#susie is so proud of herself

[disneyprincemuke]

basement noise * fem!driver

logan starts to feel a little left out

pairings: logan sargeant x fem!driver, sebastian vettel x fem!driver, oscar piastri x fem!driver

notes: hey surpRISE AND EARLY UPDATE WAHOOOO i'm trying to finish up her 2023 year before i start moving onto her 2024 season <3

(series masterlist) | (📂 the rookie season)

logan stares at the unanswered text message in their group chat, clicking his tongue as he glances at the time at the corner of his phone screen. it’s been an hour since he sent his text message.

he’s not saying his friends are ignoring him, but it is slowly starting to seem that way. his call time to the paddocks isn’t as early as theirs and that’s why they’ve arrived way before him.

he sighs. since the season had begun, it hasn’t been easy to integrate himself into the grid unlike his two other friends. oscar’s gotten along with lando and is doing great with his team. meanwhile she’s done exceptionally well, and even if she wasn’t, max and some of the older drivers seem to have taken quite the liking to her.

which shouldn’t be all that surprising to him. she had already found herself a new group of friends even before the season had started. from the kickstart of the pre-season testing, max had already paraded her around like he was a proud older brother.

sure, he has alex. by default. because they are teammates. but realistically, alex will always find himself preferring george’s company to his. they’re best friends, after all.

logan presses his lips together as the team car slowly comes to a stop right outside the paddocks. he glances at benny, focused on his own phone, texting his wife.

so he just keeps to himself as he alights the car. hopefully, he’s kept busy enough this weekend not to notice the distance that might go unnoticed by his friends, but is very prominent for him.

just as he walks through the gantries into the paddocks, he watches the smaller girl walk past him unknowingly, engaged in serious conversations with marta and susie. she’s turned the other way, so she doesn’t even notice him.

when he approaches the livelier areas of the paddocks, noticing oscar walking around with lando. oscar does notice him, smiling at him politely before he makes a sharp turn into the mclaren garage.

logan just sighs again, navigating his way to the williams garage with a weight in his chest.

“i’ll see you again later before your race! i promise!” she shouts, waving her arms in the air as she leaves susie and marta. she runs through the paddocks, truthfully unaware of where she is heading.

when sebastian had asked her to meet him somewhere, it could be anywhere in the paddocks. it could very easily well be at the aston martin home where fernando is hanging out, or their own.

she feels around in her pockets for her phone, halting in the middle of the crowd. she turns around, ready to chase susie to ask if she’d left her phone in her office by chance. but she can vividly remember where she left it in her driver’s room right before she bolted out, late for a lunch date with some of the drivers from the f1 academy.

she clicks her tongue, picking up her feet to start running again. she hears max calling out for her but she’s late, from what she can tell.

if only she was better at restraining herself from staying extra minutes just to hear the latest paddock gossip over lunch. but she couldn’t help herself as she increasingly got invested, giggling in her mind about how she’s going to tell logan everything in the evening when they leave the paddocks to get ice cream.

she arrives at the aston martin home, chest heaving as she approaches the one person loitering outside the building. “lance!”

the canadian whirls around at the call of his name with wide eyes, shocked that the younger girl is calling for him. yes, he is terrified of her, but that’s a story for another time.

“yes?”

“has my race engineer been kidnapped by your grandpa?” she asks, hands on her hips and slightly hunched over as she tries to catch her breath.

“my,” lance takes a deep breath, “grandpa?”

“fernando. has fernando kidnapped my race engineer? he told me to meet him, but i don’t know where.”

lance presses his lips into a thin line. “have you tried texting him?”

she sighs, shaking her head. “no, i left my phone in my room. i don’t have the time to go and get it.”

“oh!” lance perks up, reaching into his back pocket and offers it to her. “here, you can use my phone.”

she mutters a soft thank you as she takes the phone into her hands, navigating lance’s contact list. she raises an eyebrow and looks at him. “you saved my number as grid princess? really?”

“we all have your number saved as that.”

“i-“ she shakes her head, finding for the number she needs. “not important.”

she presses the phone to her ear as it rings, hoping that sebastian answers his phone. hopefully he’s not as forget as her.

“lance?”

“no.”

“you sound different, lance.”

“seb! it’s me! i left my phone in my room.”

“oh, (y/n)!” there’s a pause. “why are you using lance’s phone?”

“i can’t find you,” she mutters, shaking her head in shame as lance watches her. “tell me where you are or i’ll be even later for our meeting. was it over a cup of coffee or what?”

“coffee. come quick.”

“come on, mate.” logan stares at alex blankly, watching the older driver tug at his hand towards the door of his room. “you’ve got to join us for a snack. george is buying food.”

“i don’t feel like eating,” logan mutters, retracting his arm immediately. he lies on the massage table of his room, moving his hand under his head. “go without me.”

“i can’t!” alex frowns. “your best friend told me to take care of you. i can’t grab food and leave you here by yourself.”

logan shrugs. “if you’re only inviting me because she told you to, i don’t wanna go.”

“what?” alex tilts his head. “no, george asked me to bring you! we’re sneaking out of the paddocks for a bit to get food! come on! the local food here is amazing.”

“i don’t want to go.”

“logan.”

“alex?”

“i’m telling james you’re locking yourself inside your room again. he won’t be happy.”

logan looks at alex without moving his head, the glare shooting daggers at the older driver. alex raises his eyebrows with a small smile, never having seen this emotion in the rookie.

“i don’t care if you tell him.”

“fine, be that way,” alex sighs dejectedly. he doesn’t want to use more names as a bargaining chip, but it seems that he will have to resort to exactly that. “i’ll just tell oscar and (y/n) you’re being like this.”

logan scoffs, dropping his phone by his head. he breathes out exasperatedly and rolls to lie on his back. “as if they’d care.”

alex, already halfway to the door, stops in his tracks and turns around. “mate,” he trails off softly, “what do you mean by that?”

“it’s so obvious,” logan sighs again, turning to face the wall. “she’s always with max or whoever. i’m alone.”

“i’m here with you right now.”

logan furrows his eyebrows. that’s not what he means. alex probably knows that too. “i just wanna be alone right now, alex. i’m sorry.”

“oh, okay. i’ll bring you something back.”

logan turns around quickly, chasing for alex’s presence. “alex, wait.”

alex turns around just as before he is able to close the door. he’s hopeful that logan would join him and george for some food — the rookie often spending time with his two best friends means that he doesn’t get many opportunities to get to know him outside of team content and meetings.

“don’t tell them i said that, okay?” he sighs before looking down to avoid the curious brown eyes. “i don’t want them knowing i feel that way.”

alex hums. sometimes he sees his younger self in the rookie. the rookie’s often introverted demeanour makes it very easy to sympathise with him, especially when he had a rough couple of years in another team all by himself. he knows what it feels like.

perhaps what logan needs is space. hopefully he opens up soon, and then alex can finally put his mind to rest with some reassurance. because it’s not like his performance is helping him out with his confidence. he’s been there, done that.

“okay,” alex nods. “your secret’s safe with me.”

lando hums, looking around the paddocks. his eyes lands on his teammate, who is simply staring off blankly at the grandstand as he chews away on his sandwich.

“what?” oscar asks monotonously, still looking ahead with his eyes half open. he’s sunk into the small seat situated at the edge of their garage with his leg over the other. “i can feel you looking at me, mate. what is it?”

“oh,” lando says softly, chuckling to himself. he sinks into his own seat and turns away to take a bite from his own sandwich. “nothing. i was just wondering where dumb and dumber are.”

he sees oscar perk up with realisation, turning to look at him slowly. his eyebrows are furrowed at the sheer realisation of what’s been missing the entire day. he lets out a soft “ah” before he turns to look at the grandstand again. “i don’t actually know. we’ve been so busy today — i hadn’t even noticed.”

the older driver laughs, nodding along. “yeah, we only get busier from here, mate. i haven’t texted max back still. actually, i don’t even know where my phone is.”

oscar laughs, licking his lips. “neither do i. i barely even got to have a 5 minute phone call with lily this morning. i had to leave so early.”

“just one more interview and we’re free,” lando sighs, shaking his head. truthfully, he’s grown quite tired too. for someone like him, running out of energy to be talking to everyone doesn’t come often. but it feels like the day is finally getting the best of him.

he’s simply dreading the next interview they’ve got. he doesn’t know how many more fake laughs and forced smiles he’s got within himself. he doesn’t want to do small talk anymore. he just wants to head back to the hotel and get some sleep for what friday has to bring them.

“getting ice cream with the powerpuff girls tonight?”

oscar laughs with a simple nod. “of course. she’s not going to let a weekend by where we don’t try some local ice cream.”

“alright, good meeting,” sebastian grins at her, slowly closing his laptop. “so you know what to do this weekend, kid? confident you’ll score some points?”

“of course,” she laughs with a small nod. “i’m ready to tackle the weekend.”

sebastian stands up, holding the laptop against his chest. “good! so, where are you headed to now?”

she smiles. “hopefully off to take a shower and start getting ready for my ice cream date with the boys.”

“ah! exciting,” sebastian grins. “well i’ve got one more meeting. you’ll be okay on your own?” she nods. “okay, well, if you leave before my meeting ends, let me know, alright?”

“of course!” she beams with a grin. she spots a familiar shade of blue across the paddocks, beaming when she spots logan in the crowd of williams personnel. she tries to push past sebastian, who’s now opening the door, and attempts to dart out to stop logan for a quick conversation to confirm their ice cream date that evening. before she can make it to the top of the steps, another familiar face pops up in front of her with a wide smile.

sebastian greets max before quickly excusing himself, leaving the girl with the older driver. “hi?”

“hi!” max greets her with an excited wave. “are you busy? i need your help.”

she opens her mouth, deciding her answer as she peeks over his shoulder. she answers with a soft ‘yeah’ as she watches the crowd of blue walking away and disappearing from her sight. “what is it?”

“we’re going to the uk for a vacation this summer and p’s coming along with us. i wanna plan something — she really wants to meet you.”

logan sighs to himself, leaning up against the railing of the stairs leading up to the andretti racing home. he looks around the paddocks and then glances down at his phone for the time. everybody is late. could it be possible that plans were cancelled without him knowing?

could it be that her and oscar agreed to call raincheck without remembering to let him know? which would them simply confirm his suspicions that he is slowly losing his best friends.

but there’s no other time but tonight to get ice cream together. unless she’s planning to get it with somebody else? he huffs to himself and pushes himself off the railing to start his journey back to his hotel room for a lonely night. that was, until he hears a voice calling out to him.

“oh, logan! are you waiting for her? why don’t you come in and sit down while you wait?” sebastian smiles, letting the door close behind him. he walks down the steps, immediately noticing the sadder aura around the boy.

sure, he knows that logan is typically soft spoken by himself, but he believes that he knows logan well enough now that he is comfortable being himself. “is something wrong? the media picked you apart again today, kid?”

logan looks up and quickly shakes his head. he rubs the back of his neck and hisses softly. “no, it’s not that,” he laughs sheepishly, trying to ignore the heavy weight on his chest. “have my plans been cancelled, seb? did i not know?”

maybe he should try opening up to sebastian? if anyone knows what it’s like falling out with a friend, sebastian is definitely one of those people, right?

he watches sebastian process his words. he immediately regrets opening up to him. “ah, forget it.”

“no, no! i’m glad you’re opening up to me,” sebastian snaps out of his trance and puts a comforting hand on his shoulder. “i’m not judging you. i get it. are you feeling okay?”

logan shrugs with a soft frown. “i don’t know. just a little weird — my text in the group chat from this morning’s still unanswered.”

sebastian stares at him, trying to come up with the words to try and make him feel better. until it hits him. “oh! is that what you’re concerned about?” sebastian laughs, pulling logan into his side for a hug. “she wasn’t ignoring you! she left her phone in her driver’s room and never had the time to go back in to get it. we were riddled with interviews and meetings all day. then max hijacked her early in the evening to plan something with penelope.”

logan looks at him, skeptism written all over his face. “are you serious?”

“i’m serious, kid,” sebastian confirms with a firm nod. “and i ran into oscar and lando earlier. they were super busy too. oscar even told me he can’t wait to finally sit back and relax with you guys at the ice cream parlour.”

as if on cue, oscar pops up from the corner of the racing home with his bag lazily strung over his shoulder. “why are you guys hugging?”

sebastian frowns. “what’s wrong with that?”

oscar shakes his head, blinking rapidly. “nothing, i suppose.” he rubs his eyes and groans. “i’m just a little tired, probably. i can’t wait to get some ice cream.”

logan feels the weight slowly lifting from his chest. logan slumps his shoulders slightly with a grin. he tries to confirm sebastian’s allegations. “i haven’t seen you all day, mate. busy day?”

“busiest i’ve had in a while,” oscar yawns, covering his mouth. “i haven’t even gotten to talk to lily at all today.”

the door swings open with a loud shriek, their body suddenly knocked back by a body throwing itself against them. he looks down in shock at the smaller girl who has her arms thrown around his and oscar’s bodies. “hey!”

she hops back excitedly, hair pulled back into a new hairstyle. “ice cream?” she nods excitedly at logan and then she turns to oscar, repeating the question.

oscar throws his head back with a laugh. he wraps an arm around her shoulder, and smiles. “of course. i’ve been looking forward to ice cream with you guys all day.”

sebastian finally steps away from him with a small smile and a thumbs-up. he returns the gesture, his warm smile finally putting the older man at ease. it would be a shame to watch a friendship as genuine and great as theirs fall apart. as much as he can, he would like to make sure that their authenticity never ever leaves them.

“come on! i wanna go and walk around town after we get ice cream,” she shrieks, reaching out to pull logan along with her. she glances at sebastian. “would you like to join us, seb?”

sebastian laughs, politely declining her offers. “i just want to take a nap after the day we’ve had.”

she nods, wrapping an arm around logan’s torso as they start to walk to the exit of the paddocks. “which one of you’s driving tonight? cause it’s definitely not me.”

