#draper: chats

[rowdyluv]

say hi to apparently a new umich picture

[spockvarietyhour]

Star Trek/Mad Men Crossover where Sterling Cooper Draper Pryce is in the same building as Gary Seven's office.

[pinkcaraz]

ok short summary of things taylor talked about during his just chatting portion of the stream (11/27/24). i definitely missed some stuff bc his stream was super quiet and i was doing other stuff but yea i summarized most of the points. also i left out a few parts about details on league since i didn't rly think anyone would care that much about it LOL.

taylor got home 5 days ago, had training today, will probs start hitting tmr, said he should have maybe taken more days off

he saw the novandy news, said it'll be super nice to have andy back and that he was def not expecting it

he hasn't finished arcane yet, he's waiting for morgan to watch it together

he bought a custom (?) cloud pendant (i think from an anime i'm not sure) for a chain

talking about watching faker at worlds and how insane it is bc he could see his screen and see that he was tabbing around watching all the different perspectives

wants caedrel to coach him LOL told chat to spam him to coach him in league

scuffed stream 😭 he's fumbling w his mic and facecam

he said hes former top 100 NA fifa player, said team italy should have invited them so he could smoke them at fifa LMAO

got asked why does he take off left shoe during breaks? theres a spot that hurts when he slides around so taking his shoe off to let it chill helps relieve the pain

jealous of jannik and iga for being able to slide into backhands (he was more specific about the type of shot but i missed it)

bragging about his win rate in league (again)

talking about frances' serve time violations in shanghai thought the first 2 calls of time violation were bs, but def thought the one where he faked the ball toss was valid

said he'd answer controversial tennis questions LOL

got asked why sour cream and guac? bc he doesn't like spicy that much

london airbnb incident - they booked the airbnb the day before they got there, he thought the people trying to rob the airbnb probs thought they weren't there, morgan noticed sketchy people walking up to the door in the middle of the night, he tried to bolt the door but there wasn't a bolt so he held it shut w his body, he had his racket w him and said he would have hit the intruders w a slice forehand if they got in LMAO

thoughts on racket smashing - thinks it's entertaining, ok if not putting others in danger/at risk, thinks it's entertaining for people/fans to see, somewhat humanizing effect on the player, not healthy to keep anger in, don't do it on grass tho bc it ruins the court

talking about his match v daniil - thought that one game was funny but didn't think he was intentionally throwing the match

tommy and frances playing mind games by overcomplimenting their opponent (thinking about the laver cup fed '05 moment)

hits ohbhs in practice sometimes bc he thinks his "one-y" is unbelievable, rule is he's allowed to hit it until he hits a bad one then goes back to normal

any profits he gets from the stream will go to charity ! he's interested in donating to things that help kids

players don't pay for hotels while they're in tournaments but pay for everything else

thinks michael (his coach) should def win best coach, sportsmanship award will probs go to carlos or casper

thinks most improved award should consider older players more like draper, popyrin, musetti, himself, also jasmine paolini, etc. bc it's more impressive when older players improve compared to younger guys who have more time - for ex, gmp improved a lot this yr in ranking bc he was alrdy good and finally got time to actually play to raise his ranking

preference on armstrong vs ashe - more of a preference about which times to play, armstrong has better times for him

can go through like 5 pairs of shoes during a hard court major bc of all the sliding around

said he heard a lot of positive feedback about the wta finals from the players - players were taken care of well, knows that the previous wta finals tournaments have been rough

was gonna go to usc for college if he went to college, he verbally committed to usc, but didn't really plan on going to college

taylor bought and had flowers sent to morgan in LA

said watching worlds was super sick and he thought the opening ceremony was amazing, gumayushi's pose went hard

he doesn't save vods bc he doesn't want people to clip stuff and pull stuff he said, said he feels it allows him to be more authentic on stream

slkjhfajkf he talked about the liking a homophobic tweet on accident and said he freaked out bc he was having a chill no phone day and when he went to check socmed he was like "omg i'm canceled" IM DEAD

favorite league character to play rn is viego, he wins a lot of games on him

thinks the tennis calendar should def be shorter

[batfambrainrotbeloved]

Hey, just wondering if you could give us some insight into how the sleepy kitten cafe staff met Alan/got close to him/what they think of him. Also curious to see what all the bats think about cardinal. Did they ever meet in costume?

P.S: Keep up the good work!!

Of course!! I touched a little bit in "Jerry the Raccoon" but that was mostly Tim & Zeek (and it was not my best chapter- but I refuse to edit it for my own sanity)

Also so far? No. Cardinal manages to maintain a distance 24/7 with bats (almost as if hes tracking them during patrol- wild right??) But overall

Bruce is tearing his hair out, but admits they are useful and more effort than they're worth.

Babs adores them, and is on a mission to find them out and take them under her wing

Dick finds Bruce plight funny- but is kinda unnerved how similar Cardinal is to a talon in some ways. (also just creepy in general)

Jason "Game recognizes game" but wishes Cardinal would stop running so he could ask him more questions

Cass never gets close. But not bothered by them.

Steph thinks Cardinal is badass but keeps her distance, doesnt trust the vibes

Damien acts like he doesn't care about Cardinal (He so does, hes obsessed- lowkey fanboy behavior)

Alfred thinks its nice Bruce has someone else willing to deal with Gotham, who ISN'T under his nagging control. Theres some respect there.

NOW Sleepy Kitten fam backstory (as of rn, subject to change as lore provides)

Well Alan Draper (Originally Alvin) was a normal civillian persona Tim had- but in order to MAKE a persona, people need to know you. Otherwise it takes a quick asking around to realize you aren't who you say you are.

So when Tim was Fifteen or so Alan "moved to Gotham" from Chicago and started taking classes at Gotham University. He started showing up at the cafe out of pure convinence before Obi and Gwen worked there (officially)

Obi's dad had a run in with a rouge, got injured, and couldn't work both shifts. So they turned to part time student and began running the store. They'd gotten used to Alan hanging around and they talked on ocassion but mostly enjoyed silence when the other was working. Slowly but surely Tim grew to love being Alan- one of the few times he could be stress free anymore and yet not be so alone. And Obi dealing with the stress of taking over family buisness had one customer whose ever presence was comforting.

A few months pass and they consider each other pretty close friends to the point Alan had a spare key to the cafe in case of emergencies. Soon after some of the other staff quit and Obi opened applications- Gwen showed up, nervous as hell having never worked a day in her life and already applying to like ten other positions.

But Obi was desperate and soon enough Gwen was at the cafe just about every hour of the day and night. It got to the point where she would hang out even after her shift.

Then by pure forced proximity, Alan grew to love her company just as much as Obi- though in a way that forced him out of his shell just a bit.

It was clockwork of Alan, Gwen, and Obi all at the Sleepy Kitten on random day hours chatting away while working.

Events of the chapter transpire, with Alan showing up with this guy who 100% belongs in a gang, but Obi takes "minding their own buisness" HARD and trusts both Alan and Gwens opinions (Gwen who just saw sad guy and forced to help)

Now Obi has basically permenantly taken over the cafe, but still takes some art school classes on the side with some of the profits that don't go back into the cafe.

