#willie no last name | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

autisticrosewilson · 3 months

Text

•°•Spotlight Overture•°•

Pairing(s): Willis Todd & Catherine Clemens, Catherine Clemens/Nathalie Knight (Nocturna), Willis Todd|Wingman & Natasha Mitternacht|Nocturna, Catherine Clemens/Willis Todd/Nathalie Knight

Warnings: Gotham typical crime, canon divergence, eventual polyamory, secret identity shenanigans, this mini series is going to get very sad, don't ask me about the time period DC doesn't know and neither do I

Willis is led through the darkened club by two men in matching suits. It's a tasteful place compared to his usual haunts, the dance floor is a blur of star confetti and neon light bouncing off the disco ball on the ground floor while the bar and tables litter the top. The old Hollywood decor reminds him of a girl he knew in highschool, he vaguely recognizes the posters framed on the wall as musical productions she used to like.

The nature of the patrons is obvious immediately, older men in loud suits and the scent of too-strong cologne permeating the air under the reek of alcohol and sweat. Gotham's nightlife is in full swing here, ripe with the parasites that fester in her underbelly.

Gotham's old money is hardly his first choice of employer, but things have been tight at the shop lately and cash is cash.

"Wingman," a severe looking older man greets him when he enters the study, "a pleasure to have you." The man greets him curtly. Charles Mitternacht, head of a prominent, if lesser known crime Family. Owner of The Spotlight and the man who will be signing his paycheck, although Willis isn't entirely sure what he's being paid to do yet.

A bad idea to go into a situation like this without all the details but no guts, no glory he supposes.

The office decor differs from the rest of the club, the bookshelves are overstuffed and the furniture is worn but well cared for. The Mitternacht's are an old family, and this is an old building. Let it never be said that they're uneducated or arrogant, you don't stay under the Bat's radar even with their kind of notoriety by thinking like the common crook.

It's another reason why Willis agreed to the terms so easily, they wouldn't have him do anything too heinous or flashy, they know better than to think it wouldn't come down on them eventually.

Mrs. Mitternacht is sat beside her husband, dark hair done up in elaborate victory rolls reminiscent of the faded photos of his mother in her youth. Well, now he knows who decorated the place. Her lips are a bright shade of red and her eyes are sharp, calculating despite the ditzy smile on her face, with straight white teeth befitting of the silver screen.

He doesn't buy it for a second.

Their children are gathered behind them, standing at attention in a straight line. He knows three out of the five, the other two he at least recognizes from past events, but there's one set apart from the others. A separation so distinct he almost doesn't recognize that she's a part of the family at all. He suspects maybe she's a daughter in law, but he's never seen her before, and there's nothing the elite love more than showing off.

She's pale, unnaturally pale, like she's never been touched by sunlight before. It's stark, even for a Gothamite. The dress she wears is different from the others, simpler, something you'd wear at a dance recital rather than a high society event. There's a dark veil covering her face, obscuring all defining features behind layers of lace. She's the tallest one in the room, even taller than him, although she's lanky and thin. Frail, almost.

He doesn't believe that either, he's reliably certain that there's at least one knife hidden beneath her dress. He's under no illusion that even in the thin ballet flats, she's a threat. One look at long nails sharpened into vicious points is enough to confirm it.

"I apologize for the secrecy of this meeting, but word travels fast in our circles." Charles pulls his attention back to the reason for his being here. "This request might be a little unusual for someone of your...caliber," with the way he said it, Willis can't tell if that's an insult, "but you have a reputation for being reliable and versatile. Both admirable traits that I think will serve our cause well." He continues.

Willis takes a moment to think about that with arms crossed and head tilted slightly, expression hidden behind his helmet. "What kinda job 're we talkin about here?" He decides not to beat around the bush.

Charles nods, seeming to appreciate his bluntness. "A bodyguard. It'll be a longer job, but I assure that you'll be paid handsomely should you accept." He explains, straightforward and confident despite the curve ball he's just thrown.

God bless him but Willis has never been able to keep his mouth shut. "...You hired a gun for...protection?" He can't help but voice his confusion. Sure, hirelings take all kinds of jobs, but protection detail usually goes to more high profile mercs. "Kinda the opposite of my job." He points out.