“i’ll drive,” logan nods willingly, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and giving her a soft squeeze. “i heard you left your phone in your room all day. how’d you survive being apart from your phone for that long?”

she throws her head back with a groan. “barely! i can’t believe i went the whole day without chatting with you guys!”

oscar scoffs. “clingy.”

taglist: @wcnorris @treehouse-mouse @laura-naruto-fan1998 @mindless-rock @leilanixx @ironmaiden1313 @angsthology @cherry-piee @christianpulisic10 @elliegrey2803 @cashtons-wife @nikfigueiredo @darleneslane @happy-nico @namgification @sadg3 @a10vely-yutazen @mellowarcadefun @glitterf1 @megatrilss1885 @peqch-pie @gentlyweeps-world @woozarts @meadhbhcavanagh @inejismywife @2bormaybenot @love4lando

[starkwlkr]

It’s been a pleasure to read your works Jen, no one writes quite like you. Wishing you well and hope you’ll come back soon. I understand this isn’t your usual pairing but it would mean a lot to me and if you have the time: I could request: ‘Toto x Susie x reader’ where she is an upcoming driver, her family weren’t supportive and the Wolff’s take her under their wing as one of their own overtime? Thanks so much 🥰

what was i made for? | F1

for the purpose of this fic, the reader is going to be a rookie during the 2019 season because yes <3 live laugh love 2019 rookies 🫶🏼also this is my last post so thank you for all the love and support!!

Y/n knew how her parents felt about karting. They always told her the same thing: that’s no place for a little girl, you’re going to get hurt blah blah blah. But she wasn’t a little girl anymore. She continued with her dreams. Eventually she found herself winning trophies and raising it on the small podium. Then the small podium turned into a bigger one.

The journey to F1 was hard, but she was proud of herself. The holidays were especially hard for her. She hard received the news that her family wasn’t going to be with her for the holidays at all.

She didn’t live in Monaco like most of the drivers on the grid, she couldn’t afford it. For now, she was living with a roommate in London. But even her roommate had plans with her own family so Y/n was going to be spending her time alone in her flat with nothing but takeout and Netflix.

Toto Wolff was the first one to notice the frown on the young girl’s face. It was a late night in there paddock and all the team principals had a late meeting. He was surprised to see her. All the drivers were gone, most likely already on flights to their families or vacation homes. But she was still here.

“Are you waiting on someone?” Toto asked.

“No, I just don’t want to leave right now. Is that weird to say?” She replied.

“I don’t find it weird. I just thought you would’ve already been on a plane headed towards Ibiza or Mallorca. I think that’s where most drivers and their families go for the holidays. What are your plans?”

“Well . . . I have a new season of this show that I’m watching to catch up on. I might watch all the marvel movies. And if I finish everything before break is over then I guess I’ll just sleep.” She said casually.

“You’re not going to spend time with your family?” He questioned.

“I don’t know where they are. Last time I checked, they were in the Maldives. All I got was a text saying they couldn’t meet me at the airport and my roommate is away with hers, but at least I get the flat all to myself.” She tried to sound cheery, but Toto could hear the hurt in her voice.

“No, that’s unacceptable. You’re not spending the holidays alone.”

And that’s how Y/n ended up on a flight with the Wolff family to their preferred vacation destination. Y/n had gotten to know more about the young boy, Jack Wolff, and his love for Legos. He even let Y/n build a car, which surprised both of his parents since he didn’t like people grabbing his legos.

“Can Y/n come over for Christmas too?” Jack asked his mother.

“Why don’t you ask her if she wants to come over?” Susie encouraged the boy. She was hoping Y/n would say yes.

“Y/n, would you like to spend Christmas with us? Papa and I always make cookies and Mama always lets me open one present before bed! And we can make gingerbread houses and stay up all night!” Jack said.

“All night? What if Santa sees us?”

“We can be really quiet.”

Susie and Toto watched as Y/n and Jack talked about what they wanted for Christmas. “We can’t let her be alone on Christmas, Toto.” She whispered to her husband.

“She won’t, she has us.”

“And that’s P8, Y/n! Good job, you did great.”

Y/n would be lying if she said she didn’t feel like crying a bit. The beginning of the season wasn’t good, but she kept going and soon she made it into the points. She did it, she scored her first points in F1.

After getting back to the garage, she spotted Jack and Susie waiting for her with big smiles on their faces.

“You did it! Go Y/n!” Jack pounced on her the second she got out of her car.

“Thank you, Jack!” Y/n smiled and gave the little boy a hug.

“Did you hear me yelling your name? I was with papa, but I wanted you to win.” Jack said as he grabbed Y/n’s hand and walked with her towards Susie.

“I heard you, you were yelling so loud.” Y/n chuckled. She then saw how proud Susie looked and couldn’t help herself so she immediately gave Susie a hug.

“You did so well, Y/n! And you scored points! That’s amazing!” Susie cheered.

“Thank you, I think I might cry.” Y/n admitted.

“You should be proud of yourself. I am.”

Drive to survive

“How did you feel when you scored your first points?”

Y/n instantly smiled at the memory. She remembered it all too well. Her and the Wolff family celebrating afterwards, her being congratulated by everyone on the grid.

“Oh man, it was my happiest day. Before that I used to say my happiest day hadn’t happened yet. I was content with at least scoring one point, but I got four! It was amazing and I’m glad that the people that love and support me were there to witness that special moment with me.” Y/n smiled.

The camera cuts to a smiling Toto. He looked like a proud dad and he was. Toto considered Y/n to be part of his family.

“Proud. That’s all I can say.”

[housemaiden-of-change]

INTRODUCTION POST!!!

Hi!! My name is Mirabelle (She/her), and I'm travelling with my friends Siffrin, Isabeau, Odile, and Bonnie! We're here to save Vaugarde from The King! This is my first time running something like this sooo I'm a little nervous, and I have a few personal boundaries:

- No NSFW or flirtatious messages please!!! I personally don't like that kind of stuff

- Please don't be too mean! Especially to other askers! We all see the world differently

- Art submissions are welcomed AND appriciated!!

- While I believe everyone is allowed to interract with my blog, I have some acceptions! No Homohphobes, transphobes, racists, MAPs, Proshippers, basically anyone who is "Anti-Change" Change is apart of life, buster! Deal with it!

- You don't have to ask me for a hug or to be your friend! To Dormonts house, you are a friend of us all! <3

- Bonnie has a blog of their own now! Bonnie rules semi-no longer apply! :3

Now for some words of the Blog Manager!

Hi hey and hello! Its me, @imlivinginyourtrashcan (He/Him) and I have finally caved! (Hope you are proud Siffrin)

Now for my personal boundaries for this blog, along with simple requests:

-My rules are the same as Mirabelles, but with my own ooc twist

-While Mirabelle herself is a She/Her user, I am not! I use He/Him, I won't tolerate purposeful misgendering

- I finished the game! Not in full, still have stuff to do some of the achivements, so be careful with spoilers still 🙏🙏🙏 (ask before you initiate, please, I didnt get Who Was The Phone yet so getting that ask qualified as a spoiler)

- Any godmod or metagaming request will be denied! Or, cleaverly intercepted by 《 The omnious unnamed narraror!~ 》. If you have to ask if its godmodding, it probably is! Don't do it!

- I have the right to deny or veto an ask, and you all have done a great job listening (except with the excess geese attempt), but if I, in character or not, say not to do it, dont!

- Anon is off. Maybe you can earn it back, but I doubt it. Run away, weirdos! [Sptzz sptzz] ....but if you were a nice fella and wanna remain anon, I can blur your name and pfp! Just say so in ask (same rules as Mundie)

- This Blog will follow the shennanigans of @a-traveling-star (King), @studies-of-nothing (Ninja), @defender-of-jouvente (Mundie), @snacksleader (Susie), and @loopadoop (Unsure if they want to be called smthn else yet)

Occasionally in the askbox, we'll get a rp scenario with "Suzu" thats our mutual friend @cookieeevee you should go follow them theyre so cool.

- Please no ship related asks, love you guys but I dont want a war in my comments section /lh

- Like the others have stated before, do not rush us! Please! None of you have done it to ME but my friends have reported it happening to them, we all have lives! We'll get to you eventually!

- I personally don't give a shit if an au self comes around, but don't force it into the canon please, time and place! But come say hi whenever!

- I'm fine with being adressed in ooc and will sign my name with ooc brackets, but just cuz im ok with it doesn't mean you should start pressuring other people to do the same. Some people wanna remain anon and thats perfectly ok :)

- Alsoooo~ Cuz this is an au, ill be tagging things [besides act 0] in their respective acts 🫡

Bye Bye!! ~

[wpmz]

a lil concept/design sheet of the gangs' costumes for my deltarune halloween comic! :]

multiple paragraphs of yapping about it under the cut bc i actually put way too much thought into who got which costume lol

i kept a few things in mind while trying to decide each character's costume, the biggest of which were probably A) it should still look good when combined with their dark world outfit B) i wanted them all to be classic halloween monsters (so no other characters like mario or minecraft steve or w/e) C) none of them could dress as a monster who is another major character in ut/dr just cuz i thought it'd be a little weird lol (so no skeletons or ghosts for example) and D) i tried to keep in mind each character's family life/accessibility to a costume in the first place (so kris + noelle have the more elaborate costumes vs berdly and susie having theirs be more low effort/over their normal clothes)

originally i had sketched susie as a zombie/frankenstein sorta creature, but then i remembered susie calling kris the 'school zombie' (plus kris's general zombie-like neutrality) so i ofc switched that over to kris. had the idea that the dark world would make their halloween costumes more 'real' so thats why their brain is out in that one lol

didn't have too many other ideas for susie, as a lot of the ones i was having broke some of the rules i listed above. at first i was thinking maybe werewolf but i felt that the ears/tail might lean a little too cutesy for her, and then i was thinking maybe like godzilla-esque but didn't know how to do that when susie is already vaguley godzilla-esque by herself. i also wanted to keep her costume looking more low-effort due to her parents (if they even exist) probably not caring enough to get a nice costume. which is how we ended up at toilet paper mummy susie

noelle is a witch because i thought it'd be cute + i wanted her to be matching with catti (who i think would also obviously be a witch for halloween). her costume is the most elaborate (complete with matching candy pail), both because i think she'd like dressing up for halloween and well. the mayor's daughter certainly has appearances to keep up doesnt she? (also quite proud of her little shawl changing to look sort of like angel wings in the dark world :] )

berdly i also struggled with. my first impulse was to make him some kinda video game character, but like i said i kind of wanted them all to be more classic halloween monsters, plus i didn't really think any of those ideas would mesh well with his dark world outfit. ended up going with vampire bc i feel like its one of the more nerd-coded halloween monsters out there. i liked drawing his little fake fangs it makes him look silly

[hesbuckcompton-baby]

Better Off - Bernard DeMarco x OFC - Chapter 5

Masterlist | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 |-| Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12

AO3

Summary: A nearby air raid forces Susie to confront the past

Warnings: Drinking, alcohol, death/description of dead body, angst again yayyyy

Word Count: 4.1k

Tags: @xxluckystrike @latibvles @footprintsinthesxnd @mads-weasley @joyfulbookreviewmarvelspy

The band was in full swing, the sound of Egan's terrible singing almost drowned out by the overlapping din of music and conversation that filled the officers' club, the flight crews toasting another successful mission. Susie couldn't recall what the mission had been about - she wasn't even sure anyone had told her in the first place. She'd gotten used to taking Meatball without question and going about her day - what the pilots did never affected her, save for the faint sense of anxiety that had begun to permeate her during the hours they were away. It was unnerving.

"Oh, you have got to be shitting me," Maeve huffed, eliciting a proud laugh from Charlotte as she forked over another fistful of the peanuts they'd acquired from the bar to act as poker chips.

"Call it a punishment for being so young and sprightly," Charlotte shrugged, a smug grin curling her lip as she took her share. They had acquired a table in the back corner of the club, far from the dancing but comfortably close to the alcohol, Charlotte's huge engagement ring and Susie's resting-bitch-face a foolproof deterrent to protect them from any unwanted attention.

"She's just jealous, Maeve - her freedom's running out, and she's taking it out on us," Susie smirked, reaching for the bottle of wine in the middle of the table to refill their glasses. It was a recurring joke among the women - that Charlotte's engagement had only been dragged out as far as it had because she secretly dreaded being 'tied down', dreaded losing her individuality and becoming one of those stereotypical housewives, like the girls Susie had never gotten along with growing up. It was all in jest. Her sisters were married, and most were decently happy. But it had never been a future Susie had been able to picture for herself, and maybe that was why she felt the need to poke fun.

"Ha-ha," Charlotte drawled sarcastically, and Maeve let out another sigh of despair as she turned over another card. "You'll be the only ones showing up to the wedding alone with that attitude - two old spinsters in the back."

The sound of whimpering distracted the group from their petty bickering as Meatball padded over, resting his head dramatically in Susie's lap, ear twitching against her thigh. As she reached for a couple of the peanut-poker-chips, tossing them into the dog's waiting mouth, the other two let out cries of annoyance, and Maeve hunched over the table, beginning to try and count how many remained.

"Ladies," From behind her, DeMarco approached, drink in hand as he surveyed the state of their table - peanuts scattered all over the place, interspersed with an almost-empty bottle of wine and several glasses, their playing cards tattered and stained. The game was a mess, entirely indecipherable to anyone except the three of them.

"Your dog's eating our poker chips," Charlotte stated dryly.

"Susie's fault!" Maeve added, reaching over to scratch behind Meatball's ear.

"Oh, I'm sure," He nodded, smirking faintly as he lifted his glass to his lips. His other hand rested on the back of Susie's chair, fingers occasionally brushing against her back when she moved.

Susie stared down at her hand of cards. Her gaze had not shifted to look at him since the moment he arrived. "Thought you usually dance at these things. Why don't you go ask... Gwen, or someone. She'd probably say yes."

"I don't wanna dance with Gwen," Benny shrugged. "I came over here to see if you'd dance with me."

