#i just show up and start working which here has been fine nobody has been bothered by that

[specialagentlokitty]

Peter hale x reader - sweet on you

Hello, not sure if your requests are open but if so, could you please please write Peter hale x fem reader? There isn't enough peter hale out there - Anon💜

It was clear to anybody around Scott and his pack didn’t want Peter around, despite the fact they needed his help on a few occasions they didn’t enjoy asking him or being near him.

Which might have been why Peter started following you around like a lost puppy, he usually showed up at your work around lunch time, he walked you to and from your car, and was even known to just invite himself over to your house.

At first it was unnerving, you thought he wanted something out of you, or was trying to pry for information and your brother and his pack, but Peter wasn’t one to be patient, so when months had passed and he still hadn’t made any move to try get you to show or tell him anything, no weird behaviour or comments you let your guard down a bit.

You begun to enjoy his company, started chatting to him a little bit more and he seemed more than happy to hold conversations with you.

Scott, his pack and your mom weren’t fond of this, they didn’t like it, Derek least of all, but they were all partially relieved that since he was so confused on staying around you it kept him out of trouble.

Today was no different, you were doing some housework when you heard the front door open and close.

“Hello Peter.” You called out.

There was a small pause before a reply came.

“Do you just assume anybody walking into your home is me?”

You turned to look behind you just in time to see Peter walking through your kitchen doorway sipping a cup of coffee as he sat down in one of the chairs.

You give a small shrug to him and turn around to carry on washing dishes.

“Pretty much, everybody else at least knocks before coming in, even if they’re in a rush.”

Peter hums slightly and set his cup on the table and leant back in his chair as he watched washing the dishes.

“There are machines that will do that you know.”

“I know but I don’t have one so unfortunately for me I have to do it.”

“Why not?”

You rolled your eyes slightly as you cast him a brief glance before going back to what you were doing.

“Cause I’m not made of money.”

“I have money.”

“Good for you?”

You dry your hands as you look at him slightly confused at his statement.

Peter gave a small chuckle at you shaking his head as he got up and walked over and lightly flicked your forehead.

“No you idiot, I’m saying I’ll buy you one if you want me too, I just need to check to see if you have space for one.”

“You really don’t need to do that but I’m fine washing them.”

As you finished that sentence he had already begun exploring your kitchen and opening things checking to see where you had room for one in the kitchen.

“Peter come on I really don’t need one stop.” You sighed.

“To late I’ve already found a place for one, seriously every good home has to have a dishwasher it’s just so much more convenient.” He said padding back over.

Peter looked around your kitchen before looking back to you.

“Seriously you need to remodel its very old style in here and not in a good way.”

You raise a brow at him, taking a sip of his coffee before pulling a face and taking the lid off to add sugar.

“You know nobody is making you come here right? You have free Will Peter you can go wherever you want to.”

“You don’t seem to be complaining when you’re taking my coffee.” He said gesturing to his cup.

Offering him a shrug and a little grin you took a small sip of the coffee.

“You know the rules Hale, if you bring it here it’s free game.”

He hums a little bit as he helps himself to some snacks from the fridge.

“A small price to pay I suppose, you’re much more tolerable than the others, less broody.”

“Yeah that’s true, in a delight.” You grin.

“Yes and full of yourself too apparently.”

“Yeah says you.” You scoff, slapping his side.

Most people wouldn’t have gotten away with that, and part of Peter was ready to snap at you for it, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it.

He never could, he simply just looked at you and rolled his eyes slightly, bringing a hand up to lightly flick your forehead again before gently rubbing the spot.

“The difference is that it suits me, but you, (Y/N) are not that type. You’re the selfless type, and that’s why I like you more.”

Peter gestures to your hands that were slightly red from the hot water of you washing the dishes.

“And your hands don’t deserve to look like that, they shouldn’t be red and sore.”

You offer him a small smile and lightly shake your head a little bit.

“Honestly it’s not even bad Peter, this is what hard work looks like you know.”

Peter hummed a little, looking down at you.

“Well you shouldn’t have to do hard work, you already do so much for that moronic brother of yours and his pack, you’re basically a free therapist for them all.”

You sigh slightly.

“He’s my brother Peter, there’s not many people him or his friends can talk to about all of this, and everyone knows you’re not going to sit and play therapist to them.”

“Hey I never had anybody to talk to about this stuff and yet I turned out wonderful.”

Laughing you shake your head at him and smile up at him.

“Of course you did you big idiot.”

“Hey, careful now I’m the big bad wolf remember?”

“Oh of course you are how could I forget.”

Peter smirked a little bit, standing in front of you and crossing his arms, leaning down a little bit.

He showed you his claws and his eyes turned bright blue.

“You’re saying this doesn’t scare you? Especially knowing everything I’ve done, Hm?”

You give him a small smile and bring your hand up to lower his, being mindful you didn’t accidentally catch yourself with his claws.

This wasn’t new to you, every so often he would do this, almost as if he was trying to scare you away.

“You know it doesn’t Peter.”

His smirked gaze way to a soft smile and a small chuckle as he put his claws away so he didn’t hurt you and his eyes returned to normal.

He shook his head slightly at you and press a very soft and almost unnoticeable kiss to the top of your head.

“You’re far too precious for someone like me, for this world in fact.” He smiled.

He tapped the coffee cup in your hand and guided you to sit down at a chair.

“Stay, let me go get lunch.”

With that Peter left, leaving you sat there.

This was your everyday life with Peter, he was sweet then would distance himself but you knew he wouldn’t let anything happen to you that much was clear

[spilling-blood]

I hope today goes better.

[ckret2]

So a while ago some friends were talking about fans who claim the Same Coin theory is canon. And I made the mistake of saying:

Do you know who also has tons in common with Bill? Mabel. Yet nobody claims Bill reincarnated as Mabel. …wait now I want a "same coin but it's Mabel" AU. Funniest Bill reincarnation option. The all-seeing arsonist is making macaroni glitter art. The omnipotent tyrant is crying because a unicorn called her a bad person.

And then I overthought it for two months.

So—AU where after death, Bill's soul shoots 13 years into the past and reincarnates as Mabel. I'll call it ✨ Sparkly Coin AU ✨

Don't leave yet. Lemme show you why it works. Behold the eerie amount of parallels in their personalities, dialogue, behavior, mannerisms, tastes...

I could have kept going but my attention span ran out. All right, we all on board now? Convinced we could segue from one personality into the other? Great. Now here's why you should be interested: the juicy post-Weirdmageddon angst potential.

As long as a small fringe of the fandom still thinks Weirdmageddon is Mabel's fault, why not amp that up x100 and have some fun with it?

Is everyone sold now? Great. Let's get into the details. I've got 8 more pieces of art under the read more.

So the AU starts the instant Bill dies. Thanks to invoking his deal with the Axolotl—one way to absolve his crime, a different form, a different time—the Axolotl gives him a new shape and shoots him thirteen years into the past. Apparently, the Axolotl thought it would be very funny to stick Bill in the family that defeated him.

Which probably made for a jarring transition.

(It's fine, she's like 10 minutes old, she probably can't even tell who she's looking at. Not being able to tell who she was looking at is what got her into this situation ayyyy)

When Dipper & Mabel come back from Gravity Falls complaining about this triangular jerk Bill, their parents mention that Dipper's name was nearly Bill. See, after they knew they were going to have a boy, one night their mom dreamed about a visitor—some kind of magic pink salamander??—calling her child "BILL." Then at the next sonogram they found out they were having twins, the girl must've been hidden at a weird angle the first time, and they wanted matching names, so they thought, Bill and Bell. But they didn't really like Bell; but eventually they stumbled on Mabel, so to keep the names matching they switched from Bill to Mason. Isn't that the darnedest thing?

(Of course, Mabel and Dipper assume Bill harassed their parents to try to trick them into naming a kid after him. To be a jerk.)

When Bill meets Mabel, he's unaware that she's his future self—Bill's notably bad at doing things like, say, double-checking to see whether he's going to die anytime soon—but like... he can tell something's up.

Naturally, before visiting Gravity Falls, there were echoes of who Mabel used to be—but nothing anyone would be able to identify without context. All her Bill-ish quirks either smoothed out with time (see: how between second grade and fourth grade Mabel went from being the "freak" to the popular girl in class), or else they were accepted by her family as Mabel-ish quirks.

After they meet (and kill) Bill, they have the context to understand some of Mabel's behaviors... and unfortunately, some of Mabel's latent Bill-ness starts surfacing after she's been directly exposed to her prior incarnation.

The part of the Pines family familiar with Bill thinks the worst case scenario is that maybe Bill's survived and is slowly possessing Mabel; but far more likely, they think this is just some weird way of trying to subconsciously process last summer. Mabel doesn't think she's being weird, you guys are being weird, stop giving her weird looks. They get attacked by one triangle and now she can't wear yellow or pick up macrame as a hobby??

(It's not all red flags and uncomfortable triangle imagery, though. When Stan asks her what she'd like as a gift for some important event, she shyly admits that she thinks she's starting to outgrow her plastic gem jewelry and maybe she's old enough to get her first piece of real gold jewelry, if that's not too expensive? And Stan's never been so proud of her. Thirteen years old and already thinking about buying gold!)

But of course, the real fun starts when Mabel finds out.

That's the face of a girl who's just discovered that she tortured her great uncle. Now imagine running into the brother she possessed.

But I've already spent a million words and thirteen images on this post. If enough folks are interested in the AU maybe I'll expand on it later. Let me know what y'all think.

[unknownplane]

The Court Jester Part 1

Yandere Batfam x GN Reader

Pt. 2, Pt. 3, Pt. 4

"How did this happen?" the man who claimed to be my father asked.

"It started when I was young. My mother was close friends with Bruce Wayne. So when she died, he decided to take me in. Looking back on it now, I can tell it was just so he could have a piece of her even though she was gone. He, like many other men were infatuated with the idea of her and what could happen if they had her. That is how I came along. Someone couldn't keep their hands to themselves. Nobody, but my father knows that they are my father. We have tried finding him before, but there has been no luck.

I was 4 when I was brought to the manor. Bruce, overwhelmed with anguish, couldn't even look at me as I had my mother's features. Alfred showed me around. I even got to meet my new brother Richard, better known as Dick. An accurate nickname because as soon as he met me, he decided he did not want to be around me. That was fine. I was still dealing with the loss of my mother. As time went on, I felt as if I was forgotten. Bruce was busy throwing himself into "work" and he only needed Dicks help. It didn't take me long to figure out who he was. With all the bruises and tension around the house when things got bad in Gotham anyone living in that house could tell he was Batman. He had claimed he didn't want me to get hurt that's why he never asked for help but I knew it was because I looked like mom. I had her (h/c) (h/t) hair and her (e/c) eyes.

A couple of years later, a new boy came into the mix. His name was Jason Todd. He was okay. He didn't really know when to stop, though. I heard a lot of fights between him and Bruce. He talked to me sometimes when we had time. I was in school getting good grades and he was a Robin so we didn't have much time for each other. But then he died, and I had no one again. Even when he did come back, he came back changed he no longer cared for me. He was harsh. Ruined.

Then there was Tim Drake. He was really nice at the beginning, but he got busy and sleep deprived, so I stopped reaching out. I didn't want to take up his time as he had an actual job.

Then Stephanie Brown came, and I realized that there was a pattern. These people were too busy for me. I should stay out of their way and not be a burden as I have proven to be before.

It was like that until Damian came. He was unlike all the other Robins. He was mean and brutal. It was around this time that I started to reach out to the family. I had realized I had severe depression and self esteem issue from being the only one in this family that did not excel at anything. When I reached out, he was the one who but me back in my place. He was the one who told me to stay in the background where I belonged. And I might have if I was still the child that came here unwillingly at 3 years old, but I am no longer that child. I am an adult who has a degree in psychology and has a stable job. So I left.

When I first moved out, the first person I told was my online friend. I had been in contact with him since I was 5. He was like a father to me. He was very happy for me and told me, "You are finally free from that dreadful house!" and I couldn't agree more. I stayed in contact with him over the years, and our bond strengthened.

Then, one day, not even a month after I left the manor, he asked to meet up. I agreed. We met up at an abandoned wearhouse. He had told me he was a wanted man, so I did not mind. When I saw him, my face lit up as did his. We talked about a lot of things that night. One of which was if I wanted to help him in his endeavor. Chaos. And I gladly agreed as I would do anything for him as he was my father.

He soon started training me. Making sure I could deal with pain and know how to fight. The first week was agony, but then we both realized something. No matter how badly I was injured, it never had reproductions as the injuries would heal almost supernaturally. So soon, we started experimenting. Of course, I still felt pain, but anything for my dad. We found that no matter what happened to me, I couldn't die.

Then, I became strong enough to take part in one of his acts. Which leads us to now. Dies that answer your question?" I say, looking into the desperate eyes of The Batman with an elongated smile. Glee shined in my eyes as I finally had his attention.

"But SHHHH dad doesn't want to know your secret identity! Says it would ruin all the fun!" I proclaim. My teeth are fully showing as I giggle.

"What did I do wrong?" Bruce whispers to himself. As if he didn't already know. This was all his fault, and now the last piece he had of (M/N) was out of reach.

-------------------------------------------------------

Hello!! This is my first time writing on Tumbler and just wanted to say Hi. Please let me know if you want this to continue. If it does, updates would probably be slow as I am in college and am using this as an artistic outlet. Thank you so much for reading!!

[coquettepascal]

cranberry christmas

part iii of my series "texas sweet!" texas sweet masterlist and my masterlist

summary: it's your first christmas with the miller family, which brings all sorts of new feelings out of you and joel. he relieves your anxiety in a few giving ways (tis the season!)

tags: 18+, smut, anxious!reader, dilf!joel, joel is kind of a flop (but in a cute way), gentle!joel, found family (a little), the miller family being cute, reader has an anxiety attack, mentions of troubled family life, dorky christmas cheesiness, reader celebrates christmas, heavy on the f!reader for this one, reader has boobs, reader has hair, reader wears lingerie, dryhumping, almost powerbottom!joel (?), begging, nippleplay, hickeys, coming untouched, praise kink a little, realistic people in unrealistic situations, establishing of relationship

part i -> part ii -> part iii

a/n: this honestly got way out of hand, but i LOVE IT!! i hope you all have a lovely holiday season <3

(5.1k, not beta read)

“How long have you been a dad again?” 

You’re staring at the pile of gifts that Joel has “wrapped” so far. The striped paper is wrinkled on a few of them like he balled up the paper before wrapping the gift, other ones have glaring bald spots that reveal what they are without having to unwrap them. 

Joel huffs, grumbling to himself as he’s hunched on the floor, cutting out another square of paper to wrap a book. 

“Long enough to know that if I stay down here too long my back’ll hurt tomorrow,” he responds. 

The Christmas tree in his living room has been thoroughly decorated, leaving the lights to reflect from glass ornaments onto his face. Joel looks stressed tonight, but he’s just been stressed all the time lately. The colder months have brought shittier weather, which has him worried about snowfall on sites that couldn’t take it at the moment. Anytime you’ve seen him recently, his skin has still been cold from the outside, his nose slightly red. 

He looks at your pile of gifts, which have been neatly wrapped and finished with stick-on bows, and then scrunches his face, quietly mocking your words. You laugh, feigning offense as you tilt your head.

