#catching up with the fastball

[hairmetal666]

Everyone in the league knows about Eddie Munson. He has the makings of a great pitcher, except for the fact that his slider has a 75% chance of sliding too high and his fastballs mostly end up in the dirt. His technique is wild, flailing, unrestrained. Which is why Steve is beside himself when he learns about the trade.

The owners, they think that Steve being the best catcher in the league means he can work with Eddie, settle him, make him a real prospect. Steve's input isn't needed with the decision already made, but Munson--with all his tattoos piercings and leather--looks like he'd rather hock a loogie at Steve than take directions from him.

And Steve is the best in the league, the glue that keeps the team together. They're a well-oiled machine, and Eddie is--Eddie is a squeaky wheel.

They meet for the first time, briefly, in the locker room. He's seen the guy before, of course, but now, like this, he can't help but be intrigued by his pale skin and long curls and brown doe-eyes, his lightly muscled frame. And they're in the locker room, Eddie with just a towel around his waist, exposing his toned chest and stomach and the black swirl of his tattoos.

"Steve Harrington!" Eddie reaches out a hand. "Great to meet you, man."

"You too. Excited to have you with us." The handshake is quick and firm and Steve is trying not to be surprised about how excited and genuine the guy sounds, keep his mind away from thinking of how Eddie is naked aside from the towel.

With only a few weeks until the start of the regular season, Eddie starts pitching to Steve. And Steve, he so expects Eddie to fight and grumble and refuse, that his head sort of spins when, on the first day, Eddie claps him on the back with his glove, says, "where do you want me, cap?" and that's that.

He wants to say that they dislike each other, that they're a bad fit, that Eddie is full himself and refuses constructive criticism.

Instead.

Instead it's easy.

Eddie doesn't complain, doesn't argue, just watches Steve, learns him, takes his advice and notes and implements them as much as he can. They like each other, have an easy rapport, get each other. He's tight with all the pitchers, but Eddie is different. They settle each other.

They're best friends. They hangout constantly. And he doesn't have a crush; he doesn't. It would be unprofessional. They're best friends.

But sometimes, sometimes he thinks he catches Eddie looking at him. It's impossible. Of course it's impossible. Eddie couldn't be into the guy Sports Illustrated called "baseball's Ralph Lauren model" in the intro to Steve's Body Issue photo spread. And it doesn't matter one way or the other because Steve won't make a move. He won't jeopardize the team like that.

They don't touch. He touches everyone on the team, often, and Eddie particularly is a physical guy, but aside from that first handshake, he keeps his distance. Steve's afraid--even though it's silly, he's afraid--that once they start touching, he won't be able to stop, and he can't let that happen.

The team is good, competing for first place in the National League. Eddie's success has made everyone else better.

It's late July, they're in first place in the league, and Eddie's pitching a perfect game. There's only been 24 perfect games thrown in the history of Major League Baseball, but it's the eighth inning and Eddie's doing it.

A pitch goes wild, veers high over the umpire's head. Eddie's shaken, Steve can tell with how his fist tightens compulsively around the ball. The next pitch swings wide, towards the batter's knees.

The count is at 2 balls, no strikes, and he can see, even from behind home plate Steve can see, that Eddie's losing it. He heads for the mound, refuses to let it end like this. He closes the distance between them, has a quick internal debate before he puts his hand on Eddie's lower back. They've never touched, this is it, this is--warmth bleeds from Eddie's skin, through the fabric of his jersey, goes straight to Steve's head.

Eddie frowns. "I don't think I--"

"You're going to do it, Ed. I know. I can feel it." He pats his chest, over his heart. "It's gonna happen."

Eddie's breathing settles and it's only then that Steve realizes he's rubbing circles into Eddie's back with his thumb. He's not sure when he started, doesn't want to stop, loves being able to feel.

"Okay," Eddie says.

"Okay."

Steve removes his hand, heads back to home, still tingling with the warmth of Eddie's body even as he crouches behind the plate.

He closes out the inning with three definitive strike outs. The crowd goes wild.

They take the field for the top of the 9th, the crowd is screaming, ready for this, the energy zipping through every player on the field.

It goes by in a blur. Nine pitches. Eddie's perfect game is wrapped up in nine phenomenal pitches.

As the ump calls the last out, there's a moment of complete and utter quiet in the stadium, Steve's heart a pounding hum in his ears, before pandemonium breaks loose. There's screaming, fireworks, someone is crying--

All he can see is Eddie. Eddie's who's thrown his glove to the dirt, is barreling towards him with a triumphant smile bright on his face. Steve stands, runs to close the distance. He sees the moment that Eddie decides to jump into his arms, catches him easily--will always catch him--but his legs are tired and the momentum gets him, sends them tumbling back into the grass.

They're both yelling, laughing, smiling hard enough to hurt. Eddie's hair has fallen out if its tie, tumbling around his shoulders, and Steve gazes at him, can't help it, in this moment can admit that he's so, so astronomically in love.

It's only then Steve realizes that the laughter's stopped, that Eddie's gazing back. Brown eyes shining bright with happiness, cheeks flushed pink, lips parted. Thoughtless, he reaches up to caress Eddie's cheek.

The team reaches them, streaming around them, yanking Eddie and Steve to their feet. The celebration stretches around them, the moment slipping away. He wants to finish what they started but there are interviews, champagne showers, congratulations, that keep them apart. Sometimes, from across the room, their eyes meet, and there's heat there that's new, that sparks something low in Steve's gut.

Hours pass, and finally he finds himself alone in the locker room. He's just pulled on his t-shirt when the door shuts behind him. He spins, finds Eddie, waiting, watching.

He crosses the room without a word, can't not, not now, not after everything. They grapple for a second, the wanting so strong that it takes a second to settle, to find each other. They kiss hard, desperate, seething with desire.

Steve hopes it never ends and it doesn't, just tapers into soft kisses, gentle nips. He can't bring himself to step away.

"Is this for real ?" Eddie whispers.

"I've been insane about you since the trade."

Eddie's smile is blinding. "I used to have those pictures of you--the ones with the little red shorts?--in my locker in the minors. Feel like I'm living in a dream right now."

It lights him up inside, knowing that Eddie wants him, has wanted him. "Let me take you home and show you just how real it is?"

He snorts, but his dimples deepen, eyes shining. "What a line, sweetheart."

"Yeah well, the baseball field isn't the only place where I hit home runs."

[bigfan-fanfic]

Reclaim (Male!Reader x Dean Winchester)

Could I request Dean's bf taking him out to just spend a day or two doing whatever childhood things he never got to do, no matter how much he huffs about it not being a big deal.  Just fluff and carthartic stuff, that kind of thing

A grumpy bearded man glares at you from a swingset that is far too small for him, his bowed legs bent pretty far.

"Are you happy now?"

You chuckle. "You didn't even swing."

"It's too small."

"Then go use the big boy set. Not my fault you wanted to go for the kiddie swings."

He huffs and stands indignantly.

you laugh harder. "This was kinda supposed to be fun, Dean."

"But, like... this is all kid's stuff."

"You're never too old for some of this stuff!" you cry, and pull him along to the swings. "Don't you have any fun stuff you used to do as a kid?"

"Uh... target practice with Dad?"

"Wow. Yeesh."

"What?"

"So, like... you never really got to have a childhood."

"Dude. You can't just say crap like that to someone's face. Besides, it's not a big deal. I can-"

"I know what we're doing today!"

"Oh boy."

You challenge Dean to see who can get higher on the swings before you chicken out - mainly to stop your competitive boyfriend from trying to go all the way over.

And then when you hear the tinny calliope noises of an ice cream truck you go running, calling out for Dean to come with you, and you both chase down the truck.

It's silly and stupid, but then the ice cream salesman tells you about the fair in town, and you give Dean an excited stare.

"......"

"...."

"...fine."

Dean usually doesn't get to stay in any town long enough for any local events, so a county fair is still relatively new to him.

The overwhelming amount of sight and sound is enough to burst his bubble of attempted adult disapproval, and you catch a glimpse of the goofy kid he probably would have been.

He grins, and eventually takes the lead in pulling you to the different attractions.

You gorge yourself on fried county fair food - Dean is in fried heaven, defying all the angels to come up with a food better than the fried oreo, but even his insatiable appetite can't conquer a huge funnel cake with a dollop of ice cream that won't even melt all the way on the hot day because it's so big - not without your assistance.

You make him do the petting zoo, and he tries to impress you at the dunk tank, pitching a fastball that sends some cute local guy splashing.

He wins you prizes, accepts those you win for him, and admits that it's probably just about as fun as that time his dad took him into a bar for the first time and showed him how to hustle pool.

For now, you'll take it.

He even lets you drive home, since he's tuckered himself out so much. You let him lean against you, and you grin to yourself when you hear him quietly ask-

"Can we go again tomorrow?"

[thejakeformerlyknownasprince]

so, about that baseball au? 👀

Tobias plays right field. It's all about those insanely long catches and those even more insanely long throws. He's fast and light, able to spot a ball in the air and be sprinting to intercept it well before it's even reached the top of its arc. Tobias can not only run and not only throw, but he can jump like nobody's business to intercept a ball in the air. He can't snatch every single home run that clears the top wall, but if it clears the wall by less than 12 inches, you bet that he'll be there making one hell of a grab to intercept it. What he lacks in power he makes up for with speed and accuracy.

Marco is their starting pitcher. He can coordinate and communicate, but more importantly he can be tricky. Marco's the classic ambidextrous change-up knuckleball trickster, not the fastest fastball thrower but an absolute expert in lying with his body about where the ball's going and how it'll be spinning when it gets there. Pitching is about dividing attention between the guy inching down the third-base line, the catcher throwing signals, and the batter getting into position. The ability to read all that, and to hide a fastball in a curved-looking throw, is where Marco excels.

Rachel bats cleanup. She plays center field as well, but her strength is in batting. Her greatest weakness is her greatest strength: she swings at too many pitches. That runs the risk of strikeouts, but it also means that she can sometimes turn a curveball into a double or even a home run. She's the power hitter, able to rocket pitches into the nosebleed section often enough that she sells more t-shirts than the rest of her team combined. That said, when all else fails she can also be counted on to make a sacrifice bunt.

Ax is on third base. It's a position that requires keeping a close eye on the batter and the infield all at once, managing the risk of steals while also being ready to intercept smash hits. Above all, being on third base requires being fast: able to grab a 120 MPH hit out of the air and wing it back to a teammate before there's even time for the runner to think about making it to first. Third basemen are likely to go overlooked, but they're crucially important for the defense of the whole infield.

Jake catches. It's the position most associated with being able to take punishment. Runners collide with you, pitches hit you, backswings can take you out, and your knees are shot to hell within five years. But the catcher faces the field, and the catcher has to communicate with the field. The main line of contact is with the pitcher, everything from requesting pitches to signaling an impending steal, but the catcher has to be able to shout to the field as a whole with a second's notice. The catcher is up and down, up and down, throughout the game, and the catcher has to decide judiciously when to argue with the umpire.

Cassie is their shortstop. Of course. This position is all about support, about being where your teammates are not so that they can focus on covering their own bases. Shortstops have to be flexible, to float between positions and play backup to the basemen and outfielders alike. Shortstops are the most overlooked, the least understood, the most likely to be dropped from Little League teams that are short on players. But an actual MLB team cannot function without a shortstop, because their ill-defined role is actually to hold the entire rest of the defensive team together.

