are used both for cooking, medicine, and other purposes), and fiona apple (she's obsessed)

when she is focused, she is less likely to stammer or stop abruptly mid-sentence, though her words flow out of her like a stream of consciousness, which can be hard to follow. she has a penchant for being wordy, almost poet-like, with a soft cadence that rises and falls like a song.

in the wilderness, she carved a deer to match javi’s wolf. she would also invite javi to go fishing with her, or to check the crab nets. she enjoyed talking to him, and could certainly relate to his struggle with change. she liked to tell him stories that she could remember of her childhood, how she would go hunting with her older brothers, or stargazing with her sister.

her death occurs after she hits her head fatally while tumbling down a hill, also breaking her spine in the process, causing paralysis.

if she lived to s3, she likely would've found ben before mari, or teamed up with shauna out of sheer fear. she doesn't like who her friend has become.

addicted to cigarettes.

her playlists :3 (there's two!)

this blog is meant to resemble what it would look like if fawn had a tumblr blog!! 🍀

if you have a yj oc, PLEASE reblog this with them and maybe a little fact about them. i wanna see them all.

[angelluv16]

Rumor Has it

✩: Kaia Jenner, the youngest Kardashian-Jenner, is an up-and-coming actress. When F1 driver Charles Leclerc casually calls her his favorite actress, the internet goes crazy. What starts as rumors turns into a whirlwind of drama, chemistry, and public scrutiny.

Part 4

faceclaim: Cindy Kimberly, girls from Pinterest

Want to be added to my taglist?: Click here

pairing: Charles Leclerc x Jenner!reader

request: no!!

warnings: Hate, fluff, Angst, Language,

previous part | Main Masterlist | next part

I should’ve known better than to run errands alone.

The second I stepped out of the coffee shop, I heard them—paparazzi, already waiting by the sidewalk like they had some sixth sense that I’d be here. I kept my head down, my sunglasses covering half my face, but it didn’t matter. The second they saw me, the shouting started.

"Kaia! Have you talked to Charles since your little Instagram exchange?"

"Are you going to a race soon?"

"Is this the next power couple?"

I forced myself to ignore them, walking quickly to my car while pretending not to hear a single word they were saying. My iced latte nearly slipped out of my hands as I unlocked the door, sliding into the driver’s seat as fast as I could.

The second the door shut behind me, I let out a deep breath. Jesus.

I sat there for a second, just gripping the steering wheel. It wasn’t like I wasn’t used to this—I grew up in this world. But it still felt weird to have my name tied to someone else’s like this. And not just someone else—Charles freakin’ Leclerc.

My phone buzzed. I glanced at the screen. A notification from Twitter.

Curiosity got the best of me, and I clicked on it. The trending page popped up immediately.

"Kaia Jenner and Charles Leclerc—F1’s new ‘it couple’?"

I groaned, tossing my phone into the passenger seat before leaving the parking lot.

By the time I got home, the house was too quiet. The girls told me they were going to come to my house to hang out. But I guess they haven't gotten here yet, which was fine. I needed a second to breathe.

I kicked off my shoes and flopped onto the couch, finally picking up my phone again. The article was still open on my screen, and I hated how my eyes immediately searched for Charles’ name.

"The F1 star recently engaged in a flirty Instagram exchange with Kaia Jenner, sparking dating rumors. With her Hollywood background and his racing success, fans are already speculating about the nature of their relationship."

Speculating.

Yeah, that was one way to put it.

Before I could overthink it any further, my phone buzzed again. This time, it wasn’t Twitter. It was a text.

From Charles.

Charles: Soo I guess were dating Now?

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

Kaia stared at her phone for a second after Charles’ last message. Of course, I'll see you soon.

Her heart did a weird little flip. She wasn’t about to overthink it—well, actually, she totally was, but that was beside the point.

Charles Leclerc was coming over. To her house. To teach her how to pool race

Was this normal? No. Was she freaking out? Absolutely.

With a deep breath, she pushed herself off the couch and made a beeline for her room, already scanning her closet. What does one wear for "swimming lessons" with a Formula 1 driver?

A swimsuit, obviously. But she had to look effortlessly put together—like she wasn’t trying at all, even though she definitely was.

She settled on a simple bikini with an oversized white button-down over it. Casual, cute, and something she wouldn’t absolutely die of embarrassment in.

Just as she was about to grab her towel, her phone buzzed with a text from the sister group chat.

Kaia tossed her phone onto her bed before they could interrogate her any further than they already had.

Now all she had to do was wait for Charles to show up.

And pretend she wasn’t about to spiral over it.

A/N: I'm sorry it's short. The next chapter will be longer, and they will meet.

Taglist: @anamiad00msday @Ale-522 @sarx164 @gottalovesae @meadhbhcavanagh @fulla02 @fanficfanatic77 @ihtscuddlesbeeetchx3 @golden-hoax @poolclaws @hadidsworld @perfectmenarefictional @lottalove4evelyn @edgyficuselastica @nebarious @mbioooo0000 @fanny2811 @greantii @norstappenvibes @mary-op81 @jiggly-puff-12 @Karmahnicolas @ana-23-03

[emilys-bangs]

Plant mom Prentiss strikes again! I can't stop thinking about her 🥺 How much she learns about then and start to appreciate every plant you've gifted her. I think she'd realize gift giving is sort of your love language and maybe, just maybe you'd like her.

Would she invest in some of those special lamps which help plants to grow and set couple in her office? Would she rant about Bailey or another annoying person to her plants because you said one day that plants supposedly like it when you talk to them. It could be bullshit for all Emily knows but she loves you so she'll listen to everything you say and would do anything you say. Would you walk by her office and hear her talking to an especially stubborn plant who looks like it's on the verge of death but yet persist?

It dies. But you replace it with a new one when Emily's on a case with the others (knowing Emily really liked that one and would have been upset) and you're stuck with Penelope in DC. Good thing is you get to play plant mom to Emily's growing plant collection.

One day when you're visiting Emily's apartment you noice how there are more plants than last time. You're sure there were none the last time you came over.

Would you consider writing a fic about plants mom Prentiss?

-🔮

Same!! Plant mom Prentiss is canon to me now idc. When she started off with taking care of them it was really only to oblige you, but along the way she started getting interested in them on her own! She starts adding to her collection that you've gifted her; I think she’d be particularly interested in herbs and growing her own—mint and basil and rosemary to include in her cooking (Dave has been telling her to for YEARS and she always ignored him, wonder why she’s finally getting on it now?). She has them all lined up on her kitchen counter, and they’re lush and green and fragrant, her kitchen smells heavenly.

I’m dying at the visual of her ranting to a plant about Bailey, she’d TOTALLY do that 😭😭😭 (with the blinds closed ofc, but sometimes her voice carries). When you teasingly tell her she's supposed to tell the plants nice things she rolls her eyes, but then she sees the wilting plant and whispers to its dying leaves that she thinks you've bewitched her—there's no other explanation, because she realizes that this is borderline insane. A tiny part of her hates herself for talking to freaking plants, but eventually it feels like talking to Sergio, although she never does either in anyone's presence. The thought idly registers to her that she's not only a cat mom now, but a plant mom, too (what even is her life?). She's already subjected to so much teasing from the team now that her office has become a greenhouse, but maybe she would have a grow lamp or two at home🤔 she'd keep them safe in her home office to keep Sergio from destroying them. Speaking of Sergio! When Emily learns more about all of the plants you've gifted her, and more specifically the fact that they're all non-toxic to cats, she goes all mushy on the inside and decides that's it, it's time to ask you out on a date (the bau breathes out a collective sigh of relief). (But the plants don't go away.)

Honestly I think a plant momily fic is inevitable at this point....with pa!reader, too....anon you really cooked with this one

[yandere-fics]

♡ They See You Naked With Your Window Open ♡

(Might write this for other characters later but I really only wanted to include these three for now. While it's not common to leave your window open in the city many humans are less cautious because supernatural's are the main people out all the time and they don't like staring at anyone who isn't their mate and other humans are afraid to stare through peoples windows cause that could be someone's dumb mate so people aren't always double checking their windows.)

♡ Despite how delusional Selene can get when it comes to her mate, you didn't even know her yet, she'd only just spotted you. Walking through the city one night sad about waiting another few centuries with no mate only to look up and spy her mate through your bedroom window changing. You don't know her so there's no way it was for her benefit in any way but she also feels that you're soulmates and so you'll forgive her for crawling through your window and doing what she wants to you anyways, she promises she'll make you feel good. Of course you're terrified when an 8 foot tall woman climbs through your window, you're hear her before you even see her, someone is rapidly hopping up your apartment from the ground level when you are stories up and then she's in your bedroom rapidly stripping her own clothes as you wonder if screaming would even change anything. Of course her eyesight is good so she saw you from the ground despite being high up. When she sees your scred face though her stripping does become a bit slower as she realizes she terrified the shit out of her poor human contemplating if she should have attempted to court you first before pouncing on you anyways because she was already hard and you were already naked. ♡

♡ Kassien had known you for a little bit, trying desperately to win your favor at work while still trying to remain patient with you. Unfortunately demons were not known for being patient so in order to achieve this she had to throw herself a bone every once in awhile. During the first week of knowing you she had discovered you slept with your window open to let cold air in and it made it so easy for her to slip into your apartment, cuddle for a few hours before you woke up then leave without you having your view of her destroyed but tonight as she flew by she nearly crashed into the wall because there you were, sleeping naked like you knew what she did while you slept and were inviting her to do more. Of course a lot of things were flying through her head, scolding you for letting anyone seeing you like this, or enjoying this very clear invitation. The rational part of her knew you were probably not inviting her to come in and do something to you but the delusional part of her ignored that and decided you must have wanted her to break in and of course being a very good mate, she would do that for you. ♡

♡ You didn't give any thought to your neighbor across street from you, your windows peeping directly into each other. She was an elf who often left her windows open except for certain parts of the day and occasionally tried to shout over to talk to you but you never heard what she said due to traffic and the regular noises of the city. She was harmless so you had really just put your guard down. Plus from what you saw she seemed to sleep an awful lot, during these three day naps she often left her window open, you think she was trying to ventilate herself and during those times you got a little bit careless in your bedroom. You slept naked often but you never slept with your window open because your neighbor could see everything in your house and even though she was an elf so definitely not interested in you, you just didn't want to get that comfortable with a stranger but seeing as she was in one of her coma sleeps you decided to leave it open for fresh air unaware she woke up early from her sleep and spent the entire night watching you because she was so happy her love wanted her to see. She sadly didn't get to do anything because she spent the whole night entranced but she was definitely going to try harder to start a conversation with you now that she knew her love loved her back. ♡

[bitchinbarzal]

Kaia when Clayton gets hurt or hit with a puck

Kaia wasn’t even watching that closely.

She had the game on, of course—Clayton was on a road trip, and she always watched. But it was late, and she was curled up on the couch, half-distracted, folding some of Elodie’s tiny laundry.

Then she heard it.

The shift in the announcers’ tone.

The collective gasp of the crowd.

The sickening thud of a body hitting the ice.

Her stomach drops.

Kaia’s head snaps toward the screen just in time to see Clayton down, his body motionless near the boards.

For a second, she doesn’t move.

Doesn’t breathe.

