#things are. coming along :-) might post the playlist soon :-)

[steelycunt]

writing the padfoot scene finally and me and r are both going 🥰😍❤️😘😍🥰😘❤️😍🥰😘❤️😍😍🥰😘☺️❤️😍😘🥰☺️☺️☺️❤️😍🥰🥰😘😘🥰❤️ the whole way through

[arcane-vagabond]

Fool's Fare: Chapter One

Fool's Fare: Chapter One

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Reader

Summary: Captain Jake "Hangman" Seresin had come close to swinging from the gallows more times than he would care to admit. He's stolen, cheated, even killed. The worst thing he's ever done? Broken the heart of a woman. Having broken the heart of the woman whom Davy Jones himself had fallen for six years ago, Jake is now cursed to live as something not dead, but not alive. He's doomed to live a half-life for the rest of his existence unless he manages to obtain the treasure Davy Jones deems most valuable. The problem? He has no idea what it is, and he only had seven years to obtain it.

Trigger Warnings: Alcohol, Jake Seresin, suggestive language, fear of abandonment. I think that's it?

Word Count: 2.87k

A/N: Wasn't sure I was going to post again tonight, but here we are! Not sure I'm going to post a fic update tomorrow, but I might work on some drabbles and post some of the asks sitting in my inbox. As always, reblogs, comments, and likes are greatly appreciated. 18+ ONLY!! You can find me on AO3 under arcane_vagabond!

Series Masterlist || Moodboards || Playlist

The cool, night breeze twisted its way through the door of the crowded pub as a group of patrons exited, offering the briefest relief to your clammy skin as you busied yourself behind the bar. Patrons crowded around the various tables, some laughing in the open while others crowded in the dark shadows of the corners. Your regulars were easy to spot, most of them fishermen. Their carefree attitudes set them apart from the strangers passing through who kept themselves closed off and guarded in an unfamiliar places.

“Y/n!” Called Tom, one of your regulars. He had been a good friend to your father, having known him from his early fishing days. Tom had done well for himself, having been able to put enough money away to buy his own ship - the Iceman. “How’s about another ale!”

“Coming, Captain!” you hollered over at him jovially, already moving to grab a fresh glass. You had always liked the old captain, and had considered him to be a part of your family growing up. When your parents had died, he had seen to it personally that you were taken care of and that Bradley was able to secure steady work on the various shipping vessels that docked on your shores. “Where’s Rooster?”

“Should be coming along soon, I suspect,” Tom smiled warmly. Bradley had been picking up different odd jobs as of late, his latest one being aboard the Iceman loading and unloading cargo. He had been dodging your questions about it as of late, and you had started to wonder if he was up to something.

“He’s going to work himself into an early grave,” you grumbled, sliding the glass of ale down to the captain who caught it easily. “He won’t even tell me what he’s doing all of these jobs for.”

“I’m sure he has his reasons,” mused Tom, lifting the glass up to his lips to take a swig. “He probably doesn’t want you to worry.”

“He’s worrying me by not saying anything,” you countered, leaning against the bar. At that moment, the pub door swung open, and an exhausted looking Bradley stumbled through. You rounded the bar to help him sit down as he staggered onto a stool. “Bradley, for heaven’s sake!”

“Think you can get me an ale, Guppy?” he asked, rubbing at the bags under his eyes. The tips of his ears and nose were seared pink from hours spent in the intense sun, and you frowned at him.

“What you need is sleep,” you countered, but Bradley shook his head, fixing you with tired, pleading eyes.

“Please?” he asked again, softer this time. You sighed, moving back behind the bar and pouring him a draft before sliding it over to him. He grabbed it, raising it up in a silent cheers before tossing his head back with a long swig.

“Easy, lad,” Tom frowned, watching the young man as he took another long pull from his glass. Bradley set his drink down, absentmindedly wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Another,” he told you, but you shook your head.

“No, absolutely not,” you scowled as the furrow between his eyes deepened. “You need to go home and rest, Bradley.”

“She’s right, lad,” Tom started, twisting in his seat to face the younger man. “You’ll work yourself into an early grave if you’re not careful.”

“I’m fine,” Bradley muttered, resting his head against the palm of his hand. Tom gave him a wry smile before clapping his hand on the other man’s shoulder. He shot you a wink before getting up to join his crew that was gathered on the opposite side of the room. You watched him go before turning back to look at Bradley with a frown.

“C’mon, Roos,” you prodded, leaning your head down so you could meet his gaze that was fixed on the bartop. “Tell me what you’re up to.”

“Nothin’” he grumbled unconvincingly. You rolled your eyes with a purse of your lips.

“I’m having a hard time believing you,” you sniped, snatching the glass away from him. Without another word to him, you poured another ale and offered it to him. He took it, offering a small smile. He met your even gaze just long enough for you to see the flash of guilt that flitted in his eyes. “What was that?”

“What was what?” he asked, taking a small sip from his glass.

“Why do you look guilty?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Bradley Bradshaw,” you hissed, eyes blazing, “I have known you for twenty years now. Either you tell me what you’re up to right now, or I will personally see to it that you won’t be able to get another job for a month.”

“Alright,” he winced, setting the glass down and finally meeting your stare. “You have to promise me you won’t yell.”

You scoffed. “Are you twelve?”

“Guppy, promise me,” he insisted, hazel eyes pleading with you. You studied him another moment before sighing.

“Alright, fine.”

“I’m leaving.”

“You’re what?” you shrieked, causing some of the patrons to turn to the two of you as Bradley hissed at you to be quiet.

“You promised you wouldn’t be mad.”

“That was before you told me you were leaving,” you snapped. “Where are you even going to go?”

“I don’t know yet,” he admitted, leaning back. “Still need to find a crew that will take me on long-term.”

You stayed silent, watching him with furious eyes. After a couple of beats, you turned to walk back around the bar. “Caroline, I’m leaving.”

She waved after you, moving to tend to some patrons on the opposite end of the bar. Bradley watched you walk away with wide eyes before getting up to stumble after you. You flung the door of the pub open before setting off with a brisk pace down the road.

“Guppy!”

You ignored the man behind you, tears starting to gather in your eyes.

“Guppy?”

The tears began to fall, the trails they left behind on your cheeks turning to ice in the cool, night air. You turned to walk down to the beach past the docks. How could he drop that bomb shell on you? How could he keep that hidden from you in the first place? Your anger only served to cover up the true emotion you tried your hardest to ignore. Betrayal.

“Y/n, please,” Bradley begged, his long legs having helped him catch up to you by now. You stopped in your tracks, feet sliding into the sand beneath you as you whirled around. You shoved Bradley with all of your strength, shock at the unexpected movement being the only reason stumbled back at all.

“How could you?” you cried, tears falling quicker and your breath coming out shallower as you fought to keep your composure. “How could you just plan to leave me?”

“It’s not like that,” he started, but you shook your head.

“Don’t lie to me, Bradley,” you seethed, hands now clenched at your sides. “Don’t. I deserve the truth. Were you even going to say goodbye to me, or were you just going to vanish one day?”

“Of course not,” he murmured, staring at you with eyes once again pleading with you. “I would never do that to you. You know that.”

“I thought I knew you well enough to know that you wouldn’t leave,” you shot back, causing Bradley to wince. “Guess I don’t know as much as I thought I did.”

“Y/n,” he sighed, running a hand over his face and looking out at the ocean. He seemed to be mulling over his words. “It wouldn’t be forever.”

“That makes me feel so much better,” you laughed humorlessly.

“It wouldn’t be forever,” he continued, giving you a pointed look. “It would only be until I earned enough to buy my own ship.”

“You can do that here,” you argued, but Bradley shook his head with a small, empty laugh.

“I can’t,” he said. “I’ve barely earned enough these past weeks to live off of for a month out at sea. I’d be buried in the ground before I earned enough to buy a ship, and you know that.”

You couldn’t argue. You knew he was right, and you knew that this was not the life he had dreamed of. He had dreamed of going off with your father on one of his many voyages before the sea had claimed him. It had been years, but the pain of his and your mother’s passing still felt fresh in your heart.

You saw how Bradley looked longingly out at the sea when he thought you weren’t looking, or how he always looked happiest standing on the deck of a boat. No, Bradley was meant for a life at sea, and you knew it. You just never thought he would leave you behind.

“It won’t be forever,” he says again, moving to put his hands on your shoulders, bending down so he was eye level with you. “And when I earn enough money to buy my own ship, I’ll come back for you.”

“That could be years,” you croaked, your voice barely above a whisper. Bradley sucks in a breath before slowly nodding.

“You’re right,” he conceded, wiping the tears from your cheek.

“What if you forget about me?”

Bradley huffed out a laugh before drawing you into his arms. He hugged you tightly, resting his cheek on the top of your head. “How could I forget my baby sister? Besides, I think you’d swim across the ocean to find me if I ever forgot about you.”

You huffed a laugh, wrapping your arms around him. “You’re probably right.”

“‘Course I am,” he chuckled, pulling away from you. “Now, c’mon. It’s freezin’ out here, and I’m exhausted.”

You allowed him to lead you up the hill to your shared home. He left a chaste kiss to the top of your head before wishing you goodnight. As you lay in bed that night, you obsessed over the one question you had refused to allow yourself to ask him down at the beach. What if the sea claimed him too?

The following night, you found yourself back behind the bar of the pub. You had heard snippets of chatter amongst the locals about an unknown ship that had docked on your shores.

“I don’t like the look of’em,” Tom had told you and Bradley as he sat at the bar. A lull in the crowd had granted you a moment to stop and talk with the two of them.

“Why’s that?” you asked. He frowned.

“When you get to be my age,” he grumbled, “you can start to pick out the rotten sorts from just a glance.”

Before you could respond, the pub door swung open, hitting the wall with a thud. All three of you turned to see a large group step through the doorway and into the warm glow of the lantern filled room. A blond man stood at the front of the group, lips curled into a confident smirk. You noted the handsome features of him and his companions, and you knew the other women in the room had as well due to the scattered giggles from around the room.

“That’s them,” Tom mumbled, taking another sip of his ale.

The blond scanned his eyes across the room before catching sight of you at the bar. A twinkle of intrigue shone in his eyes as he began to saunter over to you, his crew dispersing to find a table to sit at. You shot a weary glance at Tom before moving to meet the tall stranger on the opposite side of where Bradley sat.

“Evenin’” you greeted with a polite smile. “What can I get you?”

The man looked you over with lick of his lips. “An ale, and your company if you’re offerin’ that too.”

You felt your cheeks grow warm. It wasn’t the first time a patron had made a pass at you, but it was the first time a patron was that devilishly handsome. “The ale, I can get you, but I’m not in the habit of entertaining sailors.”

“Shame,” the stranger grins, watching as you pour his drink. You hand it to him, and you feel a shiver run up your spine as his fingers graze yours. “Would have been nice to have someone as pretty as you in my bed tonight.”

You saw Bradley’s jaw tick from the corner of your eye, and you shot him a warning glance. This part of your job wasn’t new, and you had long since learned how to handle yourself in these situations.

“I believe there are more than a couple of girls over there who would be willing to warm your bed tonight, Mr…?”

“Seresin,” he said with a cheeky grin. “Jake Seresin. And I’m not interested in having anyone but you, pretty girl.”

“Well, then it looks like your bed will go cold tonight after all,” you said to him. Bradley snorted, trying to cover it with a cough, but Jake ignored him.

“Seresin,” Tom grunted, causing all three of you to look at him. He shook his head, and turned to glare at Jake. “I’ve heard of you. You’re a pirate.”

The conversation died in the pub as everyone turned to look at your little group by the bar. Jake’s easy grin never faltered as he stared back at Tom.

“Pirate is such a nasty word,” he drawled, taking a sip of his ale. “I prefer the term…liberator.”

“Whatever you call it, you have no business here,” Tom snapped.

“I beg to differ, my friend,” Jake countered, moving to stand. Turning to the rest of the room, he stated, “I’m looking for men to join my crew. You keep what you can carry with you. If you’re interested, come see me.”

And with one final glance at you, he sauntered off towards the back of the room where his crew had taken up purchase.

“Pirates?” you asked, looking at Tom hesitantly. He shook his head and got up to go join his own crew in the corner. You peered at Bradley from the corner of your eye. He studied the rim of his glass as he stroked it thoughtfully.

“What are you thinking about?” you asked him. He jumped as your words pulled him from his train of thought.

“Nothing,” he said quickly, refusing to meet your gaze. You studied him him for a moment until you saw the quick glance he threw towards the back of the room.

“No,” you snapped, causing him to finally meet your gaze. “Absolutely not.”

“What?” he scowled, but you fixed him with a glare and a finger pointed into his chest.

“Don’t even think about it,” you hissed in warning. Bradley glared right back at you before hopping off his stool and strutting towards the crew at the back. You scrambled around the bar after him. You closed the distance just as he stopped in front of Jake.

“I want to join your crew,” he stated. Jake looked at him with an amused look, eyes flickering to you as you pulled on Bradley’s arm so that he faced you.

“Bradley, don’t,” you begged.

“Y/n, enough,” he snapped down at you, taking you aback. His eyes softened as you looked up at his broad frame with hurt bewilderment. He let out a long sigh, running a hand through his sandy brown locks. He looked back at you before continuing. “Don’t you see, Guppy? This is my chance. If I don’t go now, who knows when I’ll get another opportunity to leave and make my fortune.”

“Roo, you’re my brother. I can’t let you do this,” you pleaded, taking his hand in yours. You willed him to listen to you, but it was no use.

“I’ve made my decision, Guppy,” he said. You couldn’t stop the flash of hurt you knew passed over your face as Bradley turned back to the captain. You looked around at the other patrons desperately before settling your eyes on Tom. He was already looking at you with a solemn expression, shaking his head.

“Sign here,” Jake instructed, pointing to the piece of parchment he had rolled out onto the table. Bradley obeyed, scratching his name in quick strokes to the bottom. You felt the tears start to run down your face before you could stop them. You couldn’t stop anything, it seemed. Bradley straightened and turned to look at you. The two of you stared at one another for several moments before you turned on your heel and stormed away from him.

That night, as you lay in bed, you dreamed of the sea. You dreamed of blue and green swirling around you as you struggled to breath. You dreamed of splintering wood and echoed shrieks that were drowned out by thundering waves. You dreamed of strange creatures that lurked the deep as they waited for their next meal. You dreamed of golden hair and cocky smirks as they taunted you beneath the waves. You dreamt of a cold, calloused hand that pulled you under until the surface was nothing but a distant memory.

[aethelwyneleigh27]

Knight!Ellie x Princess!Reader

Drabbles and imagines through a headcanon format

My rules for requests and characters I can write for

TLOU Masterlist

Ellie Williams dating playlist made by yours truly (Modern)

Enjoy this official playlist as a sneak peek of a fanfic I'm currently working on (This post was highly inspired by it)

ꕥ HOPE YOU ENJOY! ꕥ

A/n: Thinking about Knight!Ellie x Princess!Reader because I just love this trope so much. It's literally a fave of mine along with grumpy x sunshine ("I hate everyone but you") and enemies to lovers. This'll be constantly edited because it isn't proofread and more ideas will come to me soon.

Disclaimers/warnings: OOC?, I'm so sorry but English is not my first language so please don't come after me.

Tiny sidenote: Implied chubby reader???

♡ Knight!Ellie who literally was just stuttering and speechless when she first saw and met you. Your parents kept you face hidden from the public, of course that being done maids who are not one of your personal maids gossip about how you are more likely to be ugly, must be why your parents kept you.

Of course rumours spread like wildfire in the castle and the maiden who said such things lost her job and Ellie being a new knight, she's heard of said rumors but she didn't care nonetheless because she was getting paid worth at least two chests filled with gold coins to protect you.

♡ Knight!Ellie who became attached to you because you're so beautiful, how could she not? Although there were downsides to this, Ellie realized that the first time your parents had you meet a suitor.

♡ Knight!Ellie who had to stand there and watch on the side as you danced with a suitor, his hands on your body in such a way that made you so uncomfortable. Ellie watched as your face contorted a bit wondering what kind of a daft oblivious idiot won't notice it.

She saw the way you squinted your eyes in pain everytime when the suitor hastily steps on your foot. The little whimper that came out of your mouth because of how much weight the suitor stepped on you with, he didn't even apologize, not after he did it every 3 minutes.

♡ Knight!Ellie who was incredibly livid, the fact that he didn't take you into consideration, so mad that she was clenching her fists that she swore it would bleed if she doesn't cut her finger nails regularly. (We all know why she does)

♡ Knight!Ellie who always pays attention even when you think she's not, whenever you sneak out into town even when she's surveillancing around for anything that might cause you danger she'd know when a puddle is there and would either lay her coat down so you can step on it and continue walking or carry you and put you down when you passed the puddle.

♡ Knight!Ellie who saw how you interacted with the town's folk despite how none of them knew who you truly are. How the kids adored you, giving you wild flowers they've picked. The kids noticed how you took one of those flowers and poked it through her hair in between her ear, the look Ellie gave you of pure love being overlooked by the oblivious darling that you are.

A little girl called her out on it saying that she doesn't blame Ellie, only a fool would be stupid enough not to love you. Said little girl was told by Ellie to keep the secret of the little crush and you turn back to both of them with a confused look as to what they're talking about but the little girl just giggles and Ellie shrugs and smiles innocently at you.

♡ Knight!Ellie who finds so many different ways to touch you and any excuse to do so. She'd help you up a carriage by holding your hand even though she knows you can get up by yourself. She'd have her hand on the small of your back, the other on your hand again whenever guiding you to a rocky or unstable platform.

♡ Knight!Ellie who faced a lot of criticism for being female and has been through a lot during her training because other knights treated her differently but now that she's with you, she think it's worth it and is most certainly cocky to her colleagues about it and shoving it into their mean faces.

♡ Knight!Ellie who would rather die than face her own blade towards you in any way possible, she'd even go as far as you beg you if you accidentally point her sword/dagger towards yourself asking you "Princess please, don't ever do that again".

♡ Knight!Ellie who pleasures you in the way others have failed, she makes you feel loved, protected and cared for. She never half-asses anything that has to do with you because no matter what, she knows you deserve only the best.

♡ Knight!Ellie who worships the ground you walk on, every single thing that you do makes her fall in love with you even more. She'd defend your honor as if her life depended on it.

♡ Knight!Ellie who is always at your beck and call, even if you don't even ask her to help you with anything. Something as simple as helping you dress and being able to kiss skin on your shoulder in which she revealed by moving your chamise and putting it back in place when she's done. Most definitely loves helping you with your clothing, so much so that she goes down on her knees just to help you slip on you shoes.

♡ Knight!Ellie who smokes but when you caught her, she promised you she would quit and she did. But relentlessly teased you saying you just wanted to keep her alive longer for yourself, not that it isn't true but you'd never tell her that right?

♡ Knight!Ellie noticing the little things about you, how strands of your hair make their way in front of your face and how you huff in annoyance because it disrupts you of whatever you are doing so you blow it back. She finds herself tucking the strand behind your ear for you.

♡ Knight!Ellie who loves it when you read to her, how you so comfortably ask a commoner like her to be in your bed chambers and to make her lay in your bed as you read to her.

Her heart beats faster, her breath hitches the moment you thank her for providing you protection, safety and care. The young knight butting in saying that you deserve nothing less, looking up at you with those beautiful sage green eyes of hers.

♡ Knight!Ellie caring more about your well being than her own, constantly forgetting to eat meals, losing sleep and not giving herself enough time to heal when injured so you just had to sit her down. You took care of her, fed her and changed her bandages when you was too stubborn to do so, to say that Ellie knew in that moment, she just couldn't help herself. That was the first time she kissed you.

♡ Knight!Ellie who can't get enough of your kisses, your soft lips hitting her chapped ones, giving it warmth and life. She pull you in, arms wrapped around your body and hands rested on you back. You cupped her face continuing to share your warmth with her. That cemented it for Ellie, she just had to have you no matter how guilty and selfish she felt about it.

♡ Knight!Ellie who lays awake at night dreaming what it would be like if she was able to express her love for you in public, let the world know that you belong to each other.

♡ Knight!Ellie who used to use sweet nicknames as a tease and now using it as a term of endearment putting the word "my" before each one whenever in the privacy of four walls.

♡ Knight!Ellie who makes anytime with you feel domestic, just makes her want to take you with her and run away to a small cottage near a field where you two could happily live the life of a married couple, maybe even adopt a child.

♡ Should I do Knight!Abby x Princess!Reader or Knight!Abby x Maiden!Reader next? Both? Honestly I need more Abby content. (Maiden = Commoner)

[ma1dita]

'en route' - i. imaginary friend

pictures are not mine, 3rd is a photo concept by @geloyconcepcion on ig

read along here (will update) : part ii, part iii, part iv

song of the chapter: revolution 0 by boygenius

en route playlist: here

words: 3.9k

summary: pt ¼ of ‘en route’. You and James are kindred spirits. Fighting in the First Wizarding War just seems to be your only escape.

warnings: no use of y/n, religious iconography sprinkled here and there, depictions of loss/war, angst, unhappy(?) marriage, fake marriage, twin flames vibe, they’re just kids they should be at the club bro

a/n: setting the scene is always so hard LOL. i love writing morally grey characters, please feel free to comment if you want to be added onto the taglist, or scream at me <3 thanks for the patience, you won’t have to wait as long for the next part lol

(posted 12/28/23, might come back to edit)

—

END OF MARCH 1980

There’s not a lot of things you like to remember about the year 1980. The memories blur together, highly repressed in a busy corner of your mind, and if someone held you at wandpoint to ask about what happened, you’re not sure where to begin. You don’t talk about it much anymore, but if you did, it wouldn’t be sufficient to put it in a few simple words.

And maybe if you did, the remembering wouldn’t hurt as much. With little physical things to hang onto, however—holding onto this hurt reminds you it was real.

From what you can remember anyway, it all started on his birthday.

You felt eyes on you as soon as you stormed into the room. In this congregation of people trying to save the world, it was easy to feel unseen in your struggles to keep moving forward. A pair of kaleidoscope eyes meet yours for a small moment, and that’s when you knew it was risky. It’s easy to hide in a crowd of Aurors enjoying the reprieve from the reality of the world outside of headquarters’ protected doors, fading into the background.

But he saw you, and that was terrifying–to be perceived.

Frank Longbottom pours you a pint, and you nod your head in thanks, taking a long sip before settling down into a chair at the bar. The same pair of eyes see through you, past your hunched frame, down to the core of your grief. Something about it resonates with him deeply, and the boys notice his attention is away from the conversation they’re having in the living room.

“She's pretty, yeah? French, I think. Never says more than a few words to anyone though, I tried. All business,” Sirius mumbles to his best friend over a glass of firewhiskey.

James looks up at Sirius from his position in the armchair, his head tilted to one side in curiosity at the way you fold into yourself.

"Yeah, I guess," James replies reluctantly. "I've never properly spoken to her, but I can tell she's very... mellow."