[jiminiecrickets]

How often are the seven days a week couple having sex? And where they ever caught by friends?

I'm so sad that it ended already☹️😂❤️

honestly jk could probably go several times a day, but reader has to be a cog in the capitalist machine and jk has to study >:( they're probably frequent, at least once every two weeks, but they can go more or less quite easily lol. birthdays and anniversaries definitely get a whole week. it helps jk keep his sanity during exam season or after a particularly rough day at work, so if he comes home pouty and slouchy it probably means to get the cuffs.

jk's far too respectful to ever do anything purposely in his friends' vicinity, and plus, reader's his bf, not theirs, so they aren't allowed to ogle at him :) furthest he'd go is kissing and heavy petting in a bathroom or something, but nothing where clothes come off. what if a fire alarm goes off?? he can't ruin the mood like that :(

glad you enjoyed it! i've had fun with these lil hcs, so thank you for the asks :)

nsfw drabble below just for fun. warnings for oral mention (r. receiving) and being walked in on lol

"hyung," he moans softly, pressing your hips into the bathroom sink. he grinds against your thigh, accepting your hot kisses with sighs and soft whines. "please, i need you..." "not here, and not now," you murmur between kisses, amused at his cute attempt to take control. he presses the heel of his palm into the front of your pants and you grunt softly, panting against his neck. "they must be missing the birthday boy." "i don't care, they just use it as an excuse to get drunk and make us pay for it," he groans. "let me have something i actually want – please?" his pout turns into a sultry smile, his hand creeping into your pants. "i'll let you fuck my mouth." he's daring, you'll give him that. "fuck, you know i'd like that, but here? seriously? my car's just outside. you could do a lot more to me than suck my cock there – tinted windows, ring a bell?" "but i'm hard," he nearly whimpers, hips moving faster against your thigh. you drape an arm around his shoulders, watching him grind against you like a needy puppy with a lazy grin. "please please please—" the door swings open. "oi, jungkook, you have tae's phone in your pocket? he's asking for it again." jungkook's hand flies off your crotch as if he was burned and yanks the edges of his jacket down to hide his neediness. yoongi doesn't crack under his glare, standing with a slouch in the doorway and wearing a knowing smirk. melting first under yoongi's steady gaze, jungkook digs around in your jacket – he's wearing it – and hurls it at the older man like a fastball, though he catches it with relative ease. he shakes out his hand, switching the glittery pink phone into his other hand. "good arm on you. alright, see you both outside." jungkook scowls, arms crossed and a vicious pout on his lips. you hide your snicker and he whacks your arm. you lean in. "my car hasn't moved, baby." "shut up. i'm not in the mood anymore."

[chiarrara]

Both for the baseball and the basketball au:

From what I know about sports, everyone seems to have their own strategy or way of playing. So how do you think the characters act on field compared to their usual selves? How do you think their personalities would translate into their play ?

eeeeee, I got so giddy when I saw you asked me about this :):):)

Baseball AU: So I already kind of went into Megumi & Yuuji but I'll expand a bit and talk about some other players. And I'll try to make it comprehensible to a non-baseball watcher...

Megumi: I already talked about how he stands in the path of the ball when he's batting so he gets hit by pitches a lot, and make sacrifices to advance a runner on base. Baseball is a huge strategy game, it's basically like a board game with real people as the pieces, and Megumi is a great strategist. He's a great team leader, but not a hype man at all. He's not the guy to turn to for morale on the bench. When he's pitching, his style is to try and psych out the batter and get into their heads. He figures out what their strategy is so he knows when they're going to swing and when they're not and uses that against them. He'll fake out so it seems like he's going to throw an easy to hit pitch then change it up throwing off the batters rhythm or aim and making them swing at an impossible pitch. During a difficult at-bat, he gets scary, like dude has crazy eyes. He has psyched out batters so bad that he gets a reputation as a demon pitcher. Dudes have said they saw his eyes go black before he struck them out. So, people are always thrown off when they meet him outside a game and he's the most apathetic guy you've ever met.

Yuuji: Our boy is always swinging for the fences. Everything he does he does at 100% and he's not usually going to be super cunning about it, he's just going to overpower you and somehow do the impossible. So those sneaky pitches Megumi throws, Yuuji is somehow going to hit them. His at-bat's are really long (because he's hitting lots of foul balls, don't worry about it) so pitchers think they can wear him down, but his stamina is crazy and he stays sharp even after 10 or 15 pitches. He's not strategic like Megumi, but he has great instincts. He knows what he can do and he knows how to do it. This means he knows when he can make it to second or third base off a big hit instead of stopping at first. Also, he's absolutely the hype man, he's always boosting morale in the dugout. He's the most classic athlete type, he's a super positive ball of sunshine, but when it's time to get down to it he goes into that flow state focus. He's also the most determined. He doesn't always know they can win, but he'll do absolutely everything he can either way.

Toge: Look, this screencap of Inumaki on base with his little peace sign lives rent free in my head.

he's what my dad called a "slap hitter" ??? basically, he gets hits and gets to first base a lot. He's really athletic in a different way than Yuuji, he's quick and flexible. He's great at stealing bases, and he does a little swimming motion when he slides in to avoid getting tagged. The infield is always on high alert when he's on base. He can play a few positions in the infield--shortstop, third base, second--and gets moved around a lot. Toge he's really good at encouraging his teammates in subtle ways, and he's super reliable on the field and off.

Yuuta: I think Yuuta can play a lot of positions like, way more masterfully than someone who isn't specializing in that position should be able to. He's a closing pitcher with a wicked fastball. He's on first base pulling a full split to make a catch while keeping his foot on the base. He's in the outfield making a catch all the way at the wall and throwing guys out at home, or picking up a line drive in the right field corner and throwing a guy out at third on the opposite side of the field. He just picks things up really easily. He made friends through joining sports so he is crazy loyal to his team and loves his teammates, but he kinda sucks at giving motivational speeches and things like that. However, when the game is on the line and it's up to him to get his team the win, he's gonna go out there and absolutely destroy the other team. It has been said that he won a game single-handedly once which is...not a thing you can do in baseball, but when he's getting the hits, making key outs, and then striking batters out in the 9th inning, he's kind of doing the impossible. He's always super friendly to his opponents after the game.

Gojo: He's lauded as a great coach and he was a superstar player, but if you ask his players... he's useless, he just recruits well.

BONUS:

Todo: I don't think he's on their team, and I wasn't going to include him in this post, but I was talking with my dad and I had an idea for him. He is the type of player who will legitimately injure people. He will barrel into the catcher at home plate to prevent them from making the catch and tagging him out. He tackles the second baseman to break up a double play. He slides into players with his cleats up intentionally. He's actually the scariest player on the field and not in a good way.

(I'm going to do the basketball au in another post & tag u <3)

[the-oaken-muse]

Betelgeuse, Betelgeuse, Betelgeuse

Dannymay Day 24: NASA

Read it on AO3, if you dare.

Of all the places in the Infinite Realms Juno could have sent him for community service, it had to be the fucking Ghost Zone. He never thought he’d miss the Netherworld, but at least there he didn’t have to deal with Warden Pasty Face and the stick up his entire ass.

He banked a hard left, bobbing and weaving through the zero gravity obstacle course provided by the ectoplasmic landscape. Behind him, the thud of armor against rock let him know he was down a pursuer, as one of the guards collided with an island of floating debris.

God, this place was a dump.

He dove through a thick patch of green fog before ducking behind one of the many floating doors littering the not-air; grateful that he didn’t have breath to catch. Walker’s goons zoomed past his hiding place, following his previous trajectory on a trail that didn’t exist.

Ha! Suckers!

He may have evaded them for now, but he would have to keep moving. When they realized that he’d lost them, they would fan out and search, leaving no stone unturned until they eventually found him and dragged him squirming back to that hell hole of a prison to be crushed under Walker’s boot once more. He needed to put as much distance between himself and this part of the Zone as possible. Or better yet, find a way to the human realm.

He looked to his left, green. He looked to his right, green. He looked down, an endless abyss of green stared back at him.

Looks like he was going to have to ask for directions. Great.

The next door he came across was a deep shade of plum with intricate panels of solid mahogany and a crystal knob. He yanked it open.

“Hey! Anybody home? Hello? I’m lookin’ for—”

A sopping wet sponge splashed against his face. It lingered there for a moment before slowly sliding down, down, down and falling into the chasm below, leaving his face dripping suds. “…the ...nearest portal to Earth.”

The door slammed shut.

“Ugh, soap.” He wiped his face with his sleeve, smearing it with fresh grime.

He floated over to another door, this one a dark weathered indigo with a heavy iron latch. He pulled it open with a loud creak, “Wazzup!”

A burly, tattooed arm emerged from the dark interior and slapped him across the face with a dead fish before slamming the door shut.

Jesus, the ghosts here were rude. At least it wasn’t soap this time.

Next, he spun the wheel on a silvery lavender hatch until it popped up with a hiss.

“Hullo down there!” his voice echoed back. “I’m lookin’ for a human portal! Can ya help a brother out?”

A thick tentacle, in a green so dark it was almost black, snaked out of the hole. In a blink, the tentacle lashed itself around his neck, crushing his useless windpipe.

“Look, I’m a hugger as much as the next guy, but this is a little forward, don’tcha think?” he wheezed.

In response, it whipped him back and flung him into the infinite green like a pitcher throwing a fastball.

He soared, eyes watering, hair whipping, and jowls flapping, for what felt like an eternity, but the five watches on his arm all agreed was only a few minutes.

His flight ended abruptly when he splatted against a strange metal structure. Its surface hummed with energy, vibrating his entire being. He peeled himself off, smoothing out the dents its rivets left in his skin, and took a look. A swirling vortex brighter than the surrounding ectoplasm filled its patchwork steel frame. Unlike the other doors, it remained fixed in place rather than floating up and down gently in a sea of green; it was anchored to something, to another dimension.

Bingo.

He stood on the edge of the portal, plugged his nose, and dove into the pool of light.

The portal spat him out in a large room made of the same patchwork metal as the doorway. Though the scent of death was strong here, in the glowing green of the machinery and in the air, it was mixed through with the unmistakable vitality of the living.

Perfect. Now he just needed to… find a way to get his powers back again…

He slumped forward and groaned.

Living people with The Sight were one in a million, and of those, the ones that were dumb teenagers were even fewer. There was no way Lydia was going to help him out again after the whole fiasco with their wedding either. He needed a new plan, a new pawn… well, there was no time like the present to start looking.

He floated up, poking his head through the ceiling into a modest kitchen. There was a table for four in the middle of the room, but only one chair was occupied. A pair of faded blue jeans and beat up red sneakers bounced impatiently and he could hear the scratch of pencil on paper. Sounded like homework. Bo-ring!

Like a shark fin cutting through the waves, the top half of his head glided across the floor to the fridge. Maybe they had beer.

A small pile of brown crumbs just under the door caught his attention. He sniffed at them, chocolatey. He floated a little higher so that his mouth breached the tile and licked up the remains of someone else’s fridge raid.

“Mmm, fudge.”

The kid at the table startled and looked over in his direction. He could almost believe they were making eye contact right now.

It couldn’t be that easy, could it?

“Who the heck are you?”

Looks like it could. He cracked a rotten grin and rose fully out of the floor.

“I’m the Ghost with the Most, pleasure to meet ya, kid.”

