#but i couldn't get into a bar or anything unless they were weird

[cicadaland]

I wish men flirting with other men wasn't seen as a joke or a threat by society in general. The only way i could really get in on that is either during a pride parade (maybe) or if i went to a gay bar which i cant do because i don't have an id (not a fake one I mean).

[nonotnolan]

Spring Break

Simon let out a deep sigh as he dropped Aiden's bookbag onto the floor of his dorm room. "Alright, man, you're all set," he said, giving Aiden a friendly nod. "I've taken the last of your mid-term final exams. Unless there's anything else you needed for me to do while I'm in your body, we're clear to swap back."

The first time Aiden had approached him, offering $200 to swap bodies for an exam... Simon had thought it was some sort of prank. The magical amulet was very real, as it turned out. How Aiden had found the item was unclear, but Simon had quickly learned that Aiden had no moral qualms about inhabiting other people's bodies. He was the fifth generation in a long line of successful businessmen, and so the expectation that money could buy anything he wanted had been hard-coded into Aiden's personality. After all, it bought him admission to a prestigious college and membership into one of the most competitive fraternities. Why couldn't money also buy you the expertise that you needed to succeed?

He fidgeted with the collar of his shirt. "I... actually, I did have a proposition for you," he said, avoiding eye contact. Ever since Aiden had learned that Simon was a gay man, he had been requesting that their quick academic swaps last longer and longer. Aiden was still in the closet, and living Simon's life for an evening allowed him to experience the life he wanted to live while still maintaining his straight-laced reputation.

Simon crossed his arms in annoyance. "I mean, I was planning on spending most of my Spring Break playing video games, but I know you're going to make it worth my time. What were you thinking, the first weekend?"

"The graduating seniors of my fraternity always book an eight day excursion out to the Hamptons. My proposal is that you would attend the trip in my stead."

"Jesus fuck, Aiden!' he yelled, taking a moment to process what he had just heard. "Eight days? Are you serious? This is the first time we'll be swapped for more than 12 hours, and you're just giving me a whole-ass week? What happens if your brothers get suspicious?"

Aiden just rolled his eyes. "Please, we both know I'm massively unpopular in the fraternity. They'll probably find you to be an improvement. Father allocated $20,000 for the week, plus travel and lodging. Anything you don't spend is yours to keep. What do you say?" Seeing his own body make Aiden's characteristic smarmy grin was still a really weird experience.

"I... Jesus, dude..." Simon would never be able to understand Aiden's detachment from the value of money. "I still can't believe you want to be me so badly. I mean... okay, look... that's tempting as hell, but... it was weird enough knowing that you've taken my body out to the bar scene. I don't know if I'm comfortable letting you live my life for over a week. What if you run into someone I know?"

"Oh, I wasn't planning to stay around here," he said, growing more excited as he began to sway Simon. "I've been preparing this trip for a few months by withdrawing Father's allowance and saving it up in case you said yes. If you give me your body for a week, I'll be flying out to San Francisco. Anyway, don't sell yourself short, this body is fantastic."

Simon shook his head in disbelief. "I mean... I want to argue, but I'd have to be an idiot to leave that much money sitting on the table. Alright, you've bought yourself a Spring Break trip." He picked Aiden's bag back up off the ground as he mentally steeled himself for a week in the life of an out-of-touch social scion. "Alright... do I need any extra information to pull this off, or...?"

Aiden hopped to his feet and wrapped him in an awkward bear hug. "Oh, you're the best. I'll forward you the trip reservations, and I'll change the PIN to my debit card so that you can just use that. See you in a week!"

"Yeah... see you in a week..." Simon echoed. He pulled out Aiden's phone, and scrolled down to the one person in the Fraternity who knew about Simon's secret, Aiden's roommate Grant. "You were right," he said, once Grant picked up the phone. "Aiden offered a swap over Spring Break and it was too good to turn down."

"Hah! Called it!" Grant said, with a triumphant laugh. "I told you you he would. I made certain to emphasize how much pussy all of us were going to be chasing out in the Hamptons, just in case he was on the fence about it."

Simon couldn't help but laugh. "Aiden really hasn't figured out that you're gay after all this time, has he?"

"Of course not, that would involve him paying attention to someone other than himself. And it had better stay that way-- dude's annoying enough without him having some sort of puppy dog crush on me. Anyway, I hope you're ready for a week of rampant debauchery in the Hamptons. Aiden's body is sexy as fuck when literally anyone else is inside of it. And we both know how sexy my body is."

The incoming text message was the only reason Simon realized that Grant had already hung up, but he was not about to complain about receiving a pic like that.

[vyloy]

Albert x reader dubcon pls :)))))

Albert James Moriarty

╰┈➤tw: dub-con, sub bottom male reader, kidnapping.

"Sherlock, you really have to focus on getting rid of *them*!", you say, a bit irritated due to how distracted he has been these past couple of months, it was all because of this one individual, William James Moriarty, an interesting fellow, although you have done your homework on him and his brothers, you weren't able to discover anything weird about them other than the fact they all made it out of a burning mansion with each other and nobody else, odd but not odd enough to tip you off. "I am! Just let me figure this out...And you're one to talk when you're always distracted by the brunette anyways", he says, not even turning around to face you, you were offended but couldnt deny the fact you've been interested in Albert but you've always focused on finding the brothers unlike Sherlock who has been focusing so much time on reading the newspapers about the crime lord or whatever, you understand it's important but not as important as the Moriartys quite literally sending a letter addressing the both of you, "Sherlock Holmes, we need to go", you say sternly, grabbing your coat and heading out in the dead of night, knowing Sherlock would follow you sooner or later.

Walking down the streets of London, you could hear the crawing of crows, really odd, they never craw unless there's danger-

Just as you were thinking about it, a dark figure runs past the alleyway beside you, you pause, realizing you should have never came out at might, especially not alone, you tried to brush it off, showing no fear as you walked back to the apartment, just as you were about to arrive safely, someone grabs you from behind, "Hey!-", "shh, be quiet if you will", the very much familiar voice hushes you, you try to remember whose voice it belongs to but fail to remember and just remain quiet. After a couple minutes of just standing there quietly, not making a sound, not that you could make much, the hand covering your mouth would muffle any sound you would make - the mysterious voice lets go of you, setting you free, you turn to look at the person and found a pair of green eyes staring back at you, "My apologies Mr L/n for having to cover your mouth like that, we couldn't have you screaming", "we?", just as you asked the question, you black out, probably due to the drug that was on Albert's gloves.

When you awoke, you were in a luxurious room, definitely more luxurious than what you could ever afford. You examined the room, still processing what had just happened and also trying to figure out whose manor you were in, it wasn't too hard to figure out it was the Moriarty's due to Albert being the last person you saw before passing out cold. You get up and walk around, examining things closer, of course you checked the windows first, removing the curtains and seeing if you could escape, unfortunately the windows are barred up in a way you wouldn't be able to escape even if you tried. You then checked the desk across from the bed, an ink pen, a few papers and also a candle were placed neatly ontop of said desk, making it look clean, 'this room is extravagant...', you thought to yourself, almost forgetting the fact that you were kidnapped, you shook your head and regained your composure, a knock on the door catches your attention as you quickly ran to the bed, pretending to still be asleep and hoping whoever walks in won't realize. "Hm?", a man's voice is heard, footsteps slowly walking beside the bed, "still asleep..?", he whispers to himself and not a moment later, footsteps are walking further and further away from you and the door is shut. As you thought you were in the clear, you opened your eyes, getting up, only to see Albert still standing in the room, a smile on his face as he notices your 'now awake' figure, "good evening Mr L/n", his smile stays the same as his head tilts a bit towards the left.

5 days have passed since you first arrived at the manor, the food has been exceptionally good, everything was set up in a way you could still enjoy yourself despite being kidnapped. It was now night time, you were reading a book and writing down some important things to do after you get out as Albert sits beside you, much of his attention is towards you. Suddenly, you hear someone entering the manor, as they speak, you can hear that it's clearly Sherlock, it seems Albert also heard as he is nervously fidgeting his fingers, "Y/n, forgive me", was all he says before grabbing your wrist, smudging your hand writing and pushes you onto the bed, "Albert?", you say in a confusing voice, why would he even push you onto the bed? "Do cooperate", he says before suddenly attacking your neck, licking it before biting down, "ACK!?", you try pushing him off but he's too strong, "shh", he says, still leaning on your neck, his nose brushing up against your neck gets you flustered, "Albert..! stop this!", you try to yell at him but his hand covers your mouth, muffling any sound from you, you eventually give up trying to fight back, hearing voices getting near the room, you try your best to stay quiet as Albert continues to mark your neck, "I heard some voices from here", "that was probably your imagination, please take your business downstairs, it is very impolite to barge into someone's room", you hear the voices of Sherlock and William, they seem to be fighting even if they're not raising their voices. The handle shakes, making your heart drop for a second but then you realized it's locked and the footsteps start fading into the distance. Albert finally looks at you, "did that scare you?", not knowing how to put it into words, you simply nod. Thinking this was over, you tried getting up, only to be blocked by Albert's body, his hand grabbing your wrist as you try to hit him, "my apologies but you're simply too delectable", was all he said before pushing you down yet again, undoing his tie with a smirk on his face.

"O-oh, good evening!", you stutter and blush a bit, embarrassed as you were caught in the act. Albert walks towards the bed, sitting on the bed and he apologizes, "I am very sorry to have to inconvenience you, I'm sure you and Mr Holmes have figured it out by now that...", he lets you finish the sentence, "that the Moriartys are the ones behind the lord of crime", "precisely", "that still doesn't explain why you kidnapped me all of a sudden", you demanded an answer, why would they keep YOU locked up and not Sherlock?, "It's obvious Mr Holmes cares for you but it's also obvious he'll do anything to stop my brother from doing the ultimate sacrifice, we need you to be a distraction as we can't allow our plan to be ruined", "so I'm a hostage?", "emm, if you put it like that..", he smiles nervously, not knowing what to say as you have figured out what he was trying to sugarcoat, "how long will i be held hostage?", "until the plan succeeds, at least a week and a half", "alright, you won't harm him in any way, right?", you ask with an intimidating expression, enough to make Albert a little more nervous, "we won't", "alright then, i'm okay with this, if you keep your promise".

With him being stronger, you had a hard time resisting against his lust but you would be lying if you said you didnt enjoy it even a bit, "A-Albert stop", "I'm sorry but i don't think i'll be able to, darling", as that nickname left his mouth, you melted a bit, the way he said it was full of lust, so inviting. The two of you were now so lost in lust, you couldn't even think anymore, did you want this? You had no answer to that question, too lost in the moment, "Y/n...please cry my name", he says just as he enters you, making you scream a bit, it was so sudden, you never even realized he had prepared you with his fingers just a few moments ago, your mind was just blank, "Albert..stop, stop this!", you cried out, you still took him so well, your hole just so tight around his cock, he couldn't stop even if he wanted to, your hole was inviting him, your cock dribbling with pre-cum, "please..", you continue to moan, not caring if others could hear your noises, this felt so wrong, having sex with your kidnapper, with the man involved in a string of murders and disappearances.

His voice was angelic, even if he was a demon right now, his moans were delicate, his groans were turning you on more than you'd like to admit, "It'll be okay, we'll be together", is the only thing he says before pumping your hole full of his cum, with just a few more thrusts, you also came, your chest full of cum and so was your hole, "A-Albert...", was all you said, you start to feel a bit light headed, Albert was there to support you, he pulls out and watches his cum seeping out of your hole, you were so full of his seed, "I'll show you so much more, stay with me Y/n".

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Taglist: @secretivemessenger @jkloserdazai @devilswhore-emrys

Been so busy these past few days, i keep saying i'm busy but it's true i promise😭 my s/o's birthday was a few days ago and i prepared so many stuff i felt like i would pass out

[thechaoticscenejester]

New tadc au soon!!

The au:

⚠Trigger warning: Alcohol use, drugs, abuse⚠

Okay, I have no idea if this is already made or something but I had this idea that Caine was actually a human in the past.

This isn't a theory so there's like no evidence but in the au Caine was the father of Pomni, age 13, and, with his brother Able, was one of the CEO's of Caine & Able industries and they were working on tadc, a new vr game.

With all this work, he left Pomni (I have no name ideas) alone at home a lot. She was alone almost all the time and her mother couldn't even stand up unless it was to get another bottle.

One day, Caine left to work and never returned. Pomni was soon informed that he went missing at work. Even with an investigation, Caine was nowhere to be found. Soon, Pomni went to live with Able and her mother was arrested for child abvse.

Pomni, now age 15, was happy for a short while. Able was starting to act weird and it worried Pomni. Able was seemingly getting angry and more irritable. Pomni, having delt with her mother, knew not to bother him. With this ignorance, Pomni was able to do drvgs and Able never knew.

After years of neglectance, Pomni, now 20, moved out and took notice that Able seemed upset that she left. She shrugged it off and got a small apartment for herself. She soon got her life back on track but struggled to find a job.

She lived alone for 5 years until she got a call from Able. He asked her to come visit his job for opportunities and Pomni, needing a job, agreed and drove to C&A industries.

Able dazzled her and got her to come with him to the basement room to try the new vr set model. She had a bad feeling but didn't think he would do anything to her... why would he anyways?

When they went down and Able suddenly hit her on the side of the head with a metal bar, knocking her out. When she woke up, Able had tied her down and forced the headset onto her head.

When Pomni woke up, she woke up in the circus...

After math:

Eventually, Pomni finds out that Caine is her father and this sends her off. She remembers how he left her with an abvsive mother and then disappeared and snapped in front of everyone, Shocking them.

It basically went like this:

Caine feels bad and tries to make it up to Pomni and be a better father to her in the circus. He even tries to help her find the exit or a glitch in the code.

With this, chaos unfolds as Able enters the circus and Caine disappears again. This makes Pomni think that he's abandoning her again and it makes her stomach curl. Soon, the circus members find out what really happened to Caine. Pomni couldn't be more angry.

(Want more? Don't forget to leave a like or reblog! That will give me more motivation to continue)

[a-libra-writes]

I saw your Lackadaisy headcanons and I couldn't be happier cause this fandom needs more love. Can you do one for Mordecai with a female reader who's love language is acts of services and physical touch. Like, she has almost no sense of personal space (she really doesn't mean to make him uncomfortable) and if absolutely FLUSTERS poor Mordecai especially when he becomes aware of his feelings after a SLOW burn built up. Thank you so much for the awesome work and keep it up ❤️

Ayo so I actually got like 2 other messages about a Pt.2 to the first Mordecai headcanons, so Im adding this onto that! Again for some reason this murdercat got away from me so its a long boy. I attempted to keep it organized ,, , ,

First order of business, Mitzi ships it.

Back when Atlas bought her that nifty camera, she didn't just take embarrassing photos of Mordecai. She got some pretty cute candid shots of you around the bar, and a kinda-blurry-but-not-too-bad photo of you and Mordecai outside the big cafe window, talking to each other and not aware you were being photographed. It's pretty artsy, if she says so herself. She tucks the photos in Mordecai's desk and directly hands you the silly ones she took of him.

Actually, she clocked your feelings early on, but figured he wasn't interested. Didn't seem like the kind of guy, which is a shame. You're a sweetie. She hadn't seen you both act any different for a long time, so maybe that crush fizzled out? But if you ever bring it up with Mitzi, she's your #1 support. She's gonna set you up nice and give you all sorts of tips that just ... fall flat. Jeez, she knew Mordecai was unapproachable, but is it really going to take this long ...?

Viktor also figured your feelings out (albeit later), but that ain't his business. You had odd taste, though. He thinks it's pretty funny when other people flirt with you and Mordecai's suddenly in a foul mood and doesn't understand why. At least you two aren't hanky panky or anything, eugh, and you keep your heads during firefights. Anytime Viktor tries to bring up the topic (which, granted, is like a grand total of three times), he's so round about and non-direct that you have no idea what he's getting at. Oh well.