Because Clayton is tough—so tough—but he’s not getting up.

And the way his teammates immediately motion for the trainers.

Kaia lunges for the remote, turning the volume up just as the camera zooms in on him.

He’s still down.

Face pressed against the ice.

Barely moving.

And she can see the pain in his body language when the trainer skates out, the way he tries to shift but immediately stops.

Her whole body goes numb.

The commentators are talking, but she barely hears them—something about an awkward hit into the boards, an ugly landing, the possibility of a shoulder or wrist injury.

Then, finally, Clayton moves.

Not much, but enough to make her exhale.

The trainer helps him to his knees, and Kaia wills him to get up, to shake it off like he always does—

But when he finally stands, he barely puts weight on his right side.

His stick is gone.

His face is pale.

And then, He skates off.

Straight down the tunnel.

Kaia feels sick.

Because if he’s not even arguing about leaving the ice?

It’s bad.

She grabs her phone, hands shaking, heart pounding.

No text from him.

Nothing.

She immediately calls.

It goes to voicemail.

Kaia groans, pacing the living room, running a hand through her hair.

She should’ve gone on this trip. She should be there, waiting outside the locker room, not stuck here, refreshing Twitter and hoping someone posts an update.

Then, A text.

Clayton: I’m okay.

Kaia scoffs, immediately typing back.

Kaia: You’re not okay, Clayton. You just disappeared down the damn tunnel.

No response.

Kaia’s heart hammers.

She sinks onto the couch, forcing herself to take slow, even breaths.

Another text.

Clayton: Still in the locker room. Docs checking me out.

Kaia’s grip tightens on the phone.

Kaia: I need more than that. What’s wrong?

Another agonizing pause.

Clayton: Shoulder. Not sure how bad yet.

Kaia closes her eyes, pressing a shaky hand to her mouth.

Because that?

That could mean anything.

An hour passes.

Kaia can’t focus on anything.

She checks on Elodie—still asleep, curled up with her stuffed bunny—then sits back on the couch, staring at her phone.

Finally, Another text.

Clayton: It’s dislocated. They popped it back in. Sore as hell.

Kaia exhales sharply, pressing her forehead against her palm.

Because okay.

Okay.

That’s not great, but it’s not the worst.

Kaia: Are you coming home early?

Clayton: Yeah. Flying back tomorrow.

Kaia nods to herself, typing back immediately.

Kaia: I’ll be waiting at the airport.

This time, the response is quicker.

Clayton: I know.

Kaia softens, gripping her phone tight.

Because he does know.

No matter what, She’s always there.

[loves1ckmoth]

LITTLE HELPER

Modern Gym Rat!Vi x Reader

Warnings: Fem!reader, I don't work out often and I think it shows, I've also never used any gym equipment except from p.e. classes over the years, It's okay though, vi is very gentle with sleepy reader, she is like a puppy, she complains in the beginning, mentioned that she binds in the beginning, petnames (darling), definitely not my best work I'm so sorry

Word Count♡: 867

Vi has been complaining a lot lately. Mostly about the gym. “My partner didn’t show up today!” or “My spotter was awful” and your personal favorite, “It would’ve gone so much better if you were there.” You loved it. Loved the way she would drape herself over you as your hands diligently massage out the knots caused by her grueling workouts.

You can hear the door slam as she groans with frustration. “Darling? Are you there?” Her voice rings throughout the house, and you drop the laundry you were folding. “In the bedroom!” You shout back, resuming the folding. You’re prepared for her to drop in on you, however.

And so she does. You feel a thud against the bed as she flops down, and then her hands as she crawls over to your lap. You set the binder of hers you were folding aside, and place a hand on her hair. Her hand covers yours and she pulls it down to hold her face.

“Long day, I assume? Was your uhm… your spotter? Were they not there again?” At that, she groans loudly. “He’s never there anymore. We made a pact for the new Year that we’d reach our goals this year, but I’m convinced he’s given up. Do you know how demotivating that is?”

You hum noncommittal, continuing to stroke her hair. “So you have to go alone now I assume?” You suggest. She groans and rolls over onto her stomach. “It’d be so much easier if you went with me.” She says for the nth time. You tilt your head.

“What if I did go with you? I promised you I’d tag along eventually, and I could help spot you.” She immediately jumps up at that, beaming brightly. “Would you!?” You giggle at her enthusiasm and nod. “I’d be happy to. You talk about it so much I want to go myself.”

She jumps up and tackles you onto the bed, smothering you with kisses from her chapstick-covered lips. You push her face away, having dissolved into a fit of laughter. “You’re finally using that chapstick I gave you?” She smiles and puckers her lips at you.

“Minty, isn’t it?” She says as she nuzzles into you. She sighs, collapsing and weighing you down. “‘M tired. Let’s take a nap. In the morning, I’ll take you for my early workout. Sound good?” She speaks gently, tracing a hand over your side like a self-soothing ritual. You hum a response, closing your eyes to nap with her.

In the morning, she gently helps dress you, accounting for your still tired form. You usually wake up when she gets back from her morning workout. You’re out the door in around 10 minutes and she guides you into the passenger seat and shoves an energy drink into your hands.

The drive to the gym is relatively quiet as she has the radio low and hums to the tune of it. The gym is mostly empty by the time you get there. She walks over to a bench press machine and has you stand behind it. “Do you wanna spot me on this one? It’s really easy and I won’t go too high so if I mess up, you can help.”

She shows you the proper form and position before getting on the bench. She does 20 reps, and you watch her curiously. She smiles up at you, pushing the bar with ease. “What now?” you ask after helping pull the bar back into its proper position.

“The rest of the stuff I plan to do doesn’t require a spotter, but you can stay and talk with me if you like. We could do something simple if you wanna have something to occupy yourself. There's a machine that works your thighs over there. It’s a little awkward, but I’ll be there with you.”

You nod, and she takes your hand to lead you over. You like it when she does that. The way she looks at you like you hung the moon and the stars. She treats you like a princess. She’s right when she says the machine is awkward. It requires you to spread your legs open and stretch them as far as you can. Thankfully, however, she stands in front of you so no one else in the gym will see.

She adjusts your posture when needed and adds weight when you can handle it. She makes sure to tire you out for the rest of the time you spend at the gym and you walk out the door achy and exhausted. The drive home is a blur. All you remember is her calloused but gentle hands picking you up and throwing you over her shoulder.

A sharp gasp of air releases from you as you’re slung over, and you flop your head down into her neck. “Thank you, Vi…” You mumble sleepily as she lays you back down on the bed. She smiles, tucking you in. “Of course, darling. Thank you for coming with me, even if all it did was tire you out.”

You groan quietly as you melt into the bed and Vi pulls away to finish the laundry you started last night.

Hello everyone!! My cait fic got a shit ton of attention, so I might start writing her more!! Reminder that my requests are open and suggestions are wanted :3 reblogs and likes are most appreciated ♡

[vividiana]

chapter 2

pairing: Astarion x f!Durge · word count: 4.6k

rating: M for now, will change to E (18+)

tags: modern AU, witness protection, strangers to friends to lovers (see AO3 for a more exhaustive list)

summary: It’s been over a year since Eve had to uproot her life and assume a new identity—anything to distance herself from the past she wishes she could forget. When an erratic, if oddly charming, newcomer stumbles into her place of work, she recognizes something familiar within him and the two can’t seem to stay away from each other. But Eve is not the only one running from her past.

An alternative, modern take on the Dark Urge x Astarion romance, filled with friendship, secrets, healing, and ABBA.

a/n: this chapter is a bit heavier as we start to get into Eve's backstory. but fortunately, she has World's Best Roommate to come home to, so it's not too terrible 💛

chapter-specific cw: mentions of past relationship abuse, mentions of murder, nightmares, flashbacks, blood, guns, anxiety attacks, being called pet names by slimy men

previous chapter · read on AO3 · dividers

“I’m afraid this is all we have time for today,” says Therapist Number Nine, or Halsin, as he insisted she call him. “Thank you for your honesty, Eve. I’m truly glad you decided to take this first step in coming here. Does the same time next week work for you?”

Eve is currently channeling all of her energy into maintaining a neutral expression, so the most she can manage is a nod. 

“Great. I’ll see you then.”

“Thanks,” she mutters before grabbing her bag and walking out of the office. 

The perky receptionist attempts to talk to her, but Eve is already reaching out for the door. She needs to get out, needs to breathe, needs to–

The afternoon air is too warm to offer her any relief. It envelops her in a constricting embrace, making it even harder to breathe.

She rushes back to her car and as soon as she closes the door, her body jerks with a loud sob. She rests her forehead on the steering wheel as the tears keep falling.

This is why she keeps changing therapists, why she never makes it past the first couple sessions. Because after all the formalities and testing the waters, they start digging, and when they dig, she starts to remember, and she doesn’t want to remember. She just wants it to stop hurting. To make it through the day without despising herself. Why is that so much to ask? 

But this one, this Halsin, with his kind, insightful eyes that made Eve feel like he was peering into the very core of her rotten soul, he didn’t seem to have a need for your standard interview. No, he had to get straight to the point, to call it as it is, or rather, as he saw it.

Abuse.

It echoes painfully against her skull, the concept rattling around her mind looking for fertile ground to take root, but she won’t let it. She doesn’t want it to stick, doesn’t want to face it head on.

The tears don’t stop and it scares her, the sheer force with which the pain seizes her body. It’s not that she doesn’t usually cry—it’s just never about this. Never about him. 

There is no relief to be found in those tears, only an increasingly hollow feeling, the gaping hole in her chest widening with every trembling sob.

She can’t stay here, because the longer she stays, the more details come back to her, the more vivid his voice grows in her mind—after she went through such great lengths to never have to hear it again. But she can’t find it in herself to force her muscles to move.

It’s not until someone pulls into a parking spot to her left that Eve is snapped back to the present, the sudden movement reminding her that the world around her carries on. She sits up and retrieves some tissues from the glove compartment to try to manage the sniffling mess her face has become.

She’s still too shaken to drive, so she decides to walk to a CVS down the street to get some water and a Twix bar. When she’s waiting to check out, she spots some discounted face masks and grabs one for her and one for Lae’zel. Surely the “Exfoliating Strawberry” will fix her.

When Eve finally makes it back to Clinton, she is, of course, late. And while she looks like a chewed-up possum, with her puffy cheeks and wrinkled jumpsuit wrangled out from the jaws of her dryer, Agent Ravengard looks like a model, all lean muscle and perfect smile. This time, his locks are pulled up into a bun, eyes obscured by a pair of round rimless sunglasses. He waits for her on a bench outside the coffee shop, his iced mocha and her chai latte in hand.

Gentleman that he is, Wyll tactfully ignores her frazzled state as he rises and hands her the beverage, then nods towards the park on the other side of the street.

“How was your weekend?” he asks as they start walking.

“It was fine,” she says, her voice still a bit hoarse. She clears her throat and continues: “Lae’zel dragged me out on a hike yesterday. And Saturday was not particularly exciting, since I had to work. My manager was giving me a hard time. This lady yelled at me because we were out of Smirnoff Ice. You know, the usual.”

“Have you thought about looking for a different job? Every time I ask about it, you sound exasperated.”

“Oh, every single day. But there is only so much you can do with a high school diploma, no employment history, and no references.”