He held out a hand to shake, a centipede skittered down his arm and around his dirt-crusted knuckles before heading back into his sleeve. The boy just stared at the proffered digit in disgust.

“The most what? Grease stains on your shirt?”

“That and so much more! You name it, I’ve got it. Charm, good looks, STDs—”

“Modesty.” The boy deadpanned.

“Hey! I’ll have you know I wear pants at least…” he began counting the fingers on one hand, “thirty percent of the time!”

“That’s not what I— You know what? Give me one good reason I shouldn’t soup you right now.” The boy snatched a thermos off the table and waved it threateningly.

Jeez, tough crowd.

He wasn’t sure what kind of soup was in there, but something told him he didn’t want to find out.

“Beeecauuuuse…” His eyes darted around for something he could use to turn the situation to his favor. Math worksheet? No. Half eaten sandwich? Maybe later. NASA t-shirt? Perfect. “I’m a star, kid.”

“Oh yeah? What kind of star?” The boy narrowed his eyes skeptically.

“Red supergiant, Orion constellation… I’m sure you’ve heard of me…”

He crossed his fingers behind his back. Please work, please work.

“Betelgeuse?”

“Got it in one, kid.” He swallowed his relief and winked. “You’re even quicker on the uptake than Lydia!”

“Who?”

“Uhh, no one! Hey, what’s that?”

Betelgeuse darted over to a group of photos on a shelf and picked one up.

“Who’s the chick in the tight blue suit?” He whistled, letting the back of the frame fall open and the picture to unfold. “Really doesn’t leave much to the imagination does it?”

“Um, ew! That’s my mom!” The kid snatched the photo out of his hands and inspected the back of it. “How did you even do that?”

“I’d let her be my mommy any time.”

“…I will literally do anything for you to never talk about my mom ever again.”

“Anything?”

“Like, within reason. I’m not gonna, you know, kill anybody or anything.”

“Would you… be willing to… maybe… say my name three times in a row?” He bit his lip in anticipation.

The kid considered him suspiciously. “Is this like a kink thing?”

“What? No! Pshhh! No! Well maybe sometimes… Absolutely not, no. Cross my heart! See!” He drew an X on the right side of his chest.

“Yeah, no. Still don’t trust you.”

“C’mon kid!” He skidded to his knees in front of the boy. “Please, please, please! I’ll owe you one! I’m good for it! Promise!”

He clutched at the NASA shirt desperately. He couldn’t let this kid slip through his fingers, it might be another hundred years before he found another living person who could see him. He’d tasted the blood of freedom and he wanted more.

The boy grimaced and tried to pull away, Betelgeuse scrabbled after him. “I’ll get out of your hair, promise! Just three little words! Just three!”

“Okay, jeez, fine. If it’ll get you leave,” the boy groaned.

“YES! I mean!” He cleared his throat, “Yes.”

“Betelgeuse, Betelgeuse, Betelgeuse. Now get out of my house.”

Power surged then fizzled within him.

“Wow. That was anticlimactic.” He deflated. “Ah well, a deal’s a deal! See ya kid!”

He flew up through the ceiling with a sloppy salute.

What a chump! That was almost too easy.

 -later-

 That was definitely too easy.

Betelgeuse scowled as yet another hand reached through his head to grab a jug of milk.

His powers had been on the fritz ever since he got them back. One minute he was turning the floor into a writhing mass of roaches, the next, poof, they were gone! The unsuspecting sap he’d been about to scar for life left… unscarred.

He could tap someone on the shoulder, but when they turned around, they just looked straight through his carefully crafted horror show of a face; he’d hidden in dumpsters to jumpscare people taking out their trash, but they didn’t even see him; and his fruit fly cream pies went right through their targets.

Figures, it was just his luck that the one fucking human in this whole damn city who could see him was fucking defective.

Betelgeuse opened the glass door and stepped out of the grocery store refrigerator, he needed to find that kid.

[thedeviltohisangel]

Does Cass like baseball? And if not, I’m sure she’d love to sit down to a lecture by baseball professor Egan 😂

*BLURB WEEKEND*

YES! I do believe Cass likes baseball and I do believe that she loves watching baseball with John.

John/Cass at a baseball game is something I would LOVE to write a full interlude for. (I have discussed this in incredible depth with @gloryofroses19)

John cannot wait to take Cass to a Yankees game. He is buzzing with excitement and holding her hand tightly in the crowd and it pointing out fun facts about the stadium and walking her through the lineup as they find their seats. He buys her all the snacks. Crack Jacks, cotton candy, pop corn, ice cream, you name it and he is buying it. Probably buys her a little hat to wear.

John is shelling peanuts and yelling at the umpires constantly while she is peacefully licking an ice cream cone, just trying to get her bearing on the strategy of the game.

"John, why wouldn't he try to take a base right now?" or "Baby, how did he not hit that ball?"

And he explains the physics of a curveball vs a fastball. Shows her how the grips are different. Explains what the hand signals from the umpires mean.

She starts to yell at them too for fun. It makes John laugh with glee.

"Come on, blue, in front of my girl?"

"I'm sorry the team looks so bad for your first game, baby."

And because most instances of a John and Cass can end only one way...

She has been biting her lip the whole game. He looks hot shelling peanuts. He looks hot running his hand through his curls in frustration. He looks hot holding her ice cream cone while still keep his eyes on the game. He looks hot catching the popcorn he throws into his mouth.

Is hot when he's yelling at the umpire and standing up to squint at the field to try and catch the details of the play. JOHN PROBABLY IS THAT OLD MAN WHO SITS IN THE STANDS AND KEEPS HIS OWN BOOK. "I don't know, Cass, he look safe to you?"

She has him in a supply closet. Pants around his ankles and moaning into her mouth as she is on her knees just letting him know how sexy baseball professor Egan is.

[cherrydreamer]

🎃Harringrove Harvest- Day 1- Candy Corn 🎃

It's been a few months since Starcourt. Long enough that most of the gossip and rumours have died down, but still far too soon for Billy Hargrove to be anywhere close to being released from hospital.

So that's where he is, battered and bruised and bed-bound, when Hopper comes to visit him- with El and Max in tow as usual- the police chief looking even more serious than usual when he sits down on the plastic chair beside Billy's bed and delivers the news that Neil Hargrove has skipped out of town, loading up his truck and disappearing into the middle of the night, leaving a whole stack of unpaid bills and a ton of trouble for Susan to have to deal with.

And it all hits Billy like a ton of bricks. Another punch right through a heart that's still not quite healed.

Cause, yeah, he knows that Neil Hargrove is an asshole with a cruel streak a mile wide, and he knows that he spent enough time hating his old man and wishing for something just like this to happen, but it's still not that simple. It's not black and white. Despite it all, the fear and the pain and the way Neil's voice is always in the back of Billy's mind, criticising and mocking him, despite all of that, Neil is his father. His Dad. And nothing can change the fact that he's still the guy that taught Billy how to throw a fastball and how to change the oil in his car and who told him he was proud of him when Billy made the basketball team.

He's still his Dad. And Billy still loves him.

And now he's fucked off. Without even a goodbye. Without even a word. Billy's been left behind. Forgotten about again. And it hurts.

So Billy's struggling.

As much as he's trying to stay calm, to shove all his emotion down and lock it away, he knows he's about to break. And then he catches sight of Max and El's faces, both of them with expressions that Billy can only read as pity, and it's just too much, and Billy can't stop himself from yelling at them to get out, pointing at the door when the words just catch in his throat and come out rough and raspy and barely understandable.

They get it. They leave.

But the Chief doesn't. He doesn't leave. If anything, he shuffles himself even closer, the chair squeaking against the linoleum floor, one hand hovering in the air just for a moment, before he thinks better of it and draws it back. And Billy tries his best to pull himself together, blinking back the tears he can feel gathering and swallowing down the ache in his throat and shaking his head to dislodge all those swirling, churning, painful thoughts that just won't stop coming.

He tries to deal with it. Because he needs to. He can be a man about this, he's got to be. He's on his own now and he'd better get used to it.

But then Hop's voice is softening, and this time when he reaches out, he doesn't stop until he's resting a hand on Billy's shoulder and squeezing firmly, "Hey, look Billy, I'm sorry, it's, uh, it's all kinds of messed up, what your old man did. But we'll work this out, OK, kid? You don't gotta worry. We'll help you out, whatever you need."

But Billy shakes his head, scrubbing angrily at the tears that have spilled over despite his attempts to hold them in and he says, "It's fine. I don't need...I'll be fine. I can look after myself."

Only for Hop to look at him, voice softer than Billy's ever heard it before, and say, "I know you can, Billy, but this time you don't have to."

And Billy knows that he's crumbling. He can feel it, that sudden rush of emotion all bubbling forth. But he can hold on, he can, he has to, he will. So he tears his eyes away from Hopper's face, not wanting to see any more fucking pity directed his way, but no matter where Billy looks, he can't help but see the evidence of the Chief's words.

It's there in the books on the table by his bed, a stack two feet high of sci-fi and fantasy novels, all loans from the kids, interspersed with some car magazines donated by Hopper himself. It's there in the Tupperware box beside them full of brownies made with love by Claudia Henderson, the sixth batch she's sent this month and these ones all dotted with candy corn, just because Billy made an off hand comment to her last week about how he was annoyed that he'd be stuck in hospital over Halloween. It's there in the tangle of soft blankets at the foot of his bed, the ones Joyce had brought in for him when he'd grumbled about the itchy hospital sheets, the same ones she'd tucked around him so carefully when he first started to shiver, and then untucked so swiftly when he started thrashing in his sleep.

It's there too, in the Walkman Billy always has by his side, the surprise gift from Steve, alongside a collection of tapes, even though Billy still hasn't swapped the first one out yet. How can he, when it's a mixtape that Steve made especially for him? A terrible mix, really, a culture clash of Tears for Fears and Judas Priest and The Beach Boys and Ratt and Cyndi fucking Lauper and a whole mess of others, every single one meaning something to the two of them.

It's there in so many other things too. Less obvious ones, like the nurses always knocking quietly before coming into his room because Hopper had a stern word after he saw Billy flinch away from a loud bang; and how there's a stubborn, possibly permanent, scuff mark on the floor from all the times that someone has dragged the uncomfortable visitors' chair closer to the bed, closer to Billy.

And it's there in the way that El and Max are crowding at the door, faces smushed against the glass, almost falling over themselves to come back to Billy's bedside the moment he spots them and beckons them over.

It's there. All over. Proof that, for whatever fucking reason, the people here do care about him. For him. That Hopper isn't talking out of his ass. That Billy can ask for help and know that he'll get it.

It's a lot. A lot to realise, especially all at once. So it takes Billy a moment. But then he finally looks back at Hopper and at Max and El, at the expression they all share, the one that Billy now sees for the concern that it always was. And not just concern, but something more. Something Billy hasn't seen directed his way in a long time.

Care. Affection. And love.

Billy knows he's about to break. He can't stop it. He doesn't even try. And there's only a second, if that, between the first sob catching in his throat and the three pairs of arms that wrap around him and pull him into a hug. It's awkward, really, the bed is too small for them all and Max's elbow is sharp and El's hair is tickling his cheek, and Hopper's ripe armpit is a little too close to Billy's nose to be overly pleasant. But Billy doesn't mind at all, especially not when Hop's voice rumbles out against his ear, "You'll be OK, son. You'll be OK. We've got you."