(If the idea of you two being a couple is brought up with anyone else, they can scarcely believe it. You? With him? Good luck. Only Atlas seems to see it, though his employee's love lives aren't relevant unless it gets in the way of business.)

Actually, if you're a more exuberant and affectionate type, that just makes people question your taste in him even more. The first few interactions didn't go great - you touched him without thinking, like you do most people, and he flinched so hard it's like you hurt him. Second time he hissed. Right, you got the picture. You became more mindful and considerate of his personal space, that plus an apology goes a long way.

Once you both are more familiar and have more trust, you can put a hand on Mordecai's shoulder or back without him reacting much. You can even squeeze his shoulder if you're trying to be reassuring, or silently warning him. Sometimes you just say "Hey, I'm gonna touch you," and you fix his coat or check a bruise. He lets you get away with more than others because you ask first.

(Sometimes he feels bad for it - you'll rush to hug your friends and you're so happy in their embrace, then you bound over to him and clearly restrain yourself as you touch his arm.)

Eventually you ask for hugs - quick ones! Special occassions only! But sometimes you're obviously distressed so he just. Lets it happen, briefly. If this is before admitting any feelings to each other or even himself, it's brief. If this is many years into this weird sort-of-understanding-relationship thing you both have, he'll quietly hold you while you get your emotions out. It's the least he can do, it really is. Mordecai already feels like he isn't deserving of whatever this is, and moreso if you're clearly someone who needs and wants physical attention and comfort.

But he does try, in his way. He'll reach over and take your hand. He gets used to sitting shoulder to shoulder, your tails brushing each other, or letting you lean on him when you're both exhausted. He actually likes it quite a bit when you slightly lean as you read and he does paperwork. It's nice to have that solid warmth, and comfortable quiet.

Mordecai lives in the main building above the cafe, long after he could afford an apartment. More economical and practical, he reasons. If Atlas needs something, he's right there. When you begin inviting him to dinner at your place, very slowly, he starts lingering afterward. Mordecai tries to make it like it's because it's easier to do numbers there - better lighting, your place is quieter, and so on. Nevermind the warm dinner and the nice fire in the fireplace and some low music on the radio and you reading something while his pencil scratches the paper. It ... really brings up some old thoughts and memories.

You've gotten bits and pieces of his family history during these times, usually after you've shared some of his own first. Clearly he doesn't like talking about it. You don't push it. You just listen to what he volunteers, and thank him for listening to you in kind.

Note, he always goes home, no matter how late it is. You feel like it's one of those lines that'll be tough to cross. Hell, just inviting him over was tough at first. He walked into your living space just fine in the day, when he was waiting to pick you up for a job. There'd be some comments on the dust or some examining of your plants, but nothing odd. When he comes by for dinner, he's initially tense until he settles in, and eventually he's quite at ease. Over the years he brought several plants in because he always heard you're supposed to bring flowers for the host, but flowers die quickly, and besides this variety of ivy is different because --

(You end up with a tidy windowsill of houseplants, and start having to put some on your counters. Mordecai gets flustered and suggests maybe you should get rid of some, and you reply you absolutely won't. When he waits for you to get ready, he checks their water and pulls some dead leaves. Might as well, right?)

As expected, kissing and intimate touches will be slow-going. You start simple: a quick good-bye kiss on the cheek when he leaves your apartment in the evening. The first time, Mordecai's hairs stand on end and his tail poofs up but! He assures you it was fine. He's fine. When the bar's empty and he's heading out, you give a quick 'good luck' kiss before hurrying off. You initiate all of them until one day when you'te both walking to the car, covered in (someone else's) blood and debating something silly, and once there's a lull in the conversation he just. Leans over and kisses you. It's only lasts a few seconds, then he just pulls away, fixes his glasses and trips walks to the car.

You're a bit dazed the rest of the drive and he's just a mess of nerves.

After that you can give him kisses now and again, but he gets flustered easily and it’s definitely a private matter. It's only around Viktor that you can touch and fuss over Mordecai, but that only leads to the old man snorting and the two of them starting to argue. Viktor's pretty damn surprised you're both that close, though. How long has it been that way?

Oh, and then there's drunk Mordecai. Oh boy.

This has only happened like, two times, because he does not drink. Period, the end, close curtain. He knows how he gets and he hates it. It doesn't take much of whatever questionable piss whiskey to get him swaying and seeing double. He'll flop on your shoulder and ramble about you're so wonderful and he's really not sure why you like him, also could you stop moving the room, oh and he's killed a man for you, but nevermind that you're such a darling person --

He's so sloshed. The novelty starts to wear off when he's falling over and you're having to get him home because apparently Viktor did it last time. At least Mordecai's a bean pole. If he's drunk in your apartment, thank god, you can just pull him over to your room so he can sleep it off. He's still going on about who-knows-what while you take off his shoes and coat. What's this about murdering who for you? Whatever, he's probably confused. Probably.

(You sleep on the couch and at 7am sharp you're awakened by a loud THUNK and panicked shouting as he still-drunkedly tries to orient himself and figure out where the hell he is. Hes so humiliated by everything he just avoids you for several days.)

Oh, last thing.

Mordecai will kill someone for you. Period. No questions asked. Viktor would too, yes, but after explaining and questioning and he'd go with you and hide the body. Mordecai just does it. Abusive partner, debt collector, a rival gang member tailing you, whoever - they're done for. He doesn't bring it up until you ask questions.

[fearmaiden]

|| Five Year Plan || A Reader X Jonathan Crane, slow burn fic ||

Synopsis: Every so often, the city of Gotham will randomly select one person to have a really, really bad day. This time, that lucky person is you!

Aka: Your stupid ass accidentally signs up to be a goon at a “Goon Hiring” Agency after your landlord increases the rent. Oops!

Word Count: 11,059

TW: General violence, drug use, coercion, and swearing.

Note: So, uhh. Still working on this concept that has gripped me by the throat. There’s a lot of little references scattered in this chapter to Arkham!Verse, Reeves!Verse & other DCU works. The Gotham this x Reader takes place in is sort of an eclectic jumble with it’s own unique timeline. For previous chapter, click here. Enjoy the second installment of “Please don’t tell my psychiatrist!”. ♡ And let me know what you think in my asks if you want~

Banner art made by: @skxtchyghost

Song: “Are You Satisfied?” by Marina & The Diamonds

It wasn't a bad job. As far as employment went in Gotham, it was okay. Ish. The pay wasn't horrible and the location was a quick, 15 minute, monorail ride away from home. And sometimes, when the manager wasn't there, you got control over what songs the radio played. All this considering, you really couldn't complain. There were worse ways to get a paycheck... However, today's shift at the Cadmus Bar had you wondering if that was true or if it was another lie you were telling yourself to cope?

Your questions began with the first wave of early morning customers who'd exploded through the door, eager for their (keto) protein shake to start off the day. Several complained that their drinks were made wrong even though they'd gotten the exact things that they'd ordered. One of them, a woman sporting a bob cut, screamed at you for making her gluten-free veggie wrap gluten-free. Another demanded that they use the bathrooms before ordering anything. You were forced to tell them that it was against company policy to allow "non-paying individuals" access to the restrooms unless they bought something first. This ignited a vitriol-fueled tirade where you (eventually) had to ask the person to leave. On their way out, they kicked over the store sign and damaged it. You'd tried fixing the frame but to no avail. It remained slightly crooked.

Shit snowballed in the afternoon, just before the lunch rush, when the new trainee spilled a whole tray of smoothies on a customer, then managed to lock their cashier register out of the system. A mistake that spelled doom for everyone else who was working front of house. Specifically, you. It'd taken HOURS to figure out what they'd done and by that time, the trainee had already clocked out. To top it all off, your (least favorite) manager had decided to pop in unexpectedly which meant the radio was now honed onto 95.6 The Outlaw Star, a station that only played country music. Really bad country music. The kind that grated on your ears as it repeated the same insipid chorus lines again and again and again...

You're almost certain crap like this violated parts of The Geneva Conventions. But, what could you honestly expect from a restaurant chain that was owned by Lex Luthor?

Well...

At least you weren't unemployed.

"I'd fuck him."

Whatever worries you had about your job totally vanished in an instant when Zen, your co-worker, made this off-handed remark while cleaning the lobby with you in-between customer flows. She gave no additional context after that, leaving you baffled.

Glancing around first to see if your manager was lurking nearby and not finding him, you ask Zen-

"What?"

-with a deadpan tone that distinctly conveys just how excited you are about the subject matter of this conversation and where you believe it's most likely headed.

"I think he's hot," she reiterates, "I mean, the suit is weird but I'd still fuck him."

You stop wiping off the sticky, juice residue from a tabletop to stare at Zen. "Care to, uh, elaborate a bit more?" You question her, "Because I'm lost here."

Your co-worker waved over at the TV perched in the lobby corner. It was set to the Gotham News Network. Displayed on screen, lead anchorman, Jack Ryder, was interviewing several Gothamites at the scene of a burnt-down brewery. A chyron banner underneath stated: "Ten People Saved in Joker Attack by The Batman, Grand Re-opening Postponed Indefinitely."

"Batman!" Zen announced as if it were obvious, "I think he's sexy. I mean, he's got those incredible pecs and that delicious jawline! I'd absolutely be down to fuck. But, he's gotta lose the suit in bed. Or wait! No, scratch that. He should leave it on..."

A giggle escaped from her. You continue to stare at your co-worker like she's suddenly grown two heads. Eventually, though, you clear your throat and go back to scrubbing the table. Zen scowled at this.

"Oh, c'mon!" She exclaimed, "Tell me you haven't thought about it. Not even once?"

You roll your eyes.

"Literally, not even once," you reply, voice devoid of enthusiasm while you continue to do your job. A bit of orange gunk had crusted onto the table and was being difficult against the force of your washcloth.

Zen didn't believe you.

"Liar," she said.

"It's the truth," you shoot back at her, applying a bit more pressure into your scrubbing. Still, that infuriating splotch remained.

A wicked grin curved along your co-worker's lips. Zen hopped onto the table. She leaned in toward you, invading your personal space and stopping you from cleaning. You glare at her sourly. It only encourages her to scoot even closer near you.

"Let's play a game of Fuck, Bang, Kill," she said, not waiting for your response either way before launching into her proposal, "I'll pick the options and you say 'fuck', 'bang', or 'kill'. Simple enough, right?"

"No."

"Okay!"

"Ugh, you're really gonna make me do this, aren't you?"

"Yup! No mercy!"

One brief moment passed where your co-worker tapped her finger against her chin. She looked to be deep in thought while considering the choices for the game. Knowing Zen, however, you figure she had probably come up with it weeks ago...

"Clayface," she said first, squinting (narrowly) at you for signs of a hidden monsterfucking fetish. 

This one is a no-brainer.

"Kill," you automatically reply, wasting zero time to deliberate.

"Killer Croc," she says next.

Frowning, you answer: "Kill."

"Firefly," Zen states, "But, you gotta let him move into your apartment."

"He'd set too many things on fire. Kill."

"Two Face."

"Double Kill."

"Scarface."

"I'm not into puppets, kill."

She tossed her hands in the air, "Oh my god, you can't just keep choosing kill! That's not how this game works!"

"Well," you shrug, "You said it was my choice. So, I'm just playing according to your rules."

"Joker and Harley Quinn."

"Kill them."

“Catwoman.”

“Eh, kill.”

"Poison Ivy."

"Ask why my succulent is dying, then kill."

"Mad Hatter."

"Do I look like an Alice? Kill.”

With the slightest hint of satisfaction, you watch as Zen's face betrayed her own frustration. There was practically (black) smoke billowing from her ears while she tried to guess which Rogue you'd be most likely to marry. Or fuck. You wonder how long it would take until she called it quits?? After all, the two of you still had a lobby to clean. If the manager caught you both slacking off, you'd get written up for sure.

Suddenly, your co-worker's face brightened.

"THE RIDDLER!" She exclaimed like she'd solved a crime, jabbing her index finger up into the air. "I bet you'd break for the Riddler."

You blink.

Something flickered in the back of your mind. An old memory that you thought you'd forgotten.

"Uh, kill?" You answer, although you sound a hint uncertain, "I don't know, you can't really see him behind that mask and I'm not sure I could handle his followers. Plus, those riddles..."

Zen pouted. You could tell she was getting close to admitting defeat. It was only a matter of time now. You give the stubborn splotch another hard scrub with your rag, really putting your arm into it. The tiniest portion was beginning to come off. However, you pause when you hear Zen suggest a name that you'd never heard of before:

"Well, how about that new one? The one that the news is calling the Scarecrow?"

You open your mouth to speak but find yourself interrupted by a rush of customers. Moms with their kids in soccer uniforms and teenagers who were just getting out of school. Zen lets loose a sigh, knowing that you'd been spared from her torture by fate or chance. At least, for now. She quickly rushed over to the cash register, putting on her "customer service" smile while she began taking orders, leaving you to finish up the lobby alone. You caught Zen glance over at you once as if to warn you that this wasn't over. Not by a long shot. 

Unfortunately, she wasn't someone who gave up easily…

Minutes before you were scheduled to take your ten, the manager calls you into his office. With a lazy wave, he gestures for you to sit down in the chair across from his own while he riffles through a filing cabinet behind his desk. You happened to sneak a peak and see that what your manager is picking through are employee folders. An unease settles over you when he yanks out a file labeled "[your name]," then places it down between you both as he takes a seat. He looks at you for just a moment, eyebrow raised.

"Where you do see yourself in five years??" He asks you.

Your mind is racing in all possible avenues at this question.

"E-Excuse me?" You stammer out finally, though it sounded as if your voice was just a squeak, "I don't understand what you're-"

"Back in March, when you filled out your resume, you said you were planning to go back to college next semester. Is that still true?"

Your manager cuts you off. He cracks open your file, selecting the job application that you'd filled out a year ago when you decided that you needed an extra source of income. Despite this city being a trash fire, Gotham was still an expensive place to live. And college wasn't cheap! Buying textbooks for all the psychology courses that you were going to take in September would cost you. Even with the grants you were on! You watch nervously as your manager thumbs through your application idly, waiting for you to speak. He seems annoyed.

"Uhm," you mumble at first, but recover yourself enough to ground the uncertainty fluttering inside your stomach as you attempt a reply, "Yeah, that's the plan."

Your manager sighs.

"Look," he says, skepticism dripping from his tone like leaded water in an old pipe, "I didn't want to be the one who had to point it out to you but upper management has been cracking down on us lately. Our customer reviews have been too low for the past couple of months. You came up during our team meeting last Wednesday as a topic of interest. Several times, actually."

You blink, confused.

"Wait, what?"

You knew you weren't the best employee that the Cadmus Bar had. But, you knew that you weren't the worst either! Certainly, this had to be a huge misunderstanding. You ask for some clarification and your manager (with all the energy of a mildly disappointed father) begins to list off a series of ridiculous infractions, accusations, and "witness reports" that pegs you as the person who keeps breaking the smoothie blenders. Something that you, yourself, have been reporting (complaining) to management about since the very first day of your employment here.

"Annnd, we don't feel like you're smiling enough," your manager adds, placing the cherry on top of his corporate-talk cake, "You don't really portray the warm, friendly disposition that the Cadmus Bar is known for in its employees. Uh, one report we recently received about you seems to call you 'weird and off-putting'. Another one claims you're 'unhelpful' and 'have a rude attitude'. So, uh, you understand how none of this looks good, right?"

You scrambled for a reasonable explanation. Any explanation. However, what slipped out was half cooked mumblings that didn't sound convincing when spoken aloud: "I'll try harder. It's just been a rough couple of weeks and-"

Your manager holds up an authoritative hand.

"No, it's been a rough couple of months," he says, correcting you immediately with the slight bite of annoyance heard from every word that he spoke, "And look, we were willing to grant you a brief period after your accident so you could get reorientated again. But, this behavior has turned into a pattern."

