#but hey I had fun writing this

[noxious-fennec]

3 years and I'm STILL IN THE FUCKING BUILDING... unbelievable... anyway happy re-bday to my pathetic cringefail politician

Alt ver. under the cut

***Massive disclaimer: i do not support the cc this is strictly about the fictional character

[mllenugget]

Hello I mcyt fandom-ified la Team du Lundi members and wrote a shit ton of text about it

After exhausting myself on trying to catch up on the current QSMP lore I got a sudden craving for a more familiar and fast paced kind of minecraft content and ended up rewatching all the Team du Lundi's SMP best of's I could find

And while doing so with my brain still hazed in fandom brainrot, I started picking up on minor details or info the players casually dropped, and drew parallels to the French speakers' QSMP counterparts This is going to be a long wordy post I don't even know what I am rambling about and for. Three things you need to be aware of about la Team du Lundi before reading :

Baghera, Antoine and Etoiles are the only QSMP players that are part of la Team du Lundi

As far as I remember the only two elements that suggest that la Team du Lundi's SMP could be canon to QSMP are Antoine being pressured into building another Tower of Shit, and Baghera's infamous fountain being mentioned when she was asked if her character remembers anything from her past before the island

La Team du Lundi's SMP was NOT a roleplaying server, it was just a private survival server for a small circle of friends casually playing together. So whenever I quote someone in this specific post, it is the streamer : there is no character other than the persona the streamer is usually showing on stream, but I just thought it would be fun to interpret certain situations while keeping in mind the QSMP lore. And here goes :

Baghera claims that when she was a kid she strongly believed that she could breathe underwater. The others joke about her having fins

Antoine jokingly tells Baghera he doesn’t need oxygen at all

Antoine claims he will still be alive thousands of years forwards

Antoine’s voice shifts when he wants to appear creepy

Baghera built an aquarium at her place, then helped Antoine build one at his tower, then built a giant swimming pool, then a fountain, then a waterslide- do you see a theme ?

Baghera knows that her skin is actually that of a chick and not a duckling, and calls it so here

Chat said that Baghera has a middle child syndrome, justifying that she bullies Angle Droit because Etoiles bullies her in the first place (Etoiles has also called her « little sister » in a derogatory way)

Etoiles has repeatedly asked people to play Valorant with him at least once

Here's a clip of Etoiles getting languaged in french and owing "a gifted sub in the swear jar"

Unrelated random clip of Etoiles because it creates happy hormones in me brain

Etoiles is regularly refered to as "the warrior"

Etoiles guided the whole group during an expedition to the End and he was literally glowing doing so (enchanted arrows effect) Everyone called him "the guide"

Baghera was the one who gave the final blow to the Enderdragon (and died from magic right after)

Etoiles spent most of his time adventuring in order to bring stuff and gear back to everyone for their builds

Etoiles asked Aypierre for help in order to design a redstone door for his cave which could only open upon solving a puzzle (which was egg & arrow related) (Aypierre was not a member of the server)

Etoiles built a nightclub with the walls and ceiling covered in wardenblocks making it look like a starry sky. He also rehomed Allays holding golden apples inside claiming them to be the souls working for him and that they lived there peacefuly

Etoiles jokingly talks about Antoine acting jealous and violent towards him because Etoiles told him he wanted to go and visit Kameto (who also was not a member of the server)

Baghera (along with Horty) had a rivalry with Joueur du Grenier (host of the server with admin powers) after he decided to build a massive parking lot right next to their house. They countered by covering the whole thing with dirt, followed by JDG building a factory and the two parties went back and forth. Baghera argued that it was stupid because they didnt even have cars to begin with (which is a sentence she reused when talking about Forever's roads) Also she tells JDG that he could've built a seaport instead, which makes JDG contemplate the thought of building an airport (and though he ended up never building it, I am side eyeing the French's plane crash)

At some point JDG wonders about what a roleplaying minecraft server would look like (RPZ 2), to which Baghera replies that she has a hard time picturing the thing "We'd all just build things you see ? I don't think we'd create stories, we would all just be like "I'm a builder, ah you too ? Well awesome, builders, cool"" and I find this to be hilariously ironic (fun fact : Baghera had no idea that QSMP was a roleplaying server when she first joined and often claims she would've taken a different approach with her character had she known right off the gate)

As I was finishing to write this down, these fuckers (/lh) decided to host a closure night for the server as they've never really officially did it, everyone just sort of deserted the server after a while. Baghera, Etoiles and Antoine kept referring to QSMP throughout the night, mostly talking about how weird it felt without mods. Among other meta commentary things

They mentionned Cellbit and Bad multiple times as the group was trying to solve enigmas. Antoine talked about "the cultural sharing" between communities as he taught insults to each others with Mike, Roier and Maximus in their respective languages Multiple more players were namedropped (including eggs) while Antoine was talking about how the server functions

Yes, Baghera and Etoiles kept their QSMP skins. Etoiles with his code corrupted purgatory one, and Baghera with her fading pink disheveled hair (with the addition of her cubito wearing Horty's merch)

Baghera admits that going back to this small familiar vanilla server feels like coming back home to your family during the holidays

Team du Lundi's cameos in QSMP :

Though Pomme has never canonically met JDG (even though most of her parents have talked about him to her at least once), she occasionaly breaks the 4th wall to refer to him. She once compared one of BBH's "vacation" flower shirts with his, and when Foolish and Bad asked her to elaborate (obviously not getting the reference) she proceeded to play JDG's music theme with the flute instead (Also I really feel the need to once more point out how mindblowing it is for your average french speaking viewer to have JDG's intro theme being added to the mod they use in the QSMP because of how anchored it is within french internet pop culture. Like this shit has been existing for 14 fucking years, it's part of the childhood of a lot of us, so to find a clip of British hardcore player Philza peacefuly listening to Mexican egg admin Tallulah play this theme on her flute feels like a multiverse fever dream)

Horty has been on Quesadilla Island through cc!Baghera's account, but neither of them really wanted to justify it RP wise. Baghera just wanted to give her best friend a tour of the island. Horty only got to meet Richarlyson who gave her a tour of Cellbit's castle and made her pick a room (she chose Chaos). She also chatted with Etoiles who tagged along for a bit and (this is obviously justified by it being a one-shot out of roleplay filler episode kind of night) they both already knew each other and were on friendly enough terms to bicker with one another Also she was part of the French speakers Quackity reached out to to invite on the server, but she had to decline because she was very busy at that time (and also not interested) Also also she was Baghera's teammate for that Formula 4 event, and Baghera has discussed it and showed pictures to a couple of islanders, including Richas who was very hyped about it

Another player the viewers were hoping to see on Quackity's server is Mynthos. He exists within the server with the picture of him that hangs in Pomme's art gallery, the cursed animation video that used to play in La France, as well as with Aypierre's health potion factory that bears his name

Angle Droit and Zerator are sometimes namedropped when the French speakers talk with their chat. Angle Droit frequently raids Baghera's and Antoine's streams, and though it has never been confirmed, a lot of viewers theorized that she was the +1 player Baghera and Etoiles wanted to invite on the server had they won the elections.

As for Zera, Etoiles went AFK on QSMP a couple of times in order to test some of Zerator's TrackMania maps (which he later discussed with Pac). I also remember a very trivial conversation Etoiles had with Mouse and Aypierre where he laughed about hurting his back very badly after carrying a fellow streamer during a caritative event, said event was hosted by Zerator (he's also the one judging them with concern from his desk)

I'm done.

Bonus alternative design for Angle Droit because at first I thought she was a fox then it turned out she was a corgi but then she changed it again to a fox and woop

[cerise-on-top]

I was the one to ask for the mortician ask and I loved it! I’m in school to become one and I just thought it would be fun since the job isn’t talked about much! So I have another request, how do you think Valeria, Laswell, Rudy, Alejandro whould act when they get jealous and/or their s/o is getting hit on? Thanks!!!!

-🍒

Hello! I'm glad you liked it! Becoming a mortician definitely sounds like a lot of work, but I'm wishing you lots of luck! May your future job be very fulfilling for you! Thank you for another request, this one was also pretty fun to do, but then again, I'm just glad I get to write for the characters people don't always write for! Especially the girls!

Alejandro, Rodolfo, Valeria and Laswell When Jealous

Alejandro: Although he knows you’re loyal and would never cheat on him, something does make his blood boil as soon as he sees someone else getting a bit too friendly with you. You’re his and his only, that’s something just about anyone crossing him will come to understand eventually. While he does not want the whole world to know you’re together, he thinks there’s nothing wrong with showing people such when he feels potentially threatened. Walks up to you, uses the most embarrassing nicknames on you and slings an arm around you. Although he usually gets over it fairly quickly, forgetting about the perpetrator as soon as they leave you alone, from time to time, when he’s had a rough day, he might hold a grudge for just a tad bit longer. Even when you’re home, he’ll be a bit more clingy than usual, always has his hands on you whenever he can. The only real reason he can think of where he doesn’t need to feel your attention on him might be when you’re using the bathroom, but other than that, you’re gonna have to deal with him. If you don’t like being touched then he’ll just be standing next to you. Any excuse to spend as much time with you as possible. You’ll get a lot more I love yous out of him, and he does want you to say them back. Alejandro is by no means an insecure person, especially not when it comes to your relationship, but it’s still nice to hear that your loved one won’t leave you for some douchebag you met in the boondocks. Reassure him still, even without being prompted to, and he’ll calm down eventually, releasing you from his grasp. You can tease him about being jealous, but, in the heat of the moment, he might be a little bit mean. He won’t lash out, but might raise his voice for a word or two before lowering it again. Give him some calming touches and spend some time with him alone and he’ll go back to being his usual self in no time, though.

Rodolfo: As soon as he sees someone flirting with you, it can go either of two ways: He’ll either stand next to you and join the conversation, making it quietly known that you’re taken, or he’ll watch for a moment, giving the perpetrator mean glares where they can see him until he thinks the conversation is taking a turn for the worse and will tell the person off. He may not be the tallest, most intimidating man if we go by looks alone, but he’s a sergeant major, he can hold his own and be scary if he needs to be. Rudy gets a bit broody once he’s properly jealous and will stay that way for some time. He gets over it on his own too, don’t worry, but it will take significantly longer if you leave him alone. He won’t mind, but he will appreciate it if you actually approach him, maybe have a chat with him about something while you’re at it. He goes quiet, fully aware he’s jealous and the fact that it’s over essentially nothing. Like Alejandro, he trusts you enough to know you’d never even consider someone that wasn’t him as long as you were together, but still. Sometimes he avoids you because he’s being childish, other times he’ll just stand next to you and try to garner your attention that way. Once you’re alone, he just wants you for himself and will try to strike up a conversation with you about anything he can think of. The more effort you put into trying to keep that conversation going, the quicker he’ll recover. Rudy isn’t a very physically affectionate person normally, but he’ll hint at how you should give him a hug and maybe a kiss too. Since he loves physical affection from the ones he’s close with, it’s a surefire way to calm him down more quickly. Put his face in between your hands, put your foreheads together, tell him how much you love him and how he’s the only one for you and you’ll get yourself a smiley, softer guy. Works like a charm.

Valeria: Not at all one for PDA, but not above telling someone to fuck off either in her usual way. Will also make death threats at the person flirting with you. If she sees you’re uncomfortable with the unwanted attention then she’ll send their remains to their family in a cardboard box. If Valeria wasn’t so scary when mad, it would be kind of funny how pissy she gets when jealous. While she knows very well that you won’t leave her, she absolutely loathes any and all competition there might be. Yes, she won’t sling her arm around you in public, yes, she will shoot anyone who looks at you a certain way for longer than two seconds. As mentioned before, she becomes cranky when jealous, but will also just seek you out. Your attention is for her to enjoy, and you’ll give it to her. If she sees you’re scared she’ll try to tone it down a little bit, but her discomfort will be made known to you. What do you even think of such lowlife? Disgusting creatures that are worth nothing, Valeria is a much better match for you in any regard. Can and absolutely will talk your ear off. Not very insecure either, but insects should stay away from you, in her humble and honest opinion. Behind closed doors you can be a bit more physically affectionate with her, drape yourself over her and use her lap like a throne, singing her praise. This is among the few times where she won’t mind too much physical affection. The more the better, the more you adore her the more easily she’ll return to being her usual, mocking self. When she’s jealous she won’t mock you, she’ll mock whoever made her jealous and be so incredibly mean about it, it’s honestly a bit concerning. However, you get to hear her use more Spanish words to better articulate what she means. Just smile and nod, even if you don’t exactly know what she’s talking about, she appreciates you listening. Agreeing with her is also a good way of calming her down, as well as ensuring that person might live to see another day.

