#bridgit hall

[thecrystalquill]

A/N: Chapter Fourteen! How exciting! What do you think to the mood board? More Addams shenanigans in upcoming parts!!!

Don’t forget to like when you’re done!

Masterlist Series Masterlist Introduction Your First Year Letter

Chapter Fourteen ~ The Book

The carriages were lined up in their dozens, loaded with passengers and their luggage. Some had already started their route down the snowy road that lead from Hogwarts to Hogsmeade Station, walking themselves effortlessly down the hill.

(Y/N) had spent the morning watching her roommates pack whatever they intended to bring home for the holidays, and occasionally pointing out a missing object. Millicent had spent the last twenty minutes trying to wrestle Mouse into her carrier, with Saoirse’s help they managed it on the fifth attempt.

“Are you sure about staying?” Bridgit asked as she checked the buckles on her trunk, where it sat securely on the back of the carriage.

“I appreciate the concern, but I’m perfectly fine here.” (Y/N) replied with a blank stare as she rubbed away a rogue snowflake that dared touch her nose. “My parents will be staying at the Hog’s Head tomorrow, anyway.”

A few more carriages rolled away as the girls began to step into their own, eager to shut in some warmth but wanting to talk with her for a while longer. The grounds keeper was making his rounds somewhere a short distance away, making sure everyone was ready and hurrying them along to the station; it wasn’t long before the train was due to leave.

“Won’t you be lonely?” Millicent asked from under her two scarves. “You’ll be here all alone.”

Controlling the subconscious act of rolling one’s eyes was quite the challenge, but (Y/N) managed a slow blink instead. Why would these girls even care about any of that? “I’m not alone, I’m by myself. Which is how I enjoy it - I’ll finally have some complete solitude.”

The last of the carriages were beginning to leave and the half-giant was calling for them to say their goodbyes, when (before (Y/N) could do anything about it) Saoirse launched herself at the startled young Addams, wrapping her arms around her neck in an embrace that was stiffly received. “Have a nice Christmas, (Y/N), I left Jinx a lolly for the big day.” She said, then pulled back and got into the carriage before there was room to complain. “See ya next year!” Saoirse exclaimed with a grin, which only doubled when (Y/N) finally rolled her eyes (with tenfold the usual amount of exasperation).

(Y/N) observed as the cart pulled away with her roommates waving through the window, watching as they joined the others that walked the path to Hogsmeade, an ant trail of black dots marching in the white snow.

Grey clouds had formed over Hogwarts that morning, promising more snow to come than the few that flitted down at the moment, and (Y/N) decided to re-enter the castle for a late breakfast before a storm decided to slow her down.

When she seated herself at the Slytherin table, along with a handful of older students, (Y/N) played a couple of crumpets smothered in butter and let her eyes wander as she ate. For the first time in quite a while, (Y/N) was sitting alone in the Great Hall. Let’s not go as far as to say that she missed having company at all (because wouldn’t that be just ridiculous?), but there were no conversations to be listening to, no opinions to be shared, and not even anything to roll her eyes at. But for the next meal, she made note to perhaps bring a book with her.

There were a few faces around the hall that she vaguely recognised, and many more that she didn’t; what she did notice is that most of them seemed to be perfectly solemn. And with that, it was hard to miss the joyful faces sitting at the Gryffindor table. (Y/N) wasn’t sure she’d ever seen Harry smile quite so much, but he certainly seemed far from as miserable as everyone else staying at school for the holidays. Ron was sat beside him, talking away with expressive hands, one holding a buttery bacon sandwich. She had decided a while ago that she ought not be bitter about those boys any longer, that she needed to let go of that months-old hurt; it was only then that she felt that she truly had. (Y/N) had new friends - better friends - who accepted her as she was and didn’t judge her for her differences l. She was glad, and glad for them too. All that mattered now was that she would see her family tomorrow, and find whatever she was asked to uncover, and everything would go back to how it should be.

It was three in the afternoon when (Y/N) finally made it to the library; dinner would be served at half-past five, and curfew was at nine; that left her an estimated five hours to find what she had been looking for.

Madame Pince was nowhere in sight as (Y/N) walked straight to her usual spot near the back of the library, counting the rows in the Divination section. When she reached the fifth row of shelves, she dropped her bag on the floor to begin her search with newfound determination. During her last visit she had made it to the first row of M’s, so now she only had one letter left. The only problem was yet again just how many there were.

The library shelves were enormous, each one as long as the giant squid and as tall as nearly the height of the room. Checking the name and title of every book starting from two thirds up the ladder took her over two hours, and by the time the M’s finished, the last shelf had ran out and (Y/N) had to cope with the fact that she’d wasted so much time climbing up the wrong side of the shelves.

When she finally ascended the ladder (on the right row, this time), (Y/N) had to squint her eyes slightly to read the titles. It was so dark and shadowed in the Divination section already, but now she was in a high corner at the back of the room and there was hardly a stream of light to make the books visible. Winter clouds had darkened the sky and snow blocked out any early-evening sun, and the candles and torches that usually lit the library simply didn’t reach her. It was all terribly inconvenient.

Again, for much longer than she would have liked, (Y/N) scanned the titles on the shelf; Basics of Narcomancy by Natalia Manteia, The Divine Nature of Dreams by Horus Duermus, Secrets of the Subconscious by Selestia Soothe; but they weren’t what she was looking for. “Necromancy, come on… it must be somewhere…” she muttered to herself, feeling almost frenzied with frustration and desperation, but she simply couldn’t give up when she felt so close.

Forget Narcomancy - where the Styx was Necromancy?

Using her hands to pull her body along, she rolled the ladder further to the right, brushing aside cobwebs and blowing away dust. She thought the library was always so clean and taken care of, but Merlin did Pince not care to dust this high up. But who could blame her, really? Who ever came to collect from all the way up the highest shelves, in the Divination section no less?

Nyphomancy, Necyomancy, but still no Necromancy. Again, she pulled herself along further to the right, and took a deep breath through the nose to collect herself. “This is all so stupid…” she mumbled in her frustration, feeling a tingle in her nose. She wiped away more cobwebs to read another title, disturbing the long-settled dust into the air and her nose tingled again.

Oh no.

Oh dear.

Holding her nose, (Y/N) quickly rolled further along with the ladder in hopes of breathing some clearer air, but only seemed to make things worse as more dust was blown about her. It was too late - there was nothing more she could do.

The tingle grew and (Y/N) pulled her arm up to muffle the noise as her head jolted backwards with the sneeze, not realising her fatal mistake as her balance was thrown off. She reached both arms forward quickly, grabbing onto the stable wood of the shelf tightly, until she was sure she wouldn’t fall.

By now, she was almost completely in the corner, just a couple of feet away from the wall. She read the titles in front of her. Natimancy, Nephomancy, Necromancy!

There, just slightly to her right, was exactly the book she needed. (Y/N) grabbed at it with a sense of pride, brushing off cobwebs and leaving a clearing in the dust in front of it. Finally, in her hands, was a little hope.

The book was a good size, a heavy hardback with a black cover and simple silver lettering. Necromancy - printed in bold just higher than the centre, by Morbius E. Shelly.

(Y/N) had never climbed down a ladder so quickly. The second her feet touched the floor she was sitting with her back to the ridiculously tall shelves, not soaring a single thought to the cold of the hardwood floor on her behind. With bated breath, she sat the book on her knees and turned back over.

“Miss Addams, is that you?”

(Y/N) almost leapt out of her skin at the skins of the librarian’s voice from the other end of the row - and that was really quite the feat, for I wasn’t often that someone could sneak up on her.

Thinking fast, (Y/N) removed her coat and hid the book in its thick black fabric, not wishing to be caught reading about such an unsavoury topic in a dark part of the library. Hades knows that’s all her reputation needed.

She stood with it hidden well in her arms, still half-saved by the shadows as the librarian and she added her scarf to the pile in her arms. “Yes, Madam Pince, it’s me.” She answered with a stiffness that almost would have given her away.

“Lunch is starting, go and join the others,” Pince said with a gesture of her arms, “off you go. Do you have a book to check out?”

(Y/N) decided to taker her chance while the shadows were working in her favour, to slide past with her things pulled to her side. “N, not today, thank you.” She answered politely, then hurried to fetch her bag and take her leave before Pince could get a good look in the light.

Sitting through lunch with her bag at her side was absolute torture. The food was as good as usual, Dumbkrdore made a little speech before they ate, and there was chatter all about; but (Y/N) could only think about how long she would have to wait before she could go back to her dorm and open the book that felt like the key to solving her problems.

She picked at her food distractedly as the presence of the book looked over her like a thrillingly life-draining dark energy; it was ever so difficult to act as if she had nothing better to be doing. Snow fell from the enchanted ceiling, mirroring the storm that grew outside, and giving the warm room a sense of cold winter, and (Y/N) decided to direct her focus to that. If only she had time for a stroll.

When she had finished her meal and a few people began to leave, (Y/N) snatched up her satchel and made her way through the castle towards her common room. She passed maybe a handful of students on her way to the frosty Dungeons, nodding to a couple of nosy portraits as she went, before she finally came to the entrance and recited the password. “Dulce Venenum.”

The Slytherin common room was entirely empty, and as far as she was aware, she was the only occupant - much to her appreciation. The fire was burning hot enough to ward off the comforting chill, and she wondered if she could ask Snape if there was something that could be done about that - and if he didn’t prove to be of any use, the. She’d have to ask someone with a little more competence, like McGonnagal.

The dark leather sofas were finally free, and it was her first opportunity to sit in them; they were springier than she’d imagined. With the book placed cautiously on the table, as if it would explode with some terrible curse if it was mistreated at all, (Y/N) gathered herself up to open it. She had built up this moment in her head so much, that she felt it needed the right respect to savour it.

She studied its sleek appearance as it stared back up at her, tapping the heap of her black Mary-Jane and fiddling with the black lace on the hem of her sleeves as she prepared herself. With great care, (Y/N) reached out and lifted the heavy cover.

A note from Morbius E. Shelly ~

The topics presented in this book are of a restricted nature, therefore, the information pertaining to these practices are intended for strictly educational purposes only. The British Ministry of Magic has approved any and all information disclosed. Readers are warned that the majority of these rituals and practices are considered taboo at the very least, and crimes of immoral nature at most. It is advised that these are not to be performed unless by professionals with express permission from the Ministry of Magic. The author takes no responsibility beyond this point. Read with care.

Well, things were certainly off to an interesting start.

An hour had passed before she knew it and the grand clock above the fireplace rang out to inform her that it was already ten o’clock, and that she ought to be in bed if she wanted to make it to Hogsmeade in time. She looked at the wriggling silver snakes pointing their heads to the time for only a moment, before she dove right back into the book. If she hadn’t felt there was a clue to her Message hidden in these pages, (Y/N) could still have certainly been reading it with just as much interest.

She was also fairly sure that this book had originally belonged to the Restricted Section.

Though her ambitions were strong, her eyes were heavy, and (Y/N) was disappointed to have to admit defeat for the night. Sinking back against the plump sofa, she let her eyes rest from hours of focus, drifting off into thoughts of the next day. What presents did her parents get her? Did Grandmama bring any home-bakes? Would Wednesday make time for a good duel?

Before she could fall asleep, (Y/N) yawned and stretched, and stood up to head to bed. A draft blew through the room and rustled the pages as she went to collect the book. How much more did she have to read through? Finding her place again, she flicked through the chapters to see what topics awaited her; dead-raising; scrying; possessions; crystal balls. Chapter Twenty-Two caught her eye: Séances. A practical yet unpredictable ritual of dead-communication, simple and versatile. The chapter began with a beautiful line-sketch of a tastefully nude coven performing the ritual and calling forth a ghastly spirit from a supernatural smoke at the centre - and if that hadn’t caught her eye, then the folded browning piece of parchment tucked into the pages certainly had.

In that moment, (Y/N) was aware of nothing but the note - taking it in her hands, not daring ti open it so quickly; if she opened it to find nothing there, there would be no words in her vocabulary ti express her frustration and disappointment.

It was old - flat and faded enough for her ti be sure that it had been hidden in that book for a very long time. Delicately, (Y/N) unfolded it and unfolded it again, until she was revealed to the brown ink of handwriting not exposed to the world in a very long time - longer, surely, than she had been alive. It was not neat, but a strange swirling italic - the handwriting of someone who had to try very hard to make their writing look tidy and legible, with little wobbles when their fingers shook. She’d expected it ti contain a message that would rid her of her burden and set everything into place, but was only let down once more, and left with no more than frustration and confusion.

It is hidden where you may not venture.

(Y/N) may have assumed that she’d gotten it all wrong - that this was an elaborate prank to play on the Addams-girl, or that this was left for someone else - if it weren’t for the obvious age if the parchment, and the Addams crest stamped at the bottom, waiting only for her to recognise it.

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[sesamestreep]

a little friend-iversary gift 💕

for the amazing, magical @firstelevens: a fic set in her critically acclaimed and universally beloved teachers AU. Thanks for all the good advice and hand holding and 8 hour video calls this past year, and for always generously welcoming me to play around in the sandboxes you build!

The idea starts innocently enough. Well, okay, maybe “innocently” is a bit of a stretch. Sam’s an English teacher; he should know better than to try and make words mean something they don’t. Perhaps the best way to explain it is that he didn’t come up with the idea himself. Everything that comes after is definitely his fault, but the inception of the idea? That can definitely be blamed on his students.

