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zahri-melitor · 3 days ago

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So I've read the opening story of Tim Drake: Robin.

The opening issue is solid, highlighting a lot of Meghan Fitzmartin's skills as a writer. She picked up threads neatly from her earlier stories, showed her hand to the audience, and did do a fair amount of subtle character work. If I'd picked it up with no background knowledge of the fandom conversation about the title, I'd have been very excited for where it was going.

I liked the links back to how part of what prompted Tim to move out was Bruce being fussy over Tim having been shot in the throat in Batman #125. That felt realistic and a nice little link between titles.

As far as a story goes: I didn't mind it. Parts of it were very obvious, especially when you clued into the themes - if I'd actually been reading it as it came out and had a month between issues for things to soak in, I probably would have been tapping my toes over the reveal of who Moriarty was disguised as.

I would like to specifically dunk on both Meghan Fitzmartin and Moriarty for the detective novel writer selections, because...hmm. Kinda misogynistic there. Fitzmartin uses 6 writers for this, and 6 specific stories/franchises:-

Edgar Allen Poe – Murders in the Rue Morgue

Mark Twain – The Stolen White Elephant

Arthur Conan Doyle – Sherlock Holmes

Raymond Chandler - Goldfish

James Gelsey – Scooby Doo

Wilkie Collins – The Moonstone

What do you notice about this list, that I immediately noticed? They're all men. Who is an immediate name that comes to mind, who even had public domain stories as of 2022, who probably should be on a list like that and who also has incredible influence over the direction of the genre? Oh, I don't know, maybe Agatha Christie? (Also Dorothy L. Sayers is also right there and available, but skipping Christie?)

And once she'd built up this "it's all the detective stories" premise, Fitzmartin then went for a book code (cool!) from non-existent books (not cool). If you've just spent all this time glorying in how this is all related to Specific Classic Detective Stories, why not...use a real book code and refer to their actual stories? You've already done it for the plots! Commit to the bit!

Also I spent a good chunk of issue #4 staring at the page going "Carol Donovan? You mean Deb Donovan's judge daughter who recently appeared in Mariko Tamaki's 'Tec run? Tim, how are you missing something this straightforward? Also she's dead?" and then it never came to anything. Maybe do a quick check if anyone else has been using the name you just invented for the story.

"I even tried making a new costume for myself. It doesn't fit." - I did find it interesting that Fitzmartin was once again playing with the "is it time to move on" themes for Tim that were popping up around here in various conversations. Especially given she had Tim and Dick relitigate their conversation from Urban Legends #10 and similar themes in DC:YJ. It does suggest to me that she was working her way around to getting Tim into a new identity, but cancellation has once again left that in the 'not happening' basket.

In terms of the art: Riley Rossmo was the wrong pick for the title, but I do see the thought process that led into him getting the nod for the opening story, given the whole claymation villain set. It was very 2D animation style. I don't mind Rossmo (and interestingly he's developing a whole line up of detective stories he's done art for, given he's also had a Martian Manhunter book and got Wesley Dodds, he did one of the Batman/The Shadow crossovers...) but his highly malleable art style loses a lot of background detail or makes what is there harder to parse.

I did very much appreciate the way Rossmo drew Tim's detective work, though. I liked the technique for highlighting details and clues, and it actually very much reminded me of how some computer games present clues (including how it's done in Gotham Knights, in fact).

I know everyone has said this, but Bernard needs to develop a personality AND to commit to whether or not he knows Tim is Robin. Because sort of hinting that he knows, while Tim worries about hiding things from him, but not actually confirming either way is only really acceptable if you actually do build up to a big reveal moment where the whole drama has been paid off.