“Heard she lost people. The war hasn't been kind to her like it has to a lot of us. Don't know if she'll budge, Prongs. Some pages are best left unturned,” Remus says, shuffling a deck of cards between his scarred fingers. Sirius grunts in response, not caring for the conversation as he takes another sip of his drink.

James knows now what he recognizes within you. Grief has been looming over him too, latched onto his spine, weighing him down as the responsibilities grow by the day. His eyes flicker to his wife’s baby bump as she stands near the window laughing at something Marlene and Peter were acting out. Lily falling pregnant was his sign to get his shit together, because if he didn’t, who would?

Like a shadow, you shy away from the light and laughter that fills the room. But there was no escape once he started walking in your direction. There was no grandiose introduction, no heart-stopping, earth-shattering moment. Both consumed by grief unseen by most, two people sat at the bar in silent reverence of each other’s breathing, daring the other to say something.

“Didn’t know I was crashing your birthday Potter. Seems I don't have a gift,” you say suddenly, words rushing out as your eyes trace his profile.

A beat passes.

His head bobs up and for a second you think you’ve said the wrong thing until you realize he’s smiling. He looks up grinning like the devil, eyes meeting yours with a smile you could only describe as radiant. It stirs something deep within you, and you watch your hands reach toward your butterbeer to avoid his searing gaze.

“Terrible time to have a party anyway. I think it’s more for them than it is for me.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” you scoff lightly, and his head jerks towards you as you continue, “You’re a bit too happy for my liking.”

“Oh?” His body turns to follow, knees bumping against yours under the bartop.

“How come you know so much about me then? You don’t give any of us a chance with you.”

James says this jokingly, but a part of it rings true like a punch in the gut. You were so impressionable, left soft and malleable by the grief that became you that you found it quite infuriating that someone like him could be so happy in the middle of a war like this one.

A noise of acknowledgement leaves your throat and he watches your fingers clench around the glass. Too much? Change the subject.

“What’s the ‘T’ necklace you have on?”

The chain swings against your chest as you adjust yourself on the barstool, becoming aware of the weight of it.

“What?”

“What does it mean? Must be important to you, whoever this fellow is. See you wear it every day,” he says adamantly, before backtracking and realizing how stalkerish that sounds.

“Potter, have you never met a Christian?” Your eyes dart between him and his hands on the bartop, more glaringly, the platinum wedding band on his left hand. Surely, anything should be more interesting than conversing with a stranger at his own party.

“A who? Who’s Christian? Are you?”

The beginning of a smile breaks onto your face like daybreak. It’s refreshing, he thinks. He doesn’t think he’s made someone smile like that in a while.

“You idi–,” you exhale, “It’s not… Muggles don’t have magic like us, so they have belief systems. Higher power they believe in. Weren’t you Head Boy at Hogwarts, how did you pass Muggle Studies?”

“Elective. Do you believe in that stuff? God and what not?”

Your calf brushes his pant leg accidentally. Why can’t you stop fidgeting? He makes you nervous, all these questions, and then you blurt your response out in rapid succession that he’s almost unable to catch it.

“No. Maybe. My parents did, and God was important to them, so I wear this necklace because of it. They’re important to me. I used to before I found out I was a witch. Used to pray that God would save me, make me something other than mundane—well, here I am now. Not quite sure if he heard me.”

It hits you that the last time you’ve been able to speak about your parents like this was at their funeral two months back. Right before you joined the Order, and sitting here in front of James suddenly feels stifling. You roll your jacket sleeves up, hyperaware that he’s watching your every move.

He keeps his tone light, but the smile on his face is kind as he mutters, “You think some bloke up top is calling all the shots for everyone?” James says this without judgment and your breath quivers.

“I don’t know, but I think things happen for a reason. I’m still trying to find out what that exactly is.”

His pinky nudges yours on the sticky bartop, and his glasses slide down the bridge of his nose as he tilts his head in thought.

“Did. Is the believing past tense?”

You’re not sure what’s changed in the past few minutes that’s made you comfortable in his presence, but you crack a joke before you think too hard.

“My parents are. Past tense.”

Laughter spills out of you like the bubbles on your refilled pint glass, and James scrunches his face, holding back until his shoulders are shaking from the effort.

“Merlin….yeah. Mine too.”

Oh.

You look at him through your eyelashes, silence filling the space between you two as the rest of the party goes on in the background. James clinks his glass with yours, and there’s a silent understanding that bridges between you, connecting you together.

—

END OF APRIL 1980

“You know if we’re gonna be friends, you should probably call me James.”

The two of you were left sitting in the den to deliberate on the mission you were being sent at the end of this week. Three whole months with James Potter could be a nightmare. But it could also be quite fun, you think, watching him flick through the mission files with a quirk in his lip that can only signal mischief. Signing away your life wouldn’t be so bad if you had him to keep you company. You’d never tell him that though.

“Will we be? You don’t seem that excited.”

“Excited to be shipped away from everyone we know is definitely a statement, love.”

“I’m not eager if that’s what you’re insinuating. Just feel obligated, especially if it helps the cause. That’s why you’re here, right?” Right. In a war like this one, ordinary people like you and him pay the highest price. But nothing seemed ordinary about you, like a complex puzzle he was constantly wracking his brain to figure out. There are aspects of your personality that come to light the more he talks to you over these past few weeks, almost luring him in so he can unveil the secrets you hold. Why do you put yourself on the front lines like this, mission after mission? Who do you have in your life that makes you want to fight against the odds? What do you think of to keep you going? Why can’t he stop thinking about you?

He blinks, before looking at you, “S’not that I don’t want to go with you, and do my duty, I just…”

“You love it. I can see it in your eyes, you were trouble at school, weren’t you?” James’ smile gets wider, thinking back to the last few years, before everything went to shit. Back when it was easier, just him and his three friends, and his biggest worry was getting Lily Evans to look at him.

“Just a lot to worry about. People to take care of.” His mind falls back to his wife sitting at home, probably wondering why he isn’t back from the Order meeting, getting more agitated by the minute. He thinks of the nursery he still needs to set up, and the legal affairs he’s left behind after his parents’ death. He thinks of checking in on his boys, who barely know how to take care of themselves if they don’t come over for dinner, and finally, he exhales.

“You?“

It’s an honest question, and by asking it, he extends himself to you, an insight into the burdens he carries with him daily. The difficulty and complexity of having a large capacity to love is carrying the weight until you cannot.

“Just me and my rucksack. Gives me something to do.” You give him a tight-lipped smile, busying yourself with packing the supplies Dumbledore gave you two earlier. Vials of Polyjuice Potion, two golden wedding bands, magically enhanced IDs— it was like playing pretend. That’s all this has to be. Easy enough.

James looks at you and understands a bit more. You need this job. And if he’s being honest, so does he.

“I still wonder what would happen if it doesn’t work out, don’t get me wrong. But then I think, what if it does? What if no one else has to die?” A noise of agreement rises from his throat as he straightens his posture on the couch.

War shouldn’t be an escape, much less a distraction to two people grieving. There are countless muggles and wizards alike losing their lives to a genocide of people undeserving of a fate dictated by a person who plays god. But when you’re fighting for your life before you can even legally drink in some countries, there are two things left to consider when making a decision: to choose something difficult or to choose wrong.

And neither of you have ever found anything easy. Not in this life at least.

He sighs. James really needs to get home.

“Well…We will be friends by the end of this. I’m sure. Already gonna be married to you anyways,” he jokes.

“Don’t get used to it, what a pity that would be for your ego,” you gripe, but a trace of amusement is present on your lips as you watch him stand up to leave.

“We’ll see about that, love.”

He apparates home. Onto the next difficult thing.

When James told Lily that he’d be on a mission for the latter half of her pregnancy, she didn’t take it well. But to be honest, with everything going on, James couldn’t help but feel exasperated. How bad is his marriage that he’d rather risk his life instead of tending to his family’s needs? James sits at the dining table listening to her yell, and he feels extra heavy today, wondering how he feels so ancient at 20 years old.

Years ago he dreamed of this, a wife, kids, a pretty townhouse. But this isn’t what he quite imagined. He looks at his wife as she paces around the room, hand on her bump, red hair spreading little fires as she goes. She’s his everything. Truly. He spent years trying to even find that spark in her, dedicated his life to her, and gave up everything to take care of her—but she struggled a lot these past few months. Her pregnancy brought on incendiary words falling upon him like lashes as she blamed him for moving too quickly. Blamed him for the fact they’ve felt like strangers in this little house. But with his parents both sick, getting married seemed like the next right thing.

An owl flits to his kitchen window once Lily storms out again, leaving nothing but ashes of her disappointment in her wake. Ashes, ashes… James wonders where his spark has gone. He hates to disappoint.

Just wanted to owl and check in. I found myself thinking about you and wanted to make sure you’re okay, with everything changing so quickly. Hope you and your wife figure it out, I’ll be on the 11 AM Knight Bus tomorrow outside Diagon Alley regardless. See you.

He thinks of you, so brave and filled with a spark he used to recognize within himself. This isn’t wrong, he reasons, just difficult. But he won’t admit that taking his wedding band off before settling onto the couch was easier than he thought it would be. He feels lighter. As he takes off his glasses and stares at the ceiling of his living room that night, James wonders how much longer he can ignore his problems by not looking at them properly. How much longer does he have to carry the weight? When will someone help him carry the load?

For now, he tries to sleep. One step at a time, James. Like always. There’s a mission he has to start tomorrow. And he doesn’t want to disappoint you.

—

You’re not surprised when he turns up to your meeting point the next morning, not addressing him when you stick your wand hand out to summon the bus. He bites back a smile, knowing you were right and thinking you see right through him. Now look who’s the eager one.

After paying eleven sickles each, you lead him to a window seat, ignoring the babbles of other passengers as you look out the window.

“You ever think about all these people, with their little lives and everything they have to do?” you pipe up, head against the glass. James scoffs, “I always think about other people. Sometimes I wonder if anyone thinks of me like that. If anyone worries as you do over strangers.”

“I thought we were friends,” you say coyly, still not looking at him, and his heart skips a beat. Probably nerves. “You think Dumbledore cares that he’s sending off two teenagers to fight a war and save the wizarding world?”

“I’m an adult, thank you very much.”

“We’re kids, James,” You look at him, and he blinks at the sound of his given name falling from your lips that he almost loses the next part of your sentence, “we’re kids working towards a bigger picture of world peace. Isn’t that fucking insane that this what our lives amount to?”

He couldn’t agree more, but his forehead creases at your tone.

“Why do you act like your best years are behind you? There’s a lot to live for still,” he murmurs knowingly.

He pats your thigh and the only thing you notice is the tan of his hand against his missing wedding band. Soon it will be replaced by one that binds him to you, temporarily, but it’s jarring all the same. You shake off the uneasy feeling that rises in your stomach.

“You don’t know that.”

“I do.”

James is doing that thing again, the whole savior complex bit that you notice is one and the same with his trying hard to be carefree personality. But you’re coming to learn that James cares. A lot.

—

“Apartment 11B?”

“Uh, yeah.”

Two swigs of Polyjuice Potion did the job once you stepped off the bus and walked through town to the place you’ll inhabit for a fourth of the year, and quickly, you both become unrecognizable to even each other. A blonde eyebrow looks at you under James’ glasses at your hesitation, so you clear your throat.

“For Mr. and Mrs. Fawley. We just got married, you see. Newlywed jitters.” His voice is lighter and more posh as his hand reaches out to rest on your shoulder.

“Hmm, yes. Harry—er…Henrietta and Draco–” the receptionist squints at her paper, and you sigh at how pretentious the names sound together. Not in this life. You ought to wring Alice’s neck. That girl loves to make stories, and the more frilly your personas she created, the more difficult it’ll be to upkeep.

“No need, Etta and Drake are fine, love,” you say with a more confident grin, leaning against your faux husband.

The keys slide across the countertop, and you walk to the elevator, hand in hand until you’re out of sight. As you approach the door, James crouches a bit and puts his hands on his knees.

“What are you doing?”

“Jump up. Gotta carry you over the threshold.”

“Shut up, Drake,” reminding yourself to use his false name in case someone’s watching, but he looks at you with a shit-eating grin.

“Exactly. Just in case. Come on, just indulge me.” You shake your head in disbelief but hop onto his back all the same. Not exactly traditional, but it stirs up a feeling in you that you haven’t felt before. He carries you through the doorway and spins you once, twice, three times before you squeal and he giggles, placing you gently onto the sofa. It’s a cozy apartment with enough space for the two of you, cream walls, and a small kitchen with an island overlooking the entertaining space. The hallway leads to what you presume is the only bedroom, and there’s a nervous energy that sifts through the air as you both place protective charms everywhere, to ward off prying eyes and ears. How intimate. James falls back onto the sofa with a huff, sitting next to you, and both of you are unsure of what to say.

“I can take the sofa,” he says into the silence, and you turn to look at him incredulously.

‘For three months? James, I can't ask you to do that.”

“You’re not asking. I’m offering.”

“You’re gonna be hunched over by the end of the week. What if we rotate?”

There’s no disagreement, feeling the springs in the cushion beneath your bottoms already. James perks up, leaning over to grab something from his bag, and by the time he leans back up, he looks like himself again, the small dose of Polyjuice wearing off. You can feel your hair go back to its original shade and texture, and he smiles wider when he sees your face.

“Look what I got. Remus gave it to me back at Hogwarts but I never really used up all the film. Thought we could take some pictures and look back on this one day.” It’s sweet, how he loves his friends like they’re an extension of himself. You reckon you don't have anyone like that, smiling at him fumbling with the tiny camera in his hands.

“It’ll take a while to develop. Gotta keep it safe if we’re making it out of this,” you say, taking it from him and throwing yourself back onto the backrest leaning against him to point and shoot one of yourselves in this moment, disheveled and domestic. The flash goes off and he looks like a deer in headlights, making you cackle.

“You miss them?” He’s not sure who you’re referring to, so he rattles on anyway. He loves talking about the people he loves.

“The boys…Just miss being kids at Hogwarts, y’know? The end of the world back then was not getting enough O’s on NEWTs. You?”

“Mhm. None of them are in Britain though. They came for my parents’ funeral, and they always say they’ll visit but…That’s my fault too, I guess.” You tuck your leg underneath you, turning to face him, and he’s cuddled up against a throw pillow.

“Your parents were awesome. Didn’t know them well besides your dad being in the Order and stuff, but they were really brave. Your mom hugged me at my parents’ burial and I think that was the first time I let myself cry after they died. That’s one of the few things I remember from that day.”

A breath of air escapes your lungs at his anecdote. It’s been a few months since they passed but you’ll never stop missing them.

“I don’t remember a lot from theirs either. It’s all kind of been a blur since. I think I remember you and Sirius smoking in the back and him offering me a cigarette.” He laughs silently at the memory of his best friend.

“No one ever talks about how much there is to do after your parents die,” he says, and you roar with agreement.

“Yes! I’m still battling out their assets in court! It’s difficult to live life alone, thinking they’ve set you up for the future, but feeling like a rug’s been pulled out from underneath you. I just wish…They left this world together, y’know? And that’s great, but sometimes I feel selfish wondering what will happen to me.”

James nods slowly, taking your words in. He’s never had anyone to talk about this with, people pitying him instead, or acting like it didn’t matter, but it’s been almost a year and he can’t go to bed without thinking about how his parents died a week apart because even in death, they couldn’t be away for long. James wonders if you’ve noticed that he hasn’t talked about missing his wife, and the selfishness you mentioned prods at him. He smiles grimly, and takes the ring box from your bag, asking for your hand.

“Hey. You’re never gonna be alone again, alright? Not if it’s up to me.”

You roll your eyes as he flips the cover open, revealing the two gold bands, yours with a sizable diamond in the center.

“Do you think I’d give you that much power over me, James? This is all fake.”

“Fake marriage, but a true promise. I think you might, eventually.”

He slides the ring onto your left ring finger, sealing it with a gentle kiss on the back of your hand.

—

“The first time you caught my eye it was not love at first sight. Instead, a quiet curiosity was planted in my chest and I knew it was only a matter of time before you sunk beneath my bones and nurtured this deep-seated familiarity into a love so fierce that I would question if I had ever been in love before.” - Lyra Wren

general taglist: @jsjcue

en route taglist: @xcinnamonmalfoyx @babyclea @idkman5335 @timhalamet @ttulipwritezz @lilylovesu @thatonedogwithablog @lovemerigt

[3d-wifey]

And They'd Find Us In A Week - Chapter 7

Pairing: Finnick Odair x Reader Word Count: 4.2k Synopsis: Here! Playlist: Listen up! A/N: Thank you for waiting so patiently, Finnick girls! I was able to post this one in its entirety. Extra trigger warning for this one. It's the saddest chapter yet. Don't be scared to click the embedded links, you might get an auditory surprise (Ai voice cloning works wonders)

Past (vii) - You & Finnick

[19 & 20] - THE CAPITOL

You adjust and try to get comfortable on the white chair, but it’s just as unbearable as the last time you were here. You cross and uncross your ankles, pinching the skin between your thumb and forefinger—anything and everything you can to calm down. 

You hate interviews. You’ve always hated interviews. The inane questions, the pandering, the audience hanging on to your every word with ‘oooh’s and ‘ahhh’s. It’s all so fake, so Capitol, but that doesn’t matter to any of them, does it? It’s degrading, alienating. 

A calloused hand grabs yours and squeezes it briefly.

Not too alienating. You have this, at least. You have Finnick.

In the beginning, when you first met, the way he could read you was unnerving. You’ve encountered many people in your life, and you’ve never connected with anyone as seamlessly as you did with Finnick. It’s an incredible feeling to be known so thoroughly, if not a little overwhelming. You like to think you know him just as well.

He leans in to bridge the gap between your two chairs, and you mirror him.

“Just breathe and endure, right? Only way out is through.” He soothes. Your lungs feel cool with the breath you take and your hand is warm under Finnick’s. That’s what you focus on, not the three cameras pointed at you or the sea of people soon to be watching you.

“Breathe and endure.” You nod. “Aren't you worried someone will get the wrong idea?” You ask in a hushed tone, a little worried that the mics on your shirts will pick up what you're saying, but not bothering to separate your hands.

"It's not really the wrong idea," he points out, and you roll your eyes. "Besides, he’s the only one it would matter to." He nods over your shoulder to Caesar, who’s looking especially orange today. He's too busy getting his face powdered to notice anything happening with his guests. And it’s not like the audience can see you yet.

This isn’t your first interview, but it is your first one with Finnick. You’ve done photoshoots together, movie premieres, after-parties, and more. But this is a first. 

They have him in the closest thing to a suit that he’ll tolerate, and his blond hair is artfully coiffed. You miss how it falls naturally, and you’re sure he feels the same. The makeup they put on you makes you feel like a mannequin. Stiff and shiny, just the way they like you.

The cameramen give the signal, and everyone who shouldn’t be on stage rushes off. You sit up straight, and Finnick lets go of your hand, leaning back in his seat.

“In five, four, three, two…”

You try not to squint when the stage lights come on. Caesar waves to the cheering crowd, a plastic smile on display.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, I thank you for joining us tonight. We have two very special guests.” Caesar claps along with them. “Mhm, mhm, very exciting. They need no introduction. We have two of Panem’s youngest and hottest victors!” You and Finnick smile and greet the masses like you were trained to. You wave your hand open and closed, and Finnick doesn’t wave at all, instead nodding to the crowd. 

“Now,” he starts, then waits for the yelling to simmer down, “I’ll go ahead and ask what’s on everyone’s mind. You two are highly sought after. Finnick, is there any romance on the horizon that’ll break these good people’s hearts?” Of course, he’d direct that question at Finnick. The people are incredibly possessive. Just as Finnick told you, you’re their pet. He can drop the ruse right now and admit that he and you have been dating for longer than you were even aware of, but the two of you have been doing this job for so long that you’re sure Snow would just market you together.

“I’ve—” cheering cuts Finnick off before he can even start, “Heh, I’ve had the opportunity to spend time with so many extraordinary people, so who knows? Maybe I’ve already met the love of my life.” He artfully dances around the question, yet the room explodes into whooping and clapping. Jesus, is there anything they won’t cheer for? You’d compare them to children, but that would be an insult to the kids.

“Wonderfully said. Well, ladies and gentlemen, I think it’s safe to say these two are still on the market. Hahaha!” The crowd titters and giggles along with him.

The conversation shifts from relationships and hobbies to parents, a sore subject for both you and Finnick.

Caesar turns to you, and you stiffen at the attention being redirected at you but force yourself to relax just as fast.

“We had the chance to interview your mother before and during your games, but not your father.” He doesn’t ask a question outright, but you understand what he wants you to answer. What a pitiful beast you are. What else about you can we feel sorry for?

”Sadly, my dad,” was executed, made into an example. Hung in the square while everyone was forced to watch, “passed. When I was young.” 

“Very sad, very sad indeed,” he pouts at you and then at the audience. The room fills with sympathetic murmurs that make your eye twitch. You don’t need their pity. Pity won’t bring him back. Pity won’t stop it from happening to someone else. If they used that same pity to stop injustices before they happened, then maybe these people would actually be worth a damn. “Alright, let’s get into some games, huh? Yeah!”

Soon, the interview is over, and Caesar ushers in the next segment of his show. You and Finnick are given the rest of the night to yourselves. It’s not even thirty minutes later when Snow calls you to his office, and it feels a lot like the first time. It usually isn’t like this. You would come in, get your assignment, and leave—sometimes with multiple client cards for different times of the day. Regardless, Snow didn’t typically schedule meetings after you’ve done an interview or a photo shoot.

But now, you sit before him, and he looks at you with the same smile he wore when he took you past the point of no return.

A clock ticks ominously behind you, probably a new fixture. It bluntly cuts the silence. You would have noticed that before. You think.

“My colleagues speak very highly of you.” He pulls a white handkerchief up to his mouth and coughs into it. It’s a wet, violent hacking that rocks him in his seat. It must hurt, and you know without a doubt that the white of the fabric is blood red now. Good. Hopefully, he’ll cough up a lung soon enough. He dabs at his mouth before pulling it back to his lap, almost like he’s hiding it. “You should be proud of yourself. I certainly am.”

“Thank you, sir.” Your reply is at a level just above a whisper. The tendon in your neck pulses, spasming irritability.

“You’ve come a long way,” he clears his throat, “from the girl you were four years ago.” He gestures for you to stand and you do on numb legs. You want to be relieved that you’re a step closer to getting out of here, but there’s a reason you aren’t an optimistic person. And that reason sits directly before you. 

“I can see you’re getting restless. I assure you, dear, you’ll be free to leave as soon as you finish your assignment.” Free to leave? Leave the Capitol? You haven’t even been given an assignment yet.

“My…my assignment?” 

“Come now.” His smile stretches across his face like a coyote’s, though it’s twice as sharp. You bite at the skin of your peeling bottom lip. “You’re a smart girl. You should be able to infer what’s happening without my telling you.” You do. You had just hoped you misunderstood, that you were being overly paranoid. After all, you have an intimate relationship with hunger, and not just your own. You’ve seen that look before more times than you can count. On the faces of particularly crooked Peacekeepers, handsy landowners, and ‘well-meaning’ teachers. And now you see it again on the face of your President.

