#steph and brad

[man-down-in-hatchet-town]

Brad Callahan, Quarterback

So Brad, instead of Max, being the Nighthawks QB is one of the more interesting minor details in Yellow Jacket. Of course a lot of time has passed since the timelines diverged, so it's perfectly possible that Max's family moved, or that the try-outs played out differently. But also could there be the Implication(TM) that Max is, you know... dead?

I highly doubt that a version of Nerdy Prudes played out in this timeline, since it's hard to see Steph and Pete going along with anything Grace says now that they're free of the Witch Wood and her reign of summer camp terror. But we still have Grace herself, who in this timeline possesses both untainted prudishness and an alliance with Little Jerry, and is already a bit mad with power by the time their senior year starts. And it's hard to imagine a version of Max who doesn't hit on Grace any chance he gets. So what if, to punish him for his carnal desires, the Grace of Nightmare Time 2 lured Max out into the woods (just as, a couple of branches over, she had him lured to the Waylon House) and let the Axe Man do his work on her behalf? Leaving Brad Callahan to step forward and torment Hannah with his enlarged ego and Justin Bieber haircut.

I know there's a lot of what-ifs in this, but we can't deny that the Max of the Nightmare Time 2 timeline is conspicuous in his absence. It just makes sense to me, that the Grace of Abstinence Camp would also rain demonic justice down on Max and call it divine. And I love the idea that Max and Grace are another pattern that echoes out across the web of timelines, like some twisted inversion of Paulkins or Lautski. Paul and Emma will always find each other, as will Steph and Pete. Lex and Ethan will always love each other and it will always be doomed. And Grace Chasity will oh-so-righteously send Max Jagerman to his demise. Even if we don't see it happen.

It's just so fucked up and therefore so very Them.

[im-not-a-l0ser]

Brad: If you lose, Stephanie's gonna be mine again! Steph: No I won't. Pete: Yeah, did you consider Stph's feelings in any of this? Brad: In time, she shall learn to love me Steph: No I won't.

[ella-ashmore]

god. i should rewatch that. i can feel the brainworms grabbing hold of me again

[the-maid-of-witchwood]

Give us sexuality headcanons please

I don’t know who you meant specifically, so you can have the whole list of the senior class :)

Kevin - bisexual

Rose - lesbian

Josephine - queer, unlabelled

Grace - pansexual, aceflux and demiromantic

Caitlyn - pansexual

Max - gay, doesn’t know it

Jason - pansexual, demiromantic

Richie - gay, aroflux

Stacy - straight

Kyle - bisexual

Brooke - lesbian, aromantic

Brenda - queer, doesn’t know it

Sara - straight

PJ - lesbian, graysexual

Steph - pansexual, demisexual

Rudolph - gay

Reese - lesbian, asexual

Brad - straight

Trevor - gay, asexual

Pete - queer, unlabelled

Ruth - bisexual

[satyricplotter]

say something kind to me again

pairing: dick grayson x reader word count: 1.9k rating: gen notes: no warnings, but mentions of scissors and some vague threatening with them. hair cutting, but the only mention of your hair is about a tendril slipping away. sorry if you're bald. this is within the birdwatcher universe, but i'm not sure it'll make it into the main story. you can consider it an outtake. these were the chairs i was picturing, only a little taller lmao title from sydney ross mitchell's new song.

read it on ao3

.

"I don't think I've ever met a man who wants to be bald more than you do," you huff, setting the scissors aside for the third time.

Dick has the gall to smother a laugh against his shoulder, ruining the part you've redone twice as many times. The bathroom at his apartment is small and cramped, and it feels even more so like this, Dick half-sprawling over the sink and you backed against the closed door. He'd dragged one of the kitchen table chairs, old and knobby, made of sturdy wood but not necessarily compact, into the bathroom, positioned it right against the vanity, plopped a towel around his shoulders and said something to the effect of go on, then.

You'd made fun of him earlier, walking back to his apartment. Summer was here, and it made its presence known. Sensibly, you'd worn a hat, but Dick was rawdogging the midday sun. Sweat collected at his temple, ran its trail down his neck, and you had to think about something else, something other than the flat of your tongue pressing over his skin to follow. So you'd snorted, watching him try and fail at huffing his bangs out of his eyes, the plastic bag with your assortment of snacks and melting popsicles swinging off his wrist, and said, "ever met a pair of scissors, my man?"