“Oh I’m sorry, I just assumed you would have been better with your hands, Joel,” you retort in return. Instantly his head is back up so he can look at you, a shocked expression on his face. 

“You sayin’ I’m no good with my hands?” He asks, a bit incredulous.

Your eyes are rolling before you can help it, smiling as you shake your head.

“No–” you start.

“I can prove that I got perfectly fine hands. Fingers too for that matter,” he dares.

Joel shoves the wrapping paper out of his way as he scoots his way over to you, his knees scrubbing the hardwood floor. He’s smiling stupidly, clearly excited to get out of wrapping gifts.

“Joel!!” You huff, trying to squirm away from him as he gets closer to you. You’ve learned he has a serious personal space problem.

“What, angel? S’not like anybody else is home,” he grins, nosing at your cheek.

And God. Yeah, finally, nobody is fucking home.

You and Joel have been something for the past however many months. Time has flown quickly, with life and love brushing past your skin in a wind of smiles. Work takes over Joel’s life before he realizes it, and it happens a lot. Maybe that would be a problem for most people, but you live right next door. It’s not like there’s space between you, especially since you can knock on his door whenever you want to.

But you’re both adults, and spontaneity requires energy that you both lack. 

The current schedule you’ve fallen into is seeing him on Friday evenings, whenever he gets home from work, a small date on Saturday if you have the energy, and family dinner on Sunday. Yes, you’ve now worked up the courage to look his daughters and brother in the eye. After you started showing up more often they began to bond with you more, especially his girls. Ellie and Sarah are both young, both smart, and as different as they are, it just makes for a firecracker-y relationship that’s hard not to interact with.

You’ve fallen into place as Joel’s something, as someone to his family.

The only problem you and Joel have is actually getting alone time. Since you both work so much, and he’s so family oriented, it’s been hell actually trying to get alone time with him. Not even just time to… do stuff. Just having a private moment is tough. Someone is always in his house, and as much as you have your own house, his feels more like home. 

You didn’t even set up your tree this year. The living room is bare of holiday cheer, save for the growing pile of presents that you’ve built in the corner near the couch. Finding home in Joel has not helped you find your place in Austin still, the lack of familial familiarity has sucked the love from your walls. The whole house just feels like dead skin that’s ready to flake away anytime you’re there. You want to brush it from its plot of land and go back to the place next door, where warm light and voices hold the roof down and raise it all the same. 

So yeah, your house isn’t really where you want to be, ever. Sacrificing sex with Joel isn’t the best, but you want to be around him more than anything. As long as he’s there, you don’t care so much if he’s getting you there. At least not usually. 

“Yeah, no one’s home,” you repeat back to him.

The incandescent bulbs that are strung onto the tree are casting light through his hair. Tiny flecks of grey are all you can get a view of right now as he pushes his nose beneath your jaw, pressing kisses to the tender skin that tingles under his lips. 

“Mhm,” he grunts, biting at your skin then kissing over it when you wince slightly. “N’they won’t be home for at least an hour.” His hands are skimming over the waistband of your pajama pants, warm fingers dipping to touch the band of your undies. 

“Yeah,” you say again. You’re losing words. It always feels like you lose your words, breath, and brain around him, but maybe it’s because you don’t need it. Joel keeps kissing at your neck as he reaches around, tapping your bum so you lift up for him. 

The lights in the room flash into pink as your eyes slide shut and your pants are tugged down more. It’s been too long, you need this, he needs this. 

Joel doesn’t hesitate. As soon as your pants are down enough, his hand is in your undies, skimming the hair there and then pressing against you. A surprised huff puffs into your neck as he feels how wet you’ve gotten, how quick. 

And then keys. And then the front door is swinging open. And then your pants are shoved up and everyone’s home and you aren’t in your mind, but it’s fine. It’s fine. 

You’ll find time before Christmas. 

—

Today is Shitmas.

“Shitmas. Y’know, like the day in Christmas week where you do a bunch of Christmas-y shit,” Tommy had informed you about a week ago, after you had slowly turned to look at him in the living room.

The Miller family does Shitmas on the 23rd of December, and supposedly it includes, but is not limited to, family pictures in the living room, cookie baking and decorating (lead by Sarah), and sock snowman making. 

They do this every year, and you can tell because as soon as you show up on Shitmas, you’re greeted by little sock snowmen. They line the stairs, each one with a year labelled on the belly. The first few are singular snowmen, but somewhere along the way it turns into two, marking when Ellie joined their family. Over the years they’ve obviously improved, but there’s something special about the first few on the stairs. Mismatched eyes, splattered glitter glue, and Joel’s printing on their bellies, instead of Sarah’s, all grace the earliest dated snowmen.

Ellie was the one to let you into the house today, since apparently Joel is helping Sarah bake and his hands are “nasty,” in Ellie’s words. 

“Kinda ugly, huh?” Ellie teases as you crouch to look at them on the stairs. Sarah calls out somewhere in the house, over the noise of the electric mixer, and it makes you huff a laugh.

“I think they’re endearing. It’s nice that Joel keeps these,” you reply. She somewhat agrees, an “I guess,” begrudgingly leaving her lips before Joel finally walks up and she skips off back to the kitchen. 

Joel’s drying his hands with a dishtowel still as he embraces you, sighing deeply. 

“Hey angel, sorry. Fuckin… Raw egg all over my hands,” he mutters as he squeezes you tight. The two of you pull apart for a moment, but not before Joel’s going back in and pressing a kiss to your forehead. As your palms settle against his chest, you can’t help but notice how warm he is, the skin beneath his shirt, hot and giving plushly under your fingers. 

“I like the girls’ snowmen,” you tell him fondly, peeking over your shoulder at them. When you look back at him, he’s looking at them, a softness in his eyes.

“Ellie hates doing those, she only does it because Sarah likes to.” 

—

Shitmas has been stupidly fun so far. Watching Tommy and Joel try their best to decorate cookies while Sarah makes Great British Bake Off worthy ones, all while Ellie smears smiley faces onto each one in an effort to make her sister proud has raised your spirits infinitely. You decorated a few cookies, but mostly watched in awe as Sarah expertly pressed sprinkles into each of the cookies and piped patterns onto them. It kind of felt like wasting cookies to not let her decorate them, even though she bakes them each year so everyone can participate. 

Now, you’re sitting on the couch. The cookies are all sitting on the kitchen counter, abandoned as each family member bustles around the house getting ready for the picture they’ll take in front of the tree. 

Surprisingly, Tommy is done getting ready first. Honestly you figured it would have been Joel, but maybe he’s putting some extra effort in today, rather than just running a comb through his hair. Tommy’s appearance at first is only surprising because of how meticulous he can be with his hair. Joel has told you about the times they’ve been late because his hair was “fighting” him some mornings. 

“Hair cooperated with me,” he says as he takes a seat next to you on the couch. Sometimes it feels like Tommy can either read your mind, or just says shit to take up space. You respond with a nod and a mild expression of acknowledgement, a little off in your own world. 

“You forget your flannel or somethin?” Tommy asks next. You almost nod again, on auto-pilot, but then stop.

“What?” You ask, head turning in his direction. He laughs in disbelief, and for a moment you feel embarrassment start burning at the base of your neck in fear he’s laughing at you. Were you told to bring something and didn’t?

“Hold on,” Tommy says, grunting as he curls up and off the couch a second later.

He leaves you alone in the living room, left to listen to the crackling fireplace channel on TV and the sound of Ellie protesting over Sarah wanting to put hairspray on her. 

Tommy’s heavy footsteps clomp around upstairs, leading into Joel’s bedroom. Not dissimilar to the girls downstairs, the rumble of Joel’s voice hits the floor and you roll your eyes, holding a laugh. There aren’t words you can make out, but you’re sure that Joel is mightily unhappy at the random intrusion of his brother.

The more you learn about this family, the more you feel like you’re falling into place, and the more you experience being in it, the farther away your own family feels.

You sit on the couch, still as can be, as you listen to the sound of Tommy rummaging around his older brother’s room, the sound of the hairspray being spritzed while Ellie groans. The sounds are feeling increasingly farther away, even though the girls are downstairs and the boys are only upstairs. Your eyes move to the cookies sitting on the counter, the messy dishes in the sink, and suddenly the stickiness from the icing beneath your nails is too much. 

What are you doing here? What is this Hallmark movie family you’ve found yourself in? 

The thump of your heart ramps up, pumping blood to your ears and making it rssshhhh in the back of your mind just as you begin to chase your breath. It’s all too nice, and maybe you aren’t entirely undeserving, but this is all so unfamiliar. Your own family isn’t terrible, but in comparison to this, it feels so dull. Christmas was just lights and presents before, not tradition and excitement the way that fucking Shitmas has been so far. You’re one activity into the day and it’s already so much better than what you can remember from back home. 

Maybe this is what influenced your decision to stay in Texas for the holidays. Maybe somewhere in you, you knew that this would be better. You’re sitting here, in another family’s home, taking your own family for granted, and for what? Some cookies and some pictures? For the sake of a relationship that isn’t even labelled yet? You deserve this, you deserve to chase your breath and wipe your tears. Selfish girl, if you didn’t feel right in your own family, what right do you have to find a place in theirs?

Nobody in this house asked you to be here but Joel, and really, you just showed up on his doorstep. 

Your eyes are shut as you catch your breath, squinched together so tightly that you see sparks of colour behind your eyelids. Tears keep slipping out and you wipe under your eyes politely, trying not to choke on any noises. The bathrooms are occupied, don’t make a fool of yourself in the living room. 

Tommy and Joel’s voices increase in volume until they’re in front of you, and you open your eyes to see the pair staring at you. Tommy avoids your eyes as soon as you’re looking back at him, while Joel just seems a little shocked.

“Hey,” Joel says, a festive red flannel in his grip. “Why don’t we head upstairs for a second?”

—

You cry for a long while before you actually manage to tell Joel what’s upset you. 

Sat on the edge of his bed, you cry into your palms until your cheeks are red and blotchy, and snot covers the inside of your palms and the bridge of your nose. It’s ugly, nasty, and not what you want to be doing at all. Your family is fine, just boring and emotionally detached, and you’re crying about it to the hardest working single father you know, who has essentially built his life on his own with the help of his brother. 

“I just feel so stupid and– and totally out of place. What have I done to earn my place here?” You ask him, eyes puffy and sad as you stare up at him.

Joel looks hurt. He has looked hurt for a long while, but you couldn’t see it when you were buried in your palms. His brows are pinched, his eyes wrinkled at the outer corners as he looks at you, almost seeming to pity you. For a moment his eyes flash away, not to anything in particular, but just to gather himself.

“Earn your place? Baby, what?” He questions. You stay quiet, feeling just as confused as he sounds. 

His hands clench where they rest on his thighs, then relax as he sighs, head tilting to the side so he can look at you again. 

“You don’t… earn your place in our family, darlin, you’re invited.”

How could you be so fucking dense?

Anyone that’s in Joel’s life, apart from Sarah, is somebody he actively invited in. His allowance of Tommy to be a near second father figure to Sarah and Ellie, his adoption of Ellie on its own,  the majority of his family has been let in. It could have been just him and Sarah, but he wanted more so he allowed more, and he allows more because he loves what the more in his life is. 

Joel takes a deep breath, again, and seems to steel his nerves. 

“You are so much more than invited into our family, angel, you’re welcomed wholly. But, if that’s too much right now and it’s bringing you worry, it’s fine for you to just be my girlfriend.”

Girlfriend.

That is not the topic right now, that is so not the topic right now, but he said the word. 

Joel loves the more in his life, and now he’s added you to that “more” officially. A label, a name, a little add-on to your identity. You’re putting “Joel’s Girlfriend” on your imaginary nametag in a million different fonts in your head before you realize he’s still talking. 

“You fit right in with us, baby. The girls love you, Tommy loves you, I love you, but you know that one,” he laughs. “It’s up to you if you wanna think of yourself as a part of our family, but know that we already do.” 

A smarter response should come out of your mouth here. Joel has just said a lot of touching things that have sunk into the meat of your body, warming you, but a smart response isn’t something you can manage.

“I’m your girlfriend?”  You ask.

Joel’s brows furrow. “Yeah?”

He says it the way an eighth grader would say “Duh.”

Your look of “When did this happen?” meets Joel’s look of “Where have you been?” at the same time, and only then does he realize. 

—

His apology for completely forgetting to ask you to be his official girlfriend for the last however many months is by cleaning you up really nicely for the photo.

Joel starts by fixing your hair, letting you sit between his knees as he gently pulls it away from your face. His hands run through it so carefully, a tenderness that only an experienced girl-dad like him could provide. When he’s finished, he leans down and presses a kiss to the top of your head, adding a mumbled “sorry” in, just to really save his ass. 

With anyone else you’d be upset at them for forgetting something so pivotal in a relationship, but with Joel you lend as much patience as he gives you. He’s busy, stupidly so, and with how close and intense the two of you are with one another, it’s not absurd for it to have slipped his mind. In some ways it’s flattering, and you’d like to ask how long he’s been thinking of you as his girlfriend. 

You’re just about to when he holds up the flannel in front of you, the one that he and the rest of his family are apparently wearing for the photo.

“You don’t have to. Seriously. We just talked about family and stuff and if you aren’t ready for that, then that’s–” He’s talking fast, but not as fast as you move to grab the flannel from him.

“I’m your girlfriend, of course I have to be in the picture.”

—

The rest of Shitmas was less, well, shit. 

Ellie and Sarah did their yearly sock snowmen after the photo was taken and they turned out lovely, or at least Sarah’s did. Ellie purposefully overstuffed hers with rice just to see how big she could make the snowman before he exploded, which resulted in him exploding later that evening when his rotund body toppled down the stairs.

Now it’s Christmas Eve, and you’re prepping for tomorrow morning. Your house still isn’t decorated in the slightest, the only festive thing about it being a laundry basket full of gifts that you’ll tote over to Joel’s tomorrow morning. 

Your lower back is absolutely killing you from wrapping the last of Joel’s gifts, something he had warned you of, but you had foolishly ignored. You figured it was an old man thing, not a consequence of too many presents. It feels like heaven when your back finally rests against the couch, your head leaning back as you sigh.

Since talking with Joel yesterday about the family stress and what the two of you are, you feel a hell of a lot better. Your lungs almost feel like they’re more open than before.

Just as you’re relaxing, eyes sliding shut in stressless bliss, someones at the door. 

You grunt as you peel yourself off the couch, trudging to the door and opening it. It’s strange that anyone is at your door, especially since Joel is out with Tommy and the girls going Christmas light spotting.

Or at least he’s supposed to be.

Joel stands at your door in a loose shirt and grey sweatpants, looking sheepish. 

“Do you want to come over for a bit?”

—

Alone. Finally, alone. 

You’re sat halfway on Joel’s lap, sucking a mark into his neck as he leans back, cursing softly. 

“Fuuuckin’ god, you know I missed you,” he groans. You nod into his skin, teething at the skin softly before pulling back to lick at the reddened spot. 

Your hands grip up his sides, feeling the solid width of his body, the plushness of his tummy when your hands sink into the right spot, and you want to whimper. He’s so stupidly big, and you’re so grateful he took his shirt off almost as soon as you both started making out.

