#more coming soon because this seems to happen a lot?

[heavyhitterheaux]

Wifey’s reaction to the pro bowl content? 👀👀

This is a little sneak peak into her and Taylor Rooks Podcast The Woman Cave

You and Taylor were sitting across from one another filming yet another episode for the podcast you both share when the conversation started going into the direction of the pro bowl and she quickly asked you about your husband.

“I see your other half actually went to the pro bowl this year? And participated!?” Taylor said as if she was surprised.

Because she low key knew how he was.

“Yes, he actually went but it did take a lot of convincing. He changed his mind about fifty times. After the season ends, that man stays up under me. Not that I mind, but I'm convinced if he could find a way to actually attach himself to me or crawl into my skin, he would.” You told her as you laughed when you thought about how Joe barely let you do anything by yourself when you both were home.

“And apparently doesn't like mascots?”

With this came the most intense eye roll followed by you shaking your head.

“He is literally such a diva and so dramatic. And he is definitely going to get me for saying that, but Wifey Shiesty said what she said. When I heard his mic’d up clip saying that he tells the Bengals mascot to get away from him, I lost it.”

“That actually doesn't surprise me. But it seemed like he didn't get a lot of time for his portion in the skills part on Thursday.”

“That's why I should have done the trivia because I knew every single answer and he would have won. No shade to Jared obviously. But Ja'Marr always would laugh at me and say that I know his playbook better than he did as well as players stats across every team in the NFL and I still do.”

“Which a lot of people tend to be surprised by.”

“I think that people don't realize that more women actually watch football than men do and we actually know what we're talking about. Some of them are intimidated because we end up knowing more than they do.” You told her and she quickly nodded as she agreed with you.

“Did his answer change once he knew your twin was going?”

You couldn't help but to roll your eyes and smirk.

“Of course it did. Those two together usually send my stress levels through the roof. But they look out for one another and have done that since they were both at LSU and I know it's going to always be that way. I'm definitely grateful for that.”

As soon as the last word left your mouth, you let out a yelp from being startled by Joe's arms wrapping around you, picking you up and him sitting down where you were while placing you onto his lap. His hands protectively went over your baby bump and leaned over to kiss your cheek.

“Hello to you too, husband. Aren't you supposed to be with my twin and Justin!? See what I mean Tay?” You said as Taylor was laughing at the two of you.

“I heard you were talking about me so I figured that I should come pay a visit.” Joe told the both of you as Taylor smiled at him.

“Well, while I have you here….” She started to say as Joe nodded.

“You're my favorite interviewer besides this one right here so go for it.”

“How would you describe your feelings about this season overall?”

“Hmm, speaking from an individual standpoint, I'm happy with the numbers that I put up this year coming back from an injury. Overall, it's disappointing that we didn't make the playoffs but just have to do certain things to keep certain people and I know the front office will make that happen so we can all continue to play together.”

“Yes, put the pressure on them. Now, I remember when you signed your record breaking contract. Are you willing to negotiate in order to keep certain people in Cincinnati?”

“Absolutely without a doubt. Might have to pick up a part time job to make up the difference because my wife is expensive though. You two hiring?”

“Just for THAT comment, absolutely NOT. Your resume is going in the trash. And it's called The Woman Cave, not The Woman Cave plus Joe Burrow.” You told him as you pouted and crossed your arms across your chest.

“And you call me the dramatic one?” Joe asked and you tried to scoot away from him, but failed miserably.

“Ever since I met the two of you, I knew that you were made for each other. Now let me ask you this, NFL Honors?”

“I know I'm not winning MVP…”

“But he's definitely MVP in my eyes.”

Joe had a small smile on his face before continuing.

“But I'll still go and show my face. Always love going down there. It's like a family reunion with my LSU family and with my wife's family.”

“And who are you predicting will win the big game on Sunday?”

“I hope they both lose. But if I HAD to pick, definitely going with Jalen.”

“NOT you saying you hope they both lose. Babe, it doesn't work like that.” You told him as he shrugged.

“I'm using one of your lines, I said what I said.”

“You've definitely been around me too long.”

[nicnacsnonsense]

Okay, so if we’re going to unpack this let’s start with the choking. Yes, Ed does choke them both. But the methods he uses are very different. Ed chokes his dad from behind with a rope and with intent to kill; the method here seems to have been chosen (chosen by the writers that is) both because it’s a reasonably plausible way for a child to kill his adult parent, and because the rope looks visually reminiscent of the kraken tentacle that it replaces. Meanwhile he chokes Izzy from the front barehanded and as a threat but with apparently no serious intent to harm in the moment, as Izzy is completely fine as soon as he lets go. Shoving another character up against a wall like this is a pretty standard way of having one person physically threat another in visual media; grabbing by the shirt/lapels is probably the more typical way this is done, but grabbing them by the neck is not uncommon, especially when you want to make the aggressor look especially aggressive. If there was a deliberate intention for there to be a parallel here I would expect to see something more similar. Maybe after the boyfriend line, Izzy turns away in disgust and Ed jumps him from behind, using the iconic black neck tie to choke Izzy with. Or something, just anything to make these two more similar than just the relatively broad act of choking. As it stands it's entirely likely that both these incidents involve choking purely coincidentally.

But there is the lighthouse to consider. That's an extra point of similarity that could elevate this from probably a coincidence to possibly something intentional.

If that is the case, then firstly I want to say that a lighthouse is a weird and I would argue bad choice of thing to use to create that connection. The lighthouse imagery is heavily connected to Stede; Stede *is* a lighthouse. So anytime the audience notices a lighthouse, their first assumption is going to be to try to connect it to Stede. Asking them to then realize that actually this one specific lighthouse is not at all connected to Stede but is instead supposed to be a visual cue to remind the viewers of one other specific lighthouse to connect those two scenes and also that other lighthouse does connect to the broader Stede metaphor, but that's a totally separate thing is a rather lot. Especially when they could have used anything else to make that connection.

But okay, maybe they were struggling to find something else visually distinctive that they could fit in both scenes; they are committed to using the lighthouse imagery to make that visual connection. Why then wouldn't they make the visuals look the least bit similar? The lighthouse in the scene with Izzy is in an slightly abstracted painting of a sunny day where the red and white tower is clearly visible and the light is presumably not on. Meanwhile in the scene with Ed's dad, the lighthouse itself isn't visible at all really, all we can see is the light turning as it slowly comes to spotlight on Ed's dad.

Furthermore they aren't even in the same location in both scenes. In the Izzy scene the lighthouse is behind Izzy and so appears in the background of the shots where we're facing Izzy. But Ed's dad is walking toward the lighthouse. The shots from the kraken version of the story where Ed is standing behind his dad and watching him get strangled do have the lighthouse in the background, but it is not framed in between the two like the painted lighthouse is between Izzy and Ed. And more crucially the two shots where we actually see Ed strangle his dad don't have the lighthouse in them at all. The first shot has the lighthouse somewhere behind the camera and the second is an aerial shot. So again this doesn't feel like a deliberate parallel with the lighthouses, it's just two scenes that both happen to have a lighthouse in them, an iconography that is pretty present throughout the entire season.

What is the lighthouse doing in these moments then, if not connecting them? I already answered about the scene with Izzy, but what about the scene with Ed's dad? Well, the kind of unexciting answer is I think mostly it was just for the visuals. I think they wanted that dramatic look where Ed's dad had that bright light shining on him from the other side and having a lighthouse in the background was a good enough excuse.

But perhaps you are not satisfied with that; I'm certainly am not. If Stede is a lighthouse then why is there a lighthouse in this scene when Stede's not here. Well, he's not here yet. Consider back in episode 1x4 where Ed's immediate response to Stede's lighthouse metaphor is to point out you're supposed to avoid lighthouses so you don't crack up on the rocks. In the moment it seems like practical sailor advice, but now we see this previous incident with the lighthouse. Teach Sr here is walking *toward* the lighthouse and Ed is following after him. And think it's fair to call what happens to them next "cracking up on the rocks" metaphorically speaking. And Ed carries that trauma with hi for decades until he finally meets Stede and begins healing. Together they become a lighthouse, helping Ed to write over that past traumatic association with a better one.

And then cycling back to this idea of there being a parallel, I feel like the visual parallel would be a lot more compelling if in the original meta I hadn’t been pointing out how consistently Ed and the lighthouse both are on the left side of the frame and yet when Ed strangles his dad:

Ed is on the right side of the frame.

So I’m up to episode 10 of my most recent rewatch and I noticed something interesting in the scene where Izzy confronts Ed. At the beginning of the conversation the camera tends to stay with Ed in the left side of the frame and Izzy on the right, with the space between them in center. We do get some shots of just Ed where he’s in center (not included) but any shots that focus on Izzy still keep Ed in the frame with Izzy staying right of center.

So I am not a cinematographer by any stretch, but this seems all pretty straight forward to me? Like, we’ve got these two people having an argument so we’re showing them on literal opposite sides, and our shots are biasing toward whoever is speaking at the moment, but with an overall bias toward Ed, who we’re supposed to sympathize with.

But where it gets interesting is when Izzy makes his namby-pamby comment, and Ed pushes Izzy up against the wall. Izzy is still right of center, but take a closer look at what is now in the center of the frame.

The lighthouse painting. The lighthouse which represents both Stede and Stede & Ed together. In this moment while Ed briefly appears to have control of the conversation, this painting representing many of the things Ed wants and wants to be is prominently in the shot even while we’re supposed to be focused on Izzy. And as an added bonus just as Ed is consistently on the left side of the frame in this argument, the lighthouse is on the left side of the painting.

But then Izzy takes back control over the conversation. He reaches out and strokes Ed’s face, causing Ed to jerk back and let go of Izzy.

Izzy takes advantage of this to step closer to Ed, bringing him to center frame.

And even then he continues to get closer and closer.

And as Izzy whispers his threat to Ed we’re left with this: Izzy filling the center of the frame, with Ed only barely visible at the very edge, and the lighthouse missing from the painting, completely blocked out by Izzy.

[42ap]

Talking about the differences in their relationship with desire again, I think it's fascinating how this difference influences their actions.

Stanley usually finds it relatively easy to get what he wants, and he doesn’t want that many things to begin with. Because of this, whenever he does want something, he acts on it immediately and with great enthusiasm to satisfy that desire. Want an electronic badger? Go out after dark and steal one—that kind of thing.

At first glance, it might seem like Stanley spends a lot of time chasing after what he wants, making him appear “greedy.” But in my view, for someone who doesn’t want much to begin with, accepting and pursuing desire is simply an enjoyable experience. You act, you get what you want, and you’re happy—it’s a positive cycle. It’s like how a 16-year-old craving fried chicken is an everyday, even unhealthy, occurrence. But an old lady with no teeth craving fried chicken? If she gets to eat it, everyone around her would be happy for her, because having a desire, and being able to easily fulfill it, is already a joyful thing. Not every old lady is so lucky—just a couple of bites of fried chicken can make her day.

For Stanley, pursuing his desires is undoubtedly a positive feedback loop. Especially after turning 30, when his life stabilized, things generally went well—except for anything related to Ford. Everything else he wanted, he could get. And if getting what he wanted made him happy, then of course he would keep chasing after those things immediately.

Ford, on the other hand, is completely different. He wants too much. He is always chasing after something, always pursuing a dream. But as soon as he gets what he wants, it loses its value because it’s now within reach, and new desires take its place, always distant and unattainable. Everything must feel terrible for him because, in his eyes, he has never truly gotten anything he wanted.

So his relationship with desire is deeply negative. To him, "wanting something" is a feeling that must be fought against—because desire comes with risk, consequences, and lack of control. It doesn’t bring happiness. Trying to fulfill desires only leads to exhaustion (though he is still hopelessly hooked on his “save the world” dream). Whenever a new desire arises, he locks it away in a mental prison, refusing to even look at it. He doesn’t evaluate whether it’s realistic or not, whether it’s saving the world or just a better-tasting cup of coffee—it all gets thrown into the same cell.

But not actively pursuing desires and not thinking about what one wants are two different things. If someone hands him a cup of coffee he wants, Ford wouldn’t refuse it. I think he has simply lived so long believing he can never have what he truly wants that he’s developed a kind of learned helplessness—or, to put it in a more flattering way, caution. He doesn’t really not want things.

If someone takes the first step, throws the opportunity in front of him, and he sees that it’s actually achievable, Ford would be the type to fully commit to making it happen. He has an incredible ability to act, a terrifying level of persistence, and the patience to see things through.

Honestly, I’m just saying all this because I really love the idea of old Stanley realizing he has feelings for Ford. At first, he’s happy but cautious, carefully testing the waters. But then he finally discovers that Ford has always liked him, has never stopped liking him—not just now, but since they were kids. He never truly let go of those feelings.

It’s just such a good flavor.

[mattnickchrisfan]

the line between us - christopher sturniolo

chapter 1

warnings: angst, kissing, enemies to lovers, swearing, cliffhanger (chapter 2 coming soon)

wc: 1.5k

a/n: YALL DONT GET MAD DW IM WRITING PART 2 RIGHT NOW 

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The house was suffocatingly quiet.

The kind of quiet that feels like it's waiting for something to break. A stillness so thick that you could almost taste it in the air—charged and full of tension. You weren’t sure how long you’d been sitting on the edge of the couch, mindlessly scrolling through your phone, pretending you weren’t acutely aware of the fact that Chris was on the other side of the room, in the chair that had been his "spot" since you could remember.

You hated it. Hated him.

Or at least, you told yourself you did. Because if you really admitted what you were feeling, it would be more dangerous than you were willing to admit. You knew it. He knew it. And that made everything worse.

It wasn’t even like he was doing anything to provoke you. Well, not exactly. He was just... there. Being Chris. Smirking at his phone, leaning back casually like everything in the world was in perfect order, completely unaware – or maybe completely aware – of the storm that was always just beneath the surface when the two of you were alone together.

There was always this tension when it was just the two of you. An electric charge in the air that neither of you could quite get rid of. A dynamic that shifted between playful and infuriating in a split second, leaving you feeling dizzy and restless and unsure of who you were supposed to be in his presence.

Chris didn’t know how to do anything but push every one of your buttons. You didn’t know how to stop yourself from snapping at him every time he did.