So now you're here, doorknob digging into your kidney every time you try and put some distance between you. He'd set the chair right across the mirror, which rested above the puzzlingly large vanity, and the space between mirror-vanity-chair-Dick-door was barely enough to fit you in. You'd tried keeping the door open, of course you had—it opens to the hallway, you're not stupid—but it swings inwards and every time you moved, it kept hitting the wall, and this is a rental… and so on and so forth. So closed is really the only option you have if you want to keep some range of movement, short of pushing the chair against the door and climbing on Dick's lap, which is no option at all.

(He'd say yes if you offered. You would never.)

"Stop snickering," you grumble, sneaking a hand around the wing of the chair to poke him in the side. Dick, sitting cross-legged, knocks his knee against the edge of the vanity and groans. Good. "You think I'm joking? I've watched that stupid Brad Mondo video like ten times already. If you keep moving, I'm giving you a bald patch on purpose."

"Uh-huh," he says. Giggles. Idiot. "Should I get a bowl from the cupboards? I've never had a bowl cut before, but the idol guys Steph likes to watch on her phone seem to rock 'em. You think I'd look good like that?"

"I think you should get professional help."

"Oh, that's way past me."

"From a hairdresser," you stress, picking up the swords again. Scissors. The scissors again. They might as well be swords in your hands, though.

"I trust you," he says simply.

You sigh. It's because he does things like this that you'd be better off hating him, really. The man peers into the wound, digs his thumb in and asks if it hurts. If you like it. And you do, is the thing, you love the little moments. The crumbs of affection, freely given and unimportant. It hurts to have him inside you, but you live for the stretch, for the itch of the tears drying down your cheeks. You're a masochist, simply put, and he's your unknowing sadist.

"You should trust a licensed professional with the $26 a decent cut is worth," you say instead of all that. Because why would you say that, even.

See, that's the other thing in the up and down of this friendship. A lot of it feels pretty pointless. Not the happy stuff—not the talking, not the getting along. Not the walks on the sidewalk, the sun blaring down on you. Not the movie nights and the shoving each other for popcorn. Not even the grievances, big and small, and rare as they've become. But this, the… the expectation. The pause before the step. The constant second-guessing, the self-vigilance. The waiting around to see if you've been found out, even though Dick knows, even though he bears it so kindly, so patiently. Every moment you set your hands upon him, asking yourself is this innocent enough? and knowing it isn't, and knowing he knows and lets you anyway. Out of pity. Out of love.

Not, crucially, out of interest.

You think he'd do whatever you asked him for at this point. Your friendship's something of a rubber band. It changes shape, it constricts around time and opportunity to squeeze out passing and enduring enjoyment. You take care not to stretch it too far so it doesn't snap on you, sting you all the way to hell, but by this point it's pretty sturdy. You text most days, and you've got his brother's number, and whenever he disappears, he always comes back around.

So he'd do it, really, if you asked. If you came to him, and pleaded with him sweetly on your knees, and said would you teach me? Would you show me? He'd set his hands on you, and he would. He would teach you. He would show you. And he would do it with care and attention, mouth pressed against the divot between your ear and your jaw, and he'd mutter loving nothings that'd ring out true in the cloying dark because he does love you. He does. You love him back. That's no trouble to admit.

But he doesn't want to, is the thing. His gaze will slice across a crowd and pick you out of every person in the room and say I want to spend my afternoons with you, but he won't mean it like that. His eyes will flit over your body, and he'll say you're cute, but he's not thinking about it the way you want him to. You linger in his thoughts the way the comfortable simplicity of a morning cup of coffee does, something you want and seek and look forward to, but not something you crave.

Which is fine. Well within his right. It's just the way the chips fall.

His neck is warm when you hold it, rotate his head just a little to the left to inspect the place you'd been working on before. It's hot inside the bathroom, and it's not just you, it's the half-hour you've already spent cooped up in here, and the bad ventilation courtesy of the sad, little window over the shower head. His skin is almost damp, too hot to feel clammy, and you gotta get the two of you out of here soon or you'll end up getting heatstroke.

You set Dick up just right, and he blows his bangs out of his eyes, ruining the parting. Again.