Gwen and Zeek have an apartment together in the far narrows since Gwen was desperate to move out, and Zeek was company and free security, who also needed a place. Apartment is just a block or so from the cafe too

Alan lives outside downtown but commutes often, works odd hours but whenever he is free, will set up in the cafe and enjoy the peace for a bit with his friends.

Long story short- they were coworker friends, except Alan refused to take a job literally ever.

[lifeofpriya]

A Courtside Crush - Jack Draper

[gif credit goes to @pyotrkochetkov]

summary: your secret crush on jack takes a surprising turn when your feelings are reciprocated with equal intensity...

You've been at the National Tennis Centre for six months now as a resident intern, eager to learn the ins and outs of the sport that has captured the hearts of millions. Your days are filled with the thrumming excitement of aspiring athletes pushing their limits, and you find yourself in the throes of a crush that you can't quite shake.

Jack strides into the room, and you feel your cheeks heat up as you always do when he's near. His intoxicating hazel eyes sweep over you, lingering for a moment longer than usual. You've noticed him noticing you, and it sends your heart racing every time. He's not just another player; he's the star of the show, with a backhand that could make even the stoic weep with envy.

You're in the middle of explaining a new diagnostic tool to a fellow intern, your words tripping over themselves as Jack approaches. He leans against the netting, casually sipping from his water bottle, the logo of an exotic sports drink brand you've never heard of. His forearms bulge with the kind of power that only comes from countless hours on the court. You struggle to keep your voice steady, but it's like trying to balance a tray of fine china on a tightrope in a tornado.

"Jack, I've got your pre-training prep sorted," you say, trying to sound professional, but your voice is a squeaky mess. You hand him the clipboard, your hand trembling. He takes it, smiling that million-dollar smile, his eyes sparkling with a hint of something more.

"Thanks," he says, his voice like a perfectly timed serve, deep and resonant. He reads over the notes you've meticulously compiled, his eyes scanning the page. You can't help but steal glances at him, his profile sharp against the fluorescent lights of the training room. You're acutely aware of every little detail: the way his hair flops over his forehead and in front of his eyes, the beads of sweat that cling to his neck, the tattoo peeking out from his left bicep—a simple and minimalistic lightning bolt.

Jack looks up, catching your gaze. "Is there anything else I should know?" His smile is gentle, and you realize that you've been holding your breath.

You swallow hard, trying to regain some semblance of composure. "No, that's everything for now," you reply, trying to ignore the way your voice wavers.

Jack's eyes stay on you, a curious expression playing on his face. "You know, you always seem to blush when you give me these," he says, tilting his head slightly. "Is it something I'm doing wrong?"

You shake your head, feeling the heat in your cheeks intensify. "No, no," you stutter, "It's just… the lighting, you know." It's a terrible lie, but you're a terrible liar, and Jack seems to know it. His smile widens, and he nods.

"Ah, the lights," he says, his voice filled with amusement. "They can be tricky." He winks at you, and you can't tell if he's teasing or if he genuinely believes you. Inside, you're a whirlwind of butterflies, each one flapping its wings in a frenetic dance of excitement and embarrassment.

Days turn into weeks, and Jack starts seeking you out more often. He'd pop into the physio room for a quick chat or ask for a bottle of water that he could have easily grabbed himself. Each time, you feel your heart stutter in your chest. He's not just noticing you; he's actively engaging with you.

One afternoon, after a particularly grueling training session, Jack approaches you with a towel draped around his neck, his hair a damp mess that somehow makes him even more attractive. "Hey," he says, his breath still heavy from exertion, "Could you…uh, check my shoulder?" He winces, rubbing the sore muscle.

You nod, trying to keep your cool as you follow him into a quieter corner of the training room. He swiftly undressed his sweat-soaked shirt, revealing an athletic torso that made the air around you feel thick with anticipation. You focus on his shoulder, the tension coiled tight like the strings of a racquet. As you start to probe the muscles, his skin is warm to the touch, and you feel the strength beneath your fingertips.

"It's okay," he says, noticing your gentle touch. "You can be a bit firmer. I've had worse."

You nod, trying to keep your thoughts from straying. You press into the taut muscles of his shoulder, feeling the knots loosen beneath your fingers. His skin is smooth, the scent of sweat and the faint tang of his cologne lingering. You take a deep breath, focusing on the task at hand.

"Does this feel okay?" you ask, trying to sound professional despite the racing of your heart.

Jack nods, his eyes closing as you work. "Yeah, that's the spot." His voice is a soft rumble, and you can feel the vibration in your own chest. You continue to massage his shoulder, feeling the muscles relax under your touch.

You've seen the way other interns look at you when you're with Jack, the glances filled with envy and curiosity. But it's not just about being close to him; it's about the connection you feel, the way he makes you feel seen in a sea of faces that often blur together in the bustling center.

One evening, as the sun dips below the horizon, casting a warm glow over the tennis courts, Jack finds you in the empty player's lounge. You're reviewing notes for an upcoming seminar on injury prevention, your nose buried in the pages. You don't hear him enter, but you feel the shift in the air, the subtle way it seems to charge with his presence.

"Hey," he says, his voice a gentle intrusion into the silence. You look up, startled, your cheeks immediately flaming. He smirks, that knowing smile playing on his lips. "Still blushing?"

You duck your head, pretending to focus on your notes. "It's nothing, just… the heat in here."

Jack chuckles, a sound that resonates through your entire body. He takes a seat next to you, his legs stretched out in front of him, his sneakers squeaking against the polished floor. You can't help but steal glances at his profile, the way the light kisses his high cheekbones and the sharp line of his jaw.

"You're working late," he comments, nodding towards your notes. "What's got you so absorbed?"

You look up, surprised by his genuine interest. "Just preparing for a seminar," you reply, your voice a whisper of its usual self. "It's on injury prevention in elite athletes."

Jack nods thoughtfully. "That's pretty important stuff," he says, his eyes meeting yours. There's something in his gaze that wasn't there before—a warmth, an understanding that sends a shiver down your spine. "You're really dedicated, you know that?"

You shrug, trying to play it cool. "It's just part of the job," you murmur, your eyes darting back to the pages in front of you. But you can feel him watching you, and it's like your heart is a tennis ball bouncing back and forth in your chest, eager to be served into the right court.

Jack leans in slightly, his gaze intense. "I noticed how much you care about the players, how you pay attention to the smallest details. It's pretty impressive." His words hang in the air, and you can't help but feel a flutter in your stomach. Is he flirting with you? Or is it just your imagination, running wild with hope?

You manage a small smile, trying to keep your cool. "Thank you," you say, your voice barely above a whisper. "It's what we're here for, right?"

Jack nods, his gaze still locked on you. "But not everyone does it with the passion you have. It's like you're a silent guardian angel for all of us."

You laugh, a nervous chuckle that betrays the tumult of emotions inside. "Guardian angel?" You repeat, looking up from your notes. "I'm just trying to do my job."

Jack's smile softens, his eyes never leaving yours. "Well, you do it better than anyone else here." He leans back in his chair, his fingers playing with the strings of his racket. "What do you do when you're not, you know, saving us from our own bodies?"

You take a deep breath, trying to ignore the way your heart is thumping like a drum in your chest. "I… I like to read, mostly," you admit. "Or bake, sometimes. It helps me unwind."

Jack's eyes light up. "Really?" He leans in closer, his interest piqued. "What's your favorite thing to bake?"