“You’re awfully quiet tonight,” Chris’s voice broke through the thick silence, his tone casual but not without a hint of amusement.

You didn’t look up. Don’t engage. Don’t engage. Don’t engage.

“You’ve got a lot to say for someone who’s doing absolutely nothing,” you shot back, your eyes glued to your phone. You could feel his gaze boring into you, could feel the tension creeping up, inch by inch, like something you couldn’t outrun.

The silence stretched again, and you hated how long it was. You hated how it always seemed to fill the space between you two, like something unsaid, a question neither of you wanted to ask.

You let out an exhale, too loud, too obvious, but still, you refused to look at him. Your fingers tightened around your phone. Don’t look at him. You knew what would happen if you did.

Chris didn’t answer immediately. Instead, you could feel the shift—like he was getting ready to say something. That feeling that made your heart race, that sense that whatever he said next was going to push the two of you further into this strange, hostile tension.

Then, he spoke again, quieter this time, like the weight of his words was just for you. “I think you’re just trying to avoid me.”

You froze.

You hadn’t meant to react, but of course, you did. You couldn’t help it. It wasn’t like you were trying to avoid him specifically, but you’d never quite figured out how to navigate the space between you. Too much tension. Too much heat.

You slowly raised your eyes, meeting his gaze for the first time all night. And there it was. That glint in his eyes—the kind of look that made your stomach tighten, made your breath hitch. The one that always seemed to dare you to push back. To snap. To fall into the trap.

“I’m not avoiding you,” you said through gritted teeth, but the words came out like a half-hearted denial. You didn’t even believe yourself.

Chris didn’t look convinced. Of course, he didn’t.

“Oh really?” he said, the smirk creeping back onto his face. “Because it sure seems like you’re doing everything you can to pretend I don’t exist right now.”

You hated him. You hated how he always knew exactly what to say to get under your skin. How he made you feel like you were the one overreacting, the one out of control, even when he was the one playing with your nerves. It was infuriating.

“No, I’m just sick of you.” The words burst out before you could stop them, the frustration of all the months of tension flooding out in a rush. “Sick of the way you act like the world owes you everything. Sick of the way you think you’re some kind of joke everyone’s supposed to laugh at. You think you’re funny? You’re not. You’re just exhausting.”

For a second, you could’ve sworn he looked taken aback. His eyes flickered, a rare moment of something other than cocky arrogance in them. But then, like it was nothing, he shrugged, sitting up a little straighter in his chair.

“You think I’m exhausting?” he repeated, a low chuckle escaping him. “I’m not the one sitting here acting like a miserable bitch.”

The insult landed like a punch to the gut. It wasn’t the first time Chris had used that word, but it stung just the same every time. You felt the heat rising in your cheeks, the rush of anger burning through you.

Your heart raced. “Don’t talk to me like that,” you spat, your voice trembling with the effort to keep calm, even though the sharp edge of your words betrayed you.

Chris didn’t back down. In fact, he moved even closer, the air between you now charged with so much intensity it almost hurt to breathe.

“Or, what?” he said, leaning forward, his voice dangerously calm, like he was savoring every second of it. “You think I’m scared of you? You think I care about you getting mad at me? You don’t scare me, Y/N. I’m just—” He paused, eyes flickering over you, taking in every little detail. “—amused.”

You were so furious you could barely see straight. Everything in you wanted to yell, to scream at him, to do anything that would make him feel the anger that was coursing through your veins. But the problem was, as much as you wanted to fight him, there was a part of you that was... intrigued by this dynamic. This battle between you two.

You didn’t know why. And you hated yourself for it.

“You’re a piece of work, you know that?” you muttered, shaking your head. But even as you said the words, you felt that inexplicable pull between you—like a magnetic force drawing you closer, making the room feel even smaller.

Chris stood up, slow, deliberate, and suddenly, he was standing right in front of you. His proximity made your pulse spike, the heat between you two almost unbearable.

“Yeah,” he said softly, his voice low and dangerous. “I know.”

For a moment, the two of you stood there, not saying anything. The air was so thick with unspoken words that it felt like the room could implode at any second. You could feel the weight of him, his gaze boring into you, the space between your bodies feeling like it was on the verge of breaking.

“You’re wrong about me,” Chris said, his voice quiet, but there was something sharper in it now, something a little more vulnerable, like he was letting you see a side of him he didn’t usually show. “I don’t think the world owes me anything. I’m not playing this game because I want to. I’m playing it because I can’t not play it with you.”

You blinked, confused, the words not quite making sense in your mind. “What the hell are you talking about?”

Chris stepped closer, and before you could move, his hand reached out and touched your arm. The contact was like an electric shock, your skin tingling from where he had brushed against you.

“I think you know exactly what I’m talking about,” he murmured. His voice was softer now, but there was something else in it—something raw, something dangerous.

And then, in a move that felt like it happened too fast and yet, like it had been building for months, he closed the space between you. His lips crashed against yours, forceful and demanding. It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t sweet. It was the kind of kiss that felt like a challenge, like a battle, like every second of tension between you two had finally exploded.

For a split second, you were too shocked to react, but then something inside of you snapped, and you kissed him back with just as much force, just as much anger and need. It was messy, it was heated, and it was everything you had been trying to suppress for so long.

When he pulled back, his breath was ragged, his eyes searching yours for something—answers, maybe. But you didn’t have them. You didn’t even know what this was. You just knew that the line between hatred and something else had blurred, and neither of you could step back from it now.

“You’re not the only one who’s exhausted,” Chris said, his voice hoarse. “But I’ll be damned if I let you keep pretending we’re not both in this.”

And in that moment, you realized that maybe, just maybe, you were in this with him, too.

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a/n: hope you liked it! do yall want smut in chapter 2?? lmk pls

[ponyosfrogg]

IN-BETWEEN (PT 4)

Summary: Going back into the comics world knowing that they're just characters that you read hits different.

Pairing: Tim Drake x Female Wayne! reader.

Authors note: Gosh it's been such a long time. sorry abt it. 🥹💗 I hope this is worth the wait my little munchkins.

Warning: Some of the themes and contents written in this fic might be upsetting for some of the readers, read at your own risk. Some parts have strong language.

When your hand gripped your mug more, you gave a hitched breath. You had an uneasy feeling inside of you, your mind was all over the place, you've never felt more anxious before.

"You want to talk about it little bird?"

You raise your head, still in a little bit of disbelief, to look at Jason.

"Not really."

Your mind was wondering around your thoughts, you were sure this was not a dream. It wasn't hazy, in fact nothing ever felt more realistic than this moment.

Jason was on the other side of the couch, silently reading his book, you were just sitting and staring at the empty wall. after your smile he nodded understandingly and got back to his book that was occupying him for the whole morning.

It's been an hour or so since you wake up, in the fucking comic universe again apparently. You thought it was a dream and tried to pinch yourself multiple times, it did nothing but just make Damian glaring at you weirdly. Then somehow you convinced him to rain check on his plan saying some stupid shit like you weren't feeling like yourself and decided to trust something you can trust in both universes. A cup of coffee.

You looked at Jason again. His old scar on his cheek, green sweatshirt and black pants he's wearing, ruffled hair with a white streak, muscular body. He looked exactly the same on the panels but this time he was sitting right beside you, reading his book peacefully. You feel your anxiety rushing your mind and making you breathe faster. How could you possibly understand what was going around you. Everything seemed so unrealistic yet so real at the same time. They still think that you lost your memory probably but you were very aware of everything and maybe more since you grew up reading about their stories. You knew them more than themselves because you were also, once, on their mind reading their thoughts on the colorful panels.

Okay, one thing at a time. Dream or not, you need to find your way out of it or at least solve the connection between two worlds. You thought about writing everything you know on a piece of paper but what would happen if some of them accidentally find that paper, written everything in detail since they also think you lost your memory. That was very risky but again also, keeping everything in your mind was very hard too considering you had a mind of a fish literally.

Okay, what about telling them you got your memory back? Not a very clever move considering they are vigilantes who fight for the city and so called Viperia is one of them. They might take you on a fucking patrol and considering you have ZERO experience in martial arts and using a katana which is almost the same height as you, not a good option.

But how can you keep denying everything. You are in a manor full of detectives and at some point there's a high chance that one of you might figure out that you're not their actual sister but an imposter and beat you to death.

Yeah, maybe not to your death but you got the point.

And asking one of them for their help? No. That could fuck up the whole situation. They see Viperia as their sister and you being an imposter takes you back to the other option where you'd get beaten up.

It was a dead end but your mind was working as fast as it could, trying to come up with new solutions, just, none of them were useful enough. Maybe you needed some air or something.

"Jason? You wanna go for a walk?"

He put his book beside and looked at you. He had one of these glares which would make a lot of people fall in love with him as soon as they see him. The one that seemed like could read your whole soul like an open book without even flinching but also always giving the feeling of trust. It was literally impossible to achieve yet he was standing right in front of you with all of his glory. Definitely the creator of him was playing favorites and Jason was one of them.

"Yes, around the manor?"

He was still thinking that you lost your memory and didn't want to overwhelm you with all the city noise and danger. He remembered when he came back from the death coming out of his grave wasn't the hardest part, it was all the loud voices he had to deal with. Lights, muggers, rushing people and the ugly rainy weather which was the signature thread of Gotham now. But you didn't even want to go to Gotham anyway. Yes it was all fun and games to read that everything that was happening in this gloomy dark city but being in it? It wasn't so fun. What would happen if you came across some thief, or worse Joker's himself. You didn't want to walk around in Gotham as the daughter of fucking Bruce Wayne even though you trusted (?) Jason Todd.

"Sounds great. Let me grab my shoes from my room"

You got up and quickly ran towards the stairs. This manor somehow managed to smell so good. Maybe it was because of the expensive perfumes or maybe it was Alfred's amazing cooking. Yes, comics weren't giving him the appreciation he deserves, he was some sort of food god and you were sure of it.

When you entered your room, you closed the door behind you and turned around, just to find a woman in front of your wardrobe, checking the pictures you looked at last night.

"May I help you?" you spoke with uncertainty in your voice.

"You shouldn't be here."

You could only see her back since she didn't even turn to look at you. She had black wavy hair almost as long as to come around her hips and a long black coat. Who would even wear a coat in the middle of the summer. Oh, right. It was Gotham.

You didn't know why but you didn't feel any kind of fear. It almost felt like home. Was she Talia? No. She wouldn't wear something like this but again, what do you even know.

"You shouldn't be here either i guess, since you sneaked into my room." Trying to scare some kind of lunatic by being bold? That's how things go in this universe you suppose.

"I sensed some abnormalities in the Multi-verse and magic realm. It started two nights ago and i just followed them. Who knew our one and only Batman had a daughter right?"

She turned around and you saw her face.

Oh fuck,

She was fucking Zatanna.

With all of her beauty, she was standing right in front of you, her blue eyes as clear as the sky, she had this kind of face that you only saw her doing to bad guys, well read at least. Annoying and slightly scary face. And she also knew that you didn't belong here?

Well i guess so much for making a low profile.

You fear growed inside of you, you knew yelling for help wasn't an option since she could easily turn into you a rabbit or I don't know, kill you? It was mostly up to her imagination and you knew she had a big one.

"Well, personally I didn't."

You just realized she had something on her hand and after finishing her sentence she showed it to you. It was a picture, the ones that you looked through last night. In that picture you were looking at Bruce who was busy with something on his computer. He was a little further from your camera so his face was kind of blurry.

"I'll be honest with you, i don't like intruders. Especially the ones from another universe we already have enough on our plate.

Okay, for starters you never actually imagined Zatanna being so intimidating in your imagination. Because when you were reading the comic she was only mean when she needed to. You just never thought you would be one of them but for defense, who would've thought.

"So I advise you to go back to your universe trespasser because next time I'm not going to be this nice, this is a warning.

Geez, was this her 'nice' personality. She looked like she could eat you alive without even hesitating to do so. You realized you didn't even move since she started talking but you felt like you lost your voice somewhere inside of you.

"Oh, you can move now." she said smiling, with her voice you left a deep breath you didn't even know you were holding. Why were you even holding it? Oh. Oh... She already made a spell. You bend over a little bit and put your hands on your knees to cough. Your lungs were burning with the oxygen again. You missed when your problem was just deciding what to eat at dinner.

When you feel slightly better you put your hand on your heart to feel your heartbeat. It seemed normal, well as normal as it can be since you almost died. But in this universe it appears that you weren't dealing with heart issues because normally you would die because of the rhythm.

You stood straight again, confidence leaving your body completely with her stone cold gaze.

"I didn't mean to intrude," you finally manage to say, your voice still shaky from the encounter with Zatanna's magic. "I don't even know how I ended up here."

Zatanna raises an eyebrow, her gaze softening slightly. "Well, you better start explaining yourself quickly, then."

You told your story to Zatanna, recounting the unbelievable chain of events. How you woke up here, believed you had lost your memory, and then woke up in your original universe, discovered the existence of a new character in the DCU who was essentially you. Every little detail. It felt like a surreal dream, but you soon realized it wasn't. Zatanna listens intently, her expression unreadable, as she processes the information. With each word, you notice her eyes flickering with interest, as if she's piecing together some puzzle in her mind. She doesn't interrupt, instead making silent calculations as you divulge the details of your journey. You can't help but wonder what she's thinking, and whether she believes you or not because you know that if she doesn't, there's a high chance that you'll continue your life as an animal. Well at least, Damian treats his animals quite nice.

But nonetheless, you were feeling some kind of relief because as you were telling your story, you realized how much you felt like you needed to share this with someone and knowing that she's one of the few characters in this universe who might comprehend the complexities of the multiverse due to her experiences. Also Zatanna's reputation as a skilled sorceress precedes her in the comic universe, and you can't help but feel a spark of hope that she might hold the key to solve this thing.

"So you only change universes when you're asleep in one?"

"Seems like it." You could sense that she believed your story. Well, she probably feels when someone is lying to her so that shouldn't be a coincidence.

"You must have known a lot about this universe then since it was some sort of book in your hands, Am I correct?" you could sense some kind of testing in her voice. As if you shouldn't have said that. You just nod as an answer.

