#okay so i might have bushy eyebrows

[welloes]

my friend just said i looked like christophe 😞

[frudoo]

I need the 141 as a group of slashers. Their shared wife gets harassed at the store and tells them when she gets home?

Might send more asks for slasher 141 if that's okay

You can ALWAYS send me slasher!141 ideas are you joking?!

Warnings: Mentions of sexual harassment (NOT by the 141), typical mentions of weapons and violence. Fem!Reader.

It’s pouring down freezing rain, the cold seemingly nudging past your skin and settling itself into your bones. Your hands shake as you fumble with your keys, letting out a defeated wail when you miss the lock for the fifth fucking time. Throwing your keys in your purse, you settle for knocking, then calling out that it’s just you. You’d rather not have one of your lovers answering the door with a machete to your throat. They always have had a flair for the dramatic. 

     It’s John who answers the door. Immediately he takes in your shivering figure and his bushy eyebrows furrow with concern. Scanning the vast land of the farm and finding nothing that could be perceived as a threat, he gently takes the purse from your hands. Strong arms hustle you inside and he kicks the door shut, working quickly to get you out of your sopping wet clothes. 

     “Darlin’, what happened? Why’re you cryin’?” John asks softly, hanging your coat on the rack—he can tell it’s bad by the way you flinch just from the question. 

     Simon, Johnny, and Kyle trail into the living room to greet you, but when they see your state, it’s like you can feel the tension in the air, ready to snap like a weathered rubber band. Simon comes to scoop you up, uncaring of the drenched clothes you still have on, and carries you up the stairs. He jerks his head to signal that everyone else should follow him. 

     While Kyle runs you a bath, John finishes undressing you, tossing your clothing into the hamper with a wet plop. You’re still shivering, tears streaming down your chilly cheeks, and it breaks their hearts. John cups your face in his big, warm hands, crystal blue eyes scanning for injuries or any reason you might be so spooked. 

     “You gonna answer my question, sweetheart? What’s happened?” 

     His voice is soothing, and you lean into the comfort of his touch. He always has been the best at calming you down, rich gravel filling your ears until you remember how cherished you are in his eyes. In all of their eyes. 

     “T-there was a man,” you stutter, head whipping around violently with your fist raised when Johnny wraps an arm around your waist to help you into the bath. “No!”

     “Hey, hey, jus’ me, hen,” Johnny’s eyes widen as he throws his hands up in surrender, backing away to avoid getting hit. 

     “I’m sorry,” you weep, covering your face with your trembling hands as Johnny tries again, this time successful in getting you settled into the warm water. 

     “Wha’ did he do?” Simon’s raspy voice sounds from the corner of the room, eerily calm. “Wha’ did tha’ fucker do?” 

     “The man… I-I was at the store to get groceries, but there was- he… he grabbed my ass and my tits and f-followed me out to the car. I drove away really fast so he couldn’t come after me, but… I’m sorry, I didn’t get the groceries.”

     “Oh, sweetheart,” Kyle frowns, gently reaching out to grab a hold of one of your hands. “The fuckin’ groceries are the least of our concerns.”

     You nod noncommittally, sniffling and just barely squeezing Kyle’s hand to let him know you appreciate the gesture. John’s jaw is clenched tight, and you can practically hear the rage brewing in his brain. Such a sweet thing traumatized by some stupid fuck who wanted his hands full of their soft, perfect girl. He wants—needs—to make him pay. John turns on his heel and just about rushes through the door, but your gentle voice stops him in his tracks.

     “John? Please stay,” you beg so, so prettily, pouty lips still swollen from how hard you’d been crying, and John’s far too weak a man to deny you. 

     Hesitantly, the captain trails back inside the bathroom, giving the other three a curt nod. They understand instantly, and Simon is cracking his knuckles so loud you’re almost sure the city can hear it. 

     “Bring the bastard back alive,” John commands, and faster than you can blink, Kyle, Simon, and Johnny are out the door.

     “I’m sorry,” you whisper, eyes focused on the ripple of the bathwater when you submerge your hands.

     John shakes his head, tilting your chin up so that you look him in the eye. He leans forward and nuzzles the tip of his nose against yours, a silent question. When you nod he leans in to kiss you long and slow, pressing his forehead against yours as the two of you stop to catch a breath.

     “No need to be sorry, sweet girl. You’ll get a turn on him soon enough.”

[cripplecharacters]

Hello! I need advice for writing a character with oculocutaneous albinism who’s a platonic love interest without descriptions of her coming off as fetishising albinism. Her name is Glass and she’s blind and an investigative journalist and will be a reoccurring character in the series. The MC is gay and he describes her very affectionately in the narrative. When she’s introduced he fondly points out (to the reader) a lot of traits about her including things related to her albinism like “slightly wavy snow white hair in a fashionable bob and striking dark blue eyes that gently danced back and forth. One eye was pointing slightly inwards as she tilted her head and smirked at him.” I got the “dancing eyes” idea from a short film made by someone with albinism and nystagmus. I’m going to try and describe other traits about her more, especially about her personality to counter this.

I also have a question that might be too specific? I’m planning on giving her a little brother with ocular albinism, OA. If someone has a daughter with OCA are they more likely to have a son with OA or are the two kinds of albinism genetically unrelated? I wanted to include him to have more then one blind character in the story. Thanks for your time. :) -Anon Blue.

Hi! We don't currently have mods with Albinism, so I'll try my best. I recommend our #albinism representation tag for resources made by people with it! :-)

If you don't put most of the attention of how she looks to her hair or skin color, I think it should be fine. It's okay to mention it - I mean, that's just how she is, would be kinda weird to fully ignore it - but don't make other characters or the narrator gush over her paleness or eye color every time she comes up. Change it up and praise her fashion sense (like you did with her hairstyle!), the shape of her nose, how bushy her eyebrows are, or how her gums show when she's smiling instead! Her appearance shouldn't be reduced to just "girl with albinism" - give her other visual traits! :-) For other descriptors, I would avoid making her "angelic" or "ethereal" because of her disability. Remember to not make it mystic or magical; there's a whole "Magical Albino" trope out here that you should try to avoid.

You mentioning nystagmus and strabismus is great! Those are often forgotten or ignored in characters with albinism because they're not seen as "pretty". I've seen some people describe their nystagmus as "dancing eyes" before too, I think it's a very cool of conveying it!

In general, a good way to avoid fetishization is to include the "boring/mundane" things. When you show the medical parts of albinism like the esotropia, avoiding the sun, having her use a white cane or a guide animal, or using Braille, the representation will be more informed overall and not just an "aesthetic" - which a lot of characters with albinism unfortunately end up being. There's a big difference between a blind journalist guided by a German shepherd who happens to not have melanin and needs a Big Hat, and an evil sniper with bright red eyes and mysterious powers. I hope this makes sense!

In case that Glass is Black, I'd recommend looking at the #albinism tag at @writingwithcolor - it's always good to make sure your descriptions don't come off as unintentionally colorist if you go into her skin color. Things like describing her as more frail or delicate (when compared to other Black characters) would be in poor taste, so look out for that intersectionality if it applies!

The brother with ocular albinism part; those two types are completely unrelated, and it would be incredibly rare (not impossible) for that to happen as far as I know. For reference, almost all OCA (1-7) and OA (1-2) types are caused by completely different genes. The only exception could be OA1 and OA3; we don't currently know what causes the third one, and there's a theory that it's just a different presentation of the first. But I'm not aware of anything like that for oculocutaneous albinism, so if Glass has OCA1 (as I'm assuming from the description), her brother would have OCA1 as well (as opposed to OCA3 or any other subtype) if anything!

One interesting thing that you could do to have him have OA that I never see in fiction is to have him be adopted. I know multiple families who had a child with a certain disability and decided to adopt a second (or third, or fourth...) one with it! I think it could be very cool and would make sense with him being the younger one. Here is an interview/vlog from a real-life family with six adopted blind kids, if you want an example of that :-)

Wanting to include multiple blind characters is a great idea - if adoption doesn't work for your story, he could have the same type of albinism as Glass or have a non-genetic cause of blindness, like CVI, Retinopathy of Prematurity, glaucoma, or a whole lot of other things!

A story about a blind investigative journalist sounds awesome! Good luck with your writing!

mod Sasza

[thrillered]

'You Know I Mountain Dew It For Ya" | Spencer Agnewx F!Reader | Pt. 3: You blew up.

I hope you guys like this part! I struck inspiration.

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You chose to ignore your phone the next morning, putting on do not disturb and opting to put on a record while you got ready and popping in a CD on the way to work. You walked into the office, putting on a smile as you greeted people on your way to the kitchen to get a coffee.

 Normally you were one of the first people in the office, making a large pot of coffee so that it was hot and ready for your coworkers. Today, however, you didn’t have a morning meeting or shoot block so you didn’t have to come in until 11. It was a little ritual you had begun the year prior. On days where you didn’t have to be in early you would stay offline until absolutely needed. It was a welcome break from your constant social presence. 

Your morning had been so peaceful, little did you know that online, things were very different. Your song blew up on both tiktok and twitter. You had amassed more than 500,000 streams just the first night. 

You were walking to your desk, iced coffee in hand when someone grabbed it from your hand, placing it on the nearest surface. Before you could blink you were swinging around, being lifted by strong arms, in a suffocating hug, a squeal escaping your lips. You recognized who it was almost instantaneously, the familiar scent of amber and citrus embracing you.

“Well good morning to you too” You laughed to Spencer as he set you down. 

“Good morning? Just good? It’s a fantastic morning! Nay! A Stupendous morning!”

“Okay wow, this is some positivity,” You laughed, “What’s got you so bright eyed and bushy tailed?”

“Are you absolutely serious Y/N?” He raised his eyebrows so high you could imagine them flying right off his forehead. “Have you not looked at literally anything this morning?” 

“No, I never do on late mornings, you know that Spence.” 

“Oh my god, you’re ridiculous,” He began, pulling out his phone, “Look at this Y/N, this is insane.” 

You looked at his screen, becoming suddenly dizzy at the words in front of you. 567 thousand streams of Espresso. You stared, swallowing thickly before emitting a loud “What the fuck?!” 

“You’re also trending on twitter and tiktok!” Spencer continued, your mind still not believing the number you had read. “Dude, you might have been famous for smosh but.. Now you're just famous, like really famous.” 

It was like the most intense high of your life. You had never had a song blow up like this, god, you had never had a song do even a 10th as good as this. You were sitting on cloud nine, this is what nirvana must feel like you thought. 

Then your stomach sank. If there were maybe 100 comments about Spencer last night, there had to be thousands now… 

You may have fucked up. On one hand your music career might take off like you’ve always dreamed! On the other hand you’re gonna have to discuss this with Spencer and that means confronting your own feelings which is not ideal.

“I need to use the bathroom.” You muttered before running off to the single bathroom, leaving Spencer more confused than he’s ever been, and that’s saying something.

 Shutting and locking the door behind you, you took a long deep breath. You leaned against the door and unlocked your phone, turning off the do not disturb to a bombardment of notifications. Friends, family, fans, everyone was texting, tagging, and tweeting you. You were overjoyed at the love your song was receiving. People were tagging you in the most loving reviews and giving the highest appreciation for the song. 

You were just scrolling, reading tweet after tweet in the “Espresso” and “Y/N from Smosh” Tag. you retweeted a post from a smosh fan account saying “I know Y/N from smosh. You know Y/N from Espresso… we are not the same”. You laughed before switching to tik tok and going through some of your notifications. You would never be able to see every video, there were just too many. You were totally engrossed, the real world fading away. Until a loud knock startled you out of your trance.

“Y/N I don’t know if you're having a crisis or what but I need to pee and you have a shoot.” Amanda’s voice yelled through the door. 

You unlocked and opened the door, seeing that half an hour had gone by. “I am so sorry Amanda, I don’t know how I spent so much time in there.” You laughed.

“You’re good honey,” She laughed, walking past you into the bathroom, “Oh and huge congrats on the song, that’s really cool, we’re all really proud of you.” 

You gave her a sweet smile before rushing to the sound stage. You were doing an episode of reddit stories with Shayne and Spencer, this week's theme was missing, it featured stories about missed connections, missed chances, and missed hints. 

“You okay?” Shayne asked as you walked into the set, heading over to get your mic. 

“Yeah of course, just got a little overwhelmed is all.” you smiled. 

“I can understand that, there’s a lot of attention on you right now, but it looks like a lot of love so that’s good,” He began, soothing your nerves, “Plus right now you get to hear about some idiots with your two favorite idiots.” he laughed. 

“Yeah, you're right, thank you Shayne.” You laughed with him.

“We’re all really proud of you though Y/N” Shayne finished, pulling you into a comforting hug. “Alright let’s get this shit going.” 

The stories were crazy, as always. Though, it was almost hard to focus on what Shayne was saying with Spencer so close. Your realization that you would have to confront your own feelings made it feel almost suffocating to be so close but so casual with him. You thought that if you got too close he would be able to feel your heartbeat or read your mind. You focused on channeling your professionalism and got through the video smoothly, you just hoped it didn’t look weird on camera. 

–

You kind of wanted to avoid Spencer. Your feelings were weird and they were strong, you weren’t sure what to do. Unfortunately you were supposed to be doing a livestream for the games channel at 3 pm and Spencer would, of course, be there. You and Courtney were supposed to play the Sims4. You were gonna be making your sim and dressing her before adding her to the smosh save. 

You and Courtney were sitting at the desk, chatting as you fixed your hair while waiting for the stream to start. Focused on your conversation with Court about how excited she was to show you the sim she had made of you, you hadn’t noticed the chat on the ‘stream starting soon’ screen. 

Everyone was talking about Espresso. Talking about how good it is, how it’s stuck in their heads, asking if there's gonna be a music video, asking for a comment on the ‘Spenspresso’ (as twitter so kindly named) allegations, etc. 

Soon enough Alex let you know your mics were being turned on and the stream was starting.

“Oh my goodness, are we live??” You asked, now glancing at the chat, turning immediately a deep shade of red. “Oh god” 

Courtney immediately realized what you were seeing and tried to change the subject of the chat by introducing the stream and talking about how you were gonna be put into the sims world. It did very little to stop the constant talk about your song. 

Spencer showed you a note from off camera, “You should just talk about it a little.” It read. You nodded before speaking. “Okay let’s address the elephant in the room… I’m wearing my hair differently” You joked, making the room laugh. “No actually, okay, thank you guys for all the love on Espresso, It’s actually so nutty how much you guys like it. However! I will be doing a live stream on my instagram to talk about it sometime today or tomorrow! So, hold your questions! Now let's sims!” You exclaimed.

That seemed to do the trick. The chat mostly switched to talking about the stream, and if the comment was about your music it was relevant to designing your character. 

Courtney did a really good job, the sim looked so much like you, almost unnervingly so. You guys had so much fun trying to style your sim, compromising with the chat by making your party outfit popstar inspired. You added your sim to the world, asking the chat what you should do.

“Spencer’s already with Shayne, they literally have a kid, Y/N can’t get with him, duh!” Courtney said, responding to a comment suggesting making you flirt with Spencer. 

A “Damn it!” could be heard off camera, Spencer nudging your foot with his own as he said it. You both joked about the ship of you two. Yet, you couldn’t help but blush and wish that he truly meant it though. His words didn’t go unnoticed by the chat either, opening a whole new can of worms.

The rest of the stream went by much smoother than you expected. You only realized you had promised an instagram live after the stream had ended. This meant you would have to say something about the Spenspresso conspiracies, and how they might not be conspiracies afterall. You would do it tomorrow, you decided. You already had a half day planned tomorrow for an appointment so it gave you time to do it anyway. 