You blush even deeper. "I'm not sure if I have a favorite, but I enjoy making a variety of things." You hesitate for a moment before adding, "I made some scones last weekend, actually. They were… decent."

Jack's eyes widen. "Scones?" He repeats, his voice filled with surprise. "You know, I've never had a decent scone before. Most places just get them wrong."

You look at him, your eyes meeting his with a hint of skepticism. "You don't say?"

Jack nods, his eyes gleaming with something that seems almost like excitement. "Yeah, I've had some pretty disappointing ones. Too dry, not enough jam, you know the deal." He pauses, his gaze lingering on your face. "Would you… I don't know, maybe make some for me one of these days?"

You blink, surprised by the request. "For you?" You repeat, your voice a squeak.

Jack nods, his grin widening. "Yeah, for me. If you don't mind, of course."

You can't believe what you're hearing. Is Jack Draper, the tennis phenomenon you've been crushing on for weeks, really asking you to bake him scones? "I'd be happy to," you reply, trying to keep your voice steady. "But I'll need to make sure they're up to your… discerning taste."

Jack laughs, a sound that fills the room and warms you from the inside out. "I'll be the judge of that." He winks, and you feel a flutter in your stomach that's more intense than any you've felt before.

The days that follow are a blur of anticipation. Each time you see Jack, your heart skips a beat. His glances seem more lingering, his smiles more genuine. The other interns whisper about the two of you, speculating about what's going on. You pretend not to hear them, focusing on your work, but every interaction with Jack feels like a secret shared between the two of you.

On the day you've agreed to bring him scones, you wake up early, the recipe for the perfect scone echoing in your mind like a mantra. You meticulously measure out the ingredients, kneading the dough with a gentle touch, hoping that with each fold, you're also weaving a little bit of yourself into them. The scent of baking fills your small apartment, a sweet promise of a good day ahead.

You arrive at the training center with a Tupperware container filled with your culinary creation, your heart racing. The other interns eye you curiously as you make your way to Jack's locker. He's just coming out, freshly showered and dressed in his pristine training gear. He sees you and his eyes light up, the same way they do when he nails an ace.

"Scones," he says, his voice a mix of excitement and surprise. "You really did it."

You hand him the Tupperware, your hands shaking slightly. "I hope they're up to your standards," you say, trying to sound casual despite the racing of your heart.

Jack takes the container, his eyes never leaving yours. "I'm sure they'll be perfect," he says, a hint of warmth in his voice that makes you feel like you've just scored a winning point.

You watch as he opens the Tupperware, the anticipation in the air thick enough to slice through with a knife. He takes a deep breath, his eyes closing for a brief moment as he inhales the scent of freshly baked scones. When he opens them again, they're sparkling with excitement.

"They smell amazing," Jack says, his voice filled with genuine appreciation. He takes one out, breaking it in half. You can almost hear the soft crackle of the crust as he does so. He takes a bite, his eyes never leaving yours.

You hold your breath, waiting for his verdict. The seconds stretch out like a long, tense rally, each one fraught with the potential for victory or defeat. Then, Jack's face relaxes into a smile, his eyes lighting up. "These are… these are incredible," he says, his mouth full of scone. "The best I've ever had."

The words hit you like a perfectly placed drop shot, sending waves of happiness through your body. "Really?" you ask, unable to contain the excitement bubbling up inside you.

Jack nods, taking another bite. "Mm-hmm," he mumbles around the mouthful of scone. "These are the real deal."

You can't help but feel a swell of pride. "I'm so glad you like them," you say, smiling shyly.

Jack takes another bite, his eyes closing in pleasure. "These are seriously amazing," he murmurs. "You've got a real talent."

You blush harder, the compliment feeling like a warm embrace. "Thank you," you say, your voice barely above a whisper. "It's just something I enjoy doing."

Jack takes another bite, nodding in agreement. "It shows," he says, his mouth full of scone again. "You put a lot of love into these."

You feel your cheeks heat up even more at his words. "I just wanted to make sure they were good," you reply, your voice barely above a murmur.

Jack swallows, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that steals the breath from your lungs. "They're not just good," he says, his voice dropping to a murmur that matches yours. "They're perfect. Like you."

Your heart skips a beat, and you feel your cheeks burn even hotter. "Jack," you whisper, not quite sure how to respond.

He takes another bite, his eyes never leaving yours. "What?" He asks, his voice a low rumble.

You feel the weight of his gaze, the way it seems to strip you bare of all your defenses. "I… I just didn't expect you to say that," you reply, your voice trembling slightly.

Jack shrugs, his eyes still on you. "Why not?" He asks, popping the last piece of scone into his mouth. "It's the truth."

You can't help but feel a warmth spread through your chest at his words. You've never had someone look at you the way he does, as if you're the only person in the room.

"Jack," you start to say, but your voice catches in your throat. You're not sure what to say next. You've had crushes before, but none of them have ever looked at you like this.

Jack finishes his scone, licking the crumbs off his fingers. He looks at you, his eyes filled with something that's definitely more than just friendship. "You know," he says, his voice a soft caress, "I've been thinking a lot about you lately."

Your heart does a backflip. "Oh?" you reply, trying to sound nonchalant, but you're pretty sure you've failed.

Jack nods, his eyes still on yours. "Yeah," he says, his voice a soft rumble. "I can't get you out of my head."

You're frozen, unable to form words as he takes a step closer. The scent of his cologne, mixed with the faint aroma of sweat and the lingering sweetness of your scones, fills your senses. You're acutely aware of every little detail about him: the way his hair sticks to his forehead, the way his eyes seem to sparkle in the harsh gym lighting, the gentle curve of his smile as he looks at you.

"You know," Jack says, his voice a soft whisper, "I've been feeling the same way."

Your heart skips a beat, and you find yourself unable to look away from him. The air between you feels charged, like the moments before a storm. You've never been so aware of your own breathing, the sound of your heart in your ears, the way the fabric of your shirt clings to your skin.

Jack takes another step closer, his hand reaching out to gently brush a strand of hair from your face. His touch sends a jolt of electricity through your body, and you realize that you've stopped breathing. He looks into your eyes, searching for something, and you realize with a start that you've fallen for him, hard.

"Jack," you whisper, your voice barely audible over the sound of your racing heart. "I think I might… I mean, I think…"

He leans in closer, his hand cupping your cheek, his thumb gently stroking the line of your jaw. "Might what?" He asks, his voice a gentle coax.

You swallow hard, trying to find the words. "Might… like you," you finally manage, your heart feeling like it's about to burst out of your chest.

Jack's smile widens, a hint of surprise and joy flickering in his eyes. "You do?" He asks, his voice a mix of excitement and disbelief.

You nod, feeling your face flush even more. "I do," you murmur, your heart racing like you're in the middle of a match.

Jack's smile turns into a grin. "Well, that's good," he says, his voice a soft rumble. "Because I like you too."

The confession hits you like a perfectly timed serve, and you can feel your knees threaten to buckle. "You do?" You ask, your voice a squeak.

Jack chuckles, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Yeah, I do," he confirms, his thumb still tracing the line of your jaw. The warmth of his hand sends a shiver down your spine, and you lean into his touch, unable to resist.