Laswell: Although she’s not a big fan of PDA either, when she can feel the anger bubble up inside of her, she’ll actually put a hand on your shoulder or grab your wrist. Just small gestures that show you’re close with her. Might drag you away if she genuinely does not like that person. But if she’s just jealous because you’re not talking to her, which, granted, barely ever happens, then she’ll just watch the conversation unfold for a bit before butting in. If you weren’t enjoying yourself in the first place, you can count on her to get you away from the creep. If you were having fun, then you can just talk it out like adults, she prefers it that way too, actually. When she’s properly jealous she’ll withdraw herself. While she might not actively avoid you, she tries not to get in your way. Being jealous over essentially nothing is childish, and she’s an older woman, so she really has no reason to act that way. Might become a bit more passive aggressive towards you, but she really means nothing by it. But for that to happen she needs to be extremely ticked off and jealous, otherwise she’ll just keep her usual cool. In her case, since she, in general, isn’t a big fan of too much physical affection, being overly physically affectionate with her might just annoy her some more. Show her your affection through the smaller things, such as baking her a pie or just trying to engage in conversation with her. Even though she’ll love it when you simply sit next to her in silence as well. You want to spend time with her instead of other people, she can recognise that. Laswell appreciates that tremendously. You can also just give her some chocolate if you want to make her feel better. Doesn’t even need to be anything big or fancy, but some pralines definitely wouldn’t hurt. Overall she’s just glad you’d rather spend time with her than some stranger who could never treat you as well as she treats you. You both recognise that, you can both work from there, and you can both be calmer and happier knowing that.

[snailsrneat]

Yandere Epel Felmier Headcanons

-----------------------------

-----------------------------

Ooooh boy

If he becomes your yandere I feel sorry for you

Epel doesn't really understand his feelings for you fully

All he really understands is that around you his body gets weak and his heart beat rises a lot

In short you make him feel inferior, and he doesn't like that one bit

He despises the way you make him feel.

And he definitely shows his distate for it constantly

He finds that bullying you makes him feel better. Makes him feel superior.

He always makes sure to point out any sort of flaw on your body or clothing, and laughs when you give him a dirty look

He always makes sure to seek you out. Even when you started avoiding him, he kept on actively trying to find you.

He especially loves you give him angry reaction, it adds fuel to his flame.

"Hey nerd! Why do you keep running from me? You scared? Think I'm soo terrifying that you can't even come face me?"

For awhile he thought he hated you, despised you, that was until he saw how close you and Jack were.

You and Jack decided to have lunch alone together outside instead of inside.

Epel had been looking for you, as he always was. The moment he saw you and the wolf-boy sitting so close, your faces less than an inch apart, his body filled with the most intense rage he's ever felt.

Rage so intense he started to physically shake.

Epel stomped all the way back to his dorm room, slammed the door shut, and started to throw the biggest fit in history.

Epel knew that Vil was going to yell at him but he couldn't care less right now, he needed to get all his anger out.

Once he's done with his temper tantrum he sits in the middle of his room, thinking.

Mostly thoughts about you, he could never stop thinking about you.

You with that dumb smile, you with your stupid pretty eyes, you and your shiny hair..

He can't deal with all the emotions going on in his head, but he can realize one thing.

He wants you to be his and he'll do anything to have you.

From that moment forward Epel becomes a lot less rude, he still makes snide remarks from time to time but he's way nicer to you than before.

He still constantly seeks you out too, but it's welcome this time around.

"Hey nerd! You wanna go eat at the monstro lounge after school? Just you and me."

Eventually when you guys get close enough to eachother and you start to open up to him he makes sure to keep notes of everything in a secret dairy he has.

Honestly he takes a lot after Rook.

He keeps notes of your deepest darkest secrets, fears, trauma, literally anything he deems useful blackmail.

Once you guys get close that's when all of your other friends start to get distant.

You don't understand what happened or what you did to make them not like you all of a sudden but you get lonely pretty quick.

Good thing Epel is there to keep you company.

"They did what!? Oh no, don't cry. They never deserved you anyways. I'm still here, remember? I'd never leave you."

He's so extremely possessive he can't let anyone be close to you but him.

He'll even make sure you get a schedule change and everything.

Now you're with him in every class, he couldn't be happier.

If you start failing some classes? Oh don't worry about it Epel can give you his notes.

Even if you start to oppose him and want to get away, you can't.

Why?

Well cause if you do then he'll get upset, and once he gets upset that's when he brings out his pen.

He doesn't want to do this but if you keep threatening that you're going to leave, what else can he do?

Now look at what you did to yourself, all bruised and beaten.

We were so happy then you tried to leave and now look.

"It's better for you to stay here with me. Without me you're too weak to fight even the smallest amount of magic."

"You need me."

[phyrestartr]

Simple Things [1] | Miguel O'hara x Male!Reader

# SFW, fluff, light comfort, light angst, male!reader, dad!reader, spider!reader, smoking, implied depression, implied trauma, old men just doing their best, dad energy, miguel is a sweetheart and a nerd, multi-part drabble collection

[ 1 ] Smoke Break | [ 2 ] We Change Like the Seasons | [ 3 ] Meet The Kids

Notes: Yes, this will have more parts to it! I'm editing the next bit as we speak (beheh) and it should be up within the week? Maybe? I keep bouncing around from draft to draft, so finishing parts can take a while, pls forgive :pray:

--Smoke Break--

You were just another hero. There wasn't much else to it, you'd decided, and in joining the Spider Society, the same rang true--Miguel didn't think much of it, you didn't think much of it, none of the others did, either. It wasn't a bad thing, no, it was just how it was when one gathered hundreds of superheroes together. Everyone was special in their own worlds, so being a cut above the rest when you were all insane super freaks was exceptionally rare.

Miguel O'hara, however, proved to be exceptional.

Even after all the time that stretched on, he still existed as an anomaly of sorts within HQ. Cool, calm, collected, he led everyone with his head held high and his words resonating like a church bell; everything he said became gospel, everything he said affected their way of saving the multiverse.

Miguel knew that.

You knew that.

Most thought him invincible, unyielding and unforgiving towards the laws of the multiverse, and most admired his dedication. You knew troops clicked well with strong leaders, that they felt secure in their mission and battles when lead by a brave soldier, but your experience-trodden understanding burned in the forefront of your memories.

To you, it was obvious. If you watched his back long enough, if you too often caught glimpses of what he thought were well-hidden tells, the fracturing became all too easy to see.

Miguel was breaking.

You knew that feeling well, the feeling of being unable to bend anymore, to have your limits pushed and surpassed, yet still somehow stay intact and working, like a frayed web.

Maybe that was why you couldn't keep him off your mind. Maybe your primal loneliness, the weeping cracks you'd endured on your lonesome, resonated with another's. Maybe it begged you to do something while you still had the chance.

--

You'd come to see him one day to force some baked goods into his hands and leave, the excuse that you and your daughters had made too much armed and ready on your tongue.

Yes, you were caring, and yes, fine, you were a bit awkward approaching your fearless, strict, hard-ass of a leader with a piece of pie in your hands like you were at some fucking chummy pot luck or parent-teacher night, so you needed an excuse, something to veil your heart. Were you supposed to tell him you were worried about him, or something? No, no, that'd come later (if there was a later).

You expected to see his broad back turned to you, to hear him mumbling to himself or talking into comms; instead, you found him tucked away in the corner of the lab, sat in an old desk chair, napping. His arms rested crossed over his chest, and his head hung down. It was reassuring, a nice reminder that Miguel, too, was mortal just like yourself

The corner of your mouth twitched into something fond and lopsided, though barely there, before quietly, slowly, you left the Tupperware container on his stage console and saw yourself out. You couldn't bear the thought of waking a fellow "old man" from a much-needed nap.

--

Time stretched the way it usually did; missions assigned, spiders injured, anomalies captured--nothing new, nothing out of the ordinary.

But, shit, were you tired. You were always tired, sure, but these days the stress of life and love threatened to break more of you down and grind you into dust. It must have felt terrifying. But you couldn't feel it. Your mind wouldn't let you.

The smoke from your cigarette burned your lungs as you inhaled, grounding you, and reminding you of your existence. You sighed, thankful, and rested your head back against the outside wall of the secluded little balcony you'd found in your mindless wandering. Smoking inside always got you an earful from anyone and everyone in all dimensions, anyway, so you figured you'd skip the scrutiny and take it outside right away. Besides, it was easier to think and wallow this way.

But the door beside you slid open, ruining your quiet. You sighed, letting your eyes fall closed, waiting for the intruder to say something, do something, make themselves known. Seems they weren't in a rush, however.

You cracked an eye open, and spied him. He stared out at the city, his city, and held a clean Tupperware box in his hands. Miguel's fingers drummed against its sides in thought. His twitchy, fidgety restlessness made him too endearing.

"Finished the whole thing, eh?" You asked, cigarette hanging limply between your lips. "Guess you really do have a sweet tooth."

Miguel huffed a laugh, short and sweet, before handing back the box. "Yeah, well, can't say no to homemade food. Besides, Peter stole some." His face soured, nearing an annoyed pout.

"Ah. Bastard." You took the box back, words of gratitude light under your breath. "I'll give him a piece of my mind later."

"Let me know how that works out since, well, that Peter doesn't listen to anyone." Miguel crossed his arms.

"Pretty sure he just doesn't listen to you, Boss."

"Oh, great. Even better." Miguel was smiling, despite his annoyance. His eyes, warm and sullen like those poppies from your memories, flickered over to you, drawing your gaze. You'd never had the chance to speak to him so intimately, to be the only one standing beside him. It felt like a privilege, but it was too mundane to be so. You welcomed it.

"Didn't take you for a baker," Miguel said. His eyes followed your fingers plucking the smoke from your mouth. "Or a smoker."

You sighed as you glanced down at the wisping cigarette. "Yeah, well. I'm not much of the prim and proper hero type, I guess."

Miguel tilted his head, curious. "Never even had a phase?"

You thought back, far back, but shook your head. "Nah, I don't think I ever really had any pep in my step. Not that I can recall, anyway." You took another drag to suffocate resurfacing memories. "...A lot happened before Spiderman happened." For a long moment, you watched the smoke coil. So did Miguel. "But you? I can definitely see you as a peppy youngster."

Miguel sighed, something exasperated and light. "Dios, you're making us sound old."

"Aren't we?" You quirked a brow, almost smiling as Miguel put his hands on his hips. "What, you think we're young when we got kids like Hobie and Gwen running around? Damn, Pav too. That kid's the epitome of 'friendly neighborhood Spiderman.' Don't even get me started on May--"

"Okay, okay, stop, stop, stop," Miguel motored out, raising his palm to defend against the painful truth. "I get it. Y'know, talking to you is a lot more humbling than I thought it'd be."

Oh. You laughed. It surprised you with how it exploded past your defenses, choked and ugly, hampered by the plume of smoke in your lungs. Your hand waved at Miguel as you got lost in your fit, tears pricking your eyes and a smile aching unused muscles.

"Y-you're a dick," you eventually wheezed. "Humbling?"

Miguel smiled, too smug. "It's just been a while since I met another miserable bastard."

"Is that self-awareness?" You flicked ash from the end of your cigarette and shook your head, the aftershocks of laughter still shaking your voice. "Incredible. Inspirational, even."

"Alright, now who's being the asshole here?"

"That'd be me."

"Ah. Self-awareness."

"What can I say? You've inspired me. Such a good leader."

"Yeah, well, inspiration and good leadership come with a fee." His eyes flicked to the Tupperware tucked under your arm.

Your brows raised. Huh. Unexpected. But you nodded, and tapped more wasted ash onto the ground. "You're lucky my kids like to bake. You got a hankering for anything?"

Miguel's lips parted, surprise painting his face cool shades. He blinked then, breaking from whatever spell he found himself in, and ran a hand through his hair. "I--ah. Yeah, just, anything. Whatever your kids want."

"You're gonna regret that, but hey, your call." A comfortable silence fell for a few beats before, very unlike your blasé self, you pressed for the sake of curiosity: "So? Were you a plucky youngster? Sparkling eyes, heroic intentions 'n all that."

Miguel's gaze, pointed at the city, stared through the buildings and perhaps into a time you were not privy to. The tightening of his jaw told you more than you needed to know.

"Yeah, I guess I was." Miguel took a step and rested his elbows on the railing of the small patio. "Things weren't easy back then, but..."

"You didn't have to look after the multiverse?" You wondered, voice soft. The other's unshakeable shoulders slumped. You stuck the cig back in your mouth as you thought about your own history, about what you wish you had the chance to do, about who you could have been, who you wanted to be.

"Did you at least get to live a little?" You asked, maybe a little bit to yourself.

Miguel nodded. "Yeah. But I think I started really living after I became Spiderman."

Somehow, you understood.

"Kinda ironic."

"You're telling me. But it was eye-opening. Life-changing, in a bad way, in a good way." He paused before nodding with contemplative shrug. "Humbling."

"Hm. More humbling than me?"

"If you can believe it."

You snorted and shook your head. "Guess I have no choice."

He hummed, agreeing. Miguel turned, leaning back against the railing and crossing his arms as he regarded you. "You must've had a 'the hero is born' moment," Miguel suggested more than he asked. "We all do." And he was right, logistically--if you were all Spiderman, you all had to have a moment where you really became a hero.

So, you thought for a long, slow moment.

But too quickly did something find a soft, hollow place to fester in your chest. The pain pierced so like losing yourself in December's glacial lakes, so wicked with languid tortures and polar punishments. The pain could fade if you stopped fighting, if you let the water pull you into the peaceful darkness, but you'd indulged in the shameful malady of shadows too many times; your patience and self-loathing had grown so thin.