"I will recede your hairline well before your time," you threaten, pressing the side of the scissors under the line of his jaw.

Dick works his throat, the muscle moving under the cold metal of the blade, and you hold the scissors a little tighter so they don't slip. He throws you up a flirtatious smile, drawls a seductive, "promise?"

"Ugh," you groan, more for the show of it than anything else. You have to play act it, over correct and be more brusque than you'd like. The hand resting on his shoulder slides up to grab a fistful of hair, so soft between your fingers, so much of it to cut, and shove his head down.

Dick makes a sound half between surprise and—well. You do not question that. Eager to move well past it, you inspect the back of his hair with critical eyes, and are pleased to find it laying mostly okay. It's a little shaggy, really, but it suits him. Few things don't.

"Don't be so rough," he says, and your guilty grip slackens. Then, unnecessarily, he adds, his voice gravelly, "I'll start getting excited."

"Shut up, Dick," you tell him, for lack of a better response. Sometimes he makes it worse on purpose.

You make the next cuts in silence. He's pliant underneath you, moving where you tell him, twisting this way and that. Doesn't mind you shoving his toothbrush and soap over the toilet—

"Get a shelf, man."

"It's a rental," he whines.

—or having to press against the knobby bars of the chair when you have to get your ass over the corner of the sink to get his bangs straight. When he sees you concentrating, he shuts up, but when you're deliberating or faffing about, he makes conversation. He'd make any barber's day, honestly.

"I think," you say, curling over his shoulder and running your fingers through the floppy bits of hair over his ears, "we're officially done."

Dick inspects himself in the mirror, turning his face left and right. You slide your hands down to grip the back of the chair, expectant. He doesn't seem unhappy, but he has the tendency to keep a straight face when he's evaluating. You kinda like the way his eyes go sharp and assessing, but then again, that's not a thought to entertain for too long. He grins at you through the mirror, and then drops his head over the back of chair, knocking against your knuckles.

"I like it," he says. "Do I look handsome?"

You snort. "I said it was done, not that it was good."

Dick pouts. "So I don't?"

A modest shrug. "I think it could be worse."

"You're so mean to me sometimes." He sighs. He does look handsome, choppy bangs and all, and you'll tell him later, but it's good practice for him to work for it. You won't reap those benefits, but some poor devil will.

"A barber would've sung your praises."

"Mm," Dick hums, uninterested. God, you hope he's not considering coming to you for all your haircuts.

You slide your hands out from underneath his head, rest them on the swoops at the very ends of the back of the chair, but he doesn't move. He's watching you now, bright eyes inscrutable. You look back on, holding his electric gaze. I am watching you watch me, you think. All our lives, we'll watch each other. And that's enough.

A tendril of your hair slips down your temple, hangs above you both. Dick lifts his arm to catch it, twisting the end around his finger.

"Should I cut yours, too?" He asks, far more quiet than before. You know what he's asking. His fingers through your hair. His hands on you.

You want to kiss him. You want to swipe back the hair off his forehead and press a kiss there. You want to feel his throat move under your fingers as you kiss his eyelids and his cheeks. Want to watch his mouth part when you hover right above it. The desire's so immediate, even now, even after all this work, as though it's never faded even a little, always at the ready right beneath your skin. He's watching you watch him, and he can see it brewing in your eyes.

Instead, you slap a hand over his mouth, widen your eyes at him, and go, "hell, no!"

He laughs you out of the bathroom, cowardice slipping out right behind you.

[adripakoffee]

Headcanon that all of the Batfam are at least aware of Rocky Horror. Like most of them haven't seen the movie but they know of it's existence. Except for Jason for some reason. Not only does he have it on DVD and own a CD which is always in the radio at his house, he also has the lips tattooed somewhere. He knows all the callbacks and he will shout all of them even if no one else will.

So it's movie night and it's finally Jason’s choice and he chooses Rocky Horror, mainly because Damian is off somewhere else and he doesn't know when next he could bless his families eyes with this film.

Jason, putting the DVD into the player: You guys are gonna thank me for this, this is the greatest movie ever.

Bruce, who Jason forces to watch this at least twice a year, whispering to Dick: It's not.

Tim looking at the DVD case: This is a musical, right? What happens in it that makes it rated R?