"I believe in subverting expectations." The man grins, cold and sharp. "I think you'll do just fine. More than competent enough for the task, and discreet to boot." Ah, there it is. Subtlety isn't a practice most Gotham criminals employ, but the Mitternacht's have turned it into an art form. "If you'll accept this contract, I'm positive we'll all benefit." He proposes.

"And who would I be guarding, exactly?" Willis asks after some deliberation. He already has an idea, but he'd like to have it confirmed before he agrees to anything.

"Natasha." He orders, gesturing for the mystery girl to step forward. Her hair is so dark it almost blends with the veil, stringy curls falling over her white skin like an oil spill. She moves silently, nothing but the whisper of her skirt to signal her approach and if Willis weren't watching her, he'd never be able to tell she moved at all.

"My youngest," Charles introduces, "a newer addition to the family." He says cryptically. That...could mean a lot of things. But if they don't offer, he won't pry. None of his business.

He can see her a bit better now that she's separated from the shadows of the room. On closer inspection she can't be much older than him, maybe nineteen or twenty.

Willis nods slowly, trying not to give anything away through his body language. "How long should I expect this contract to last?" He urges.

"A few months, at the least." Charles shrugs carelessly, although he's too tense to read as casual. "You'll be well compensated the whole time, of course. You seem like you could benefit from a long term paycheck." He sniffs, pointedly eyeing Willis's patchwork of homemade gear. Sure, it's not the best, but it's functional and cohesive, certainly not deserving of that much ridicule. He can't deny that he's in need of the cash though, it's the only reason he's here at all.

Thinking back to his near empty fridge and the long list of things that need to be fixed, and replaced, and bought makes him swallow the snarky remark bubbling up in his throat in favor of thinking logically. "...Deal." he decides. "Where do I sign?" He straightens up from his casual lean, plopping down into the chair on the other side of the desk.

Catherine inhales deeply, the musk of the Alley preferable to the stagnant air of the club. She misses the smell of wet earth and clean air, wishes she hadn't taken the ability to breathe easily for granted. Distance really does make the heart grow fonder.

She knows she smells like a mini-bar, the fruity perfume she'd doused herself in before her shift having faded through the night. She can't wait to get back to her dorm, the showers should be empty this time of night, perfect for her to take her time scrubbing the layer of sweat and gunk from her skin. Unfortunately, her shift isn't quite over yet, she's working a double tonight since her favorite coworker is out sick. She barely managed to escape outside for her break, luckily she's been working here long enough to have some seniority and she managed to wrangle one of the new hires into taking over for a while.

She sighs, rummaging around her pockets for her cigarettes but pauses when she can't find her lighter. She curses, double checking just to make sure and clicking her tongue when she comes up empty handed.

"Need a light?" A voice at the end of the Alley catches her attention and her free hand falls to the pocket housing her switch blade on instinct.

Her gaze locks on a tall, broad man with dark curls and a crooked grin. He's dressed down in a plain black button down, the first few buttons undone and sleeves rolled up to his forearms. Immediately she can tell he's not the usual bar patron. He's got messy curls and an obnoxious tie reminiscent of an arcade carpet hanging loosely from his neck. His accent is too thick to be upper class, the kind of lilt that can only be found in some of the worse parts of the city.

His posture is relaxed, nothing about him is hostile or demanding. He doesn't even make a move to approach, just waits for her to answer. Like offering a treat to a skittish cat.

She swallows thickly, fingers wrapped tightly around the knife, but she nods. "Yeah, please." She mutters, just loud enough to be heard in the quiet alley. Well, as quiet as Gotham gets. There are cars passing by every few minutes and a dog barking a block over, she can see lights on in the surrounding apartments and there's an old woman smoking her own cigarette on the balcony above them.

It doesn't make her relax any, she knows full well that Gothamites stay to themselves. It probably wouldn't do her much good to call for help. She's on her own, but she's used to that.

The man stops just short of arms reach, movements telegraphed as he tosses her the red Bic. She catches it easily, the "Good throw," Slipping out before she even thinks about it. She's quick about lighting the cigarette, moving to toss it back the second the flame catches.