You only had the stream left for the day so you went back to your desk once it ended, packing up your stuff in preparation to leave. 

“You heading out?” Spencer asked, walking over to you, his laptop tucked under his arm. 

“Yep, I’m done for the day.” You explained curtly, hoping to get out of a conversation and home before you word vomited a love confession. Hoping he was satisfied with your answer, you sidestepped him, throwing your bag over your shoulder before muttering a “See ya later Spencer” before swiftly walking to the exit, not stopping to say goodbye to anyone. Which was very unlike you. You were such a sociable person, you always said hello and goodbye to most of the office every day, it was something Spencer liked about you. He enjoyed your extroverted nature, it helped him to be more outgoing. 

He knew there was something wrong. You always give Spencer a hug goodbye, even if he was going to be meeting you at your house in 20 minutes. You barely spoke a word to him all day unless necessary. Not to mention you running away and shutting up in the bathroom this morning. He wondered if he did something to upset you but he couldn’t think of anything. You were together the night prior and were celebrating so he couldn’t imagine he did anything wrong. 

But he was determined to figure it out.

[devilfic]

❝right place, right time❞

VI. do you trust me?

parts: previously / next plot: things are getting messy. pairing: battinson!bruce wayne x gn!reader. cw: surgeon!reader, secret identities, slow burn, descriptions of surgery, angsty mcangsty pants as always, mentions of the christian God and religious practices, maybe you and bruce wouldn't have to keep so many secrets if you just made out a lil bit, :). words: 6.2k.

a/n: edit as of 2/11/24: replaced mistaken use of "officer" with "detective".

Your needle passes through skin to the beat of a steady metronome. It's made up of muscle memory, glazing your mind as your hands thread the tear together. With each pass, you're unblinking. There are three others in the room with you but they might as well be shadows, faceless and without sound, coloring your peripheral but otherwise of no concern.

The steady metronome beats on well into your final pull of the thread, well into your dismissal of the shadows, well into the comforts of your office where your brain falls out of rhythm. It's been 48 hours and you haven't found a clue.

You'd think after 17 years that you'd have forgotten his name, but you remember Detective Russo. About 5'9, a kinky black beard, and bushy eyebrows that took up good real estate on his forehead. You remembered sizing up every one of those officers, but he was the one you'd memorized. He was the one that promised you that no one would ever know you were there that night. And now Bruce knows.

He was a detective of little significance outside of that, as far as your research was concerned. He'd served a whopping total of 20 years on the force before retiring seven years ago, but without any social media presence or nearby family to speak of, you couldn't find him. Not an old address, not a phone number, nothing. It was like he'd wiped himself clean the minute he retired. Which meant you'd have to resort to plan B.

Your boss intercepts you before you can even get to the stairs, though. Rudy Moretti rarely had good timing, after all, "Hey! Early lunch?"

You think about lying for all of two seconds, "No. Headed to the police station."

Your boss' eyebrows shoot up. "Whoa, everything okay? Are one of those guys from the other night bothering you? I can come with you if you need-"

"No, no. Nothing like that. It's something personal."

Rudy shifts awkwardly, "Oh. Well, be safe. And let me know if anything like that pops up." You nod, attempting to escape, but his hand finds your elbow and stops you, "By the way... how's everything with Mr. Wayne?"

You should've expected a question like that by now. You had been officially working for him long enough to warrant it, but you still wince. "Fine." When your boss blinks at you, expecting more, you have to bite your tongue to keep from swearing, "I actually... was invited to a celebration for the Mayor. Courtesy of Mr. Wayne. She was interested in the hospital's new wing. We had a good conversation."

Like a child on Christmas morning, your boss lights up at the good news. "Oh, that's good! That's good. Did she mention wanting to come down for a tour?"

"What happened to you should have never happened in the first place. I'm glad you were able to make it out alive."

Her hand on yours should've been a comfort, and to some extent it was, but even the softness of her palm couldn't have steadied your trembling. She had squeezed tighter when she felt it, perhaps thinking you traumatized for having to recall that night. Unaware of where you'd been. Unaware of the burning need to escape before you spilled your guts on the Persian rug.

"It happens all the time," a voice came from your right, a drunken councilman with his suit jacket unbuttoned, "and it'll keep happening so long as that thug's still running the streets."

"Thug?" The mayor dipped her chin.

"With all due respect, Bella, what's your plan to put Batman in Arkham for good?"

You watched the mayor's back straighten, her eyes narrow. It was the one thing everyone was itching to talk about, and the one thing everyone was too afraid to bring up first.

You felt Bruce's knee bump yours and stiffened.

"You think he ought to be imprisoned?" The mayor asks.

"I think he ought to be drawn and quartered! It's people like him that make this city a far cry from its glory days. Inviting violence, chaos. He's single-handedly responsible for that- that homicidal freak that nearly killed you, mayor. And he's responsible for everything else this city's suffered since he started infecting it. He's a menace. It'll be a cold day in hell before this city's safe with him still on the streets."

It sickened you to hear. People who'd done nothing since being elected calling for the arrest of the one person who's made any real change in this city.

The mayor doesn't immediately speak up and you think she's chewing on his words, preparing to respond with a bit more bite. Her pause is what prompts you to speak first, "If it wasn't for the Batman, I might be dead. He's done more good for this city than bad..." you watch the councilman turn his focus to you, looking baffled as to why you were butting in, as if you hadn't just finished recounting your brush with death moments ago, "...with all due respect, Councilman Roberts."

The councilman sobers up at the heavy gaze you level on him, "Oh, no. Of course. Of course! It's good that he was there. It would've been a- been a real tragedy to lose one of Gotham's good, fine citizens. I'm just saying that... maybe these things wouldn't be happening if he wasn't there to... encourage it."

"You think he's encouraging it?" The mayor chimes in, taking a sip from her glass. Whatever she was going to say before has been shelved for the time being, it seems.

The councilman laughs. You watch him twist so that he's facing you and the mayor, holding his glass to her like a gavel for judgement, "He's a glorified criminal! He's no better than that clown we put away years ago."

"He put away, councilman. I believe you meant to say he," Bruce's first words since he'd introduced you to Bella give you a shiver. With his one arm hanging off the back of the couch, he leans in from beside you and smiles that TV smile again, "Unless you've got something you’d like to share with the class?"

Snickers break out amongst the group. You can feel Bruce's breath on your shoulder for only a passing moment, and then he's falling back into the couch and taking a swig of his wine.

The councilman bristles, clearly not a fan of being laughed at. Or being faced with the truth, "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing, nothing. Just a silly theory of mine. It's just... it would make sense for a vigilante to hide his identity by publicly denouncing himself, especially if he’s in the public eye already. I mean, it would make most people cross you off their list but... you're making me think twice about you."

You chance a glance at Bruce's face. He isn't drunk. His eyes hold a steady gaze with the councilman encroaching on your space to meet it, and even with the looseness of his body, you can tell he's calculating. His arm behind your head feels drawn tight. You can sense it in its weight near your head. He's flashing his teeth and keeping his voice light, but he's not defenseless. He's leveraging.

Your heart hammers again at what lie beneath this tower.

The councilman flushes. Sinks back into his seat, grumbling, but all eyes on him has him forcing a grin, "You're funny, Wayne. Unfortunately for your theory, I have a real job. Making real change in this city. Something Batman wouldn't understand."

That does something to you, "Maybe I'm biased, but... I've seen what he's done for this city, sir. And in the wake of last year, I think we can all agree that... well, anyone can say they're making change. Even if they're just making money instead. Perhaps it feels like Batman is doing more because we actually know what he's doing."

Bruce's leg bumps yours again. Accidentally.

You watch the councilman's Adam's apple bob, "No offense, and I'm sure you feel offended on behalf of the man that saved you, but there are laws that make sure people like me and Ms. Reál don't cross the line. What say you, when your hero takes things too far one day, hm? Who're you going to call when the Batman beats someone's brains in because people like you justify it? Or is it only okay because at least he stopped you from getting a bullet to the head?"

You're about to spew the first thing that comes to mind, probably full of anger and vitriol and a little of whatever you had to drink earlier, when you feel a hand take hold of your inner wrist. Bruce's grip is firm, but it doesn't hurt you. It's enough to stop whatever might come out of your mouth. When you look him in the eye, he's not smiling anymore.

You stare at each other like that for a few moments, not a word shared but a million thought. It was almost like he knew what you were going to say, knew how it might've made you look, made you both look. Had imagined it coming out of his own mouth too, maybe.

Instead, he releases you and turns to the councilman, "Okay, enough. We all feel pretty spirited about the topic." When the councilman scoffs, Bruce nods to you, "I think you both make good points. He's done good. He saved my doctor, of whom I never would've had the pleasure of working with otherwise. But I have to agree with you, councilman: he operates outside of the law and that is cause for concern. I'm sure these are all important issues that our mayor is working tirelessly to address, isn't that right, Mayor?"

Mayor Reál has her leg crossed over the other, eyes cutting from the councilman's to Bruce's to yours. Eventually, she smiles and raises her glass, "Indeed. This conversation was enlightening. Much to think about."

"I'm gonna get another drink." Your announcement is followed by the most graceful exit you can muster, even though your chest is throbbing with adrenaline and you can feel Bruce following you.

You don't stop until you reach the bar and have another glass in hand, doing your best to ignore his presence as he looms beside you. He allows you a full three sips before he starts talking, "Are you okay?"

The diplomat from before is long gone. He's melted, keeping his back to the group you'd just escaped and giving you such wet puppy dog eyes that it makes you want to hurl again. How could he look you in the eye?

Your hand shakes around the stem of your glass, "You're different around them."

His eyes fall to the bar top, "I am?"

"Smiling, friendly, funny..."

He cuts his eyes back to you, smiling a little, "I'm not usually funny?"

"You pretend to be laid-back around them, and I get why. But you don't do that with me. You act like I know some big secret about you and I'm this close to spilling it," you pinch your fingers together in front of his face, "or maybe you know some big secret about me."

You watch his face for any sign of recognition, but you're disappointed to find there is none. No reaction other than a sigh. "I pretend around them because I don't trust them."

"And you trust me? Even though we barely know each other?"

Uncharacteristically, Bruce tilts so close toward you that you bend back to keep some semblance of space between you, "You're asking if I trust the person I pay to keep me alive over... Councilman Roberts." He pronounces the last two words with such incredulity, then laughs right after. You note his breath smells sweet, but nothing like the wine. Had it been wine he'd been drinking? One look at his glass and you'd think so. Two looks, though...

He was stone cold sober.

You swallow, staring up into his face. Bruce doesn't back away. Questions begin to form on your tongue... destructive ones.

How do you know? How did you find out? What are you going to do about it?

Your stomach drops as you think, surely, there's quite a bit he can do about it. If he wanted to. If you made the wrong move.

His eyes narrow on you, "You look sick. Are you feeling okay?"

"I'd like to go home."

Bruce blinks, shrinks in on himself a bit, "Okay."

"I... I drove."

Bruce nods, holds a hand up to one of the suited men near the edge of the room, and turns to you, "My driver. He'll take you home."

"My... my car. I have work in the morning." You mumble pathetically.

Bruce says something to the driver when he gets close. Another man is summoned, appearing by your side in an instant. This one holds out his hand to you and it takes you a second to realize what he's asking for. You fish your keys out and drop them in his waiting palm.

It's incredibly awkward as Bruce walks you out. You think he'll stop at the front door, or the elevator, or even the lobby, but he walks you all the way to the back door of his ride and—God—even holds it open for you.

You settle in to the nice seats, blinking up at him through eyes you fight to keep dry. You wonder if Bruce would forgive you for throwing up in his car instead. "If it's any consolation," he begins, leaning on the roof of the car. You can still hear the bustle of Gotham all around you, but when he looks at you... there might as well be only him and you, "I agree with you. Councilman Roberts is a jackass."

Your boss is looking at you, expectantly. Still waiting.

"I'm sure she's thinking about it." Is your curt reply. "Is that it? I really gotta go."

Your boss deflates, but otherwise doesn't keep you.

"How can I help you?"

The cop behind the desk seems nice enough. He doesn't smile at you but his tone is pleasant, unhurried. It helps calm your nerves. "Hi. I'm looking for someone. A detective who used to work here."

"You remember their name?"

"Detective Joey Russo," you offer, watching the cop begin to type into his computer, "he retired seven years ago. I wanted to know if you could get me in touch with him. A number or a... address."

"Ah, Russo. I remember him. I'm sorry, may I ask who you are?" You give your name and the cop frowns. "You got a badge? Unless you're with the state, I can't give you anything."

You'd worried as much, "He worked a case of mine 17 years ago. Something new's popped up and I just wanted to talk to him about it."

"If it's about a case we covered, you'd have to talk to one of us about it unless he's directly involved, and even then it'd be a process." He must notice how your face falls because his own softens, "I'm real sorry. I can get you in with someone else."

You know you shouldn't be upset. After all, he was only doing his job. If they gave out personal information to every person who walked in off the street, you imagined they'd have a bigger problem with domestic terrorism than they already do.

It doesn't make it any less debilitating. Bruce Wayne had found him. That was the only way he could've gotten his hands on your file, surely. And Bruce Wayne had money, more than enough to get an ex-cop to talk.

You're thanking the man and trying not to sound as distressed as you feel when you turn and catch new eyes.

You'd only seen Batman at night, tucked into the corners of shadow of your apartment, but here he was in broad daylight—midday—standing next to a plainclothes cop who had yet to realize the vigilante was no longer listening to him. You're so relieved to see him that you actually break out into a smile.

Batman doesn't return it. Without acknowledging his partner, he stomps across the room to you, cutting off your greeting with a rushed, "Did something happen?"

You blink, unable to answer when the cop from before sidles up next to the two of you. He's got a warm, friendly look to him, even if his eyes are narrowed at the pair of you with skepticism, "You two know each other?" He asks. When Batman refuses to tear his eyes from you, the cop addresses you directly, reluctant to extend his hand without confirmation that you were friend, not foe, "Detective James Gordon. And you are?" You give your name and his eyes light up. "Hey. I know you, don't I?"

"The hostage at Gotham General," Bruce answers for him, not even bothering to glance at the detective, "they were on the news."

"You three mind moving somewhere else? The freak's making people uncomfortable." The kind cop from before has dropped all pretense now, glaring at the vigilante who, still, pays no one but you mind.

Gordon grumbles and motions for you both to follow him down a long hallway out of sight.

You struggle to keep up when the detective starts walking, much faster than he looked, and so you all but yelp when the Bat places a hand on your lower back and guides you in front of him.

A turn or two later, you empty out beside a window at the end of another long hallway, far enough away from prying eyes that the detective seems to find it sufficient.

"What are you doing here?" Batman asks immediately.

"I was looking for someone but, actually, now that you're here, I was wondering if I could talk to you." You look over at Gordon, "If you're not busy."

The detective grunts but holds his hands up in surrender, slinking down the hall out of earshot, "I'm gonna go smoke, but I need him back in ten."

When he's far enough away, Batman speaks, voice at a much lower volume than before, "What's wrong?"

"I'm looking for a cop. I need to get in touch with him but he retired and they won't tell me where I can find him."

The Bat's head tilts to the side. You can tell the gears in his brain are turning, "Who?"

"Detective Joey Russo." The Bat freezes. "Do you know him?"

He doesn't answer that, something you take note of with a funny feeling in your chest, "Why are you looking for him?"

It's your turn not to answer. You should've known he wouldn't just tell you without good reason, but your throat closes up when you think about how you'll explain it. It wasn't that you didn't trust him... but... "It's personal. Please."

"That's not enough."

"I know... I know. And I wouldn't be asking this of you if it wasn't important-"

"Then tell me why."