Jason, starting the movie: Raunchy gay stuff. You virgins are about to be blessed. Bruce, you have to do the callbacks too.

Bruce, who committed them all to memory for Jason but has never done this in front of others: oh... okay.

Steph: Callbacks?

Jason: Audience lines.

He sits back as the opening song starts playing. The first verse plays with no interruptions but when the chorus hits Jason starts to add lines. It's not a lot, if all the callbacks are like this, Tim thinks he can manage. But then the movie starts playing. When Jason calls Brad an asshole, everyone thinks its just because he does something later in the movie. Then Janet is introduced.

Jason, all ready throughly enjoying himself: Slut!

Bruce, quietly: She's not a slut yet, give her a chance.

Jason: Gave her a chance last week and she blew it!!

Dick, eyes wide, looking between his father and little brother: ...w h a t?

Dick, locking eyes with Cass: what?

Cass: *shrugs*

Dammit Janet plays and it becomes increasingly apparent this will be a long movie. As soon as the outcome for the song ends, Jason shouts.

Jason: The man in the next scene has NO FUCKING NECK!!!

Jason, relaxing into his seat: I should've got you guys the props.

Tim: Props?

Jason: Yeah this is the greatest movie ever.

The movie is long, the rest of the fam hears things they never thought they'd hear from Bruce’s mouth.

Janet: Oh, what the matter Brad, darling?

Bruce, without thinking: I came on the windshield.

The sound that comes from Cass can only be described as suffocating on laughter.

.

Tim, when they get to Frank's lab: Okay, so he's Frankenstein-ing a sex doll.

Dick: That what it seems like.

Tim, leaning forward and putting his elbows on his knees: Hm...

Jason: Do you know about gay sex?

Frank: I have knowledge...

.

Brad: Why you! What have you done with Janet?!

Bruce and Jason: Fucked the shit out of her.

Frank: Nothing.

Bruce, whos much more into this than he would ever admit: Liar!

.

They get to the part where everyone starts saying each other’s names.

Dick, tentatively after Janet said Brad: ... asshole?

Jason, throwing a piece of popcorn at Dick: Not during this part, Dickwing, shut up.

.

Magenta: I ask for nothing... nothing...

Bruce, who gave up pretending this wasn't also one of his favorite movies like 10 minutes ago: Under 12 inches.

.

Riff Raf: Say goodbye to all this,

Jason and Bruce: Goodbye, all this!

Riff Raf: and hello

Jason and Bruce: Hello!

Riff Raf: to oblivion.

Jason, smiling at Bruce because this is one of the nicest moments they've had in a while: Hi, oblivion. How's the wife and kids?

.

The movie ends and Tim leans back in his seat.

Tim, takes a deep breath: You were right, that was the greatest movie ever.

Cass nods in agreement and Dick gawks at them.

Steph: That was insane. Both of you are insane. I can't believe you guys.

Cass, signing: You loved it, I heard you laughing.

Steph: Shut up.

Dick, still reeling from hearing Bruce say "when's the orgy and who's invited": I just... How often do you two watch this?

Jason: As often as possible.

Bruce: Anytime Jason wants.

They all leave with their views of Bruce fundamentally changed, Jason not so much

[eppicurious]

First Names Dr. Langdon Could Have Had Instead of Frank, In No Particular Order

Alex, Eric, Adam, Jeremy, Josh, Theo, Teddy, Craig, Chris, Joe, Dave, Doug, Austin, Rob, Brad, Bradley, Bradford, Bret(t), Brent, Brendan, Brian, Ben, Andy, John/Jon, Paul, George, Peter, Luke, Jake, Mike, Nick, Jason, Connor, Gary, Steph(v)en, Oliver, Ralph, Ray, Mark, Marc, Greg, Patrick, Jim, James, Ash, Jesse, Brock, Simon, Tommy/Tom/Thomas, Philip, Jude, Julian, Eddie, Aaron, Dashiell, Elijah, Liam, Noah, Lucas, Calvin, Finn, Jasper, Miles, Xavier, Will, Anthony, Ken, Kevin, Ryan, Justin, Dennis, Tyler, Nathan, Kyle, Keith, Sean, Dylan, Gabe, Caleb, Russell, Liam, Ethan, Sebastian, Zach, Hugh, Louis, Lewis, Henry, Adrian, Felix, Hunter, Isaac Joel, Milo, Owen, Rowan, Garrett, Gus, Damian, Elliot(t), Emmett, Evan, Jonah, Wyatt, Quinn, Gideon, Tobias, Dean, Eli, Reece, Leo, Ross, Charlie, Tristan...