Maeve's brow raised, shooting Susie a pointed look, but she didn't notice, playing her turn. "Can't. Busy."

He peered over her shoulder at the cards in her hand. She was losing. Badly, in fact. "... I can see that."

Charlotte stared across at him, noticing the way his brow furrowed, frown deepening slightly as he noticed Susie's hand. "DeMarco has a terrible poker face."

"Oh, dammit!" Susie huffed, turning sideways in her chair to whack him across the arm with her cards. With a stubborn frown, she tossed her cards down onto the table, and Maeve let out a sigh of relief at the game's sudden ending. "Enjoy your peanuts, Charlotte. I hope your wedding sucks."

Standing up from her seat, she came face to face with DeMarco, who appeared slightly appalled at her last remark. "Jesus, sore loser much?"

"Wouldn't have lost if you could keep a straight face."

"I don't think anything could've saved you there, sweetheart," He admitted as she reached for her wine, pouring the last of the red liquid down her throat. It clearly wasn't her first glass - the slight flush in her cheeks could attest to that - but she was holding it well, her aggression no more irrational than usual.

"So?" DeMarco prodded.

"So... what."

He put his empty glass down on the nearest table, holding out his hand for her to dance. Susie hesitated for a moment before letting out a scoff, rolling her eyes as she took his hand in hers, letting him lead her towards the dancefloor.

"You know I hate dancing," She pointed out somewhat bitterly.

"You hate most things. And you're a nice dancer."

"God, I don't like you."

"See, that’s just not true," DeMarco grinned. "Hurtful. But not true."

Susie couldn't stop herself from smiling, looking down at her feet as they moved in time with the music. "There she is," She could hear the smirk in his voice and tilted her head back up to face him, biting her lip to stop a chuckle as she refused to meet his eye. He was staring. She could feel it, resisting the urge to squirm.

"Stop it," She shook her head, pushing against the palm that held hers.

"Stop what?"

"Staring."

That boyish grin never wiped itself from his expression as he tilted his head sideways to get a better look at her. Susie couldn't reciprocate his gaze, not when he looked at her like that, turning away as a nervous chuckle escaped her throat. DeMarco felt her grip on his hand slip, and was about to speak again when a sudden interruption sounded.

"Come on everybody! Bike race in the mess hall! Who's in?"

The very moment the invitation was issued, the crowds began to disperse, couples fleeing the dance floor in a dash to the door, their ranks thinning by the second. Susie pulled away, hands dropping to her sides as she took a step back. "That sounds like your cue, DeMarco."

His hand was still raised where it had been when she'd held it, and as she turned away to find her friends, he let out a long sigh. "...Damn it all."

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

She found Charlotte and Maeve halfway along the path to the mess hall, a new bottle of wine in Charlotte's hand as they passed it between themselves, sipping straight from the neck. Susie stepped in seamlessly, announcing her arrival by tugging it from Maeve's grip, the tart liquid running smoothly down her throat.

"Thought you were off with your pilot," Charlotte teased, stealing the bottle as soon as she was done.

"He's racing. I'm babysitting again," She raised Meatball's leash, and Maeve let out a slight gasp of delight as she noticed the dog trailing along beside them, tail wagging in satisfaction.

DeMarco dragged his bike into position beneath the mess hall lights, shouldering for space among the crowd of pilots, pressed together so tightly he barely had room to pedal. Buck and Bucky had pushed their way to the front, exchanging grins with him as they passed, and all around the edges of the room spectators pressed themselves up against the wall, waiting anxiously for the race to begin.

His gaze searched the crowds distractedly, not quite attuned to the announcer's instructions as he searched for Susie among them. When he spotted her, he couldn't help but let out a laugh, drawing the confused stares of the men beside him. She was stood in the far corner with her friends, cradling Meatball in her arms like a giant baby so that he wouldn't get underfoot and trip any of the cyclists in all of the excitement. Her head was turned away from him, talking to Charlotte, but every now and then one of the other women would raise the wine bottle they were sharing up to her lips, a red droplet running down her chin where it missed.

Maeve must have told a joke, for Susie suddenly began to laugh, nose scrunched, eyes screwed tightly shut. The sight made him smile, and the sudden bang! of the starting pistol startled him, pushing off with a clumsy start and almost knocking over the man beside him as the race began.

Her expression contorted into momentary horror as DeMarco seemed to almost crash before even crossing the starting line, but he quickly found his footing, and her friends let out cheers of encouragement as the men zipped past, navigating the twists and turns with reckless abandon. Meatball let out a howl, mimicking the whooping of the crowd, and she laughed, the wine beginning to go to her head.

All three of them had begun to go red in the face, everything seemingly far funnier than it had been an hour ago. And as Cleven and Egan screwed it up on their final corner, their bikes taking a tumble, knocking down the cyclists behind them in turn, it suddenly seemed one of the funniest things they'd ever seen, tears brewing in Susie's eyes as she let out a cackle of laughter.

DeMarco had just managed to avoid the crash, wheeling to a stop and a long, sobering siren split the air. The energy in the room didn't seem to dissipate for a moment, realisation about what was happening encroaching slowly, but the sound had ripped Susie out of her somewhat-drunken haze instantly, a sudden nausea bubbling in her stomach.

Her gaze darted wildly across the room, waiting for the rest of them to notice, to get up and move. It wasn't until Charlotte shot her an unnerved glance that she realised her breathing had quickened, coming sharp and ragged, panic clearly visible in her expression.

"It's ok, we're good," She assured her, a hand on her arm as she put Meatball down, his claws skittering against the linoleum. "Let's go, yeah?"

Susie nodded firmly, making a beeline for the door just as the situation seemed to become apparent to the rest of the room, the cyclists collecting their bikes and calmly departing for the air raid shelters. Leaving the warmth of the mess hall and stepping out into the cool night air seemed to make it easier to breathe, panic beginning to subside as she took in their surroundings - the squat Nissen huts, the rolling countryside in the distance.

This wasn't the city. This wasn't home. No one was out to get her here.

But then she reached the top of the stairs to the shelter. Staring down at the dark doorway, she couldn't take that next step, couldn't descend below ground level to wait it out.

"You take Meatball and go down," Susie turned to Maeve, pressing his leash into her hand. "I'll come in a minute."

"Okay," Her friend nodded, looking up at her with concern as she took the dog down the steps, disappearing into the shelter with the others. People flooded past as she pushed against the tide, pulling away from the crowd and stepping back into the grass.

The sky lit up with dozens of colours, explosions of flame and flak smoke like blots of watercolour against the clouds. The hum of engines and the rattle of anti-aircraft guns were far from unfamiliar sounds to Susie's ears as she sat down on the lawn, pressing her hands into the grass, tethering herself to the knowledge that it was different here - that they weren't the target.

She'd been awoken by these sirens so many times before, listening to the rustle of bedsheets beside her as Ellie scrambled awake, shaking her shoulders until she got up. Susie couldn't even remember why Ellie hadn't been home the night they'd killed her. All she remembered was sitting in the shelter with her mother, and the blinding daylight as they reemerged the next morning.

"Hey," A voice broke her train of thought, tugging her gaze from the planes that circled above like moths to a flame. The woman standing above her was dressed in a WAAF uniform, frizzy brown hair falling to her shoulders, an unlit cigarette between her lips. She recognised her, but she couldn't quite pinpoint who she was.

"Hi," Susie nodded, brow furrowing slightly as the woman sat down beside her. She stared at her for a long moment, watching the way flickers of orange light flashed across her face as the fighting continued above.

"... You're the mechanic, right?"

The woman smiled, holding out a hand to her. "Frankie."

She accepted, shaking it gingerly. "Susie."

Frankie nodded, and Susie accepted a cigarette as she held the box out to her. "Not many people 'round here with an accent like yours."

"Manchester."

"...Ah," She let out a long sigh, clearly piecing things together immediately. "I got friends in Coventry."

"Everything's a shitshow," Susie huffed, lighting her cigarette, and Frankie let out a low hum of agreement, leaning back on her elbows.

"We're okay out here, though."

"My sister... Got a sister in London. One of the plotters. She'll be all over this."

"My friend George takes their telegrams."

They sat in silence for a long moment, and Susie suddenly realised she was still carrying the half-empty bottle of wine, too consumed by panic at the mess hall to have bothered putting it down.

"... You want some?" She offered, holding it out to Frankie.

"Oh, thanks," She smiled, tipping it by the neck and taking a long sip. Susie couldn't stomach the idea of drinking anymore. She didn't reach for it back, and Frankie didn't pass it.

Sucking in a long, tight breath, Susie lay back, feeling the damp grass against her scalp. 'My sister...' She'd almost told her. A complete, utter stranger, and she'd almost let it slip. She almost told everyone these days. Ellie's body had been dragged out from the rubble, pale and battered and limp, but it hadn't been her. Not truly. Her body was an empty vessel - whatever had truly been her had slipped away the moment her head caved in. It seemed as if every room she entered now, she brought with her a silent cry of ‘Have you seen my sister?’, a quiet search for her soul in the eyes of others.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

It lasted just less than an hour. As soon as the planes had arrived, they were gone again, the sky falling flat and black, the buzzing silenced. Frankie had said something to her before she left, but Susie hadn't been listening. When she looked up, the mechanic was gone. So was the wine.

Her watch had just ticked past midnight by the time she sat up, smoothing down her damp hair with one hand as she rose to her feet. Something bubbled within her, something caught in her throat that made her feel all at once about to vomit and about to weep. She took a deep breath, watching as people began to clamber out of the shelter across the lawn. DeMarco was with them, a part of the dispersing crowd of spectators, and even through the darkness, he caught her gaze, a frown creasing his brow. They drifted towards each other as they walked, meeting halfway.

"Where were you?" He asked. "You were supposed to be in the shelter."

"So were you," She huffed. He could tell something was bothering her. She reached up to scratch her nose every other second, an incessant, phantom itch that she couldn't conquer. "D'you have a phone?"

"... Are you ok?"

"Fine. Just need to call someone."

DeMarco frowned, watching her expression keenly. "There's one in the officers' club. I'll walk you over."

She was surprised the place was still open, the door hanging slightly ajar, left open as its inhabitants had hurried to find shelter. The bulbs buzzed as he flicked the lights on, showing her over to the bar where a phone waited on its hook. He hesitated for a moment, watching her hand twitch as she tried to remember the number, the dial rattling as she turned it. Susie looked up at him, and he took it as his cue to leave, the door closing behind him with a click as she was left alone, glancing around at the half-finished drinks and still-smoking cigarette butts that littered the room as she waited for the other person to pick up.

An irritated groan sounded on the other end of the line, and she could hear the rustling of sheets as she waited to speak.

"Hello? What is it?" Beatrice huffed, sleep lining her voice.

"Hey. It's me."

"Susie? What do you want?"

Her sister always had such a way with pleasantries. "Just watched a raid over... Norwich, I think. I was wondering if... if you knew anything?"

"Wasn't my shift," She replied curtly. Susie could picture her now, half sitting up in bed, rollers in her hair as she leant against the headboard, scowling.

"Oh, right," She paused, mentally scrambling for something to say before Beatrice hung up. "Is your husband there?"

"No. Staying in his flat, probably with his girlfriend."

"... Ah."

It was quiet for a moment, before she heard her sister let out an irritated huff. "What do you actually want, Suze? I know you don't care about bloody Norwich."

Beatrice's accent had changed since she'd left Manchester - she'd married rich, and she'd made sure she had something to show for it. But whenever she got annoyed, that familiar northern drawl seeped back through.

"I was just... I dunno, I needed to talk to someone."

"You were thinking about Ellie, weren't you?" Beatrice asked. The silence stretched out between them, and it was all the answer she needed, letting out a sigh. "You've gotta get unstuck, Suze. You can't live like this forever."

"I'm not stuck," She replied indignantly, brow furrowed.

"Yes. You are. None of us ever saw you cry after it happened - you never felt it like the rest of us, you never let yourself move on."

Susie bristled, suddenly defensive. "I'm just not like you - I was always braver than the rest of you."

"No, that's the opposite of what you are," Beatrice thundered. "You're a coward, Susie - you don't ever move on with your life because to do that you've gotta feel something other than fucking angry. You were there when they found Ellie and I know the rest of us weren't, I know it's different. But stop making that everyone else's fucking problem and just deal with it."

"She was my-"

"She was my little sister too! But so are you! I'm sick of listening to you make excuses for why you just wallow in it - it's been years since I've seen you not miserable, and it's your own fault. You know I love you. And I'm only being like this because everyone else in our family is much too bloody nice. But get over it, Susie."

She'd been gnawing at the inside of her lip the entire time she'd been listening to Beatrice speak. With a hiss, Susie realised she'd broken the skin, a droplet of blood pooling in her mouth, coating her tongue with a sour, metallic flavour.

She wanted to snap - a thousand cruel words poised on her tongue, a hundred things to hurl back at Beatrice. But not one would have made her point any less true. Tears were forming in her eyes, blotting out her vision until she could barely see an inch in front of her face. Susie squeezed her eyes tightly shut, feeling them roll down her cheeks, leaving warm, wet trails in their wake.

"Susie?" Beatrice's voice came tentatively, and she realised it had been a few minutes since she'd uttered a sound.

"Goodnight, Beatrice," Her voice came firm, hanging up before her sister could reply.

Suddenly the silence in the officers' club was too much to bear. She felt as if she were about to explode, the hot sting of tears in her eyes, the sudden, painfully breathlessness in her throat all too foreign, too frightening. Susie opened her mouth to suck in a breath, a hoarse, choking sound ripping through her, the air getting stuck before it could reach her lungs. She felt her expression contort in anguish, and the first, involuntary sob broke free. Once the floodgates opened, they couldn't close, tears streaming down her cheeks as she fought to catch a breath, fumbling blindly as she crossed the room to the door, desperate to be anywhere else.

The door to the officer's club swung open easily, and Susie stormed out into the night, chest heaving up and down over and over as she sobbed, hands trembling. She turned her head, caught off guard just long enough for a sob to catch in her throat, coming out as a hiccup as she spotted DeMarco, throwing up her hands in frustration. He'd been leaning up against the wall as she came out. He had waited for her.