"I can't. But it is important. To me. I promise, it's for good reason."

"A good reason that you can't tell me? That's not enough. That's not how I work. God forbid someone finds out I gave you classified information."

"If I told you why I needed it—if I told anyone why I needed it—it would defeat the whole purpose!"

"That doesn't make you sound any more convincing."

"Batman, please," and your voice breaks as you step that much closer to him, your eyes rimming with tears you're terrified to shed, "I have never asked you for anything, have I? Not for money or your identity or anything. I am asking you for this one thing because I have no one else. You... are the only person who can help me. Please."

You see his face fall, so clear it feels like you can see right through him. Past the cowl and the facades and right into his very being. For a moment, you're just seeing the person and not the idea of him. You see your fears reflected back at you in his eyes, a deep understanding there that gives you some hope.

He draws a deep, heavy breath, and- "I'm sorry."

You're too stunned to watch him walk away.

Judith's apartment has a lack of technology and an abundance of crucifixes. The first time you'd seen it, you'd thought it was overkill. Now, since you've visited enough, it was comforting in its own creepy way. A blast into the past, memories of a grandmother who was never really your grandmother.

She startles at the stove where she's just put something in the oven, "Oh! Dear, I didn't hear you come in. Is everything alright?"

You smile and kick your shoes off by the key-holder, "I knocked. You're supposed to have your hearing aid in."

She gives you a stern look, then smiles.

You can smell hibiscus tea in the air, her favorite. She'd gather handfuls of hibiscus and dry them out in the sun, and then she'd steep their petals in hot water until it turned a deep pink. The taste was always striking, tart and strong, but she'd sweeten it with honey for you and then it wouldn't be so bad.

Without asking, she waddles over to her breakfast table where you've already found your seat and pours you a steaming cup of tea. You take the honey she's brought with her and begin to stir. "You never answered my question." Judith reminds you.

You bite the inside of your cheek, "I'm just taking a break from work, is all. Do I need to be having a bad day to visit you?"

"No, I suppose not," she sighs, taking the seat across from you, "but you do look a wreck."

You grumble. You hadn't looked in the mirror. You hadn't done anything but busy yourself in hopes that it would stave off the wave of anxious tears threatening to fall. You busied yourself until your hands started shaking and people started asking questions. And now you were here.

"Yeah. I'm sure I do. Work's... been hard."

"And besides work?"

"I don't know. I don't really have a life outside of work anymore."

Judith frowns, "You should really make some friends, dear."

That gets you to laugh. "I have friends! I have you. Are you not my friend?"

You could see the question already brewing, the narrow of her eyes as she watched you begin to fidget, "And that demon? Is he still hanging around you?"

You cast your gaze to the tabletop, "...I don't think we'll be seeing him around anymore."

"Oh?" You don't miss the hope in Judith's voice, "Did the police finally arrest him?"

"No. I think I may have... scared him off."

She doesn't respond for a while, even though you can tell from the shift in the air that she's rather pleased with this development. It makes you feel sicker to the stomach. "It might be for the best, dear," you can tell that she's being careful, minding your upset, "he's dangerous. It's best you stick to the light for now." When you don't respond, her leathery hand clasps over yours and forces you to look her in the eye, "Come with me to service this week. I've been telling everyone about you."

You snort, "About me and the demon I'm friends with?"

Judith shakes her head furiously, as if the accusation that she might have spilled your secret greatly insulted her, "They have been praying for you ever since the night at the hospital. They'd really like to see you in person one of these days. I never shut up about how proud I am of you."

Even through the despair, you feel the warmth of Judith's love. It makes you hold her hand back, gripping so tightly that you fear she may be too fragile to handle it. She doesn't seem to mind.

You two share the rest of your tea in relative silence, taking breaks to comment on the neighbors or the news or the weather (which never really changes outside of summer, but you always have something to say with her).

After a refill or two, you feel the dread begin to creep in.

"Dear, come here," Judith calls as you button up your coat at the door, "bow your head."

You frown but do as you're told. In a blink, you feel her finger swipe across your forehead in a quick motion. The familiar scent of cinnamon and myrrh hit your senses right after. You reach up to touch it but Judith captures your hand in her own. In her other is a small vial, unmarked, filled halfway with oil. "To protect you," she says, nodding gravely, "God will watch over you. You are blessed."

You want to tell her that the anointing does nothing for the stones gathering in your stomach, that the moment you walk out of this door you will be hit with a wave so sudden that you will surely drown. But you'd be lying if you said this little woman with her God and prayers didn't make you feel, even for a fraction of a second, safe. You kiss her cheek goodbye.

It's desperate, you know that. You spend the whole evening hating yourself as you pace the hardwood floors, thumbing over buttons and weighing the pros and cons.

"For emergencies only", but this was an emergency to you. It felt like one, the way it gnawed at your very center demanding blood. Every minute dreading that you'd have to see him again and pretend like you had no idea that he knew that you... You'd also spent part of the evening bent over the toilet.

At some point, you throw yourself onto your fire escape for fresh air and nearly throw the phone across the way just to breathe.

You know you've screwed up. The tentative threads of your friendship with the Bat had surely been severed. What had gotten into you, asking him for such a bold favor without anything to offer in return? You'd already given him your hands and your mind, the two things that you'd worked so hard to hone, and you would never think of taking them away.

But maybe that would be inevitable. Maybe you'd lose your license if this got out. And it wouldn't just be you carrying that burden. Every single one of you would be dug up and exposed to the world, and with Bruce Wayne involved, you couldn't imagine the lawsuits. You just couldn't. They could put you under the prison with his kind of money.

And the cops didn't even know everything.

You gasp, sob, and wrench yourself from the railing. You clench the phone tight.

Even if you could get to Russo, and even if he admitted that he gave you up, what good would it do? Bruce had already seen it. He probably had a contact at the DA's office on speed dial. You'd seen what money could do to men like him in this city. What it made men like him do to people like you. The echoes of the accusations against his father a year ago still rang in the wind, and his efforts to make up for it all would never truly make that go away. A criminal record was just as much currency as anything else. He would undeniably own you.

Somewhere between your panicking thoughts, you hear the grates of the fire escape tremor from above. You whip your head up and see a dark shape hovering a floor up. Swiftly, it descends the stairs until your eyes adjust. Your heart catches in your throat as you choke out his name.

The strangled noise causes him to pause when he turns to you. You clear your throat, "Are you hurt?" Batman's head tilts to the side. His eyes flicker from the phone in your hand and back to you. "I'm... I wanted to see you."

His shoulders stiffen. He almost looks like he didn't mean to come. A sliver of you had actually hoped he'd changed his mind, too. "I know it wasn't fair of me to ask something like that of you with no explanation. And I'm sorry. I want you to know that."

He waits, head still tilted.

You bite your tongue, tasting the blood beginning to pool on the surface.

You could tell him. Lay it all bare. And he could drop you at the GCPD without another word.

Or he could accept you. See the you that stands before him now, who had been years clean and had saved his life on your living room floor and confessed that he was why you were a better person now.

That's what friends did. Were you and the Batman friends?

Were you and Batman... anything?

"I wasn't always like this," your head throbs as you force yourself to keep talking, clenching the railing behind you with one hand, "I'm sure it's no surprise to you that I didn't just waltz through life completely innocent for thirty-something years, given where I come from. I wasn't a very good person when I was younger... and I did things I'm not proud of. And, by the grace of a very good man, a very small group of people know the true extent of that.

"But recently, I found out that someone who shouldn't know... does. And they could ruin my life if they used it against me. So I need to talk to Russo, because I need to know if he broke his promise, and then... God knows what else. I don't know. I haven't thought any further than that."

Something substantial but unclear, and if Batman were to go digging officially and find out the rest, at least you'd know Russo was the snitch.

But your heart still clenches in your chest. It feels like you are all made up of open wounds and they're all gushing blood as he watches, saying nothing. If you had really told him the truth, you imagined it would feel akin to spontaneous combustion. God, would you even be able to utter the words? It'd been so long since you'd last said-

Batman takes a slow step toward you, and the open wounds seal up at once. You are frozen.

Another, and another, until you are caged there against the railing, awaiting his verdict. Judge, jury, and... "And if he didn't? If it wasn't him that sold you out?"

You'd briefly considered that. Your friends, who were really more ghosts now than friends, had no reason to expose themselves. They'd gotten off just as easily as you did. Most of them were living lives on the other side of the country now, far, far removed from the history you shared together. Only you remained.

And who would even think to go looking into them? Outside of your history together, now sealed up and locked away, no one would look for them unless they knew what happened already.

Which only left one other option. "Then someone did—someone very close to Bruce Wayne, and there's nothing I can fucking do about it."

Batman stares at you for a while. You don't have a clue what he's looking for. "If I take you to Russo," you gasp, and he hurries his words out before you can say anything else, "it'll be the last time anything like this ever happens again. We go, we ask, and that's it."

"Thank you. Thank you, thank you."

"And I wasn't lying to you."

"What?"

"About Wayne. When you asked me if he was corrupt." You watch his eyes waver on you, eventually falling to the grates beneath your feet, and you're dumbstruck by the shift in his tone. "I never lied to you."

"I... I didn't think you had." He looks at you again. "But there are things that maybe we don't know about him," and as you speak, you place a hand on his arm, feeling it go rigid even beneath the suit, "I mean, he's a Wayne. They're older than this city. And you've seen firsthand the kind of reach people with that kind of money have. He can smile and wave and support as many good causes as he wants, but that could all be smoke and mirrors."

"You really don't trust him, do you?"

You sigh. You could almost hear Emily asking the same thing. But Emily would be smiling, and Batman is grave. Almost... disappointed. Your frown strengthens, "He's got a lot of secrets."

"So do I."

"Yeah, but you also saved my life," you chuckle, "if Wayne pushes me out of the way of a moving car, I might reconsider my stance on him."

The Bat squints at you. To your relief, you notice a bit of mirth in his voice, "No. You wouldn't."

"Listen, I am really grateful that you're doing this for me. And I wanted to say that after today, the thought of scaring you away scared me. And I would really, really like it if you could trust me. I don't want you to think that I'm taking this for granted. I'm not asking for you to take off your mask or bare your soul or anything. I just want you to know that-"

"I gave you this," the hand holding your burner is scooped up in his, held between the two of you, "because I trust you. I keep coming back because... I like... this. It's different. And I don't trust easily. If you believe me on anything, believe me on that."

A bit of your dread is chased away, and your hero is standing in the wake. Bruce Wayne is far away from this moment. He can't stain it. You won't let him. "You wanna come in for coffee?"

At that exact moment, your doorbell rings.

You see Batman jolt backwards and reflexively reach for him, using what strength you have to keep him from escaping. He watches you, wide-eyed, as you cling to his side, "Wait, wait. I wasn't expecting anybody. I'll send them off. It'll be quick."

He turns his head to the door. "You weren't expecting anyone?"

You shake your head. He shucks away your grip as he climbs through the window and takes a few, long strides to the door. He has to bend to look through your peephole, and you rush to catch up to him. After a long moment, he peers at you from the corner of his eye, "It's an old lady."

Judith. The doorbell rings again. "My neighbor. She's harmless, I'll handle it."

You expect him to walk off, find somewhere else to hide from sight, but he backs up behind the door and waits, nodding to you. Well, he was out of sight.

The door opens. The concerned look on Judith's face melts as soon as she sees you there, and holds out a pan wrapped in tinfoil, "Oh, there you are, dear. I made too much casserole so I came to give you the rest. Just in case you haven't had dinner yet."

You beam at her, taking the dish out of her hands, "Thanks, Judith. That's really sweet of you."

She returns a modest smile, but it falls away a second later. You follow her gaze past your shoulder and into the living room where- shit. "It's winter." Her brows furrow, "You'll catch cold if you keep your window open all night."

"Right! I was just... looking out over the city. Taking a breather. You caught me in the middle of it."

She presses the back of her hand to your arm and you note the very stark difference in her body temperature to yours. She frowns hard, stepping closer to you in order to whisper, "Has that demon come to see you again?"

You can't see him from where you're holding the door open, though it's your instinct to glance, but you feel yourself warming up pretty quickly, "He's not a demon, Judith."

No matter how often you repeat it, it goes in one hearing aid and out the other, "Then why does he have horns-"

"Judith, I'm fine, I swear. Even if... he did come visit, I would be fine. He wouldn't hurt me. As I've told you before."

She stares at your window, looking for little goblins with pointed tails and pitchforks no doubt. But as the curtains blow this way and that and no shadows make themselves clear, she is forced to take your word for it. "Alright," she relents, and you try not to visibly deflate, "enjoy the casserole, dear. Keep the window shut."

You watch her waddle all the way down the hallway, smile every time she glances back at you, and wait until you can no longer hear her kitten heels click-clack-clicking on the stairway down. You immediately shut the door and drop your head against it with a dull thud.

A few moments pass. You can feel him still next to you. Even worse, you can feel him trying not to laugh. "She thinks I'm a demon?"

You stand up and shove the casserole into his hands, only a little taken aback by the smile on his face when you do, "You're going to eat this casserole and then you're gonna tell that woman you're a God-fearing man and it tasted fucking delicious."

a/n: there's a scene I'm really excited to write for next chapter if it's gonna go the way I plan for it to go :)

[20-th-centurygirl]

eyebrows

mason mount x fem!reader

warnings: fluff, sexual jokes but no actual smut

a/n: This is my first fic so please nice 🫶🏻 if you want more fics then lmk 😚

masterlist

𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣

"can I pluck your eyebrows?"

"Huh?" Mason tore his gaze away from the random football match he'd put on to look at you, an amused grin appearing on his face.

"They're annoying me. Just let me tidy them up a bit" you said. Truthfully you'd spent most of your evening watching him, as much as you enjoyed watching football, having it on all night wasn't your ideal night. Unlike your boyfriend, you didn't live and breathe the sport.

"No"

You frowned at his nonchalant response. "What do you mean no? I'm gonna make you look nice"

"You mean I don't always look nice?" He cocked one eyebrow up, smirking slightly while reminiscing about the fact that not even an hour ago you were giving him compliments galore about his looks. "No that's not what I mean. You're always beautiful, but they're a abit, I don't know, bushy? Pleaseeee" you pouted and gave him your best puppy dog eyes, knowing full well that he couldn't resist them. "Fine. But if they look bad I'll break up with you"

"Sure you will mount. Who's gonna do your laundry if you do that?" You teased as you crawled off the ridiculously big sofa and running up the stairs as quickly as you could to get what you needed.

-----------------------‐-----------‐--------------------------

"Right sit up straight please" you said as you made your way over to his lap, straddling him. You shuffled, trying to get comfortable but his hands quickly had an iron grip on your waist. "Stop moving baby" He whispered lowly in your ear. You couldn't hide your amusement, the fact that he could get so turned on so quickly by the smallest thing always boosting your confidence and making you laugh at the same time. "What do you mean love?" You teased back, moving again. "If you make my eyebrows look nice then I'll show you what I mean" He had that cheeky grin on his face that you adored.

"Close your eyes please"

"Why?"

"Cause I don't want you looking at my face that close, might want to break up with me then" you chuckled. "I would never want to do that" He whispered as his eyes fluttered shut, and you couldn't resist placing a gentle kiss on his forehead.

You brushed his eyebrows gently before plucking between the middle of his eyebrows. "Ow!"

"Oh mase come on, that part doesn't even hurt" you tried not to laugh, but his reaction was hilarious to you. "Yes it does" He grumbled, pretending to be annoyed at your mocking but you knew from the faint smile on his lips and the tone of his voice that he was joking. You continued tidying up the middle, but not without more flinching and whining from mason about how much it hurt and you laughing at him.