It’s during the period where he’s got study hall that the fateful conversation happens. He normally doesn’t pay attention to what the students chat about as long as they don’t get too loud or rambunctious. He usually has his own work that he needs to get done, and it’s better to just leave them to their own devices rather than micromanage their behavior. But on this particular day, Aida comes in late with a pass from the guidance office and barely responds to Sam’s greeting before she’s sliding into a desk next to her friends and urgently whispering about something to them. That captures his attention pretty effectively. And it’s not his fault that they’re sitting close to his desk, close enough to overhear with minimal effort.

If it had been about other students or personal matters, Sam would have probably checked out immediately and gone back to his work. He makes it his policy not to get overly invested in student gossip, unless someone’s in danger or the student involved comes to him personally to talk about it. This isn’t that. This, it turns out, is faculty gossip.

“Heartbreaking news,” Aida declares somewhat dramatically. 

“Oh, God,” Courtney says, “did something happen with your scholarship application?!”

“What? No. I mean, Mr. Murdock helped me finish it, so it’s, like, all set now, yay! But that’s not the news!”

“What happened?”

“Mr. Murdock BROKE MY HEART!”

Sam’s eyebrows raise at that. Matt’s been working at this school for a few years now and he’s always seemed totally solid in Sam’s opinion. Sam has never once seen him be weird or inappropriate with any student, to the point that Foggy often teases him for being too guarded with them. Most of the students adore him anyway, though, so this conversation is more than a little surprising.

“Oh, here we go,” Courtney says, and Sam doesn’t have to look over to see an eye roll when he can hear one in her tone so clearly. “Aida, you’ve gotta stop listening to every rumor about the teachers here! They’re not all secretly dating or like mysteriously independently wealthy.”

“Yeah, but that thing about Coach Barton LARP-ing in his spare time turned out to be true, though!”

“Okay, good point.”

“Besides, I’m like convinced that Mr. Murdock and Mr. Nelson are dating.”

“Mr. Nelson wears a ring, dingus,” Bridgit chimes in. 

“And Mr. Murdock doesn’t,” Courtney adds. “Case closed.”

“Listen, I won’t go through all my evidence again,” Aida replies. “Because…I’ve finally seen the light.”

“Wait, what?!”

“Are you feeling alright?!”

“Yes,” Aida says, bravely. “I just came from Mr. Murdock’s office and we were talking about my scholarship applications and that got us talking about how I volunteer at the senior center and I was saying that I was going to help at their Valentine’s Day event this week and then I asked if he was doing anything special for the holiday and…”

“Aida!” Bridgit shrieks “You did not!”

“It’s not that weird to ask!” She pauses for a second, clearly thinking it over. “I mean, is it?”

“It’s so weird. What’s wrong with you?” Courtney says.

“Well, he was more normal about it than either of you. He just said he didn’t have anything special planned, that he’d probably have a chill night in.”

There’s a significant pause, before Bridgit asks, “Sorry, how does this qualify as heartbreaking news exactly?”

“Um, maybe because Kris had a meeting with Mr. Nelson yesterday where he said he was going to cook this big, fancy meal for his partner and said that it was going to take days to prepare?? And Mr. Murdock isn’t doing anything, so they’re obviously not together.”

“We literally already knew that.”

“I didn’t!”

“That’s because you’re delusional,” Courtney says, not quite gently. “And you have a weird parasocial relationship with our guidance counselors.”

“That’s not true! I just thought, based on how they are when they're together at school, they must have something going on outside of it!”

“Despite the fact that one of them wears a wedding ring and references a partner all the time, and one of them doesn’t and refuses to confirm or deny the existence of a significant other at all.”

“Despite the fact that Kamala and Miles totally saw him with a beautiful, blonde woman at a Nationals game that one time.”

“He can have beautiful female friends, you know,” Aida protests. “I stand by that. I was just maybe wrong about him and Mr. Nelson.”

“Listen, everyone knows those two are, like, work married. They’re just not married married for real. There’s no way.”

“Yeah, Mr. Murdock is for sure straight, too.”

“You don’t know that,” Aida replies, defensively. “I mean, not that I’m speculating, but you can’t know. Not for sure. He’d never talk about that.”

“No, of course not, but like…he is. Just look at him!”

“That’s offensive,” Aida sniffs. “You can’t tell anyone’s sexuality by looking at them!”

“Sometimes you can.”

“Yeah, some people are just so straight, you know?”

“Ugh, whatever,” Aida says, sliding down further into her chair. “No one understands the depth of my despair.”

“Penny told me that she doesn’t even think Mr. Murdock’s met Mr. Nelson’s partner.”

“That’s crazy! Even if they’re not dating, they’re like besties, right?”

“Maybe it’s just at work,” Courtney says. “Maybe they’re indifferent to each other in real life.”

“I guess I just always imagined like, even if they were dating other people, they still like hung out together outside of school, you know?”

Bridgit snorts. “If I was dating a guy and he was that close to his co-worker, I don’t think I’d want them hanging out outside of school, to be honest.”

Aida gasps. “God, you’re so right. Their partners must be so jealous!”

Next to her, Courtney sighs in frustration. “I feel like you almost learned a lesson about not getting too obsessed with other people’s personal lives there and then you went right back to making shit up again.”

“What? I was just saying, hypothetically, if they are dating other people, it must be weird!”

“Yeah, okay. I need help with my Calc homework, if you’re done being creepy about the faculty here.”

The conversation obviously loses Sam’s interest there, but he spends the rest of the day thinking about it, formulating a plan that he can only call, well, evil.

*

“I have a really, really stupid idea,” he says to Bucky later, while he’s grading papers on the couch and Bucky is frowning at the saucepan he’s got on the stove. “And I need you to talk me out of it.”

Bucky looks up at that to frown at Sam instead. Luckily, frowning at things is kind of Bucky’s love language, so Sam isn’t worried.

“When have I ever successfully talked you out of anything, Sam?” he asks, amusement peaking through in his tone and the way he tilts his head. “I don’t think I’m the man for the job.”

Sam sighs and tells him the whole study hall gossip saga anyway, which just ends with Bucky looking even more confused and concerned.

“God,” he says, rubbing his forehead, “you don’t think they talk about us like that, do you?”

“Oh, I’m sure they say worse about us,” Sam replies, feeling both pity for Bucky’s poor nerves and amusement at his innocence. “I’m sure they say worse about Matt and Foggy, honestly. This was probably on the tame end.”

Bucky considers this for a moment. “You know, I’ve heard students talking about Matt having a girlfriend before, or a wife or whatever, and how she must hate how close he is with Foggy. I didn’t know this was a thing, though. I just thought it was two students being crazy, you know?”

“Oh, no. There’s lore. And it’s been getting more intense since Foggy came back from break with a wedding ring. The kids have been going bonkers over it. They’re convinced there’s some mystery afoot.”

Bucky shakes his head. “We might need to give them more homework, if they have the time to come up with this stuff.”

Sam stifles a laugh at that. “Or at least a unit on creative writing so they can get this kind of thing out of their systems.”

“These are all good ideas, though,” Bucky says, with a small smile. “So I don’t understand what your bad one is. You want me to talk you out of giving these kids detention? Or telling Foggy what you overheard?”

“God, no! Nothing that sensible. I told you it was a stupid idea, Buck. Remember?”

“It’s apparently so stupid that I can’t even conceive of it, based on what I know now.”

“I want to fan the flames a little,” Sam admits, only slightly embarrassed to own up to such a thing in front of his boyfriend.

“Fan the flames…how exactly?”

“Listen,” Sam sighs, as he pushes himself up to a seated position, “I know I’m supposed to be a grown up about this stuff, but Foggy gave me so much shit when you and I were…”

“Dancing around each other for the better part of a year?” Bucky suggests, with a smile.

“I was going to say ‘figuring our stuff out’, but sure, that works too,” Sam says. “I just want to give him a little grief back.”

“You still haven’t told me your plan, you know,” Bucky says, knowingly. 

“I—” Sam starts to say and then pauses. “I just want to remind you, before I explain this, that you love me and you think I’m a cool, mature person most of the time.”

“Well, half of that’s true.”

Sam narrows his eyes at him. “It better be the first half!”

Bucky smiles. “It is. Proceed.”

Once Sam is done explaining the plan, he fully expects to see Bucky standing there, hands on his hips, frowning in a classic disappointed dad pose. Sam also expects that will be all it takes to talk him out of this, that another adult’s disapproval is all he needs to act like an adult himself. What he’s not expecting is for Bucky to open and close his mouth a few times and clearly struggle with what to say first. Sam’s at the point of formulating an apology and maybe, you know, fleeing the country in embarrassment, when Bucky finally speaks up.

“I don’t know how to say this right, Sam, like in a way that conveys the depths of my love and admiration for you, but I guess…do you want my credit card?”

Sam beams, and does not tell Bucky to return anything he’s bought for him in preparation for Valentine’s Day because this is all he’ll ever need, but he does think it. He thinks it very much.

*

Sam wishes he could say that his own childish antics didn’t fully distract him when Valentine’s Day comes around, but he’d definitely be lying. He’s giddy to the point of antsy to hear what happens, as a matter of fact, and, luckily for him, he has study hall on the day in question. He trusts the students who started this all will be able to give him some updates, at the very least.

Aida doesn’t disappoint. She sprints into Sam’s classroom just as the bell is ringing, towing Bridgit behind her, and basically Tokyo drifts into her seat next to Courtney.

“Oh my GOD,” she whisper-shouts while trying to catch her breath. “You will not believe what Bridgit and I just heard!”

“What is it?” Courtney asks, not sounding that intrigued despite the theatrics.

“Mr. Nelson’s spouse sent him this huge bouquet of roses—”

“Like freaking enormous,” Bridgit interjects.

“Yeah, like, whatever you’re thinking of for a massive bouquet of roses, think bigger,” Aida says. “Anyway, he got this ridiculous floral arrangement delivered to the school and it took up, like, his whole desk and everyone in the office is giving him such a hard time about it, because it’s just so much, and now he’s giving away roses to everyone!”

“Ew, he gave you a rose?” Courtney asks, horrified.

“No, not students,” Aida replies, affronted. “He’s giving them to the staff and stuff. Although I heard there’s a small arrangement of them at the front desk and they were letting students take from there, if they wanted. But I only know about it because Nurse Palmer had like four of them in a little cup in her office when I went to see her.”

“Oh my god, why were you at the nurse?!”

“She got smacked in the head with a volleyball in gym,” Bridgit supplies. “Again.”

“My peripheral vision sucks, okay? I don’t want to talk about it!”

“Fine. Why is Mr. Nelson giving away the flowers? Won’t his partner be mad?”

“Nurse Palmer told me that he can’t bring the flowers home because he said his cat would just attack them and make a mess.”

“Aren’t roses toxic to cats?”

“No, that’s lilies,” Bridgit says, wisely. 

“Still,” Courtney says, scandalized, “I feel like his partner would know that! Why would they send him flowers he can’t bring home?”

“I don’t know,” Aida replies, smugly. “Maybe they just wanted to remind a certain co-worker of his that he’s taken…”

“Oh my god! Not this again!”

“Well! It’s like you said, his partner would know that their cat would destroy the flowers! So, clearly, the flowers were never meant to make it home! It was obviously all for show!”

“Sending your partner flowers to their place of work always is,” Courtney says, darkly. 

“So petty,” Bridgit agrees.

“I like flowers,” Aida objects, pulling a notebook out of her backpack hesitantly.

“There’s nothing wrong with flowers! It’s the method of delivery that I find tacky.”

“Yeah, that’s true, I guess.”

“How did Mr. Murdock take it?”

“I don’t know,” Aida says. “I haven’t been to the office today.”

“I think my lab partner Gabe has a meeting with him this afternoon,” Bridgit adds. “I should tell him to snoop.”

“Oh my god,” Aida coos, delightedly.

“You’re both maniacs,” Courtney says.

“Oh, yeah, like you’re not a little curious! Be for real!”

“I’m not! I don’t care about this at all!”

“Okay, so if Gabe finds out anything, I shouldn’t tell you?”

There’s a meaningful pause while Sam is turned away, pretending to look through his file cabinet. “I mean, obviously you should tell me,” Courtney grumbles. “But only because I like to be included.”

“Right, of course,” Aida says.

Sam finishes with the pretend business he had with the filing cabinet and turns back towards his desk. “Hey, Courtney,” he says, feigning casualness. “You got that big game against Horizons this week, right?”

“Yeah, it’s Friday, Mr. Wilson,” she replies.

“How’s the team feeling?”

“Okay,” she says. “I think we’re ready but, you know, they’re having a good season, so…could go either way.”

“I hear ya,” he says, settling back down at his desk. “Well, good luck!”

“Thanks!”

“Mr. Wilson, have you been by the main office today?” Aida asks, sweetly, and if he hadn’t been anticipating it, he might have missed the wide-eyed look Bridgit shoots her immediately afterwards, but he doesn’t. He does catch it, though, and enjoys it immensely.

“Not since first thing this morning when I came in,” Sam replies, innocently. “Why?”

“I heard they’re giving out roses.”

Sam schools his features into a mildly perplexed look. “Roses? Why?”

“I don’t know,” Aida says. “One of the teachers or someone got a bouquet delivered for Valentine’s Day or something?”