"Keep it," the man insists, "I got spares." He assures. He leans casually against the grimey brick, body angled towards her. It's not as claustrophobic as it might feel otherwise, there's a good chunk of space between them, she has faith that she'd be faster than him if she needed to get away. She relaxes just a bit, exhaling a puff of smoke into the humid night air.

"Thanks." She nods curtly, eyes glued to the graffiti on the building across from them.

They lapse into what she's pretty sure is an awkward silence, although the man doesn't seem bothered. Studying him out of her peripherals gives her the impression he's perfectly content where he is, lips tilted up just enough for one of his dimples to show, no sign that he's planning to leave anytime soon.

"Y'do any sports?" He asks out of the blue, startling her into facing him head on.

She blinks at him, bewildered for a second before deciding to answer. "...Used to." She offers hesitantly. "Softball and volleyball." She elaborates a little.

He hums approvingly, "Thought so. Gotta good arm on ya." He grins at her, and it's a stupidly endearing thing. Unrestrained delight and so very proud of himself. It softens the lines of his face, seems like it lights up the whole alley.

"Thanks." she says a little more sincerely this time. Inhales another puff of smoke and then let's it out. "How about you?" She wonders.

"Hockey, wrestling. Some football." He shrugs. She can see it, he looks like the kinda man that can throw his weight around. He doesn't look like the kind of guy who likes to. An enigma, to be certain.

"I'm Willis by the way." He introduces himself officially. It's so casual it catches her off guard. You don't just give your name to people, she learned that early on. Gotham almost seems to operate by fae rules, where deals are currency and reality is altered. Names have power, you don't just hand them out.

It could always be a fake name, but something tells her that's not the case. Willis is either very cocky or very stupid. He hasn't struck her as either yet.

"Kat," she offers the same name printed on her name tag, "nice to meet you." She almost means it too. As far as late night encounters go, this hasn't been nearly as bad as it could've been.

Willis grins at her like she just put the stars in the sky and it pulls a soft smile to her face before she can stop it.

The back door swings open with a creak that makes her jump, pushing herself off the wall where she hadn't realized she'd started to slump. A frazzled server emerges, dragging his feet as he nods to her. "Louise wants you back, new kid is fighting for his life in there." He informs her, already pulling his own cigarettes out.

"Thanks Chen." She nods to him as she starts making her way inside.

She pauses just before the door, glancing back to Willis whose still grinning like he's won something. "See ya around." She waves him off, pointedly ignoring her coworkers raised eyebrow. She's sure she'll know his middle name, address, and blood type by the time their little nightshift crew finally goes home for the night.

It's only a few hours later when she goes to slide the lighter into her purse that she catches sight of the number written on the back in sharpie.

"Cathyyyyyy!" Her drawn out whine rings through the apartment. It's 10 AM, half an hour before it's time for her first class to start. She lets herself fall to the second hand couch, arm thrown over her eyes to protect them from the morning sun streaming from the open kitchen blinds.

Catherine hardly spares her a glance from where she's scribbling away at something, pages and books spread out on the tilted kitchen table. To her credit, she closes the blinds quickly. "Mornin' Nattie." That southern lilt drips out, saturated with amusement. "You sure are up early." The red head chirps. She's always been the morning person between the two of them. It's exceedingly unfair how easily she seems to work through her lack of sleep. Nathalie doesn't know what she'd do if she didn't have her abilities to aid her through long nights and arduous lectures.

"Is breakfast ready?" She decidedly does not pout. She can't be expected to help it. If she were still residing in her family's estate a full course meal would already be prepared.

But then she wouldn't be waking up to Catherine every morning. Wouldn't be able to see her backlit by the sun like an angel as she sips her cheap tea out of a novelty mug. It's a fair trade, she supposes.

Her fortune will be waiting for her at the end of her studies, hopefully she'll have convinced Catherine to come with her by then.

Catherine hums an affirmation, finally looking up at Nathalie with that impossibly fond look. "In the fridge, gonna have'ta heat it up if ya want some." She grins.

"Cathyyyyyyyyyyy!" She groans, arm thrown back over eyes.

"Somethin' the matter, darlin'?" It's not fair how effective the nickname is on her, how it makes her melt into a puddle on the creaking couch.