He levels an accusatory stare at you.

"I..."

The world darkens for a moment as you process his words. Images flash before your eyes in quick succession: rain on the windshield, a blind corner of a lonely road, high beams and screeching tires that tore through the air alongside screams, fire, blood staining wet pavement... Your mouth goes dry. You feel numb inside. Somehow, it's like you are there, reliving that awful night all over again. Your manager brings you back to reality when he clears his throat, appearing uncomfortable with how you were handling this talk. He tries shifting your focus by telling you "the good news" about your predicament...

"The silver lining is we're not firing you yet. We've got that new trainee, though, so you might want to start seriously thinking about the future. All those college fees are going to be expensive. Maybe you can put some work into that smile in the meantime, yeah? Start wearing some pretty buttons on your vest to show our customers the real Cadmus Bar spirit."

You wished you had said anything other than the quiet, mumbled agreement that had slipped out of you. For some reason, the words you could've chosen just ran through your fingers like sand at a beach. With no refutes available, your manager sends you away, satisfaction on his bloated face that advertised (quite obviously) the pleasure he took in crushing your spirit and making you feel small in this moment. He tosses your file into the trash as you leave the office. The knowledge that your days working here were numbered became suddenly clear.

You decide to take your ten.

"They can't fire you!"

Inhaling a deep lung full of smoke from her joint, Zen medicated the rage she felt, then released it with a mighty exhale and a walloping cough. She passes the burning joint onto you, who partakes from it less aggressively, and continues her rant despite wheezing in between (her sharp-spoken) words.

"You and I keep this shit together!! If it wasn't for us, nothing would get done right. They think the evening prep gets done by Terry and his shift?! I can't count the times they've fucked the freezer up!"

You exhale a small stream of pungent marijuana into the air. Then, cough. Even though your chest seized, the relaxation you felt afterward was just enough to persuade you to take a second toke. It had been a stressful day for you already. And the day still wasn't over yet...

"I know," you agreed, grumbling at the hand your job was dealing you, "But, I don't "smile enough" for fucking Terry, apparently. I'm too 'weird and off-putting' and 'unhelpful with a rude attitude'."

"Well, that last one is true. You are pretty fucking rude sometimes," Zen replies, reaching out to take the joint you were offering back, "But, it's still bullshit! That trainee can't replace you. She's barely handling the dishwasher right now. A few weeks won't make a difference if she's that dumb and incompetent!"

"I know, right?"

"Like, who am I supposed to talk to about stupid shit all day?"

A sobering kind of silence fell upon Zen and you. Despite the city noise that pounded at your ears, the only thing you could hear was the emptiness that was forming in the slots of your daily routine and the dreadful monotony that would take your co-worker's place. While you knew Zen wouldn't totally disappear from your life, things would be different enough that you cringed just imagining it. You don't think you'd be able to stand working around anyone else. Sighing, you lean your head against the brick wall behind you and gaze up at the thin sliver of (overcast) sky above. This might be the last time you smoke with Zen in this shitty alleyway. You try to savor the moment but all you can do is frown as if you'd tasted something that had spoiled.

"You got me still, man."

Roach breaks the awkward silence. You turn your head to look at the homeless stoner that Zen and you had befriended (adopted) months ago when he'd first shown up in this alley, asking for a light, and rolling papers. With a frown, you realize that you'd miss him. Even if he did bum way, way too many cigarettes. Roach, in some weird way, was also a fixture of your daily life that you'd become attached to...

"Oh, sweetie. We love you but that's not the point being made here," Zen says, taking a quick hit of the joint before passing it along to Roach, "Point is-"

"The point is I'm screwed," you interject, "WE are screwed. Hell, I watched Terry throw my file into the trash! I'm getting fired."

Roach inhaled half the joint as he listened to you speak. Coughing, nearly choking on the cloud he made with his exhale, he summarizes today's ten minute break in three simple words-

"This sucks, man!"

-then, takes another generous toke. The cloud of smoke he made this time was (somehow) bigger than the last. Roach shook his head. Ran a hand through his matted, tangled hair and sighed. He looked genuinely upset. Your heart turned over a little seeing how much these people cared about you.

"Like, who am I gonna bum smokes from now?"

Nevermind.

A laugh rumbles deep from Roach's chest as Zen (and you) just squint at him. "Oh, c'mon! You had to know that was a joke. I'm kidding, I'm kidding! This is a huge bummer, though. I liked smoking with you guys. You aren't weird about how I look. You treat me like I'm normal..." He says this with a heavy frown that collapses very suddenly upon his face.

"Well, you're as normal as the rest of us!"

"Careful guys, they might send us to Arkham."

"Oh my god, I bet they'd put us in cells right next to each other! We could pass along little notes in between the bars or something, haha!"

You all laugh as a group...but it feels bittersweet. 

Zen and Roach give you the last hits off the joint, now merely a blackened nub. You were reminded of the time and realized that your ten was almost over. Zen must've been on the same wavelength as you because she groaned (loudly) when she'd checked her phone. She pouted for a second like a kid who'd just been told to go clean their room. You follow suit in your own subdued way, feeling the weight of each second that counted down to your inevitable unemployment.

Flicking the spent remainders of the joint into an ashtray, you take a breath, and mentally prepare yourself for the last hours of your shift.

"Ugh, time to clock back in."

"Same. I'll take care of the trash?"

"Thanks. I fucking hate doing the trash."

You spend about fifteen minutes lugging stuffed, Hefty bags out to the dumpsters. One split open in the middle of transport. Another was leaking a sticky, warm liquid that got all over your uniform, making your clothes smell like rancid candy and crap. On the last round of trash, Roach helps you toss an extra heavy one that you were struggling with throwing away. You try to thank him. He just shakes his head, though, insisting that no thanks were necessary among friends...

"You've been decent to a bum like me. This is the least I can do for you."

Still, you find yourself thanking him again. Then, turn to slouch back into the Cadmus Bar (where a new wave of customers were surely crowding at the cash register by now) but are stopped by Roach, who wants to give you something. From his stained jeans pocket, he pulled out an onyx black card. He hands it to you with a rare, serious look on his face as he explains:

"Look, I hate to see them fuck you over so here's the number to my cousin, Frankie C. He's a good guy when he's not drunk. He runs a temp agency in Otisburg. If you need some quick cash to get you by while you figure shit out, call him. He can set you up with a small gig just like that. It won't be enough to break even, usually. Sometimes, an opportunity comes in, though. Depending on the season and all that."

You shake your head while telling him that you'll be fine, that you already had a plan (even if you absolutely didn't and were panicking about the next few months of your life). Roach seemed to know you were lying because he refused to take the card back from you. He just kept redirecting the topic onto his cousin. Eventually, he shoved his hands deep into his pockets so he couldn't use them. You're forced to keep the card after that. Roach smiled when you finally slid the thin paper into your vest pocket.

"Just, uhhh, keep the Frankie stuff between you and me, okay? Don't wanna ruin a sweet deal like this on everyone!"

He winks, nudging your side with an elbow. You end up laughing despite your mood. It was hard to be sad around Roach. And you wish you could do more for him than just share your smokes on the days you were working here. You could keep his secret, however. Now, it was your secret, too. You pat your vest pocket and salute Roach as if he were the captain of a ship.

"My lips are sealed!" You exclaim, making a show of pursing your lips and sealing them shut.

Your shift flew by relatively fast. Before you knew it, you were riding the D-line back to Rosserie St. where the peace of your apartment awaited you. The trip was smooth, almost TOO smooth for an average Gotham evening. It had you gripping the canister of the pepper spray you kept hidden in your purse out of suspicion. But, the minute you made it to your neighborhood, you relaxed a little bit. With the GCPD so close to your home, crime here was more tame. The worst it usually had to offer came in the forms of muggings by average thugs. Or break-ins. It was partly the reason your parents had been willing to pay the deposit when you'd moved out. Through some miracle, you'd convinced them it was safe. It'd helped when you mentioned that the police station was just a few blocks away. You knew they regularly donated to the GCPD and their fundraising galas every year.

You spent the rest of your night filling out online applications and re-writing your resume, despite knowing that any place that would hire you likely wouldn't read it.

At 5 am, a loud banging on your apartment door startles you awake. An angry voice accompanies it. By the Pennsylvania Dutch accent, it was your landlord. Reluctantly, you peeled yourself off the couch and stumbled lifelessly through the living room to go figure out what he wanted. Because it wasn't the first of the month and you'd already taken care of the bills so there was nothing that sour old man could (possibly) want from you. A breath is taken before you open the door. A little prayer is said to whatever God was listening up there. You steel yourself, plaster a smile on your face, then open the door to greet your landlord. Your stomach drops when you see he's holding a bunch of envelopes that were addressed to each resident of the building.

"The rent's just increased," he says while handing you your envelope from his pile, "I'm gonna need the difference you owe by Monday, alright?"

Your landlord shoots this new information at you with such casualness that it makes you feel sick. He's staring at you as if you were an idiot for not knowing (or expecting) that this would probably happen. Fortunately, you recover from the shock  quick enough to form what you hope is a protest. It doesn't go well.

"I...already paid my rent, though."

"Yeah? Well, now the new payment is due."

"You can't raise the rent until next month!"

"Look, I don't know what to tell you. It's that "gentrification" stuff all those woke hipsters talk about on the social medias. Prices going up? The rent goes up. Pretty open shut case, alright? Not a lot of mumbo jumbo to it."

"This apartment is rent controlled. I made sure it was when I moved in!"

"Okay, then take it up with the housing authority and wait for them to call you back about it. In the meantime? I'm gonna need that money from you on Monday. 5 am sharp. Or you can move out of here and I'll rent this apartment to someone who would pay triple the new price!!" 

Your landlord's threat ripped the argument from your lips. He seems pleased when you fall silent and appear to crumple internally. You mask it by putting on a brave face...but your attempt isn't a convincing show of strength. Just as he's about to continue speaking, a (LOUD) meow interrupts him. Both you and your landlord stop what you're doing, pressing a momentary pause on your talk, to look towards the source of the noise that was growing more obnoxious by the second. You see that an orange cat was pacing back and forth on your balcony patio. Like it was waiting for you to let it in. Like this was a routine thing you did and not the very first time you'd ever seen it here. As you make the innocent mistake of giving it direct eye contact, it reacts by reaching up and eagerly paws at the sliding glass door.

Your landlord scowls.

"So, you got a pet?" He spits, raising an eyebrow at you, "That'll be an extra 200 for pet insurance. Cats piss and shit everywhere, ya know? Dirty lil' bastards. They'll fuck up my nice, clean carpets."

The carpets in your apartment were neither nice nor clean. Actually, they'd been stained and dirty since day one. The only reason they were decent now was all the steam cleaning you did to keep it tenable! Even then, your carpets were only a few more accidental messes away from being trash...

"That's not my cat," you state firmly, putting your foot down, "I don't have a pet. I don't owe you for a cat that isn't mine!"

Your landlord jabs his finger in the cat's direction and says, "If it's sitting on your fucking patio, it's your fucking cat! End of discussion. Don't need a brain to understand that, do ya?"

He smirks (again) when he sees frustration twist anew upon your face. It made the short-statured man happy whenever he could provoke this kind of conflict in someone. But, you were convinced it meant more to him when that person was you; which filled you with such impotent anger that it nearly blinded you. Dark thoughts about ripping the smirk off his lips and grinding it into the dirty carpets that he seemed so proud of swirled and spiraled around inside your head. You held back, however, because you also wanted to keep a roof over your head. Fall was just around the corner in Gotham. It was about to get cold. Really fast. It'd be iced-over mornings and winter storms before you knew it...

So, you bit your tongue and said nothing.

"You have to think about your future. No one is gonna do it for you," your landlord drives home the point he wanted to make even further, gently patting the frame of your apartment door with a faux concern, "Think about where you wanna be. You got until Monday to decide if it's here like an adult or out on the street in a cardboard box."

That was the second time your "future" had been mentioned. The sound of twisting steel hits your ears. Breaking glass shatters all around you as a tire, engulfed in fire, rolls past your mental vision. Someone is crying out for help. A scream crawls from your throat and takes the form of three tiny words that you speak in a defeated whisper:

"This isn't legal."

Your landlord laughs loudly and shrugs when he hears you, "This is Gotham, toots!"  

He walks away before you can say anything else. You're left holding the envelope he gave you with the cat you now, apparently, owned. Who hadn't stopped meowing, by the way. You could hear it practically yowling, clawing down the tempered glass of your patio door, trying its hardest to get your attention. Sighing, you shut the front door. Lock it tight. Then, turn to face the mess of your apartment. Was paying the rent increase worth it considering what a dump house this place was?? The question nagged you while you crossed your living room (stepping over piled books and dirty laundry that you'd forgotten about a week or two ago) to open the patio door. Immediately, the cat stopped crying once it'd been let in. You watch it make itself at home on your couch and begin to purr.

Nope, you were never getting rid of that cat. You could see 200 dollars literally flying away in this moment as you relented and sat down next to it on your couch. Your fingers ran through the cat's soft, pumpkin-colored fur. Maybe you'd buy it a collar the next time you got paid? Maybe one of those cute, themed ones that you'd (sometimes) see at Petco. If you still had a job by then...

Your head falls back against the couch as a slow and exasperated groan unfurls out of you. With a desperate eye, you search the cobweb cracks in the ceiling for clues on what you should do. Their answer is silence. You were screwed.

So, you decided that breakfast was the answer!

There was a greasy spoon diner down the street that served a (passable) eggs and hash. Despite knowing your wallet couldn't handle it, you found yourself sitting in your usual spot fifteen minutes after opening the envelope, hoping that a simple, hot meal would ease your turmoil. 1,500 dollars plus 200 extra for the cat that wasn't yours and an additional increase on utilities that you didn't use. Like parking. Or the community gym. That's what you owed your landlord by Monday. It was money you just didn't have! Even thinking about it made your eyes bigger than your stomach. You end up ordering way too much food, then regret it almost instantly. Today, the eggs are bland and unseasoned. The hashbrowns are burnt black at the edges. These flavors settled on your tongue, as disappointing as the debt you had to pay, and lingered there with the stress that hung over you like a storm cloud.

Technically, you had the money...but, it was your college fund.

You couldn't touch that.

When you had moved out of your parents' house, blessedly away from Metropolis, you'd promised yourself something; that one day, you'd get your bachelor's degree in psychology, start a practice of your own and finally prove to your family that you were a capable, independent adult. However, more than that bit, you felt a certain gravitational pull towards learning about how the mind works. Even at a young age, you were always absorbed in observations about the people (and the world) around you. You'd scribble them upon sheets of paper with crayons or colored marker or pen and pencil. Sticking them on your bedroom walls. It'd driven your parents absolutely insane. They had dreams (delusions) of you becoming a grammar school teacher. A "safe profession for a girl" that wasn't too ambitious and established your role in the family legacy. All Wrenns were educators. No deviations from the antiquated mold. Unsatisfied with this as you grew older, you tried arguing to your parents that psychology and teaching were similar fields. That they were (for all intents and purposes) practically the same thing! The result had been a disaster. And sometimes, they'd still laugh at the notion over holiday dinner, throwing salt on the wound by mentioning with a mocking scrutiny-

'Except you're not around crazy people!'

-to end the conversation. Not surprisingly, they'd been unsupportive of you the day you'd received your acceptance letter to GSU. They also weren't proud of the grants you'd earned to, in their own words, throw your future away on a crack career like head shrinking. And they didn't help you with anything other than the deposit on this shit hole you now hated renting in the city they hated you living in. Sometimes, your parents would call you to ask if you'd consider coming back home. They would suggest you enroll in the "nice community college" just a few blocks down from their house.  Or they'd sneak details into the dialogue about a new position at the elementary school your Mom worked in when they were feeling extra unhappy by your choices. You'd always say patiently: 'No, I can't. I'm staying in Gotham,' and they'd end the chat on a sour note. Lately, they seemed to really enjoy using how well your brother, Braydon, was doing in Metropolis.