They all have something in common: they thought they were above you and your savagery. They thought you were some animal, that you should feel lucky that they even looked your way.

So distinguished, so self-important, and yet, they lust after an animal like you? And you’re supposed to be the savage one? You wish you could enjoy the irony.

Wordlessly, you walk around the desk to stand before him. You’ve never been this close to him before, and now you know why.

There’s a smell emitting from him. A smell you’ve only smelt in rotting animals: decay. The rose in his pocket and the roses around the room can only cover so much. It’s the poison; it has to be. All the poison he drank while getting rid of his political rivals has finally come back to reap its judgment. He’s decomposing from the inside out. The consequence of having so much power, it seems. 

It doesn’t matter how much makeup or what kind of dress you put on a pig. At the end of the day, it’s still a dirty, stinking pig. You just hope that when the day comes, you’ll be around to see this pig get gutted.

-

Caesar’s interview ended over two hours ago, and Finnick has been waiting for you just as long. You were both heading back to the Marquis when you were intercepted by an Avox with a letter addressed to you from Snow. It was brief and vague and you promised to meet back up with him in his room within the hour.

He’s getting worried. 

You might’ve fallen asleep or got into the shower. It can’t hurt to check on you, though, right? Or, at least, he thinks so until he gets to your door. Your door, which is wide open.

“Star!” He calls, but it’s dead silent. He walks in and presses the button to close the door behind him. It’s pitch black. The only reason he hasn’t tripped is the moonlight spilling in from the opened balcony door.

The balcony was the first place you thought to go after leaving that office. You straddle the railing, your right foot dangling limply off the side. Nothing restraining it. Nothing to hold you back.

From this high up you can hardly hear yourself think, finally. But barely, just barely, you can make out Finnick’s voice. You’ll always be able to recognize that voice. The sound is almost as much of a part of you as it is of him.

“What’re you doing, Star?” He doesn’t yell; he doesn’t want to scare you off the ledge.

“I think it'll feel like flying. Before—” You look down to the street below you. It's so far down you can barely see it. It’s so strange how minuscule something big can look from this high up, all of your problems turned into the size of ants. “I’d like that. To fly, just for a second.”

“Fly, huh?” He edges towards you, “Why, uh, why would you wanna fly?

“Snow requested my company.” He sucks in a harsh breath. Did he hear you wrong? No, what you said is crystal clear. And what Snow’s done is even clearer.

It’s a warm night, but Finnick has gone cold. He doesn’t have the time to think about that, nor the emotional capacity to juggle his bubbling hatred for Snow with everything he’s feeling for you right now. He steps closer.

“You know, in Eleven, we return our dead to nature, to the forests. Is it the same in Four?”

He shakes his head, eyes fixed on your neatly placed high heels. “We, uh, we do ocean funerals. The friends and family boat out to sea and spread the ashes in the water.” It’s quiet between you. Finnick bites into the meat of his cheek with sharp teeth. He tastes blood.

“You ever wonder where you’ll go after you die, Finnick?” 

"No." 

”Some people think your soul leaves your body and you go somewhere else, or it all just cuts to black.” Not that it matters much to you. Just about anything would be better than this. “But do you know what I think?”

“No. No, Star, what do you think?” You’ve let him get close enough that he could pull you down if he’s fast enough. But you’re faster than him. All you have to do is let go and—and that’s it. He needs to talk you down. That’s the only option here. There will be no other outcome.

“I think when you die, you become a real star. That’s why there’s so many of them.” That’s what your dad used to tell you. That he’d watch over you in the sky. He must be so disappointed to see his daughter so beaten down. The same daughter he hammered ideals of honor and direct action in the name of justice into just for you to turn tail and run. “What about you, Finnick? Where do you think I’ll go?” 

You lift your left leg as if you’re going to turn. Finnick’s heart stops, and he doesn’t think it’ll ever beat the same.

“I don’t—I don’t know. Why don’t we talk about that inside, yeah?” His voice cracks as he tries to persuade you down.

“But we always talk on the balcony.” You look up to the sky, and Finnick watches you stare at the moon with so much yearning it hurts.

“Please, just…just come down, Star. Please?”

You look over to Finnick and pause. His normally tan skin is pale, hands shaking as they’re held out to you like he wants to grab you. His chest heaves with the strength of his heavy breaths, and his glossy eyes move over you rapidly. You’ve never seen him look like that before. You’ve never seen him look so scared. He’s petrified.  

You hadn’t meant to worry him. You just—you don’t know what you were trying to do. But you did that.

Finnick doesn’t know what he must look like to shake you out of this trance, but he thanks whoever the hell is watching over him that it did. He waits for both of your feet to touch the ground to touch you. The tips of his fingers faintly brush your arm, your chilled skin, before he grabs you. His legs give out from under him, and he brings you to the ground with him. 

You’re whole and solid in his grip. You’re safe. God, you’re safe.

“You’re shaking, Finn,” he tightens his grip on you until you’re practically sitting sideways in his lap. Your ear is pressed to his heaving chest as he rocks you both. You can hear how fast his heart is pounding with each shuddering breath. You were wrong before. How could anywhere be better than here when 'here' has Finnick? “I’m sorry. I didn’t—I’m so sorry.”

“S’okay. You don’t have to apologize, sweetheart. We’re okay .” His fervent reassurances are the only thing staunching your tears. 

“’M not letting you go,” he mumbles into your hair. Good, you think. You don’t want him to. You’re sure you’d fall apart if he wasn’t holding you together so tightly. “I won’t.” The wind howls past your ears, a sudden chill nipping at any exposed skin. You’re both shaking, but not just from the adrenaline.

You dig blunted nails into the bicep of his left arm crossed over your chest. His grip has to be hurting you, but he can’t loosen it. If he does, what if you slip away? He won’t be able to catch you again. He can feel his heartbeat in his teeth. He doesn’t know what he would have done if he hadn’t got to you in time if you hadn’t agreed to come down, he–he would’ve—

“Okay,” you say, wrapping a trembling arm around his waist, and his jaw aches from clenching it so hard. "Okay."

Neither of you speaks. Which is fine. There’s no space for words between your bodies anyway.

Present (VII) – Finnick

[23 & 24] - TRAINING CENTER

Snow pulled no punches when it came to keeping you two apart. He even went as far as to never put the two of you in the Capitol at the same time.

Excessive but smart. The Chariot Rides were a true test of restraint. You were beautiful and alluring and you were cold like he thought you would be—like you have every right to be. It still hurts to be treated like he was just another victor to you. It wasn’t that he thought you’d tell Katniss your entire history together, but…you couldn’t even look at him. Finnick could hardly hold himself back from going up to you, dropping to his knees, and begging for the forgiveness he knows he doesn’t deserve. He can’t imagine how he would have fared two years back. 

He’s barely managing now.

You and the trainer circle each other on the mat, dual sickles in your hands and a padded staff in his.

Finnick watches you from where he stands on his own mat. He’s never seen you fight before, not really. He’s seen your games, obviously, but they didn't involve much fighting and you mostly survived through stealth and sponsors.

Surprisingly, you make the first move. You slash downward toward his head. He blocks it with the staff, but it leaves his abdomen vulnerable. Something you’re smart enough to slice at. The trainer is lucky he’s padded. Otherwise, a hit like that would have eviscerated him.

You barely duck in time to avoid the staff from hitting your head and Finnick’s grip on the trident tightens. You duck to the ground and roll behind him, kicking at the back of his right leg. He falls to a knee, and you’re quick to put the blade to his neck from behind. The trainer taps out, and the pride that washes over Finnick is devastating.

“Catch any flies?”

“What?” He turns his head slowly, eyes still locked on you, before he tears them away to look at Johanna’s smirking face. He doesn’t like that smirk.

“Your mouth’s been open for a minute now.” She gestures vaguely at her own mouth, and his jaw clicks with how hard he closes it. How long has he been standing here? How long has she been watching him watch you? “She’s good.”

He could play dumb and act like he doesn’t know what she’s talking about, but why should he bother? For as long as Johanna has known him, she’s known him in conjunction with you. There’s no point in acting like that’s changed.

“She is.” Surprisingly so. You weren’t a fighter, at least, not like that. In the six years you were together, you never spoke about training or even having the desire to. He would have done it himself if you had asked him to, but he’s really glad you never did. “Who taught her?”

“Maybe you can ask her yourself. You know. Once you stop drooling.” His jaw ticks as he spins his trident in a circle over his arm. It’s times like this when it feels very likely she’s only his friend to get away with making fun of him. He isn’t drooling. He’s just—taken aback by your skill and agility and…

You sweep at the trainer’s ankle, and he tumbles to his back. You put your knee on his chest, blade to his neck, and he taps out again. Finnick swallows, but his mouth runs dry.

“Good luck.” She pats him on the back with far more force than necessary and walks off with an axe in hand. Probably on her way to traumatize a trainer.

Finnick keeps you in his field of vision while he trains by himself. Sweat drips down his back as he takes a cursory glance at the room. Johanna is doing just as he predicted she would, and the trainer is barely dodging her swings. Peeta, Brutus, and Chaff train together at the spear station while Katniss sticks with Beetee and Wiress. Nothing worth looking at twice.

What does get his attention is Mags. She’s heading straight to you, and he almost falls out of his stance. The two of you have only met in person once before, and Mags loves you. He can’t just walk up to you by himself. With Mags there, she’ll be his crutch. After all, it isn’t her that you hate.

He psychs himself up the entire thirty-one seconds it takes to stand before you. By the time he gets there, he catches the tail end of your conversation.

“—Chaff made us train as much as we could, so,” you shrug and gesture with your sickles, “I focused on these since I’m so familiar with them.” The splash of blue he’s expecting to spot above your right hand is missing. In fact, he doesn’t see the bracelet on either wrist. Does he even have the right to still wear his?

“Star.” The whisper is out of his mouth before he can stop it, and you freeze. You straighten your back the same way you used to before an interview and turn around. The smile you give him looks nothing short of performative like he’s Caesar Flickerman himself. It’s just a subtle upturn of your lips, and it hurts more than anything you could have said. 

“Finnick. I’m…glad—that we’re on the same side in this. We haven’t been allies in a long time.” Finnick wants to pretend you’re saying you’re happy to see him, happy that you’re doing this together. He knows better. Haymitch said it himself: Finnick is clever and a capable fighter. 

You nod to them both and turn on your heels before he can say anything. What is there to say? 

Mags hums comfortingly and rubs his arm as you walk away from the training mats. He bites the inside of his cheek.

“I’m alright, Mags.” He lies. He lifts the trident. “How about I teach you a few tricks, huh?”

Present (VII) – You

[23 & 24 ] - TRAINING CENTER

More people stay for lunch than you thought they would. Served in a spacious room attached to the gymnasium, lunch is the time people typically try to form alliances. You made none during your first games. Luckily, your allies have already been picked for you this time around. One drops down into the seat beside you, smelling just as sweaty as you probably do.

“You know the plan yet?” She asks, piling portions of ham and potatoes onto her plate.

“Johanna,” you scold. “Not so loud, please.”

“What? It’s not like I’m screaming anything from the rooftops.” She scoffs but thankfully lowers her voice. “Besides, if they’re listening in on anyone, it’s Princess and the Baker over there.” She nods to the end of the table where Peeta and Katniss sit with Beetee and Wiress, seemingly establishing an alliance already. How they’ve managed to win her over is a mystery to you.

You sigh, long and drawn out. You try to think of a way to phrase this. Last night, Haymitch told you that you and Johanna have the same task. You were planning on telling her later in a more secluded area, but you should have known Johanna isn’t one to wait patiently by. “We’ll be in charge of protecting Beetee and Wiress,” you say and then rush to cover. “Since we’ve already agreed to be allies and all.”

“Ugh, Nuts and Volts? Why?” She stabs the meat with her fork.

“Because they’re important.” You scowl, making sure she knows there isn’t any room for argument. You’re already taking a risk talking about this here. “That’s the main thing we have to focus on.”

“Hmm,” she grumbles. “What about loverboy? What’s he focusing on?” She asks, and you don’t need her to tell you who loverboy is. You peek across the table where Finnick sits next to Mags. 

“No clue.” You pick at the bread on your plate, grinding it into crumbs. The plan is on a need-to-know basis. If Haymitch didn’t tell you, then it’s not important to your part of the plan. “I just know we’ll need to find him and Mags at some point.”

“I saw you two looking pretty cozy earlier.” Her words are muffled around the food in her mouth, but not muffled enough that you can pretend you didn’t hear her. “Did you two kiss and make up, or what?”

You try not to let your eyes fall on Finnick, who has been glancing up at you and Johanna before looking away, but it’s where they naturally seem to go. You’ve been trying your best to avoid him. You didn’t need him to talk to you, and you honestly didn’t think he wanted to. If it’s because of some kind of fucked up sense of pity or guilt, you would have preferred him just ignoring you.

“No, it’s nothing as simple as that.” Your chair scrapes the floor as Finnick watches you stand. Your appetite is suddenly gone. “You can have the rest of my food.” You offer, and she’s quick to scrape your leftovers onto her plate. You’re used to not eating much anyway.

“When is it ever with you two?” She grumbles under her breath. Your hand clenches open and close beside you as you walk out. She’s right. You can’t remember a time it’s ever been simple with Finnick. 

Past (viii)

Dear Finn, 

If you ever fear the weight of my absence—close your eyes, take a breath, and feel me beside you. I’m still here.

-Faithfully,

Your Star.

[intheheartoftheking]

Higher. Faster. Further (Bird of Prey Series)

Jacaerys Velaryon x Aunt!Targaryen oc x Aemond Targaryen

Pt2. (pt.1)(pt.3)

strangers to lovers, targcest (reader is aunt), semi angst(?), aemond being aemond, diplomat!jace,

summary: After Aegon seized the throne, Jacaerys and Aemond were dispatched to ensure the loyalty of House Arryn and the Vale. However, their mission took an unexpected turn when they encountered Lady Jane Arryn's ward, leading to a tangled web of lies, deceit, and power struggles.

word count: 965

a/n: part two of HFF (Birds of Prey) this was originally supposed to be the smut I forewarned but Tumblr isn't letting me post the full thing so its been split. I hope you enjoy my brainrot and please leave comments and suggestions to add in future chapters. this is a short ishstory (I think.) let me know if you want to be added to the taglist! ill also be adding a playlist soon but the theme song for this whole series is basically Middle of the Night by Elley Duhe ! xoxo 

Daella sheepishly asked her aunt, gesturing down to her feet. Her aunt nodded. "Forgive us, my princes. My niece is not accustomed to dancing."

Daella looked up through her lashes at the princes as she curtsied.

"That is not necessary for me, Lady Daella," Prince Jacearys said as he kissed her hand gently on the back.

Prince Aemond said, "Perhaps I could escort the lady back to her chambers. The hour is late, and it doesn't seem safe for a beautiful woman to walk alone."

Daella chuckled. "That hardly seems appropriate, Prince Aemond; you could be seen as a potential suitor, which could cause whispers." Aemond furrowed his brows. "I see," he grumbled. He had hoped to get her alone and convince her to swear allegiance to Aegon. Aemond believed that once she chose her side, her lady aunt would quickly agree, and this business could be over with so that he might return to the Red Keep.

"Perhaps if Prince Jacearys would be so kind as to walk with us, that would be seen as more appropriate," Daella suggested, snapping Aemond out of his thoughts. Both men glanced at each other, uncomfortable with the proposal, but this seemed to be their only chance to try to speak to Lady Daella alone. Aemond hummed in approval but stared at Jacearys with annoyance as he extended his arm to her, which Daella gladly accepted. Both men bid their goodnights to Lady Jane Arryn and made their way out of the great hall with Daella sandwiched between them.

The walk to her chambers was quiet, but as they approached, Daella spoke up, "I want you both to come inside." Aemond stopped abruptly, causing Daella to be tugged back along with Jacearys. "What?" They both chimed in unison, the confusion laced in their voices. "When my ladies leave my chambers, I wish you both to enter. I believe there is much to converse about away from prying eyes." Daella spoke in hushed whispers. The two men stared at one another, concerned. First, she talked of propriety, and now she's inviting the two most influential men in the realm to her chambers. "And what of the whispers?" Aemond repeated her words from earlier. "While I hate to agree with my cousin, he's right; what of the whispers?" Jacearys echoed in agreement, but something else ate at him. Something else ate at both of them. This invitation felt like a trap.

Daella rolled her eyes. "To seven hells with the whispers," she snapped, breaking her facade of a perfect lady. "You both know the season we've entered, and that's why you are here. I wish to know more of you before my lady aunt does."

She pulled her arms away from them. "The invitation remains, and I shall wait for you if you choose to accept it."

In his chambers, Aemond bit at his nails nervously. This alarmed him. No one had made Aemond nervous since he was a child. Was her proposal really to speak of potential alliances? And why would she want to share his and his bastard nephew's company?

He knew Jacearys was desirable due to his position should Rhaenyra capture the iron throne, but their children would always face doubt about his father's parentage. As for himself, he was known as Aemond one eye, and marriage was a hard enough prospect not simply because of the loss of his eye but also because of his brothers' additional teasing. These whispers made Aemond weary of anyone remotely willing to show affection or interest for fear that all they wanted from him was his proximity to Aegon or his title.

A door opening and closing across the hall pulls him from his thoughts as he hears footsteps descending the hall in the direction of Daella's quarters. "Jacearys," he growled. If his strong nephew has gained the courage to seek out Lady Daella alone, Aemond knew he also had to follow. After all, he knew he couldn't lose the Vale all because he was too afraid of rejection.

Meanwhile, Jacearys was mentally cursing himself for indulging in Daella's invitation. Did she mean to speak, or was this an invitation for something more? Daemon once told him of ladies who used to seek him out for pleasure or in hopes of capturing his crown. He also heavily warned Jacearys against fathering any bastards since his claim was already shaky due to the vicious rumors fueled by the greens. He knew better, how he knew better, but she was just so beautiful, and unlike any of the ladies he had ever met, she had him enraptured. As he approached the door, he saw the guards had been sent away. Jacearys raised his hand to knock the door cracked open, and a hand emerged, wrapping around his wrist and tugging him inside abruptly.

"Forgive me, my Prince. I'm just trying to be as careful as one can be not to be seen," Daella stated, turning away. "Tea?" She offered, gesturing to the set on a small table. There were cakes and small bites on display, and it almost seemed as if she was sure at least one of them would come.

He shook his head as he realized she was in her nightclothes; however, her hair remained pulled in a tight braid. The fire illuminated her face, highlighting the flecks of gold in her ember eyes. If there was something that was for sure, she was one of the most stunning women he had ever met. It was as if the gods themselves had come down to craft her. Her heavy door opened slightly, causing both of them to turn and hold their breaths. Sounds of relief were emitting from them once they saw a head of a silver hair sliver inside.

Taglist: @damewritesalot

[lopez-richter-fangirl]

Starkid innit: the most magical experience

It took me a full day to even begin to know where to start with this post and then took me all day yesterday to type out. Normally to do one of these posts after a show I frantically note down everything I can remember in the interval and as soon as I can afterwards, but I was too overwhelmed by this show to even do that. And thank god so many people filmed so much of the show so I don’t have to rely on memory for all the little things. This will be kind of stream of consciousness thought dump of everything that made this experience so incredible, feat. a lot of Feelings. It’s much too long! Over 2500 words - you’ve been warned!

Looking at all the pictures and videos from the show, it feels surreal that I was there in a way that I don’t think any other shows I’ve gone to have. Maybe because I can’t believe we finally got a full UK Starkid show. Maybe because it was Starkid selling out the fucking London Palladium, twice (and the added production value that came with that). Maybe because we got the concert premiere of new stuff alongside iconic moments included from previous concerts that I’ve watched a hundred times and now got to see live. Whatever it was, I still can’t quite believe it and I’m so grateful I got to be there. And my GOD was luck on my side getting a front row centre seat in that ticket hell 🙏😭

Right from the staple sing-along outside the theatre before the show the excitement was as palpable as you’d expect from a crowd where so many people had been waiting such a long time to see these people live. And I think a lot of Starkid fans but especially international fans have had the feeling of isolation that comes with being a fan of a relatively “niche” group (though their popularity is only growing), so to get to be in a room full of people who understand the references and scream as soon as the opening notes of a song play is the best thing

Starting with tgwdlm feels like an excellent choice being from the show that created a new wave of fans while still catching some of the people who might not be caught up with the newest shows. And I know we had it at jangle ball too but love love getting to see Brian and Meredith be part of the hatchetfield stuff

And having NPMD songs performed live for the first time was just as exciting and special as I was expecting!! Was not expecting HSIKM WITH some OG choreo but I am grateful for it. Jaime messing up the Literal Monster lyrics at the matinee is 100% understandable and I thank her for that because Lauren cracking up at the complete nonsense lyrics she made up was too good. Love the OG choreo there including Lauren grabbing Joey for no reason whatsoever 😌 Slay of Lauren to bring out the Ruth voice too. Jeff gave a killer performance of NPMD and we understood the assignment with the Richie part

And Together 😭 TOGETHER 😭😭 I said that was a song I’d absolutely love but was definitely not at all expecting them to play so I got UNBELIEVABLY excited seeing it on Mere’s playlist and it was EVEN better than I imagined 😭 Angelic!!!! I love women!!!! Seeing their friendship shine through on stage is so special and Lauren supporting Mere through the lyric mess up in the matinee and also her laugh were the cutest things. And then from the front row at the evening show I don’t think I even breathed. They sounded amazing in the OG show but EVEN better now and I truly could not be more grateful to them for putting that on the setlist. A literal dream that I will be thinking about for the rest of my life. I still can’t believe it. AHHHHHH!!!!!!

Happy we got Our Doors are Open cause I love that song!