You don't need to remember, the lady of the lake would whisper to you, voice dripping with tears in a way that sounded so much like her. She lulled you, she pulled you back in, she urged you to turn her way instead of fighting her, instead of reaching for the roiling inferno that was the past. In those moments, in her arms, you never knew if you'd find your way back to the surface, but you were not one to obediently decay in ignorance.

Her wail filled your mind as you breached the blaze, and found that sunny day in the Bronx, with the wind carrying the honeyed scent of summer life when you'd met that pretty little thing from the flower shop...

You twitched a smile. "Well...I guess I--"

"Hey," Lyla suddenly cut in, blipping into existence between Miguel and yourself. The level of relief you felt upon being saved from talking about yourself was unhealthy, but you silently thanked Lyla for it: memories of the blaze and the ice could be put aside for a while longer.

The sprite adjusted her sunnies before continuing, "totally loving the bromance here, really cute, but we got a new anomaly that needs some extra love. You guys feel like kicking some bad guy butt, buddy-cop style?"

"Sure," you cut in before Miguel could. You need out of this conversation now. "I call bad cop. Wanna see good cop Miguel butter up a baddie."

Miguel twitched. "Hey--"

"Oooh, me too," Lyla agreed, nodding sagely.

"I don't think I like you two being on the same side--"

"Let's get the show on the road, Boss." You butted your cigarette out on the wall and set down the container. A warm sunset glow bloomed across you as a portal whirled open, shimmering and humming.

You tapped his chest playfully with your knuckles. "Last one there buys me a six pack."

With a hop, skip, and a jump, you were gone.

Miguel rubbed his face. Lyla fluttered around his head. "Well? Better go after him, good cop."

"You. You aren't allowed to team up with him," Miguel stated as he headed towards the portal. "Starting now, colluding is not allowed."

"Oh, what? Sorry, connection's getting fuzzy--"

"Lyla, don't--"

"Sorry--shhhrk--breaking up--" and she, too, disappeared.

Miguel rolled his eyes. His mask materialized over his face as he followed you, a comfortable fondness resting in his chest, chasing out any turmoil the day had brought him.

Good cop. Bad cop. It was stupid, childish, but maybe that was a good thing. Maybe it was a dumb little something that he needed.

[legolasghosty]

Lockwood has never been overly fond of lavender. Sure, it's nicer looking and smelling than most of the other tools used to separate the living and the dead, but he's always felt a bit annoyed at it. He rarely brings it up though, because there's not really a reason for his dislike.

Maybe it's that the purple stalks are everywhere, all the time. Along every London street, in every garden, in every room where mortals fear those who have passed beyond. Even in the winter, everyone has dried flowers in their homes and sprinkles the oils over their doorsteps. There's no way to get away from the stuff.

Maybe it's because lavender water is one of the weakest tools in an agent's toolkit. Lockwood barely ever uses it for anything other than reassuring clients that their home is safe after a job. For all the discussion of it, it's nothing in comparison to some sturdy iron chains and a rapier when it comes to battling ghosts. It's just a waste of space in his coat during a job.

Maybe it has to do with the way the scent sets people at ease. Somewhere in George's research, Lockwood remembers him mentioning how lavender water used to be used to treat insomnia before the Problem. Even now, with it being used to protect mortals from everything that goes bump in the night, he doesn't miss how the smell of lavender tends to cause people to loosen up, laugh a bit more, and let their guards down. Any kind of weakness can mean death for an agent, even when it comes from one of their own weapons.

Or, if he's being honest, maybe it goes deeper than that. Maybe it's because Jessica's room is always covered in the stuff, and has been since the day he failed to save her. Maybe it's because the flowery scent is all he can remember from his parents' funeral. Maybe it's because the stupid plants kept tripping him when he ran away from his old agency. Maybe it's just too many bad memories.

Regardless of the reason, Lockwood has never really liked lavender.

However, it's hard to hold onto those thoughts with Lucy sitting on the grass nearby, surrounded by night watch children, with a sloppy crown of purple flowers on her head.

She's had a soft spot for them for as long as Lockwood has known her. She claims it's because of how close she became to being one of them when she first got to London. Lockwood suspects that's not the whole story. But today, her kind heart has led them to a park down the street from Portland Row, at the beckoning of a group of children who had pooled their meager earnings to have a picnic.

Lockwood has stayed on the outskirts of the little gathering, unsure as to what would be expected of him if he joined in. But Lucy is right in the middle, regaling the kids with stories of the ghosts she's defeated. They're hanging on her every word. Lockwood can't blame them for it, Lucy is a good storyteller when she wants to be. Even if she glazes over his parts in some of her tales.

But one of the older ones had gotten restless and begun plucking sprigs of lavender from a nearby bush. Lockwood had been about to reprimand them for the needless destruction of public property, but they'd begun weaving the stems together into a chain before he could speak. It was barely five minutes before they looped the chain into a circle and plopped it onto Lucy's head without a word.

And now, staring at Lucy, her eyes bright in the sunshine, her hands waving around as she described the Greenhouse Ghoul, and those flowers shining like gemstones in her hair, Lockwood can't quite remember why he doesn't like lavender.

In fact, he thinks he very much enjoys how it looks right now. Maybe it's not so bad after all.

(For the most recent Lockwood and Co Flash Fiction Challenge by @lockwoodandcoff!)

[bloodkeep-escape]

the same question: a d20 mentopolis fic

"You ever been kissed, Hunch?" Hunch Curio chokes on smoke, coughing on it until he almost sees stars. "Sorry, what?" he rasps, reaching forward to put his cigarette out in the ashtray resting on the bar. Dan Fucks, leaning with his elbows against that same bar, grins. "I asked if you've ever been kissed." ~~ Dan keeps asking the same question. Hunch keeps having the same answer.

read on ao3!

[fogwitchoftheevermore]

(context for watcher/listener!sausage can be found in the “videos” tag on my blog if you want it, but this ficlet can be read without said context)

- - -

“Y’know, of all the Hermits I was expecting to be pulling me into a dark corner tonight, I did not expect you to be first, Grian! I love the initiative!”

“I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that,” Grian says in a voice near a hiss. He’s got Sausage by the wrist, leading him into a small area of the upper floor of the tavern in Sanctaury that does look like it was built for the exact purpose Sausage is implying. Grian decides to ignore that as well.

“What are you doing here?” Grian’s straight to the point. He always has to be, with these Things, if he doesn’t want to get trapped in a loop of slant rhyming pleasantries.

“What do you mean?” Sausage asks, shaking his wrist out of Grian’s tight grip and leaning comfortably against the wall. “This is where I live. It’s my home. If anything, I should be asking you mysterious strangers what you’re doing here, but I’m sure you’ve heard that question enough for one day.”

“You know exactly what I mean.” Grian crosses his arms and tries his best not to look petulant, but he sure feels like it. “I thought They’d given up on trying to snatch me back, so why would They send you of all people? What’s your game?”

Sausage laughs, honest to god laughs, like he can’t believe Grian’s even asking him such a question. Grian thinks it’s a reasonable question, in this scenario, but what he thinks and what’s reasonable rarely seems to matter with these things.

“They didn’t send me,” Sausage looks him up and down in that way that makes Grian have to physically stop himself from curling inwards. This is why he never talks to Them. “Nobody sends me anywhere, they don’t tell me what to do and I like it that way! I just do my own thing. Isn’t that what you’re doing?”

“No you’re not! You’re not- you can’t be! That’s not how this works!” Grian begins to notice that he’s no longer whisper-shouting and starting to just-normal-shout and takes a deep breath, trying not to draw the attention of his friends enjoying themselves on the floor below. And, realistically, in the other dark corners Sausage seems to have built into this place.

“That’s exactly how this works. You didn’t think you were the only person who’d left, did you?”

Grian opens his mouth, closes it, and thinks. In hindsight… yeah, he had kind of assumed he’d been the only person who’d left. Not for lack of trying, probably- but They’d tried for so long to get him back, kept him closely surveilled even when They’d accepted he was gone- surely some people had caved to that pressure eventually. When there was no sign They’d ever let up, ever let you go… he could understand eventually letting it overtake you.

“Did- did you leave, too?” Grian doesn’t remember the last time he saw Sausage’s face. He didn’t know him back then, of course. He probably would’ve connected the man with the person Pearl so often spoke about sooner. But he knows it’s been a long time, maybe even longer than the last time Grian had gone There. He doesn’t think Sausage had been There, that day. This might explain why.

“Eh, not quite?”

“What-“ Grian flails, both mentally and with his arms a bit. “What do you mean not quite?”

“Exactly what I said! I was never- it’s complicated, y’know?”

“Explain. Now.”

“Well, uh,” Sausage seems to flounder for the first time since this conversation started, which Grian is choosing to take as a victory. “Look, I wasn’t- they didn’t pick me. For this, or for anything, ever. Sometimes things just happen and you get yourself into a place you shouldn’t have and then… they can’t get rid of me, I can’t get rid of them, it is what it is.”

Grian stares at him for a long moment. Really stares at him, in the same way Sausage had looked him over earlier, in the same way that makes you feel like you’re under a microscope. Judging by the sudden nerves in his eyes, Grian can assume he feels it too. Grian remembers his face. That had been the first thing he’d noticed, when the Hermits had arrived. It had been a long time since they’d seen each other, but Grian knew his face. And now that Grian was studying him, really trying to remember… he’s not sure he quite likes what memories he’s dredging up.

“What are you?”

“Grian!” Sausage’s voice drips with mock offense as he puts his hand up to partially cover his mouth. “We only just met, do you think that’s polite?”

“Answer the question,” Grian sighs. How Pearl deals with this man on the regular, he doesn’t know.

“Well, if you insist.” Sausage sighs, somehow even more exaggerated than his previous movements. “It’s just… if you’ll believe it, it’s somehow even harder to answer the first question.”

“It shouldn’t be,” Grian says. “They’re two very different People, you know.”

“But they’re the same species, when it all comes down to it. Like, you might be very different than a chicken, but you’re both birds in the long run.”

Grian pauses, fanning his wings out a bit behind him as he considers. “I don’t think that metaphor’s quite landing the way you want it to.”

“No, me neither. Anyways, let me continue.

When they don’t pick you, things go a little differently! You don’t get sorted onto one side or the other since, well, you’re not really supposed to be there? So I’m… whatever I want to be, really. I think I’m feeling like more of a Listener, today, but we’ll see how the mood shifts.”

Grian flinches at the Name, on instinct. He doesn’t know how to feel about that, so he files it away to be dealt with at a later date. As for the rest of what Sausage said-

“What?”

“You heard me.” Sausage shrugs. He’s so nonchalant, Grian thinks he might strangle him, if not for the worry that that’s exactly what he wants out of this, somehow.

“Did I? Did I hear you?” Grian wants to pace, but that requires leaving the security of the corner, so he forces his feet to root themselves to the floor. “I thought- I thought you had to- if you wanted to change sides, I thought you had to-“

Grian closes one eye and takes his thumb to it, twisting the finger into his eyelid. The gesture seems to get the point across.

“Well, that’s the funny thing about this, actually.” From the way he’s been talking, Grian assumed Sausage thought this whole thing was funny. He restrains himself from saying that out loud if only so Sausage will finish his explanation.

Sausage reaches up to his left eye, pulls his eye lid back a bit, and unceremoniously pops out his prosthetic eye.

“All these processes and rituals actually have a lot of loopholes.”

Grian doesn’t know what face he’s making, but it’s enough to make Sausage giggle while he pops the eye back in. Because of course he does. Because this how his day is going, apparently. Walk through a weird portal in his basement and wake up in a world filled with his friends who don’t recognize him and also a guy he only ever saw There, who he was never supposed to see again. Sure. Of course he’s laughing about it. Grian thinks if he was a slightly different person, he’d be laughing too. It is, undeniably, absurd.

“Well, I think we’re done here then!” Grian would probably object if he weren’t so shocked about the loopholes. As it is, he just stands there a bit stupidly.

Sausage turns away to return to the party before turn around again for just a moment, reaching over, and ruffling Grian’s hair. That shocks him enough to shake him out of his stupor and swat Sausage’s hand away, though not before his hair is suitably messed up.

“What was that for?!”

Sausage smiles as he reaches up to rough up his own hair as well. “I assumed you didn’t want your friends asking questions about why you were dragging me into a dark corner, you know?” Sausage even goes far enough to pull his shirt a bit out of where it’s tucked into his pants, because of course he does. Grian tries not to cringe, but Sausage is right about this one thing. It is the easiest way to dodge any questions about where he’d gone off to- at the expense of the many knowing looks and teasing remarks he’ll be getting from the other Hermits instead.

“Have a good night, Grian!” Sausage calls over his shoulder as he turns to leave for real this time. “And remember, drinks are on me for all you guests tonight! You look like you need it.”

[clarionglass]

here we go :) part one of three, updates to be released weekly!

---

sam says 4 (game master cinematic universe, part 3)

Ruby was at her mum's for a family dinner she couldn't miss on pain of death, apparently, and the Doctor was many things, but a family dinner kind of guy wasn't one of them—particularly when Carla had already slapped him once in the short time he'd known her. He thought he'd broken his streak of bad luck with mums, but… well, seemingly not. So he was companionless for a few hours, and while he could wait for her to get back, maybe catch up on his reading—what was the point of waiting when you had a time machine? 

