#nevermind have another thought on top of this mess

[riversaremeanttobefollowed]

We all know that the reason why Bruce Wayne isn't religiously Jewish is because dc are cowards, but also because many of the community itself is cowards. I personally believe it comes from a lack of knowledge about what it even means to be religious because most of the community is Christian or culturally Christian. So as someone that would probably be considered not religious by Christians, but Religious by most other Jewish people, I think that Bruce Wayne fits in this section of being Jewish.

Bruce can't go to the Synagogue often because of the whole being Batman stuff, but he still goes on the high holidays when he can. He celebrates with the Kane family as well! And Kate would obviously understand if he couldn't come because she's Batwoman! Give me a Bruce Wayne says Yiddish curses. Give me a Batman that has a bunch of Chanukkiot that are just so pretty because they are rich and definitely have a ton. Give me Batfamily shabbat dinners when they are able to. Rest days on Saturday for the Jewish members when they are more members in the Batfam to make it work (and it being a mitzvah when he does have to be Batman on Shabbat because its a mitzvah to save a life). Give me Mezuzot on every entryway. Give me a Bruce Wayne who inherited his mother's seder plates and actually uses them. Give me a Bruce Wayne that says stuff like kein ayin hara before giving good news! Give me a confused Dick Grayson when Bruce insults him (its actually a compliment, but to ward against the evil eye you will say the opposite of what you mean) and then Bruce having to explain after he realizes that Dick has no idea why he just insulted him. Give me a Batman that follows Jewish values (more than he canonically does)

Just because someone ins't actively involved within a wider community of that Religion doesn't mean they aren't Religious! Or at least don't give me a culturally Jewish Bruce Wayne that doesn't do any of this. Thats just you stripping away all the Jewish parts of him.

Bruce Wayne is Jewish and you can't just ignore that

[velvet-glory]

Thank you undueodium for the template! It was a ton of fun to fill out 😊

Extensive thoughts below the cut! (Warning: very long...)

Necessary disclaimer that all of this is of course just my headcanons and how I perceive the characters. I'm not claiming I know the Ultimate Truth™, but these two guys have claimed basically 99% of my brain capacity in the past 7 months and mean the world to me. I thoroughly enjoy picking them apart and analyzing them both as individuals and a pair because they scratch an itch in my brain that I simply can't get enough of. But as with all things, we resonate with different things in fiction and in life. Anyways, enjoy!

Boothill being ace

This is something I always worried talking about in public, since talking about sexualities in fandom spaces feels like SUCH a risky topic I usually don't even want to open, but it's very important to me. Being ace myself, I personally see him as sex-neutral to favorable. I think it's an activity he didn't mind doing, and even saw as occasional fun, but it wasn't anything really special. He preferred building strong emotional bonds with his family and friends. Romantically I think he had one or two crushes, but never really anything serious. The life he lived didn't allow for it, and the (queer)platonic bonds he had were more than enough.

With the change of his body, the physical aspect fell away, so it’s purely a mental thing now, and he already had next to no desire for it before. When the opportunity arose, maybe he would take up the offer, but he was also just too busy wanting to hunt Oswaldo down to indulge in pleasures like those too often. He didn't see people in that light and didn't miss it. (I also think that there were some... more forceful people that were curious and really wanted to experience what his cyborg body was capable of, which only turned him away from sex even more. So now it became a conscious avoidance, too, on top of the lack of attraction and medium-to-low libido.)

Sex really only starts to feel special once he gets with Aventurine, as he sees it as a way to bond and feel loved. I think sex is a very integral part of their relationship (but if I got into that, this would get WAY too long). It starts to feel even more fun and Aventurine is mighty pretty—seeing him blush and gasp and moan is what's rewarding, not the physical aspect and involvement of his body (especially since I hc that he can't feel anything below the neck aside from maybe his groin thanks to emulators). It's also why I see him more as a service top—Aven's pleasure comes first. That's what makes him feel pleasure. That gets him that mental high.

Aventurine riding him feels good not because of the actual act and feeling, but what it stands for. The power Aventurine holds over him. The intimacy it embodies. Knowing that he is the one to reduce Aventurine into a sweaty, moaning mess. How they both lay everything bare for one another.

There's also the fun aspect to him realizing that sex actually does matter to him in the context with Aventurine. Where losing his genitals wasn't really something he cared about too much in regards to sex (this can also be seen through a gender lens, but I'll be focusing on it in a sexuality way), some insecurity may creep in. If it matters to the person he loves, of course it also matters to him. He just becomes very aware of... everything. About their differences, both in the short-term and long-term. How that will affect the... everything they have. Whatever they have. There's a lot to unpack here. I promise I'm trying to keep all of this as brief as I can but I'm failing.

Boothill and touch

For Boothill, it's not about the actual, physical sensation, but about the intention behind it. Getting kissed on the inside of his wrist, where a pulse would be, is special. Where his heart beats even more so. To have Aventurine treat his body with care and affection—treating it human, despite him not even seeing himself as alive anymore, nevermind human, even if he laughs about it—is what gets to him. It also makes his spine such an insanely vulnerable place to kiss and touch, since he has to expose his back for it. The places his body has been scratched/damaged, like on his lower abdomen, are also highlights.

Basically anything goes and is fine to touch, but the more vulnerable a place would be when made out of flesh, the more intense he feels about it being touched and kissed. And especially his neck and face, since those are still human.

To be accepted and appreciated for what he is now, and not like he is lacking anything, is what matters. And Aventurine does just that.

Aventurine being demi

Aventurine being demi feels kinda self-explanatory. Even if he may use sexuality and sensuality as a tool, I don't think he truly experiences that attraction until a strong bond has formed, which... has frankly not happened often, if ever. Nevermind romantically. That requires you to be vulnerable and allow others close to your heart. That's what made the bars a little difficult to fill out cause... there's so many walls he has put up, but he acts in certain ways. He acts flirty and sensual, but it's not genuine. It is and it isn't. He's a walking paradox and probably struggles to really understand himself, too.

But Boothill makes him feel safe, which makes him want the man carnally (lol). It lowers the walls around his heart. Nothing sexier than explicitly being asked for consent and being respected and loved by a sexy cyborg who wears his heart on his sleeve, I'm afraid. Plus, I think Boothill not actually having a human body massively helps him in overcoming the first hurdle regarding his trauma.

Aventurine's sensitive areas

Similar to Boothill, the more vulnerable an area, the more it means for it to be touched. Especially his chest, hips, inner thighs and neck are sensitive and feel the best. Boothill kissed his stomach once and he has been obsessed ever since. His lower back? Yes please. Especially if Boothill's mouth and hands are busy elsewhere. A kiss to the center of his palm speaks louder than any words and it makes his heart ache.

I think his arm pits are ticklish so they're a bit of a no, but it's a soft no. Because he trusts Boothill so much, I think he's really fine with anything, at least down the road. It does take a little while to build up to this, but fortunately Boothill is very patient and understanding in this regard ☺️

Kinks & Limits

Limits

This is actually a section I struggled a lot with. If it's a hard limit, I don't even go there, and don't even think of it. So I feel like there are likely some others that I didn't put down because well... I just don't think of them cause they're such a no lmao.

For soft limits, especially in regards to Aventurine, I think it's pretty complicated. He has some self-destructive tendencies. There's a lot of inner turmoil because of his trauma—he wants and he doesn't. He wants to be tossed around, challenges you to use him, because it's what he's used to, but he also doesn't. This would get way way too long if I went more in-depth on how I see Aventurine and his relationship to intimacy as a whole, but. It's just extremely complicated, and I feel like someone like Boothill is exactly what he needs to heal from all of that. Someone that allows him to let loose, to differentiate past trauma and future pleasure. Because he's safe. And eventually, he will overcome those fears that hold him back from truly letting go. Even if it will take time. (I'm speaking in general here and Aventurine's relationship to physical and emotional intimacy, and not about the specific limits I wrote down.)

They both definitely have their limits, but also... I dunno. It just heavily depends on the situation and how long they've been together. I think there's some kinks they would eventually explore in a safe way, especially in regards to bondage. Some mild power play, maybe—which would especially be a big step for Aventurine.

Kinks

Aventurine likes to receive, but also to see Boothill break, either in a submissive or dominant way. He likes to walk on the fine line, to see how much he can get away with. To push and prod until the tables are turned. Likes to see Boothill whimper but also have Boothill hold his hips a little tighter as he's pushed into the mattress or nearest surface. He likes the game, the risk. To gain and lose control.

And Boothill plays into it beautifully, because he aims to please first and foremost. He always has to hold back because he really could very easily seriously hurt Aventurine. His body is made to kill and that's a risk that Aventurine really loves.

As for Boothill's kinks... well! When most of your body is numb to pleasure, why wouldn't you want to practically short-circuit thanks to your very very pretty partner who also activates your lizard brain.

Dynamics

Boothill is very very attentive and fully focused on Aventurine—catches every little movement, every sign of discomfort—which is why I think he would be extremely good in bed, even if he has less overall experience. They are essentially tied in skill, though. (But also, you know. There's the fact that Boothill can get fun little upgrades for his privates, which Aventurine definitely enjoys ☺️)

I'm a switch and vers enthusiast, and while I do think they have a preference, in the end, it's about connection and about mixing things up. About having fun together and bonding.

When Aventurine submits, he does it to fully submit and be at Boothill's mercy because he knows he will be safe. Giving up the power, when he was always forced to be strong and stand alone, brings a sense of relief. But I do think that generally, he prefers to be in control, especially in the beginning. When topping, he tends to lean more towards service top as well, although a less dominant one. Boothill as a service top can be both dominant and submissive, though—whichever Aventurine wants in that moment, since he aims to please. When he bottoms, it really just depends on the mood, but I think generally he's less intense than Aventurine. He definitely teases Aventurine quite a bit like that, hehe...

Boothill has a cyborg body, so... he can do any speed and pace ☺️ Spiritually, Aventurine wishes he also had more stamina and endurance, but unfortunately he needs to catch his breath a little sooner.

I think Aventurine can be both loud and quiet (which Boothill especially loves to get him to that point), while Aventurine loves when he manages to get Boothill to be a little louder.

Miscellaneous thoughts

I would've basically have to fill this template out twice because honestly... How they are with others before meeting each other, how they are with one another at the start, after they get together, and how that changes them in general are all different. They constantly evolve and grow. There's so many facets to them, it was hard to pin it down to just a few dots. But I had already spent a good... I wanna say 11 or more hours on this, on top of the time it took to write all of this, so I didn't want to keep tweaking it even more :') So I’ll just be talking about a handful of things.

Who does what

This was a fun section to think about. Since I imagine that Aventurine fell first, I feel like he was both not subtle at all about his affections but also trying to play them off as just his usual behavior. Boothill, who is a little slower on catching on to his own feelings, really struggled with that. Although after he does realize his own feelings, and wonders if maybe it's reciprocated after all, he really doesn't wait around too much and goes for it.

I think Aventurine likes the idea of getting married, but the reality is just tricky with the lives they live. Commitment is also just scary to him, even if he does care deeply about Boothill (which is also very scary). Boothill also never considered to be settling down somewhere since he expected to lose his life on his quest for revenge, but Aventurine makes him wonder. But whether they live a domestic life somewhere quiet or enjoy traveling the stars together, one thing he knows for sure: he wants Aventurine at his side for it.

Boothill had a lot of siblings, both younger and older, so I think he has a massive soft spot for kids. Having a couple of rascals would be fun, but only if Aventurine was on-board as well. Similar to marriage, I think Aventurine likes the idea, but might doubt if he'd even be worthy or able of being a parent. Whether they do eventually adopt or not isn't as important as simply being together, though.

—

I think I'm gonna leave it here because this already got WAY longer than I intended for it to be... I just can't help but start yapping once these two are involved. Maybe I'll go back in the future and talk about a few more things, but if you actually got this far, then kudos to you 😭 Thank you for reading! I love avenhill a little bit if it wasn't obvious already...

[whatevertheweather]

Hi hello. I miss y'all. That is my own fault but it's still true, and I'm writing this on saturday night and feeling maudlin about how wonderful and talented and dear this fandom is and how I never join in anymore, so I'm making my little post okay.

I'm going with Musical Chairs again because it's so far past time for that to be done. And I've said this before, but it is approaching done. And I'm gonna get into that, but it'll all be behind the scenes rambling, so it's below the cut, and for those who don't want to delve that far, here is some freshly written Penny POV.

“Ah,” Shepard smiled, “a good deed wasn’t motive enough on its own?” “Not when it’s for a stupid reason.” “What is your un-stupid reason?” “Un-stupid?” Penny repeated. She turned resolutely to her drink. “Nevermind. I don’t want to talk to you anymore.” “Hey now,” Shepard said, ducking into her line of sight. “You struck me as someone who prefers being honest.” It was a job not to smile at that, but Penny put the work in.

Now for the mess.

It's a good mess I think. I have a new section in my miscellany document, tucked in between nine (9) sections of ramblings and cut scenes, and the new section is called "we got it this time boys," and I think it's right. I've written a full draft of the scene that's been holding us all back. It's there in its entirety, it just needs to be edited. And I'm so scared to reread it, because every time I think I got this scene right I come back and it's wrong. Which I've decided to be fine with, because so what!!! So what if I got 36k right and there's 5k that doesn't quite hit the way I want it to!!! The earth will keep spinning!!!