“Huh,” Sam replies, channeling his inner Angela Bassett and turning in what he hopes is an Oscar-worthy performance. “You know, maybe it’s just me, but I’ve always thought sending someone flowers at their place of work for Valentine’s Day is a little…much.”

“Totally,” Bridgit agrees.

“I was just saying,” Courtney adds, pleased.

“Are you doing anything special for the holiday, Mr. Wilson?” Aida asks, matching Sam’s faux-innocence with some of her own.

“Besides spending my day with the best students in the world, you mean?” he asks, all charm.

“Yeah,” Aida says, with a discreet eye roll in her friends’ direction. “I meant besides that.”

“Nothing much, really. I’ll probably go get a rose from the main office, though, since you gave me the tip on that and since no one bothered to send me any flowers at work.”

The girls all exchange an unimpressed look at that, which mostly tells him that they save gossiping about his personal life for when they are, mercifully, not in his classroom. All things considered, he appreciates the restraint.

*

Sam is still cleaning what remains of his last class’s lesson off the whiteboard (because several students lingered behind to ask him questions about their assignments that he definitely answered in the handout for it that he gave them already) when he hears a knock on the doorframe of his classroom. He turns to find Foggy leaning there with a single red rose in his hand.

“Hey there, Romeo,” Sam calls. “How can I help you?”

“Sam Wilson,” Foggy says, too earnestly, as he approaches, “will you accept this rose?”

“Oh, thank God,” Sam replies, as he reaches out to take it. “I was dreading having to debrief with Chris Harrison after this, if you didn’t pick me.”

“How could I not? After all, I believe I have you to thank for making today one of the weirdest days of my life.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” Sam says, twirling the stem between his fingers.

“Really? You mean to tell me you’re not responsible for sending me a frankly absurd amount of roses with a note that implied I’d always be your sugar plum?”

“The note was meant to say outright that you’d always be my sugar plum, Foggy. I hope the kid at the flower shop accurately captured my vision. I certainly paid enough for it!”

Foggy shakes his head, smiling. “I still don’t know what you were up to with this, Sam, but it must have cost you a fortune.”

“Well, I figured that your no-good husband would never shower you with lavish gifts at work and I thought you deserved something nice.”

“Listen, I know I’ve been upping my skincare game lately, but I don’t think I look good enough to pass for having been born yesterday,” Foggy says. “What’s your angle?”

“I still can’t believe you knew it was me.”

“It has the trademark Sam Wilson charm all over it.”

Sam smiles and leans against the edge of his desk. “I didn’t really embarrass you that bad, did I?”

“Only a little,” Foggy replies. “I assume I did something to deserve it.”

“Yeah, you made the mistake of befriending me in grad school and staying in contact ever since.”

“Oh, yeah. That’s a rookie move, for sure.”

“And you didn’t invite me to your wedding.”

“No one was invited to my wedding! We got married at City Hall!”

“A likely story.”

“If you’re really upset about that, you’re going to have to get in line,” Foggy says. “My mom is definitely more annoyed at me than you are.”

“It wasn’t that, don’t worry. The kids in my study hall were just gossiping again,” Sam adds, finally dropping the bit. “About how Matt’s girlfriend and your partner are probably jealous of your bromance.”

“God, these kids,” Foggy laughs, shaking his head. “Couldn't you assign them more homework or something?”

“Bucky and I are on it.”

“Thanks.”

“Some of it’s on you for just showing up for the new semester with a wedding ring and no explanation, you know.”

Foggy sighs. “I know, but it’s always weird finding the line with students. I don’t care what they know about my personal life, but I don’t want to find out I overshared when it’s too late and I’ve got some upset parent emailing me about how I’m setting a bad example for their kid by implying I date sometimes.”

“Well, your dating days are done, at least,” Sam says, sympathetically.

“Yes, but my gay marriage days are just beginning, which is a whole new can of worms.”

“True enough,” Sam replies. “Hey, if you learn anything about navigating this kind of thing, be sure to report back to the rest of us.”

“Why is that, Sam? You got gay marriage on your mind for some reason?”

Sam feels his face heat. “Shut up,” he says. “This whole situation today was supposed to give me a reprieve from you being smug about my love life for once.”

“There’s nothing on earth that could stop me being smug about that, sweetheart, but I applaud you for trying.”

“Applaud Bucky too,” Sam replies. “He footed the bill for this overture.”

“Did he?” Foggy asks, sounding reluctantly impressed. “Well, I hope you two weren’t saving up for anything important, because these flowers probably bankrupted him.”

“We’ll manage. Consider it a wedding present from us.”

Foggy nods, absently. “You know, speaking of Bucky…sorry, I actually don’t know the right way to say this…”

Sam feels himself tense. Even though he trusts Bucky completely and is happier with him than he can remember being with anyone else, the look on Foggy’s face is giving him pause. What if Foggy’s about to say he’s never actually liked Bucky? What if something happened to him and Sam somehow hadn’t heard? That seems pretty unlikely, but it’s not like Foggy to be cagey about anything.

“What is it?” Sam asks, pretending as hard as he can to be normal.

“It’s just—and maybe this isn’t my place to say, but—I just think, if Bucky’s not meeting your needs and you feel the need to act out like this, well, I have to say something—”

Sam sputters as he tries not to laugh and fails miserably. “Goddammit, Foggy!”

“I’m just saying, if you’re not feeling satisfied, I’d be happy to take him aside and give him a few pointers, you know, maybe point out a few erogenous zones he’s never heard of…”

“That won’t be necessary,” Sam replies, getting himself under control.

“I know it would be an awkward conversation,” Foggy says, hand to heart, “but you’re my friend and I’d do it for your sake.”

“Thanks, man. That’s really too kind of you. But why don’t you save that mojo for your husband?”

“Well, not to brag, but I’m doing well enough in that department that he doesn’t feel the need to send people prank bouquets just to start rumors about them.”

“I bet he wouldn’t even be able to find the time to think of it honestly.”

“Nope,” Foggy replies. “He’s far too sexually satisfied for such puerile pranks.”

Sam snorts. “I’m also perfectly satisfied, thank you!”

“If you say so.”

“I do,” Sam says, just as another knock sounds on his door. “Come in!”

“Hey, Sam,” Matt says, as he enters. “Sorry to interrupt.”

“No worries. Foggy was just insulting my boyfriend’s lovemaking skills.”

“Sounds about right,” Matt replies, coming to stand next to Foggy. “You ready to head out?”

“If you are,” Foggy says, and Matt inclines his head. “Thanks again for all the unnecessary drama, Sam.”

“You’re so welcome, Foggy. Happy Valentine’s Day to you and your mysterious, jealous partner and to Matt’s beautiful, blonde girlfriend.”

Matt’s eyebrows draw together in confusion. “My what?”

“Some woman a couple of students saw you with at a Nationals game, apparently,” Sam says. “I didn’t even know you liked baseball.”

“I can take it or leave it, honestly,” Matt says, “but Karen loves it, so we went to a game when she was in town.”

“Oh, okay,” Foggy says, comprehension dawning. “I heard that one too and I could not for the life of me figure out who they were talking about.”

“You were at that conference and your flight home got delayed,” Matt supplies. 

“Right. Lucky me.”

“You fared better than the Nationals did, at least,” Matt says.

“Though, that’s not a high bar to clear,” Sam adds.

Matt acknowledges that with a tilt of his head. “True enough,” he says. “That’s really where that rumor came from?”

“Apparently. Unless you’ve been cavorting around town with multiple beautiful, blonde women.”

“Not that I know of,” Matt says. “Though, you’re blond, right, Foggy?”

“Yes, and in the right light, I can be mistaken for a beautiful woman.”

“I can’t tell if that’s the sort of comment I should agree or disagree with to avoid insulting you.”

“And they say keeping the mystery alive in your marriage is difficult,” Foggy replies, with an arch look in Sam’s direction.

“Hey, is that why Matt refuses to wear his ring at school?” Sam asks. “Just to keep everyone guessing? Or is it something like how some couples will pretend not to know each other at parties and pick each other up as if they’re strangers?”

“Sure, let’s go with that and not the fact that Matt keeps conveniently forgetting to get his ring resized.”

Matt frowns. “I resent the implication that I’m deliberately avoiding it for no apparent reason.”

“Matt, it’s been like two months!”

“And I’m very easily distracted!”

Foggy sighs. “You see what I have to deal with?”

“This is why I sent you flowers,” Sam replies. “To remind you that you have options.”

“Thanks, Sam,” Matt says, darkly. “I’ll get the ring re-sized this weekend, I promise.”

“Well, actually, you might do better to wait,” Sam says. “Just think of how many idiot boyfriends are going to propose tonight without checking their girlfriend’s ring size beforehand. Jewelers are going to be busy for a few weeks from that alone.”

“That’s a good point,” Matt replies, thoughtfully.

“Why are you discouraging him?” Foggy asks, desperately. “Haven’t you interfered in my relationship enough for one day?”

“Foggy, you and Matt could get matching neon signs installed over your heads that say ‘happily married’ and the students would still think you’re seeing other people. A wedding ring on Matt’s finger is not going to do the trick.”

“Yeah, you’re right. In fact, it’s almost like I don’t care at all what the students say about my love life. I’d just like the man I love to wear the damn ring I bought him.”

“It’s actually because he wants other people to stop hitting on me at the grocery store when he’s like two feet away,” Matt says, leaning into Foggy’s side in an obvious bid for attention, which Foggy immediately indulges by putting his arm around Matt’s shoulders. 

Sam snorts and then feels bad about it. “Does that happen a lot?”

“Let’s just say I mostly go grocery shopping by myself these days,” Foggy says. “The masses cannot be trusted around Matt and his beautiful face.”

“You’re a brave man, Foggy Nelson.”

“For what? Going grocery shopping alone? Or being in love with Matt?”

“Both,” Sam replies.

“The dangers of marrying up,” Foggy says, and Matt elbows him immediately for it. “Someone ought to warn Bucky.”

“Hey now,” Sam warns, but he ruins the effect by laughing. “Bucky’s very handsome.”

“And you’re stunning! You’re a literal earth angel, Sam! They wrote that song about you!”

“Damn, if I’d known all it took to get these kinds of compliments from you was a floral arrangement, I’d have splurged years ago.”

“Sure, I go to one baseball game with a female friend and the rumor that I have a girlfriend persists for a year,” Matt says, grouchily, “but you guys talk like this all the time to each other and there’s no rumors about you two dating.”

“That’s true,” Sam concedes. “It is kind of weird, now that you mention it.”

“It’s because there’s no drama there,” Foggy says. “Sam and Bucky get rumors because there’s tension. They’re in the same department. You and me get rumors because there’s the potential for scandal. Me and Sam, our relationship is too pure to speculate about.”

“Too pure? Did I not just walk in on you offering to give his boyfriend sex tips a few minutes ago?”

“Yes, you did,” Foggy says, unapologetic. “And I stand by that offer, by the way. It could help!”

“No, thank you,” Sam replies, firmly. “As I said, save that energy for Matt.”

“Yeah, save that energy for me,” Matt says, giving Foggy a significant look. “And don’t think I missed that ‘marrying up’ comment a while back. I heard it and we’re going to discuss it in the car.”

Foggy sighs. “This is what I get for marrying a guidance counselor.”

Sam smiles at him. “Good thing you love him, huh?”

“A very good thing,” Foggy says. “Otherwise these persistent rumors about how he’s got a beautiful model girlfriend at home because he’s so straight would really get me down.”

“A beautiful model girlfriend who’s insanely threatened by his relationship to you, though.”

“Good point.”

“Well, I hope you and Bucky didn’t spend all your money on flowers for my husband,” Matt says. “That would make your own Valentine’s Day plans pretty bleak.”

Sam laughs. “We’re not literally bankrupt, don’t worry.”

“Just morally, then,” Foggy replies.

“Yeah. And my only regret is that you couldn’t even take the flowers home. Seems a waste. Ziggy would really go after them?”

“Oh, Ziggy would take any flowers or plants in the apartment as an act of warfare,” Foggy says.

“We tried to bring home a fern once,” Matt adds, looking haunted. “Didn’t survive the night.”

“He still hasn’t forgiven me for bringing Matt home,” Foggy says, shaking his head.

“My bad,” Sam says, considering the rose in his hand and thinking how Alpine would feel about it. After a moment of consideration, he realizes he’s getting a little ahead of himself and banishes the thought to the back of his mind.

“Honestly, it might have been more fun distributing them to everyone here than it would have been to just keep them at our house,” Foggy says, with a shrug. “Really got me in the spirit.”

“You’re welcome, then.”

“I still don’t know if I’d go so far as to thank you for it.”

“I wasn’t talking to you,” Sam replies. “I was talking to Matt.”

“I’m welcome?” Matt asks, perplexed. “For what, exactly?”

“Getting your husband in the Valentine’s Day spirit,” Sam says, with a wink.

“Sam just winked at you,” Foggy adds, for Matt’s benefit.

“Makes sense.”

“I believe he’s trying to imply that any sex we’ll be having tonight is his doing.”

“I’m following, Foggy. Thank you.”

“Little does he know—”

“We really should be going,” Matt says, grabbing Foggy by the arm. “Have a good night, Sam.”

“And remember: my offer to give Bucky some pointers is always open,” Foggy calls over his shoulder as Matt drags him bodily from the room. 

“Yeah, yeah,” Sam says, waving them both off.