Your college fund was the only thing standing in between you and returning back to your parents, crushed and defeated. You couldn't dip into it to solve your money problem. Doing so would only cement the quaint, milquetoast future that they determined for you. It would set you on a course of compromises until you became less an actual person and more a thing they felt entitled to "set right again." You knew, without any shadow of a doubt, that asking your parents for help in your current predicament would only result in a battle where they'd make you admit that you couldn't handle living on your own. They'd probably drive all the way to Gotham to come pick you up and take you back home. You'd wake up ten years in the future after that; a passionless, grade school teacher just like your mother. Probably married to a man you (barely) tolerated with a handful of kids you'd push into being an educator as you'd been pushed. Insisting they give up their dreams for your vision instead. For the only vision that a Wrenn was allowed. What a nightmare concept.

And yet, you found yourself texting your Dad. He had always been the more reasonable parent...

You: Hey, Dad. Can I ask you a favor?

You: Dad, I really need to borrow

You: So, something came up this month

You: Hey, how're you? How's Mom? [5:55 am]

The response came a half an hour later.

Dad: Isn't it a little too early for you? 😜 We're doing fine. Haven't heard from you in a while. How're things in Gotham? We heard there was a new madman running around the city on the news. [6:25 am]

By that time, you were already back home.

You: 🤷‍♀️ There's always a new madman running around Gotham. Dad, can I ask you Dad, I've run into troub I'm doing fine, tho. Just busy. [6:27 am]

Dad: That's good. Remember to put the GCPD on speed dial in case anything does happen, ok? [6:28 am]

You: I've got them on speed dial already. Don't worry. Hey, could we talk about something [6:30 am]

Dad: That's good, sweetie. Just want you to be safe. How's college been? Have you decided on when you'll be transferring over to St. Mary's? [6:35 am]

You stared at the message for a long time after it was sent and realized, with a sinking feeling, just how futile asking your parents for help was. They didn't want you to study at the GSU. They didn't want you to be a psychologist. Hell, they weren't even cool with you living in Gotham! Here they were, already pushing you to leave the city (and your dreams) behind. No, this had been a stupid mistake. If you had a problem, you were going to have to solve it yourself. Like an adult.

You: I'm staying at GSU, Dad. Classes are going really well. My teachers love me. [6:44 am]

The reply from your father came too quick to be anything good. It simply said-

Dad: Ok. [6:44 am]

-and nothing else. You don't text him back. You'd just be wasting time at this point. Instead, you fill out more online job applications. Even the listing you found for a janitor position at Arkham. Right now, you weren't being picky. When you'd milked all of Linked In, Craigslist, GothHires, and several local group forums, you funneled your anxiety in other ways; you began washing the dirty dishes that'd sat in your sink since...you forget, you pick up the books off the floor (putting them together on your shelf), and start sorting through the old laundry piles too.

When you grab your clothes from yesterday, you notice that something falls out of your work vest. It lands on the floor at your feet. You bend down to pick the thing up and peer at it (kinda baffled) and clueless before suddenly remembering what it was. This little black card was the contacts for the temp agency run by Roach's cousin. As you flip it over to see: "Frankie Cee, hiring agent. He'll see the potential in you!" printed on it with black ink and metallic foil, an idea strikes you. A genius idea...

What harm could a phone call do?

You begin dialing the number on the card.

"Hello, Frankie? Hi, uh. My friend Roach said that you hire people for temp jobs. Could I possibly set up an interview with you soon? My call back number is..."

Sandwiched between the glamour of the Bowrey and the government offices of the West End was a dump called Otisburg where all the dirt, sweat, and grime in Gotham collected itself. Comprised of crumbling brick and dark alleyways that were always littered with trash, it stood out against its wealthy neighbors, reminding everyone that just beneath the (gilded) surface was a festering sore left untreated within the city. And that year after year, Mayor Hill neglected it stubbornly despite his many "sincere" promises to do otherwise. It's inside this wound that you find yourself a couple of hours past noon, wondering (worrying) if you had gotten the address right?? Or if Frankie Cee had sent you the wrong pin on WayneMaps...

Because the place your pin had sent you to was a dive bar.

Brows furrowed in confusion, you quickly check  WayneMaps again. Nope! This was it. 4580 45th St (South). Right next to a bus stop and a row of condemned apartments that'd seen better days. Stashing your phone away, you peer at the neon sign that said "Stacked Deck" in mustard yellow and scarlet red with apprehension twisting your gut. Unless this (particular) hiring manager ran a bar or worked at an incredibly progressive, super chill, non-profit, having your interview here didn't make sense. Things like that were typically done in an office. You were starting to realize, albeit a touch late, that this whole situation was sketchy and your genius idea had been stupid! While you knew Roach was only trying to help, he'd set you upon a fool's errand, anyways. Should've stayed home and done job applications. You turn around to leave but surprise yourself when you walk into the bar instead as if a gravitational pull held your feet for ransom.

Suspicious stares fix themselves upon you when you enter the Stacked Deck. Some patrons even leer and throw lascivious comments out, hoping to rattle loose a reaction from you. One guy asks how much your hourly rates are? Another seems way too curious about why "a tiny little thing like you" has come to a place like this? Ignoring each prod and jab these bar-dwellers throw, you wade through the sea of cigarette smoke that hung in the air, focused solely on the long counter where drinks were being served. Unfortunately, you tug your hoodie strings while you do this, advertising the discomfort you felt to everyone regardless of the stiff upper lip you were trying (and failing) to portray. RIP you. After waiting a couple seconds, the next available bartender slides up to you and asks what you want to order with narrowed eyes full of skepticism. She's probably wondering the same thing everybody else is; what're you doing here?

In the back of your mind, you're questioning that too...

"Oh, uhh, no. No, I'm here for Frankie?" You reply, sounding uncertain, your statement forming into a question at the very end, "Frankie Cee? Do you know if he's around?"

Wordlessly, the bartender stares at you. When it was beginning to get super uncomfortable, you tried clarifying. Somehow, this makes you sound less confident than if you'd kept quiet: "I have an interview with him at 3."

The bartender continues staring. Her expression morphs from skepticism to abject disbelief. "You have an interview with Frankie Cee? You?? At this bar?"

"Yes," you say, a bit frustrated now.

She raises an eyebrow, "Are you positive?"

You absolutely weren't.

"Yeah," you repeat, firmer this time, "he gave me this address to meet up. I just didn't know it was gonna be at a bar. Uh, his text said to talk to the bartenders first." 

Judging off pure mood alone, you could tell that the bartender was done talking with you. Before she could show you the door, though, you reach into your pockets and pull out the onyx card that Roach had given you. You hold it up so the lady could see it, like it was an ID, hoping this would be enough to convince her to help you out or at least point you in the right direction. If you'd been thinking with your head on straight, if you'd only paid attention to the red flags, you might've realized how weird all this was. How wrong it felt in the pit of your stomach. But, the specter of lost college funds, homelessness, and your (almost certain) unemployment was blinding your sight to the bad omens surrounding you. You wanted money now more than anything else. Even the possibility of it seemed worth the potential risk.

The bartender sighed when she saw the card. It was obvious she was annoyed by the sight of it. "Well, fuck! Here I was thinking you were a lying bitch I could 86. No happy endings in Gotham. Yeah, Frankie's here. Give me a minute. I'll go snag him for ya. In the meantime, be a paying customer, buy yourself something, and go sit at those seats in the back. Or else I'll have to kick you out, anyway. Alright? So, what's your poison?"

You decide on beer. Something light, something without a high alcohol percentage. After all, you didn't want to get fucked up before the interview. The bartender sighs at your choice. With disgust in her tone, she grumbles 'of course' underneath her breath, then turns around to make your order after you'd handed her 15 crinkled dollars. Soon, with drink in hand, you hurry past the pool tables and the cue rack and the glowing neon sign that said: "Keep Gotham Weird". You slip into the end booth closest to the restrooms where a poster of Zephyrs of the Holy hung. Zen had once told you that the band was magical, so you'd thought it'd be a good place to wait. Maybe their luck would rub off on you?

You were half a beer in when Frankie Cee arrived. The man was not what you were expecting! Bald and beefy with black tattoos blazed up his arms, Frankie was the polar opposite of his cousin. He looked suspiciously like if Mr. Clean had joined a biker gang. The man glances at you (and your drink) once, chuckles to himself, then joins you in the booth. You swear you heard him whisper 'of course,' but you pretend not to hear it. Which was probably the best thing you could do in this scenario for more than one reason.

"So! My piece of shit, good for nothing, bum of a cousin sent you my way, huh?" Frankie asks you, grin on his face. Despite the twinkle in his eye, it was hard to tell if he was joking or being serious. That edge of uncertainty has you sweating bullets. You gape at him; frozen cold in the headlights by his question. You weren't sure how to answer him and Frankie seemed amused that you didn't quite know what to say. He continues speaking, taking a casual sip of the Tennessee Rye that was clutched in his hand while doing so, "You know, that fucker still owes me for the last favor I did. You wanna pay his tab for him?"

"Uhhh."

This interview was going great already! You were going to kill Roach when you saw him next. Your face twists up momentarily as you contemplate the logistics of murder...

The man must've sensed what you were thinking because he erupted with laughter. Wiping a stray tear from the corner of his eye, Frankie switches gears and decides to stop panicking you. "Nahh, I'm just playing' with ya! My cousin's decent when he's not on the drops. But he does owe me a pack of cigs the next time I see him."

"You and me both," you replied, a weaker chuckle than his escaping from your throat, still shaky on whether (or not) this was truly a joke. You try reminding yourself that if everything went wrong for some reason, you had pepper spray handy in your pockets. It was a weak reassurance but the only one you had at the moment.

"Right. Well, enough chit-chat. Let's get down to business." Frankie says, that merry twinkle in his eye becoming much sharper than before.

The man retrieves a folded paper from his pant's pocket, opens it up flat, then slides it over to you. It's a job application. Emblazoned on top was the logo for the temp agency (an eyeball wreathed in flames) with the company name orbiting around it. A small sentence follows underneath: "We can SEE the potential in you!". This agency definitely had their brand figured out, you thought, as the slogan hooked onto your brain like a Super Bowl commercial. Scanning through the rest of it, you find that everything seems pretty normal (about four sections dedicated to general info, medical history, driving record, and previous employers), but when you flipped the paper over...things got a little weird. 13 questions greet you, each more confusing than the last.

You squint at them.

Frankie senses your bewilderment and chuckles. "Just fill the questionnaire out to the best of your abilities, girly. Some of them are a little out there due to our clientele, but answering them all helps me figure out what gigs you'll best be suited for, you dig?? We wanna match our employees' skills to the needs of our clients."

You nod, then ask him a question. But he ignores this completely and asks you one instead. Which nags you in an insistent way. Something was off. Something wasn't right here. Something tugged on your gut for you to leave this place.

"Are you thirsty? I'm gonna snag something from the bar. I'll be back in a moment. Try getting that thing done, alright?? Just don't think about it too much."

Frankie drains the rest of his Tennessee Rye with a single gulp. An impressive feat considering his glass was practically full. He uses your stunned silence to make his getaway. You watch the man saunter towards the bar counter, greeting some new faces that'd just entered the Stacked Deck from the alleyside door. After a second, you turn your attention onto the paper. Blinking, still lost, you search for a pen inside your purse and begin to tackle the easiest parts on the front. That tug in your gut yanked harder. Finally, you arrived at the back page of the application. By that time, it felt like your whole, damn stomach was twisted into knots.

You poise your pen over the first question. Your hand is shaking slightly as you do...

1. How flexible are you willing to be with work hours?

Answer: All weekends and holidays.

That one was normal and simple to answer. You jot your response down without much hesitation.

2. Do you have any physical disabilities that would prevent you from finishing a task?

Answer: No.

This question was also pretty common. You have to have seen it printed on a hundred different job applications before.

3. Do you have any familial connections to law enforcement?

Answer: No.

Another inquiry that didn't appear abnormal. But you wondered, albeit briefly, why a temp agency would want to know that? You figure it was likely a conflict of interest deal for some of the clients. After all, you weren't a fan of the GCPD, either.

4. Do you own a firearm?

Answer: No.

Not an odd question to ask in Gotham. Everyone and their mothers kept some kind of weapon on them. The most efficient option being a gun. You had thought about owning one, back when you'd been planning to move to this city. Instead, your parents convinced you (wore you down) to buy a can of pepper spray. They were mortified by the idea of you shooting a pistol. Luckily, a year into GSU, your dormmate had shown you how to use one.

5. How do you feel about dressing in uniform?

Answer: I'm okay with it.

You supposed this one made sense? Every job in retail that you'd had made you wear a uniform or at least a company T-shirt. You hated the cheesy outfits of some places (like BatBurger), but right now, you weren't really in a position to turn down a paycheck. So, you lie on the application with a bold flourish of your pen.

The next question was where things got strange.

6. If you had a catchphrase, what would it be?

Answer: Ready for anything!

What?? You stare at the words until they seem to bleed off the paper. This HAD to be some sort of attempt at a psychology quiz! One of those lame passes a business would use to gauge your level of agreeability. You roll your eyes, jotting down a phrase that meant nothing to you...but sounded like something that a hiring manager would want to hear. You cringe at the dishonesty. Yet another wave of anxiety rolls over you. Perhaps this beer wasn't agreeing with your stomach?

7. Do you have any physical skills or talents?? Example: Could you scale a wall or jump over a fence? If you had to, could you run for longer than 20 minutes? Are you proficient in martial arts?

Answer: N/A

You blink. Again, the word "what" re-emerged as a question within your brain. You tap your pen on the side of your cheek, chewed it's cap anxiously for a moment while squinting at the query. What in the world kind of business would need martial arts skills?! Was this temp agency hiring people for a dojo? But then, your brain clicks into place, recalling a chat you'd had with Roach about the time he'd been a security guard. He'd quit the job after the first night when a league of black-clad ninjas stormed the vault he was supposed to be protecting. Looking at number seven again, you supposed that it made sense. This was Gotham and insane, crazy shit like that happened all the time.

8. If the police or any legal figures of authority were to ask you to give up the name/s of your fellow employees, would you?

Answer: _________.

How were you even supposed to answer that? Of course, you would have to comply with any legal authorities! What other choice was there? Unless this temp agency was working alongside villains or criminals, a question like this was just strange. You take a gulp of your beer to steady yourself in an almost instinctual reaction, feeling once more a tug at your soul that screamed: LEAVE NOW!!! Five minutes later, you'd drained the whole glass, but those twists in your gut had only grown into a briar patch of knots. You couldn't bail from this opportunity, you reason with the panic. A worse fate awaited you on Monday if you couldn't find another source of income. That fate freezes you to your booth. You decide to leave number eight blank and come back to it. There were five other inquiries to fill.

9. Do you have any medical conditions to your knowledge that may be triggered or worsened by unknown chemical gas?

Answer: I don't know, I've never been exposed before.

Chemical plants. This temp agency must hire for chemical plants and dojos. That had to be it! You mentally pat your own back, proud of your logic, and flawless sensibility. Gotham City retained a high demand for factory workers, chemists, and also...ninjas? Your hand darts out to take another gulp of your beer only to wrap around an empty glass. As you stare at it, the scream inside your head grows louder, evolving into a shriek. Leave now. Leave now! LEAVE NOW! Instead, through clenched teeth, you write the truth in the answer slot. A heavy weight, like you'd signed your death warrant, settled upon your shoulders. Your heart began to pound in your chest. You push on to the next question...

10. Theoretically, if you were thrown into a pit of acid, how would you react?

Answer: ____________.

LEAVE. LEAVE. LEAVE. LEAVE-

"Almost done with that?"