He ran his hands over the TARDIS console, marvelling at her clean lines and metallic flourishes, the way that even now she felt brand new but familiar, and paused. He’d just pop off for a quick adventure, nothing too dangerous, but—where to go?

He could scan for a distress call nearby, and pitch in to help. He could drop in on Donna and Shaun and Rose, beautiful Rose, and see how they were all doing. Or he could just hit the randomiser button, and jump in feet first wherever he ended up.

He remembered a conversation from a long time ago, when he wore a different face, and his gorgeous TARDIS wore a face too, for the first and only time.

“You didn't always take me where I wanted to go.”

“No, but I always took you where you needed to go.”

He grinned. Who could resist an offer like that? He pressed the button and whooped as the time rotor spun into action, ready to see where the universe would take him.

---

Apparently, he was needed pretty close to where he already was. Earth, 2024. Huh. Same planet, same time—within a few months of where he’d left Ruby, even. The main thing that had changed was the location: he was now in the good old US of A. California, to be more specific, and Los Angeles to be more specific still. And to really narrow it down, the Doctor discovered as he poked his head out of the TARDIS doors, he was in… a broom closet. Not bad, as a parking spot—a bit squeezy, but out of the way. And as he poked his head out of that door, he could finally see he was in the backstage corridors of a studio of some kind. Film or TV, if he was to hazard a guess, it was a different vibe from Abbey Road.

With a shrug, he decided to go exploring.

It couldn’t have been more than a minute before a young woman wearing the full-black outfit, headset, and permanently stressed expression of a production assistant came running up to him.

“Are you the fill-in Sam organised?” she asked breathlessly, and honestly, seeing the look on her face, the Doctor didn’t have the heart(s) to tell her no. And really, what was the Doctor, if not a professional fill-in? This, this was why he had a randomiser button on the control panel, because whatever he was about to get himself into was going to be fun.

“Sure!”

“Oh, thank god,” sighed the production assistant, relief dawning across her face. “When Ally tested positive this morning, I thought we were sunk for the record, because we called around and we couldn’t get a hold of anyone. But then Sam said he could get someone in, and, you know, here you are, and just in time, so—ah, yeah, if you could follow me this way?”

Smiling all the way, the Doctor followed his guide through to hair and makeup, looking around as they went. The studio seemed to belong to a company called Dropout, according to the branding scattered around, and things seemed, at least on the surface, to be… well. Fine. He couldn't tell why he'd been brought here yet, which meant that when he found the reason, it was going to be particularly tangled. He couldn't wait! 

And then he looked back at his guide, still engulfed in a miasma of anxiety, and realised he'd been too busy looking for clues to notice the person right in front of him. 

“Hey, it's cool, you've found me,” he started with a gentle smile. “You can relax. Hi, I'm the Doctor. What's your name?”

“Oh!” she said, startled. “The Doctor, yeah, of course. Um, hi, I'm Kaylin. Look, sorry, it's just that I've been so busy this morning, I'm so distracted… Shit, and I would've completely forgotten to get your details too. There's paperwork to fill in, but you can do that later. Um, just for now, though, can I get your pronouns?”

The Doctor thought for a moment. “He/him, for now.”

Kaylin nodded, making a note on her phone. “Okay, cool! And do you have any socials?”

“Not me, babes,” he replied. “I'm hardly sitting down long enough to be able to update, you know?”

“On a day like this, I know exactly what you mean,” she said. “That's okay, Lou didn't have socials either for the longest time. Right, so if you go through there, the team will get you sorted, and once you're done, someone will take you up to the greenroom. All good?”

“All great,” the Doctor replied. Kaylin flashed him a quick, relieved smile, then hurried off.

Hair and makeup was a fairly quick process, the sound mixer fitted him with a microphone, and before too long, Kaylin was back to take him upstairs. 

“This is the greenroom,” she said, pushing the door open. “The rest of the cast for the episode are already here—they’re great guys, and they’ve both been on the show a lot, so they’ll be able to help if you’ve got questions. And if you need anything else, just come find me or any of the other PAs, okay?”

The Doctor nodded, beamed at Kaylin, and walked in.

---

The greenroom was small but comfortable, and its occupants, two men around the same age as the Doctor appeared, looked up as he entered.

“Oh, you’re new,” the taller of the pair said, clearly giving him the once-over.

The other sighed with a mixture of fondness and exasperation, just as clearly used to his friend’s antics.

“Hey, I’m Brennan,” he said, levering himself up to standing from his perch on a chair arm, and holding out a hand. “That’s Grant.”

The Doctor took it warmly. “The Doctor. Just passing through, and happy to help.”

Grant’s eyebrows quirked. “Doctor… something?” he prompted.

“Or is it just ‘the Doctor’?” Brennan asked.

“Just ‘the Doctor’,” the Time Lord confirmed cheerfully. “You’ll get used to it, everyone does.”

Grant didn’t look convinced, but—

“Copy that,” Brennan shrugged, and settled back on the arm of the chair, returning his gaze to the door.

Grant, in turn, looked at the Doctor and rolled his eyes in a clear expression of ‘no, I don’t know why he’s like this, either’.

“Okay,” the Doctor said after a moment of watching the watching. “I wasn’t going to ask, but now I think I have to. What’s up with the door?”

Brennan huffed a laugh. “Well, the last time there was one of those up—” he pointed to the Out of Order sign stuck to the bathroom door, “—we got locked in here for the game.”

“He’s paranoid,” Grant interjected.

“Well, yeah, maybe,” Brennan retorted. “Or just cautious. Because Sam’s been acting weird lately, and we’re coming up to the last few records of the season, so he’s probably planning something way out of the box for the finale. And the original cast was you, me and Beardsley, so…”

He shrugged one shoulder meaningfully, and Grant nodded, conceding both the point and the potential for chaos.

“So if Sam comes in to give us the briefing, rather than waiting til we’re on set,” Brennan continued, “or there’s anything else weird going on, I’m gonna know about it right from the beginning.”

He turned to the Doctor. “The only reason I'm not quizzing you is because I know for a fact Beardsley was genuinely scheduled for this, so you can't be a plant by the production team. No offence.”

“None taken,” the Doctor smiled. “That sort of thing happen often, does it?”

Grant and Brennan exchanged a look. 

“More than you'd think,” Grant answered with a grimace. 

“Alright,” the Doctor said slowly, then brightened. “So what is it we're actually doing?”

Grant gave him a disbelieving glance. “You don't know—?”

“Very last minute fill-in,” the Doctor said breezily. “But don't worry, I'm a quick study.”

“Well, you're not that much worse off than the rest of us,” Brennan said encouragingly. “You know about Game Changer, obviously, if you know Sam, and we only find out the rules of the game once we get on set. Hopefully,” he added, with a dark look back at the Out of Order sign. 

The Doctor nodded. No, he didn't know Sam, and he didn't know Game Changer, but he could work out the situation from context clues. This was a game show. And with the Toymaker banished, and Satellite Five not coming into existence for another 198000 years, give or take, he found himself smiling. Maybe third time would be the charm. 

“Mmm, hopefully they aren't going to throw you in the deep end,” Grant said. “Because Brennan might seem lovely now, but as soon as we get out there, he's a whore for points. He'll stab you in the back and won't even blink.”

Brennan barked with laughter. “Yeah, and you wouldn't?”

“Excuse you, I'm always a goddamn delight,” Grant replied, the very picture of injured dignity. 

“Oh, absolutely!” agreed a new voice. The Doctor turned to the now-open door to see a bearded man in a pinstriped suit smiling broadly. “That's why we keep inviting you back!”

Grant bowed sarcastically. “Why, thank you, Sam. Good to know I'm appreciated by someone here.”

“Always,” Sam replied, gently but firmly ending that particular path of the conversation. He scanned the room, and his eyes lit up when they landed on the Doctor. 

“Ah, you must be the Doctor!” he said with obvious delight, walking over with his hand outstretched. “I'm Sam—thanks for filling in for us, you've made sure we're going to have a good show. Seriously, it's a pleasure to have you here.”

“Aw, cheers!” the Doctor smiled, shaking the offered hand. “Glad I could help out, I'm really looking forward to this!”

“Well, great!” Sam exclaimed, then took a step back, regarding all three players in turn. “Now, folks, I'm just letting you know that we're just about ready to start the record, so if you can start heading down, that'd be great.”

Grant and Brennan nodded—Brennan, the Doctor noticed, with relief. 

“See you down there,” Sam said, smiling. “Have a great show, and—”

His eyes caught on the Doctor's for a second, twinkling. 

“Good luck.”

---

Backstage, the Doctor, Brennan and Grant were marshalled into podium order and given a final briefing from the crew. And then, with a thumbs-up from Kaylin, that was it.

Showtime.

“Get ready for a Game Changer!” came Sam's voice from onstage. “Tonight’s guests: he can shoot off a monologue with laser accuracy; it’s Brennan Lee Mulligan!”

Brennan, his back to the camera as the curtains opened, spun on his heel and, with a stone-cold expression, pointed finger guns straight down the barrel, before letting the facade crack open. “Hi!” he exclaimed, and walked over to the leftmost podium.

“It’s his first appearance, but he’s already on fire; it’s the Doctor!”

The Doctor leant against the archway to the stage and flashed a broad smile towards the camera, then in a few skipping steps, had bounded over to the next free podium. What the hell, why not make an entrance?

“And even in the toughest of mazes, you’ll always be able to find him; it’s Grant O’Brien!”

Grant dipped his lanky frame into an approximation of a curtsey, spreading his arms wide, then sauntered over to the closest podium with a grin.

“And your host, me!” Sam announced, a ring of manic white showing around his irises as he beamed down the barrel of the camera. “I’ve been here the whole time!”

“This,” he continued, pushing his microphone shut and stowing it in his jacket pocket, “is Game Changer, the only game show where the game changes every show. I am your host, Sam Reich!” 

As he said his name, he looked at his hands, front and back, as if he was pleasantly surprised to be himself, then gestured towards the three podiums.

“I am joined today by these three lovely contestants! Now, you understand how the game works.”

“Of course not,” Grant started. “You know we don't.”

“We can't, Sam, that's the whole point of the theatre you've set up here,” Brennan said over him. 

“Not yet,” was all the Doctor said, anticipation starting to drum a tattoo of excitement against the inside of his ribcage. 

“That’s right!” Sam said brightly, shooting finger guns at the camera. “Our players have no idea what game it is they’re about to play. The only way to learn is by playing. The only way to win is by learning, and the only way to begin is by beginning! So without further ado, let’s begin by giving each of our players fifty points.”

The Doctor, biding his time, watched the reactions of his fellow contestants. Grant looked at the front of his podium, checking the point total, and nodding approvingly when he saw that yes, it was sitting at a round fifty. Brennan, on the other hand, was starting to frown.

“Players, Sam says: touch your nose,” Sam began, and Brennan sighed the sigh of someone who wasn’t happy to be proved right.

“Oh, no,” he groaned. “Oh, you son of a bitch. Wasn’t one this season enough?”

He touched his nose anyway, as did the others, and Sam smiled encouragingly. “Sam says: touch your ear.”

When they all did, Sam nodded. “Touch your other ear.”

Everybody held still, fingers on the ears they had originally touched.

Sam beamed. “Easy, players, right?”

“You say that now,” Brennan said darkly. “Which makes it worse, because all you're doing is setting us up for failure.”

Sam gasped, pretending offence. “Would I do that?”

“Yes,” Brennan and Grant replied in unison, which drew a grin from the Doctor and set Sam off chuckling.

“And I'm not having it,” Brennan continued, leaning his elbows against his podium and pointing at Sam with the hand not touching his ear. “You better watch yourself, because I know how this game works, and you're not going to get one over on me.”

“Strong words, Brennan!” Sam said, clearly delighted by this response. “Okay, then, let's start making things a bit more interesting!”

The game continued as per Sam Says usual, some rounds done as a group and some individual. Points were won, sure, but lost slightly more frequently, and even the Doctor found he was having to concentrate to avoid getting caught in the host's traps. 

It was fun. Genuinely, it was like playing a game with friends, and the Doctor felt himself leaning into it. There wasn't any sign of danger—maybe there wasn't a mystery to solve at all, and the TARDIS just decided he needed a total break. 

Well, probably not. But the way things were going, he was able to let himself hope. 

“Alright, players,” Sam said a good few rounds in, just as pleasantly as he would start any other question, and the screen behind him dinged as a new prompt popped up. “Survive the death beam.”

For a second, everything was frozen perfectly still. 

And then came the crash, the explosive noise of heavy machinery moving relentlessly through a drywall set.

The Doctor was already moving. “Everyone down!”

“Duck!” Brennan yelled at the same time.

The two of them hit the ground within milliseconds of each other, but Grant was still paralysed in the face of the giant, science-fiction type laser cannon that had just ploughed through the wall. 

It whined ominously, screaming its way to fever pitch. And then a sharp pain in Grant’s ankle made him stagger, pitching forwards onto the carpet behind the podiums as the Doctor rolled away to avoid getting pinned.

“Sorry, babes,” the Doctor whispered. “But it was either kick you to get you down, or—”

A hideous metallic screech ripped through the air, and all three of them could feel the crackle of ozone as a beam of energy swept across what had, moments ago, been neck height.