You pressed a kiss the the reddened skin "right, I'm gonna do underneath your eyebrows now so this might hurt abit, okay?" The moment you pulled a hair from under his brow Mason's eyes shot open. "Fucking hell that hurt! What are you doing to me woman?". You both burst out laughing as he hesitantly closed his eyes, clearly anxious about the pain he thought he was going to have to endure.

"Do you want me to stop babe? I can if you want, you don't really need the underneath doing" you said softly, deep down you'd become slightly restless and couldn't get your mind off what he'd promised to do when you were finished. "Yes please" He said sheepishly, a slight red tint apparent on his cheeks. "Don't know how you do this to yourself and don't flinch" he said as you got off his lap and grabbed your phone to show him how he looked in your camera. "Just takes some getting used to love, wanna see how they look?"

You couldn't help but laugh as he checked himself out in your phone camera. " They look good, thanks baby" He leaned over and pressed a kiss to your lips and he pulled you back down to his lap. You deepened the kiss, before he pulled away to catch his breath. "now, you gonna give me my reward for making you look good?" You teased, rolling your hips as you smirked against his mouth before connecting your lips again. "wanna go upstairs?" He muttered against your lips. "nope, I'm quite happy here". He laughed gently, moving his hands up to caress your back underneath your his t-shirt as you leant in to kiss him again.

First ever fic!!! Please tell me if it was good and if you have any advice feel free to give it me 🫶🏻🫶🏻

[pablitogavii]

Youtube prank gone right ;)

Summary: You decide to prank your best friend Gavi for a YouTube video by pretending to lean in for a kiss but his reaction caught you both by surprise ;)

Pairing: Pablo Gavi x Reader

Warnings: nothing crazy :)

"Okay guys, his training will be over soon and I told him I would pick him up so we can have some lunch. I'm so nervous but he will probably just laugh it off knowing Pablo" you spoke to the camera already blushing at the thought of Pablo thinking you wanted to kiss him.

You've been friends for years although you certainly caught on how attractive he became the more he was growing up...you might have gave it a thought more often than you care to admit.

"Okay, he's coming! Act cool!" you said looking away from the camera and smiling at Pablo as he entered your car. It was not an usual training so there wasn't hards of people surrounding you car begging for a picture or an autograph from Pablo.

It still felt absurd for your Pablito to be that famous..but you were proud of his achievements knowing how hard he words for them every day.

"Hey Pablito! How was training?" you said and he kissed your cheek before getting all bucked up. It wasn't really unusual since you were really close friend. You stole a glance at the camera while he was getting situated.

"Hey, nena. It was fine. Why are you blushing?"he furrowed his bushy eyebrows after looking at your clearly red face partly form the whole word hearing his little nickname for you and partly because of nervousness you felt about this whole thing.

You had to do it now or you knew you would chicken out in the end so you leaned forward with a mischievous smile biting your lower lip while looking at his mouth.

He smirked mimicking your actions and getting closer to your face as well which at that point made the whole thing that much more real. You expected him to laugh or say 'what the fuck?" but instead there he was with his lips inches away from yours.

"Pab.." you tried but were cut of with his lips roughly landing on yours while his hand held your jaw so that he could kiss your deeply.

"Did you just kiss me?" you asked when he pulled away with a confident smirk plastered on his handsome face.

"I sure did nena. And you kissed me back" he winked moving his hand to touch your face and you blushed more pointing at the hidden camera.

"The prank failed guys!" you said chuckling a little with still heated cheeks while Pablo looked a little confused but still kept one of his hands on your knee.

"Can I get another kiss off the camera?" Pablo leaned in resting his chin on your shoulder while giving you puppy dog eyes and you smiled nodding your head before ending your video.

I know it's short but sweet nevertheless <3

[tojiscrack]

very small sneak peak of chapter 7 for (levi x reader) start of a new obsession:

masterlist here:

"cadet, i do not possess any form of humour that you might find entertaining," said commander erwin, stern and grave. "i am quite serious in my observation. i have noticed, however, how little excitement you have compared to our last meeting."

he was referring to the meeting where he practically slapped you in the face for defending him against that vile nile dok (you would still do it again, if given the opportunity).

"care to explain?" he prompted, when it had become clear that you would not answer without another push.

you sighed irritably.

"i'm going through something right now," you explained, half angry and half exhausted, "and it's all because of captain levi."

"did he have something to do with your suspension?" the commander questioned. you finally looked up at him and found that he looked rather curious. did he seriously not know what had happened?

"he didn't tell you?" you returned, also stumped. "aren't you guys meant to be, like, best friends or something?"

"best friend is not quite the term i'd use," he continued gracefully. 

"okay well i think you're best friends so that's what i'm gonna go with from here on out," you dismissed him, still irritable and annoyed. "section commander hange didn't know either —"

"i'll have to ask him about it later —"

"no!" you interrupted, eyes wide as you stepped in front of him and his horse to stop him from continuing on. "you can't let him know you found me. he can't know anything."

"cadet l/n —"

"if you tell him," you began, grasping at straws, "i'll shave your eyebrows and glue them to keith's head since yours are so bushy, you're hogging them all —"

the look of surprised concern had vanished from his face, now stern and firm, with all the authority you knew he carried himself with when addressing his scout members. you stopped yourself there, scratching the back of your neck nervously.

this'll all make sense once you read the entire chapter lmao. we're currently at a stunning 20k words, but i still need to write more scenes so my prediction tells me that this chapter'll have 30k words altogether, and will probably be released sometime this week (most likely next, tbh)?

[usmsgutterson]

I think I might have fallen in love- realization fics! Fics with this prompt can be the realization of anything--a characters imminent death, the moment wherein someone realizes they've been betrayed, or they can be super fluffy and detail the moment a character realizes they're in love, the moment where they realize they can see a future with the reader--perhaps one that entails settling down or one that involves leaving the past behind--, the moment where they realize that they want to marry them! Anything goes with this prompt, and I'll write 1-5k words using it!

OKAY- what about nikolai x reader. and it's where he realizes he wants to marry her. maybe r thinks of a solution to some matter of state and he watches in awe how she handles the questions and gets the other's attention. and he's just like "yep. i'm gonna make her my bride" or something like that :)

Motion- N.L x fem! reader

okay, hi! This came out a bit later than I meant for it to--I decided a few weeks ago to plan out a duology to try to complete during NaNoWriMo and that took up a lot of my headspace, where trying to make sure my mental health was on track and I was breathing in something other than stale apartment air took up the rest of it. However, I am so sorry for how late this is coming out regardless!

On another note, my requests close next friday! They close at 11:30 pm AST (which is around 7:30 PST) and hopefully, what remains of my requests will be done by that point. Fall event requests are open until the second and my holiday event will come out sometime between the 24th of November and the 1st of December.

Fic type- fluff

Warnings- none

You and Nikolai were sitting in a meeting, debating with the Grisha triumvirate and several other relevant court members who sat in on Ravkas ever growing list of issues. You'd thrummed your way from matters of inter-palace discontent through matters of civilian discontent and you were up to matters of state.

Nikolai was getting bored watching everyone bicker, each of them trying to stop one another from getting a word in, but you looked as though you'd just gotten started. Nikolai could've sworn you were smirking slightly as you watched Zoya snap at a general, ready to throw a gust of wind at him--one so powerful that it knocked him through the meeting room wall--and barely managing to restrain herself. You looked as though, despite the fact that you weren't Grisha, you were ready to do the same thing.

Genya looked ready to tailor someone into a very ugly version of themself and David simply looked as though he wanted to go back to his work, like he was mad at the fact of his obligations as a member of the triumvirate for pulling him away from it.

"And before you start, Novikov," you started. Nikolai turned his attention to you, smile on his face. "Let me talk my way through this, yeah? You start talking and you might find yourself unable to fill your britches because you simply don't know enough. It's not a matter of the people--it's a matter of the funds we're able to allocate to the cities. If we can allocate enough to cities both big and small then we're setting ourselves up for an economic boom that starts at the big cities, moves to the small ones. It moves to the towns, and from the towns it moves back to us."

"How do you expect Ravka of all places to be able to do such a thing?" Novikov asks, bushy eyebrows furrowed at your suggestion.

"We can get tourists in," you said. "Ravka is broke--that is absolutely not a surprise to anyone in this room. However, to appeal to those who can only afford to take one vacation a year we advertise the cities. The ones with good-quality but still cheap hotels, honest working parents and saintstales as old as the country itself."

"And what of the rich folks?" David asked. "I mean--we can't advertise Ravka for tourism without aiming somewhere that will actually make a difference one trip on, can we?"

"Palace tours," you said. "The Grand Palace--we can make it a tourist spot Friday through Monday, twelve hours, with options for individual touring, group touring, or guided versions of the same. I'll be a bloody guide if I need to, but I know that there are people somewhere who are passionate about Ravkas history to be willing to volunteer their time."

'And how long is this going to take to pay off our debts?" Novikov asked. "I mean--nobody will go for it if it takes us longer than a decade."

"If it takes us longer than a decade, the youngest of us in the room have a chance at seeing it in the last year or two before we hit forty," Genya said. "Nikolai is twenty-four at the current, which means it would take sixteen years if it were to be such a strenuous plan."

"It's not," You said. "Tours of the palace will take two hours going at a slow pace if my walks of the Grand Palace are to have proved anything. If we get six volunteers, then that's one to cover every tour everyday. Ticket prices can be set at 20 coin for a general admission, 10 for children and fifteen for seniors. Max the group allowance at groups of ten and that ranges from 100-200 coin just off the gate. Take that and multiply it by six, and we have 600-1200 coin going back into the coffers of those to whom Ravka is indebted. It'll be volunteer based because the saints know we cannot afford to pay the guides but I would do a twelve hour workday just to prove that my idea is the right move."

"And what benefits could we offer in place of wages?"

"A hot meal when shifts are done, a room at the Little Palace and food by an irrefutable line of direction. We could also put them on palace staffing lists officially so they'd at least be making the minimum wage, but I think that such would constitute as fraudulent somewhere."

Nikolai was deep in thought when you brought up that last point, but with one squeeze from your hand he was back to reality.

"If they would be willing to take a room in the Little Palace for the duration of time during which tours take place, then it wouldn't violate any laws--they'd be working within the palaces, allowing their placement onto the palace staff."

"What is your estimate on how long it would take?" Novikov asked. "On how long the combination of marketing the cities and the palace tours would take to pay off our debts and refill the war treasury?"

Nikolai had been looking at you how he always did--like you were the love of his life. As he watched you answer what both of you had hoped tto be Novikovs last question, he came to a realization.

"A minimum of five years," you said. "And that is with the tours going all year round. If we could have the tours going daily it would probably still be the same such estimate--we're more than one million kruge in debt with Kerch, double that with Novyi Zem, Novikov. The process for clearing Ravka of it's debts is not something that will be instantaneous unless you're willing to sell your home and give the funds to the cause? According to reports I've seen, your home could have us reasonably jumped forward if you sell it for it's maximum monetary value?"

Nikolai could see it right in front of him--two years from then, a ceremony. Watching you walk down the isle, a coronation where you were crowned as queen. A life as your husband, a life with you as his wife.

He glanced at the ring finger on his left hand--it was looking awfully bare, but if you said yes when Nikolai proposed, which he decided he would do right then, it would not look bare for the rest of his life.

"All in favor?" Nikolai asks, giving your hand a squeeze as the thought solidifies itself fully in his mind.

I am going to make her my bride.

Everyone, including a rather embarrassed Novikov, said "I" and you grinned victoriously.

Your plan was barely in motion, but it was starting to gain traction still. As Nikolai pressed a kiss to your cheekbone and the two of you moved to leave the meeting room, the same could be said of his.

[givemea-dam-break]

hi honey! can you do a anthony lockwood x reader, with #49 from the prompt list? maybe reader is close friends with kipps and anthony gets jealous so he hangs out with another girl to make reader jealous, and it works, so kipps threatens lockwood?

i love your work btw 🫶

a/n: of course!! thank you for requesting, and i’m so glad you like my stuff, thank you for your support <3 I'm assuming you mean my angst prompt list as that's the only one with a prompt that makes sense lol. i hope you enjoy! also (for anyone) let me know if you want to be added to my tag list for any lockwood and co fics <3

warnings: mild language, angst prompt: "Are they really just a friend?" gn reader

tag list -> @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy

Lockwood has been avoiding you, and you're not sure why.

It started a few weeks ago.

Usually, the two of you would spend mornings together in the kitchen, talking over steaming cups of tea as you waited for Lucy and George to get up. Your afternoons could go any which way - relaxing in the house, taking consultations with possible clients, running around London for god knows what. Evenings, well, they were your favourite. If you weren't on a case, either with the whole team or just paired with Lockwood, you'd sit in the library together, simply enjoying the other's company as you read one of the many novels in the house and he sifted through magazine after magazine.

Now, though, it's all changed. Lockwood is never in the kitchen when you're there on your own. He doesn't sit next to you during consultations, or invite you on his errands around the city. Worse, he isn't taking you along on cases with him, opting to take Lucy or George instead.

It shouldn't upset you the way it does, but it's not like you can help it. He's your closest friend. Your partner in crime. Without him, what are you?

Lucy has her theories but you're not overly convinced.

One of her theories sits in front of you currently, sipping a mug of coffee under the bright lights of the Costa you chose to hang out in today.

"Any interesting cases lately?" Kipps asks. "I can't imagine Tony would like to take any of the boring ones, but I suppose he'll have to take anything he can get, really."

You glare at him half-heartedly. "We take anything we can get, but that doesn't mean it's a bad thing. We help out the people who can't afford your fancy services. And, yes, I'll have you know we did have a particularly strange one, recently."

One of his eyebrows quirks up. It looks like a bushy caterpillar. "Go on."

"This murdered woman, right, who had been wanting revenge for her death. Turns out, the house was being occupied by some descendant of her murderer. He got ghost-touched, ended up dying, and then his husband came to get our help. You'll never guess what her source was."

Kipps thinks for a moment. "Her favourite necklace, stuffed under the floorboards somewhere."

You cross your arms in an X shape and make a 'wrong answer' buzzer sound. "It was her old record player that had gotten passed on from owner to owner. Apparently, the record on it had been on it for so long that it had melted onto it. The song had been playing while she died."

"That's awfully grim." Kipss takes another sip of his coffee, but he frowns as if it no longer tastes as nice. "And any improvement with Tony? Any conversations longer than five words?"

"No," you say miserably. You stir your spoon around in your tea, hating the way one guy has made your mood go from relatively okay to the opposite. "I don't know what I've done. I invited him to come to Arif's with me the other day, yeah? You know what he said? Lucy would love to go. And that was it! Lucy wasn't even home. The prick."

His gaze flickers to the door of the café. "You might want to keep your voice down."

"Why?"

When you turn, you realise why. In comes Lockwood, hair damp from the rain that pours down outside and jacket dripping, but still as radiant as ever. His face is almost glowing from the brightness of his smile as he laughs at something the girl beside him says.

Something in your chest squeezes horribly at the sight.

You turn back to look at Kipps, plastering on a smile as you swallow the burning feeling in your throat.

"He's coming over," he says, sipping his coffee - not - casually. He seemingly can't decide whether he should look at you or the person approaching. "Act normal."

As you sip your tea, which has gone a little cold after being left untouched during your conversation, Lockwood's shadow covers the table.

"(name)," he says, and you can hear the smile in his voice. "What a surprise to see you here."

You press your lips together. "Yes, well, I told you I was coming here today. What a coincidence."