Under the lights of the tree, he already looks fucked out. Joel is almost completely limp against the back of the couch, head leaned back to expose his thick throat, bitten down and bruised with marks he might regret in a few hours. His eyes are halfway shut, but dark as ever even in the warm glow of the room which also illuminates the contours that form along his tanned skin. 

He feels your eyes on him, his own opening in an attempt to meet yours, but it only brings attention to his face. Pink lips sit pretty on his face, slightly parted and puffy from kissing you dizzy earlier. Again, his eyes squeeze shut as you drag your nails up across his chest, only to fly open.

“Wait– Wait I have something,” Joel sputters. He slides you off his lap, scrambling to the Christmas tree with boyish urgency.

Joel returns with a red present, one that he actually wrapped fairly neatly.

It’d be sweet if you weren’t literally two seconds from tearing his grey sweats off his body and riding him into next year before he had shoved you off. 

“It’s not Christmas,” you point out, but he shakes his head and shoves the gift into your hands.

Begrudgingly, you unwrap the gift and lift the lid off the box beneath the paper. Laying flat in the bottom of the thin box, cushioned by white tissue paper, is a red, babydoll, nightie. A blush lashes across your cheeks as you lift it out of the box, discovering that the top of it has no bra cups, or really anything to support your tits at all. Red ribbon frames the bust of the nightie limply in a triangular shape, a fluttery mesh making up for the remainder of the piece. It looks and feels expensive, and on top of that it’s totally sexy, even more so since Joel is the one that bought it for you.

Joel had gone out and picked this just for you, he had probably thought about you wearing this every night for the past week. The idea of it is making you increasingly more aroused, your eyes flicking to his, then down to the bulge in his pants. 

“If it’s too much then I’ll return it but,” Joel’s chest is heaving with excitement, biting his lip as he looks at the nightie, “but I kind of want to fuck my beautiful girlfriend before Christmas.”

The two of you are upstairs quickly, with Joel settling in bed and you changing in the bathroom. 

You look at yourself in the reflection of the mirror once you’ve put the ensemble on, if you can call it that. The underwear that came with the nightie are barely a scrap of fabric. Normally you’d feel really uncomfortable in something like this, hyperfocusing on small things, like how the pouch of your belly looks, or how your tits don’t look nearly as full as you want them to, but not right now. 

Joel Miller just gave you, his official girlfriend, lingerie for Christmas. Because he wants to fuck you in it. 

Shamelessly, you open the door into Joel’s bedroom, basically bouncing onto the bed. 

“It’s so nice,” you tell him right away, wanting to show your gratitude. He’s down to his boxers as he lays beside you, eyes scanning up and down your body as you sit in his bed, almost as sexy as you are naked. 

Joel is still like that for almost a minute, making your brain run haywire. Tonight, he’s left the bedside light on. It’s probably so he can see you, but it’s always special when he lets you see him while you both get intimate. He doesn’t touch you at all, just scoots up the bed so he’s sitting upright and unblinking, until finally:

“I want you to use me,” Joel blurts out. 

It’s more surprising than the gift. Your voice is a tiny whine in the back of your throat, your mouth forming the word “what,” but before you can finish, his hands are on your hips, lifting you onto his thigh. 

“There, I want you to use me there,” he near-demands. 

You’re speechless. Joel is vocal in bed for sure, always talking a lot and never really quiet, but he hasn’t been so… commanding before. He’ll ask for things occasionally, a certain position or act, but not like this. Your hips are still as he pushes you down onto his thigh, the hair on it smushing into the softness of your skin. 

“C’mon, angel, I can feel you. Fuck my thigh, use me, I want it.” He encourages.

Joel’s hands grab onto you tighter now, starting to make you move your hips until you do it on your own. It feels like you’re making a dumb face, eyes wide and brows pinched together, but you can’t help but feel surprised.

This is Joel, your Joel, who was hesitant to have sex with the lights on, or even let you look at his dick in general, and now he’s making you hump his thigh? It’s completely new to you, but you aren’t mad.

Once you’ve picked up your own pace, and stabilized yourself with your hands on his shoulders, he reaches up. Joel keeps his eyes trained on your face as he takes advantage of how your tits are on full display in the nightie, plucking and rolling your nipples in his fingers all while talking you through what’s going on. 

“I know, I know you needed this,” he nods at you, “I needed it too, baby. Missed you like this.” 

It feels awfully good grinding against his thigh, and something about this newfound side of Joel with the added fact that you guys haven’t had a moment alone in probably a month, is making this so much more explosive. You roll your hips just right and gasp as one side of the undies slips into the slit of your cunt, the less soft edge of the elastic brushing your clit. A pathetic noise is ripped from you as your hips stutter, body shocked from the sudden direct stimulation.

“No,” Joel says right away. His hand reaches around and cups the bottom of your ass, letting his fingers sink into the crease between your butt and thigh as he drags you forward again. 

“Want your messy pussy all over me, please angel I need it so bad,” he says, guiding your movements as you start to go limp, head falling back. You barely register the feeling of his hand on your waist, trying to balance you as he fucks your wet cunt onto his leg. 

You let out a tiny noise as the elastic of the undies bites into your clit again and for whatever reason it makes Joel groan too. 

“S’exactly what I wanted, angel. Wanted my pretty girlfriend to come all over me an’ have her tits in my face.”

Whatever the hell has gotten into him you hope it gets into him again. He keeps rubbing you into his leg until you’re begging for more stimulation, your limp arms reaching to grab at his hand and push it up to your breasts again. 

“M-my nipples,” you beg softly, tears pricking at your eyes from the overstimulation on your clit. He doesn’t hesitate, half smiling as he starts playing with your nipples again.

“Like this? Is this gonna make my pretty baby come?” He teases as he rolls your nipples repeatedly between his fingers.

All of it is too much, but it’s exactly what you wanted at the same time. Your orgasm completely fucks you out as you keep your eyes on his, mouth hanging open dumbly as he keeps one hand playing with your nipple and the other reaching down to cup your ass and grind your cunt harder on his thigh. 

“Good girl, fuckin’ God,” Joel says, staring down as your ruined undies mash into his skin. You can’t tell if you’re coming down or if this orgasm is just super long for no reason, but if it was ending, it’s extended the moment Joel’s thigh clenches up.

You look down as you whimper, wondering why he’s chosen midway through your orgasm to fuck you up again, but then realize that he didn’t choose. 

A fat, pearly, translucent bead, sprouts from where the head of his cock lays beneath his black briefs. You can see it grow bigger in the light, listening as Joel groans and curses, his lower half thrashing beneath you. His chest is heaving and the hand on your ass is digging deep. 

“Jesus– God, baby, what you do to me,” he grits through his teeth as his back finally hits the headboard again. 

Frankly, you’re speechless. You didn’t realize that would happen, or really that it could happen. You weren’t even touching him and he came, he was only watching you. It isn’t like he shot a huge load of come, but still, something came out. 

Joel seems to be coming to the same conclusion as he breathily laughs, looking down at the mess before tugging you down onto him anyway, burying his nose in your hair. 

“Good gift,” he mumbles, maybe to you, maybe to himself. “Definitely buyin’ you another one next year.” [ <3 ]

----

please leave comments, rbs/tags, or drop into my askbox ! i love to chat and listen <3 tags (people who i think will like this?? maybe??) @bambisweethearts , @pascalssbabyy , @ajps-posts , @starcaviar , @hisvision , @mrs-hardy-hunnam-butler-pascal , @joeloverture , @mochamadeleines , @taeslarityy , @theweedisasterxoxo , @pawnshopb1ues , @hellishjoel , @slutty-express , @kyloispunk , @rainbowcosmicchaos , @stefanibear003 , @pedrostories [i plan on making an updates blog or something soon, apologies!]

[greenwitchfromthewoods]

back to life. l Joel Miller

Summary: an attempt to return to normality

Warnings: angst, a little bit of smut (+18), lots of bad emotions, tw: depressive episode; Tommy, Maria and Ellie; violence

A/N: it's a hard time for me. but I found a moment to write this. sorry that I'm still stuck in this series, it's comfortable for me

your feedback is very important to me and I thank you for all the reblogs, comments and likes. 🖤 sorry for all the mistakes

short stories from life. [masterlist]

The next few days were really hard. Joel felt like every cell in his body was hurting him, even though it was you who had been through so much. The wounds were healing, the bruises were fading, but you were quieter and less visible. If it weren't for his willingness for you to take a bath, which Joel thought was the best thing for you, you wouldn't have gotten out of bed at all.

But Joel experienced something else during that time. In addition to fear for you, he encountered incredible human kindness and empathy. The people of Jackson seemed moved by what had happened. Soon, when Joel was on his way to the clinic about his collarbone, an older man who owned a bakery pressed a fresh loaf of bread into his hands and said with a smile that it was for you. 

Mrs. Russo appeared at the door the next evening, bringing with her a few of your favorite dishes. "I guess you don't have the head for cooking now. Take this, she's been enjoying it so much lately!"

Rory and his mother also showed up, and the boy handed Joel a bouquet of the first spring flowers, which he placed next to your bed. The small smile on your lips was worth everything.

Almost every afternoon, Ellie would sit with you, telling you that she absolutely needed help with her homework. Joel thought she was exaggerating and that she certainly didn't have that much to study for, but you were starting to get involved. Evenings were for the two of you, though.

Sometimes Joel would play something on the guitar, feeling your eyes follow his fingers as they struck the strings. He hadn't done it in years, but for you he'd pulled from his memory many of the songs he knew. Or he'd read books aloud. His warm, low voice carried through the bedroom, and you'd listen, clearly soothed by the sound.

Your bubble had to stretch, though, and it happened one evening. Joel came back later than usual, and then he convinced you to go downstairs. He led you out to the terrace and showed you something he had made for you. A wooden bench, very carefully crafted, with ornate armrests and fancy decoration. He had been working on it for a long time.

"It's so beautiful outside. I thought you might like to have your own place." he said, a little worried when he saw the tears in your eyes and your trembling lips. "You can spend time here, bask in the sun, read if you want."

"Nobody has ever done anything just for me." you said quietly.

And before he knew it, you kissed him, so truly. He hadn't felt the real you in a kiss for a long time, and now you were with him. In his strong arms, you were like a fragile creature, but Joel felt happy that you had achieved so much together. He believed that everything would be fine.

From then on, everything slowly began to change. You spent more time outside, and sometimes you went with him to the stables to take care of the horses. After a few days, Tommy and Maria invited you for dinner, and you showed up there too. When the dance was in Jackson, you went together, although you seemed hesitant about it, but Joel managed to talk you into a few slow dances with him.

"I want to take her out of Jackson," Joel stated when he and Tommy met up at the Tipsy Bison for a drink one day, "Just one day. We'll take the easy way out."

Tommy nodded, "It would do her good. Can she handle it?"

"She's tougher than we think. I can see she needs to get outside of those walls, even though she's still scared."

"And you're going to let her?" Tommy shook his head in disbelief, "What did she do to you, bro?"

"I miss her, you know... She's physically there, we sleep in the same bed, we eat together, we live together. But she..."

"I can see it in her eyes. What happened to her changed her... It would change anyone."

Joel took a sip from his glass. He didn't want to tell his brother that you hadn't slept together since then. No, Joel wasn't complaining. Your relationship had never been just about sex. But he still didn't know if he would scare you if he initiated it. You were sensitive and delicate, and although he knew you loved him, you didn't take that step yourself.

That day the weather was beautiful. The spring sun settled in the sky, and the forest and the surrounding area were beautifully green. You walked together, close to each other. 

Joel told you what had changed in the area recently, that the attic in the permanent barn on the other side of Jackson had caved in, or that he had seen a family of foxes sneaking past the camp during a patrol. He spoke as if you had been sick for a week, not completely cut off from life for almost a month.

You felt good, especially since he was next to you, and the care and tenderness towards you emanated from him. You wanted to go back to him, completely, but you weren't sure how to do it. Every day, every attempt, cost you a lot of strength. Guilts of conscience were churning inside you.

"I'm sorry, Joel." You finally said when you stopped at the edge of the forest.

Joel looked at the horizon, trying to see if the area was still safe for you, and turned around, surprised.

"What are you apologizing for, darling?" he asked, taking a step towards you.

You seemed so small to him, as if many things were pressing you to the ground at once, and you were barely able to stay on two legs. You looked at him as if you were about to cry.

"For everything." you finally answered "For having to take care of me. For every day that is so hard for you. I wish things were like they used to be... I don't know if I can. Maybe... Maybe..."

"Don't do that." he interrupted you, approaching you and taking your face in his hands "Stop here. What happened to us, what happened to you, is neither of our fault. But we'll deal with it, right?"

"How? I thought I was strong, but this..." you closed your eyes, and tears flowed from under your eyelashes. Joel patiently wiped them away with his thumbs "I keep wondering... Every shadow, every rustle makes me tremble. I've become nothing but a problem for each of you."

His strong arms wrapped around you and pulled you tightly to his chest. You snuggled into Joel with all your might. His arms were your shelter, the beating of his heart soothed yours. If it weren't for him, you would have fallen to pieces a long time ago.

"You don't even know, silly, how many people care about you and want to help you. They ask about you every day. You're not the problem, but you can't be strong all the time either. Believe me, I know what I'm talking about, because I tried to be. You and Ellie hold me together. Now it's our turn, we won't let you fall apart." He kissed the top of your head and sighed deeply "You don't even know how much I love you..."

It was late when you got back. Your clothes smelled of forest and wind, just like Joel's. You felt tired, but you were also a little lighter, more confident. He saw it in your eyes and promised himself that soon you would go out together again outside Jackson. 

However, Joel was most surprised when he felt your arms wrapped around his waist as he stood in the shower and the streams of hot water washed his body. You clung to his back, so gently as if you were afraid he would push you away. But Joel kissed your hands, and then turned around and looked at you with such love that you had never seen in his eyes. 

So you surrendered to this moment, because you wanted to, because it was him, because you wanted to feel alive again. 

And when you felt his cock moving deep inside you, when his lips caressed your neck, and the cool tiles imprinted on your back - only God knew how much life flowed in you again.

"Sorry, I wouldn't keep you from your work if it wasn't so important."

"Don't worry, the laundry will definitely wait for me." you chuckled as you and Maria headed towards the building that served as the city hall or headquarters in Jackson.

It was already late in the evening, Joel hadn't come home yet, and you were busy with the usual household chores. The following days were somehow easier and you were happy to have your strength back.

You went inside and Maria led you to the back. You noticed a few men in the rooms, who were also taking part in patrols. They seemed strangely tense to you, but Maria quickly drew your attention to herself.

"Listen, this could be an unpleasant experience for you." she said, her hand stroking your arm. "But we have to be sure."

"What do you mean?" you asked, frowning. "Did something happen? Something with Joel or Tommy?"

Maria shook her head, then pushed the door open and nodded for you to enter. It was a dark room and you noticed that the curtains were drawn tightly and the only light came from the lamps placed on the walls. In the middle, three men sat on chairs, they were not residents of Jackson. They seemed strangely familiar to you, but you couldn't...

Someone said your name and you noticed Joel and Tommy standing nearby.

"What's going on?" you asked quietly. "Who is it?"

Tommy cleared his throat. "We've been following them for a few days. We suspect that they attacked you. You, Sam and Anthony. One of them had Sam's private things."