Catherine doesn't make her wallow in her misery for too long. Nathalie hears a snort that makes her look up just in time to see her fiddling with the microwave. It's a minute or so before she pops it open, careful to stop it before the beeping can wreak havoc on Nathalie's sensitive ears.

"Breakfast is served, my lady." Her twang is replaced by a posh accent that mimics Nathalie's own. It's not as mocking as it would be from someone else. The affectionate warmth is soured when she thinks of the new bodyguard she's been assigned, the man that will be tailing her every night for the foreseeable future.

"You ever go outside? Or would that be too much for my lady's delicate sensibilities?" Wingman had teased, his voice muffled from behind the birdlike mask. It reminded her of a plague doctor at first, but on closer inspection it's more mechanical.

She had not dignified that with a response.

She gratefully accepts the bowl of reheated pasta. It's not gourmet, but it's a family recipe Catherine was delightfully proud to show off, which might make it better. If you subscribe to sentimental things like that. Which Natasha Mitternacht most certainly doesn't.

She's glad she's just Nathalie Knight right now. It means she can forgo all of her manners to shove the biggest bite she can into her mouth and grin with unsharpened teeth. There's a trill of victory when she sees Cathy huff out a laugh and plop down beside her.

"Better eat quick, ya gotta start gettin' ready soon." Catherine reminds her, thumb rubbing soft circles on the pale skin of her ankle.

Nathalie hums in acknowledgement, eating at a slightly slower pace now. "What would I do without you?" She remarks, and it's a joke but it's really not.

"Perish the thought," Cathy grins at her, "You got me." She promises. Nathalie wonders what her lips taste like. The lipstick she wears today reminds her of cherry pie filling, bright red and glossy.

"Do you work tonight?" Nathalie asks, as if she doesn't know. As if she doesn't see Kat behind the bar every night, faking smiles to bad men and struggling to hide her sympathy for their escorts. As if she's the uninterested, unobservant roommate she pretends to be.

Catherine sighs, slumps against the couch and lets her head tilt back to stare at the ceiling. "Yup, 'nother double tonight." She informs.

Nathalie shifts her legs into Catherine's lap, bare legs against faded jeans. "One day I will pay for everything and you won't even have to look at that place." She promises. She always keeps her promises, but Catherine doesn't know that. There's a lot of things Catherine doesn't know about her.

"Yeah, okay." Catherine snorts, predictably brushing it off as a joke. She will learn, eventually. Nathalie does not need to convince her right now. "One day." She sighs, tired and longing.

Nathalie wonders what Catherine's one day is. Hopes she's included. Knows that's wistful thinking at best.

Her alarm goes off, faintly buzzing in the pocket of her (Cathy's) hoodie. She ignores it, and even though Catherine undoubtedly hears it she doesn't say anything either.

One day.

3 notes · View notes

jukeboxtheatre · 1 year

Text

jatp as random quotes from my friends part 3

—

Willie: I’m from Italy.

Reggie: …Jesus?

—

Alex: Oh my god, can you not fortnite dance over my dead body please???

—

Trevor: My name’s not Tim… bitch

—

Alex: I am a slay?

Willie: You, my guy, are an absolute slay.

—

Luke: -Anyway back to stupid jerk beanstalk and I how rambled on about him for ten minutes while drunk.

—

Alex: Every time I interact with the human race, it just gets lower and lower.

—

Alex: First of all fuck you. but bless you.

—

Luke: I can be sexually attracted to guitars!! That could me me!!

—

Bobby: I’m asian, why aren’t I instantly good at this??

—

Flynn: Ooh! Someone’s dying! Sorry, I said that really yassified, that’s actually quite sad.

—

Willie: Well if you can drive a car, then you can drive a tractor - everybody knows that!

—

Luke: So tell us, you went to the eastern front and met with the general. What was his name?

Reggie, without any hesitation: Gavin.

Luke: And what town was he from?

Reggie, without any hesitation: Detroit.

Luke: And what did you do with his severed head?

Reggie: uhhh okay you know basketball, right?