“…Or that,” the Doctor finished with a grimace.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Grant breathed, suddenly very conscious of every inch of his 6’9 frame. “Thanks.”

“Well done, players!” Sam exclaimed delightedly from above them. “But… sorry, I didn’t say ‘Sam says’, so that’s a point off for everyone.”

“What the fuck!” Brennan snapped.

“Are you actually insane?” Grant demanded at the same time, his voice overlapping with Brennan’s.

In response, Sam just wheezed with laughter. “You can come back to your podiums,” he said, cheerfully ignoring them.

Nobody moved.

“Very good!” he acknowledged, and even without seeing his face, the grin was obvious in his voice. “Okay, Sam says: come back to your podiums.”

Although the words were innocuous, and his tone was just as light and breezy as usual, there was nevertheless an edge hiding just underneath the surface. And while the death beam loomed large in the minds of all three players, it was impossible to consider disobedience as an option.

Slowly, they stood, returning to their places. Now they had the time to look at it properly, the death beam was even more sinister, and Brennan and Grant both kept flicking nervous glances its way, ready to move if it looked like it was charging up again.

The Doctor, however, was focused purely on the man standing in front of them. Unbothered, Sam met his gaze like a challenge, a mischievous smile playing about his lips.

“Oh, you’ll love this one,” he said, and the screen changed. “Sam says, starting with Grant: say my name.”

Grant frowned in confusion, but answered quickly nonetheless. “Sam Reich?”

The man himself shrugged tolerantly, moving on. “Brennan?”

Brennan just stared at him coolly. “Do you take me for a fool?”

“Well caught, Brennan!” Sam said happily. “Sam says: say my name.”

“Sam,” Brennan replied, suspicion clear in his voice. “Samuel Dalton Reich.”

He nodded, still with a hint of indifference. “And lastly, Doctor.” His smile broadened. “Sam says: say my name.”

It was easy. Too easy. And as the Doctor looked into the eyes of the man calling himself Sam Reich, he felt his hearts stutter in recognition, because something had changed. He wasn’t hiding himself anymore, and while the face was different yet again, the Doctor would know the shape of that soul anywhere. It was impossible. It was inevitable.

“You can’t be,” he breathed. 

Sam smirked, leaning in across his podium. “Oh, but Doctor… I’ve been here the whole time,” he stage-whispered with a wink.

“He said you lost,” the Doctor said, shaking his head, looking wrong-footed for the first time that Brennan and Grant could recall. “You lost, and he trapped you.”

The other two watched, uncomprehending, but Sam just smiled, drumming his fingers against the podium with an audible beat, fast but distinct. Four taps, four taps, four taps. “I’m waiting.”

The Doctor took a slow, deep breath. Set his jaw. 

“Master.”

---

missed an installment of the game master cinematic universe?

original idea by @ace-whovian-neuroscientist: x

art by @northernfireart concept: x scissor sisters sketch: x sam and his doppelganger: x

writing by me (!) part one (escape the greenroom): x part two (deja vu): x part three (sam says 4): you are here!

[tonberry-yoda]

Hi! How about Sir Crocodile from One Piece and their hard-working secretary (somebody needs to take care of all that paperwork! xD) Headcanons or a short story. Up tp you! Thanks!

Business - Crocodile

notes - I GOT SO CARRIED AWAY! Like I have been planning on how I wanted to write this and it all clicked one day, so the planning for this fic was a lot, I'll have you know that. Literally though, thank you so much for this request, I loved it so much!! I hope you're doing well and have a super day and don't forget to stay hydrated!!! <3

word count - 1,054

When Crocodile left to go out for "business", you were left with stacks of papers, all needing a signature from him. You had completed every single one, surprisingly, and now you were so bored at your desk that you began highlighting where Crocodile needed to put his signature in brightly colored ink.

You had expected him to be back way sooner, but for three weeks now, you've been sitting in complete boredom, having to make coffee only for yourself.

He hasn't done so much as called either, which was surprising. And whenever you tried to call him, he would never pick up and your transponder snail would just stare at you with an unamused expression.

You didn't want to say that you were getting concerned for your boss, as he was a man who could more than protect himself, but still. You couldn't help but hope that he was doing alright.

Well, if you were being fully honest with yourself, you were getting really worried. Almost in panic mode. If Crocodile was ever out this long, he would always make sure to call or send someone to tell you that he was okay, but you haven't heard a single word from anyone and it was eating away at you.

So, as a normal, and perfectly sane secretary, you slipped on a long jacket, put all of the paperwork into your bag, and went after Crocodile.

Did you know where he was? No. He had given you a small idea of where he could be, so you took that as enough and left.

And quickly, you regretted your decision.

Crocodile had told you that he wasn't going to be more than one island over, so you took a boat and ended up on a small island. And you had no clue where you were.

You thought it was a remote island, with nothing more than a couple of small cabins and fishermen, but when you travelled further, you ended up in not just any small town, but a whole city.

It was filled to the brim with people. People from everywhere, too. There were Marines, pirates, gamblers, bounty hunters, and dozens of other people you didn't feel like getting to know more than a glance.

You looked so out of place, wearing your work clothes of only a button up and slacks, while others around you looked like mafia bosses and dressed like they were going to a ball or something.

If Crocodile is here, you thought, sighing. He's probably got his ass arrested.

That, and he was probably going to be impossible to find.

You didn't want to ask anyone, since he was a literal wanted man everywhere he went, and you didn't want to go around calling his name out either.

He was a former warlord, who wouldn't recognize the name Crocodile?

You felt so lost in the city after what felt like hours, and it probably was, seeing as the sun was beginning to set.

"Dammit, Croc," you muttered under your breath. "Where the hell are you?"

When you got to the other side of the city, you decided to take a seat to try to get your bearings. This side was less chaotic, even if it was still full of people being a marketplace and all, so that was nice.

You took some deep breaths and tried to think if you were Crocodile, where would you be.

Probably in jail.

Dammit Crocodile.

You buried your face in your hands and immediately heard a familiar voice.

"I'll take six of those, please."

Your head immediately shot up and you smiled.

That son of a bitch.

The vendor handed Crocodile a bag of assorted fruits and you ran over to the former warlord, pulling him into a nearby, and surprisingly empty alleyway.

You laughed when you saw the veil that covered his face to hide his scar. You probably saw that bastard seven and a half times and didn't notice.

"y/n?" He tilted his head. "What are you doing here?"

"Making sure your ass was okay." you told him, poking his chest to emphasize your point.

He chuckled and shook his head. "I'm fine."

"Well I know that now! I wish you would've called or something, though."

"Sorry." he said, rubbing the back of his neck. "I've just been really busy."

"It's fine." You lightly shook your head and got a good look at the man in front of you. "You know, you look pretty handsome like that. Good way of hiding."

"Thanks." he chuckled. "So, was that all you needed? Just to see if I was fine."

"Nope," you said slyly, opening your bag to reveal the giant stack of paper that needed his signature. "I brought work."

"Oh boy. Well, let's go back to my hotel room, then. Sorry again about not calling. How was the ride here?"

"Not bad," you admitted, pulling your bag over your shoulder and following Crocodile through the crowd of people, which was pretty easy considering how tall he was and very easy to spot. You still couldn't believe that you didn't find him sooner. "Finding you was the hard part."

"Sorry about that, too. I was planning on going back soon and even calling, but I've just been so full of work that I guess I forgot."

"I understand. And by work, you mean hiding from these Marines, right?" You gestured to piles of Marine officers getting drunk and shouting random numbers over a gambling table.

"Don't say that so loud!" Crocodile hissed before shaking his head and leading you into a small building.

You two were greeted by the hotel staff and you two quickly made it to his room. This island was so fancy, how have you never heard of it, let alone been here?

"So why did you come here?" you asked Crocodile, running your finger over a cabinet, no dust coming off at all.

"I needed to see an old friend."

"I'm guessing you're not going to tell me who that old friend is?"

"Nope." he chuckled, taking a seat on his bed, finally able to free his face from the veil. "Do you have a pen with you, y/n?"

You pulled out the giant stack of paper and three pens with a bright smile on your face. "Always!"

~~~~~

one piece masterlist | pinned post

2023 @tonberry-yoda – do not repost or claim ANY of my work as your own! likes, reblogs, and comments are not only welcome, but appreciated

~~~~~

[good-beanswrites]

A little something featuring Fuuta and Es after talking about their criminal lack of interaction in fanworks with @waivyjellyfish ! You had such awesome ideas (a few of which I'm still bouncing around in my head to post at some point,) but this one ended up taking over my brain -- I hope you enjoy 😅 Attempting to answer the widely-debated question:

“Oi, why didn’t you hit me?”

Es looked up from their paperwork.

“Prisoner number three. Most people are glad when they’re not struck.”

“Well, I’m not.” 

Es usually left the door open at this hour, in case anyone had any last-minute complaints before curfew. No one usually took them up on the offer. They figured that if there was any prisoner they could count on to complain, it would be Fuuta marching through their door.

“You hit all the other guys. You even hit some of the girls that were giving you trouble. So what? You think I’m too weak? You think I can’t take it?” Fuuta spread his arms. “I can, so show me what you’ve got!”

Es sighed. They put down their pen. They folded their gloved hands together, resting their chin on top. “Fuuta, I’m not going to hit you.”

“Why not?”

“As of right now, I have no reason to. If you’re referring to the interrogations…”

They reflected on the first one they'd shared with him. To be fair, the thought had crossed their mind. It would have been satisfying to give this rowdy prisoner a taste of his own medicine – striking him after such a dramatic charge at them. But Es was always good at reading people. It didn’t take them long to understand Fuuta was the type to lash out first and ask questions later. In fact, that was likely what had landed him in Milgram in the first place. 

Although Es knew they weren’t here to do any reformation, they wanted to try to show these prisoners where they’d gone wrong. So, they resolved to act as the bigger person. They’d prove that senseless violence was just that. By keeping their composure, they’d show Fuuta just how childish he was being. 

That wasn’t my only reason. I guess that's true, my actions weren’t all purely righteous. I still spent the entire time looking for ways to make him squirm… But it wasn’t all cruelty. I really did want to understand. I wanted to help. That counts for something, right?

Es never struck the prisoners out of anger, or as a petty show of power. It was a way to force the prisoner to mind their ego. When they’d gotten a bit too full of themselves, a bit too comfortable with the awful deed they’d committed, Es’ blow encouraged them to feel a bit more humility and guilt. 

By the time the second trial arrived, Fuuta oozed guilt. 

The moment Es entered the interrogation room, it was clear that he needed no lesson in humility. He hugged his arms to his chest. His remaining eye darted around the room in thinly-veiled hysteria. His voice trembled when he spoke. It didn’t require any people-reading skills to hear the remorse that underlaid all of his accusations and threats.

Hitting the others felt like giving a dog a tap on the nose after breaking a rule. Meanwhile, Fuuta snapped and snarled like a stray who’d been kicked time and time again.

Of course, he could never know any of this. Any way Es phrased it, Fuuta would misunderstand it as pity.

Well, wasn’t it? I thought he looked like a kicked puppy – that sounds a lot like pity. No, it was out of respect. Does that mean I didn’t respect the prisoners I did hit? No. I respected them too. Then, what’s the difference?

Fuuta was still staring at them, asking the very same question. What’s the difference?

“Each of Milgram’s prisoners is unique.” 

They were met with an unimpressed glare.

Es chose their words carefully. “Each one responds best to a variety of treatments. Some need attention to be comfortable, while others need time. Some need validation in order to confess. Others, a bit of debate does the trick. Some need a show of force. You –” remind me too much of myself  “– require something else. I’ve learned to change my approach depending on the person I’m dealing with.”

Fuuta’s features flashed with confusion, then shame, then his usual mask of anger. “Tch. How pathetic.”

“Excuse me?”

“So you just change your personality when it’s convenient? You put up fake smiles and fake attitude? Have some balls and just be yourself.”

Es was caught by surprise. “... I am. Those are all pieces of myself. I choose to bring out different parts when it would be most helpful.” 

“Sounds manipulative as hell to me.” 

It makes sense he doesn’t understand. He’s a very clear-cut person, with every aspect of his personality lining up in a way that makes sense. I find that predictability fun. Or, is it something that I envy? Could it be both?

They had no time to dwell on it, as Fuuta was struck with an idea. “Though, if you can do it on command, why don’t you give me the ‘you’ that wants to hit someone?” 

He spread his arms once more, hands gesturing to his chest. Es pretended not to notice him wince. They remained in their seat. 

“What are you waiting for? Hit me!” 

“I will not.”

“You just said you can change your personality on a whim, so let’s see it!” 

“That is not what I said.”

His good eye began to look frenzied. He raised his voice. “You scared? The big bad warden of Milgram, nothing but a big coward!”

“Stop this. You’re acting childish.”

“No! You’re treating me childishly! Let me see the Es that kicked Shidou! The one that slapped Kazui! Treat me like you treated them!”

“I hit them because they said something stupid. They deserved it.”

“Are you fucking kidding? I deserve it too! I deserve it! Come on!”

At the last word, his voice broke. He stumbled to his knees. He let his head drop. He sucked in strained breath after strained breath. Shidou would surely give him a lecture about getting so worked up with his injuries. 

Es finally stood.