Zatanna fixed a stern gaze on you, her blue eyes piercing through the air. "Listen to me carefully, the future isn't set in stone, and every action has consequences. Interfering with events could lead to unforeseen outcomes, and you might end up taking someone's attention that you wouldn't want to take." Her serious voice made you even more scared than you already were. you knew you were in some kind of messed up situation but you always thought the main thing to worry about was to be able to stay in one universe, not someone tracking you like an animal to hunt you down.

"No meddling or helping, be cautious about sharing too much. Revealing future events or secrets can disrupt the delicate balance of this universe. Even if you know what is going to happen, let it be. This is not your universe to save, do not ever interfere did you hear me?"

She said the last four words were sharper than the others with a little breath between them. You nod again, and wasn't able to find the voice to talk.

"This universe might not be real for you but it is real for those who live in it, until i solve your problem and figure out why you are here, you stay low. I'll cast a spell so no one can track you down like I did. As soon as I find a solution, you are going back to your universe."

She opened her palm just to create some kind of necklace with purple stone that looked like amethyst.

"Don't take this off. Ever."

When she closed her hands again, you felt a little more weight on your neck, just to find the necklace on your neck. your fingertips touched the cold stone. you could feel the energy coming out of it.

Just as you prepared yourself to ask your question, your room's door opened like someone was trying to get in. Without any knock.

You saw Jason's worried face looking at you and suddenly you panicked that he might see Zatanna and ask some questions about it. but when you looked behind, there was no one. You touched your neck just to make sure of her existence.

Your necklace was hanging around your neck.

"Are you okay little bird? it's been some time."

He said as he closed the door after him. He was suspecting something. Your window was completely open and you were still standing right next to the door. You looked paler than you were before like you saw some sort of ghost. He was genuinely worried about you considering you were dealing with a lot of situations right now. he could understand how painful it must be for you to get through all of these things.

"Yes, I'm okay. I just thought I saw someone and got scared."

He moved closer to the window to check if someone tried to get inside. It would be the last experience of their life considering everyone in this house was well-trained vigilantes. He didn't see anything and almost convinced it was because of the losing memory thing but then he realized the necklace around your neck. It had a distinct design that Jason has never seen.

"Hey, what's that?" He pointed to the necklace, curiosity piqued.

You instinctively covered the pendant with your hand, feeling a bit protective of it. "Oh, um, it's just a necklace I found. I thought it looked nice, so I put it on."

Jason raised an eyebrow but didn't press the matter further. "Alright, as long as you're okay. You ready for that walk?"

You nodded, eager to get some fresh air and clear your head after the encounter with Zatanna. You followed Jason out of the room, trying to act as normal as possible despite the whirlwind of thoughts and emotions inside you that crashes you.

You decide to take a deep breath and leave this matter in your room, just to enjoy some good moments with one of your favorite characters of all time. Well, you really should stop referring to him as a character too though, since you were in this universe now and he was a real person. Even though it was kind of weird.

When you guys were going down the stairs Jason's phone rang. he was in front of you so when he stopped you couldn't help but bump him with a sudden reflex your hand grabbed his shoulder to stop yourself from falling.

Your movements surprised you as if you were as slow as a sloth in your universe. It was not because you were lazy no, it was because your poor heart wasn't able to deal with too much movement that's why you were never into any kinds of sports. You couldn't even catch a ball if they threw it right onto your face.

He looked at you to see if you were okay before opening his phone and started to move again.

You were eager to know who was on the other end, you couldn't help but listen in, despite knowing it was wrong. You slowed your steps, tried to breathe much more quieter, tuning in to the conversation.

The voice on the other end sounded quite soft and young, he was most likely Jason's best friend Roy. You were familiar with his character when their own separate comic journey came out some years ago. and also considering Jason only has like three friends there weren't any other options. 'The outlaws' Although you didn't enjoy how the comic was going, you kept reading for their developing friendship and of course for Kori. That woman was the embodiment of power.

"Yeah, I was planning to join you last night, but family matters came up." Your thoughts stopped wondering when you heard him talk again. You couldn't quite understand what Roy was saying because Jason was walking fast but from the talk of the Jason, you kind of assumed they were expecting him to come yesterday and probably you were to so called up family matters.

"I'm afraid I won't be able to make it tonight either. The harbor, you say?" There was a brief pause. "Alright, send me the location. I'll be there in an hour." Something about the Harbor though, made you feel uneasy. but again you couldn't overthink it when Jason hung up the phone and turned around to face you.

You tried to act like you didn't overhead the entire conversation and just stared at your feet.

"Something came up little bird I'm sorry but we have to reschedule our walk and I have to go to my friends."

"Is everything alright Jason?"

He paused again probably thinking himself if everything was alright but quickly started to smile. "Yes, don't even think about it. I just need to run some errands. I promise to make it up though, I hope it is okay for me to leave you."

A gentleman like always.

you smiled reassuringly and nod your head. "Yeah, sure. I will see you around." He hugged you before he grabbed his jacket nearby the door and rushed towards the outside.

Harbor. It seemed too familiar to not to think about it. There was a harbor in Gotham but it was probably far considering they were always going by their cars or motorcycles. At least that what was written in the comics.

You turned around too and started to climb stairs while you were thinking. It wasn't even afternoon and you already had enough encounters for the day. It was much more easier before you realized you were just travelling between worlds you thought. now you were stuck in your favorite comic series in the body of their assassin sister with the mind of your own. which was a curse in your opinion. you felt alone and you were actually all alone. 

when you reached your room you were glad there wasn't anyone lurking around the house today. Damian was out, Jason was out, Tim was probably reading or something god knows what and for Dick, you were sure he wasn't going to visit you anytime soon considering he was not in Gotham that often now so when he was here he was usually meeting with friends. at least in comics it was what he was doing. or maybe he was outside making phone calls to everyone he knows to find a solution for your so called memory loss.

Tim on the other hand had a calm morning. After Damian took you out of his room this morning, he stayed awake a little bit more to go over some of the details on his recent case since all he had to do was researching about your memory loss that night or thinking about you constantly. After he realized he wasn't productive at all he decided to sleep a little bit. Its been hours since he slept, hell, maybe days. he wasn't even counting at that point. Alfred was out, doing groceries that's why he didn't bother himself to prepare something to eat. He just got into his bed and slept.

After some time his body awake him. He wasn't used to sleeping much that's why he was always struggling with insomnia. The most he could sleep was maybe four hours in a good day but most of the time it wasn't even the case, the constant nightmares wasn't leaving him alone. He wasn't even remembering them after waking up but most of the nights when he fell asleep he was waking with a lot of sweat, out of breath, crying like a ten year old kid who's afraid of darkness. that's why he stopped patrolling for some time now. he was helping his family behind computers and he also didn't trust himself around you.

He drank a glass of water and checked the time. It was almost six, he slept for four hours which was very good. although he woke up multiple times. When he reached for his phone he saw a text from five hours ago. it was from Jason, saying that he went to the harbor for a deal and left you alone in the mansion. Tim sighed loudly, he hated when he was getting treated like a fucking babysitter over you or Damian. he quickly texted some swear words to Jason and get out of the bed.

Your rooms were close considering Dicks and Jason's rooms were on the other side of the mansion. It was only going to take like, i don't know, ten seconds to reach your room but he was already feeling too lazy to do so.

The weather was rainy, again. and it was already dark. Considering it's summer Tim just guessed that a storm was approaching.

When he was in front of your room he heard a little scream inside of the room so without knocking he barged in.

There you were, standing on Damian's bed with a katana on your hand. your hand was bleeding and your other hand was holding the katana like your life depending on it.

"What are you doing?"

He rushed towards you and grabbed the tall sword out of your hand and put it on the wall again. you gave a big sigh and you jumped out of the bed.

"I just wanted to see if they were real."

You said calmly. Tim got off the bed and turned around to face you. You were wearing black jeans with a big hoodie thats covering your face almost completly. the blood from the cut was dripping on the carpet slowly as you seemed like completely unbothered. He didn't say anything and went over the wardrobe to find a first aid kit. you fuys were getting injured more often than you would like to admit so there were first aid kits almost everywhere now.

"I guess you found out whether they were real or not princess."

He spoke teasingly while you rolled your eyes thanking every god or whatever you should be praying since you don't know who they are praying to in this world for not realizing you were lying.

You had an idea after long hours of thinking, you were going to follow Jason to be able to understand what all these Harbor things were. It was driving you crazy to not be able to remember anything because clearly it was important. That's why grabbing the katana seemed like a good idea until it wasn't.

The room was dimly lit, the only light coming from the city skyline outside the window since you didn't bother yourself to open the lights. you were going to leave anyway.

He seemed like he just woke up. His hair was messy but in a pretty way, his eyes were a little puffy probably from sleeping so little and drinking all that coffee. his sweatpants were low on his waist. when he was doing stuff around the room you could see how his muscles were moving. he was the definition of handsome and charming.

Yes you loved every batfamily members, they were all good looking and such a husband material, at least you were thinking this when you were reading. sometimes when your feelings were overwhelming you, you were reading fan-fictions about them to ease your mind but it was not a lie that even though you forced yourself to read about others, it was always Tim that you found yourself reading. It was safe to say that he was your comic-crush if it was a real term. He was clever, quick, witty, charming and of course handsome. He was the nicest yet the baddiest character you've ever read. there was something about him that makes you want to jump all over him now that you realize it is Tim fucking Drake you're standing right in front of. You coughed to gather your thoughts and he came towards you with a bag in his hand.

Your heart was pounding being this close to him. You were getting angry at yourself for being this kind of a fangirl. He grabbed your hand and slowly he touched with a cotton that he put some alcohol early.

"Shit." you sweared under your breath. It was just a little cut and it wasn't even hurting that much beforehand but now it was burning like somebody put the hellfires  right on to your palm. After a little bit more alcohol he bandaged your hand.

He looked like he was doing some kind of operation. His eyebrows were frowned with concentration, you couldn't help but smile because of his nice touches.

"Enjoying yourself I assume."

He smirked while his eyes met with yours in seconds. You tried to look away but it was like the spell Zatanna cast over you this morning. you couldn't move.

Maybe the theories about him and the Viperia were true, they were secretly dating because he clearly had something for you, to be more exact Viperia.

"Don't get cocky Drake I can stare at whoever I want, wherever I want and whenever I want. It's my eyes after all."

He laughed with your answer.

"You still have your sharp tongue I presume."

His laugh sent a shiver down your spine, not from the cold but from something deeper, something dangerous. It had been so long since you'd heard that voice like this—lighthearted, teasing. For a moment, you wanted to let yourself get lost in it, but you couldn’t afford that luxury. You had bigger problems. Like what was about to happen at the harbor.

That's why you thought the sword was a good option to go with. since you were going to this mission in secret you needed a weapon just in case someone tried to attack you. Even though you had your hesitations you were sure that katana's itself is scary enough to drive people away.  but it was a horrible fail, who would've thought that thing would be heavy as hell.

"Why are you dressed like that anyway?"

He asked suspiciously while he looked at you with a great attention again. It was like he was trying to see through your lies and you were that if he stared at you more he actually might that's why you came up with a quick lie.

"Oh, I just needed some fresh air so I decided to go to the garden by myself..

He squinted his eyes like he was searching through your face. he wasn't convinced enough.

"Do you always get some fresh air while you dress like that?"

You sighed as you got annoyed.

"I didn't know Gotham had a dress code, Timbo."

You crossed your arms, rolling your eyes before brushing past him. If this conversation went on any longer, he’d put the pieces together, and you couldn't afford that. He was one of the best detectives in the world. He’d figure you out.

You were almost at the door when you felt the warmth of his breath against your neck. You froze.

"Careful, princess," he murmured, voice lower, softer—dangerous. "You almost have me believing that you got your memory back and you're hiding it from me."

Without another word, you pushed forward, quickening your pace as you  ran out of the room.

Damn it. He was too good at this. Too perceptive. Too much.

And you had to move fast before he caught up.

The wind was unforgiving, biting through your clothes as you shivered behind a stack of woods. The air was thick with salt and rusted metal. You could barely feel your fingers from the cold.

It had taken you almost an hour to find this Harbor. The walk was miserable, but you finally managed to track down the warehouse. Jason was inside, standing across from a group of masked men, Roy at his side, arms crossed. Both of them were suited up, Red Hood and Arsenal.

The wind once again blew your hoodie out of your head and you decided to give up from the secrecy. You have found the warehouse that the meeting was happening thank god. Through the broken window of this old warehouse. It seemed like it was an exchange: information for supplies. Standard business in Gotham.

But something about this moment—this exact moment—felt wrong again. Familiar, maybe even too familiar. As if you had seen it before.

Then, footsteps were heard. Soft but not quite. Like that someone wanted you to realize they were right behind you. You were fucked if this was one of the men from inside but you weren't going to give up without fighting. You turned sharply, already reaching for the knife that you put around your body—only to find Tim stepping out of the shadows, hands in his pockets, looking entirely unimpressed.

He was wearing a long black coat almost covering his entire body yet wearing nothing around his face. He was much more handsome under the moonlight and you realized how much his eyes resembled the sea.

"You really thought you could shake me that easily?"

You cursed under your breath, quickly grabbing his arm and pulling him down beside yourself to make sure nobody's seeing you.

"Are you insane? You can’t just walk up like that to me!"

"Right, because you're sneaking off in the middle of the night to spy on..."

He looked through the broken window with a deadpan look on his face.

"the red hood makes perfect sense, right?"

You were going to die that was for sure. You got caught and how could someone explain this situation.

"Why are you here?" He seemed more serious now. Your mind was racing, tracing back and forth to find a reasonable answer to explain all of these but the words weren't coming out of your mouth at all.

"I was… just curious."

Tim raised an eyebrow, didn't believe anything that was coming out of my mouth.

"Curious. About a bunch of vigilantes. During a weapons exchange. In the middle of the empty harbor. Alone."

He was scary when he was angry that's why you couldn't meet or refused to meet his gaze but his long fingers wrapped around your chin to make sure you were looking right into his eyes.

"Does this mean your memory’s back?"

That hit harder than expected. Your chest tightened and your breath hitched. There was no escape now.

"I—No. It’s not like that."