"Susie? Hey," DeMarco hurried forward, expression twisted in worry. He reached for her hands, thumbs rubbing against the backs of her palms. His voice was so incredibly gentle, more than she'd ever heard it. "Hey, c'mon."

Susie's lip trembled, and she let out a croak as she fought to catch her breath, heart beating too fast for her body. He sighed, letting go of her hands to wrap his arms around her, pulling her forwards against his chest. It was too close. For a split second, she wanted to push him away, to peel his touch away from her body.

But it was so warm here. Her head turned to the side, her ear pressed up against his ribcage, she could hear his heartbeat, soft and steady. In the cage of his arms, for the first time in a long time, she felt tethered to something. She had balled her hands into fists. Slowly, they unfurled, and she wrapped her arms around him, hands resting against his spine.

"My sister didn't die. She was killed." She whispered, voice muffled against his jacket, just loud enough to hear. "They bombed her factory. I was there when they pulled her out."

Everything suddenly came into alarming clarity. DeMarco nodded, releasing a long sigh. He brought a hand up to the back of her head, her curls snaking around his fingertips as he gently stroked her hair.

"You don't have to tell me if you don't want to," He uttered, tilting his head downwards, his nose pressed against her forehead.

"I want to. You waited."

"I thought you looked a little spaced out earlier. After the raid. So that was because-?"

"Yeah."

"Jesus. I'm sorry, Suze."

"It was a few years ago, now."

"That doesn't make it okay, though. Does it?"

She looked up at him then. In the darkness, her eyes looked like bottomless pools, the brown turned black in the starlight.

"... No. It doesn't."

A few strands of hair had stuck to her cheek where her tears had begun to dry. He lifted a hand to brush them away, the warmth of her skin against his fingertip so wonderfully soft. Susie sniffed, and it was as if some trace had broken, her arms tugging away from him, the squeeze against his back suddenly gone as she stepped back. Exhaustion tugged down at her face, dark circles forming beneath her eyes. She looked so helpless it almost broke his heart.

"God," She sighed, running a hand across her brow. "I don't-... I don't know, I don't think I wanna go back to my hut. Too many questions."

"Ok," DeMarco nodded. "That's ok. I know a place. C'mon."

Susie had no idea where he would take her. Perhaps if she'd been in any better state she would've refused. But she wasn't. She was tired, and he was kind. Her mind was clouded over, thoughts barely half-formed.

But she trusted him. She'd gotten him out of the middle of nowhere when their truck broke, and now he was getting her out when she did.

"... Alright."

[bwoahtastic]

Max Wolff after Abu Dhabi? They’re sitting in hospitality waiting for the verdict, Mercedes is fighting the result and not just is she conflicted, she’s scared. She had a breakdown in the shower after the race and now she’s sitting on the floor while Geri braids her hair. Everyone is quiet and scared. It’s only Christian, Geri, GP and Jonathan in the room with her. Checo has run out to get everyone coffee and something to eat. He’s been hovering by her side since the race ended, he absolutely refuses that the media talks to her. He’s like an annoyingly overprotective brother but it’s helping today. Christian breaks the silence by offering that Max flies home with them when the result is out. She can stay with them as long as she needs to while the storm quiets down. She starts crying all over again, she’s never been scared about going home before. But now she’s scared of what her parents will say and she doesn’t want to be around angry people. Toto would be absolutely crushed when he realizes where Max’s head is at. Max doesn’t show up for the flight the next morning, she’s not responding to their texts and the pilot for the private jet confirms that Max said she won’t be coming. He knows she’ll be on the farm with Christian and he feels awful that she feels like she needs to give them space. He just wants his little girl to be home. Susie maybe going up to the farm? She’s more neutral, she just needs to make sure her little girl is okay and knows they still love her

Oh plss Max just sick with stress and they all feel so bad for her because this is supposed to be her happy moment as first time champion... but she is just sitting alone for a bit, clearly wanting toto and susie but Toto is stuck at Mercedes and Susie is trying to make her way through,all the chaos to see Max but because no one knows Max is a Wolff yet, she isn't let in easily...

Christian and Geri soothing Max and offering to take her back with them, have her stay until things cool down and Max agrees before bursting out crying. She is afraid to go home and nothing has ever hurt like.that, she is so afraid Toto and Susie will be angry and she cannot stand being around angry people, especially not if it's them....

Toto and susie have tried to get into contact with Max all night but also gave her space when she didn't answer. But then the next day, Max doesn't show up for the flight home and they are told she isn't coming with them and pls they would be heartbroken!

Toto feeling particularly bad and blaming himself and Susie ends up going to the farm because it might be easier. Max is so shy seeing her, trying to play it off but her whole body is tense. Susie going over and very sleepy gathering her in her arms, whispering she is so proud of her champion! Max crying and clinging to her mum and just being so relieved!

Her then asking where dad is and Susie explains he stayed away in case max wasn't comfortable seeing him yet. Max whispering she really wants to see him although she is a little anxious, snd they decide toto will come to the farm too? Max feels safe there.

Pls Max waiting outside when Toto's car pulls in and for a moment, they just stare at each other, but then Max runs over to fling herself into her dad's arms and whispers sorry while Toto just whispers about how proud he is of her!

[dalekofchaos]

Michael Afton:Accomplice/Killer Mike au

So after looking at these three fanarts on the subject. I've come up with a FNAF au where Mike is William's accomplice.

Fanart 1. Fanart 2. Fanart 3

It starts after the Bite of 83. William sees potential in Mike.

Instead of letting Mike be arrested, William saves Mike and pins the blame on Bonnie bully(Jeremy)

William pulls what he did with Susie.

"He's not really dead, son. Help me and we can put him back together." Mike at first is hesitant. But he just wants to make it right and bring his brother back.

It starts out with William doing the killings and Michael cleaning up the evidence. The police never begin to suspect a thing. Mike is the suspicious one due to his connection to the Bite of 83, but because of lack of evidence, no one ever charges either father or son.

Eventually, Mike has to lure and kill some kids to prove to William how committed he really is. William helps Mike by making a Springlock Foxy costume to help blend in to Pirate's Cove. Mike performs as his hero and his symbolic fall of grace. After every Pirate's Cove performance, Mike lures them to the safe room.

It starts by luring them so William can kill them. But one day, Mike is locked in there with the kids.

"Oh it's far too late to back out now, help me or I swear I will tell the police what you did to your brother and I will pin all those little disappearances on you."

Mike kills his first victim. He uses Foxy's hook for a weapon and he does the deed. 5 more dead kids.

"You've done it. Well done, Mikey! I'm proud of you, son! We're gonna do great things together"

All the remorse and regret he's felt is washed away by finally making his father proud. The one thing he's wanted all his life is finally his and together they will bring Evan and Elizabeth back and put their family back together.

Throughout the years they would kill together. Not only kill together, but make Fazbear Entertainment and Afton Robotics bigger and better than before.

There is one setback however. Jeremy has returned. He took the night guard position and because of the Puppet's visions, he knows too much. So Mike hacks Mangle and causes the Bite of 87. "...I'm sorry Jeremy. I had to. I did it for my family!"

Because of William and Mike openly working together, Elizabeth knows it's Mike and Circus Baby even helps Mike make a makeshift Springlock version of Funtime Foxy so he can slip in and out to capture children.

Although Mike loves Funtime Foxy, he just can't help but continue to use Classic Foxy to lure the kids at the old Pizzeria. Because a true classic never goes out of style!

Mike is officially the new head of security. Everyone sees this as a "nepo hire" but Mike is just so charming and manipulative that FE eats out of his hand. He can easily ensure that the kids go missing without a trace. When security officers get too close to the truth, then Mike wears his old Foxy mask, gets the hook and goes through the vents and kills them.

"Save them"

"You can't"

Now who could be the protagonist now that Mike is William's right hand?

Sammy Emily. In this au Henry is not a deadbeat dad to his son. They grieve together over Charlie and when Sammy is grown up, Sammy fills Mike's role as the security guard.

Charlie even helps Sammy. When Sammy gets jumpscared by The Puppet, all he hears is "Sammy, it's me. Charlie"

One day Mike and William return to the decaying and dilapidated Freddy Fazbear's Pizza to get more remnant.

Sammy, Charlie and the MCI work together and corner William and Mike.

William gets springlocked via the rain and Sammy and Charlie work together to cause Mike's springlock.

Sammy in Fazbear Frights is being hunted by Springtrap and Foxtrap

In the attempt to free Elizabeth and the funtimes, Sammy is scooped.

After the fire. Scraptrap, Foxscrap and Circus Baby come together. Lefty tries to stop them, but because of the suit and calls she can't stop herself from hurting Sammy.

Henry's speech happens. The fire happens. But Sammy survives.

Sammy has a daughter named Vanessa.

As Vanessa works for Fazbear and the VR game. She sees a bunny....and a Fox.

One day a boy named Gregory plays and sees the Fox. To Michael, Gregory is Evan reborn.

They found their new Elizabeth while getting revenge on Sammy & Henry and Michael found Evan Reborn. The Afton Family is put back together.

Mike would orchestrate a Glamrock Foxy to be built. William becomes Burntrap and Vanessa is Vanny while Gregory is Dr Rabbit.

However, a ghost from Mike's past survived. Jeremy returns. as a VR tester and as the Pizzaplex technician.

Instead of "What makes you so special" it's "Why are you STILL ALIVE?"

Cassie enters the picture. In this case, she's not looking for Gregory. She's looking for her father.

Jeremy and Cassie will do whatever it takes to stop the Aftons, even if Jeremy has to become one with the remains of Glamrock Bonnie.

[hellclipzzzzzzz]

Could you maybe do Susie x chubby artsy reader (if you need the info I’m a picky eater too, I’d so buy chalk for Susie tho, Susie’s best girl)

Only if you’re comfortable with that of course no pressure <333

- 💫

NYAAAA what kind of COWARD would I be if I didn't write this.... grrr....

💜- let's be real here... susie probably isn't the best person to eat if you're a picky eater.

💜- girl pulls up with the most abhorrent meals like "here you go. i made you lunch" and looks so proud of herself..... you look down at the dish and it's somehow burned AND undercooked??

💜- please, please teach her how to make your favorite foods. she'll fall in love with you all over again.

💜- you know how else to get her to fall in love with you?

💜- let her eat your chalk.

💜- you'll be drawing with chalk, turn around, and she's shoving a fistful into her mouth shamelessly. susie you're not supposed to eat that.....

💜- she loves it when you let her draw with you. she's not the best, but she makes up for it with enthusiasm.

💜- PLEASE do one of those couple dates where you take turns painting on the same canvas. please. please.

💜- susie will hand you the art supplies you mentioned wanting, turn her head to the side, and say "whatever, i just found it in a dumpster"

[rainykthebroken]

As promised, here are some of the headcanons I use in "A Wonderful Attraction" (AO3):

Magolor:

-Even though he wasn't born on Halcandra, he considers it his home planet because it made the person he is. That's why I keep saying he is Halcadran in the fanfic. He doesn't speak about his real home.

-Kirby and all his friends have forgiven him (even Meta Knight), but he's still trying to prove his trustworthiness.

-After the Lor found him in the Kirby Clash dimension, he agreed to follow her therapy program, which lasted several months. He still have huge emotional issues that he cover up with his eccentric persona.

-He has a room in the Starcutter where he stores all the artifacts he has found on his adventures. He also collects objects from other dimensions, such as books, films and video games.

-Magolor hides a tail and whiskers because of the way some people reacted when he first explored the galaxy with the Lor. Some people didn't take him seriously with his kitten-like appearance.

-Magolor has a lot of scars that he hides.

Taranza:

-When Joronia was alive, he managed the feat of both being shy and pretentious.

-Joronia's death and his guilt kept him withdrawn and he became a bubble of anxiety. But today, he's regained a little more self-confidence.

-He comes from a noble family. He has an extremely complicated relationship with his parents (I intend to explore this aspect in a fanfic).

-While pursuing his passion as a gardener, he is also a diplomat for the kingdom of Floralia. Magolor has taken Taranza to other planets such as Ripple Star with the Lor, so that he can expand the kingdom's relations. What a good friend~

-At the time of the fanfic, Taranza has long since accepted that he can never bring Joronia back to life. The problem now is to overcome the impression of infidelity when he falls in love again.

Marx:

-As obnoxious and childlike as ever.

-He's Magolor's best friend and knows many of the secrets he keeps from others.

-Although Marx is impulsive and slightly idiotic, he manages in a disturbing way to feel other people's emotions with ease.

-While Marx can sometimes be a jerk, he's extremely protective of his friends and tends to be uncharacteristically serious when it comes to a friend's trauma.

-He'll never admit out loud that he cares about his friends.

Susie:

-Since her father's death, she's taken over the company and done a complete 180°.

-Susie has empathy problems but tries her best to socialize.

-She's Taranza's confidante and best friend because they understand each other through grief.

-Although she is friends with Magolor, they maintain a kind of rivalry over who is the best mechanic.

-Susie and Marx don't get along at all, so it's a miracle they put their differences aside to put Magolor and Taranza together.

-She's very close to the Mage sisters, especially Zan.

Lor Starcutter:

-She is Magolor's mother figure mentor. She is extremely protective of him.

-She blames herself for being mute for so long, and thinks she could have avoided the whole Master Crown incident if she'd been a better mother.

-Before the Master Crown incident, she only communicated with him small caring gesture that doesn't necessarily needed to vocalize. After his redemption, she used text to communicated before finally undoing thousand of years of mutism during the Void Termina crisis to say that she loved him and was proud of who he had chose to become.

-The Starcutter's interior is basically a dimension unto itself.

-One of her strange hobbies is watching telenovelas and other TV movies, which she justifies by saying that she studies organic beings.

I can't delve deeper without spoiling some of the fanfic.

Thank you for reading!

