#guess who might be back for the THIRD time???

[innerfare]

Gross - Law 

Summary: A short drabble in which Captain Law is down bad for a member of his crew who has a bad habit of chewing on pens.

Pairing: Trafalgar Law x Reader

Genre: Fluff

CW: SFW // None, just the tiniest bit suggestive

Word Count: 668

———

Law didn’t normally pay much attention to the pen he grabbed, but since you had joined the crew, he found himself searching for the ones you used. He could always tell which pens you had used because you had a horrible habit of chewing on the end when you were concentrating. 

When he found one, the end chewed up like an animal had gotten to it, he scrunched up his nose in disgust- not at the pen, but at himself. 

Had he really been reduced to this? 

He regretted asking you to join the crew, but the only thing worse than having you on his crew was not having you on his crew. The smell of your fruity shampoo, the sound of your laugh, the way you got so excited that you bounced a bit when you talked to him about the research you were conducting on bioluminescent algae in the Grand Line. Oh, and the fact that you sometimes touched him. 

He could count on one hand the number of times you had touched him. The first was the time you squeeze past him in the hall and placed your hand on his back as you did. The second was the time you sat next to each other at dinner and your legs were pressed together. The third was the time you asked him to hand you a microscope slide in the laboratory and your fingers brushed; sure, you’d been wearing rubber gloves, but it still counted. And when he reached under your shirt to get your heartbeat during checkups… well, he was harboring guilt over the thoughts that entered his mind when he was supposed to be administering medical care. 

And then there was your habit of chewing on writing implements. 

He gritted his teeth and stared down at the pen. The first time he’d used yours, it had been an accident. He’d been in the middle of taking some notes on a medical journal and looked down to find the end all chewed up. After that, he had been on a crusade to figure out which member of his crew had such a disgusting habit, but as soon as he discovered you were the one responsible, he had changed his tune. 

Standing there with the pen in his hand, he ran his thumb over the tip, imagining it was your lips, wondering what it would feel like to dip his thumb into your mouth.  

“Hey, Captain.” 

Law nearly jumped out of his skin. He whirled around, dropping the pen on the floor with a clatter. His eyes widened a fraction of an inch when he saw you in the doorway. 

Your brows shot up when he dropped the pen. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.” You entered the room and bent down in front of him to retrieve the pen. 

Law looked down at you and held his breath. When you slowly rose to your feet once more, looking up at him with those innocent doe eyes, he thought he might go into cardiac arrest. 

“I’ll buy you some new pens.” 

“Huh?” 

You blinked. “New pens. Since I ruined this one.” You looked sheepish. “It’s a bad habit, I know. I’m trying to stop, but…” 

“It’s… fine.” Law wracked his brain for something else to say, but the organ had short circuited as soon as you entered the room. And then he caught a whiff of your fruity shampoo. He tried to swallow the lump in his throat but to no avail. 

“Okay, we’ll…” You shifted from foot to foot and cleared your throat. “I’ll see you at dinner, I guess.” With that, you turned on your heel and walked away, leaving Law alone with the scent of your shampoo. 

As soon as you were gone, he let out the longest sigh of his life. He pinched the bridge of his nose, a crease forming between his brows. “Gross,” he told himself, sickened by his perverse desire to grasp the pen you’d chewed on. 

———

Hope you enjoyed it! If you want more, you can check out my masterlist here!

[kimstclair]

Game Night

Game night was in full swing, and the tension was palpable.

“C’mon, Amren, don't be a killjoy,” Cassian taunted, leaning back in his chair with a playful smirk.

Amren poured herself another glass of wine and dismissed him for the third time. “These games are bad for my nerves.”

“You know what?” Cassian insisted, grinning mischievously. “Let’s make a bet! If I win, you have to play two more rounds. If you win, I promise to make sure Rhys will take one more thought at the High King thing.”

Amren clicked her tongue with a smirk. “When Rhysand actually becomes High King, I promise I'll play as many stupid card games as you want.”

“Forget it, Cass, she’s already too old to enjoy life,” Rhysand teased. But before Amren could snap back, Feyre spoke up, stretching her arms out with a yawn.

“You can play, I'm kinda tired.”

“Oh no, darling,” Rhysand interrupted with a sly grin, “you were the one who wanted to play in the first place. I'm sitting this out.”

“Actually,” Azriel cleared his throat, “I have some reports to finish. You all go ahead.”

“For Mother’s sake,” Nesta said aloud, rolling her eyes. “You’re all so dramatic.”

She pushed her chair back and headed toward the door arc. “Where are you going, hon?” Cassian called after her.

“I’ll be back soon,” Nesta replied, already walking down the hallway.

–

Gwyn was engrossed in a new novel Emerie had lent her when Deirdre tapped her shoulder. “Clotho asked me to give you this.”

She handed over a note: You have a visitor.

Gwyn had two guesses as to who it might be, but refused to admit one of them made her heart skip a beat. She slipped out of her nightgown, threw on a casual robe, and headed toward the library.

Visitors weren’t allowed in the priestesses’ dormitory, so it wasn’t surprising to find Nesta waiting for her by Clotho’s desk, clad in an elegant dress.

“Is everything okay?” Gwyn asked.

Nesta’s face lit with a mischievous glint. “How good are you at cards?”

–

Back in the game room, the first round was underway.

“I swear!” Cassian shouted. “I felt Rhys inside my mind.”

Rhysand rolled his eyes. “Cassian, that’s not a thing. You can’t feel when I’m using my daemati powers.”

“So you admit you used them!” Cassian snapped, looking triumphant.

“Let’s just start over,” Feyre suggested, barely holding back a laugh.

Azriel was holding his cards quietly, but Gwyn noted the faintest smile on his lips. She also noticed a card poking out of the collar of Rhysand’s robes and Cassian’s cards sprawled across the table, likely tossed in a fit of rage.

“That’s why I don’t play,” a small, black-haired female Gwyn recognized as Amren said, looking directly at her and sipping her wine.

Everyone at the table turned to look at Gwyn and Nesta standing by the doorway. Feyre greeted them with a warm smile.

"Just found the missing player for our game," Nesta announced proudly.

“Good to see you, Gwyneth,” Rhysand greeted with a smile.

“Good evening, High Lord,” Gwyn replied with a respectful bow.

“Please, call me Rhysand,” he grinned, his gaze twinkling with amusement. “Especially if we’re about to be rivals in a… intense match.”

–

Cassian, clearly frustrated, turned to Rhysand and Feyre. "You two can't be a team anymore; you're always communicating telepathically!"

Rhysand merely smiled. "Are we just too good for you, Cass?"

“Stop stalling, Rhys. Everyone here knows you and Feyre have an unfair advantage,” Cassian grumbled, crossing his arms.

Nesta, arms crossed and expression calculating, saw her chance. “Alright. Gwyn and I could pair up, and you four can rearrange yourselves.”

But after a pause, she reconsidered. “Actually… I don’t trust Azriel with any daemati,” she added, casting a look at Azriel, who merely raised an eyebrow in response. “He’ll do whatever it takes to win.”

Cassian laughed, then had an idea. “Fine, then let’s try this: Nesta and I split to join Rhys and Feyre. That way, we’ll keep them in check.”

Azriel sighed, his calm tone laced with faint exasperation. “Not that I have an issue with the pairing,” he said, his gaze sweeping the table, “but that arrangement would leave Gwyn and me at a disadvantage.”

Rhysand smirked. “Oh, don’t worry, Azriel. I promise I won’t be using… my shadows this time.”

Azriel’s expression didn’t shift, but there was a glimmer in his eyes. He glanced Gwyn’s way, eyebrow raised, daring her to react. She suppressed a smile, feeling the camaraderie—and something else, a subtle tension that she preferred not to examine too closely.

“I think they’re just scared, Gwyn,” Azriel murmured, his tone light yet challenging. “Looks like we’ll have to show them how it’s done.”

Gwyn raised an eyebrow, playing along. “Well, if you think you can handle it, Shadowsinger… I’m in.”

Cassian patted Rhysand’s back. “Looks like we’ve got a match! Let’s see if the shadow-and-singer duo can really take us on.”

Rhysand merely shrugged. “May the best team win.”

“Alright, you two can pair up, and I’ll take Nesta,” Feyre suggested. “Everyone take seats opposite your partners—no one sits next to their teammate.”

As they shuffled places, Azriel passed by Gwyn and leaned close. “Rhys and Feyre will try to read your mind, so keep it focused. And watch out for Cassian; he pretends to get more wine just to peek over at people’s cards.”

Gwyn only had time to nod as everyone settled in.

–

The game quickly spiraled into chaos. Cassian barely made it through the first hand before he got up to refill his wine. Gwyn recalled Azriel’s advice and turned her cards down as Cassian passed.

Rhysand eyed Feyre with suspicion. “You’re not cheating, are you, darling?”

Feyre raised an eyebrow, feigning innocence. “Me? Rhys, I’m hurt you’d even suggest that.”

Amren scoffed. “As if she needs to cheat to beat you.”

Nesta leaned toward Cassian, whispering, “Azriel’s plotting something. I’ll bet a bottle of wine on it.”

“Deal,” Cassian replied, grinning.

Not even halfway through the game, Rhysand suggested a pause. Everyone agreed readily.

“You know, Cassian, considering how many times you’ve refilled your glass tonight, I’d say you’ve had your breaks,” Azriel noted.

“If we’re talking suspicious behavior,” Nesta chimed in, “we could mention the shadows swirling around Azriel’s ears all night.”

Azriel didn’t flinch, though his expression sharpened with determination. Gwyn had seen that same look on his face in training—a readiness to do whatever it took to win. Across the table, Gwyn noticed the glances Rhysand and Feyre were exchanging. She leaned toward Azriel, whispering, “They’re in cahoots.”

Azriel nodded, his voice low and amused. “Who isn’t?”