Because this time, Billy lets himself believe it.

[danwhobrowses]

One Piece Chapter 1117 - Initial Thoughts

The breaks always feel long but they always end

because One Piece is back! Which means we have to see more of Vegapunk's transmission and the Straw Hats' escape

Let's not linger on it, let's see what we have!

Spoilers for the Chapter, Support the Official Release too!

Yamato is still yet to start his voyage, this time stopping by Nekomamushi and Hyou's neck of the woods

Seems Neko is living among the Yakuza, which to be fair does fit his style

The reveal last chapter that the Roger pirates knew about the world sinking causes some to wonder if the One Piece is underwater

Or at the least, great treasure hidden at the bottom of the sea

Seems the Polar Tang wasn't the only known ship able to dive underwater, but they're expensive

Also made myself sad because we lost the Polar Tang...and the Victoria Punk

EDIT: I didn't even see it the first time but the Krieg Pirates are there, you see Pearl even more decked out, Krieg has a mane and GIN! HE'S ALIVE!

There are however 2 other ships that know how to dive, an alliance of Romance Chasers

Montblanc Cricket and the Saruyama Alliance react to the news, and consider doing some more diving to investigate a new romance

Cricket also notes how it was before Noland's time, so it would be uncharted territory, just regulate yourself so you don't get the bends again

In the G-5, the SWORD agents lick their wounds

Hibari is defrosted, and Koby is struggling to process everything

Kujaku notes how a captain is recovering, but I'm not sure who that is, Koby's the only known SWORD captain and he's in the panel, plus they use male pronouns so it can't be Tashigi

Koby looks to Grus about the shitstorm about to go down, which Grus is also concerned about, Kujaku however relishes a chance to step up

X DRAKE'S ALIVE

He's out of Wano and in a recovery bed, what about Hawkins? Did he make it?

Tashigi's also making a call to Smoker

Missed ya Smokey, driving all badass across water with your motorbike, no need to guess who you learned that from

Vegapunk continues his message, noting that anything else would be speculation so he won't delve deeper - much to audience chagrin

Back to the Labophase and the barrier has been lifted by Stussy

Nami and Chopper notice that the clouds have also stopped moving, but Usopp assures that they can make it to the sea

Lilith however notes the ships they'd be landing on, some of them friendlies as well

Brook charges up the Coup de Burst so it's all waiting on Jinbe and Zoro

Speaking of whom, they are nearly there, but they're on the tail of something bigger: V. Nusjuro

Nami thinks Zoro and Jinbe ended up getting distracted and chasing a monster, but I would assume Zoro (since Nami wouldn't take that tone with Jinbe as often I don't think) notes that they're going the same direction

Whoever it is, they note the Gorosei's 'special presence'

Usopp, Chopper and Lilith go into an eye pop as the Gorosei prepares to bisect the Sunny

Jinbe and Zoro are doing the Fastball Special!

V. Nusjuro blocks Zoro's Nitoryu, though the clash isn't a simple swat away

Zoro confirms what we've theorized with V. Nusjuro having the final and most powerful Kitetsu blade, Shodai Kitetsu

The impact sends both swordsmen being knocked back, and the twitter fans go wild

Jinbe catches Zoro, as Zoro tells Nami to launch the ship anyway, intended to latch on before it flies away

With Sanji's group, he, Bonney, Atlas and Franky are still waiting for Luffy, but they're also under heavy fire

Comms are down, but Luffy's voice is unmistakable

Dorry and Brogy also call on Oimo and Kashii to get the ship ready, sending the legendary Giant Warrior Pirates into action

Out they come taking on a warship each by themselves, the one in the lower middle looks like he's about to eat a dude

Bluegrass isn't some easy shmoe though, using a commandeered Weaponized Sea Beast to attack and encouraging the marines to step up

The laser blast from the sea beast blows a hole in the longboat, and then Kashii is battered by Doll's Rock n' Roll Blaster (which seems to be a Gatling-esque series of punches)

The marines much like they do with Hina fawn over Doll when she gets violent, wonder if she trained under Garp with such fisticuffs?

The felling of Kashii has motivated the marines to not back down from the giants either

Luffy meanwhile is curious where Warcury went, since he's no longer on their tail, but the giant captains are too relieved to wonder about that

Alas, all but V. Nusjuro surround the Iron Giant, realising that it's the same one that attacked Marejois

Of course this is where Vegapunk is about to deliver a closing juicy statement

'To those who carry the letter 'D.' in your name' !!!???

Dragon with the classic ellipsis, Sabo thinks of his brothers, Koby thinks of Luffy and Garp, Blackbeard interest piqued, and Bepo calls out to his captain - so Law is very much alive

'Among you there is mo-' and the giant is knocked down, along with the transmission

And a collective wail among the audiences of the world in and out of the manga is heard

Morgans, Vivi and Wapol react to the cut off, as the Gorosei and York breathe a sigh of relief that the transmission is over.

Well god damn

We expected the blueball and yet it still sucked to be blue balled XD Unless we aren't that is. Pride comes before the fall maybe?

I would say it's 70/30 on the side of the Gorosei succeeding, we don't need to know any more at this stage right - but I do blame the 10 minute delay for picture. But what could 'mo-' - the chapter's title - mean? What more was it. Among you there is mo-what? Someone with the D. has something, and it's important.

But it does look like we're reaching the final escape from Egghead. I hope Sentomaru made it out, if X Drake can survive after Wano after all. There are still some fights going on among the Giants and the Marines, plus we don't know how the CP0 lot will resolve itself, but we tend to take for granted just how insanely jam-packed Egghead has been, and Elbaf is next!

Glad Zoro got a little bit more cred back for matching V. Nusjuro, plus I liked it was a fastball special it's just fun when groups fight in sync with each other. Also kinda glad we put some respect on Bluegrass and Doll, shows there are levels to vice admirals outside of just Garp.

All the cameos were good too, would've liked to have seen Tashigi and Bogard again but happy to see Smoker and Cricket was a nice surprise.

Unless Vegapunk has one last trick up his sleeve, it's time to get off this island.

[best-titan-7274]

I'd love to read some combat action if that's something you want to write! Maybe a small team doing spec ops, maybe a full combined arms assault, either way you know BT and Cooper are gonna do some fastball shenanigans when the opportunity presents itself.

I love that the fandom has apparently collectively agreed that Jack Loves Getting Yeeted (absolutely correct)

When the alarms go off, Jack’s halfway out of bed before he even realises he’s awake. His helmet is on the table by the door and he grabs it in passing. No time to get dressed with a base-wide alert like that deafening him.

The other Pilots are scrambling around him, bouncing off each other like the bumper cars Jack always liked when he was a kid. It’s more jarring now, but the flow evens out as they near the hangar. They know what they’re doing, it just takes a minute, sometimes, for them to get there.

All their Titans are already on the move, spreading out through the hangar, waiting for their Pilots to embark. Someone even uses their jump kit to get to their Titan first, eager to be out the door.

Jack takes it a little easier, because everyone remembers that time Wilson tripped and broke his nose before he ever saw battle.

Everyone gets in their Titans with no problems, and Jack is relieved that BT starts dampening the noise the second the cockpit closes around him. This is familiar to him, at least, even if the alarm isn’t the kind that any of them hear very often.

“Cooper, Alexander, Aoki, Castañeda, head west.”

“Yes, sir,” they say in almost-unison, three other Titans turning to follow BT out of the hangar.

He’s worked with Alexander before. The other two are strangers, but he knows Aoki is desperate to prove herself since she’s the newest Pilot and one of the youngest. He trusts her, though, because she wouldn’t be here if SRS command thought she wasn’t capable.

“There are enemies inbound. Approximately three minutes and seventeen seconds to contact. Six moving objects.”

Well, those odds aren’t great. All six of them can’t be enemy Titans, right?

“Anyone else got a better idea of what’s out there?” Jack asks.

There’s a private communication network between them, proximity-based and code-locked. They can say whatever they want without being overheard.

“Got it,” Alexander says a minute later. “Three Titans, three vehicles. Could be some ground troops but we’re not picking it up. We got a plan?”

“I have an idea, but BT’s not going to like it.”

“I do not like many of your so-called plans,” BT confirms.

Harsh, but Jack is well aware that BT thinks he’s a bit of an idiot sometimes. Maybe if he stopped throwing himself into danger, or eating snack cakes past their best-by date, but life is about the danger! And mild food poisoning.

“I need you guys to give cover fire with BT and then hold on my signal.”

“Would you like to provide more information?” BT asks.

“Nope, we’re good.”

And he got shot a little bit, the last time he said that, but shit happens. And it barely even scarred, so he feels like it wasn’t actually that bad.

The Titans spread evenly, BT second from the left. It’s barely light enough to see out, and as they race along, he’s pretty sure he gets another great idea. One that BT doesn’t disagree with him on, so that’s a great start!

One of the enemy Titans opens fire, and the four of them target their fire on the unfortunate idiot that made a spectacle of themself. The Titan starts sparking and stuttering almost immediately, and by the time the other Titan brings its guns to play, it’s too late.

At least until a tank round blows an arm off Alexander’s Titan, and some very creative swearing crashes through BT’s speakers.

“Cover fire stops now!” Jack barks, and steps forward.

There’s something about disembarking at speed that feels like getting flung off a moving vehicle and down a cliff, or something like that, but it’s very chaotic and a part of Jack is always very relieved when BT catches him.

BT launches him forward, and he uses the jump kit to get higher as he gets closer, out of the line of fire of the small guns mounted on the front of the vehicles. He can’t tell what they are, exactly, in the predawn light. But he saw that they’re stuck in one place and move side to side, not up and down.

If he gets above the bullets, he has nothing to worry about.

Theoretically.

BT had a lot of opinions about that part.

He drops straight down on top of one of the cars, grabbing one of the bars bolted along the top and swinging feet-first through the driver’s side window. He pushes off something inside – the driver’s chest, he thinks – and tosses a grenade as a goodbye ‘fuck you’. The jump kit gets him away from the explosion, but the driver next to him is aware of what just happened, because they pull a pistol on him.

He jumps, and trusts BT to be there to catch him.

He is, and so are the other two uninjured Titans on either side of him. Alexander’s hanging back, supporting them with cover fire, but careful not to pick too many battles. Even though Alexander’s built like a brick wall, he’s brain over brawns, and he’ll make sure not to shoot them in the back.

BT cups his hand around Jack, protecting him from a burst of incoming fire, and then he’s back in the pilot’s seat and ready to kick some ass.

His Titan is ahead of him, already shooting at one of the remaining Titans that’s closing at a run, trying to capitalise on the vulnerability of a Pilot not yet embarked. They’re a little too late or that, but there’s nowhere for them to run, so they keep charging.

Brave, Jack has to admit, before their bots crash together. The other Titan is bigger and heavier than them, but that just means that BT has the advantage of being faster on the ground.

And, unlike anyone else in this fight, he has Jack.

“Relinquishing control to Titan,” Jack says, and sits back with his hands off the controls. BT can process these kinds of things way faster than he can, and in a fight against an objectively better opponent, Jack might be a liability.

Besides, BT’s new and improved form comes with seatbelts. He doesn’t use them often, because disembarking at a moment’s notice can turn the tide of a fight, but he’ll need them now if BT wants to do some kind of crazy move.