I did appreciate that MegFitz had clearly taken feedback and returned one of Bernard's two pre-existing personality traits (conspiracy theorist who thinks the Bats are urban legend cryptids), because one of the weaknesses of using Bernard, a side character with 6 preboot appearances, is that at lot of his existing personality was sketched in. He was a conspiracy theorist, and he desperately wanted to be popular but wasn't, so he presented himself as having a Cool Guy's Personality (see: 'your step-mom is hot'). Now, Meghan Fitzmartin wants us to read into that second trait as a facade that Bernard was putting up to deal with the fact he was gay and hiding it, probably even from himself, at the time. Which, fine, it's a perfectly reasonable reading of Bernard (and to her credit, MegFitz has Bernard spell it out a little on page in TD:R), but the problem is...you've just lost one of the two identifiable traits of 'Bernard' and it hasn't been replaced with anything else. And while 2004 in comics was still trying to hold onto the Urban Legends reading for the Bats to an extent (though it was failing), 2022 comics has so long since abandoned it that Bernard having kooky theories about Batman's connection to Mothman or whatever is very...why?

And because both of these pre-existing personality traits are under strain from the context, it really is sort of necessary to give Bernard something else about him for people to latch onto for his personality. And it doesn't really seem to be there yet (as of #6). It's the same complaint that people have about Jon/Jay and a whole host of other partners for recently out superheros: they're generically pleasant, supportive and bland, with about the depth of a mirror. Give me some of the toxic drama the 30 year old lesbians are allowed. Where is my breakup over custody fights with an ex and one of the two getting seduced by a vampire.

#z canon read throughs #tim drake: robin

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randomsufff · 1 year ago

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I’m back Michie girlies and this has been on the dome for a while but I’ve been seeing people mention it and at least one fic has executed this idea (“I once was his tutor” I salute you 🫡) but I need to just present this idea anyways because it has COOKED for a while-

I think it would be absolutely fucking hilarious if Max had started treating Richie the way he did Grace. Like the whole, dumb himbo act where he laughs real hard at non-jokes and tries to rizz Richie up as he’s going to class.

In my head- this is connected to the “Richie tutors Max” universe, so in my mind- Richies been helping him out and he’s been getting to know the guy, Max either: 1) eventually realizes how much of a capital P Prude Grace is OR (the funnier option I think) 2) Grace, in her want to get thoughts of Max Jäegerman out of her head, goes so far in the opposite direction that she somehow accidentally sleeps with a woman and is no longer “forbidden fruit” as Max puts it. (Insert side story of Grace battling internalized homophobia as she developed a friends-with-benefits turned maybe actual relationship with…. idk Deb or Alice or someone.) Cue Max looking at Richie and being like “I can totally seduce this nerd, my skills aren’t lacking just because I couldn’t get Grace.. this is 100% not me subconsciously really liking the dude and wanting to genuinely date him and knowing no other way to outwardly express this”

ANYWAYS- point is I need Max to try to flirt with Richie in that himbo way that he did with Grace-and I need Richie “This projects on thermodynamics… what the fuck are you talking about???” Lipshitz to just be constantly confused on what’s happening to him.

AND THEN when he finally realizes that Max is trying to get with him, I need Mr. Richie “has definitely never been with or slept with anyone and is just as unhinged and horny as Ruth (need I remind you she said Stephanie was the object of both their sexual fantasies)” Lipshitz to look at Max, really debate over it, before going “I may not have standards but I, unfortunately, have morals” and that he couldn’t do anything with Max since he was… well…his and his friends bully for years.

Boom, kick start the redemption arc that starts with Max just wanting to sleep with Richie but shifts to genuinely wanting to date him and trying to open up/clean up his act.

(Also- to add to that ‘“Dirty Girl Soup” Richie version’ concept that I’ve seen somewhere- I think it would be so fucking funny if Max’s equivalent to this, scandalous, forbidden, sexual fantasy was just Richie being the most supportive, understanding and healthiest boyfriend ever. Just accidentally fantasizing them in the most domestic situation ever (you know, because it goes against his Literal Monster persona). Like Richie’s, i don’t fucking know, holding his hand as they get coffee together and is just so understanding and calming when Max attempts to bully this fantasy Richie, and Max-who is just swimming in toxic masculinity (but is super ok in knowing he’s bi. As people say- he’s an actual asshole but he will bully you using your correct pronouns damnit)- is just like “NO, what are these feelings??? Why do I feel like this??? This is so wrong… but why does this feel… actually nice???” Yeah… funny shit)

#michie #max jagerman x richie lipschitz #max jagerman #richie lipschitz #damn it if only I could write #maybe one of these days I’ll just start writing shit #I’ve always wanted to write fics-#I love that this tag and this ship is just an echo chamber of ideas #we really do be feeding each others huh #nerdy prudes must die #starkid #fic ideas made specifically for me by me

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halohalona · 12 days ago

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everyone just decided to wake up one day and throw their critical thinking skills out the window, huh?