The training room fades into the background as Jack leans in, closing the distance between you. You can feel his breath on your face, and your heart is racing like it's the final set of a grand slam. He looks into your eyes, searching for something, and you realize you've been holding your breath.

"Jack," you murmur, your voice barely a whisper, "I-"

But before you can say another word, Jack's mouth is on yours, and the world around you dissolves into a whirlwind of sensation. His lips are soft, yet firm, and they move against yours with a gentle urgency that steals the remaining breath from your lungs. You're not sure how long you stand there, lost in the kiss, but it feels like an eternity—like every moment of your life has been leading up to this.

When he finally pulls back, his eyes are filled with a vulnerability you haven't seen before. "I've wanted to do that for so long," he murmurs, his thumb still caressing your cheek.

You can't help but smile, feeling like you're floating on a cloud of happiness. "Me too," you admit, your voice barely above a whisper.

Jack's eyes light up, and he leans in for another kiss, his hand slipping around your waist. You melt into his embrace, feeling the warmth of his body against yours. The sound of sneakers squeaking on the gym floor and the distant echo of a tennis ball bouncing off the court fade away, leaving only the sound of your hearts beating in sync.

You've read about moments like this in romance novels, but you never thought it would happen to you, especially not with someone as incredible as Jack Draper. You're just a simple intern, not the hero of some grand love story. But here you are, lost in the embrace of a man who's captured not just your heart but the hearts of millions with his fierce determination and undeniable charm.

Jack pulls away from the kiss, his eyes searching yours with a mix of hope and excitement. "So, does this mean we can… you know, see where this goes?" His voice is tentative, as if he's afraid you might say no, even though your entire body is screaming yes.

You nod, smiling so wide it feels like your cheeks might split. "Yes," you reply, your voice barely more than a breath. "I'd like that."

Jack's grin turns into a full-fledged smile, his eyes sparkling like the trophies lined up in the center's display case. "Great," he says, squeezing your waist gently. "Because I've got a feeling this could be something special."

[grimvestige]

Draper pulled Keane into the astral plane to chat / catch up a bit in the recent book club session because she's been missing her family a lot and he decided to scoop her up into a hug <3

[warningsine]

If it was ever possible to maintain the illusion that good work will attract an audience simply by virtue of its quality, it isn’t now. In 2017, there’s simply too much out there to guarantee that the best series will attract the biggest audiences. It’s a miracle, then, that Halt and Catch Fire, a show originally meant to fill the hole left by Mad Men, has managed to make it to the end of its fourth and final season, which concluded this weekend in the US.

A tech drama that takes place entirely between the first iteration of Microsoft Word in 1983 and Windows 95, Halt and Catch Fire kept its focus squarely on the haze of an emerging field, without any of the fist-pumping moments that might have come from a show focusing on the rise of Google or Facebook. The characters never achieved lasting success or transformation, perpetually stymied by the major players in a nascent and clunking industry. Instead, they faced an endless, thankless series of intractable workplace decisions about integrity, product quality and business logistics.

These seemingly pedestrian moments dominate the show’s central relationship between Donna Clark (Kerry Bishé) and Cameron Howe (Mackenzie Davis), two women who attempt to found a tech company and spend the next few years discovering what they’re willing to sacrifice in the effort. Eventually, it’s impossible for people this committed to their work to separate their personal values and their professional ones, and while that conflict might sound cliche, in the hands of Halt and Catch Fire’s cast, it’s enthralling.

Over the course of the series, the characters’ business interests range from building personal computers at Dell competitor Cardiff Electric to videogames, web-based chat, and e-commerce at Cameron and Donna’s startup Mutiny to antivirus software at MacMillan Utility to, finally, early search engines at Comet and Rover. (All of these companies are fictional and, with the exception of Cardiff, are founded by the characters themselves.) Halt and Catch Fire’s cast is full of classic Silicon Valley résumé – they’re perpetually successful enough to keep working, and to live more or less comfortably while pursuing other ventures, but they never quite strike it big, whether that’s because of conflicts between the partners, technological limitation, or, most often, the presence of an enormous corporation capable of choking the market.

Every major character on the series contains multitudes. Donna is a hard-assed businesswoman, but she’s also a practically minded, savvy person who wants to do her best to create a thriving company with an innovative product. Cameron’s myopia is frustrating, but it’s part of why she’s such a successful coder. Steve Jobs-style visionary Joe MacMillan (Lee Pace) is also, to varying degrees, a charlatan, and tinkering softie Gordon Clark (Scoot McNairy) becomes irritable when he has to leave his comfort zone.

Those relationships contained a staggering number of stories. In just the fourth season alone, Halt and Catch Fire handled a teen coming-out story, the fallout from a divorce, a marriage, several mid-life crises, and a sudden, heart-rending death. But none of these stories are the defining features of the characters; they’re simply facets of their lives. Where another drama might end with the consummation of a romantic pairing, or the strengthening of a family, Halt and Catch Fire ends with Donna having an idea, and pitching it to Cameron. We don’t hear the idea, but that’s not important – the point is beginning the cycle anew.

In this respect, it’s similar to the Mad Men finale – but where Mad Men is ambivalent, at best, toward the bolt of inspiration that leads Don Draper to create the “I’d like to buy the world a Coke” ad, Halt and Catch Fire maintains a single commitment: ideas are what we have. That’s why the show could never have become a smash hit, why it got renewed by the skin of its teeth, and why it’s highly unlikely it will ever be brought back by an ambitious investor. With so many self-consciously explosive series vying for your attention, Halt and Catch Fire played a different game. It kept itself contained, forcing the audience to match its subdued, mesmerizing rhythm. Eventually, the audience and the characters learned the same lesson: sometimes, it’s worth putting in the work.

[cosmic-ships]

21, 28, and 87,, <:

YUSSSS Thank You Brooke!!! \O/

21 - tbf I have a lot of Arbour in my playlist.. they're so good! (lofiii)

28 - D'AW THIS SONG REMINDS ME OF MY GOOD LOVELY BOYO RAT DJ HUSBAND DEFALT!!! <3333 awwwwwwww

87 - Kaden your drunk karaoke song has entered the chat..... lmao Its one of my go to's when I'm tipsy. Plus, I just love Gaga's music haha

[dianashnaiders]

kasatkinas -> erralini -> dianashnaiders

★ ABOUT ME!! ★

★ hi!!! i’m ciara! | she/they | nineteen | absolute bi mess | tennisblr’s official jasmine paolini archivist | i believe in erralini supremacy!! | pfp by me ★

★ this is a sideblog!!!!! my main blog which i follow / like / ask from is @mone-chiba , but i am most active on @jack-doohan !! ★

★ primarily a tennis blog with some of my other interests sprinkled in ★

★ FAVORITE PLAYERS ★

WTA ★

daria kasatkina | elena rybakina | karolina muchova | mirra andreeva | diana shnaider | jasmine paolini | sara errani | barbora krejcikova | marie bouzkova | nadia podoroska | bianca andreescu | olga danilovic | leylah fernandez | zheng qinwen | coco gauff | aryna sabalenka | iga swiatek | ons jabeur | naomi osaka | katerina siniakova | taylor townsend | sara sorribes tormo | jessica pegula ++ more

doubles: errani/paolini (erralini) | bouzkova/sorribes tormo (sorrikova)

retirees: barty | s. williams | sharapova ++ more

ATP ★

holger rune | ben shelton | jannik sinner | denis shapovalov | felix auger-aliassime | taylor fritz | casper ruud | grigor dimitrov | flavio cobolli | hubert hurkacz | jack draper | carlos alcaraz | frances tiafoe | daniil medvedev | alex de minaur | arthur fils | matteo berrettini | ++ more

retirees: federer | nadal | thiem | yeah you get it

i like more atp players ofc it’s just i follow the wta way more okay 😭

★ ftr i’m usually good with most of the players on both circuits but im pretty anti zverev in atp and im not a massive fan of navarro or badosa in wta (but if i ever anti blog about them i will tag it as anti *player name here*) !! ★