When you look up at him, he's wearing that dazzling smile of his, and your breath catches. How long has been giving this other girl - the one who floats by his side - that very same smile? Has he smiled at her in that private way of his, where the corners of his lips twitch a little? Has he told her why he's got a scar on his forehead, and the stupid story of how he got it?

"Tony," Kipps says, giving him a curt nod. "(name) and I just met up to catch up on things. It's been a little bit since we last saw each other."

It's almost unnoticeable, but a muscle twitches in his jaw. "Two weeks, if I'm right? That time when our cases were next door to each other." he pauses then, glancing at the girl beside him "Oh, sorry, how rude of me. (name), Kipps, this is my friend Talia. Talia, this is Kipps, supervisor for one of the Fittes teams, and this is (name), my employee."

Your teeth grind together. "Just an employee? Hmm, okay."

"Nice to meet you," Talia says, smiling.

She seems nice, and you want to like her, you really do, but you can't. Still, for her sake, you repeat the phrase politely.

"Well, we best go get a table," Lockwood says, "before they all fill up from the lunch rush. Let's go, Talia. See you soon, (name)."

Despite wanting to swear at him, you give him the best smile you can muster. When he's gone, you visibly deflate, glaring at your croissant.

"Don't look at the pastry that way," Kipps says. "It hasn't done anything to warrant that."

"Oh, shut up."

--

Back at 35 Portland Row, the house is quiet. As far as you know, George is at the Archives researching for the next case you have coming up in a day or two, and Lucy is out getting supplies from Satchel's along with general shopping. You half wish you had gone with her rather than going to see Kipps.

During the rest of your time alone, you get some cleaning done. You've been putting it off for a while, but the washing-up basket is so full of dirty clothes that there is a mound as tall as your hips beside it. At this point, it's unavoidable.

You're halfway through folding the first load of washing when the front door opens.

"Be careful!" you call from the bottom of the basement stairs, hoping whoever it is will hear you. "I mopped the floor, it's slippy!"

For a few minutes, no one comes down to see what you're up to but, finally, you hear footsteps on the stairs.

"I boiled the kettle not long ago, it should still be warm if you want a cup of tea."

"Thank you, but I just had some."

You freeze for a moment before continuing your folding. Without turning around, you ask, "How was your date with Talia? She seems nice."

Lockwood pulls his chair out from under his desk. The sound is screechy, to say the least. "It was good. She's an agent at Rotwell, you know?"

"Mm."

"How was yours with Kipps?"

The disgust in his voice is palpable, but it doesn't even begin to compare to yours.

"It wasn't a date. Kipps is just my friend."

You can feel the look he's giving you - the disbelief is thick in the air. "Is he really just a friend?"

"Well, Kipps is six years older than me and an adult so, yes, he is just a friend because it would be illegal otherwise." The shirt you're folding probably doesn't deserve the amount of aggression you're handling it with. "It also wasn't a date for the reason that Kipps is my cousin. Now that I think about it, that's illegal, too."

Silence. It makes you feel a little triumphant, to be honest. It isn't often Lockwood is stunned into silence. He's always got something to say.

"Kipps... is your cousin?"

"Yes, he is. My mum is his aunt. Do I need to explain how that works for you?"

"No. No, that's alright. I just didn't know."

You shrug. "Never asked. Not like we were always super close. We've only really started catching up since I joined you guys because I'm in London now and he's my only family here. Not that that sentiment seems to be appreciated."

"If I'd known, I would've -"

"You would've done what, Lockwood?"

Finally, you turn to look at him, practically throwing down the jumper you're folding. He's already watching you, that smile of his nowhere to be seen. If you didn't know any better, you'd think that's guilt in his eyes.

"Would you have stopped avoiding me? Because Lucy seems to think that started when I reconnected with Kipps. I don't - Even if he wasn't my cousin, it makes me ill thinking that you might've thought we had a thing. Ugh, I can't even say it without wanting to be sick. Is that what all of this avoiding-me business was about? Be honest."

His lack of an answer is enough. Usually so full of things to say, it's a shock seeing him this quiet. You wait for him to say something, anything, but nothing ever comes. He just sits there, staring, supposedly figuring out what he should say.

You turn away from him again, folding the last item of clothing. "Your pile is that one on the end. Second load of washing will be done in an hour. I'm going out."

"Going out? Where?"

"I don't see how that's any of your business. I am just an employee after all."

"I didn't mean it like that -"

"Well, that's how it sounded. Jealousy doesn't suit you, you know." You pluck a jumper from your pile, tugging it on. "I'll be back before dinner. George is in charge of food tonight."

"(name), you don't need to go out. Let me just explain a few things."

"I have a great idea! Why don't you explain those things to Talia? I'm sure she'd love to hear it."

--

"I think I was a bit harsh."

"Oh, I don't think you were harsh enough."

Snorting, you stare out at the park. The bench you're sitting on right now, accompanied once more by Kipps, is soaked from the rain, but your jacket is long enough to save your jeans from getting soaked. The rest of the park isn't in much better of a state; there are massive puddles lining the paths, and the trees are sagging from the weight of the rain.

You pull your hood further over your head. "Tell me why you wanted to sit out in a park while it's chucking it down? I would've much rather had to sit in the same room as Ned Shaw than be out in this. My hands are freezing."

"You're the bait."

"The bait? What for?"

"Ah, there he is. My plan worked perfectly."

"Kipps, what are you -?" Turning your gaze down the path to the right, you realise. "No, Kipps, you're not going to bother Lockwood. I can handle myself."

"He needs to get a grip. He acted like a ten-year-old by avoiding you instead of talking to you, and it upset you. This just gives me the perfect excuse I've needed to give him a bollocking."

As he stands, you make to grab his sleeve. "Kipps, no."

But he's already sauntering up to Lockwood. The two meet halfway, drenched in rain. Lockwood's cheeks are flushed from the chill, and, though Kipps is the one speaking to him, he's looking at you.

"Kipps, stop it," you grumble, hurrying over. "I don't need you to mother me. It'll make things worse."

"I for one would like to hear what he has to say," Lockwood says. The challenging tone he always takes on with Kipps really should've been there, but it isn't. It's more of a guilty statement than anything else.

"You're acting like a kid, Tony," Kipps says angrily. "Do it with anyone else, but not with (name), not when they don't deserve it. I've been warning them not to fall for your tricks, but they've been insistent. He's a good guy. He's just going through a lot at the moment. Bullshit. Buck up your shit, or get out of their life."

"Kipps," you hiss. "Just shut up."

"No, I won't shut up, because he's hurting you. I won't stand for that."

"Just stop it! I'll handle this myself. I don't need you to do it for me."

"We all know that you weren't interested in that girl," Kipps says, glaring at Lockwood. If looks could kill, he'd be dead five times over. "You did it to be petty because, what, you were jealous that (name) was spending their time with someone other than you? Grow up."

"Kipps -"

"I'm going to leave now." His voice has grown quieter, even sterner, taking on the tone of someone using his age as leverage. "You two are going to talk this out. But if I find out that you've hurt them again, Tony, we're going to have major problems."

For a moment, he doesn't move, but then he squeezes your shoulder and leaves. You watch his figure disappear out of the park, blurred by the rain, before turning back to Lockwood.

His hair is plastered to his forehead and he's breathing a little heavier than usual. "(name) -"

"Kipps basically said everything that needed to be said," you say, pursing your lips. "I might've done it a little more gently."

A little laugh parts his lips. "He's right, you know."

"Oh, yeah, I absolutely do know. And it makes you a prick."

"It does." He looks down at his feet, guilt clouding his eyes. "I just - I was upset, and I know that gives me no right to have done what I did, but I felt - I don't know. Pushed aside? So I avoided you because it hurt a little less not having to see you all the time and wonder if you were thinking of someone else. Now I know how entirely wrong I was."

You stuff your hands into your pockets, desperate for warmth. "I was worried I'd done something to make you hate me. Lucy had tried to tell me that my hanging out with Kipps was a possibility, but I just didn't think it seemed like a logical reason. That's why I started spending more time with him - you avoiding me made me feel alone, and, yeah, I've got Lucy and George, too, but it felt nice to have someone shake some sense into me."

"I'm sorry, (name). Truly. If I'd known, things would've gone so much differently. I was more than a prick."

"You were." You laugh softly, and the sound has Lockwood's eyes back on you. "Lockwood, you mean the world to me. I thought you realised that."

There it is: that little mischievous glimmer in his eyes. The corners of his lips twitch. "Well, since I obviously didn't, maybe you could show me?"

"Are you sure you don't want Talia to show you? She did seem lovely after all."

He rolls his eyes, taking a step closer. He's near enough that you can feel the warmth of his breath. "Are you jealous?"

"Well, I wasn't the original jealous one, but, yes, I suppose I am."

When his hand touches your arm, you can feel its heat even through your jacket. You wonder if he can feel your heartbeat. It's never gone so fast before.

"So, about showing me that I mean the world to you?"

"You are insufferable."

It doesn't stop you from pulling your hands from your pockets and pulling his lips to yours. He may be insufferable and frustrating, among other things, but you wouldn't have him any other way. So long as he's yours.

[sneakydraws]

Okay so!! Here's a little wap design compilation - not exhaustive, both because of the image limit and because there's many things I'm not settled on but I want to post some of it at least~

Organised by families because familial resemblence or lack thereof is one of my favourite factors in chardes! And because Tolstoy is so good at creating these family dynamics of shared traits! First, the Bolkonskys:

Lise, Mlle Bourienne and Nikolai jr. not included for now, maybe later. The shared traits I gave them all (therefore presumably coming from Nikolai's side) are sharp, angular features with a beaked nose and high cheekbones, thin figures and straight, dark hair. Both Andrei and Nikolai are described as short, so initially I wanted to apply this to them all, but then I thought it would be cool to emphasise Andrei's similarity to his father AND separate Marya out by making her much taller than them. It works really well because Andrei and Nikolai are both short yet straightened out to their full height while Marya cowers and hunches to hide hers - which also works to create the unattractive figure she's described as having. I use heads to note height - as in, how many heads tall a character is - mostly because numerous manga art tutorials ingrained those in me <:3c Nikolai has his signature bushy eyebrows, and his clothes and hair are inspired by his depiction in the first soviet wap movie because I really liked it!

In general I spent the most time on Andrei, both because he's my favourite and because he has a lot of tantalisingly sparse and at times interestingly contrasting descriptions - he's meant to look unassuming, his small and slender figure hiding his impressive stamina and his cushy administrative position contrasting with the rugged hussars (and his small hands are mentioned as well) but he has sharp features, and his design should showcase his proud, decisive nature as well.

The Rostovs! Not including the count and countess because while I have some features in mind I haven't made up my mind yet on the overall designs, and excluding Vera for reasons I'll divulge later. These Rostov kids are all energetic, emotionally driven and strong-willed and I wanted to reflect that in their designs - most of all in their hair, which is curly and kind of fluffy, making big, untamed shapes - I decided this they would have inherited from the Count. They're all rather short (I think some of the Rostovs are described as short so I extended it to the whole family) and a little stockier than the Bolkonskys - Natasha's figure is really incosistent because she gains and loses weight a lot over the book, but I settled on the slightly heavier side mostly to contrast with Sonya. I also love freckles and always associate them with energy and youthfulness so they got given to the Rostovs - presumably from the Count's side again. And their eyes and hair are all black or dark brown!

BIG RAMBLING RANT: The Countess is described as having "oriental features" and I wanted to incorporate that into the kids because it's like the most detail we ever get on someone's overall facial features lol but it turned out kind of frustratingly vague. I think my first idea was towards Georgia because Pierre mentions a woman with Georgian features in 1812, and because my ballets russes research included a very orientalist ballet about a georgian queen. I didn't find very good references though and turned next to Armenia, and when I found someone talking about common Armenian features that fit what I already had in mind for the Rostovs I ended up using that. However, later I realised those countries are in Western Asia and don't really fit the descriptor of "oriental (eastern)" from the perspective of Russia... Now I'm looking more towards the Kalmyk and Bashkir people after seeing them mentioned in one of my interlibrary books so I might revise the Rostovs yet. I did get kind of attached to the nose though so I'll do my best to keep it haha

The odd ones out in the Rostov household!! Sonya is, I believe, related to the Rostovs on the Count's side so maybe it would make sense to give her the fluffy hair and freckles, but she has enough descriptions in the book to form a separate design on her own (and she's only a second cousin to the Rostov kids, so it's pretty far away anyway). She's compared to a graceful kitten, described as almost unattractively thin and with a sallow skin, so I thought it would fit her to have a slightly unwell air, with portruding collarbones and a slight hunch. She also has her dark double braid.

Vera was fun once I got the idea to make her look very different from her siblings - to mirror her personality being completely different (cool, impassionate, meanspirited at times) and to visually reflect how she's disliked by the Countess - perhaps almost looking like she's not her parents' child 👀 She's taller and slimmer than her siblings, with straighter and lighter in colour hair, and her features are more smooth and soft. No freckles either.

The Kuragins! Those guys are fun. I have Anatole as the tallest in the cast (save for Pierre), and Helene as the tallest woman, with Ippolit the same height as her. Helene and Ippolit in general are described as having the same features so they ended up almost looking like twins! Later I'll talk a bit more about their facial features and hair but in terms of silhouettes, Helene has to have her round shoulders and impressive bosom (and low neckline), while Anatole has to look all broad-shouldered and masculine. He was actually the hardest to draw because I kept feeling like his head was too small and his whole body too long... I might go back and make him a bit broader still. A book I have says the elite life guards of the Russian army were known for their impressive, immaculate appearance, with some men padding their uniforms to add volume to their chest... That made me think of Anatole lmao.

A little roll call to show everyone's height in relation to each other.

More about the Kuragins! I tackled Helene with the aim to make her beautiful by the standards of the time, and luckily there's actually an 1812 bust of the Greek Helene! It was too poerfect of a coincidence so I leaned heavily into it. I find that typical features of ancient Greek or 19th century Hellenistic busts are a very straight nose that flows smoothly from the forehead, a very round jawline with a somewhat portruding chin and that particular curve of the neck. I gave Helene all of those along with heavily-lidded, downturned eyes and an expression that hopefully conveys calm confidence and intelligence. Ippolit is supposed to have the same features but made to look ugly by his stupid expression - this actually turned out easier than I thought? Though it might just be that the moustache looks kind of stupid - maybe I should try a version without it. Anatole I thought ought to look impressive and masculine so in the end I kept the squarer jaw and strong forehead (and I couldn't resist the slicked back hair) but I considered a more Hellenistic version too, with the short curls and round jaw. Helene's hair was tricky because none of the styles I saw felt quite right - I settled on a sort of combo of the Hellenistic curls from the statue but a bit looser with the braid she's described to have in the book. She'd also probably wear a lot of hair accessories but I'll have to do more research on those.

More Natasha and Sonya, and Andrei - Andrei is so difficult!! I always kind of oscillate between "stern, strong-willed soldier", "sharp-featured intellectual" and "soft pampered prince/troubled poet" (where I try and fail to imitate this gorgeous illustration by Vadimir Serov). The Brutus haircut is tempting in its historical accuracy, but I'm just a little bit too fond of the immaculately slicked back hair...

Edit: I completely forgot @visualnoteslibrary was on Tumblr!! Thank you so much for collecting all the descriptions, you spared me quite the Easter egg hunt through the Gutenberg version <3

[airplanned]

Castletown Academy 2

Zelda produces an overwhelming amount of legal paperwork to make this happen.

--

Zelda passed a thick binder across the table at the coffee shop.  "The first section is my proposed prenuptial agreement--it should be straight forward, since we will not have any joint marital assets.  The second section is a lease for the mother-in-law unit behind my house.  It's set up like a rental unit, so it's self contained.  I've never used it for anything other than storage.  You'll be able to have privacy and autonomy while we share a mailing address.  It will also be easy to car pool.  I don't expect rent, but you would be responsible for your utilities."