Anyway, "we got it this time boys" is 3 pages of what is technically kind of an outline for 5 pages of story, and every time I read the header it's in the voice of someone from some black-and-white hardboiled detective noir, which brings me the joy that might be the only reason I feel I've gotten it right in the first place. The outline is all written about as cohesively as it starts:

I think maybe, and gosh haven’t I said this a million times, I just need to stop trying to go that way. Stop trying to go any way. Like always “how do I get them to this moment” instead of “what would they do in this situation.” Unfortunately, the latter requires I connect with them on a level I’m not sure I can right now. But I guess let’s try. Actually let’s go for a walk, I can see the sun setting on the top of the house across the way and it’s lovely. Okay nice, it was lovely. Relaxing, refreshing. Saw a stump that looked like a beaver. Saw a cat. Thought of the opening to something I’m never going to write. So anyway,

It also sort of ends with:

Oh shit came up on an obstacle immediately. [Redacted]. This does not actually open the door for Baz to say something that can incite “[Redacted].” Fuck god okay whoops already going completely back on all I’ve decided and thinking maybe we could keep some of the new exchange I’d written, maybe he does reveal the ugh no stop I hate this. Just figure out a transition to bring in [...], what would Baz say to that other than what I’ve written him saying to that which doesn’t work for what I’m trying to do. I guess it could just be, like…he murmurs incorrigible. Or something. With a raised brow, a la baz. Sure let’s do that, however, I’ve laid down to do this and learned I’m actually quite sleepy, so let’s do it another time. Hopefully I don’t come up on another immediate problem and despair. Just remember not to start combining things and rereading things yet, okay. Please.

This would be alarming if I hadn't already gotten past this point and written the thing. So I'm going to go into editing it with the mindset that nothing substantial shall change and boohoo to me if I want it to, and once that's done we're pretty much home free.

Now tags.

Gonna dip a toe back into being melancholy and wistful about this fandom k, I really do miss it even though I'm the only one keeping me out. You're all my friends even if that is a surprise for you to hear because we haven't talked in months or maybe ever, but I love each and every one of you x

@fatalfangirl @you-remind-me-of-the-babe @moodandmist @cutestkilla @artsyunderstudy

@bookish-bogwitch @aristocratic-otter @mooncello @noblecorgi @alexalexinii

@rimeswithpurple @ivelovedhimthroughworse @basiltonbutliketheherb @whogaveyoupermission @facewithoutheart

@martsonmars @iamamythologicalcreature @run-for-chamo-miles @thewholelemon

@forabeatofadrum @youarenevertooold @ileadacharmedlife @monbons

[cellythefloshie]

;; Be My Mistake Chapter Nineteen of the Road Wife Series

Table of Contents 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 06 | 07 | 08 | 09 | 10 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 16 | 17 | 18 | 19

Summary: After a long fight home, and some car troubles, Pat offers to give you a ride home and you get a lot more than you bargained for.  Kinks & TW: use of emergency contraceptive, rules are being broken / breach in contract, wifie goes against her better judgment yet again Word Count: 3k+

Your phone rested face down on the table, yet you could still see it illuminate as a notification took the main screen. Then came the three droning vibrations that used to send you lurching for the smartphone, desperate to see and keep your next appointment. You couldn’t count how many times this had happened since the plane took off from Detroit almost two hours prior. Someone, or their wives, would request an appointment, then minutes later, another series of notifications would come through: the cancellation of that request. And it wasn’t the wives of the players that had made that decision, as the team was coming so close to being home, but the captain himself. 

It left you uneasy and unmoving in your seat where you sat between Colton and Cirelli. Your head rested on Tony’s shoulder, as it often came on long flights. The scent of him calmed you, as did the touch of Ross’ hand as it stroked your calf. It was just in his reach as you sat curled up in your seat, tried and desperate to sleep, but the vibrations kept you vigilant and tense. And Ross could feel it. You knew he could. As with each vibration, he squeezed your leg and looked down at you with curious eyes that earned nothing more than a tired smile from you. Then, he would reach for your phone, flip it up for you to see the big bold DECLINED notification at the top of your screen before he relaxed back in his seat. 

If the team had been flying anywhere but home, receiving so many notifications, and having them all requested, might have raised questions. It wasn’t often an appointment was declined. Nevermind you not take a single one after a game - even if it had been a shutout loss. But this flight home differed from every other that had come before it. You had a secret to hide, and Stamkos knew it, because it was his secret too.  

There would be no trace of him left behind now. You threw away the lingerie he soiled and the emergency contraceptive you had taken had sent your body into a bloody mess of trying to rid itself of any risk of pregnancy. It was no different than your period really, but the risk was still too great. Especially when the guilt of what happened gnawed away at you, leaving you feeling both sick to your stomach and numb. 

You clung onto Tony tighter, your face buried deep into the crook of his neck in an attempt to bring any semblance of darkness from the glow of the lights overhead. Your eyes squeezed tightly shut, and you shifted your body one way, then the next, even extending your legs over Ross’ lap at one point in an attempt to make yourself comfortable, but it never came. Just as you thought you might get some rest, the voice of the pilot chimed through the plane and it was met with the subtle turbulence that came with landing. The flight had arrived back in Tampa. 

Now, you just needed to get home. 

The players always disembarked from the flight first, and you left with them before the rest of the support staff that sat at the front of the plane. It was one of your many luxuries, one that you were thankful for as you quickly grabbed your bags from the overhead compartment and disembarked the plane between Tony and Ross. Tony cast a glance back over his shoulder as he met the bottom of the stairs and offered you a soft smaller and an even softer good night. Then he walked across the tarmac and disappeared out of sight on the way to his car. 

Ross was behind you, his large hand reaching out to the small of your back as he spoke. “Text me when you’re home safe?”

“Yeah,” you whispered, nodding. 

Then you were void of his touch, and you stood there at the bottom of the stairs until the team was gone and the management and media teams were beginning to depart from the plane. You needed the distance from the players after what you had been through during the road trip. You needed distance from everyone - you couldn’t wait to get home. 

Yet you lingered, and you walked slowly cradling your bags as you made your way to your car that waited for you. It was almost alone in the lot as taillights faded into the darkness. Watching them disappear lifted the heavy feeling from your chest and with it, the facade you had worn since you had left Stamkos’ room. You let your lower lip tremble as you reached for the driver’s side handle and pulled the door open. Tears burned at your eyes as you threw your bag into the passenger seat, and the suffocating feeling of a sob choked at your throat as you sat in the driver’s seat and slammed the door behind you. 

The keys glided into the ignition with ease, but when you turned them over, the engine did not roar to life. You froze, tears now burning their path down your cheeks. You could feel your heart pounding against your chest as you turned the keys again and again, only to get the same result. 

“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!” 

You pounded your fists against the steering wheel, the emotions that had been bubbling beneath the surface finally beginning to spill. Your throat hurt as a frustrated cry ripped its way up and out your mouth and you beat at your steering wheel until your fists hurt, after that even, and you only stilled when you hear a knock against your window. 

Frozen, petrified that you were not alone in the lot, you looked through your hair that had become a messy curtain in front of your face and found Pat looking back at you. An embarrassed sigh took you, your eyes shutting for a long moment before you could bring yourself to reach out and open the door. 

“Car troubles?” Was all he said to you, and you were thankful for that. 

“Yeah,” you sighed. 

“Want a ride?” Pat offered, and you sat there, your eyes dropping to your hands, as you considered it. 

You shouldn’t accept it. You knew that. So many indiscretions had already been made, you couldn’t afford to make anymore… Especially with Pat. You hadn’t spoken with him since you had caught him with Ella back at Amalie. While he could never have known your car would have failed you, you couldn’t help but feel he saw this opportunity to get you alone. To finally trap you and force you into talking about what happened. That alone should have been enough for you to refuse, but getting a ride home sure beat waiting for a cab.

“Sure, yeah, that’d be great actually,” you sighed, reaching across the car for your bag. 

Hugging it to you, you locked the car door behind you and followed Pat to his car. The lights flashed as he unlocked it with the fob. Your shadow cast long and inhuman across the parking lot. It almost made you shiver, your breath hitching in your throat as you reached for the handle and hopped into the passenger's seat. You were still rattled, and you hoped Pat didn’t notice - and if he did, you hoped he would believe it was because of him and Ella. 

“So,” Pat started, his engine coming to life with a soft purr - oh, the luxury of being able to afford a new luxury vehicle without the haunting worry that would could be fired after one bad decision. Worst-case scenario, he would be traded or bought out, but another team would always welcome him. You weren’t so lucky. “Where we headed?”

Your hand reached out for his GPS. “May I?”

Pat nodded and let you plug your address into the route, and it came to life with its direction in a soft feminine voice. You hoped that it would be enough to fill the silence. That Pat would focus on when to take the next turn, and the one after that, but Pat had always been a talker… 

“It’s good to be home, huh?”

“Yeah,” your word was breathy as you cast a glance over to him as he drove, the angles of his face illuminated by the amber glow of each passing streetlight with the occasional glimmer of red or green when you came to in intersection, “was a long road trip, I’m so tired.”

You hoped that was a big enough hint that you weren’t much into talking. As much as you appreciated the ride, you appreciated the silence more. 

“Yeah, they’ve been working you hard, haven’t they?” Pat asked in a low voice that was stained with jealousy. It left a lump in your throat as your hand reached down to the phone in your pocket. You didn’t need to look at it to know that at least one of the declined requests was from him. 

The car came to a stop at a red light, your head pounding hard in your chest as you looked at Pat. He was looking back at you instead of at the road ahead. Even as the light turned green, the car remained still in the empty street. You smiled as he looked back at you, your head lulling to the side to rest against the headrest. Then you let your eyes shut, silently telling him that this conversation was over. 

The silence was welcomed, as you felt each acceleration stop and turn the car made. It was a gentle rocking, one that was almost enough to rock you to sleep. That was until you felt the hot embrace of Pat’s hand brush over your knee as it came to rest on your left thigh. Your eyes shot open in an instant, your heart jumping into your throat just as fast. 

“Pat, what are you doing?” You asked weakly.

Pat’s hand recoiled. “Sorry, force of habit.”

And it was. When he sat near you on the plane, Pat’s hand often came to rest on your thigh. He would stroke it gently with his thumb, and wasn’t an unwelcome touch - but it was different now that you were in Tampa. Getting a ride home was a big enough risk. You couldn’t have him breaking any of the rules set out in the contract… You had already broken so many. 

Retracting his hand, Pat placed it on the center console waiting so patiently for the invitation to touch you to be offered. But even as you craved the comfort, you refused to let yourself be touched by him so intimately. That gentle stroke that left your heart warm and fuzzy should have been reserved for his wife - and while in your contract in big bold letters, that was your title when you were up in the air and on the road, you weren’t his wife at that moment. You were just a social media team member for the organization who just happened to have her car break down at the most inopportune moment. 

You couldn’t avoid his touch forever, however. As you were getting out of the car, Pat was quick to join you. He beat you to the back seats, pulling out your bag before you could even think of reaching for the handle. 

“You need a hand bringing them up to your place?” He asked slowly, almost expectantly. 

“No, no,” you spoke softly, your head shaking, “I can manage.”

“Then I guess that means this is good night,” Pat sighed, and your heart fell. 

Why did he have to say it like that? Like he had just driven you home from a date… like he wanted a god damn hug. 

A single arm raised up to welcome you into its embrace, and you walked right into it. Not because you felt like you owed him, but because it was the least you could do - and deep down, you knew that a hug would help you feel better. Even if it was just a little. Besides, Pat gave the best hugs. 

Your arms wrapped around him the best they could, your fists coming to grip at the back of his shirt, and you rested your cheek against his chest. You focused on his heartbeat, and how his large hands stroked down the length of his back, but even as it his heart beat rumbled like distant thunder there was no ignoring the soft words on his lips, “You never told anyone about me and Ella.”

“There was nothing for me to tell,” you spoke, your words so close to breaking. 

“You know that’s not true,” Pat sighed. “I wasn’t supposed to be in there. Especially not with her. I could have gotten myself into a lot of trouble. I owe you.”

“No, you don’t,” you spoke pointedly. “You gave me a ride.”

“As if that’s enough,” Pat said, and you could feel his hot breath as he leaned in. It blossomed over the top of your head, and with your cheek, he raised a single hand to crane your neck up to look at him. “Is there nothing else I can do for you?” He punctuated the question with your name, and it sent your heart into a flutter. 

Pat was a rule breaker… and you were, too.

He knew you wouldn’t tell. 

You couldn’t, because if you agreed, it would cost you your job. 

Which was why you couldn’t let yourself cave into the comfort of his touch, to the taste of his lips that taunted you as he leaned in so close to your own. You swore you could taste him as your tongue left your mouth to lick along the swell of your lower lip. You trembled in his hold, both overwhelmed by the stress you had been put through by him, and by Steven, and by the deep need to forget that all. You wanted to feel anything but the anxiety that tingled in the depth of your chest. 

So, against your better judgment, you let your hands stroke over his ribcage and to the chest of his shirt. You gripped it tight in your fists, and you pressed up onto your toes and kissed Pat like it was the last kiss that was ever going to grace your lips. Pat’s beard was rough against your skin as it scratched against it with each desperate kiss. The friction was enough to leave your skin raw, but you didn’t cower from you. You clung to Pat as if he was your gravity as you kissed you there in the middle of the street. It left your mind hazy and your heart racing, and for a moment you forgot you were back in Tampa. But the harsh reality of it all was that you were back home, and it hit you like a bolt of lightning as Pat’s large frame pinned you between himself and the car and he let his hand slip down between your legs to palm at the sensitive space between your legs. 

“Pat, stop,” you protested in a hiss, your head turning to pull yourself from the kiss, “we can’t.”

You didn’t have to ask him more than once before his hands were following away from you. Pat then stepped back, and didn’t let his eyes meet to reach your own. Even after all that happened with Ella, he too knew what you did was wrong, and the guilt that hung over him told you that if you hadn’t stopped him, things would have gotten more out of hand. 

“Night, Pat,” you gasped out. 

Assuring you had a first grasp around the handles of your bag, you moved towards the front door of your apartment building. There you fumbled with your keys, your breathing growing shallow and your movements quick yet clumsy. Too many times, you dropped your keys down to the ground at your feet before you successfully let yourself into the lobby. The weight of the door seemed to fall away as you crossed the threshold with stumbling feet. Your steps stuttered, and you tripped over yourself as you moved for the elevator. It was there the weight of the world consumed you, sending you to your knees as you let out a disappointed sob. 