Jaime singing Harry but dedicated to Nori was very cute and making that a flashlight moment is one of the sillier things we’ve done

So glad Clark got his moment with I Was where we all sat in enraptured silence listening to his magical voice and some never before heard lyrics

I will be so honest and say there was the tiiiiiiiiiniest part of me sad when Joey started introducing Sidekick because I knew that meant my Status Quo hopes were dashed. However had I not seen it at homecoming I probably would have been rooting for Sidekick because it is the better *performance* for Joey, he absolutely owns the stage and it was still a delight to hear it again, and with his continued vocal improvement. Audience participation on point too of course. And when I saw Lauren standing in the wings before he started I knew I could not let myself keep looking over there but shoutout to everyone who did get footage of her being the proudest wife there is

Oh lordddd the Rogues Medley update we’ve been praying for (even if not in the way I expected). I had a feeling that’s what was coming when they started Not Over Yet based on the interview Brian did but to hear that transition into Feast or Famine was crazyyyyyy. Rogues Medley is such an iconic piece of Starkid history and it’s so cool that they gave us that. Fucking of course Brian fucked up the verses in Not Over Yet but he is a master at styling it out and him making Lauren laugh with that song feels like time honoured tradition (okay I’m just thinking of that leaky 2017 performance). First Feast or Famine in concert was so good although Joey and Lauren leaning on each other at EVERY little duet bit… relax babes. And Rogues, I knew if we got it we’d have Lauren doing the harlots and the hussies bit and I still did not adequately prepare myself

Brian calling Meredith wifey in We Got Work to Do was gold. SO so so happy to hear climate change, they did that because I stopped myself from spending a stupid amount of money to go to jangle ball. Still obsessed with Lauren’s little riff. And her moves? HOT. And we LOVE Meredith’s music getting so much love as it SHOULD

The forgotten songs section was hilarious but could have been about 20% shorter Brian was not wrong about them milking that bit Biggest of shout outs to the person who yelled Boy Toy for Lauren to respond “don’t make me do that” and I believe the same person who yelled fucking Airport 4 Birds and had her momentarily stunned. Her rendition of Hideous Creatures was heavenly no joke. Brian doing his soundcheck song did not read so well at the matinee lmao but I personally thought it was perfect. And Lauren joked about the open vibe but genuinely I love that they were confident enough they could do some obscure songs and not have an absolutely dead audience. Can’t believe we got TWO MAMD songs although they really should have let Joey sing Even Though (I know it wouldn’t have been *funny* okay)

What did not need to be even one second shorter was the shirt bit. No notes. Especially Brian trolling Lauren with “roll on the floor like Draco”

Back on top was amazing, they all sounded so good and again, love to see the Ani music getting recognition. And at the evening show I was watching Lauren do the choreo in the wings which was absolutely adorable

What if I now write the entire length of this post just about Granger Danger lol. Didn’t even realise until this post that they had the two OG Starkid couples back to back (at least I’m going off the order of the setlist I saw on twitter I do not actually remember the order lmao) Their whole “brand new song” bit was everything to me, I really could watch them riff off each other for hours. And honestly it was the perfect thing to do KNOWING what the reaction would be to the two of them coming out because what fucking else would they be singing. Apart from the person who genuinely thought we were getting Priceless because they forgot Granger Danger existed, you know who you are. As in my other post, I had said I wouldn’t mind if, as long as I got to see one married Granger Danger live (which I then did), they stopped singing Granger Danger, but that was only if they were getting sick of it and on the condition they did in fact replace it with Priceless. But I will NEVER get sick of watching them do it (even if the heart eyes on stage continue to make me a little sick) and I love that they do still have fun with it. The universal excitement with those opening notes is the best thing. Continuing to say “it gets different” was funnier than it should have been, they are comedians. And how far back she leaned on him at that evening show was truly insane and I thank them for giving me one of my new favourite pics (even if Lauren laughing and Joey’s hand going back to make sure she wouldn’t fall made me want to sobbbbb). 15 years of this song and it’s still getting more iconic and you all know how deeply special it is to me and I’m so happy to have gotten to see it again. King and queen of Starkid for real for real

Corey Show Stoppin Number was CRAZY he killed it

Jaime’s speech before Not Alone was incredibly special and I think Darren would agree that the song actually ended up exactly where it needed to be. But her saying she’s been singing it for 15 years of course had me thinking about the same thing for granger danger which is absolutely not something I was emotionally strong enough for in that moment!!! But blessed to get the beautiful harmonies and as always the audience singing Darren’s parts is the best

Superfriends is ofc so fun and Jeff nailed the Robin parts (unlike someone else there might have done (sorry Joey)). And again, there’s something so nostalgic about seeing it with that classic choreo too

And mashing it up with WANNABE oh my god. I did see someone say they didn’t know why they did that song and I’m like,, do you know how to have fun?? I get it we’re there to hear Starkid songs but this isn’t like a once in a lifetime situation (love that performance but it was a song for them not the audience and they knew it lmao), it’s actually perfect for Starkid. “Friendship never ends” you’re fucking right it doesn’t, 15 years of making stuff with your friends. And I’m being so serious when I say it’s one of my favourite performances they’ve ever done. I also might never get it out of my head and I’m fine with that. The accents? The boys in the back? The dancing? Brian? And then Brian and Joey?? (and ofc the evening performance where Lauren was touching Joey after “if you wanna be my lover” and where he put his hand on her back as she was stepping up on the stage and I once again wanted to sob) It was JOYFUL

And then GBTH as the encore we all knew was coming because no way were they leaving without singing that one. Whatever some people might have to say about it, it is SUCH a special song to hear in a room full of Starkid fans, and especially this version where we sang the beginning. No doubt they couldn’t have imagined performing that song on a stage like this when they were singing it in Studio 1, but it’s so deserved because they’re all absolute superstars. And their friendship and the fun they have onstage together has remained so integral to what makes them work and it never gets any less special to witness. I love that after over a decade of singing this song they STILL get the words wrong and it doesn’t even matter because we’re singing it so loudly. I love the sheer power Lauren radiates every time she sings her part and her happiness when we scream ours. And then I watched her smile looking out at the audience during the train part and I’m just so proud we were part of making this show so incredible for them and proud of them for doing it 😭 Singing happy birthday to Jeff in the middle was really cute too

Also, can’t believe we got to witness the most INSANE shirt pic happen live??!!? A shirt pic in front of a crowd of 2000 people, I keep looking at it and I’m like how is that not photoshopped?? But it’s real!! I was there!! And it’s honestly the most Starkid move of all time to perform their sold out Palladium concerts in matching pyjama shirts. Ngl there was a tiny part of me that didn’t want the matching shirts because I wanted to see the Concert Fits but I didn’t even need to worry because Lauren still came to serve. Hottest girl I’ve ever seen but also just the cutest human. And her hair looked so good too. (Jaime was also serving with the sparkly tights and cowboy boots)

Clearly they’re such a well oiled machine and the show ran SO smoothly that they were ahead of schedule and ended up doing a little more vamping in the evening than at the matinee. Why they chose Together (Lauren and Meredith are “too old” to want solos), Clark’s explanation of I Was originally being a solo (thank god because I felt insane at the matinee thinking ‘I’ve never heard these lyrics before’), even more references to Brian’s lack of solos. But the fuck ups in spite of that rehearsal really are just part of the Starkid charm. We love it, they know we love it, there’s no pressure to make it perfect which means all of us are just having *fun* together. But none of that takes away from how genuinely talented each and every one of them is

I do also think there’s something to be said for Brian and Lauren being the producers. They’ve really been through it all with the company and they know what works and how to serve people’s strengths. And of course we can trust Clark to put together an incredible setlist (yes there was a distinct lack of certain shows but I do think all the songs they did were a really good showcase for them and everyone had an opportunity to shine)

And Lauren of COURSE nailed the choreo for the whole show, it would be impossible for her not to. Honestly cannot reiterate enough how much of a queen she was in every aspect of this show. So fucking proud of her!!!!!!!!!!

And because this post wouldn’t be complete without mention of the M&G, Joey remembering my nameeee bearing in mind this is only the second time I’ve met him in person where he’d actually know me and yes the first time was only 7 months ago but I still don’t know how he recognised me there either. He seemed so proud to remember it too. And I knowww it’s not special to me he just has a good memory for that but the fact is he DOES make you feel special and I love him!! The best man. And I’m glad I got to give them the bracelets I made, Lauren’s reaction to seeing hers said precious angel was the sweetest and I really am trying to be normal about Joey only wearing the one from me (but it said Diane’s dad and was in michigan colours so… I think I nailed it) It was the sweetest thing seeing how many bracelets some of them were wearing during the show though

All this to say I fucking love Starkid and I love the community they’ve created. As soon as I saw the crowd outside the theatre (which was phenomenal!!) I knew it was just gonna be one of those days it was too overwhelming to talk to many people and while the people I did talk to were lovely I think I gave out a grand total of 8 bracelets which is my second biggest regret. But @pazazzalil and @laurenlpz, meeting up with you was like being with old friends even though we hadn’t met in person in 5/6 years. Love you both (and maybe we can actually get seats together next time)

And as one last little note, while it did feel extra special having people who have been with the company for all/the majority of these last 15 years, I have loved seeing the newer Starkids being so proud of their friends 🥺

I don’t know how I’m ever getting over this show. There was no way it was going to be bad with how highly anticipated a UK show was but it went way beyond my expectations. Pure magic. And I really do believe that after that it won’t be long before they’re back here, and I can’t wait

[urpaperboy]

Hi again !! Just wanted to come on here and say some stuff that I saw earlier on the Desolation post along with some other things !!

1. YES ABSOLUTELY LIKE GIVE ME SOME LORE IDEAS, this story might not be written entirely but like Lore ideas to expand the story a bit?? UH YES PLEASE

2. Song Recommendations for the Story are VERY HIGHLY APPRECIATED !! Revamping my old Desolation Playlist on Spotify just to make things a bit better and more new, I’ll eventually share it to the public when I can !!

3. Fanart/Writing/HC’s for this story are allowed !! Just tag me or use the #yv desolation or #mateo desolation au for whenever that happens !!

4. Making like Self inserts and all that stuff is alright !! Just please if you like wanna like ship yourselves with these characters and all, please keep it chill until I can fully say that yall can go wild 😭

Overall I hope to post more of this story soon !! Maybe even make a side blog for the story itself !! And I hope you all will like my silly little story !! :)

- Mateo/Oob ⭐️

[orlamccools]

vent post under the cut- if youve got advice id love to hear it

so. ive been talking to this guy for a long ass while, you can scroll thru the last tag on this post to see what its all about, but long story short is this: i asked him out two saturdays agoto my friends going away party (which was held this past friday). hes met this friend once before, and we planned to meet at her place and then maybe go out to the bars after

entire week he is super into it, texts me more often than normal, creates a spotify blend for the two of us (w that feature that lets you combine your tastes into a single playlist) like im getting VIBES. and he asks abt our plans!!!! we make a solid schedule!!!

night of the party he texts me at 8:45 checking in to see if its all happening and i say yeah. i get home from work, change, then get to my friends house and text him that im here. he doesnt respond for an hour and finally says something abt how he has to charge his phone before coming out. im like ok man whatever i just want to hang so do what you gotta do. another half hour passes and then he hits me with the "hey idk if im gonna make it out". im disappointed by this, so i respond with like a "damn that kinda sucks :/" message. at this point i expect him to stop messaging me, but then he texts me quite literally for the rest of the night. like he literally doesnt stop until i text him that im walking home.

saturday i see him in person for a short period when he does the close out but another driver fucking also comes to sweep the store and just. will not stop talking to the dude in question. he like tries to get away twice but between customers and this other guy we dont talk like at all. after the other driver leaves and the store is closed he comes back in to use the bathroom and like stands by the door for a moment so i like look over but all he does is smile and wave then leave.

SATURDAY NIGHT. he texts me at like 8 responding to a text i had sent the previous night asking if im going out again tonight. i said yeah (bc a separate friend had a party) and he was like bet lemme know where youre at i might stop by and see you. i send him the address of the restaurant and proceed to hang w my friends until midnight. hes again texting me all night abt getting ready to head out but when we finally leave he hits me with the "finally leaving now where should i meet you". at this point i am exhausted, as ive just finished my first week of classes, had drunk heavily over the past 48 hours, and had worked a 13 hr workday that day. i text him and say im like too tired im going home and hes like damn :////

yesterday night. i do an eras movie night w my friends and i send a picture of the opening sequence to the ppl i have snapchat streaks with. he snaps me the rest of the night and is like "ohhhh you should have invited me" and stuff like that and its like. i didnt invite you for a multitude of reasons but like you ditched plans once this weekend and kept pushing back the other time i tried to invite you out, so why do you think i would ask you a third time???????

and now im just confused bc like. he seemed sooooooooo into it all week and then as soon as it was time for things to happen he just didnt show and kept stringing me along. im also lowkey pissed bc i wanted to hang with him and i was SO anxious abt asking him out (like i literally threw up twice friday morning bc i was so anxious abt how the day was gonna go). im just frustrated and like i had thought he had gotten the vibe that i was into him romantically bc it sure as shit seemed like he was reciprocating, and now im not even sure what to do anymore.

[beauty-and-passion]

Eurovision 2024: 38 songs, first impressions

Wake up, bitches, it's that time of the year again.

No, not Christmas. It's Eurovision time, aka the time when we can verbally destroy each other and call our neighbors "filthy traitors", but in the end we would still be united against the real enemy: the jury.

As we all know, last year Sweden won but Finland caught the Snitch or, to put it simply, Finland won our hearts, but since the newly crowned King of Europe Käärijä was too busy being majestic and Finland was too busy being precious, Sweden graciously offered to host the competition for its neighbor.

Yes, this is what happened. No, you don't remember something different.

And yes, I ultimately decided to follow this year's competition. As someone said in some old post, Eurovision is a bit like that toxic relationship you can't escape from. And maybe you don't really want to escape from it.

So, since we're trapped in this hellhole, at least let's enjoy our time together with a heavy dose of sarcasm and a sprinkle of wholesomeness. Eurovision might have flaws, but nothing is perfect in this world after all.

As per every year, I always do my first listening while doing my chores, so the songs are in the background and I have no idea who sings what or from what country they're from. I just let them flow and see if something gets my attention.

And this year a lot of them did! I couldn't identify a clear winner, but I found a ton of small, beautiful gems everywhere. Oh, this year seems very, very promising.

As always, this is my first listening: many more will follow and my opinions may drastically change. So please, don't take my comments too seriously: this is all for fun.

__________

ALBANIA

Pretty nice song and pretty nice rhythm, I really like it.

But also... I've been to Tirana in January and I've listened to the songs they have there. And even if this one is very good, I would've loved more true Albanian rhythm.

Still, this will probably end in my personal playlist, so that's a plus for me.

Vote: A Titan in disguise? *Greek mythology intensifies* *Cronus intensifies*

__________

ARMENIA

We all stan a song in Armenian and if you don't, you will start doing now because yes, we have Armenian and yes, it sounds great.

So let's all thank Armenia for bringing its beautiful language - along with some nice Balkan rhythm that kept slapping me in the face.

But you know me, I'm a simple Mediterranean: I hear Balkan rhythm, I love it.

Vote: I will always be a slut for Balkan rhythms

__________

AUSTRIA

If Armenia slapped me with Balkan rhythm, Austria bitchslapped me with the whole 1990 decade.

But you know me, I am a simple Millennial: I listen to something that seems to come straight from the 90s, I dance.

Vote: We! Will! Rave!

__________

AUSTRALIA

This was... good. Just good. And the singer is good too. Maybe even too good.

Sigh, Australia forgot again that this is Eurovision. Please, someone, remind them this is the show of fire, sparkles and insanity.

Vote: "What ya gonna do in the real world?" Easy, WE! WILL! RAVE!

__________

AZERBAIJAN

Luckily Azerbaijan remembered that hey, they're the country that delivers good stuff! They should bring a good song!

And so they did and delivered us a good song, with good verses and a wonderful chorus in Azerbaijani.

The only problem is that the chorus is much better than the verses and if the song was entirely in Azerbaijani, it would've been a banger. Unfortunately, it's just good.

Vote: great job, Azerbaijan. Next time, ditch English entirely

__________

BELGIUM

"Are you still playing the game?" If you mean The Game, I think we all lost it.

Vote: +1 for the power move of making everyone lose The Game

__________

CROATIA

As soon as I started listening to it, I was assaulted by a sick rhythm. Then by a guy who tells me he's a big boy. Then by his anxiety. Then by more sick rhythm.

Then by what is probably the greatest line ever said in the history of music:

One last thing: the singer's name is Baby Lasagna. Baby Lasagna. He's speaking to my Italian heart and, even more importantly, to my Italian stomach.

And you know me, I'm a simple Italian: food is mentioned, I vibe.

Vote: my cats will vote for him

__________

CYPRUS

Oh no, please help this young lady! She forgot she's from Cyprus and she should send sick bops in Greek!

Vote: it's not a bad song at all. It's just not Cyprus-worthy

__________

CZECHIA

Oh, sorry, I didn't know this was a therapy session. I'll wait in the hall.

Vote: it's not bad, it's just... nope

__________

DENMARK

After a lot of disappointing years, finally Denmark brought a great song! The singer is good, the rhythm is good and it deserves a place in the final.

Vote: it's not in Danish, but we can't have everything

__________

ESTONIA

This song is an instant favorite. Native language, sick rhythm, adorable weirdos, all in one package.

And let me repeat that: Estonian! Beautiful Estonian language! It was such a wonderful surprise to listen to it! I literally stopped what I was doing and perked my ears because mmmh, it sounds like Finnish, but it's not exactly Finnish... what's that? And it was Estonian.

I am in love <3

Vote: pure Moldovian spirit in Estonia? I approve.

__________

FINLAND

So, let's recap:

we have a singer named Windows95man.

He wears a blurred Windows logo and no pants.

He comes out from an egg made of jeans.

The other singer isn't always in tune and he's dressed in pieces of jeans that make him look like a paperman.

He has the balls to ask if there's anything wrong with how he dresses.

The song screams of the 90s.

And then, during the performance, a pair of shorts literally fell from the sky.

With fire.

If that's not pure Eurovision, I don't know what it is.

(And before you ask: of course they cannot use Finnish, only Käärijä can and only the next Käärijä will be allowed to use it.)

Vote: Even if Finland sent the worst, most boring singer ever, for this year I would've given it a free pass. But Finns are such bosses, they decided to send this. Respect only

__________

FRANCE

And here on the right, you can see the French Frenching harder than ever.

Vote: a song named "Mon Amour". Seriously. Seriously. What will be the next one about? La Tour Eiffel? Oh wait, you already did that

__________

GERMANY

I'm mad because I already know this song will get zero points just because "iT's GeRmAnY", even if it's actually good.

Vote: thank you Germany for still sending good songs. You deserve more

__________

GEORGIA

You're "rising from the ashes like a phoenix"? Well, now I remember Conchita Wurst with Rise like a phoenix, which is way way WAY better than this song.

And since Conchita is Austrian, I also remembered the memo we got this year, which is one and one only: WE! WILL! RAVE!

Vote: more rave, less this

__________

GREECE

What? What? What do my ears hear? Greek rhythm? Greek language? And it comes together with a more modern vibe?

See, Greece? SEE? This is how you do things well. This is how you choose a good singer to represent your country. Thank you, Greece, for finally picking someone competent and not the umpteenth child.

Vote: finally, a song Greece-worthy

__________

ICELAND

I don't know why, but this song reminds me of another, more famous song. Can't exactly pinpoint which one, but it's way too familiar and I don't like it.

Vote: as soon as it was over, I forgot it

__________

IRELAND

And here on the left, you can see Ireland coming back to their roots, aka the most insane, batshit crazy stuff they have, stuff that will make you question what the heck happens on that island and if everyone's okay.

Vote: not a favorite, but it's definitely something I've never heard before. So that's a plus

__________

ISRAEL

I still have no idea why Israel is here, but I suppose that some have a free pass for killing innocents.

The singer isn't bad either, but the rhythm keeps reminding me of another, more famous song. Just like Iceland, I don't remember exactly which one, except that the famous one was better.

Vote: you shouldn't even be here

__________

ITALY

I already made a post commenting the Italian songs from this year and told a couple things about Angelina Mango and this song's meaning.

Here I can only reconfirm that this song is still a huge bop, the southern rhythm is still my Roman Empire and we may still have some chances of winning this year's Eurovision.

Vote: her southern accent my beloved

__________

LATVIA

The rhythm isn't so bad, but it's just so. Very. Forgettable.

But hey, I suppose it's good for re-listening, because I listened to it twice and both times it was like listening to it for the first time.

I didn't like it both times, but that's a detail.

Vote: just as forgettable as the Icelandic one

__________

LITHUANIA

You know, I respect Lithuania. Their songs are not my favorite, but they keep using their own beautiful language. Hence why, they deserve a place in the final.

Vote: keep showing us the beautiful Lithuanian language, I believe that one day I will find I song I like

__________

LUXEMBOURG

Do you know what I feared the most this year? That Luxembourg came back after 30 years and the song was shit. That they showed us something stale and boring.

But Luxembourg stepped in like the queen of the party and said: "Please, hold both my French and my English, because I can and I will drop something sick". And so they did.

Amazing rhythm, amazing singer, amazing return.

Vote: Luxembourg is back and wants to win

__________

MALTA

Malta is my personal Sweden. Even when they send a song I don't really like (like this one), it's just weak. I don't remember a song coming from them that I considered truly "bad".

I don't know what kind of sorcery Malta does, but it works on me every year.

Vote: Malta has too much power on me

__________

MOLDOVA

Don't worry, Moldova: you can't always be the best every year. You deserve to relax once in a while and this year you've been covered by a lot of other countries.

Vote: it's not the huge bop you would expect from Moldova, but that's okay. I'll let it pass, because Moldova always does great things for Eurovision

__________

THE NETHERLANDS

This song has a lot of amazing things.

First, the language: thank God, the Netherlands are still sending songs in their native language as it should be. It's beautiful to listen to it and I love to hear words that kinda remind me of both German and English.

Second: despite what it seems, this song isn't a satire/parody of Europe. On the contrary, it's a celebration of how open Europe is and how easy it is to travel without borders.

And it may seem normal for us because we're used to it now, but I visited Albania this January and there were a shit ton of controls and checks to do. While last time I went to Greece, all I had to do was walk down a corridor, show my ID card and everything was fine. The open borders truly are a victory for everyone who likes to travel - and a sign of how much better Europe is. So a song celebrating them is very much appreciated.

Third: the song isn't just about open borders! It's about a man remembering his parents, about how much he still misses them. And it's about his victory. In the end, he's literally telling them: look, dad and mom, I finally made it to Eurovision.

And these soft, wholesome things always get me in my cold heart <3

Vote: top of the final chart, no questions

__________

NORWAY

Let's all thank Norway for bringing the folk theme, along with their beautiful language.

I don't know what happened this year, but we are blessed by so many beautiful languages it truly seems like Eurovision and not Englishvision.

Vote: a bit too many screams, but I appreciate the enthusiasm of speaking in your native language

__________

POLAND

Poland learned from last year and instead of bringing another ball of nothing, they brought a song more fitting for their vibes.

It's in English tho, and that's very sad because Polish is a nice language. But at least the singer is good and in tune.

Vote: She built the tower. If it's the one from Stephen King's series, then we should have a chat

__________

PORTUGAL

Portugal did a miracle last year, by bringing a song I actually liked. So in order to be coherent, this year they brought another boring, forgettable song.

Vote: nothing good lasts forever

__________

SAN MARINO

Don't worry, people, San Marino will bring all the party vibes we need. It will take them some time to come, because they took a detour to Spain, but the vibes are still great.

Vote: maybe this year they won't be the usual traitors and give us 12 points

__________

SERBIA

Serbian lyrics? Yes, please!

And even if this song has some ballad vibes, it's not the umpteenth boring ballad. It's a very nice, soft song and the singer's voice is good too.

Vote: great job, Serbia

__________

SLOVENIA

A song in Slovenian? We stan! We all stan!