Link's eyebrows hiked as he looked over the pictures she'd put in at the back.  His friend leaned in over his shoulder to look too.  Supposedly, this man was a lawyer, but it was clear from the look on his face that he had not been prepared for the full force of Zelda's paperwork.  The man had a bushy mustache, spoke even less than Link did, and looked as if he might start sweating.

Maybe this was a bit overkill.  Maybe this was a bad first impression on Link's friend.

She hurried to say, "The details are in there.  You can come and look at it first, of course.  The lease is a formality, just to protect us both if things go wrong.  If there's anything in there you would like adjusted--"

"You don't want rent?" Link asked.

Oh.  "You're going to be my husband.  That would be strange."

He snorted and then tried to act like it was a cough.  The friend hummed.

"The next section is a draft of an addendum I'll be adding to my will once we're married.  It will set up a trust fund for Flora to use for school in the case of my death."

Link nodded, but the lawyer hummed again in disapproval.

Zelda was about to bristle and explain that they had an understanding, but Link cut in first.  "I don't need to be in her will."

"Okay," he said.  Then, "Most husbands are in their wives' wills."

"We're doing things differently."

"Okay," he said.  Then, "Just seems kinda weird."

Link rolled his eyes.  "You knew your wife for two weeks before you proposed."

The man shrugged.  "Knew her last name before I did."

"That's--"

"And now I get to kiss on her."

"Do you have anything helpful to add?" Link asked.

"...Nope."

"Okay then."

"...Just seems like a bad idea."

"Your official lawyer advice is that it seems like a bad idea?"

"...No, that's friend advice.  I'll have to read first to give you lawyer advice."

"That's--Great.  Thanks, Hudson."

The lawyer friend nodded and hummed to tell Link he was welcome.

Link's eyes darted up to hers in apology, and she bit her lip and took a deep breath.

"The last section is information that might be useful about me and Ralphie.  Contact information for his doctor and baby sitters and piano teacher.  He's allergic to amoxicillin.  That kind of thing."

"Oh, that's a good idea," Link said.  "I should type something up about me and--"

He flipped to the section, and his words died in his mouth.

Yes, she had definitely gone overboard.  But it all seemed like things he would need to know if he became a part of their lives.  Overviews of their schedules--when she left for work and what day Ralphie had therapy and how he was expected to do homework and piano before he played any video games.  Some house rules.  Some information about what she did for a living, which people tended to not understand.  A family tree in case one of her cousins dropped by.  Information about the house.  Medical histories.  Some background information about where she grew up and went to college and work history (Goddesses, it looked like a resume).  Some background about Ralphie's anxiety and the timeline she'd drawn up about the bullying he'd faced at school.  A copy of the restraining order they have against Ralphie's father and a copy of the paperwork terminating parental rights.

Her whole life laid bare and handed over to someone she barely knew.

And it was a lot.

She cleared her throat.  "I--"

The lawyer leaned in again to read over Link's shoulder, and Link flipped to the front of the binder, popped open the metal rings, and removed the sections the lawyer would need to look over.  He took the papers, and Link closed the notebook, quietly protecting her privacy.

"Are you okay with getting married at town hall?" he asked.  "We could do a party later.  A temple service if--"

She hurriedly agreed, "Town hall is fine.  I think the children should be there, but beyond that..."

"Exactly.  I have a black suit and Flora has a pink dress and a green dress.  They're from Malo Mart.  The dresses, not the suit.  But I can get us something nicer, if you want."

"I'm sure they're cute.  Ralphie has a button up shirt and a bow tie."

"That sounds adorable."

"It is."

"Flowers?" he asked.  "I can get flowers."

"Do you want to get flowers?"

"Yeah.  What's your favorite kind?"  He'd had a note pad in front of him the whole time, but he had yet to write anything down.  Now he reached for his pen.

"Silent princesses," she said.

He nodded, writing it down. "Do you want to go eat afterwards?  There's that Tabanthan place nearby.  The food is really good.  It's nice. But not so nice the kids couldn't come."

"That would be excellent."

"Would Friday work for you?  We could go after I pick up Flora from school."

"About 4:30?  That sounds good as long as all the contracts are signed by then."

Link turned to his lawyer friend, who shrugged.  "I'll see what I can do."

"Good."  

Link pulled a folded sheet of paper from the back of his note pad, but hesitated before handing it over.  "These are some ring designs I thought were nice, but now...maybe I should read your packet and see if I can find something that's more you?"  The tips of his ears pinkened as he passed it across. 

"You don't have to--"

The perfect ring looked up at her.  One round diamond with two little ones on either side set flush in a simple band.

There were eight other rings on the page, all in a variety of styles--geometric and swirling, clunky and delicate, different cuts and different sizes, some with additional colored stones.  He was giving her options.  But he'd found the perfect one.

She lay the paper down between them and pointed.  "That one."

A smile twitched across his face, and he circled the ring in a haphazard circle with his pen.  "What's your ring size?"

"Six.  Yellow gold, please.  I do get hives with other metals."

"Gotchya.  Does tomorrow work for Flora and I to come over to see your mother-in-law suite?"

"Yes."  She shook herself and pulled out her slate to check her schedule.  "I won't be home until six."

"Is 6:30 too late?"

"Not at all."

He wanted to get her a ring.  He wanted to get flowers.  He wanted to take her to dinner.  Her heart shouldn't flutter so much.  She should put a pause on the conversation and make sure they were on the same page that there wouldn't be any romantic entanglement.

She should.  But she didn't. He was just being kind, trying to make this process as pleasant as possible.  He'd been married before, and was probably well aware that this could scarcely be called a wedding.  The rings were just to keep up pretenses with the school.  Surely, they didn't give tenants and roommates sibling benefits.

"Awesome," Link said, finishing his note to himself.  "Flora will still have another week of school after we go to the court house.  I don't want to be too disruptive, so once school's over, we can pack up the apartment and move the week after."

"I can hire movers if you'd like.  They can pack for you."

He looked up at her in confusion.  "They would...pack my stuff for me?"

"If you'd like."

He blinked at her.  "Let me think about it."

"Alright."

"Okay."

They stared at each other.

"Are we good?" he asked.

She straightened her spine and gave a relieved sigh.  "I think so."

Link smiled at her.

The lawyer friend mumbled, "Fastest wedding planning I've ever seen."

[lifeofkaze]

You can never have too much soup! Until you do and then you get sick and okay I'll stop

Oh I loved this one. I know it might not look like it, considering how long this took me but trust me - I did.

Characters featured (both fully and in mention) belong to @the-al-chemist @thatravenpuffwitch @kc-and-co and @slytherindisaster

“Trust me, this is going to be funny.” “I’m not sure I share your perception of funny, old chap.” Bradford Elijah Pendleton IV swallowed uncomfortably. Nervously, he glanced to where the object of their current conversation was sitting in the shade with her friends. “It sounds dangerous, if anything.” "I must say, I agree," Jim Hexley butted in from the side, sounding as nauseous as Brady himself felt. "There's people you don't trifle with." He couldn't have said anything more wrongly. Rising to what he perceived a challenge, Lysander Mercury got to his feet from their spot in the cloisters of the clocktower courtyard and cupped his hands to his mouth. "Oi, Iceberg!" The shoulders of the witch his words were aimed at stiffened, her already pinched-looking face growing tighter still. Sighing heavily, she put down her book and shared a meaningful look with her friends. "How can I help you, Lysander?" "Go to Hogsmeade with me this weekend?" Carolyn Pendleton froze, the only indication that she had heard him a slight twitch in her sharply outlined eyebrows. Next to Lysander, both Brady and Jim shifted in their seats. "Pardon me?" "You head me right." Lysander grinned, stretching his arms above his head. "You, me, the Three Broomsticks. Sounds marvellous, doesn't it?" Caro inhaled deeply, a smile forming on her face that was so sweet it made Brady fight the urge to duck his head. "I'd rather dip my head in a boiling cauldron, strip down naked and run around the Black Lake in a hailstorm but thank you anyway. It was sweet of you to consider me." Lysander grimaced. "Oh, what a shame. I shall not be able to continue to live, having suffered such a blow. Except..." Screwing shut his eyes, Lysander's face began to change. His smooth skin grew deep lines around a suddenly hard mouth. His hair, golden in the sunshine, darkened to a deep brown streaked with lines of silver. Wrinkles appeared between his now bushy brows, and a stubble as well as a close-cropped beard was covering his cheeks. He cracked his neck from side to side, the long scar running from the top of his hairline to the corner of his mouth shimmering subtly in the light. His transformation complete, the image of Potions Master Aesop Sharp wiggled his eyebrows at the gaping girls. "How about now?" Caro's cheeks flashed an alarming shade of pink, pinker than Brady had ever seen them. One of her friends giggled into her hands, biting her lip upon receiving an icy look from Caro. Then, she turned her steely eyes onto Lysander. "If you, for one sliver of a moment, think..." "And what would be the meaning of this?" Lysander froze, and so did Brady, Jim, and the girls in the shade as a shadow fell over Lysander - a shadow that bore a striking resemblance to the features the young shapeshifter's face had taken. Swallowing, Lysander's face returned to its normal form in less than a heartbeat. "Nothing, Professor Sharp. I was merely trying to brighten these lovely ladies' day." "Of course you were, Mercury." Professor Sharp gave him a long look, then turned his attention to the girls, who all of a sudden sat up straighter than they had a moment before. He nodded at Caro and the witch sitting right next to her. "Nyberg, Selwyn. With me. I have need of some competent potioneers to help me catalogue the latest delivery of nightshade and moondew." Brady could have sworn the Potions Master's eyes had grazed him on the word 'competent'. Across the courtyard, Caro and her friend Adelia Selwyn almost - almost - scrambled to their feet, whispering among themselves. Brady didn't think he had ever seen Carolyn Nyberg this flustered. As the two of them hurried past Brady and his friends, Lysander couldn't help himself. His eyebrows turned dark and bushy once more, wiggling as he whistled lowly through pursed lips. If possible, Adelia and Caro walked even straighter and with their heads held high but the flush climbing up their necks was undeniable as they hurried away.

[beware-of-eels]

Rajbow AU where Bowie and Emma go ice skating during free skate hours at the rink Raj and Wayne work part time to help cover hockey costs

except instead of being bad at it, Bowie fully knowing how to skate- instead faking a minor (graceful) fall so that the cute rink employee with the eyebrows comes over to help him up and check on him. And maybe get his number

Got carried away thinking about this in detail so if you want the longer babbly almost-a-fic version it's under the cut lmao

[disclaimer: everything ik abt ice rinks is from going to the one at the mall like. maybe three times in my life bdbsbnxnd. I live in Texas] [i've also literally never written fanfic and so am not much of a writer but this kind of possessed me when i was bored at work so if the dialogue is bad or ooc and the tense is all off.... no its not lmao]

Anyways - Emma's decided she's going to invest in hobbies that she DIDN'T share with chase, something completely separate and away from him -- chase thinks its to impress him bc of course he does. someone send this boy to detention--and drags Bowie along "so she's not alone, obviously"

good friend that he is, Bowie goes with, and especially bc Bowie DOES know how to skate - pretty well actually. he's no figure skater/hockey player/etc, but if Bowies going to do anything in public he's going to do it well. he can make his way around the rink with ease, manage a little fancy footwork when he wants to, enough to pull a minor trick out of his hat. besides, what's the point of doing something if you can't show off a little bit? never hurts to catch someone's eye, or establish yourself to your peers as someone who knows what they're doing -- and really, Bowie's counting on his reputation to ensure those prom votes.

what Bowie didn't count on was the cute hockey boy that was handing off skate rentals to blush and stammer so sweetly when he flirted with him for the hell of it. and he really didn't count on said cute hockey boy having a shift change and heading onto the rink to fill in as ice monitor pretty soon after he and Emma start skating. Even in the flourescent lighting the boy is cute, and it doesn't take a genius to see how hockey has bulked him up - and he really was so endearing when he was flustered- so Bowie figures why not try his hand at a little more fun. And really, what better way to shoot his shot than to fake needing a little extra help from a buff hockey player?

Naturally Wayne and Raj work their stations together - their manager had tried to separate them once and was QUICK to never make that mistake again - so when they've switched out with their coworkers handling skate rentals, they're immediately out on the ice together, as loud and rambunctious as they can get away with without reprimand

if Raj is a little (not-so) secretly excited to maybe see the cute boy that winked at him earlier - Yknow, bc it made him feel excited! ...whatever that meant - then that's between him, Wayne, and the hockey gods. otherwise hes just pumped to be on the ice with his best bud. They're making their rounds, keeping an eye out for anything dangerous or against the rules that they might have to intervene, and otherwise yelling hockey metaphors and mutual encouragement as loudly as they can get away with

and right when Wayne has to slip away to separate a couple of kids trying to trip eachother, Bowie decides to makes his move

He gives emma the heads up that he's gonna slow down and try something, and does his best to fall as gracefully as he can - maintaining the look of competence is still important after all - while still doing so loud enough to garner the cute hockey boy's - Rajie?- attention. He sits on the ice a second longer than he strictly necessary, and by the time he's ready to stand back up Raj is there holding out a steady hand, bushy eyebrows pulled together in concern.

"oh my god are you okay - here I'll help you up" He looks so worried for a moment that Bowie almost feels bad for lying. Almost.

"well i'm much better now" Bowie throws the boy another wink, earning him the exact flustered face Raj had responded with before. Forget subtlety if that's the reaction he was going to get by being forward, "but I do think my ankle could use a little TLC - care to help me get somewhere to sit down?

"Uh yes! Yes of course, thats. thats what I'm here for!" Raj can feel his face heating up as he stammers under the gaze of the boy in front of him "I'm Raj, uh by the way"

And isn't he just too cute "I'm Bowie, it's nice to meet you"

Raj quickly signals to Wayne the general situation, and then solidifies himself into position to help Bowie up without falling himself. after that it doesn't take too much finagling to get bowie back up to his feet and leaning heavily on raj's shoulder and the two of them start to slowly make their way back off of the rink. Bowie can't help but smile a bit- he was absolutely right about Raj being buff, and he couldn't wait to see what else he had in store.

Raj, nervous about having a cute boy so close to him suddenly, does what he does best - fall into Hockey talk - or in this case, hockey adjacent. Hockey could be a dangerous sport - he'd helped teammates with ankle sprains plenty of times! It would probably help Bowie feel better to know that Raj has this handled "We'll have to check which part of your ankle hurts once we sit you down - just to make sure it's not a fracture. You can lean on me more if you need! its uh, you don't want to put too much pressure on it until we can take a look at it. I should have some extra stuff in my bag to wrap it up if its a sprain, and then I can see if we still have ice packs in the first aid kit! Hopefully it's just a sprain, but dont worry if it's worse I'll still make sure you're okay! When me and wayne - that's my buddy - were kids, I fractured my arm pretty bad at practic-"

Bowie had seen already that Raj was a little nervous talking to him, if plenty enthusiastic. But the sweetness of his scramble to comfort Bowie for an injury that hadn't even occured - not that he had to know that - was invigorating none the less. There was a genuineness to the boy that was refreshing, and he was sure if he was actually hurt, he would be feeling calmed and comforted by his babbling. If not for the talk about first aid, then for the earnestness in Raj's telling of his own past injuries on the ice.

Raj doesn't realize he's still talking until he's helping Bowie sit down on a bench outside near the skate rental area. "oh sorry if that was too much - I'm gonna go get the first aid kit then I'll be right back!"