This wasn’t who you were. You couldn’t feel like more of a stranger in your own body. In the reflection of the distorted stainless steel door, you could see the mascara that ran down your cheeks and the mess that your hair was left in from the uncomfortable flight home, but it wasn’t just in appearance that you didn’t feel like yourself. It was in your heart. The person you were before you signed the contract was gone. You didn’t know when you had lost her along the way, but you knew that version of yourself would have never done the things you had. 

The guilt sat like a pile of bricks against your chest as the elevator doors chimed open at your floor. It took all your strength to crawl out onto the floor, dragging your bags with you before your hand slipped into your pocket for not your work phone, but your personal phone. 

Quick fingers navigated the screen through the blurred vision that was brought on by hot tears that stained your cheeks, a diluted black that destroyed your makeup. You scrolled through your contacts, your fingers pausing and hovering as you reached the letter C. You had a choice to make. 

Cirelli or Colton?

Taking a heavy breath, your thumb fell down onto the phone screen. Instantly it dialed, and when you heard the comforting voice on the other end of the phone, you spoke their name. You almost choked on it as it slid off your tongue, “I-I- something happened-” you interrupted yourself with a sob, a trembling hand raising to rest over your gaping mouth. “I really fucked up.”

TAGLIST: @mp0625​ , @equallyshaw​ , @charles11700​ , @swissboyhisch​ , @wingedwheelprxncess​ , @luvmmarner, @fandomrejects , @misunderstoodwerewolf , @callsign-denmark , @puckmaidens , @xcicix , @starshine-hockey-girl , @cixrosie

[channelinglament]

Congrats on 100 followers! Request for your 100 follower special: Yandere!Alhaitham with a very ambitious Akademiya reader, and the prompt: "You just had to go poking your nose around, didn't you?"

Hey there! Tysm for requesting this, it was very fun to write!

Tw: isolation, murder, death, yandere, threats, knocking reader out, torture. Tell me if I missed anything :>

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Alhaitham. He is your Acting Grand Sage. He is a man endowed with extraordinary intelligence and talent.

He lives free — free from the searching eyes of ordinary people, anyway. But somehow, you keep finding him around you.

Could it be fate messing with you?

You still remember very clearly how you two met.

It was an another busy day in Akademiya. You were one of the best students here. You were always researching something. Always being seen in the library. Some even jokingly called you all knowing. You were very hard working, which was the reason you got to the top.

While searching for the book you needed, you heard footsteps coming from behind. It turned out to be your Acting Grand Sage. He asked you what book you needed. After helping you, he took another book and left. This very short conversation that happened, changed your life.

He would always stick somewhere nearby you. Alhaitham didn't seem to have many friends. Maybe the sage wanted to befriend you?

Whenever you two spoke, sometimes you would notice a small smile forming on his lips. One day you asked him why did he even became friends with you. He doesn't seem interested in a lot of people.

"I really like how ambitious you are. You always achieve the goal, no matter what. I find it.. nevermind"

It was very fun hanging around with him. One second you two sit in comfortable silence, the next moment he is having an..argument?..with Kaveh.

But..something seemed off. The way his eyes turned darker whenever your friends..or just anyone would approach. Though, they became even darker when it were your friends. How strange.

And they also seemed more distant now. Usually you all would hang out when you all were free. But now all your time was occupied with green hatstand with tits. You acting grand sage - Alhaitham.

You tried getting him into your friend group, but it didn't go as planned. The awkward tension was so thick, that you could be able to cut it with a knife.

It's alright, you thought. Nothing bad could happen if you go with them instead of the grand sage. He is busy, you are free. He would understand.

Why does it seem like your friend group is avoiding you..? Also.. some of them gone missing. When you interrogated with Alhaitham, he said that they quit. Left back to where they used to live. To how they used to live.

Seemed reasonable, as being a student in Akademiya wasn't easy. But why didn't they tell you about it.. something is wrong. You started having some suspicions about your friend. Ever since you've met him, you were growing distant from the people you hold dear.

So you started investigating.

And that's how, you got here. In this terrible situation.

You decided to follow Alhaitham. To see where would he go and what would he do. Just to be sure he's not at fault for your friends' s disappearance.

For aranara knows how long you were following him, into the deep parts of the forest. It was night already for Archons sake! What is he doing here?

And then, you saw them. Your friends.

Or more like what was left of them. You identified them because of their..torn clothes and hurt faces. Some where still alive, while others weren't. Why did Alhaitham-

"You just had to go poking your nose around, didn't you?"

You turned your face towards your...acting grand sage.

He was not your friend anymore.

He is a murderer.

"Why..?" - you mustered the courage to ask. The hatstand chuckled.

"WHY?!"

You had raised your voice. Your friends pleading you to run away with their eyes.

"It had to be done."

It was all you heard before something hit your head and dark abyss had enveloped your vision.

[tricks-tickles]

merry (late) christmas and a happy new year to @blue-little-angel! trust me to finish this one singular day before the deadline haha, thank you to @squealing-santa for bearing w me. anyway here is your fic! i may have misread your prompt a little and so this is only sigma and nikolai but i hope you’re still happy with it. This is also my first bsd fic so sorry if the timeline/characterisation/vibes are off haha

ANYWAY

word count: 1228

pairing: Lee!Sigma & Ler!Nikolai

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‘Sigma~!’

He stayed very quiet. Focus on work: read over that paperwork… sign on the line, okay looking good-

‘Siiigma!’

Maybe if he was quiet enough Nikolai just wouldn’t see him. Like a T-Rex, if it’s not moving it can’t see it.

‘Ah! There you are~.’

Shit.

Out of all the members of the Decay of Angels, Nikolai was Sigma’s least favourite. He was far too unhinged, occasionally visiting Sigma just to threaten him as a joke, or play around with him. Never really hurting him though, Sigma suspected that Fyodor had ordered him not to.

That was another thing. Nikolai hated any time Sigma spent with Fyodor. Few as it was, in Nikolai’s opinion it was time that should have been spent with him instead. Nevermind that they were only discussing their great plan, or giving meagre updates on the Casino, according to Nikolai that was time that ought to have been spent with him, Fyodor’s best friend or boyfriend or whatever.

Sigma truly did not wish to be a part of either of their schemes. All he wanted to do was run his Casino. And yet.

“Sigma!” Nikolai pouted, “Why were you ignoring me?”

Sigma took in a long, measured breath.

“I did not mean to ignore you, I was just focussed on my work.” Which I would love to get back to, he thought bitterly.

“Oh, okay!” Nikolai said, taking a seat on his desk, scattering papers to the floor. Sigma leaned down to pick them up.

“It’s just… what were you up to today?” Nikolai said, seeming earnestly curious.

Sigma leaned back up, shuffling the stack back together and setting them down neatly on the desk. “I had breakfast with my head of staff, then had a brief meeting with Fyodor-”

“See,” Nikolai interrupted, “That’s what I heard, but I thought it couldn’t be true because Fyodor was meant to meet with me this morning and I thought ‘There’s no way my best friend Dostoy would blow me off for you!’, But now you’re telling me he did? Why would Dostoy do that?” He leaned in closer, kicking his feet childishly, “I think you must have done something… forced him.”

“I can assure you,” Sigma put on his best ‘Manager’ voice, “That I did in no way force Fyodor to meet with me, nor did I have any idea of your plans.”

“Hmm…” A mischievous grin broke out on Nikolai’s face, “If you say so~!”

For a second, Sigma hoped that would be all. For a second, he turned back to his desk and lifted his hand to the paper on top of the stack, when all of the papers were suddenly lifted away from him. He looked up, mouth open in protest as Nikolai tossed the papers into his cloak.

There was a beat of silence.

Then, a fluttering noise at the end of the room as the papers scattered out of Nikolai’s portal.

He did not turn to look, did not sigh, or even blink. Nikolai’s face was stretched into a massive, wobbly grin, as though he was trying not to laugh. It did not last long, as he burst into a loud, maniacal laugh. Now Sigma did sigh, as he raised from the chair and walked to the mess at the end of the room.

Apparently Nikolai did not deem this punishment enough, for as soon as he had turned his back he felt a heavy weight flop on top of him, arms wrapping around his core.

“Oh Sigma~.” Nikolai sang in his ear, and began prodding at his sides.

Fuck.

He tried to keep his composure, but Nikolai’s fingers were relentless, working their way under his blazer and pinching gently at his sides.

“Nik- Nikol- Nihikolahai! Stop!”

But it was too late, from his first laugh he knew he was a goner. Nikolai was like a shark, once he tasted blood (giggles) he was relentless. See, he may not have harmed Sigma, at least not physically, so his new favourite way to extract revenge came in the form of… tickles. Oh the humanity.

“Tickle tickle, Sigma~” Nikolai whispered, wiggling his fingers along his sides. Sigma felt his legs begin to give out as he fought against the laughter blooming within himself.

“I prohohomihihise! Ack- I did nohohohot fohohorce Fyodohohor to mehehehehehet mehehehe.” Sigma choked out, falling to his knees as Nikolai grew heavier on his back.

“Oh I know that, as if you could have any influence on Dostoy~.” As he spoke Nikolai’s hands worked up his body, pinching at his ribs and making him writhe.

Sigma squealed, his hands jumping up to weakly push Nikolai away, “Thehehen whahahat dohoho yohohouhu wahahahant!”

“You work too hard, Sigma. I’m just helping you relax.” Nikolai pouted.

“No yohohouhuhu aren- Hey!” Sigma’s arm slammed down as his quick fingers began to flutter under his arm.

“Sure I am. You don’t believe me?” Nikolai grinned, before putting on a hurt voice, “Are you calling me a liar?”

“Nohohohohoho!” Sigma called, even though that was exactly what he was doing. One of Nikolai’s hands was attempting to wriggle into his armpit, while the other was wrestling with his wrist, clamped tightly against his chest.

Nikolai rested his head on Sigma’s shaking shoulder. “I think you are~,” He cooed, “I don’t like liars.”

Sigma began to protest weakly, as Nikolai gripped his wrist and slowly forced his arm up, and into his cape.

It disappeared. There was a soft glow in front of them as his hand reappeared on the floor in front of them, and the portal tightened until he couldn’t pull it back through. He twisted till he was looking at Nikolai, still crouched over him and beaming.

“Noo, Nikolai please- just let me get back to work, you could see Fyodor now! Don’t waste your time on me, please.”

“Hmm,” He appeared to be considering it, but Sigma knew better than that by now. He braced himself.

“Nope~!” Nikolai called, and his fingers came skittering under Sigma’s arm.

He shrieked, pulling as hard as he could, but to no avail. He could do nothing but fall into hysterical cackles as his worst spot was clawed at mercilessly. He fell to the side a little, practically slumped in Nikolai’s arms as he half-hugged him to get at his spot, his other hand holding his cloak open.

“NIHIHIKOKOLAHAIHI!” Sigma cried.

“Is something the matter?” Came his shit eating response.

“YEHEHEHES, IHIHIT TIHIHIHICKLEHEHES!! PLEHEHEAHAHSE!” Nikolai’s response was to dig deeper, the tips of his fingers scratching into the divot under his arm while his thumb dug into Sigma’s ribs. He tipped his head back and laughed, now fully boneless against Nikolai.

After a long moment, he realised that Nikolai had stopped. He released the portal and Sigma’s arm came crashing through. For a second he lay there, panting, until he realised he was lying in Nikolai’s lap and shot up.

Nikolai followed him up, snickering, “You looked so comfortable~.” He teased.

Sigma blushed. “Yes well- is that all?” He really had no idea how to end these ‘sessions’.

“Mhm!” Nikolai said, skipping away, “I think I’ll go see if Dostoy wants to have tea with me, bye!”

And just like that, he was gone. Sigma turned around and sat heavily at his desk, still somewhat short on breath.

There was silence, then another fluttering of paper. He looked up, confused and blinked at the messy stack that had appeared on his desk, only catching the last golden glimmer of a portal. Sigma swung round in his chair, but Nikolai was gone.

One single piece of paper drifted from the top of the stack towards the floor.

Sighing, Sigma picked it up and got back to work.

[strawberriemarswrites]

CHAPTER TWO

Chapter Summary: You go out for drinks with your coworkers, with an ulterior motive to see your neighbor at the same time. Pairing: Bartolomeo x F!Reader Rating: Mature (18+ for the story, SFW chapter) TW: Creepy bar patron, attempted drugging, Barto committing a little violence in your name Ao3 Link: Chapter Two (4,566 words)

Two weeks passed without incident. In fact, your perfume even turned back up. It wasn’t where you normally kept it in the bathroom, but sitting on top of your dresser right in plain sight. Go figure. Bartolomeo hadn’t said anything about any suspicious activity around, either, so maybe you were just being a little extra spacey. After all, you were more accustomed to having a roommate or your parents around to help fill in the gaps, so maybe you just needed to be a bit more mindful while you adjusted to living alone.

(Nevermind that you had looked atop the dresser for that perfume, and it wasn’t there before.)

In that span of two weeks you were able to convince some of your coworkers to try a different bar. More specifically, The Sound Barrier, where Bartolomeo worked. Robin was intrigued by the prospect of somewhere new, and agreed. A fellow archives technician, Nami, also agreed, stating she was eager to con some free drinks out of a different sort of crowd than the usual haunts. You were unsuccessful in convincing Vivi, one of the conservators, but she talked another conservator, Drake, into going. Rebecca, an archives specialist, also declined, apologetic as she already had plans to see her aunt.

Of the usual pay-day drinks crew, three out of five (including yourself) wasn't bad, and the addition of Drake meant there would be an extra bit of robust support, given the unfamiliar territory. Plus, Bartolomeo would be there working, so you'd have more than enough people looking out for you that night.