Tim leaned in slightly, voice dropping lower like almost a whisper. only inches away from your lips yet not stopping the eye-contact.

"Then what is it like? Because you're acting weird. for someone who just lost their memory you are quite active, persistent and curious. help me understand."

Before you could answer, movement inside the warehouse caught your eye. The sound of a gun being cocked. And suddenly, the scene hit you like a fast train.

The docks. The deal. The ambush. The gunfire. Blood. So much blood.

You have read about it, about this exact scene. It was when Roy Harper almost got killed and stayed in coma for months which pushed Jason over the edge of madness and made him a complete mess with a brutal side that kills everyone and everything that gets into his way.

It was one of the harshest things that you've read. It was a complete disaster.

You sucked in a sharp breath, eyes completely wide

"No. No, no, no—"

Tim frowned with worry.

"What? What is it?"

You spoke with a whisper like tone almost murmuring to yourself.

"This—this is wrong. If we don't help them it's gonna be worse than dying for Roy and Jason."

It was Tim's turn to be shocked.

"What are you talking ab—How do you even kno—You got your memory back right?"

You didn’t answer.

Because there was no time.

You pulled free, grabbing the knives strapped to your waist, and moved.

The window was big enough. You slipped through without hesitation, your body moving on autopilot. Everything was happening so fast Tim wasn't able to find an opportunity to react. There was a shooter hiding behind the barrels—you knew that. You knew because he was the one who shot Roy, the one no one saw coming.

You wouldn’t let it happen.

The knife left your hand before you could think. It struck metal, clattering against the barrel—enough to send the shooter scrambling out of his hiding place.

Chaos erupted.

Jason and Roy reacted instantly. Guns fired. Fists flew. The ambush was now an open fight, and they had a chance.

A chance they didn’t have before.

And then—arms wrapped around you.

Before you could struggle, you were yanked back through the window, landing outside the warehouse, pressed against something firm and solid.

Tim.

His scent filled your senses—coffee, rain and sandalwood, something distinctly him.

You gripped his shoulders to steady yourself, breathing hard. Adrenaline was leaving every part of your body as you tried to take deep breaths.

"What the fuck are you doing?" he hissed, his tone sharp but quiet enough to keep from drawing attention to both of you.

His gaze flickered down, and suddenly, his expression changed. His eyes widened.

Your necklace was glowing.

His grip on you is tightened you could feel his fingertips piercing through your skin even though with your clothes on.

"Why is your necklace glowing?" he demanded.

He locked eyes with you, and this time, there was something ele

Suspicion.

Fear.

His voice was barely a whisper.

"Who are you?"

[guroshitz]

CABIN GROUP HEADCANONS !!

since Pete was a huuuge influence on nick, he also had an impact on Nick's music taste. Pete was a huge fan of metal, so is nick! he would enjoy doom/stoner metal the most.

Luke is the complete opposite of nick, he would enjoy country, also songs like barbie girl, and artists like sir mix-a-lot. he would definitely force nick to listen to those with him.

Carlos isn't an actual doctor and he wasn't before the apocalypse. the medical knowledge he has is from books he read to take care of his loved ones, and his wife, who was a nurse taught him something too. as seen in the game, he isn't perfect, although he is trying his best.

when the group arrived to the cabin, the previous owners left their belongings behind, including board games. and each night the group would relax and spend time together, hanging out and getting to know each other, especially when playing board games.

Sarah's mother, despite her job as a nurse who is supposed to take care of people, was neglectful of her daughter, not understanding her issues either. Carlos divorced with her when Sarah was still young and it happened before the apocalypse. he took the custody of the young girl and became overprotective of her, especially after the outbreak which resulted in not letting her adapt to the present world.

Rebecca was in the mean popular girls cliché back in the highschool.

Luke was chubby before the outbreak, and he still may have some chub. it's his body type, since he worked on the farm he burnt a lot of calories but still stayed chubby.

Alvin and Rebecca met at the ski resort, and with each anniversary they would go skiing here.

Nick's mom was really young when she had him, around 19-21. she didn't have any plans yet, and his biological father was reckless and preferred partying rather than taking care of his own son. luckily Pete was here for him.

Sarah loves playing with dolls or some kind of figurines. she would get every member of the group to play with her, the best people to play with her would be Alvin and Luke (except Carlos because he is her dad). Alvin is soon to be dad and his tender personality is great to play with children, and Luke is naturally good with kids and would be like a big brother to Sarah sometimes. the most irritable would be Nick and Rebecca, Nick just wouldn't know how to handle it and get irritated easily or just ruin the whole fun. Rebecca would try her best, but not always understand and get irritated, which would make her feel bad. she would try to work on it though, for the sake of her baby and as she doesn't want to make Sarah sad. Sarah would never ask Pete, though.

Nick and Luke met in the 1st grade of elementary school. Nick was a shy and quite troublesome kid, and Luke was the type of kid who was always in the center of everyone's attention. despite their different personalities, they got along pretty quickly, often hanging out on both of their families' farms.

Rebecca came from an abusive household and is guarded and may seem hostile at first, but deep down she is a really caring, and has a soft spot for people who went through family abuse as well. she tends to hide her true emotions behind a "tough bitch" facade, but when she is alone with Alvin, whom she trusts the most, breaks down in tears to let out the pent up emotions in her.

Alvin gives the best hugs in the entire world. he's like a teddy bear.

Sarah's PTSD might come from the time she spent in Howe's, seeing the violence and innocent people's death caused by Carver. she is particularly afraid of him, the fear she is experiencing affects her usual life a lot, her sleep too, she often has nightmares and has to be comforted by Carlos.

Luke never had luck with women, they always rejected him. he never gave up though and kept talking to them. Nick, seeing how unlucky his best friend was, never even tried to get with ANYONE.

let me know if you want me to post more headcanons!

[unstablegoldfish]

[Your Gentle Comfort] 18+

Story Summary: Your interest in boys didn’t really exist in your life. It wasn’t because you were against romance, but mainly for the fact that all the boys in your school were— well, boys. It wasn’t until you met your new teacher and had a relationship growing with him that you realized, you wanted a man.

Long Way Home - Chapter 4

Joel Miller x F!reader - Teacher × F!Student Warning: AGE GAP: After all it is a highschool student x teacher. Light swearing.

Word Count: 5k ;)

Chapter 3 -—> Click here! Chapter 5-—> TBD

Fic Masterlist -> Click here!

Summary: Between you and Joel there’s a lot of similarities to be discussed. He sees himself in you and he wants to protect you from that. After having a talk you get to see Joel as himself.

—————————————————————————————

The classroom was still humming with soft murmurs of students as they packed their things for their next class. Joel’s focus was shifted entirely. He sat at his desk with his arms crossed, he was watching you as you gathered your things. There was a stronger tension now, something unsaid hanging between the two of you, it only grew stronger since your poem.

The poem about him.

He hadn’t meant to read it, he just happened to be walking past when he caught sight of his name, the way you’d described warmth and safety. How much you felt cared for by him and how appreciative you are of that. Your words stuck with him, as if you had reached right inside and pulled something out of him that he wasn’t sure how to face.

With everything he knew about you and where you’re coming from, He couldn’t help but feel a closeness to you.

You had hurried out of the classroom as soon as the bell rang, and Joel let out a slow exhale, rubbing the back of his neck. What the hell was he thinking?

He wasn’t blind, he’d seen the way you’ve looked at him. The way your eyes glistened as soon as he’d touch you. How eager you seemed to want to talk to him this morning as you both arrived early. He knew you wanted his attention badly. But he wasn’t going to stop you. He’d let you talk, let you sit with him, he wants you to feel safe here.

Wasn’t that his job?

But this, this was different. This was going to cross into something dangerous if he kept it up this way. He’s not sure if he’ll have the strength to push you away, no matter the danger.

Joel sighed and stood up from his desk, heading toward the hallway. He needed a minute. Maybe a smoke. Maybe a stiff drink, but lord knows he couldn’t do that right now.

As he walked, his mind replayed the conversation from earlier in his office. He could see the realization on your face when you realized he understood you. You held onto that magnet as if it meant more to you than anything. Then it ever had to him.

Joel found himself leaning against the wall next to his classroom door, watching as students passed by in waves, lost in their own worlds. The hallway is loud, filled with noise.

You had to be among this crowd.

The thought of you lingered in Joel’s thick skull. Your sweetness. Your tired eyes. He wanted to be the one to help you release all that pain bottled up inside.

You were probably heading to your next class, probably overthinking everything just as much as he was. He needed to get a grip. He has to be professional. This is absurd.

But you needed someone to care for you. To listen. To be a steady presence.

That’s all this was.

That’s all it could be.

He ran a hand down his face, feeling the weight of it all. He needed to be careful for your sake and for his own.

But as he turned back inside, there was a small, quiet voice in the back of his head whispering something he wasn’t wanting to admit.

—————————————————————————————

The final bell had rung for the day, you were overthinking everything that Joel could be thinking of you. From the good to the bad, to the even worse.

What would he say to you the next time you see him? Would he ignore you? Would he keep his distance? For the first time you decided to unpack the baggage you were carrying you had to ruin it in seconds. If only you wrote about something else. If only.

You were making your way following the crowds, hoping and not hoping to see Joel at the same time. You wanted clarity and fast, but you were also worried of what was to come. You couldn’t make up your mind.

I should just go home.

You made your way to the front door in school, it was hard to see through the crowd but you caught a glance of the man himself standing outside past the window. He was facing the sidewalk, saying goodbye to a few other students. He was waiting for something.

Your palms became sweaty, your heart was racing. You’ve never been so nervous in your life.

—————————————————————————————

Joel knew you’d be on your way out soon, And hell, he didn’t know what he was supposed to say to you. But he knew he had to do something.

That poem.

He saw the weight behind the words, the rawness, the longing. It wasn’t just admiration or gratitude. It was something else entirely, something that crossed lines he knew damn well he shouldn’t step over.

He let out a long breath, running a hand over his beard, stealing a glance toward the doors.

Would you stop? Would you keep walking? Would you even look at him?

He wasn’t sure what he wanted the answer to be.

But just as the thoughts appeared so did you.

He spotted you just past the stream of students making their way out of the building. you had hesitated when you saw him, like a deer caught in headlights, unsure whether to run or stay still. Joel felt something tighten in his chest at the sight of it—at the conflict so plainly written across your face. He didn’t want that for you.

you were nervous. And if he was being honest with himself, so was he.

He wasn’t sure if it was the right move, but he gave you the smallest tilt of his head, an unspoken question. You alright?

you swallowed hard, your feet still frozen to the pavement.

That was his answer.

Joel let out a slow exhale, pushing himself forward. He didn’t want to have this conversation here, in the open, with ears all around. He gestured for you to walk closer to him.

“Walk with me,” he said, voice low, meant just for you.

You blinked, looking around as if to check who might be watching. “What?”

“Just a walk.” Joel gestured toward the sidewalk, the one leading away from the school. “Nothin’ heavy. Just need a breather, s’all.”

you hesitated, but after a moment, you gave a small nod.

The two of you walked in silence for a bit, the late afternoon air was fresh, the sky painted in soft oranges and pinks. Joel shoved his hands into his pockets, trying to gather his thoughts, trying to find the right words that wouldn’t make this harder than it already was.

“You’re a hell of a writer,” he finally said, glancing over at you. His eyes were soft. He wanted to make this light hearted, not something to trouble you.

“Y-Yeah, well. Guess I should’ve picked a different subject.” You stammered

Joel sighed. “Listen…” He stopped walking, turning to face you fully. You looked up at him, the weight that was pressed against your heart hurt. “Ain’t mad at you, alright? Just… this is a tricky thing.”

Your expression flickered with something—relief, maybe? or something close to it. But there was still an uncertainty in your eyes, a fear of rejection, of judgment. He hated seeing that look on you.

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” he reassured. “But we gotta be careful. You get that, don’t you?”

You nodded, biting your lip. “I know.”

Joel sighed, glancing away for a moment before looking back at you. “I ain’t gonna push you away. You got my word on that. Just…If this is whatcha want, truly. I wanna give it to ya.”

You swallowed hard, his words settling deep in your chest. He wasn’t pushing you away. He wasn’t shutting you down. If anything, he was offering you a choice—a dangerous one. One that you’d been teetering on the edge of since the moment you met him.

“I—” You hesitated, shifting on your feet. “I don’t think I’ve ever wanted anything more.”

Joel’s gaze was heavy, studying you, searching for any trace of uncertainty. You didn’t waver. Couldn’t.

His fingers twitched at his side, like he was fighting the instinct to reach for you. “Alright, then,” he murmured. His voice was quieter now, more careful. “But we gotta be smart about this, darlin’.”

Darlin’.

The word sent a shiver down your spine. You nodded, breath unsteady. “I know.”

Joel exhaled, his jaw tightening, but there was something softer in his eyes now.

“Then let’s take this slow. Figure it out together.”

The way he said it, the way he looked at you—like he was offering you something fragile, something real—made your chest ache.

Joel nodded once, like he was solidifying something in his own mind, then glanced toward the parking lot. Students were still milling about, but the crowd was thinning.

“You headed home?” he asked, voice even, like this was just another conversation. Like he hadn’t just offered you something that would change everything.

You hesitated. Home. The cold, empty house that waited for you. The silence that pressed in from every corner. After everything that had happened today, the thought of going back there made your stomach twist, and he saw right through you.

“I don’t really wanna be alone right now,” you admitted, voice quieter than you meant it to be. You were honestly scared of what this meant. But looking at him, his warmth and what he’s done for you. Anything that came your way you felt you could beat.

Joel shifted on his feet, rubbing the back of his neck. You could see the gears turning in his head, the way he was weighing his options, still unsure himself if this was too risky.

He let out a long breath. “Come on, then,” he murmured, tilting his head toward his car. “Let’s go for a drive.”

Your heart skipped. “Are you sure?”

His lips twitched, just the faintest hint of a smirk. “Yeah, darlin’. I’m sure. Wouldn’t be the first time, would it?”

That was all you needed to hear. “G-guess not.”

You followed him to his car, slipping into the passenger seat as he started the engine. The low hum of it filled the silence between you, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was just… steady. Safe.