BT does, and Jack is really going to have to talk to him about whatever kind of flippy gymnast yoga shit just went down, but in the meantime–

“Aoki, get those other two cars out of play,” Jack barks as BT gives him controls back, and he and Castañeda turn as one to face the last remaining Titan.

Jack tries to say he’s not a glory hound or anything, but he does kind of like that he’s going to add one more to his body count on this mission. They’re a crack team, him and BT, and he likes proving that over and over again, even if there’s no dispute about it.

Still, slamming your way through battle to indiscriminately kill everything is a great way to injure allies and get people pissed off at you. So he lets his teammate take the shot, and Castañeda rocks it, just like Jack expects of him.

“Hey, Command!” Aoki says cheerfully. “We smoked ‘em! Want us to bring you back a present? Bet we could pull something off these Titans’ data cores.”

Command’s reply comes quickly.

“Retrieve enemy data cores and helmets. Do not engage survivors if avoidable.”

“Toss me,” Jack says eagerly, already half out of his seat.

He can hear the disapproval in BT’s silence, but the cockpit opens up, and BT’s hand is resting just underneath.

BT flings him forward again, a little more gently this time. Jack lands on top of one of the downed Titans, and crouches to try to pull the door open. Success! And the Pilot was killed alongside their Titan, so there’s nobody to shoot at him. He hates when people shoot at him.

“Core and helmet secured from Titan one,” he reports. He takes a running jump back to BT, who catches him easily and deposits him back in the cockpit. He can let the others get the rest of what they’re after.

The other Titans’ cockpits are open, Pilots chit-chatting and occasionally waving away wisps of smoke from the trashed vehicles. The other teams have reported back their own successes already, so it’s not like Jack’s team is slacking.

“Anyone feel like pizza when we get back home?” Castañeda asks, slouched comfortably, the ubiquitous cowboy hat pulled down over his eyes. Until he spoke up, Jack kind of thought he was napping, but apparently that’s not the case.

“I’m always ready to eat,” Alexander agrees, and Aoki looks like she’s thinking about agreeing.

The best they can do now, in the field, is reheated and prepackaged food, but they’re all used to that, so he doesn’t think they’ll complain too much.

“BT, we ready to go back to base?” he asks.

“All clear.”

“Let’s go, team,” Jack calls, and they start making their way back to the closest thing to home that they have.

[jujumin-translates]

Misumi Ikaruga | [SR] Festival of Blooming | Misumi as Kumon

Cat: Nya~.

Misumi: Mhm mhm, I also had a lotta fun playing with you, Kitty.

Cat: Nya!

Misumi: Huh, where are you going~? Is there something over there?

Cat: Nya~.

Kumon: Huh, Sumi-san!?

Misumi: Ah, it’s Kumon!

Kumon: I never thought I’d see you here~!

Misumi: Did you know that Kumon was my friend, Kitty?

Cat: Nya.

Misumi: So you did!

Kumon: You’re a smart one! And super cute too!

Cat: Purr.

Misumi: They said that they’re happy you pet them, Kumon!

Kumon: Ahaha, I’m glad!

Misumi: So what are you doing here, Kumon~?

Kumon: I was just playing catch with Yamaguchi! It’s been forever since we played together, so it was really nice!

Misumi: You really like baseball, huh, Kumon~.

Kumon: Ehehe… Yeah!

Kumon: I’d really love to get the whole troupe together to play a baseball game or something again sometime ~.

Misumi: I also wanna see you play baseball, Kumon~.

Misumi: …Yeah! I’ve go~tta stick with baseball after all.

Kumon: Eh? What?

Misumi: Hmm, it’s no~thing.

Cat: Nya!

Misumi: Ah, they said they like baseball too!

Kumon: Seriously!? Then let’s play baseball together next time!

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Misumi: We’re hooome!

Yuki: Welcome back.

Kazunari: Welcome home, Sumi and Kumopi! Were you two just out together?

Misumi: It was all thanks to the kitty that I bumped into Kumon~!

Kumon: What are you two doing? Looks like you’re looking at that computer.

Kazunari: I was just watching the recording of “First Crush Baseball” with Yukki!

Misumi: First Crush Baseball~?

Kumon: Why now!?

Kazunari: I was going through some videos earlier and dug up this one~.

Kazunari: I was only gonna watch a little of it, but I ended up watching the whole thing!

Yuki: It was pretty interesting.

Kumon: I wanna watch it too!

Misumi: Me too~!

Kazunari: We’re right at the daily practices right now.

Kumon: This is super nostalgic!

Yuki: There are more ad-libs than usual in this performance.

Kazunari: We were really into it!

Misumi: I was super happy that the audience was laughing so much~!

Kumon: Actually, I remember I was super nervous during this one~.

Kumon: I was also really nervous about the audition to join the troupe too~.

Yuki: That happened to all of us too.

Kazunari: We were worried about you back then.

Kumon: But it was all thanks to the etude you guys did that made me feel so much better!

Kazunari; Uwah, that’s a throwback!

Yuki: Kazuko, right?

Kumon: I was also super happy with the God Mr. Triangle that Sumi-san gave me!

Misumi: Ehehe, I’m glad~!

Kazunari: Ah, Kumopi, lookie! Next up is the baseball scene!

Yuki: Kumon definitely had the best form out of all of us because of his experience.

Misumi: Kumon was super bold and cool~!

Kumon: Hehe, thanks!

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Misumi: Over here, like this~...

Yuki: Huh, what are you doing? Wait, that’s--.

Misumi: Ehehe~. I’m making it for a mission!

Yuki: Huh… That being said, how are you even going to make use of that?

· • — ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • · · • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • · · • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ — • ·

Misumi: Kumon, how’s this~?

Kumon: You look super good in my clothes, Sumi-san!

Misumi: I’m glad~!

Misumi: By the way, I’m gonna use this to act as you today, Kumon!

Kumon: A baseball mitt? So that means--.

Misumi: Ehehe, well then, I’m gonna get started now!

Misumi: “Let’s hit a home run! Don’t worry, I won’t throw any fastballs!”

Kumon: (That must be me playing baseball!)

Misumi: “--Tch!”

Kumon: (Whoa, I can tell that he just caught a fastball! That’s incredible, Sumi-san…!)

Misumi: “Alright, I’m up to bat now! Time to aim for a home run!”

Misumi: “Ehehe… It was super fun to play baseball with everyone! Thanks, guys~!”

Misumi: …And, scene! How’d I do~?

Kumon: That was… Incredible, Sumi-san! It really felt like me!

Kumon: The way you pantomimed hitting and pitching the ball was so good! It’s like I could actually see the ball!

Misumi: I’m glad~!

Kumon: It was so cool! It’s a little embarrassing to think that the one you were acting like was me, but…

Misumi: You’re always so cool and incredible like that when you’re playing baseball, Kumon!

Misumi: So I’m sure that’s why my acting seemed so good~.

Kumon: …Ahaha! I guess so!

Kumon: Seeing you play baseball made me really wanna play baseball again! I really need to get around to planning a baseball tournament!

Misumi: Yeah, yeah, we’ll have to talk about it with everyone!

Kumon: But first we’ve gotta complete this mission! You’re supposed to take a pic as proof.

Misumi: Before that…

Misumi: Ta-daa!

Kumon: Eh!? That’s…

Misumi: A “First Crush Baseball” edition of Mr. Triangle~! I made him to commemorate the mission~.

Kumon: That’s amazing! He even has the Sakura High baseball hat and a bat!

Misumi: I’m go~nna take the pic with this Mr. Triangle!

Kumon: I’ll take the pic for you!

Kumon: --There! I think I got it!

Misumi: Thanks, Kumon!

Misumi: Also, also, this Mr. Triangle is a present for you, Kumon~!

Kumon: Eh? For me!?

Misumi: Yeah! Earlier you were saying how happy you were to get the God Mr. Triangle!

Misumi: It’s a gift to say that I wanna keep being good friends and roommates!

Kumon: I love it! Thank you so much, Sumi-san!

Misumi: I’ll be with you today, and tomorrow, and the day after that, and every day after that!

Kumon: I’m looking forward to spending all that time with you!

[fleckcmscott]

Haunted Heart

Summary: Mabel invites the Flecks to visit for the holidays. On Halloween, more than trick or treats await them.

Words: 5,606

Warnings: Swearing

A/N: In this oneshot (twoshot? 🤫), I wanted to revisit Y/N's family in Missouri, catch up on how Mabel and Ed are doing, and give Arthur a new way to celebrate the holidays. This Halloween story is a tad late, but I hope you all still enjoy it. 😊 Much gratitude to @jokerownsmysoul for beta-ing and @sweet-nothings04 for her kind support and encouragement. 💜

If you have any thoughts or questions, please comment, feel free to message me, or send me an ask. Requests for Arthur and WWH are open!

The notion had sprung from Mabel's gut, not her head. Flown out of her mouth like one of Jason's fastballs flying past home plate.

"Why don't you and Arthur come down for the holidays?"

The plea disguised as a question hung, waited. Tick-tocked in the air and her heart. A sitcom's muffled dialogue came from the other end of the phone line, canned laughter directed squarely at her. The tap of Y/N's fingernails on Bakelite. Once. Twice.

Silence pushed Mabel to continue the sales pitch of the year. "Two weeks would be enough time to do Halloween, Thanksgiving, and Christmas. We'd be happy to have you stay here, if you're ready to try that again. Not that before was your fault, I mean- That's not what I mean." Shut up, shut up, shut up!

The airy idea had taken on the sudden heaviness of urgency, paired with an awareness of how much she craved this, how much she had to make up for. Yeah, Y/N had forgiven her. But the wheels of self-forgiveness spun at two miles at hour. And though her sister wasn't one for drawn out heart to hearts, Mabel felt an acute need for amends.

It manifested at the oddest times. When Ashley had taken her first steps, and Mabel realized Y/N had witnessed their dad's last. Or when Jason had gone to the prom, and his date's baby blue dress had reminded Mabel that she'd missed Y/N's wedding. The Widow Brown shuffling through the produce section with her walker; catching Murray Franklin with Ed; card games on family nights, new since Ed's demotion. They induced the pang of not being there. Of not having been there.

The last two years they'd made real process. Weekly calls and surprise cards and quite a few I love yous. They continued to work their way back to each other.

Last summer, Mabel had downed a mint mojito in the airport bar, clung to Ed and the kids, and boarded a plane to the Great Wilds of Gotham, where Y/N and Arthur let them further into their lives. Shown them Dube & Ellis's office building, the city's zoo and botanical gardens, and Amusement Mile. They'd even made reservations at a fancy Italian joint called Bamonte's and caught a show at Pogo's.

At Gotham Beach, Y/N had taught Brian how to skip stones, and Ruthie had returned her magic coin to Arthur. Running down the shore, Ed held Ashley above him like an airplane, zoom zooming all the way. For the first time, Mabel had seen the ocean. Standing on the rocky beach, toes digging into broken shells and jagged pebbles, the water was endless. So vast it could have swallowed her up.

Starting, she'd stumbled back, feeling foolish for never being the type of girl to leave home.

She folded deeper into the den's easy chair, squished herself into the worn leather. "We just love you and would love to see you again."

A click of the tongue across the miles. "I don't see why not. It's one of Arthur's busier seasons, but he doesn't take enough time off, anyway. I'll talk with him. We'd love to see you, too."

Mabel rushed out a breath she definitely knew she was holding. "Really?"