I'm not sure I like the "rrruaph!" sound, but the use of a native language and the dark vibes are very appreciated.

Vote: all these countries are spoiling us with their beautiful languages and I'm here for it

__________

SPAIN

Spain rarely disappoints and once again they proved it: instead of bringing the umpteenth young gal, this year they chose a more mature singer and not only she has a wonderful angelic voice, but she sings in sexy Spanish and her song is perfect dance material.

Vote: We're all zorras

__________

SWEDEN

Since Sweden refuses to bring something else besides the same generic pop music in English, I want to start a new trend: the Swedish Suggestion Box. Here we can all suggest much more interesting Swedish songs (or artists!). There's only one rule: they shouldn't be boring, nor generic stuff you can hear on the radio 24/7.

This year, I would like to suggest Nanne Grönvall: she's a pop singer, but she mostly sings in Swedish. I particularly recommend the songs Håll om mig, Den Vilda, and Vi är dom tuffaste.

If you have other Swedish artists or songs worthy of attention, please recommend them in the comments/reblogs! Even if the songs are in English, they're still fine! As I said, the only rule is that it shouldn't be generic and boring.

And I know Sweeden can do better than generic and boring.

Vote: Suggestions are open!

__________

SWITZERLAND

Switzerland is my second Sweden: even if other people might hate the songs it brings, I've rarely hated something coming from it. And if I did, it was with fiery passion. Yes, I'm looking at you, devastatingly boring 2022's entry.

So I'm very happy that this year we can all agree this is a great song, because wow. WOW. Mixing electropop with opera singing made something truly amazing to listen to and I can't wait to see if the singer manages to do it live. If he can, it will be magnificent.

Vote: fine, Switzerland, I'll forgive you for the 2022's entry. But only if you keep sending amazing stuff like this

__________

UKRAINE

Ukraine = quality and no one can deny it. I'm not a huge fan of this mix rap/Ukrainian rhythm they have been brought in these last years, but as long as I can listen to some nice Ukrainian language and some new vibes, I am all for it.

Vote: thank you, Ukraine, for always bringing amazing stuff

__________

UNITED KINGDOM

And here it is: the only country (with Ireland) that is legally allowed to use English in a song. Even if I dream that, one day, the UK will send a song in French and blow up the entirety of Europe.

The song per se isn't bad: very 90s' vibes, very dancey. But if I have to choose something with 90s vibes, I prefer the rave.

Vote: not bad UK, but could be better

[arcane-vagabond]

Fool's Fare: Chapter Three

Fool's Fare: Chapter Three

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Reader

Summary: Captain Jake "Hangman" Seresin had come close to swinging from the gallows more times than he would care to admit. He's stolen, cheated, even killed. The worst thing he's ever done? Broken the heart of a woman. Having broken the heart of the woman whom Davy Jones himself had fallen for six years ago, Jake is now cursed to live as something not dead, but not alive. He's doomed to live a half-life for the rest of his existence unless he manages to obtain the treasure Davy Jones deems most valuable. The problem? He has no idea what it is, and he only had seven years to obtain it.

Triggers: Language, Excessive alcohol consumption, Talks of the supernatural. Think that's it.

Word Count: 3.4k

A/N: Here is Chapter Three! I hope you all enjoy! I'm hoping to start working out the timeline for the DPU again so I can post an update for Outrun the Devil here soon, but I might update Meet Me at the Sea again before I do. As always, reblogs, comments, and likes are greatly appreciated! 18+ ONLY!! You can also find me on AO3 under arcane_vagabond where I post my updates as well!

Series Masterlist || Moodboards || Playlist

The town of Port Royal was crowded with men of different ilk the likes of which you had never seen. The Hangman had docked in the early hours of the morning, and once you had finished helping Bob prepare and serve breakfast, you had dragged the young man down the gangway and onto the street, heart hammering away with excitement.

“We can’t be gone too long,” Bob said, grinning at your clear excitement. “We have to be back in time to prepare supper.”

“What’s the point of traveling if we can’t even see the sights?” you scowled, pushing your way through the heavy throng of people around you. A few men gave you dirty looks as you did, but you paid them no mind. Men were rarely able to back up their bark with enough bite, in your experience, but you pressed onward without so much as a second glance at them.

“Pete, we are seeing the sights,” Bob chuckled behind you.

You turned to fix him with a scowl. “We’re seeing, but we aren’t appreciating. How can we when we only have a few hours?”

“I think you’re overestimating how much there is for us to do around here,” he laughed. You paid him no mind as you neared the market of the old pirate hub. Men bargained with each other at several of the different stalls, and groups of women were scattered along the streets looking for paying customers to share their bed for the evening.

“Ahoy, handsome,” a pretty redhead grinned at you as she leaned over the railing of the brothel. “You look like you’ve hardly reached manhood, and I don’t suppose you have much experience under your belt. Can I interest you in some lessons?”

“I, uh,” you stammered, blinking up at her nervously. “No, thank you, miss.”

“Shame,” she smirked, eyes looking behind you. “And what about you, sailor?”

You turned to see Bob looking as red as a tomato as he glanced nervously at you. “No, I’m fine.”

“Well, I’ll be here if either of you change your mind,” she grinned, tossing her long curls back to show off her ample cleavage. “Just ask for Lucy when you come back.”

“We’ll keep that in mind,” you blushed, hurrying to move forward with Bob hot on your tail. The two of you continued on a little farther until a glint of light caught your eye. You walked slowly up to the stall, several men grousing at you as you crossed right in front of their paths, but you paid them no mind. Your eyes were locked on a beautiful necklace that lay on top of a small wooden chest at one of the stalls. The golden chain held a six-pointed star, tiny diamonds encircling a burning opal. You had never seen something so beautiful before.

“I see you’ve found the soul of Polaris.”

You jumped, looking up to see an older man with a salt and pepper beard staring down at you. His accent was foreign, and if you had to guess, you’d say the man was from somewhere in Scotland.

“Is that what this is?” you asked him, looking back down at the jewel.

“Aye,” he continued, folding his arms. “They say a sea witch fell madly in love with a sailor long ago. When the two finally met face to face, the witch proclaimed her love for the man, but what she didn’t know is that the man was disgusted by her form. You see, the sea witch was also a mermaid, a siren of the sea. For while the witch was fair of face, the sailor knew what monster lay beneath the surface. So, he told her that he would only accept her love if she offered him something valuable.”

“And that was the gem?” you asked him, eyes wide. The old man chuckled with a shake of his head.

“No, lad. Wasn’t the gem,” he explained. “Was what the gem holds. There’s nothing more important to a sailor than the north star herself. Every man worth his salt knows that much. No, the gem holds an ancient magic. A magic to calm the sea and guide men to what it is they need most.”

“Which is what?”

“I don’t know,” he shrugged. “It’s different for every man.”

“Why are you selling it if it’s so valuable?” Bob chimed in, eyes narrowed at the man.

“Because it showed me that it’s time to pass it along, and I’m nothing if not a man who loves a proper sale,” he grinned. “Are ye interested?”

Before you could answer, Bob grabbed your elbow, pulling you away.

“No, we’re not,” he huffed out. You let out a cry of protest as he dragged you through the crowd. It wasn’t until the merchant faded from view that he finally slowed down, and you jerked your arm out of his hand.

“What was that about?” you griped, glaring up at him. He looked around the crowd wearily before shaking his head.

“Just didn’t like the look of him, is all.”

“Oh, that’s all?” You scoffed, crossing your arms. “What if I wanted to buy it?”

“Yeah?” Bob bit out a sharp laugh. “With what money?”

You were silent for a moment, and he nodded. “That’s what I thought.”

“You don’t have to be such an ass, you know,” you muttered, looking away dejectedly. You heard Bob sigh before he placed a hand gently on your shoulder.

“Look,” he began, “I’m sorry. I just don’t like anything having to do with magic or witches or anything of the sort.”

“Why’s that?” you asked him.

Bob didn’t answer you, instead looking somewhere off in the distance before grinning down at you.

“C’mon,” he said, once again pulling you through the crowd. “There’s something I want you to see.”

You allowed him to tug you along, the crowd thinning as the two of you moved closer to the edge of town. Finally, the cobblestone streets gave way to white sands and the stunning blue of the ocean. You felt your breath catch in your throat as you looked out onto the horizon. How you hadn’t noticed it when you departed the ship earlier, you didn’t know, but now your gaze was transfixed by it. This blue was so different from the blue you grew up seeing every day. Where your home’s waters were usually a dark, stormy blue, Port Royal’s water shined like topaz.

“I didn’t know the sea could look like this,” you breathed out.

“I knew you’d like it,” Bob smiled, turning his focus to the water before you. The two of you stood there in silence for a few moments before Bob turned to you once more. “C’mon, we best get back to the ship.”

“What’s all the commotion up there?” you asked Bob, hearing the stampede of footsteps above you on the main deck. Bob glanced up, a smile crawling onto his face.

“Sounds like they’re back aboard,” he grinned, rushing towards the door.

“Who is ‘they?’” you called after him, but he was already gone. You sighed, eyeing the ingredients for dinner before making your way after him. A crowd had gathered by the gangway, and you stopped at the edge where Bradley stood.

“What’s going on?” you asked him.

He shrugged. “Guess we’re here to pick up two other crew members from what I’ve gathered.”

You hummed, craning your neck to try and peer over the horde of men. You managed to catch a glimpse of two figures on the other side of the crowd; one man and one woman.

“Natasha!” You heard Bob cry. You saw the head of sandy hair bounce up to the woman who smiled at him. “How was it? How did it go?”

“Bob!” Natasha hollered as she pulled the young man in for a tight hug. “It’s good to see you. It was great!” She gestured to the man beside her. “You should have seen Mickey haggling with that old codfish! Thought we might get away without payin’ a cent there for a second. And then just when we had him, the codger backed out.”

She grimaced at the memory. “Couldn’t for the life of us figure out why he would back out at the last second. Just as we were headed back here though, he stopped us and offered another deal, one too good to pass up.”

“And so you took the deal.”

Everyone turned to see Jake, having just come from his quarters, at the edge of the crowd. He strutted towards the pair with a cocky smirk.

“You bet your ass we took that deal,” grinned the man, Mickey, as the captain approached. “We were leaving with it one way or another.”

“Lucky for the old man, he came to his senses,” smirked Natasha, arms crossing in front of her. Jake hummed as he stopped in front of them.

“And where is our little treasure?” he asked them. Mickey rifled through his pockets before pulling something out. The chain dropped to reveal a six-pointed star with tiny diamonds surrounding a burning opal. You gasped as Mickey handed the necklace over to Jake, who quickly pocketed it. He turned back to the rest of the crew.

“Alright, you lot. Show’s over. Get back to work! We set sail in an hour.”

The crew clambered to prepare the ship for launch, but you continued to stare at the small group on the other side of the ship.

“I’m going to freshen up in my quarters,” Natasha told the two with a smile, already making her way to where the cabins were housed. You gaped before looking over at Bradley.

“Bradley,” you hissed at him. Bradley swallowed thickly.

“She’s a woman.”

“Yeah.”

“She’s got a cabin on the ship.”

“Yeah.”

“She’s a member of the crew.”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah.”

Before you could say more, Bob had come bounding up to you. “Are you ready to get back to cooking?”

You shot one last glare at Bradley, who looked everywhere but back at you. That idiot.

“Yeah,” you grumbled, turning to head back into the hull. “I’m ready.”

“Why is that woman a member of the crew?” you asked Bob as you scrubbed at the pot in your hands. “I thought woman weren’t allowed on ships?”

“On most ships, yes,” he told you as he finished dishing out portions for the crew. “But Jake doesn’t really care who is crew is made up of as long as they carry their own weight and don’t cause any problems.”

You hummed. “So anyone can just join, huh?”

“I suppose,” he mused. “Jake doesn’t let anyone join the crew unless he thinks their worthy and have something to offer. A lot of men were skeptical when Nat first joined, but she quickly made a name for herself as the Phoenix.”

“The Phoenix?” you questioned, pausing your scrubbing to look at him. He nodded with wide, excited eyes.

“Yeah! Whenever we come upon a ship to plunder, she does this thing where she’ll light the ends of her coat on fire. It smolders, giving her this terrifying look like she just rose out of the flames. That’s why, ya know…”

“The Phoenix,” you finished for him, turning back to your work. “Do you all have nicknames like that?”

“Some of us, sure,” he replied. “But our names work just fine. Now help me pass these out to the crew.”

You moved to help him and the two of you began taking the dishes out to where the crew had gathered around the massive tables.

“Cabin boy!”

You turned to see Natasha waving at you with a mug of ale.

“Come join us,” she grinned. You glanced at Bob who nodded.

“Go, I can get the rest,” he smiled. You nodded back at him and made your way over to where Natasha sat with Reuben and Mickey.

“Take a seat, cabin boy,” Natasha grinned, taking a sip of her ale. You did as she commanded, eyes darting between the three sailors as they stared at you.

“Is it true?” she asked you with a raised eyebrow.

“Is what true?”

“That your dad is Maverick Mitchell!” Mickey grinned, leaning in closer to you. A large figure slid in beside Reuben.

“What are we talking about?” Bradley asked, glancing between you and the other three.

“We were just starting to ask the cabin boy here about his father, Rooster” Reuben told him, taking a bite of his food. Bradley’s mouth set in a firm line as the three turned their attention back to you.

“What was he like?” Mickey asked you, practically bouncing in his seat. You shrugged noncommittally as you took a bite off your own plate.

“I don’t really know what you're expecting me to say.”

“Well, was he just as daring as the stories say? Did he take you out on his trips? Did you help him plunder? Did he ever find the treasure he was looking for?”

“Alright,” Natasha groaned, setting a calming hand down on his shoulder to stop him. Bob chose that moment to join the lot of you, sliding in next to her on the opposite side of the table. “Settle down, fanboy.”

“I can’t help it!” He hollered. “It’s not every day you meet the kid of one of the greatest pirates known to man.”

You stilled, seeing Bradley tense up on the other side of Reuben.

“What?” You whispered, eyes wide as you stared at Mickey who stared at you uncertainly.

“Pete Mitchell was your father,” Mickey said slowly, glancing around the table. “Right?”

“Yes, he was,” you said firmly.

“Pete Mitchell, better known as Maverick,” Reuben rattled off, “was a world renowned pirate of the highest order. His very name struck fear into the hearts of many a ship’s captain and crew. He was respected both far and wide by civilians and sailors alike.”

“Until one day he just disappeared,” Natasha added, studying you curiously. “Said his life’s mission was to find the greatest treasure the world could offer, and he plundered and stole for decades before dropping off the face of the earth.”

You felt like you were going to be sick. You didn’t know this man they were talking about. You knew the man who told you stories before bed, who showed you the proper ways to tie different knots, who always treated you kindly and had a smile at the ready for you, who never once raised his voice in anger at you or your mother. The man they were talking about was a stranger.

Without thinking, you grabbed the nearest cup to you, Natasha’s, and downed it. The ale did little to ease your comfort, and you grabbed Reuben’s next and did the same.

“Woah there, cabin boy,” Reuben called out as you reached for Mickey’s. “Slow down there.”

You didn’t want to slow down. You wanted to forget. You downed Mickey’s cup and searched for more. The men to your right had watched the scene unfold, and one of them let out a low chuckle before pushing his cup towards you.

“There ya go, cabin boy!” He laughed. “Drink up!”

You happily obliged him, downing the nearly full mug in only a couple of gulps. You stood, head already beginning to feel both light and heavy all at the same time. You had never had more than one cup of ale before, but you weren’t worried about that fact in that moment. You stumbled on your feet as you made to move towards the barrel that had been opened for that night’s dinner.

“No,” Bradley said from behind you, having gotten up when you did. “You’ve had enough.”

You whirled around to face him, nearly falling on your face in the process. “I’ll decide when I’ve had enough,” you hissed up at him, trying and failing to push past him as he gripped your arms.

“That’s enough,” he growled down at you, but you continued to push at him until he gave you a gentle shake. “I know you’re upset, but this is not how you should be handling it.”

You stared up at him, studying him. Why was he being so calm about this revelation that had just been dropped into your lap?

“You knew,” you breathed, tears pooling in the corners of your eyes. “You knew, and you didn’t tell me.”

Bradley stiffened, hands tightening ever so slightly on your shoulders. He looked defeated as he let out a sigh. “He didn’t want you to know.”

“Bastard!” you screamed at him, your struggle renewing with a vengeance.

“What’s going on here?”

All of you stopped and turned. Javy stood at the end of the stairs, eyes scanning the room and the scene before him. He frowned when he saw the state you were in.

“Cabin boy,” he said slowly, eyes always studying you. “Go get some air.”

You took a breath before pushing at Bradley who stumbled back half a step. You staggered toward the stairs, hearing Javy address the crew. You didn’t hear what he said, too focused on making it up to the main deck.

The air had grown cool as the sun began to set, and you staggered towards the edge of the boat. You grasped onto one of the ropes, feeling your resolve start to break. The tears started to fall and you let out a shaky sob into the wind.

“Rough night, cabin boy?”

You turned, vision hazy from the ale, to see Jake standing a few feet away from you.

“What do you care?” You muttered, frowning at him. He let out a low chuckle before walking over to lean against the side of the ship next to you. The two of you stared at one another for a few moments, but said nothing.

“He was a pirate,” you whispered, almost inaudibly, the tears still flowing down your cheek. Jake nodded.

“Aye,” he said. “He was.”

“But he was a good man,” you frowned, more of a question than a statement. Jake cocked an eyebrow at you.

“Can’t a man be both?”

You shrugged, head starting to feel even heavier. “I suppose so.”

Jake let out another chuckle, leaning into you a little more. “You suppose so?” he teased.

“Yeah,” you nodded sleepily. “S’pose so.”

Jake reached up to cup your cheek as he watched you. “How much did you have to drink down there tonight, Guppy?”

“D’unno,” you muttered, subconsciously nuzzling into the palm of his hand. “More than I’ve ever ha’ before.”

The two of you stood in silence for a moment before your eyes shot open, staring at him. What did he just call you?

Jake watched you with a knowing smirk as you struggled to form a coherent thought through the alcohol induced haze.

“You catchin’ up there alright, Guppy?” he asked you, a grin breaking out over his face.

“How long have you-?”

“Since you walked up to the ship behind Rooster, sweet girl. You think I’d just forget a pretty face like yours?” he laughed as you scowled up at him.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” you snapped.

He shrugged. “Figured things would be much more interesting this way. Besides, you looked so cute thinkin’ you had fooled me into thinkin’ you were a boy. Wanted to see how long you’d play into it.”

“So why bother saying anything?” You grumbled. His grin dropped as he stared at you with a stern expression.

“Cause you went and did a stupid thing like gettin’ too drunk. Now I gotta worry ‘bout you ‘round some of these men.”

“You don’t trust your own men?” You asked him, eyebrow raised. He chuckled lowly, placing a large, warm hand to the small of your back.

“While I believe they aren’t stupid enough to try anything with me or your brother on board the ship, I’d sleep much better tonight havin’ not taken the chance.”

“Wait,” you said, his words catching up with you. “They know?”

Jake laughed at that. “Darlin’, everyone knew the moment you set foot on the ship. That brother of yours needs to work on his disguises.”

You scowled up at him as he helped you towards the cabins. He beamed down at you, eyes twinkling, and you could have sworn you saw a blue mist twirl in his pupils as he stared down at you.

“C’mon. You can bunk with Natasha from here on out.”

[toomanyroleplays]

Hey Gang

So to say the least I am ever so bored and looking to get some new roleplays up and running. First off the very most important thing to know about me is I'm 25 coming to you from the Cringy One Direction Roleplay era. So please please please be at least 18 but I would prefer 20 and up in a perfect world. I ONLY write on Discord in the third person. My minimum is two paragraphs and my max well she's all over the place typically around five paragraphs. I'm ghost and cringe-friendly. I love building playlists and interest boards for RPs and world-building and just all the OOC chit-chat you could dream of. I'm looking for romance and if all parties are comfy some spice in the plot along with everything else we could ever dream up within reason. I'm open to writing all pairing types and OCxCC or CCxCC but no OCxOC sorry! But I double! :) Fandoms and a little more about what I'm looking for in each one. Marvel/MCU/Comics: I am a die-hard Phlint shipper and I am always down to write them. I have hardcore missed this pair so damn much since Omegle left us. There are other canon ships I'm down to write as well the list is hella long and fluctuates with my mood so please ask and I'll happily supply you with that list and whom I write. I am also always down to write OCxCC for Marvel. I'm open to ABO and BDSM AU's in this fandom as well. Hobbit: I've kinda got a half assed OC/fan species idea but like fuck if I know. So like while I wanna say I would be down to write OCxCC I'm probably gonna lean towards CCxCC but you never know I might be in the mood to bust that sucker out. I'm all for Thilbo always have been. Have you read An Unexpected Addition by karategal on AO3? I've basically taken it as canon now. Anywho other ships also include Dworin, Dwori, and Boffins. WWE It's cringe I know but shit dude I love that silly wrestling. Ask me about it in the DM's if you're interested. We can work literally anything out. I love it all. Criminal Minds bring on the OCxCC or CCxCC would love to do a Marvel CCxCC crossover though I could be talked into an OCxCC cross over. Ships I kinda love em all for the sake of not making this post any longer I'll put in my top four but feel free to ask about others. Hotchgan, Demily, Morcia and Moreid Harry Potter Golden Trio I'm looking for OCxCC please don't ask me to play Voldy or like any Malfoy. Characters are 18+ so no Hogwarts sorry fam. Uh plots all I can say is buckle up I'm a little bit of a goblin. Marauders era OCxCC or CCxCC looking for alternate war endings. Rare pairs, and heavy world-building. Please do not ask me to write snape I can't go there.

Ok OK so last one and like this shit is hella specific so don't mind me I'm just being hopeful. Percy Jackson (TV series) I read book one years ago gonna start a read-through soon. I am Specifically looking for an AresxF OC of mine. I'm hoping to find someone flexible and willing to help me make sense of this cracked-out plot I've had bouncing around in my brain for weeks.

If any of this interests you please feel free to shoot me a message on Discord or interact with the post and I'll reach out.

pythonsmonty

[summercourtship]

stay to burn (only to drown instead): chapter three: all that for this? [part I]

masterpost | ao3 link

jonathan crane x reader; bruce wayne x reader; edward nashton x reader | warnings: canon typical violence, sexual content | word count: 8244 words

DISCLAIMER: these chapters are not meant to be read alone. not every chapter has content for one of the three pairings listed. this is an ongoing fanfiction that I am cross-posting here on tumblr, not a series of one-shots.

chapter one

A black dress with the tag still on was draped over the back of your couch, a pair of heels thrown haphazardly on one of the cushions. You were sitting at the tiny kitchen table squeezed into your space, a desk mirror in front of you propped up with a stack of books. Your hair was, for all intents and purposes, cooperating with you tonight as you pinned and placed it exactly as the smiling woman on your phone screen was showing you- the tutorial had been labeled as easy although you were finding it anything but. Turning your head to the side, you tried to view your profile but the mirror simply wasn’t big enough. Sighing, you swiped the video off, deciding to just wing the rest of your hairstyle.