A gravelly voice interrupts your panic attack. You glance up to see Frankie has returned; two beers in his hands and looking a little drunker. He gives you a wink, then sets your glass down in front of you. It wasn't the brand you'd bought before. The beer was darker, almost orange, and foamed up so thickly at the rim that it threatened to spill out onto the table. Thanking the man, you move the application away from the glass just in case. You hear Frankie laugh. It sounds almost sinister. You weren't sure what was so funny, but you restrain yourself from asking. There were more pressing matters on your mind like these 13 questions on the page before you.

Frankie seems to sense your apprehension as he seats himself in your booth. "Ya know, if you have anything confusing you at all, just ask. That part on the back can really stump the newbies."

Running a hand through your hair, you decide to take the man up on his offer. Perhaps, maybe, it was only a misunderstanding and you were just being stupid.

"Uhm, okay. So, I am a bit, uh...unclear here about some of these questions. Cause they sound a bit-"

Weird.

Strange.

Fucking out there.

"-unconventional," you say cautiously, choosing the adjective with care, "I've honestly never seen anything like this asked on an application before and I've worked a lot of places in Gotham."

Frankie nods lightly, appearing receptive to your concerns. He stays silent. Allows you to continue rambling with an attentive focus stationed upon you.

"Like number 10. W-what am I even supposed to say to that?? Is this a legitimate concern I should be having on the job? What about number 11. Uh, heads or tails??? Why does your agency need to know that? Okay. And let's just take a moment to  appreciate number 13, because. I'm just...lost on that one! 'Thoughts on tea and scones? How do you brew a proper Earl Grey?? What are your full thoughts on cerebral manipulation via electrode and have you read Alice in Wonderland by Lewis Carroll?'. Just what kind of clients do you have?!"

Frankie answers without skipping a beat, "We're a grassroots cooperative business catering to a high class, criminal clientele and providing them with necessary services."

Silence settles over you. For a few moments, you simply stare at the man, robbed of words to say, and devoid of thoughts to think. Frankie doesn't react, carrying on as if waiting patiently for your next questions. That twinkle gleaming in his eye got just a touch brighter and sharper. It doesn't catch your notice.

"What?" You ask, your mind finally rebooting and turning back on.

The man replies in a similar way as before:

"We're a traditionally-run recruiting agency that connects the criminal element to those in need of quick gigs or temporary employment. Usually, that first one, though, since our clients can be a little hazardous. But only if you're an idiot."

Frankie laughs while you gawk at him.

Swallowing thickly and with a hushed voice, you rephrase your last question again. You just want to hear the man say it another time in case you'd misheard him. Everyone deserved the benefit of a doubt. Frankie's laugh died down, immediately, when you asked him to repeat his simple answer for a third round. Now he was staring at you. You see a frown pull at his beer-stained lips. Another shift in gears brought a more serious tone to the man as he says, "We're a "Goon Hiring" agency."

...

Frankie Cee sneered, "What, my cousin didn't tell ya?"

"No."

"Well, that's just classic Roach, isn't it?"

...

Instantly, you stand up (ramrod straight) and get out of the booth. Plastering your best "customer service" smile upon your face, you thank Frankie for his time, collect your purse, and turn to leave. As you do, the sound of a gun clicking into place hits your eardrums. It's followed by a growl that commands you to sit back down. Trembling, you obediently comply and return to your seat facing Frankie who now has a Glock trained on you. You peer down the barrel of the pistol, eyes watering, heart pounding fast, and internally screaming at yourself for how dumb you were, how you hadn't listened to the red flags. If you were this fucking stupid, maybe it was a good thing you'd never go back to GSU? You could just die (right now) with the knowledge that it would've never worked out.

Still, your dream of being a psychologist spurred you forward...

"P-please don't k-kill me," you whimper, lower lip trembling like an autumn leaf.

"I won't as long as we can finish up this interview, girly. Now stop crying and drink your beer, we're almost through the paperwork portion."

With a shaking hand, you lift the perspiring glass up to your lips. Frankie lowers his gun as you do. The orange-hued booze that he bought you isn't to your liking. It's too strong, too bitter. It had an astringent aftertaste that clung your tongue and lingered there. Stubbornly. But, you couldn't risk being picky at the moment. Frantic, you wonder if anyone would step in to save you? Was anyone aware of this? Were they calling the cops already or rolling up their sleeves to give teach this man a lesson? At least with this question, the answer was obvious; nope. Everyone inside the Stacked Deck was ignoring you as if somebody pulling a gun out on someone else was normal. A tad late, you remember that you were in Otisburg. To this place, it WAS normal.

And nobody was going to come save you...

Frankie rests the gun on the tabletop in between you but still clutches it close, a warning (for you) not misinterpret his relaxed mood with allowing you a chance to escape. He heaves a sigh, looks at you wearily, and shakes his head. "Look, girly, you either leave because you aced this interview or leave with Tommy and Benny in a rug. Totally your choice-"

Was it really, though?

You gulp.

"-but save me the rug, okay? Those cost money. I can't keep buying more rugs this week. Plus, let's be honest: if you didn't really need this job, didn't reeeally need the money, you wouldn't have even called me. I can tell you need the dough, girl. You got that hunger just like me when I was your age. I promise if you come work with me, I'll feed that good. My temp agency ain't fucking Underworld Talent. We don't use algorithms but we're damn fucking good at what we do. You can't do better than me."

You couldn't do better.

He's right.

You feel like the walls were closing in on you.

Frankie continues his pitch, oblivious to your fear or simply uncaring. "You stick with me? Now, you got something good. Something that'll pay good. I've been doing this shit for years and I can see a future henchmen from miles away. And you? You got henchmen written all over ya, girly. Embrace that. Now, what'll it be...? A damn good job-"

He taps the end of his Glock upon your half-filled application. The sound, impatient, and urging.

"-or Tommy and Benny? And before you choose, think HARD about where you want your future to go. Who do you see yourself being in five years?"

Dead.

There was that question again. You swear, it was haunting you. The instant you heard it said, your mind floods with unbidden images. Bloody flesh on slick pavement. Twisted metal feeding flames  and smoke. A cry into the night, soon becoming a wail for help that would go unheard, drowned out by the roll and crack of thunder as it rattled the earth. Lightning flashing across the sky as if God himself was angry. And you, in the middle of it all, crawling along the ground like a worm...

Did you even have a future to imagine after that?

Did you even have a future?

Despair opened its mouth wide to consume you. Yet, before it could, another vision snatches you away from it. Inside the empty hall of an old and dusty classroom, a friend smiles warmly at you. They're patting you on the back as you dab your eyes with a tissue. 'Don't stress out! It's just one bad score. You're gonna make a great therapist someday, trust me.' They say this with absolute confidence. Suddenly, you snap back to reality. A feeling far stronger than despair sparks within you.

Hope.

"I-I want the job!" You exclaim, stammering, but raising your chin to portray enough confidence nonetheless.

Frankie laughs in reaction. He seems pleased by your final decision. "Now that's what I like to hear from newbies! I knew you were a smart cookie-"

The man smiles coldly with a sharp gleam in his eye. Unlike the times prior, you knew that Frankie wasn't joking now. He was being dead serious.

"-so, let's fill out that application, yeah? I got shit to do later."

Steeling yourself, you reach for the ballpoint pen that you'd abandoned on the table and pick it up (determinedly) in your hand. With renewed spirit, you begin tackling the application. You answered every question as best you could. Even the ones that terrified you and made no sense. At the end of the back page, beneath number thirteen, you finally get to the point where your signature was needed. You poise the pen tip over the blank line, take a deep breath, then chew the inside of your lip. After this, there was no turning back. But, it wasn't as if you could turn the ship around now, either. Not if you wanted to keep your roof or go to college next semester...or live long enough to see tomorrow.

Upon the document line, you sign your name. It's a messy scribble of a signature. But, it'll do.

Frankie takes the application from you moments afterward. The ink hasn't even dried on the paper and he's already folding it into his pocket for safe keeping. The man assures you that this was the best choice you could've made; that you weren't going to regret it so long as you did exactly what you were told and followed the rules. Fear seized your heart again. You tried to ignore it. The deed had already been done. The future depended on you making some peace with it...

Because hell or high water, you were going to be a psychologist!

"Well, now that we got that squirt away, let's talk about your first job. A great one just came in an hour or two ago, perfect for a beginner goon like you," Frankie says, not giving you a second more to ruminate before throwing you into the fire, "It won't be dangerous. Just a simple D-List task. If you ask me, it might as well be free money! You'll be cleaning out a warehouse, you feel me? You're in, you're out. Badda-bing, badda-boom! Easy as mother's pie."

"But, I-"

He talks over you, waving away your words with an imperious flick of his hand, "Don't worry, girly, I won't be sending you in alone. This time. You'll be working with a team of my other employees. All experienced with this kind of job. Just listen to whatever they say and you should be golden. They're my go-to squad. So, you're in excellent hands. Trust me."

Frankie snaps his fingers, calling for Tommy and Benny with a voice that pierces through the bar's ambient noise. You're soon joined by two brolic, rough-looking men who tower over you. Frankie asks them to bring him the 'Halloween crap from last year'. A few minutes later, which feels like a lifetime to you, they return, carrying with them a cardboard box full of gimmick masks. Stuff you would buy at a Spirit Halloween store for twenty bucks. Frankie instructs you to pick out one that you liked. Without giving it thought, your hands plunge into the box and pull out a mask at pure random. You blink when you process what you've chosen.

It's a red axolotl mask.

"Take it. Wear it on the job tonight," Frankie says, explaining the purpose of his gift, "Consider it a part of your uniform from now on, alright?? And congratulations, you're officially hired! Welcome to the family-"

He grins at you. His smile has icy shivers racing down your spine.

"-I think you're gonna fit right in."

[theadventurerslog]

Discworld | Part 8

Time to continue my exploration and gathering information on what it takes to be a hero. Next up I went to the Inn to see what was happening there now.

Inn:

New stuff outside!

We've got an inn/bar-keeper, a sailor, Gaspode the Wonder Dog who talks and his wooden man, I mean totally normally man and not a weird puppet? at all.

Gaspode was basically using the wooden man as a ventriloquist dummy and every time I tried to talk to the sailor Gaspode would take over there, too. I tried giving Gaspode the bone, but he just spat it out when I tried talking to the sailor and I lost it. I reloaded then left for now but would be back.

Street: Toy Shop: the toy bin had new toys: this time a dinosaur! Otherwise things were unchanged.

Dino.

I didn't find much else of interest in the Street areas, although the fishmonger was back and no longer being tormented, I mean loved on, by the toilet octopus.

Shades: Hovel: Found a knife in a bag of thief's tools.

House of Negotiable Affection: I chatted with one of the ladies there and found out a hero should have camel-flage (possibly a kind of perfume according to her?)

My last location in the city was the newly opened Sybil Ramkin's Dragon Sanctuary for swamp dragons which are far less dangerous than the current full dragon terrorizing the city. Swamp dragons are mostly a terror to themselves with their tendency to explode very easily.

I met her at the door after knocking but she told me to come round the back as she's feeding her darlings.

So to the dragon pens!

And this has gotta be a Monkey Island reference. "That's the second largest woman I've ever seen!"

Monkey Island: "That's the second biggest monkey head I've ever seen!"

Unless they're both referencing something else.

There were a few things to do here. I scooped up a nail and a leash. She seemed fine with me just taking the leash... Of course I had to examine all the dragons it would let me.

There was also a blue rosette and ribbon, but I couldn't grab it without Sybil chatting at me. It was a reward for one of her prize winning dragons. The dunnyking, er, custard king, was calling his custard blue ribbon custard, the best custard. So I figured there's a connection there.

I chatted with Sybil and discovered she WAS the woman at the barber's from early in the game as I wondered. I also learned of the swamp dragons' drive to eat anything that will help work their digestion up for flames but will often overdo it and explode. One of them sadly exploded during the conversation.

I moved on and decided to deal with the areas outside the city next.

I went to the woods only to find the barber still there still waiting on the girl ever coming to meet him. I didn't get anything else though. I next went to the Edge of the World, or rather I tried to but then things took a little diversion.

As Rincewind started to enter the water a big monster showed up.

By its many eyes and tentacles I can only assume it's meant to be a Thing from the Dungeon DImensions, which I'm not sure the game has mentioned yet or I may have forgotten. It's possible one of the wizards referred to it before. Either way, things weren't looking good for our wizard here until a giant hand suddenly came down and scooped him away leaving him in a tight place.

Then I was shown a scene of the gods in Dunmanifestin. The gods were arguing about cheating and trying to swap dice. The God, Offler seems to be planning another meeting with one of his monks. This was all, I assume, meant to be in reference to some events in the first books, but it felt like it came from nowhere in this game and would probably confuse players who hadn't read The Colour of Magic... I guess it's a note that the gods are watching and life on the Disc is all a game to them. Certainly, Rincewind's fate is.

Anyway, after a bit of back and forth it had turned out Lady Luck (I assume her) had whisked away Rincewind and stashed him in her bosom... She released him again and placed him back on the Disc.

Then I was back to my own devices and continued on my way to the Edge of the World where I found nothing new.

After all of that diversion and potential foreshadowing, there's really nothing to do but carry on business as usual. I moved onto the mountain pass, but found nothing there either, so I continued on to Nanny Ogg's place. She's home now and was knitting.

By examining a very long winding string of wool, Rincewind started following it until finding a hatch that led out back where I found a mallet and a sheep!

Aside from getting the mallet and appreciating the sheep I wasn't sure what else to do here, so I made note of Her Wooliness and took off again.

Cue another wander and fiddling with items while I tried to figure out what to do next and what I might have missed.

I went again to the inn, and tried the bone again, but still resulted in Gaspode spitting it back out with no further hints. So, I left and went to the dungeon to see if I could get another bone. That wasn't a problem and while I was there I took another look at the mouse-hole. Just like way back when I was trying to get an imp, I tied the twine to the worm and set the worm on the hole. A rat came out and Rincewind caught it.

Examining and using it revealed it had a zipper on its back and was actually just a rat costume for... an imp! Or possibly the same imp! So I've got the imp back for the camera.

I realized I forgot to go to the brotherhood's hideout when I was doing my city sweep, so I went there, did the usual password at the door and got handed a custard tart. I will never be free of custard.

Back at Nanny Ogg's I took a photo of the sheep.

I went back to Sybil's and this time figured out how to get the blue rosette by knocking at the front door to summon Sybil then leaving her without saying anything to go back to the pens and snag the ribbon before she came back. I've had that framed octopus picture for ages. I was able to put the sheep picture in it instead... I look forward to seeing what that'll be used for. I went again to the toy shop thinking maybe I could somehow glue the blue ribbon? Get it to stick to the custard tart container? I dunno. That didn't work but I realized, sticky! I needed something sticky to keep Gaspode from spitting out the bone. And so I glued up the bone. That would hopefully solve my problem with Gaspode.

Yeah, the gluey bone kept Gaspode from spitting it back out, so I was able to talk to the sailor without interference this time. He wanted some milk but I was able to get some from the barkeep then he talked.

He told me some tales about Amazon women, but also, importantly the topic of his tattoo came up. However, he won't say where he got it until his parrot, Polly, is found. He gave me a whistle to summon the parrot.

The only place I've seen birds is at the edge of the world, so I went back there again and with the whistle was able to summon Polly. He stayed in the air and like a stereotypical parrot, he did the ol' Polly want a cracker. I didn't have crackers, but I had a firecracker... I launched it at him knocking him into the water, but still out of reach. He's fine just a bit stunned. I tried the butterfly net and Rincewind did do an animation with it reaching out, but it couldn't reach.

I hit a point of just trying stuff on stuff. I thought maybe the snake might be involved somehow? Since it's long? Turned out I could stiffen it with starch and make it longer with the fertilizer for an extremely long stiff snake with magic markings and even with a knob on the end.

It didn't work for extending the butterfly net, but a knob on the end brings a wizard's staff to mind and Windle still had one, so I went back to UU. And swapped his staff again.

I got an extending stick which I could attach to my butterfly net and I caught the parrot at last.