★ TAGS I USE ★

gifs | graphics | pics | txt | asks | edits

the jasmine paolini archives | the diana shnaider archives

★ feel free to chat/become mutuals with me!!! i don’t bite and love making new friends!! ★

★ i AM taking graphic requests! send in a player + a color and i will get to your request asap! ★

★ CARRD: is a WIP LMAO ★

★ that’s all! have a great day!! 💙 ★

[likesmens]

I love men too…. 🤤❤️❤️

and I’m sick of racist Tumblrinas harassing you for existing. Idiots also seem to not understand that Jews and “Palestinians” (quotes because that’s not their name. The Roman empire came up with the name. The Romans were the colonizers, not the NATIVE jews) are both native to the Levant. There’s twelve tribes. It’s not that hard.

YES we both belong there at this point, but the claim that Jews aren't indigenous to the land is insane, and disproven by historical evidence!!! And being harassed sucks lol, thanks for the support. I'm glad I have my asks open so I can get cool messages like this and the last ask I answered, courtesy of the lovely @azuleopal

Also, if you're interested I should be posting some Don Draper smut in the next ~3 weeks...even if you're not into him specifically I think you might still like it (especially if men saying good girl makes you feral ssjsjsjsjshshsjsjsjshs). And anon, if you've never watched Mad Men, I urge you to do so as soon as humanly possible for the sexiness that is Don; it's irrevocably rewired my brain so that now at least three times a day I think about him using me...*ahem*...anyway...between our love for Israel and men we seem to have a lot in common (lolol), so if you ever wanna message me privately we can chat more! You seem super awesome anon 💖

[justforbooks]

The writer-activist Wendy Mitchell, who has died aged 68, won hearts and minds by advocating for living positively with dementia. She was determined to remind people that those living with the disease are not “sufferers” and that there is “a beginning, a middle and an end to the disease – with so much life to be lived in between”. She held strong beliefs that people should have the right to choose their own death, and campaigned for assisted dying laws in Britain – one of the subjects of her final book.

Wendy wrote three bestsellers, Somebody I Used to Know (2018), What I Wish People Knew About Dementia (2022) and One Last Thing: How to Live with the End in Mind (2023) – I was fortunate enough to be her ghostwriter on all of them. They were translated into dozens of languages, and her advocacy work won her honorary doctorates from Bradford and Hull Universities, and a British Empire Medal last year.

When I met Wendy in 2016, she was writing a daily blog, Which Me Am I Today? ,which she had started simply to document her day-to-day life, though it soon had tens of thousands of followers. After her diagnosis of young-onset vascular dementia and Alzheimer’s disease in July 2014, Wendy was shocked at the lack of information and support available to those newly diagnosed.

In Somebody I Used to Know, she wrote about her own depression at the diagnosis, until she realised: “I was still the same person I had been the day before my diagnosis.” She threw herself into academic and medical research, speaking to doctors, nurses and other professionals. What I Wish People Knew About Dementia chronicled how the disease affects different parts of daily life, aside from memory, including taste, smell, hearing, gait and vision.

Her tips, such as draping a scarf over a flat-screen television to avoid it looking like a hole in the wall, or sticking photographs of clothes on wardrobe doors as a reminder of what is inside, made all the difference to those who were newly diagnosed.

Wendy enjoyed finding ways to outwit dementia. As she wrote in her final blog post: “Yes, dementia is a bummer, but oh what a life I’ve had playing games with this adversary of mine to try and stay one step ahead.”

Born in Wakefield, West Yorkshire, to Violet and Ken Draper, Wendy described growing up in their pub in her first memoir. She went to school in Pontefract and was a keen sportswoman, excelling at tennis and running – after her diagnosis, she swapped running for fell-walking in the Lake District. She described the Lakes as her “paradise” and Friars Crag as her favourite place to sit.

Wendy raised her two daughters, Sarah and Gemma, alone after her divorce from their father in the early 1980s (although she continued to use her married name). For many years she earned her living as a cleaner, until she started working in administrative roles within the NHS, gaining promotion to become a non-clinical team leader. Eventually she was forced to retire from her job as a rota manager at Leeds general infirmary, and later campaigned for workplaces to support those newly diagnosed with dementia to continue working: “We don’t lose all our skills overnight just because of our diagnosis,” she said.

In early retirement Wendy discovered other skills, including writing, and enjoyed her “trundles” around the village of Walkington, in the East Riding of Yorkshire, where she lived, capturing local wildlife with her trusted Nikon camera. She revelled in the fact that villagers unaware at first of her diagnosis described her as “the lady with the camera”.

She met many dementia advocates, and was inspired to take up campaigning when she heard Agnes Houston talk at a women and dementia event in York. Wendy became a guiding light to others, a regular contributor at Innovations in Dementia and York Minds and Voices, part of the DEEP UK Network of Dementia Voices.

She gathered her own formidable team of friends living with dementia, who produced video content chatting about the issues they encountered and nicknamed themselves “the Four Amigos”. She advised on the BBC TV series Casualty and the movie Still Alice (2014), and received a mention from the Hollywood actor Julianne Moore in her Bafta acceptance speech.

Wendy raised tens of thousands of pounds for Dementia UK with her annual “wacky challenges”, as she called them, daredevil stunts that included walking across hot coals, skydiving, wingwalking and, last autumn, a swim in Derwentwater after she was forced to abandon her abseil down the Leadenhall building in London (the “Cheesegrater”) due to technical issues (theirs, not hers). She insisted that she was fearless after her diagnosis, having already faced the worst.

Wendy was a force of nature, but dementia made her life harder and harder. She ended her life by voluntarily stopping eating and drinking (VSED), a subject she discussed in One Last Thing. In her last blog post, written in advance, in which she announced her death, she said: “Adapting to this life with dementia is over, but I don’t consider dementia has won, as that would be negative … it’s me calling time on my dementia – checkmate – before it plays its final move.”

She also pleaded for people to campaign for assisted dying laws in her memory.

Reviewing Somebody I Used To Know for the Sunday Times in 2018, Jackie Annesley wrote: “The world could do with more Wendys.” I couldn’t agree more, but there was only one wonderful Wendy, taking people by the hand and showing them how to live a good life with the disease in tow, or indeed how to talk about the end of life so they can instead focus on living.

Wendy is survived by her daughters.

🔔 Wendy Patricia Mitchell, writer and campaigner, born 31 January 1956; died 22 February 2024

Daily inspiration. Discover more photos at Just for Books…?

[mariacallous]

Kristina Collins didn’t know her photo was being used on Telegram. Over the past few months, an Instagram picture of Collins, a Texas-based doctor and dermatologist, has been used by scammers on the chat app to try to persuade people to buy false proof that they have been vaccinated against Covid-19 and other diseases.