“You know you can always put me down as a reference, right? We do that sometimes. Just give me a heads up, so I can prep. But I’m also quite good at making things up on the spot—I was in an improv group in college, have I ever told you that?”

“No, you haven’t,” she laughs. “But that seems very on-brand.”

They sit on one of the few remaining benches in the shade and Wyll asks her about her support network: whether she’s made any new friends or found a way to get involved with the local community. It feels like he is actively avoiding the subject of therapy.

But then there is a lull in the conversation and finally, trying to make himself sound as casual as possible, he asks:

“Oh, and how was your appointment today?” 

There it is. The real question, the one he was warming her up for.

“I don’t like this guy.” Eve avoids his gaze as she speaks, watching a bird perched on a bench a few feet away, ruffling its feathers.

“Mhm. And why is that?”

“He’s too nice,” she sighs as she turns to face him, painfully aware of how silly she sounds. “He treats me like I’ve never done anything wrong in my life.”

“Eve, you know I like you, but this feels like you’re just making up excuses at this point.”

“I’m not,” she insists. 

“He’s too nice? That’s the issue?”

“Yes. And there is another thing, he just– He’s barely met me and he thinks that he can tell me the truth about my life, when he doesn’t even understand the full picture.”

“So maybe with time, he will begin to understand the full picture? If you let him.”

Eve takes a large sip of her beverage to stall.

He doesn’t get it. And after all, why would he? We are nothing alike.

“Eve, you know I can’t force you to do this,” Wyll continues when she doesn’t respond. “It’s your life. I’m here to connect you with resources, but it’s up to you whether you use them or not. But you said it yourself, not so long ago: that you wanted to feel better, that you’re tired of living like this. I understand that whatever he said made you uncomfortable, and you can bring it up to him during your next session. But if you truly want things to change, you will have to deal with that discomfort. For a while, perhaps. I know you know this, too. And I understand that it’s hard to accept. But please just give it an honest try, will you? Not for me. For yourself.”

She’d rather do it for him, honestly. And so, to not make his job any harder than it already is, she says, however reluctantly:

“Okay. I’ll give it a try.”

“Splendid.” After a moment, he adds: “I know it’s not easy, Eve, but I think you’ll find it to be a good choice in the long run.”

She nods, thoroughly unconvinced.

In a great display of mercy, Wyll changes the subject and asks about Lae’zel. Eve jumps on the opportunity to divert from her problems and update him on the highs and lows of the county youth soccer league.

When he walks her back to her car, she asks:

“Has there been any progress with the investigation?”

“No, nothing new. I’m sorry, Eve.”

“But you’ll tell me if there is, yes? I’m still avoiding the news.”

“Of course.”

After they say their goodbyes, Eve heads to the elementary school, but this time she chooses to wait in her car. The drive home is quiet, Lae’zel glued to her phone, probably on the prowl for her next hook-up.

As soon as they make their way back to the apartment, Eve heads to her room and engages in the titillating activity of lying on her bed and staring at the ceiling, her gaze following the branching out cracks in the paint.

She knows she needs to find a distraction soon to avoid a repeat of her outburst in the car, but that would necessitate moving, which currently seems like an insurmountable task. 

There is a soft knock on the door.

“Come in.”

She turns her head to watch as Lae’zel walks in, an unusual hint of concern in her hazel eyes. She grabs the chair from Eve’s desk and sits facing the back, her elbows propped on the plastic as she speaks.

“Talk to me, boluda, what’s going on?”

“I don’t know what to tell you.”

But in the silence that follows, Eve eventually finds the right words and recounts the unfortunate appointment, skimming over the details of what exactly she told Halsin. She’s still facing the ceiling as she talks, which makes it a bit easier.

Lae’zel listens thoughtfully, refraining from any comments. When Eve finishes, she waits for a moment before asking:

“Do you need a distraction, company, space, or…?”

“I don’t know, I kinda want to rot in bed for a bit. But company might be nice.”

Lae’zel nods, her gaze gliding around the room. When it lands on the corkboard above the desk, she leans towards it, brows furrowed.

“What’s this about?” she asks, pointing to the pinned note.

“Oh, that. It’s kind of a long story,” Eve says, waving her hand dismissively.

But Lae’zel just cocks her eyebrow and Eve sighs, sitting up as she explains: 

“Okay, so there was this guy…”

“Uh-huh,” Lae mutters in a this will be good tone.

“...who came into the Blushing Mermaid on Friday. A new customer. Um– and he was a bit… frazzled, let’s say. Anyways, I go up to take his order and I don’t know what it is about him, but I get this feeling that he looks familiar, like we’ve met before. So I ask him about it, and then he just snaps at me, starts talking nonsense–”

“Sounds like a douchebag.”

“Well, yeah, But then I called him out on it, and he instantly apologized, which literally never happens. And he seemed genuinely sorry, like– It just felt like he was going through some stuff and wasn’t himself. Which I can understand.”

“And then what?”

“Well, we talked for a bit. You know, just your usual customer small-talk. And then he left and I saw that he wrote that note on the receipt and gave me a tip that was higher than his total. He came in on Saturday again and we chatted for a bit and that’s kind of it. Left a standard tip this time.”

“And you kept the note because…?”

Eve opens her mouth and closes it shortly, suddenly at a loss for words.

“Uh– I don’t know. It comes with a funny anecdote, I guess?”

“Mhm,” Lae’zel says. She has a talent for conveying entire sentences with hums and weighted stares. This particular one seems to communicate: you’re full of shit. After a moment of silence, she asks: “Was he hot?”

Eve can feel the blush that spreads across her cheeks under this sudden interrogation.

“I– He–” she stutters. And then, carefully choosing her words, she responds: “He had a certain charm about him, yes.”

“A certain charm. Mhm. And he came back on Saturday.”

“Yeah…” Eve says, already fretting where this is going.

“Why do you think that is?”

“I don’t–”

“Is the food that good?” Lae interrupts her.

“No, not really–”

“So maybe it’s the ambiance… is it cozy and inviting?”

“No but–”

“Eve, I went to the Mermaid one time to support you, and I will never step foot in that shithole again. Unless you ask me to murder your manager, which I would happily do.”

Eve takes a mental note of the generous offer before asking:

“Okay, so what’s your point?”

“What is so great about that place that he would come back the next day?” Lae asks, like she’s trying to get Eve to understand a math equation.

“I don’t know, but we have a lot of regulars! So people clearly like coming back.”

“Yes, but they’re mostly truckers, or older people who don’t want to eat alone, or men who want to watch a game with their bros. So which category does this mysterious stranger fall into, out of those three?”

“None. But he’s new in town and said he wanted to check out the local scene.”

“Right. So wouldn’t it make sense for him to go to a different restaurant next time to see what else is around here?”

“…maybe.”

“Unless, of course, there was something compelling him to come back. Like, maybe a cute, funny, feisty waitress, who wasn’t afraid to talk back, who has a beautiful smile and a great ass to match?”

“I, uh– Well thank you, but–”

“If you don’t want to make a pass at Wyll, then maybe you should bang Note Guy.”

“Can we go back to the part where you were showering me with compliments?”

“Gladly. You’re also very smart.”

“Aww, thanks.”

“Which doesn’t stop you from being a dumbass about certain things, this being one of them.”

“Okay, well, thank you Lae, this was a very helpful distraction, but I think this conversation is over now.”

“If you say so,” Lae says, standing up. She heads for the door, turning back to add: “When he comes back tomorrow, which he will, you should get his number.”

“Go away,” Eve says exasperated as she tosses a pillow at Lae’zel. She dodges without as much as batting an eye.

Left to her own devices, Eve fetches her laptop and as she scrolls through the selection of horror movies on Netflix, she tries not to think too hard about Note Guy’s smile.

The night is restless.

A gunshot.

Blood. 

There is so much blood.

He’s still holding the gun with one hand when the other grabs her chin, forcing her to look at the body.

“Don’t you dare look away,” he commands, voice dripping with venom. “You made me do this. This is your fucking fault.”

The gun clatters to the floor and Eve startles when his hands come up to cradle her face.

Tears.

But not hers– His.

She might have been impressed by how quickly he managed to make them fall, were she not hypnotized by the growing pool of crimson on the plastic tarp.

“You know I love you, babygirl. You know that, right? I have to keep you safe. This is how I keep you safe.”

Her throat is too tight to utter a sound, but she manages a curt nod. He leans in to shower her with quick, frantic kisses, lips wandering around her face and neck, whispering praises and declarations of love against her skin.

But all Eve can do is stare at the unfortunate eyewitness. She was so beautiful, full of color and life. But now, her long purple hair sticks to her scalp in clumps, darkened with blood, her golden eyes wide open, frozen in terror.

Wrong place. Wrong time. 

That’s all it took.

The body turns its head to look straight at her.

Eve jerks awake, drenched in cold sweat. It takes her a moment to realize where she is, that she’s safe.

It’s not even 7 a.m. but she doesn’t want to go back to sleep, doesn’t want to risk seeing him again. She just needs to find a way to stay occupied until noon and then her shift will start, giving her something else to stress about. 

But no matter what she does, she can’t shake how visceral the dream felt. She keeps hearing his voice, fragmented memories resurfacing through the haze.

“You look terrible,” Wulbren greets her when she finally makes it into the diner.

“Thanks for noticing!” she responds, a little louder than intended, as she walks past him.

The next couple hours pass in a blur. 

It’s not her best day. One might even say that it’s one of the worst days in her illustrious career at the Blushing Mermaid. She confuses people’s orders multiple times. She nearly snaps at a customer for asking her why the prices are so high, as if that was somehow her decision.

Contrary to Lae’zel’s predictions, Note Guy doesn’t show up at his usual time, which Eve feels strangely grateful for. She doesn’t want him to see her like this, when her brain is so scattered, when just being here physically hurts. And it’s more than wanting to make a good impression on a customer—no, it’s something uniquely about him, about how he might perceive her. Though why would she care about his opinion in the first place? 

Half-way through the day, she is carrying a tray full of glasses when all of a sudden, she loses her balance. The tray tops over, glass shattering into a thousand pieces as it hits the floor.

Someone claps and cheers, like she’s a fucking court jester who went for ye olde broken glass gimmick in a desperate attempt to liven up the crowd.

Thank you. That’s so helpful and exactly what I needed right now.

She rushes to a couple seated at the nearest table, assessing for damage.

“Are you okay? I’m very sorry.”

“We’re okay sweetie,” the older woman reassures her. “Are you?”

The simplicity of the question hits her like a brick wall.

No.

“I’m okay, thank you. I’ll be right back to clean up.”

But as she heads for the kitchen, Lakrissa emerges with a broom and mop in hand.

“I’ve got it,” she whispers as they pass. “Go drink some water or something.”

Of course, it’s not long before Wulbren shows up looking for her, because apparently having a breakdown and needing a couple minutes to compose herself outside of her scheduled lunch break is highly unprofessional.

A couple hours later, as she enters the bar room, she spots the familiar white curls and curses under her breath. This time, Note Guy is wearing a lilac linen shirt with the sleeves rolled up. She briefly notes how much the color suits him before the dread of talking to him in her current state takes over.

“Welcome back,” she says when she comes up to his table.