[rosetyler42]

Some WIR-Verse HT and Bendy fun, featuring the man himself, Joey Drew

I kinda feel Ericka has...mixed views on Joey. On one hand, this man knows fuck all about management, killed thousands of people to bring his cartoons to life, locked up her friend Bendy, give Susie a penchant for vivesection, sabotaged Alice's popularity and trapped her inside Susie's head, turned Buddy into Boris, tortured Henry, and generally left behind a huge inky mess for his daughter to deal with. On the other...she sees a bit of herself in this guy. Charismatic, cheerful, angry and alone, helped by love and someone to see they could do better, and Memory!Joey at least is TRYING to fix his mistakes and do better. So while she generally doesn't trust or LIKE Joey and every voice in her is SCREAMING not to trust him, she IS willing to at least give him a chance to prove he's gotten better, both for herself, her pal Audrey, and Joey could be a useful ally for learning about the Cycle and taking down he much more dangerous Wilson.

Mavis, on the other hand, is far more likely to trust the odd and haunted yet friendly and charming old man. She may have some misgivings about him, but Mavis is naieve and much more likely to dismiss these as lingering unease and prejudice being around a strange human. True, she's not stupid, but even her suspicion of Ericka (Which, Ericka's proud of the fact Mavis saw through her) was mostly her worrying about Dad finding love at all. Ericka gets this more than anyone, but she has a family to protect. While she's willing to give Joey a chance, she sees through Joey's friendly Walt Disney persona and isn't ready to risk losing her soul OR Mavis and Johnny's souls to him just yet.

Things didn't end well for the LAST people to trust him, after all...

I like the idea of Ericka both being the protective one of the more naive Mavis while on trips to BATIM despite being the more vulnerable of the two, and her being one of the few mortals who could put the fear of mod into any version of Joey. XD Who's having something of a John Sparrow "I deserved that" moment.

I also love the idea Ericka's secretly one of the most scary and dangerous of the Drac Pack. Dracula, of course, adores this and is smug as bleep when others find Ericka terrifying. ESPECIALLY people like Joey, who HE kind of dismisses largely as an idiot human who "fucked around and found out" with forces beyond his comprehension. Unlike Ericka who rants about it, He does not touch Joey's mismanagement with a 10 foot pole. If he WERE to start ranting about it, he'd never STOP.

Plus...putting the stubborn and tough-loving Ericka against the emotional and naive used-to-getting-her-own-way Mavis is fun.

Bonus: The shiny Swoobat here is Ericka's WIR-Verse pokemon pet, Eddie the Shiny Swoobat. He's named after Eddie from Rocky Horror and Edward Scissorhands (NOT Twilight XD) and a gift from Dracula. He's one of her companions on ghost hunts for the Arcade's Ghostbusters because Eddie can see in the dark, fly, and has psychic powers. He also functions as the Legacy's Lookout and Ericka's service 'mon since Male Swoobats can release good vibe soundwave when courting that perk up the mood of any creature near it. He does not trust Joey, either. XD

Also, another bit that never made it in here:

Ericka: "I still think you're a twat."

Joey: "...I can work with that." XD

@lovelylivelyv @black-ak9 @hotelt-resurrection @ssleeping-in-a-coffin @ebevkisk @deathfangirl9 @twinklecupcake @kittyball23 @thedopedemon @inkhyaena @inkspottie @inkwelldevil @bendysstudio @benjimatorarts @drericka @drericka-is-lyfe-blog @drerickastan @inkdoodles @doberart @thedemonsurfer @serial-serializednovelreader @wingingfromthezing @heartsong1994 @howling-nightmare

[zukkacore]

⭐⭐ pls pls pls share thoughts about who can blame a girl

Thanks so much for this!!! Tbh it's fun to talk abt Who Can Blame a Girl b/c its so short n sweet so it does kinda feel like the one that takes up the least oxygen but i am. proud of it and it is cute but to be fair it also is kinda uncomplicated in my mind so i'll see if i have any thoughts...

(For the record im very "she let me hit b/c i use his pronouns interchangeably" about dyke!Jace. I don't care how she's referred to really. In fact, for most of this i just use he bc idc. In case that's confusing.)

It's a song rec in the notes but actually the inspiration for Who Can Blame Girl is b/c i'd had the song Susie Save Your Love by Allie x n Mitski stuck in head for like forever (That and like A Ton of Chappell Roan) and the song is basically about this girl who is like. In love with her friend who is asking for a ride b/c she needs a break from a shitty boyfriend. Which. Zarajaceporter anyone. I just was really taken with this idea of Zara being very taken by Jace in this kind of... vulnerable, messy, unpalatable state i guess? B/c Jace is so buttoned up and curated at Aguefort. And like. I don't expect everyone to get on the dyke!Jace train but obviously i'm very taken with her and love her she is the soft butch of my life < 3

I guess what i CAN talk about is that. I think it was a fun thought experiment to kinda. Be in Zara's head. I have so much affection for her in canon and i think she just has this very playful, impish, yet ultimately very kind center to her based on how she interacts with Fig that is very heartwarming and as much as i love to torment Jace and put him in Situations, I do think the person who could understand and empathize with his situtation the most truly is zara.

I've talked abt the parallels between Vampirism and Jace in his post shatterstar state. They're both liminal undead existences that are based on this fundamental want that if satisfied would bring harm to others and make the people they love hate them! And like. Zara is very kinda uncomplicatedly Good in FHJY but it was fun to play around with the interiority of a warlock vampire who is in a relationship with a celestial! The whole Thing sort of revolves around this weird unspoken arrangement that concocts out of the blue when Jace calls zara. Zara is all about agreements. Negotiations that you make with the people around you. So when it comes to the gender stuff:

Jace is quiet. “No one would ever want to see that. I—I’m not brave like you, Zara. You’re always you, and—My life is petty, and small, and I—” His voice breaks. “I—I’m comfortable keeping things the way that—” “Hey. You think I don’t make compromises?” says Zara. She's thinking about that word—brave. Jace has no idea what it takes for a vampire like her to "be herself" in a way he imagines. “I make compromises every day.

It's like. This ties so into my belief that pre-shatterstar jace is egoless. He doesn't want to rock the boat. He's comfortable, until Porter comes along. In a way, Zara is unflinchingly herself. She's a hot goth vampire and she's not shy about that. But I think she'd have to reconcile with. Just living in a world that is afraid of her existence. She's free from Jace's POV, but she's not as free as he thinks. She has to be at peace with the idea ther her very existence is just going to be an abomination to some people (and like. It's dnd so i don't know how popular that attitude would be but we have seen religious zealots in text so im sure those people exist). And she's talking about gender stuff but she's also unwittingly kinda speaking to the shatterstar part of his life. Be unflinchingly yourself. You want to live. And sometimes, people will hate you, or you will do harm.

Meanwhile, what is Zara getting out of this time with Jace? Some sort of connection? I think feeling a connection was very thrilling for Jace. That's why he asks, "You felt it, too?" But what does Zara want?

I feel like Zara's motivation is summed up here. Initially, it was curiousity and obligation. She liked seeing him in a state she never had. And he needed a favor, so she felt like she ought to come through. But this is the real reason:

"We can drive for as long as you want. My entire night is free. Obviously"

To me, this is her expressing patience. Patience that she's willing to extend b/c she feels for Jace. But it's also expressing loneliness.

I very much did contrive this bc I'm just a silly billy who has been wanting to write something about Jace n Zara hooking up in a car. And like. I'm cringefail and writing hookups is hard so im always obsessed with what the emotional throughline is for a scene like that and like. I kept coming back to Zara and her celestial lover. I think it's Zara wanting something tangible and messy and faulty.

and yet Zara for a brief terrible moment wants this, with her, over transcendence, over ethereal, ascended, over purity and goodness because this is real , it’s mundane, it’s here , it’s something she doesn’t have to wait for every time her lover comes calling, if anyone knew how desperate Zara truly is they’d never see her the same way again

Like. It's tangible and present and we don't KNOW what a relationship with and angel would be like. But it sounds so... pure. So sterile almost? And textually in FHJY Zara is very mature and healed, but I was like. The idea of a warlock finding a relationship so tantalizing that they would be willing to fuck up their other contracts was just so delicious to me. And Vampires are all about temptation.

Zara can’t help herself, she wants —the same dark want that compels her feed, the same hunger for something she knows is going to destroy her, destroy everyone around her—and seriously, fuck Porter anyway, how could he ever want Jace as profoundly and completely as she feels herself wanting right now,

Like!!!! Yes Zara is better than this but im toxic and want to reduce her to the gutter w the boys! As if it's my fault! I'm not gonna quote the hornier parts but like esp the stuff about like. Zara reconciling with darker wants that—she's not as bad as Porter, but she's a vampire, it's about consumption, about taking, about predation, about desire (it’s also about penetration. lol). She's doesn't let that shit rule her, its there, she does stumble. Like. Was it a good or bad thing that she left it open-ended at the end? I mean. It's good for us for sure. I want them to get into a messy situationship in the wake of Jace's messy breakup with Porter (yes. In my mind this is THEE breakup from IYWD too. The real one).

But like. It was always going to be open ended. Zara did him a favor. This is a contract. There's always a give and take in a relationship. He'll be there for her too at some point. That's how it works.

[theycallme-thejackal]

[ I’m giffing “Someday” and this popped into my brain. ]

“Shit,” Midge mutters to herself.

She puts the change into the payphone and dials the operator, hoping his number is still the same. As it rings and rings, she worries he’s moved or isn’t home, but then, “Hello?”

She sighs. “It’s me. Midge.”

There’s a pause, and she thinks he’s hung up for a moment, but then he says, “It’s been a while.”

“Yeah,” she breathes. “I, um...I know you’re mad at me, and you have no reason to help me - ”

“What precinct?”

“No, it’s not that,” she replies. “It’s...I had a gig tonight, and the booker is refusing to pay me because I was thirty seconds late, and Susie couldn’t come because she had to go to Alfie’s show tonight - ”

“What club?”

She gives him the address, and ten minutes later he’s walking into the club, cigarette in hand. “Thank you,” she tells him. “I swear, Lenny, I’ll never ask you for anything ever again.”

He smirks a little, a joke clearly on the tip of his tongue. Even though she hasn’t seen him in months, she knows exactly what he’s thinking because she remembers the last thing she asked him for. While they were tangled in blue sheets and each other as his talented fingers slipped between them and she whispered please, Lenny.

She hopes the darkness of the club does a good job of hiding the flush on her cheeks.

He looks around, spots the booker, who looks stunned by his presence, and he turns back to her. “Go get him.”

“I - what?” She asks, furrowing her brow.

“I’m not always going to be around to rescue you from the storm,” he explains. “So woman up and go get your money.” He takes a drag of his cigarette.

She opens and closes her mouth, feeling quite a bit like a fish before saying, “I already tried. He said, you were late, so I don’t owe you shit.”

“Did you perform?”

“Yes.”

“Did you make ‘em laugh?”

“I...” She takes a deep breath and then lifts her chin, already feeling more confident. “I fucking killed.”

“Of course you did. So...” He dips his head and leans toward her. “Go get your fucking money.”

She grins at him and nods as he smiles back. Straightening he shoulders, she strides across the room, approaching Dale, and holds out her hand. “I’ll take my money now, please.”

Dale looks at her, a little flustered by her companion still standing at the bar, and then he eyes her with disdain. “You were late.”

“I was thirty seconds late because your bouncer didn’t believe me when I told him I was one of the comics because you failed to put my name on the list of talent for the evening,” she reminds him. “Now. You can either pay me or I can sit at the bar and proceed to heckle the remaining comics who are half as good as I am until you have no patrons left. It’s up to you.”

Dale clenches his jaw and then turns to head to the office. Midge looks over to the bar, where Lenny has a drink in his hand and lifts it in cheers. She gives him a proud grin before looking back toward the office.

The booker comes out a moment later with an envelope, and after she counts the money, she nods. “Thank you,” she tells him primly.

“Don’t expect another call from us,” he sneers.

“Don’t expect another laugh tonight,” she retorts. “I saw the lineup and these guys are staler than that 1952 haircut you’re sporting,” she tells him before turning on her heels and returning to the bar.

Lenny stands there, leaning on the counter and smirking at her. She takes a deep breath and sighs, “Why did you come? You could’ve just given me that pep talk over the phone. Saved you a trip.”

"And miss you in this outfit?” He asks, looking down at what she now remembers is a very blue dress.

“Well...thank you,” she tells him, slipping her envelope into her purse. “Really, Lenny.”

“Well, you did once bring me your umbrella. I thought it was time I return the favor.” His smirk softens then as he says, “I’m not mad at you, Midge.”

“You seemed pretty mad,” she points out, tilting her head at him.

“I was frustrated,” he explains before conceding, “And maybe a little mad, but that’s passed. Especially if you’re working again.”

“I am,” she promises. “So much. It’s not...it’s not opening for Tony Bennett,” she explains. “But it’s work.”

He nods. “Good. You’re too good to be hiding.”

Midge smiles. “Thank you.”

“Now,” he says, tapping the bar with his fingers. “Do you have to rush home, or can I buy you a drink?”

“As long as it’s not here,” she replies.

“Sweetheart, I don’t even plan on paying for my drink,” he tells her before taking her hand and tugging her toward the door, leading her into the night as she laughs.

[cozyreadings-ao3]

I keep thinking about the DbD characters and their sexualities, like Huntress being a soft butch lesbian, but in a she loves dresses, pretty things, showing off her muscles, and splitting a log in half with her bare hands kind of way. She's confident in her attraction and if someone has an issue with it well they're dead anyways so not her problem. I also think she's the type to want a domesticated

Or Trapper being a repressed gay, he's not homophobic, and supports his friends who are gay, but that ain't for him. So what if he gets a little turned on when a guy crowds him in a corner, who wouldn't get turned on by that. Everyone fantasies about a shorter guy straddling them as they're tied helplessly on the bed. (I headcanon huntress as the one to tell him while ghostface just nods his head in agreement every time trapper tries to justify it away. Like yeah buddy you're totally right everyone feels that way.)