“The last thing you want as a physician is for your identity to be used to promote misinformation,” Collins tells WIRED, adding that many doctors use social media specifically to make sure people have access to accurate health information. “When people are able to take that likeness and use it for bad purposes, whether it’s fraud, whether it’s misinformation, I think it’s really scary.”

The Telegram channel impersonating Collins wasn’t alone. Researchers at Logically, a UK-based disinformation detection company, have uncovered a network of around 60 Telegram channels selling Covid-19 vaccination certificates and other proof of vaccination documents, and claiming to sell various medicines. In 25 of the channels, administrators used a “Dr.” prefix in their username, with 13 of the channels using the real-world names and/or photographs of legitimate medical professionals.

The network has been operating since at least June 2022, with more than a thousand accounts on X posting links that push people toward the Telegram channels selling “vaccine passes,” according to Chris Proops and Maisie Draper, Logically researchers who investigated the activity. Overall, they say, the social media operation has reached more than 3 million people with over 62,000 posts, and cryptocurrency accounts linked to the efforts have processed $286,000.

The scam is the latest in a long line of Covid-19 and health-related misinformation and disinformation, which has broadly attempted to capitalize on conspiracy theories and some people’s concerns about vaccinations. It highlights how scammers can abuse social media platforms, particularly those with loose stances on moderation, and potentially erode trust in medical systems.

“They're directing people, anti-vaxxers primarily, on X to then move to Telegram and subscribe to the around 50 Telegram channels that they have,” Draper says. The researchers identified around 20 “campaigns” on the Elon Musk–owned social media platform that were pushing people toward Telegram channels. The first was in June 2022 and the most recent at the start of December.

Draper and Proops say the efforts used repeated messaging, often replying to “verified” accounts on X that are linked to anti-vaccination sentiments, and consistently mentioned conspiracy theories such as the “great reset.”

“A lot of it is playing on anti-vaxxers’ vulnerabilities to being paranoid about things like the next pandemic, or other kinds of vaccines, like the measles vaccine,” Draper says.

The Telegram channels, where administrators impersonate doctors, also follow similar patterns to one another. Many of the channels have names related to Covid-19 vaccinations, and they claim to sell pandemic-related travel passes, allowing people to enter the UK, US, Canada, and other countries. They can sell the passes for around $250 to $500 each, with payments often being requested in bitcoin. Photos of the documents they claim to sell look similar to the official versions of the documents.

However, the vast majority of countries no longer require proof of vaccination to enter them and haven’t done so for long periods of time—for instance, the UK removed travel restrictions in 2022. “Over time, we started seeing a trend change where it wasn't just Covid passes,” Proops says. The Telegram channels have offered tuberculosis test results, meningitis vaccine results, and documentation around hepatitis A and B, tetanus, polio, and more, he says.

The researchers say they believe doctors are being impersonated to give the scammers a veneer of legitimacy. The Logically researchers contacted several doctors who were not aware their identities were being used. One doctor, they say, had not heard of Telegram. Collins says she was not aware of her image being used in this way until she was contacted by Logically and WIRED. She added that her image had also been used on a scam Instagram account.

Since the researchers started monitoring the X accounts and Telegram channels last year, many of the accounts and channels have been removed by the social media companies; however, around half of the Telegram channels are still active. Neither Telegram nor X responded to WIRED’s request for comment on the accounts or whether Telegram was aware of the impersonation of doctors taking place.

A WIRED review of the Telegram channels still active shows regular posts from administrators and other members. Some of the channels have only a few hundred members; others have a few thousand. The administrators of some channels have been inactive for several months. Within the channels is a slurry of well-worn and debunked conspiracy theories.

One still-active channel claims itself as a “coalition of doctors” who can get people “genuinely registered documentation” for those traveling to the US, Canada, UK, Australia, and 15 EU countries. The owner of the channel uses the name of a legitimate US-based plastic surgeon who has around 50,000 followers on social media, and a photograph of another doctor. Draper says that within the communities, people “are sharing photographs of side effects of the vaccine and fearmongering about the future impacts of lockdowns.”

The channels also claim to sell the drug ivermectin, which the US Food and Drug Administration said should not be used to treat or prevent Covid-19 in 2021. One of the channels lists half a dozen different kinds of medicines it claims to be able to provide. One claims it is selling weight loss drug Ozempic, while another tells people to not get a flu shot.

“The landscape of misinformation actors is abundant,” says Aliaksandr Herasimenka, a researcher of political communication at the Oxford Internet Institute who has studied misinformation on Telegram and vaccine and health misinformation. Herasimenka, who was not involved in the Logically research, says he has not seen doctors being impersonated on Telegram regularly, but that those behind misinformation and disinformation can use a variety of tactics. He says misinformation efforts can often be run for political or social goals, while those using it to make money can be often overlooked. “There are so many people who try to make money using misinformation, they would use any opportunity to profit,” Herasimenka says.

There is no evidence indicating that the Telegram channels offer legitimate goods, and it isn’t possible to verify whether anyone purchasing items from them receives anything. Some channels have posts from “customers” who claim to have purchased items from the Telegram groups. One account, which claims it ordered a vaccine certificate and drugs to the US, shared a photo of the back of an envelope claiming they received their order. Other posts use generic photos of drugs or vaccine certificates to claim items were delivered.

The Logically researchers say the likelihood that the false documents have been sent to people is “relatively low,” and their main motivation is likely financial. Proops says that while the documents the groups claim to be selling are not of much use now, the networks could be used in different ways in the future. The continued use of the channels and spreading of anti-vaccination messages could also undermine trust in health systems around the world, Proops says.

Collins, the doctor who had her image stolen, says she is concerned that it will become easier for scammers or people looking to undermine health care professionals to do so as image generation with artificial intelligence becomes more available. “As AI gets even better, they can go beyond just taking your picture off of a website, and actually potentially make a video of you talking,” Collins says. This will make it “really hard for an average person to sort out if this is a fake account or not.”

[thepermanentrainpress]

The Permanent Rain Press Interview with Blake Draper. (Watch in HD)

Blake Draper chats about his role as Graham Lansing in Prom Pact (including his memorable promposal scene, character expectations & working with the creative team), close friendship with co-stars Peyton Elizabeth Lee and Milo Manheim, early love for the arts, and his first time at Disneyland.

[mischiefandspirits]

Olivia Draper had been a good idea at first. She could pass for older than Tim could pull off while masculine and women really could get into places easier if they had a pretty face. With makeup and some stylish-yet-inexpensive clothes, Olivia could pull off most undercover ops. She was Tim’s Matches Malone.

Then Hood had shown up on the scene.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When Jason met Olivia, he hadn’t intended to pull a Bruce and take the scrappy teen informant under his wing. She just kept showing up where he was doing business. He had no other choice than to keep an eye on her. And kit her out with armor so she wouldn’t accidentally get shot. And make sure she was being treated fairly by her mysterious boss.

And, okay, maybe become her big brother.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

AKA I write an enemies-to-caretakers story where neither party knows the other’s identity until they’re already invested.

Chapter 13: Laughs

Little Red, Black Mask, and Joker have a chat.