Gwyn did notice the shadows slipping around her neck, weaving through her hair and peeking at her cards as the game progressed. It was as if Azriel always knew her move before she even played her card, his shadows acting like an extension of her thoughts.

“Feyre and Nesta have a tell,” she whispered to Azriel, leaning subtly toward him. “Whenever they’re holding a bad hand, Feyre always scratches her eyebrow.”

Azriel regarded her with sharp eyes, a faint glint of approval there. “Observant,” he murmured, taking a sip of his whiskey. “And nice work sneaking a look at Cassian’s cards.”

Gwyn flushed, but she couldn’t help a proud smile. It was true; whenever Cassian was too busy gazing at Nesta to notice anything else around him, she took the opportunity to steal a glance at his hand. It was almost too easy sometimes. She hadn’t known that Azriel had picked up on her tactic until now.

“Alright, back to business!” Nesta called, dealing another round.

Apparently, the other pairs had also used the break to regroup and adjust their strategies. Gwyn noticed it was much harder to get a peek at Cassian’s cards now, and Feyre had changed her signal—she now wrapped a lock of hair around her finger, subtly.

Azriel’s shadows were more elusive now, but she could still feel their presence, curling around her, discreetly hidden by her hair and cloak. She also noticed how the shadows played across Azriel himself, moving slowly over his arms, mingling with the tattoos on his biceps.

Gwyn refused to admit how well she knew the details of those tattoos, practically by heart. She tried to justify it as just the result of their countless training sessions together. Surely, she had to pay attention to her trainer’s movements, didn’t she?

Before she could refocus on the game, Gwyn caught Feyre watching her—and suddenly realized with horror that Feyre was reading her thoughts. Specifically, the thoughts about Azriel’s biceps: those sculpted muscles she had definitely admired a little too closely.

Their eyes met, and Gwyn’s went wide. Feyre quickly turned her attention back to her cards, clearly holding back a grin.

But Gwyn had no time to be embarrassed, as she felt Azriel’s gaze settle on her, waiting for her next move. He tilted his head, his dark eyes intense. “Gwyn?” he asked, as if urging her to return her attention to the game.

Taking a steadying breath, she forced herself to look away from his arms, holding her cards ready to play.

From across the table, Amren smirked as she observed the scene. “You really think this game has anything to do with the cards, don’t you? Poor fools.”

“Oh, absolutely, Amren,” Feyre chimed in, playing along. “Everyone here is being perfectly honest.”

Nesta shrugged, giving an ironic smile. “If we were cheating, Cassian would have noticed. Isn’t that right?”

Cassian huffed. “Sure, because it’s so hard to see through your schemes.”

Nesta arched an eyebrow. “If you played half as well as you talked, Cassian, maybe you’d stand a chance.”

“You know I’m excellent at playing and talking at the same time, Nes,” Cassian retorted with a wicked grin, making his wife blush furiously.

To Gwyn’s surprise, she found herself laughing along with the others. The playful teasing between Cassian and Nesta didn’t make her feel out of place at all.

–

Several rounds later, Cassian threw his cards down, visibly frustrated. “Alright, it’s a tie. We need a tiebreaker.”

Feyre, a little tipsy, leaned toward him with a glint of mischief. “How about something more… physical?” She glanced at Rhysand, a grin spreading on her face. “Like… hide and seek?”

Amren scoffed, rolling her eyes. “Oh, perfect. You just forgot your one year old son is sleeping right now. You don't need to play his games.”

“I don’t think it’s a bad idea,” Azriel said.

“Of course not,” Cassian laughed. “You can melt into shadows.”

Gwyn, feeling more comfortable in the playful atmosphere, smirked. “Look, Azriel and I have been up against teams with telepathic powers all night without complaining. I think we can handle a little hide and seek.”

“Oh?” Cassian leaned forward, intrigued. “What’s your proposal, Miss Berdara?”

Gwyn smiled, her confidence unwavering. “Azriel and I will be seekers. If we find all of you within half an hour, we win. If anyone evades us, they win for their team.”

Everyone exchanged approving glances. Ignoring Amren’s disdainful mutter, the rest of them quickly warmed to the idea.

“That’s it for me. If you want to keep playing, so be it. But I’d rather head home,” Amren announced, rising to her feet.

“I’ll take Amren home, and when I’m back, Gwyn and I will start hunting for all of you,” Azriel offered, glancing at Gwyn with a hint of a smile.

–

Gwyn waited for Azriel on the balcony, her eyes tracing the city below. She admired the beauty of Velaris under the moonlight, feeling a pang of longing. She’d thought of visiting for the first time for a while now, and seeing it like this only strengthened that desire.

She was so wrapped up in her own thoughts that she only noticed Azriel’s presence when he landed softly beside her, making her jump. Azriel didn’t react much, though his lips twitched into a faint smirk as he stepped closer. “Ready to hunt?” he murmured, his voice low and almost playful.

She straightened, trying to look composed despite the sudden flutter in her pulse. “I think it’s better if we stick together,” she replied, her tone even, though her mind was anything but calm.

And so the game began. As they entered the house, Gwyn and Azriel noticed that most of the corridors were cast in deep shadow, with only a few torches flickering here and there, creating an atmosphere of anticipation. Gwyn decided to light a candle and carry it as they moved.

Azriel raised an eyebrow, a faint smirk on his lips. “Afraid of the dark?”

Gwyn laughed softly, holding the candle steady. “Not at all, Shadowsinger. But if we want to win this game, it might help if we don’t trip over our own feet.”

Moving like shadows, Gwyn and Azriel searched together, silent and in sync. As they crept through the hallways, Gwyn became acutely aware of the closeness between them—of Azriel’s steady, focused presence beside her.

Then, for a brief moment, they found themselves alone in a dim, quiet corridor. Azriel’s gaze lingered on her, deep and unreadable, and Gwyn’s heart raced as she met his eyes. There was a gravity in his look, something she couldn’t quite place, and she felt her own heartbeat quicken in response. But noises coming from upstairs got their attention and they headed towards it.

Finding Cassian and Feyre was almost too easily. Cassian’s attempts at stealth were practically nonexistent, and Feyre, slightly tipsy, clearly wasn’t taking the game seriously. They were both hiding in plain sight, sharing a quiet laugh in a poorly chosen corner. As soon as they were caught, Cassian shrugged with a laugh, slinging an arm around Feyre’s shoulders. “Guess it’s time for more wine,” he announced, leading her out of their hiding spot as they playfully bickered over whose hiding place had been worse.

Gwyn and Azriel moved on, stepping deeper into the house. Their path led them to Nesta’s personal library, where Azriel paused by the door. He glanced at the candle in Gwyn’s hand, then reached out to gently extinguish it.

“It’ll give us away,” he murmured, his voice low, his breath warm against her ear.

She shivered, barely managing a nod. “Good idea.”

Azriel leaned in close to her, his voice a whisper. “Let’s split up. You take the left side of the shelves. I’ll go right.”

–

As Azriel moved down his chosen aisle, he was impressed at how quiet Gwyn was, her footsteps nearly as silent as his own. His shadows flitted through the shelves, scanning for any sign of Nesta, though they hadn’t yet detected her presence. The only light in the library was the silvery glow of moonlight streaming in through a tall window at the end of the aisle, casting soft shadows that mingled with his own.

Azriel was nearing the end of the aisle when, suddenly, something crashed into his torso, and he stumbled back, landing on the floor with a muffled thud.

“Got you!” Gwyn’s triumphant whisper filled the silence.

“Gwyn?” Azriel murmured, surprised. She was perched on top of him, her hands wrapped around his torso. In the dim light, he could just make out her silhouette, her eyes reflecting the faintest hint of moonlight.

“I... I thought you were Nesta,” she breathed, her face mere inches from his.

“That’s alright,” he replied, his voice dropping to a soft whisper. He realized his hands had instinctively found their way to her waist when they fell—and he hadn’t moved them since. Neither had she.

They stared at each other in the dim glow, their breaths mingling in the quiet. But then, a movement broke the spell—a shadow darting toward the door.

“Nesta!” Gwyn leaped off him, sprinting toward the door just in time to block it as Nesta tried to slip through.

Nesta was slightly out of breath. “Alright, you got me. Mother above, Gwyn, you’re fast!”

–

“Looks like we’re winning,” Gwyn murmured, a hint of excitement in her voice.

Azriel held her gaze, and she felt that same magnetic pull she’d been fighting all evening. “Never celebrate victory too early. We’ll just have to keep playing to see who comes out on top.”

Gwyn pushed away the thought that she’d, in fact, been on top of him only moments ago. She could still feel the ghost of his hands on her waist. But whether his words held hidden meaning, or if she was just reading too much into things… she honestly couldn’t tell.

–

“We’ve combed through this whole house!” Gwyn called out, finally abandoning all pretense of stealth.

Azriel leaned against the wall, crossing his arms as he considered. “Rhysand wouldn’t hide somewhere obvious,” he said thoughtfully. “And he’d pick a place that’s clever, just to draw it out. He enjoys making people work for it.”

“What about the training ring?” she suggested. “Technically, it’s within the property, if we’re going by the rules literally.”

Azriel’s brows lifted in appreciation. “Good thinking.” They quickly made their way to the ring, but when they arrived, it was empty.

Gwyn let out a sigh, half frustration, half laughter. “Well, that was a waste.”

“Not entirely,” Azriel reassured, his lips curling. “It was a solid guess, Berdara.”

She studied him for a moment, then seemed to have an idea, her face lighting up with renewed energy. “Do you trust me?”

He blinked, momentarily caught off guard. “Yes.”

Without another word, she took his hand and pulled him along, sprinting through the house. As they ran, he pieced together where she was leading him: the balcony, where the game had started. It was exactly the sort of place Rhysand would find amusing.

They reached the balcony, but it, too, was empty.