Joel pulled out of the lot, one hand on the wheel, the other resting loosely on his thigh. “Anywhere you wanna go?”

You thought for a moment, then shook your head. “Just… anywhere that’s not home.”

He nodded like he understood exactly what you meant. You clutched onto the magnet in your pocket. This was good.

“You remember when I started crying before heading in after you dropped me off?” You asked. You felt the need to tell him this regardless of how nerve wracking everything had become.

“Couldn’t forget. Had me worried.” He responded lightly.

“It’s my house. The quiet pain of being inside. It drives me crazy.”

Joel continues to drive, you still have no idea where you’re headed but you knew if it was with him you’d be alright.

“Me ‘n you, we’re a lot alike. My house growing up weren’t too different from yours, sweets.” Joel’s voice was low, steady, like he was saying something he didn’t share often. His eyes stayed on the road, but you could feel the weight of his words settle between you.

You swallowed. “Yeah?”

He gave a small nod. “Yeah.” His fingers tapped lightly against the steering wheel, like he was thinking. “Nothin’ but empty rooms and cold air. A place that don’t feel like home, even when you’re livin’ in it.”

Your fingers tightened around the magnet in your pocket. “Exactly,” you murmured.

Joel glanced at you, just for a second, before looking back at the road. “S’why I left when I could. Made my own life, one that felt like mine. Even if it didn’t go completely as planned.” He exhaled. “Ain’t sayin’ it’s easy, but… you don’t gotta stay in a place that don’t feel like home, darlin’.”

Something in your chest ached at the thought. You’d never had someone talk to you like this—like they understood, like they got it. Like they weren’t just offering hollow words, but something real.

“I don’t know if I ever had one,” you admitted quietly. “A home.”

Joel was quiet for a moment, then he reached over. His fingers brushed against your knee—just the lightest touch, barely there. But it sent warmth spreading through you like wildfire.

“You will,” he said softly. “One day, you will.” His hand moved to a comfortable place on your thigh. He looks over and smiles. You offer one in return.

The road stretched ahead of you, golden light filtering through the trees as the sun started to dip lower. You didn’t know where you were going, but with Joel beside you, for the first time in a long time, you weren’t scared.

For a while, neither of you spoke. You just listened to the hum of the tires on pavement, the occasional soft exhale from Joel. It wasn’t awkward. It was the kind of silence that felt safe. Like neither of you had to fill it with anything to prove you were comfortable.

Then Joel reached for the radio, turning the dial until a low, scratchy country song filled the car. Something warm. He tapped his fingers against the wheel in time with the slow rhythm.

(what I picture the radio to be playing in this moment)

“Y’ever think about leavin’?” he asked, voice casual, but there was something underneath it.

You glanced at him. “Leaving?”

He nodded. “This town. The house. Everythin’.”

The thought had crossed your mind before. Maybe more than crossed. But it always felt like something other people did—people who had a plan, a place to go, someone waiting for them on the other side.

“I don’t know,” you admitted. “I don’t know where I’d go.”

Joel hummed, like he understood that. “Don’t gotta have it all figured out,” he said. “Just gotta know you can.”

The way he said it—like it was something possible, something real—made your throat tighten.

“You left,” you said, watching the way his jaw tensed slightly, the way his grip on the wheel shifted.

“I did,” he said simply. “Didn’t have much of a choice. But still. Best damn thing I ever did for myself.”

“If you don’t mind my asking, you didn’t have much of a choice? Why was that?” You started to become curious about Joel’s past life. You wanted to know more.

“That’s for a later time sweets. I’ll let you know soon. Promise.” He swayed his thumb back and forth on your thigh, offering comfort. He didn’t want to close you out of his life. But for now he was taking things slow.

You looked out the window, the sun melting into the horizon. It was strange, the way Joel talked to you. Not like a teacher, not like an adult trying to tell you what you should or shouldn’t do. Just like someone who had been where you were. Someone who understood.

Your fingers toyed with the magnet in your pocket.

“Where are we going?” you asked after a while.

Joel smirked, just slightly. “Somewhere quiet.”

That was all he said. But when you glanced at him, the streetlights casting shadows across his face. He was so handsome.

Yeah. Quiet sounded nice.

The drive stretched on, the world outside growing softer, quieter. The further Joel took you from town, the more the tension in your chest unraveled.

Eventually, he pulled off onto a dirt road, the tires crunching over gravel. A few minutes later, the trees opened up to a clearing—a little stretch of land overlooking the valley below. It was still, untouched, the sky painted in hues of orange and violet as the sun dipped lower.

Joel cut the engine, leaning back against the seat with a quiet exhale. “Ain’t much, but it’s somethin’,” he murmured, glancing over at you.

You stared out at the view, at the endless sky, the rolling hills in the distance. It was something.

“This is gorgeous, wow. I’ve always read about things like this. Never imagined I’d see it.” Disbelief was on display. Your eyes never so wide.

Joel kept his eyes on you, admiring everything you are. Something of beauty. Something to protect. He was going to show you the world now.

“Glad you think so sweets.” He removed his hand to unbuckle his seatbelt. “Let’s go take a closer look.”

You and Joel hoped out of the car walking closer to the end of the hill. The valley was so vast. It was hard to believe it was so close to home. Yet you’ve never been able to reach it.

For a while, neither of you spoke. The wind rustled through the trees, carrying the scent of pine and damp earth. You let yourself breathe it in, let yourself exist here, in this moment, where nothing hurt and nothing felt heavy.

“Y’alright?”

You turned to look at him. His gaze was steady, patient, like he had all the time in the world to wait for your answer.

“Yeah,” you said, voice soft. “I think I am.”

He studied you for a moment, then nodded like he believed you. Like he trusted you to know your own feelings.

You hesitated before speaking again. “Why’d you bring me here?”

Joel ran a hand over his jaw, his expression thoughtful. “Figured you needed somewhere that didn’t remind you of… everythin’ else.”

You swallowed. “And what about you?”

His lips twitched, just the faintest ghost of a smile. “Maybe I needed it too.”

The way he said it, quiet and honest, made your heart ache. You didn’t know what to say to that, so you just turned back toward the horizon, watching as the last sliver of sun disappeared below the hills.

He noticed your chills from the cool air. He wrapped his flannel around your arms and grasped your shoulders.

“Thanks.” You said with a smile.

“My pleasure.”

The world was dimming, but here, next to Joel, you didn’t feel lost in the dark.

A comfortable silence settled between you, the kind that didn’t demand to be filled.

You wanted to ease the conversation somehow, and considering your conversation earlier this morning, he had some sense of humour. “You always bring your students out to the middle of nowhere?” you teased, glancing at Joel from the corner of your eye.

He huffed a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “Nah, darlin’. Just the ones who steal clothes and write secret poems ‘bout me.”

Your face burned. “Oh my God, you are never gonna let that go, are you?”

“Not a chance,” he smirked, shifting in his seat to face you more. “Matter of fact, I was thinkin’ ‘bout askin’ for a readin’. Since I am the subject and all.”

You groaned, covering your face with your hands. “I’m jumping down this hill.”

Joel chuckled, the sound warm and deep. “C’mon now, I bet it’s real good.”

You peeked at him through your fingers. “You bet?”

He shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “Well, I only got a peek before you snatched it away. But from what I saw? Damn good.”

You dropped your hands into your lap, shaking your head. “You’re impossible.”

Joel smirked but didn’t argue.

The two of you made your way back into Joel’s car. His flannel still comfortably wrapped around you. It was like a hug.

The breeze rolled in through the cracked windows, carrying the scent of pine and the distant sound of crickets starting their nightly song. You exhaled slowly, feeling lighter than you had in days.

Joel nudged your knee with his knuckles. “Feelin’ better?”

You nodded. “Yeah. Thanks for this.”

He gave a small nod, his gaze lingering on you for just a moment longer. “Anytime, darlin’.”

The two of you enjoyed the last bit of sunlight to go down, before Joel started the car to head on out again.

“You hungry?” he asked after a moment, his voice breaking the comfortable silence.

You thought about it. “Kinda.”

He smirked. “That’s not an answer.”

You rolled your eyes. “Fine, yes.”

“Atta girl,” he chuckled, taking a slow turn onto a smaller road. It took awhile to arrive but you pulled up to a little diner, the neon “Open” sign flickering in the window. It was the kind of place you could tell hadn’t changed in years, probably had the same regulars, same menu, same old jukebox in the corner.

Joel put the car in park and turned to you. “Ain’t fancy, but it’s got good pie.”

“That’s all that matters.” you giggled.

Inside, the diner smelled like coffee and something fried. A waitress with bright red lipstick waved Joel over like she knew him. “Well, hey there, Miller. Ain’t seen you in a while.”

He nodded in greeting. “Been busy, Clara.”

Clara eyed you with a knowing glint in her gaze. “And who’s this?”

You opened your mouth, but Joel beat you to it. “This here’s my friend.”

Friend.

Although in high school, and at 18, you didn’t look as such. You seemed and looked a lot older than most would guess. Even with that you couldn’t help but feel a little nervous meeting an acquaintance of his.

“Well, nice to meet ya, sweetheart,” Clara said with a wink before leading you both to a booth near the window.

You slid into your seat, glancing at Joel as he casually leaned back, flipping through the menu like he hadn’t been here a million times before.

“What’s good?” you asked.

“Everything. But if you don’t get pie, you’re doin’ it wrong.”

You smirked. “That’s the second time you’ve mentioned pie. Got a sweet tooth, Miller?”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “Just know what’s good in life.”

You found yourself smiling more than you had in a long time. It was nice.

Clara came back with two glasses of water, setting them down with a knowing smile. “Y’all take your time. I’ll get your usual, Miller.”

Joel just huffed a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “Ain’t even gotta ask, huh?”

Clara winked. “Not when you’re that predictable, sweetheart.”

You watched their exchange with amusement. “So, what’s ‘the usual’?”

Joel took a sip of water, eyeing you over the rim of his glass. “Burger, fries, and a slice of pecan pie. Coffee for later.”

You snorted. “Classic.”

“Damn right.” He leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table.

Clara scribbled in her notepad. “And what about you, hon?”

You glanced at Joel, then back at her. “I’ll take what he’s having.”

Joel smirked. “Now we’re talkin’.”

The conversation flowed easily as you waited for your food. Joel told you about how he used to come here when he first moved to town, how Clara had been giving him shit ever since. He teased you about your lack of pie experience, claiming he was about to change your life. If it wasn’t about pie, well darn, he already had.

When the food arrived, you dug in immediately, and Joel watched with an amused smile as you took your first bite.

“Well?” he asked expectantly.

You pretended to think about it, just to mess with him. “It’s… alright, I guess.”

Joel scoffed. “Alright? C’mon now, don’t lie to me.”

You grinned, finally giving in. “Okay, okay, it’s amazing.”

“Damn straight it is.” He leaned back, looking proud. “Knew I had good taste.”

You shook your head with a laugh. The night felt lighter than anything had in a long time. And maybe, just maybe, you weren’t as alone as you thought.

After finishing your meal, you leaned back against the booth, content in a way you hadn’t been in a long time. The warmth of the food, the comfort of the diner, and the easy company of Joel all made the weight on your shoulders feel just a little lighter.

Joel took one last sip of his coffee, setting the mug down with a quiet clink. “Feelin’ better?”

You nodded, stretching your arms slightly. “Yeah. That hit the spot.”

“Told ya,” he said with a smirk, wiping his hands on a napkin. “Can’t go wrong with good food.”

Clara swung by again, dropping the check on the table. “On the house, Miller. Consider it a welcome back.”

Joel shot her a look, but she just winked before disappearing behind the counter.

You arched an eyebrow. “Guess you’ve got connections.”

He sighed, shaking his head. “Yeah, yeah. She ain’t gonna let me pay even if I tried.”

With that, Joel slid out of the booth, nodding toward the door. “C’mon, let’s get outta here.”

The night air was crisp when you stepped outside, the neon glow of the diner sign buzzing softly in the quiet. Joel unlocked the car, and you climbed in, the leather seat cool against the back of your legs. As he pulled out onto the road, the hum of the tires on asphalt was the only sound for a while.

“Where to now?” you asked, watching as the town lights started to fade behind you.

Joel drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. “Figure I’ll get you home before it gets too late.”

A part of you deflated at that. You weren’t ready to go back. Back to the empty house, the silence that pressed in too tight. But you'd understand, he probably has places to be.

Joel must’ve noticed, because he glanced at you, brows furrowing slightly. “…Unless you ain’t in a rush.”

You hesitated, then shook your head. “Not really. But I don't want to keep you from anything either."

He considered that for a moment, then made a slow turn down another quiet road, leading further into the countryside. “Alright,” he said simply. “Then let’s take the long way. I'm in no rush."

The stars were bright above, unbothered by the town’s glow. The road curved and stretched into open fields, the kind of place where the world felt endless. You rolled down the window slightly, letting the night breeze ruffle through your hair. It smelled like earth and freedom.

You glanced over at him, his face lit in flashes by the headlights reflecting off the road signs. There was something about the way he carried himself—like he had spent too many nights behind the wheel, too many miles between him and whatever home used to mean.

“You ever think about goin’ back?” you asked, voice quieter than you meant it to be.

Joel didn’t look at you, just kept his gaze steady on the road. “Back where?”

You shrugged. “Wherever you left.”

He was quiet for a long time. You started to think he might not answer at all. But then he sighed, a sound deep and tired.

“Sometimes,” he admitted. “But places change. People change. What you leave behind don’t always stay the way you remember it.”

You turned that over in your mind. You weren’t sure if he was talking about a town or a person. Maybe both.

“Maybe you don’t go back,” you said, staring out at the dark expanse beyond the window. “Maybe you just find somethin’ new.”

Joel hummed, as if considering that. “Maybe.”

You let your head rest against the seat, letting the motion of the car lull you into something close to peace. Your eyes were heavy.

The road stretched on, the world outside passing in blurred shadows. You weren’t sure how long you drove like that, just the two of you and the hum of the engine filling the silence.

Eventually, Joel turned onto a familiar road, the one that led back to your house. You felt the weight of reality creeping back in, the night’s magic fading at the edges.