You looked at the men again, now you understood. And they must have recognized you too, because they twitched nervously. Two of them looked away, trying to avoid your eyes, but one of them was staring at you wildly.

"I know that pussy." he muttered, a smile twisting his face covered with thick stubble "I thought you died in the woods. You're a smart bitch."

There was a loud impact, it was Joel who hit the man without thinking. His head tilted back, but after a moment his quiet laughter filled the room.

"Is that your pussy? How was I supposed to know that it already had its owner?"

"Don't you dare talk about her like that!" Joel growled and wanted to hit him again, but Tommy grabbed his arm.

He looked at you carefully. "Is that them?"

"He recognized her!" Joel hissed furiously "That should be enough!"

"I need to know!"

You weren't fully aware of it, as if your body had made the decision itself. Your head twitched in confirmation. That was enough.

"Get her out of here." Tommy ordered.

"Joel! No!" you groaned, but someone's arms grabbed you and forcibly led you out of the room. The door slammed shut with a bang. Even though you didn't see it, you knew what was about to happen.

☆☆☆☆

Thank you for your time.

taglist, i think: @picketniffler @orcasoul @bbyanarchist @o-sacra-virgo-laudes-tibi @somedayheaven @underneath-the-sky-again

[pinkdick79]

love; derek hale x reader

back to masterlist

pairing: derek hale x reader (she/her)

warnings: none

prompt: 5. “he loves you, you know? he’s just afraid of admitting it.”

summary: in which the reader and derek are oblivious to liking eachother and it’s painful for everyone to watch.

── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──

derek hale is called many things - sour wolf, the mean alpha, power hungry, and selfish. but turns out, he’s not any of those things. well, maybe a bit power hungry but he got past that.

derek has always been nothing but nice to you. always been courteous and sweet whenever you’re around, never mean or selfish like stiles or scott says he is.

the first time you met derek was when peter resurrected himself by using lydia. you were out for a walk when came across the hale house. you’ve heard tales about it and decided to go inside, little did you know that would be the start of your friendship with the one and only, derek hale.

── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──

right now, you’re sitting in derek’s loft waiting to have a mandatory pack meeting that scott called. you’re with lydia, peter, stiles, issac, allison, erica, and boyd.

“what do you think this is about?” lydia asks.

“no idea. but it’s probably pretty importing seeing as though it’s seven in the morning.” stiles says, wrapped up in a fluffy blanket that was previously sitting on the back of derek’s couch.

“it’s more than likely about the kanima issue we’re currently having.” issac matter-of-factly says. he’s always been a straight to the point type of guy, kind of like derek.

“where are derek and scott? they called this meeting and yet they aren’t even here.” you speak out to nobody in particular.

“they’re probably getting snacks or something. they know how the betas get in the morning and during meetings without some form of food consumption.” peter replies to you with a small smirk at your mention of derek.

everyone knows of your crush on derek. and of derek’s crush on you. yet, neither of you two act on it. the pack is getting tired of the small glances and touches you guys share and not putting a label on whatever you guys have going on.

it’s obvious to anyone looking at you both that there is something going on, except the two of you.

“well, well. would you look who decided to show up.” you break out of your thoughts and look up and see scott and derek. heart fastening a little at the sight of him.

“oh, would you be quiet? you know how everyone gets without food during these meetings. you should be thanking us.” scott says, setting the food down on the coffee table and taking a seat by allison.

derek sits down next to you on the couch, putting his arm around the back of you. admittedly, it makes you blush a little bit. but you can’t let him know that so you try to avoid eye contact with him. obviously it didn’t work.

derek looks at you confused because you never purposely turn away from him. he looks down at you, “hey, you good? these guys didn’t bother you that much did they?”

“uh no no it’s fine. it’s just a little warm in here, you know?” you try to hide your face with embarrassment while talking to him.

“oh, okay. do you want me to turn the heat down or anything?” he asks you.

“no, it’s fine.” you say.

“okay.” he drops the subject and goes to listening in on scott telling the pack about what needs to happen with the kanima issue.

you look up at him, admiring all his features. his eye, his hair, his body. holy shit. you can’t help but think, he’s really pretty. i guess he noticed you staring at him because he looks down at you mid stare.

“what are you looking at?” he questions.

“nothing, nothing at all.” you say with a little smile while turning away and focusing on what scott is saying. roles reversed now.

this time, derek is staring at you while you listen to scott speak. man, she’s so pretty. he thinks to himself. i wish i could just tell her how i feel without putting her in danger.

“hey y/n? can i talk to you a second?” lydia asks, “in private?”

“yeah, sure.” you say.

she gets up and you follow in tow. she leads you up the stairs of the loft, up into derek’s bedroom.

his room his neat. bed made and well put together. you could’ve guessed that it would’ve been considering how much of a neat freak derek is.

“y/n.” lydia speaks.

“what? what’s wrong, lyds?” you question her.

“you and derek keep looking at each other like your in love. when are you gunna to confess to him that you’ve liked him for the past two years?”

“what?! one, derek definitely doesn’t like me like that, we’re just friends. and two, we aren’t looking at each other like we love each other.” you try explaining, lying out of your ass.

“bullshit. he loves you, you know? he’s just too afraid to admit it. he just doesn’t want you wrapped up in all his issues and getting you in danger or hurt.” lydia says.

“i don’t know, lyds. there’s no way he could like me. i mean, we’ve been friends for almost three years and he hasn’t once shown an interest in me.”

lydia leads you to the bed, sitting you down on it and her sitting right next to you.

“i think you need to ask him how he feels, ‘cause i can tell you right now that the whole pack is getting tired of you guys making googly eyes at each other and acting like you’re in love.” she’s definitely speaking facts. ever since about a year ago, you and derek’s relationship has been different, more flirty but not enough for you to notice a drastic change.

“fine. i’ll ask him after the pack meeting, but if he doesn’t feel the same way i’m not coming to another meeting for like, four months.” you say.

“you’re being dramatic, y/n.”

“nope. i’m serious, id be too embarrassed coming back.” you explain, smiling cheekily.

“you promise to ask him after the meeting then? because i can swear to you that he feels the same way.” lydia says.

“yes lyds, i promise.”

“perfect. then let’s go back down there.” she gets up and starts walking back down to the main floor with you in tow right behind her.

you guys make your way back to the pack and you sit back down by derek. except this time when you look up at him, he’s smirking back down at you.

“what are you smirking at, huh?” you ask him with a slight smile on your face.

he leans down to whisper in your ear so only you can hear what he’s saying, “oh nothing, just that i think you and lydia forgot that i could hear every word that you guys just said.”

oh shit

“whattt… i uh, don’t know what you’re talking about, der.” you try to play it off. acting like your heart rate isn’t beating a thousand miles per hour right now.

“don’t worry, love. i think we have something to talk about after the meeting though.” he says, and then bringing his head back up and focusing on the meeting once more, not giving you time to respond.

the remainder of the meeting seems like it’s forever, when in reality it was probably only twenty minutes at most. at the end, everyone gets up to leave and when you try to, derek grabs your wrist bringing you back down beside him. “i don’t think so, love. we need to talk.”

der, i really don’t think we should. i already know you don’t feel the same way i feel. so what’s the point in even talking about it?” you say.

“who said i don’t feel the same?” he says with a smirk on his face.

“what’s that suppose to mean?”

“it means that i like you too, dumbass. in fact, i am in love with you. i didn’t want to tell you because with us being together it would put you in danger.” he confesses.

“derek..” you start.

“with everything going on, you’re always there for me and i don’t know what i would do without you. if something were to happen i couldn’t live with myself. you’re perfect. you’re funny, smart, beauti-“ you cut him off.

you kiss him.

you couldn’t take him rambling and rambling about how much he wanted you but couldn’t have you. you’re fine with being in danger as long as your with him.

your guys’ mouths mold perfectly in sync. this is even better than i thought it would be. you think to yourself.

eventually, you pull away. gasping for breath and looking at derek. he looks happy, ecstatic even. you’ve never seen him smile this big before.

“derek.”

“yes, love?”

“i don’t care if i am in danger in order to be with you. i want to be with you no matter what is happening in our lives.” you say.

“then i promise to keep you safe, no matter the circumstances.” he says.

“so what does this mean then? like, us?” you ask.

“i guess this means i finally get to take you out.” he pronounces, goofy smile on his face.

“about time.”

[a-tired-human-draws-junk]

LU Four headcanons + Minish cap thoughts

EDIT: HELP I DIDNT MEAN TO POST THIS YET💀 fuck it we ball

So I've been playing minish cap and I'm having a great time it's so fucking whimsical and lovely everybody ever should play it right now but it made me realise how little?? Minish cap stuff gets mentioned in linked universe??? like where is my funny little figurine collection I spent thousands of shells on, where is my cute minish lore, where is my cane of pacci, where are my KINSTONES!!!

Anyways this is basically me nerding out over Minish cap and sharing my new silly little thoughts on Four (and spreading my new knowledge to the fic writers please there is so much untapped potential here you dont understand😭)

I've never done this before so bare w me

Starting w KINSTONES

So much of this is kinstones why does nobody talk about them I've read hundreds of LU fics and did not even know they existed till I played minish cap

I think Four has just SO. MANY. KINSTONES.

He just has a bag of random kinstone pieces on him at all times

Imagine the chain all sitting around the fire one day and fours like "anybody wanna match kinstones?" And the others stare at him like... "bro what is even that 😭"

Another funny idea, he just goes through his bag and starts trying to match the pieces he has, one actually works and a chest just appears next to the chain and four is like "aw hell yeah that's some good luck"

Everybody else "four how did you just SUMMON TREASURE"

"Got lucky :]"

Imagine hes not even really known as a hero in his home town but as the kinstone guy™

They go to Fours hyrule and little kids will just come up to him like ",,kinstone,,?" And he will just whip out the biggest bag of kinstone pieces and grab the exact one needed to match

It's like a magic trick

Desperately need some good luck? Talk to the kinstone guy hes gotchu

Imagine the colors all get their own bags

He just has four bags of kinstones at all times (maybe five if they have a community pile)

(There are more at home)

Also animals? Can have kinstones?? I feel there is comedy potential in that

Four has a collection of silly little figurines he paid thousands of mysterious shells for and I need somebody to talk about it

He has over A HUNDRED SILLY LITTLE FIGURINES

I dont know what to do with this knowledge but it is important to me that people know that

Cane of pacci.

CANE OF PACCI

Please its concept is so fucking funny people need to use it more.

(I've seen it a few times but NOT ENOUGH!!)

Imagine dink shows up and gives an evil monologue and everyone is having an intense stare down and four just discreetly grabs his cane and zaps dink w it and he just fucking flips upside down smacks his head on the ground and passes out

LIKE PLEASE ITS SO FUNNY I LOVE IT

Theres a hole in the ground and he just zaps it and jumps in and rolls around and fucking flings himself into the air

I've seen so many fics where Four can just shrink down at will and that's fine I like em but in game you have to use minish portals and it's a whole thing

And I've seen people utilizing portals which I love

But I need more funny moments so

In game they are so very inconvenient and some are so fucking funny to me

Four just walks into a house flips this beautiful, giant vase, upside down jumps on top and becomes smol

Like??😭 going into people houses and breaking their pots is a link tradition but just... flipping one upside down is for some reason incredibly hilarious to me

Or running head first into a tree using pegasus boots to reveal a portal

Somebody do something w these portals they are so incredibly good

Also piccori are SMALL

They are TINY

When I imagined the minish I was picturing a lil guy the size of my thumb maybe a little smaller

NO

THESE BITCHES THINK ACORNS ARE BIG!!

THEY ARE SO INCREDIBLY TINY!

MINISCULE!

I dont know what to do with that I just desperately needed to share

Imagine the picori lore potential yall

I've seen a few good ones but I NEED MORE LITTLE GUYS

Fours hyrule has a whole lotta beliefs and traditions about the minish me thinks

I mean they already have a festival about them

So imagine-

They find chips on the walls of their homes that are neatly shaped and nicely trimmed and they leave them, they take it as good luck, the picori are staying here

You see many of such spots in someone's home and you take them as kind, the picori stay with them

I think they abide by leaving picori paths

Random small planks connecting homes and making paths too small to walk are left where they are

If a plank starts decaying they leave a similar sized one nearby and the next day find the old one replaced and a kinstone lying nearby

If your flower pots neatly lined in a row suddenly have a small gap between two, keep it, the picori are passing by here

I think they make spaces in their homes for them

I think Four would go out of his way to leave space for the picori in his

Maybe he makes little houses he keeps in his yard or on a shelf or on the rafters or all of the above

Maybe he leaves out food in odd places and when it disappears he finds treasures somewhere nearby

He basically has a whole neighborhood of minish living in and around his house

I think Four has actually learned minish

Like yes he used the jabbernut to understand them initially but I think he went out of his way to properly learn it

And there are canonically different dialects, lil tidbit courtesy of Ezlo, so maybe hes learned multiple versions of minish

Imagine the funny moments where he just fucking starts saying smth in minish like "pico pipi pori co" and the chain stare at him and he just stares back like 'what?' "WHAT DOES PICOROCOPOIPO MEAN,??"

Hes just spent too much time as a tiny guy

[saphronethaleph]

Parahumans: A Measured Response

“Hey, L, you’ve got to see this!” Alec called, and Lisa groaned.

“Is this going to be you doing another headshot?” she asked.

“No, no, this genuinely is a big deal,” Alec replied. “It’s a big long video explainer thing, and, uh… I’m like five minutes in and this sounds like a big deal.”

“Fine, fine, whatever,” Lisa decided, thinking about the work she’d been doing for the Boss and how it really could wait for a bit.

Fuck him, anyway.

Besides, if it was some kind of big video explainer, she could get a fun few minutes out of taking it apart.

She locked her laptop and went through into Alec’s room, where he had his own computer on and was scrubbing back through a video.

“Okay, here we go,” Alec said. “It’s past the titles and stuff, this is where the first section starts.”

Lisa glanced down at the video scrollbar, and blinked.

“...Alec, this video is five hours long,” she said.

“Yeah, he’s outdone himself this time I guess,” Alec replied. “But the last one was, like, a hundred and ten minutes about autism and vaccines or something, so this isn’t that long in comparison.”

“It really is,” Lisa muttered, rolling her eyes. “Okay, let’s see if this is worth anything.”

Alec hit the spacebar, and the video began to play.

“Part one,” a British voice said, over a title card. “How do Tinker powers work. Spoilers: They don’t!”

Lisa blinked.

“Is this a conspiracy theory thing?” she asked.

“Shush,” Alec advised her, politely.

“I know, that’s going to immediately make me sound like I’m completely crazy,” the video creator went on. “How can Tinker powers not work when they clearly do? Well, that’s the thing, because Tinker powers are supposed to be about technology, but it’s been clearly and repeatably recorded in experiments going back decades that the technology Tinkers build only works when they build it.”

He threw up his hands, waving a sheaf of paper. “And I was as skeptical about this as you probably are, but I actually looked at the studies. The first one is by the British government, which did it in partnership with Oxford university, and – I know, but, listen, they sometimes do good research besides just coincidentally having one of their literature professors accidentally invent an entire genre…”

Lisa glanced down at the video bar again, which had barely moved, then frowned.