Still, you couldn’t shake the ominous feeling looming over your head. With both you and Bartolomeo out, that left your apartment unprotected from another break-in, a thought that chilled you down to the bone. You considered asking the neighbors that lived below you if they could keep an eye out, but you weren’t entirely trusting that they wouldn’t already be occupied with their usual bickering. And given you were pretty sure the neighbor below Bartolomeo was a near-sighted old woman, that took her out from the running as well. You could ask the landlord, but he should have already been on the lookout for suspicious activity, so he wasn’t likely to have your best interest at heart, either.

You had to rely on blind luck that your apartment would be safe. 

You shook your head, trying not to dwell on the thought for too long. It was supposed to be a fun night, you couldn’t let some hypothetical creep ruin it. With one more look in the mirror, you headed for the door, scooping up your purse on the way and double-checking for your wallet, phone, and keys. Just as you were triple-checking the door was locked, your phone pinged — Robin was outside with Drake and Nami already in the car. You cast one final look at your door, the ominous chill threatening to creep back up your spine, before you shoved the feeling back down and hustled to the elevator.

Everything would be fine. Damn it all, you had to believe that if you wanted to have any fun tonight.

The car that waited outside wasn’t Robin’s, but instead an unfamiliar silver SUV. The backseat window rolled down to reveal her sitting behind the driver, whose silhouette you eventually recognized to be Drake as you approached. Robin smiled and opened the door for you, ushering you in.

“Told you so,” Nami said from the front seat, grinning at Drake smugly.

“I’ll be damned,” he said as you buckled in. “I thought Nami was messing with me when she said you lived here. Didn’t expect it to be —”

“On the shitty side of town?” you interjected. 

Drake nodded, pulling away from the curb.

“What’s the name of this place again?” Nami asked.

“The Sound Barrier,” you answered, fidgeting in your seat. “Thanks for taking me up on this one, by the way. I thought maybe we should try something new.”

Robin smiled knowingly. “You’re sure it doesn’t have anything to do with this mysterious neighbor of yours?”

“Uh... well,” you hesitated, scratching the back of your neck. “Maybe a little.”

“He better not say anything if he catches me getting free drinks from one of his regulars,” Nami said, pulling up the map on her phone.

“If he doesn’t, I will.” Drake said.

“What are you, a cop?”

You giggled despite yourself, feeling a little more relaxed. You didn’t know Drake particularly well, so it was a relief to know he was on the sterner side. Even with that reassurance, you must have still looked a bit uneasy, given that Robin leaned a bit closer to you and asked, “Everything all right?”

Her observation skills were both appreciated and unnerving at times, with very little getting past her. She seemed content enough to make it known she was aware something was up, but you didn’t want to worry anyone else with the break-ins, especially with the current lull in occurrences. However, you knew Robin would be suspicious all night if you didn’t say something.

You smiled, trying not to let the twist in your stomach show. “I’ll be fine. Just nervous — I’ve never seen Bartolomeo outside of the apartment building.”

She tilted her head. “You think he might be different in public?”

“It’s more... He’s never seen me outside the apartment, either. So it feels like this is a chance to know more about each other in a different way than we could from just the brief meetings.”

She laughed, putting a hand up in front of her mouth, though her smile was still clearly visible behind it. “Like seeing something in its natural habitat.”

You laughed, too, adding, “I guess I’m also hoping that I’ll live up to whatever expectations he might have in his head.”

“I think you will,” she said, dropping her hand to reveal her still smiling. “If it helps ease your nerves any, it’s likely he could be thinking the same thing of you.”

That did reassure you some, the tension in your shoulders dissipating. You nodded, and switched subjects, chatting with Robin and Nami, with the occasional input from Drake. The worries you’d had in your mind drifted far behind you as you finally felt like you’d be able to enjoy the night ahead.

Act like you always do, Bartolomeo told himself over and over again. Just gotta act natural.

“You gonna wipe down the same spot all night?” a voice called to him over the live band and bar chatter. He looked up to see his coworker and best friend, Gambia, leaning against the register and giving him a gap-toothed grin.

Bartolomeo rolled his eyes and pushed off the bar counter, draping the sanitation rag over his shoulder. “Wouldn’t have to if you did your job right.”

“Whatever you say, man,” Gambia said, pushing off from the register. “Definitely doesn’t have anything to do with that girl you keep talkin’ about, right?”

The lights were dim enough in the bar that Bartolomeo didn’t have to worry about his ears turning pink. “It might. Not like it’s any of your business.”

“It is if it’s bothering you. She break your heart or somethin’?”

“No!” he snapped a little too quickly, then reeled it back in. “She’s coming by tonight. I don’t wanna make a bad impression.”

Gambia snorted, “You? Bein’ worried about what someone thinks? Doesn’t sound like the Barto I know.”

Bartolomeo folded his arms and leaned against the back bar, averting his eyes. “Just what this one thinks.” 

“All right, fair enough,” Gambia said and put his hands up defensively. “Just wish you’d said somethin’ sooner — maybe Gramma would’ve let us get out the good stuff.”

Bartolomeo cast a sideways glance to his friend and smirked. “Don’t go tellin’ everyone about it, yeah?”

“Yeah, yeah, you know me. Don’t let it distract you from doin’ what we’re paid to do.” Gambia nodded toward the door. “Speakin’ of which...”

Bartolomeo turned, feeling his heart skip. There you were, sticking out like a sore thumb in a place like this. You were joined by a dark-haired woman and a redhead, who were both equally gorgeous. Beautiful, even. Any other day he’d gladly let either one step on him. But you were perfect, and the only one he had eyes for. He then noticed that bringing up the rear of your group was a tall man with narrow glasses and a scar on his chin, and Bartolomeo felt something in the back of his mind begin to panic. What the hell was wrong with him? Was it that you hadn’t mentioned one of the drinking friends was a guy? It wasn’t like you couldn’t have guy friends, that’d be ridiculous. You were a grown adult, you could have whatever friends you wanted.

Still, he couldn’t shake the sudden flare up of jealousy that swelled in his chest. He refocused his attention to you. You were conversing with the dark-haired woman, who was slowly surveying the area. Her eyes found Bartolomeo, and an odd, almost shrewd smile graced her features before she leaned a bit closer to you, and immediately you whipped your head toward the bar with a wide grin. You waved as your group ushered you along toward a curved booth, and he waved back, unable to keep from mirroring the grin on your face.

“So that’s him, huh?” Nami said to you as Robin and Drake sat down. “You weren’t kidding when you said he’s kind of scary-looking.”

“I thought he’d be scarier,” Robin giggled. “He looks more like a big cat to me. Or a rooster.”

“More like an Oni,” Drake commented, adjusting his glasses. “Vivi and I finished work with a set of masks a few months ago. He reminds me of one of them.”

You turned pink, fidgeting. “He’s not so bad when you know him.”

“I’ll be the judge of that,” Nami said with a smirk. “And that judgment will be based on whether or not we get the first round free.”

While your group was settling in and figuring out drink orders, Bartolomeo was resisting the urge to jump over the counter to greet you. Any hope he had of appearing casual amidst his internal struggle was crushed when Gambia nudged him.

“That her?” he asked, as if he couldn’t already tell, a shit-eating grin on his face.

The limited lighting did nothing for the bright red that crept up Bartolomeo’s neck. “The one on the left, yeah.”

“Aw, she’s real cute,” Gambia said and nudged him again. “And you still haven’t asked her out yet?”

Bartolomeo turned even more red. 

The blonde sucked his teeth, “Oooh, better do it quick. She looks the type to get snatched out from under ya.”

That statement made Bartolomeo’s stomach churn. He knew Gambia was just talking shit, but something deep inside him fumed at the thought of you with anyone else. He shook his head, pushing down the dark voice in the back of his mind once more. It’d be fine. Sooner or later, either he’d ask you out or you’d beat him to the punch — just not yet. It didn’t feel right yet.

You rushed over ahead of Nami, weaving between other patrons with laser-like focus as you found your way to an empty barstool and hopped up. As Bartolomeo side-stepped to stand opposite you, you grinned and stuck out your tongue. “Told you I’d get them here.”

He grinned back, making your heart skip a beat. “About friggin’ time. I was wondering when they’d give in.”

“You make it sound like I forced them,” you said, putting a hand over your chest in mock-offense. “I’ll have you know, I’m naturally persuasive.”

His grin turned lopsided. “So you’re telling me you didn’t bat those big pretty eyes and beg them to come?”

Your heart skipped another beat. He thinks my eyes are pretty?

Nami approached then, her arms wrapping around your shoulders as she leaned over you with a cheeky grin on her face. “Are you all done catching up? I’m dying for a screwdriver already.”

Bartolomeo’s gaze drifted to the redhead behind you, and you tried not to read too much into it, fully aware that Nami caught the eyes of everyone. Still, you couldn’t stop your chest from tightening. With a sheepish smile, you gestured to her and said, “Nami, Bartolomeo. Do not let her convince you to forget the tab.”

“Oh, you killjoy,” she whined, pouting. “Between you and Drake, how am I supposed to have any fun?”

“I can start you off with that screwdriver,” Bartolomeo said with a smirk, putting both hands on the bar and leaning forward, his arms holding him up like an A-Frame. “Anything else I can get for you pretty ladies?”

Again, your chest tightened. Right, he worked at a bar, it only made sense that he’d probably be turning up the charm as part of his job. His “pretty eyes” comment earlier probably didn't mean much in the grand scheme of things.

Then his gaze met yours, and everything fell away. The dim lighting cast dark shadows over his features that made him look all the more intimidating, his amber eyes practically glowing. Between the broad shoulders, the eyes, and his fangs, for a moment you thought he might lunge forward and bite you, sinking sharp teeth into soft flesh with intent to consume you whole.

And then you thought about how maybe you wouldn't mind that.

It occurred to you that Nami had ordered the other two drinks, and Bartolomeo was waiting on yours. Snapping back into reality, you stuttered, “Whatever hard cider you have on tap.”

He smiled, further evoking the image of a hungry predator, and nodded. “You got it.”

Damn his smile. You probably should not have found that as hot as you did.

As the night progressed, you did your best to balance your attention between your coworkers and Bartolomeo. You felt a touch guilty that the scales weighed so heavily in the latter’s favor, as you really did enjoy chatting away with Robin and Nami as well as learning more about the normally reserved Drake. But you couldn’t help yourself from looking over at the bar to try and catch Bartolomeo’s eye, blushing every time he smiled at you. Eventually, Nami decided it was time to start charming some of the other patrons for free drinks, disappearing into a crowd gathered around the small stage at the back of the establishment.

“You think she’s going for the band?” you asked Robin, catching brief glimpses of red hair weaving and bobbing effortlessly amongst the horde of metal heads and punks.

“That’s likely her end goal,” Robin said, sipping at her Manhattan. “She’s probably scoping them out first.”

“And she does this every night you go out?” Drake asked.

You shook your head. “Not every time. Just when she knows she can get away with it.” Hopefully Bartolomeo doesn’t notice. On reflex, you found yourself once again looking over at the bar, smiling at him. This time he was busy with another customer, but you didn’t miss the way his mouth twitched into a wider smile when his eyes flicked over to yours.

“You can go sit at the bar if you really want to.”

Robin’s voice made you start, and you fidgeted with the napkin under your drink. “But — I’m out with you guys, not him. I don’t want to be rude...”

“You’re not being rude,” she said, nudging you lightly. “You wanted to see him tonight, you can go see him. I’m sure Drake and I can manage.”

Drake nodded. “Just don’t let him give you any trouble. We’re right here if he does.”

Your heart fluttered and you stood up, thanking them both and making your way back to the bar.

Bartolomeo nearly tripped on his way to your seat, shooting a glare at Gambia when he noticed and laughed. If you noticed, too, you didn’t show it, giving him that goddamn gorgeous smile of yours that made his heart race. After ordering another hard cider, he leaned atop the counter, his forearms supporting his weight as he bent at the waist. “So uh, you havin’ fun?”

Smooth. Real smooth.

You nodded as you took a drink, pointing to the band. “Nami’s out there doing her thing. Drake — the guy over there —” you gestured over your shoulder “— he’s never come out with us before. Robin got him talking about reptiles though and they didn’t stop for like twenty minutes.” You propped your chin up in your hands. “So I’m over here to bug you while they talk about fossils. I’m all yours.”

It took a not-inconsiderable amount of effort not to blurt out do you really mean that? However there was no hiding the waver in his voice when he said, “You can come bug me anytime, sweetheart. Dunno that I’ll have anything as interestin’ to talk about, though.”

Shit. Did he just call you “sweetheart” out loud? It just popped out, he couldn’t stop it. But he then saw your cheeks turn a very pretty shade of pink, and he latched onto the nickname, immediately forgetting his panic over using it. He wanted to see that blush more.

You tucked a stray hair behind your ear, switching to resting your cheek in one palm. “Honestly, even if I don’t understand at all what someone’s talking about, just listening to them gush about what they love is fun. Anything can be interesting if it’s talked about with a lot of passion like that.”

Bartolomeo grinned. “So, you’re telling me, if I talked your ear off about baseball, you’d just let me do it? No filter?”

“Pretty much,” you giggled, tracing a finger around the rim of your glass. “I’m surprised baseball’s your topic of choice though. You don’t strike me as the sporty type.” You paused, then giggled again. “Pun not intended.”

“Nah, not particularly. It’s just the first thing that came to mind,” he laughed, standing upright and reaching to his back pocket for his wallet. “I do have this really cool card though that someone left behind one night a few years back. Autographed and everything.” 

He showed you the card, depicting a green-haired batter holding three bats — one in each hand, and one between his teeth. You had to admit, it looked cool as hell. “What if someone comes back looking for it?”

“Screw them, finders keepers. And like I said, it’s been a few years. I doubt they’ll come back for it at this point.”