When he pulled up in front of your place, he left the engine running, drumming his fingers against the wheel again. “You alright?”

You nodded, but didn’t move to open the door.

Joel studied you for a second, then reached into the center console and pulled out something small. He held it out to you.

You took it, frowning slightly as you turned it over in your palm. A key.

You looked up at him. “What’s this?”

Joel exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Spare key. To my place. If you ever need to get out for a bit. Address taped on, my phone number too."

Your fingers curled around it.

You swallowed past the lump in your throat. “Thanks, Joel. Seriously."

He just nodded. “Get some sleep, darlin’.”

You climbed out of the car, the key warm in your palm. As you stepped onto the porch, you glanced back.

Joel was still watching, making sure you got inside safe.

And somehow, knowing that made the night feel a little less lonely.

Stepping into the house, you felt the wall of cold surround your skin. The light from Joel's car had slowly faded away as you removed your shoes. Your chest had never felt so heavy. Of course reality would come and settle into your bones soon enough.

You walked through your kitchen, the stove light was still turned on lighting your way around the house. You questioned if your parents were even home yet.

You walked down the hall, and put your bag down in your room. You walked back to the bathroom to start brushing your teeth. The taste of the pie still lingering in your mouth, only to be washed away with peppermint.

All that was left now was the memories of where he had taken you, and you'd have to find comfort in knowing that at least now, someone did care for you.

You clutched the key Joel gave you, remembering the sliver of paper that had his information on it.

"Whenever you need to call, or text, feel free. -Joel"

Along with the address that the key was for. It's a little shocking honestly. But given your circumstances, maybe it's for the best.

You climbed into bed, only to remember that it was Friday. You wouldn't be seeing Joel tomorrow. So more then ever, you tried to replay every moment in your head until you drifted off to sleep.

—————————————————————————————

HOLY SMOKESS, guys, this is wayyy too forward but fuck I wantedd it to progress cause my ideas for it going forward are just 10x better gaha. I really wanted to spend time working on their communication and I think I really nailed it. Lovin' this anywayssss. So here we are!!! So excited. Let me know what y'all think <3 Also lmk if you want to be added to the taglist!

Taglist: @miss-mistinguett @astro3des @prfctwilliams @onetimebaby @mal023 @thejoywillburnoutthepain @theoraekenslover

[sir-fenris]

AAAAAAAAA 🥹 I've lived for the day that I would be getting commentaries too. I can die happy. Thank you <33

Sorry for taking so long to answer. I read it before going to sleep and I giggled so much my cheeks hurt, but I was too tired to answer cohesively. And today I was busy pretty much the whole time :'(

But I was able to write this down while preparing and eating my dinner :D

(My responses organization is kinda messy, don't mind it please XD)

It is real and it is happening, I'm glad Cyrus's yearning was clear and that it seemed a strong start :) I went back and forth with SO MANY begginings, I think I wrote and deleted more than 10 completely different starting paragraphs XD.

I might put the rp on the masterpost soon! I wanted to ask you if I could, first. And find a way to organize it in a way I feel is nice to read.

And well... about the gloves, who knows? :) is it because he can use his magic with any skin contact? What I can say is that all handlers do have gloves with technology, but usually, they're are fingerless gloves. Wilson's hands and arms are fully covered.

(I already changed your emoji <3)

Yes, protection barriers makes him nauseous when he goes in, because it's designed exatcly to keep his magic contained in the tent in case he uses it unauthorized, so it gives him a bad feeling. Once Wilson gives him authorization, the barriers are set down. When the authorization is revoked, they come back up. That's one of the many reasons why Wilson has to communicate when he's about to turn the nullification back of the collar.

A lot of safety measures 😃

Well... I wouldn't say he's allowed to actually refuse food. Wilson just sometimes is "merciful" and allows him to take his breakfast after his comedown is done, because usually Cyrus feels sick before getting to work. (If Cyrus... makes a mess, yk, Wilson will have to report and take care of the situation, and that's too troublesome)

And I'm not one for underestimating trope either, but I guess in LW whump it's interesting because adds to the familiar dehumanization and because the LW is actually very powerful and that gets proven.

"ohhh :( he makes me sad I'm definitely gonna read the comfort ask"

My comfort is also whumpy, because I don't wanna spoil Cyrus too much yet, he's still on the whump arc... but I hope you find the hurt/comfort good enough XD.

":( he knelt fast then. man..."

He dropped down on his knees :') Wilson doesn't let him kneel down slowly.

And Wilson whispered the "behave". Rhe others around don't need to hear the weapon being reminded to behave, just know that it will.

About the other gifted. I'll show the sketches of the gloves soon, but you'll see that it does need a metal manipulator, or else it has to be cut off and re-made on his hand every time. It's 100% closed. So that's why they use other gifted to do it.

(Usually metalokinetics are used around for stuff like that, menial tasks. They only go to battlefield if they are strong enough to destroy enemy's weapons and machines.)

"yeah I know </3 man this is a bunch of info I know cause I've already been exposed to bits of this story but for future newcomers this is probably necessary clarification"

That was the hardest part :') I wanted anyone who didn't knew any context to be able to understand the first chapter (though that's really really hard without a beta/proof reader) and the people who did have context to enjoy it anyway, even though it's pretty much a retelling of the drabble a lot of you already read. I was afraid of giving too little information and making it hard to understand, and of giving too much information and making it too dense.

60% of the chaotic editing was because of this. And 50% of the typos is because I kept changing sentences and missing to change a word or to (like making a sentence about one of his hands, then decide it should be both hands, but forget to put one of the words in plural)

Speaking of that, I need to do a typo checking on the chapter asap... already caught 2 yesterday.

"ugh he's so well trained"

His handler is proud to hear that.

I'LL GIVE YOU ALL THE GRASS EVER SWEET LOVELY BOY </3

Own, that's adorable. He'll have grass in recovery, lots of it, don't worry.

(The bar is very low when touching grass is almost an ultimate reward...)

aaaaaaaaa? wilson my beloved he's so cold

"Wilson" and "beloved" in the same sentence is........ something I was not expecting ever. Huh.

ooooooo :D I remember wondering why the art of him showed him with blue lines in his collar when he was a threat level red!!! fascinating :3

😊 when the nullification is on, it stays blue. When he's being shocked, it flashes yellow, and when his magic is free, it turns red. :D safety measures, too.

About the withering description, thank you! I really think it might be too abstract or dense to some people, especially those who don't have any context, but there's really not much I could do. From Cyrus's view, he's not seeing what the magic is actually doing, and this needed to be included on the first chapter.

But I'll try to slide in some description from Wilson's view of his powers in a canon chapter to make it clearer, perhaps make a separate post showing his vision vs what's actually happening, if I can.

And yeah! On the drabble I was really thinking about that song. But on canon, it became more like a curious fact, because I made it so it's from another language. It doesn't have a set lyrics, though the translation would be something akin to the hurt incantation. No one knows what Cyrus's murmuring means, not even him, it's gibberish to them all.

Yeaaah! I'm happy you saw that "Sweet Creature" follows the same line that "Magic Euphoria" drabble. It's pretty much that drabble, but from his perspective, plus a bit more at the beginning and end. This chapter is the truly canon, since when I did the drabble I didn't have the characters in mind, but Cyrus really does say "yes, sir" because his conditioning runs deep. He doesn't say "okay" ever.

(But Wilson is also an unreliable narrator, so you can consider the drabble him remembering Cyrus's words to be more disobedient than it actually was, since he spoke quietly)

(Poor baby, being shocked not even knowing why, loosing his warmth, being remembered as disrespectful even when he wasn't...)

Metallokinetic whumpee is not well :(

"oooo so he has gloves on when not working got it got it. leather! I assume it's to avoid skin to skin contact? or his hands are the most effective conduit and the higher-ups don't want him touching anything with his hands?"

I like the way you're going :)

(Both Cyrus and Wilson have gloves, but Cyrud's is restrictive)

About the den (his cabin) and mattress.... eh, don't get too happy. Remember, unreliable narrator. And this ask is very important.

(Oh, you reminded me that I wanted to put the images of his cabin and capsule on the chapter, thanks, I'll do that later)

"oooo is his collar nullifying it? or the gloves? capsule??? I think it's the collar"

All of the above. Plus the glasses too. Safety measures :)

the euphoria narration thing is. so fucking good man. but why'd he get shocked?? this isn't in the wilson pov chapter 😔

First, thank you <3

Second, it's not defined, it could have been a lot of different things. But my favorite option is that he started singing without realizing it.

"someone please give him a blanket istg. I know this is a different kind of cold but can he have a blanket :("

He can only earn blanket privileges when he's at the central base. In caimpaings there are no blanket privileges.

If he's very very good, tho, he might earn one night with a blanket.

!!! sneaky :0

🥰 He would look down ashamed at your words. He really didn't mean to be... he just wanted to relieve some of the painful uneasiness.

also love that. “his handler always sees everything.” !!! love love love that love the sheer amount of fear and expecting danger

YEAAA, that's the emotions I wanted to show. Especially since Cyrus is blinded so often. He rarely knows when Wilson is looking, to what he pays attention, what is his expression. It's kinda like the Panopticon Prison. You never know when you're being watched, so you stay on edge the whole time.

Wilson is a smart handler :)

HE'S NOT EVEN ALLOWED TO MOVE WITHOUT PERMISSION??? I mean I expected that but damn. also gloves again. is it a military thing or is this the skin contact thing

He's not allowed to move in the ways Wilson doesn't approve. What moves does Wilson approve? Only Wilson knows.

Cyrus discovers when he's shocked for doing the ones on the "no" list.

And the gloves, ah the gloves. Who knows?

Wilson knows, he's the one that changed their designs too.

pfft I love those moments of like. passive caring about everyday stuff in whump. they're funny but then they're not funny

Yeah, I really like doing that :D

Cyrus doesn't want to go through an hour of Wilson getting his anger out in his hair, leaving him with a sore scalp and holding back tears. His hair is full of broken strands because of it already.

HEY DON'T CALL HIM SNEAKY I DID IT FONDLY >:(

I let out a really genuine laugh 🤣

ough.. he's so scared poor baby

Of Wilson? Always.

D: man I don't even know what to say this is just rlly fuckin good. guilt my beloved

Oh well, thank you <3

huh??? how come he didn't get physically close to any of it

His comedown has really fun hallucinations :)

Auditory, visual, gustatory, tactile, proprioceptive and interoceptive ones. Not all together or at the same comedown, it varies.

WOW!!! love the logic and treating cyrus like so much of an object wilson can just talk out loud while he's there.

:)

man. I love cyrus. I love wilson. I have so many feelings about them both... I rlly love handler whumpers those are so neat I love cold whumpers that are professional. wilson has such a presence in this chapter. cyrus is so cute I wanna wrap him in blankets...

I loved how this was like. stractured with the euphoria and comedown and everything. I also love how despite everything cyrus is still so caring towards others it's so. ough </3

Really, thank you for this <333 I'm really pleasently surprise to see people saying stuff like "doing the fenris thing" for the commentaries. It really makes me happy, like... YEAH? Please do! With me and with others. It's so cool to read these. Even tired, even busy, I just wanted to keep coming here to read yours and others comments.

So thank you <3 really enjoyed reading this, and I really like the way you think :)

-

Sweet Creature

Content: magical living weapon, dehumanization, "it" briefly used as pronoun, dangerous whumpee, magical euphoria, shock collar, sensory (visual) deprivation, manhandling, military whump, implied institutionalized whump, magical slavery, heavily implied mass murder, hallucinations.

(chapter 1) | next chapter ->

(Curse of Withering masterpost)

Cyrus wishes to at least have a look around while outside. It would only be a military camp, soldiers walking around, tents set up, maybe some horses on one side. Not a very pleasant nor interesting view.

But at least he would be seeing the sky, and the grass, and people.

He's not. He's seeing pure black from behind his nullification glasses, being guided by an unrelenting hand on his neck, just above his heavy collar. Not even allowed to feel skin, only the tough material of a glove.

Around Cyrus, talk dies down, and muttering comes to life, as he's used to. It never stops making him feel ashamed.

Also not allowed to curl up or hide in any way, he's just dragged forward to keep walking.

A strong sensation of nausea hits him when they enter his designed post tent of this campaign. It feels like the protection barriers put around the tents are getting stronger each campaign.

Being on an empty stomach doesn't help, either. Regret fills him from refusing breakfast, but he's sure his stomach wouldn't have kept it down anyway.

"... This is it? The rumors made it look spine-chilling, not... this." A voice from his right side says, a bit far back. Further into the tent, then. Cyrus doesn't recognize the voice, but the words are familiar.

The gloved hand on his neck squeezes, and he stops after a second of trying to figure out if it was out of frustration or a command to stand still.

No scolding comes, so it must have been a command. Or both.

"Wait until you see it destroying a whole military camp while laughing like a maniac," Mr. Wilson says. That voice he does recognizes in the very core of his being. And by the coldness of it, his handler is audibly used to that question as well.

Cyrus doesn't have time to feel ashamed of the words before a pressure on his neck commands him to kneel down. Even with the knee pads, a mercy not chosen by his handler, the impact hurts a bit.

"Behave." Is what reaches his ear before the leather gloves are unfastened from his wrists.

Magic wraps around the metal gloves that were beneath the leather ones and bend it open. Cyrus didn't even hear the metallokinetic's handler telling them to do that. Maybe this gifted doesn't have a handler, he knows there's some free Gifted that serve the military willingly.

Unlike Cyrus.

He obediently waits with unmoving hands until his handler applies pressure on his head in another silent command. No one speaks as the nullification glasses are unlocked from his bowed head, nor when his half-necrotic fingertips find the floor beneath him.

It's not grass, it's rocks. He suppresses a disappointed sigh.

Cyrus knows better than to look around or shift from his position, but he's still able to see a bit of the tent's inside. The metallokinetic does in fact have a handler, and a black eye. He can't see anyone else, they're all behind him for safety.

That black eye must hurt, there's probably more bruises under the clothing, it never stops at just one.

Cyrus shouldn't care that the gifted was hurt. But he did. They deserve someone to care.

Mr. Wilson blocks his vision of the gifted by crouching down. The direct, practical delineation of where the enemy camp is sinks into his mind easily as his handler speaks. It's easy to map in his head exactly where he needs to focus on.