Her power hadn’t given her anything.

Well? She thought, gingerly poking the part of her brain that usually resulted in insights.

...section title is not incorrect, her power informed her, reluctantly.

“...Alec, what are the other section titles?” Lisa asked.

“You’re interested now, huh?” Alec asked, pausing the video, and showed the description.

“...part three: I might get black-ops’d for this,” Lisa repeated. “...the fuck? The leader of the PRT is a parahuman?”

Alexandria, her power stated.

“...fuck,” Lisa muttered. “Well, that’s not good… okay, unpause it, let’s see how bad this is going to get…”

Fortuna hit pause.

Two seconds later, the door opened, and Rebecca leaned in.

“What. The fuck?” she asked, then her gaze flicked to the screen of Fortuna’s computer. “Is that the video?”

“Yes,” Fortuna replied.

“How exactly could you let this happen?” Rebecca asked. “Have you seen what this video is about?”

“Yes,” Fortuna repeated. “The section titles make it quite obvious.”

“Yeah, the section titles make it obvious, all right,” Rebecca replied. “Section One: How do Tinker powers work, spoiler, they don’t. Section one point five, how does Dragon’s power work then. Section two: Wait, is Dragon an AI!?”

She pronounced the interrobang very well, and Fortuna looked up.

“Do you have a point?” she asked.

“Of course I have a point!” Rebecca said. “And I know you know that – you’re a precog, why are you asking?”

“Path to a productive end to the conversation,” Fortuna answered. “The next bit is that you continue listing off the section titles for rhetorical purposes.”

Rebecca’s eye twitched.

“Part two point five, why has nobody before figured out Dragon is an AI!?!?,” she recited, from memory, naturally. “With a bracketed subsection. We don’t count the Dragonslayers because they’re nutjobs. Part three: So I might get black-ops’d for this. Part three point five: Why has nobody before figured out the leader of the PRT is a parahuman? Part four: I absolutely will get black-ops’d for this.”

Rebecca paused, and glowered at Fortuna.

“Why was he even allowed to upload the video?” she asked. “Now that he’s uploaded it, then to… black-ops him is just going to make it obvious he was right.”

“Honestly I think it should be quite clear why by the time you reach the end of the video,” Fortuna replied, nodding at her screen, which showed that the pause bar was somewhere in the middle of section seven. “Though there may have been a flaw in Path To A Really Good Online Video.”

“You don’t say,” Rebecca muttered. “Didn’t it only come out half an hour ago?”

“Path to the Most Immediately Relevant Bits,” Fortuna answered, reasonably enough.

“You do realize he’s exposed us, though?” Rebecca went on. “Not just me, us. At least, I assume that’s why part five is called It’s a melting pot of every conspiracy, get it?”

Fortuna smiled, mysteriously.

“Stop it,” Rebecca grumbled. “And no, I’m not angry about part six, even though it’s called The Illuminati are really bad at conspiracies. Or part eight which is begging us to hire an eight year old as an advisor.”

“Part seven is actually the most relevant bit, for us,” Fortuna said. “So far he’s outlined three solutions to Scion which would be better than any plans we had before.”

Rebecca blinked.

“...are you sure?” she asked.

“That’s why part seven is called Apocalypse Soon,” Fortuna pointed out. “You should watch the video.”

“It’s five hours long,” Rebecca protested.

“Yes, which is why it’s fortunate that you’re going to have a lot of free time soon,” Fortuna replied.

[dontcallpanic]

The seriously endlessly talented @teencopandthesourwolf tagged me to do WIP Wednesday and it's been so long I really wanted to share something so thank, you thank, you diolch yn fawr iawn 💙 the problem is i have no time to edit so you're gettin this raw!

Hope you enjoy! It's from my post apocalyptic sterek au, Lineman, vaguely based on the song Wichita Lineman and it's about Derek slowly falling in love with Stiles' through his pirate-radio show.

----------

“So, how's it going, new best friends. Yup. I'm Still here. Oh wait you can't see that… I’m doing jazz hands! 

Do you still have jazz hands here? Do you still have jazz? Wait… do you still have hands? 

Please tell me we still have hands? The jazz I can live without but the hands… I'm pretty attached to the hands.

Hey, D'you remember the old radio shows? Do you still have radio shows? I mean apparently you do now - if this even counts. Maybe I should like, make this official. Hey! I should sing my own jingle. Hah it's not like you can stop me! Heh - speak now or forever hold your peace. What's that? Hah nope sorry… I can't hear you!

So now that that's decided, what else do you guys want? Do you even care about the weather? I mean it's not changed that much in… days. Like, is it always sunny here? I mean I can cover it y'know. It's reassuring, daily check in like, guess what?- the sun's still here! Woooo!

I'm doing more jazz hands by the way. We're gonna make this a thing! We're bringing jazz hands back!

Oh and while we're at it, do you even have traffic to report on? Let me know!

Oh how, you ask? Well my fine freaky friends like this!

Okay that didn't work so well. Gimme a minute.

So maybe if you…huh… can you even broadcast on the same frequency as me while I'm transmitting?

Ummm I don't even know what frequency this is going out on. I should probably find that out. Hah. Yeah.

Oh. Okay. Do that aga…

… etimes… I can almost…

Fucking lost it. Wait. Hang on sometimes if I just do this I can…

Oh wait…shit.

Shit…

I don't feel so good…"

There's a sound like hands scrambling that quickly turns into something garbled as if the microphone has just been dropped underwater. Something crashes to the ground and for a split second there's a high pitched warble like the capacitor has slipped then the broadcast cuts out. Nothing but the familiar hush of static.

Derek slowly straightens from where he's been fixing the mast and stares perplexed at the radio.

The fuck was that?

He narrows his eyes as if he could glare the radio into answering before he runs a greasy hand across his forehead and jumps down. His feet make a gentle thump, dust among the sand billowing up around his boots. Derek is in no hurry but he is deeply, endlessly curious.

It's not escaped his notice that the frequency was different this time. That voice - whoever, whatever it is, clearly has access to proper broadcast equipment. The old kind. The kind nobody should have anymore. Which is exactly what he suspected last time but this is just further confirmation.

His mouth is a grim line as he stares thoughtfully at his radio. He should probably start trying to trace the transmission sometime but, this is big news. It's only just a matter of time before someone pays him to get this information. He doesn't have to rush.

And yet.

That voice...

-------------

Tagging the cheerleader and inspiration provider for this fic @greyhavenisback

And then Very gentle no pressure whatsoever tags to: @patolemus @violetfairydust @gege-wondering-around and @oldefashioned (just cause I'm so excited to see you around again!)

[inkdemonapologist]

[BatIM Cthulhu] MORE CTHULHU SCRIBBLES, this time from session 4!! Here we have, uh,

The yellow fog that's taking over New York seems to be able to hijack people and make them think they're one of the characters from the King in Yellow play. Susie DID get brainwashed but we're unclear on whether the knife-twirling skills were there already. IT JUST WOULDNT SURPRISE ME, U KNOW?

AVEDONS HERE??????? If you don't remember Avedon i dont blame you, he last showed up back in seASON 2, in NOLA, where he lost his mind and locked Sammy and Jack in his closet at gunpoint and then started shooting the host at the masquerade party. He seems a little more sane this go round but everyone decided Sammy and Jack should not be in the welcoming party. Anyway sorry NYC is like this for your visit Avedon, I promise there's usually less dread carcosa

Sammy brought Prophet out to see if he could tell whether or not Peter is THE ONE THE PHANTOM SEEKS and Prophet decided to make sure he was getting an accurate reading by smooshing his hands all over Peter's face. Don't worry about it, Peter!! It's fine. Normal Sammy Behaviour.

And if you'd like some Out of Context quotes from our session, those are under the cut!

[Sammy is played by me, Joey is played by Boo (inkyvendingmachine), Henry is played by Maf (inkcryptid), Jack is played by Mochi (whatyouwantedmetosee) and Thren (haunted-hijinxer) is our GM!]

[Sammy] *recapping* Joey tried to do some bullshit, and it, uh, made things worse! [GM] It got some attention, it seems! [Joey] EHhhhhhhhh, [Sammy] Yeah, he was doing his nonsense, and then the Phantom showed up because he was doing his nonsense -- [Joey] ehhhhhhhhhhh [Sammy] And then we hit the Phantom with Jack's car! A rational and reasonable response to the unknowable. [Jack] Joey MADE Jack hit the Phantom with his car. [Joey] EHHHHHHHHH, [Jack] Because Jack wouldn't do this on purpose. He likes his car! [Sammy] I think that's entirely reasonable. No reasonable person would have done this course of events.

[Sammy] What happens if you drive a car in Carcosa [Sammy] It's in the name, it should be a good place for cars... [Jack] It actually cancels out because there's two of them, so you just get "Cosa."

[Joey] One of the times, the Mercedes is going to be missing and it's not because of Yellow Sign stuff, it's just that someone finally stole it. [Sammy] Car gets its tires slashed, "THIS IS THE WORK OF THE YELLOW KING!!!"

[Jack] Even if it's safety glass, I feel like Jack doesn't want to sit in a bunch of glass! [Henry] Exfoliation. [Jack] ON HIS BUTT????

[Joey] Just venting about everything that has been happening, but it's clearly all this other guy's fault? [Sammy] I love Joey having no particular distinction between "annoying person who's getting in the way of me making cartoons" and "eldritch entity" - WHICH IS THE SAME THING, it's just an annoying person who's getting in the way of making cartoons! [Joey] YEAH!!

[Sammy] Jack struck me as someone who'd be a cautious driver. [GM] And he let Sammy drive his car?!

[Joey] It's taking Joey a little longer to finish his ritual, because he keeps getting angry and ranting more, [Sammy] "*draws one line* AND ANOTHER THING--!"

[GM] Avedon says you need to watch out for each other, because something's already messing with Norman -- [Joey] what, wAIT-- WHAT? [GM] --and he needs you guys to come find him, he's at this hotel, and he thinks he knows how to destroy the Phantom. [Joey] Have you called Norman? [GM] He says, "Where do you think I got this number?" And then he hangs up. [Joey] .................................................................. [Sammy/Jack/Henry] *IMMEDIATELY LOSING IT* [Jack] *still cracking up* H-how, how mad is Joey right now, [Joey] ...........................I need to look something up.

[Joey] I know way too much about, the history of phone technologies now, [Sammy] This game is educational. Nobody tells you that.

[Joey] What is up with your crazy friend?! [Norman] You're going to have to be more specific.

[Joey] Wait, DID you get a call from Avedon? [GM] Norman says that he got word from The Advisor earlier. [Jack].... Hm. [Sammy] Norman??????? [Joey] ...iS SUSIE STILL THERE, [GM] Uh, yeah! He hands over the phone. [Joey] IS SHE NORMAL????????????????? [GM] She likes to think so!

[Joey] Nobody's going to let Peter choose his own methods of communication, he just gets to RECEIVE [Sammy] Look! He was warned!!

[GM] Peter's glancing at Jack like, is this concerning? [Jack] Well Jack looks CONCERNED, but he's not concerned about this, specifically. This is refreshingly normal.

[Sammy] And the Traitor mercifully absent! [Jack] I know you said "traitor", but I heard "trader," like no that's a different AU, [Joey] Oh good. No Wandering Traders. [everyone makes villager "Hrrrm" noises] [Sammy] Prophet's ALSO murdering llamas for leads, [Jack] I mean, we could do with a lead about now! I don't know if we have any other than Avedon. [Joey] *uncontrollably giggling at this joke for the next 15 seconds* [Sammy] Oh boy, [Joey] *still giggling* iT WAS A REALLY gOOD ONE,,,

[Joey] Does Jack's car look any different to Henry? [Jack] Well there's a weird splat mark in the shape of a guy,

[Sammy] Be vigilant! His will can overtake your own. [Henry] Hm,,, you too,

[GM] Does anyone want to do a summary of where we were at? [Jack] I have an extremely short summary: [Jack] Shit's Fucked.

[Sammy] Avedon told us to meet him because THE WORLD IS IN PERIL [Sammy] which, I think it's really important to remember that Avedon is French, when you imagine him saying the word "peril." That's all.

[Sammy] It's not TOO late to visit people, but it is maybe an awkward time to-- [Jack] When has awkward timing EVER stopped this-- [Sammy] NEVER. It's never stopped us. [Henry] I think it would be weirder if we arrived at an opportune time, at this point! [Joey] It IS a great time for a snake to show up, I feel like. [Sammy] That's true. It's never a wrong time for a snake to show up, honestly.

[Joey] Enough time has passed that Joey will come out to the parking lot. [Sammy] I really thought you were gonna say "come out to the party" [Jack] Joey's coming out? [GM] *laughing* I think they already know!

[Joey] Also, Norman has started acting very weird. [Henry] How? [Joey] You know how, sometimes people start saying things, in situations like this, where they think... [Joey]...yOU KNOW HOW PROPHET DESCRIBES PEOPLE?

[Jack] I can't believe you're splitting up the boyfriends! [Jack] ...as compared to the other boyfriends, [Sammy] I feel like it's really hard to split this party without splitting up some boyfriends somewhere.

[GM] Jack doesn't want to drive and Sammy doesn't know where he's going - ✨TEAMWORK!✨ :D

[Jack] You go through all of Henry's coats and none of them are familiar, and they're all extremely stylish [Henry] That's not Carcosa, that's Joey.

[Jack] Oh no, his accent's Italian now! [Sammy] That's just what happens when you come to New York.

[GM] Make a sanity check. [Henry] For looking at a clarinet???

[Henry] Henry is... maybe taking a closer look out the window. [Sammy] I support him. I'm not there, but I support him-- [Henry] Then, yeah, I'm gonna say he's doing that! [Sammy] --from afar, where I suffer no consequences.

[Henry] Henry has his hand on his gun. [Henry] ...he knows that he can't, like, SHOOT CARCOSA, but, [Jack] Carcosa's haunted.

[Joey] I actually succeeded the luck check! [Sammy] Congratulations, that's a feat for Joey! [Jack] It's his natural talent.

[Henry] I wish I had the words to describe the face Henry is making. [Henry] If Scared and Defeated had a baby.

[GM] Avedon turns around, looking wild-eyed behind his glasses, and says, because he is the master of smart things, "We need to get out of here!" [Joey] NO SHIT, SHERLOCK!

[GM] In fact, you think you hear conspiratorial whispering in the distance! [Henry] But our conspiratorial whisperer is accounted for...

[Joey] Joey's just going to march up behind them and ask what's going on. [GM] They are both going to jump to their feet, and bow, actually, [Sammy] Um. [Jack] Hmmmm. [Sammy] UM. [GM] and say, "we were just dealing with matters of State, Your Highness." [Joey] [Joey] *quiet giggling* [Jack] Oh no. [Sammy] Joey doesn't need this. Joey doesn't need this. [Jack] His ego's already so big!!

[Sammy] You're going to open the door and the Phantom's gonna be standing there. [Henry] "Want some weed?"

[Joey] Avedon can stay with Norman. They're friends. [Sammy] I don't-- we'll see how Norman is. [Joey] I mean, I don't think, no matter what, that Norman can be weirder than Avedon?