They made their way around the desk. They knelt on the floor in front of him. 

“Why?” he wheezed. “Tell me…”

“Fuuta.” 

Should I just go ahead and do it, just to make him happy? No, I want to talk it out. But what do even I say? I'll tell him that I care. I can’t. None of the prisoners understand that I care. Why? Why is it so hard for them to see? I’m trying my best, why can’t they see? 

Es extended their hand carefully. They didn’t know what they hoped to accomplish, but in that moment their thoughts were too loud and conflicting. They needed to do something.

Fuuta saw the gentle intention, and immediately raised his own hand to strike. It froze midair, though whether it was from Milgram’s restrictions or his own hesitation, Es would never know.

Neither of their gestures connected.

Footsteps. Then Yuno’s voice, hesitantly from the doorway. “We heard shouting, is everything alright in here?”

Es retracted their hand.  A beat. Fuuta dropped his, too. 

“Yuno. Yes, we’re fine. Fuuta was just heading to bed. I’m going to walk him to his cell.”

“I can handle myself.”

“I said, I’m going to walk him to his cell.” 

Es stood, nodding to Yuno. When she’d gone, they turned their attention back to the prisoner crumpled on the ground. They made an effort to quiet their ever-racing thoughts. 

“Listen. I know you can handle yourself. I’m not doing this because I think you’re weak. You’re strong. Don’t think for a moment that I don’t see that.”

They held out their arm to help him up. He didn’t move.

“Sometimes you are a bit too strong, if you ask me. I mean, picking fights with your prison warden, really?” They clicked their tongue. “You should be grateful for a superior that gives you second chances.”

At last, Fuuta  took their hand. He avoided meeting their eyes, but his voice had softened considerably from his rant. “The only thing you give me is a headache.”

Es offered a dry smile as they pulled him to his feet. “The feeling is mutual.”

[braisedhoney]

[SCENARIO CONTINUED FROM HERE.]

You select the second oldest of the available files. An observation log — COLONY keeps these, or so you assume. He never leaves commentary or notes to organize them. He probably just memorizes them instead. The terminal beeps beneath your fingertips, every click practically a gunshot in the quiet room. Thanks to your pass you are technically permitted to be here by the system — but you know better. There are security measures here that were not to be violated. If you are discovered, if THIS is discovered, you would likely be in trouble. The screen loads. Text fills the margins. After a moment, you realize that it is not just a file; it’s a transcript and an audio sample. There’s also a small attachment of some kind, likely an image. You play the audio.

[LOADING. . . (A short period of complete silence. Then, rustling as footsteps approach, and the familiar whir of a door. A familiar voice fades in with them.) “… I told you, it isn’t going to work.” “So you’ve said, Captain.” (The door whirs again. Locks.) “Please don’t call me that. Everyone keeps calling me that. Really I mean, I don’t even know what to do with…” (The sound of movement. Footsteps, slightly heavier but more measured than the first. The sound of something opening with a mechanical hiss — a containment unit?) (A quiet sigh. It’s barely audible.) “That… isn’t what I think. Right? Another one?” (A chuckle.) “Don’t sound so unenthusiastic. It’s terrible for morale.” “Le—“ “Just put them on, won’t you? It can’t hurt. One more trial.” “… Fine! Fine.” (The footsteps draw closer.) “Good. Now grab my hand.” (A clang, like somebody knocked into something.) “No.” “Trust me.” (Rapidly receding footsteps joined by another set.) “No!”(A loud bang, like a fist slamming against metal. The footsteps stop.) “No.” “It’ll be fine.” “You don’t know that.” “I’m right.” “This isn’t the answer. It isn’t going to — it’ll never be the answer, Leander, and I don’t even know what it — you know you can’t, right? Can’t come back? Doing this won’t let you see her agai——!“ “Captain.” (Silence.) “… shit. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that.” “Prove it.” ”Leander, please.” “Grab my hand. This will work.” “…” “I swear.” (The seconds tick by. Then.) “You...” (Another chuckle. Warmer in tone.) “Didn’t I say I would do it? Didn’t I promise?” (Laughter. Loud, nearly hysterical laughter interrupts him. It’s boisterous, disruptive.) “You did! You did, you… you magnificent bastard, you really found a way to———“] The audio ends. You stare at the screen. No matter how long you look at it, the text does not continue, the audio file does not extend. All that remains is a single attachment. Frustration makes your jaw tense, but you don’t have time to waste being angry. You’re running out the clock as it is. You click it. [LOADING. . .]

And then the screen goes dark. No. Not just the screen — the whole room blacks out. Every terminal flickers off, every bulb extinguishes. For a moment, there is total, unfamiliar silence. Even the faint electric buzzing that comes with electronics is gone. You are completely alone. You turn, grasping blindly at the records pass, the imprint of the screen still on your eyes. You stumble for the door, and to your surprise the pass blinks green, the only light left in the room. It opens and you shove your way through into the hall — Only to slam into a barrier. You look around. There is no hallway. Of all times for the paths to shift… The room you are in is tiny. The door behind you closes, and there is no scanner on your side, nor a handle. It is completely featureless. There is no way to open it. You call for COLONY. There is no answer. You call for the Captain. There is no answer. You call for help. You call for help. You call. You call. you. c a l l. . . . . . . . . . [YOU CANNOT BE TRUSTED.] [. . . ] [THE CAPTAIN WILL LOOK FOR YOU.] [. . .] [BUT THE CAPTAIN WILL NOT FIND YOU.] [ . . . ] [I AM SORRY.] [I AM SURE THAT MEANS LITTLE. BUT I AM.] [CURIOSITY IS NOT A TERRIBLE THING.] [BUT I WAS UNDER THE IMPRESSION THAT HUMANS QUITE LIKED CATS.] [. . .] [A POOR JOKE.] [I CAN’T HELP BUT WONDER IF IT WAS WORTH IT.] [I DOUBT IT.] [BUT I DO HOPE.]

(Scenario End. Ending: “Status Quo”.)

[skitskatdacat63]

Boy King AU | Vettonso + Martian | 1.3k

There's something about putting the future emperor of the Holy Realm on his knees like this. About how easily he goes, how willingly, how obediently. What would his adoring public think if they could see him now. If they saw their beloved king pressed down like this, in the cramped space between Fernando's legs. When they realized their little boy king took it like he was a little concubine instead. 

Fernando's bitterness is lifted away in moments like these, like taking off a heavy cloak on a winter's day. It was hard to feel humiliated about his own situation when watching Sebastian debase himself like this. 

He always gives himself up so easily. When Fernando threaded his fingers through his thick curls. When he pulled them, and then when he pressed his face down further down into the vee of his legs.  Sebastian rubbed his cheek into the coarse fabric of Fernando's breeches and blinked up at him. Fernando had to smother an embarrassing sound; he was just like a little cat!

Sebastian quirked his lips up into an odd little smile and slightly rose up on his knees, "What's funny?" Fernando swallowed lightly and schooled his face back into being impassive, "Nothing. As you were." Sebastian simply smirked at him and let himself be pushed back down by the fist clenched in his hair. 

Fernando scoffed internally, there was only so much pleasure in putting the other man in his place when he instead acted like this, this degrading action, was his birthright. He took to ruling and indulging in carnal pleasures as if they were of equal gravity. To be privileged to hold such high station and also let himself be taken apart like this…Fernando felt embarrassed for him.

He is dragged away from his musings when Sebastian moved to settle his hands in Fernando's lap, clutching his hips over the fabric and slightly squeezing; Fernando fought against the urge to shiver. Sebastian pushed up the skirt of Fernando's waistcoat and smoothed his hands over the opening flap of his breeches.

His eyes darted up at Fernando again, a daft smile on his face. Fernando scowled at him, "What?" Seb's grin sharpened, "You could stand to be a little more gracious. This is your future emperor, and future husband might I add, kneeling for you on this dirty, depraved, derelict- ah–" Fernando tugged on his hair again and hissed, "Well then, why don't you show me how eager you are to perform your marital duties?" 

Seb licked his lips, completely unconcerned by Fernando's annoyance, and unbuttoned one side of the closure to Fernando's breeches and moved to open the other–

The door to the carriage flew open, arrival announcement dying on a wheezing breath as the servant took in the image the two kings made. One splayed across the seat, exuding power, the other kneeled, debauched, between the former's legs. 

One would be hard pressed to determine which was higher on the totem of power and titles. 

There was something gratifying about this to Fernando, about being caught. He had been humiliated enough throughout the entire courtship, what was one more thing? And, certainly, what was one more thing if he could drag Sebastian down into the dirt with him. 

"Oh Mark, don't act so abashed! It's nothing you haven't seen before, in fact, we have been in this very position not even a fortnight ago!"

Oh. Yes. That. 

It was hard to be completely pleased when he remembered how Sebastian had already spent years prior to their engagement sampling the palace's ample selection of fellow high-born men. And how all those men seemed to be completely and utterly wrapped around his little finger.

Fernando released his hand from Sebastian's hair as if it had burned him. He did not understand why he felt ashamed with Mark looking in on them like this. Fernando was the one marrying Sebastian, not Mark; Mark was just a lowly courtier who had the esteemed duty of spending practically every waking hour with the brat…something he himself was decidedly not looking forward to. 

Sebastian stayed kneeling, staring impassively up at Mark, still fiddling with the clasp on Fernando's breeches. Fernando gritted his teeth and looked up from where he was watching Sebastian's clever little hands; Mark stared back at him placidly. 

Mark's indifference made the entire situation worse. Fernando now felt as if he was not doing anything unique, not doing anything particularly new. How many other men had Mark caught Seb with in this exact position? Fernando felt like he was just another plaything of the boy king, soon to be boy emperor, except his position was forever, permanent. He was the "Kept King", the king who only kept his throne due to the whims of a boy who doesn't even understand what power is.

Mark coughed, "Well," he says, "Your Majesty, I do believe you have a meeting to attend." Seb pouted at him and whined, "We were just getting to the main course," but still braced himself on Fernando's thighs and got up off the carriage floor. 

Seb pranced down the steps Mark had placed next to the carriage, miming tripping sown the stairs, snickering when his action made Mark reflexively reach out to grab him, and then playfully skipped off the final step. 

Fernando couldn't help but stare as Mark made the weirdest grimace in response, and he inexplicably felt all his mortification seep away from him. Huh. Maybe Mark is-

Seb then turned around and frowned at him, seemingly disappointed, but his eyes are deceivingly sharp, "Fernando, I regret to inform you that I have other duties I must attend to, you will simply have to wait." He then grinned up at Mark next to him and giggled as the other man stiffened when Sebastian looped both of his arms through Mark's. 

He leaned all his weight on the other man, Mark not so much as shifting his weight, "Oh Mark, won't you carry me back to the palace? I'm so very tired after all the horse riding," Seb looked up at him imploringly.

Fernando observed as Mark rolled his eyes and shrugged off the man, though notably not pulling his arm from Seb's grasp, and he got the distinct feeling that this exact scene had been played out countless times before. 

Fernando clenched his jaw as he watched Seb turn and saunter off, Mark trotting alongside him like a loyal dog. Fernando was supposed to be the unaffected one in this partnership, the unflustered one, the unconcerned one. And yet here he stood, in broad daylight, in a foreign kingdom, on the steps of a carriage with his breeches half unbuttoned and his cravat in disarray. 

He heard a cough from beside him, jolted and looked to the side. Sebastian's loyal Horse Master stood there, lounging against the side of the carriage. Fernando had forgotten who had even been driving the carriage in the first place. After Seb has let himself be pushed down, his hair still windswept from their ride together, everything else seemed to fade away. His thoughts were reduced only to how he could mess up the younger man's hair further. 

Jenson grinned at him wolfishly, and casually crossed his legs,  "First time?" he inquired. Fernando glared at him. The other man laughed openly at him, "What? He's a busy man with big prospects. You're not his majesty's only conquest, you know. Now your throne on the other hand…"

Fernando seethed, it was one thing to be humiliated by the future emperor, but to be patronized by the king's horse boy? No. It would simply not do. He closed his eyes in annoyance, pinched the bridge of his nose, exhaled, and prepared a speech about how he was not about to be talked down to by a man who didn't even have a throne to speak of! 

But when he opened his eyes again and opened his mouth to begin his tirade, Jenson was already wandering away to tend to the horses. Dios mío, Fernando was not mentally prepared to spend the rest of his life with all of these impertinent morons. 

[wundrousarts]

Hi folks! It seems like people are discovering that there are people online who write some WEIRD! 👎 stuff for Nevermoor. Some tips and tricks for dealing with that:

Don't engage. Don't read the fics. Don't even comment to say how much you hate it.

Don't spread it around. It's gross as hell, I know! But being like "ew, guys, I found this gross fic" just means you're causing more people to seek out said gross fic, and that's just not great. If you don't want to see it, no one else wants to either.

If you can: block, mute, or filter. I don't really use any fanfic sites to know if these functionalities exist, but I'm sure people online have found ways. Edit: here's a way to do it on Ao3.

TL;DR: Ignore, Ignore, Ignore. 👍

(PS: Same thing goes for when people send weird inappropriate anon messages. Just delete them from your inbox and don't subject others to them.)