"You have permission to use your power, Wither." An uncomfortable eagerness blooms in him at the words.

"Yes, sir," Cyrus whispers and his collar beeps, its blue lights turning red as magic comes to life under his skin once again.

𝚃𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚛𝚎, 𝚜𝚠𝚎𝚎𝚝 𝚌𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚎.

Pain doesn't even register in the sea of feelings building up in his body. The rocks puncturing the palms of his hands aren't nearly enough to ground him, not after years of the magic slowly numbing his nerves.

The tent disappears and all he can see is colors erupting from the blackness, like thousands of little roots travelling through the grass. Ignoring the surrounding life had become easier over the years, and the withering knew to travel until it's closer to the delineated area than to him before branching to reach all soldiers of the other side.

It took less than a minute for him to spiral into euphoria this time.

Faintly, he knew his lips were moving, in that same eerie murmur of always, singing words he couldn't understand, but also couldn't forget. An incantation that breaks the laws of nature. A chant that was never created... only repeated. The echo of something that always existed.

And so he repeats. From the words, waves of withering magic follows the colorful branches and pushes it forward.

His hands crack and dug further into the ground, and he repeats the chant again. Again, again, again...

𝙰𝚐𝚊𝚒𝚗.

Cyrus could see, or in a way feel, the life bursting out of the enemy's camp. It was hard to separate what was greenery and what was people, but it didn't matter in the end.

Wither magic fills the entire enemy camp with thousands of black ramifications that only he sees the colors of. Growing, rotting, decaying.

Every cell in his body beams with giddy energy.

A warm mist swirls on his arms pleasantly. Something similar started filling his eyes, and Cyrus's head was pure delight. His chest shudders with a bubbly feeling as a smile grows on his face.

And then everything goes black. The cold, painful reality crashes down on him, harshly taking all the cheerfulness away and leaving behind an itch, a hysteric uneasiness. A faint beeping of his collar tells him he's done today, it had turned blue again.

Cyrus didn't even know he had made a noise until the collar beeps again with a warning electrical shock. With a flinch, he goes dead quiet. An argument was happening over his head.

Cyrus wants to keep using his magic, why can't he? It's so warm and happy-

"It was fucking smiling, it is fine to keep on! What is the point of having a weapon that can't be used?!" A man behind him almost yells. Not the same one from before, a slightly more familiar one. It might be the general, but without seeing it's hard to be sure.

Yes, Cyrus was fine to keep going, he was! It's been less than a minute with the nullification glasses back on, but he misses the colorful cheerfulness already, his body is taut with the need to move, to do something, anything.

But Mr. Wilson is right there, so he stays obediently still.

"I'm not telling it to launch an attack again! The magic would consume it's head and-" Mr. Wilson pauses, and Cyrus recognizes his temper rising. It's an effort not to flinch. "Ugh, you have no idea how bad it gets. Wither. Up, we're leaving."

"Mmn?" The order takes a second to click. "Oh... yes, sir..." To speak was hard, his tongue didn't move the okay he wanted it to. Cyrus could hear the ecstatic smile on his own voice, and he almost winces at it, but without knowing why. To smile was good, wasn't it?

Should he even be speaking, actually? Wilson doesn't usually like him speaking. Did he say "Sir" as he was supposed to? He doesn't think so... but no shock comes. Perhaps he did. It's hard to remember.

The floor seemed to spin beneath Cyrus when he stood up.

A gloved grip squeezes his arm and Cyrus knows to stay completely still, despite the dizziness. Magic envelops his hands as the metal gloves are bent to fit them again. He still couldn't hear the metallokinetic's handler telling them to do it, maybe it had been a silent command.

He feels the leather gloves being fastened on his wrists, too, before Mr. Wilson grabs him by the upper nape and guides him out. The sound of many boots around them tells him the escort team is here already.

On the way back, there's no longer any murmuring. Even blinded, he knows everyone is just staring. There's only the sound of heavy steps and the wind slowly bringing the smell of death into the camp.

The heavy metal door shuts with the escort team outside, and the only steps that echo inside the container are his and Mr. Wilson.

Blindly, he's pushed to sit inside his resting capsule. Oh, that's right, he's at a campaign, his den isn't here... the sad longing only lasts a second.

The thin mattress is cold, and the restraints are too tight. Cyrus hates the cold, but it feels so weird, he can't help but giggle. It sounds off, but he can't pinpoint why.

"Quiet," Mr. Wilson scolds sternly, fastening his legs securely inside the capsule. Cyrus flinches and tenses from the upcoming shock that doesn't arrive.

What a silly thing, to flinch from something that didn't even happen. He suppresses another fit of giggles.

The pressure building up behind his eyes and neck is getting harder to ignore. His fingers twitch with the need to use his magic again, but the nullification doesn't let him.

The pressure gets worse.

𝚂𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚞𝚜, 𝚜𝚠𝚎𝚎𝚝 𝚌𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚎.

Now the shock comes, and Cyrus's flinch is not so funny this time. It wasn't just a warning shock, but he doesn't know why he has been punished. Mr. Wilson doesn't clarify it, either. He's scared of not knowing.

The twitches are getting worse. He wants to move. The cold is starting to creep in again, and he wants the warmth back.

His hands move slowly under the temporarily loose restrictions, trying to relieve some of the painful nervous energy without grabbing Mr. Wilson's attention.

It doesn't work. His handler always sees everything.

"Did I say you could move, Wither?" Cyrus freezes from the gelid tone. His shoulders go up chastened just before a gloved hand fists his hair harshly. That'll form a knot later... he wants to wash up and detangle his hair already, before it gets too bad.

From how harsh Mr. Wilson's grip is, he doesn't think he'll be allowed that so soon.

"Stop trying to be sneaky, that's the only warning you'll be given." Cold and firm as always. Frightening as always.

"Yes, sir," Cyrus answers quietly. It's weird how he still feels afraid and sad even when he's feeling giggly and euphoric.

Euphoric. Didn't that word mean something important? The headache is getting worse.

Mr. Wilson's grip only grows even more painful. There's more to be said, but Cyrus's head is not working well. He doesn't want to talk, he wants to move.

What weapons want doesn't matter.

He tries again. "I'm... I won't be sneaky again. I'm sorry, Mr. Wilson," he tries. The hand leaves his hair without any further words.

The need to move only gets worse in the silent. He knows Mr. Wilson knows. Cyrus's body is so tense it hurts.

He needs to use his magic, he needs to. It hurts, it's bad, he wants the giddy energy back, and not this nervous, restless cold creeping in. Everything is still pitch black, and the restraints are too heavy, and he wants his magic free again-

So you can kill more people with it?

No. What? No, no, no-

Your handler stopped you before the euphoria truly took place. Where is your gratitude, you vile thing? Why must others die just so you can smile?

That's not what he wants, he just... he just wants the colors back, the happy feeling of-

Of killing.

The memories of colored forms change. Those were people.

People you killed.

"Are you crashing already?" Comes the distant, cold voice. It takes long seconds for Cyrus to recognize it's Mr. Wilson's.

Crashing. Yes. Yes, he's crashing, and he's still on war camp, so he doesn't even get his white den-

Images strafe his mind. People died. People were killed. By him. And he was just smiling. He giggled to people losing their lives. Not only soldiers, there were medics, and servants, and-

A cold, sharp thing runs his arm and he flinched away, swallowing hard. He tastes blood. He knows it's not his.

Vile thing. You're a plague on earth that should be eradicated.

Cyrus's back presses against the capsule mattress, and he can barely separate what is real touch and what isn't. Sharp goosebumps run up his arm, his hands are being held, there's a pressure on his chest and a numbness on his left leg.

"It's euphoric state was pretty fast this time, it was a good timing to retrieve it," Mr. Wilson's out loud thinking reaches his ear along with a faint noise of screams that mustn't be true.

They're true, you're just hearing them too late.

"Today will be easy, then."

Cyrus couldn't disagree more with his handler.

-

-

-

Want to see Mr. Wilson's pov? This is the drabble this series began as. You can consider it a loose version of this chapter, but in Mr. Wilson's view.

Taglist: @whump-till-ya-jump @floral-comet-whump @paingoes @bonbonbobomb @inhurtandincomfort @half-duck @scoundrelwithboba

-

[antiyourwokehomophobia2]

I wonder what it is about breaking up with someone and starting new that I find so upsetting. I realize that people also find break ups heartbreaking, but I know I take it to an extreme. I've never liked the idea of having different partners throughout my life. The idea of having an ex has always been something I hated. The type of breakup didn't matter to me. That is to say whether we ended on good or bad terms didn't make the idea of ending a relationship better to me. I'm not trying to be pretentious about it, I'm just being fr about a sentiment I've held for as long as I can remember. I've never been the type of person who enjoyed the idea of hook ups or casual dating. For better or worse, I've always held the belief that romantic relationships should be all in and serious from the beginning.

I think this feeling is definitely exacerbated by the fact that I've been passed up for another person before so I know what it's like to have someone "move on" from you, and it genuinely sucks like all fucking hell lmao. So the idea of "moving on" and being with someone else has been incredibly tarnished for me.

[taeyungie]

hi ♡ i guess i'm back? 🥹

here's a little life update! i think you guys deserve it after my absence that lasted longer than even i expected it to last ;( i am very sorry about that. i miss everyone here and bangtan so much, you have no idea. the reason for all that is that for the past months i have been going through a lot of things and changes in my life. there were good and bad things happening, time flies extra fast, days melt into one and i didn't even notice the past half a year pass. although i think my absence was unavoidable in these circumstances i just thought that you guys deserve to know what's been up with me for the past months haha i have received a lot messages and reminders that people remember about me and that they miss me and i just want to send all of you my biggest apologies for leaving you for so long with no response, as well as all my love and gratitude! 🥺 i think i've been always fairly transparent on here so if anyone wanted to know more I'll leave some more details in the tags but basically I just hope that soon i will be able to become more active again and respond to messages ❤️❤️❤️ i hope everyone is doing great 🥰

[arklay]

WIP DAY.

tagged by @girlbosselrond @morvaris @aartyom @risingsh0t @phillipsgraves @leviiackrman @indorilnerevarine & @denerims over the past month! sorry it's taken me so long to get to anything at all, i'm sure you guys have heard me address it enough, but thank you all so much for continuing to tag me in things while i've been inactive ♡

tagging @aelyosos @brujah @calenhads @florbelles @jendoe @lightwardens @liurnia @nokstella @nuclearstorms @shadowsofrose @shellibisshe @steelport @swordcoasts @wrymbloods @voerman & all of those who tagged me again cause i'm so behind + anyone else who'd like to share anything they're working on, not just writing! ♡

i haven't written anything since the last wip game i did, but i started trying to put diana's timeline together at the start of january, so i mean... i'll show that instead. as you can see, fatigue hasn't let me do much with it even though i've got all of her timeline already done and strewn about all over the place.

started with 1995 onwards cause it was originally going to be an ewskers timeline situation, but then wanted to include all of her backstory so i went back to the start and still have the late 80s and early 90s to get through before then, but yeah :]

it's going to include like all little moments i've thought of between the ewskers just for me and placing them on the timeline, so you can imagine how long this is going to get if i have to go to 2021 for village... like just 1996-1998 is going to be so much... she's very special to me if you couldn't tell already lmaoo

never sharing this though, it's just for me, and like will help for when i do her timeline page (more in-depth version of what's on her oc page) to just run through canon events and brief descriptions and whatnot. you understand.

everything is blurred out besides 1995 ewskers momence and the years, just cause like idk her i feel weird sharing her in-depth backstory unless it's in dms or something, just cause there's lots going on there and yeah. things. idk

i also made a carrd for twt if you wanna have a look at that :] there's some cheeky subtle things with the two resi items i used as pics hehe

actually, you know what, i'll give a lil bit from where i left of with that rewrite anyways, even though it's been months since i wrote it. but why not

Wesker left a fleeting kiss behind her ear then reached around her and hooked his fingers beneath her coat, prompting Diana to glance back at him. But all he did was gently pull it from her shoulders. She watched him from out of the corner of her eye as he hung it up on the rack by the door, his movements careful and almost calculated, until he turned back towards her, and the warmth of his body returned once more. He pressed up against her side this time, as opposed to her back, and one of his hands found a home on her waist. The way the arm it belonged to was resting firmly against her as he began leading her towards the kitchen was comforting, secure, yet unmistakably possessive. And she revelled in it. He had quite the knack for handling her just the way she wanted.

[mangocheesecakes]

[fuckyeahgoodomens]

David Tennant interview at the British LGBT Awards, June 2024 (x)

Int: You being an ally to the community isn't something new. You've been doing it, but recently you've obviously really stepped up for trans and non-binary people in a time that's so, so needed. What made you do that?

David: I don't know that I feel like I've done anything that I wouldn't just sort of be normally doing. I mean, it's for me it's just common sense that there's there should be any suggestion that people aren't allowed to live the life they want to live and and to be who they want to be with and to express themselves wholeheartedly. I mean, as long as you aren't hurting anybody else, everybody else just needs to fucking butt out. I don't really understand why...

Int: ...it's controversial.

David: Yeah, there is and the thing... the thing, if there's something that's particularly sobering and depressing, it's that certain debates are being weaponized by certain elements of the political class, often for no... it seems it's not ideological so much as opportunistic. And I just think that's pretty disgusting, really.

Int: I couldn't agree more. What message would you like to send out to trans youth?

David: Please don't feel like you're not loved and that you're not accepted and that you're not... you know, most people in the world are good and kind and just want you to be able to be who you are. Most people in the world don't really care. I mean... you know what I mean?

Int: We're all narcissistic.

David: Exactly. Everyone's so self obsessed that really, the sort of noise that comes from a certain area of the press and of the political class is... it's a minority. It really is. And please don't let that make you feel diminished or dissuaded or discouraged, because, you know, you just... you have to be allowed to be yourself, and you are, and you are yourself and you must thrive and flourish, and we're all here for it.

Int: Amazing. I think, yeah, it's so important .I think sometimes it feels like there's so many people, but it is a minority. It's such a minority.