[stupid-starkid-headcannons]

It's tradition for the 5th graders from Hatchetfield Elementary go on a field trip to Watcher World at the end of the school year to celebrate before they move on to middle school. Some highlights from the time the class of 2021 went include...

Max and Kyle daring each other to ride the Tear Jerker, Max screamed like a girl and swore Kyle to never bring it up.

Richie and Trevor getting into a shouting match that ended in Trevor dumping a slushy on Richie's head.

Brooke trying to light a carnival booth on fire but was stopped by Grace being a tattletale.

Brad playing keep away with Pete's first pair of glasses before throwing them in the pool of the Eye Drop ride.

Paul as a chaperone was dragged into Binky's Watch Party where he was screaming internally the entire time. It didn't help when there was a sing-along part at the beginning and that the show abruptly ended when one of the actors AJ accidentally hit fellow actor Darren in the eye.

Ted was supposed to chaperone but disappeared at one point in the day. He was found drunk in the men's room muttering something about that jerk stealing her away from him.

Steph over hearing some adults talking about the upcoming Honey Festival how last years winner Mrs. Lauder will be a tough act to follow. This made Steph hide in a photo booth until lunch and mope for the rest of the day.

oh this is fantastic

[zombehlovejuice]

my hear me outs

slimecicle, beelzebub (good omens), buffalo belzer (wendell & wild), sister helley (wendell & wild), tim wright (marble horbets), brad majors (the rocky horror picture show), 90s jonathan davis, lila (spooky month), lady gaga, spencer reid/matthew grey gubler (criminal minds), wallace wells/keiran culkin (scott pilgrim franchise), butterfly (death proof), amber sweet (repo! the genetic opera), steph evelyn (my source/everymanhybrid), vinnie everyman (my source/everymanhybrid), stanford pine (gravity falls), graverobber (repo! the genetic opera), brandon flowers, alex kralie (my bf(marble hornets))

[vodrae]

After watching a documentary telling how Jordan's Chicago Bulls litteraly saved the economy and mental health of Chicago (La Grande Ligue - Chicago Bulls - Le Crossover NBA, it's only in french ) i'm imagining that, first obviously Bruce has to be the owner of every male and female team in town, wich character could be the Gothamite's hope, outside of a yellow, and green child vigilante.

Every batkid is the best at something but maybe too good,

Tim knew Nightwing was Dick because he said he was the only to who is able to do a triple somersault etc etc

I can see Jason and Steph in cars and superbikes

Or

Tim and Steph in e-sport, Tim has to be the sidekicks world champion of smashbros, and sprint or endurance running for him

Cass is already a ballerina

Damian is waitint to be old enough for olympic escrima

Barbs in wheelchair basketball

Etc etc

Or

Or

The legend Brad Wayne, running back of the Gotham Knights. He can do competition because he doesn't punch clown to get a thrill.

[sydney-sargent-superfan]

welcome to 1am stephanie brown song analysis. tonight’s song is tears over beers by modern baseball

when i was just a boy, we’ll call it fifteen or so/i found myself annoyed by a syndrome of sorts in my bones

hear me out here. the “syndrome of sorts in my bones” is arthur’s cluemaster bullshit. it’s “in her bones” because it’s her father. get it?

that girl who’s next to me, she’s friendly and thoughtful and quite awfully pretty/but all she has to say is a meat-head themed monologue on why brad ran away

steph does in fact think cass is all of those things, but i think it bothers her a little how much cass looks up to bruce and wants to be like him when he treated steph so badly

he needed more than me/i���m friendly and thoughtful and quite awfully pretty, but he needed more than me

she wasn’t enough. she was everything she needed to be, but it wasn’t enough. she wasn’t who he needed robin to be.

all i can hope for is for you to get better, because all i can take is no more

this is just a me thing but i would love to write a fic where right after she’s fired as robin, steph tries to move to a different city to be a vigilante because she can’t stand the way bruce treated her. all she can hope is for him to get better because all she can take is no more.