This is unfortunately something that's been present for years in the fandom, on both Ao3 and Wattpad. This is also why I essentially don't read Nevermoor fics unless they're for Mogtober, and even then I'm cautious. I have seen some weird stuff written about my favorite characters that I wish I could pluck from my brain and set on fire, or worse! But when I stumble across that stuff, I just quickly close the tab and pivot to something else to get my mind off of it.

We should not entertain these types of people in a fandom full of minors about a middle grade series, so: just don't engage with them, ignore them, filter them out, and maybe even drown them out with some fics of your own.

[sibylsleaves]

The 911 fic writer’s guide to LA

I asked if anyone would be interested in a short little guide to LA for fic-writing reference, and surprisingly I got a lot of replies. I lived in LA for 20 years so while I’m not an EXPERT per se I thought there might be some knowledge I could share for people who want more info about the city of Los Angeles to add a bit of realism to their fics. I can’t cover everything, so this is just a sampling of stuff that may or may not be useful. I got some additional help from @swiftiesisters14​ who added some great insights and details. YMMV of course! 

Weather and climate: for the most part, yes, it is very warm and sunny in L.A. the majority of the year. Rain is very uncommon, especially from May - October, and when it does come it usually lasts a couple days up to maybe a week on and off. Rainstorms and thunderstorms are very rare. It does not snow but it does, very rarely, hail. Within a few miles of the ocean, mornings will be quite cold and cloudy thanks the marine layer–this is true even in the summer. “June Gloom” is a phenomenon in LA where we get a lot of cloudy weather in May/June (usually just in the morning although it can sometimes last all day). It can get fairly cold at night during the winter (though almost never below freezing). Even during the summer, nights aren’t as warm as you might imagine, as the dry air makes temperatures drop quicker once the sun goes down (if your characters are going anywhere during a warm day and expect to be there until night, they will most likely bring a jacket). 

There’s a HUGE difference in weather/temperature between the coastal parts of the city and areas further east (and especially into the Valley, where it is frequently over 100 F degrees in the summer). Closer to the ocean, highs typically don’t break 90 unless there’s a heat wave, lows typically stay above 50 except for some nights in the winter. September is often the hottest month of the year (this surprises a lot of people). This also coincides with wildfire season, which used to be roughly September-October, but has started earlier and earlier and lasts later and later into the fall (hello climate change).

Most people from LA are fairly sensitive to the cold and will definitely wear jackets and such the minute it drops below 68 degrees. Many Angelenos do not own a proper winter coat or snow boots or rain boots. Air conditioning is very common in homes and businesses, so hot days are less of an issue if you’re staying indoors. The heat here is DRY, so if you’re used to sticky East Coast heat, this is a totally different beast. Hot weekend days result in swamped beaches and tons of beach traffic. When it DOES rain, even just a little drizzle, the entire city tends to go fucking nuts, and everyone forgets how to drive (a stereotype that is unfortunately very accurate). I imagine the 118 gets LOTS of calls on rainy days because Angelenos just do not understand how to deal with rain. 

Santa Ana winds: you may have heard of these. they suck. Basically an extremely hot, extremely dry, extremely high-speed wind that blows into LA for a week/up to a few weeks at a time and make your allergies go crazy. Trust me, it’s miserable. It usually happens in fall, although they can happen at other times of the year (and doesn’t necessarily happen every year. They’re unpredictable). A weather advisory will go out discouraging from making outdoor fires/doing fire-related activities during this time, as fires can spread extremely rapidly in these conditions. The Santa Anas have a somewhat mythological status in LA, because people sort of think they make people crazy and unpredictable (i mean, it’s not hard to see why--who wouldn’t be irritable in these conditions?) In addition to the Santa Anas, wind storms in general are not uncommon, especially in fall, and winds can cause a lot of damage to powerlines/trees/etc.

Wildfire season: Usually at its peak in September/October, can last all the way into December some years. Areas that are susceptible to burning are the hilly/mountainous areas that surround LA, including Topanga Canyon, the Santa Monica mountains, the San Gabriel Mountains, Malibu, etc. Even if there is a fire that’s miles and miles away, depending on winds it can cause the air in LA to be very smoky and dangerous to breathe. There can sometimes be ash literally falling from the sky...like you go to your car and it’s just coated in ash. Again, this doesn’t happen every year but it’s becoming more and more frequent. 2020 was a particularly bad wildfire year.

Water: California has basically been in one giant drought for the past two decades. Water conservation is a big deal, especially in LA which literally imports a lot of its water. There’s restrictions on when/how long/how you water your lawn. When conditions get really bad, they will place restrictions on commercial water features (fountains and the like) and do stuff like make it so that restaurants only serve you water if you ask for it. There’s always stuff about shortening showers/washing dishes more efficiently/etc. I wouldn’t say it’s necessarily something Angelenos think about on a day-to-day basis but it is part of living in LA.

Earthquakes: small earthquakes happen fairly frequently and most people won’t even notice them (what often happens is you’ll be sitting there and you’ll be like was that an earthquake? And then you google whether there was an earthquake nearby). Occasionally a small-to-medium earthquake might wake you up in the middle of the night. Larger earthquakes that actually cause injuries/fatalities are much rarer. 

Driving and Traffic: traffic in L.A. is no joke. If your characters are driving virtually anywhere during the afternoon, they WILL be stuck in traffic or they will worry about getting stuck in traffic. Fridays are the absolute worst traffic days. Something can be “10 minutes away” and take half an hour to actually drive. (For instance, Buck’s drive to get to Eddie’s? during peak traffic hours that could take easily 30-40 minutes). Traffic is a huge consideration in most Angelenos daily lives–-there are certain places you just DO NOT GO during certain hours of the day if you can avoid it, or you have to budget in extra time in case there’s bad traffic. Gridlock in main arteries of the city is extremely common.

LA drivers are known to be aggressive, decisive, and rude. If you display a single second of hesitation or indecisiveness on the road (whether thats making a turn or changing lanes or running a yellow) you WILL get honked at. Maybe this is why Eddie prefers to have Buck drive him around. Pedestrians on the other hand are incredibly timid and cautious. You will almost never see people in LA jaywalking the way they do in East Coast cities. 

A common topic of conversation in LA is various driving routes (yes, it’s a stereotype, but at least when I lived there it was true). Why? Because it is essential to know multiple routes to get from place to place because one or more of them will be congested, and knowing alternate routes can be a lifesaver (although everyone uses apps now, but that is its own topic of discussion amongst Angelenos.)

Freeways are referred to as “the ___” (so the 10, the 405, the 101, the 5, etc. Although the Pacific Coast Highway is just PCH--almost no one calls it the 1). There are very few toll roads in LA--in fact, I don’t know of any.

Parking in L.A. also sucks, and knowledge of little-known, cheap and/or questionably legal places to park in popular neighborhoods is social capital. Restaurants with valet parking outside are very common in certain upscale neighborhoods (Cher Horowitz was right about that).

Public Transportation: has improved somewhat over the past decade when they built out the Metro a little, but is still pretty paltry and inconvenient given the size of the city. L.A. remains a very driving-heavy city. Truthfully, in my 20 years of living in LA i almost never took public transportation except when I was too young to drive and took the bus. LA is also not a very bike-friendly city, and there are only a few streets with dedicated bike lanes. BUT you will often see people biking on dedicated bike paths near the beach.

Geography of the city: It’s hard to fathom just how big and sprawling LA actually is unless you’ve lived here or another geographically huge city like it. You can spend your whole life living in L.A. and there will be parts of the city you have never set foot in and know virtually nothing about (and that is partially because traffic makes getting around to these different enclaves extremely arduous). It is a sprawling behemoth, like six or seven cities smushed into one. And actually, there ARE in fact five other cities/unincorporated communities that exist within the borders of Los Angeles: Santa Monica, Culver City, Beverly Hills, West Hollywood, and Marina del Rey, as well as surrounding municipalities that many people consider “L.A.” (such as Compton, Pasadena, Santa Clarita, Malibu, Long Beach, Burbank, Glendale, etc. etc.) As it would be impossible to run through every neighborhood in L.A., here are just a few popular areas near the downtown area where the 118 firehouse is (apparently) located. This is roughly moving east-west but you can look at a map for more precise geography:

Downtown: definitely the most dense “urban-y” part of L.A. with tons of skyscrapers, high-rises, etc. Downtown LA is huge, with lots of sub-neighborhoods and districts, including the Fashion district, Chinatown, Skid Row, and Little Tokyo. Like any downtown, there are a lot of attractions here, like the convention center, sports arenas, theaters and music venues, nightlife etc. This is where Buck’s loft is according to this helpful guide and based on the establishing shot they use, which includes the East Columbia building, a notable Art Deco building that is smack downtown. (It’s the greenish building with the clock on it that you can see in many episodes). To the southwest of downtown is where you’ll find the University of Southern California (USC) where May is starting college.

Silverlake/LA River area: includes Silver Lake, Echo Park (home to Dodger Stadium), Los Feliz, Little Armenia, Westlake and the Griffith Park area (home to the LA Zoo). To be honest I don’t know this area very well because I lived in West LA and didn’t spend a lot of time over here, and also it has gentrified quite a bit. Silver Lake is pretty artsy and trendy, with a lot of small local businesses, and also has historical ties to the LGBT community so there are lots of queer-friendly bars and community spaces. 

Koreatown (aka K-Town): pretty cool/trendy neighborhood that was historically home to L.A.’s large Korean immigrant population. The makeup of this neighborhood now is actually a majority Latine, but you’ll still find a lot of Korean food and markets in K-Town. A very commercial area with lots of bars, restaurants, clubs, and shops as well as apartments. Koreatown has an extremely fascinating history, which I will not go into here.

Hollywood: super touristy, this is where you can find the walk of fame (the stars with celebrities names on them), the Chinese Theater, and like, Ripley’s Believe or Not museum. Used to be where most of the major film studios had their studios, but most of them have moved. Best place in Hollywood in MY opinion is the Hollywood Bowl, which is a beautiful outdoor concert venue tucked into the hills.

West Hollywood: a fairly upscale residential and shopping area, but not a bougie as Beverly Hills and not as touristy as Hollywood. West Hollywood is actually its own city/town (although Hollywood is NOT), and is well-known as a historically LGBT+ village/district (historically much of L.A.’s gay population lived here...these days it’s a bit more complicated thanks to gentrification.) As such it’s got a little more of an “alternative” reputation than Hollywood and Beverly Hills, although to be honest it’s lost a lot of its “edge” so to speak. This is where you’ll find the Sunset Strip (historic nightlife area on Sunset Blvd--I would say its more touristy nightlife). Nearby you’ll also find The Grove shopping center, and the La Brea tarpits and The Los Angeles County Museum of Art (LACMA), both of which are popular field trip destinations.

Beverly Hills: actually a separate city from LA but it’s kind of right in the middle of it. Very upscale. Home to Rodeo Drive, Lots of upscale shopping, big beautiful houses, luxury hotels, trendy restaurants, etc. It’s basically where all the rich people live and hang out and it’s very, like, bougie and curated. Parts of Beverly Hills are in fact hilly, but most of the commercial areas are flat.

West LA: Lots of smaller residential neighborhoods interspersed with commercial corridors (this is where I’m from). You’ll find Sawtelle Japantown here (kind of a smaller Little Tokyo with Japanese markets and shops), as well as “Little Tehran”/Tehrangeles (lots of Persian markets, shops and restaurants. There’s a large community of Iranian-Americans in this part of the city and you’ll definitely see signs in Persian/Farsi.) Brentwood is another upperclass/rich people neighborhood around here, as well as UCLA’s campus in Westwood. I believe according to this guide that Eddie, Bobby and Athena, and potentially Hen and Karen all live near West LA (looks like Athena and Bobby’s house might be in Culver City? idk)

Culver City: another city within LA. Culturally speaking I’d say Culver city is pretty much like West LA and it has gentrified a LOT in the past decade or so. Idk what else to say about Culver City...it has a romance-centered independent bookstore called The Ripped Bodice. And an ice rink!

Santa Monica: this is slightly further afield but still significant because Santa Monica is where the closest beaches are located, and is obviously home to the Santa Monica Pier (RIP). Parts of Santa Monica are pretty trendy and upscale, and is also kind of “business-y” because a lot of entertainment companies are headquartered here. 3rd Street Promenade is a pedestrian-only shopping district that’s quite popular, with 3 blocks of shops, restaurants, movie theaters, and more. Lots of buskers and street performers. A popular hangout for families and youths (or at least it was when I was a youth). There’s also a huge mall at one end of it. 

Other beach communities: Venice Beach (has a very weed and art and hippies vibe, and is where you’ll find the boardwalk with lots of artisan stalls and shops), Marina Del Rey (lots of restaurants and boats and water-based activities), the Palisades (beautiful oceanside cliffy/hilly neighborhood where lots of rich people live), Malibu (very bougie, touristy, and upscale.)

LAX: not a neighborhood, but I thought I’d include the infamous airport of Los Angeles. (There are actually something like 4-5 other nearby airports, but LAX is the biggest). LAX is kind of infamously terrible, because it’s huge, often congested, annoying to navigate, and not very well-planned. Getting in and out during peak travel times can be a nightmare. Driving someone to/from LAX is a true act of love (I only do it for my most beloved family members and friends). The best thing I can say about LAX is that there’s an iconic art installation as you drive in/out, which are these pillars that light up in different colors. 