He smiles with that stupidly charming smile of his and makes some comment about how busy the place is for a Tuesday night. His attempt at striking up a conversation goes completely over her head and instead of acknowledging it in any way, she just asks:

“What can I get you?”

Smooth. Keep up the attitude and he will stop coming back.

He must notice that something is off because he eases on the cheeriness and doesn’t force her into small talk, which Eve is eternally grateful for. Small mercies. 

By some miracle, she makes it to the last few minutes of her shift. 

She checks in on a booth full of men who have grown increasingly drunk and obnoxious throughout the evening. As she’s picking up the empty beer glasses off their table, she feels a hand rest on her waist as another man scoots behind her to join the group.

“Scuse me,” he mutters.

Because of course how could you possibly pass someone without touching them? It makes her skin crawl, her jaw tense as she picks up the pace.

“Aw, always with the frown,” the man says as he sits down, his speech slurring slightly. “What’s the problem, sweetie? You can tell me, I’m a good listener.”

“Anything else I can get you?” she asks, looking at the other people at the table.

“Get us another round,” the man says.

“Nah, Rick, you’ve had enough,” another one chimes in.

An argument breaks out, and Eve grasps at the opportunity to excuse herself:

“I’ll give you a moment to decide. I’m heading out soon, but I’ll have my colleague check up on you.”

When she turns away, she catches Note Guy’s gaze for a second, before he averts his eyes hurriedly.

She walks up to his table and asks:

“Anything I can get you before I’m off?”

“Just the check, please.” And then he looks like he might say something more, but instead he opts for a short: “Thank you.”

Eve goes through the motions of finishing up her shift, her mind miles away. When she eventually clocks out, she throws on her denim jacket and leaves through the back floor. Relief washes over her as she steps into the crisp night air, grateful that this disastrous day is finally over.

But the relief is short-lived as a familiar voice reaches her from the steps leading up to the front door of the diner.

“Oh, it’s you!” says Rick or Nick or whoever else, a limp cigarette hanging from his mouth.

Eve tenses immediately, her palms closing around a small can in her jacket pocket. She doesn’t particularly want to finish this day off by treating some drunk to a helping of pepper spray, though if he gives her the faintest reason, she won’t hesitate.

But the man seems harmless enough, though no less insufferable, as he stumbles down the steps and onto the parking lot, positioning himself rather inconveniently on the path to her car. 

“Didn’t mean to bother you back there, Miss,” he slurs as Eve walks briskly, eyes fixed on her destination. 

“It’s just– You looked so sad today and I know that look. My wife left me and it’s still hard sometimes. She took the dog, you know, my Millie–”

He continues his sorry tale as Eve keeps walking, refusing to acknowledge his existence.

“You know, sometimes when I get groceries I accidentally buy those chewy treats she liked so much. It’s a habit. Honest to God, I just forget–”

The diner door opens and shuts, but she doesn’t let it distract her as she passes the man in a wide berth.

But then she hears slow footsteps behind her, and her muscles tense anew, fingers gripping the spray as she flicks the safety mechanism to the side. And because apparently the situation is not aggravating enough, the familiar voice slithers into her mind, dripping with affection that makes her skin crawl:

“You gotta learn how to fight, baby, in case I’m not there to protect you. I need to know you can take care of yourself before I send you on a job all alone.”

“Twenty years of marriage and all of a sudden she wants a divorce, no warning, she says I stopped trying–”

Eve is almost by the car when another, chipper voice cuts through Dick’s drunken rant.

“There you are, darling! I told you to wait for me.”

Eve’s head snaps back in disbelief as she sees Note Guy jog towards them, his mouth curled up into a fond smile.

He stops beside her, and Eve catches a glimpse of his arm snaking up to her shoulders, but no touch follows. It’s as if he’s hovering his palm over her back in some exaggerated pantomime of affection.

“Is there a problem?” he asks sweetly, but his expression is tense as he looks up and down the man before them.

The customer ceases his sloppy soliloquy as his eyes flit back and forth between the two of them. Eve can almost hear the booze-soaked cogs turn in his mind as he tries to piece together the puzzle before him.

“Nah, no problem. Miss and I were just talking.” He gestures to Eve as he takes a drag of his cigarette.

“Mhm,” Note Guy hums, and then makes a show of checking his watch. “I think it’s time to go home, don’t you?” But he makes no effort to move, instead looking at the customer pointedly.

“Right, I ‘spose,” the man says, palming at his jacket pockets. “Shit, the boys took my keys.” He sighs, as if he wanted to say: don’t you hate it when that happens? “It’s not that far, guess I’ll just– I’ll be off then. Night, Miss,” he says before heading down the street.

Eve’s finger is still on the pepper spray when she turns to the man at her side. He takes a large step back, looking a touch embarrassed.

“Darling?” she asks incredulously.

“I briefly considered ‘babe,’ but that seemed even more awkward,” he says, fidgeting with his sleeves.

“Well, either way, this was unnecessary,” Eve says coldly. 

“Oh. Right. Well, I just– I saw him bother you in the restaurant and then– I didn’t want to just walk past without saying something when he was clearly making you uncomfortable. But I won’t take up more of your time,” he says, taking another step back. “Good night.” 

A tinge of guilt grips at her chest as she watches him turn around and briskly walk away. Her mouth opens before she can question it.

“Wait!”

He stops and turns halfway to glance back at her.

“Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it,” he says, before resuming his walk.

She stands there for a moment, eyes fixed on his silhouette, hoping that the next time she sees him, she will feel more like herself—and not like she wants to curl up into a ball and hide from the world.

Once she’s back at her apartment building, she starts putting in the code to the door when it swings open, and a woman steps out, smiling to herself.

As the woman holds the door open, Eve recognizes her from the Hinge photo Lae’zel showed her last week—Jen, 25. Even prettier in person.

“Thanks,” Eve says, grabbing the handle, and watches Jen walk away, swaying slightly on her chunky platform boots. Her black night slip of a dress does absolutely nothing to shield her from the evening chill, but she doesn’t seem to care.

Eve can’t help but smile, head shaking in disbelief as she makes her way upstairs. 

When she gets to the apartment, she finds Lae in the kitchen in nothing but a tank top and underwear. She’s chopping some vegetables, the countertop full of neatly arranged tupperware containers.

“So that’s what you do after sex? Meal prep?!”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Lae’zel says, not looking away from the task at hand.

“I think you do,” Eve says, leaning against the fridge with her arms crossed. And then in a pointed tone, she adds: “I passed Jen on my way out.” 

But Lae’zel seems thoroughly unfazed.

“And?”

“It seems like you’re breaking your own rules. Need I remind you? Lae’zel’s Sex Codex, Rule Number One: ‘No second dates. Always leave them wanting more.”

“I left her wanting more, trust me.”

“Oh, I’m sure you did.” 

“How was work?” Lae’zel asks, making it abundantly clear that she will not be discussing her entanglement with Jen any further.

“Just about everything that could have gone wrong, went wrong.”

“What about Note Guy?”

“Oh. Like I said: everything that could have gone wrong, went wrong. Including Note Guy.”

This prompts Lae’zel to finally turn away from her chopping board.

“I need to know everything,” she demands, knife in hand.

“I desperately need a shower, but meet me in ten for face masks and story time?”

“It’s a date.”

a/n: thank you for reading! 🧡 a quick note on the language: "boluda" generally means "idiot," but in Argentinian Spanish it can also be used as a term of endearment between friends, which is how Lae uses it here

taglist: @roguishcat @arzen9 ✨ (lmk if you'd like to be added!)

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Edit: HEY tumblr ate half the post. Just noticed so. Here’s the rest.

—

“Nah. She’s one of my best friends back home and gets both sides of the mask. Like Batgirl and Robin are better off as friends than dating—though Cass and Babs have granted me honorary Batgirl Rights a while back. We do spa days and movies nights.”

“And we’re not invited because???”

“Not a batgirl or honorary; as declared by Oracle.”

“And that matters as…” Greta baited while Cissie shook her head.

Tim paused his calculations to turn to his friend. “First Batgirl gets to decide, duh.”

The group erupted at that.

Tim smiled. Just a bit. Baby steps with reveal and all. Hopefully the Ivy alliance overshadowed the ‘ability to hear plant speak and learning to use it.’

He loves them, but its just. A lot of anyone wants to help with his abilities and how to compensate. Telling Virgil most of it had been a pain, and easy enough as he was a teammate but not. Not Just Us, not one of his chosen family members he'd switch sides for.

He still can’t quite articulate how it makes a difference, just, that it does. The degree of separation and long term personal investment and stakes are just. Lower with Virgil than most Titans, let alone Tim's team.

Virgil helps with exposure therapy, sure, and Tim listens to him work through what to do with his family. He’s the emotional support Robin, but this time its mutual.

Its also fun to see how his pitch can affect Static’s control and vice versa. Tim is working on more compensation tactics for long range combat not relying on his weapons.  And Virgil smiles more and ruffles his hair on occasion.

The two did agree that given Dick’s own habit of… hallucinating Jason, it was better to not tell Dick about Jazz and the cause of his narcoleptic tendencies with his insomnia is a red head dream-walker who was his older sister in a prior incarnation.

Too much of a chance Dick would try to steal his sister for his ginger allies and ex’s club, they agreed.

—

Dana raised an eyebrow as a teen that was not her step son came in through the window.

The boy was unfazed by her being there.

“Is Tim here? It took ages to track him down,” the teen complained.

Dana hummed, wondering how to answer the red head around Tim’s age in front of her.

“Why would I tell you?”

“Oh, right. Tim is my Robin." the boy offer his hand. "Anarky. Or Lonnie. I bet you heard a lot about me!”

Dana came to understand Bruce’s adoption habit at the way Lonnie had a clear mask of false bravado.

“Not much, he keeps what happens in his Mask to himself and tells us small anecdotes here and there. He did mention you a few times though.”

She idly wondered how her husband would handle her potentially adopting a former rogue to their semi-retired vigilante son.

“Cool, cool… so he’s not here now?”

“I’ll see when he’s on his way and let him know you’re here.”

“Okay, okay… can I get your WiFi while I wait orrr….”

Dana passed him the sticky-note with the information.

Not even five minutes later Tim rushed in and Lonnie perked up.

“Found you! Now you have to help me!”

“That is not how it—“

Dick Grayson barged in next, looking at her son and potential second son with a wide grin.

“You got you’d. By a rouge.”

Lonnie stuck his tongue out at Dick.

Tim looked up at the ceiling, clearly calling for powers that abandoned Gotham long ago.

Dana did laugh when Lonnie babbled about a plan to take out another corporation dumping into the harbor. Why he hadn't handed that off to Ivy, she didn't know.

She hummed, grabbing a snack for herself and putting on Star Trek. If the boys present were going to talk about things outside of her jurisdiction, that was a problem for them.

Tim shushing them as she picked which iteration, made her smile.

“Uh, is it okay to help with this one?”

“Online or in person?”

“Online! Just the hacking part! No in person vigilantism like we agreed,” Tim threw his hands up in his defense.

Dana texted her husband code yellow-green.

He agreed to be home to discuss the issue of how involved Tim would be with Lonnie’s scheme in an hour. They did know this could happen, given the early signs of a new alias' construction.

Dick had the courtesy to buy them all takeout using one of Bruce’s cards, while laughing at Tim.