Gwyn glanced at Azriel, cheeks flushed from their dash. “I’m sorry. I thought he’d be here as a kind of ‘full circle’ thing.”

“Don’t apologize,” Azriel said, his tone reassuring, though his eyes sparkled with faint amusement. “It was a good guess. Classic Rhysand—he’d totally…” He trailed off, then stepped forward, glancing over the balcony railing.

“Rhysand, you ridiculous bat, get up here!” Azriel shouted, shaking his head.

Gwyn heard a soft chuckle from below just before the High Lord soared up from beneath the balcony, laughter in his eyes as he landed.

–

Cassian was practically doubled over with laughter. “I can’t believe you hung upside down like a bat for half an hour.”

“Almost half an hour,” Azriel corrected, glancing at Gwyn. “We found him first. In fact, we found all of you before time ran out.”

“You two make a good team,” Feyre remarked casually, though the glance she sent Gwyn’s way hinted at her true thoughts.

“Well-deserved win,” Rhysand congratulated them. “Though, now it seems like you and Gwyn should face off for first place.”

“Oh, please, don’t start!” Nesta interjected. “Those two will be at it all night if we let them.”

“You’re right, Nes,” Cassian said, pulling her close with an arm around her waist. “Let’s save the grand finale for another night.”

Feyre and Rhys said their goodbyes before winnowing to the River House, and Nesta and Cassian prepared to return to their chambers.

“Thanks for inviting me,” Gwyn said, smiling.

“Oh, hon, you're welcome here anytime,” Nesta replied easily.

“Especially if you're about to beat Azriel’s ass in the next game night,” Cassian joked.

Azriel crossed his arms. “Don’t give her too much hope. Berdara might start thinking she actually stands a chance.”

“As if I’d ever back down from you, Shadowsinger,” Gwyn shot back, matching his tone.

“Save some of that teasing for morning training, you two,” Cassian muttered with a grin as he and Nesta left for their quarters, leaving Gwyn and Azriel standing side by side in the warm, quiet aftermath of the evening.

Azriel offered to escort Gwyn back to the library, and they started down the path together. The silence between them was comfortable but charged with a tension that seemed to grow with each step.

“It’s nice to see you all together like this,” Gwyn said, breaking the silence. “Do you do this often?”

Azriel took a moment to answer. “We used to, before... you know, Amarantha.”

Gwyn nodded, understanding. There was a beat of quiet before she spoke again. “About what happened in the library…” Azriel turned to look at her. “Sorry for, uh… tackling you.”

"That’s alright," Azriel replied simply. Gwyn thought she saw a small tremor at his lips, as if he was on the verge of saying something more, but instead, he simply continued walking beside her, steady and silent.

They reached the entrance to the library, which was now dark and empty, the other priestesses already asleep.

“Well, thank you, Shadowsinger.”

Azriel nodded, his gaze lingering for a second longer. “See you tomorrow, Berdara.”

[ode-to-melpomene]

hi hi mel!!! i love all your works and your writing is so wonderful ^^

was wondering if you could write something where one of the bat boys reaches the reader right before they’re about to get kidnapped by some criminals?? like maybe they’re publicly in a relationship w the batboy’s wayne identity n get targeted for that reason but one of the boys gets there js in the nick of time :)

thank u sm and have a great rest of ur day ^^

Love this prompt! Some of these are pre-kidnapping, some are mid-kidnapping. If anyone wants additional characters added, let me know! Hope you enjoy 💛

Daring Rescues

Pairings: Bruce Wayne x gn!reader, Dick Grayson x gn!reader, Jason Todd x gn!reader, Tim Drake x gn!reader Synopsis: Who comes to your aid when you find yourself in need of saving? Word Count: 2466 Warnings: Established relationship! Kidnapping, minor injuries, general mortal peril.

Bruce Wayne:

Bruce knew better than to associate you with Batman. He had learned that lesson a hundred times over by now, how dangerous it was to associate the people he cared for with the cowl. But now wasn't the time to dwell on the blunder.

“Oracle, update,” he barked over the communication device. Bruce perched atop a balcony, staring down at the street below.

“Black SUV turning onto Carlton,” Barbera replied, the sound of her fingers furiously working over the keys of the Batcomputer meeting his ears. “The car is registered to a loan shark put away a few years ago. Suspected ties to Falcone.”

Bruce uttered a grunted mm in response, eyes narrowed beneath the cowl. His eyes scanned the road below. He caught the sounds of sirens wailing in the distance. “GCPD?”

“I’ve got them cutting off side roads. Headed your way now.”

He squared his shoulders and prepared himself to launch from the balcony, one hand braced on the ledge beneath him and the other on his belt. He cocked his head to the East and narrowed his eyes- yes, there. He watched the SUV turn the corner, skidding as it spun around the sharp turn and narrowly avoided oncoming traffic.

“Sixty-three miles an hour?” he guessed.

“Sixty-six. Sounds like you might be losing your touch.”

“Oracle,” Bruce warned. He scowled. That extra speed would change his entry angle.

“Sorry. Dropping in three-”

Bruce’s hand shot to his belt.

“Two-”

The end of the grappling hook shot out from the device in his hand and buried itself within the construction scaffolding across from him. He gave a single tug, then launched himself from the balcony-

“One-”

- And crashed feet first into the rear passenger window of the interior of the modified SUV, seats removed to provide more space in the back. Panicked shouts rang out as glass shards shattered across the interior. Bruce pulled his cape over the lower half of his face, preventing glass from cutting his skin as he hit the floor.

The vehicle swerved and he used the momentum to bring his elbow into collision with a man’s partially covered face, his jaw making a distressing crack at the impact. His other hand lashed out, grabbing the driver by his hair and slamming his face against the steering wheel. The driver’s nose crunched and blood sprayed against the vehicle’s dash.

Hands grasped at his suit and he drove his knee into the third assailant’s ribs, sending him stumbling backwards. Your muffled shriek filled the interior of the SUV as the vehicle swerved and momentarily rocked into the curb.

The driver’s hands gripped at Bruce’s wrist behind his head, his foot flooring the accelerator. Bruce let out a tsk as he lunged forward and looped his arm around the driver’s neck. The man’s shrill scream was quickly silenced as Bruce squeezed the man’s neck in the juncture of his elbow and bicep.

He pulled the man backwards and used his opposite hand to stabilize the chokehold. His freehand reached for the steering wheel, guiding the vehicle down the road. He just needed a moment-

The driver finally went limp in Bruce’s arms. He tugged, pulling the man from his seat and wedged a batarang against the brake, quickly bleeding off speed.

Muffled screams filled the room, followed by a grunt of pain. Familiar hands raked over Bruce’s belt. He gripped the wheel with one hand and turned his head just in time to see a zap of electricity come to life.

You dove towards the third kidnapper, barreling into him and driving the taser into the side of his neck. The man screamed, spasmed, and went limp.

You panted around the gag in your mouth, your hands chained together in front of you. You held the taser tightly in your hands, glaring down with a fiery expression.

When you turned your gaze on him, that fiery passion was replaced with a soft, mirthful glint in your eye. You gave him your best smile, despite the gag, and a cheesy thumbs up.

Bruce scowled, despite the way his heart skipped a beat.

Dick Grayson:

Why did you always have to rush into things?

Of course it was a set up. That was so obvious now that you had a split lip and blood trickling from your nose. It was a last ditch effort on the part of some petty criminals who wanted a piece of the Wayne wealth in exchange for Dick’s hapless partner.

The masked goons cornered you in your own apartment, toying with you like cats stalking a mouse. One swung a pipe wrench and you skittered backwards, nearly bumping into the end table next to your couch. You really needed to move that when this was all over, and make sure the space was less cluttered so you wouldn’t get tripped up like this again-

A blade came slashing down, glinting in the waning sunlight that filled your apartment as it narrowly missed your face. Your curse was met by vicious laughter. With a snarl, you gripped the end table and hucked it at the figure holding the blade. 

Two of the goons jumped away from the end table as it flung towards them. You took the chance to dash to the kitchen, knocking over and tossing random items in your wake. As much as you appreciated the self defense training Dick had put you through, you didn’t trust yourself against their weapons. You took solace in knowing they weren’t here to kill you… but that didn’t mean they weren’t more than willing to rough you up.

You just needed to waste some time. So you threw a plate, a beautiful, arbor rimmed plate that had been a gift to you and Dick from Selina and Bruce (you suspected Selina stole them.) The assailants dodged the ceramic, so you snatched the detachable faucet and sprayed the nearest goon in the face with cold water. Too bad they were smart enough to wear masks.

And then you saw the balcony door slide open. It all happened so fast, a flash of black, blue, and silver darting into the space. Metal clashed with skin, a sickening thunk sounding as an escrima collided with an attacker’s skull. An angered shout tore through the air, only to be quickly silenced by a thud as the outspoken figure hit the floor.

It was over in a matter of moments. Three unconscious bodies on the floor, tucked out of sight behind your kitchen island, and a shadowed figure huffing agitated breaths through gritted teeth. Spots of blood on the escrima, on his face.

You blinked once, twice, clearing the fog from your vision. Nightwing- Dick loomed across from you. He tucked the escrimas behind his back and turned to face you, the scrunch in his brow covered by his mask.

“Are you alright?” you asked, voice barely above a tremble.

His expression softened immediately. He heaved a sigh and dashed around the kitchen island, sweeping you into his tight grasp. You wrapped your arms around him just as eagerly, pressing your face to the stretchy fabric of his suit.

“Should be asking you that, love.” Dick pulled away slightly, holding you at arms length. Though you couldn’t see his eyes through his mask, you knew he was carefully taking stock of your injuries.

“Just a few scrapes,” you said with a reassuring smile in spite of the way your swollen lip burned. “You should see the other guys.”

Dick barked out a laugh and pulled you flush against him once again, burying you in a tight embrace.