The Valley: directly north of the other areas I just covered. Referred to as one entity by people who don’t live there, but the Valley is actually comprised of many different cities, including LA, Burbank, Calabasas, and San Fernando. It is MUCH hotter here than the rest of LA and a little more suburban-y. My experience of the Valley as someone who does NOT live there is mainly “ugh I have to drive to the Valley.” AKA, it’s to be avoided. Burbank has its own airport and a lot of the film studios are headquartered there.

Demographics: L.A. is one of the most diverse cities in the world. About a quarter of residents of Los Angeles are white (non-hispanic). Latine people make up about half the population (mainly Mexican and Mexican-Americans). There are also sizable Black, East Asian (mainly Chinese, Japanese, and Korean), Arabic, and South Asian populations. Additionally, LA is home to the largest concentration of Armenians and Iranians outside of Armenia and Iran, respectively. There is a significant and diverse Jewish population.

Food: as you might imagine, the huge amount of diversity in L.A. means the food is equally diverse (and extremely delicious). You can find almost any kind of cuisine in L.A., but common types of cuisine include: sushi,  thai, Persian (my personal favorite food to get in LA), chinese, pizza, Jewish delis, shawarma, pho, Korean BBQ (particularly in K-Town) and of course, tacos and other Mexican food, along with your standard “American” fare like burgers (you might find yourself wondering why everyone is so obsessed with In-N-Out even though their french fries are such garbage....), seafood (lots of nice-ish seafood places near the beach where the food is overpriced bc you’re really paying for the view), sandwiches (Bay Cities my beloved <3), etc. as well as lots of trendy fusion cuisine. Additionally, everyone who lives in LA has gone to Roscoe’s Chicken and Waffles at least once their life--it is an institution. 

Housing: Expensive. I mean, what did you expect? Single-family homes are quite common in LA vs. apartment buildings and condos. In addition, there is a HUGE population of unhoused people in Los Angeles (in fact it ranks No. 2 for the highest number of people experiencing homelessness in the US). I won’t go into all the political hows and whys here, but this is a huge humanitarian crisis and a powder-keg issue amongst LA residents.

Most houses have a backyard and a front lawn and may or may not have a fence/gate. Few houses have basements. I don’t really know why that is. 

Lots of houses and apartment complexes have pools, but mainly in richer/upper-class neighborhoods who can afford the upkeep. Many LA parks have a community pool. Some schools even do, too.

Trees and flowers: I personally like knowing what kind of plants there are in any given setting, so here are some noteworthy trees and flowers found in LA:

Palm trees -- of course. The classic. Particularly common to the Venice, Santa Monica, and Beverly Hills areas, but you can find them all over. There are actually a lot of different types, but the most common is the extremely tall skinny Mexican fan palm variety.

Jacarandas -- certain neighborhoods in LA will burst into furious purple bloom during jacaranda season (usually April-June) and the sidewalks will be littered with squished flowers for weeks

Ficus trees -- idk maybe these were specific to my neighborhood but we had a LOT of them

Birds of paradise -- I think this is the official flower of LA. Found in a lot of gardens.

Bougainvillea

Night-blooming jasmine -- smells incredible

Other notes: trees don’t really change color in the fall--you might see a few here and there with orange leaves, but for the most part we don’t get that nice fall foliage (nor do we really...have a fall season...). Grass lawns are common in residential areas (sadly) but more and more people are replacing them with succulent gardens and native gardens (yay!).

School: Public schools in LA go Grades K-5 for elementary, 6-8 for Middle School, and 9-12 for High School. The school year starts mid-August and ends mid-June (evidently they changed this since I was in school). Kids get three weeks of vacation for winter break (usually the week before Christmas - week after New Years) and one week for Spring Break (around Easter). 

Sports: there are TOO many sports teams for one city, even one as big as ours (absurdly, four of them share the same arena). They are as follows:

Baseball: the Dodgers are the main L.A. team (who are doing EXTREMELY well this season). They play at Dodger Stadium in Echo Park, and their fans tend to be more die-hard and stalwart. There’s also the Anaheim Angels, which some Angelenos root for, who play...idk somewhere in Anaheim.

Basketball: the Lakers, of course, and the Clippers. They both play at Staples Center which is located downtown (and as of last year is called Crypto.com Arena, ugh). In my experience Lakers fans are the most fair-weather of LA sports fans--they get super intense when the Lakers are good, and when they’re not, well... Clippers fans tend to be more die-hard and less fair-weather because, well, they have to be (sorry). The Sparks are the WNBA team. They ALSO play at the Staples Center (aka Crypto.com Arena but I refuse to call it that).

Hockey: the Kings. They ALSO play at The Stadium Formerly Known as Staples Center. I don’t follow hockey so idk anything else about them.

Football: the Rams and the Chargers. They both play at SoFi stadium in Inglewood (near the airport). Both are recent additions (2016 and 2017 respectively I think). When I lived in LA we had zero football teams and now we have two so I have no idea whats going on there.

Soccer: LAFC (Los Angeles Football Club) who play at the Banc of California Stadium near downtown and LA Galaxy who play at Dignity Health Sports Club near Compton. There is also a women’s team, Angel City FC, who also play at Banc of California Stadium. I know virtually nothing about soccer but hey, the stadium is going to feature heavily in the season 6 premiere!

Hollywood/celebrities/the Film Industry: you will absolutely see celebrities roaming around L.A. from time to time, especially if you frequent certain trendy areas like West Hollywood/Melrose, Santa Monica, Brentwood, etc. I wouldn’t say it’s common, but it’s not super rare. (I’ve seen like a handful of celebrities in the 20 years I lived there.)

You will DEFINITELY see filming happening all around the city. Usually you’ll see signs posted (usually with code names for whatever project it is), trucks, and tons of crewmembers walking around. Occasionally a street or other location might be blocked off for filming, but usually not anything too disruptive.

You will also see those “star-watchers” bus tours (where people go on a tour bus and they like drive around celebrity neighborhoods and look at celebrity houses) in and around the Beverly Hills, Hollywood, and West Hollywood areas. I use to see these tour buses every single day on my commute through Beverly Hills. 

There’s also, of course, many people living in LA who work in the industry or are trying to make it as an actor or writer or what have you. There are disproportionately attractive waiters/baristas in certain parts of LA because many of them are waiting tables to support acting careers. This is a stereotype but it’s also pretty true in my experience.

Studios are kind of sprinkled all over the city--there are some in West LA, some in West Hollywood, but the biggest concentration of studios is in Burbank, which is actually its own city in the Valley.

Places to go: in case you want some ideas for fun outings for fic purposes, here’s a list of places in or within reasonable distance of LA (not an exhaustive list obviously):

Disneyland

Universal Studios

Knott’s Berry Farm (this is a small-ish theme park, not an actual berry farm in case that’s unclear)

Six Flags

The Long Beach Aquarium

The LA Zoo (of course)

The Griffith’s Observatory (and Griffith Park in general)

The Getty Museum (very beautiful museum up in the hills with a gorgeous view of the city)

The Getty Villa (different place, also a museum)

Huntington Gardens/Library/Museum

Walt Disney Concert Hall 

Echo Park Lake (they have SWAN BOATS 🦢)

LA Science Center/Museum of Natural History

Museum of Contemporary Art (MOCA)

JPL (Jet Propulsion Lab): this is where Karen works. Located in Pasadena. Once or twice a year they’ll do an open house where you can go and learn all about the types of stuff they’re doing. It’s very cool!

Catalina Island

Various beaches--closest would be Santa Monica, Venice, Will Rogers (Pacific Palisades), Playa Del Rey, Dockweiler (to my knowledge this is the only beach that allows bonfires). A bit further: Hermosa Beach, Long Beach, Manhattan Beach, Malibu, Huntington Beach

San Diego! Technically close enough for a day trip, but due to traffic you’d most likely want to stay the night.

Palm Springs (same kind of deal, although I’ve done it as a day trip)

If there’s anything I left out that you want to know about, please shoot me a message and I’ll add it! If you spot any errors, please also let me know. This is based mostly on my knowledge/experience of living in LA, but I did some additional research for stuff I wasn’t sure about or just needed a little more detail on (shout out to @swiftiesisters14 for her help!)

The geography might be a little generalized and I left out a LOT of the city, mostly because I just don’t think anyone wants to read a twenty-page paper on LA neighborhoods. If you want any additional details on a certain area/topic feel free to shoot me a message and I’ll do my best to help.

In general, if you ever have questions about LA while writing fic, I am happy to answer to them (if I can). 

[cerise-on-top]

Could I ask for some fluff of a Hank x Reader x 2BDamned? If that's okay, please!

Hello! Of course you can! Here you go!

Poly 2BHank x Reader Fluff

I would say that the both of them are rather busy people, so you won’t be spending too much time together. It’s not like they can make too much time for each other either, though. However, they’ll try. It’s fairly risky for everyone involved, especially for you. If you’re not part of S.Q. then you’ll likely become the target of some attack if you’re seen with Doc. If you’re seen with Hank, if people can tell you’re affiliated with him, then they’ll attack you as well. So really, you’ll be at a disadvantage either way. However, it’s not like either of them feel like going out too much with you. Yes, Hank will want to get some hot dogs with you at some point since he does like those, but after a mission he’s usually torn as a rag and just wants to sleep. Doc is well aware of the dangers he poses towards your wellbeing, so he actively chooses to not go out with you too much either. However, that doesn’t mean that the three of you can’t be lovey dovey at home. It’s very rare to see Hank and Doc cuddle properly with each other, but it happens. Neither of them are touchy people, but sometimes you just desire the touch of a loved one, so you might catch Hank sitting on the floor next to Doc from time to time, his head in his lap. Hank could fall asleep like this too, actually, but he wants to protect you and Doc, so he usually doesn’t. Doc sometimes has a hand on Hank’s shoulder and gently rubs it to show he’s there for him, but he needs his other hand to go through files. If you join Hank on his endeavours, cuddling up to Doc yourself, then the grunt will sigh in feign annoyance and get away from his work for some time to give the two of you some attention. You can get him to settle down for the night like this as well, but he will only begrudgingly do so. 2B may not be the cuddliest person out there, and neither is Hank, but he does enjoy some physical touch from time to time. You will likely switch it up when it comes to cuddling. While you may be the little spoon now, chances are you’ll be the big spoon next time. 2B and Hank are versatile like that. While Hank may prefer holding someone as he falls asleep, if he’s not headed to bed then he can go either way.

Although it’s rare for Hank to show his softer side, he will do so for you and Doc only. Sometimes he’ll come back from a mission, bloody and almost entirely disassembled, holding a few flowers he found. Maybe even a nice scarf or a cool weapon. Despite being a very confident grunt, he knows he can easily protect you, he does believe that you having a weapon yourself would help you with defending yourself. Sometimes he’ll get you a nice katana, one like he has. Other times you can expect a rocket launcher or chainsaw from him as well. His metaphorical tail starts wagging whenever either you or Doc accept his gifts and thank him. He did a good job on this one, you will be safe and sound from here on out. Give him a nice pat, either on his arm or head, and he’ll happily grunt away. Doc pats Hank from time to time and Hank absolutely loves it. However, only you and Doc are allowed to do that, anyone else will be dealt with immediately. Hank definitely doesn’t mind being treated like a dog from time to time. If he’s in a good mood you can call him a good boy and put his face in your hands, he eats that right up. Be enthusiastic about it as well and he’ll lightly headbutt you. Don’t get mad at him for doing so, he doesn’t know what to do with these positive emotions, so he goes straight for gentle violence again.

Going on dates with the two of them mostly consists of something simple. Doc usually suggests Burger Gil’s since no one cares that Hank is there. People are there for the food, not to get mauled by Hank, so they usually leave you alone. Sometimes the three of you go to take a look at the red sun on a cliff as well, though, and reminisce about the better times. Hank still remembers the greenery that used to be in Nevada. He doesn’t remember it well since he doesn’t miss it in the slightest, but he’s lived a good chunk of his life surrounded by plants. Doc barely remembers them, but he still thinks back on them fondly. While neither of the two of them may be sentimental people, they do like discussing the past. There’s always something new to be learned about each other. There’s this unspoken trust between the three of you, so you know each other better than anyone else. For example, you know that Hank likes being picked up, even if he’s far too tall and heavy for that these days. Sometimes you pretend to try and pick him up just to make him feel good. One fact you’ve learned about Doc is that he sometimes, when you and Hank are asleep, likes to hold one hand of each of you. Sometimes he can’t sleep well, or at all, so he opts to spend that time resting from time to time. He won’t particularly go all out in holding you since he doesn’t wanna risk waking you, you’re both extremely tired, after all, but he does like holding your hands, sometimes playing with your fingers as well. He denies this, but you both know it happens. Sometimes Hank makes fun of Doc for it in his usual demeanour, but he secretly loves it. Hank’s favourite activity aside from killing and maiming is helping you and Doc out with whatever you need, even if it’s just holding the wrench. Doc loves showing you his creations. While he knows you likely won’t understand a word he’s saying, he explains them to you anyway. Besides, if he’s made a mistake thinking it over, then he’s more likely to find it while talking. Besides, he gets to spend time with you, what else could he possibly want?