"Yes!" Bright laughter that dimmed to an ahem. "I...can't make any promises about our parents or going to Sunset Hills. Please don't ask me to visit. If I can, I'll tell you. All right?"

Mabel's chest tightened. At least getting this out of the way would result in fewer eggshells. The curly phone cord wound between her knuckles. "All right. I hope to make the bed for you soon."

~~~~~

Arthur couldn't have agreed faster than if Y/N had asked him to marry her (which he would do again and again and again.) Spending the holidays in the countryside? With his nephews and nieces and in-laws? Even without snow, the celebration would be worthy of an Irving Berlin song, a postcard to paste in his journal.

And, after the tidal wave of their last visit, he'd get to see how Y/N would do.

When she'd mentioned the trip, there'd been none of the pursed lips, the fleeting fear, the cryptic conversation that'd made him wonder what she was hiding. Just a simple matter-of-factness that her family was worth having to make small talk with perfectly nice people she never wanted to see again. A weird notion, yeah, but within her realm of weird, the same realm that made her love Gotham and him.

On the flight down, he turned to a fresh page and jotted a title in the top margin: "Our Trip to Missorie."

Welcoming and warm, Mabel and Ed were as kind as Arthur remembered, an imprint on his heart. Before they had a chance to drop their suitcases, Ruthie and Brian rushed them for hugs, while Jason held back in the way happening teenagers do. Sitting on the play rug in the corner of the living room, Ashley waved and smiled. "Hi! Who you guys?" Hard to believe they'd fed and rocked her a blink of an eye ago.

With Halloween only two days away, they got right to work.

Having an entire porch to decorate, an honest-to-goodness front yard, tickled Arthur's mind, made it whir with creative flair. Not that he didn't love the small touches Y/N put together back home. Die-cut cardboard cutouts on the windows, a jack-o-lantern he lit and set outside the door. How her cat costume cradled her curves and that teasing tail.

Their celebrations were sweet and understated, wholeheartedly them. But compared to an apartment, the possibilities here were endless.

On the way to the supermarket, they'd stopped at a clapboard farmhouse that took the holiday as seriously as evening news. Spooky sounds echoed, an audio effects cassette on infinite loop, howls and screams that prompted a shiver even in the day. Plywoods gravestones - at least a dozen - loomed over coffins, from which rubber masked ghouls climbed. A hooded creature lurked behind a crooked tree, a scythe in its skeletal hand. A guestbook lay open on a music stand by a makeshift crypt.

Arthur declined to sign. Instead, he chose a friendly competition.

"Miller's has cornstalks for sale," Mabel said. She and Arthur were in the basement, digging through box after box of goodies. "We can get some this afternoon. Hay, too. But we'll want to decorate tomorrow - the squirrels'll tear it up, otherwise." She knelt by a plastic milk crate of props and lifted a rubber rat by its tail. "This'll look good on the stairs."

He blew dust from the ears of a blow mold horned owl. "I don't understand how you can love Halloween but Y/N doesn't."

A pause, a gulp loud enough to make him turn. "The kids help," Mabel began. "The first year Jason was supposed to go trick-or-treating, he had a fever of a hundred and two. The poor thing wore his Daffy Duck costume and watched cartoons. Arthur, look at this."

Scooting beside her, he studied the object in her hands. A pumpkin shaped doily, vines winding into curlicues at the edges. It'd ridden in directly from the fifties, akin to Y/N's needlepoint apron, the one her mother hadn't gotten to finish. Mabel's fingers curled as though holding a fragile treasure, stained-glass that'd been cloaked in dirt for too long.

When his gaze met hers, there was melancholy mixed with merry. "Do you wanna use it?" he asked, indicating it with his chin.

"Yeah." Thumbs caressed the seams once more. "Mom would hang it on the door after we carved pumpkins. Did Y/N tell you about that?"

"She doesn't talk a lot about the holidays." A grimace twisted the corner of Mabel's mouth. Leaning into one of the earliest lessons he'd learned, he sought to cheer her, raised a palm in a Hold On gesture. "She tells me more than she used to - about you and your mom and dad. But I think it's still hard. Please. Don't be upset with her."

"I'm not, not at all." Mabel said with an emphatic shake of her head. But she didn't meet his gaze. "What did you do last year?"

The tastes and sounds and sensations of that evening roared through his head and heart. He sought to keep his cheeks from turning crimson through sheer will. "Um. Worked on one of her cases and baked a cake." He cleared his throat twice. "She does like to catch B-Movies on TV in October."

Mabel chuckled. "That's an old tradition. One night she took me to see The Blob at the drive-in. She was always so refined and smart - I had no idea she had such bad taste."

"I don't like them, either. But I watch with her, try to plan something special, you know? Make it about us? There's a Grand Halloween Ball every year. At Wayne Hall. I'd love to take her there someday."

"But she'd have to get better at dancing."

A snort wrinkled his nose, shoulders raised in an agreeable shrug. "Well, loving her makes her easy to dance with. It's just it’s the one thing she's shy about."

"I love her, too." Mabel folded the doily into quarters, grabbed a steel support post, and pushed herself to her feet. "This should be enough to knock the neighbors dead. Help me lug all this upstairs."

~~~~~

"Mom, mom, mom, mom, mom!"

Brian rounded the bottom of the stairs. Careened into the kitchen. Skidded to a stop at the oval dining table, where Mabel, Y/N, and Arthur stood sorting candy. A plastic turtle shell, a repurposed sandbox cover, clattered to the floor. Frantic huffs and puffs that left Mabel wondering if she should grab a paper lunch bag and hold it to his mouth.

The boy pressed an orange strip of terrycloth to his forehead. "I can't tie it!" He pulled the ends past his ears for emphasis.

"Honey, slow down." It was just after breakfast, but the kids were determined to wear their costumes all day. She handed a quarter-filled paper treat bag to Arthur. Turned the boy around by the shoulders. "Where's dad?"

"In the bathroom. Ashley missed again."

Mabel rolled her neck from side to side. Though she adored the stork's little surprise, she'd assumed potty training would be behind her at forty. She'd double-wrap Ashley before sticking her in her pumpkin costume. "Put your dirty clothes in the hamper and I'll start the laundry." Mabel tied the terrycloth into a knot. "Did you find your pillowc-"

"Mommy!" Ruthie's plaintive cry from the downstairs bathroom. "I can't find my makeup!" An unsurprising development, given the last-minute switch from Strawberry Shortcake to Circus Ballerina.

Ensuring the headband wouldn't cut off circulation, Mabel stuck two fingers between it and the crown of Brian's head. "All set! Now get your clothes, then go help your sister."

"But my shell isn't on yet!" He pointed at the forlorn accessory.

"Brian, take a deep breath and count to five." Y/N crossed the linoleum to kneel next to the boy. She retrieved the fallen armor, instructed him to hold up both arms. Held his hands one by one to keep his elbows straight and slip it over his green sweatshirt. Once the shell was in place, she tightened the straps on his shoulders, tightened his belt to keep his plastic nunchaku in place.

"There you go," Y/N said, ruffling his caramel hair. "Now let's go find that makeup."

"I don't have green."

"Mommy!" Ruthie wobbled on the tightrope of excitement and panic.

A much-needed referee, Arthur stepped from behind the table. "I do. I have enough for Ruthie, too." He offered his hand to Brian, wiggled his fingers. When he took it, Arthur gave the quarter-filled bag to Y/N. "Save a treat for me," he said, flashing a grin as he was tugged out of the room.

Smiling softly, she studied the crinkly paper, where a scarecrow waved, clad in a top hat, plaid suit coat, and patched pants. "This looks like Arthur's Carnival costume."

On their vacation north, they'd gotten to meet the professional clown courtesy of a special street performance. Mabel opened a box of taffy. "Is that what he wears for Halloween?"

Y/N answered with a nod. "He works most of the day, usually one or two gigs." She dropped a few loose candy corns into the bag. "That reminds me. I've got to dig my cat costume out of my suitcase."

"Not this year, you don't." A skeptical glare shot Mabel's way. She cackled. "All will be revealed. Your hubby shared a smidge of what you two get up to. I'm glad you're making your own history."

"This is for him, mostly This is the one holiday he insisted on." Lower lip stuck between her teeth, Y/N looked in the direction Arthur had gone, gaze flitting back and forth. Then she leaned forward. "You heard what he said on Murray. I don't think he had many traditions growing up."

It was a truth Mabel had locked in her psyche, one that turned her throat to cotton.

"He likes looking through my photo album," Y/N continued. "We've gone through it probably six times. He asks about every single picture. What I got for Christmas that year, or what game we were playing, or what we had a picnic - he refuses to try egg salad sandwiches." Giggles dissolved to a tender hush. "Sometimes I think he wishes he was there. I don't blame him. His father wasn't around, Penny couldn't take care of or protect him.

"There's a file he took from Arkham - that's the state hospital in Gotham - about his mother and what happened to him. He doesn't know this, but I read everything in it, all of it. Part of me wishes I hadn't, but I had to know. What he went through, I-"

One long inhale, the rapid flutter of her lashes. "I know how hard it is to want to look back at happy times and not find them - even when they're there. We've put a lot behind us. It's nice to be able to appreciate Halloween again, to celebrate with someone who can enjoy it." Wincing, she shook her head. "I didn't mean how that sounded."

Lips pinched, Mabel put a bag in the white wicker treat basket. "You did and that's all right."

"I did love taking you house to house. Remember when you drove your bike into a pothole and scraped your knee?"

That hadn't hurt as badly as the scraping of Mabel's heart. After a moment, she pushed the weight of what she couldn't change off her back and went to her side. "You gave me a Clark bar while dad patched me up."

Y/N folded down the end of the treat bag to seal it shut. "Where are we taking the kids, anyway? The mall?"

"Absolutely not. It was a zoo last year." Stumbling through what must've been a thousand people, all for hard candies a grandmother would be ashamed to have in a lead glass dish on her coffee table. "The elementary school's having a fall carnival for the town. Jeff might be there. Would Arthur mind?"

"They met before and got along well enough to gossip about me." Y/N nestled her bag next to Mabel's, fingertips lingering at the seam.

"How have you been sleeping?" Mabel asked. It'd been a relief when Y/N had forgone a reservation at Four Acres, decided to give the old brick house another try. And while she still took morning walks, they were shorter and came only after a decent breakfast.

"Better. It's not easy to sleep in a new place - or an old place. But I'm getting there. This-" She gestured at the festive mess "- is helping me get there."