Once they’re gone, he focuses his attention back on cleaning up his classroom and getting his things together, which takes only a few more minutes. When that’s done, he shuts off the lights and closes the door behind him before making his way down the hallway to Bucky’s classroom.

Pausing in the doorway, he sees Bucky glaring at something on his laptop screen, which probably means he got a parent email right as he was trying to wrap up for the day and it fully derailed his routine. Sam knocks on the doorframe twice with no response before letting himself in. Once he’s standing next to Bucky’s desk, still without being noticed, he pokes him in the shoulder to get his attention.

Bucky does a comical double take, as if he can’t believe Sam is actually there, and then very clearly takes in the time on the clock on the wall and realizes how long he’s been distracted. Then, he notices the rose in Sam’s hand.

“Don’t tell me I have a rival for your affections,” he jokes, even as the scowl doesn’t fully disappear from his face.

“Of course not,” Sam smiles. “This is for you.”

“Really?”

“Yep. The last remains of our little Valentine’s Day gift to Foggy.”

“Oh,” Bucky replies, taking the rose gingerly from Sam’s outstretched hand. “Thanks.”

“Thank you,” Sam says, grandly, trying to put his dumb feelings into nice words. “There’s, uh, nobody I’d rather do stupid, immature shit with than you.”

Bucky puts a hand to his chest. “Honestly, Sam, if you make me cry at work…”

“That will be on you for still being at work at this hour.”

“You’re still here too!”

“Waiting for you,” Sam fires back. “And on Valentine’s Day, no less!”

Bucky sighs, but closes his laptop anyway. “Alright, you win. This will keep. Let’s go home.”

“At last he sees sense!”

Bucky stands up and starts packing his things into his bag. “Did Foggy enjoy the flowers, at least?”

“Apparently, he got a lot of shit from the faculty for being the recipient of such an obvious and desperate romantic gesture. And our efforts were aided by Ziggy, who apparently doesn’t tolerate any plants in the house, which means Foggy had to give away the flowers and it only added to the supposed drama according to the students.”

“What a tangled web,” Bucky replies, shaking his head as he throws on his jacket.

“He said to thank you for the mild humiliation and the bankruptcy you risked to achieve it,” Sam says, and leaves out the other stuff Foggy said about Bucky for now. That’s more of an ‘at home’ conversation.

“Oh, I’m always happy to torment people with you, Sam. It was truly my pleasure!”

“Well, the feeling is mutual.”

Bucky pauses as he’s hoisting his backpack onto his shoulder, looking serious again. “I mean it, you know. What you said before, about how there’s no one you’d rather do stupid stuff with…?”

“Yeah? What about it?”

“There’s no one I’d rather do anything with than you,” Bucky says, earnestly. “I hope you know that.”

Sam smiles, even though the feeling swirling in his chest right now is not precisely happy or amused, but rather everything mixed together. Happy and amused and overwhelmed and confused and delighted and scared and…well, everything.

“Now who’s trying to make someone cry at work?” he asks, rather than admit to any of that. Yet another ‘at home’ conversation.

“You’re right,” Bucky acquiesces, with a small smile. “Let’s get out of here, so we can cry as much as we want.”

“Romantic,” Sam quips, barely holding back his own smile or the still very possible tears. “Home, then?”

“Yeah,” Bucky says, looking right at him. “Home.”

#lmao I don’t know WHAT this is #it got very out of hand #I hope you like it Zainab!!! #happy valentines/galentines/friendiversary!! I love you!!!!!!!!! #here’s a fic about all our boys being weird antagonistic best friends in a school #homelywenchsociety #that’s my writing tag! don’t worry about it! #sambucky #mattfoggy #sam wilson #bucky barnes #foggy nelson #matt murdock #sambucky and co teachers au #a fic for an audience of one but I simply had to!!! 💕💕💕💕💕

[summercourtship]

stay to burn (only to drown instead): chapter four: thirteen floors [part I]

masterpost | ao3 link

jonathan crane x reader; bruce wayne x reader; edward nashton x reader | warnings: canon typical violence, sexual content | word count: 6063 words

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

chapter one

November fifth. Gotham Square Garden.

You held a notepad- the kind that detectives in movies used, the flip kind. You’d felt so cool and professional when you picked it up at a stationery store in the Midtown, so ready to take on this project.

You couldn’t remember, now, if you had gotten the notebook before or after the Riddler showed up in the city. You can’t imagine having been excited for the assignment otherwise, just some boring paper on the current mayoral race.

No, the Riddler made it important. So you must have bought it after he killed the Mayor. Maybe after he killed the Police Commissioner, when he was fully revealed to the public.

Even though it had only been a week since the murders began, it felt like a year had passed. You’d traveled all over downtown Gotham, going to events you normally wouldn’t have bothered with.

Your excitement for the assignment had dwindled a bit since the mayor’s funeral, since witnessing the large SUV crash through the wall of City Hall, since seeing Gil Coulson stumble out with a collar bomb strapped around his neck. You’d been escorted out in a hurry, but you craned your neck over the railing anyway, trying to get a better view before they took you out.

Your phone buzzed from inside your pocket, a notification from your friend’s group chat popping up on your screen. You scrolled back through the conversation, returning to the last message you’d read.

Gotham Girlies Marie: Hey what are you guys doing your final project on for the History of Gotham class? I need to have my proposal in by like last week and I’ve been obvi putting it off. Lisa: I’m doing mine of the history of women’s rights in the city Bridgit: Sick Bridgit: I’m doing some light research into the history of the mob in the city Bridgit: Gotta be careful tho, you know? Bridgit: can’t let them know im looking into them lol

You began typing out your response, tucking your notebook under your arm.

I guess mine is more current events but I’m doing it on the current election.

You paused, staring at the message, realizing that saying it was about the current election was kinda a misnomer. Because it wasn’t really about that anymore, was it?

Tho I guess it’s more about the Riddler now, right? Kinda changed the trajectory of the paper but oh well.

You hit send before sliding your phone back into your pocket. The reception wasn’t good at all in the Garden, and you didn't want to bother watching the message try to send for the next minute before it gave up and said it would try again later.

Instead, you looked around the space, your eyes eventually landing on the lighting fixture in the middle of the room. The large screens replayed the same few slides of messages, congratulating Bella for her win (as they should), advertising a pizza place, showing events coming to the Garden. Then your eyes slid upwards from the screen, attention caught by a small flicker of movement. Narrowing your eyes, you tried to figure out what you were seeing.

Huh.

Interesting.

There were people up there.

You couldn’t really make out their features, just their silhouettes and a glint as their outfits reflected the lights in the way that wet waterproof material does.

You remembered wondering if they were part of some maintenance crew, but what kind of maintenance crew would do work on election night or any other big event at the Garden? Shouldn’t that work be reserved for the times where the venue was empty? How unfortunate for them, to need to be all the way up there and doing god-knows-what when there’s a huge crowd below them-

You forget exactly when it truly began. You knew that you were looking up at them, trying to figure out what they were doing, but you had no idea what was going on down below at that moment. What you did remember next was the anarchy after the sharp pop-pop-popping sound began.

The first gunshot, aimed at Real herself, set off the expected chain reaction in the crowd.

Pushing, shoving. The very definition of chaos.

Bodies shoving themselves against you, everyone in FLIGHT mode and making a break for the exits. There was no way to fight it.

Everyone was trying to leave, trying desperately to blend in with the crowd, like they could meld their bodies together and become indestructible. Or at least unnoticeable. The goal was now to not make yourself an easy target to the shooters but there were so many men up there with so few places for you to hide.

You were fish in a barrel.

Glass shattered somewhere above you and you snapped your head backwards, trying to keep an eye on the gunmen while doing your best to remain safe, two seemingly impossible tasks. The large windows at the top of the venue had broken, shards of glass raining down like glittering meteors, but you couldn’t see how it had shattered. Maybe a bullet had ricocheted through the window. Why not, what else could make the night more terrifying?

“Get out of the way!” A man pushed you out of his path, causing you to lose your balance and stagger down a few steps before you completely fell down when you were pushed again by someone else. You caught yourself on your hands, rising up to a kneeling position.

People surrounded you on all sides, yet no one stopped to help you get back up. No one even looked at you on the floor, trying to find a way to stand in the claustrophobic conditions that refused to give way. Whenever you grabbed someone to try and pull yourself up, they yanked their hand back like your touch was a bullet from above.

A horrifying thought crossed your mind, then: what if you didn’t even die due to a gunshot but instead suffocated under the weight of all these bodies?

Somehow, through all of the chaos, you still held your stupid notebook, like it was your lifeline, like it would stop a bullet from piercing through your skin. But what good would a stack of paper do in a human crush? You didn’t know much about them so you had no idea if the crowd was too dense yet. Either way, you didn’t want to find out.

You’ve heard that in an emergency situation your body goes into autopilot, the primal instincts in your brain bypassing any logic and control you had, taking over to take you where you needed to go.

You didn’t feel that here. You felt completely in control and with that you felt completely powerless. You couldn’t pierce through the crowd of panicked people (an emergency pro-tip no one followed: stay calm) and you couldn’t squeeze yourself away from the crowd either (another emergency pro-tip: don’t make yourself an easy target).

You were stuck, kneeling on the floor as the crowd moved around you like a fluid. Eyes sliding closed, you figured that it wouldn’t be that bad to just stay here, right? Maybe you should just drown in the crowd, get it over with. You could allow your breath to be taken away from you, not worry about being shot anymore. Just keep your eyes closed and-

Two hands hooked under your armpits, yanking you back to your feet. Your eyes snapped open and you tried to look around you but whoever deemed you worthy of helping was gone, whisked away by the crowd.

You’d been on the floor for maybe a maximum of thirty seconds but it had seemed like an eternity and now you were back in the sea, moving where you were moved, jostling where you were jostled.

You were able to advance only a few steps when a low groaning reverberated through the Garden.

“Shit, it’s coming down!” A panicked voice hissed from behind you, and you spun around to look back up to the giant display screens. Which were now hanging on by a few (figurative) threads. But it was teetering, hanging at an angle that was certainly not meant to be. A few bodies were hanging from the catwalk, but distantly you could see the silhouette of someone… fighting.

The last thing you really remembered from the night was finally escaping the Garden, bursting through the doors and gasping in the chilly night air, gulping down breaths of it. Emergency vehicles lined the streets around the Garden, their swiveling lights casting blue and red shadows over the street. Blockades had been set up on every intersection around the Garden, crowds of worried citizens and shouting reporters huddled behind them. Police were shouting back, trying to maintain some sense of order.

Your phone buzzed in your pocket. Swiping past the few Breaking News notifications and campus alerts about the situation you’d just escaped were more texts from your group chat.

Gotham Girlies Marie: Yeah, this riddle shit is too much right now. Marie: *riddle Marie: *RIDDLER damn it Bridgit: omg Bridgit: there’s a shooting down at the garden rn Lisa: No way (Lisa tagged you in a text.) Lisa: Wait aren’t you down there right now?!

You closed the notifications after that, the blaise way Bridgit had delivered the news rubbing you the wrong way. Yeah, it had been a weird week, crime wise. At least Lisa remembered you’d been there in the first place. But you could respond in a few minutes, once you’d started to feel more like yourself again. They could handle that if their reaction to the news was equivalent to seeing a minor celebrity from a distance.

You managed to slip away from the Garden without being seen by any of the medics called to the scene. From later pictures of the exterior, you saw that Batman had helped some of the victims, but he mostly helped with hauling the perpetrators out. And they were all dressed eerily similar.

The news the next day confirmed what you had already suspected. The Riddler had planned the attack in Gotham Square Garden. Not just that, but he’d planned to flood the city- and he almost did it. But the Batman had stopped it, and had kept the bombs from blowing up the sea-wall and drowning Gotham.

The image your mind supplied you of water rushing through the streets, overpowering everything in its wake, chilled you to your core.

You had your first nightmare that night- you had none the night it had actually happened. Your body was floating in murky water, the flood pressing against you on all sides, a constant overwhelming pressure. You tried to breathe but the water filled your lungs instead and now you couldn’t even scream out for help.

And you were drowning

By the time the EMTs had cleared you to be taken home and the police were done with whatever needed to be done, it was well into the next morning, the sun hidden behind the clouds as it rose, starting to color the sky a dull gray. Snow had started to accumulate on the ground but it hadn’t even lasted until the morning without being trodden on, the once white sheet mussed and colored gray from dirt. A snow plow had clearly already been through here.

The cop driving looked at you through the rearview mirror, his warm brown eyes concerned.

“You sure you don’t want to talk about what happened? It would be helpful-”

“You got the guys, right?” You asked, your voice like sandpaper after using it all night. But it wasn’t like you had anything new to say, just answering the same questions that every victim is asked. Are you okay? Are you sure? Do you need anything? Are you sure you don’t want to go to the hospital? How many fingers am I holding up?

The only person who seemed content to allow you to sit in silence unless it was absolutely necessary for you to talk was the Batman. His cape had remained wrapped around you, heavy and comforter over your shoulders, until twenty minutes ago, when he took his leave. You’d been the one to hand it back to him, not allowing him to use it as an excuse to come find you to get it back later. He accepted it wordlessly, giving you over to the Police Commissioner, whose face you recognized from the news. He’d mentioned earlier that the cop would give you a ride home once everything was taken care of. He’d assured you, in his own way, that the Commissioner could be trusted.

And you trusted his judgment, at least.