[lifeofpriya]

Lessons and Kisses - Jack Draper

[gif credit goes to @pyotrkochetkov]

a/n: this was inspired by @pyotrkochetkov and i's chat about what jack would be like when he's teaching his partner tennis 🥺😩

summary: while trying to teach you tennis, Jack's attention is constantly drawn away and struggles to keep his eyes on the ball and his heart on the game...

"Jack, I swear, I can't hit this ball to save my life," you say, laughing as the yellow sphere sails past you once again.

Jack chuckles and strides over to you, his footsteps echoing gently on the pristine clay court. "You're overthinking it, that's all. Just like when you worry about work or what to wear on our dates." He takes the racket from your hand and demonstrates a smooth, practiced swing. The air whispers as the ball zooms towards the opposite end of the court. "It's all about muscle memory and not psyching yourself out."

You watch him, the way his muscles ripple under the sun-kissed skin, the determination etched into his features. "Easy for you to say," you reply, your voice laden with playful sarcasm. "You've been playing since you were a toddler."

Jack smirks, his eyes never leaving yours. "And you've been captivating people since you were born." He gently places the racket back in your hand. "Now, let's try this again. Remember, watch the ball, keep your eyes on it, and swing when it's right in front of you."

You nod, trying to focus on the lesson, but the warmth of his touch lingers. The scent of freshly cut grass and his subtle cologne fills your senses, making it difficult to think about anything else. The sun casts a soft glow on his medium brown hair as he takes his position opposite you. The light breeze whispers through the leaves of the trees surrounding the court, carrying the distant sound of a dog barking.

Jack serves the ball. You take a deep breath, willing yourself to concentrate. The racket feels heavier than before, as if it's a part of you now. You watch the ball intently, tracking its path through the air. Just as Jack instructed, you swing when it's perfectly aligned with your body. For a moment, time seems to slow down, the only sound the rhythmic thwack of the ball connecting with the strings.

The ball sails over the net and lands with a soft thud on the other side, bouncing just within the lines. "Yes!" you exclaim, feeling a surge of excitement. You've hit it correctly.

You see the delight spread across Jack's face, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "That's it," he says, clapping. "You're a natural."

Emboldened, you serve the next ball. It's not perfect, but it's better than your first few attempts. Jack returns it with ease, his movements fluid and precise. The back-and-forth dance of the tennis ball becomes a mesmerizing rhythm, one that you're slowly starting to follow. Each swing feels more natural, and with each hit, your confidence grows.

"Good," he says, his voice filled with genuine encouragement. "Now, let's work on your backhand."

Jack approaches the net, his eyes never leaving yours. He tosses you a new ball, which you catch with surprising ease. The fuzzy sphere feels warm from the sun and slightly damp from the sweat on your palms. You take your stance, feeling the cool shade of the court's edge brush against your skin. He demonstrates the backhand technique, his racket carving a graceful arc through the air.

"Your turn," he says, stepping back and giving you space.

You toss the ball up, the sun glinting off it as it reaches its peak. Your heart races as you try to replicate the motion he's shown you. The ball comes down, and you swing, feeling the sweet spot of the racket connect. The ball sails over the net, and Jack nods approvingly. It's not perfect, but the thrill of improvement sends a jolt through your veins.

"Better," he says, his eyes lighting up with excitement. "Now, let's add a bit of power to it."

Jack stands closer, his presence a comforting warmth as he adjusts your grip. His fingers are firm yet gentle, sending a shiver down your spine. "Keep your wrist firm and pivot your body when you hit it," he coaches, his voice low and reassuring.

You try again, focusing on his instructions. This time, when the ball meets your racket, there's a satisfying crack, and the ball zooms across the court. It's not as precise as Jack's shots, but the power behind it surprises both of you. He raises an eyebrow, a smirk playing on his lips. "Not bad," he says, his eyes gleaming. "But let's work on your footwork."

Jack hits a series of balls toward you, forcing you to move side to side, your sneakers squeaking on the court. His eyes are sharp, watching your every move, analyzing your technique. Each time you hit the ball, his feedback is immediate and precise, pushing you to be better. Despite the heat of the day, you feel invigorated, the challenge of the lesson invigorating your spirit.

As you practice, you become increasingly aware of Jack's gaze. It's not just focused on your form; it's as if he's trying to read your every thought. You stumble slightly on a shot, and he's there, his hand steadying you.

"Woah there, partner," Jack says with a laugh, catching you before you topple over. His hand lingers on your arm, his thumb brushing against your skin. You blush, the heat from the sun and his touch mixing into an intoxicating warmth. "You're getting better, but don't let your enthusiasm trip you up."

He steps back, giving you a playful nudge with his racket. "Now, let's focus on your footwork." He hits a slow, lobbing shot over the net, which you manage to return, albeit awkwardly. "Good," he says, nodding. "But remember, speed and agility are key in tennis. It's like a dance, you know?"

Jack starts to hit the ball closer to the net, making you run forward to meet it. You feel clumsy at first, your feet stumbling over themselves, but gradually you find your rhythm. The soft thump of the ball on the clay and the squeak of your shoes become a symphony of effort and improvement. Each step feels lighter, more coordinated. The scent of the court fills your nostrils, mixing with the faint smell of Jack's deodorant. It's a smell you've come to associate with excitement and challenge.

"Jack! Focus, will you?" You laugh, swiping a strand of hair out of your face as you watch him stare at you with a glazed look.

Jack snaps out of his daze. "What? Oh, right, the lesson." He chuckles, a blush spreading across his cheeks. "Sorry, you're just…distracting."

You roll your eyes, but your heart skips a beat at the compliment. "Keep it professional, Draper," you tease, but the smolder in his gaze tells you he's not entirely joking.

Jack clears his throat, trying to regain his composure. "Alright, let's practice volleys," he says, his voice slightly huskier than before. He moves closer to the net, his eyes locked on yours, challenging you to match his intensity.

You approach the net, feeling the tension in the air thicken. Each step is deliberate, your heart racing as much from the exercise as from the electricity between you. The sun is now high in the sky, casting a warm embrace over the court, the shadows of the surrounding trees stretching lazily. You watch as Jack hits a ball towards you, its trajectory perfect for a volley. You lunge forward, your racket poised, and hit the ball back with a solid thwack.

Jack's eyes widen slightly as the ball sails back over the net. "Impressive," he murmurs, a hint of surprise in his voice.

The subsequent few volleys are a blur of motion and adrenaline. Your reflexes sharpen as you anticipate his moves, and the air crackles with energy. You can feel your muscles warming up, your breath coming in quick gasps as you push yourself to keep up with Jack's skill. Despite the seriousness of the lesson, there's a playfulness to it, a flirty challenge in every exchange.

Jack's shots become faster, more unpredictable, and you find yourself leaning into the game, your body moving almost on its own. You're not just trying to hit the ball; you're trying to impress him. And with each successful volley, his eyes light up brighter, his smile broader.

The sound of your rackets colliding with the ball echoes through the quiet afternoon air, punctuated by the occasional bird call or rustle of leaves. You're both sweating now, your skin glistening in the sun, your clothes sticking to your bodies. But you're in the zone, lost in the rhythm of the game, the thrill of competition, and the undeniable pull between you.