It was good to see him being less tense, more relaxed now that things were in the open. And if she finds Lonnie’s situation lacking, they do have a spare guest room. Lonnie would just be required to stick to this ‘hacktivist’ thing rather than bombing buildings once he moved in until after college or trade school.

Doxxing would work just fine, in her opinion. So would reporting their tax fraud to the IRS if what she’s seen Tim try to do to a number of people, given he can’t fight them as Robin or another alias again quite yet in Gotham.

—

Tim feels like he should have seen Bernard and Darla walking in on him and Lonnie mid-hacker fight against Black Mask as a bad thing.

Instead Bernard asked if Tim wanted any more info and Darla just hummed at him until he and Lonnie got what they wanted.

Irrefutable proof that Black Mask is Roman.

Once they got out, Tim kept grinning and Lonnie was cackling beside him.

Tim half wished he could tell Stephanie about it right then and there, but she’s patrolling right now.

He’s also tempted to find the new player in Crime Alley and see what the newbie does with this information. So far his moves have fascinated Tim, and amused his father.

Bernard toyed with Tim’s additional “protected by” pins. Harley and Ivy merged territories. So new pin for both of them. Being Harley’s “duck boy” was more than what he expected. But her actively helping him find a discreet therapist for former vigilantes in Gotham is nice. Stephanie decided to throw her own pin at him a while back, and Oracle nearly branded his stuff with her call sign.

Anarky still has Two Face’s pin, and Bernard is running around with a Penguin one recently. Darla was pin-less, but her necklace made it clear which crime family she was from.

“So. Whose life are you ruining?”

“Exposing Black Mask,” Lonnie damn near crowed. “Now it’s how to release it, and when.”

“Hm, gala party, or when he’s on TV?” Tim mused. The goal is the reveal being done when he can’t run away; pinning him physically until less corrupt authority figures arise… and preventing their intervention.

“Isn’t he visiting Metropolis for Lex’s thing,” Lonnie asked while scrolling through Roman’s calendar events.

Tim hummed. “If we drop this as a tip to Superman…”

“You mean you,” Lonnie clarified. “I’m still on probation. Legally speaking.”

Tim shook his head. “Fine, I’ll go and pass it on to Superman through his inbox and spam him until Roman’s arrest.”

“Excellent!”

“Do we even exist when you two have a project?” Darla asked.

“There are voices, but not helpful ones to the cause,” Lonnie answered.

“I’d be more offended,” Darla glanced at the multitude of computers between them. “But I don’t think I can be here.”

Bernard hummed in agreement, wrapped around a content Tim, high off a case’s major breakthrough.

“So, how big will the shake up in Gotham : underground be?” Bernard asked, eyeing Darla.

“Pretty monumental given Roman’s hands in everything. Power vacuum will suck. Think the Newbie can use it? Guy has been listening to the working girls before profit,” Lonnie muttered. "and good with environmental protections."

“That would mean poking Bat’s latest fixation…" Tim leaned into Bernard's embrace like a cat into a sunbeam. "And probably able to absorb a decent chunk of the areas near the Alley, and hopefully take out more of Mask’s lieutenants. If we can get Oracle in on this, maybe save more victims too.”

Lonnie whooped.

Bernard got that mad look in his eye that reminded Tim his friend joined multiple pain-cults on his own out of boredom.

Darla leaned over to grab at Tim too. “Save the world is over, now it’s mall time. Your mini can come with.”

Lonnie doubled over at that. “Thanks but no. Enjoy your date!”

“We will!” Bernard answered as he and Darla dragged Tim away.

Jack yelled to “wear protection!” While Tim protested his friends calling their hangouts dates lately. Only when it was the three of them however.

He could feel Jazz laughing at him and something about history repeating. Still no idea which history she means, or why it’s so funny.

Bernard and Darla did continue to refer to Kon as his ‘bi-awakening’ and stated they can wait for him to get over the "situation-ship of his life," but are retaining joint-custody of him.

Tim is fairly certain they’re just being supportive, and joking about the legalization of polycules in Gotham… right?

The Aquista family member tailing them did tell Tim not to “break her heart” only for Darla to shoo them off as “oh, he’s processing this is a thing still.”

Bernard did laugh as Tim blinked owlishly at the pair and the guy giving him a… platonic shovel talk? Darla hummed, stating regardless of if the three date romantically or platonically, Tim is Theirs Now, no returns.

Tim did his best not smile at that, and failed miserably as Bernard agreed.

Bernard grinned and dragged him into the middle of one of the growing group hugs the three end up in.

Harley perking up mid-robbery when she spotted Tim passing by and teasing him about his dates with Darla and Bernard, the pair proudly nabbing his hands as “some of us aren’t scared to take them” did confuse him further.

He came home to the Poly Pride flag slapped onto one of his cactus pots. At least it was painted?

Jack reminded Tim about maintaining his group and individual relationships with Darla and Bernard.

—-

Tim showed jack his latest design for a new vigilante ID—the one he wanted to transition into.

Phantom Shriek.

He still had leaps and bounds to go on training with Static. Dick caught them in an exposure therapy session and took to giving Tim stickers.

He later caught Tim and Ivy practicing his scream and plant speak.

Nightwing did not stop hugging him, and said something about his brothers all being alive and different but its okay and kept babbling.

Ivy knocked him out for Tim, and he called Wally to pick up his best friend.

Ivy said she already figured him out a few weeks after their lessons began, and had known about Dick for almost a decade.

Tim did his best not to laugh hysterically. He failed and screamed for a bit.

She helped him minimize the damage.

Wally came in on that and agreed to give Tim “bat berth”.

It reminded him weirdly of Amorpho and his deal back in Amity. Ancients, he missed it like a phantom limb some days.

Finding out that the more danger he’s in, the more abilities he has, had been a Time to work out with data sorting.

Harley helped with triple checking his numbers. And consoled him mid-break down.

—

Tim gave the info to Clark Kent while visiting Metropolis with Dick.

Clark gave him a look before asking Tim if he and Conner had a fight.

When Tim answered Kon had been avoiding him and he didn’t know why, but he was giving his clone boy the space he made clear he wanted.

Clark froze.

Dick adding Tim had a girlfriend and boyfriend too now, so Kon must be jealous of Tim for bagging two partners and showed off pictures Dick got of their “dates.”

Clark must have had some realization as Tim pointed out that “it’s just Bernard being Bernard and Darla going along with it. They’d have to ask me out first, and Bernard is into Darla. And Darla is my friend, not girlfriend, or, the kind you and Kori are Dick.”

“Uh huh. Keep telling yourself that Timmy,” Dick answered while Clark kept an eye on Tim as he wandered off to give Lois more scoops about corrupt multi-billion dollar companies and debate which tactics to destroy them systematically before the rats can jump ship.

—

Luthor invited Tim to the very event that Roman would be exposed at.

Lois grinned at him when she saw him with his Dad vibrating in place while going over a particular artifact's importance to showing signs of civilization, while Dana chimed in with the healed broken bones as better proof.

Tim did side with Dana, but argued settled civilization’s best sign was yeast-y pottery for bread and beer.

Lex brought out Kon during the discussion. Kon who froze when he saw Tim.

Tim waved awkwardly, message well received Kon didn't want to see him, before Cassie ran over with Cissie and the two began interrogating Dana and Tim and Jack in turn.

Kon didn’t approach him the whole time. Which.

He’s had less painful vivisections, if he's any bit honest with himself. The bear trap was easier to deal with.

He doesn’t know why that rejection hurt as much as it did.

Cassie ran off to check up on Kon while Cissie grumbled about cowardice and took to bugging his dad over various ‘hunting projectiles’ used in various areas and their methods. It was as good a distraction as any, his dad's voice soothing something that smarted something awful.

Tim kept his growing glee off his face as the pings went off and the cops poured in. Black Mask was exposed as Roman. In Metropolis. After his local allies had been picked off earlier that week, one by one.

And his arrest and trial are outside of his political connections and strongholds, while Lex is in one of his ‘PR parent’ moods.

The man is cooked.

Cissie looked at Tim, sensing him shedding his attempt to look sane. He put that mask back up quickly.

Tim feigned innocence while Dick barged over to “check” on Tim and Cissie over the shock.

When things settled down, Kon and Cassie returned with Kon freezing at the sight of Tim, who decided to see if the poor houseplant wanted a larger pot. At least the plant would talk to him, and he had chosen to be out as a meta with his parents' help over the last few months.

As Tim Drake, he was going to admit to being capable of speaking ‘plant’ and hearing them since the JJ incident. Which is public knowledge, and trauma induced meta gene activation is well known.

Cassie flipped Kon off and dragged him over the rest of the way, while Kon kept his eyes on Tim’s ‘barely noticeable now’ scars around his mouth. Like those were all that mattered and all Tim was now.

Like the portal accident with Sam and Tucker checking his pulse daily all over again.

“Tim, uh, how you holding up?” Kon tried, obviously not wanting to be around a tainted Tim.

“Okay.” He wouldn't force Kon to talk to him when he clearly doesn’t want to be around him. “I think we’re leaving soon, I should do my goodbyes. Good to see you.”

Cissie shot Tim a look as he escaped.

Kon grabbed his arm. Too tight but Tim is a fast healer. “So. Virgil?”

Tim blinked slowly. that was what Kon wanted to talk about after limitless radio silence? His frustration seeped into his tone. “Helps me with the triggers. And I listen to his.”

Kon almost let go at that. “Oh, oh,” he spoke too softly.

Tim tried to pull back. Kon let him.

“Anyways yeah,” Tim put more distance between them.

“Say hi to your dates for me Timmy!” Cassie yelled as he left and waved her off.

Tim missed the panic in Kon’s face, already turned away.

The rest of the gala did not. Gossip was brewing.

“I’ll send them your love Cassie!” Dana yelled back with too much teeth.

Jack looked between his son, Kon and Dana’s too-knowing look he’d come to trust when it came to emotions.

“How is my son’s life a soap opera. How," he muttered as he herded Tim and Dana to the car.

—

Okay! Let me know if i forgot tags and if you want another part as this is a lot of fun to write.

Pt2 reincarnated Tim gets the Wail aka Phantom Shrike

Part one here

Virgil let Tim in, leaning against the wall as Tim looked about his room, clearly searching for where to start as his head looked everywhere, largely at the walls and floor, but not directly at Virgil.

“So," Tim began as he wrung with his hands awkwardly. "I’m going to guess you noticed the early reflexes thing and flinching when you use your powers or Nightwing lights up his escrima sticks?”

Vigil raised an eyebrow at him. “Don’t need to be a detective to see that a mile away.”

Tim took a seat at last, settling the urge to scream as the beanbag chair engulfed him. “So, Dick told you all about the uh, JJ incident, or do i get to explain that?”

Virgil moved back to his desk, moving his project to the side. “Just that it was bad.”

“It was.” Bad enough to revive a former lifetime and activate his meta gene. “Kind of shot him, but not me? He’s still in a coma from it.”

Tim waited for Virgil’s reaction. Virgil merely turned to face Tim again, sitting backwards in his swivel chair with an unusually neutral expression.

“I, uh, always had a thing with electricity before that.”

Tim fiddled with his hands again. Counting taps in twos and threes. Dad mentioned it after his last anger management session as a grounding technique. Tim found it… useful. For other things. Largely subduing shrieks, and kicking his trauma triggers in the nuts—when he was certain it was rude to break out tetris anyways.