“Yeah, but-”

“Then I’m good. I just want to get home and go to sleep.” The cop sighed, watching you as you leaned against the window, closing your eyes at the sensation of the cold glass on your skin. It would numb your forehead, soon, but for now it was blissful.

“How do you know the Batman?”

“I don’t, not really. He’s just… found his way into my life a few times.” That’s one way of putting it.

“I understand that feeling.” He smiled. You returned it, though your smile was strained.

Small talk filled the rest of your ride, and you found that the police officer wasn’t bad company, all things considered. You certainly could’ve been put with a much more awkward conversation partner. But he laughed at the right moments, seemed morose at others. He mentioned that his daughter was a few years younger than you herself, just started college, which explained it to you.

“Maybe you should meet her sometime, you’d probably like her.”

“Yeah, maybe.” You didn’t have the heart to tell him it most likely wouldn’t happen, but the offer was nice anyway.

Morning traffic hadn’t begun to congest the streets yet (even though it was Sunday, it still got pretty bad in certain parts of the city) and the Commissioner pulled up in front of your building within twenty minutes. You thanked him quietly before climbing out, wincing as you put weight on your sore feet again.

You were definitely throwing these shoes in the back of your closet later.

With a final wave behind you, you made your way to the front door, knowing that he was going to watch and make sure you entered the building safely. Maybe after this he would head to wherever the Bat Signal was to share information with Batman. Or maybe he was just going home to his wife and daughter after a long night dealing with Gotham City.

An average Saturday night in the city, really.

If there was one thing you were satisfied with in your building, it was the heating system. Walking through the front door was like walking into a warm hug, the yellow lights of the hallway adding to the illusion of stepping into a toaster oven. But a nice toaster oven. One that evenly toasted both sides of the bread.

As you walked up the stairs, you pulled your phone out (which had been kicked under a table during the scuffle of the night, miraculously intact with the exception of a single crack along the top of the screen but that was fine, as long as it worked), finding Dr. Crane’s contact information and hitting the CALL button before you could chicken out and tell yourself you’d do it later. By the time it finished ringing and told you to leave a message, you were at your door.

You tried calling again as you unlocked your apartment. Your door stuck, because of course it did, but with a single slam of your body against the wood it broke free, swinging open into your dim apartment.

Putting the phone to your cheek, you shrugged your heels off and sighed in relief when your bare feet touched the hardwood floor. How you couldn’t wait to climb into bed. The phone rang and rang until the automated response played again, telling you to leave a message. Maybe he’s asleep.

Sighing, you waited for the message tone to begin speaking. Although, the moment it chimed you froze, all of the things you had been planning to say leaving your mind. It took you a solid second to regain your thoughts, blinking into the darkness as you began speaking.

“Hey, it’s me. I just got home, I’m all good! Just a few scrapes and bruises and maybe some trauma but it’s okay. Um, I just thought I’d call because it felt really weird to say over text! Okay, text me or call when you get this. I wanna make sure you got home safe too… Okay, bye!”

Did you always say okay this much?

As you left the message to Dr. Crane, you stripped yourself of your dress and underwear, moving through your apartment and not caring about the trail of clothes you left all the way to the bathroom. Turning the shower all the way to the hottest setting, you faced the mirror to take care of your hair. You yanked every single one of the pins out, letting them clatter onto the floor when they missed the sink. You could pick them up later, when you didn’t feel like your skin was covered in grime or like your head was going to fall off your head from exhaustion.

That’s a job for future-you to worry about. Present-you just wanted to be blissfully clean, not worrying about anything else except when to rinse your hair.

You gently clambered into the shower, your muscles aching and ready to rest. But you needed to clean the stink of the night off.

You��d scrub your skin raw if you had to.

The water burned your skin but you sighed in relief anyway, the scalding water bringing blood back to your veins. You could worry about how hot it was and how long the shower you were planning to take was going to be when your water bill arrived.

And then… you started to crave another form of relief. Like it hadn’t gone away but had instead been hibernating through the last few hours, your body started to remember Dr. Crane’s touch, the way he had whispered into your ear. How close he had been to reaching your core, how he knew that you weren’t very experienced and how that didn’t seem to deter him in his pursuit.

If you hadn’t heard those footsteps, if you hadn't freaked out and pushed him away, how far would it have gone until you stopped it? Would you have let him go all the way, there in that hallway?

You ducked your head back under the spray of water, rubbing your hands over your face and groaning, the tell tale twinge of a headache forming in your temple.

Standing in the shower, you couldn’t fathom any realistic way that your heavy petting session with Dr. Crane could’ve escalated into… if not sex, at least an orgasm for one of you. No, all of the scenarios you thought about while washing your body were too fake, too scripted. Like something out of a bad pornographic video.

Oh, yes, Dr. Crane, please- ah- fuck me so hard right here in this hallway where anyone can see us! Let them enjoy the show, ahh.

Yeah, no.

You rolled your eyes at yourself for even thinking that up. It was decidedly un-sexy. Dr. Crane was not the kind of man to elicit such a response. Even in the brief touches he’d bestowed upon you, he was an all-consuming presence, a hurricane that causes you to take shelter within yourself instead of crying out for others to enjoy the sight of your drowning.

Besides, you had been way too drunk to properly consent to anything. And he was, at least, a good enough man to not take advantage of your obvious inebriated state, right? Even though he had said that he was taking advantage of you, that was just tongue in cheek, right? A callback to your conversation in the cafe?

(But, thinking back on the moment now that you were sober, you couldn’t find it in yourself to care either way. Sure, in a few years maybe you’d say this was all a mistake but everyone needs to have a messy relationship once in their life. Yours might just end up being with your psychology professor. Super messy. You’re in your twenties, you’re allowed to be reckless!)

(But, in the same vein, you did have a desire for it to not be a messy relationship at all. For him to sweep you away, invite you to a world you’d never seen before and not leave you stranded. Not marriage, of course, but a happy moment in your life that you could look back on with fondness when you’re older. The kind of reckless relationship that defines your life for a season and becomes nothing more than a hazy memory of joy later on.)

You shut the shower off, yanking the curtains back a bit too forcefully, staring at your bathroom as you dried off. The tiles on the floor and walls could use a deep clean, their grout dark with grime. You’d done your best to cover a portion of the floor with a brightly colored rug, fluffy under your feet as you stepped out of the shower. The steam had clouded the mirror, a steamy haze lingering in the air until you opened the door and it spilled out into the rest of your apartment. It wasn’t like the building didn’t have water damage already, a few droplets from the steam wouldn’t hurt it.

You crossed the small hall right into your bedroom, immediately shutting the door behind you and dropping the towel. You didn’t even bother finding any pajamas, simply throwing on the nearest oversized t-shirt that was laying on the floor. Digging through your underwear drawer (you really needed to do laundry) you found a pair you rarely wore and pulled it over your legs.

And then you promptly collapsed onto your bed, climbing under your duvet cover. You could worry about putting your dirty clothes into your overflowing hamper tomorrow (maybe you should also do laundry tomorrow). Right now, what you wanted to do was sleep.

But as you closed your eyes, taking a few deep breaths while trying to calm your mind down, you found that sleep was evading you. Despite the exhaustion in your bones, you could not lull yourself into sleep.

Turning onto your other side, you squeezed your eyes shut, shifting your legs around to find the position that your body would decide was good enough to sleep in.

Nothing.

No arrangement of your limbs was good enough.

Sighing, you fell onto your back, staring up at the street light’s shadows on the ceiling.

“And what do you think about, when you touch yourself?” Dr. Crane’s voice rang in your ears, the lingering echoes of his touch burning on your skin.

Slowly, like you couldn’t decide if you actually wanted to yet, your hand moved down your body, skimming over your t-shirt and the skin underneath it, toying with the hem of your shirt before lifting it. You didn’t want to bother with anything fancy, your body simply craving release after being wound up and left unsatisfied earlier. You slipped into your underwear, your fingers parting your lower lips with ease.

You began circling your clit gently with your fingers at first, the sensitive nerves responding like they were set on fire by your touch. You couldn’t remember the last time you had taken time to relieve yourself in this way, your schedule was so busy with TA’ing and your normal work that sometimes it was all you could do to remember to eat and drink water.

Naturally, as it often did when you did take the time to indulge yourself, your mind stumbled its way back to Dr. Crane.

His eyes, following you as you moved through a room with you only becoming aware of it when you catch him in the act.

His fingers, brushing against your skin last night and lingering there, pulling you towards him with a single touch like he’d sunk a hook into your flesh.

His lips, parted in surprise and quirking in a smile, moving against your skin and whispering in your ear.

But most of all, you think about how he was able to get straight to the crux of your problems, solving them with ease and guiding you to the correct answer with a gentle but firm and (sometimes) intimidating hand. How he saw right through you, even before you knew you were being untruthful.

And how, for some reason, he wanted you, as carnally as you wanted him.

You didn’t even feel guilty anymore about touching yourself to thoughts of Dr. Crane. You couldn’t, not after he touched you like that, when he’d talked to you like that.

Pretty, he’d called you, his voice growling against your neck.

You thought back to his breath fanning over your skin, his touch dragging itself to your underwear and resting there, hovering over the place you needed him the most.

Slowly, you began to construct a continuation of the scene, choppy scenes flitting through your mind, disconnected from one another as you chased your climax. But these weren’t like the ones you had conjured earlier, the ones that were out of some harlequin novel or X-rated film they showed in the back of those sketchy shops you passed by on the way home from work.

His fingers slipped under the hem of your dress, pressing against your skin. Touching your clit with no barriers between his skin and the bundle of nerves, his movements in your mind mimicking the movements you made now in real life with your eyes closed.

Now you were pressed against the wall with your legs wrapped around his hips as he thrust into you. His cock was filling you completely even though you didn’t like to imagine what it looked like (that, evidently, was a step too far for your fantasy, too much of a breach of his privacy).

And then his mouth was open against your own, a sloppy kiss that resembled breathing against one another more than actually kissing. With a few last thrusts, he finished inside of you, your combined spend spilling out of you when he finally pulled out.

It was this final image that pushed you over the edge, your mouth open in a silent gasp as you came.

Legs shaking you pulled your hand out of your underwear, the exhaustion you had pushed away to deal with your other needs returning with a vengeance. You kicked the offending panties off and tossed them across the room, adding them to the pile of clothes strewn about your apartment.

You’re not sure exactly when you fell asleep (as is the nature of falling asleep) but when you woke up halfway through the next afternoon, you immediately checked your phone, your thoughts only on Dr. Crane.

Nothing.

No calls, not even a text acknowledging that he’d received your voicemail. In fact, your only notification was an automated text from your bank informing you that your balance was low.

Sighing, you threw your phone down onto the duvet, watching as the fabric poofed up and deflated. Much like you at this moment.

Through the rest of your day, you continued checking your phone even though you had your sound on and it certainly would’ve chimed loud enough for you to hear if someone called or texted you. For the few brief moments where you were switching your laundry around or putting it away, you worried constantly that he was going to try to call while you were temporarily away from your phone. You even took to obsessively checking your email, because maybe Dr. Crane forgot you had his phone number.

The first explanation you thought of for his radio silence was that he was dead and no one thought to inform you. It would make sense, you were just a TA and no one else knew about your moment in the hallway. But it also seemed highly unlikely. You’re certain that you would’ve found out somehow and it would be very unfair of the world for Dr. Crane to die so suddenly when he’d just reciprocated your attraction.

The second explanation was that he, too, had become embroiled in a hostage situation. But you definitely would’ve heard about that.

So, the next most likely explanation was that he was simply… not calling you. Or texting. Not even a simple “ok” to let you know that he was alive and not a captive. But then the question turned from what happened into why was he not calling?

And for that, there were only two options and both sucked. Either he forgot about you or he was… ignoring you. But unless he had been struck by a sudden, unexplained bout of amnesia, it wasn’t likely he had forgotten about you.

You looked back down at your phone, frowning when no texts popped up from the man your thoughts had been on all day. He couldn’t be ignoring you, right? Even though it was the most plausible option, you refused to consider it.

It would be much easier to think he was dead.

Unlike the last time you’d been attacked, you had little to no physical evidence of it on your body. Which was good, because before, you’d hated how long it had taken everyone- professors, peers, coworkers, strangers- to get used to your swollen face and stop asking stupid questions. This time, you were able to walk through the crowds and keep your head low, feeling everyone’s eyes gloss over you like you were just another street sign to ignore.

Were you nervous to get to Psychology of Fear? Absolutely. But you had a job to do and couldn’t just call out when you felt like it.

Especially not when you had at least six texts in a row that Dr. Crane had left unresponded. And he, of course, didn’t have read receipts on so you didn’t even know if he’d seen your messages at all. Maybe you’d been texting out into a void the entire weekend, maybe his number had changed itself without your permission.

Gotham was cold, overcast clouds drizzling onto the snow that had accumulated over the past day. Winter in Gotham was generally miserable, the snow always lingering too long after it had turned from pristine white to dusty gray before turning into a slush that swirled on the streets and froze over at night into black ice.

Your winter boots (not cute at all but simply a necessity) were heavy on your feet and you couldn’t help but picture Frankenstein lumbering about in his own clunky shoes. (Of course, you’d prefer to compare yourself to the creature in the book but no. You were the avocado green bolt monster today.) Stomping down the front steps of your building, you wrapped your scarf tighter around your neck, tucking it further into your coat.