(btw the only magazine/website i trust is People Magazine. Why? Cause that's the magazine Deb and Hugh announced their divorce to, and only that magazine. So if it doesn't come from People Magazine or any well-known magazine, i ain't buying it.)

#hugh jackman #chat is this real #nah cause i already saw a video about hugh #in one of those “is your favorite actor a bad person”#who tf said he was homophobic???#there's literally a video of him saying he doesn't care whether you're gay or not because it's part of a person (paraphrasing here)#deadpool and wolverine #wolverine #deadpool & wolverine #i don't wanna stress myself out with this

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iveseenstrangerthings · 2 years ago

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must be love - a Steve Harrington imagine

summary: just a shorter imagine about a reader who works at a diner and Steve comes in with the rest of the friendship group (which you’re also part of). There’s a mutual pining between Steve and reader and eventually Steve decides to do something about it, just a lil fluffy imagine which got me going

warnings: brief descriptions of food and eating

word count: 2.5k

notes: shout out to one of my fave SNL skits of Debbie Downer thx for playing a small part in this imagine. if anyone has any ideas for an imagine plsss request i’d be happy to do some requests !! have a great day :) master list here

✦ ✦ ✦ ✦

“Have a great night, guys!” You call as the most miserable family you’ve ever served in your entire time of being at the diner slumps out the door. A small laugh escapes your lips, almost in disbelief at what you’ve just put up with, as you start to clear their plates. Clinks of metal cutlery scraping fired ceramic plates fill your ears as you gather everything in an impressive stack. Guiltily, you take the gracious tip they’ve left you and you suddenly feel awful for whining to yourself about how unpleasant they’d been.

Behind the till, you place their cash tip into the tip jar and then take the plates to the back to be washed. The heat of the kitchen still overwhelms you as you place the stack of dirty dishes into the hot sink full of water. “Busy out there, yet?” Deborah, the main pot washer calls out from the break room, her evening drawing out slowly in front of her at the slow stream of customers.

“Not quite yet, still early though, Debs!” You call back cheerily, behind her back you all call her Debbie Downer, no matter what you say Deborah will reply with something depressing that ultimately kills the mood of the conversation.

Last month, when you told her you’d got a new cat, she had replied, “Feline AIDS is the biggest killer of domestic cats. Hope you got it checked!”

Pushing back through the swing doors, you see a few more groups had been shown to tables and you were ready to go over to welcome them in. One group you see, is your friends.

An unsettled feeling stews inside you, you love that they come here to see you, but you hate how it makes you feel pressured. Dustin loves the shakes, Mike and El the burgers, and Steve loves to come just to see you. Not that you know that. You’re partial to a spill of a drink, or a burger to the floor as it slips off the plates as you try to juggle too many, and you do not want Steve to see anything like that. You’ll just have to try not to show off your plate stacking skills this evening.

Whipping your pad out from the front of your grease-stained apron, you walk to their table and paint a smile on your face, beaming from ear to ear. “Fancy seeing you here.” You approach the table and stand next to Steve, who looks up at you with a small smile painted across his rose-tinted lips.

“Do you even need your little pad, surely you know my order by now.” Dustin is quick to comment on his food, he must be starving. He didn’t mean it in an asshole way, you’re close enough with each other that you rarely take offence to anything now.

You guffaw at his request and scribble down his order. Peeking over the top of your pad to see Steve slightly shaking his head and raising his eyebrows at him. “Max?” Your attention goes to Max now, awaiting her order.