“Mom called it ‘soul memory hugs’, and not to look into it when I was a kid.” Tim continued, tapping out one of his favorite songs in a modified version of morse code.

He remembers going to Janet in the middle of the night, asking where the nice red head girl went, and why she was crying when he got shocked in his sleep and everything went green. Janet just soothed his concerns and reminded him that the Talons don't go for society kids, but maybe the little girl lost someone and Tim reminded her of him. That he was not responsible for the girl and to let her come to him on her own terms, but to keep a few back ups prepared "just in case" and had him sleep with salt in hand and an iron bracelet.

“Didn’t stop the flashes of," he still couldn't adequately describe the flickers of his pre-Tim life. Of a realm made of ectoplasm the way theirs was made of carbon. The sentient food, watching people walk off injuries that should have crippled them, or the Fenton Driving Watch for the weather. Tucker's laugh and his varied PDAs, or Sam's smile promising someone pain. Dani's joy when she stabilized and befriended Val. Val's everything. "Of something,” he finished lamely.

It'd all been so difficult to pin down back then, as it was too vague without the rest of his memories giving context. A hand holding his. Someone protecting him, other times being punched in the arm or patted on his shoulder almost in condolence of some sort.

“Usually just a warm feeling that uh, stuck if it was static, no pun intended!”

Virgil shook his head with a smile, leaning into the cushion of the chair. “Sure thing Rob, keep going.”

“But when I started going out as Robin," it began a bit before, when he was gathering more evidence of Bruce as Batman to validate his threat of exposing Bruce's secret identity if that was the only way to the man to stop and get help. The sense of dejavu and the stray thought of 'Wes is rolling in his grave' that he never could explain away…

"As Robin," Tim repeated after a beat of silence. "and got hit anytime? It, it changed." his taps stopped being to any song at all. Mouth pulled to one flat, Tim continued. "Flickers of something," he leaned his head to one side, before moving it to the other as he spoke. "Became more and bits of something else.”

Virgil leaned back minutely, face starting to tinge with pinches of worry. “Do any of the Bats know about that?”

Tim shook his head. “B wasn’t, uh,” Tim fiddled with his hands more, not taps or morse code. More hand wringing and flexing phalanges. “In any state to even recognize I wasn’t Robin the Second when I started,” he confessed.

Virgil seemed frozen, like he was mentally recoiling as he moved from his chair to perch on his bed to see Tim and be closer to him for some reason. And now far more attentive than the earlier lull.

Tim shrugged off his concern, as it wasn't like anybody was unaware of how badly Bruce took losing Jason, or how badly Batman took flying solo. People are excellent at ignoring inconveniences to them. and a compromised bad was inconvenient to the GEL.

“No one noticed in the field as Robin was still who he called. My job was to deescalate him, not the other way around.”

Virgil pinched his brow. “So your mentor was violent, and you mentored him rather than mentoring you.”

“Yeah, for most of the three years I pieced him back together. He had me go through the ringer and work under a lot of mentors for combat. Some villains too.”

Tim briefly wondered if Lady Shiva’s offer would extend to helping him take out Joker… And if he could live with himself if he did. Joker killed Jason and was a contributing reason to his parents' hesitation to letting him take up a mantel again in Gotham.

Tim ran a hand through his hair, trying to push that thought aside and the relief of it out of his mind. “Didn’t really tell B things until it was mandatory or necessary. And I wasn’t Robin like Dick and Jay were. I wasn’t and won’t be his son. Just the kid pulling his ass out of his own head and enforcing his old code on his ass. With whatever weapon I need to keep others safe.”

“Hey, Rob?" Virgil interrupted. "You do realize what that sounds like out loud, right?” Virgil's form radiated tension.

Tim could only give a strained smile in return. “Dad and Step Mom lectured me on it and not sacrificing myself for someone that can’t even see me, not the people they wish I was.”

Virgil shook his head as he leaned back. “No wonder you’re off patrol in Gotham.”

Tim let out a long exhale through his nose. “Yeah. Dad sort of wasn’t around until after Mom died, and uh, fixed his priorities.”

“Deathlike do it,” Virgil muttered to himself bitterly.

Tim tactfully ignored that as he knew it was something for Virgil to reveal to his family (not being dead) not Tim’s brand of meddling.

“So uh, Dad always knew about the memory hugs, and more recently the uh, flickers? I've been calling the longer and more detailed memory hugs that. A lot of people get flickers of previous lives and shit, so no need to tell Bats when he frankly couldn’t tell ass, elbow and knees apart.”

Virgil whistled long and low. “Cool, cool… so what does that have to do with the Joker Incident and the extra sensory shit you’ve clearly got going on.”

Tim took a deep breath. “Joker uh, used electric shock repeatedly as a way to torture me. Tried to re-write my memories to be his kid, not B's."

Virgil froze.

“Which is ridiculous. If anything, B was my kid." Tim curled his toes as the memories tried to creep back in. He wished that etiquette allowed him to play tetris right now—to distract him from the phantom sensations.

"Same thing happened in the last life and it," he struggled how to articulate the change of impressions and images to the meshing of time and emotional intermingling. "It stopped being flickers."

He bite his inner cheek and could feel the barely noticeable mouth scars pinking as he bit down. All while Virgil's eyes watched his every move. "More, more like flashbacks, I guess. A lot of time being tied down with an asshole demanding I kill my dad and join him as his evil apprentice. Sometimes it was bleeding memories and superimposed images of people I knew then onto people I know now. And it uh, kicked my meta-gene into activating.”

Virgil finally moved, visibly tabling most of what he said. The tension in his own shoulders dropped when he realized he wouldn't have to go back to that horrid laughing place in his mind . “What kinds of activating, and how’d they emerge?”

“A few my step mom clocked—I could hear better and had a larger pitch range that my voice cracking couldn’t hide. Mostly on their own but the uh, scream one is uh, a work in progress on emerging still.”

“So you can hear people coming from further away?” Virgil surmised.

“Not exactly. Its uh, complicated<" Tim let his shoulders and hands do the talking again. "A local eco-terrorist and meta is helping me with where it overlaps on her turf. Apparently plants can hear a lot more than we thought and have opinions on my singing skills. Mainly, that they suck.”

Virgil took a deep breath and looked up. Tim waited for him to give the okay to keep going.

Virgil waved him on once he was done pleading to the ceiling for something to make this more bearable.

“So uh, Ivy is teaching me how to understand plant languages, in exchange for beach cleanups and something I already planned to and had in the works.”

“A rogue is teaching you about your powers, and the adult who you were monitoring in hindsight has no clue.” Virgil rubbed his face before looking up. “And Dick, he looped in?”

“Not yet, I uh, want to know more before becoming a pet project for the extended Bats, you know?”

Virgil conceded that much.

“And its only one aspect the rogue knows! She helps a lot of metas hide their abilities and teaches them how to cope and work with it on their terms. B knows about her doing that and doesn’t interfere with that part of her work. Everyone knows about her doing it.”

“But not regarding you?”

“Its," Tim scrambled to find the right word. "Its complicated.”

“A lot of things with Bats are.”

“Look," Tim held his hands up in surrender. "My dad will go down for attempted murder, if not murder one, if B is around me anymore. I don’t know what they said, but Dad found out about Robin a few weeks after I escaped the JJ incident…”

Virgil paused, face loosening as something clicked. Shoulders slack, he muttered, “you almost died, didn’t you?”

Tim bit his inner cheeks and scars, tapping a littler harder than before. “Legally dead a few times during it, and uh, got to relive the times I died in my last life.”

“How Bad?”

Tim could feel Maddie cutting into him, could see her comparing his insides to Ember’s.

“Mad scientist parents found out I stopped being fully human. It, it was, it was bad.”

“Shit.”

Tim swallowed dryly. “Yeah. Uh, I was hoping, no pressure or obligation, if you’d be okay helping with exposure therapy with electricity. Yours doesn’t sound the same as, as,” Tim felt that urge to scream grow in his throat. He clamped his hands over his mouth and used that trick from Fear Toxin.

“Tim?!”Virgil stood up.

5 things he could touch. His mouth, shoes, ground under his feet, the chair he was sitting on, his clothes.

4 things he can see. Virgil, door, poster, desk.

3 things he can hear. His breathing (too quick), Virgil’s static field, hum from the lights.

2 things he can smell. Stress and BO.

1 thing he can taste. His teeth.

Tim dropped his hands as his throat loosened to safe speaking levels as he repeated the steps. “Sorry, just uh, some stress requires screaming now and it, its not safe to be in the blast radius.” Tim ran a hand over his face. “Learning pitch control still and the screams tend to uh, level things. Missions are fine, the, the flashbacks…”

Virgil nodded slowly. “Not far off from Canary then. Talking about JJ triggers it?”

Tim nodded with a hard swallow. “Talking about the, the memories from the life where my parents uh, killed me and the dying by them after half dying from fixing an invention of theirs and having multi-dimensional portal kill and revive me simultaneously multiple times does it too.”

Static opened and shut his mouth. “Flashbacks frequent?”

“Yeah, kinda. Telling my body we’re not being strapped down and vivisected is uh, not something it likes to believe. And survival first, questions later. Fear gas is so much easier to handle,” he complained.

Virgil nodded slower this time. Tim knew it was a lot to take in.

“So, a Canary Cry?” Virgil began once the silence began to stretch to uncomfortable.

“Kind of?” Tim read her file enough before just in case, and he had clear add-ons she didn’t have. “Enhanced hearing too, but I can use infra sound and hear it if I tune into it. Also can hear the weather more than usual.”

“More than—you could hear the weather before?” Virgil stared at him.

“Assumed it was the autism,” Tim dismissed. “Could be both now.”

Virgil shook his head, possibly grumbling about 'white boys' under his breath. “Any other metas in the family?”

“Not that are still around. Dad’s cousin had a similar voice ability,” Tim talked around the issue of Black Canary Senior being his disowned cousin. “But never met her. Fled long before I was born on Dad’s side. Mom’s is a mystery in general unless you ask for someone specific about a specific event or topic.”

Virgil shook his head. “Okay, but are you sure nothing else has gone on, anything unusual?”

“Not that I can think of off the top of my head. Broke down Batman’s resistance to me being Robin using what Mom taught me about destroying my enemy’s mental fortitude, so… I don’t think so.”

“Think on it. And I can help with the exposure therapy thing if you want, but getting any help for all of this besides me?”

“Step mom, Dad, and Ivy. Robin’s supportive but doesn’t know any specifics… I think. She caught me during training on a surveillance mission, only knows some powers. Dad, step mom and me are the only ones that know about all of them.”

Virgil sighed. “Bats can’t know?”

“Not if we want my dad to stay out jail.”

Virgil looked up at his ceiling. “Planning to your tell your friends?”

“…When I have a better idea of how to control the screaming part. They were already convinced I’ve been meta since we met.”

“Might have been.”

Oh, Tim had not thought that part through.

“…maybe? I’ll have to work that out at home… and thanks. I mean it.”

“No problem man, just try not to mix me with anyone you knew last life, or not too bad.”

“You’re safe. More worried about mixing current friends with my dead ones.”

Virgil shooed Tim out.