[possibly-evil]

was thinking of how a rocky horror hatchetfield au would work.... Janet and Brad would be Steph and Pete. Grace would be Frank, and Max would be Rocky. Do you understand my vision. The Grace/Steph/Peter/Max dynamic would be crazy. Someone see my vision.

[justarandombrit]

@femslashfortnight 23rd June - Fake Dating AU - Lautity

I really have a weird love for Fake Dating AUs so instead of doing art for this prompt, I decided to write something. It's actually the first time I've ever written Lautity so just bare that in mind while reading. (Also I don't have Ao3 so it's just below the cut)

Steph had never hated her father more.

For a man who once asked the hospital to unplug his father's life support so the sympathy over his death wasn't overshadowed by a local football match, forcing his daughter to find a date for a school dance seemed like a comparatively reasonable request. To Steph, however, her father could've stabbed her and she'd have more easily forgiven him.

Just last summer he'd carted her off to Camp Idontwannabang to protect his precious reputation because sex was evil and scandalous, and now it was all “Stephanie, as the mayor's daughter you are expected to find a fitting partner for occasions such as these. The town will begin thinking I'm forbidding you from dating, and we can't have that, can we?”

When she, admittedly quite bluntly, told him about her plan to spend the dance hanging around with Brenda and Stacy, he gave her an ultimatum.

Get a date by the dance, or he'd pick one himself.

She severely doubted her father's taste in men, especially since he'd been near constantly talking about how well-respected Brad Callaghan’s parents were in town.

She'd joked to Brenda and Stace that he'd have her going with one of the Monroe boys, but between a bleach blond twelve year old, and the biggest prick of a Linebacker she'd ever met, Trent Monroe didn't seem so bad.

In all seriousness, though, those hypotheticals would never come to fruition. She was Stephanie fucking Lauter, for Christ’s sake. She had her pick of the school, even if it was just because her dad was the mayor.

Max Jägerman would've been a safe bet, if not for the fact that they'd dated in Middle School for the worst month of her life. Plus, the breakup was messy beyond belief and even if it was just to a last minute post-game party, she suspected this would be even worse.

Both Kyle and Jason were off-limits, and she knew it. For a start, Brenda would kill her if she even touched Kyle’s arm, and she knew Max would make Jason's life a living hell, since one of his rules for his entourage was “No dating my exes on pain of wedgy”. Also, Jason had always weirdly reminded her of her father. Gross.

Brenda and Stacy were both just bad ideas. They had the somewhat rebellious factor of getting a girl instead of a guy, like she knew her dad would prefer, but Brenda was still madly in love with Kyle, and Stacy was still madly in love with Brenda. Best not to make that love triangle worse.

Maybe she should look away from the popular kids. Her dad never said anything about who the person had to be, and she kind of felt like being petty.

Her dating that bowtie kid, the Spankoffski, was definitely not flattering to her father's town-wide reputation. He was also pretty cute, but everyone knew his brother went missing a few months back, and she didn't want to lead him on when he was definitely not in the right headspace for a romantic relationship. And that fact might garner sympathy around them and turn it into one massive publicity stunt that would actually boost the Lauters’ reputation. All in all a bad idea.

Flemwad and Shitlips (she was relatively sure those weren't their actual last names, but that was the only thing anyone ever called them) were both definitely rock bottom in terms of desirability, but she had the feeling that dating either of them would drag her reputation down into the gutter too. This was about embarrassing her father, not her.

All of the other background nerds were essentially unapproachable, since she knew next to nothing about any of the other lower status students of Hatchetfield High. Although, wasn't one of them an arsonist? Definitely not.

This left, in Steph’s eyes, one candidate. One choice so crazy it just might work. Hatchetfield’s resident prude, none other than Grace Chasity.

Steph knew she looked like a creep staring down the hallway at Grace as she handed out flyers. She hadn't seen what any of the flyers had on them, but chances were it was a petition to cancel the very dance Steph was plotting about.

It might've been easier to march on down there, pick up an information pamphlet and join in on Grace's protest, but none of the Chasity family's holy crusades ever seemed to work, whether it be shutting down weed farms, boycotting diners, storming arcades, or stopping school dances. People tended to ignore them. Which was why what Steph was about to do would be so easy.