“Just a chocolate shake, please.” She offers, sheepishly pushing the menu back towards you. You don’t push her on an order for food, as you know any of the other waitresses would, you just nod and jot down the code for a shake. She’s still recovering from Vecna, and you understand her lack of appetite, which she is grateful for.

After finally scribbling down the group’s order in your illegible scrawl, which is only decipherable by the chefs, you turn to Steve who’s perched on the end of the booth. “And for you, Steve?” Your pen is ready in between your fingers, and you give him a patient smile.

He quickly skims the menu, even though he knew what he wanted the minute he walked in. He relays his order to you before gathering up all the menus, making your job easier and quicker. “Thanks.” You take them from his hands and his cheeks flush with colour. He’s aware of the intense rush of heat to his face, as is everyone else at the table. Your heart skips and beats intensely in your chest as you relish in the sight of his flushed cheeks. You know you caused his blush, and it gives you a slight spring in your step as you return to the host stand with their menus, knowing you have the power to make Steve Harrington tint with crimson.

Whilst his ears are trained into the conversation happening around him, he lets his eyes divert to your whereabouts. He watches intently as you balance the plates with skill before setting them all down on a nearby table, talking to your customers with expressive hands and giving them an effervescent smile before turning and going to attend to another table. He sees how your tongue slips out of your mouth, ever so slightly, in concentration as you place glacier cherries onto the top of a sundae before carrying it to an over-excited child who claps with your arrival. Your smile at the young boy’s happiness and delightful manners stays on your face as you make your way back over to the serving hatch, the bell ringing out continuously with the Friday night rush of families, friends and couples.

“Dude.” Dustin starts, leaning in closer to Steve as he breaks away from the rest of the conversation. Steve leans in too. “Why don’t you just ask her out already?” The prospect of doing such a thing is enough to bring sweat to the palms of his hands. Noticeably so that he has to rub his palms over his jeans to get the wetness off. His mouth feels dry, so he runs his tongue over the roof of his mouth and swallows what little saliva he has down his throat. “It’s so painfully obvious.”

“What is?” He quickly retorts, turning his face too fast so it’s left lingering extremely close to Dustin’s. He pulls back slightly and let’s Dustin observe how you make him feel. The slight tinge of pink has returned to his cheeks, and he hasn’t stopped rubbing his palms over his jeans. Dustin just laughs slightly and gives his head a shake before giving Steve an insignificant nod, indicating your return with an armful of their food.

“Alrighty.” You say as you settle their food down on the table, sliding the plates in the direction of whoever ordered what. The table digs into your stomach slightly as you stretch across to push El’s plate to her in the far corner of the booth, meaning you slightly lean across Steve. “‘Scuse me.” You gently breathe as you pull back, the smell of your perfume lingering after you push back from the table. He quickly inhales, wipes the corner of his mouth with his thumb and then grabs the cutlery. “Max just let me grab your milkshake, I’ll be right back.” You dust your hands off on your apron as you make your way back to the hatch, collecting Max��s milkshake before ambling back over to their table. “There you go, sweetie.” You turn her shake towards her and her eyes light up, looking at Lucas with wide eyes in admiration at her humongous milkshake. You smile at the pair; glad Max has someone as sweet and caring as Lucas. “Okay, think that’s everything.” Your eyes skim everyone’s plates to ensure you haven’t missed anything. “Can I get you guys anything else? Anymore sauces?”

Everyone replies with a cacophony of “No” and “Thank you” and you nod at them all, the boys already starting to shovel their food into their mouths as if they haven’t eaten for days. Max seems settled and Steve thanks you again before turning to his plate to eat.

The next half an hour passes in a blur of sundaes, hamburgers, spilt milkshakes, and grumbles from Deborah as you take in another stack of greased up, ketchup smeared plates. As you stand at the host station placing clean cutlery neatly into white napkins, Steve wanders over to you as he opens his wallet in front of him. You place your hands down on the counter, keeping the napkin well wrapped up in your hands. “Hey!” You beam at him as he approaches. “Was everything okay with the meal?” You finally place the neatened cutlery and napkins into their box and return your full attention to Steve.