Jason Todd:

You should have called a cab.

Rain poured down on you, drenching you to the skin. Rain hadn’t been on the forecast today–you always made sure to check on days you chose to walk to-and-from work. When you had stepped out of the office building to find a slight drizzle dappling the sidewalk, you had thought nothing of it. Like many other Gothamites, you had assumed it was a passing spring weather.

Now the storm drains gurgled pitifully as water gushed into it. Your clothes were sodden, shoes waterlogged, mood dampened. You squelched down the sidewalk with a sour expression plastered across your features. The torrential downpour quieted your sentences, muffling your ears to the acute sound of footsteps following you from a distance.

You turned onto the next block and huffed, the wind now buffeting you face on. What a dreary, horrible day to be let off late from work. Jason would likely be on patrol by now, leaving you to sit alone in your shared apartment, reheating whatever he had left over from lunch. Maybe you could curl up in your bed and dive into that novel you had both been reading. That could make for a good conversation to wind him down from the emotional high of his patrol-

Foreign hands snatched you from your thoughts and dragged you into a dark alley, your scream muffled by a gloved palm.

You were slammed face first into a brick wall, the rough texture scraping your cheek. You bit back a snarl as the hands turned you around and smacked the back of your head against the hard stone. The chill edge of a blade was pressed to your throat and when your eyes readjusted to the sudden darkness and stinging pain in your head you were met with a masked figure. Great, because what you really needed after a long day was a mugging.

You fought viciously as the figures around you herded you down the back alley like a spitting, snarling animal. You stomped your heel on their feet, bit at their hands, kicked and flailed until you heard muffled requests for rope and chloroform. It wasn’t until you saw the van tucked away beside an industrial grade dumpster that you began caterwauling like an anguished banshee.

You were relieved by the sound of a familiar thump at the edge of the alleyway–you would recognize the sound of those heavy boots dropping anywhere, with how often you heard them on your fire escape. Your attackers slammed you against the van and you barked out a gleeful laugh at the sight. The attackers had a moment to turn their heads before Red Hood was descending on them with ferocity. You turned away, pressing your forehead to the van.

Screams, bones cracking, bodies hitting the ground. It was over quickly. When you turned to face him, his armored chest was heaving and he clenched and unclenched his fists at his side. You knew better than to touch him when he was this high strung, so you settled for the safer option.

“Took you look enough,” you teased breathlessly, keeping your gaze one the way the red surface of his helmet snapped to face you instead of on the (you hoped) unconscious kidnappers. “I was starting to wonder if I was going to have to take care of this myself.”

The toe of Jason’s boot nudged an unconscious figure, a red and rapidly welting bite mark blossoming on the individual’s hand and wrist. “I don’t doubt you could’ve, but a little help never hurt.”

You cracked a smile, softening the hard lines of your expression in the hopes it would ease him. His shoulders relaxed at your placating gesture. You extended a hand, fingers spread in a silent offer.

“Walk me home?” you asked, more for his benefit than yours. Your heart still pounded in your chest, but the tightness eased when he interlaced his gloved fingers with yours.

Tim Drake:

Warehouses were such a cliché place to harbor an abductee. What happened to creativity? Tim crawled through an upper window of the dilapidated warehouse, some thirty feet above the ground. He stepped carefully across the rafters as he surveyed the scene.

There you were, a normal college student tied to a chair–well, normal if you ignore the fact that you were rumored to be in a relationship with the Timothy Drake-Wayne. He frowned at the sight of your arms twisted behind you and tied to the back of the chair. They had you situated in the center of the empty room with goons patrolling around you. His eyes sought a singular figure atop a pile of scrap, a rifle in hand. The figure searched the rafters–Tim would have to be careful to avoid him.

Tim stalked across the rafters, keeping to the shadows. He crept across one of the beams that bridged the center of the warehouse, ducking low and staying out of the light. His eyes were fixed on you-

Oh. You perked up, your head lifting and shoulders easing. You knew he was there somewhere, judging by the way your head turned slightly to scan the open room. You tilted your head, a flimsy gesture towards a second figure, patrolling near you with one hand tucked away in her coat. A hidden weapon? He bit back a smile at your clever aid.

Tim took another step, and something clanged. He looked below him, spotting a hook hanging from a long chain, the chain swinging under the beams subtle movements. He turned just in time to see the sniper swing his rifle in the direction of the sound-

You screamed.

The shrill shriek shook each of the assailants and all eyes turned to you. He exhaled a harsh breath of relief as you wailed and the masked figures moved in towards you. The sniper’s weapons whipped towards you and away from Tim.

Tim dropped. His landing was cushioned by the goon you had pointed out, knocking the figure to the ground. He used the momentum to carry himself into a roll, then launched to his feet and barrelled into the next unsuspecting kidnapper. This one was ready, his hands up in fists. Tim gave an opening and ducked as the man’s fist sailed past Tim. He gripped the attacker's arm and yanked, tossing him over Tim’s shoulder. The man landed with a thunk and Tim was quick to follow, extracting a pair of cuffs from his belt and linking the two fallen attackers together.

A shot rang out. It seemed the sniper wasn’t very good, considering Tim remained fully intact. His hands dipped to his belt again and withdrew a few batarangs. A quick volley knocked the sniper's mask askew and sent them stumbling down the rickety pile of scrap they stood upon. He used the opening to launch himself across the room, bo staff extending in hand. He swept the kidnapper’s legs, sending the figure tumbling down the pile.

“How did you know I was here?” he asked as he knelt to cuff and gag the attacker, kicking the rifle aside in the process.

“It got drafty,” you called back from where you sat tied in the center of the room. “Must’ve left the window open.”

[gumnut-logic]

Thoughts on Tracys

Well, I did dig into my fic folder and did find the ‘Thoughts on Tracy brothers’ fic and yeah, I left it at just Scott. Sorry. Must see if I can continue that one at some point now that I even know it exists.

But I did find something else. This is me in early 2020, before Covid hit, fortunately, as I had an infected foot at the time and could barely walk.

-o-o-o-

I was re-reading part of my Kermadec fic and encountered the bit where Scott comes across the hot spring and it occurred to me the difference between Scott and Virgil as to how they interpret their environment. This led me to thinking about characterisation and point of view and how you write a character to sound like themselves. Then, because I’m lying idle around the house with a mild headache and a bung foot, I pondered how each of the five brothers might interpret the same scene. I sat their idly constructing scenes in my head and how this might illustrate how a character thinks.

So, now because I’m still sitting around the house with a mild headache and a bung foot, I thought I’d give this exercise a go...cos actually writing one of my many wips would be far too logical ::headdesk::

Anyways, five brothers, same beach, same time of day. Let’s see if I can make them sound like themselves....and not end up writing another wip :D Note: these scenes are separate and unrelated to each other...just flotsam my brain threw up. Guess which brother is which?

-o-o-o-

His running shoes hit the sand hard, gouging holes in the pristine surface. The air was still and clear, the ocean quiet, his breathing drowning out the sound of the waves. This was his third lap, but his first step onto this beach. He usually avoided this patch of sand because it was Virgil’s favourite and often the place his brother came to be alone. But today was a day that wouldn’t see Virgil outside the villa. Not today, not tomorrow, not for some time at all.

His breathing lost its regular pace and he had to force himself to concentrate harder on his rhythm.

His feet hit the sand and he kept on running.

-o-o-o-

There were times being a brother of the commander of this outfit really sucked.

One foot after the other. Scott may feel exuberant at this time of the morning, but honestly, this time should not exist.

He was only awake because the smart ass had called a drill. God. He ran a hand through his hair and guzzled the coffee that was automatically poured into his face.

He swore Scott did it because of his comment about Thunderbird One’s erotic symbolism yesterday. But hey, he was the one who had compared Two to a pregnant turtle.

Turtles lay eggs, you idiot.

But that hadn’t been enough, so he’d resorted to a dick joke.

And had been dragged out of bed at 5am.

Ergh.

His staggering finally led him to the beach and the moment he stepped onto the sand, the breeze caught him and brushed away his frown.

A sigh fell from his lips and he closed his eyes.

The sounds of the ocean caressed his ears and washed away the aggravation. The calm seeped into his bones and his shoulders dropped.

But he kept his grip on his mug of coffee.

Another sip.

Another grateful sigh.

And a plan began to form.

-o-o-o-

Before he knew it the sun was peeking over the edge of the planet and the stars were fading.

His butt and back were damp from lying on the sand.

There was dry seaweed in his hair.

He reached up and untangled the mess, frowning as it caught and pulled. Ow.

It wasn’t often he used a beach for stargazing, but he hadn’t had the energy to climb the stairs to the observatory and to be honest, he wasn’t looking for a specific event, more just comfort in the familiar.

He had come out here in the early hours, his circadian rhythm still slightly off and done his best to connect with what he loved.

He had forgotten the inconveniences of sand, mosquitoes and was that a crab?

He shifted his leg out of reach and clambered to his feet.

The sun flashed everything gold, including him.

A sigh and he turned to walk back to the house.

-o-o-o-

One of the advantages of living on your own secret tropical island is that he could run around in whatever clothes he wanted and not have to worry about what the public might think.

A pair of flip flops and his swimwear, mostly because it was just after his morning laps. Specimen bags in hand, he headed down to the beach to check on the morning’s finds.

The ocean was still puking up stuff from the storm that passed to the south of the Island two weeks ago and he was making sure to check the beaches every morning to see what treasures might surface. One of the things about cyclones is that they churned the ocean as much as the land and often interesting things appeared with the tide as a result.

Fortunately the storm hadn’t actually hit the Island itself and the beach was on the protected side, otherwise there may have been no beach left to comb. This time the conditions were perfect and he wasn’t going to miss out on the opportunity.

Clambering around the Island in flip flops would probably earn him several frowns from several quarters, but to be honest he didn’t care.