Triumphant, I brought him back to the sailor only to discover that I had dropped his whistle. Now, something had gone by when I was catching Polly and I guess that must have been the whistle and I didn't realize. That was his handcrafted Hublander whistle from his mother, so now he was too distraught to talk still and I had to go back and find the whistle that was swept over the edge of the world.

At first I thought with the fork there looking like part of a slingshot maybe I'd need to launch something. Like maybe one of the birds had scooped the whistle or caught a fish that caught the whistle as the game had made a point that the birds catch fish going over the edge.

With that in mind I thought of the rubber belt as part of the dunnyking's machine. I was able to use the knife to cut away the belt and get it. Unfortunately, that wasn't the answer.

I needed to use the magic hat with the endless ribbons. That led to a ribbon rope going over the edge that I was able to use to climb down.

Part way down I had another run-in with Death who's just watching as usual as it's not time yet, but he dropped some more foreshadowing for seeing Rincewind again in the Square...

Then I climbed further down to end up on the shell of the Great A'Tuin itself, the world turtle.

The whistle was just lying on the shell and I was able to grab it. I didn't see anything else but hopefully didn't miss anything. I left anyway.

After all that, I was able to finally find out how to get a tattoo: go to the barber. That's it. I suspected it'd be him.

Except, he's still waiting for the girl. I stopped by his shop just in case and it was a good thing I did as I had missed a pair of scissors and an appointment book with nice big pages. I brought the book to the milkmaid/actress to get her to sign it which she did.

I then went to see the barber in the woods who was too busy thinking about her to come back, but with the signed appointment book was convinced she would come in for an appointment, so he went back.

Finally, I thought. Before I went back, since I had to pass through the City Gate anyway, I talked to Nobby again now I had collected a bunch of information about what a hero needs. I was able to try different combos of things to get the odds again and confirm what I learned.

Trying everything resulted in odds too high. It's gotta be exactly 1 million. The combination I'll need is:

Magic Talisman

Mustache

Birthmark

Magic Book

Camo-flage

Sword that goes ting

Six items again. I'm hoping the dragon summoning book counts as the magic book, though, so that I only need to find five items and I was well on the way for the birthmark as that's what the tattoo would cover.

So, I moved on to the barber and talked with him. He went into somewhat graphic detail about giving a tattoo and Rincewind chickened out. However, he offered another suggestion: a temporary transfer fake tattoo. His son gets them with bubblegum. His son is the lovable street starfish. And so this all continues...

I went to talk to the street urchin, but he wouldn't just give me one because he's collecting them.

So I needed to figure out some way to get it from him while he's holding it up being all taunting. Or I need to do something to him before that stage. I don't know, but the steps to get this tattoo feel never-ending and that's just one of the items.

I also talked to the old folks again while I was in the square in case they had anything helpful. I had the option to ask about the magic talisman that I must not have checked back on with them. They suggested the "Eye of Offler" in the secret temple of Offler. Only the bravest, most fantastic adventurer could stand a chance of finding out where the temple is. I figured on that braggart in the Broken Drum.

So, my next steps will be to take a last look at my current stuff with this street urchin and then if nothing works there, start pursuing the Temple of Offler in hopes that maybe I'll find something helpful along the way.

Hopefully next time will come much progress on getting these items.

Argh!!!

[kopretina]

Ok, so, for context, I am prone to really painful bloating/trapped gas, which comes and goes in its severity, but it's something I've dealt with since high school. I was at work this morning and it started to flare up, but it was manageable until I stood up and I was having a bit of difficulty walking out because of the pain. Got some simethicone from the nearby pharmacy because of course today was the only one day I forgot to bring my tiny medicine box. I went to the library as planned, but I couldn't stand the thought of eating because I was still in quite a lot of pain, so I skipped lunch. I felt ok while sitting, so I managed to get some work done. Started to feel a bit hungry after a couple hours so headed to the jídelna (public cafeteria/milk bar) and ordered from my favorite lady there, and she told me she's noticed that my Czech has been getting better recently. I said "You really think so??" I don't know how much she can really ascertain from our short conversations, but it was still a nice interaction. I decided to go to the city center to buy some yarn and to look for an instant camera to take to Slovenia. On the way between the jídelna and the next tram stop there's a busy road with a really weird intersection you have to cross. It's hard to explain, but basically the pedestrians and the tram go straight, but at the same time the cars get a signal to go kind of straight and then left. -there's a line for them to stop behind but they also have a green light, so it's confusing if you don't know what to expect. So me and a bunch of other people starting crossing the street, and I was admiring this woman's coat. Before I can even register what's happening, a car is flying full speed toward pedestrians ahead of me in the crosswalk. He managed to stop at the last minute, but it was so freaky. I realized after that that the tram was coming and he was trying to avoid getting hit by the tram, but he genuinely almost killed people trying to save his car. Like at that speed, people would have actually died. I don't even understand how he got up to that speed in the short distance between the car lane and the crosswalk. Anyway. i was still in a cloud of dissociation from the pain going "oooh Marimekko"...

Went to the craft store, picked out some yarn, then headed to the drugstore next door looking for an instant camera. I walk in, and there are like swarms of people waiting to check out which isn't normal, or at least I haven't seen it, so that took me by surprise. My eyes felt a little weird, but i thought they were just adjusting to the fluorescent lighting. Realized very quickly that they were migraine auras that just happened to coincide with walking into the store. So I had to haul ass out of there to get home and lay in the dark. Still don't know if they had the cameras there or not. When I have migraine auras, there is weird super rapid movement on the left side of my field of vision and my eyes can't focus on anything unless I really concentrate and it messes up my balance as well, so it's very difficult to like... be in public... alone... in rush hour... taking public transit lol... but I managed. The aura precedes the headache, but if I try to push through the auras, then the nausea comes, so I've learned I have to take the L as soon as I identify the auras and just abandon whatever I'm doing.

But yeah i was already in pain walking from the bloating, and then with the auras, my balance gets thrown off so it was a total comedy of errors getting home ahaha. Anyway made it home ok. Still having what I call migraine aftershocks, but the main part is over. But basically, I'm writing all this because I've been getting twice-yearly migraines for 15 years and I've learned how to cope with them, but I still haven't been able to identify a migraine trigger!!! So I tried to think back on my day to figure it out, but my day was so fucking crazy so who even knows lmao

Oh I realized I forgot to mention, I also felt this weird kind of numbness in my nose and face which is a new symptom I only first had last time, but I looked it up and it is listed as a migraine symptom. Not relevant, but yes

[ramblingandwritings]

Dante fluff alphabet

Slight suggestive theme in this one. Also I'm getting sick of tumblr messing with my formatting time after time

A = Activities (What do they like to do with their s/o? How do they spend their free time with them?)

He personally likes grimy dive bars and he'll find a dark corner table to sit at. Of course your chair is his lap but no one in there is gonna comment on it

If you don't want to go anywhere, then Dante will get a blanket and cuddle with you on the couch. He'll put on a cheesy horror movie marathon to watch until you both pass out

B = Beauty (What do they admire about their s/o? What do they think is beautiful about them?)

Just tolerating and loving him is appreciated. He wouldn't ever expect someone to stay with him longterm, especially after seeing all the hurt and trauma hidden under his goofy exterior

C = Cuddling (how do they like to cuddle?)

Anyplace, anytime, any position. Just say the word

D = Dreams (How do they picture their future with their s/o?)

As long as you're both alive, he's more than happy. He doesn't feel like he can ask for much more than that without it biting him in the ass somehow

E= Equal (Are they the dominant one in the relationship, or rather passive?)

He's actually rather relaxed regarding most choices. The only time he really steps up is if he knows you're tired of making decisions or if it's something incredibly serious that needs his involvement

F = Family (do they want one? If they do, when?)

If he was ever put into a position where he could settle down and not put everyone around him in danger, then he would in a heartbeat. He's unlikely to ever be that lucky and he knows it plus he might be a bit too old for any of that now anyway

G = Gifts (how do they feel about gift giving? What are their habits when it comes to this?)

He gives you random trinkets everytime he goes out without you. You'll get everything from weird demonic charms to postcards

Dante doesn't expect you to get him anything but he loves weapons and good booze. If you're willing to buy him a girly mag then he just loves you more

H = Holding Hands (when/how do they like to hold hands?)

He'll gladly hold your hand, as long as you aren't in danger. If you're walking down the street holding hands then he'll swing your arm until you tell him to knock it off

I = Inspiration (Did their s/o change them or the other way around?)

He starts actually taking care of himself, slowly gets rid of his more self destructive habits and makes sure the utilities stay on in the shop

J = Jealousy (Do they get jealous easily? How do they deal with it?)

He comes across as being incredibly confident in your relationship and in some ways, he is. But he sees himself as a freak, and anytime someone he views as a threat gets flirty then he starts getting upset. When he was young, he'd probably start a fight over it and break someone's nose. Now that he's older he sulks around the shop until it clicks with him that you're with him for a reason and if you were gonna walk out, you would've already done it. That's enough comfort for him now

K = Kiss (Are they a good kisser?)

He's damn good but he leans heavily towards the sloppy side unless there's only time for a quick peck. Nobody wants to be in the same room as you two if he goes in for what Dante considers a proper kiss, there's always a lot of tongue and shared spit involved

L = Love Confession (How would they confess to their s/o?)

At night, when he thinks you're already asleep in his arms. He lacked the confidence to say it to you in the day, too afraid of any possible rejection or discomfort. He knew it was unlikely but he still couldn't choke it out then

To his surprise and joy, after he made his quiet confession, he heard you sleepily reciprocate his love. He just holds you tighter and basks in the response

M = Marriage (Do they want to get married? How do they propose? What would the marriage be like?)

He proposes on impulse after walking past a quarter machine with rings inside. He eventually buys you a proper engagement ring to replace the incredibly cheap one

He's fine just going to the courthouse and signing the papers because he knows the second the words "marriage" "wedding" or "party" are said, Patty will magically appear with several big plans. In fact, if you say the name Patty in the courthouse while he's signing the papers, you can watch him desperately look for the nearest window to hurl himself out of

N = Nicknames (What do they call their s/o?)

Baby, babe, sweetie and honey. He'll jokingly refer to you as the ball and chain but if anyone else says it then he gets annoyed

O = On Cloud Nine (What are they like when they are in love? Is it obvious for others? How do they express their feelings?)

It's obvious to anyone that regrettably has eyes or ears. He doesn't even try to hide it, he'll keep his hand in your back pocket or you on his lap or he'll sit on your lap. You cold? Here take his jacket. You need money? Well then he'll beg, steal or borrow if he doesn't have it on him. Landlord problems? They won't be bugging you after he scares the piss out of them

P = PDA (Are they upfront about their relationship? Are they rather shy when others are watching?)

He seriously lacks the concept of shame. He'll keep an arm around your waist walking down the street and put his tongue down your throat publicly in an alleyway

Q = Quirk (Some random ability they have that’s beneficial in a relationship.)

He has a pretty good sense of direction from years of traveling

R = Romance (How romantic are they? Cliché or rather creative?)

He's fully cliché and he embraces it

S = Secrets (how open are they with you?)

It takes him a while to fully open up about his childhood and his trauma slowly trickles out more year after year. It's not that he doesn't trust you, it's just hard to talk about

T = Time (how long did it take you to get together?)

It takes about six months for a relationship to actually happen after weeks of flirting and tension. He was nervous about being with someone at first

U = Understanding (How good do they know their partner?)

Dante's not a mind reader but he can tell when you're lying or uncomfortable in a second. He remembers small details even if he never mentions them

V = Value (How important is the relationship to them? What is it’s worth in comparison to other things in their life?)

He's not ready to stop being a demon hunter, so if you ever give him an ultimatum regarding it then it's bad news bears

W = Wild Card (A random Fluff Headcanon.)

He loves winter because it means you can share hot cocoa and cuddle up under blankets without overheating

X = XOXO (Are they very affectionate? Do they love to kiss and cuddle?)

Boy, does he! Everyone else is disgusted by it, you've been told to get a room before. He doesn't care and anyone outside the shop won't say anything a second time after he glares at them if they have a brain

Z = Zeal  (Are they willing to go to great lengths for the relationship? If so, what kind of?)

If you ever get stuck in hell then he's going through a portal after you without even blinking or thinking twice. No plan needed, he's ripping and tearing until it's done

[xxgoblin-dumplingxx]

I just want to give the kid in Scruffy!verse a cookie and cuddles. Can we figure out how to do that? Please?

Bruce studied the scotch in his glass- he rarely drank but. Today, he didn't want to deal with the guilt. Or the pain.

It was too big. Too raw.

Every contingency he'd ever had, had failed.

Jason was gone.

"Sir," Alfred said crisply.

"Alfred?" He didn't look up. He just watched the firelight play on the facets of the glass.

"Have you seen Y/N since-"

"No," he said flatly. He couldn't face you. He couldn't even look at you at the funeral. But he knew you were there, hugging Jason's teddy bear to your chest like you weren't 15 but a much younger child, rocking, your arms wrapped around yourself. Seeking comfort but having no one to turn to for it. "Why?"

"She's not been seen in a while," Alfred said carefully.

"Are you telling me you think she's on drugs?"

Alfred shot a meaningful look towards his glass. Even if he was sipping at it and it was his second over the course of a couple hours... You lived in a world where drugs and alcohol were easy to get hold of. And no one would bat an eye to see you buying them- they'd either assumed you'd given in or had been forced to buy for your parents.

Bruce nodded slowly. You weren't his responsibility, but you were. Jason would be gutted if you went down that road- threw everything away just to numb the pain. So he hauled himself to his feet to go and find you.

____________

It didn't take as long as he thought. And he exhaled slowly. Relieved/

Sure. It was late. You were in a bar. But. You weren't drinking- not unless you had vodka in your water bottle. But he doubted it. Your eyes were too focused.

From the looks of it, you were covering for your mom. And as he watched you play, shredding on your guitar and wailing out the song lyrics- wild and feral.

It hurt.

Knowing that it had to be business as usual so you could survive. You couldn't think. You couldn't slow down. You had to hurl yourself into working. Into school. Burying the pain because if you don't, it's paralyzing.

He stays near the back, watching. And it's not until later when you're tucking a wad of bills into your pocket and packing up your guitar that he considers approaching you.

But it isn't until he sees a man- a grown man, not some half grown kid approach you that he steps forward. "Y/N-"

"Hey," you answer, as if it hadn't been weeks and your voice isn't raw.

The other man fades into the background, grumbling and Bruce folds his arms, "It's late."

"So are my bills-"

"It's a school night."

"I know-"

Bruce frowned, noting a few fading bruises, "You hungry?"

"I worked tonight- running for Chow's. I'm alright." You turn, starting to walk away and Bruce gears up to try again.

"Come up to the house tomorrow? Alfred has-"

"You don't have to keep doing this Bruce, It's okay. I know you only did it because Jason-"

"Jason would have wanted you looked after," he said carefully. Invoking the only card he can play that won't sound weird to anyone listening. "Come up tomorrow," he said, "Alfred misses you." And before he can say anything else, get a little too honest, he turns on his heel and leaves.

Because how can he tell you that you're the last link he has to Jason. That the manor is too big and too empty. That the thought of you hungry and desperate made his blood run cold- because Jason had admitted things he knew he wasn't supposed to know.

[hyunsuks-beanie]

The Only One

Pairing: Best friend! Yandere! Jay x gn. reader

Content Warnings: Yandere themes; mentions of drinking; alludes to inappropriate thoughts

Mellow speaks: So yeah. Someone wanted another letter from Jay, and even though the event is long since over, I'm here to post it anyway cuz it was too damn fun!