[GM] You can make a psychology roll, if you want! [Sammy] OKAY, we'll see, I'm not holding out a lot of hope on Sammy getting this-- [Sammy] *rolls* ....WELL. That is... an extreme success. I rolled a TWO. [Jack] Are we sure SAMMY hasn't been replaced? [Joey] Has Shazz been replaced? [Jack] Have Shazz's dice been replaced????

[Jack] Jack is probably trying to get... any.... information out of Norman, [Sammy] Sorry, I left you the hard mode one. [Joey] Kiss him!!

[matt0044]

What we can learn from “The Jaune Arc Discourse” (TM).

Well, to start with, people are really resistant to being corrected on lies at worst or overstatements at best.

Like if nothing else, the Does RWBY Like Women poll was illuminating in how it showed me that a veeeeeery weird myth about Jaune Arc has persisted beyond its true relevancy.

Volume 1 of RWBY features Jaune Arc in the spotlight for… what? Four episodes? The minutes of each adding up to roughly twenty minutes, the length of an average TV episode?

While he was featured in the previous storyline where we are given an eight episode arc introducing us to our eight main protagonists, he was a lot more… ancillary as comic relief. A discount Lavernius Tucker with Felix’s voice if you will.

He's Vomit Boy in episode one. Episode two has him introduced more formally as somebody who helps up Ruby after a bad first impression on Weiss. He later appears more prominently pining over Weiss and catching Pyrrha's attention before falling to bracing himself in being catapulted into the Emerald Forest.

He's bailed out by Pyrrha and it's set up that he's in over his head by not knowing what Aura is or at least wanting to know how it works. An exposition sponge as I heard on fan call it. I could go on but the point is that all signs pointed to a Butt Monkey Ron Stoppable sort who was likely there for cheap laughs.

Amusing enough but I worried if that's all he'd be personally. Lord knows that some movies give the Comic Relief character too much comic relief and, well, not enough character. But after Ruby and Weiss have their leader/lance headbutting, the four episodes that followed reassured me that there'd be more to Jaune than meets the eyes.

But to circle back to the main thesis, it's actually fascinating that the myth of Jaune hijacking the narrative for himself is this pervasive when the offending story in question... is very much a self-contained character piece. It's way less about the wider story involving Ozpin, Roman Torchwick (at the time) and the White Fang.

It has relevance in how Pyrrha starts mentoring Jaune after he deals with Cardin and gets over himself (for now) which trickles down into future stories. Even then, the next story arc right back with Team RWBY with nary a sign of the everyman in question. A story arc that does deal with elements of the main plot, leading directly into Volume 2.

And in Volume 2, Jaune trying to woo Weiss and being ignorant to Pyyrha's advancements was just a subplot scattered in the first half of the story. It very much piggybacks off of Team RWBY's whole deal.

Volume 3 has what I consider to be a reversal of what's been known as Trinity Syndrome.

Namely the sort where a male character goes off the square off with the main villain mano-e-mano after shoving the female character/his love interest away so she won't get hurt. An egrigious example being when the love interest CAN FIGHT and back him up.

However, Pyyrha instead shoves Jaune out of the way after kissing him and goes off to face Cinder in a very fatal battle. It was honestly a brilliant (as much as the term may be disliked these days) subversion of the cliche.

And it’s Ruby who sees her death and gets the trauma induced power up. Jaune only has a scene of angst before that and was the one to call Ruby to have her try and back up the one he just realized he loved.

Jaune from that point on is an Everyman Protagonist who is forced to remember that he’s not THE protagonist. Yet the myth persistently proclaims that he hijacks the narrative from the titular Team RWBY despite only four episodes being wholly dedicated to him and his head space.

How did we get here?

Well… there’s the fact that not everyone finished Volume 1 and that not everybody, well, watched RWBY. And that would be fine on its own. You gave it a shot and it wasn’t your cuppa joe. You saw the trailer but clicked on something else.

I get it. That’s fine. Contrary to popular belief, nobody in the FNDM will really fault you for it. Less fine is when you spread faulty readings of RWBY and from those heavily biased against it no less.

It cannot be emphasized enough that tearing into RWBY is a cottage industry on YouTube. Hbomberguy might have the biggest platform but you’ll find multiple channels with lengthy series on “RWBY bad, here why.” And they are actually amongst the FNDM. They know how the YT Algorithm game is played, how it rewards engagement above all else. And sadly, negativity and rage pay more bills.

It’s why there are few positive videos or at least few that are pushed into the recommendations. Many often borrow the same points from each other born from the V1 days, namely that Jaune is allegedly given favoritism by the writers while we somehow “don’t know who the main girls are.”

From four episodes.

I also think it’s also to do with how it’s not that he actually did steal screentime… so much as many anticipated he would. A lot of shows and movies I grew up with would have strong female characters but any potential they had was hindered by the male lead and his hero’s journey. See the above Trinity Syndrome I referenced.

But Jaune didn’t do that. Even when he was central to an event like his semblance being awakened, it’s a healing/power boost that he gives to others. Weiss getting skewered might’ve brought it out but it lead to her getting back into the fray while he was largely to the sides.

Seems more like he shares screentime if anything.

People cling to these myths despite legit fans actually pointing out, “Hey, that’s not true actually and here’s why,” because that hate being told they are wrong more than being wrong. And because there are many around these who reinforce this “truth,” they feel content with it. No need to challenge it when it “feels” right.

So Jaune Arc stole screentime. Because that’s what “everyone else” is saying. By you need to question popular opinions. You need to realize that sometimes… a fan community is based on lies.

”Trust me, bro” is not the gotcha you think it is.

[ljblueteak]

Watched Chase (8x12) again for the millionth time and have so many thoughts!

Foreman tells Chase he doesn't have to go back and work for House if he doesn't want to (and he thought it would be good for him to move away with Cameron during Teamwork, hmm) but Taub encourages Chase to come back to the team: "[House] thinks three steps ahead, so I do too. Which is why you should accept his apology and come back on the team. He's annoying, he's maddening, but he makes us all better."

The "Makes us all better" part reminded me that Chase tries to heal himself for the entire episode. It begins when his date asks him if they should get him to a doctor at the start of the episode and he tells her he is a doctor and takes care of himself. This continues through him turning House away and meeting expressions of concern with "Just knowing you're there for me is enough." But then having it out with House at the end actually *does* help make him better (in a sense other than the one Taub meant, but still).

Taub knew that House had apologized to Chase. How? Did the rest of the team know?

Chase is an interesting combination of House and himself here. He discovers that Moira's got a condition that can be cured after he's been kicked off the case by Foreman (for sleeping with Moira and operating on her—Adams suggests that by"breaking the rules" and "not caring what anyone else thinks," he's turning into House) and has been told by House that he's too emotionally involved and is "grasping at straws." He comes through with the House-ish, last minute save, but it's *because* he's emotionally involved and goes back to spend time with Moira that he picks up on something, while House thinks emotional involvement gets in the way (now comparing this to House not wanting to believe Chase couldn't feel his legs in Nobody's Fault and trying to think of reasons that wouldn't involve permanent paralysis).

Chase has basically just met Moira and when it looks like she may have terminal cancer, he tells her "I'll be here as much as you need." It's interesting to see this so close to Better Half and the couple where the patient was diagnosed with Alzheimer's very early into the relationship.

Adams started seeing a trauma counselor and Park was really shaken/scared. Taub started taking self-defense classes. What about House? I would have loved to see any discussion between House and Wilson about this.

I have so many thoughts about Foreman and Chase's season 8 relationship, but I love that Foreman tells Chase he can have whatever he needs, but that he should come back and do clinic duty because "I know you. If all you do is physical therapy and your nighttime version of it, you'll lose your mind faster than you regain those fine motor skills" and... it doesn't seem like he's actually wrong about that?

Foreman is pissed and surprised later that Chase took the "leeway" Foreman gave him and slept with a patient, and it's not quite like when he's surprised that other time when they lie to a patient on the "lie to the patient" show—Adams suggests that it's not something Chase would have done before the stabbing.

Also, Chase says to Foreman, "I saved [Moira] from brain damage. You think my judgment's the least bit compromised?" and Foreman doesn't answer that question, but then House says, "Yeah, Foreman's clearly wrong. You're clearly not grasping at straws 'cause you're clearly not emotionally involved." What were they saying behind Chase's back? I want to knoooooow!

Foreman sitting in on the differential at the end of the episode was also neat. He was filling in for Chase?

[cwritesforfun]

Carmen 'Carmy' Berzatto x Fem!Reader: Your Dad's Biggest Fan (Request)

Ginger = Your Name L/N = Your Last Name *** I do not own any of the Bear characters or plot***

Masterlist

Your POV - The Meet Cute

You write lifestyle reviews for Chicago in the Chicago Times and you often get to visit really cool events in the city that you love. You get to attend music festivals, visit new hotels, and just enjoy the city for pay. However, your favorite part is getting to try different kinds of cuisine in the city and you love to shout out places that you truly enjoy visiting because they all deserve success for their hard work. You've always enjoyed food and writing, so this felt like the perfect job for you.

Your father is an amazing cook with restaurants and Michelin stars to prove it. You're used to people using that information against you or for their personal benefit, so you stopped telling people about him. You even started going by your mother's maiden name, so nobody connected you to your father. Your work knows who your father is and you host the annual holiday party at one of his restaurants, which is fine to mix work and family once a year. Your friends like your father, but they don't use you to get to him, which is nice to have people who truly care about you. It's why you find it hard to date because people seek to use you at every turn.

Your work brings you joy and you love doing it. So getting an email from one of the chefs asking you to meet at their restaurant to talk terrifies you. You went to the Bear, a new restaurant that had once been a sandwich shop called the Beef. Your father liked their sandwiches and would often get them when he was on that side of Chicago. The Bear had just opened with a new menu and they hosted a press night where reviewers in the city came to discover more about the restaurant. You were sent by your newspaper company. You met up with other reviewers that were attending the event and you had a blast. The staff was courteous and kind, they also knew what you needed before you needed it. The food was hot and tasty and melted in your mouth. The bathrooms and space were clean. The wine selection matched perfectly with the meal. The Head Chef, Carmen Berzatto even came out of the kitchen to thank everyone. He was young and cute, and he seemed passionate about his place. You commended the event as one of your favorites and talked up the staff in your article. You even mentioned going to the Beef before it became the Bear. You showed your support, so you were confused about why you were being invited back for a chat. It worried you.

You get off the metro train and make your way over to the Bear. You show up outside and notice they're not even open. This makes you even more confused. You open the front door, step in, and see the staff all sitting at the tables eating lunch from what it looks like. They all turn to face you and you exclaim, 'Hi, I'm Ginger from the Chicago Times. I was told to meet Chef Carmen Berzatto here for a meeting now." The guy you recognize as the chef, Carmen Berzatto, looks up and says, "Oh wow you're on time." You reply, "Yes sir, I recognize that we all have a lot going on, so being punctual is always something I strive for. I usually am 10 minutes early to events, but the metro here was packed." A girl sitting at the table says, "I get that, I hate the metro. My name is Sydney. Nice to meet you, Ginger." You reply, "Nice to meet you, Sydney." You see a man near Camen Berzatto ask, "What made you get into reviews? Oh, and I'm Richie." You answer, "Hi Richie. Well I love writing and I love food, so I wanted to combine them for my job. My mom has always told me to work hard to succeed and that's what I did. Chicago Times liked some of my pieces for college and I started as an intern before I became the full-time lifestyle reviewer I am today. It's great." Richie asks, "And you've been to the Bear before opening?" You answer, "My father used to take me here growing up when I was a kid. And whenever I was on this side of town after college, I always returned to the Beef. You all were always packed and everyone was always friendly." Carmen Berzatto asks, "So you weren't lying in your article, that was all real?" You answer, "Yes sir. I am always completely open and honest about my experiences even if they're being paid for by the company. I never want to lie to readers or companies about what I feel." Carmen Berzatto replies, "Your article helped us a lot after you visited. People kept coming in mentioning the Chicago Times article and your support for us. We just wanted to see if you would sign some copies for us to keep." OH MY GOSH!!! Why am I going to cry?!?! You reply, "Oh my! I would be so happy too. That makes me so happy. I truly think you all deserve so much success. You can tell each of you has worked so hard to get to this point and you're all passionate about food. I am a happy supporter of The Bear." You sign copies of the newspaper, get a slice of cake to go, and you say goodbye to the staff. They encourage you to come back and they will push everyone out of the way to serve you, which you thank them for.

As you leave, you start walking down the street until you hear your name. You turn and see Carmen Berzatto running after you. You start walking back towards him and he stops running. You ask, "What's up?" He answers, "I just regret not telling you this one-on-one. I really did appreciate what you said and how you mentioned that I seemed so passionate even just from my small speech to everyone. It was nice to see that people could tell from one moment and it made me feel hopeful." You reply, "No problem, Carmen Berzatto. I can tell you'll do great things with the Bear." He smiles and says, "Please call me Carmy." You reply, "Ok then thank you Carmy." He smiles even wider and says, "I don't normally do this, but you seem so bright and happy. I just think if I don't ask then I'll never see you again and I want to see you again, so would you want to go out on a date?" You answer, "Sure. I'd love to. You already have my number, so just text me. I know you have a crazy schedule and I'm pretty open this month, so let me know when you want to go out." He nods and says, "Ok I will. You got it. Well, have a great rest of your day." You reply, "You too, Carmy."

That was the start of your relationship with Carmy.

Your POV - Telling Your Dad

You smile as Carmy texts you during your family dinner and your father asks, "Ginger, what are you smiling about? Surely it's the roast and potatoes, right? Or is there something you want to tell us?" Your father was honest like you, so there was no way to hide this any longer than you have been. You answer, "I have a boyfriend and we've been dating for 6 months. He is taking a 15-minute break at work right now, so he was texting me. He's a chef and his name is Carmy. He used to work at the Beef, but now it's the Bear." Your father says, "No way, I loved the Beef. I'd love to go sometime to the new restaurant, can you ask for his availability on Wednesdays? I'm always off on Wednesdays and you, your mom, and I can go eat there one day or night. It doesn't have to be next week, but by the end of the month would be cool. I'd love to meet your boyfriend." You reply, "Sure Dad. I can ask." He replies, "Good good. Now tell me more about him and his food." You laugh and talk with your family.

Your POV - Telling Your Boyfriend

You did the nice thing and told your boyfriend about your family wanting to eat at his restaurant on a Wednesday day or night. Carmy was excited and he was able to find a table 2 weeks after that you could sit at for a lunch service. Carmy even told you that lunches are calmer, so he could stop by for his break to talk to your family. Richie would be working as your server, which you liked because Richie could talk and your father loved to ask questions.

It's one week away and Carmy is cooking you both dinner. He always takes off at least one night a week to have a normal night with you and you love it. It's always nice and his food is amazing.