42 notes · View notes

oldtvandcomics · 4 months

Text

The Public Domain Character Horror Movie Discourse is... NOT something I would have seen coming. Like, GUYS, this is the Internet. Two things that are pretty much guaranteed to happen if people can get away with it are weird porn and cheap horror stories. It is just what is the easiest to produce, feels subversive given the aggressively enforced family-friendliness of these characters, and is a nice fuck you to the authorities that are keeping most of humanities' creative patrimony locked away from us.

It is just something that needs to get out of people's system. Then we can go back to... Not really doing much with these characters, actually. I didn't exactly go looking for it, but I also haven't seen any Winnie the Pooh art cross my bubble since it entered the Public Domain. Apart from that one horror movie, that is.

#what I'm surprised by is that nobody has tried to sell Steamboat Willie T-shirts yet #like I get why people would be scared to do so #but how did NOBODY do it yet #it isn't just the fear of Disney either #Sherlock Holmes lost the last bit of coypright last year #it has been one year and no major Sherlock Holmes projects that I'm aware of happened #again I'm not following too closely #what about Tarzan? Zorro?#Just to name some of the REALLY famous ones #crickets that's what #at least the crappy horror movie division is doing SOMETHING #Public Domain Day #Public Domain characters #this is about #Mickey Mouse #in case you didn't realize

6 notes · View notes

paris-geller-was-straightwashed · 1 year

Text

February Writing Challenge (2/28)

day two! *ringing cowbell* give it up for day two!!

let’s hope I can keep this up.

Prompt: ‘Kiss’

Pairing: Jackie/Elora (Reservation Dogs)

Words: 1,998

Rating: T (not for content, just for canon-typical language)

Notes: I just love this ship your honour. I wanted to do some sweet, fluffy scenarios of giddy, nervous first kisses with your crush who you like so much - stupid, fun teenager stuff basically - but not at the same time, make it so fluffy that it doesn’t match with the actual vibe of the characters and comes of as OOC. I hope I found a good mix!

Jackie was sure she knew more about skydiving then she did about dating.

Especially first dates. The right places to go, the right things to say – fuck, she spent half an hour the day before just trying to find the right shirt to wear out! It’s stupid. Most of the time, she couldn’t give a shit what she looked like.

Not with Elora, though.

She was going fuckin’ soft, is what it was. The way that shiver ran up her spine when their shoulders brushed. How her palms sweated at the thought of wrapping Elora’s hand in hers. The fact that she actually let Elora beat her at her favourite game of air hockey, just because that pure elated smile jumping over her face meant more to Jackie then anything else.

Her brother would be taking the absolute shit our of her right now, if he could see her like this.

It was their old stomping ground they went to, actually, the games arcade her and Micah used to waste any spare coins on. Jackie ended up suggesting it to Elora, because, frankly, she’d failed to think up any other solution to a ‘first date’ and really, she thinks Elora was just as eager to get off the rez and into town.

It worked out in her favour though. The evening hours flew by, spending it battling out behind the toy wheels of racing games or over the foosball table, betting each other who could score the most in a row over at the basketball hoops (Jackie did manage to win that one). Elora tried to claim that she clearly had had enough practice to learn how to cheat, a smile threatening over her lips. Jackie rolled her eyes in return.

“Yeah yeah, I could still smoke you if you wanna go a second round – but it’s probably ‘cause you’re standing, like, a fuckin’ mile away from the hoop. You gotta, like, centre yourself better..

She barely saw the way Elora eyed her as she gestured at the dark-haired girls’ stance – and the faint glint of mirth that sparked in those deep brown eyes. Another smile flicked over her face.

What, are you gunna like..pull a Patrick Swayze to show me or somethin’?..

The off-handed line caused Jackie to stutter. Did Elora really just pull that coy, I’m-only-partially-joking line out of her fucking back pocket?? Quiet, serious, carrying-the-world-on-her-shoulders Elora Danan?

Heart hammering in her throat, Jackie dared to take a dive and gently placed her hands on both of Elora’s elbows to direct her. Elora easily followed the careful pull as Jackie re-centred her, the blonde all-too aware of how close she hung off her shoulder, so when the beat-up basketball flew through the air, it sailed through the basket.