Mabel blinked back enough remorse to sling an arm about her shoulders and squeeze. "Good. I want this place to feel like home."

~~~~~

Clad as Carnival, Arthur waited on the living room sofa, pen in hand and notebook on his lap. "I think Y/N's halfing a good visit. She wants to talk with me more now and that's a relief. She isn't tossing and turning in bed - so I can get some sleep! Ruthie and Brian let me paint there faces, like I do at work sometimes. But it was nicer because their my neece and nephew (f?) and-"

"Ready or not, here we come!"

In the dining room doorway to the left, Mabel stood with Y/N, their arms firmly linked. Identical outfits forced a doubletake. Claw clips held back cinnamon hair, siren blue headbands sat snug above their ears. They wore Lycra leotards, capsleeve and V-neck, a fuchsia bright enough to blind. Spandex belts flattered rounded hips, what he figured was a family trait, and blue tights hugged their legs. Fuchsia leg warmers and white Saucony Jazz sneakers completed the ensembles.

Rising, Arthur rolled up his journal and stuck it in his waistband, flummoxed but eager gaze darting back and forth between them. "Who're you supposed to be?"

"The Doublemint Twins!" Mabel said, beaming with pride.

Y/N offered the half-smile of the Playing Along.

"Double the pleasure, double the fun! Look, I even have gum." Mabel retrieved a pack from her belt and doled out a stick each, which had gone soft from her body heat. Arthur hated mint gum; it tasted like trying to quit smoking. But, being in the spirit of things, he accepted, anyway. "Ed and I usually do couple's outfits, but he agreed to make an exception this year. No football player and cheerleader."

Y/N asked, "What's he doing, then?"

A guffaw boomed beyond the woman's shoulders. Slicked back salt and paper hair came into view, a face bathed in blotchy baby powder like a 1940s B-movie extra. A faded white short sleeve button-up was tucked into gray trousers, and a plastic cape was tied loosely at the neck. The cape came to his waist, as if he'd borrowed it from one of the kids.

Fingers curled into claws, he lurched forward and slurred through cheap plastic fangs. "I vant to suck your blood!" He grabbed Mabel by the bicep and bent to her neck.

Giggling, she swatted him away. "Now, now, not in front of the guests."

He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "I can't find Ashley's tights."

"They're in the bathroom." Mabel rubbed his hairline with her thumb, then grabbed his hand. "You need a widow's peak."

Once they were out of earshot, Y/N crossed her arms over her chest. "I think she forgot we're not actually twins. This is too tight for a school party."

When an outfit accentuated her breasts, she tended to avoid it. As Arthur saw it, though, she had nothing to be bashful about. She was lovely and his. Rouge highlighted the apples of her cheeks, violet eyeshadow flattered her brown eyes. Stepping forward, he pried her hand from her armpit.

A timid laugh bubbled up. She tucked her chin. "You're looking at me like you want to eat me up, but I feel more silly than sexy."

"You're always sexy. Especially when you're silly." He pressed a chalky kiss to her wrist, lingered until he felt her pulse. "What is it they say on GMC? When your bad movies are on? Something wicked is coming this way?"

"Not too wicked, I hope," she said, stealing beneath his plaid suitcoat to cup his sides. "At least, not yet." She bounced to her toes, plush, plum painted lips puckered towards his...

"Bye mom, bye dad!" Jason bellowed from the kitchen.

Mabel did not miss a beat. "Hold on a minute, young man!"

Arthur's mouth bumped Y/N's temple as she turned towards the commotion, then started off with an arched brow.

Ashley shoved under her arm like a sack of flour, Mabel marched out of the bathroom. "Where do you think you're going with that?" She pointed at the VCR sticking out from Jason's windbreaker.

"Mike's mom said she'd rent movies if I brought it over."

Felt pumpkin outfit at the ready, Ed jogged to Mabel's side. The toddler's stubby legs kicked wildly. Mabel passed Ashley to her husband and the interrogation continued, questions whipped off a well-memorized list. "Is this a party?"

"No."

"How many people will be there?"

"It's just some friends from school!"

"Will Mike's parents be home?"

"Yes. No. I dunno."

"Your curfew is ten-thirty."

Wincing, Jason leaned his head against the door. "But we won't even get through one movie by then!" He'd reached that age where being cool was of the utmost importance. While getting his driver's license had added a notch to the cool belt, he currently sounded much younger and uncooler than his sixteen years.

Hands on hips, Mabel let out a huff. "Eleven-thirty and not one minute later." Once the boy nodded, she pecked his cheek and opened the door. "I love you. No speeding."

Though agitation lurked in the air, Arthur couldn't help but find the scene heartwarming, akin to a family disagreement he'd seen on one of his old sitcoms. Something he wished he'd had. Maybe a compliment would soothe the situation.

"You're good at that," he said. "Being a mom, I mean."

Mabel shrugged. "He's growing up so fast - sixteen going on thirty. Let me grab this basket here-" she heaved the basket of treats from the table "-and we can be off."

~~~~~

Boonville Elementary and Sumner Middle shared a quad with Thomas Hart Benton High, with the high and middle schools on a hill on Cooper Street, and the elementary on the parallel Locust Road. Victory Field, a football field surrounded by bleachers and a quarter mile track, delineated where the big and little kids played. A baseball diamond was to the left and a playground sat to the right, which had a merry-go-round, a jungle gym, a metal slide that'd scald you when the sun was out, rickety seesaws, and two sets of swings.

The high school's gym bustled, as if the whole town had joined in celebration. Booths and tables lined the walls, manned by teachers, students, and volunteers from the community. A cakewalk with desserts and other small prizes stood in the center. A sign in an urgent font advertised a bake sale, featuring Ms. Chippy's Blue Ribbon popcorn balls.

Brian and Ruthie steered Ed and Mabel through the throng, to a haunted house hosted in the kindergarten classroom. Mabel shifted Ashley from one arm to the other, calling for them to wait up.

Y/N's face was a mask of unwelcome discomfort. Her hands folded firmly together, her Ready for Inane Conversation stance. It was foreign on her, ill-fitting. Arthur cocked his head, wondered allowed what was wrong.

Skeptical glances scanned the room. "The last time I was here was my high school reunion ten years ago. And I hated every minute of it." Before he could ask for more details, she took hold of his collar, rubbed the worn cotton between thumb and forefinger. The corner of her lips quirked, her crow's feet softened. "But with you here, it'll be worlds better. Should we bob for apples or play bean bag toss first?"

Delighted, he pressed his nose to hers, marked her with a faint streak of white.

They ambled along, Arthur adjusting his wig and tiny hat. Local dentist. Dr. Young manned a completely abandoned station; the red delicious apples and toothbrushes on offer belied why. A tween girl wrapped in swirled, turquoise scarfs and gaudy rings on her fingers, ran Madame Trudy's Palm Reading. Arthur dropped a dollar in the donation jar and held out his left hand.

"You're married," Madame Trudy said with the enthusiasm of the voluntold. A cheap trick, give his wedding ring and the woman at his side. But she was just a kid, and her next prediction made it all right. "You'll be married a long time."

A wizened old crone in a witch's hat and warted rubber nose waved them over. To his surprise, Y/N wore a warm look behind her makeup, the most genuinely welcoming he'd seen when meeting a stranger from her past.

"This girl was one of my best students," Mrs. Spencer said, patting Y/N's hand. Mrs. Spencer was a forty-year veteran of the English department and prided herself on never forgetting a face. "She sometimes got her is and es mixed up, but she always asked the right questions."

Arthur palmed the small of Y/N's back. "That makes sense. She's my best wife."

"I thought I was your only wife," she said, elbow nudging his ribs.

"Come around here," Mrs. Spencer instructed. The pat of Y/N's hand became a firm grasp as the teacher guided her former student to her side of the table. "Tell me all about what you've been doing and the big, wide world you moved to."

~~~~~

Sipping spiced cider by the snack table, Mabel and Ed made pleasant chit chat with Brian's teacher, Mr. Webb. The boy had a knack for natural sciences, and Mr. Webb had a plan for leaf graphing to help him earn his Nature merit badge. Mabel was grateful the boy had a mentor, if not a pal.

In some ways, Brian was younger than his years. Smart and good at school, but he tended to struggle with his peers, miss the social cues that'd turn classmates into friends. Luckily, he'd been enrolled in special classes in the resource room twice a week and good progress was on its way.

Just then, a woman in a sock hop costume came to the table, a woman that Mabel had the misfortune of recognizing. Replete in poodle skirt and saddle shoes, she poured herself an orange drink from a large, yellow cooler.

The prim and proper nurse was a longtimer at the hospital, had won local recognition for excellent patient care. But her method of handling family members should've resulted in a rusty iron medal.

Whenever their dad had been admitted to the hospital, the nurse had admonished Y/N with accusations. That he'd had pneumonia because she'd fed him too quickly. Or that she hadn't turned him enough in bed. Or that he wouldn't have had a UTI, if she'd washed her hands before changing his catheter. How could she not know the basics when her father was a doctor? All as if Y/N were a reckless child, with no acknowledgment of the dreams she'd abandoned to care for him. A realization Mabel had been too immature to recognize.

Though seven years had passed, the disapproval the nurse had displayed - and Mabel's own inaction against it - made her blood slow to sludge. She crumpled her paper cup, steeled herself against recollections that barged in like wanted guests.

"Mom, look!" Ruthie ran to Mabel's side, ballet flats smack, smack, smacking the linoleum floor. "I won it in the cakewalk!" she said, shoving a book at her.

Mabel took the slim paperback, studied the cover of vibrant purple and velvet black, where two tiny ghosts stood before a crumbling castle. The full moon shone through jagged clouds, illuminating a path to a splintered door. Bats and spiders snickered, waiting to greet them with screeches and snares. With a soft sound, she flipped the book to read the synopsis.

Searching for the best treats, sisters Anne and Amelia stumble into a haunted castle. Through phantom wails and creaky hallways, only by facing their fears together will they be able to break free!

Water stung her eyes, lips parted then pursed. She was stricken. Once again the silly girl at the edge of the ocean, taken aback and barely able to breathe. Sisters who were freed by facing their fears together...

"Uncle Arthur can read it to me tonight!" Ruthie said, oblivious to her mother's sudden turmoil.

Mabel wouldn't have had it any other way. Bending to return the book, she offered a tight smile. "That's my girl." She reached into her bra, dug out a five-dollar bill. "I'll be back in just a little bit. Go get something for you and Brian at the bake sale." The girl ran off, darting towards dreams of sweets.

~~~~~

Sodium vapor lights cast shadows across the playground, long, spindly fingers bent at unnatural angles. Leaves rustled in the light breeze, warm but with a nip at the back end. Through hopscotch and four square courts, Mabel hurried across the pavement, steps quickening towards the swings tucked into the furthest corner.

She sat on a worn rubber seat, knees pulled in tight, hands rubbing her upper arms. The earthy smell of wood chips, normally a familiar comfort, failed to reassure. No moon shone tonight. A new moon. If only that wasn't the only thing that was new.

This town was supposed to be familiar and friendly and safe. But while she'd gotten all the safe, it seemed as though Y/N had gotten all the thorns. Even when her divorce had been behind her, the inquires about it hadn't. She'd mentioned it more than once over beers at the Silver Spur. Innuendo in the guise of polite curiosity. The way friends they'd made as a married couple had fallen away.

And when their dad had gotten sick, there'd been enough questions put to Y/N to fill the entire room. How their father was doing, what he needed, but not how she was doing or what she needed. - something Mabel herself had been guilty of far too often. Y/N's eyes glassing over as she tucked her hair behind her ear, always answering the same.

For her, Boonville had been a blackhole. Cold and dark and lonelier than ever.

A silhouette slid into Mabel's peripheral vision, stood a few yards away. Before whoever it was could get closer, she swiped at her eyes with the back of her hand.

The shadow stepped forward. Teased hair, spandexed hips, headband that nearly glowed in the dark...

"Shit." Mabel cleared her throat, consciously eased her voice like the best Beauty Boutique sales representative. "I'll only be a minute, Y/N." She swiped a stray tear from her cheek. "Are the kids all right?"