“Was great. Five-star service, too.” The corner of his mouth hooks up into a smile and you reciprocate it broadly. “But I was wondering if I could pay now?”

You nod, taking their order from the small pile of tabs that you keep by the cash register. “Sure, you just wanna pay for yours?” You start keying in the price for Steve’s meal, but he cuts you off.

“No no, I’ll get everyone’s.” His offer is laced with the kindness he exudes, like warmth coming from a mug of coffee on a chilly day.

Your head tilts to one side and your eyebrows lift slightly, “Steve, that’s awful kind of you but are you sure?”

He nods, pulling out some cash he’s sure will cover it as he patiently lets you tot up the total for the meals on the register. “I’m totally sure.” He seems nervous, you notice from the corner of your eye his weight keeps shifting from one foot to the other. A small smirk forms on your lips, then quickly dissipates as you get ready to read the total out.

He hands the cash over without question and tells you to keep the change for the tip jar. “Thank you so much.” You hold the cash in your hands gratefully as you look back at him. He’s still stood behind the host stand, his eyes travelling nervously around you. As you drop the cash into the jar, he leans onto the station with his elbows.

“I was wondering if you wanted to catch a movie? After you finish up?” The words tumble out of him quickly, but his question is laced with reluctance, like he’s already prepared himself for you to say no.

You study his features, the soft-hearted nature of him shines through. Him paying for all the kids’ meals and still asking you out afterwards, you feel on top of the world that he’s asked you. You think of how sublime it would be, spending the evening with Steve after work, but you don’t finish up until close tonight and you fear that would be too late for him, making him waste the night waiting for you. Although it would feel anything but a waste to Steve. A feeling of defeat washes over you as you worry this could be the only time Steve asks you to do something, and you fear he will think that you’re making an excuse. “I’m here till close tonight.” The words fall regretfully from your mouth, and you see his features soften with disappointment.

He nods quickly, pursing his lips as he pushes back from the counter, giving it a tap as he readjusts his posture, standing tall. “Oh, yeah. Totally. No that’s fine.”

“But I could come over, when I’m done? I know it would be late, but I could bring us something to eat, and we could just, I dunno, chill?”

Inside his chest, his heart soars around like someone has ignited him and soon the sweaty palms return. He came over here expecting you to say no, but he figured it was worth a shot. He did not expect, however, for you to then suggest another idea. His worries and anxieties about asking you now seem so farcical when all along you had wanted the same.

He’s almost taken aback and has to bring himself back to the reality of being here in the diner, with you. “No, no it wouldn’t be too late. That’d be great.” He taps the counter again, the pair of you just looking over at one another, waiting for someone to speak. The pair of you never run out of things to say, never find it awkward to make conversation, never shut up really. But now, you both stand enthralled at the idea of spending some time together, just the two of you.

“I’ll pick you up?” He poses the question to you in a gesture of what seems like good will, but it’s really just a way to get to spend more time with you.

A torrent of emotion as intense as a winding river of rapids course through your veins and rise the temperature of your body, causing your skin to prickle intensely like tiny bolts of electricity hitting your skin. The flow of your emotional river ebbs, the source of the river stemmed as an anxious thought enters your stream of consciousness. You want Steve to see you at your best, not sweaty and smelling of cooking after a five-hour shift. “I will stink of grease.” You admit to him awkwardly. The perfume bottle you keep in your bag is a God send and you hope it will help to mask at least some of the smell.

He puffs air out between his lips and a smile softens across his face. “I really couldn’t care less.” He pushes his hands back from the counter where they’d been resting lazily, his muscles contracting underneath the sleeves of his t-shirt and you eye it quickly. The way the shape contorts and flexes under his skin as he pushes himself up from the counter again makes your eyes widen and your stomach throb. “Pick you up around ten, is that when you finish?”

“Yes! That sounds great, thank you!” You radiate, your words landing like a verbal high five.

He turns away, wordlessly, and gathers the kids up to leave. You click a few buttons on the register before finalising the receipt. They all wave and shout goodbyes as they make their way out of the diner, leaving as you turn to see your favourite group of regulars sat waiting for you to go over and take their order.