The night starting to encroach with a heavy blue evening sky hanging over, they were headed home. Sipping on their king-size slurpees and chuckling over Elora’s story of how Bear’s mom once did actually dress him up in a bear costume for Halloween when he was five, no one wanted to admit that the night was ending – but they couldn’t live in the arcade forever, and Jackie had promised her aunt she’d have her car back by nine, and she didn’t have a single doubt that if she was even a minute behind that woman would hunt her down.

The problem with the night closing in, is that Jackie had no fucking idea how to end it.

She did the proper thing of dropping Elora off at her home, even walking her to the door. Now they stood at the cement front steps, the soft yellow of the overhead light enveloped around them, pulling them in to the circle of light so it felt as if the world was just the two of them. They both took their time, drawing each ticking second out, the giddy nervousness becoming thicker in the air. They fidgeted on the steps, a little too nervous to look the other in the eye.

“..So, uh, I..” Jackie tried to form a sentence after the deafening silence became too much “I guess uh..I guess that’s our time..”

She tried to just shrug it off, play it cool, and instead it came out way too fucking awkward. Fuck. Elora glanced back at her from where she stood before the faded front door.

“Yeah..I guess..” She echoed, as if dusted with disappointment “But, hey..um..Jackie..”

Jackie perked up with a sudden ugly twist in her stomach. The words that followed that kind of sentence, could either be golden or totally catastrophic.

Fuck I fucked it up I knew I’d fuck it up –

“I just..wanted to say how much fun I had.” Elora was smiling, that rare light shining off her “Like..the most fun in a long time..”

Shit. Jackie could’ve been struck by lightening then and there and she wouldn’t have even been mad. Elora smiling at her saying this – that was the best damn thing since she arrived in this dump of a town.

“For real?..” She asked softly, her own smile threatening to break out.

“Yeah..” Elora confirmed, a pink bloom rising over her cheeks that was far too adorable, resorting to jokingly shoving Jackie in the shoulder “Just fuckin’ take the win..”

Jackie chuckled, hearing laughter in return. The silence crept back on, but it wasn’t as scary as before. She tried not to teeter back on her heels, fists she’d shoved in her pants pockets clenching.

Just do it do it don’t be a little bitch do it –

“Cool. So, um..I...” in the end, Jackie sort of admitted defeat, head ducking down as she rubbed the back of her neck “I uh...I don’t really know..how to end these..”

“What makes you think I know?” Elora raised a brow in return, shuffling with the same nerves “I think, I mean – from what I’ve heard or whatever – there’s usually...you know..”

The terrifying, exhilarating word lay out in the air, unspoken. Jackie nodded a bit too fast, trying to swallow though her thick throat.

“Right. Yeah. I mean..we uh...just ‘cause everyone else does that or whatever doesn’t mean..– I mean, if you don’t want to..–”

“You don’t want to kiss me?” Elora broke in, her brow rising even higher. Jackie’s eyes nearly popped out.

“No! Fuck, I mean – yes! Shit, I-I just, I do, I didn’t wanna force you –”

Gentle chuckling abruptly cut her off. Elora was smiling again, eyes sparkling.

“I’m just fucking with you.”

Jackie slumped, her eyes squeezing shut in realization. Part of her wants to be mad at the heart attack she nearly had – the other part of her...had to admit that was a pretty good one. A smile started cracking over her lips.

“Fuck you too..” She muttered. Elora giggled again. “Thing is..I..”

“Look, Jackie..” the blonde re-centred herself to Elora’s warm expression, finding an almost nervous vulnerability “You’re tripping yourself up; stop sweating it. I had a good time hanging out, okay?..”

Jackie would say she was more then ‘tripping herself up’ at this rate. But Elora had a point. She nodded again, quicker, to shake off her nerves.

“Right. I’ll uh..I’ll see you tomorrow then?..”

Pussy.

Amazing how her inner voice sounded somewhat exactly like her brother’s...

Jackie tried to ignore it, but couldn’t completely. Because she was wussing out. Simply wishing her date goodnight and trotting off the steps, well, seemed rather lacklustre. She liked Elora a lot. This isn’t how she wanted to leave the whole thing by just kind of shoving it aside.

At the same time, she had no idea what the fuck to do. Messing it up felt like an even worse outcome then taking the cowards way out. If Elora had enjoyed the date, then maybe she should simply leave it at that.

Right?

Stop being a little bitch about it –

“Yeah..”