You stifled a snort and took another drink. “So if not sports, what is something you’re really passionate about?”

As he was about to answer, his attention was drawn to the front door, a pair of customers coming in and taking seats at the opposite end of the bar. “Just a sec, sweetheart, I’ll be right back.”

He couldn’t resist dropping the nickname again. The flush in your cheeks was worth it.

Drake kept an eye on you from the booth, still chatting with Robin about this and that. Vivi had convinced him to go on this outing in her stead with the premise of giving him an opportunity to know his coworkers better, but he knew part of it was a concern for the venue. He’d been to plenty of bars in his life, including a fair share of metal and punk ones, and they’d all been about the same as far as rowdiness. Though, in his experience, the grittier places tended to have the better behaved clientele oddly enough, so while he felt Vivi’s concern was a bit misplaced, he didn’t want to offend her, knowing she cared a lot about the safety of her friends.

Admittedly, he’d been a little shocked to find that this neighbor of yours that Nami and Robin had been gossiping about was so rough-looking, considering in comparison you were on the smaller and softer side. But Drake was never one to judge anyone for their tastes, even if he subconsciously found himself a bit more wary than usual. No doubt the girls would both be reporting to Vivi that the rumors of Bartolomeo’s intimidating visage were true, and if they didn’t he certainly would.

It was at that moment, however, when you were left alone, that someone on the other end of the bar sidled up to the empty barstool on your right, a beer glass in hand. Greasy black hair, a thin, wiry mustache that made him look like a catfish, wearing a fedora and cheap dress pants. Drake caught the action in his periphery, watching carefully as the man tried to push for your attention. It was eventually given, and based on the way you cringed away from him, it was definitely not a comfortable exchange.

“Robin,” Drake said, his voice low as he nodded toward your seat. “We need to help her.”

Robin’s eyes narrowed, and with a sigh she stood. “How underhanded. He came up to her while Rooster was distracted.” She gave Drake an almost mischievous smile, putting a finger up to her lips. “I need to run to the ladies room anyway. I’ll go get her so we don’t cause a scene.”

He nodded, trying not to stare at the sway of Robin’s hips as she gracefully moved to the bar to collect you. You looked beyond relieved for the excuse to get away, throwing a quick wave over to Bartolomeo (who was still somewhat occupied with the new customers) as you slid off your barstool, the creep left alone to stew.

And then Drake’s stomach dropped, his nerves on high alert. You left your drink unattended.

Something that Bartolomeo didn’t miss, either. He was watching from his peripherals as well, the hair on the back of his neck standing on end when the creep had approached and started to harass you. He clenched and unclenched his hands, trying to pay attention to the drink orders while keeping an eye on the unsavory intruder. He had relaxed slightly when the dark haired woman came to collect you and you both went off to the restrooms, only to be put on edge again when he saw an all-too-familiar movement.

Something was slipped into your drink.

Oh. Hell no. Bartolomeo finished writing down the new drink orders and moved to the tap, giving the unaware sleazebag a death stare that would have made the grim reaper look away. Thankfully, he was distracted by another patron, and his seat was on the way to the tap.

Drake saw the slip as well, and stood to confront the miscreant. He only made it about two steps however, before he saw Bartolomeo pass, and slyly swap the glasses. 

The two men made eye contact, with the sharp-toothed bartender giving Drake a knowing smirk before moving on.

The creep was none the wiser, turning back to “his” drink and taking a long pull.

As you returned to the bar with Robin, you stared at your glass, and your stomach churned. With a curled lip, you pushed it away, looking at Robin over your shoulder. “Let’s get out of here.” 

Robin leaned over the counter and flagged down the other bartender. “Can we get the tab?”

After the bar had closed, a very, very inebriated man in a fedora and cheap dress pants was stumbling down the back alley. “Stupid stuck-up bitch and her stupid stuck-up friend,” he slurred, one of the few coherent things he had managed to say all night. “Stupid fuckin’. Bartenders and their. Fuckin’ rules.”

He tripped over his own feet and landed on the concrete with a pained shout, nearly biting his tongue. He just wanted to have fun tonight. He hadn’t had fun in a long time. He couldn’t even get a prostitute these days. Probably because all the ones in town knew him by name and knew he always stiffed them on the payment. 

With a groan he rolled onto his back, trying to blink away the spots in his eyes. Why were the buildings all warped? Why did he feel like he was going to vomit up his whole stomach? What the hell was that shape looming over him with orange eyes?

“Man,” the shape above him said in a gravelly voice that sounded both too close and a thousand miles away, “you look fuckin’ pathetic.”

The creep writhed on the ground, further proving Bartolomeo’s point, and slurred back, “Nnno, yer prophetic...”

Bartolomeo cocked his head, sneering. All he could think of was how this pig, this scum of the earth, was allowed to keep living for so long. How many other bars had he hit up trying to pull what he nearly did to you? What would have happened if you’d encountered him elsewhere? Your friends looked out for you, sure, but what if you’d been alone?

Bartolomeo would have swapped the drinks even if it hadn’t had been you that was targeted. No one tries to drug someone in his bar and gets away with it. What he couldn’t do was convince himself that if it happened to anyone else, he’d be going as far as he currently was to make sure it never happened again. The creep tried to sit up, and Bartolomeo put one foot on his chest, tilting his head the other way. After another beat he lifted his foot, then slammed it down on one hand with a sickening crack. 

This guy picked the wrong place, and he really picked the wrong time.

The creep let out an agonized yell, eyes wide and suddenly alert as he scrabbled at Bartolomeo’s boot. Bartolomeo crouched down, putting more weight on his foot and brandishing a switchblade, pointing it right between the man’s eyes.

“Now that I got your attention,” he drawled, “I’ll speak nice and slow for ya, so maybe it’ll stick in that roofied brain of yours.” He lazily held the blade between his thumb and middle finger, swaying it back and forth. “I ever catch you around here again, you’re gonna lose this hand.”

He put pressure on it for emphasis, drawing forth another pained yell amidst a symphony of crunching bones.

“I ever hear about you trying to dope up anyone else, I’ll take the other one.”

The creep was practically foaming at the mouth, unable to form coherent words between the blinding pain and the drugs in his system. Bartolomeo let the knife slide down, the tip landing right on the bridge of the man’s nose and making him go stock-still.

“If you ever. Ever. Mess with that girl again? With what’s mine?” He bared his fangs in a snarl, “The only drinks you’ll ever get are gonna be through an IV. Get me?”

The man nodded, whimpering feebly.

“Perfect. But, just to make sure you don’t forget...”

Bartolomeo lifted his foot, then slammed the switchblade into the man’s palm. The scream that echoed in the alley made it all the more worth it. He yanked the knife out and wiped the blood off on the man’s shirt before standing, casually nudging him to the side with his boots as he began the walk home. He found himself humming a random tune along the way, satisfaction welling in his chest.

After all, he promised to take care of anyone who dared to mess with you.

[ldrfanatic]

Writing Prompts (from my top favorite taylor swift albums)

how to read/request: the letter at the beginning of each prompt represents the album key below. The number attached is to distinguish the lyrics.

key: t - tortured poets; r - reputation; f - folklore; l - lover;

you can request as many prompts as you’d like!

example request:

t16 & f12 for theodore nott

tortured poets

t1 - "I'm having his baby" no I'm not but you should see your faces

t2 - the coward claimed he was a lion

t3 - "I'll never leave" Nevermind

t4 - You know how to ball I know Aristotle

t5 - Who's gonna know you like me?

t6 - Everything comes out teenage petulance

t7 - If I can't have us, I might just not get up

t8 - two graves, one gun

t9 - I'm just getting color back into my face

t10 - If you wanted me dead, you should've just said

t11 - Is it a wonder I broke, let's hear one more joke

t12 - I was tame, I was gentle

t13 - I'm always drunk on my own tears

t14 - I'm fearsome, and I'm wretched, and I'm wrong

t15 - what we thought was for all time, was momentary

t16 - Did you sleep with a gun underneath our bed?

t17 - Who are we to fight the alchemy?

t18 - Cause the sign on your heart said it's still reserved for me

t19 - This town is fake but you're the real thing

t20 - They said "Babe you gotta fake it till you make it" And I did

t21 - He said he'd love me for all time

-

reputation

r1 - In my dreams, you should see the things we do

r2 - You and me would be a big conversation

r3 - I'm one call away whenever you need me

r4 - I don't wanna be just another ex love

r5 - You've been calling the bluff on all my usual tricks

r6 - They say I did something bad, then why's it feel so good?

r7 - don't blame me, love made me crazy

r8 - my drug is my baby, I'll be using for the rest of my life

r9 - For you I would fall from grace, just to touch your face

r10 - If you walk away, I'd beg you on my knees to stay

r11 - I'm yours to keep and I'm yours to lose

r12 - You know I'm not a bad girl but I do bad things with you

r13 - I'm so chill, but you make me jealous

r14 - You ruined my life by not being mine

r15 - Guess I'll just stumble on home to my cat. Alone. Unless you wanna come along?

r16 - You had turned my bed into a sacred oasis

r17 - I'm a mess but I'm the mess that you wanted

r18 - My hands are shaking from holding back from you

r19 - I don't want you like a best friend

r20 - Only bought this dress so you could take it off

r21 - I want to wear his initial on a chain 'round my neck. Not because he owns me, but cause he really knows me.

r22 - You don't need to save me, but would you run away with me?

-

folklore

f1 - If you wanted me you really should've showed

f2 - If my wishes came true, it would've been you

f3 - If one thing had been different, would everything be different today?

f4 - I knew you leaving like a father running like water

f5 - You drew stars around my scars but now I'm bleeding

f6 - I knew you'd linger like a tattoo kiss

f7 - I knew to love would be to lose my mind

f8 - I knew you you'd come back to me

f9 - I had a marvelous time ruining everything

f10 - I loved you, I swear I loved you, til my dying day

f11 - You can aim for my heart go for blood, but you would still miss me in your bones

f12 - I'm still trying everything to keep you looking at me

f13 - Love you to the moon and to Saturn

f14 - Then you won't have to cry. Or hide in the closet.

f15 - Passed down like folk songs, our love lasts so long

f16 - I didn't know if you'd care if I came back

f17 - I just wanted you to know, that this is me trying

f18 - It's hard to be anywhere these days when all I want is you

f19 - You showed me colors you know I can't see with anyone else

f20 - You know damn well for you I would ruin myself

f21 - Don't want no other shade of blue but you

-

lover

L1 - I forgot that you existed, and I thought that it would kill me but it didn't

L2 - It isn't love, it isn't hate it's just indifference

L3 - What doesn't kill me makes me want you more

L4 - I don't wanna keep secrets just to keep you

L5 - I love you, aint that the worst thing you ever heard?

L6 - He looks up grinning like a devil

L7 - This is our place, we make the rules

L8 - Have I known you 20 seconds or 20 years?

L9 - Can I go where you go?

L10 - I'm so sick of running as fast as I can

L11 - I've got a hundred thrown out speeches I almost said to you

L12 - Help me hold onto you

L13 - Who could ever leave me darling, but who could stay?

L14 - They see right through me. I see right through me. Can you see right through me?

L15 - All the king's men, couldn't put me together again

L16 - All of my enemies started out friends

L17 - His hands around a cold glass make me wanna know that body like it's mine

L18 - Wanna see what's under that attitude

L19 - I want you, bless my soul

L20 - You know I adore you

L21 - It's you and me, that's my whole world

L22 - Voted most likely to run away with you

L23 - I think you should come home

L24 - I'll never let you go cause I know this a fight that someday we're gonna win

L25 - Kiss you twice cause it's gonna be alright

L26 - I'd marry you with paper rings

L27 - That's the kind of heartbreak time could never mend

[sunshinebarbarian]

Chapter 13 - The Wizard of Waterdeep

All Chapters <3

Sol wasn't entirely sure she had made the right choice by inviting the elf to travel with them. His moves seemed too calculated, too theatrical. Plus, she still didn't understand how he had known she and Shadowheart were approaching so long before they saw him, not to mention also inexplicably knowing that they had killed the other intellect devourers. She thought he might have been watching them; but surely if that were the case she would have heard or seen something? Either way, it would be easier to keep him close, rather than have another potential danger out there. Who knows, he might be useful. He certainly had shown some skill, acting like a helpless lordling then getting his blade on her throat.

"Astarion's an interesting find. Let's hope any future acquaintances don't hold a blade to your throat by way of introduction." - Shadowheart whispered, as if reading her mind. They walked side by side, with Astarion walking a few paces behind.

The three of them followed the path upwards, with the cliff getting higher and higher above the sea, until they met a dead end. The only way to proceed was to cut through the ship, more specifically, through the big circular room in which Sol had lost her temper before.

Once they got to the opposite side of the circular room, avoiding the mind flayer guts that had been spilled earlier, Shadowheart pointed out a pack of dead goblins just outside the ship.

"Looks like they died when the ship hit the ground." - Shadowheart suggested as they searched them for supplies. - "I don't see anything else around that could cause these injuries."

"Shh. Do you hear that?" - Astarion silenced them.

A strange sound was coming from further down the path. It was as if a whirlpool was cycling through speeding up and slowing down, dragging rocks and branches and smashing them against each other. Sol went around the corner, her curiosity getting the better of her. What she saw made her even more curious - a transportation sigil was etched into the stone, but this one was larger, much larger, and seemed somehow.. unstable. A vortex of various shades of purple was open in front of it, as if someone was holding the rune but had no destination, so it was just waiting with its' mouth open like a baby bird, ready to snatch anything that fell into it.

Sol approached the rune. She could hear her sister's exasperated voice telling her not to mess with unstable magic, but she had always been too curious for her own good. She couldn't help it; she touched the sigil.

A hand popped out of it. Sol jumped back in surprise. - "What the..."

"A hand? Anyone?" - a voice called out from the vortex. It echoed, despite there being no reason for it to.