Outside, the wind turns to a chill and the clouds blow clear, leaving the sky black and bright above them. “So...” Dustin starts, elbowing Steve as they make their way to the car. The rest of the kids making their way to their buses home. “Did it work?”

Steve lifts his chin and laughs, “Quit making it sound like I’ve been doing some sort of experiment.”

Dustin just rolls his eyes and waits, expectantly.

“Yeah, it did ‘work’.” His fingers go up into air quotations before twisting the key to start the car with a low growl. “I’m seeing her after work.”

“TONIGHT?!” Dustin jeers in a high-pitched voice that makes his voice box squeal in delight. “Dude, how many times have I told you. She feels the same.”

“You think?” Steve quizzes, passing the conversation back to Dustin.

“Hell yeah.” Dustin smirks, showing Steve all his ‘pearls’ as Dustin likes to say. “Offering to see you after a shift at the diner?” He tilts his head and brings his eyes down playfully. “Must be love.” His voice exudes sickly sweet confidence and Steve backs out the car park, turning up his radio and rolling the windows down, despite the chill. He drives back happily and hasn’t once tried to deny Dustin’s final remark.

#stranger things imagine #stranger things blurbs #stranger things preferences #stranger things prompts #stranger things imagines #masterlist #steve harrington angst #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fluff #steve Harrington imagine #steve harrington one shot #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington comfort #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington imagines #steve harrington drabble #steve harrington requests #steve harrington blurb

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sapphicforsarahh · 9 months ago

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best hands i've ever seen

ship: loubbie x fem!reader

word count: 800+

warnings: dom!loubbie x sub!reader, no smut (yet), dom and sub themes, sexting

synopsis: debbie and lou are looking for a new crew mate for the newest heist plan, that's when you catch their eye.

A/N: let me know what you think of this and whether you'd like a second part!

"Deb, I'm telling you, this girl has some of the best hands I've seen," she whispers to her wife. Both of them watch as you perform magic tricks to people who are stupid enough to fall for them. "Look, watch this," Lou leans forwards from her chair and watches you attentively. Your hands cleverly moved to show the participants correct cards. As they looked at their friends in shock and awe, you confidently slip the gold engagement ring, decorated with a diamond, off this woman's finger and secretively slip it into your pocket, without a single one of them realising.

"Not too bad," Debbie agrees and Lou smirks in return. "A pretty girl too," Lou adds, Debbie hums in agreement. After the bystanders had walked off, it was just you left with Debbie and Lou in the distance. "What do you say Deb?", Lou tries to convince Debbie to consider you, knowing their could be other benefits of having you on the team. "Sure," Debbie says a bit more easily than Lou would've thought. Without another word, Debbie stands up, Lou quick to follow her and the couple begin to approach you.

You're sitting on your bucket, counting your previously 'earned' dollars when you hear an Australian voice grab your attention. "Hey, can I hel-", you look up to see the older couple. Jesus, were they beautiful. All the thoughts in your head disappeared and you somehow managed to mumble out, "is there anything I can do for you ladies?". Debbie chuckles out, "we've got a charmer here."

One of the women stood with a dark, grey trench coat that pretty much hid her entirely black outfit, but still managed for her stiletto heels to stick out. The other, a blonde, stood taller with a sophisticated yet sexy leopard print coat. The dark, green lapels of her blazer were peeking through and you noticed her chest and hands were complimented by stacks of jewellery, most likely 24 carat gold.

"Me and my wife here noticed how skillful you are with your hands," Debbie started, taking off her shades and looking down at you with alluring deep, brown eyes. "We were wondering, if you could help us with something?" Lou added, also taking off her sunglasses, her eyes juxtaposed with her wife, as she met your gaze with light, blue ones.

You clear your throat with anxiousness, wondering what these women had proposed to you. "Uh, what is it?", you finally plucked up the courage to ask. "Come with us sweetheart, we'll explain everything," Lou said, placing her fingertips on your chin, making the power dynamic even greater.