Tim relaxed, just a touch, before going back to cases in the commons and catching Stephanie up on Titans BS with everyone chiming in.

It was good to be home.

—

Tim knows, logically, he can tell his team about being murdered by his parents in his last life. He also remembers meeting Greta and knowing she wasn’t truly Dead, which is something he can’t explain fully still…

Virgil might have had a point about being some sort of meta (or maybe magic?) long before the JJ incident. Most kids can’t evade Batman and Robin for years just to take pictures of them mid-flight.

Maybe a sound nullification ability or something to that effect… he can bribe Ivy to help experiment with it later.

The problem is he doubts Kon wouldn’t lead the charge with his dad to summon and beat up said former filicidal parents. And he knows that the whole team would be on board if they knew.

He would rather not see Maddie or Jack again. Especially while awake. Jazz showing up a bit different in his dreams and complaining about his broken sleep schedule making it harder to visit was something he remained on the fence about telling anyone.

Possibly harass Captain Marvel about it as that guy said nothing about people’s shit unless it becomes a game of which plane of existence you can stay on… but even then, tracking him down without bat-tech is a game of whackamole.

There’s also the complication of Tim being very aware he likes Kon, and not necessarily as a friend alone. Which. He doesn’t have time for the additional sexuality crisis on top of his varied identity crises at the moment and the media’s questions about the two Robins and if Robin was gender fluid, flux or only out as a girl in Gotham and a young man elsewhere. He cannot add ‘crushing on a teammate’ to his list when he and Stephanie only broke up a week before the JJ incident and are just now easing back into their old friendship. He doesn’t want the amputated feeling of losing a friend again because he keeps catching feelings for them, and is 10,000% certain he should not touch romance until he’s in a better mental state.

He has Problems on his plate, and it’s already overflowing. He’d rather not break.

And he loves his friends. But he has no doubt that Cassie would set up the pitchforks rather than stop any of the retribution his father was undoubtedly planning. He can’t gift-wrap his friends as minions in his dad’s crusade to fuck over the Fentons across dimensions, spacetime and afterlife status.

He did manage to make a small list of oddities for himself about his capacity to do things that were vaguely ghostly or similar to powers he’d pieced together.

So far potential intangibility or density shifting, invisibility, faster recovery rate than non-metas yet slow for a meta—speed seems dependent on how likely the injury is to kill him. His high tolerance for the cold was making sense the further in Winter he got and the more he’d see flickers of Frostbite training him in his last life.

Whatever an ‘ice core’ is, seems cool. He may have taken to playing with discarded freeze guns and be reworking them to be smaller and more compact. Possibly to add to his future vigilante ID, or to be a general weapon as a civilian given non-lethal status and his ability to add a melting rate adjustment knob of some sort, and call 911.

Bart saw him with it, grinned manically, and joined in helping him improve and adjust it. Slobo joined them both.

Cassie took one look at them and declared it ‘not her problem if they freeze themselves’ while Kon was out on another press tour thing.

Tim pretended not to note those had increased lately only on days Tim was staying with Just Us for non-mission things and Kon’s increase in excuses to avoid him in general.

If Kon wanted distance, then he’d get it. Even if it stung. Kon’s time and his life to spend as he pleases. And clearly, Tim displeases him. /worthless. Monster. Failure. Stand-in. No wonder you’ve always been a loser—/

“So, for Robin time or outside the mask?” Greta asked when she caught the three near the end of a schematics debate.

“Not sure yet,” Tim admitted. “Rogues are weirdly chill with me in civvies lately. But that could be Ivy being Ivy.”

Bart and Slobo’s debate died at that. “Ivy?”

“Uh, Poison Ivy’s plants outted civilian me for something i was dealing with. She’s decided she’s helping with fine-tuning my control on it and gave me one of her ‘protected by’ pins.”

Greta hummed, floating nearer while Bart was buzzing in his place.

“and its a good thing?”

“Other than her shipping me and my ex? Parents approve of the additional support and it’s made intel gathering easier. She was right about the hearing range increase being a bitch to deal with daily.”

Cassie came in with their takeout then, and everyone dispelled to their usual nonsense.

“So, Ivy ships you and your ex?” Greta began with innocently enough.

Tim debated banging his head against the table.

“My civvie self and Gotham’s Robin,” he clarified. “And only enough to throw cuddle pollen on her and lock us together in… varied situations. And laugh about it.”

Cassie blinked at him slowly. “You are being teased by a Rogue who ships civilian you, with a vigilante.”

“… to be fair I am getting plant speak lessons, but yeah.”

“Rob, what the fuck,” Cassie shook her head.

Tim shrugged. “Its Ivy. A safe distraction for the minors she fights is her preferred MO. if it’s just Bats she can and will use sex pollen. If kids or unclear on minor status are involved, cuddle pollen galore.”

“Uh huh.” Cassie and Greta share a look. “So you dated girl Robin, before she became Robin?”

“She was Spoiler first, and I gave her tips on managing Bruce’s ass when I uh,” Tim still didn’t know how to explain ‘forcibly removed from vigilante activities as his dad worried about him dying in a cape like the last Robin, so Tim was forced to pass the buck of Bruce’s mental instability onto his ex-girlfriend and close friend, Spoiler, and coaches her in Bruce Wrangling at a distance’.

“Forced semi-retirement?” Cissie suggested as she stole a slice of pizza, cringing at Tim’s. Which was all his as Bart didn’t care for it. Sucker’s bet on keeping their slices safe from speedster snatching. Amateurs; clearly they never went to boarding school.

“That,” Tim took a bite of his Canadian bacon and pineapple goodness. “And also she’s officially Oracle’s Robin," he swallowed. "Just B’s for combat scenarios. Dad has decided to threaten B’s living status for her too.”

“Rob,” Slobo interrupted. “The fuck.”

“…in my defense, she asked me out a week after almost killing me the first time.”

“Your dad, not other Robin!”

“First time?!”

“She prefers bricks as her projectiles.” Tim wiped his hands clean after his first slice, humming as he went over the blueprint… how should he compensate for his screams and Wail?

“Oh, and she aimed at my head. She’s into three section staffs lately which is a lot less deadly.”

“Rob. She asked you out after almost killing you?” Bart clarified.

“… not on purpose but yeah.”

“She asked you out by accident?”

“No, almost killing part. She’s gotten better aim since, and is following the no killing until you’re not a bat-affiliate rule.”

His team shared looks he didn't bother to check. The urge to analyze could spiral into another screaming attack if he didn't nip it in the bud.

“So not getting back together with her?” Greta clarified with a smile that screamed Gossip Detected.

He let her have either way, even with the looks Cissie, Bart, and Cassie shared.

———-

Let me know if i missed any tags ^^

[possamble]

What are your headcanons about Marcille's mom if you have any? It's interesting that what drew Donato to her was cause she lived the history he studied, or that was said somewhere at least. She must've had an interesting life.

so this was going to be just a normal answer but then I realized I have a Lot of Things To Say. so here goes, a compilation of what we know for a fact from the canon, what I've extrapolated from the visual cues and details, and my theories based on all of that.

Things we know for a fact about Marcille's mother because they were explicitly stated in the manga and supplemental materials:

She was a court mage for a Tall-man kingdom at the southern part of the Northern Continent

Donato, a court historian, fell in love with her because she had lived through the history he was studying, and he courted her for 17 years (age 15 to 32) before getting married

She was a cheerful person who rarely showed extreme emotion and took things as they came

She always cooked a huge meal for Marcille on her birthdays

She remarried a gnome after Donato's death and a short distance away from Marcille's childhood home

Pipi, Marcille's pet bird, was actually older than Marcille and originally belonged to her mother (bird died at 62)

She was extremely heartbroken when Donato died and ultimately ended up instilling a deep fear of mortality in Marcille with her words

the only time she showed extreme emotion in front of her family was when Donato could no longer eat his favourite dish near the end of his life.

She scolded Marcille for being cruel to ants (implying she can have a stern side when needed)

Things that are explicitly shown but mostly through visual cues

She has a very distinctive style of dress always involving a ribbon choker (mirroring Marcille's habit of always wearing a matching choker with any of her outfits that don't cover her neck)

She was almost stereotypically good at housekeeping and traditionally "wifely" things (very frequently depicted wearing an apron or doing some domestic chore when not at work, seems to have been an avid cook).

She knits? (also, note the affectionate smile as she's looking at Donato and Marcille reading a book together in the full panel)

She was as excited for Marcille's milestones as Donato was.

She didn't tell Marcille much about elven food

(there are a couple things that this panel in particular implies:

She lived a good deal of her life (if not being born and raised) in a mainly elven country in the West, implied by her knowing enough of an elven region's cuisine to prefer Tall-man food over it

seems to have a pretty carefree and casual demeanour overall, if this is how she replied to Marcille asking her about it (sounds like she never gave her culinary preferences that much thought to begin with)

slightly related to number 2, it seems like she and Marcille had a fairly casual parent-child dynamic (especially in comparison to the Toudens' memory of their father)

(local elf tastes Italian food once and never goes back))

However, she seems a lot more... serious in most of the other times we see her? Almost like the very stereotypical archetype of a graceful elf.

Subsequent conclusions about her personality:

Usually pretty carefree and cheerful at home, has been a loving and attentive parent throughout Marcille's childhood (while not being so doting that she didn't discipline Marcille).

Slightly more conjectural theories on her personality:

Had a much more graceful and professional personality at work, which would explain the more serious portraits we see of her.

Given that both she and Donato had positions at the royal court, it seems a little odd that she'd go out of her way to do all the housework herself, so maybe she just enjoyed doing it?

Now taping all the evidence together and toeing the line between analysis and fanfiction:

It's clear that she loved Donato very much and was utterly devastated by losing him. But there's one thing that really stuck out to me in what little we see of her:

Doesn't she seem... angry? The way she's gritting her teeth, clutching the tablecloth, and how this is the first and only time we see her eyes opened that wide. In the following panel, you see her being quiet and dejected after her initial outburst. She's still crying very intensely, but her brows are furrowed, and she's not really responding to Donato's affection in her body language.

We're not told the details of how she felt about losing Donato other than that it upset her. But this, to me, implies that she was angry and resented that he was aging, that the end of his life was approaching. An "it's not fair" type of preemptive grief. And if this was the first and last time she cried like this in front of her family, she was either very good at coping in private... or very bad at letting herself feel unpleasant emotions until they become unavoidable and end up overwhelming her.

It's not too remarkable a detail on the surface. It's even reminiscent of what the audience has seen of Marcille. But... when it comes to the big picture, you'd think an elf who voluntarily chose to marry a tall-man and have a half-elf child would have been better prepared for this.

It kind of recontextualizes her cheerfulness to me.

"I'm sure everything's gonna be okay!" (or some variation thereof, depending on what translation you have).

And this is stated to contrast her extreme grief when finally confronting Donato's failing body and eventual death. But I'm wondering if... maybe this optimism was why she was so upset. What if she went into all of it thinking "everything's gonna be okay"? What if she was a little young by elven standards, and just followed her heart thinking that her own resilience would get her through anything?

Of course, only to get completely overwhelmed when she actually loses Donato. She turns into a completely different person. And that's heartbreaking on its own-- but what the audience sees is the effect it had on Marcille. Can you imagine being her, watching your invincible and upbeat mother suddenly lose all the light in her eyes in one go?