Your earphones were snug in your ears and you couldn’t even be bothered to leave one out in the name of safety. The anxiety stuffing itself into your throat needed to be relieved through loud music and fast walking.

Lucky for you, you were really into the playlist you’d made yesterday while trying to ignore your texting app. It was angry but you’re not sure if you were more angry at Dr. Crane or Gotham itself when you picked the songs.

Probably both.

The song that started playing was an old familiar favorite, a steady beat in the background to keep pace with.

You crossed into campus, sighing as you passed a tour group. How many of them were from the city? The university was lucky enough to have a few renowned programs (not yours, of course). They were the ones that would lead to careers at Wayne Enterprises, the ones funded by Bruce Wayne and his company. All the other programs had to constantly gasp for breath as they drowned in the sea of low budgets.

You wondered how often the tour guides had to answer questions about the crime rate from out-of-towners. Or maybe about the Batman.

You turned your music up even louder, until you’re sure your eardrums would throb in pain later.

Every step closer to the Psychology building built up a new layer of anxiety. It was bottled up in your chest and you’d never missed your old friends as much as you did in that moment. You needed someone to reassure you that everything would be fine but you had no one. Your mom, maybe, but anytime you brought up your mental health she asked you to return home. Dr. Crane, you supposed, was the closest person you had to talk about.

But you couldn’t exactly tell him about it when he was the reason you were so anxious.

Stepping back into the classroom after the whirlwind of a weekend was like landing back on Earth after a year in space.

You settled in for the class, pulling out the book Dr. Crane had assigned for that week’s reading. You’d read it back in late December, but your notes were thorough and you didn't exactly need to contribute to the discussion. In fact, your job was to just note down who was contributing and how much to make sure they got credit for the discussion.

You thumbed through it, skimming over a few of the passages that Dr. Crane had mentioned he would point out, ignoring the students as they streamed into the classroom. You still had an earphone in one ear, but you were only really listening for one thing: Dr. Crane’s entrance into the room, his confident yet hurried gait, the slight hush that would sweep over the room when he entered.

And when you heard it, you snapped your head up to watch him, yanking the earphone out of your ear. Ready for him to give you his usual nod and slight smile of greeting before getting his lecture prepared, ready for him to prove to you that everything was normal.

But he didn’t spare you a glance. Didn’t even look your way.

He walked in, started up his presentation, and began his lecture without even acknowledging your presence in the room. Did anyone else notice this? Probably not. The other students could barely spare you the time of day.

He left almost as soon as class was done, not even staying behind to speak to the few students who were sticking behind, leaving you to handle it on your own. Which you did, perhaps a bit more distracted than you normally would be, answering questions in a haze.

At least you knew Dr. Crane was alive.

But now you had devastating confirmation that he was, in fact, ignoring you.

You left the building dazed, taking slow steps down the street as you tried to wrap your mind around the revelation.

You desperately wanted to follow him, find where he went, and beg him to talk to you, tell you why he hadn’t responded, why he didn’t look your way.

A fat raindrop splattered on your head, icy cold and shocking you back into your body.

As you walked to your next class, you didn’t bother putting your hood up. Who cared, right? Maybe if you were wet enough, you could stand outside of Dr. Crane’s office and garner some sympathy, just so he would speak to you.

At the same time, your cheeks were hot with embarrassment. He’d felt you up at a formal event and probably would’ve gone farther but you’d chickened out and ran away. You couldn’t help but think he was right to just drop you after that. You had shown you had no use to him.

Wait, no. That’s stupid. If that’s what he wanted from you, you were better off without him. If he didn’t want to respect your boundaries, he would have to deal with it himself.

It didn’t make the cold shoulder sting any less, though.

That night, you sit staring outside at your balcony, hoping that someone would come save you from this torture.

No one did.

part II

#stbotdi #jonathan crane x reader #jonathan crane #batman x reader #bruce wayne x reader #batman fanfiction #my writing #my fanfic

[folklore-barnes]

july '23 | playlist

don't say love - leigh-anne

babybird - chloe x halle

shoong! - taeyang, lisa

dance the night - dua lipa

2step - ed sheeran

the joke - brandi carlile

cruel summer - taylor swift

savior - juliana madrid

the louvre - lorde

secrets from a girl (who's seen it all) - lorde

atlantis - bridgit mendler, kaiydo

the way that i want you - no guidnce

wazz up - bratz

tiroteo (remix) - marc segui, rauw alejandro, pol granch

diamantes - carla morrison

it's a hard life - queen

attention - doja cat

kill bill - sza, doja cat

save my life - niall horan

better love - needanamebro

not a lot left to say - needanamebro

girlfriends - boys world

cirlces around this town - maren morris

one that got away - muna

netflix (better now without you) - needanamebro

merely players - grease: rise of the pink ladies (soundtrack)

la bachata - manuel turizo

la nena - becky g, gabito ballesteros

wow wow - maría becerra, becky g

feather - sabrina carpenter

merengue de enramada - vicente garcía

vampire - olivia rodrigo

#maren morris #muna #needanamebro #grease rise of the pink ladies #grease rotpl #becky g #gabito ballesteros #maria becerra #sabrina carpenter #vicente garcia #manuel turizo #boys world #niall horan #doja cat #sza #queen #carla morrison #marc segui #rauw alejandro #pol granch #bratz #no guidnce #bridgit mendler #kaiydo #lorde #juliana madrid #taylor swift #ed sheeran #dua lipa #brandi carlile

[hedgiwithapen]

Stargirl: The loop Sylvester's brain is stuck in is even worse than in canon.

set post s3

“Will he…be ok?” Pat asked, sitting in the too small, too hard hospital chair. “Honestly,” Dr. McNider tilted his head over at Dr. Chapel. “I have no idea.”  “I’ve never assisted with a brain surgery,” she said. “Much less one with…all this. Going on.”

“Right,” Pat said weakly.  It had taken a wish from Jakeem, one they’d spent hours on, and weeks of Cindy going over her father’s notes with Charles and Bridgit before they’d even attempted it.  But Sylvester’s brain was back where it belonged, in his head, with only the faintest of scars to show for it.  His vitals were strong. He’d even started breathing mostly on his own. He just… needed to wake up.  He took the hand that wasn’t punctured by the IV. “Syl? Starman? You there?” “Maybe we could bring in the staff?” Courtney suggested. “If he doesn’t wake up on his own,” Dr. McNider said, gently redirecting her. “It may also cause…complications.  Why don’t you go and stretch your legs in the hall. All of you?” Courtney squeezed his shoulder before slipping out the door, closing it behind her. After a few moments, Charles and Bridgit stood, too. “Call if anything happens, the minute it does. But I think we’re out of the woods,” Bridgit said.  She smiled. “I think we did it.” Pat stayed where he was, waving off the offer of coffee or a meal. He couldn’t leave the chair if he’d wanted to. He knew exactly where he belonged, and it was by his friend’s side. For real, this time. “Wait,” Sylvester said, voice creaking out of a throat raw from screaming and intubation before he’d started breathing on his own. “Syl?” Pat breathed, leaning closer. “You with me, old friend?”

“Wait, wait, wait... Where's Stripesy?” His eyes were still shut, the words tight with pain, with fear. Pat gripped his hand. “Right here. It’s me, I’m right here. Syl?” “What did you do to Pat?” Sylvester asked, chest suddenly heaving.  Pat shook his head. “Nothing, everything’s ok. I’m right here.  I’m with you.” “Please, no... wait!” Sylvester arched in the cot, screaming. Bridgit and Charles burst back into the room. “What happened?” Charles asked.  Pat shook his head. “I-- he was talking. Asking about me. And then he started--” Sylvester, eyes clenched closed, interrupted. “Wait. Where’s Stripesy? What did you do to Pat?”

#dammit hedgi day 2023 #Sylvester Pemberton #Stargirl #Pat Dugan

[ao3feed-valyene]

let’s begin, this story needs an ending (a homosexual!)

by sp4c3d_out

jerome: wow, oz jerome: that was kind of gay ngl

oswald: oh puh-lease jerome oswald: this is a DRAMA CLASS group chat oswald: were all gay

-

or; gotham university’s arkham dormitory hall starts a group chat (and chaos ensues)

Words: 999, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English

Series: Part 1 of gotham university's arkham hall

Fandoms: Gotham (TV), DCU

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: F/F, F/M, M/M

Characters: Victor Zsasz, Oswald Cobblepot, Jim Gordon, Harvey Bullock, Edward Nygma, Jerome Valeska, Ivy Pepper (Gotham), Selina Kyle, Bridgit Pike, Jeremiah Valeska, Jervis Tetch, Victor Fries, Jonathan Crane, Barbara Kean, Tabitha Galavan, Bruce Wayne, Nora Fries, Background & Cameo Characters, Leslie Thompkins, Alice Tetch

Relationships: Jerome Valeska/Bruce Wayne, Harvey Bullock/Jim Gordon, Oswald Cobblepot/Edward Nygma, Selina Kyle/Bridgit Pike, Jonathan Crane/Jervis Tetch, Tabitha Galavan/Barbara Kean

Additional Tags: Texting, Alternate Universe - College/University, Roommates, Dorms, Other Additional Tags to Be Added

source https://archiveofourown.org/works/39120708

#batjokes #gotham #gotham TV #valyene #jerome x bruce

[clumsyyhearts]

Hi!! I saw that you previously answered an ask about Klare's Dirtyhands and the Wraith playlist, and answered that it's on Apple music. I unfortunately don't have apple music. Do you know any other way I can know the songs on the playlist, if it's not too much trouble? Ty

hi!! Reached out to klare and she's honored, she in fact gave me all three of her Kaz & Inej playlists & I went ahead and made them spotify links for you guys! If you don't have spotify, check under the cut for a list of all the songs <3

(Gonna update the post with the link once I get klare’s other playlist, she is still perfecting it xx)

is my tie straight

dirtyhands & the wraith

she isn't like you. no one is.

is my tie straight

State of Grace (Taylor's Version) by Taylor Swift

imagine by Ariana Grande

...Ready For It? by Taylor Swift

Rumors by Ava Maz

willow by Taylor Swift

I Wanna Get Better by Bleachers

Want You In My Room by Carly Rae Jepsen

Treacherous (Taylor's Version) by Taylor Swift

goodnight n go by Ariana Grande

this is me trying by Taylor Swift

Your Heart Is A Muscle by Carly Rae Jepsen

This Love (Taylor's Version) by Taylor Swift

All of Me by John Legend

Renegade (feat. Taylor Swift) by Big Red Machine, Taylor Swift

safety net (feat. Ty Dolla $ign) by Ariana Grande, Ty Dolla $ign

Squeeze by Fifth Harmony

Strange Love by Halsey

Come Back...Be Here (Taylor's Version) by Taylor Swift

breathin by Ariana Grande

To Hell With You by Sleigh Bells

Hazy by Chloe x Halle

west side by Ariana Grande

Untouchable (Taylor's Version) by Taylor Swift

Let's Get Married by Bleachers

False God by Taylor Swift

Take Me to Church by Hozier

ghostin by Ariana Grande

Dancing With Our Hands Tied by Taylor Swift

Sweater Weather by The Neighbourhood

My Favorite Part by Mac Miller, Ariana Grande

long story short by Taylor Swift

Don't Take The Money by Bleachers

invisible string by Taylor Swift

my hair by Ariana Grande

Nervous by K.Flay

Love Me Harder by Ariana Grande, The Weeknd

Dress by Taylor Swift

Work Song by Hozier

It's Nice To Have A Friend by Taylor Swift

Golden Hour by Kacey Musgraves

Call It What You Want by Taylor Swift

pov by Ariana Grande

New Year's Day by Taylor Swift

peace by Taylor Swift

Don't Judge Me by Janelle Monáe

cowboy like me by Taylor Swift

True Seekers by Sleigh Bells

7 rings by Ariana Grande

Daylight by Taylor Swift

dirtyhands & the wraith

she isn't like you. no one is.