David: It's a tiny bunch of little whinging fuckers that are on the wrong side of history and they'll all go away soon.

Int: Like what happened with gay people 20 years ago.

David: When I was a kid, when I was a kid, exactly. You know, I was at school when Clause 28 came in and it all felt like being gay was something to be terrified of. And gay men in particular were demonised as paedophiles and now that just feels historic and ludicrous and, I mean, I don't see all those... all those battles aren't won, but we're in a very, very different place. And I feel like.I feel like history is on a progressive trajectory and it might get knocked sideways now and again by people for all sorts of reasons, which are often quite selfish and quite, as I say, not coming from a place of any sort of genuine belief system, but other than a place of opportunism. And that's something that we... I hope that in 20 years time, we're talking about, you know, these culture wars as something of the past.

Int: I believe we will. I'm a huge Doctor Who fan, so.

David: Oh, good, me too!

Int: You are my Doctor.

David: Oh, thank you very much.

Int: But recently, obviously, you came back for the 60th anniversary and you got to work with Yasmin Finney.

David: Oh, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah.

Int: What was it like working with her?

David: Oh, she's brilliant. She's fantastic. Yeah. And she's in the show again now, she's back in it, so that's fantastic to see. She's lovely, talented, cool as a cucumber, articulate, brilliant. I learned a lot from her as an actor and also as someone who, you know, who's become a sort of de facto activist just because of who she is and where she is, and she becomes a sort of symbol of hope, and she's wonderful.

[cashmoneyyysstuff]

ring pop proposal ♡

fem reader, pure fluff, childhood friends to lovers lemme alone do not perceive me yk the drill by now, lil self indulgent fic cus i love childhood friends to lovers and puppy crushes, polar opposite’s trope, this reeks of my oc x canon katsu ship sooooo shh shh do not perceive.

the first person who realizes katsuki has a crush on you is his mom because when she comes to pick him up one day from kindergarten he suddenly mentions you. it’s an innocent little interaction he had with you that mitsuki doesn’t think much about at first, simply surprised her son managed to befriend someone outside of his little group of friends until he starts mentioning you more and more.

soon you’re the only thing he talks about and katsuki even starts begging her to have you come over to play. mitsuki is extremely curious to know what kind of person you are to have been able to enchant her son the way you have, she says it’s fine as long as your parents agree.

you’re a sweet little thing, almost the complete opposite of her little devil’s spawn. you’re polite and a little shy when you ask “ is it okay if i come to play at katsu’s house, please miss katsuki’s mom ?” and how could she say no to you ? she pulls at your cheek lovingly and her son almost snarls at her.

“no touchin’ !” he snarks, pulling you against him like you were his teddy bear.

mitsuki was the first to realize her son had a crush on you when you were always around. when he found something cool during a class trip you were there and whenever he was upset it was always because you had argued about something irrelevant that seemed so much bigger in the eyes of a child.

she realized because katsuki had, and in some ways, will always be rowdy. he’s rough and temperamental and moody—basically, he can be quite the brat. (she wonders where he gets that from a lot) but he’s different with you.

he’ll always be a little rough around the edges but it’s the thought that counts. he drags you around a little too hard but it's to show you something he knows you'd like and you repay him by being patient with him and letting him drag you around to his hearts content. he let’s you use the crayons he’d just denied another classmate seconds ago and when it’s really early in the morning and you’re still sleepy unlike your more energetic friend, he waits for you. sitting with you in the reading corner quietly commenting on a little bit of everything in the book you’re sharing until you’re awake enough to start the day because katsuki wanted you to be together through anything no matter what, starting the day without you was simply unimaginable.

you offer him your kindness and he repays you with his loyalty. acting like your guard dog, protecting you from everything and everyone he considers a threat to you. he goes a bit overboard but it’s the thought that counts and he’s definitely got the right intentions.

“ i’m g’nna marry yn when i grow up !” katsuki proclaims from the backseat of the car after mitsuki had come to pick him up. she looks at him through the rear view mirror only to see he’s not even looking at her, looking out the window somewhat longingly, watching as his school fades away from his sight, further and further and further away from you. she smiles to herself.

“yeah ?” she asks “yeah !” he responds proudly, crossing his arms “ i asked yn if she wanted to be my wife an’ she said yeah, so we’re gettin’ married !”

“huh. how’d you propose ? you don’t have a ring.” she jests.

katsuki responds immediately and exclaims he does have one, shuffling around to reach for something in his pocket. he pulls out a plastic ring pop holder, the candy on top is missing and mitsuki can imagine what happened to it.

“gave her one of these !”

“so that’s why you had me buy those from the store last time,” she hums. “ you ate it, though.”

katsuki tries to roll his eyes but just ends up looking up and to the side, mitsuki recognizes it as him trying to mimic what she does a lot and she snorts.

“well duh, we both did ! ‘f i kept it in my pocket it woulda gotten gross !” he defends. mitsuki simply responds with a hum, smile on her face growing larger as she hears her son happily chatting about the rest of his day with you.

she knows her katsuki is hard to handle. extremely so. but when she sees the way you both interact she can tell something is there. you don’t ‘handle’ him. you like being around him. you like playing and talking with him, she sees how happy you make him whenever you come over for playdates. he holds your hand when you get scared and you hug him tight and beam when you see him again after he’s gotten over a nasty cold.

she can tell you make her son happy and he does the same for you in the way children do with pinky promises and shy cheek kisses, kisses over tiny wounds and refusing to be separated whenever the rowdier one of you both gets his recess time taken away for being naughty.

mitsuki hopes this crush, this love you have for her son can grow along with you. she hopes you’ll stick around as katsuki grows up more and potentially more rowdy and rougher around the edges but even more enamored with you. and with the way her son is squirming around in his seat and tugging at his seatbelt, giddy about you accepting his ring pop proposal, she has a funny feeling you’ll be sticking around for a long time.

[ghostedbunnie]

trouble comes in fours

tf141 x fem!reader reader wants to get rid of her ex and tf141 might have the perfect scare factor

imagine that your ex simply can't take a hint and keeps creeping on your social media so in a desperate attempt to get rid of him the only way you know is gonna work is to scare him off with a new guy. someone he can't even think off challenging.

on a night out with your friends you are venting out your frustrations about it. while you are in the middle of retelling the last time he tried to slide into your DMs the door to the bar open and you can feel the air shift.

the group of 4 guys walk in. most of them have to duck their heads through the doorway. when they settle into a quieter corner that seems to have a great vantage point to overlook the entirety of the bar your friend nudges you. "looks like 4 possible solutions to your problem just walked in."

your eyes go wide and you sputter out that there is no way. the thought of sending a drink to any of them is almost as terrifying as shoving your head into a tank full of piranhas.

the night continues and with every drink, your fear gives into curiousity. what's the worst thing they could do? bring it back? you can just leave before that happens. the alcohol and your friends chip away at you for few minutes before you gather up the courage. you honestly don't even know which one of them you're sending the drink to.

there's a loud pretty boy with a slightly overgrown mohawk wildly gesturing and retelling some story from the looks of it. when the dim light catch his eyes just right they almost glint silver.

another one but great deal calmer sits opposite, he has a killer smile with slight dimples. just the sight of those dimples could make panties drop.

next to him is a possibly older guy around 40s you'd wager, you can't see his face clearly because half of it is hidden underneath a hat and the other under a very impressive beard. but even from the little you can see the rug burn from that beard would definitely be worth it. simply based on the commanding air around him.

in the corner next to the loud-mouth sits a shadow. honestly in your slight drunk daze you almost missed him in his dark hoodie, pants and face mask. you don't see him drink but the drink in front of him does magically disappear anyway. and whenever you turn around from gawking you swear you can feel someone's stare. but as you get the chills you tell yourself it's probably the a/c blaring.

imagine your surprise when the bartender sends 4 drinks to the table and when you look back to asses the situation you have 4 (well 3 as the big boy in the corner doesn't touch the drink but inclines his head at you) miming a clinking motion while sipping on the drinks.

the mortification doesn't end because when your friends abandon you for some more dance time and you turn to get up to the bathroom you walk straight into a hard chest of the pretty boy. he calms your apologies from running into him with a smile. "wanted ta thank you for the drink, bonnie."

heat rushes to your face as you try to somehow talk your way out of this mess because what seemed like a great idea when your head was swimming with 9 drinks is starting to seem a lot worse now that you are slowly sobering up.

"nothing ta worry 'bout. come sit with us. it feels wrong to keep a bonnie lass like yerself all alone."

next up: simon's ver. // others are coming soon

[wow-thisismylifeiguess]

Cryptid Bruce

Martha and Thomas Wayne struggled to have a child for years and Thomas meets a shady man who tells him that a child will come to them soon

Thomas just ‘??? okaaaaaay’s him but in a week, Martha bursts into his office looking frazzled

“We’re being haunted.”

“….”

“Don’t give me that look, Thomas Wayne. The Manor. It’s haunted. Alfred! Tell him we’re being haunted!”

And Alfred comes in, also looking frazzled but to a lesser degree.

The two explain that things are moving around the Manor without any kind of explanation, but Thomas doesn’t believe them. Until he notices things in his office also being moved. The weirdest event is when they start hearing a child’s giggles. No explanation. None.

Not until Thomas, sleep deprived after going over paperwork for one too many hours, pops into the kitchen and…there is a child. Sitting on the kitchen counter.

The child, a boy, turns. Grins. Waves.

“Hi, daddy.”

—

Bruce, they name him, can melt into shadows. He finds it hilarious. Martha thinks she’s going to go grey at her young age. She adores him. Thomas adores him. He’s their son now.

The Waynes have a mysterious child, but they keep their private lives very private, so maybe they just successfully hid a pregnancy? And then a child. For…three years. They think Bruce is three, at least.

Despite how odd of a child Bruce is, they love him dearly. He’s some kind of miracle. A…very weird, possibly magical(?) miracle.

—

Dick thinks his adoptive father is strange. Extremely strange. Bruce makes absolutely no noise when he moves. He doesn’t cast shadows but he seemingly is able to *blend into them*. His smile, whilst genuine, seems a little too sharp.

He thinks he’s a vampire.

Bruce laughs so hard, he doubles over.

“No, but I am the Batman, so I guess you’re not far off.”

“…is this a joke?”

“Nope.”

“A dream?”

Bruce pinches him and Dick yelps.

Bruce doesn’t explain to Dick what he is, because he doesn’t have a clue himself. He just…is.

—

But when Jason comes along, he has a million and one questions. Bruce blinks at him.

“How did you do that? You literally *melted* into the shadows!”

Bruce shrugs.

“No. *No*. Explain.”

“I…can’t.”

“You said no secrets, B!”

Bruce puts his hands up defensively. “It’s not a secret! I really don’t know! It just…kind of happens.”

Jason stares at him. Bruce stands there. He seems to flicker? The edges of his body go a bit transparent and Dick knows he only does that when he’s stressed.

“Leave him alone, Jay. He’s telling the truth. He’s just…like that. But he’s still Bruce.”

It takes Jason two months to accept it. By then, his questions are more from genuine intrigue and wonder. He hides under Batman’s cape and somehow it’s spacious? It can even fit Dick at the same time. No one (but Bruce) can even hear them when they’re under there.

And then one day, when he goes to take a nap under Bruce’s cape, someone else is there.

“….B?”

“…”

“You know what I’m going to ask.”

“…”

“*Bruce*.”

“No real names, Robin.”

“No one can hear me!”

“…I didn’t kidnap him.”

“What his name?”

“Timothy Drake.”

“FROM DRAKE INDUSTRIES?”

And Tim wakes up, rubbing his eyes. He looks exhausted and way too skinny, and all of a sudden, Jason understands why Dick has cooed at him the first night Bruce brought him home.

“Um…hi.”

“B, we’re keeping him.”

Jason doesn’t need to see Bruce’s face to know he’s smiling.

—

Damian just…appears. Bruce suddenly understands his parents’ reactions to his first appearance because nearly the same exact thing happens. Bruce wakes up from a nap. He doesn’t need to sleep very often, something Tim finds incredibly annoying, declaring it to be *unfair*. He wakes up, and curled against his chest is…a boy. Who looks a *lot* like him.

“Uh.”

The child wakes up, blinks at him w striking green eyes.

“Hello Father.”

What the fuck.

Dick slams his way into Bruce’s office, followed by Jason and Tim, who are bickering with each other.

“DAAAAAAAD, THEY WON’T SHU- oh. Steal another kid?”

“…he just appeared.”

“That’s the excuse you used for Jason.”

“No. Literally. I fell asleep. No kid. Woke up. Kid.”

“My name is Damian.”

“That’s no fair. You came pre-named?”

Damian is as odd as Bruce. Actually, he’s weirder. And stabby. Bruce finds him *delightful*. He adores him.

—

Dick is Nightwing, Jason is Red Hood (no death, he just thought it was a cool name), Tim is Red Robin, and Damian’s Robin.

Bruce is Batman. Despite being in his late 30s, he still looks like he’s in his mid 20s.

—

Batman stands in front of a bank robber who’s going on about their evil bank robbing plans. Nightwing pops his head out from beneath Batman’s cape.

“Can you get to the point?”

Red Hood pops out next.

“I’m getting bored.”

Red Robin follows.

“This is sad.”

Damian.

“Scum.”

Batman sighs.

“Why are all of you here?”

“Missed you.”

They all chime in.

The robber.

“How…how the *fuck-?*”

“Language. There are kids around.”

“B, I’m 23.”

“Says the boy taking a nap in my cape. And I was talking about Red Robin and Robin.”

“…’s comfy.”

“I’m eighteen???”

“F- Batman! I am not a child!”

There’s some shuffling sounds, no doubt Red Hood moving over to ruffle Robin’s hair.

“Whatever you say, Tiny Demon.”

And then Red Hood shrieks.

“No stabbing your brothers, Robin.”

“He called me small!”

“…you are.”

“This is insulting, F- Batman. I will grow to be as big as you. No. *Bigger*.”

The robber watches in confusion, mild amusement, and horror.

Batman sighs.

“We’ll talk about this later. Now, you were saying? Blowing up the bank, terrorizing the people.” Batman yawns. “Anything else?”

“Just take me to Arkham. I think I’m insane.”