From the moment his feet hit the sand, he was discovering and cataloguing. Three different types of sponge all seen before. A nasty chunk of the rare kelp from that isolated patch to the south, damn. An array of shells of which one he was unable to identify. He grabbed that one for identification purposes and one other simply because it was pretty and he knew a brother who might like it.

He found the waves tossing about a large chunk of broken coral and he swore. Damn. Cyclones were nasty to reefs and they took eons to repair.

The worst find was a relatively small mola mola. The young sunfish looked like it had been caught up in an argument between the surf and the volcanic rocks of the island.

He carefully picked it up and placed it in a bag, commemorative words for a life lost passing through his mind as he sealed it tight. Size and details would be sent to the NZ DoC south of their island for research purposes.

Reaching the end of the beach he turned back and trailed his feet in the water. A glance at the rising sun and he headed back.

-o-o-o-

He bounded onto the beach and kicked the sand with his foot. This was so unfair! Why couldn’t he do what everyone else was doing?

He stomped his feet into the sand and took some satisfaction in the deep divots his feet left behind.

The water was whispering as if to herald the rise of the sun.

He didn’t like it.

It mocked him.

Why? Why? Why?

The question bounced around his head and just fuelled his anger.

There was a roar and the island shook as behind him Thunderbird One leapt into the air. Further in the distance he heard the deeper rumble as Two ignited her rear thrusters and a moment later the great green ‘bird appeared over the palm trees and shot off into the distance, Thunderbird One darting down to escort her.

Both were lit up by the sun.

His heart was caught between pride at the sight, and the anger that he wasn’t with them.

As they disappeared in the sunrise, he glared after them.

-o-o-o-

Okay, that exercise did not go exactly the way I had planned, but I hope you enjoyed these little snippets. I hope you can tell which bro is which. I haven’t really gone to any effort to hide them and I’m kinda hoping it is obvious. Maybe take note of the bits of information that give it away?

Or which bros I’m better at writing, maybe :D

Fun to write. I hope they are fun to read.

::hugs you all::

Nutty

(Yeah, well, my brain is weird, I can’t help myself)

[clegfly]

Oh god. I’ve been summoned. Gotta carry through now!!!!!

Okay so I’ve been wanting to talk about mr outback for AGES because woo boy do I have. Thoughts. And a really fucking insane theory that I’m not sure if I believe in or am just concocting for fun but I thought of it so HERE have my thoughts

First of them being: what exactly IS mr outback. I’ve had a slight theory for a while and I guess since we’re going batshit analysis crazy here I might unleash it to be devoured chomp chomp-

Note the wording here. Not you. We have a third eye. We have a sixth sense. He sounds almost like he’s talking from personal experience.

Now, he could be including himself and some of the other more aware, ancient beings in this universe in that ‘sixth sense’ but… if we wanna take it the most literal way, we can observe that mr outback is including HIMSELF when describing the dreamers, which… opens a WHOLE new can of worms, because if that’s the interpretation you’re meant to get here, then that implies a LOT of things, chiefly…

1. Dreamers remain in the plane of reality that headspace exists upon, wandering the spaces woven by other dreamers either long after the death or some other major event within the headspace.

33000 years is… an AGE. At first you chalk that up to him being some ancient dream being created millennia ago but if we are taking the interpretation of him BEING a dreamer of some sort this implies that they remain in the realm even after death, or again, maybe some other kind of event.

Hm… wonder where we’ve seen a dreamer succumb to their headspace and become trapped inside of it during their moments of death and despair before…

I digress…

That line of thinking also brings us back to a lot of characters that can and do exist inside of headspace, for a multitude of reasons so let’s break that down-

2. Are the three great creatures really just ancient beings native to this world/Sunny's dreams, or could they be something more?

You made a really good point about this implying that headspace natives can become more aware and powerful as time goes on, but I’m wondering now… considering mr outback is possibly a dreamer himself…

Could the three great creatures also have been at some point?

Thinking back to your analysis on omori and cosmic horror- the three great creatures and sunny all have things in common with that genre. Large, god-like creatures that manipulate the universe around them in their own ways. What if Abbi, Humphrey and BYC aren’t just imaginary friends but the exact opposite, dreamers who remained in sunny’s headspace and gained his favour somehow.

It reminds me specifically of the omori beta era, before it was planned to be a game and was intended to be a graphic novel series… and how Tako, who later became Abbi, was portrayed there.

Aubrey, kel, hero and basil (or Aubrey, hiki, k and flower if you want to be pedantic) were portrayed as imaginary friends, while others, including an early version of Abbi, were portrayed as an opposite to that concept. While the actual pages showcasing this are impossible to read, it’s been stated that these characters were once important, and oh look- they appear in a three as well! Not to mention the fact that they’re rendered in the same monochromatic artstyle as omori- while I don’t think all headspaces share the same aesthetic, as an early version of the concept having the “anti-imaginary friends” presented as a identical to omori himself paints a clear message on what they were supposed to be. And what characters they later became.

Again, this is horrible quality and I’m sure I can get better images somewhere, but it’s clear that it’s tako, uni and Meido- presented here like this immediately after (or immediately before? I am NOT fishing through my camera roll to find this image again) the headspace friends, who were clearly designated as imaginary at this point almost as a foil or contrast to them- I think THIS early concept may have been what inspired the three great creatures and their role in headspace- because if YOU were a dreamer that died and had to wander the spaces created by others like you for eternity, you’d probably check out the one made by the kid with the crazy powerful imagination.

Interestingly, depending on what headspace they’re in, their forms seem to conform to the aesthetic of the place. Outback deliberately notes sunny’s as more whimsical and cutesy than usual, and just look at the designs of the TGC- not to mention the clear inspiration from sunny's childhood woven into their designs. Humphrey being from the picture book, BYC being a mix of chimera keychain and that smug ass fucking calendar, and abbi being... pretty sure we came to a consensus as a fandom that she was based off of that one pet rock, ocotaco, and a few other things, but basically, all of their designs and the way they manifest to sunny change depending on his headspace which is really cool and interesting (same thing with outback)

Basically, I think it's very possible that the great creatures could be dreamers too, wandering alike to outback and being attracted to sunny's headspace due to the immense power of his imagination. They also likely befriended him which is part of why they stayed.

Another ANOTHER interesting point we discover here- sunny in the end has total power, regardless of the other dreamers within the headspace. I mean... Abbi can be banished, Humphrey and BYC's wills can be twisted to guard the truth from Sunny... he is in control despite the fact that the great creatures are clearly powerful themselves. Which begs the question and ties back to another point you made-

Is sunny in control because this is his headspace, or does Sunny's power and authority among the three rely on the strength of his imagination?

Is that what's being implied- that the stronger or more powerful a dreamer's imagination is, the more powerful they are amongst the others?

Because GOD that is INTERESTING.

This could also translate directly to size in a manner- outback is small, regular ol' npc sized, so from that maybe we can infer that he wasn't the most imaginative of dreamers, despite his clear coherency and wisdom.

BYC, Abbi and Humphrey are all quite large, hence their names- I think in order of size it goes from Abbi or BYC to Humphrey. which can maybe be a little mini theory on its own- maybe the reason BYC is the favourite is because they're the biggest (hence big yellow cat) and therefore have a stronger imagination and sunny can relate to them more deeply? (Also mari association because of the calendar) ALSO wondering!!!!!!!!

3. Do Mari and Basil also possess this sixth sense in a way?

Do I want this part of the theory to be even at least semi true because it would be such a cool thing to tie these three together? Yes, so I'm going to try VERY HARD to prove it sjdhshdf

You speculated that Dreamers likely have some sort of connection with the dead and the afterlife, hence... mari, and the crossroads, but what if mari and basil were connected to the plane headspace exists upon in at least some way too?

Heres a thing- stranger is ODD. Like, very ODD if you chalk him up to being a being native to headspace (or i suppose black space) because he knows SO MANY THINGS about the real world that he should not be able to know if he resides solely on another plane of existence.

E.g. basil's hospital room at the end of the good ending- HOW DID HE KNOW?

Not to mention the knowledge he possesses on basil and his situation in reality that he still spouts in the omori route segments where sunny would have no way of knowing them. Clearly, there is something up with stranger- he cannot be solely bound to the plane. What if he is, at least partially, the conscience of the actual, real live basil?

And it's the same with Mari too- a hyper awareness of the plane and world she's in, the ability to reach sunny directly...

and how her and stranger/basil are linked as anomalies in the world constantly... both being linked to the truth and having heightened awareness of headspace.

It sounds similar to the three greats.

Not to mention the imagery and constant attention drawn to Mari and Sunny's sleeping patterns... and of course-

The white egret orchid. Both at Basil's house and Mari's grave.

"My thoughts will follow you into your dreams".

Spelling it out for us that both basil and mari are following sunny into his dreams- via the weird sixth sense they have. me when there's astral projection at the function (sunny's daily 17 hour nap)!!!

Basil and Mari don't seem to have their own headspaces though. The idea of basil maybe having a white space in canon was touched upon, but not much else.

A small theory one could make is that Basil and Mari have a very weak sense which is boosted by the orchids, which i think is also silly. The orchids being little power increasers... god even if none of this is canon at all (which it could very well not be) this lore speculation is so fun.

Anyway, there is a LOT more i want to touch on, but its almost been HOURS so. I'm going to leave it here and let you add on if you like danny sjdsfhbh

TL;DR- outback himself could possibly be a dreamer, which leads into a rabbit hole of many other characters being dreamers that is VERY interesting and reveals a lot of cool quirks and theories about this world and what happens within it.

God, I love this. I just. Want to keep exploring this idea so bad.

ALSO if you do wanna see a tad more content on this i recommend gray-spark (i think thats their name) on here... they do a lot of headspace (especially three greats) analysis which is all really cool and thought-provoking and inspired a good chunk of this.