Jack's eyes never leave yours, his concentration unwavering as he feeds you ball after ball. The air feels charged with something more than just the physical exertion of the game. Each hit feels like a silent conversation, a dance of attraction and challenge. Your heart beats in time with the thump of the tennis balls, and you can't help but notice the way his shirt clings to his chest as he moves.

"What do you say we make this a little more interesting?" Jack suggests, his eyes glinting with a mischievous spark. He wipes his forehead with the back of his hand, smearing a line of sweat across his skin. "If I win this next point, I get a kiss," he says, raising the stakes.

You laugh, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks. "And if I win?"

Jack grins, his dimples deepening. "Whatever you want."

The tension shifts, the air charged with a new kind of excitement. You line up for the next volley, your heart racing. He serves the ball, and you watch it closely, timing your jump just right. As you make contact, you feel the perfect combination of power and precision, sending the ball back to Jack's side of the court. He's caught off guard, and it hits the net.

"My serve," you say with a smug smile, stepping back to catch your breath.

Jack nods, his eyes still on yours, the playful glint not fading. "Alright, but remember, no holding back."

You serve the ball, feeling the heat of his gaze as it flies over the net. He returns it swiftly, and you're back in the rhythm, your bodies moving in sync despite the competitive banter. The ball slices through the air, a blur of yellow against the blue sky. You both dive for it, your rackets colliding in a flurry of motion.

As you both straighten up, the air between you thick with anticipation, the ball hits the net and drops to the ground. "Match point," you say, panting slightly.

Jack's grin widens, and he nods, raising his racket in a salute. "Alright, one more. Let's make it count."

You serve again, the ball spinning through the air, a blur of yellow against the vibrant green of the surrounding trees. Jack leaps into action, his racket slicing through the air with a sharp crack. The ball zooms back at you, and you return it with a volley, your body moving almost on instinct. The ball goes back and forth, both of you pushing your limits, the air around you electric with anticipation.

As you watch the ball come towards you for what feels like the final time, you know you have to give it everything you've got. You lean in, your muscles tensing, and hit it with all the power and finesse you can muster. It sails over the net and lands just inside the line. "Match," you declare, breathless and triumphant.

Jack laughs, shaking his head. "I didn't see that one coming." His smile is genuine, the kind that makes your stomach do somersaults. He steps closer, and you can feel the warmth of his body. "Looks like I owe you one," he says, his eyes dropping to your lips.

You lean in slightly, the anticipation building like the crescendo of a symphony.

"What'll it be?" He asks, his voice low and teasing. You feel the heat of his breath against your cheek, and for a moment, you're lost in his eyes, a swirl of hazel that seems to hold a universe of secrets and promises.

"A kiss," you reply, your voice a whisper, the challenge in your eyes matching his.

Jack's smile turns into a full-blown grin, his eyes sparkling with excitement. He takes a step closer, and you can feel the warmth of his body as he leans in. His breath mingles with yours. The world seems to hold its breath around you, the only sound the distant chirp of a bird and the thud of your racing hearts.

As your lips meet, the intensity of the moment hits you like a perfect ace. It's a kiss filled with the passion of the game, the sweet taste of victory, and the undeniable attraction that's been building since the lesson began.

Jack's arms wrap around you, pulling you closer, and you melt into the embrace. The rackets clatter to the ground, forgotten as you lose yourself in the kiss. His lips are soft, yet firm, a mirror of the determination he shows on the court. You feel the roughness of his stubble against your skin, the warmth of his body pressing against yours, and the steady beat of his heart against your chest.

You both pull back slightly, breathless, eyes locked. The moment lingers, charged with a newfound intimacy. "Worth the wait?" You smirk, feeling your cheeks flush.

Jack nods, a soft chuckle escaping his lips. "More than worth it." He brushes a strand of hair from your face, his thumb lingering on your cheek. His gaze drops to your mouth again, and you can't help but lean in for another kiss. This one is slower, more deliberate, as if he's savoring every second.

When you finally break away, you're both panting slightly. The sun is lower now, casting a warm, golden light across the court, turning it into a stage for your shared victory. "I think I've had enough lessons for today," you murmur, your voice thick with emotion.

Jack nods, his eyes still on yours, searching for something unspoken. He takes your hand, the calluses from his years of playing tennis a stark contrast to your soft skin. "Me too," he agrees, his voice hoarse.

You walk off the court together, your hand in his, the tension of the game now replaced by the gentle squeeze of his fingers. The sun is lower in the sky, painting the world in a warm, golden hue. The air is cooler, carrying the sweet scent of blooming flowers from the nearby garden. The silence between you is comfortable, filled with the quiet understanding that comes from sharing an intense experience.

You sit on the bench beside the courts, the wood still warm from the day's heat. You take a swig from your water bottle, watching as Jack does the same, his throat working as he swallows. He sets the bottle down and looks at you, his eyes searching.

"What is it?" you ask, your voice still breathless from the exertion and the kiss.

Jack clears his throat, his hand still wrapped around yours. "You're so beautiful, you know that?" he says, his voice filled with wonder.

You blush, looking down at your tennis shoes, the laces loosened. "I'm a mess," you protest, but the smile playing on your lips betrays you.

Jack shakes his head, his eyes still holding yours. "You're perfect," he says, his voice earnest.

The words hang in the air, and you can't help but feel a warmth spread through your chest. You look up at him, your heart racing. "Jack," you whisper, not sure what to say.

He smiles softly, leaning in to kiss you again. This time it's gentle, a promise of more to come. You melt into it, feeling the world spin around you. When you pull away, you're both grinning like fools, the thrill of the game and the excitement of the kiss intermingling in your veins.

[livingtobethevillain]

Howdy, a fellow system here. And yeah, JJ and Tim being apart of a system is an idea I hold near and dear to my heart lol

I also love taking Tim's various undercover aliases and building off of them as Alters. Caroline Hill, Alvin Draper etc

(I've also had various ideas of Bruce being apart of a system. With B, Brucie, Batman, Matches Malone etc being a system but that's a different thing)

I wish there was more JJ content in general tbh. I'm starving for content lmao

(If you would like to dm me, I'd love to chat about dc and batfam and all that jazz /nf)

I want content of Tim and JJ being a system.

I want to see Babs, Bruce, and Alfred being the only people who already knew because Dick was off in Bludhaven and Jason was dead.

I want to see something trigger Junior out, maybe he’s watching a movie or something and there’s a family memories sequence

Maybe Tim is beyond badly injured and the only thing keeping him from passing out is by thinking the pain is funny.

I don’t care what it is, I just want to see Junior come out, in survival mode and have everyone react to it.

like they noticed “Tim” would have times he’d act a little off with his mannerisms, but it was nothing like this.

I want JJ to be afraid of everyone and just start laughing hysterically while tears stream down his face, and Bruce has to get a now reformed Harley to come help.

But I also want to see just them functioning as a normal system. Just going about their day to day life before this happens. It’s covert, like in most systems.

idk I’m just a system who wants more system content yall can even throw in other alters if you want but I really want to see JJ and Tim as a system because they’re really different and if JJ got sent into survival mode he’d definitely be unable to mask and I’m definitely not projecting because of something that happened with one of our littles the other day, ok?

(I want more media with systems in it)

(Also very unrelated but could easily be tired back into the previous idea- could we perchance have more Cass content? Preferably where she can talk bcuz she had an entire arc dedicated to it)