Elora’s voice brought her back to reality again. The dark-haired girl had now backed up to the door to lean against it, hand pressing down on the handle, hovering on her exit. She was still smiling back at Jackie, but, it was different. It didn’t have the same light, and Jackie quickly read, like a punch to the gut, the disappointment in it.

“I’ll uh..see you later..”

That was all the invitation Jackie needed to leave – instead she hovered. Partially perched on the final front doorstep, partially twisted towards where Elora was standing. Seconds slowed. Jackie felt like she was tearing in two, and didn’t want to leave Elora who was quietly pulling away like this.

She just didn’t want to mess this up and she liked her so much and she hadn’t even done this before and –

Fuck it.

Jackie suddenly jumped back up the step, rushing her way back to Elora. She barely had time to recognize the dark eyes drawing wide, before, almost as if all on it’s own, her hand effortlessly slipped around Elora’s waist to hold her in place and then her lips were over the pink ones.

Just like that.

It wasn’t like Jackie had anything to compare it to but holy shit. It was so soft. So soft she felt like she could’ve dropped to her fucking knees. Elora had initially frozen up, but before Jackie could worry about it, that tentative nature came out as she carefully moved her lips to kiss back.

The whole world slowed. Jackie could hear her heart beating out of control in her ears, and Elora’s soft breaths. Elora tasted like cherry – that bright, bursting red from her slurpee, that Jackie saw had coated her tongue when she caught Elora laughing – and, faintly, the remaining stickiness of vanilla chapstick at the corner of her mouth. It was everything more then she’d been imagining.

Fuck, I like her so much. Fuckfuckfuckfuck –

Jackie pulled away. Mostly, for air. She did her best to do it slowly, steadying them. Her eyes fluttered open – and they immediately found Elora’s big, soft brown ones. She looked about as dazed as Jackie felt. And as wonderfully so. They both could only stand there, breathing heavy, lips still hovering so close all it would take was one of them crossing the couple inches and give in again.

Fuck I gotta say something, crap –

“I..I’m..I just..” nothing was coming out, her words so jumbled it might as well be fucking alphabet soup in her brain, that her anxiety just bit down on the first comprehensible word “.....Bye.”

She spun, rushing with as much speed back down the porch steps and to the car. Elora was left there, trying to come back to reality – and smiling. Half from the kiss, and the other half because she could hear Jackie angrily hissing to herself as she scrambled to the car

“Fuck fuck what the fuck was that you asshole jesus shit –”

Jackie ripped open the car door, sitting back and smacking her palms into her forehead. She couldn’t believe herself.

What a way to both kiss the girl and run away at the same time.

She wasn’t sure how long she sat there wallowing, the porch light off and the door closed to Elora’s house. The thing that pulled her out was the sudden buzz of her phone, lighting up with a text.

Sure it was her aunt yell-texting her to hurry up and bring the car home, Jackie felt her heart knot in her throat when she saw Elora’s name.

[Elora] just so u kno, I’m game to try that a 2nd time

[Elora} as long as you don’t run away again.

[Elora] luckily I like the taste of blue raspberry.

Jackie blinked back. Then she flicked her gaze to her own slurpee cup in the holster, the battery-acid blue liquid still sloshing around in the bottom. A grin grew over her. She brought her fingers to her lips, gently, finding the sticky trace of chapstick.

She wasn’t sure how she’d make it till tomorrow without thinking about getting to kiss Elora Danan all over again.

#reservation dogs #rez dogs #elora danan #bear smallhill #willie jack #and cheese! can't forget about him #jackie reservation dogs #she doens't have a last name which means she gets the show title tacked on instead #fanfiction #february writing challenge #I love my angry lesbian teens so much I just want them to have a nice time #elora x jackie #still don't know how to tag

19 notes · View notes

ashleyishere24 · 2 months

Text

tumbrrrrr

the more I use Tumblr the more I like it but I refuse to use it more then I already do to spite someone in particular

#Tumblr #“it’s the power of” Spite/ref #You’re projecting #gay women #I’m not naming names #Callisto #bestie #I don’t care how small the room is I cast fireball #“I’m not crazy I just don’t give a fuck” -Willy 1984 #Wgasah #Hashtag “roommates” with Skywarp canon #Horhorhorhorhorhorhorhorhorhorhorhorhor #At least it wasn’t FREDDY FAZBEAR #It’s 2am on valentines I am running out of ideas and I am tired #The last one was a lie I have loads of ideas #Gay

2 notes · View notes

legolasghosty · 1 year

Note

hi dino bones bestie, hope you’re having a great week!! can i request fluffy prompt 6. “Should I bring you some lunch today?” for willex? also good luck with the school papers!