But your attention was soon drawn away from your hair to the TV you had playing in the background even though you weren’t watching it. You turned to look back at it from your chair. You had put the news on even though you wanted to cultivate better vibes for the night than the depressing 24/7 news cycle of Gotham City. Putting it on must’ve been a force of habit, you supposed.

“...new reports of the criminal dubbed the Scarecrow by the Gotham Gazette have been coming in after an alleged robbery at a pharmaceutical warehouse last night where the criminal was spotted on CCTV. He was allegedly first spotted in November, although his actions have escalated from small break-ins to terrorizing city officials…”

As you watched the news broadcast, eyes roaming over the grainy figure of the Scarecrow, something lit up in a back corner of your brain, an itch that you couldn’t locate and couldn’t scratch. But maybe you were just uncomfortable with the idea of another masked criminal running around the city. Your experience with the last one was enough to put you off of them for the rest of your life.

Breaking yourself out of the trance-like state you’d been staring at the TV with, you got up and turned it off. You didn’t need any of that tonight. You could learn all about Gotham’s newest villain tomorrow. Tonight your only job was to enjoy yourself. Maybe even have fun.

Scoffing, you plopped back onto your seat, resisting the urge to run a hand through your half-done hair. You turned back to your mirror to continue working on your appearance, opting to listen to music instead of the news. Queueing up a playlist of party jams, you skipped every song until you found one you knew, immediately bouncing your head as you began to dance along in your seat.

You decided then to make a quick promise to yourself, a mantra to get you through the night without losing your mind: this is going to be a fun night out and I will not spend any time worrying about silly little things.

When your hair is complete, you moved to pick up the dress you’d bought two days ago. It had, admittedly, cost more than you had been expecting to spend for the night but it had looked good on you and when were you going to have the opportunity to attend a gala again? You might as well go all out.

Zipping the back of the dress up, you cringed when you realized that you couldn’t get the last stretch closed, even with the awkward angle you had your arms at.

Well. You could just ask Dr. Crane to finish zipping it up for you.

You imagined the way his hands would caress your back, holding you steady as he slowly closed the dress. And then you started to imagine his hands moving the other way, unzipping and pulling the dress off of your body-

Your face burned at the thought, the skin of your back tingling in anticipation for his imagined touch. You cursed yourself for thinking about this ten minutes before he was due to arrive because of course, he’s driving you to the event.

Contorting yourself, you managed to zip the dress up. See? You don’t need to embarrass yourself. You don’t need Dr. Crane.

You were stepping into the pair of heels (that were maybe a bit too tall for you to comfortably exist in but you’d apparently been feeling yourself on that shopping trip) when a text lit up your phone.

Here.

Stomach swooping, you stood up a bit too fast causing your legs to wobble slightly on your heels (which you were now certain were definitely too tall for you). You’d given Dr. Crane your phone number a week ago, in between classes where you’d done your best to minimize the amount of contact you’d had with him as you had still been reeling from your earlier conversation in his car. You’d had a lingering bout of anxiety that had lasted the entire weekend, simmering low in your stomach and you naturally connected it to the nerves from being in the car with him.

But this was the first time he had texted you since you’d given it to him and seeing his name show up on your phone was like a straight shot of caffeine into your heart, more effective at energizing you than any early 2010’s club hit. Even if the text itself was lacking in any personality (who uses periods in a text when they aren’t pissed off? Dr. Crane, apparently) it was still an overwhelming reminder that Dr. Crane had pulled his phone out, found your name, typed out a message, and sent it.

And also that he was currently outside your building, waiting.

Checking yourself one last time in the tiny mirror, squinting to make out your form in the small glass, you nodded in affirmation that yes, you looked as good as you were going to tonight. You grabbed the tiny purse you’d bought just for this event and after making sure your keys and pepper gel were in the bag you left your apartment.

The light flickered as you briskly walked down the hallway to the stairwell, building your confidence with each step. You passed the old elevator that no one used even though it was technically in working order. But anything that dusty wasn’t being used for a reason and at least the stairs won’t break down on you.

As you opened the door to the stairs, you caught a glimpse of yourself in a stained hallway mirror. Seeing yourself outside of the tiny mirror that seemed to hone in on your biggest insecurities squashed any lingering doubts you had about your dress or your hair or your body. You looked good.

And damn it, you were determined to have fun tonight.

With renewed vigor, you hurried down the steps, purse swinging behind you as you circled around the switchbacks. Your heels clicked satisfyingly against the tile flooring, loud enough that anyone else in the stairwell must have known you were rapidly approaching.

Taking a deep breath you pushed your building's door open, stepping into the cold February night. Luckily for you, the forecast said it would be a clear night, a decidedly rare occurrence in Gotham. And sure enough, the stars were out and the moon was bright and full in the sky. Not a cloud in sight.

And there he was, waiting outside his slick black car like he said he would be, leaning against the driver’s side door. His normal clothes had been replaced by a formal three-piece suit, tailored to accentuate his frame. He’d forgone the glasses for the night, leaving no barriers for you to see how his gaze swept over your body.

“You look lovely.” Dr. Crane pushed off the car, taking a step forward to meet you.

“Thank you.” You were aware that you had, perhaps, gone a bit overboard with your appearance and you were honestly afraid that you would arrive at the gala and see knee-length skirts and khakis. But with the way Dr. Crane was looking at you right now, you decided that you couldn’t care less if people thought you were overdressed for the event.

You moved to walk over to the passenger side, wanting to get all of the awkward pleasantries out of the way as soon as possible. Maybe it would make you seem more confident to not linger too long outside his car, to get straight to the punch and take control of the night.

“Wait-” He stopped you as you turned away from him, pulling something on the back of your dress. “The tag is still on.”

“What?!” You turned your head back to look at him and sure enough, he was holding the price tag between his thumb and index finger. There goes any chance of seeming cool and confident tonight. “Oh. That’s embarrassing.”

And it was even more embarrassing when you realized that meant he saw how much you’d spent on your dress- and it wasn’t cheap. After all, all you had thought about when purchasing it was the way it had hugged your curves and hid the parts of you that you were insecure about. The price, at that moment, hadn’t mattered. But it was still frivolous and you didn’t want him thinking that you normally spent your money so recklessly.

“Don’t worry.” He put a hand on your bare shoulder, steadying you before he cleanly ripped the tag off. “It’s taken care of.”

“Thanks.” God, you were trying your best to not cringe yourself into oblivion.

Wordlessly, he moved past you to get into the car and you took another moment to follow suit.

The same style of music was playing in his car, the warmth still as inviting as before. You sighed in relief, already starting to regret not bringing a jacket with you. It was a stupid decision but you’d thought your dress looked better without it and you’d wanted Dr. Crane to see you for the first time without any barriers to your complete outfit. Certainly not a worn out rain jacket.

But still.

You could have at least bought something that matched to go on your arms because they were bare and shivering, covered in goosebumps. Who would have thought that February would be cold? Now you were starting to think that maybe your desperation for Dr. Crane to notice you in a very specific way was going to get you killed.

“You look nice tonight, too.” Your voice was quiet, like you hadn’t been sure if you were allowed to speak to him yet. His face turned to you, quick, like he wasn’t sure he’d heard you correctly. He blinked once at you before a soft smile graced his features. Though he didn’t say anything in response, you knew that your compliment had meant something to him.

“I appreciate you coming with me tonight.” He didn’t speak until he had started driving, merging into the traffic hell that was Gotham on a Saturday night. The gala was held at one of the university’s fanciest buildings, right next to the bay and across the city from the main campus. With this traffic, it could take thirty minutes to get there.

“I’ve always wanted to go to a gala.”

“They’re not very exciting.”

“For you, maybe.” You laughed, your carefree attitude toward the night apparently extending to your conversation with Dr. Crane. It was like you had decided to not be intimidated by him for one night and miraculously you were actually doing it. “I like an excuse to get dressed up.”

He hummed, switching lanes. It was like he was saying “Oh, I noticed.”

“Anyway, there’ll be free food and-” You gasped, remembering the best part. “Alcohol!”

“Right, the college student’s two motivations. Free food and alcohol.” You scoffed in response to his incredulous tone.

“What, you aren’t excited that it’s free? And readily available for you?”

“I am financially secure enough for free food to mean less.” He paused. “And I’m not much of a drinker. I prefer to be fully aware of what’s happening around me.”

“You’re no fun.” You laughed. “Don’t you like to just… let go?”

He gave you another look, equal parts surprised and amused. You were a bit surprised at yourself, too. It seemed that the confidence you felt tonight had indeed extended to your conversation. You weren’t normally this outgoing or talkative with him (sure, you talked but not in this… casual, bubbly way). It was like you were a completely different person, like you were one of the girls who had no fear about the city’s crime rate as she went to parties and clubs for a good time.

“I can be fun.” He said, his eyes focused back on the road.

“Oh yeah? How?” Your question was pointed, and you didn’t miss how he worked his jaw back and forth slightly. Thinking. Again, you got the feeling that he was debating whether or not to say something before he ultimately decided not to, keeping his mouth shut and his eyes away from yours.

You weren’t really one to talk about having fun. This was the first night in months- if not a year- where you were allowing yourself to go out for no reason but pleasure and it was all because he invited you. You opened your mouth to apologize for teasing him when he cut you off.

“I’m a busy man. Between the university, the asylum, attending court cases, I barely have time for my research. Let alone fun.” He sighed. “I’m lucky enough I’m able to come to this tonight.”

You looked down at your hands, now unsure of how to respond.

“I’ve really been looking forward to tonight, thank you for inviting me along.” You felt like you had been going through the same few comments about how excited you were for the night but it was all you could think of to talk about. Your attempt at asking him what he did for leisure backfired, so it seemed any small talk would need to be initiated by him.

Was it frustrating to be aware that he knew significantly more about you than you knew about him? Very. But when he shot down every attempt you made to change that, there was little else you could do but allow it to happen.

He didn’t respond, and the only thing you could think about now was that you had ruined the night with your unintentional prying.

You watched his hands as they moved on the steering wheel, guiding his car into the driveway for the venue. The street was lined with trees adorned with fairy lights, creating a magical glow over the damp road, their light dully reflected.

As soon as the building was in sight- the exterior lit up with spotlights, valets waiting outside, the whole nine yards- Dr. Crane turned to you.

“You won’t be expected to talk to anyone tonight. I, however, as someone whose research is partly funded by the school which is in turn funded by the donors, will be speaking to some of the wealthy sponsors there tonight.”

You nodded, even though he probably couldn’t tell. You could grin and bear it through some boring conversations as long as you were able to enjoy a few drinks and the aesthetics of it all. Though you were interested to know how Dr. Crane would describe his research because he’s never talked about it with you, or rarely mentioned it in his classes. You knew it had something to do with fear and the human psyche but that was it, really.

He pulled up to the valet, climbing out of the car. You were just opening the door when he appeared, offering his hand to help you out. You almost refused him on some sort of half-formed principle (something about being independent) but then you remembered your heels and decided that you could abandon your principles for one night. More so, you saw it as a reassurance that no, you hadn’t ruined the night by being awkward in the car. After all, he was notorious at the university as being hard to get along with and it was a miracle you managed for as long as you had.

Really, you should be giving yourself a pat on the back for even getting this far with him.

Gently resting your hand on his own, you placed one heel out onto the pavement which was still glistening from the rain earlier in the day. You looked up at the building, smiling at how picturesque everything was now that you were sure Dr. Crane wasn’t upset.

The Martha Wayne Memorial Hall was the most ornate building on campus and it was the one that was used the least by the school. Conferences, career conventions, and this, apparently, were the only things it was used for. You’d been inside once before during your college orientation’s tour of campus and it had been a very brief visit. Unlike a lot of formal event venues, it was styled like an old opera house, fitting the Gothic style favored by most of Gotham’s architects. There were even some gargoyles hanging out on the eaves.

As soon as you were steady on your feet, Dr. Crane let go of your hand, handing his keys to one of the valets who had come up to the pair of you.

Inside the building it was no less ornate, with marble floors and small chandeliers lining the ceiling. The atrium had three rooms off of it, a large ballroom, the banquet room, and the theatre. Occasionally, touring Broadway shows would come here for a few nights but you’d never been able to afford tickets, even with a student discount. In the center of the room was a grand glass staircase, leading to the upper levels of the building.

However, even more impressive than the interior was the people. Any fears you had about being overdressed were wiped away when you saw what the other guests were wearing. You were surrounded by Gotham’s elite, wearing their best jewlery and furs, things they would never dare wear out on the town. You could also tell who the people from the university were from the way their skin seemed more lived in, the way their hair wasn’t completely perfect. They had more important things to do than sit in front of their mirror making sure they were perfect before leaving the house.

“Somehow, I feel underdressed,” You were staring at a young woman in a sequin-covered floor length gown, tiny pearls woven into her complex hairstyle. You made brief eye contact with her before she looked away, her facial expression blank.

“Then don’t concern yourself with other people.” You looked over at him, but he wasn’t looking at you. He was right, though. What did it matter if people spent a thousand dollars on a dress for this event (which made the two hundred you spent on your own seem like nothing) if you were here to have a good time?

Before you could respond, a voice came over the loudspeaker, effectively drowning out the mindless chatter of the guests. The lights flashed once in the lobby, slow enough that you knew it was deliberate and not them simply flickering. The universal theatre signal for ”get in here, the show’s about to start.”

“Ladies and gentlemen, if you would please make your way into the auditorium for tonight’s presentation. Thank you.”

Like one being, the crowd began shuffling towards the theater.

“Looks like we arrived just in time.” Dr. Crane hadn’t started moving yet, watching the crowd amble away. You turned to him when you started walking, raising your eyebrows.

“Did you plan it so we’d be here right as the presentation began?”

He smiled, his eyes sliding to you. “Yes.” You caught me, his face seemed to say. But I wanted you to.

And you smiled back, more from relief at seeing him relaxed again than what he’d actually said. You knew you had a bad habit of overanalyzing every encounter you had with him, searching for clues of his true feelings in the minimal amount of words he used to communicate with you. But just because you knew you had a habit of doing it didn’t mean you were going to stop anytime soon.

Ushers- who were definitely students making a maximum of eight dollars an hour- stood by the double doors leading to the orchestra level seats, making sure everyone got one of the programs outlining the order of events for the presentation as well as informing them that there were no assigned seats (with a few exceptions for some of the extremely wealthy guests in the boxes. Of which you were not so it didn’t matter to you).

Dr. Crane walked close to your side, and as you passed through the double doors into the auditorium, the back of his hand brushed yours, just for a quick second. Though your heart skipped a beat at the sudden contact, you quickly told yourself it was an accident on his part, born from your close proximity as you moved into the theater.

Which was huge and you racked your brain trying to think of the last time you were there. Maybe freshman orientation? Either way it had been a long time since you stepped into the theater and it was even more ostentatious than you remembered it being.

Red carpet ran down the length of every aisle, the seats upholstered with a matching color of crushed velvet. The house went up three tiers, gold filigree covering the black walls, hiding the lighting fixtures in their details. And at the very top of the painted, domed ceiling was a large glittering chandelier.

“How much money do you think they spent on this?” You whispered to Dr. Crane as your gaze roamed around, who chuckled low in his chest.

“A couple million, at least.” He responded, his voice matching yours in its volume.

“I feel like I’m at an opera.” You were staring at the chandelier,

“The presentation-” his voice was dripping in sarcasm and you hid your smile by ducking your chin- “will kill that, don’t worry.”

You liked this side of him. Humorous, not worried about his classes or what was happening down at the asylum (you assumed that’s what he worried about, he didn’t disclose that sort of thing to you). He seemed so much more at ease here in his well-pressed suit than he ever was giving a lecture. You would almost think he was in his element, if you didn’t know him better.

He placed a hand on the small of your back as he pointed to a row of seats that had two empty and wasn’t too close to the stage (the fronts and center rows were reserved for potential donors) and gently guided you over to it. You could feel the texture of his hand through your dress, surprisingly rough fingers separated from your own skin by a single layer of thin fabric. It was an innocent gesture, you told yourself, just to make sure you knew where he was going.

Either way, you followed his guidance, shuffling into the row after him. You sat in the seat, the plush cushion as comfortable as it had looked from the aisle. You allowed yourself to sink into it, so much more comfortable than the wooden lecture hall seats you were used to. It wasn’t comparable, honestly.

“How long will this last, anyway?” You turned to Dr. Crane, the program unopened on your lap.

“It will feel like forever but-” He paused when you laughed, throwing another curious look your way. Maybe he hadn’t meant it as a joke, but you were amused by his blunt delivery. “It should only be thirty or forty minutes.”

Internally, you groaned. You never were good at sitting through boring programs.

Opening the program, you scanned past the thank yous and ads for shows that were coming to the theater and local businesses, looking for the order of events.

Yeah, it looked pretty boring.

The lights dimmed and the President of Gotham University stepped on stage, her hand raised in a still wave to the crowd, who was clapping politely at her entrance. There was no cheering, no whooping. This was a civilized event. She had one of those obnoxiously big TED-talk style microphones taped to her cheek and you knew you only had a few more seconds to steel yourself before the masturbatory worship of the university began.

You loved your school, of course. But you didn’t know how anyone bought into the blind loyalty that colleges demanded from their students, alumni, and donors. From the tone that Dr. Crane had used when he mentioned talking to potential sponsors or the presentation, you would hazard a guess that he at least somewhat agreed with you. Maybe you could make fun of this after, laugh about it during the ride home.

Once the applause (quickly) died down, the President began speaking, outlining why it was so important to support the school. She highlighted some of the professors’ specific research topics (Dr. Crane’s was not included and you wondered if he was upset about that but you couldn't bring yourself to peer over at him, not so soon at least), emphasizing all of the good the university was doing. You could barely keep yourself from rolling your eyes, knowing that most of the money given to the school tonight would probably end up in someone’s pocket and not anywhere near the students.

The bitter thought surprised you, but it was hard to believe that the millions of dollars people gave to the university were used for good when your own department was severely underfunded and wasn’t even unpopular.

You wondered how much Dr. Crane received for his research.

You were trying your best to focus on the presentation but he was so close to you, your thigh just barely touching his own. (Couldn’t they have made these seats a bit farther apart, with the millions of dollars they spent on furnishings?) You shuffled your feet, slowly starting to pull your leg away from his, shrinking in on yourself slightly to give him more space.

Only for his leg to just take up the space you had created, your bodies once again connected at a single point on your thighs.

You told yourself it was a subconscious action on his part. That he somehow didn’t realize he was chasing you.

You peered over at him from the corner of your eye, watching as he seemed to concentrate on the President’s speech. Then his eyes flicked over to you and back to the stage, a small smile ghosting across his mouth.

He knew what he was doing.

But what did he mean by it?

On your other side was an older man, engrossed in the presentation. You didn’t want to be close to him at all, didn’t want to give him any funny ideas about what you were doing. So there was only one option for your legs.

You squeezed your legs together, moving them once again next to Dr. Crane’s. At the same moment, he moved his hand from the armrest to his thigh. You stared for a moment at how close his hand was to your leg- on which the slit of your dress was laying in such a way that your bare skin was exposed.

Wrenching your gaze away from your legs, you forced yourself to watch the presentation again. Which, honestly, had to be at least halfway done by now. It wasn’t dragging on as much as you had feared, but it was still not how you wanted to be spending your time.

You wished you had at least gotten a drink before you’d been corralled into the auditorium.

You closed your eyes, leaning your head back against the seat for a moment. The presentation wasn’t even for you, who would care if you weren’t paying attention?

Then you felt it, and your head snapped back up.

A small brush against your exposed skin. And without even looking down, you know exactly what it was.

Dr. Crane’s fingers were warm on your thigh, not moving, just resting against you. When he doesn’t move his hand away, when he doesn’t do anything to suggest that this action of his was an accident, your heart rate goes into overdrive because you had fantasized about him touching you since your first class with him three semesters ago and now, in a darkened theater, he was. It didn’t feel real- it couldn’t be real.

But more importantly, what did this small action of his mean for your relationship? Because this had thrust it far beyond professional, or even the platonic relationship that you had resigned yourself to.

His hand remained there for the rest of the presentation, a grounding presence that did little to actually ground you to the present because you were occupied with worrying about how to go forward from this moment. (There you go again, overanalyzing and worrying about everything.)

And then the lights came back on.

He stood up and pretended like he hadn’t just kept his hand on your bare thigh for the last fifteen minutes. You remained in your seat, barely registering that the crowd was leaving or even that the presentation was over.

“You look hungry.” He stated, pulling you out of your mind. He looked down at you and you jumped up, smiling tersely at him.

“Sure, that’s fine.” Your response wasn’t quite aligned with his statement but you didn’t care as you led the way out of the auditorium and back into the atrium. If he wasn’t going to bring up what he did, neither were you.

Being back in the crowd woke you up, bringing you out of the stupor that his touch had induced.

The chatter was louder than it had been before the presentation, the guests clearly ready to finally enjoy the refreshments and music- you could faintly hear a string quartet from the ballroom and a piano from the banquet hall. Peering into the latter, you saw crowds of people around the buffet tables and decided that you would wait until it died down to try and get any real food.

Sighing, you turned back to Dr. Crane.

“Is there anyone specifically that you want to talk to tonight?”

Then you realized that Dr. Crane was looking past you and you followed his gaze behind you. A young man, only a few years older than you, was walking through the crowd. A bit awkward, smiling tersely at everyone trying to speak with him. And people were clambering to speak with him, smiling and laughing when they saw him. He looked over at you briefly, then seemed to do a double take as he looked back.

Leaving his current conversation, a bit unceremoniously if the looks his previous conversations partners gave each other was anything to go by, he came over to the pair of you.

“Mr. Wayne.”

Dr. Crane was the first to speak, reaching across you to shake Bruce Wayne’s hand. You watched as they exchanged greetings and introductions, content to stay silent while they talked. After all, Dr. Crane said you could and you’re not even sure what you would say to Bruce Wayne, of all people.

“Nice to see you out tonight.”

“I needed some fresh air.” You couldn’t help but notice how tense the younger man was holding his shoulders. Dr. Crane, in comparison, was relaxed, not even batting an eye at the sudden conversation with the Prince of Gotham.

“I’m sure.”

There was a brief, awkward moment of silence as you looked between the pair. Bruce Wayne, though he was certainly better looking in person than in his pictures, was clearly out of his comfort zone, and you couldn’t blame him. He’d been a reclusive figure for many years, really only becoming social (which, for him, meant leaving his house every few weeks to attend an event) in the past year. Without him saying it, everyone knew it was because of the Riddler’s attempt on his life.

It was almost funny how the Riddler made the once anti-social Bruce Wayne social and you, someone who used to enjoy going out at night, into a shut-in who only left the house for school and work.