I've already made a huge post about how I think Marcille models her "work persona" off her mother, but another thing that stuck with me as I was looking for more details in the manga was this:

copy pasting from the other post i made about it lmao it's like... the second she resigns herself to lifelong pain and terror, there's another portrait of her mother facing her like this. with their heads bowed, in mirrored body language of resignation and despair and sorrow. Except it's posed like Marcille is still looking at her mother but her mother is looking away.

It took me a second to realize, but I think that it's a visual metaphor for the fact that Marcille's mother was the only long-lived role model she had-- and she failed to model healthy grief for her daughter. I don't say this as an accusation or to disparage her as a character, but just as a matter of fact. In her, Marcille was seeing herself older and losing a short-lived spouse or loved one of her own, and all she saw was hopelessness.

But her mother didn't mean to instill hopelessness and terror in her. She wasn't really thinking of how it would truly affect Marcille at all (at least, that's how I'm interpreting her looking down and away from Marcille in the metaphor), she was just sad. And she, in her own way, was trying to protect her daughter and help her prepare for future losses.

What she meant was "loss is inevitable, and you have to learn how to be in pain but live on anyway." What Marcille heard was "loss is inevitable, and you will be scared and hurt for the rest of your life."

Again. Marcille's mother doesn't feature explicitly in the story the way her father does -- but in so many ways, her shadow, her silhouette, her reflection is always hanging over Marcille.

All that to say... headcanon-wise (everything from here on is 100% without evidence lmao), I'd like to think that she matured and realized that she failed Marcille. I imagine her being regretful about it, wanting a chance to fix it but never finding a way to insert herself back into Marcille's life when Marcille is so so so busy becoming the most accomplished mage possible. I imagine her being herself again, now, so many years after her loss and after remarrying -- but with her cheerfulness tempered with a lot more wisdom and the pain of having gone through loss like that. I think the second Marcille actually tells her what happened in the dungeon, she'd want to go running to her daughter again -- if Marcille tells her the full truth instead of just being embarrassed she let things get that far. (oh, the tragedy of her wanting to be more like her mother and an accomplished adult who doesn't need to be babied... being embarrassed to actually tell her mother how much she fucked up...)

There's also the tension of her having remarried -- I know that there's at least a little bit of resentment that Marcille harbours about that, because she's childish like that at heart even if she makes an effort not to externalize it. I think that her mother would be aware of that, potentially adding to her sense of guilt and apprehension at trying to reappear/intrude on Marcille's life. I honestly don't think Marcille has met her stepfather -- or even considers him a stepfather rather than "mama's new husband" and kind of a total stranger. I think she and her mother actively don't talk about it in their correspondence, like an elephant in the room.

but, ultimately, I think her mother is on her side no matter what. Ancient magic? Dark necromancy? Sure, she'll feel guilty and like she was partially responsible for setting Marcille down such a painful path, but she wouldn't care. that's her daughter!! she would've moved back west and been petitioning for her at the court, buying a house right next to the Canaries barracks and visiting her every day that she wasn't on a mission. And if her husband had opinions on Marcille becoming a "dark arts user," he either gets over it or it's divorce with him. Yes, she might have had her optimism completely humbled by losing Donato like that -- but she's still headstrong and self-assured and she doesn't care what people think of her. It's her way or the highway and she's always going to be in Marcille's corner.

(She also needs a name lol. I went with Juno, just to be cute about "Marcille"s closest real life equivalent being Marcella, which is the female version of Marcellus, which in turn is a diminutive of Marcus, which was derived from Mars. Absolutely in love with Marcille potentially being named after Ares/Mars the fucking god of war btw)

[mystvcs]

the day has taken so many turns, hansa has whiplash. from her panic attack, to their kissing, to this. it was all a lot. hansa just wanted to go back. back to earlier in the day. or back before she asked for this favor. or even back before she sat on that shore. she mentally scolds herself, cruel 'i told you so's' being throw at herself.

but it's really hard to be upset when he does talk about leo's mom. hansa aches for linus. she'd hopefully never know what that was like. she couldn't imagine life without him now. hearing him voice that pain only made the gorgon want to hold him. but she stayed as still as stone, feeling tears well up. ❝ you can cry whenever you need to, ❞ she says softly, letting her head dip to hide the droplets. it's a failed attempt, leaving her cheeks stained. ❝ you can talk about her and you can cry. you should. ❞ again, she wishes to remind him she's not going anywhere, but the words get stuck in her throat, held back by her racing thoughts.

finally she moves when he does, stiffening a bit when he moves closer. she thinks of flo, when the python knows she's being watched and is already one step ahead. but flo is not so easily subdued. linus' hands touch hansa's face and she immediately feels herself begin to relax. even if his tone does little to settle her.

both hands raise to remove his from her face, but they end up staying there, held onto his wrists while his thumb grazes her skin and he tells her the truth. even if it wasn't perfect, trust was important. he was honest and that was something. it was everything. but there is still a knot in the pit of her stomach, that part that said 'leave'.

hansa wished she could relate to him but he had the opposite effect on her. she struggled for breathe in his presence, quite literally taking her breath away. still. and she hated it. ❝ i'm glad i make you feel that way. ❞ and it was nice to hear. of course she could see how different he was over time but an admission? hansa would smile if she had it in her. ❝ you know you deserve to feel good and happy, right? ❞ linus was holding onto a lot. hansa knew what guilt looked and felt like. it kept her up at night as well. but maybe she could lighten his, the way his he illuminated all the dark aspects of her life.

she could feel the warmth from his breath when he steps in close, shut eyes when his lips touch her skin. how long has it even been since she's taken a breath? she's not sure. but despite him saying he doesn't want to make her cry, more tears spill after they had been wiped away. her lips part to speak, once more getting choked up. but, he's been honest. he's said more than she expected and deserved the same in return. ❝ i'm scared, ❞ she finds her voice, just barely a whisper with fallen eyes. because she knew how she felt, too, when she was with him. she felt it in her bones. her eyes find his again as she takes a breath to regain some strength, inhaling him in with her, making everything fuzzy. ❝ but i want to try too, ❞ she confesses, hand moving from his shoulder to his face, gaze focused on the warm eyes before her. ❝ i do. ❞ because you don't know the hold you have on me. ❝ because i never feel this way. ❞ like they could make each other happy. and she didn't want to let it go.

her nose moves against his, tempting herself to ignore her fears so she could taste him again. it wouldn't take much but a tilt of her head to have their lips meet. but instead, she wills her head to move back a little, to better take him into view, hand moving from his shoulder to his face. a light stroke of his cheek with her thumb.

hansa wants to look away, almost certain he'll be able to see right through her. that even now, in all of her fear and anxiety, she wants him. that he'll be able to see all the many ways he can cause her heart to race, breathing to slow, mind and body to yearn. that he'll know, like she does, that she never even stood a chance. her hand on his cheek starts to guide his face towards her, just barely closing the space between them when their lips almost touch. but she holds back again. ❝ please don't walk away from me, ❞ her whisper echoes her earlier words. except, her meaning goes deeper than just physically — mentally, emotionally. after a moment, teary eyes drop to his lips, leaning in to press hers against them. a bit rougher than intended, her actions influenced by the desperation she feels of never wanting to let them go. it's pathetic and she'll hate herself for it later. but much later, when the taste of cigarette no longer lingers on her tongue, put there by him when her lips part. it's a nudge to make her move, her free hand coming up to gently graze through his hair, a needy grasp when reaching the back of his head. ❝ please, ❞ another whispered plea murmured against his lips. she gives him one more quick kiss before her head pulls back to look at him.

               If anything, Jinwoo deserved a good beating.   Hansa was being far too kind to him… and he wasn’t going to take it for granted. Talking about Inji had never been easy since her death. The werewolf could count on the fingers of his hands the amount of times he spoke to Leo about his mother, and it was probably because the wolf cub deserved to know how much of a great woman his mother was. He remembered the first time Leo asked about her–he also remembered how he couldn’t stop crying for the next couple of days.

Letting out a sigh, he ran his fingers through his hair. Here she was, open to listen to him, ready to welcome him and his baggage and Linus was running away like a coward. Like he’d always been.

“It’s–hard.” He said, looking down at his feet, before forcing his gaze to find hers again. “Talking about her.” Hansa needed to know that none of this was on her. None of this had ever been her fault. He was the one who couldn’t even grieve properly and who was dragging this goodbye for the last four years, but Inji had been everything he’d ever known once. Everything he’s ever loved. How do you say goodbye to that? “It’s–been four years. Four years and I still can’t talk about her without feeling like my chest is going to get crushed with pain.” Surely, this wasn’t how Hansa had planned to spend her Lunar Year, but it wasn’t how Jinwoo had planned to spend his either. “I’m scared that if I start talking about her, then I’ll start crying and then I’ll never stop.” He confessed, trying to find sense in his own, confusing thoughts. It was uncomfortable thinking about the fact that his love died because of him. 

Jinwoo could sense the hesitation, the fear hovering in the air and for the first time, he understood that during all of those months he’d been picking up on fear emanating from the gorgon, it might not have been directed at him. Clearing his throat, Jinwoo took a step closer to her. Things had been so good just moments ago, why did he have to let his past come forth and ruin everything? “Hansa, listen…” Another step closer and the older werewolf reached up to touch her face again—not without a split second of hesitation, as if asking for permission to touch her again before doing so. “I… I’m sorry.” He ducked his head while cupping her face with both hands, his gaze searching for any sign in her eyes that she would ever forgive him.

Apologies, Linus had learned, were good for nothing. Once you broke someone’s trust, you could still apologize, but things would never be the same. Hopefully, he would make a bigger effort to ensure he didn’t keep screwing things up around Hansa. “Honestly, I–I don’t know.” He started, choosing to be honest with her. Whether it was something she wanted to hear or not, at least he knew he was being honest. “Some days are easier than others." Pause. Honesty fucking hurt, man. "Some days, it’s hard to leave the bed without feeling like my chest is being crushed.” Because of how much he missed Inji. “So, I don’t know if I’m ready." And then, he was reminded of how he felt when he saw her smiling about the apron. Or when Leo would laugh in her presence. He remembered how her nose would wrinkle at his commands in the kitchen. "But–when I’m with you, it’s different.” He continued, fingers brushing against her cheeks, tracing gentle lines on her face, before his thumb brushed along her bottom lip. “When I’m with you it’s… easier to breathe.” Pause. His gaze lowered to her lips, too. “It has been for a while.”

Jinwoo moved closer, now fully stepping into her personal space. One of his hands remained caressing her bottom lip, while the other gently brushed the remains of tears away from her face. “I don’t want to make you cry, Hansa.” His voice was as soft as a whisper and he leaned in to press a gentle kiss between her eyes. “But I can’t answer your question.” Pulling away for a bit, he continued looking into her eyes. “I don’t know if it’s too soon for me.” Linus then, took one of her hand, moving it to rest on his shoulder. “But I do know how I feel when I’m with you." Again, he leaned in, resting his forehead against hers. "I can’t tell you some days won’t be hard for me. I can’t tell you it’ll be easy to talk about her… but… I want to try. With you.” The tips of his nose brushed against hers, lips dangerously close to hers once more without touching.