OUGH I NEED TO SEE THIS MORE TALKED ABOUT!!!!!!!!!!!

So are we ever going to talk about the “headspace is real and a type of astral projection” thing or.

[httpsaiki]

Waaaahhhh requests are open?! Congrats on 300 followers!! :D okie well now I have an idea~ don’t feel like you need to rush into it tho.

A soulmate AU of sorts~ you can only taste the things your soulmate has in their mouth.

The twist is that Gender neutral!reader and saiki both like to torture each other. Licking a shoe, eating those disgusting jellybeans, gulping hot chilly sauce. (Reader constantly threatens to lick a poop but saiki knows they never would) It’s a thing they’ve done before and after they’ve met each other.

—

Hi there! I think this request might be… over a year old. I am SO sorry for that! Thank you for sending it though!

I kinda put this blog down for a bit because my life got busy and blah blah who cares about that lol. But I was watching Saiki K. for the first time in a while and wow I miss this blog. This is super short, and it’s more of a warm up so I apologize for reduced length - this request just made me laugh, because I can totally see Saiki being petty enough for this. Once again I'm sorry it's so short or if it's not what you meant!

TW: uhh gross tastes, Saiki eats dirt but tbh it’s tame

Reader is gender neutral!

WC: 683

Italics represents Saiki speaking telepatically!

Saiki and S/O love finding the worst tastes to torture the others.

—————————————————–

This was hell.

You don’t quite remember how this started, but it didn’t matter as the taste of dirt filled your mouth once more. You would think you’d be used to it by now - with your soulmate being a mischievous psychic, but, alas, it seemed like your poor taste buds would never adjust. You held back a cough, shooting a glare to your right where your eyes met with empty magenta ones hiding behind green glasses and a small smile dancing on his lips. Of course, he couldn’t taste it, and you had to suffer alone. 

“If you’re not careful I’ll begin to associate math with the taste of dirt, you know. As if it isn’t bad enough,” you whispered, transferring your glare down to the worksheet in front of you.

It was cold today. Final exams were coming up, and you needed to focus, being on the verge of failing and all. A cozy picnic table underneath a bare tree seemed like the best place to focus for the duration of your lunch break until you noticed the pink hair and antennae following behind you. Being around him outside was always dangerous. Saiki loves you, he really does and you know it, but he always seemed set on forcing you to taste the most disgusting thing he can think of. 

It became like a little ritual every time you saw each other, trying to get the other to scrunch up their face in disgust as much as possible. Most couples would eat sweet candies or fresh fruit as an act to demonstrate their love for the other - you and Saiki on the other hand: anything from dish soap to spoiled milk. Nothing was off the table, as long as it wouldn’t put you in any danger. Saiki, on the other hand, can eat just about anything.

You reached a hand into your bag sitting beside you, determined to get your revenge and taking great pleasure in the fearful expression that overtook Saiki’s face. He could read your mind. A small bottle of hot sauce was inside, and you knew Saiki couldn’t handle the heat. Swiftly, you drank it, thankful you weren’t the one that had to face the consequences of your actions. Saiki’s face rarely betrayed him, but the red on his cheeks from the heat of the hot sauce always brought joy. 

“You’re lucky it’s just hot sauce. I could always go a step further, you know,” you teased. “You wouldn’t dare,” quickly shot through your head. Turning your head, mustering a serious face, you replied, “Oh, but I would.” He knew you wouldn’t. Now smiling, you focused your attention back on the math equations in front of you; they no longer seemed so bad.

It was dark now, and you finally made your way home to the safety of your bed. Your eyes blink open slowly as an unbearable taste overtakes your senses - what on earth was he eating? You reach for your phone to call him and find out, but you don’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing it got to you.

Your resolve broke after fifteen minutes of torture. You brought your phone to your ear and demanded he stops, threatening to find something far worse to lick if he doesn’t. When the taste doesn’t fade, you reach into your nightstand door and pull out a certain pack of jelly beans. You never quite understood this challenge; there was no reason to try them unless you hate your soulmate. They were perfect for an occasion such as this, though. You poured a handful into your mouth without much thought, taking your time to chew them slowly and with far more thought. 

Once you heard coughing over the phone, you finally decided he had enough and stopped eating any more jelly beans. 

"Goodnight," you heard from your phone. "Night," you replied, but neither of you hung up.

[scarletspider2the2ndpower]

Chasm: Curse of Kaine (Vol. 1/2024), #1.

Writer: Steve Foxe; Penciler and Inker: Andrea Broccardo; Colorist: Brian Reber; Letterer: Joe Caramagna

[redgoldblue]

just realised i have to get permission from two separate deans if i want to do a masters. i don't want to contact deans :( emails :(

Edit: made a list about it. am telling myself that if I got through year 1 med surely I can write six emails and also a cv. not sure i believe myself.

[konstantya]

Welp, just found some reasonable copies of Jean Ferris' Into the Wind trilogy, and all from the same bookseller, so I finally sprang for them.

[unproduciblesmackdown]

*gasp* you're famous!

it's been in the back of my mind like, whoops probably dropping a fair volume of posts into the lackadaisy tag lol but whaddaya gonna do. read my posts boy and i need all the help putting two and two together that i can get lmao, what with grabbing this one thread with both hands and bellpull ringing it....creator trying to see ppl's art and animation responses and now just to get me out of the way it's like, so here's what happened:

[always-a-slut-4-ghouls]

All I can do until we see what happens with this election is hope, distract myself, and try to get others to vote, because if I think too hard about it my anxiety and depression gets worse and the voice in the back of my head that tells me to hurt myself and go hide in the woods or something gets louder

[snowflop]

I forgot YouTube has a recap feature, yippee! I love music :)

[moonstruckme]

emt!marauders getting called to a halloween party bc your friend got injured in her drunkenness. you’re the one who called and took responsibility in the situation, so when they show up you’re there in like an angel or goddess costume or something ethereal and you’re caring so kindly for your friend and they’re like soooooooo in love. maybe you ride in the ambulance with her bc she doesn’t want to be alone and get to spend even more time with them 🫣🥸🤲

Thanks for requesting!

cw: alcohol, blood, needle, nausea, symptoms of concussion (or I guess those could be interpreted as drunkenness if you like), mention of hospital/stitches

emt!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1k words

You’ve got both hands on your friend’s head because you don’t trust her to keep up pressure with the towel herself, but you suppose you’re not much better. Your hands are shaking something awful. The blue and yellow lights turning onto your street come as a relief. 

“Look, the ambulance is here,” you tell your friend softly, a poor attempt at reassuring her. 

“Hello.” A dark-haired paramedic flashes a grin at you both as he steps down from the passenger side to meet you at the curb. “So, we have an angel and a…zombie?” 

Your friend makes a rather zombie-like sound of confirmation. 

Another EMT comes up behind the first. “Oh, perfect! So the head wound is just part of it then, I suppose. We can all go home.” He crouches in front of her, smiling as he takes her wrist in his hands and settles two fingers over her pulse. “How are we feeling, babe?”

Your friend swallows thickly. “I need to call my mom.” 

“I’ve already called your mom,” you remind her gently. A third paramedic, this one taller and with a lither build than the others, rounds the ambulance. “She’s on her way.” You ask the paramedics, “Do you know which hospital we’ll be going to? So I can tell her mom.” 

“Most likely the one on Baker,” says the third paramedic. He sets his hand over yours on the towel. “I’ve got this, love.” 

You let go carefully, texting your friend’s mom the hospital before wrapping your arm around her shoulders. Her voice has gone thin and wobbly as the paramedic getting her pulse asks her questions.

“And who’s your friend there?” He points at you with his chin. “Do you know her name?”

Your friend follows his gaze as though she’d forgotten you were there, and you try to give her a smile. She says your name. 

“Nice to meet both of you,” he says cheerily. “I’m James, that’s Sirius and that’s Remus. We’re going to take you to the hospital now, okay? Do you feel like you can walk?”

“Can she come with me?” your friend asks. 

James hesitates. He looks to the other two. 

The tall one—Remus—says tentatively, “We’re really not supposed to. It’d be an awfully tight fit.” 

Your friend’s eyes start to water, and you say quickly, rubbing her arm, “I can stay out of your way. She’s—” you lower your voice “—her mom is hours away, and she’s scared. I don’t want her to be alone.” 

Remus’ eyebrows bend with sympathy. 

“Let’s do it.” Sirius bumps Remus’ hip, a familiar sort of gesture. He sends you a wink. “We can’t part her from her guardian angel.” 

Your face heats, but you smile at him. Give Remus a hopeful look. 

He nods. “Alright,” he says, keeping one hand on your friend’s head and taking her elbow in the other. “Ready to go?” 

“Can my friend come with me?” 

“I’m coming,” you reassure her. You help her stand with an arm under her shoulders, supporting her weight more than necessary in case she falls. 

James and Sirius are waiting in the back of the ambulance to help her up, and while Sirius gets her settled on the gurney James reaches back down for you. 

“Hop on up, angel.” 

You’re not sure if he’s referring to your costume or not, but you think you might be okay with this guy calling you whatever he likes. You take his hand, and have to avert your eyes from the flex of his bicep as he pulls you up. 

“You alright?” Remus asks as you try to find the most out-of-the-way place to sit. 

“Hm?” You look to him. “Yeah, why?” 

He gives you a soft smile. “You’re shaking, love.” He takes your shoulders in his hands, guiding you to a bench in the corner. “Put your back against the wall there. There you are. Say something if you start to feel faint, okay?” 

You hum weakly. You are starting to really tremble, your adrenaline catching up to you now that there are professionals here to take charge of your friend. 

“You’ve got a wicked concussion,” Sirius says to her. “Really top-of-the-line head injury, I’m impressed. Did you pass out at any point?” 

Your friend looks to you, uncertain. 

You take the hand she holds out to you. “Yeah,” you tell Sirius. “Just for a second, though, right after it happened.”