You nod obediently, not wanting to upset these clearly powerful women. Debbie and Lou stand to the side whilst they watch you collect your things. "She's obedient isn't she," Lou chuckled, grabbing onto the lower of her wife's back. "Always a good thing, are you thinking what I'm thinking?" Debbie looks at her wife with a raised brow, knowing her full intentions with this girl. As Lou was going to answer, you walked over with your bag on your back and ready to follow these women to wherever they were taking you.

"Let's get going, I bet you're eager to find out what we want, aren't you sweet girl?", Lou teases, walking forward and placing her hand on your back. "Yeah," you managed to squeak out, before the the two women pushed you into the taxi. Debbie sat in the front, whilst Lou got in the back with you. You tried to distract yourself by looking outside the window but you just couldn't concentrate on anything else apart from the insanely good-looking blonde next to you. Finally, you decide to stare at your feet and choose that as the safest option. The sound of Lou's ruffling coat caught your attention but you didn't look up. She took her phone from her pocket and looked at the notification from Debbie.

| Debbie: finish what you were going to say earlier love x.

You silently watch Lou smirk and quickly text back:

| Lou: i was going to say she’d be a good toy x.

she listened to every word we said without questioning it, we could break her in no time x.

Your eyes widened in shock at how these two women were talking about you. I mean would you really want that? Maybe you would!

| Debbie: good call baby, we'll discuss when we're back home x speaking of, i need you to take care of me once we're back i need you so badly honey x

You really try hard to hold back any reaction to the obvious sexting that's occurring in the back of this taxi, and it must've worked because all you hear is a small groan from Lou before she put her phone away.

-------

Taglist: @mllkw33ds @isle-of-earle @chillinftladygaga @cordeliaswife @angelick1sses @gmtsu @thenazwife @ladysc @midnightlove30 @blanchettlovebot

Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist!

#fanfic #lgbt #gay #cateblanchett #cate blanchett #oceans8 #lou miller #lesbian #oceans 8 #lou miller x reader #debbie ocean #debbieocean #loubbie #loubbiexreader #loubbie x reader

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onthepyre · 2 months ago

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He's overplayed, but sometimes, Glenn Miller just hits the fucking spot. You hear the song for the first time and maybe you aren't quite sure where it's going, but Mickey's danced to "In The Mood" every weekend for the last year. He's got it down to a science.

The girls come and go. He has favorite partners, that's for sure - ones that let him fling them in the air or send them flying out in light-speed spins, or even the ones who can just really groove. But sometimes they're there and sometimes they aren't, and ultimately, it doesn't make much difference to him. It's not about the girl at the other end of his arm. It's about Mickey and the music. He can feel it - the trombone in his feet, trumpet in his arms and sax in his shoulders, bass and drums thumping in his chest.

His ballroom isn't a popular one. It's a few regular faces and a handful of out-of-towners, passers-through who dance with an accent; on an average Saturday night, though, most of the attendees are the sort that rotate in and out of five or six different floors. It's hard to get them all in one place. But the band is decent, the admission cheap, and the bartenders heavy-handed. So it's Mickey's.

He's making his way off the floor after the night's fourth Miller track, panting, chatting lazily with the brunette who'd stepped on him a minute ago. She's got two left feet, but they exchange niceties - great dance, love that song, all the things Mickey says when he doesn't have anything to talk about. She wanders off when he makes it to the bar and doesn't offer to buy her a drink.

He sits silently, sipping whiskey, listening to the band's approximation of Count Basie. They're doing a shitty job with this one and people are falling off the dance floor left and right, doing whirlygig turns into their seats. There are only six dancers left on the floor by the middle of the song. Two of them are an ancient married couple, barely able to keep up with the inconsistent tempo. There's a pair of teens who keep losing the beat, but the third set are the ones that catch Mickey's eye. The girl is cute in a kiddish sort of way, round rosy cheeks and a big smile. She dances young, too, inexperienced but with flair. The man seems far more seasoned - he hits every accent and anticipates every pause like he's a member of the band. He leads the girl, green as she is, through some pretty complicated shit with ease. They're both ginger. Siblings, probably, Mickey thinks.