Tagging: @sweethyuka @yedamology @enhacolor @axartia @hyunsuksmygod  @duolingofanaccount @zurimochi 

Good morning bub,

How are you feeling today? I hope you didn't get a hangover, I did make sure that you were hydrated, after all. But still, I left some meds on your nightstand before leaving, so take them if you don't feel well. I wanted to be there when you woke up, but I noticed your fridge is almost empty so I'll be making a trip to the store. I'll be there soon though, okay? So wait up for breakfast, and dont strain yourself. You must be tired anyway, seeing as how much you had to drink last night. 

Ah, silly me. You must be wondering when I came over, right? Because I'm sure that as far as you can remember, you fell asleep on Sunghoon's shoulder at the bar. You must be thinking he would've brought you home. But of course I couldn't possibly have left you all alone with him when you were in that state, no matter how nice of a person he is. I can't lie, it had hurt me a little walking out of the restroom only to see you getting cozy with him, or rather, it had annoyed me to think he might have been taking advantage of you. 

But when I noticed you had given in to the alcohol and fallen asleep, I couldn't help feeling my heart soften at how adorable you looked. And so I had no choice but to swoop in and lend poor Sunghoon a hand, relieving him of his task of having to see that you reached home safe. But it's not like I need to come clean to you, is it, since the both of us know I'm the only one you can trust when you're so vulnerable. 

That's right, baby. I'm the only one who should get to carry you to your apartment in my arms, I'm the only one who should get to have you snuggle into my chest and hold onto my arms as I tuck you into bed. I don't mean to come across as creepy or forceful, but I think you already know you can't trust anyone else as much as me to not do anything inappropriate when you're not in your senses. 

I know I'm not wrong, because even if you don't remember it, I'm convinced that realizing you're wearing your favorite pajama shorts ought to tell you that I changed you out of your dress last night, and I'm confident that you know I would never do anything that would make you uncomfortable. After all, thus isn't the first time I've helped you out of your outfits into more comfy ones, and never once have you had to complain about my hand being anywhere it shouldn't be, no matter how agonizing it was for me to not touch you when you looked so beautiful. 

Confused at that sudden confession? Well, a guy does have his needs, though you can rest assured that I'll never cross any limit with you unless you want me to. You have my word. But at the same time, we can't say the same for every guy out there now, can we? Yeah, Sunghoon might be a great guy to be friends with, but you can't just go trusting every other person to keep it in even when you've got your defenses down.

You can't go making yourself so approachable for anyone like that, Y/N, and it makes me worry about you. But that's exactly why you have me, the one who will always be there to keep you safe, away from prying eyes. Don't you worry, bub. I'll always protect you from danger, and I want you to know you're safe with me. 

No, that's not all I want. I want you to know you'll be safe only when you're with me. I know it might sound weird or unbelievable right now, but trust me, it's the truth. And I'm going to prove it to you, no matter what it takes. Because I don't want anyone else to even lay their gaze on something I know only I can treasure. 

I'll be back soon,

Your best friend

[queenbeeibee]

“If you would like anything to drink, simply ask Husker at the bar, and he’ll fix up anything you’d like.”

Bee had to dig her nails into the palms of her hands to keep from losing her form at the offer. If there was one surefire way to get the Queen of Gluttony's attention, it was with the offer of free booze, made anyway she liked. But... she wasn't the Queen of Gluttony right now, was she? No, she was Belz, who looked human. Who couldn't drink copious amounts of alcohol without giving the game up. Fuck, she should have thought this through further. She was going to have to abstain, at least for now, on the whole drinking thing. Disgusting. So disgusting, in fact, she almost missed Alastor's next words - redemption, escape, or SPYING? What the fuck?

"Not the last one, I can guarantee you." Her voice was firm, as she squared her shoulders, turning to look at the taller-for-now demon. "Spies are a kind of filth I don't deal with, unless it's to get rid of them." She could remember back during the War of Heaven, when some lower-ranked Angels had tried to infiltrate Lucifer's ranks as spies. While she hadn't loved killing them, she had taken comfort in knowing that Lucifer's plans were still their own. Not that it had ended well, either way. "And not redemption. I know that's kinda the whole deal of this place, but..." Her shoulders drooped ever so slightly, and she let herself smile, "I'm beyond that, I think."

Far beyond that. The idea of redemption for her was laughable. "So, I guess, to answer you, I'm here for escape! Life's kinda weird out there, y'know, nothing like how it is back home. And this place... It seemed like the right place to come to." That, at least, wasn't a lie - whenever Bee was feeling overwhelmed with work lately, she did abscond to Charlie's hotel more often than not to relax. Sure, it wasn't as relaxing as, say, a trip to the clubs of Lust or the beaches of Envy would be, but it was a different sort of relaxation. Maybe one day she'd be able to say what she meant about it, but for now, that was the best she had. "That a good enough answer?"

“Alastor. Pleasure to be meeting you, quite a pleasure.” He stepped back, moving toward the parlor. “You are welcome to take a seat here in the parlor, and I’ll handle all the paperwork. Not to worry.” A wave of his hand, and a faint rustle of paper as he took a moment to make note of her presence here as well as who she was here for.

“If you would like anything to drink, simply ask Husker at the bar, and he’ll fix up anything you’d like.” A brief chuckle, and a soft cant of his head. “Now, I must admit I am rather curious. If you don’t mind my asking, what is it that’s brought you to the hotel? Seeking redemption? Or perhaps simply an escape of some kind? We had an issue a while back of attempted spying, so I can only hope you’re not here for that particular endeavor.” Yes, he still remembered how Pentious had arrived at the hotel. First an attempt to attack him, then a false claim of seeking redemption while he attempted to spy for the Vee’s, and then..

A momentary glance at the portrait on the wall. Despite his initial arrival and attempted spying, Pentious had in fact done well at the hotel. Even Alastor felt the loss of the serpent. It wasn’t as if he’d exactly been friends with him, but he had grown accustomed to his presence, so.. without him, it was as if there was an emptiness where he’d once been.

[amelee23]

Stray Kids as fictional creature boyfriends | Lee Know

Small romance/ comedy series where I write about the reader finding out that skz members are a specific fictional creature.

LEE KNOW - INCUBUS

Genre: Romance, comedy, Headcannon

Warnings: mentions of clubs and alcohol, mentions of cheating, very suggestive but not explicit, Minho says something really savage and is a weirdo but also very sappy, reader gender isn't mentioned unless I somehow didn't see it during proofreading

Word count: 1250

✦✦✦

The club lights were flashing in neon colors of purple and blue; a strange upbeat song was playing in the background, muffled by the voices. 

You were there to accompany a friend, who eventually left you to go dance with a new found date.

Heading to the bar to see if there was anything non-alcoholic that could quench your thirst, you stumbled upon a scene that almost seemed comedic

A man completely unknown to you was slumped in his high chair, eyebrows furrowed, glaring at a bottle of booze on the shelf and occasionally to the back door where the barman came from. 

"Are you trying to order a drink?" You asked, amused. The man seemed to be pulled out of a trance the next moment

"Huh? I, no? Yes?" You couldn't help but giggle at how disoriented he looked.

"You were glaring real hard at that bottle. What has it ever done to you?"

"It's not the bottle's fault, it's my date's who just stood me up."

"Ah, that explains why you're so out of it. Makes two of us - my friend is somewhere in this crowd making out with some guy while I have to wait take her home because I'm the only one that can drive."

"Responsible... I like it."

"Hmmm... What's the deal on your side tho? She never showed or did she cancel?"

"Canceled. I should look for someone else anyway, she's all body and no brains - she might get the job done but I feel like pulling out my hair every time she starts talking." You couldn't help the healthy laugh that came out of your mouth at such a statement.

"I'm Minho by the way... Creature of the night."

You introduced yourself back to him and joked back that you also like Batman

Minho chuckled and offered to take you on a dance. His posture standing up was a lot more different, his eyes almost too mesmerizing from up close. He politely planted his hands on your hips and guided them to sway around, and soon you felt like you were floating. 

Eventually his face came closer to yours, breath fanning over your face, and he whispered in your ear: "My cat got drunk on catnip"

That's what he does to double check his seduction is successful. Usually his victims are so gone by that point that they moan at whatever he says

But you didn't

"Well, that was random- is she okay tho?"

"You heard me?" 

"Yes? You're a weird man, Minho. Have you ever been told that?"

"More times than you can imagine. It's my charm."

Never did he think he needed to take things slowly with a human before. Like ask for your number and take you on a date? Absurdity. But he did it anyway

Because he found himself really determined to have you. Maybe it was exactly because he couldn't seduce you that drove him crazy

And believe me, he tried

Way too many times. 

But you always were pulled out of the trance the moment he tested you with his weird sentences - he even said something about putting a guy named Hyunjin in the oven? 

Eventually Minho rolled his eyes in defeat and did things v a n i l l a

Which was difficult to say the least. Being an Incubus, he obviously had to be intimate with people on the side of your relationship. And it was eating him up from the inside. So much so in fact, that he had to tell you. He couldn't stand the disappointment in your eyes every time he pushed you away. 

And the reveal hit you like a truck

At first you thought it was his weird way of confessing he was cheating on you. That would've hurt on it's own, but he made sure to prove it to you. You reluctantly followed him to a club where you bore witness to Minho seducing a woman so badly that she turned into dough. He was listing pie ingredients to her and she was getting horny. 

So eventually you made peace with it. Your boyfriend was a magical creature. And he survives on making others commit bodily sins. 

And he told you he can't do abstinence. The longer he stays away from it, the worse it gets. He loses self control, kinda like a rabbid dog. You associated it with the myth of vampires.  So what were the repercussions of becoming intimate with him? Fatigue, he told you. Much more intense than normal soreness, because he's basically feeding off of the energy of the people he seduces.  

Once you took all of that information in, he began to excitedly talk about how it's so cool he can't seduce you. The chase, doing things the old fashioned way, it was all very entertaining to him.

But that's what really scared you. Not that he's some sort of demonic descendent, but the fact that... You might just be a source of entertainment. He enjoyed chasing you, but after he finally gets you in bed, what will happen? Will he just move on? 

So you decided to rip off the band-aid as fast as possible. No more dates and dilly dallying. You initiated it and he gave in, giving you the most mind-blowing sex of your life. You could feel why he was an Incubus to begin with.  But when you woke up in the morning, the fatigue came. He was right, you weren't just tired, you felt drained and drowsy, as if you had the flu. Still, it was something you could get over, for him and how much you were fond of him... And one glance to his naked sleeping form broke you. You began crying

He woke up as if burnt and instantly wrapped his arms around you. "Are you suffering side effects?"

"What side effects, Minho?" You asked him sadly. 

"Some get depressive after having sex with me. It's part of the neural fatigue."

"I'm not depressed Minho... I'm just scared."

"Of me? Did I do something wrong?" The fact that he instantly made himself to be the target of your fear saddened you even farther. 

"Not of you!" You found yourself yelling at him. "Of you leaving me now that you got what you wanted."

"Huh? What I wanted? Like what, sex?"

"Obviously. Isn't that why you chased me in the first place?"

Before answering he pulled you into his body for the tightest and warmest embrace you've ever felt in your life. "I meant it when I said I love the fact I can't seduce you. You gave me someone to get to know, someone to care about, someone to rely on... I don't do that with sex partners. They're just there to fix what's making my existence inconvenient. I told you the truth about me because I felt bad for breaking your trust through it, though. Basically what I'm trying to say is I never planned on leaving you. I dated you because I want to be with you. Romantically."

You pulled away to look him in the eyes and that was when Minho looked the softest he ever did. "I want you to trust me, kitten. I want it even though it's very selfish to ask for it. I mean- it's either I exhaust you constantly or I have to see other people on the side - there's no good choice. But I want to feel love too, you know? And it has to be you."

I do not own the picture!

Also tell me if you liked it, I have two other members I can post.

[fw00shy]

Peacekeeper

Pansy was already talking up the bartender when Draco came in. "You're sweaty. And late," she said when she saw Draco, her elbow propped up on the counter and a nose strained toward the ceiling. Her voice was already husky from smoke.

"I'm barely," Draco said, barely sweaty, barely late, barely anything.

Singles and triples of Muggles cloistered along the long stretch of the bar. At seven, the evening crowd was lively but not boisterous, not so much that the bartender couldn't hear Draco shout his usual order as he walked up to Pansy and hooked his coat beneath the counter.

"Eager," Pansy muttered. She hid her half-smile behind a half-clear glass and red-tipped nails. "Not that I fault you, mind."

"Weather's been weird all day," Draco said, by which he meant it'd been overcast all day, so grey that he slept through his alarm and woke up on London time—whatever that meant.

"Nearly makes me miss home," Pansy agreed. Draco's drink came then, and they clinked their glasses together in more of an instinctive gesture than a celebration—barely-met eyes before their lips met liquor.

"Nearly," Draco emphasized. Home was terror and trauma and tragedy. Home—well, he could do with a new one.

"I do miss it, sometimes," Pansy said. She was nearly a third done with her Manhattan, coupe glass clutched between nails of matching crimson. Her go-to drink was anything, as long as it didn't have ice in it. Dilution made her sick.

"You don't mean that," Draco said. "You're drunk."

"Am not. Say, what would you do, if I went back?"

"You won't leave me," Draco said.

"You don't know what I'd do. I. I, I need to pee," Pansy declared. She tottered to her feet, leaving Draco alone at the bar.

Draco swept his gaze around the room. Two couples on first dates—boring. Unless—no, he couldn't. That was uncouth. He stretched his neck, letting eyes fall down the bar once more.

Green eyes looked back.

"Jesus Christ," Draco muttered. "Jesus fucking Christ," he swore again as Potter made his way over.

Potter wore a leather jacket with a stiff, upturned collar. His hands were in his jean pockets, but his grin was nothing short of liquid.

"Buy me a drink?" he asked.

"Sure," Draco said. "Sure, um." He handed Potter his drink, then he picked up Pansy's leftover Manhattan like it'd been his since the start.

Draco cleared his throat. "So, what, what brings—" His eyes met Potter's and then slid right off to his chest, but that was dangerous too, in fact, the lower he got the more he burned—

"I live here," Potter said. He was still smiling, that toothy wanker. "Well, almost here, anyway. Just a block up."

"No bloody way," Draco said too-loud.

"No? Want me to prove it to you?"

"No, I—"

"You might as well come over, I've still got something of yours you'd want back."

"My dignity? Shit, did I say that aloud?"

Potter laughed. "No. Your wand, you idiot."

"Oh, right." Draco blinked. "I'm. Um. Pansy—"

"Pansy does not want to be anywhere where wands are being given and got," Pansy declared. She walked back up to the counter and reclaimed her Manhattan. "You go along without me."

"I insist," Potter said, and how was Draco to say no to Potter's insistence? Draco gathered up his things into a haphazard heap and ambled toward the exit. Was he really following Harry Potter to his flat? What was he—why didn't he question this more? He could be walking into a trap, his past out for revenge—

"What are you thinking about?" Potter asked.

"A lot," Draco admitted. Then it started raining, and nobody knew what to do about it, except get wet.

peacekeeper is a lovely bar

[carlosfruitsnacks]

"we used to be a team" - part 2

PART 1 || PART 2 || PART 3

summary:

— years go by and things weren't what they used to be. You found Camilo and Carlos but all of you weren't on the same team anymore.

genre:

— angst, aged-up & modern au

notes:

— gender-neautral reader. I do not speak fluent Spanish and all of the Spanish here is translated from google, feel free to correct me.

warning/s:

— heavy cussing

a/n:

— yay, more angst lmao. part 3 will be coming out shortly, thanks for your patience <3

The metal bars and cold sleepless nights were enough to make you lose it. It didn't matter how hard you tried to forget what lead you here, at the prison. You'll never understand why it ended up this way. But you can't wish it all back. You could've graduated college, you could've lived a better life, you could've still had your best friends.

"[Name], you're up"

You look to the deadpan officer as he unlocked your cell. You scowled and stood up from your shared bunk bed, you used to have a roommate until you decided to extend your sentence by beating the shit out of them. The officer roughly took your wrists and secures both of them with tight handcuffs. Anyone should be smiling if they were in your shoes, you were getting released today for your charges. But you weren't. You weren't going to fucking smile after what you've been put through.