"I.. What? Who? Who are you?" - Sol wasn't used to talking to disembodied hands coming out of portals, so she wasn't sure what volume her voice needed to be, or where to direct it.

"Just your average traveller stuck between realms. Pull me out and we'll get properly introduced."

Sol shook her head to snap herself out of her surprise. She really hadn't expected a talking hand. She grabbed it and pulled.

"That's it! Go on, keep pulling!" - Sol was worried the arm would get ripped off, but eventually a shoulder popped up, and the rest of the mysterious traveller immediately followed. Sol fell backwards with the sudden lack of resistance, the man nearly falling on top of her.

"Ooft, hello." - he stood up, shaking dust off his robes. - "I'm Gale of Waterdeep. Apologies, I'm usually better at this."

"At introductions?" - Astarion seemed amused, his eyes glinted. Shadowheart tried to supress a smile at the joke.

"At magic." - Gale smiled, then squinted, first at Sol, then at Shadowheart. - "Say, but I know you, don't I? In a matter of speaking. You were on the nautiloid as well."

"Nevermind the nautiloid. How in the Hells did you get stuck in that stone?" - Sol would *have* to tell her sister about this.

"I don't know what transpired exactly, but the ship broke into pieces, and I suddenly found myself in freefall. As I was plummeting to certain death, I spied a glimmer quite near where I estimated my body to impact with less-than-savoury propulsion." - Sol was transfixed by this man's speech. It was like he had read a dictionary and made it his life's mission to use every single word from it that he could. She loved it. - "Recognising this glimmer to be magical in nature, I reached out to it with a Weaving of words and found myself in the other side as it were. How about you? How did you survive the fall?"

"The sudden redirection to her experience caught Sol off guard, she had been so entertained by the magic man's funny words.

"I... took control of the ship, landed it safely, and saved the day. Oh and Shadowheart helped." - Sol motioned to Shadowheart with her head. She gave Gale a combination of a casual salute and a wave.

Gale raised an eyebrow and made a show of looking behind the group. - "That vast, burning wreckage behind you somewhat contradicts your story, buuut who am I to argue?" - Sol smiled. She still didn't know how she had managed to walk away from that situation unharmed. - "Still, swashbuckling heroics aside, I have the unfortunate suspicion your survival is still very much in jeopardy. Back on the ship, you too were on the receiving end of a rather unwelcome insertion in the ocular region, were you not?" - he gestured towards his eye.

Sol recoiled at the memory. - "I couldn't have phrased it more repellently myself."

"No use sugarcoating it, is there?" - he smiled, then continued talking, gesturing with his hands as he spoke. - “The insertee we speak of, this parasite - are you aware that after a period of excruciating gestation it will turn us into mind flayers? It’s a process known as ceremorphosis, and let me assure you: it is to be avoided!”- his voice pitched up as he said this, some fear masked by a cheerful attitude.

“You don’t happen to be a cleric, by any chance, do you? A doctor? Surgeon? Uncannily adroit with a knitting needle?” - he made a knitting motion.

“You seem to know enough about our condition to realise it is beyond most clerics’ skills” - Shadowheart interjected.

“Most, no doubt. But I find myself hoping to be in the presence of the few. You don’t happen to be one of them?”

Sol grimaced. - “My hands are better suited to less delicate pursuits. I can offer you a swift end, but I can’t cure you.”

“As we’ve established, few enough can. It’s not exactly a common affliction.” - he waved the idea off, and a new one seemed to immediately take its place. - “We’re going to need a healer, and soon too. How about we lend each other a helping hand once more and look for a healer together?”

“Sounds like a plan.” - Sol smiled at the wizard. She hoped she’d get to introduce him to her sister. - “You’re welcome to join me.”

“Most excellent. A parasite shared is a parasite halved, or something to that effect.” - Gale started to walk, but stopped himself. - “Oh! But before you think you’re about to embark on a journey with most ill-mannered a man: thank you for pulling me out of that stone. It was an act of foresighted kindness I assure you, for I have the feeling ample opportunities will present themselves for me to return the favour.”

[mickittotheman]

49 …out of necessity for the prompt game if you are so inspired?! ❤️😍

I did one for this prompt here, but I was indeed feeling inspired so here's another!

49. ...out of necessity

“Hey, Mickey?”

Mickey drops the bowl in his hands to the table with a clatter. Clears the distance between the kitchen and his room in quick strides. “What? What’s wrong? What’s happening?”

His gaze flits to Ian first. Still in the same position. Still curled up on his side, facing the wall, the sheets tugged up over his head. Mickey breaths out a long breath, not sure whether the feeling flooding him is relief or disappointment or both.

Carl blinks at him, wide eyed. “Nothing. Jeez. Just wanted to ask you something.”

Mickey sighs again. He snatches his brass knuckles out of Carl’s hand and shoves it back into the top drawer of his dresser. All his other weapons have been cleared out into a couple of cardboard boxes shoved deep inside the depths of Mandy’s closet. He’s not taking any chances. “Stop messing with my shit. You couldn't have fucking walked out there to ask me the question?”

Carl shrugs. “You said not to leave him alone.”

Right.

Mickey twists his lips. Looks at Ian again. Looks away. 

“Fuck did you wanna ask me?”

Carl goes all shifty. Starts fiddling with the sheets. Looks, for a moment, like the little kid he is, not the wannabe tough guy he’s pretending to be. “Um. I know it's kinda stupid, but… Debbie used to watch those stupid fairytale movies, you know? The girly ones, with the princesses and castles and shit?”

“Okay,” Mickey drawls, eyebrows steadily creeping higher. He waves his hands around when Carl doesn’t continue. “You called me in here just to tell me that?”

“No– I,” Carl frowns. Shrinks in on himself. Looks impossibly younger. “It’s just. You said you’d be willing to try anything, right? To make him better?”

Mickey makes his best ‘duh’ expression. 

“Well um. One time when we were little. And Monica was around. And she was like this. Debbie had this idea, that maybe Frank should try kissing her, because in her stupid movies they would always cure everything with true love's kiss or whatever. It didn’t work, but we thought maybe it’s just because the way Monica and Frank love each other is kinda fucked up, and maybe…”

Carl trails off, blushing furiously. He shoves himself to his feet before Mickey can even begin to wrap his mind around what the fuck he’s talking about. 

“Nevermind. This is stupid. I’ve gotta go. Gotta meet someone in twenty.”

He brushes past Mickey on the way out of the room. Mickey stares after him, mouth open, brows furrowed incredulously. The front door slams shut.

What the fuck.

Mickey sighs. Pinches the bridge of his nose. “Fucking Gallaghers, man,” he mutters.

On the bed, Ian doesn’t so much as twitch.

Mickey circles over to his side. Grabs the plate of toast off the nightstand– half eaten, better than yesterday– and brings it out into the kitchen. Eats the slightly stale toast. Finishes his bowl of cereal. Leaves the dishes there for someone else to deal with. 

He grabs a gatorade from the fridge, grabs an extra quilt from the couch, brings them back with him into his dark, stuffy room. He pulls the curtains open. Cracks the window just a bit. It’s cold as fuck outside, but he’s been looking into shit, and fresh air is supposed to help. He circles back to Ian’s side again, sets the gatorade in reach, seal already twisted off to make it easier for Ian if he decides to drink some. He drapes the quilt over him, tucks the edges in tight, smooths a hand over the sheet covering Ian’s hair.

Mandy used to like fairytales, too. Mickey stole a copy of Sleeping Beauty from this girl in his class back in primary school. He read that fucking thing to her so many times he could practically recite it from memory alone.

Carl was right. This is fucking stupid.

But he was also right about Mickey being desperate enough to try anything.

He scowls. Rolls his eyes. Crouches down beside the bed. Leans in. Squeezes his eyes shut.

His breath hitches when their lips touch. Fuck, but he’s missed kissing Ian.

He misses being kissed by Ian even more.

He pulls back. Digs the heels of his palms into his eyes. Fuck.

When he lowers his hands, Ian is awake, staring back at him.

“Holy shit. Ian.”

Ian doesn’t respond with anything other than a slow blink, but he hasn’t talked in days now, and his eyes look clearer than they have since this whole fucking mess first started.

Mickey grips hard at Ian’s arm. Ian doesn't shove him away this time. Just blinks again. 

Mickey takes in a shuddering breath. Pastes on a strained smile. “Hey there, sleeping beauty. You feeling any better?”

Ian moves his shoulder, just a tiny little twitch of a shrug. His gaze darts down to Mickey’s lips, then back up to his eyes, then down again. Mickey can see his jaw flexing, his throat working, his mouth twitching like he’s struggling to say something.

“What is it? You need something?”

A short, sharp, jerky nod. 

“You want your gatorade? More food? Another blanket–?”

Ian shakes his head. His brows twist in frustration. He looks at Mickey’s lips again.

Oh.

Mickey’s breath whooshes, like he’s been kicked in the sternum. He kinda fucking feels like he has been.

He darts forwards again. Brushes his lips against Ian’s, chaste. Pulls back to look at him before doing it again, and again, and again.

Fairytales are bullshit. But maybe there’s some things they got right.

send me a number~

[safyresky]

So, Season 2. It's. It's alright ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

But like...that's it, lmao.

I did enjoy it! I got WAY MORE genuine laughs out of these first two episodes than I did the entire first season. Magnus is hilarious, I love his whole vibe lmao. Fluffy's character, Kris, he's...man is really out here looking for a father figure and it is deffs biting him in the ASS.

The elves are top tier as per the usual! Betty and Noel are continuing to be THE power couple and I am SO HAPPY ABOUT IT, I love them to death 🥰🥰🥰

My fave thing about the season so far is just everyone out here like Scott wtf are you doing. Wtf, man. I yelled GET HIS ASS so many times lol. The official Get His Ass Count as of the end of Episode 2: 8. 8 whole GET HIS ASS moments. BLESS.

SO RIGHT. NITTY GRITTY. OKAY.

Episode 1

Scott sucked SO BAD this episode. He breaks the SOS on a worldwide level then gets upset when Cal is like "I love Riley! I wished her here! We're hanging out! Riley!! :D" and is like "Bro you should've dusted her."

OKAY SCOTT. WHAT ABOUT THE WHOLE WORLD, SCOTT, HMM? ARE WE DUSTING THEM??? HMM??? YEESH.

Scott aside (you know, his usual boomer-esque old guy who refuses to change shtick with BUT WHAT ABOUT FAMILY! And whatnot thing), everything else was. Mid, tbh. But fun! Santa being like "Are you gonna kill him?" With Carol being like "I can take care of Gary" was hilarious.

Betty and Noel, of course, SHINNED. I love them, they are SO CUTE. Cardboard face cutouts??? ICONIC. Nobody is doing it like them!

Now. Cal. aka, Buddy. I am very worried for him. Like, 4 episodes ago he was having ANXIETY about being Santa? And now this? Carol being like "what if he doesn't want it don't force him to follow in your footsteps" like. I AGREE. HE SHOULD GO OFF TO COLLEGE AND LIVE HIS LIFE!!!! I have a lot of thoughts there but it is late and I need to FOCUS because I need to yell about Cupid in a second, ANYWAY

Magnus Antas. I love this guy. I fucks with him. He takes a 700 year nap and is like "I'm fine" until his toxic bestie is like "I WANT TO KILL" and a kid sasses him for not being Santa/being OLD and he's like "Nevermind. I want to kill now too. Time to MURDER." He has VIBES and I like them!! He also seems like he's was over it until Olga was like "but what if" and some kid was mean to him and tbh, I can't even blame him for getting pissy at the kid lol. I'd also turna kid into "a Roblox" if I could (here for Gamer Mad Santa btw. I'd watch him stream on Twitch)

This is verging into Episode 2 territory, lol. May as well get there, then!

EPISODE 2

So, the LORE DROPS. Um. There was a LOT of it? And it seems to contradict itself/not quite equate with itself? If the NP is a utopia for magic, why is it like that? Was Magnus good, or not? Why do ALL the fairy creatures live there, when they come from so many diverse cuktures and backgrounds? That's a lil messed up! What the fuck happened with the gnomes becoming so (what's the phrase) PROMINENT for Santa? Will we get answers for all of these? Based on past season, PROBABLY NOT! BUT I HOPE WE DO! BC IT IS A BIT ALL OVER THE PLACE! AHH!

RIGHTO. SO SANDRA'S MAGIC. Love that for her! Love that they're actually devoting time to showing her interacting with La Befana and learning about herself and the pair of them discussing things!!! MUCH rather watch that than a 5 minute long auto-tuned elf song which is there just for a Santa/Satan joke! I'm excited to see how her whole arc goes--it looks like she's ACTUALLY GETTING ONE.

I wonder why Befana needs her to tell her parents, like, aside from obvious reasons. She was so insistent on Sandra making sure her parents knew she was training with Befana, that I'm wondering if there's something more to it a la "our powers don't work on other legendary figures". Like, was it to keep her mind clear? Is it like a past thing? Bc Witches are "scary" and often "bad" given that Santa calls Befana a "good one"?

That's another thign! Not sure I vibed with THAT whole thing. Both Claus's being like "yeah witches, they are deffs their stereotypes". Like. Idk. It sits. Not gr8 with me. Feels like performative activism, sorta, you know?

Which is also how I feel about the girl power moments, tbh. Like, it's nice to see them--Carol respecting Befana as a self-made woman, sister solidarity, etc. But it feels very performative! It feels very much like they are checking it off a list, you know? They're STILL like "Carol is trying to find a role for Mrs. Claus" and they go for COP? Wildin. Also wildin that the ELFS are COP EQUIVALENTS? Um, since WHEN?! They are funky little guys with jet packs and no regard for authority. Remember when they broke Santa out of jail and bullied the cop at the front desk? Remember that? YEAH.

OKAY SO NOW MY FAVOURITE PART TO TALK ABOUT. CUPID AND THE COUNCIL!