Sorry goofy thoughts, what kind of sexuality Head-canons do you have if any for the characters?

You’re always a real one when it comes to sending in asks, thank you so much Fishy!! 💖

I genuinely love this question and your own little answers so much! I have quite a few headcanons that I’m happy to share!! ^^ Of course, I’m gonna start off with Claudette! <33

Claudette - Your typical outdoorsy and academic lesbian, educated and always busy in her studies. She’s overall very femme, and will definitely wear dresses every now and then. However, she does prefer to wear pants and shorts, just in case she finds herself in the garden for any reason. She hates staining clothes, especially her prettier pieces. Grass stains never come out. (I also headcanon that she’s older but shorter than Meg <3)

Expand for more…

Meg - Shes’s definitely a sporty masc lesbian, commonly wearing sports bras and track shorts. Though, Meg’s not opposed to feminine styles, especially if Claudette asks for her to match or try something on. The only thing she’s ‘picky’ about are built-in shorts for skirts and shorter dresses. It allowed for more flexibility. Meg also keeps her hair braided and pulled back for sports, creating a seemingly short hair length. Yet, she takes her braids out in her downtime, revealing her longer than expected hair. (She absolutely does playfully pick on Claudette for being older but shorter)

Susie - First of all: I couldn’t be happier that she’s canonically a lesbian- :,) Susie is the type to unfortunately always fall in love with just the tiniest bit of “affection” given. One simple compliment and this girl is head over heels. She’s always in and out of relationships, just trying to fill the painful void of not having Julie as her own. Susie is poorly desperate for love and a genuine relationship, leaving her constantly seeking romantic validation from anyone.

Julie - I say this affectionately, but Julie is a bitch- JAHAHS :,,) Anywayyy <3 She’s a bisexual, poly/open queen who cruelly ignores Susie, and instead has both Frank and Joey at her sides. She definitely power trips a lot, even if she isn’t currently holding the power in the relationship.

Frank - Frank is definitely bisexual and poly/open as well. Despite what some might believe by appearance and attitude alone, Frank is very unbothered by his sexuality. He’s actually proud to be in a relationship with another man involved, it’s not something to be ashamed of.

Joey - A pansexual poly king who perfectly fits in between Frank and Julie. He never thought a polyamorous relationship would be for him, but Joey was pleasantly surprised after trying it out and enjoying it.

Yun-Jin - Deeeefinitely a repressed bi girl- She would look over another girl, have a gay panic moment, and just play it off as admiration rather than love. Can’t a girl just like another girl’s style…? I could 100% see her getting sloppy drunk and making out with another girl, only to deny the true feelings behind the act in the morning

Vittorio - This man is seriously, undeniably gay- I fucking love his style and piercings though, he’s a fashionable gay, and I really respect that so much <3 You just know him and Tarhos have done some CRAAAZY stuff together—

Wraith - Philip has that gay man vibe to him…and this answer is kinda inspired by a certain cool artist who love Wraith x Hillbilly… They have tainted my thoughts, I genuinely love that ship now- :,)

If you’re curious, I have more answers under this post, you just gotta scroll down a bit! :)

[retropobor]

PARALLELS CHARACTER SHEETS: ATHENA FALLON

(disclaimer: this post has all been in the works for what feels like months now. I'll update it if something's missing, but from my read throughs, this looks good as is. Also if you have any questions, please ask away and I'll update the post. There's probably something that's missing)

I've been meaning to do these for a while so that way there's a central information tab to reference in case anyone ever asks about X parallels character. Today we're doing Athena since she's not in the introduction

Character information

Parallel: Berdly

Appearance

athena is somewhat on the taller side, but isn't incredibly tall (susie for reference)

Her head is that of an owl adorned with a pair of thick goggles. She uses the goggles to protect her eyes from airborne hazards, and the sun, as she is sensitive to bright light. Beneath the goggles is a pair of black beady eyes.

She wears a red short sleeve T shirt, and a pair of white parachute pants or a white skirt (it depends from case to case, although she more often uses the pants for flight reasons). She has a large pair of wings to keep herself aloft in the air, although while not airborne, she can use these wings as hand-like appendages (similar to Martlet from Undertale Yellow).

She doesn't wear shoes to allow use of her talons, which she often uses as a second pair of hands.

Personality

Athena is relatively Jock-like in terms of personality. She's the most banter-y of the parallels squad (on occasion even accidentally insulting, but she never means it to that degree), she works out regularly and is a proud member of the school's cross country team. She is fiercely defensive of her friends and will make sure they're safe under any costs, even if it harms her in the process. She gets average to below average grades, typically relying on people like Ruby to "do the nerd stuff."

design thought process

Because Athena is my most recent character, I have the most memory on how I made her. Initially athena was a male fox, although I didn't like the design, so I decided to go for a bird of prey type design instead. At this point I was thinking of naming her Hal and making her a guy, but then I realized that would make the cast somewhat disproportionately male with Terro and Ruby being the only non-males, so I made Athena a girl as well. It took me a while to decide on the name Athena, but I decided to go for it because the goddess athena is associated with owls and war (a nice nod to her brawn over brains mentality) the color choice of red for her shirt is very deliberate as a nice nod to the the red vs blue trope you often see in games. The pants are meant to look like the skirt-like thing that owls tend to have. The last name Fallon is a reference to falcons, although it is a nice coincidence that from what I can tell, the name means descended from rulers

[numberoneradioheadfan]

Walking through the picturesque streets of Cardinal Hill, you find Shira Bardot, the 28 year old photographer for the Cardinal Chronical originally from Portland, OR. Living alongside her in such a small town, you know that she’s adaptive and impulsive, but what you might not know is that she is a witch, and that she’s hiding something… ― Hunter Schafer, pansexual , trans woman, and she/her.

previous threads - visage - musings - wanted connections

current threads - mood board

Name: Shira Rose Bardot

Alias: Shi, Rose (only if you know her really well)

Gender/Pronouns: Female, She/Her

Age: 28

Birthdate: 06/02/1964

Big Three: Gemini, Sagittarius, Cancer

Occupation: photographer at the Cardinal Chronical

Height: 5’7"

Hometown: Portland, OR, USA

Family: mother (Helen Bardot), father (Clint Bardot), older brother (Wyatt Bardot), younger sister (Calamity Bardot)

Friends: Elias Schwarz (wcirdo), Silas Addams (ritualove), Leonidas Desai (blackcatxmagic), Luciana Castillo (veilxstars)

Mentors: Beaumont Proctor (twistxdcrafts) and Marisol Hargrove (veilxstars)

Relationship Status: single

Sexuality: pansexual

Other Relationships:

Character Inspiration: Victoria Page - The Red Shoes (1948), Carrie Bradshaw (Sex In the City), Susie Bannion (Suspiria),

Likes: Formula 1 racing, cold matcha , Bauhaus , hot sauce , David Cronenberg , convertible’s , Kim Chee sauerkraut , Esperanto

Dislikes: jerks , spongey foods , elevators , cold coffee , hard eggs

TW: illicit substances mentioned if you squint, abandonment of a child , unaccepting parent, sex work

Shira Bardot’s life began in the rain-soaked streets of Portland, OR, a city both beautiful and melancholic, much like her existence. Born a trans woman in a world where witches exist but are hardly understood or even recognized by all, Shira's early years were marked by isolation and turmoil. Her childhood unfolded in a middle-class neighborhood in the Hollywood district of Portland. Where the perfect backdrop of a nuclear and well educated family line contrasted with the turbulence that brewed within their family. As the middle child in the household, which included her older brother Wade, her younger sister Bernadette and their mother Helen, Shira often felt like a whisper. Struggling to carve out an identity for herself in a world that seemed to shove her into the shadows. Wade, her older brother, was the epitome of masculinity. He excelled in sports and usually was the one to draw the attention of their parents. This was a fact that made her feel proud but also envious. She always admired how confident and sure of himself that he was. Bernadette, her younger sister was a bubbly child who's innocence casted a light over their family even in the darkest times. Shira often would take on the role of her protector, shielding her from the harsher realities of home life. Their mother Helen was ambitious but often times distant-- who saw her not as kin but as a means to an end. Desperate for a "ticket" to a better life. Helen was consumed with her own selfish dreams and saw her children as extensions of herself to polish and improve rather than actual people with opinions and personalities. She pushed her children in traditional paths, wanting them to have a future that was suitable for her delusions. A main focus for her was keeping up with appearances, needing to look like the part of the American Dream. This meant Shira's emerging identity was met with disapproval from her mother at first. But the turning point was when Shira was nine years old. The memory etched into her heart, scorned. When her father Clint discovered her true identity, it left ripples in her mother's perfectly fabricated illusion. He couldn't accept her for who she was so he left, leaving a whole that would haunt their family for years and thrust Shira further into a world of instability.

Following her fathers departure Helen often redirected her grief and anger towards Shira. Any maternal affection completely replaced with a resentment so cold it used to give her the shakes. Her trainings became more frequent and her mind was a minefield; during all of this she tried her best to shield Bernadette from reality. Amidst all of this turmoil, she sought solace in dance. Finding happiness in the rhythm and high that the ballet offered. What was once something she loathed -- became something of an escape for her. At least her instructors were harsh because they wanted her to get better and improve herself. Her mother was harsh because, in her eyes, everything was Shira's fault. And that stung more. It actually became a refuge for her but every day felt like a test of grace and endurance. Training was rigorous. The days began with early morning classes that seeped into late evenings, leaving little room for anything else. The atmosphere was intense and often times unbelievably unforgiving. The studio air was always thick with sweat and rosin, a scent she could still smell on occasion. Her instructor's harsh corrections snapped through the air all day, ringing in her ear's long after training had ended. She was taught to embody total precision and control -- her body transformed into a vessel of art. Discipline was relentless. Every step, every plié had to be perfect. There was zero room for error and at times the pressure felt suffocating. The line between passion and pain blurred as she was pushed to her limits. Shira’s raw talent shone brightly, and she joined a prestigious ballet company as a teenager. For a while, the discipline and grace of ballet provided a rare sense of purpose and escape. One she so desperately needed. The camaraderie she felt dancing with the other girls was unlike anything she had ever had in her life. She felt she had finally belonged somewhere, that someone enjoyed having her around.

But fate had other plans, as it often times does. One fateful evening, while exploring the desolate train tracks on the industrial side of town, Shira suffered a devastating leg injury. The break was severe, and her dreams of dancing ballet professionally were shattered. The pain from the injury was matched only by the emotional void left by her mother’s indifference and the loss of her life's passion.She didn’t think she would ever be the same after that night. And she would be right about that. Shira continued to sit in on dance practices, but they were never the same either. Eventually, she drifted from her dance friends and found solace in more… underground groups.

One day as she strolled down the Alberta Arts district (by far her favorite section of the city), she spotted a flyer. It was brightly colored and it read ‘QUEER DANCERS WANTED’. It was as if the heavens shone a light down from up above, glistening just for her. She quickly wrote the phone number and address in her pocketbook before she scurried home, toothy grin plastered to her lips.

The first time she met up with the queer dance troupe, she felt like she was in another universe. Shira had never even met another trans girl, and now she was meeting several. Ones she would soon call sisters. Those same sisters introduced her to Ballroom dance, and she fell in love instantly. She found a home in the Portland queer community and soon she joined a House, dancing for them for two years. During those two years one of her sisters told her about the Golden Dragon, a strip club that allowed 18 year olds to dance, they served no alcohol but at least she could make some money. And as soon as she turned 18, boy, did she make money! Enough money to allow her to move into her own place. It wasn’t big but it was just right for her.

As Shira continued to grow more independent, she turned to the world of full service, seeking control over her destiny and a way to redefine herself beyond the confines of her past. She completely stepped into the role of dancer and call girl, carving out a niche for herself in Portland’s underground scene. She was a fan favorite for many, including some very affluent business men. Usually something about projecting managing, mergers? Acquisitions? She didn’t know, and she didn’t really care as long as it filled her pockets.

Alongside her performances, she started a side business photographing dancers for the local exotic magazine, showcasing their beauty and strength through her lens. Shira was sick of seeing the creeps who took pictures of the girls for the magazine and decided to take it into her hands. She would be their safe space.

Everything was looking up but Shira's life took a dark turn one night. Fearful of the consequences and the power she didn't yet understand, Shira fled her hometown, crossing state lines to Washington. There, she hoped to start anew, to learn about the abilities that had lain dormant for so long, and to find a way to come to terms with the fragmented pieces of her past. She was smart enough to pack the essentials, including her photography gear; it only seemed natural that’s what she should do.

When she arrived in Cardinal Hill, she was able to secure a job taking pictures for the Cardinal Chronical. She was very thankful for her new life and her new job but she’s haunted. Everywhere she looks she can see his face, she can hear the sounds of his last rasping breath. She succumbs to the irresistible numbness that only certain vices can bring.

Shira Bardot—dancer, survivor, photographer, witch—continues her journey, seeking not just survival but transformation, in a world where magic and reality blend in the most unexpected ways.

Headcannons/Additional Information:

Shira has a hidden spell book that she jots down incantations and spells that she learns from older witches and non witches alike in the community. Most of these come from Beau but there are a few other honorable mentions.

She also has a dream diary where she writes down her vivid dreams and all of her interpretations of them. Often times they contain messages or symbols that correlate with her real life challenges.

Sometimes she hosts workshops to help young dancers find their voices and navigate the complexities of identity.

Shira discovered she has the ability to communicate with spirits. Particularly those who were marginalized or gotten lost. She uses her photography sometimes to capture all of their stories.

a/n: if any birthdates or numbers seem incorrect, feel free to correct me, I have dyscalculia. I’ll be working on my blogs soon, hope everyone is having a good weekend ! 🫶🏻 I’ll also be editing both intros with updated information as time goes on. Sorry this took forever I’m unpacking my house also ! 😌

[detroit-grand-prix]

thistle and weeds - susie wolff x oc

iii. your strife strikes at you in your sleep

Summary: Maree's solution to her current dilemma isn't practical or wise, and she can't get away with it forever, but it's all she's got until it comes to a head during the Barcelona F1 academy round.