After dinner, you turn on the TV and it's your dad's cooking show. Carmy hands you a glass of wine and your box of cookies before you ask, "How do you feel about cooking shows?" Carmy sits next to you on the couch and answers, "You know how I feel about them. They're just ways for chefs to promote themselves and their businesses, which is nice. But usually, they do it because you get paid a lot. Why?" You answer, "Oh uh well Chef L/N's cooking show was on. I just wondered how you felt about his show." He replies, "I admire the he** out of him. He's inspirational. The way he compliments each drink from appetizer to dinner to dessert on his menu is next-level genius. His staff are also brilliant at transforming the guest experience. I want the Bear to have that level of success. And..." Carmy then goes on a whole monologue about your father and how he loves him. You smile and say, "Ok well let's just say he is my dad and you're meeting him next week. He'd probably love to hear that from you." Carmy gasps and asks, "What are you talking about?" You answer, "I don't ever tell people about my dad because they use me... but you're meeting him next week and I think you should know who he is before then. The last name I've been using for the last 6 months is my mother's maiden name." He replies, "Holy sh**!!! And he's going to be at my restaurant next week! He's been to the Beef several times." You reply, "Oh don't bring that up. He misses the Beef like crazy." He laughs and replies, "Okay. Wow, let's not watch his cooking show right now. I think I'll go crazy." You laugh and turn on a movie.

NEXT WEEK ~ YOUR POV

You spent the night with Carmy and at 5 am as he is getting ready, you hand him your coffee and exclaim, "I'll see you at noon baby." He gasps and says, "Oh sh** I am cooking for my idol today. I need my lucky knife and my lucky shirt." He then starts running around frantically and you rub your eyes. Is he freaking out? Is it too early for this? You are tired. You move in front of Carmy as he walks and you place your hands on either side of his arms. You say, "Please, don't freak out. Treat today like a normal day. Be calm and you've got this. My father is just a normal human at the end of the day. Remember that." He replies, "Yeah yeah. I'm going to tell my staff beforehand because this is big." You reply, "Okay. Well, goodbye and good luck." You send him out with a kiss on his lips.

Hours later, you show up at your house and are driving to the Bear with your parents. You park nearby and walk to the restaurant.

As you walk there, you ask, "Hey Dad, can I tell you something?" Your father answers, "What's up sweetie?" You answer, "Carmy is a huge fan of yours and nearly freaked out this morning. He was calm when I first told him, but today was bad. He couldn't find his lucky shirt and he said his lucky knife was at work. I just want you to go easy on him because I really care about him." Your father replies, "No problem, sweetheart."

You arrive and Neil Fak greets you happily. He shows you to the table and Richie immediately pops up. Richie's jaw drops a little at seeing my father, but he quickly recovers. Richie introduces the Bear and the menu then leaves to get the wine my father chose.

My father exclaims, "I like this place. The people are friendly." My mother adds, "And their service is fast." You reply, "Carmy told them that Dad was going to be here. I think they're all nervous and excited." My mother replies, "I bet they are. Poor things. We should invite them over. Are they ever closed?" You answer, "Mondays. They sometimes are unloading and restocking stock though, so they go in for half the day. You should ask Carmy for the specifics." Your father replies, "Oh I have a few things to ask ole Carmy boy now." You reply sternly, "Dad." He replies, "Ok fine. It's nothing bad. Don't worry."

Richie returns and you're all served. You three eat up the food and it's delicious as always. Dessert shows up and you notice Carmy walking your way. You notice his hands are a little shaky and you stand up. You hug him as soon as he reaches you and he presses a kiss to your cheek before you whisper, "He's just a person. It's all fine." You kiss his lips gently before introducing him to your parents. He slides into the seat next to you as you three talk over dessert. Conversation flows and is going well.

My father asks, "So, I hear you really like my daughter and she really likes you." Carmy smiles and says, "Yes sir. I really like your daughter." My father asks, "And what are your intentions with her?" Carmy answers, "Well sir... uh... I really like her and I'm falling in love with her. She's always supportive and kind. She lights up every room she walks in and people like her. I find her to be the person in my life that I look to for cheering up. I also think I cheer her up. You'd have to ask her though. I just think she's the most perfect and amazing that a person can be... and she has you as her father. Sir, I've looked up to you for a while. I think your work ethic and your drive set you apart from other chefs. Your show doesn't feel like a money grab and it's clear to me you love your family, which is great." My father smiles and says, "Well I appreciate it, son. Now do you think your staff would be free on Monday afternoon? Ginger says you have to unload stock, but I assume you get hungry doing all that heavy lifting. I'd love to treat your staff to some lunch at mine." Carmy replies, "Sure sir. That sounds amazing. We're usually done by 2 pm, but then we'll have to drive there. I'm not sure how long it takes, but I'm sure no later than 3:00 is fine for us." My mother replies, "Great, we cannot wait to host. We'll have Ginger give you the address and times. You can give her the number of staff that will show up, so we can plan accordingly." Carmy nods and my father asks, "Can I say thank you to your staff? I noticed they kept trying to get a glimpse of me from the kitchen. I just want to thank them and you. I really did have a lovely time this afternoon and would love to come again." Carmy answers, "Yeah haha they'd really love to hear it. I better get back to work. I'll see you all soon then." He kisses you, hugs your parents, and goes back to the kitchen.

Your father goes in after him and you watch through the window at your father giving some big speech. You see the smiles on everyone's faces and you're happy for them all. You notice your father pat Carmy on the back and you laugh. Carmy is going to freak out. HAHA!

NEXT WEEK on Monday ~ YOUR POV

You had asked for a half day at work and you were still at work at 2:00 pm in a meeting. It finished, you quickly packed up, sent your last emails, and dashed to the metro. You hopped on and went to your family home.

As you walk your way down your street, you see cars parked out front of your house. I guess everyone from the Bear is already there. Hopefully, your father has kept the questioning Carmy to a minimum. Carmy told you last week that it was so exciting to have him there and meet my family. He also said his staff couldn't stop talking about the meal at your parent's place.

You knock and your mother opens it. She pulls you into a hug and says, "Oh hi sweetie. I thought you would be here earlier." You reply, "I tried to leave, Mom. But I didn't want to leave in the middle of the meeting." She replies, "You're just like your father... Speaking of, your boyfriend has been helping him this afternoon and they seem to be getting along. You should grab him and get him to eat. He's only been eating little snacks with your father." You laugh and say, "Ok Mom." She replies, "You look lovely sweetie. You in business casual make us all look lame." You laugh and say, "I was actually going to change up in my room real quick before I say hi to people." She nods and she lets you go. You finish changing in your bathroom and jump when you see Carmy in your bedroom looking around. You exclaim, "Hey Carmy. What are you doing up here?" He sees you and smiles. You kiss him and he answers, "Your mom said you had to talk to me. You were in the bathroom, so I just waited out here." You reply, "My mom thinks you've been working too hard today. She said you started helping him when you got here and she wanted you to have lunch. She wanted you to see me so she knew you were being looked after. It's a mom thing." He replies, "Oh that's really sweet of her. I can take a break and eat with my lovely girlfriend." You reply, "I almost thought you said eat your lovely girlfriend." He gasps and replies, "Babe, we're at your family home. Oh speaking of it, your mom did show your baby album to everyone. Everyone loved it. You were so cute." You reply, "We're making a pit stop to talk to my mom first then we can eat." He laughs then follows you.

You make a plate of food and find space on a couch next to Sydney. Carmy slides next to you and puts an arm around your waist. Everyone starts asking you about your baby photos. Oh gosh... this is great. Richie seems to like this one where you resemble a gremlin and everyone suddenly thinks you need bangs again.

Your father pulls a chair up and so does your mom. Everyone talks, laughs, and enjoys the day.

Masterlist

[zahri-melitor]

Catwoman Vols 1 & 2 so far:

I’ve just finished Moench’s run and am eagerly anticipating moving onto Devin Grayson’s, so I thought I’d do a round up of the various writers on the title so far, because it is very, very 90s in places, and I’ve been trying to sort out the differences in approach for myself.

Let’s talk about the writers!

Mindy Newell (Catwoman 1989): I think the most valuable work Newell does with this series is how it takes Batman Year One and refocuses and explains the story in terms of its effect on Selina as a character. It gives her (and Holly and Maggie) agency in the narrative that was not present in Miller’s work. (They should package this as a back-up with Batman Year One, just as Oracle Year One should rightfully be at the back of any reprint of The Killing Joke, if DC had more respect for its female characters). I also really like Newell’s focus on the impact of the grittier aspects of the story on Selina in particular: you really can see her background in nursing in the writing.

Mary Jo Duffy (Catwoman #1-14 1993): What I particularly liked about this run is the fun Duffy had in slotting Selina in around everything else going on in the narrative. Her run is set across Knightfall overall, and informed by it, but rarely fully crosses into it. I love little bits like Selina sneaking onto Bruce’s flight to Santa Prisca at the start of Knightquest, the flashbacks of her history we get here (training as a circus acrobat!), and the repetition of Selina’s ongoing focus on danger and poverty among children and young women on the margins of society. It’s a very episodic run – characters are often dropped straight into the story in a way that you presume that they had been previously established somewhere else (like her butler, Wilder, who just appears in issue #8, or the animal rights protesters in the Knightquest crossover), but no, they’re brand new.

Peter Milligan (Batman: Catwoman Defiant 1992): Milligan really only has this one-shot. It’s interesting in that it’s a proper team up with Bruce, which is otherwise quite unusual around this period in Catwoman titles – she’s more likely to reluctantly end up working with Tim or Jean-Paul than Bruce himself. It’s a lot of stuff about the faces you show the world and secrets concealed, which goes into the core of Bruce and Selina’s relationship.

Deborah Pomerantz (Catwoman #22-24 1993): This is a classic ‘steal from the mafia in Gotham’ Catwoman storyline. Selina tries to steal something from the family and then gets overinvolved in the many many plots everyone in the crime family are running on each other. I don’t think this is the best execution of this basic plot I’ve seen in a Catwoman run, but it’s a familiar one.

Alan Grant (Batman: Shadows of the Bat #43-44, Catwoman #26): Grant gets a crossover with Catwoman here with both Ratcatcher and Catman running around the narrative being terrible. I wouldn’t say it’s his best work; the approach to Thomas Blake in particular reinforces the culturally appropriative nature of his backstory regarding his source of powers, and his position as a joke character before Gail Simone rescued him from the set of D-listers that nobody cared about for Villains United and gave him a full personality and backstory makeover. It’s…fine. It does give Selina and Thomas just cause to have beef with each other outside of their overlapping themes.  

Chuck Dixon (Catwoman #15-21, #25, #27-37 1993): Dixon’s run is one of those world-hopping thief of adventure, Selina Kyle! style runs. She’s very rarely based in Gotham itself during his run, and is generally getting commissioned to go off to international locales to steal things and end up in situations. It has, on reflection, got more than a little of the flavour that Dixon ends up using for his Birds of Prey run. It’s very Dixon in places, particularly in how many male characters are attracted to Selina (there’s even a potential forced marriage to an evil European aristocrat that Selina manages to duck out of, which…yeah, shades of Dinah/Ra’s anyone?) and also in his very free hand with the concepts of ethics around archaeology and artifacts. We go raid an ex-Nazi compound, at one point. We also have a very Indiana Jones style adventure into a combo of ancient Order of St Dumas and League of Assassins secret plots.

Doug Moench (Showcase ’93 #1-4, Catwoman #0, #25, #38-53 1993): I think what I get a lot of out of Moench’s run is titillation for various characters with a whole heap of Sexy Villainesses (and not only because we’ve got Balent on art), and a heavy focus on Selina’s Terrible Birth Family and Childhood In Orphanages and Reform School leading to her learning to steal. There’s a whole plot thread running through his run from #0 up to the end about one of Selina’s rivals, Cassandra Cartland, who also was a thief in the orphanage and wasn’t as good as Selina. He does Catwoman Year Two, which is honestly mid: it’s a lot of Selina thinking she’s oh so clever (while not being) and using other Rogues as cover to distract Bruce while she commits thefts. There is definitely a focus on Selina’s joy in stealing things and enjoyment of both the challenge but also possessing shiny things. Moench also does do a chunk of work with Selina’s pivot towards caring for the underclasses in his Showcase ’93 story, Struggle Street, in terms of establishing that as part of her post-Crisis characterisation.

[dreamlandreader]

Cruel Summer

Chapter One - A Recipe for Disaster

Merry Christmas @throneofsapphics - it is finally time for me to reveal myself as your Secret Santa for the @acotargiftexchange ❄️ It has been such a joy getting to know you over the past few months, and I've had the best time writing this fic. I really hope that you love this gift as much as I have loved working on it.

Summery: Nobody knows what happened between Mor and Elain last Winter Solstice. One day they were joined at the hip, giggling as the seer taught the warrior how to bake, and the next morning, they refused to look one another in the eyes. Sick of the tension, Rhysand and Feyre are hopeful that two weeks in the sun will be enough to help the pair rekindle a friendship, but the inner circle are oblivious to the fact that their relationship went much deeper than they know, and it will take a hell of a lot more than a beautiful beach to repair what was broken.

Story contains: Forced proximity, only one bed, second chance romance, lovers to enemies to lovers, angsty start with an eventual HEA.

The patrons of The Frosted Peak - Velaris's sparkling new fine dining restaurant - sat silently as they gawped at the family dispute breaking out before their very eyes.

The High Lord and his beguiling cousin sat centre stage amongst the crowd, but the gentle tinkling of piano keys and candle lit ambience did nothing to soothe the tension that was taught in the air.

“Absolutely not!” the warrior growled through gritted teeth.

“Mor, please just-”

“No, Rhysand! I am 540 years old. I do not need a babysitter!”

Mor had already suspected that Rhys had an ulterior motive when he invited her for dinner on such short notice. It was ever so rare for the two of them to dine alone these days, especially since Rhys had become a father. She knew she was going to dislike what he had to say when they arrived at the restaurant and Rhys began to skirt around the subject. Mor lasted five minutes before snapping and telling him to just ask what he wanted to ask.

“She is not a babysitter Mor, she is a very skilled seer who has been training tirelessly with Azriel and who needs the opportunity to practice what she’s learnt in the field,"

"The field! Rhys, it's a conference for emissaries in the Summer Court, it's basically a paid vacation!"

"It is still official court business and anything could happen. You need someone to support you if anything untoward happens, and she needs to prove to Azriel that she is ready for actual missions,"

“Sounds like a babysitter to me,” Mor mumbled, glaring at Rhysand so furiously that he feared she may set him alight through sheer willpower.

“Please do this for me. I don’t know what happened between you two last winter, but you were friends once, I’m sure you can get back there again,"

Mor continued to glower at her cousin, internally begging that he would back down, but Rhysand would not be backing down today. Not when he had been sent here by his mate.

“I'm serious Morrigan,”

“Ooh full name, boss man must mean business,” Mor quipped sarcastically, scrapping her chair across the hard wood floor, readying herself for a dramatic exit. That would show Rhys just how serious she was.

“If you can't do it for me then do it for Feyre,” Rhysand threw out, desperate for Mor to see sense.

“It's crushing her that she can't have her best friend and her sister in the same room without you both ending up at each other’s throats. Please, Mor,’

Mor contemplated for a moment telling him no, but then she thought of Feyre. Of all the sacrifices she had made for them all. Of how much she valued her friendship.

“It’s a damn good job that I love your wife!”

Elain Archeron had spent the last three weeks pretending that her upcoming trip was not happening. Three glorious weeks of ignorant bliss, that did not involve her dwelling on the dreadful adventure upon which she was due to embark. But present Elain was actually rather furious at past Elain for her decisions, because she had left every ounce of packing until the very last minute. This was why she sat on the cool floor of her bedroom surrounded by piles of clothing, as her sisters draped across her bed, giggling at the language coming out of the seer’s mouth.