“What did happen?” asks James. 

“She fell and clipped her head on the counter.” You wince at the memory. 

Sirius makes a sympathetic sound. “Bit too much to drink?” 

Your friend makes a rueful, miserable sound. You squeeze her hand. 

“You weren’t so bad,” you tell her kindly. “Just enough to lose your balance. It could’ve happened to anyone.” 

James looks at your joined hands with a faint smile. “You’re a good friend,” he says, “staying with her like this.” 

You shrug. “Couldn’t really leave her alone, could I?” 

“Some people would.” Remus starts putting an IV into your friend’s hand, and you have to look away, your stomach roiling. James chuckles. “Especially considering you look like you might pass out yourself.” 

“I told her to say if she was going to,” says Remus. 

“I’m okay,” you say feebly. 

Sirius tsks, leaving the care of your friend’s wound to James as he comes over to you. “Not a fan of needles?” 

“Or blood,” you admit. “Sorry, I’m fine, just squeamish.” 

“Put your head there, gorgeous.” The compliment doesn’t help with the turmoil in your stomach, nor does the hand he sets on your face, gently directing you to rest your head in the corner. He procures a bottle of water from a drawer. “Sip on this, and please try not to pass out without telling us.” 

“Yeah,” you breathe. “Sorry.” 

“No need to be sorry, angel, you’re doing great. You’re both doing great.” Sirius gives you and your friend’s linked hands a squeeze before rejoining James by her head. “Now, I’m hoping you’re less squeamish than your guardian angel over there, babe. Have you ever had stitches before?”

[luveline]

I NEEEEEED MORE STRIPPER!READER X SPENCER

fem, 1.2k

You and Spencer aren't dating, but he thinks you might be in the before. 

"You're home!" you say, clambering at the door to slip out of your shoes. You throw yourself at him as soon as you're close enough, the salted caramel and sandalwood of your new perfume washing over him. "You're here! I missed you." 

Spencer tries not to blush. He wishes you weren't so close —his hair is lank from two days unwashed, his five o'clock shadow obvious and embarrassing. If you notice anything unappealing about him you don't give the slightest inclination, your arms crossing over his back as you drive your face into his neck. 

"I can't believe how much I missed you, Dr. Reid," you say warmly. 

"I missed you too." Morgan would laugh at him for being this earnest, maybe comment on his lack of charisma, but Spencer doesn't know how else to show that he's interested beyond sincerity. 

You step back but work your hands up his neck and into his hair, raking it away from his cheeks. "That's better. I can see you better now." 

Spencer thought he remembered only horrible things from being a teenager, but he remembers this feeling, sweaty-palmed, heart-racing want. You tilt his head gently one way and then the other like you're following the motion of a wave, fingertips scratching in his hair, the sensation stirring the very pit of his stomach. No trace of tiredness remains on your face, only spritely joy to see him. 

"That feels nice," he confesses. He's not weird about it, more friendly. 

Your aswering grin tells him he nailed the casualness he was aiming for. 

"You've been working hard," you say, tucking his hair behind his ears and dusting down his shoulders, "I can tell. You look tired." 

"You don't. Short shift?" 

"Is it weird that bad weather genuinely keeps people home? I guess they prefer their wives when it's cold." 

"No, really? Who could ever pick the woman they married over you and those silver shorts?" he teases, peeling out of his sweater.

The shirt underneath is rumpled, but he doesn't care about that. Anything to be seen between you has been seen. Spencer has, unquestionably, seen you half naked. You've seen him in his boxers, so you're just about square. "Idiots, all of them." 

You're staying with him again while a security company fits your apartment with the appropriate trappings. Or, that was the initial reason. Spencer went with you to assess after it was done, discovering black mould in the corner of your bedroom and spreading its evil way across the bathroom ceiling. 

What is that? he asked, knowing what it was, hoping you'd at least pretend to be concerned. 

That's fifty bucks off a month, Spence. Don't look so horrified. 

"I missed you," you say for the third time in as many minutes. "And I hoped you'd be home, so I brought Chinese food for two."

You and Spencer change into pyjamas, and it's cliche but whatever, you look beautiful undone —he's not stupid enough to lie to himself about how he feels when you're wearing your little outfits, but he prefers this side of you a thousand times over because you like it better. You wear your prized baseball tee, white with blue sleeves, and a pair of sweatpants pushed up high on one leg while you ice your sore knee. He sits cross legged opposite, jabbing his chopsticks into one of your crispy spring rolls just to watch you gasp. 

"Can I ask you something too personal?" 

You rub down the length of your naked calf, sighing as some of the tension releases. You're more bruise than girl lately, splodges of tender skin patterning the inside. "What don't you know about me, at this point?" you ask. 

Like it's a good thing. Like you're glad for it. 

"Are you making enough money?" he asks. 

You steal back your spring roll, answering him through rice paper and greens, "Kind of. Not tonight, but enough for dinner. I'll be okay." 

"Did you think about it?" 

You shovel through your waxy box of rice, shrugging. "I thought about it, but… it's not realistic. What office would take me? What drug store?" 

"I could loan you the money while you apprentice, and get some experience, you could go back to school–" He says it all in a rush and you still knock him down. 

"It's real sweet of you, Spence, it is, but I couldn't let you do that. That makes me your charity case, and not your friend." 

"What else do you do for the people you care about?" he asks. Let them stay at a job they don't like, even if they're good at it, one that puts them statistically at higher risk for femicide or assault? 

"I wouldn't need a loan, Spencer, I'd need more than you have," you say gently. "I'd have to start my life from scratch. How would I pay rent? You couldn't afford to keep us both." 

"You could stay with me again." 

You shake your head. "You're the best friend I've ever had, which is why I'm saying no." 

He doesn't get what you mean, but you finish your dinner and help him clean up. He more than trusts you to stay here alone while he's on a case, you've honestly left it in better condition than you found it, and he insists you sleep in his bed again while you're here. 

"Don't be silly," you say, throwing a sheet out over the couch. "This is your place. You need to sleep in your own bed." 

The disaster is that it smells like you. Spencer says goodnight to you reluctantly and leaves you on the couch with every throw blanket he owns, climbing into his own bed and pulling the comforter up to his nose. He imagines you here at night, your body wash still clinging to your skin from a late night shower, your hand tucked under his pillow. There are so many things he'd like to give you, if you'd just let him. 

He spends a quiet thirty minutes like that, missing the warmth of your skin and your casual touching, wishing he could offer you the fresh start you desire, even if it meant he wasn't involved. 

The couch springs creak as you toss and turn, the sound finding it's way down the short hall from the living room slash kitchen to his bedroom. Hesitant, Spencer shifts in bed, hitting that one coil in his mattress just right, the twang resounding.  

You appear in his doorway with your borrowed pillows crushed to your chest not long after that. You don't need to ask, Spencer doesn't need to answer. He can't give you everything that you want, but he can give you a quiet, comfortable night next to someone who loves you. 

Ever well-tempered, you slip into the sheets beside him and curl up toward him, your fingertips brushing his side. You don't look at him in the dark, but you mumble sleepily, fingers twitching, "Night, Spence." 

You're out like a light. 

[babyleostuff]

"silent treatment prank" on their s/o | ot13

. . . how long svt can maintain their "silent treatment prank" after their s/o apologize even though they don't know what they did wrong

natalia's note: i don't think any of them would be able to hold out for long (as you'll see). it's a whole another thing when they give you the silent treatment when they're actually angry, but as a prank. never.

❥ seungcheol 

[ ˚˖𓍢ִ໋🦢˚ ] one minute 

at first he wanted to try out this prank as a way to see you sulk and whine, as he usually does when you give him the silent treatment, and he thought he was being such a genius after he came up with the idea. mhm, yeah - genius my ass. the second he sees your puppy-like expression after he doesn’t reciprocate your hug, it’s over for him. it was clear to him that you thought he was bothered by you, you even apologised for entering his personal space and hugging him. thus not even a minute in, he’s all over you again, kissing you all over your face and apologising (with his noot noot pout) for his silly behaviour because come one - seeing you upset over his stupid prank is the last thing he wants to see. 

❥ jeonghan 

[ ˚˖𓍢ִ໋🦢˚ ] ten minutes 

as much of a menace as he is, he wouldn’t be able to ignore you for more than ten minutes. first of all - he simply gets bored. that’s it - bored. you’re right next to him, and he can’t talk to you, which is so??? he loves yapping when you’re next to him. second of all - he needs to touch you. yoon jeonghan needs his cuddles and kisses, and how is he supposed to get them if he’s ignoring you? third of all - he might be a bit mean (with love) sometimes, but there is no way he’d ever pull a prank on you which would involve you getting genuinely upset. like - making your partner insecure? mhm, not with hannie. so, he’d kind of try to ignore you for a bit (and failing miserably because he’d answer you half of the time anyways), and so after ten minutes he just gives up.

❥ joshua 

[ ˚˖𓍢ִ໋🦢˚ ] twenty minutes 

joshua is a bit similar to jeonghan with this (who would have guessed), the only difference is that shua is a bit more perseverant. ignoring you had never come easily to him and it never would be easy for him, but he had to admit that your slightly pouty lip was adorable, and he could practically see your brain trying to figure out what was going on. however, when he saw the first signs of you being actually upset, the entire bubble around this "funny" prank disappeared. no joke was worth your sadness, no matter how cute it made you look. shua quickly realised that the prank itself didn't make much sense and that he would much rather hug you right now than pretend that you weren't there at all.

❥ jun 

[ ˚˖𓍢ִ໋🦢˚ ] one hour 

he didn’t come up with that prank on his own, he’d never, but a lost bet is a lost bet, and he had to take the punishment. he felt so bad avoiding you, when you asked him about his day, if he was hungry, if he needed some rest, and when you started to ask if he needed space, some time alone, and if he wanted you gone for a while - jun’s heart broke. but he felt like it was too late to take everything back because you looked so sad and upset, and you probably hated him now too, so he couldn't say anything. an hour would be his breaking point - fuck it if you hated him, he needed you, and he needed to apologise, and damn the person who came up with this stupid prank. 