Rewind the time back to the day of your arrest. You were sent to prison for theft and attempted murder, you could've dealt with it better if it weren't for your so-called best friend, Camilo Madrigal. God, you hated that name so much. Surprise surprise, the bastard sold you out and got a lighter sentence in return, he was released five years prior to yours. Thank god you didn't have to see his face because you probably couldn't have held back and smashed his skull in. You were terribly hurt when he did that. Now, you have to carry all those charges alone and extend your stay in prison.

After dealing with the papers and some talking with the judge, you were properly released from prison. The outside world seemed the same for you, but it appeared as though you were the one who has changed. You were lost, unable to find where to start. Maybe begin avoiding making crimes, you can take anything but be sent back to prison and eat those disgusting prison food, yuck.

You decided to take a stroll to the nearest store, these free prison clothes weren't doing anything for you. Luckily, after searching for a few minutes, you found a thrift store. You trudged and went searching for clothes. All you picked on was pair of jeans and a leather jacket. Fortunately for you, there was enough money in your pocket to pay instead of stealing. As you walked out of the thrift store wondering where to start your new life, you spot a group of shady people in the corner of your eye. You held back a groan as you felt them approach you.

"Well, look at what we got here"

One of them purred and traced a finger up to your shoulder, you sent them a warning glare. You mentally count down the seconds, but they were still looking for trouble. So, without a warning, you threw your fist into one of them, hitting them on the cheek. They stumble back and tried to get a hit on you, but you dodge them swiftly as you send a kick to one of their sides causing them to collapse. You kick dirt into their face and spat on their hair. The rest of the group huddle together in shock, and you give them a cold glare.

"You all better fucking scram unless you want to end up in the ditches, dead"

You growled, steadying your bandaged fists. Since your time in prison, you learned how to throw a proper fight, you weren't like the defenseless [Name] anymore that relied on their best friends for protection. One of the goons whispered to another.

"Tell the boss"

You heard them before officially scramming. You let out a scoff and left the premises. You found yourself taking in the sights around town, it was weird to find that not a lot has changed. You visited a familiar ice cream parlor, it was surprising to see the old place still standing. You entered the ice cream parlor where Camilo dragged you into, you shut those warm memories out as you bought ice cream. You exited the parlor licking your dessert, unaware of the pair of eyes following your every move. The moment you turned your heel, a quick hit from behind the head with a blunt object sent you falling to the ground and unconscious. Several quick hands dragged your body and took you away, leaving your ice cream to rot on the ground.

"...Make sure to guard the exits, Marco"

A voice wakes you up, your eyes registered the dark surroundings. You tried to stand up but you discovered that you were chained to a metal chair. With a few attempts of tugging your restraints off, you were left all in vain. All of a sudden, you felt a fabric getting pulled off of your face, you winced as your eyes adjusted to the drastic brightness. You scan your eyes around to find a masked figure sitting on a chair across from you, casually. You deeply frowned at them.

"Are you shy or just ugly?"

You gruffly said. The figure stands up from the chair and walks in front of you, they were wearing a thick dark yellow jacket with graffiti designs. They had a black shirt underneath and ripped jeans. A pair of combat boots for footwear with a hood over their head. You waited as they slowly peeled off the ski mask from their face. Your blood turns cold and the scowl on your face gets wiped off by the sight. The figure, a too familiar guy, brushes his long brown curls back and glares down at you.

"You look good for a dead person"

Those were his first words to you after years apart, there wasn't even an ounce of sweetness in them. You look at him with unblinking eyes, your chest growing tight with each second. You wanted to be infuriated so bad but your mind tricks you to think you found something you missed for so long.

"...Camilo?"

You piped up and looked at him with eyes glimmering in hope. Camilo Madrigal, your long-lost best friend, the one who sold you off, was standing in front of you. Alive and well. He paces around you with a dirty look on his features, it seemed like he doesn't miss you as much as you missed him. You couldn't figure out why you weren't so angry with him after all this time.

"What do you think you're doing beating up one of my people?"

Camilo questioned with venom. Quickly, the anger you're looking for returns to your system as you glare up at him.

"What? What the hell is this about?"

"And what the hell are you doing strolling around at my part of town?"

He rebuts back at you, coldly. You scoffed with disbelief, not knowing what has gotten into him and why he was behaving this way. You were convinced that he doesn't remember you so your face softens.

"It's me, [Name]! The same person who ate ice cream with you when we were twelve!"

You say and leaned to get closer to him. Camilo takes a step back and avoids your gaze, you couldn't tell if he does or doesn't recall who you are.

"We used to fuck around at college! We...we would hang out at the park and smoke and shit! Camilo, I used to brush your hair and we'd laugh for hours"

"That...that was a long time ago, people change"

Camilo replies and peers over you. It slowly comes sinking down to you that he was right, that people do change and it's the most painful thing you have to experience. You hold back your tears and gritted your teeth at him.

"Yeah, I'm getting that"

"Are you...are you working for, Carlos?"

This brings a laugh out of you, it was out of the blue that he's asking if you're working for his twin brother, the one who ditched you both when you were about to get arrested. There was a bitter taste on your tongue.

"Fuck you"

"I thought you were dead! And now you show up throwing hands with one of my groups?!"

"You were following me! Why didn't you say something?!"

"I don't know if I can trust you"

"So...so you just come up and knocked me out?"

Camilo rolls his eyes at you, growing impatient with everything. You didn't know what was up with him and why he turned out this way. Groups? His side of town? Wanting to know if you work for his twin brother you haven't heard from for years? Is he part of an illegal group that does crimes? You sneer at him.

"Wow, look at you. I bet you still punch like a little boy"

"And I bet you still rely on people for protection"

He spat back at you. Camilo's face was inches from yours, his breath was hot and the tension rising in the air had you panting. You gulped and turned away, banishing the thought that he still looked so handsome after a long time. You look down at your feet downcast.

"I remember when you would stand up for me..."

You say. A click of a lock and the chains holding you on the chair come crumbling apart, surprising Camilo. You march up to him, he was waiting for you to swing your fist at him but he was greeted with a pair of arms wrapping around his body. You sighed and nuzzled your cheek against his neck.

"I missed you so much, 'Milo"

Camilo stood rigid, trying to process what was going on. His breathing turned shallow with disbelief, he fought the urge to hug you back. He wouldn't dare admit that he misses you too, incredibly.

"How...how long have you had those off?"

"How long have you been whining?"

You smiled and buried yourself deeper into him. Camilo feels the dam breaking into pieces as a tear rolls down his face and embraces you back, ten times tighter. The two of you embraced each other for a long period of time, unwilling to let go. What made you both pull away was a knock on the door.

"Boss, we have to go!"

"I'll be out in a minute"

Camilo replies to the person behind the door. You still had questions so you trailed behind Camilo, he faces you and placed a hand on your shoulder.

"You need to get out of here [Name]. You...You don't deserve to be here with me"

"What? Why?!"

"I...I did bad things [Name], you don't want to be involved with me so please get out while you still can"

"Oh god, you...you're a-"

"Yeah, a crime lord and blah blah blah. You need to leave before the officers come raiding here"

"Camilo, I still don't get what's going on!"

"You don't have to"

He says and pushes you to a backdoor, he swiftly opens it and shoves you outside. But before he can shut the door, he leans in to give you one last hug and a kiss on the temple. You look at him teary-eyed.

"It was nice seeing you again, [Name]"

Camilo gives you a smile you haven't seen in a while, your insides melt at how warm it looked. He quickly slips back his ski mask before shutting the door and the next thing you hear was shouting and gunshots.

You stand by the bus stop, you just finished crying at the fact that you just got reunited with your best friend but he's now a criminal. You loved Camilo, you really do but he was right, you don't want to be involved with him. You were gone for too long and you couldn't save him from falling into the life of crime. It was evening and you just realized you have no place to stay, you stayed at the bus stop for a while, thinking about where to spend the night.

Your eyes lingered around for a while until you found a bewildering poster at the side of the bus stop. Your jaw drops as you scrambled to get a closer look at the poster.

Carlos Madrigal for Governor

The letters said in bold letters with a picture of a man in a suit and tie, all fresh and professional. You merely choked on your saliva as you scanned the poster closer. The unmistakable curly auburn hair and smirk made your heart weak. Holy shit, it's him. You needed to see him, right now. You need him to explain why he did what he did years ago, you need to know why he never bothered to reach back to you or to Camilo.

Hours went by when you discovered the exact location of Carlos's office, call it pure luck but you found it with effort. You take in a deep breath and walked up the stairs to the front desk. A neat woman with curly raven hair and glasses sees you. She gives you a wide-eyed look.

"May I help you?"

"Uh, hello can I speak with the governor Carlos Madrigal?"

"Do you have an appointment?"

"I...no...?"

"Well, you need an appointment to speak with him. Shall I schedule you one?"

"Yes! That would be awesome"

"Hmmm, it appears that Mr. Madrigal's availability would be next month"

She says. You bite back a curse. There was no way you can wait that long, you have waited long enough in prison. You need to come up with an excuse.

"But I'm his...his cousin! Yeah! And I'm really busy right now to book an appointment so if you're kind enough to-"

"I am sorry but I cannot let you meet the governor without an appointment"

"Please, just one time! It's urgent!"

"I am sorry but these are the rules-"

"Mrs. Martinez, I thought I told you to go home for tonight?"

A voice interrupts you two. That voice sounded too good to be true, you slowly turned and met face to face with Carlos Madrigal. Fuck, he looked so different in contrast before. Possibly even hotter. His curly hair was kept heat, he had a maroon suit and tie and a pair of glasses resting on the bridge of his nose. He meets your eye and was purely shocked, he takes off his glasses and blinks rapidly at you.

"I am sorry Mr. Madrigal but your, um, your cousin came in and wants to meet you without an appointment"

"Oh, yes. I forgot that my...cousin was going to pay me a visit. No need for an appointment, Mrs. Martinez you can go home now"

Carlos said. You thank the heavens above that he played along. You waited for the lady behind the desk to leave before letting out a relieved sigh. You noticed Carlos glaring at you, he wasn't happy one bit.

"You, to my office, now"

You obeyed him and followed suit. Good lord, Carlos sounded more intimidating than you remembered. Back then, you weren't affected by his frightening demeanor but now you are. His office was extremely neat and decorated in golds and reds, he takes a seat in his chair and arranges the papers on the desk. You shyly watched him.

"So, you loving the rich life, Carlos?"

"What do you need from me?"

He shoots you an impatient look and this makes you irritated. You walk over to him with a firm frown.

"Okay, so no 'hello! how are you?' or an 'I miss you' and not even an 'I'm sorry I fucking ditched you and Camilo that day'?!"

"Don't you fucking say his name"

"Wow, I'm sorry, Mr. Governor"

Carlos doesn't like your behavior so he massages his temples and stands up from his seat to scowl down at you.

"I had to do it. None of this would've happened if you didn't steal that car"

"Fuck you! I was trying to save your life!"

"Well, you barely put some fucking thought to it, and now look at where it got you!"

"You would've landed in prison too but you decided to be a coward and run away! Now you're here acting all high and mighty and leaving your best friends to rot in prison!"

You screamed at him. Carlos loses his composure as he grabs you by the collar and pushes you against the wall, he slams the wall beside your head. He looked at you heatedly with his curly hair now disheveled.

"We are not best friends anymore. Camilo is a crime lord and he needs to be stopped so a ran for governor. If you're here to pick his side and you should get the fuck out of my office"

"I never said I was on his side!"

"What? Do you think I'll protect you from him? Oh, hun, you're on your own"

"Carlos, I just wanted to see you"

You softly said. This evokes a new reaction from him. Carlos furrows his eyebrows at you, he turns away to hide his wet eyes. He loosens his tie and gives you a hard look.

"You shouldn't have come looking for me, [Name]"

"I don't care anymore why you ran away that day and ditched us. I just want you back, Carlos"

"[Name] I...it's not the same anymore"

"I learned that the hard way"

Carlos chuckled at you. For a moment, you noticed the longing look in his eyes until his cold expression returned. He clears his throat.

"You need to leave, [Name]"

"But Carlos..."

"I...I have priorities, [Name]. The city is relying on me to put Camilo behind bars once and for all, please for the love of God, don't try to commit any crimes"

"Do you like it?"

"What?"

"Do you like seeing our friendship fall apart?"

You asked genuinely, you weren't prepared for whatever answer he has in mind. You watch Carlos take a sharp inhale and avoid your eyes.

"There was barely I can do about it anyway"

You can barely stand it being in his office so you take your cue to leave. Carlos pulls out a bottle of whiskey the moment you left. You were wandering on the streets in the middle of the night, holding back a heart-wrenching sob. You find it hard to accept that you, Camilo, and Carlos aren't on the same team anymore. You wouldn't dare pick sides knowing all of you were in the wrong for this. You just wished you can feel those pairs of arms hugging you in the backseat one more time.

taglist: @vanevafu , @irisia-ckzkb1109 , @elegantkidfansoul , @candykamikun , @cahmilo , @pochi-moochika , @justzei , @try-cry-why-try , @nanaisheretomessupthings ...join here

masterlist

[leonidasxx]

Leo liked that this girl was self-aware, and he actually laughed a little at her response. "It's not so much how you look," Leo answered, "it's more about the way you're walking and holding on to the bar for support. But hey, I'm not judging. At least you're not the obnoxious kind of drunk person." Not yet at least, Leo thought, though he didn't expect that from this customer; Leo was pretty good at guessing which customers would start to annoy him as they got drunker and drunker. "Let's keep you from becoming the vomiting kind of drunk too, yeah?" he added as he handed the glass of water to the girl.

"That's...not what I expected," Leo replied when Bunny introduced herself. "I mean I know it's a name, but you don't hear that a lot. Then again, my full name is Leonidas, which you don't really hear either unless you're in ancient Sparta." He laughed, even though it was an obvious joke, and Leo said, "Bunny suits you though. It would be weird if your name was like...Gertrude or something." It surprised Leo too when Bunny reached out to shake his hand, and it caught him so off-guard that he couldn't help but laugh. "Well, nice to meet you, Bunny," he said, adding, "and nice firm handshake." Leo liked that about the girl.

When Bunny asked about food, Leo replied, "I've got just the thing. This is a bar, so...the food isn't gourmet or anything. But they make good grilled cheese, like I mean really just excellent grilled cheese. I honestly don't know how they do it." Leo had never been a big grilled cheese fan before - it was fine, but that's all - but this place was changing his mind. "It's even better if they put a little slice of tomato inside, so we're going to do that too unless you hate tomatoes or something." A few minutes later after he had given the kitchen the order, Leo returned to Bunny and glanced at her friends. "So are you all here celebrating something tonight? Or is this just a fun night out?" What Leo was really worried about was how Bunny was going to get home if her friends were drunk too.

Despite herself, Bunny giggles at Leo's half-hearted response. Good idea. She wishes suddenly for a mirror or reflective surface in which to check her appearance ; her hand comes up, almost self-consciously, to pat her curls.

"I look that juiced, do I?" Bunny asks him coyly, sliding onto the cushioned barstool across from him and folding her manicured hands together on the countertop. Her eyes drop to the glass of water he slides in front of her, and she smiles at him again before reaching for it.

"I'm Bunny," she introduces herself, extending her hand suddenly across the bar to shake his. Her father had instilled in her the value of a firm handshake ; and while it maybe wasn't the most obvious way to flirt with somebody, Bunny wasn't exactly operating with a sober mind. Something about Leo's long hair and grungy style is subtly charming to Bunny — and if Leo is motivated by anything other than a genuine interest in her, she's too drunk to notice (or maybe just too drunk to care).

Her eyes flash over to her group of friends — colleagues, whatever — still huddled near the dance floor. She sighs before turning her gaze back to Leo. "Food sounds good, I guess. What do you recommend?"