So as a classics major and a lover of the Cupid/Psyche myth (and personal bias from OCs made bc of said myth) I was unimpressed with the Mrs. Cupid convo. FIRST off, her name is PSYCHE so jot that down. SECONDLY. It was ONE ARROW MEANT FOR HER THAT SOMEHOW GOT LODGED INTO CUPID ACCIDENTALLY WHILE SENT ON AN ERRAND BY HIS MOTHER, VENUS, TO TAKE CARE OF (make her fall in love with a horrible monster/something/someone very ugly) PSYCHE BC SHE WAS SO BEAUTIFUL WORSHIP WAS DROPPING FOR VENUS AND GOING TO PSYCHE.

This resulted in Cupid and Psyche having a very strange romance/marriage in which Psyche's shitty sisters convince her to break Cupid's one rule (which was don't look at me) and he gets injured, HELD HOSTAGE by his mother, and Psyche has to go on a QUEST to free him that involves Venus making her do all sorts of shitty shenanigans, setting the personifications of sadness and despair on her, and trapping her in an eternal sleep. Cupid, afflcited by his own arrow, escapes his mother's house when he hears about this, finds her, and draws the sleep out of her, waking her up and reuniting them.

They then proceed to go to Zeus (not Jupiter despite Cupid being the Roman equivalent of Eros, and Venus roman of Aphrodite? It's interesting) like LOOK WHAT VENUS DID and Zeus goes "Wow, that's a little fucked up, actually. Listen, I'll make her a god and sanction your marriage and tell of your Mom IF you do something a little fucked up for me and help me get ANY woman I want" to which Cupid goes "Sure, that sounds reasonable and not fucked up at all" and then he and Psyche get married and have a fucking rager with the gods and have one kid, Pleasure, aka Hedone/Volupta, or in SOME iterations, THREE kids, Pleasure, Joy, and a third one who's name escapes me (Vanity I think) and presumably live happily ever after! READ FOR YOURSELF!

I am very passionate about this bc uh. this is uh. Dite's whole ass backstory? She is Hedone lmao so I've got some personal attachment here thanks to me own OCs lmao, ANYWAY

So YEAH that got me miffed. As did uh, the whole PEEKABOO and cupid making baby noises back at Riley. The ICK.

But you know what I DID love?? Cupid being like "I'm not spying but also, I am spying and also, the whole ass entire council is like BOI...WHAT THE FUCK". GET HIS ASS! CALL HIM OUT!! BC YEAH, WHAT THE FUCK SCOTT?? SEASON 1?? HELLO??? EVERYTHING BEFORE THAT??? VIOLATING THE SOS BY SHARING ALL THOSE SNOW GLOBES??? AHHHHHHH.

Cupid delivering that 3 month deadline and Council threat I was like. HERE for it. I was like. GET HIS ASS (this was one of the GHA counter moments tbh). Like, this dude is out of control! I think it's high time Scott meets the consequences for his actions! AH!

So YEAH. Excited to see Sandy and for New EB! I hope the whole Council comes back, even if they have to recast, that 5 minute scene would add YEARS to my life that Riley and Cal took away.

Because they are. So icky. I feel as though. There is a scale. And Marie is on one end, and Riley is on the other. This isn't just FIRST LOVE this is just DISGUSTING. Like it was cute at first last season but now Riley is honestly?? Sups annoying. You can tell that they're like, checking items off the list instead of actually putting more thought into them, because Riley is v much a stereotype and they have WAY UPPED her teenager levels. I need them to talk to actual teens. Nobody says OMG like that and also, she's bringing home BIKERS?????????? UM??????? It's like. Why are they so bad at writing love interests? You feel? Tho this could just be a me thing 🤔🤔🤔

They really should've socialized those kids, DAMN. Santa being like "And we all know how that [Romeo and Juliet] went" or whatever the line was had me like "FINALLY SCOTTY BOY. SOMETHING WE CAN AGREE ON!"

AND LAST ON MY LIST. THE SCOTT/SANDRA SCENE.

Finally. Finally. FINALLY. Some good parenting from Scott. FINALLY. Being sups understanding to Sandra? I actually loved it. He finally did ONE (1) GOOD THING. MAYBE HE IS? LEARNING? I DUNNO MAN! WE'LL SEE HOW IT GOES! But yeah, I did like that scene a lot. I'm just really here for Sandra getting her moment!

So YEAH. Overall, season 2 is okay. Gave me more laughs which is WELCOME, and I cannot wait to see how this develops. Especially since the lore was like, really thrown our way, you know? It was a lot for two episodes and again, did kind of contradict itself? Hopefully it clears up once Santa inevitably learns the truth about Mad Santa, probably mostly thanks to Carol who is DOING the MOST.

But yeah, I'm hoping to see the lore tidied/explained a bit better. Especially bc the whole elf lore opening, with the icy tunnels and drab vibes, didn't sit well with me? It...I didn't like it. Not my cup of tea. The lore in general isn't my cup of tea though it's fun to see it there finally, lol. Poor Toots, being named after a fart essentially (I went right to toilet humour, I'm sorry, I am so mature I promise i'm not)

Also, they really kinda. Throw around the head elf title, huh? It felt REALLY WEIRD to not see BMan there, and Toots just being thrown in? Weird it's WEIRD. I wouldn't bring B-Man back for it but MAN IS IT WEIRD. Especially since the new elves, as much as I ADORE THEM, don't have the same kind of like. Old feel to them? As the movie elves did? So I was like "they should NOT be there right now. They should NOT."

Righto. I am going to wrap this up bc I am INSANE and this is very very VERY long for a franchise like this 😅😅😅

[respectthepetty]

Hi Petty! I just started City of Stars today and I have questions. I'm guessing that Krom is a purple boy...well Lilac or lavender but I'm not sure what that means? Also what is Fueang's color? Brown? Gray? Black? Help me out here please?

Paging "Daddy" to the dance floor. "Daddy" we need you on the dance floor.

@negrowhat, the answer you seek comes from @dribs-and-drabbles

She noticed there was a lot of "purple (lilac-aubergine hues) and green (mint-jade-olive hues)".

But she thought Fueang was purple.

And Krom was green.

But I thought the boys were a black and white (dark x light) dynamic.

Since I thought the other couple was also a black and white dynamic.

But things took a turn quickly because in the very first episode, the boys wore these striped shirts, which although play into the dark x light dynamic, would mean it was like a color exchange, but that was too soon for such a thing. Then, Daddy hit me with her theory.

But I still thought Kor was a Blue Boy, and I felt even stronger after he ran into his ex in episode four, and she was in blue too since they obviously still loved each other.

Then both messed up that theory when they both wore black in episode seven, and a theory HIT me.

What if Krom and Fueang are aligning their colors?

Krom doesn't get to be himself all the time because of work so normally, he wears black for work or whatever clothes they make him wear, but he had stripes when Krom had stripes on his day off, and he kinda matches Krom when he wears regular clothes.

Like how Fueang has on the red shirt with the white stripe and Krom has on the white sweater with the red shirt underneath.

Or how Fueang has on the black shirt.

And Krom has the orange top over the black shirt.

But even the lighting makes Fueang's shirt seem a bit orange/gold too, no? No. Nevermind. I'll try another example.

This might work.

But only if we noticed the little designs on Fueang's shirt are purple and blue.

But they are definitely wearing different shades of grey here!

And different shades of blue here!

But they spend all of episode four out-of-sync because Krom doesn't think Fueang actually likes him and is just a player. Then, they reset with the black and white dynamic in episode five.

So by the end of that episode, they are in sync again.

And we see it multiple ways in episode six.

So even when they kinda of miss, they still work well together.

And they still balance each other out.

Because they communicate.

Even when it involves singing.

And they match the most after their best communication through body language and actual verbal language.

Even when they had a rough day in episode seven with Fueang's mom, trying to figure out how to navigate the severity of their feelings, and balancing their relationship with Fueang's job, they still had the light and dark dynamic from top to bottom.

And they ended on the same page.

So is my Wild Ass Color Theory something to consider?

I don't know

But do you wanna throw your color theory out on the dance floor and boogie with me and Daddy?

[kerorowhump]

i watched ep 226 and i have some thoughts about it...

keroro being suspected for something he didn't do is often par for the course, and granted it's both because of his status as an invader and for his tendency to actually cause trouble

[pictured: some examples off the top of my head of - mostly natsumi - assuming the worst from him]

but this episode to me is fascinating because of what else it brings up in relation to it. remember red oni blue oni? keroro's conflict about... on one side, keron, on the other, pekopon... about being seen as both the villain and the hero, so his position isn't threatened, while trying not to lose his friends on both sides. he doesn't actually want to be an invader, but it's tied to a lot of shit like his self esteem and... well, stuff I talked about in the past.

I think at least subconsciously he is afraid that his precarious position may blow up in his face eventually, and that is why he's jealous of everything that threatens it by being similar enough to him/receiving enough praise that he feels he might get replaced by it. he needs his position to be exclusive, because if it isn't, he doesn't have any merits for it ("leaders don't really do anything..." "I coasted along" "what makes me great?"). it feels like this is not just a random insecurity from lack of self esteem or fear from his unstable situation on its own (as an invader/"freeloader", feeling guilty for living in their house and causing them trouble) either, but ALSO projection from the fact that canonically yeah, he IS replaceable - that is a real constant threat for him. the clones? what makes him special?

[funny how many meetings keroro does where he's actually just venting lmao, he's got his priorities all out of whack ... or rather his feelings don't matter if they can't somehow be integrated into a mission?]

[pictured: the aformentioned projection dearimasu]

[keroro processing his feelings alone like he always does. loneliness and being misunderstood r such key parts of his character.]

But I think a similar emotion is true from Fuyuki's side, who's always been a bit lonely and overshadowed, so he'd be afraid of his trust being betrayed... but nevermind that, I like seeing keroro's situation specifically explored, because...

he knows he didn't do anything wrong, but his relationship with fuyuki means more than ego. he's willing to set it aside, and besides... it's easier with the guilt he already feels due to his situation, to apologize, because fuyuki means more to him than being right... his friends mean a lot to keroro, that's why relationship trouble with them so easily throws his emotions off balance. why he has to resort to everything else (denial, acting out, projection of guilt, people-pleasing, hiding how he feels, selfishness, etc), but with fuyuki in particular, I think it feels like the one relationship he hasn't messed up yet. honestly that person who said he's a dororo parallel was SO onto something...

they both love each other, but they're not infallible, so they'll let each other down, they'll misunderstand, they'll let their own feelings and fears and past experiences get in the way. they're not technically on the same side, after all

[the field trip misunderstanding... or you could say, keroro assumed earth is like keron? that they're two sides at war?]

but at the end of the day they still love each other, they are healing for each other and for what it's worth, they saved each other...

but that's the thing to me is that, by merely existing in his life, I think keroro feels like he's being a weight to him. that he's doing something wrong, that it's selfish of him to want to stay. that he has to earn it and yes, that he's not needed (AKA REPLACEABLE...).

trust is something that has to be built in a friendship but... due to keroro's situation... he can never fully prove himself one way or another (it would mean treason...) and in this ep I see the tragedy of that. fuyuki loves him, and generally trusts him, but it's not like keroro hasn't broken his trust in the past or gone too far, it's not like his planet and plans aren't still a danger for them, no matter how he feels about it...

[galaxysharks]

maddox does anything and expects disappointment ....

It's sad Maddox day. That's okay, I love angst. And she really does, to be fair, she has evidence to credit that response.

I mean based on events in the series...

Leaves her phone near her brother, gets outed to their parents and spends her summer not knowing what kind of response she's got waiting for when camps over.

During camp, she's scared and nervous, so she's clinging to her gf a bit. Madison breaks up with her AT THE DANCE.

It's okay tho, new summer, right? But no.

She gets ready to go to her yearly escape! Sorry, you now have to take your brother, who hates you. You better take care of him! And that's on top of you other duties!

EJs back! We love EJ! And he brought friends! Except all she does is introduce herself and they already don't like her.

That's okay tho! We can still play games with EJ and he'll help everyone get along. Sorry, EJs super busy and he doesn't need her being needy on top of that.

Oh, she knows about star signs! She can bond with Ashlyn! Nope, Ashlyn's super touchy about it and started yelling.

It's okay, she can apologize and they can start over. EJ is always talking about how nice and great his cousin is. Apology failed, Maddie's big mouth got her in trouble again and Ash is mad.

Ok it's still her night! She can show them how fun camp is! Except Jet is here with his new best friend Ricky, and he's making fun of her. And they all like him way more than her...

Okay, back to play prep. Oh she yelled at Jet and now he's run off and no one can find him.

Good news! Jet's back! But the parents had to send him back, and she's definitely going to catch hell for that when summer is over.

Okay now she has to pretend to cry on command, because she's spent the past decade running tech because of her stellar acting skills... At least Ash isn't mad at her anymore.

Well nevermind! She tries to quietly pull Ash aside to talk about clearly a confusing crush. And Ash is yelling again... Oh great now Jets jumping in on the scream at Maddie session.

Let's just go cool off in the barn... Of course Jets here, and guess he likes singing again, why not, at least their parents will be happy.

Color wars goes well, too well, Jet is acting weird. He's happy tho, so that's good.

Nevermind, Happy Jet for some reason thought it would be a good idea to invite Madison. You know so she can wreck another prom.

Ok, Mad's more pleasant than expected, but now it's confusing. Maybe they can be together again? And she was just getting over her too. And Ash tolerates her again....

Maybe she should try and open up to the girls..... Actually, Kourt and Gina need her support right now. Take a raincheck on feelings.

Opening night time! Oh good Ash's mythic boyfriend has arrived.....and he's adorable.

Alright, plays going well, everything is running smooth.....until the power cuts!