Gaslighter by The Chicks

good wife by Kacey Musgraves

1 step forward, 3 steps back by Olivia Rodrigo

Hurricane by Bridgit Mendler

F.U. by Little Mix

Everything He Needs by Carly Rae Jepsen

I Can Break Your Heart Too by The Aces

Cold As You by Taylor Swift

Garden by Dua Lipa

Good Girl by Carrie Underwood

everytime by Ariana Grande

Alphabet Boy by Melanie Martinez

tolerate it by Taylor Swift

Without Me by Halsey

Cruel by The Aces

exile (feat. Bon Iver) by Taylor Swift, Bon Iver

Hotel Shampoos by Carly Rae Jepsen

I Did Something Bad by Taylor Swift

Before He Cheats by Carrie Underwood

Not Enough by The Aces

Love Me or Leave Me by Little Mix

Training Wheels by Melanie Martinez

enough for you by Olivia Rodrigo

Tell Me Why (Taylor's Version) by Taylor Swift

Just Like That by The Aces

Dear John by Taylor Swift

better off by Ariana Grande

hoax by Taylor Swift

Good Enough by Little Mix

breadwinner by Kacey Musgraves

favorite crime by Olivia Rodrigo

You All Over Me (feat. Maren Morris) (Taylor's Version) by Taylor Swift, Maren Morris

Haunted by Taylor Swift

Better Man (Taylor's Version) (From The Vault) by Taylor Swift

You should be sad by Halsey

King of Anything by Sara Bareilles

#xx anon sorry it took me a bit!! hopefully this is all u could ever want #luna asks #luna talks six of crows

[catastrxblues]

welcome to the waiting room !⋆｡˚🌿✧˖꩜

➸ greetings hi!!! i'm nadine. xvi. she/her. southeast asian. muslim. student. apparently an isfj. virgo. also bibble and phoebe bridgers enthusiast. late afternoons and afternoon sun my beloved <3

➸ other socials : spotify | storygraph | goodreads | letterboxd | pinterest | instagram | discord : soaperache

➸ (looking for a) creations (myth) : webweave, edits

➸ credits : divider i by @benkeibear, divider ii by @gigittamic, divider iii, super important bibble masterpost by julie <33333 @octoberconstellation -> if you want any of your edits to be removed from here please do say so!!! thank you! <3

important : thepalestineacademy.com, free palestine, on west papua (i)

┏ STEM at heart, but sometimes all i really want to spend the rest of my life doing is reading, pondering over poems, learning to bake, crying over songs, writing in an immense amount and be good at it, watching films and shows new and old, working at a bookshop, collecting so many books that i have sagging bookshelves on the walls of my room, watching the moon, examining the stars, and enjoying the afternoon sun in a meadow or hills or somewhere with running creeks and flowers (but that's unrealistic so)

books ✧ the hunger games + ballad, six of crows, percy jackson, a good girl’s guide to murder, hp (fuck jkr) & the marauders, if we were villians, anne of green gables, the kane chronicles, keeper of the lost cities, five survive, solitaire, circe, tsh, every other ya contemporaries because!!

artists ✧ taylor swift, gracie abrams, phoebe bridgers, lorde, conan gray, sabrina carpenter, olivia rodrigo, maisie peters, ariana, bridgit mendler,

movies + shows ✧ little women (2019), thg adaptations, before sunrise, mcu, romcoms, clueless, bridge to terabithia, lady bird, barbie, heathers, lemonade mouth, bridgerton, heartstopper, jatp, asoue (show), alexa and katie, nhie, lost in space (2017), full house, the edge of seventeen, matilda, tpobaw, bottoms,

albums ✧ all of taylor’s but mostly : folklore, evermore, speak now tv, and red tv. good riddance, superache, guts, emails i can’t send, stranger in the alps, melodrama, the good witch, and yes i added this section just to tell you how much i love folklore and evermore. they’re the first albums i have ever loved and they are so so special to me.

characters ✧ katniss everdeen, peeta mellark, the march sisters, all of the crows, anne shirley, sejanus plinth, percy jackson, annabeth chase, grover underwood, finnick odair, tigris snow, kamala khan, celine, remus lupin, pippa fitz-amobi, ravi singh, AND SO MANY MORE YOU HAVE NO IDEA

ships ✧ everlark, kanej, helnik, wesper, percabeth, odesta, pipravi, and soo many more i just can't think of any right now crying

check down below for some v cool moodboard and BIBBLE (first five are mastermind julie's creations!!!)

↳ personal tags i want to save : my reblogs of tumblr hall of fame posts (2) | i love you | save for later!! | rambles in shambles | long posts | my (unserious) edits | 💌 | ✉ | tagged (2) | album releases edition : sntv rants ✧ guts some incoherent thoughts ✧ 1989 tv know places we can hide

↳ some of my sideblogs : @electrictouchftvtv -> used to be a random writing blog, but got shadowbanned. @andillwatchh -> movies & shows sideblog @iborrowlibrarybooks -> i don’t know, book quotes / moodboards / aesthetic blog? haven’t used it in a while. @everlarkestt -> supposed to be a thg sideblog but it’s currently empty except like two posts because i’m lazy. @labyrintharchive -> I WANT TO BE LOVED. I CARE MORE TO BE LOVED.

#check down below for some v cool moodboard btw 😁👍 #nadine.mp3 #intro post #nadirants #also i haven't finished making that moodboard hold ON

[fashiontimeless]

Bridget Hall, 1990s

#vintage stuff #supermodels #bridgit hall #90s #90s fashion #90s style #90s supermodel #90s stuff #1990s supermodel #supermodel #90s trends #1990s style #1990s fashion #1990s #1990s models #1990svintage #vintage fashion #fashion

[90s-digital-magazine]

#bridgit hall #Bridget hall #90s model #90s fashion #1990s model #1990s fashion #nineties model #nineties fashion #90s #pollo #white pollo #pollo shirt #beautiful woman #blonde #women #90s girl #90s women #1990s girl #nineties #throwback #fashion magazine #90s magazine

[goryhorroor]

songs that hit different for no reason (in my opinion)

- out of touch by daryl hall & john oates

- come on eileen by dexys midnight runners

- undercover martyn by two door cinema club

- when did your heart go missing? by rooney

- don’t stop now by queen

- cherry bomb by the runaways

- livin’ la vida loca by ricky martin

- sweet dreams by eurythmics

- somebody’s watching me by rockwell

- call me by blondie

- help! by the beatles

- let’s groove by earth, wind, fire

- waking up in vegas by katy perry

- i wanna go by britney spears

- snap out of it by arctic monkeys

- shark in the water by v v brown

- pumped up kicks by foster the people

- starstrukk by 30h!3

- midnight city by m83

- chasing the sun by the wanted

- rather be by clean bandit

- lights by ellie goulding

- like a g6 by far east movement

- club can’t handle me by flo rida & david guetta

- hurricane by bridgit mendler

- blackout by breathe carolina

- windows down by big time rush

- la la land by demi lovato

- fourth of july by fall out boys

- swim by chase atlantic 

- sleepsong by bastille

- softcore by the neighbourhood

- pretty girl rock by keri hilson

#music #playlist #these songs come on and it's over for everyone

[seattlesea]

Songs I Listen to While Writing Sorted by Genre/Type of Scene

(Some songs will be in more than one category)

Romance Scenes- we fell in love in october by girl in red Strawberries and Cigarettes by Troye Sivan Fool by Cavetown Call Me by 90sFlav Girls by girl in red 3AM by Finding Hope Dream Girl by Anna of the North Stay by Zedd & Alessia Cara Somebody To Tell Me by Tyler Glenn Secrets by One Republic Paris by The Chainsmokers Safe and Sound by Capital Cities Wild Heart by Bleachers A Thousand Years by Christina Perri Fire on Fire by Sam Smith Angel With a Shotgun by The Cab She Looks So Perfect by 5 Seconds of Summer Jet Pack Blues by Fall Out Boy Trade Mistakes by Panic! At The Disco When the Day Met the Night by Panic! At The Disco Moral of the Story by Ashe We Can’t Be Friends by Dream Koala Public Making Out Is Like Ugh by DNE Moon River by Audrey Hepburn Mystery of Love by Sufjan Stevens Alewife by Clairo Girls Like Girls by Hayley Kiyoko Futile Devices (Doveman Remix) by Sufjan Stevens  Midnight Love by girl in red

Calm Scenes- Call Me by 90sFlav 5:32 by The Deli Crush by Esthie Coffee Breath by Sofia Mills Santa Monica Dream by Angus & Julia Stone Fool by Cavetown Golden Hour by Jonathon Morali Crosses by José González Death Bed by Powfu (Beat Only) 3AM by Finding Hope Waterloo Sunset by The Kinks Shy Girl by Kedam Counting Stars by One Republic Kaleidoscope Eyes by Panic! At The Disco She Had The World by Panic! At The Disco This Is Home by Cavetown Lua by Bright Eyes Sweater Weather by The Neighborhood Bedroom by Litany FLAMIN HOT CHEETOS by Clairo Will She Come Back by girl in red To All Of You by Syd Matters

Sad/Emotional Scenes- Obstacles by Syd Matters Runaway by Aurora Cancer by My Chemical Romance Unsteady by X Ambassadors State of Dreaming by MARINA Raquel y Sergio Juntos by Ivan M. Lacamera Coming Home by Falling in Reverse Spanish Sahara by Foals I’m Bad at Life by Falling in Reverse 7 Years by Lukas Graham Lost It All by Black Veil Brides Teen Idle by MARINA Hall of Fame by The Script Ocean Eyes by Billie Eilish 21 Guns by Green Day Pirate Love Song by Black Heart Shatter Me by Lindsey Stirling Hide and Seek by Imogen Heap Dollhouse by Melanie Martinez The Light Behind Your Eyes by My Chemical Romance Helena (So Long and Goodnight) by My Chemical Romance Famous Last Words by My Chemical Romance I Don’t Love You by My Chemical Romance The Ghost of You by My Chemical Romance Bishop Knife Trick by Fall Out Boy Indomitable by Casey Lee Williams The End of All Things by Panic! At The Disco Always by Panic! At The Disco Impossible Year by Panic! At The Disco Dying in LA by Panic! At The Disco Northern Downpour by Panic! At The Disco Far Too Young To Die by Panic! At The Disco This Is Gospel by Panic! At The Disco House of Memories by Panic! At The Disco Moral of the Story by Ashe Reason to Stay by Sody Anchor by Novo Amor Sober II (Melodrama) by Lorde Mt. Washington by Local Natives Mountains by Message To Bears

Action/Fight Scenes- Finish Line by Skillet I Ran (Epic Trailer Version) by Hidden Citizens Another One Bites The Dust (Epic Trailer Version) by Hidden Citizens Back From the Dead by Skillet Never Give In by Black Veil Brides The Phoenix by Fall Out Boy DESTROYA by My Chemical Romance Warriors by Imagine Dragons Bella Ciao by Manu Pilas What’s Up Danger by Blackway & Black Caviar The Resistance by Skillet Feel Invincible by Skillet In The End by Black Veil Brides Days Are Numbered by Black Veil Brides Fallen Angels by Black Veil Brides Caffeine by Casey Lee Williams This Will Be The Day by Casey Lee Williams 300 Violin Orchestra by Jorge Quintero Radioactive by Imagine Dragons Ready Aim Fire by Imagine Dragons Silent Running (Epic Trailer Version) by Hidden Citizens I’d Love to Change the World (Matstubs Remix) by Jetta  Tommy’s Theme by NOISIA The Sharpest Lives by My Chemical Romance Mama by My Chemical Romance My Songs Know What You Did In The Dark (Light ‘Em Up) by Fall Out Boy The Carpal Tunnel of Love by Fall Out Boy Young and Menace by Fall Out Boy

Happy/Fun Scenes- Tongue Tied by Grouplove Bang! by AJR 100 Bad Days by AJR Wasted by Tiësto 3 Nights by Dominic Fike City in a Garden by Fall Out Boy I Took a Pill in Ibiza (SeeB Remix) by Mike Posner  Safe and Sound by Capital Cities Collar Full by Panic! At The Disco Ahead By a Century by The Tragically Hip American Idiot by Green Day Superhero by The Script Wild Things by Alessia Cara Here’s To Never Growing Up by Avril Lavigne Do It All The Time by I Don’t Know How But They Found Me Burn by Ellie Goulding Move To Miami by Enrique Iglesias & Pitbull Mad Hatter by Melanie Martinez King of the World by Young Rising Sons Bulletproof Heart by My Chemical Romance Na Na Na by My Chemical Romance Miss Missing You by Fall Out Boy Where Did The Party Go by Fall Out Boy Sunshine Riptide by Fall Out Boy Last of the Real Ones by Fall Out Boy Wilson (Expensive Mistakes) by Fall Out Boy Time To Dance by Panic! At The Disco Crazy=Genius by Panic! At The Disco The Overpass by Panic! At The Disco Roaring 20s by Panic! At The Disco Victorious by Panic! At The Disco LA Devotee by Panic! At The Disco Don’t Threaten Me With a Good Time by Panic! At The Disco Something Good by alt-j Hollywood by MARINA

Badass/Dark Scenes- Pretty Waste by Bones UK Bubblegum Bitch by MARINA Born For This by The Score Kings & Queens by Ava Max Castle by Halsey Caffeine by Casey Lee Williams Heaven Knows by The Pretty Reckless Joan of Arc by In This Moment Believer by Imagine Dragons Sand Storm by Apashe you should see me in a crown by Billie Eilish Power & Control by MARINA Fancy by Iggy Azalea Look What You Made Me Do by Taylor Swift Empire of Our Own by RAIGN Revolution by Unsecret & Ruelle Unstoppable by The Score Control by Halsey Gasoline by Halsey Tag, You’re It by Melanie Martinez  Up In The Air by Thirty Seconds To Mars So What by P!NK Do It Like A Dude by Jessie J Ready For It? by Taylor Swift Teenagers by My Chemical Romance Centuries by Fall Out Boy I Don’t Care by Fall Out Boy Rat a Tat by Fall Out Boy Stay Frosty Royal Milk Tea by Fall Out Boy Champion by Fall Out Boy Thnks fr the Mmrs by Fall Out Boy One Thing by Casey Lee Williams I May Fall by Casey Lee Williams This Life Is Mine by Casey Lee Williams Let’s Kill Tonight by Panic! At The Disco Girls/Girls/Boys by Panic! At The Disco The Good, The Bad, and The Dirty by Panic! At The Disco Mount Everest by Labrinth Legendary by Skillet Homewrecker by MARINA Modern Day Cain by I Don’t Know How But They Found Me