She slammed her locker shut and jammed her hands in the pockets of her trousers, Max Jägerman style. Unfortunately, women's jeans have considerably smaller pockets than letterman jackets, so she probably looked slightly awkward.

It definitely seemed to have the intended effect though, since people in the corridor shrunk away from her as she passed.

She knew getting Grace to agree to go through with her plan was a long shot, and Max might kick up a bit of a fuss, but Steph thought that out of everyone at the school, she might be the only one Grace would even consider dating. The girl was practically obsessed with her, after all.

“Hey, Chastity!” Steph shouted, getting her name wrong on purpose.

Grace’s face lit up, and she clutched her leaflets to her chest with one arm, throwing the other up to wave excitedly.

“Hi Steph! Do you want to help me hand out flyers before Biology?”

Steph desperately tried to make her smile look forced.

“As fun as that sounds, I'm actually here to ask a favour.”

Grace cocked her head to the side slightly, shifting her pamphlets to the other arm.

“It's not about the History homework is it? Steph, you know I won't help you cheat. We could do a study session in the library though! My parents might even let me stay out until 6pm!”

Ignoring both how enticing that offer sounded, and how sad the last comment was, Steph replied, “No, it's not about homework, I'll just cheat off of Spankoffski, it was actually about the dance–”

Grace looked scandalised, which Steph thought probably wasn't a good sign, but carried on anyway.

“– I don't have anyone to go with, and my dad is totally on my ass about it, so I wanted to know if you'd be chill with going with me, or, like, pretending to be my date, or something,”

Grace took a deep breath, and Steph braced herself for the verbal smackdown. Why did she think asking out the most puritanical seventeen year old on earth was a good idea?

“First of all, butt, Steph, not hmmm” –Grace hummed to avoid saying the profanity– “and secondly, I don't plan on going to this devil-worshipping sperm bank of a school party. It's a football party, Steph, a football party. We didn't even win! The Timberwolves wiped the floor with us!! And lastly, I will not ‘pretend to be your date’. We're seventeen, we shouldn't even be thinking about that stuff yet! Why would I even consider that?”

Steph really didn't want to resort to this, but her brain spit out a response before she'd had any say in the matter.

“If Max thinks you're a lesbian he'll stop trying to carry your books.”

If Steph knew what the five stages of grief actually were, she'd have assumed Grace was cycling through them now. Instead, she thought Grace looked like she'd gone from seeing a ghost, to being flustered beyond belief, to having eaten a wasp, to completely unreadable. Somehow that was the scariest one.

Grace bowed her head and avoided Steph's eyes while putting her papers in her backpack. After she'd checked they were all in there at least four times, Grace hoisted her backpack back on to her shoulder and took a deep breath.

“I- okay. Okay. Okay. I'll do it.”

It took everything in Steph not to hug Grace right there in the middle of the hallway. Instead, she shot Grace a singular finger gun and, in her best dirtbag boyfriend impression, turned around and yelled back “See you at the dance, hot stuff!”

Judging by the giggling around her, she knew Grace was probably bright red, and definitely going to kill her. Worth it.

[ella-ashmore]

hello chat. as halloween is this week, welcome to my objectively correct casting of hatchetfields rocky horror picture show midnight screening shadow cast. under the cut because it is long

of course, the man the myth the legend, frank-n-furter is professor hidgens. rocky horror is one of the few musicals he can stand and is in fact the one that got him into them in the first place. he organizes the yearly screenings

brad and janet are bill and emma. because i say so. similarly, because i want him to be, ted is rocky. all three of them are bisexual, bill likes musicals, emma just smokes weed and has fun, ted likes wearing the gold short-shorts. paul was another option for brad but was quickly taken from the pool because, as we all know, he hates musicals. bill is very nervous at first but i think after his first few screenings he gets into it and starts having fun. emma handles the virgin games too

magenta and riff raff are alice and deb <3 because they are <3 alice handles the prop bags and socials and does a bunch of fun promo stuff for it, debs just there to also smoke weed and have fun. theyre very extra about the arm thing specifically. alice was really encouraging when her dad joined the group to fill brads spot she thinks its a good way for him to get out of his shell