He walked off quickly, glad for the chance to take a breather, and keep his head from being clouded by sharp eyes and quit witted flirting. Not to mention the bold choice of Bowie to wear a crop top to go ice skating. It certainly did look nice on him

Once Raj returns, he leans down and carefully begins checking Bowies ankle for anything serious - slowly pressing on the skin and rotating the foot to gauge maneuverability. Satisfied with Bowie's assessment that the pain wasn't too bad, he got to work wrapping his foot - Raj wasn't going to let shoddy first aid exacerbate the problem.

Looking down at the hockey player in front of him, Bowie gets to work on his own interests. "Thank you for all your help - usually I consider myself a pretty good skater, but oh well. I guess one person can't be fantastic at everything all the time," he punctuated with a large sigh, wiggling his toes when Raj motions for him to.

"Oh I'm sure you're always fantastic! I've been skating since I could walk and even I still take a tumble from time to time - that doesn't mean you aren't great! I guess mine usually come from bad checks though eh? Oh because I play hockey! I don't remember if I told you that-- A-anyways, I didn't really get to see you skate before you fell but I'm sure you're incredible. I mean you seem incredible. At skating! I mean"

Raj finally cuts himself off, hoping to end the awkardness of his own rambling. All he had to do was finish wrapping up Bowie's ankle and exit the interaction with minimal blushing - he could do that! He could hear Wayne's voice hyping him up in his head - was a snow owl, he'd faced goons bent on injuring and cross checks more than even made sense for a highschool league - he could handle getting through a conversation with a cute boy. Even if said cute boy had long eyelashes and a knowing smile and a pearl necklace expertly framing his neck.

Bowie of course could not be more pleased - it seems Raj was more than just fun to fluster. He was sweet and earnest and clearly passionate about hockey - enough that Bowie found himself actually looking forward to hearing more of Raj's confusing hockey lingo, if it meant seeing that focused look in his eyes when he started getting carried away.

"Well if you really think so, maybe you'd like to see how incredible I am some other time - when you're not working, of course"

"For sure dude! That sounds like loads of fun!" Raj's agreement comes out enthusiastic, until he look down at Bowies ankle in his hands, freshly wrapped and now with an ice pack to match "But not until your ankle's healed up - skating's great but you won't be able to if you hurt your ankle worse by pushing it." The sudden intensity of his expression betraying how seriously the boy takes his sport.

Bowie stifles a laugh "It really doesn't hurt that much, but deal. Maybe you can show me some of your fancy hockey moves while we're at it" he said liltingly. and theres that blush again, hard to see on his skin but clear as day to the boy who triggered it "in the meantime though -can I get your number?"

Raj answers without even taking a beat "Oh I'm number 8! On the snow owls, I'm actually alternate capt-" he's cut off by a gentle hand on his own where it's still holding the ice pack.

"I actually meant your phone number" bowie's ecpression is nothing but kind, so Raj doesn't feel quite so clueless when he manages out a

"Right! yes, right - here let me see your phone"

the two boys quickly exchange numbers, as Bowie continues his previous thought "But I'd love to hear all about your hockey team on our date"

"Yeah! ha, that sounds good."

The two of them stay a moment just to smile at one another, before the moment is broken-

"RAJIE! Are you doin okay there bud? Do you need some help?" "Don't worry Wayners! I'll be over in a sec!"

Raj turns back to Bowie, sheepish "I uh, gotta get back to work, do you have somebody that can take you home safe?"

Bowie presses a quick peck to his cheek, "I've got a friend here with me, no need to worry about little ole me. I'll see you soon though, handsome"

And again that blush. Raj manages to stammer through a goodbye before trudging back to the ice - doing a quick lap around at full speed to release some of his energy before returning to his best friends side. He'd tell Wayne all about it later, for now he was just doing his best not to smile too hard.

Eventually Emma finds her way to Bowie sat on a bench, carefully tying his shoes back over a newly bandaged ankle.

"sooo how'd it go? you didn't really hurt your ankle did you? because you know I'd feel awful for bringing you here if you got hurt and didn't even get a cute boy's number out of it"

"No on the injury, Yes on getting his number - let's head back to your house, I'll catch you up on the ride home"

"Yes! well I'm glad one of us had a good time - after you left Chase walked by - how did he even know we were here? He's so -"

Bowie tunes out the rest of his friends rant, he'd heard this before, and he was sure she'd forgive him for not listening if he told her he was thinking about his upcoming date with Raj. The boy really was too good, and Bowie hadn't even really had to work very hard to find that out. He found himself throwing in an occasional remark to keep Emma going as they walked, thinking about the intensity with which Raj clearly loved sports, about the simple sincerity in the way that he talked. This really could be the start of something special

Yep, the trip to the ice rink had gone better than imagined. He just needed to admit to Raj that he had fallen on purpose and all would be well.

After they were on their date, of course.

[masterofrecords]

hiiii I just wanted to ask if there is like a physical description on Nima?? i may have missed it in rereads but id just like to ask straight from the creator of the blorbo. Nima silly i would like to doodle a him :3

OOoooh

Imma tag @weilaverdui because she's also been curious about Nima

(If anyone missed, Nima is one of the original characters from my Aquarium fic)

Okay, so the main thing you currently have for him is actually Floyd's nickname, lol - toadfish. Specifically banded toadfish (because that's the species found in Peru/Chile).

They look like this

Of the stuff that hasn't made it into the fic... well, he's based on Kronk and he used to play center like Floyd - Nima is tall and broad as far as build goes. Not sure where he'd be from since TWST doesn't have anything based on the Emperor's New Groove, but still - the dude's obviously not white and based on an ancient Peruvian character. So.

But yeah, I imagine him having a toadfish's silly little smile and cheeks. Like really unintimidating, especially in contrast to how big and physically strong he is, unless he's frowning or concentrating on something. Kinda bushy, very expressive eyebrows

He might do something silly with his hair and dye it a funky color, but I haven't thought much about that.

Dunno if you want to do, like, a static pose, but he tends to gesture big.

I don't actually have a proper description, haha, so feel free to improvise. I have no idea how all these elements will work together, you have full reign and my delighted permission to make Nima what you want him to be.

[mondaychildsworld]

I know the end - Joel x Reader

Previous chapter / Next chapter

Part Three / ?

Rating: M

Word Count: 5.3K

Chapter summary: In search of a vehicle you stumble upon some infected and learn some new things about each other. Reader patches Joel up and ✨✨✨!!

Warnings: Infected, (small) mention of drugs, swearing, some violence I guess, and some tiny tiny tiny amount of fluff (?!?!) (idek if thats a warning but here we go)

A/N: Sorry for taking soooo long! I've had two weeks of travel during the summer, started a full time job AND moving at the same time... Let's just say there hasn't been any time left for writing. I'm already sleep deprived lol. I've done some sporadically writing while I've had time to kill at airports and I've finally tied it all together! Enjoy!! It's definitely worth reading and you'll experience some feelings at the end, aaaah!!!

And here's my tiny taglist: @boofy1998

November 21st 2023

“Okay, so it shouldn’t be too long now!” Joel shouts as you find yourself and your companions on an old dirt road. Everything you see is still covered in white. It’s been better weather for a couple of days. The sun is shining and you’re in a better mood. 

“Yeah? You think we’ll be there today?” You ask and squint your eyes, raising your hand to your head to bring your eyes some shade from the sun. 

“Sure.” Joel simply says, but he doesn’t give you a look back. So kind of him. 

You’ve been hiking to Cheyenne for the last couple of days. It’s been going alright, despite everything. You’ve accepted the pain and the loss. It still feels like there’s a big hole in your heart. A piece of the puzzle to your soul is missing. But you’ve accepted that there’s no other option than keep going. It scares you even more to give up. You might not have anyone left to live for, but there’s got to be some sort of reason why you’re still here. Your time is not up. You know that this is not the end for you. 

Ellie puts on a mischievous smile and pulls up the book ‘No pun intended: Volume Too’. You let a small chuckle slip past your lips. Joel, who walks in front of the two of you, looks back and sees Ellie browse through the pages. 

”Oh, Ellie…” Joel starts with a sigh. The 14-year old has been reading from the pun book non stop, or kept asking questions only a FEDRA teenager would ask. She’s clearly smart, but there’s a lot about the world she doesn’t know about. She keeps being fascinated by just the smallest things. For example, could she not stop asking about how cool it was that you could go to the cinema, once you’ve stated that you often used to visit the movies. ‘You could buy popcorn?! Damn, what’s that like? I’ve never had popcorn’ she could say, and then tell you about the shitty movie night they sometimes could have at the FEDRA school on special occasions. You felt sorry for her, a kid not being able to grow up as one. 

“Who is the penguin’s favorite aunt?” she asks the both of you as she ignores Joel’s small protest. Her eyes darted between the two of you eagerly waiting for any of you to come up with the answer. 

“Oh I don’t know Ellie.” You say and your eyes and stare at the man in front of you, now walking backwards, waiting for the second half of the pun. He raises his hands as a way of surrendering to the question, he glimpses over to you and your eyes meet. You think you could see some sort of smile behind the scruffy beard and bushy eyebrows. He actually enjoys this, you think. He really doesn’t mind the puns, if you could guess. He tries to not show it though.

“Aunt-Arctica!” Ellie says with a big smile, laughs a bit and clutches the book to her chest. “That one’s good, right?”

Joel gives Ellie a quick, almost pained smile and hums something inaudible. He then looks at you again, for just a couple of seconds. It looks like he suddenly regrets resting his eyes on you and quickly looks back to Ellie again. 

“Next one Ellie?” You request another pun to keep your mind and eyes occupied on anything else than him. Because, of course, you have been looking at him, always walking in front of you. Not like there’s much else to do out here. He’s just a bit older than you, but surely still looks good. You’d guess he was very handsome when he was younger. Now he’s hiding all of that under a stern, unfriendly approach, very much directed towards you.

“Your wish is my command.” She says jokingly “So, how do you make holy water?”

You don’t know that one. Instead Joel’s face lights up, but he doesn’t say anything. 

“You know it?!” Ellie giggles loudly. 

“Yep, not gonna say it though.” He answers. 

“Oh no, no, no.” Ellie points at him with the book. “You gotta answer, because if I reveal the answer, you’ll only lie and tell me you knew it”

“I wouldn’t do that!” Joel says, jokingly defensive.

“Yes you would!” Ellie bites back. “Just say it!”

They continue to bicker about who’s going to reveal the answer to the pun as the dirt road makes a slight turn to the right and just there, in the far distance, you see it. You gasp for a second and then nervously look around y0u. They haven’t noticed. The city unveils itself in front of you. Far away, you can spot buildings and roads belonging to the city of Cheyenne.

“Guys!” You excitedly say as you try to gain their attention. But they’re in deep arguments about the pun. 

“Hey!” You try again. But with no response you reach out and lightly push Joel by his shoulder. He gives you that look again, but also looks a bit startled as to why you’re touching him. 

“Look.” You quietly say, now that you’ve gained his attention. He looks down at your hand, still on his shoulder. You quickly drop it and take a step back as he turns around to see what you’re wanting his attention for. 

“Well I’ll be damned.” He mutters and looks back at Ellie. “Welcome to Cheyenne.” 

After some time spent on foot towards the city you’re finally standing at the outskirts of the town. There’s abandoned cars all the way down Route 85 you just walked by. The whole way over here Joel had been holding a firm grip on his rifle. The lighthearted laughs and the kind gaze was completely gone. He’s now in a whole other mood. He’s on a mission, and his focus is now 100% on the plan of action for the town in front of you. 

“Hey, remember what I said?” Joel says to the group, and it seems more like a statement than a question. 

“Go through, be quiet, find a car and get out of here.” Ellie answers, pleased to show Joel that she’s able to listen, before she adds, ”Please can I use my gun?” 

Joel steps over a pile of metal trash that’s blocking your way into entering the town. Both you and Ellie follow. You can see that he considers Ellie’s request for a moment, and quickly settles for a positive answer, if you’d ask Ellie herself. 

“Sure.” He says as he reaches out a hand for you to grab, as you make your way down from the old scrap pile. “But only when I say so.”

You just give him a glare back, and let the silence speak for itself. You don’t need help over this little obstacle. Joel sighs and offers his hand to Ellie, instead of you. Ellie, who apparently liked you, takes up on your way of refusing help and jumps down from the pile by herself. There’s an awful lot of noise when little pieces of old junk follow her on the way down, metal slamming into the concrete ground. 

Joel squeezes his eyes shut and draws his hand back, now raking through his hair. Definitely annoyed. 

“Ellie! What did I just say!” He hisses before he looks around for any kind of movement from the silent city. 

“Sorry…” Ellie apologizes.

The silence is almost eerie. It’s like it’s too quiet. There’s no way this city is empty. If there aren't any humans that made up a safe camp in any nearby building, you wouldn’t be surprised to stumble upon one or two infected. You kind of hoped for the later, humans often meant more trouble. And you can’t always shoot your way out of trouble. Like last time. 

Of course, it’s also the humans who bring the silence. Not the other way around. Many of the infected can make an awful lot of noise. 

But this time you seem to be safe, as you slowly make your way into the city. The open view you had over the landscape slowly disappears as you make your way into the heart of the city, away from the interstates. You tightly cling to your gun. You’re nervous. But you would never confess it. 

Your eyes roam the streets for a car that isn’t burned out, has a flat tire or just looks like complete junk.

Joel leads the group further into the center of the town. You jump over the guardrail and start to miss the wide open space you just left behind. 

You glimpse over your shoulder and see Ellie walking as if you were out on a high school field trip. The nervous feeling in your belly does not give you the same easy going appearance. Maybe it’s because you’ve been out here for longer than her, or it is because you remember what cities like this might’ve looked like before. 

Cheyenne is that kind of city that isn’t huge, but still pretty large. You pass a couple of motels at the outskirts of the town. They look worn down and you don’t even want to know what could be hiding inside. You know all too well that places like that look very inviting when you’re tired, hungry and on the run from the mess that this world turned out to be. 

About half an hour later you’re way further into the town than you’re actually comfortable with. You’ve passed many vehicles by now, only to find most of them out of gas or with a flat tire, which doesn’t feel like a good sign. 

“I’m not feeling great about this.” You say after you checked another vehicle, which turned out to have a dead battery. 

“I know.” Joel mumbles. “But we need that car.”

There’s a wrinkle in between his brows. Worried. 

“Let’s have a look in here, maybe?” Ellie asks and gestures towards the supermarket on the next block. 

“You won’t find anything in there.” Joel says. 

“Especially not a car.” You add. 

You look up at the sky. The sun is going to set soon. This time of the year doesn’t bring you that much daylight. 

“I’m hungry.” Ellie simply states. 

Joel nods silently towards Ellie and then looks over to you. 

“If you want to, you can try out the rest of the cars down the street, and I’ll see if I can find her something to eat.”

You hesitate at his words, suggesting leaving you alone on the street. He must’ve seen how the idea he just proposed made you uneasy. 

“We’ll be in for just a few minutes, there’s probably not anything left anyway.” He speaks quietly, calmly. 

You nod, and watch them walk toward the supermarket while you continue to try out the cars on the street. 

The next couple of cars turn out to be a disappointment. Flat tire. Flat tire. Crashed. Broken windshield. Totally burnt out. Flat tire. 

But then you see a car a couple of vehicles away that actually looks promising. You look around, keeping a steady hand on the trigger as you slowly walk up to the truck and open the door. You take a few steps back and aim into the truck. 

Empty. 

You sigh with relief. The car looks way too good to have been standing here since the outbreak. Someone must’ve left it here not too long ago. 

You jump into the car seat and immediately start working on hot-wiring the car. 