❥ hoshi 

[ ˚˖𓍢ִ໋🦢˚ ] 1.5 minute 

when his friends told him about this prank, and how they pranked their significant others, soonyoung thought it was such a brilliant idea, and he couldn’t wait to try it out on you. as it turned out - it was not brilliant, it fucking sucked. ignoring you, your kiss you always gave him when he came back from work, your questions if everything was okay, was one thing - seeing your upset expression was a whole nother story. you even apologised for being so all over him when he barely entered the apartment, clearly feeling bad, and that would be the end of hoshi’s prank. this man is the simpest simp to ever simp, he cannot stand seeing you sad, especially over something you didn’t even do.

❥ wonwoo 

[ ˚˖𓍢ִ໋🦢˚ ] 0.2- 0.3 seconds 

when wonwoo heard about this prank he was baffled to say the least - what’s so fun in ignoring your significant other? like, what’s the point? wouldn’t you rather hold them close, and spend some precious quality time together rather than ignoring them? somehow, seungcheol and jeonghan managed to persuade him into giving the prank a chance, and wonwoo decided to say yes just to please his friends and get them off his back. no surprise - wonwoo wouldn’t last a second. he’s physically unable to ignore you, a single quiet “wonwoo?” makes him go “yes, baby?” *cue in attentive eyes and a puppy like expression*. besides, he’d never be able to stand you being upset, knowing he was the reason behind your small pout and eyes lacking their usual spark. (also, ignoring you equals no hugs and kisses, and that’s something wonwoo cannot stand).

❥ woozi 

[ ˚˖𓍢ִ໋🦢˚ ] fifteen minutes 

does not see a point in this “prank”, thinks it’s very stupid and not fun. the only reason he did it in the first place was to stop hearing the constant nagging of hoshi and seungwkan, and if that was what it took to satisfy them, then whatever. he held out for fifteen minutes just because he was working on a lyrics when you came to his studio, and whereas he ignored your first hello because of the prank, he ignored your next questions just because he got distracted by his work. you were used to your boyfriend spacing out during work so that didn’t really bother you, though he never ignored your “hello” so you got a bit scared that he might’ve been angry with you or whatever. it took only one glance at you for woozi to remember that he ignored you when you came in, and he immediately dropped whatever he was doing to apologise and properly greet you with an extra kiss.

❥ dk 

[ ˚˖𓍢ִ໋🦢˚ ] 0.001 second 

not happening, never in a million years. come on, do you really expect seokmin out of all people to ignore you on purpose? over his dead body. the thing was - he overheard about the prank during rehearsals and thought it sounded a bit fun? like, he’d get to see you extra pouty, and he loved nothing more when you got cute like that - so the prank had to work, right? no. when he got home later that night, and you greeted him in the hallway with his hoodie draped over your body, rubbing your eyes with the sweater paws because it was way too late for you to be up, all of his intentions of executing the prank went out of the window immediately. later that night, when he held you close to his chest he felt so silly for even thinking that the prank would be a good idea.

❥ mingyu 

[ ˚˖𓍢ִ໋🦢˚ ] 2 minutes 

this man is too big of a yapper and too big of a clingy puppy to ignore you, besides he’s not that big on pranks, especially if it involves you getting upset. just try to imagine mingyu ignoring you, even though you didn’t do anything wrong. you can't, right? that’s the thing - mingyu has to touch you at all times, and he loves nothing more than talking to you, so why on earth would he go around ignoring you, wasting your precious time together on a silly prank? he tried it out just to see how many minutes he’d last, and well - he didn’t hold out for long, definitely not when you dropped your head and left the bedroom, thinking he was annoyed with you. he’d immediately follow you and explain that it was just a stupid prank (in return you’d give him a silent treatment ☺️)

❥ minghao 

[ ˚˖𓍢ִ໋🦢˚ ] two hours max 

the trophy goes to xu minghao - he’s the strongest of them all, though that doesn't mean it’s any less painful for him. when minghao decides on doing something he commits, he pours his heart and soul into whatever he does, even if it’s just a stupid prank. he wasn’t sure how he even ended up in this situation - him in your bedroom, trying to occupy himself with reading, and you in the living room, probably trying to figure out what you did wrong for your boyfriend to be ignoring you. he would have ended this stupid prank a long time ago if it wasn’t for his pride and stubbornness because now he’d have to admit to coming up with this stupid ass prank, and making you feel bad just for his entertainment (which he was not entertained by). when the clock struck the second hour after he locked himself in the bedroom, he threw away the book and practically ran out to you, an apology speech ready.

❥ seungkwan 

[ ˚˖𓍢ִ໋🦢˚ ] half an hour 

his stubbornness to admit the defeat of his prank would be the only reason why he’d hold out half an hour, if not for that he’d be running back to you after a minute. seungkwan was sure this prank would be the perfect way to get back at you for your last joke that you pulled on him, but surprise surprise - it wasn’t. he was still going strong when he saw your small pout - he thought the prank was working, and he’d get his revenge, but it wasn’t before he saw how sad you actually got that he started regretting everything. you started avoiding him like fire, you didn’t even dare to look at him, and that’s when seungkwan realised the prank was a bad idea after all, like - he didn’t mean for you to get so upset, he just wanted to make you a bit whiny and pouty for him, but none of that happened. after half an hour he was like “fuck it” because he wasn’t able to stand seeing you sad.

❥ vernon 

[ ˚˖𓍢ִ໋🦢˚ ] five minutes 

to be honest he just gets bored with the prank. he didn’t come over to your apartment to spend his day off ignoring you, and whoever came up with this “silent treatment prank” is plainly stupid. for one, vernon hates seeing you upset - obviously. like, who would want to ignore their partner just for funsies, and see them upset over something they didn’t do and make them self conscious? besides, it was his day off, and he wouldn’t spend it ignoring you, so after five minutes he was ready to curse out his friends that made him try out this “prank”, and apologise for acting so silly. 

❥ chan  

[ ˚˖𓍢ִ໋🦢˚ ] 0.5 seconds 

yeah, no - thank you next. this man, this man is a simp and he’s so in love with you it’s a bit worrying, there is literally nothing that could ever convince him to ignore you, for what - entertainment? because that’s what the prank sounded like, ignoring your significant other for entertainment. there were so many other things you could do together without either of you getting upset, so why not do them? one of his biggest goals in life is to keep you safe, loved, and happy - so he will not indulge in his friends' antics with this stupid ass prank. even the thought of ignoring you on purpose makes him sick, like… why? he would not be able to stand your upset expression, or the thought that you’d get self conscious about yourself. hell. no.

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[bodhrancomedy]

Guess who's on TV!

(Well, iPlayer until the 15th, that's when it airs on BBC One)

Hope Street episode 3.11, let's go!

First of all, I'd say they did me dirty with this picture, but my university ID was exponentially worse.

Onto the spoilers!

Our boy Matthew has arrived in Port Devine, looking a little concerned.

For good reason when he's suddenly confronted by this lad, Dara.

Ah, a fight which Matthew escapes by slipping out of his coat. (Pretty sure this is the take where we ripped it practically in two...)

Dara's questioned, he claims he's never met Matthew in his life. Hmm.

Police do some investigating (and some character stuff) before Dara makes his way to Matthew's mother (Louise)'s house to have a wee showdown.

They both in a gang and Matthew's stolen a gun. Dara needs to get it back...

Matthew's nay having it. "This is my way out. If they want the gun back, they have to let me go."

Another fight. The gun goes off! (Poor Pete and I were convinced after take one to put some padding on. My arm looks bulky because I'm strapped up with squishy stuff and allergic to plasters so it has to be in a sock)

Thank fuck no one was hurt. Dara gets the hell out of dodge -

Leaving Matthew to contemplate his mortality. And other people's, but mostly his own.

"Oh fuck, my bosses are gonna find me and murder me, oh shit. I'm far too young and pretty to die!"

Time for Matthew and Louise to follow Dara's example and get the fuck out of here.

The police are now on the Halbridges' trail, but they discover the phone tracking them and leave it in a field.

Meanwhile, Dara's been arrested for drug dealing. He refuses to talk, clearly nervous.

Ah, what's this on Dara's phone? So Matthew and Dara have been in a relationship for over a year now.

(The poor intimacy coordinator having to walk me through my just about second kiss in my entire life. And the third. And the fourth. And the fifth... Pete is a very sweet person. Made it all funny.) ("Relax your hand, Bodh. Just relax it. Open - open your fingers, just let me position your hand.")

They're both working for the same gang. Matthew was given the gun to hold onto by their bosses' and freaked out, running away with the weapon. His plan was to trade his freedom for the gun, but Dara was sent to get it back for the Brazier Brothers, notorious drug runners and gang leaders.

These guys.

Unfortunately, now Dara's had to tell the Brazier Brothers that Matthew is refusing. They're going to kill Matthew and then Dara. Oh no.

But Dara has an idea where they might be hiding.

At the caravan there's a standoff between the police and Halbridges. But when the Braizer Brothers are arrested, they're convinced to come out.

(Side note, my favourite picture of me, ever.)

Oh no, the Halbridges are going to jail and Matthew's regretting his life choices.

Matthew walked off to his new life inside a jail cell.

The end.

(This is where Niall Wright accidently sublexed my shoulder. To be fair to the man, I'd never mentioned it and he took his finger sliding in-between bone like a champ)

Look, it's me!! I was on TV! Bit sad they cut pretty much all the uses of SSE (weren't allowed BSL because we still had to speak the lines), but I got to be queer and Deaf so that's pretty nice.