“Elain, calm down,” Nesta drawled, a lopsided grin spread across her face. “I know you enjoy dressing up, but it’s not the end of the world if you take the fusha skirt instead of the magenta one,”

“It does matter! For starters, I have to blend in if I’m going to feed information back to Azriel. I also need to consider the heat because most of these clothes are far too warm for the Summer Court, and don’t even get me started on what she will have to say if I end up wearing a fashion disaster!”

“Elain, breathe!’ Feyre said, sliding off Elain’s plush bed and sinking onto the floor besides her sister.

“You will blend in just fine, you’ve trained so hard. I have every faith in you,” she smiled, softly holding Elain’s hand. “Secondly, if you are struggling with packing me and Nesta can help, can’t we Nes,”

“Mmmhmm” Nesta mumbled, face down in Elain’s pillows, lazily lifting her hand in a thumbs up motion.

“Look, Elain. Are you sure this is really about the clothes?” Feyre pried carefully, tiptoeing around the point.

“Huh,” Elain replied, scrunching her brows in confusion.

“I just mean are you sure that you’re not actually freaking out about spending time with Mor?”

“That’s ridiculous Feyre! Why would I care about that?” Elain screeched, her voice rising an octave and a rosy colour creeping across her cheeks.

“I just don’t understand how you and Mor went from barely interacting with one another, to joined at the hip, to enemies in a matter of weeks,”

“I don’t know. Sometimes people just don’t click that’s all,” Elain brushed her off, as if it was nothing. As if her sister’s investigation wasn’t ripping open a barely patched wound. As if Elain had not spent months agonising over the same thing, wondering what happened and how they had got themselves into such an uncomfortable situation.

“It didn’t seem like you were struggling to click last solstice,” Nesta interrupted, “We barely saw you because you were oh so busy getting to know each other,”

Nesta raised a brow and Elain’s heart sank … did she know? Had Nesta worked out the details of the worst heartbreak Elain had ever suffered.

She wished more than anything that she could tell her sisters everything. How she fell in love, slowly and then all at once. How she had placed her delicate heart in the hands of someone she thought felt just the same, only to watch them destroy it in front of her eyes. How she had been living, heartsick, and guarded ever since. She wished she could, but she couldn’t, because speaking it out loud would mean acknowledging the ache she felt in the depths of her soul, and no good would come from digging that up, not when she had spent so long pushing it down down down.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Elain whispered.

“But I just-” Feyre started.

“No! I just want to have one last night with my sisters before I’m stuck in another court for weeks. I’ve agreed to go so that I can be approved for actual missions. I will put up with her company and keep things professional. But I have so much to do before I leave, and I don’t want to spend the time I have talking about Morrigan. Please,”

“Fine. Fine,” Feyre said, raising her hands in surrender. “You and Nesta get started with the packing and I’ll go grab the wine!”

There was not much in life that Elain Acheron hated more than being late. Perhaps it was due to the etiquette lessons her Mother had forced her and Nesta into as children, or maybe she just appreciated punctuality. Either way, the clock was ticking ever closer to four pm and Mor had yet to show her face.

Elain began to pace, her heart fluttering relentlessly at the anticipation of coming face to face with the woman who had smashed her heart into pieces. They’d done a pretty successful job of avoiding one another over the months, but it had meant sacrifice. Avoiding each other unfortunately also meant avoiding the people they loved.

On the few occasions that they were forced into each others company, the weight of the air around them became suffocating. Harsh words were flung across the table, as vicious and deadly as daggers. Neither party seemed able to restrain themselves from snipping, despite the protests from everyone else in the room. It seemed that time was no great healer, no matter what the ancient poets said, things had only become worse the longer they went on.

"Elain, you are wearing a hole into my new flooring. Please stand still, I beg of you," Feyre implored, guiding her sister into a chair.

Elain shot up again immediately, and continued to pace, and rant, and pace some more.

“Where is she! We have to leave in five minutes Feyre!” Elain screeched, making her sister jump.

“Four actually,” Mor drawled, having slipped unnoticed into the grand entrance of the River House with Rhysand whilst Elain was mid tirade.

Elain stopped dead in her tracks, and span on her heel. It felt like the blood had frozen in her veins, like time itself had melted away. Mor stood, beautiful as ever, with utter contempt consuming her features. Silence rang through the room like a warning bell, begging Elain to run, to hide, but she wouldn’t. Not any longer. After all, she had done nothing wrong. It was Mor who had lied. Elain had nothing to be ashamed of.

“You will both make it with plenty of time Elain, don’t fret,” Rhysand spoke soothingly, patting her arm as he passed and settled next to his mate.

“Mor here was simply primping and fussing over what to pack. But, she is here now, aren’t you?” He continued, smiling over to his cousin who fixed him with a deadly glare.

“And you are both sure to have a wonderful time,” Feyre finished enthusiastically, far more hopeful than the rest of the room.

“Pfft,” Mor scoffed, at the same time that Elain mumbled something equally as obstructive under her breath.

“Are we going then, seeing as you are oh so desperate to keep to schedule?” Mor asked, paling somewhat as she offered Elain her arm. Dread swept over Elain’s body like an icy wave, as her hand made contact with Mor’s bare arm. Feyre was wrong, this was not going to be a wonderful time. This was going to be a total disaster.

The second that Mor's feet touched the white sands of Adriata she tore her arm away from Elain and put a healthy amount of space between them.

The turquoise sea glittered under the boiling midday sun, lapping gently at the shore, but the calming scene did nothing to ease the anxiety that swirled in Mor's chest. To feel Elain’s touch once more after so long without it had thrown her completely, the skin of her arm still tingling. With her closeness came a flurry of memories, of soft caresses and urgent grasping.

Mor snapped herself out of her thoughts. It would do her no good to sink into memories that were once so warm, but were now twisted with a tinge of guilt and a bucket load of resentment.

“Neither of us wants to be here. Let’s just make the most of it and stay out of each other’s way,” Mor asserted, daring to glance at Elain, whose loathing was written across her face.

“Fine with me,” Elain replied, offering Mor only her back as she turned and walked towards their accommodation, a hauty sway in her step.

 “One room,” Elain squeaked.

“With one bed!” Mor spluttered, wide eyes taking in the hotelier with desperation.

“I thought we’d have separate rooms,” Elain stated plainly.

“With separate beds!” Mor exclaimed.

“I’m sorry ladies, but we were not aware that Ms Acheron would be accompanying you on your travels, and all of our rooms are fully booked,”

“And there is really nothing we can do?” Elain asked. She had paled considerably upon hearing the news. Not only would she be sharing a room with her ex lover, but a damn bed. White hot claws of anxiety punctured her chest. This trip was brewing to be a total nightmare.

“I’m afraid not. I can provide extra blankets and pillows if you want to try and fix a bed on the floor?” The hotelier offered, sensing the discomfort radiating off her two newest guests.

“Thank you. That would be very helpful.” Mor said quietly, clearly resigned to the idea that avoiding each other was now not so simple after all.

As they both slumped up the staircase to their room, Elain fought the memories of the last time the two had shared a bed. It was a rush of tangled limbs and searing heat, purposefully placed kisses and fumbling hands. It was nothing short of incredible. Until the next morning, when Elain had woken to an empty bed.

“I’ll take the floor,” Mor stated coolly, breaking Elain from her thoughts as she threw the bundle of bedsheets and pillows onto the ground.

Looking around at the room Elain suppressed the idea that in drastically different circumstances she’d be squealing with joy. The room was pleasantly sized, perfect for one person, or even two if they were willing to make themselves cosy. A beautiful arched window looked out onto the sea, reflecting oranges and pinks with the setting sun. The bed looked luxurious. Although it was on the smaller side, she knew the second she sat down, that she’d sink delightfully into the plush mattress.

“You aren’t taking the floor, don’t be ridiculous!” Elain grumbled.

“Pardon me?” Mor replied, her brows furrowed in confusion.

“We are both fully grown adults, I’m sure we can handle sharing a bed,”

“Thanks but no thanks, I’d rather take the floor,” Mor quipped, writing the idea off quickly before she even considered it.

“Fine. I should’ve known you’d act like a child,” Elain huffed, rolling her eyes.

“I am not a child!” Mor snapped, a hot rage beginning to burn behind her eyes.

“Sure,” Elain replied sarcastically, striding for the door. “I’m going to get some food. Do as you please,”

Elain felt Mor's eyes on her as she strode out of the room towards the oak staircase, feeling ever so smug that she had the last word.

Mor had spent an hour stomping around the room, unpacking her bags and seething over her conversation with Elain. How dare she act as though Mor was the child? After everything that had happened between them. After everything she had done! No, Mor was most definitely the adult. It was Elain who had acted like a teenager. Fickle, and thoughtless. It was her who had treated Mor's heart like it was worthless. Well Mor was ready to show her just how mature she could be.

Plonking herself down onto the bed, Mor huffed as she surrounded herself with the luxurious sheets and turned her back firmly to the door.

It seemed like hours passed before Mor heard the door snick open, though barely twenty minutes must have passed. Just long enough for Mor to fight off the memories that so desperately longed to be on her mind.

Mor lay silent, feigning sleep, as Elain began to pad around the room in an effort to prepare herself for bed. When Mor felt the weight of Elain joining her in bed, she had to stifle an intake of breath. The sweet scent of rum seemed to drift through the air as Elain adjusted the blankets, and the slightest brush of their legs had Mor unravelled.

No longer able to fight against the memories that flooded her brain, she decided to let them in, oblivious to the fact that right next to her, Elain was also lost in the same thoughts.

~ 6 Months Prior ~

The River house was full of revelry. Laughter bounded around the room, eyes bright and cheeks flushed with joy. Wine flowed freely as Elain entered with desert propped carefully in her hands.

The three tiered cake towered high in the centre of the table as she gently placed it down. The inner circle looked on in awe at the masterpiece. Elain had decorated the cake with a multitude of pastel colours, pinks, blue and purples made up a scene of a beautiful sky and spun sugar adorned the sides like fluffy delicious clouds.

‘Elain, once again you’ve outdone yourself’ Rhys beamed.

‘A true artist!’ Feyre added, painting a soft blush along Elain’s cheeks.

‘Yes Elain you are truly wonderful, but please can we eat it now!’ Mor whined, plate at the ready.

‘You’re just jealous, Mor,’ Cassian smirked, a glint of mischief in his eyes.

‘Jealous?’ Mor replied, her eyebrows scrunched in confusion.

‘I think he means because you can’t bake, dearest cousin,’ Rhys said.

‘I can bake!’ Mor scoffed, rolling her eyes.

‘Mor do you not remember the bread incident?’ Azriel suggested gingerly.

‘That was one time Azriel!’ She responded, whipping her head in his direction and fixing him with a pointed stare.

‘What bread incident?’ Elain enquired curiously.

‘The girl made a loaf of sour dough that was raw on the inside but burnt to a crisp on the outside, it was quite the feat,’ Amren stated, lazily sipping from her glass.

‘Sour dough is hard!’ Mor was quick to clarify, shrinking a little in her seat. Elain eyed her carefully and was surprised to see that the warrior, who never seemed to be anything but confident, looked mildly embarrassed.

‘I can help teach you to bake if you’d like?’ Elain blurted out without thinking twice. Mor’s warm brown eyes flicked up to meet Elain’s and her heart began to race at the attention.

‘You’d really do that?’ Mor said

‘Of course,’ Elain smiled softly. She had always silently admired Mor, her strength and femininity so intrinsically intertwined that she didn’t have to give up one in order to wield the other. She would never admit it out loud, but when she first began to train with Azriel and the sessions felt unbearably difficult, she would picture Mor’s powerful presence and it would motivate her to keep moving forward.

‘Good luck with that’ Cassian muttered under his breath, swiftly followed by an ‘Ow!’ when Mor smacked his arm.

‘I bet you 500 gold marks that by this time next month I can bake a cake as grand as any bakery in Pythian!’ Mor stated, determination flaring in her face. ‘With lovely Elain’s tutelage of course!’ She smiled.

And so they began to meet and bake. At first it was planned they would meet twice a week, but after the second session that increased to every two days. Their baking lessons were filled with laughter and accidental touches which caused heat to bloom in places that neither party was yet willing to admit. Before long both were making excuses to see each other every single day. Whether Elain had found a new technique she thought Mor might want to help her with, or if Mor had come to Elain for advice on how to make tiny fondant flowers - they were spending every waking moment in each others company.

Then three weeks in to their arrangement something shifted. Elain floated into the kitchen of the River house bright and early to make herself a pot of lavender tea, only to see that Mor was already pottering about. Her back was to the door as she hummed a little tune to herself, fussing with something out of Elain’s sight.

‘Hi,’ Elain said softly, smiling as she leant in the doorway.

‘Oh Elain you made me jump!’ Mor clutched at her heart as she span around, hiding whatever she was working on so carefully.

‘Sorry I didn’t mean to scare you. What are you doing up so early?’ Elain moved into the room, trying to see what Mor was blocking from her view.

‘I - well I wanted to make you something. As a thank you! But uh it’s - well it’s better if I just show you I guess,’

Elain could sense the nervousness vibrating from Mor as she gingerly moved out of the way, and presented her with a very runny looking raspberry tart.

‘I had put edible flowers on top. I thought you’d like them. But they sank to the bottom,’ Mor explained, her eyes looking to the floor.

‘I love it!’ Elain whispered, her eyes lined with tears as emotion bubbled in her throat.

‘What? It’s inedible how can you love it!’ Mor sputtered, perplexed at how anyone could appreciate her failed attempt at a thank you.

‘Because you put so much thought into it! No one has ever made me anything before. Thank you!’ She replied, nothing but genuine joy written across her face.

Elain leaned up on the tips of her toes and placed the most gentle of kisses on Mor’s cheek. Her lips tingled, and her heart swelled in her chest. Hearing the light gasp in her ear, she pulled away, slowly, leaving their faces only inches away. This close to the warrior, Elain could make out every tiny detail of Mor’s face. She could have stayed there all day, counting the freckles before her, mapping the constellations of her face, but she knew one of them would have to speak soon.

‘Mor I -‘

Elain never had the chance to finish her thought, as Mor leaned in and kissed her. It started slow at first, tentative pecks and trembling hands. After a while Elain felt Mor’s mouth part and they deepened the kiss, heat swelling between them. It was far from the first kiss Elain had ever shared with another, but it was the first time she felt so light that she could fly. Mor sucked gently on Elain’s lip, eliciting a soft groan, before pulling away, bursting into giggles and leaning in once more.

Elain broke from her reverie. Remembering just how good things were at the beginning hurt so ferociously now that she knew how it ended. She couldn’t let herself get swept up again. No matter how much her heart longed for Mor. No matter how much it hurt to remind herself over and over how it was never meant to be. She had to let it go, she thought as she began to drift off to sleep. It was the only way she would ever make it through the next two weeks.

A/N - Ah I’m so happy I finally got to share this, I’ve been bursting to share the first chapter of this gift for such a long time and it’s finally out in the world!

The next chapter will be out soon and it gets spicier from here so it is definitely one to look forward to! ❤️‍🔥 I really hope that you’ve enjoyed the story so far!

Check out my masterlist here!

Dividers by the incredible - @tsunami-of-tears