"Ed's getting Ashley a snack. Arthur's taking the others classroom to classroom to trick-or-treat. I don't think I've ever seen him smile so wide," Y/N said, sitting on the swing beside her. "When I told him I didn't want children, him being fine with it was a relief. But I love seeing him be an uncle. He wouldn't have had that chance - I wouldn't have had that chance - without you."

Mabel winced against her gratitude, the last thing she wanted.

Y/N pulled a long blade of grass from the A-frame's post. Rubbed away the wispy seeds. "You and I haven't talked about the hard stuff. Not yet. It's easier with Arthur because he wasn't there."

"I wasn't either," Mabel said. With all her missing in action, she should've been a regular confidant.

"You're here now and that's what's important to me."

A soft sniffle forced itself out of Mabel's nose. She'd invited Y/N here to atone, to recapture the holiday magic they'd loved as little girls and lost for too long. And here she was being comforted instead. God, how it irked her. She didn't want to burden Y/N, didn't want to wallow. She'd work it out with Ed, her silo of support.

Mabel decided to share a simple truth. "You know, after you got married and moved out, mom let me light the jack-o-lantern. But I'd rather have had you."

Sidling her swing closer, Y/N put her hand on her knee. "There've been enough ghosts between us, Mabel."

A wave of protectiveness swept through Mabel, the same she'd felt when given Jason the third degree. "Let's face them together," she said, ready to start right away. She kissed Y/N's cheek and sprung from the swing. "Now hold on tight."

~~~~~

"Watch your step," said Arthur, a kid on each hand. While Ed and Ashley napped in the school nurse's office, Arthur navigated the downward slope to Victory Field. In clown shoes, that was a feat.

Ruthie and Brian had gotten a haul to be proud of, their pillowcases filled to the brim. Arthur's own pockets were bursting with his favorite butterscotch candies and Palmer chocolate flavored crispy wavers. Y/N insisted the latter were terrible, and he had to admit the chocolates she'd introduced him to were less sickly sweet. But Palmer's distinct plastic taste was tied to the warmth of a kind schoolteacher who'd taken a boy without a costume under her wing.

Girlish laughter rang out in the distance. He blinked in the semi-darkness, guided the kids towards the cheerful sound.

Halfway down the hill, he halted. Unbridled joy stretched his lips, a smile to rival Carnival's.

Crouching behind Y/N, Mabel pushed her on the swing, letting loose an exaggerated groan. Heavy duty chains squeaked in their pendulums with each back and forth. Y/N's legs pumped harder and harder, toes reaching for the stars as if she was ready to fly. "Higher!" she cried, then laughed again. "Higher!"

Brian dumped his sack on the ground, spread out the booty in a big circle. He knelt to arrange the candy into neat rows, sorted by least favorite to most. Offering to trade three rolls of smarties for a Jolly Jack bar, Ruthie flopped down in her tutu and dug into a peanut butter cup.

Half-listening, Arthur sat cross-legged on the lawn, an eager audience to the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.

~~~~~

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[saltsparkle]

Last Song: The Way by Fastball

Favorite Color: Green! Emerald, pistachio, sage, mint, kelly, forest, arsenic, cobalt, phthalo, all of 'em. Also green's best friend, Pink.

Last Movie/TV Show: Dimension 20: Sophomore Year. I'm trying to catch up on this one before I start Junior Year.

Sweet / Spicy / Savory: They all have their places in my life and my heart. I do have a really bad sweet tooth though. Insatiable. Coming to the realization that I could door dash a cake to my apartment because I was an adult in control of my own fortune was a revelation.

Relationship Status: Single.

Last thing I googled: How to spell 'phthalo'.

Current Obsession: Trying to keep my dang plants alive through the winter. Figuring out how to appropriately build out a cute+sustainable winter wardrobe for Texas weather (finally bought mittens because we've had three years with bonkers wind chill days and I had to finally come to terms with the notion that I am never going to knit them myself). Iceland volcanoes. My cat, Thistle. She's so cute.

Last Book: Forget the Alamo: The Rise and Fall of an American Myth by Bryan Burrough, Chris Tomlinson, and Jason Stanford. My BA in History is showing.

Looking forward to: Spring. I miss good storms and am tired of the sun being directly in my eyes when I drive into work at 7:30am.

Tagged by @drewzelledraws! Tagging any other folks that wanna do this & tag me in it so I can be nosy.

[drstonetrivia]

Chapter 6 Trivia

Tsukasa doesn't want to have to kill his new friends…

Senku casually refers to Taiju and Yuzuriha as "you old couple", with no reaction coming from either of them. Either this isn't a new thing from Senku, or both of them completely missed it.

Tsukasa's destruction was so intense that the stone shards got caught inside his clothes.

He then opens his shirt further to shake it all out (you can tell by how many abs are on display…)

The detail of the art in early chapters is incredible. You can see Taiju's beard is starting to grow out by the furry outer edge along his jaw.

I wonder if it feels prickly or soft…

Senku: immediately runs to where he hid his last-resort secret weapon and hovers his hand directly over the pot it's hiding in.

Also Senku: how did Tsukasa see this coming and catch it!?

Tsukasa leaves the fight holding a spear. I have no idea where this spear materialized from because the last time he was shown holding it was when he brought back the shark last chapter.

The crossbow: Senku most likely had it already loaded, as you can safely keep crossbows loaded for several hours at a time (modern ones, anyhow). Modern crossbow bolts can reach speeds of over 362kph, however medieval ones only reached around 152kph.

Medieval crossbows also used steel for the "bow" part (called a prod) rather than wood after the 12th century. This makes me wonder if Senku's bolt was actually traveling at over 200kph, or if it was significantly slower.

For reference, 160kph is a professional fastball in baseball.

Immediately we make a huge technological jump in the name of weaponry.

Gunpowder was invented around 850AD by Chinese alchemists hoping for a new medicine or elixir of immortality but ended up with almost the exact opposite. It's also considered one of the Four Great Inventions.

[sineala]

Were you to do a Steve/Tony Sports AU, what sport would you pick? And would they be teammates, rival competitors, player & some kind of staff or media personal or something?

Or if not sports, do you have any favorite AU occupations for the, like chefs or teachers or something?

Thank you for giving me the excuse to post my amazing idea, "AvX But It's Baseball Instead Of Punching" which has been sitting in my random snippets doc for two years: AVX BUT IT'S BASEBALL INSTEAD OF PUNCHING: Tony: Wait, Colossus is pitching? How many people did you say we got to veto on the other team because of unfair powers? Scott: We used both of ours on Wanda and Strange. You get one more if you're still saying no to Emma. Steve: Okay. Still hanging onto that veto, then. Piotr: Da. I pitch. Logan: Fastball special, bub. Tony, spluttering: Whose team are you on, anyway? Tony, suspiciously: …whose team are you on, anyway? Tony: Oh, goddammit. Steve: Next? Scott: Nightcrawler. Steve: Hmm. You can keep him. Tony: Oh, come on. Steve. Steve. You want to win, right? The guy is basically a free base hit whenever he's up. Steve: Yeah, but he has to get a hit first. Tony: And who's our starting pitcher, then? Steve: Pietro. Scott: I'd like to take back that veto on Strange. Steve, cheerfully: No. So as far as I'm concerned, it absolutely has to be a baseball AU. Because Steve loves baseball. But I also feel like it would be much more interesting if they all still had their powers -- and we know in fact that there is canonically Avengers baseball, which is why I love Avengers Annual #15. (You will note that Steve is the pitcher for the East Coast team; Jan is catching him.)

I feel like baseball-with-powers fic would also be fun because you have to balance "characters whose powers would make them unfairly good at baseball" with "characters who have some idea how to play baseball" and as you can see from Avengers Annual #15 there, some of the characters who would be good at baseball also do not have much experience with the rules of baseball. Like, Steve is not The Strongest but he probably has a better chance at being a good pitcher than most of the Avengers who are stronger than him, since he has more baseball experience than most of them, daily experience throwing things, and also very good aim. I feel like he's probably actually a sidearm pitcher just from sheer muscle memory alone. I have probably thought too much about this.

Anyway, whether or not it's a full AU, given the affection that actual baseball fandom clearly has for batterymates (I feel like the fact that the term "batterymates" exists is a big tip-off), pitcher/catcher is the easy option because watching a really good battery is mesmerizing. (Last year's All-Star Game, where they routinely mic up some of the players, had Cortes and Trevino, who were on the AL team and are Yankees teammates the rest of the year so they already have experience together -- anyway, they were both on mic for an entire inning working together, which was really neat to watch.)

However, it almost seems too easy, so, you know. I would have to think about it. Pitcher/pitcher and catcher/catcher has potential -- and, say, outfielders would be an interesting pick just because it'd be different. I suppose "rivals" also has potential, provided they're divisional or historical rivals getting to play a lot and in that case they both gotta be infielders just so they can have emotional conversations when someone gets a base hit.

Oh! I also have a very meticulously planned (I mean, half-planned but it's the thought that counts) AU in which Steve and Tony are both involved in 1930s Thoroughbred racing. Because this is one of the few professions where pre-serum Steve's physique is (probably) an asset and also he would enjoy a job that is basically "go really fast and possibly die." Tony is an owner/trainer and Steve is one of his jockeys and together they're gonna win the Triple Crown. Steve will be riding Tony's horses (and also eventually Tony).

I must confess that I started planning it out solely because I had the idea that Tony could name his horses the same names as all the armors he designed in 616 and then it occurred to me that "War Machine" would 100% be an appropriate horse name in that era. Yes, I do think I'm hilarious.

[heckcareoxytwit]

X-Men VS M.O.D.O.K. and the mutated Orchis soldiers

With the war between Orchis and the X-Men resistance still going on, MODOK makes his big move. He arrives in New York and meets with a Orchis soldier. He pulls out a device, turns the dial on said device, and the soldier turns into a nasty octopus-like monster. Because he had access to DNA databases of Orchis personnel, he corrupted them to be turned into and used as monsters. MODOK calls it "making art." Gross. The Orchis soldiers across the city start turning into monsters including one that was holding Ben Urich and the journalists hostage, wanting Ben to retract any bad press on Orchis. Firestar arrives just in time to save Ben and the others. Down below, Kamala Khan saves a mother and baby as another Orchis monster attacks them in their car. As civilians run for safety, one of them swore he loved Orchis but with them turning into monstrosities, it changed his mind. The sight of the Orchis soldiers turning into rampaging monsters ruined their reputation from the public.

Laura Kinney, Emma Frost and Synch also join in the fray to help Kamala in defeating the mutated Orchis soldiers. Emma announces to everyone telepathically that the resistance is making great strides in the war against Orchis but that Nimrod has remained elusive and Xavier has now joined him. She's in the field using her rings Tony gifted her zapping monsters. Synch, elsewhere, asks her what the plan is to neutralize Xavier. He's calling up Armor's powers and punching the head of a Sentinel. Emma says she's keeping that info close to her vest because Xavier is formidable but she has top X-Men on the problem. Elsewhere, the remaining X-Men Resistance - Firestar, Kamala Khan, Laura Kinney and Synch track down MODOK on a tugboat in the river to fight him. Firestar shoots her microwave fireblast while Kamala throws a gas can at MODOK to make him burn more than ever. Synch and Laura execute a Polaris-powered fastball special to knock MODOK down. Kamala karate-chops him for good measure. Synch catches Laura then sets her down so she can take out an Orchis monster. After defeating the monster, Laura apologizes to Synch for the loss of her older self whom he was in love with.

X-Men v6 #34, 2024