Tags/warnings: almost one-night stands, alcohol use

Author’s note: This one didn't come quite as easily to me as chapters 1 and 2 did, but, it is a bit longer and more in-depth as a consolation! I felt like I could have maybe limited most of this to a summary, but I didn't really want to cut Maree's character development off at the knees like that, so the bulk of this chapter is strictly about Maree. I hope you like it anyway!

By the time the Barcelona round arrived in mid-May, Susie was a regular feature in Maree’s dreams, and Maree had decided that the only way to deal with it was to start avoiding talking to Susie as much as possible.

Out of sight, out of mind, Maree thought. It was a reasonable line of logic, but she hadn’t expected the act of avoiding Susie to cause Maree to think about her even more than she did before.

Getting through the Valencia race weekend without running into Susie was easy enough, as Susie wasn’t there. She had traveled to Miami, in the United States, for the Miami Grand Prix weekend. She was slated to speak at an F1-sponsored business summit where she would be announcing the partnership of F1 Academy and Hello Sunshine, and the media production company that Reese Witherspoon had founded. Maree was proud of the fact that she had a significant hand in facilitating the deal, and that they would be making a docuseries about the first F1 Academy season to capitalize on some of the “Drive to Survive” buzz. 

Even aside from missing the Valencia round, Susie had a fairly demanding travel schedule and didn’t work out of the London office much of the time. She worked mostly from her home in Monaco, or on the road when she went to F1 races with Toto, but she was in regular contact with Maree via email and WhatsApp, but their conversations had started becoming more social, sometimes about things that weren’t strictly related to F1 Academy business.

For instance, while she was in Miami, Susie sent Maree a picture of the view of the beach from the balcony of her and Toto’s room at the Four Seasons, right on the Gulf of Mexico. She also sent a picture she’d taken of herself standing on the balcony of her suite, showing off the blue-and-white striped button down she was wearing. Maree limited her response to something about how the weather looked lovely. The pictures she’d sent Maree were very different from the photos she’d posted on Instagram, one of which was a photo of herself reflected in the glass sliding door of her suite. Maree did her best to keep her responses to Susie’s more social messages simple, and did her best to avoid scrolling back through their WhatsApp chat to look at the pictures Susie sent her pictures too much in hopes of not focusing on the details, like the way the Miami sunlight made her hair look like actual spun gold, or the way the sea breeze was gently ruffling it, or the way that she could see the skin just above Susie’s bra line because she’d left the topmost buttons of her shirt undone. She definitely tried to avoid imagining herself walking hand-in-hand with Susie down the long stretch of beach, enjoying the glow of the sunset and the roar of the tides as they kissed. 

On the days that Susie was in the office, Maree hunkered down behind the locked door of her own office. She declined Susie’s usual lunch invitations, preferring to say that she already had lunch plans or that she had to run an errand. She spoke to Susie in meetings, but dashed back into her office as soon as they ended. She tried to artificially block off her schedule with check-ins with various colleagues, but the plan fell apart when her colleagues reasonably never had any updates for her.

By the time the Barcelona round started, Maree hardly had the nerve to even look Susie directly in the eye any more, and had resorted to very ungracefully turning around and walking the other way whenever she saw her approaching, loudly announcing that there was something she’d forgotten about in the other direction. She resolutely tried to ignore the confusion writ plainly on Susie’s face and tried to tell herself that there wasn’t also a touch of sadness or confusion with it, too.

The hammer came down on Saturday, just after the medal ceremony for the third and final round. Susie was taking photos with the girls that had made the weekend’s final podium. Maree was on her way back to the pit lane, chatting with one of the engineers for PREMA racing, Camilla, who had come to watch her driver, Marta García accept her third place trophy, when she heard someone call her name from behind her. 

She turned around to see Delphine half-jogging toward her from the direction of the podium. 

“Susie was looking for you earlier,” Delphine said as she caught up. “I don’t know if you talked to her already, but she just said she wanted to check in on a few things before she left.”

Maree swallowed against the lump that formed in her throat. She supposed she couldn’t reasonably evade her boss forever, but she was hoping in vain that she could make it a bit longer. 

“Oh, thanks!” Maree said, trying to feign gratitude at the heads-up. “I’ll wait until she’s done.” She nodded a farewell to Camilla and walked back in the direction of the podium, trying to ignore the sudden onset of the desire to vomit. 

Susie caught Maree’s eye as she finished up taking photos with the drivers and moved to descend the stairs.

“Hey,” Susie said. She didn’t sound upset, or like she was about to reprimand Maree for her absenteeism during the weekend. 

“Delphine said you were looking for me?” Maree asked, trying to keep her voice from cracking.

“Oh, yes. I’ll be in the office on Tuesday, I was just hoping you and I could check in. You’ve been a difficult woman to keep track of lately,” Susie said, giving Maree a pat on the shoulder. She leaned in a bit closer, and Maree swore she could feel the air around her getting thinner. “I just wanted to make sure everything is okay. Let’s say right at nine. If you have any other meetings scheduled then, go ahead and move them.” 

Her voice was as kind and even as ever, but Maree could read very clearly what Susie was telling her between the lines, or at least what she was imagining. “Something is going on with you, and I want to know why you’ve been ignoring me. You’re going to tell me why.”

It was a miserable weekend, and Maree spent all of it, including her flight from Barcelona to London, ruminating on what she would say, and for the first time, why she was having these dreams in the first place. 

It wasn’t like she hadn’t had professional relationships with other women previously, but Susie was different. Maree had noticed that gravitational pull she had with the people around her, sure, but there was something else. 

Somewhere in the air over France, she allowed herself to finally admit it: more than likely, she really was gay.

Maree had long wrestled with her sexuality. Even in secondary school, actually, she suspected that something was different. While most girls her age had boyfriends, she had no interest in dating at all. The first time she did kiss a boy, one of her classmates named Greg that she convinced herself she fancied, felt like she was a toddler at a Christmas party being forced to give an elderly relative a kiss against her will - more like something to be endured than something enjoyable. 

Rowan threw a wrench in the works, giving her the thrill of an honest-to-god crush on a man for the first time, making her throw every conclusion she’d come to about herself in doubt. She even experienced the sort of intense, white-hot jealousy that they write pop songs about when Rowan briefly had a fling with another girl at the end of their first year at King’s, but it ended quickly. 

After he and the other girl called things off, Rowan came to visit her in Glasgow at a summer music course for children where she was working as a trumpet lesson tutor. She remembered the thrill of sneaking him into her room in the dorm, and the way she felt when he kissed her goodbye in the car park before he left to head back to London, like she was finally experiencing what she had been missing all along. 

Eventually, though, the shine wore off for Maree. Their relationship was completely devoid of any intimacy at all by the end of their marriage, and any physical contact with Rowan gave her that feeling once again of being a toddler receiving unwanted affection from a relative. She braced herself any time they kissed, and couldn’t help but notice how unpleasant it was, like the romantic equivalent of a limp handshake. Maree found herself being jealous of her lesbian friends, wondering what it would be like to date women. She was thrilled when one of her closest friends from uni, who had been out as long as Maree had known her, started dating the woman she would eventually marry, but felt a pang of jealousy when she saw how effortless their affection with one another was. She wanted that for herself, and had trouble picturing a man - Rowan or not - treating her with such tenderness. 

There were other little moments in Maree’s life that made more sense in this new framing, like the time a woman with a stocky build and a boyish haircut from Maree’s Greek Literature class, sat down with her at the dining hall in Bush House, eager to discuss “the literary history of our people” after they’d listened to their professor’s lecture about Sappho. 

“Our people?” Maree asked, confused. She wasn’t English, the other woman wasn’t Scottish, and she wasn’t sure what the poetry of Sappho had to do with the history of the British Isles as a whole.

“You know, lesbians. You’re lesbian, right?”

Maree remembered panicking and denying it without a second thought, and she didn’t remember ever talking to that woman again.

The other moment that bore reconsideration came just before her and Rowan decided to go forward with the legal separation. They had a lot of serious discussions about their relationship in the months leading up to it, but a particular question Rowan asked stuck in Maree’s mind. 

“If we had never gotten together and you were single right now, would you ever start a relationship with someone that, well, looks like me?”

Maree assured him that yes, she still found him attractive, as she still had a vested interest in avoiding divorce at the time, that interest being that the prospect of having to up-end her life was terrifying. As she reflected on it two years post-divorce, she knew she would have answered differently. 

As Maree got ready for bed on Monday night, hours away from her meeting with Susie, she comforted herself with the thought that her dreams were just years of denial boiling off under all of the pressure. It was just chickens coming home to roost.

She felt eerily calm the next morning as she walked into Susie’s office and shut the door behind her. It had helped that she couldn’t remember what she dreamed about the night before, but she was nervous as she sat down and saw the expression on Susie’s face. She looked rather cross as Maree sat down in the chair in front of her desk.

“I just wanted to chat about something.” Susie said, folding her hands together on the surface of her desk. She was looking directly into Maree’s eyes, which Maree found a bit unnerving. “We have an issue that we need to discuss if we’re going to continue to work together successfully. I am trying not to assume negative intent here, but you are giving me the impression that you no longer wish to work on this team, and I was just trying to get some insight on what I can do to improve the situation.”

Maree blanched. “N-no, that’s not it at all. You’re a great boss, and I love working on this project with you.” She felt the serenity she felt when she sat down dissipating, leaving anxiety in its place. 

“Okay. I’m glad to hear that, but I’m just… confused. I thought you and I were getting on quite well together. As I said, I’m not one to assume the worst, but it seems like you’re going out of your way to avoid me.”

“It’s not that, I -”

“Did I say or do something to upset you?” Susie went on, an edge in her voice that made Maree feel like she was being scolded. “If it’s something you’re more comfortable discussing with HR, feel free to do so, but I’d hate to think that I’ve done something to make you upset.”

The worry and guilt on Susie’s face twisted something in the pit of Maree’s stomach. 

“No, it’s nothing you’ve done, I just -”

Maree paused in thought. She obviously couldn’t tell Susie the truth. She couldn’t tell her boss that she had inspired Maree to spiral into a crisis of questioning a large segment of her sense of self. She couldn’t tell her boss - her married, heterosexual boss - that she was the opposite in the romantic movies that Maree’s mind was forcing her to watch every time she went to sleep, and that those movies definitely could not be played on television until after 10pm. There was no way. She would sooner go lay down in traffic.

Still, Maree couldn’t say that everything was fine when Susie obviously had noticed that things were very much not. 

She could lie, but what would she even say? As she thought about it, her mind flashed to something she’d read in a spy novel she liked, where the main character was reflecting on his past and how he had used parts of it to construct a convincing cover identity. Half-truths make the best lies.

“It’s not you, I promise. It’s something I’ve been trying to deal with outside of work. I’m just going through something sort of…” Maree sat back in her chair and shifted uncomfortably. Now, it felt like she was talking to her therapist. 

“You know how people go through midlife crises?” 

Susie nodded, and Maree continued. 

“It’s something like that. It’s something that’s been on my mind a lot, and I’m sorry if it’s made me seem distant or distracted. I guess I hadn’t realized that it was having a noticeable effect on my work. I’m sorry about that.”

Susie’s expression turned from curious to sympathetic.

“Oh, it’s no trouble. I was just a bit concerned. You’ve been doing a fine job still. It’s just that our team is so small it’s easy to tell if something is amiss with someone. You certainly don’t have to get into the details of it if you don’t want to. If you do, I’m happy to listen, and do anything I can to help, but you certainly don’t have to. Whatever you tell me is in complete confidence, of course.” 

“I -” Maree stuttered, biting her lip for a moment. She certainly wouldn’t have ever talked to any of her bosses in the Premier League about this, or even James, her last boss, as kind as he was. But, she felt like she could trust Susie with this. She couldn’t not tell her at this point; the look of pure earnestness and care that she was giving Maree from across the expanse of her desk almost unlocked a desire to tell her almost anything. Giving up a half-truth was her only defense against telling Susie the whole truth.

She was at the edge of a precipice, like she was staring down a cliff into the roil of the ocean against the rocks. 

“Fuck it.” Maree thought. “Maybe I’ll feel better if I say something out loud.”

“This is going to sound immature, like the sort of thing most people have figured out by the time they leave university at the latest, but I never thought about it until after the divorce.”

Maree took a deep breath. 

“I guess it started when I got divorced, but I’ve been questioning a lot of things about myself lately, including my sexuality, and I… I think I’m a lesbian.” 

Maree watched as Susie raised her eyebrows momentarily, and dread curled around her heart. For a moment, she thought she had misjudged both the situation and Susie’s character horribly, until Susie’s expression softened again nearly immediately, and she gave Maree a gentle smile. Maree couldn’t help but notice the way Susie’s entire posture seemed to relax, as she crossed one leg over the other and leaned back in her chair a bit. 

“Well, that is a rather significant development,” she said. “I can see why you’ve been stressed out. I, erm, have known people, you know, friends of mine, that have gone through that process. I know it’s hard, especially because they’ve talked about not knowing who will be supportive and who won’t be. But, I will say that I will be here for you if you ever need to discuss anything. And, of course, it won’t leave this room until you want it to.”

Maree felt her entire body relax like every muscle was being tensed and that she let go of a breath that she wasn’t even aware that she was holding. 

“I… appreciate that, thank you,” Maree murmured. She took a moment to glance around. This was the first time Maree had been in Susie’s office since it had been redecorated and set up as her permanent workspace. The entire space, including the furniture, was very minimalist.. She had the room done mostly in shades of cream, but had a few carefully selected objets d’art in a matching teal blue that reminded Maree of the shopping bags from Fortnum and Mason, an incredibly upscale department store in London. She and her flatmate from university once put on their nicest dresses to go to the tea salon for high tea, just for a laugh, but Maree secretly had a wonderful time, and didn’t really want the day to end. Maree held onto the elegant paper shopping bag and the miniature tea tins that came in it for years, until she moved in with Rowan. 