Mercifully, the song ends, and the redheads laugh their way out of a dip. The band kicks off another tune, one Mickey doesn't know the name of, and other dancers begin to trickle back onto the floor. He loses sight of the siblings until the man appears next to him and asks the bartender for some frilly cocktail Mickey's never heard of.

"Those were some neat tricks," he says to the man. "That your sister?"

"Yeah," the man answers, "Debbie. I'm Ian."

"Mickey."

"This is one of Deb's first nights out. Our other sister's been teaching her the ropes, but you can only get so far in a kitchen. She's getting way better with real music and real people."

"Band's havin' an off night tonight. I think the usual drummer is out."

"We'll have to come back when they're better equipped," Ian says with a grin. The bartender sets down his drink - he finishes half of it in one swallow.

"You ever tried to follow? Dance the girl's part for a night?" He looks over at Mickey out of the corner of his eyes.

"Hell would I do that for?"

"Makes you a better dancer." Ian shrugs, starts sliding off his stool. Mickey scoffs. "Here, c'mon. Give it a shot."

There's ice in Mickey’s veins. To ask that - and in a public place, no less - risks a lot more than his lindy-hopping skills. But Ian’s hand, open and waiting in front of him, is enticing. So Mickey can't rebuke him completely.

"Lotta moxie, you got."

"Wouldn't be here without it."

He's not sure what Ian means - here on this earth, here in this room, or here asking another man to dance. Mickey can't read his expression; he wears a good-natured, joking grin, but there's something else in his green eyes. Something pleading.

"Promise it won't be weird," Ian says. "I get ya, I swear."

Fuck.

Mickey can't say no, so he doesn't say anything, just drops his hand heavy into Ian's. He lets himself be led out onto the floor, willing them invisible to prying eyes at the bar. Ian drops the handhold and slides his arm around Mickey's back to start marking the beat, exaggerated, almost silly. They're late to the floor, left behind as the other dancers set off and running with the music. Still, within seconds, it's some of best chemistry Mickey's ever felt. Ian's giddiness is contagious and so is his rhythm. When he folds Mickey in so they're face to face, it's like greeting an old friend.

Ian's dancing is an open book, and Mickey can tell he's holding back at the start. He keeps them up to tempo, but only leads the boring shit - the kind of stuff the newcomers pick up first. The way he does it, though, high kicks and full-body pulse, is enough for Mickey to be suppressing a smile. When there's a heavy hit in the music, the kind that would have Mickey tossing a girl over his head, Ian pauses for a split second. It's clearly intentional, like he's waiting for Mickey to do something, but he's got no clue what girls do in moments like these.

He takes control instead - uses the tension in their arms to send Ian sliding across the floor under his legs, and Ian lets him do it. He pops back up as Mickey spins around, and just as the song hits its climax, the roles flip.

Back where he's comfortable, Mickey lets loose. He brings Ian in and sends him back out four times in a row, lightning-fast with the trumpet player's run. It gets Ian laughing, so Mickey's laughing, too, and it feels like his feet are floating an inch above the floor. They move in tight, near-violent circles, narrowly avoiding the other dancers close by.

The end of the song is building up - Mickey can tell in Ian's careful attention to his feet that he's anticipating it, too. The whole band crescendoes, the trombone digs into a slide, and Mickey dips Ian so low his head almost brushes the ground. Ian trusts him with it, kicks his foot up and lets his weight fall, his back arch. They hold there, eyes meeting for the longest few seconds of Mickey's life.

When they pull out of the dip as the band pauses, it feels wrong. To be around Ian, still linked at their hands, and not be dancing with him - Mickey feels uncoordinated, off-balance. But when Ian cracks a smile, Mickey's head is back on his shoulders, his feet back underneath him.

"Not so bad, right?" Ian asks.

"Guess not."

#gallavich #shameless #ian gallagher #mickey milkovich #lindy hop #this is gonna get lost in the kinktober fics. who cares though i like it #maybe if you squint it fits in #june's writing

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