OKAY HELLO HI I'M SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG!!!!! School was nuts and I had no time and no spoons, but it's spring break now so I have a dash of free time! Here you go, my dino bones bestie! Hope you like it!!!!

Willie closes his office door behind Danny, then lets his head fall forward against the cool surface. They don't regret becoming a therapist, not by a long shot, but sometimes it's just... exhausting. It's exhausting to care so much.

He wishes he could reach inside Danny's head and rewire the little part that makes him do everything in 4s, even just for a day to give the kid a break from his own mind. Or snap his fingers and get the teachers to stop deadnaming Amy. Or just fix any one of so many issues their patients had to deal with every day. But they can't. And some days, it just kills them.

He opens a drawer in his desk and pulls out their phone. Maybe he can catch Alex between recording sessions. Talking with their husband has always been a great way to get Willie out of his head. Even if it's just over text.

Willie - How goes the studio things?

Alex responds in less than a minute, so one of his bandmates must be in the booth at the moment.

Alexander Ortega <3 - Pretty good! Luke and Reggie have only resorted to throwing things at each other once! How are things at the office?

Willie chuckles, the nervous energy in his fingers fading a bit at Alex's lighthearted words.

Willie - Things are going okay here. I'm just tired.

Alexander Ortega <3 - Good tired or bad tired?

Willie - ...sad tired? I just wish there was more I could do to help everybody.

Alexander Ortega <3 - That makes sense. You care about them. Do you want to talk about it?

Willie considers it for a moment. They do want to talk about it. Alex has some kind of listening magic that lets him listen to Willie ramble on for half an hour and somehow get what they were trying to say. (Alex always rolls his eyes when Willie calls it magic, claiming it's just cause they've known each other for so long, but Willie knows the truth.) And that sounds really good right about now.

But Willie has another appointment in half an hour. He can't really fall apart right now, because there won't be the time to pick up the pieces. It will have to wait until after their next 2 appointments. Their afternoon is open, just some paperwork to deal with. And he'll have dinner at home with Alex. They just have to wait a bit.

Willie - I got another appointment soon. But later talking would be great.

Alexander Ortega <3 - Your last one gets out at 2, right? Should I bring you some lunch after that? Or we can go out if you want. With the way Julie and Luke are looking at each other, I'm pretty sure we're going to call it good on the recording soon anyways. Before everyone else in here starts having to play 3rd wheel.

Willie laughs. They can almost picture the heart eyes going between the couple. Julie and Luke always get like that when they're singing together. He has a feeling Alex knew the story would make him laugh.

Willie - YES that would be amazing!!! I love you so much!!! Just pick something up on the way, I don't really care what as long as it has calories.

Alexander Ortega <3 - Yes Ma'am! I love you too, see you at 2 <333

Willie leans back in his chair. They're still exhausted, but it's a bit better now. Alex always manages to do that. Even when the both of them are having a terrible day, just being with Alex makes Willie feel more at ease. It really is like magic. In their personal opinion.

#and then Alex shows up with stupid American Chinese food and like 10 fortune cookies #and they eat on the floor in Willie's office with the window cracked open to let the smell out #and there is lots of talking about serious and not serious stuff #and they definitely feed each other fortune cookie pieces #and Willie feels better #it's not perfect of course #but talking through it with Alex helps a lot #they're in love your honor #also side note Alex definitely took Willie's last name to annoy his parents #like also because he loves the idea of it being immediately obvious that he's Willie's person #but the spiting his parents thing was definitely a vote in its favor #okay I have more thoughts but I've rambled too long so I'll shut up now!#legolas tag #julie and the phantoms #jatp fanfic #willex #jatp #alex mercer #willie jatp #legolas filled prompt

16 notes · View notes