Okay, dramas over. Time for the premier! Jets her best friend again! Now they just have to sit back and watch. Whoops! Channing caught her ass on camera being a big gay mess! And Ash is uncomfortable.... brilliant. At least she can tease Jet for also being a mess on camera. God she's just been outed to the nation.... Can't wait to see the parental fallout from that.... And school, all of schools gonna know now too.

And all that's Just Season 3

This girl trusts nothing and no one. She just assumes things will go poorly for her.

[theradicalace]

the obligatory thunderstorm fic

(crossposted from ao3)

fandoms: friday night funkin

pairing: boyfriend/pico

summary: it's literally just pico comforting boyfriend during a thunderstorm idk what to tell you

Of all the things that could have happened tonight, Blake would probably put "a freak thunderstorm" as one of the worst.

It was ridiculous, really. Up and coming musician, known for handling demons and rap battling on top of cars and in active miliary zones, all with a grin and a peace sign...

And he's reduced to a trembling mess, hiding under the covers from a little bit of thunder. Could he possibly get more childish?

The rain against the windows was loud enough that he nearly missed the sound of the front door being opened, but there was no mistaking the knock at his bedroom door, or the voice that called out afterwards.

"You doin' alright in there, Morse Code?"

Storm be damned, that cheesy nickname would never fail to warm his heart. He wanted to say something, to tell him that everything was just fine, but all he managed was a vague sort of squeak.

"Yeah, I guess that was a dumb question."

The door swung open quietly as Pico let himself in. He crossed the room in a few long strides, and slid under the blankets to pull his shaking partner close to him. Blake curled up against him instinctively, laying his head against his chest.

"Guessing you're probably not verbal at all right now, huh?"

Blake gave a half hearted wave of his hand. He could talk right now, it just... wouldn't be easy.

Pico just raised an unimpressed eyebrow at him.

"Yeah, well, don't push yourself. You know you're gonna regret it later."

Before he could bring himself to respond, lightning flashed outside, and Blake tensed, clinging to Pico like a lifeline. The anticipation of the thunder was almost worse than the thunder itself sometimes.

Then the actual thunder hit, and holy shit, nevermind, the anticipation was absolutely not worse.

"Take it easy there, you're gonna break my ribs at this rate."

Pico was only joking. He knew that, of course he knew that. But he still couldn't help the distressed whine he let out.

"Woah, I'm kidding! I'm just giving you shit, babe."

A moment passed where the only sounds Blake could were the howling wind outside, and Pico's steady heartbeat, before he spoke up again.

"Hey... You know it's okay to be scared, right?"

As always, he'd managed to zero in on the deeper problem without needing to be told.

"You're always so damn hard on yourself. Nobody's gonna think less of you for being afraid."

Blake pulled his hands free for just long enough to sign a quick phrase.

"Don't want to talk about this. Please."

Pico tilted his head to the side, the way he always did when he was lost in thought. Then, without saying another word he started humming a familiar melody.

It was a lullaby from when they both were younger. Blake was honestly surprised that he still remembered it at all. He could feel the notes as they reverberated through his chest, soothing and soft.

They stayed like that for a time, one song giving way the next. Eventually, it was hard to tell where one ended and another began.

The storm raged on outside. But inside the darkened apartment, Blake was comfortable in his lover's arms. Pico was still humming an aimless tune, hand rubbing slow circles on his back. Slowly, he relaxed enough to finally get some rest.

He trusted Pico to keep him safe.

[clonerightsenthusiast]

first proof

[Blaseball, Gen, 2.2k words]

She hits the ground hard enough to hurt, and immediately has no idea where she is or how she got there.

After a beat, she realizes she also has no idea who she is.

With that disturbing thought sinking into a pit in her stomach, she pushes herself up into a sitting position and looks up, rubbing her aching head. She's in an empty room, pretty big, with benches running down the center and rows of lockers lining the walls.

She puts a hand on a bench (and, oof, a few inches to the left and she'd have hit her head on that. Ouch.) and leverages herself all the way to her feet. Okay. Something about the place feels familiar; at least, she recognizes it as a locker room. She thinks she's been in locker rooms before. But not this one. At least, she's pretty sure.

Wandering closer to inspect the lockers, she notices something strange: they all have placards on the front, that seem like they may have once had names on them, but the markings seem like they've been… erased, somehow. Weird. Letting her fingertips run along the wall, she wanders down the row of lockers. It's all more of the same, until she gets to the end and finds one that's different.

The last locker in the row has a placard with a name engraved in it in all capital letters: STEALS CHARK.

[read on ao3]

Acting on instinct, she reaches out and opens it. Hanging prominently on a hook is a teal striped shirt, with CHARK emblazoned across the back. She pulls it out and tries it on, buttoning it up over her tank top.

A perfect fit.

Huh. Okay. She peeks her head around the edge of the locker door again to get another look at the placard. Steals. Sure. She can be Steals.

The locker has other equipment in it – a glove, a bat, cleats, all pristine and untouched. Steals ignores it for now and leaves the locker to go further explore the building, leaving the uniform shirt on.

It takes a while, but Steals is pretty confident she manages to find her way into every room in the clubhouse, and after tracking back and forth over just about every inch of the building, determines that she is absolutely alone.

It's a little unnerving. The clubhouse is eerily silent; every room feels like it's just been sitting there, waiting, but for what, she doesn't know. Her, she guesses. She wishes fervently that she could remember how she got here, and why.

She's alone for a long time.

She familiarizes herself with every inch of the clubhouse, and then starts messing with stuff just for something to do. She drags every chair she can find into the locker room and builds an elaborate fort, and then knocks it down for the satisfaction of destroying it. She finds a fridge full entirely of energy drinks and mixes them all together in a bowl to make a horrific concoction that leaves her with a pounding headache. She pries the wheels off a swivel chair and glues them to the bottom of a pair of cleats and does tricks off the benches in the locker room. She falls and hits her head, and then does it again.

She drags a basket of balls out into a hallway and sets up targets, and then tries to hit them. Then she tries it again, this time while skating. She falls again. She doesn't care. There's nobody around to see.

It's at least two months before she hears the crash and skates into the locker room to see a man laying amidst the wreckage of her chair fort. He looks up at her, blinking. She stares back.

"Hi," he says.

"What the fuck," she says back.

"A little help?"

She skates a little closer and helps extricate him from the chairs. Once done, he stands in the middle of the locker room, rubbing his head as he looks around. She keeps staring at him.

"So," he finally says, conversationally. "What team am I on this time?"

"What?" she asks.

"Y'know," he says, gesturing unhelpfully with one hand. "Team. Last time I was on one called the Baltimore Crabs. You've still got the Crabs here, right?"

"Uh."

"Nevermind." He sticks a hand out. "Hi, I'm Thomas Marsh."

She blinks at the hand in her face, then slowly takes it. "Steals Chark," she says. "I think."

The man – Thomas – hums, nodding in understanding. "It's your first time, right? It's always tough to remember, the first time."

Steals furrows her brow, crossing her arms defensively. "My first time doing what, you weirdo?" she demands.

Thomas turns away from her, moving around to explore the locker room. "Jumping universes," he says casually, coming to a stop in front of a locker. Steals warily slides up behind him, and then gawks as she sees that the placard that definitely used to be blank, now says THOMAS MARSH. He pulls it open, and hums again. "Oh! The Pies. That's cool. I've always liked Philly." He takes out a shirt identical to Steals's own, but with his own name on it, and pulls it on. "The colors are the same. Nice. It's so annoying when the colors get switched around."

"What are you talking about?" Steals bursts out. She can't believe that she's seeing another person for the first time in – well, as long as she can remember, and he's some… weirdo.

Thomas smiles apologetically. "Sorry, kid. This isn't my first rodeo. Or blaseball team."

"Blaseball?" Steals shoots back. That word… something about it pings in the back of her head. Like she should know what it means.

Thomas hums again, rifling through the rest of the equipment in his locker. "Yeah, blaseball. It's a sport. Kind of. Anyways, it's what we're here to do. Though I guess games won't start until the rest of the team shows up."

That gets her attention. "You mean there are more people coming?" she asks. "Are they all gonna be as weird as you?"

Thomas throws his head back and laughs. "Kid, knowing blaseball players? Depends on the universe. But they could be much weirder."

As it turns out, Thomas is right.

It's just the two of them for a while, again. They find an equilibrium: Thomas doesn't stop being weird, and tells her stories about other universes that she's, like, 80% sure he's just making up. But he helps her set up more targets in places too high for her to reach, and doesn't laugh at her when she falls on her face trying more skate tricks, and tries her energy drink mixes with a straight face, so Steals guesses he's all right.

And after another few weeks, there's another crash in the locker room and the two of them come running in to find, of all things, an old man in a wizard hat and robes staring up at them.

"Hey," Thomas says, offering a hand to help him up. "Welcome to the Pies."

Bevan Wise, in Steals's opinion, does not seem like he belongs on a sports team.

"First of all, he's old," she informs Tom, while pouring something acid green and carbonated into her mixing bowl. "Second of all, he's, like, a nerd."

Tom snorts, and obediently holds out his cup for Steals to ladle her concoction into for him to taste. "Give him a chance," he says generously. "At least let him practice with us. See how he does. He says he's a wizard."

"Yeah, he says ," Steals shoots back. "Just like you say you've been to, like, a bazillion universes."

"Which is why I have no problems accepting that he's a wizard," Tom says, then hums. "Do we have anything blue flavored? I think it could use some blue."

The door to the kitchen slams open, and with a "BEHOLD!" Bevan strides into the room.

Steals whirls around, clutching her mixing bowl to her chest, and claps a hand over her mouth. Bevan is wearing the strangest pair of pants she has ever seen in her life, and over his uniform he has clasped a black cape with enormous teal flames licking up the sides. He holds out his arms with a broad grin.

"I have uncovered the secrets of the laundry room!" He declares.

"I can see that," Tom says evenly.

Steals keeps her hand clapped over her mouth to hide her laughter. Bevan's eyes suddenly fix on the bowl in her arms.

"Oh, a potion!" He says, with absolute glee. He strides over, looming over Steals. He has a good foot of height on her. He leans in close to scrutinize her energy drink concoction, and gives a sudden, very loud sniff. Finally, he leans back and plants his hands on his hips. "And a very potent one at that! My compliments on your alchemical skills, Miss Chark."

 "Um," Steals says. "Thanks."

 "If I may, I believe I have in mind some additions that may prove helpful," Bevan says, pausing and looking to her for approval. Raising her eyebrows, Steals nods. 

 Bevan steps back and raises his arms, and suddenly his eyes start glowing and the lights in the room flicker. He starts muttering under his breath, and the cabinet doors all slam open at once, their contents flying out and circling in the air around Bevan.

 Steals drops her bowl.

 But it, too, starts hovering, and with minute gestures with his hands, Bevan directs various odds and ends to leave the line of ingredients and drop portions into the bowl, the liquid inside stirring itself as they add to it. Finally, with a flick of his wrist the remaining ingredients march through the air back into the cabinets, which all close in perfect unison with a loud thud. Bevan takes the bowl in his hands and his eyes stop glowing.

 He holds it out to Steals with a benevolent smile, and with wide eyes she takes it back. Tom leans around him to dip his cup into the mixture and takes a sip.

 "Whattaya know," he says, giving Steals a wink. "Tastes more blue."

 "Wonderful!" Bevan booms, turning to go with a swirl of his cape. "Now if you'll excuse me, I am off to build a library."

 Tom at least has the decency to wait before telling Steals, "I told you so."

 "This team is so weird," she breathes.

 A few days later, Bevan once again bursts into the kitchen, this time with a burst of teal fireworks. Steals is attempting to shore up the glue on her skates, while Tom flips through a rulebook he founds in a drawer in an office upstairs. It doesn't seem to be written in any kind of language Steals recognizes, but Tom seems to be reading it just fine.

 They both look up at Bevan's overblown entrance, already becoming accustomed to his fanfare. In one hand, held high and triumphant, he's holding a set of… car keys?

 They have a little wizard hat keychain on them. Steals is absolutely certain they belong to him.

"Behold!" Bevan crows. "I have made a wondrous discovery."

"Where'd you get those?" Tom asks, cocking his head.

Bevan shakes them, making them jingle pleasantly. "I was performing a spell meant to summon an item of great personal import, and they simply appeared in my pocket."

"Are you sure they weren't already in there?" Steals asks dubiously, eyeing his pockets. "You have really big pockets."

"It matters not," Bevan says, folding the keys up in his hand. "The true treasure is what they unlock!"

Tom puts his book down. "So let's go find it."

Bevan leads the two of them through the clubhouse to a door that, to Steals's utter bewilderment, she has never seen before.

"What the hell?" she mutters under her breath as Bevan confidently strides up to it. "Where the hell did it come from? Where does it go?"

And then Bevan opens the door, and her breath catches in her throat.

  Outside. There's an outside.

The three of them bump shoulders in their hurry to get through the door, and find themselves standing in a largely unremarkable parking lot, outside a largely unremarkable building, except for the fact that it's definitely too small to be the clubhouse they've been living in all this time, and the large PHILLY PIES sign hanging from the eaves.

And, of course, for the van sitting in one of the spaces just by the door, with a chaotic scene centered on a wizard airbrushed on the side of it.

Bevan holds out the keys and hits a button and, of course, the van beeps and flashes its lights.

Steals's jaw drops.

"Come, my compatriots," Bevan calls, striding towards the van. "Adventure awaits!"

Tom's hand on her shoulder startles Steals out of her silence. "You okay?" he asks, one eyebrow raised.

"I didn't even know there was an outside," she confesses breathlessly. She feels rooted to the spot. It's so much. It's too much.

Tom squeezes her shoulder. She would never admit it to him, but she feels some of his easy confidence leeching into her. She takes a deep breath and feels like she can move again.

"Well, c'mon, kid," Tom says, tipping his head towards Bevan's van. "Let's go see what this universe has to offer."