You hear the engine kicking to life and you let out a happy shriek in the car, you’re just about to turn around and get out of the car to go get Joel and Ellie when you hear a loud crash. 

The smile on your lips suddenly fades away and is now turned into a frown. You turn your head towards the sound. At the same time you see shatters of glass on the ground, just outside the supermarket. And a body. There’s a body on the ground. 

“No!” You yell and throw yourself out of the car. It can’t be Ellie. It’s too big. Your heart sinks as you realize that it could be Joel’s body laying there lifeless on the street. That means that Ellie could be left alone inside. But not totally alone. Alone with a threat, even worse. 

You sprint up to the body and yell for Ellie at the same time. You draw your gun and as you are just a few steps away from the body, you realize it’s not Joel. It’s an infected. Shot in the head, blood pooling around the fungi covered body. 

You hear your name being yelled and look through the broken supermarket window. 

Your eyes meet Joel’s. 

There’s panic and fear at the same time as they’re determined. 

“Get the car!” He yells at you, and as you turn around and run towards the truck there’s gunshots. 

So much happens at the same time. Your pulse has skyrocketed in just a few seconds. You jump into the car and quickly reverse it back towards the supermarket. You need to get to safety. All of you. 

As you reverse back you keep looking into the rearview window. When you’re about halfway you see two people running out from the supermarket. Joel and Ellie… tightly followed by a bunch of infected. You don’t have time to count them, but it seems to be around half a dozen of them. 

Just as you slow down to let them into the truck, when they’re just a few meters behind, it happens. You feel something graze your shoulder. You turn your head and see how an infected is leaning into the car through the open window of the passenger seat. 

Panic sets in your body at once and you scream as you push the break down. The jaw of what once seemed to be a teenage boy clatters violently after your skin and flesh. You reach for your gun with shaky hands. 

“Help!” You scream as you accidentally drop your gun to the floor. You don’t have time to search for it now. The infected boy keeps crawling into the car through the window and you try to shove it back without getting bitten as you’re now pressed up against the door of the car.

A couple of seconds later the door opens abruptly. You nearly fall out but your back lands against something warm and firm. You see a rifle above your head as you try to grasp anything to hold onto. A second later the infected is shot and dead and you’re being roughly pulled up by strong arms. 

Soon you realize what’s happening. Joel pushes you back into the seat. He shot the infected and saved you. 

“Than-“ You start to thank him, but are abruptly interrupted by a gasp and some cursing from behind Joel. 

He turns around to face Ellie, who stumbles up behind him, white as a sheet. 

He raises his rifle and shoots off the infected that has now gotten uncomfortably close to Ellie. 

He gives her a worried look and tells her to get in the truck. She jumps into the backseat as he rushes to the passenger seat, still shooting at the infected closing up to the car. 

As soon as Joel has dragged the dead body out of the car and you all have taken a seat you press down on the gas pedal as hard as you can. The car speeds away quickly and you leave the scene behind. 

“What the hell happened in there?!” You exclaim and look up into the mirror, back at Ellie. She stays quiet, fumbles with the hem of her shirt and gives Joel a worrying look. She ignores your question and the looks you give through the mirror. 

You try and navigate your way out of the city, without stumbling upon even more surprises. That was a close call, for all of you. 

“Joel…” Ellie quietly says. You give them a quick glance through the mirror. He’s already leaning back to Ellie in the passenger seat. 

You make a quick turn to the left. The pressing silence in the car is obvious. You just escaped death yet another time, this wasn’t the end either. 

At the same moment you steer the car straight up the street you just turned to, you catch a glimpse of Ellie in the backseat. It’s for just a second, before she pulls her sleeve down again. But you see it. The bite mark. 

You freeze in your seat. Your knuckles turn white as your grip on the steering wheel tightens. Fuck.

“You’re infected.” You say with a shaky voice. “I’m so sorry Ellie, I’m so sorry but we can’t-“

Your voice breaks. You feel tears approaching and you swallow and try to gather your thoughts. Ellie is just a girl and her days are counted. 

“No.”

It’s Joel who speaks up. 

“Yes. You know how this will end.” You answer. 

“You don’t understand.”

“Yes I do. I’ve seen people getting bit before.”

He calmly observes you for a second. It’s frustrating how he doesn’t seem to even give Ellie some sort of reaction towards her new death sentence. 

“There’s no way out of this.” You continue. 

“Just drive.” He says sternly before leaning back again to Ellie. “You’ okay?”

His tone changes completely as soon as he speaks to her instead of you. They continue to mumble with each other for a minute. That’s when you decide that you’ve had enough. You’ve driven a couple of blocks away from the group of infected and decide that you’re at a safe distance. You push the break. 

“What are you doing?!” Ellie asks, frightened, holding onto Joel’s headrest as the car stops abruptly. 

“You’re infected and you two can’t continue to ignore that fact.” You say and cross your arms. “What the fuck is this?”

“Jesus, just-“ Joel says and rakes his fingers through his silver sprained hair. “Just move the fucking car and we’ll sort this out.”

“Please enlighten me, how do we ‘sort this out’ now?” You ask as you grab the steering wheel again. “She’s infected.”

“I’m not.” A quiet voice says from behind. 

“Ellie.” Joel warns her. 

You reluctantly start to drive the truck again, through the streets like they’re a maze to get out of this town. You did get a car, at least. Mission complete. In one way. 

“What do you mean Ellie?” You sigh. “I saw the bite mark.” 

“We should just tell her, Joel.” 

“Ellie! You agreed not to-“

“Yeah, I know.” She says. “But what if she just decides to, I don’t know, kill me in my sleep now?!” 

“She won’t.” He says and makes a distressed grimace before he covers his face with his large hands. “You know what, fuck it.”

He sighs and turns to you. 

“She’s immune.”

“Joel, that’s impossible.”

“It’s not.” He says. “I’ve… I’ve seen it.”

“What do you mean?”

Ellie leans forwards and pops her head between the two of you. She props her arms up on your seats. 

“I’ve been bitten before, but I’ve never turned.” She says and looks over to Joel. “He wanted to shoot me at first too but here we are, on this road trip towa-“

“That’s enough.” Joel chimes in.

Ellie puts her arm between the two of you, over the gear shift. It’s the opposite arm from what you saw in the mirror just a couple of minutes ago. She pulls her sleeve up and you glance down. It’s obviously a bite mark. It’s definitely cordyceps, but totally healed. Ellie’s left with only a scar. 

“Oh.” You say. That’s the only thing you can say. You’re shocked, confused and still a bit stressed out from the incident. Ellie rolls her sleeve down again and a silence falls over all of you as you drive your way out of town.

About an hour later you’re far away from Cheyenne. You had driven west, trying to stay away from the big roads. Ellie has fallen asleep in the backseat, mouth slightly open. 

There’s been nothing but silence between you and Joel since you found out about Ellie’s immunity. He’s been reading the map and pointing out which way to go. But other than that, you hadn’t spoken. 

“Joel…” You start, silently, to not wake Ellie up. You glance into the mirror but she hasn’t moved an inch. 

You get a grumpy humming sound as a response. 

“Why are you here?”

“What?” He answers, and sounds tired. 

“Why are you and Ellie here?” You ask. “It’s pretty weird, you’ve just showed up in the middle of the woods, with an immune kid?”

He’s quiet. 

“You show up with a teenage girl, who’s apparently immune? I know you well enough to know that this is not your style. You’ve given me such a hard time this week. So what am I supposed to do? Don’t you understand that I’m freaking out here?”

 Your rambling trails off. There are a few more seconds of silence before he speaks. 

“Don’t act like you know me.”

“Oh, so you’re still going to give me the cold shoulder? It’s not like I expected a warm welcome from you, but this? You’re just so unfriendly for no reason at all. I left my sister for dead about a week ago and you just shut me out, it’s like you have no empathy left in your soul.”

“I-“ He starts but stops himself, taking a couple of seconds to decide what to say or not. “I don’t… it’s complicated and I never asked for this.” 

“Yeah?” You ask. “Fucking complicated, no doubt about that.” 

He doesn’t give a proper answer, but you hear him grunt something you really can’t make out.

It’s dark outside. All you see is the stars scattered over the dark blue sky and the small road in front of you. Your eyes have been on the hunt for a good place to camp. At least you can sleep in the car now, as a backup plan.  

Your stomach rumbles a bit. You haven’t eaten since yesterday, since the supermarket visit hadn’t gone as planned. Joel looks out the passenger window. You’re stuck here together in the car, so you suppose that’s all he can do as he tries to ignore you again. He’s slowly scratching his beard with his hand. 

Suddenly he pauses and raises his hand up to the window. He points out in the dark at the same time as he finally speaks up. 

“Drive over there.” The tiredness in his tone is changed into something else, something more hopeful. “Old cabin.”

You slow down and turn to the right, into an overgrown dirt road. Once, it might’ve been covered by gravel. Now it’s barely visible. 

Now you see the small cabin too. It’s not big, but it looks sturdy, after all these years left abandoned. You pull up next to it and Joel looks back at Ellie, still asleep, before grabbing his rifle. 

“Wait here.” He says and his dark eyes meet yours. You just nod and feel the breeze of cold air finding its way into the car as he opens the door and leaves. You feel like shit.

He’s gone for a couple of minutes and you sit there frozen, the whole time. This whole situation is fucked up. You’re left in the car with a possibly, or possibly not, infected kid in the middle of nowhere. 

Soon Joel comes back and opens the backseat door next to Ellie but pauses and looks over at you for a second. He nods back towards the house to say ‘all good, let’s go’. Carefully he grips her shoulder and shakes her slightly.

You hear her mumble and shuffle out from the truck, with Joel’s arm around her shoulders as they make their way into the cabin. You sit silently in the car for a moment before you turn the engine off. The lights turn off and the backs of your two companions disappear just like your source of light. It takes a couple of seconds to get your eyes used to the dark. You take a deep breath and open the driver's door and step out onto the frozen ground. The flashlight blinks a bit as you click the power button and you need to firmly hit it against the palm of your hand before the flickering stops. The solid stream of light leads you up to the cabin, backpack slung over your shoulder. Your breath creates a frozen cloud in front of you as you exhale deeply before you enter the cabin. 

Once you’re inside, you can see that the cabin's layout is basically just one big room. The small kitchen is located in the right corner. It’s small and full of stuffed animals on the wall, hunting trophies. You suppose this cabin must’ve been an old hunting cabin. The room is sparsely furnished. A couch is placed in the middle of the room, with a small and dusty coffee table in front. Ellie is already fast asleep on the couch. On the wall next to the kitchen, a big fireplace dominates most of the wall, with a big head of a deer hanging right over it. 

In front of the fireplace you find a hunched down figure, which is Joel, trying to get a fire going.

You nervously look out of the windows, trying to make sure that no one, or nothing, followed you out here. You close the curtains and take a look in the cabinets of the kitchen but with no luck. They’re all empty of anything edible, but are stashed with some outdoor equipment, some plates, and a first aid kit, but it looks pretty beat up so you just suppose there isn’t anything of use in there. You sigh and awkwardly turn around to face the room. In front of the fireplace, in the cabin's only armchair, Joel  sits slumped down with his head down, focusing on his hands.

There’s no other comfortable place to sit, other than the floor. You consider going back out to sleep in the car, even if that’s an option you’re not too keen on.

Joel noticed your awkward stance in the kitchen and you caught his stare. His mouth is slightly open and his eyes look tired. He blinks a couple of times and then pulls out his sleeping bag from his backpack next to him, as if he could read your mind. 

“Take it.” He says and holds the sleeping bag out towards you, like a peace offering. 

You slowly walk towards him and the fireplace, not breaking eye contact. As soon as you reach out and grab the sleeping bag his attention goes back to his other hand. You glance down and see that he’s hurt. There’s a cut in the soft flesh between his thumb and index finger, and his knuckles are bruised. 

“Hey, let me help you.” You say as you bend down and try to grab his hand but he shoves your hand away and mutters something.

You take a step back and remember the first aid kit in the kitchen cabinet. You walk over there and open the door, grab the small back and start to dig through its contents. It’s mostly empty, but - bingo! - a roll of gauze bandage. 

Joel looks reluctantly at you as you bend down on the sleeping bag in front of him again. You give him a look and he sighs as he slowly places his hand in yours, which is already reached out for his. 

You take your bottle of water and start cleaning the wound and Joel hisses and drags his hand back a bit.

“I know something better.” He breathes out in pain. 

“There’s this bar cart…” He gestures behind him and you nod and walk behind the armchair. Against the wall there is indeed a small bar cart, mostly covered in old boxes for ammunition, a dirty old whiskey glass and some dusty old gloves, but on the lower shelf there are a couple of almost empty bottles. You grab a glass bottle with a clear liquid and open it. You sniff carefully and it’s clearly still pretty strong after all these years in solitude.

You walk back to Joel and bend down in front of him, again. This time you grab his hand and you pause for a second. This almost feels too intimate. You hesitate to continue and you’re once again faced with that awkward feeling you had in the kitchen before. Joel places his other hand on yours, and holds it tight with both hands. You look up and meet his gaze. You must look terrified, like a deer in the headlights. How did you allow yourself to get this close to Joel? How did he even allow it?! The man who’s been more hostile than gracious towards you - is now holding your hand in a way you’d never imagine. You wish you had gone back to sleep in the truck, or that your stash of pills wasn’t long gone. You wanted to remove yourself from the situation, or at least numb the anxiety in your chest. 

“It’s okay.” Joel assures and slowly lets go of your hand so you’re left with only the injured one, resting heavily in yours. 

You slowly start to dab the cut on his hands clean with the alcohol that you found. You clean his knuckles and can’t help but study his hands even more. They’re big, rugged and firm in contrast to yours - which are rather the opposite to yours. They might not be as smooth and pretty as they used to be, but now, compared to his, it doesn’t look like you’ve been through an apocalypse at all. 

“Fuck.” He grits his teeth and tries to stay quiet to not wake up the sleeping teenager on the couch. The alcohol must sting in the cut. 

You start to wrap the gauze around his hand and the cut once everything looks clean.

“How did you…?” You mumble as you secure the gauze, but you don’t let go of his hand. He doesn’t move either. You feel your pulse rise. 

“The glass door of the supermarket.” He mumbles and starts to stroke your hand with his thumb. The movement makes your skin tingle. But for him, it must hurt. Despite that, he keeps going. “Or the window, I don’t know.”

You just nod. You don’t know what to say. Or if you even can say anything. You’re terrified and totally consumed by his skin brushing against yours, and his honest, almost vulnerable gaze. 

“Look, I…” He starts but trials off just as Ellie mumbles something.

You both draw your hands back and your eyes quickly dart over to the couch. Ellie smacks her lips slowly and her mouth stays open just a bit, before she starts to snore.

The spot Joel’s thumb kept brushing at your hand suddenly feels cold. You shiver a little bit and almost feel caught in the act of something… Something you weren’t supposed to do. No, that was nothing. That was only an act of gratitude for patching him up. Nothing else. You didn’t even want it to be anything else, you tried to tell yourself. But somehow something had shifted in the air between the two of you. You had told him he had given you the cold shoulder, that he’d been nothing but unfriendly to you and maybe he felt ashamed of his bad behavior. You didn’t need to be friends, but maybe he realized that you at least could be equals.

You quietly slipped into his sleeping bag between Joel and the fireplace. You didn’t want to continue the conversation he started, didn’t want to hear what he had to say. You didn’t want to ruin this moment. You placed your backpack on the floor to use a pillow and slowly sank down, making yourself comfortable. You could hear the cracking of the fire and Joel’s steady breaths as you drifted off to sleep. The sleeping bag smells like dust, wood and Joel.