“My teaching assistant.” Dr. Crane gestured to you, and you nodded. Until you remembered that you could actually speak. You held out your hand to Mr. Wayne, giving him your name, and he grasped your palm with a firm handshake that he must have learned before he could even attend events like these. But there’s something else that his touch reminds you of, the roughness of his palm inviting and grounding, but you can’t place what it is aside from a lingering sensation of safety.

“It’s very nice to meet you.” He smiled at you, his eyes crinkling. You didn’t know if you’d ever seen a picture of him smiling like that. Not a polite smile, reserved for business partners or cameras. But a genuine smile. You couldn’t help but return it, beaming at him as you continued holding his hand.

Dr. Crane cleared his throat and you dropped Mr. Wayne’s hand, smiling nervously over at the professor. He’s looking at you strangely, in a way you’ve never seen him look at you before (and there are many strange looks he has given you). It wasn’t angry, per se, but there was certainly some unpleasant emotion simmering in his chest.

“Have a nice evening, Mr. Wayne.” He said curtly before guiding you into the other room, his hand on your shoulder, his pace quick.

“It was nice meeting you!” You spoke over your shoulder to Bruce Wayne, still smiling despite Dr. Crane’s odd behaviour.

As you walked, you resisted the urge to ask him what the hell that was all about, reminding yourself about the promise you’d made. This is going to be a fun night out and I will not spend any time worrying about silly little things.

Starting a fight with Dr. Crane would certainly ruin the evening. And besides, his answer would most likely be mundane, right? He probably hadn’t even realized that he was coming across as possessive- or dare you say, jealous- with his sudden dismissal of the younger man. Even if you were in a weird gray area relationship wise now, he didn’t own you.

You could shake other men’s hands.

He led you into the ballroom, stopping once or twice on the way to talk with colleagues that he came across. Those conversations were always short and stilted, his desire to be anywhere else clear on his face and in his language. If the other professors acknowledged you, it was with a simple nod. But they never spoke to you which was fine. Considering how Dr. Crane had acted with Bruce Wayne, you didn’t exactly relish the thought of speaking with more men, especially ones he knew professionally.

They always asked the same questions- how his classes were doing, how his research was going, how his work at the asylum was coming along, if he met any new “crazies” that he could gossip about. His answers were always good, good, and good. He declined to answer any questions about patients at the asylum, and you bristled at the language the other men used to describe them.

They’re still people, you wanted to say. Even if they killed and maimed others. But you weren’t in the mood to be accused of defending them and their actions (which you weren’t), so you kept your mouth shut.

Finally, he had no one else to speak to and you reached the ballroom.

The large windows that had covered the walls in the atrium continued in here, the ballroom overlooking the garden. You could faintly make out some people walking down the well-lit walkways outside. The string quartet that you’d heard playing earlier was set up on a small platform in the corner and quite a few couples were swaying to the music in the center of the room.

On the other side of the room was a cluster of small tables, most of them occupied. A few caterers walked around with plates of fingerfoods and trays of drinks, and you were about to grab something when Dr. Crane spoke up from beside you.

“Dance with me.”

You whipped around, staring at Dr. Crane, afraid you hadn’t heard him correctly.

“What?”

“Dance with me.” He repeated, smiling at you. “I’m bored.”

You looked down at his offered hand.

“Okay.” You returned his smile, allowing yourself to be swept onto the dancefloor. It wasn’t ballroom dancing, certainly not something out of a period piece at all. Dancing with him was really just a glorified verison of swaying back and forth. But you didn’t care because all you could focus on was his hand on your hip, your hand on his shoulder- the points where your bodies were connected.

Even though there were layers of fabric between the two of you, you could swear you felt vibrant electricity from his touch, sparks coursing through your veins as you tried to focus on everything at once. You didn’t want to forget how it all looked and felt when the morning came. You wanted to keep it in its own little bubble in your memory, preserved for all time.

“I’ve never really slow danced before.” Sure, you’d gone to school dances growing up. But you never went with anyone and slow dances were the perfect time to escape to the bathroom.

“Neither have I.” He smiled and your heart fluttered.

Maybe this would be a good moment to ask him just what his intentions were for the night, to pinpoint exactly what he wanted from you. It was forward, yes, but you were slow dancing together. It warranted questioning, especially if any prying eyes from the university saw and recognized the two of you.

He was playing a very dangerous game and you had no choice but to play with him.

“I’ve been meaning to ask you-”

“May I cut in?” A newly familiar voice broke the spell that had fallen between you and Dr. Crane, the isolated bubble you had been dancing in popping. You turned to look over your shoulder, smiling politely at Bruce Wayne.

“Of course.” You let go of Dr. Crane’s hands, speaking before he could. For a moment, the hand on your waist flexed and tightened against you like he wasn’t going to let you go but then he let go, releasing you to take Bruce Wayne’s outstretched hand. You spared one more glance at Dr. Crane, smiling as reassuringly as you could. “We can talk about it later.”

You placed your other hand on Bruce’s shoulder and he swayed you in a different direction, leading you away from Dr. Crane.

You were, admittedly, a bit starstruck. Sure, you had spoken to him earlier, but this was intimate, not something he had to do for pleasantries or to maintain face (not that he had to introduce himself to you for that. You weren’t important enough to need to meet the richest man in the city. Or for him to care how he came across to you).

The string quartet transitioned smoothly into their next song, the tempo the only thing changing. A few couples left with the change, and a few more walked onto the dancefloor. Once you were in rhythm with one another, you took the opportunity to speak with him.

“Well, Mr. Wayne, it’s nice seeing you again.”

“Please, call me Bruce.”

It had felt a bit odd to call a man who was only a handful of years older than you ‘Mr. Wayne.’ You smiled, nodding your ascent.

“Alright. Bruce. How are you enjoying your night so far?” In your ears, your voice didn’t sound like yours. It sounded too much like the other socialites there tonight and you cringed internally.

“Well, one of the last times I was at a public event like this a car almost hit me, so I think comparatively, it’s going good.”

Heart sinking, you realize he’s talking about the former Mayor’s funeral. So suddenly too and you’re not sure if he’s poking fun at it until he smiles softly. You smiled back but it faded quickly as you worried your lip between your teeth. You waited for another moment before bracing yourself to resond. “I was there, too. At the funeral.”

Well. At least the fake-socialite intonation was gone from your voice.

Genuine surprise flickers across his face before smoothing out into an empathetic but distanced frown. He doesn’t say anything, which you’re grateful for. You’re so tired of people apologizing as if they had anything to do with what happened. There was only one man who could do that and he was currently locked away in an asylum.

“Mhm, I was writing a stupid paper and when all that started happening it was… Well, it felt important to document it.” You chuckled. “As if a paper like that would be important to the historical record.”

“You never know.”

“Anyway, I had just managed to make it through the crowd of normal people-” You flashed a quick smile at Bruce, trying to show him that your comment was just a playful jab- “to the upper balcony above the main chapel when the car came crashing through, so…” You sucked your teeth, trailing off. What an absolute downer of a conversation. “Not as bad as you know… almost being hit.” Oh god, please stop talking.

His hand on your hip moves to your lower back, pressing you closer.

“So, why are you here tonight?”

“Enjoying the scenery.” You don’t miss how his eyes remained on you, and you certainly don’t miss how your cheeks heat up.

“And here I thought you were a shut-in with no social skills.” Like me.

“A lot has changed over the past year.”

The song you were swaying to ended, scattered applause moving throughout the room from those who were even aware that music was being played. The violinist of the quartet announced they were going on a break.

“What do you m-” You started to ask, but another well dressed man came up to Bruce, murmuring something to him. You overheard a snippet about donations and sighed. This event was not about you and certainly not being held so you could have a lengthy chat with the Prince of Gotham. When the man looks at you, raising an eyebrow like you were something he found on the bottom of your shoe, you sighed. “Thank you for the dance, Mr. Wayne. I’ll leave you to it.”

You turned and began walking from the dance floor, not looking back at Bruce as you began scanning the crowd for Dr. Crane. You weren’t really sure how long you and Bruce had been dancing but it couldn’t have been long enough for Dr. Crane to completely disappear, right?

You took a full wine glass off a tray from a passing waiter, taking a sip of the dark liquid as you continued walking through the crowd in search of Dr. Crane. The wine was just okay (you’re sure they could’ve afforded something better for this event, but you were also the farthest thing from a wine connossiuer) but drinking it gave you a purpose. Or at least, something to do with your hands as you weaved between well-dressed couple after well-dressed couple, searching for the man who was the reason you were here tonight. You had no one else to talk to, no goals to achieve for the night. You weren’t even sure you knew anyone else at the event.

Instead of letting your anxious thoughts take control, you took a deep gulp of the wine.

And another.

And when you realized the glass was empty, you just grabbed another one off of a different waiter, not even blinking when you took a sip and found that the drink was a different one from before. Maybe champagne.

You shrugged it off. You weren’t driving tonight, you could drink as much as you wanted.

Halfway through your current drink, you felt (or at least, acknowledged for the first time) the tell-tale twinge in your core that meant the alcohol had really started to seep into your bloodstream. And, combining your lowered inhibitions from the drinks and this sudden bout of horniness, you decided you really should look for Dr. Crane so you could do or say something you would definitely regret in the morning.

With renewed vigor in your search, you entered the large banquet hall off the side of the ballroom, tables lined with snacks that you knew wouldn’t crave your hunger. Still, you wandered closer to the food, remembering that free food was also good, if not better than free alcohol.

It was amazing, actually.

Because now you had a small plate with finger foods and desserts and a new drink and your search for Dr. Crane had morphed into a search for a place to sit. After wandering the room, you finally found a small empty table tucked away in the corner, perfectly secluded for you to enjoy your food.

And you did. But then you realized that you got too much food and you didn’t want to eat anymore, so you got up and searched for the trashcan and boy, were you wobbly on your feet now. Taking a gentle step forward like a newborn fawn, you made your way to the trash cans lined against the wall. Maybe you were more tipsy than you had realized before.

With a flourish, you dropped your half-eaten plate into the garbage. And grabbed another wine from a different waiter. (This will be my last of the night.)

A voice by your side said your name. You turned, unable to immediately place the voice to a name, finding an old professor and your previous advisor by your side. Her gray hair was pulled into a tight updo pinned to the crown of her head and her outfit was simply an upgraded version of the suit she normally wore to work. You smiled, a bit too wide. You’d always liked her- had even aced her class and had been sad when it was announced that she would no longer be the advisor for your major.

“Hi Dr. Hall!” At least you weren’t slurring.

“What in the world are you doing here, and looking so pretty?” She was smiling, her thin lips painted red and stretching over her teeth. You couldn’t help but think of a skeleton, and then immediately felt bad that you had made such an unflattering comparison in your mind.

“I’m here with Dr. Crane! I’m his assistant.” You took another sip of your wine. The more you drank, the better it tasted.

“You’re a TA? For Dr. Crane? The Dr. Crane from the Psychology department?” You were too tipsy to pick up on the disbelieving- almost incredulous- tone to her voice, the way her smile was slowly fading from her face.

“Yeah!” You winced when you heard how loud you were being, taking a moment to pull yourself back. At least you could try to seem sober around your professors. You cleared your throat before beginning to speak again, intentionally lowering your voice (probably too much). “Yes, I am. For his class on the psychology of fear.”

“I didn’t know you studied psychology.”

You nodded, a bit too enthusiastically, but you were already at your maximum focus in controlling your vocal level so you couldn’t be expected to also control your physical movements. Really, you should just be grateful that you didn’t also move your hands and spill your drink at the same time.

“Mhmm, I have a minor. Dr. Crane’s been very helpful.” Amongst other things, you barely stopped yourself from tacking on to the end of your statement. Or winking, which would have been worse. You didn’t need allegations leveled against you and Dr. Crane’s relationship, which was strictly professional.

Right?

You thought back to all of your encounters with Dr. Crane that had left your heart racing, the number of which was steadily increasing. You thought about his hand on your thigh. About the look in his eyes when you’d danced together, the possessiveness when you’d spoken to Bruce Wayne.

Your cheeks grew hot and it certainly wasn’t from the wine.

As you were pondering the true nature of your relationship, Dr. Hall gave you a concerned look and pat on the back, leaving you to your thoughts. It took you a few more moments to realize that she had left you in the first place, but then you shrugged and moved on.

You walked through the crowd, smiling at everyone you saw. It was so different from your normal behavior in Gotham’s crowds (which was to duck your head and ignore everyone) but it felt right. Like a weight had been lifted off your shoulders and thrown into the sun, far away from you.

Looking down, you saw that your glass was empty, and instead of getting another you kept your promise to yourself and put the glass down on a nearby table. And you had the sudden undeniable urge to pee.

Next item on the to-do list: Go to bathroom.

part II

[lumine-no-hikari]

Dear Sephiroth: (a letter to a fictional character, because why not) #97

I had a sudden urge to create things today.

First, I arranged the amethyst-on-copper tree in a silicone sphere mold with some pebbles and some glitter. And then I filled the sphere mold with epoxy:

…I'm thinking about trying to sell this one, once it's ready. It'll still be a while though, because it's still gonna need like 48 hours to cure, and then I gotta sand it, and then reapply another layer of epoxy to remove any blemishes or any irregularities in the shape, sand it again, and then apply UV-resistant coating.

It's about 7 hours just to weave the tree, from cutting the wire to adjusting it to its final shape. It takes time to arrange it in the silicone sphere mold. It takes time to mix and pour the epoxy. Takes time for it to cure. Takes time to sand it, to re-epoxy it, sand it again, and then coat it with the UV spray. Between the hours and the cost of materials, it'll be easily a $300 orb, at least.

…But I don't really like that. That's a lot for a random orb, and mostly I make them because I like making them. So I'll do something like, "You can take it for however much you think it's worth." Or something to that effect. I'm very well aware that someone might come at me being all like, "Hurr hurr… then I'll give ya a penny for it, lolzzzz!!" And… well. Ya know. If they're that bitter and snarky about it, if they need to try to make me feel small and stupid in order to feel better about themselves, then at that point, they can just have it; maybe a spot of kindness might do 'em some good in the long run.

Anyway, after that, I finally got around to filling a much smaller sphere mold with epoxy. In this mold, I put a very tiny tree that I made of wire and red beads, some sand, and a little red glitter:

Finally, I finished weaving yet another tree. This one is peridot and strawberry quartz on bronze wire:

…I'm not really sure what else to write today.

Can't help but wonder what you're up to, over at the Edge of Creation. Wonder if you have enough to eat. Wonder if you're warm and safe. Wonder if you're trying to expand your horizons by listening to the memories and stories of other people. There's so much about your circumstances that I wish I knew.

…I wish, too, that there was anything I could do to help show you that there's more to this world than pain, loneliness, and despair. But all I've got are my silly little letters, my various derpy handicrafts, my weird little playlists, my random tasty snacks, and whatever photos I can take along the way. I think of you, and I think of all the suffering you're going through, and I feel… powerless. I wish that there was any way that my voice could reach you, even though mine is maybe not much of one.

I know you can't answer me, but I'll ask anyway: Do you listen to music while you're over at the Edge of Creation, sometimes? If so, what fills your ears? This is filling my ears today:

If you can hear me (I know, I know…), maybe someday you'll send something back that lets me know some of the sounds that fill your mind and heart. Wouldn't that be neat?

I finished a tree today, and so the post-creation emptiness is starting to set in. The despair that is knowing that you'll likely never receive any of what I've written to you is starting to set in. The crushing reality that I'll likely need to watch you be slain a second time is starting to set in. So maybe I'll Salt some Sanctuaries for a while until it passes. If you've got the time or the inclination, you're welcome to chill with me over here; if you can hear me… I'll be in that space soon, running with scissors in a terrifying world, snapping zombies in half:

…Maybe you'll be proud to know that since my last Twitch session, I've started talking, because I've stopped being afraid of catching abuse for playing video games while being AFAB; it's not as though they can hit me harder than my stepmother used to, right? And I'm still here, so maybe I don't have to be afraid.

…Please learn and grow and change, too, okay? Please keep yourself safe, and please do things that are gentle and kind.

I'm gonna keep wishing for your safety even though it might not work out. I'm gonna keep calling to you even though it might not work out. So look forward to tomorrow's letter, okay?

Your friend, Lumine

[linskywords]

Taylor Swift Meets Hockey RPF: A 2022 Advent Calendar

Hello friends. I’m so excited to announce the advent calendar you never knew you wanted: the countdown of the 25 ficciest Taylor Swift songs, specifically as they apply to hockey RPF!

We’ve long been aware here in the fic community that Ms. Swift’s lyrics provide excellent titles. But just how ficcy are her songs, really? I’ve set out to answer that question via an extremely scientific* ranking project that combines three things I love dearly: hockey RPF, Taylor Swift songs, and making ranked lists of things.

*It was not even a little bit scientific

If you share any of these interests, you may be asking the following questions:

Q. I’m so excited! But what does this advent calendar actually consist of?

A. What a good question. Every day I’ll do a write-up of one of the songs, starting with the least ficcy of the 25 on 12/1 and getting ficcier each day up until Christmas, when the ficciness will reach its peak and we’ll explode with the joy of repressed men pining for each other.

Q. Are you actually going to write a story for each song?

A. Hahaha no. But I am going to pick a pairing that I think fits the song the best and say a little about how their story would go, and if I get intrigued enough by any of it I might write the story eventually.

Q. You’re going to let us know which song lyrics you’d use to title the story, though, right?

A. Of course.

Q. How can I keep track of these posts?

A. This post will act as a master post as soon as I’ve started the countdown.

Q. How about a playlist so we can listen along?

A. I got you right here! It’s empty now, and I’ll add songs as soon as they’re revealed.

Q. But wait! There’s so much variety in fanfiction, even just within hockey RPF. What does “ficciest” actually mean?

A. The ficciness of each song has been determined via the extremely objective method of me thinking about it really, really hard. I’m not aiming for all of fandom here; my frame of reference is men’s hockey RPF, specifically slash, specifically the kinds of stories I most enjoy reading/writing.

Q. Isn’t that kind of arbitrary?

A. Shhhhhh.

Q. Okay but that means pining is going to be front and center, right?

A. Absolutely it does.

Q.  So…you actually went through all of Taylor Swift’s discography for this?

A. Let’s just say my Spotify Wrapped is a little extreme this year.

Q. Aside from screwing your Spotify stats all to hell, did you come across any trends in the ficciness of her music that you’d like to share with us?

A. I’m so glad you asked! As part of determining the top 25, I rated every Taylor Swift song in her 10 studio albums (Taylor’s Version where available) on a scale of 0-10 for applicability to hockey RPF. Her albums ranked as follows:

Reputation (2017): 4.79 average ficciness rating

Lover (2019): 4.39

Taylor Swift (2006): 4

Speak Now (2010): 3.88

Red (2012): 3.55

Folklore (2020): 3.41

Fearless (2008): 3.4

Midnights (2022): 3.3

Evermore (2020): 3

1989 (2014): 2.77

Honestly I was pretty surprised by how this shook out. I expected ficciness to be at its peak in her first few albums, but nope. It was reasonably high at the start, and it did decline as she transitioned from country to pop with 1989, but then it shot up to new heights in Reputation and Lover. These are, not coincidentally, the two albums she wrote during and just after the start of her relationship with her current partner. This makes sense to me: the pining of the early albums is all well and good, but there are also a lot of songs about breakups, which did not do well in the ficciness ratings. After Lover, things went a little more as expected: the ficciness leveled off again, and her three most recent albums all ended up in the bottom half. Here's a fancy graph of the results:

That said, averages don’t tell you everything. Her first album is less ficcy than Lover on average but does far better in the top 25. Folklore is above Fearless by average rating, but it only has one song in the top 25 versus Fearless’s four. In fact, there were three albums that had only one song make it in, and 1989, least ficcy of them all, managed to squeak in twice. So “average ficciness” and “number of extremely ficcy songs” turned out to be very different stats.

Q. That's fun. Do you have any more charts?

A. I sure do! Here's one I made of how many songs came in at each rating from 1-10:

Basically, there were a lot of songs that weren't ficcy even a little bit, declining in number towards the mediocrely ficcy at 5. Then the count started going up again with songs that had enough ficcy content to be considered but maybe didn't quite hit the nail on the head. There were only a few songs that were real bullseyes.

When it came to narrowing things down, everything 7 and above got further consideration. About half the 7s made it, and almost all the 8s (there were a few I left out for various reasons). All the 9s and 10s got in.

Q. You’ve infected my brain with this, and now I’m curious how you’d rate this one song of hers I’m thinking about.

A. Shoot me an ask! If it isn’t in the top 25 I’ll answer with the ficciness rating I gave it and why.

Q. Thank you, this was exactly the extremely niche advent calendar I was hoping for this year.

A. Universal appeal, that’s my goal!

Day One: Speak Now Day Two: Blank Space Day Three: Sparks Fly Day Four: Girl at Home Day Five: Come Back...Be Here Day Six: 22 Day Seven: Breathe Day Eight: Willow Day Nine: Cruel Summer Day Ten: Long Live Day Eleven: I Know Places Day Twelve: I Think He Knows Day Thirteen: Snow On The Beach Day Fourteen: Peace Day Fifteen: Call It What You Want Day Sixteen: Fearless Day Seventeen: Untouchable Day Eighteen: I'm Only Me When I'm With You Day Nineteen: Invisible Day Twenty: Gorgeous Day Twenty-One: Dress Day Twenty-Two: Treacherous Day Twenty-Three: Teardrops On My Guitar Day Twenty-Four: I'd Lie Day Twenty-Five: You Belong With Me

[soultek]

All She Said Was Faster: A Concept

Author’s Note: I honestly can’t believe it’s taken me this long to post this. I saw Top Gun Maverik nearly a year ago and I was formulating this idea whilst in the cinema but... in true me fashion, I sat on it for a whole year, and am delivering it now! I think the fact I went to a WEC race this year has finally pushed me to polish the edit and post it! 😊

I love Bailey so much she’s actually crossed over into another fic of mine, if you like her, I’ll be happy to post that too!

For those of you new to my ‘concepts’ it’s basically a one scene ‘drabble’ (usually meet-cute) that would be part of a fic I will probably never write the full story of. 

Disclaimer: Obviously apart from Bailey (and Luca) none of the characters are mine. I used an IRL team as her team, but didn’t name any members so no IRL people are involved here.

Warnings: Cat calling... swearing... Jake sometimes might come off as OOC but that’s also kinda the point? I tried to make him walk the line.

Word Count: 5176

Premise: Fighter Jet vs Race Car. An exciting concept - even if the winner seems obvious. And to look at him, Jake would be one to gloat at such a win; but that’s not what he’s running after her for.  On the airfield he’s comfortable... but Bailey wants to know what he’s like once she gets him in her domain... 