As Maree spoke, she couldn’t bear to meet Susie’s gaze again. The sincerity on Susie’s face was almost overwhelming, so she focused her attention on something sitting on Susie’s desk; one of the only things on the surface other than Susie’s laptop, a small cup that had the remnants of Susie’s usual morning espresso, and a lamp with a glassy teal base. The prism was likely just a paperweight, some sort of six-sided glass prism in a shape Maree couldn’t name, but she caught herself wondering briefly if the light was ever just right in the office for it to project rainbows onto the walls.

“And…” Susie chuckled, making Maree look back up at her. “If you want some of my unsolicited advice, don’t worry about timelines with these sorts of things, or when you think you should have done something. I know it’s probably your project manager brain, but your sense of self and feeling comfortable in your own skin not a deliverable.” 

She ignored Maree’s incredulous expression and continued on.

“Growing up, and into adulthood, I never wanted to become a wife and mother. I met Toto, fell in love, and got married, but I didn’t really want children, because I couldn’t focus on my racing career and putting myself in danger with someone at home depending on me, and Toto had two children of his own already that were almost teenagers when we started dating. But, once I retired from motorsport, I realized that I wanted to have a family with Toto. I was 35 when I had Jack, and most women my age that I knew already had kids in primary school. But, the good thing is, you have an opportunity for some self-discovery, you know? Change is good, even if it’s not always comfortable, but it will give you what you need to grow. “

It was with Susie’s advice in mind that Maree found herself at a lesbian bar in Soho, appropriately named “She”, a few days later, at the suggestion of her friend Evelyn. Evelyn, or Evie, as Maree called her, was her friend that she had been jealous of when she started dating a woman, desiring the effortless affection that Evie and her wife showed each other. 

Maree reasoned that being conservative with taking risks and insisting on sticking to the familiar was what had gotten her into a job and marriage that made her miserable, so there was no reason not to go all in. So she called Evie and asked if she knew of any gay bars frequented by women, and after dealing with Evie’s excited line of questioning over the phone, Maree found herself waiting to meet Evie and Ada, her wife, at the start of the bar’s weekly Wednesday karaoke night.

The bar was not large, but it was loud, likely owing to the fact that it was built out of what looked like the remnants of an old RAF Nissen hut, given the ceiling and walls were made of a single piece of cylindrical corrugated metal. 

Maree sat at one of the uncomfortable metal yellow cafe tables that were arranged around the place, nervously glancing between her phone, the door to the bar, and the girl on the small stage singing above an instrumental track of Katy Perry’s “I Kissed A Girl'' to an audience that didn’t look particularly interested. She was desperately wondering where Evie and Ada were, and nothing remained of her Moscow Mule other than some half-melted ice pooled at the bottom of its copper mug, a damp napkin, and the spent peel of the lime garnish. 

“Come on, Evie…” she murmured to herself, staring at the WhatsApp message window on her phone, desperately waiting for the checkmark in the corner of her last message to turn blue.

“I’ve never seen you here before,” Maree heard someone say. She whipped her head around to see a petite woman sidle up to her table and sit down in the other chair. “You new in town? Just visiting?” They practically had to yell over the noise of the small crowd and the karaoke music.

The woman was very smartly dressed, wearing a pinstripe business suit, but the fact that the shirt - well, more like a bralette - she was wearing underneath was made of black lace and left her midriff exposed made Maree think she definitely had not come straight from work like Maree had.

“Uh… n-no, I live here… well, not in Soho, but, you know… London.”

The woman smiled. “So you’re just new to this bar, then? Good to know. What’s your name, gorgeous?”

“M-Maree.”

“That’s a pretty name. I’m Tara. Can I buy you another drink - Moscow Mule, looks like?”

Tara barely waited for her to nod before getting up and walking toward the bar. Maree thought that having a man come on so strongly would be an unnerving experience that would have probably had her sprinting for the exit door, but something about this - the novelty of it, maybe, had Maree wanting to stay and see what might happen.

It didn’t take more than a minute before Tara returned. She sat down and moved her chair a bit closer to Maree’s, putting a copper mug down with a new drink for Maree. Maree glanced at Tara’s drink - she couldn’t tell what it was, but it was in a rocks glass, garnished with a cherry and a slice of lemon.

“So, Maree, what brings you here? I’m guessing it’s your first time?” 

Maree nodded, setting down the copper mug after taking a generous sip.

“Yes. A friend of mine from uni and her wife were supposed to meet me but, I don’t think they’re coming.” 

“That’s a shame,” Tara said, with a bit of a smirk. She shot a very intense gaze directly into Maree’s eyes, a look that made her feel a blush starting at her chest and rising to her cheeks. “Hopefully you find my company acceptable.”

Tara was gorgeous, Maree thought. She was trying to remain circumspect and examine whether or not it was honest-to-god attraction, but being one and a half Moscow Mules in already was making it a bit of a task. She was petite, with a delicate frame. Her eyes were a shade of green that likely looked more intense and vibrant than usual, thanks to the flawless eyeliner and eyeshadow she was wearing. She had a delicate nose with a shiny stud piercing, and was wearing silver stud earrings that seemed to match it. She had a choppy blonde haircut that grazed the bottom of her chin. Her hair had dark roots that indicated that her hair color likely wasn’t natural, but it still reminded her of someone. She’d just finished her second Mule, but still had the wherewithal to not allow herself to complete that thought. 

Maree loosened up as the two of them talked, doing their best to talk over the goings-on of their surroundings. She found out that Tara was some sort of musician, not enough of a following to be particularly well-known yet, but, according to her, “big enough to pay her bills after one of her songs got some traction on TikTok”. She had the sort of crisp, polished public school accent that made Maree think that she likely didn’t have many of her own bills to worry about in the first place, but she shoved that thought away. It wasn’t as if she often used her real accent, after all. 

Maree preferred to keep details of her life spare, only telling Tara that she was in programme management for a sports management company, and not which particular sports management company. Tara did not press for details, even when she returned with another round of drinks. 

By the end of Maree’s third Mule, Tara… Maree thought that was her name, at least, as it was getting hard to remember - had gotten quite touchy, stroking the exposed skin on Maree’s arms and shoulders occasionally, and Maree couldn’t find it in herself to mind the attention one bit. At one point, Tara had reached out to tuck a lock of Maree’s dark hair behind her ear, and Maree couldn’t help but involuntarily giggle, before wondering the last time she’d made a noise even remotely similar. She felt a pleasant full-body tingle, her limbs becoming increasingly fluid and pliable, her nerves and apprehension at the beginning of the night a distant memory She wasn’t drunk, not quite, but pleasantly buzzed enough to know that she likely would’ve found this situation horribly embarrassing if she were still sober.

The fatal blow to Maree’s will to resist… what was her name again? Clara, maybe? Clara’s charms, though, came when the woman delicately grasped one of Maree’s hands, holding it gently in place for a moment. The fourth Moscow Mule, along with the shot of Fireball they’d done, certainly wasn’t hurting either. 

“You have nice hands, you know.”

For reasons she wasn’t aware of, Maree felt her entire body blush, while trying to think of something to say in response.

“I, uh… thank you? I think?” 

She didn’t think there was anything exceptional about them. She preferred to keep her nails short; a holdover from taking piano lessons, and thought that most colors of lacquer would just make her fingers look short and stubby. She preferred neutral or nude shades when she wore nail polish. Her nails were currently a light, almost-invisible pink. 

Clara laughed, but didn’t deign to explain further before abruptly changing the subject. 

“Come on,” she said, standing up, practically dragging Maree with her. “There’s an open spot on the roster, let’s go do a song.”

Maree did not object, even as they scrolled through the selection on the console. She let Sara pick the song, one that Maree remembered getting heavy radio play not long after she’d graduated from uni. It was one of those top 40 radio pop-driven dance tunes that Maree couldn’t think of the name of or which artist made it, but she somehow knew all of the words to.

“I crashed my car into the bridge, I watched, I let it burn, I threw your shit into a bag and pushed it down the stairs, I crashed my car into the bridge”, they yelled in unison into the singular karaoke microphone that… uh, was it Clara, or Sara? It was definitely Sara, Maree thought, was holding. Thankfully, the crowd was a bit more lively than when earlier on in the night, and were yelling along and dancing along with the bass-boosted karaoke instrumental track booming over the club’s speakers. It did a lot to make Maree feel 

“I don’t care! I love it!” 

The intensity seemed to ramp up as the song went on, and by the time the song was over, Sara… or was it like, Sierra? was practically in Maree’s arms, not an inch between them as she clung to her shoulders. The expression on her face was one of delight, her eyes were huge, sweat forming on her forehead. Maree could feel it too, her breath coming in sudden sharp pants, her heartbeat thundering against her ribcage. 

“Let’s go take a little break,” Mara said, her breathing just as quick. Somehow, Maree knew exactly what she meant.

They stumbled into the ladies’ room, which was thankfully empty, giggling as they practically dove into an open stall. Maree could barely throw the bolt on the door before Mara… or maybe it was something like Teri? Maree was really having a hard time remembering, but she didn’t think it really mattered at this point, focusing more on the feeling of whoever-she-was pressing her against the stall door, grasping at her hips to hold her in place. 

“Wait,” Maree said, pushing Clara’s shoulders back a bit, putting the slightest bit of distance between their mouths. “I have to tell you something… I’ve never done this before.”

“Done what?” Teri said, still panting. 

“I’ve never kissed a girl before,” Maree said, dropping her voice to a whisper. “I’m still not sure… well, you know, if I like it.”

Sierra laughed a little, but it sounded light and friendly, not the sort of teasing, cruel laugh that Maree was half-expecting. 

“That’s okay,” she said, whispering too. “Just follow my lead.”

Sara brought her hands - which were wonderfully warm and soft, Maree thought - to the sides of Maree’s face. She’d adjusted her pace from something fevered and frenzied to something gentler, probing Maree’s mouth with her tongue as her thumbs stroked gently against her cheeks. Maree caught the taste of whiskey sour, she thought, as she closed her eyes and let her lips slide open, just like she did in her dream, when Susie…

Remembering her dreams about Susie made her eyes snap open, catching sight of the blonde of Sara’s hair. She was unable to resist combing her fingers through it, trying to imagine that it was Susie’s. Maree felt a pang of momentary guilt, but between the bass thumping against the walls of the bathroom stall and their shared frantic breathing, she let it go and closed her eyes and allowed herself the fantasy that it was Susie kissing her. She wasn’t exactly in a position to tell herself not to.

The adrenaline fizzed and sparked deliciously under Maree’s skin as she imagined that it was who was kissing her so passionately. Each of them let hands each start to wander, and she grasped at Maree’s ass as Maree let her thumbs travel over the exposed skin on Tara’s abdomen, inching ever upward to the lacy bralette she was wearing.

“You’re doing so well for your first time,” Mara whispered, pulling her lips away from Maree’s for a moment. Imagination was a powerful thing, and it caused Maree to keen as she could’ve sworn that what’s-her-name even started sounding like Susie, her voice having taken on the same warm, almost-maternal affect that Susie used with her. “I wouldn’t have ever guessed if you hadn't told me. I imagine that answers your question.” 

Maree giggled. “I guess it does.”

After a few minutes, Maree started feeling more adventurous,  moving away from Teri’s mouth and kissing along the delicate skin of her neck, and let her thumbs venture under the hem of her bralette. Maree grazed the underside of Mara’s breasts with her thumb, and she giggled, rewarding Maree by shoving her thigh between the junction of Maree’s legs. Maree canted her hips a little, grinding lightly into her knee as her excitement started reaching a delirious fever pitch. She was wondering how far they would go until the exterior door to the ladies’ room burst open, and a group of what sounded like four other women, all of them drunk and enormously loud, spilled in. Both Maree and… shit, who is she again? jumped, startled, and stumbled out of the stall together to a round of boisterous, supportive peanut-gallery commentary - it was incredibly obvious what they were doing in there, and according to the blonde girl, they weren’t the first ones to do so, nor would they be the last.

As the girl with the name Maree couldn’t remember settled her bar tab, Maree perched on the barstool next to her, and felt like she was in a different world. She wasn’t sure if it was the alcohol or the adolescent thrill of making it to second base with someone even at her age, but everything seemed softer and warmer, the colors of the tinted spotlights and the pulse of the music all blending into one mass of pleasant sensation. She barely paid attention as the blonde woman slipped her the bar receipt with her phone number and her Instagram handle on it. 

They sat at the bar and talked for a few minutes as Maree knocked back a water or two and bid farewell to the blonde woman, telling her that she had to be up for work the next morning. They kissed in the stairwell of the bar as Maree left, whispering a promise to message her later on.

By the time she had regained her senses enough to walk down to the Lebanese joint down the street for some a shawarma and some chips to chase the Moscow Mules with and ordered a Bolt back home, the bar receipt was crumpled and forgotten about at the bottom of her purse with the receipt for the falafel shop and the other detritus that tended to gather there. 

Maree woke up early the next morning - well before she had to get ready for work, thankfully -  feeling nauseous and greasy, and like her head was stuffed with cotton balls but somehow weighed twenty kilos by itself. She had managed to remove her pants before falling into bed, but not her bra or her blouse, both of which had left angry red indents in her skin. Her mouth tasted like the sour remnants of the garlic sauce that was on her shawarma, and she had a message from Evie explaining that she had fallen asleep and that Ada didn’t want to wake her, and that she was sorry and that she had hoped Maree had a good time regardless.

She popped a paracetamol and downed a glass of water before getting in the shower. As she stood under the hot spray, hoping that it would be enough to revive her before she had to leave for work, she tried to piece together the previous night. She remembered getting to the bar and waiting on Evie and Ada to show up, and she remembered that song she did karaoke to, but most of the details were like dust to the wind. All that she could recall with clarity and certainty was the girl with the blonde hair pressing her against the bathroom stall, the way her hands felt as they cradled her face, and the way her lips felt against hers, and the way she closed her eyes and let herself believe that it as Susie kissing her. 

It was really too bad she couldn’t remember the girl’s name.