columbia and eddie are ethan and lex !!!! or lex and ethan. both work for either role. personally i like ethan columbia because. ethan alice best friends forever doing the time warp together And lex in ethans jacket. doing lifts with him

the criminologist is ruth and dr scott is max. its one of the few times ruth isnt an anxious mess on stage because the lines are being fed to her right from the screen. they got close after his near death experience and she dragged him out to audition as soon as possible because she knowsssss hes a theatre kid at heart

brenda does photography for them, steph does everyones makeup, caitlyn handles the merch table + fixing any costume malfunctions, ziggy does fun lights that match up with the lightning and other stuff, and all four of them help clean up afterwards

thoughts? opinions perhaps?

[the-maid-of-witchwood]

Hatchetfield High Headcanons: Height

I should have drawn this tbh.

Kevin - 6’7

Jason - 6’4

Rudolph - 6’3

Pete - 6’2.5 (the .5 is very important)

Max - 6’1

Richie - 6’0

Trevor - 5’10

Kyle - 5’9

Steph - 5’8

Brad - 5’7

PJ - 5’7

Caitlyn - 5’6

Reese - 5’6

Sara - 5’5

Josephine - 5’5

Brenda - 5’5

Rose - 5’4

Stacy - 5’3

Brooke - 5’1

Grace - 5’0

Ruth - 4’7

[puckslut4thehabs]

Supergirl | Matthew Tkachuk AU

i'd follow you anywhere

july 7, 2025

davis peterson looked up from where she was sitting on the couch in the muskoka lake house living room as mitch marner walked in.

it's been known for a while that the toronto maple leafs, their team, wouldn't be signing mitch to another contract after his last one expired, so on july 1st, he hit free agency for the first time in his career.

davis knew mitch had been meeting with his agent and other teams via zoom calls for almost a week now, and from the way he was looking at her, he'd signed.

"where are you going?" she asked.

he shot her a grin. "florida."

"shut up!" she exclaimed, causing baby e.j. to startle in her arms a bit. "shut up." she whispered, rocking her third son back to sleep.

"wait, that means... i'm gonna be here alone." she said, not feeling as excited.

right. with mitch going to the panthers, he'd be on the same team as matthew, which also meant steph, emilia, and miles would be leaving too.

and then she had a thought.

davis didn't even knock as she burst into general manager brad treliving's office.

"i want a trade." she said, not even trying to be pleasant.

she'd wanted out of toronto for years, ever since she got pregnant with leo, really, and with mitch leaving to her husband's team, it was the perfect time to go.

"davis-" she cut him off.

"no. i don't want to be on this team anymore. i don't want to play for you anymore." she admitted.

she didn't. and it's not that he didn't want her here either, it's just that she wasn't his player. she had been kyle dubas' player.

and there were too many reasons she didn't want to stay anymore.

her husband played for a different team and they now had three children

her gm, the one who took a chance on her, had been fired years ago

the current organization doesn't treat her the same as they once did now that she's a mother and doesn't play as much as she once did

the c that had once been promised to her went to matthews instead

and now, they were getting rid of the one person she needed to stay sane

"davis, i can't just trade you-" she cut him off once again.

"you can, and you will. or i will refuse to play another game with the toronto maple leafs ever again." she said, coldly.

she'd get what she want. she knew she would.

"call my agent. and then call the florida panthers. then we'll talk." she said before she walked out.

july 8, 2025

davis had just gotten off the phone with her agent and was walking through the lakehouse, the boys asleep, as she looked for mitch.

she'd already talked to matthew, to her family, to the florida panthers' organization.

"what's up?" she said to mitch nonchalantly as she leaned on the doorframe of the kitchen.

"just thinking. how weird it's gonna be to play without you." he said.

she looked at him with a shit eating grin. "lucky for you, you don't have to."

he paused. "wait... what?"

"guess who was just traded to the florida panthers?" she teased, stepping forward for a hug.

mitch's brain just about short-circuited. she was coming with him?

"you're... what? you're coming with me?" he asked.

she nodded. "of course i am. you're my soulmate, mitch. i'd follow you anywhere." she said.

"we're still gonna play together?" he asked.

"well, i won't be playing until april." she said with a knowing smile.

mitch just groaned. "not again."