--- [Playlist]---

Are you ready for a comeback? Are you ready to fly? Are you ready for the moment? Get ready to ride Shout out to the legends Rising from the wreckage Count down the seconds And start your engines

---

Nights turn into days Days turn into months I was always alone Until you came along Now you've got me singing

I think I like you, maybe more than I should Hurts like heaven and it feels so, feels so You do me better than any other love could Hurts like heaven, and it feels so, feels so good It feels so good

--- [Inspo.] ---

It was hardly worth even parking the car up – she knew she’d lost long before she crossed the line. The jet screaming overhead confirmed it. She might as well drive the car out of the airfield and peace out. That would have been her preference. Only this Lamborghini was hardly road legal, and her team would have had a few words to say to her – none of them particularly glowing…

She walked away from the car without really looking at any of the mechanics rushing over to check it, before they wheeled it into its container for transporting to the factory – luckily, being last year’s model, it wouldn’t be needed next race. Especially with how hard she’d pushed it. Her trainer knew to leave her well alone too, as she continued walking straight down the taxi way. She needed to cool off a little bit.

In her head, Bailey Walker was going through every move and turn she made; did she make the best use of the throttle, every paddle shift up and down – where she’d decided to put her foot down and where she’d lifted… where had she lost time? If she’d have just decided to break a little later here, or not steered so wide there, decided not to drift… or perhaps decided to drift. Who was she really kidding though, it was a fighter jet not another car… No doubt whatever her grievances were, they’d be talked out at a debrief – which she would request; even if not a championship race if she could learn from it, it would be information worth having.

She became aware of someone distantly calling, but she was so in her head at this stage that it took a while for her to figure out it was her name they were calling. “Hey!!! Heeeey!!! Bailey!!! Wait!! Wait, Bailey!!”

As soon as he’d seen her walking away, Jake Seresin knew that he had to chase her down the taxi way. Despite post-flight checks that couldn’t wait, and despite all the aviators and ground team trying to congratulate him on his win… He wasn’t sure if she was going to collect her things and get going, or if she had the intent of staying.

He’d almost caught up to her by the time she turned around, already having stripped her overalls to tie around her waist. She’d left her helmet back in the car – there was too much season left to get frustrated and throw it, but she wasn’t one to hide behind her visor unless she was really upset. Her eyes flicked over his shoulder for a minute, watching the car swarmed with mechanics. She’d taken it more than just a little hard in places - in the set-up shots the camera crew had taken she’d had a lot of smoke and wheel spin off the line too - more than once. What was the point of not putting on a show for the cameras, after all? She winced apologetically at the thought that doing so wouldn’t have been good. Hopefully she hadn’t pushed too hard. Even if this was just a show car, the team were still precious about it; why wouldn’t they be?!

When she focused back on the man who’d been calling her name, she was almost surprised to find it was Jake Seresin. The pilot she’d been hanging out with all day - that she just raced against. Not only that, but he was still in nearly all his flight gear – he’d surely made sure to waste no time. No, Jake was much more bothered about catching her than he was any necessary checks post-race. Bailey stopped, and took half a pace back on one foot, arms folded, defensive. She’d watched this guy all day - he’d got a little too much ego, he was cocky, he was a little too good looking – An All-American Dream – and he knew it. He had every right to be, especially now. Jake was the best in his class - and it more than showed. All Bailey expected was for him to gloat. She wanted to beat him to it - swallowing back disappointment, she spoke as he stopped a few paces from her, “Congr-” “Hey, are you going now? Or are you staying - they said there was catering earlier, but I wondered if your team might need to hit the road…” Her eyebrows raised, and she counted herself surprised, it seemed like a strange angle to start on. She didn’t quite know what to do but answer with a question of her own – and Bailey knew she sounded as bemused as she was. “Are… you staying?” His smile didn’t quite reach cocky, “I asked first.” “Well, I got nowhere to be.” Bailey shrugged before casting her eyes to the sky, cheeks burning, because even if she knew beating him was an impossibility she still hated losing. “That was some nice flying. I wish I saw more of it, but I was trying to focus on the road… you deserved to win. Sounds like when they said you were top of your class, they really did mean it.” When Bailey looked back to him, Jake wasn’t looking at her, even though he was smiling – he didn’t seem the type to get bashful, and yet… - it was a very different kind of smile, “I wish I could have seen more of the car… I guess it’s a little hard, y’know, going vertical. But you were really giving it some. Besides, I’ve not graduated yet, so that might not be true for much longer… you are certified fastest in your team, it shows. That wasn’t a big margin.” It was a compliment. She bowed her head a little - “Thank you. I guess that can’t be bad coming from the fastest pilot either.” “Guess not!” He grinned, then pointed back the way he’d just run, “You wanna… grab something together - I mean, you can eat with your crew I’m not gonna… I mean, I just…” Jake realised he was tripping over his words and Bailey was giving him a look he couldn’t quite put his finger on. But she at least seemed amused by this - waiting for him to string the right words together. She was letting him try. Patient. Instead, he paused and rolled his eyes, “I’m staying. We’ve hung out all day talking about our vehicles of choice. I guess it’d be good to get to know each other a little better.” Bailey smirked to herself before nodding, “Sure. That’s cool with me.”

This was true – they had spent nearly all day together to film this segment – Race Car vs Fighter Jet. Or… whatever it would eventually be called, but that was the entire premise. They’d been introduced first thing this morning as the two competitors – and the two fastest members of their respective ‘teams’. Jake had yet to graduate his Top Gun class, and Bailey was an up-and-comer, competing in an all-women racing team. (At least from a driver point of view). Once it had been explained what they had to do, and establishing shots had been done of both them and their vehicles of profession, the two had been left to their own devices as the crew filmed the more science-based parts of the day with presenters. Where upon Bailey and Jake had made general comparisons between the jet and the car; discussing top speeds, aerodynamics, handling, cornering, 0-to-60-to-over-100 (as if that mattered to a jet, but it was all good fun!) amongst other things…

Sitting here in the catering tent – or, hanger, as that’s what they were using – across from him, trying to talk about himself without coming across as too egotistical (she could tell; though she had a healthy amount of ego herself, as a competitive racer. It was almost a necessity.), Bailey wasn’t sure if she was really interested in him or not. If she had a type, she wouldn’t say the man talking to her now was it. But she wasn’t going to deny Jake Seresin was attractive. That he didn’t make her heart race as fast as her car when they were introduced… she just, wasn’t sure. And Jake? He was talking 100 miles an hour, but he still managed to be collected. But when he kept looking at her to check if she was still hanging on to every word he said, there was a constant look on his face that intrigued her. ‘Do I make him nervous?’ That confused Bailey a little. He didn’t have that type of energy about him. Jake seemed too sure of himself to ever have problems articulating; especially around women. Bailey could bet they usually tripped over themselves for him. But, it was that sort of look - maybe not present in his body language but in his eyes. Maybe it was dread. But he had no reason to fear her, so what?

As they continued to talk, eventually it dawned on her. (And there must have been something between them, given that no one disturbed them the entire time – no one from his team or hers. She expected a debrief, or at least someone to tap her shoulder and say when that would be, yet nothing. They were just left alone to talk.) So what did dawn on her, was that Jake’s look was the fear of her slipping away. The fear of her getting up and leaving – of that person, whoever it would be, eventually stepping in - and that he still wouldn’t have told her everything he wanted to. Of the chance he’d never get to see her again. Bailey knew she couldn’t just voice that though - he’d play it off; more likely Jake would throw it back at her, say she’s the one who can’t resist him. But she knew… he was chasing. It was the reason he ran after her on the taxi way, it was the reason he asked her to stay. Jake already had a crush – whether he would admit it out loud or not.

She should have guessed this from the immediate introduction. He was Jake, and he let her call him that – not by his last name, nor rank. Not by his call sign – even though almost everyone else was doing one or the other. The one time she had decided to ask about it; just in case he wasn’t one to correct her, he’d said “Jake is fine!” with one of those smiles that she was sure had all the girls falling for him.

 There was a natural end to the day though. There had to be. The shooting was wrapped, and the crews were packing up around them as the sun began to sink lower in the sky. It was unfortunate for them both – given the way their discussion had gone there was some kind of chemistry, that was undeniable. Whatever it was – or was going to be. There was a feeling that they both still had something to say.

All sets of teams around them did their best to pack up without having to disturb them until the last possible second, but eventually her trainer, Luca, had to interrupt. “Bailey?” The two of them trailed their conversation off to look at him. “Sorry, the car is probably going to be here to pick you up within the next 10 minutes. You wanna debrief?” “In the car will do, Luca, thank you.” “Alright, I’ll come back when it’s here.” He nodded politely to Jake before leaving them alone once more. Although he didn’t show it on his face, Jake was disappointed – his emotional state slumped a little, but he knew he couldn’t keep her here. He was a charmer, he knew that - he knew how it was to flirt back with the girls that came walking up at The Hard Deck and it was easy. But the woman sitting across from him now didn’t seem to be falling for it - no matter how engaged Bailey was in what he said, there were no hearts in her eyes that meant he could persuade her anywhere…

All he could do was just hope that her interest was at least genuine. That she wasn’t talking to him for the sake of having someone there to talk to – or to be polite for today. Jake shook that off – her whole damn mechanic team was here, she had plenty of people she could choose to talk to and she was spending her time with him. He’d got this!

Still, there was no harm in trying – and there was an urgency now. He had ten minutes before she walked out of his life forever. “So, uh… any chance of getting your number, before you go? I mean, besides the one you race with?” And he winked, with an appropriate laugh. Although it had been peeled off the car for the race (along with the majority of the sponsors, given the video) the 85 was printed on the back of her fireproofs, underneath her last name. Jake’s voice was smooth and included a hopefulness behind it… as much as something vulnerable. Bailey would hate to disappoint him, but that wasn’t something she did. This wasn’t something she ever did. “No…” She leaned on her hand and before his face could fall in more than obvious disappointment he was doing very well not to show – it reached his eyes though, the discomfort with her answer was obvious in that hazel -  Bailey gave another little smirk, this one mysterious, “but you can follow my Instagram.”

Part of her wished she hadn’t, because it immediately put Jake back on that attitude of his. Although, part of her had already decided she liked to see that on him. The feeling nothing could get to him – Bailey had just given him an out, Jake could play it off like she was the one asking for his number, “Oh, okay, alright. It’s like that, huh?” “Yeah.” And it was her turn to playfully wink at him, “pretty much.”

Ten minutes passed in little-to-no time, and it really was time for them to part. By then they were standing by the entry to the hanger. Her car was waiting patiently, her trainer leaning against it shaking his head. But Luca didn’t interrupt, he let Bailey have her time. They parted ways amicably; their handshake quickly turning into a hug. That perhaps lasted a little too long – Bailey wasn’t sure. “Congrats again on your win. You can tell people you beat a real racer – how’s that?” He laughed, “Well, you can tell your friends you nearly beat a Top Gun pilot… but I… I mean I don’t know if that gets you any cred.” “Ah, I got to race a jet, there’s not many racers can say that.” Bailey grinned – despite losing, she had to admit, it had been a fun day. Probably once in a lifetime. “Well, at least I can give you something good to say!” Jake was doing his best to act bashful, but Bailey wasn’t falling for that either. She stepped away from him, with another polite nod of thanks, before offering him one final wave goodbye, and following her trainer to the car. The door being opened the second she started walking showed Luca’s real impatience. Bailey almost looked to the sky in an eyeroll, laughing to herself. He will have followed her by the time she’d left the airfield and she’d be just another girl by the end of the week. Jake looked the type. She didn’t necessarily mind that. (At least, that’s what she was telling herself right now). Bailey wasn’t looking for anything. She had a career of her own, and she had to focus on the race coming up in a few weeks.  Tomorrow she’d be back training on the simulator as if today had never happened. That was how it went. Jake Seresin would be just a guy she raced against once in another video stunt PR and Marketing had got her involved in. And then 1 in a few hundred thousand when he followed her.

Her phone beeped before the car was even off the taxi way and Bailey couldn’t help but laugh. Of course! She should have bet on it.

*** The sunlight glinted obnoxiously off the VIP pass in his hands that he had to flash to security as he walked through the paddock – despite already having scanned in his ticket.

‘What the hell am I even doing here, this is insane!?’ How did he go from sending a hopeful Instagram DM, to being invited out to the US round of the World Endurance Championship. That just so happened to coincide with his next leave period. Heck – maybe Jake Seresin should actually be calling it luck.

Bailey was more responsive to his messages than he expected – especially with him not quite being able to gage her interest in him initially – and they just kept talking. Even when he was sure maybe the conversation had really dried up. Her own thinking had her concluding that if they’d raced on his home turf – at an airfield – then he had to come and see Bailey at her own; a race track. So she didn’t just send him a ticket, but a VIP paddock pass that would get him into the motorhome for her team.

Right now, he probably couldn’t have looked more out of place. Fans excitedly chatting, sporting team and driver gear, some even gathering around drivers for autographs and selfies. Team staff of all types running up and down between the trucks and buildings – shouting incoherently to one another or driving small vehicles containing car parts and other personnel. Journalists and photographers, all looking to get the best new stories and best shots. Jake was just trying to take it all in. With the also obnoxiously bright pink and black pass hanging around his neck – the colours of Bailey’s team; the only all women’s team in the WEC – Jake felt a bit like a fraud. Surely these groups of fans deserved this more than he did? They probably could rattle off a million facts about Bailey Walker that he wouldn’t have known… yet, he was the one talking to her on social media… so… he guessed he had that. The thought had a little smirk appearing on his face as he cleared his throat, relaxing his shoulders back and standing a little taller – exactly, damn right! She’d invited him here!

He pulled his phone out of his pocket. Already having let Bailey know he’d arrived; she’d rather enthusiastically replied with a ton of celebratory emojis and that he should let her know when he was in the paddock. Which as he now was, he did exactly that. It wasn’t long before she was typing back, and he found himself staring at instructions for getting to their motorhome. Geez… okay… He studied them carefully, before beginning to walk in the specified direction. Jake was starting to think it might be easier if she just came and collected him herself. Or, at least had someone else do it. He was hoping this wouldn’t end with an embarrassing phone call and him getting lost. It wasn’t just a straight line of teams after all, she had him turning left and right at various points to get to other rows all laid out within the space afforded to them by the circuit. He was passed on all sides by other people in team gear who must have been laughing at him silently inside… Jake had no idea where he was going and he could bet he looked it. Normally he’d brush it off and act confident, but Jake was trying to stare at his phone to make sure he was following what she said to a T, and also staring up at the buildings around to make sure he hadn’t missed it on accident. It was obvious he was new around here at the very least, and that display of confidence from before was waning.

Eventually Jake had to stop moving for fear of getting hopelessly lost. They weren’t directions that hard to follow – but he’d suddenly started second guessing himself. Had he actually turned the right way at all the points she’d listed? What if he hadn’t? What if he was hopelessly lost. Dammit – he didn’t actually want to have to make that phone call! The objective was to walk in there, cool as hell, like he did this all the time! Jake wondered if it was really the pang of nerves in his stomach at seeing her face to face again. Their open, chill DM banter… would it translate once they spoke to each other again? Once they hung out… this weekend for much longer than they had before.

As Jake stared at his phone again, bent closer to the screen, making him look more confused and out of place than he did before, he suddenly heard a whistle from above him, and then voices. “Hot damn – hey, girls look at this!” “Holy shit - wait, is that him?! She was totally right!” “Hey! Good looking, where you going!?” Jake looked up to find himself stared at by three women leaning over a balcony, all in the black-and-pink of Bailey’s team. Though the motorhome itself was white. And the name emblazoned on the side – in neon yellow he might add: ‘IL COVO’ - was not her team name. Way to make him look even more confused. “Uh…” Although he’d be lying if he didn’t say he felt a little flattered to be cat called like this, Jake removed his sunshades, “I’m looking for the Iron Dames motorhome?” “Oh. You’re for us!? Damn, isn’t this our lucky day.” “Well, I-” he laughed, “Bailey Walker invited me.” “Bailey?” One pouted, “Aw c’mon, we can show you a better time than her!” One of the other women immediately turned around, “Bailey - Hey Bailey, your boyfriend is here!” There was some muffled scuffling, and one of the women disappeared, before there was more yelling, “Holy shit, why didn’t you SAY he was so gorgeous!!” Jake couldn’t help but grin a little more, feeling that little ego boost. The next voice echoed faintly, as if it was far away but yelling enough to be heard even from where he was standing, “Oh my god, will you guys shut up! Stop yelling!” “Look, we can’t help that he’s so hot.” “Stop cat calling him – my god can you get any more embarrassing!” The woman who had disappeared before, popped back over, leaning even further out than she was before, “If you get bored with her, hot stuff, we’re always up here.” Before winking, “But this girl has a massive crush on you…” Jake tried not to let that go all the way to his head – he didn’t know if that was the truth or if they were teasing him… or her… or both. “Shut up! Leave him alone!” There was a scrabbling sound and finally Bailey popped up beside them, a little flushed. And he didn’t know if that was from embarrassment or hurrying to get there, “Jake!” her voice was joyful, and she beamed upon seeing him, “Hey! Just come up to the door, you got your pass, right?” He flashed it at her, “Perfect! Yeah, I’ll be right down! Please ignore my team mates!” “Ignore us!? Bailey that’s so rude!” At this point another group of people in overalls – these ones yellow and black, and also on men! – had peered over the side of the motorhome to see what all the fuss was about, and they were all chuckling. Jake couldn’t help but laugh himself as he walked towards the glass front door, finding himself called on again; “Don’t be a stranger!” He grinned up at them as they waved at him, “Don’t worry, I won’t!”

Once inside – as if he hadn’t just been checked outside the door – Jake found himself face to face with what looked like a security guard. If he wasn’t also wearing a suit and standing at a desk that made him look like a Matire D – but the guy was intimidatingly tall. Jake raised an eyebrow approaching the desk. “Ah, hello Sir. I see your pass.” He gestured, “My name is Chris – I look after everyone on the motorhome.” Jake could imagine that look after must entail pretty much everything. Including first – or, second - line of defence. “Before I let you wander around – I better get you checked in, I don’t believe I’ve seen you on here already?” “No, that’s right. I’m Jake, Seresin.” “Seresin… Seresin…” Chris ran down the list of names with his pen – before letting out a laugh he obviously didn’t mean to be audible by how it was cut short and he placed his hand over his mouth. Eyes raising back to Jake, he smiled, “You’re here for Bailey?” “…That’s right.” Jake could imagine the expression on his face was one of surprised concern – should he be worried? What had he let himself in for?! “Sorry – that’s just unusual – if not for her parents! Bailey never gets visitors!” Chris raised his eyebrows and crossed through Jake’s name on the list, before muttering, “Good Luck!” Jake’s face creased in concern, “Uh… thanks?” Before he started walking again, then paused, “Wait, I don’t… have to do this again right?” “Oh no, just flash your pass – I’ve got you all memorised.” No doubt. “Okay… thanks Chris!” By the time Jake started walking on, Bailey had already appeared in the bottom of the motorhome, leaning against a wall draped in ivy. She was wearing a black t-shirt – team branded – and jeans. Obviously not expecting to be out in the car for a while. Bailey raised her hand in greeting and Jake was at least relieved he wouldn’t have to wait around by himself for a while.

“Hey!” “Hey, it’s good to see you again.” He leaned down to her own lean up – such was the height difference – as they hugged, accepting cheek kisses. “Oh-!” Bailey grinned at his greeting, “And you too! It’s nice to speak face to face again, huh Jake?” She nodded behind him to Chris, “Did he tell you good luck!?” “How’d you know?” Jake quirked his eyebrow again, half expecting her to let him know what he’d been warned about. Bailey simply rolled her eyes. “I just said you’d be coming and they’ve been teasing me ever since.”  Then she gaped, suddenly embarrassed, “Oh my god! My team-! I- I’m so sorry! That- they joked so much about doing that all through practice and stuff and I never thought they’d actually go ahead and tease YOU! I’m sorry – I… they’re a great bunch and lovely girls really, I… I’m so sorry!” Jake waved away her apology, knowing she was likely right, “Naw, it’s okay! What’s a little bit of banter huh?” He laughed, “I’ve heard worse from the Navy guys. You’re all good.” “Ah, just wait – they’ll all be thanking you for your service next.” “Aw, stop.” He winked, which made her shove him playfully. “Uh, question…” He pointed behind him, “This is not what I expected.” “That wasn’t a question, but I think I’ve got your wavelength…” She smirked, folding her arms and tracing her eyeline slowly around the room, to which he followed.

The motorhome did indeed look like a miniature home. Light and airy and filled with fake, or maybe some real, plants. Polished authentic wooden surfaces mixed well with the modern glass and steel and stark white. But it still had a homely feel, plush sofas, and tables where some of the team were sat chatting – likely about strategy – the lighting from above wasn’t harsh either, the large windows allowing plenty of natural light. The wall Bailey had been leaning against was deceptive; actually just a dividing boarder to the rest of the building – bar tables pushed up against the wall: upon which hung framed pictures of cars, tracks and podiums, the stairs heading to the top deck (which was clearly something like an outside balcony). The surfaces either were crowded with laptops or coffee machines and fridges for snacks. Jake assumed that catering facilities were in another part that he just couldn’t see. On the wall directly opposite them was mounted a large flatscreen TV – clearly for showing the racing when any was actually happening – and two logos. One for The Iron Dames – in pink and black – and the other for the Iron Lynx – this in yellow and black. Iron Lynx, and the vibrant yellow, was of course what Jake had been met with on the outside.

“So technically we’re part of the Iron Lynx brand – we’re just the all-girls team. The Lynx team are all guys – but you’ll see ‘Iron Lynx’ on our car too.” She smiled, “The more you know!” “Gotcha.” – Although he was sure it’d make more sense when he met the teams and saw the cars going around. Though it did explain the group of male drivers he’d seen on the top deck too. “I’m sure you thought the motorhome would live up to the pink and black! Or at least black and yellow, that would make sense. But no, right now we’re white!” She gave a shrug. Maybe that would change in the future, then. “I see.” She watched him carefully, “Feeling a bit out of your depth?” He didn’t see any point in trying to deflect, Bailey had the intuition and perception of a racer, after all. Really Jake had nowhere to hide, and as he saw it, no reason to. “Just a little…” She smiled, patting him, “Well – you’re at least appropriately dressed.” Jake looked down at himself; jacket, jeans, boots, button up shirt… shades now tucked into the front. The pink kinda clashed with the soft blues, but whatever. He pulled it off. “You’ll get the hang of things. You’ll be a certified expert by the time I’m done with you. And don’t worry – I’ll make sure you’re not harassed… I mean, I did invite you out here to see you…” Her features softened, affectionately, “…and… I – uh – I obviously want you to enjoy the experience.” He smiled, and she knew she’d said exactly the right thing to swell his ego right. Although truth was, she did mean every word. She wanted to see Jake again, because she had some things to figure out. And Bailey knew that the only way to do that now was to have a face-to-face conversation with him. This wasn’t something she could figure out over text anymore – you could only get to know someone so well from that. Bailey wanted to remove that limitation. “Oh, don’t you worry about me. I think I’ll enjoy myself.” She laughed, nodding, before she opened her arms back to the room – a small gesture before putting her hands in her pockets. This time when her eyes met his they glinted, full of confidence: “Well, Jake, welcome to my domain.”

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Thank you for reading! 💜💙