That One Vibin’ Scene- When I RIP by Labrinth Sweatin’ Somethin’ Awful by Okey Dokey Wasted by Tiësto Leave Me Alone by I Don’t Know How But They Found Me Piano Fire by Sparklehorse Blinding Lights by The Weeknd Good News by Ocean Park Standoff Hey There Delilah by Plain White T’s East of Eden by Zella Day Hazy Shade of Winter by The Bangles (or the Gerard Way cover) 5:15 by Bridgit Mendler Here by Alessia Cara Joan of Arc by In This Moment Mr. Doctor Man by Palaye Royale Cool For a Second by Yumi Zouma Counting Stars by One Republic Daddy Issues by The Neighborhood Ho Hey by The Lumineers We Can’t Be Friends by Dream Koala Public Making Out Is Like Ugh by DNE Sober II (Melodrama) by Lorde North by Sleeping at Last 400 Lux by Lorde No. 1 Party Anthem by Arctic Monkeys Still Don’t Know My Name by Labrinth Primadonna by MARINA dontmakemefallinlove by Cuco

That ‘Holy Shit I Can’t Believe That Just Happened’ Scene- All For Us by Labrinth (or the Zendaya version) Raquel y Sergio Juntos by Ivan M. Lacamera Forever by Labrinth Coming Home by Falling in Reverse Superheroes by Falling in Reverse (also works really well for cliffhanger-ending scenes) Carry On by Falling in Reverse The Thunder Rolls by Garth Brooks (if you don’t like country music, listen to the All That Remains cover) Zombie by The Cranberries Obstacles by Syd Matters Glory and Gore by Lorde Empire of Our Own by RAIGN When It’s All Over by RAIGN Hide and Seek by Imogen Heap

The Cinematic Teen Experience Scene- Amsterdam by Imagine Dragons Midnight City by M83 Running Up That Hill by Kate Bush (Meg Myers’ cover does better with the category though) Good News by Ocean Park Standoff Circles by Post Malone Rollercoaster by Bleachers Bad Idea! by girl in red Mr. Brightside by The Killers Fireflies by Owl City Undercover Martyn by Two Door Cinema Club Check Yes Juliet by We The Kings The Kids From Yesterday by My Chemical Romance I’m Not Okay by My Chemical Romance Fourth of July by Fall Out Boy Tip Toe by Imagine Dragons Someone To You by Banners Gone Gone Gone by Phillip Phillips Make You Mine by PUBLIC Out of my League by Fitz and The Tantrums Perks of Being a Sunflower by Soft Glas A World Alone by Lorde Wetsuit by The Vaccines Bored to Death by blink-182 There’s a Place by The All-American Rejects 18 by Anabor Mother by Smallpools Tompkins Square Park by Mumford and Sons 400 Lux by Lorde The Horse by Beach Fossils Ribs by Lorde Can I Call You Tonight? by Dayglow Hot Rod by Dayglow Marlboro Nights by Lonely God Under Stars by Aurora Sweet Disposition by The Temper Trap Do Not Wat by Wallows Cold Cold Man by Saint Motel Forget Her by girl in red Buzzcut Season by Lorde A World Alone by Lorde Time to Pretend by MGMT Kids by MGMT Bags by Clairo My Tears Are Becoming a Sea by M83 Talia by King Princess (or the girl in red cover) Maybe by girl in red

And yeah that’s all I have for now. If you want any other categories just ask cause I’ll probably make a part two anyways. 

#writing #author #songs #music #vibes #the songs i listen to are so specific #they have to be the exact song during the exact scene #its crazy #writer

[justeternalmemories-blog]

Spotify Saturday

Hey guys! It’s Admin Thunder&Lightning here to close off our first week on this blog with Spotify Saturday. This post will just simply be a list of the songs for this specific Spotify Saturday, however I will be posting the audio for each song, just in case you want to have a quick listen before you download or buy the song/s.

Oh this is not really apart of my job description ,but who cares? There is this lovely karaoke app called Starmaker. It is nothing like the other karaoke apps. The are all ways challenges  and competitions, just last week the winners for the 10K challenge were announced and the winner won $10,000. There is currently a competition going on, for residents of the United States of America only, were you would get a chance to audition to be on AMERICAN IDOL! So, if you’re interested please check it out.

So here is this week’s playlist:

August 12th 2017

1.      Jazmine Sullivan - Let It Burn

2.      Mansionz - Rich White Girls

3.      Oh Wonder – Without You

4.      Charlie Puth - Kiss Me Before I Fucking Lose My Mind

5.      Karmin - Sugar

6.      Bridgit Mendler - Do You Miss Me at All

7.      Todrick Hall feat. Jordin Sparks -  Water Guns

8.      Ruth B - 2 Poor Kids

9.      One Direction - Half A Heart

10.    j^p^n - amend.

Just to make your life a bit easier when looking for my Spotify Saturday post, just search or press the tag #AdminThunder&Lightning and all post by or pertaining to me will be there to make finding the playlist and audios a bit easier. 

#Starmaker #playlist #songs #music #spotify #Lit #jazmine sullivan #let it burn #mansionz #rich white girls #oh wonder #without you #charlie puth #kiss me before i fucking lose my mind #karmin #sugar #bridgit mendler #do you miss me at all #todrick hall #jordin sparks #water guns #ruth b #2 poor kids #one direction #1direction #1d #half a heart #j^p^n #amend #Spotify Saturday

[beautifulfaaces]

Female Americans Masterlist

2010s

Brooklynn Prince

Eden Grace Redfield

Ella Allan

Emmersyn Fiorentino

Mia Allan

2000s

Aamya Deva Keroles

Abby Donnelly

Addy Miller

Akira Akbar

Alexa Swinton

Alina Foley

Alison Fernandez

Alyssa Jirrels

Alyvia Alyn Lind

Amanda Troya

Amalia Yoo

Amiah Miller

Amirah Johnson

Anneliese Judge

Ariana Greenblatt

Ariana Neal

Ashley Boettcher

Aubrey K. Miller

Audrey Grace Marshall

Ava Allan

Ava Kolker

Avantika Vandanapu

Bebe Wood

Bella Podaras

Brenna D'Amico

Brighton Sharbino

Caitlin Carmichaele

Caroline Arapoglou

Cecilia Balagot

Chiara Aurelia

Chloe Coleman

Chloe Csengery

Chloe East

Corinne Massiah

Danielle Perkins

Darby Camp

Ella Rubin

Elle Graham

Ellery Sprayberry

Elsie Fisher

Emily Alyn Lind

Emma Fuhrmann

Emma Rayne Lyle

Emmie Hunter

Eva Hauge

Francesca Capaldi

Given Sharp

Gracie Whitton

Haley Tju

Halle Bailey

Harlan Drum

Iman Benson

Isabel May

Isabela Merced

Isabella Acres

Isabella Ferreira

Izabela Vidovic

Ivy George

Izabela Rose

Jadah Marie

Jade Pettyjohn

Jenna Ortega

Johnny Sequoyah

Jordan Kristine Seamón

Jordyn Ashley Olson

Jordyn Jones

Julia Butters

Kalani Hilliker

Katherine Reis

Kelly Anne Sweeney

Larsen Thompson

Laura Krystine

Lauren Lindsey Donzis

Lexi Underwood

Lidya Jewett

Lilla Crawford

Lily Newmark

Lola Tung

Lulu Wilson

Mackenzie Aladjem

Mackenzie Foy

Madeleine McGraw

Madison de la Garza

Madison Hu

Madison Reyes

Madison Wolfe

Maggie Elizabeth Jones

Makenzie Moss

Malina Weissman

Marsai Martin

Maya Delmont

McKenna Roberts

Megan Stott

Melissa Collazo

Mia Talerico

Minnie Mills

Miya Cech

Nadja Alaya

Natalie Alyn Lind

Navia Robinson

Odessa A‘Zion

Paulina Chávez

Peyton Elizabeth Lee

Rachel Ryals

Sadie Sink

Sadie Stanley

Sahar Luna

Savannah Lee May

Sky Katz

Sophia Lillis

Sophie Thatcher

Summer Fontana

Talia Ryder

Talitha Bateman

Taliyah Whitaker

Tess Romero

90s

Abigail Breslin

Abigail Cowen

Addison Timlin

Aeriel Miranda

AJ Michalka

Ajiona Alexus

Alana Boden

Alana Haim

Alexa Demi

Alexandra Shipp

Alexandra Socha

Alexi Blue

Alexis Floyd

Alexis Ren

Alexxis Lemire

Ali Collier

Ali Lohan

Alisha Marie

Alison Thornton

Alissa Violet

Allie deBerry

Allie DiMeco

Allie Gonino

Allie Grant

Allie Lewis

Allison Scagliotti

Allisyn Ashley Arm

Ally Brooke

Ally Ioannides

Ally Maki

Amanda Leighton

Amanda Rea

Amber Coney

Amber Midthunder

Amy Bruckner

Ana Coto

Andrea Bowen

Andrea Ellsworth

Anjelica Bette Fellindanis

Anna Akana

Anna Grace Barlow

Annalisa Cochrane

AnnaSophia Robb

Anne Winters

Annie Thurman

Antonia Gentry

Antoinette Robertson

Anya Taylor-Joy

Ariana DeBose

Ariana Grande

Ariel Winter

Ariela Barer

Ashleigh Morghan

Ashley Argota

Ashley Nicole Williams

Ashley Park

Ashley Rickards

Asjha Cooper

Audrey Whitby

Autumn Wendel

Ava Capri

Bailee Madison

Barbie Ferreira

Beanie Feldstein

Brendan Jordan

Bella Hadid

Bianca Bosch

Bianca A. Santos

Brec Bassinger

Brianne Tju

Bridey Elliott

Bridgit Mendler

Brie Gabrielle

Britt Robertson

Brittany Beery

Brittany Faith Rosoff

Brittany O’Grady

Bryana Salaz

Bryden Jenkins

Cailin Russo

Caitlin Carver

Calli Taylor

Camila Banus

Camila Mendes

Camille Winbush

Camren Bicondova

Camryn Grimes

Carla Jeffery

Carlson Young

Carlie Casey

Carly Chaikin

Carly Schroeder

Carmela Zumbado

Caroline Sunshine

Caroline Lowe

Carson Meyer

Cassi Thomson

Cassidy Gifford

Catherine Missal

Chelsea Gilligan

Chelsea Rendon

Chelsea Talmadge

Chelsea Tavares

Ciara Bravo

Ciara Hanna

China Anne McClain

Chloe Bailey

Chloe Bennet

Chloe Bridges

Chloe Grace Moretz

Chloe Greenfield

Chloe Levine

Chloe Lukasiak

Chloe Nørgaard

Christian Serratos

Christina Kartchner

Cierra Ramirez

Claire Julien

Clara Mamet

Claudia Lee

Cleo Lazuli

Coco Jones

Courtney Kato

Cozi Zuehlsdorff

Damaris Lewis

Daniela Nieves

Danielle Bradbery

Danielle Campbell

Danika Yarosh

Darcy Rose Byrnes

Demi Lovato

Desiree Ross

Diamond White

Diana Hopper

Diana Silvers

Dora Madison

Dove Cameron

Elena Kampouris

Elizabeth Elias

Elizabeth Gillies

Elizabeth Lail

Elizabeth McLaughlin

Elizabeth Sawatzky

Ella Rae Peck

Elle Fanning

Ellen Tamaki

Ellona Santiago

Emily Arlook

Emily DiDonato

Emily Osment

Emiley Peachey

Emily Ratajkowski

Emily Robinson

Emily Rudd

Emma Dumont

Emma Hunton

Emma Kenney

Emma Meisel

Emma Prescott

Emma Roberts

Erin Moriarty

Erin Sanders

Evie Thompson

Francesca Reale

Francesca Scorsese

Gage Golightly

Genevieve Hannelius

Gideon Adlon

Ginny Gardner

Grace Victoria Cox

Greer Grammer

Hadley Robinson

Hailee Steinfeld

Haley Lu Richardson

Haley Pullos

Haley Ramm

Halston Sage

Hari Nef

Harmony Santana

Haskiri Velazquez

Hayley Erin

Hayley Orrantia

Helena Howard

Hunter King

Hunter Schafer

India Gants

Indya Marie

Jade Bender

Jasmine Mathews

Jasmine Tookes

Jaylen Barron

Jeanine Mason

Jenna Boyd

Jennifer Lawrence

Jess Gabor

Jessica Keenan Wynn

Jessica Lynn Skinner

Jo Ellen Pellman

Joey King

Jolie Vanier

Jordan Bobbitt

Julia Garner

Julia Schlaepfer

Juliette Angelo

Kaitlyn Dever

Kara Royster

Karen Fukuhara

Kat Conner Sterling

Katerina Tannenbaum

Katherine Langford

Kathryn Newton

Katie Sarife

Kay Panabaker

Keke Palmer

Kelli Berglund

Kelli Goss

Kelsey Asbille

Kendall Applegate

Khadijha Red Thunder

Kiersey Clemons

KiKi Layne

Kira Kosarin

Kylie Jefferson

Leah Lewis

Lana Condor

Laura Harrier

Laura Kariuki

Laura Marano

Lauren Esposito

Lauren Froderman

Lauren Jauregui

Lauren Potter

Lauren Tsai

Lee Rodriguez

Leila George

Lex Scott Davis

Lexi Ainsworth

Lexi DiBenedetto

Liana Liberato

Lili Reinhart

Liliana Mumy

Lily Mae Harrington

Lindsay Pearce

Lindsey Morgan

Liza Koshy

Logan Riley Hassel

Lola Kirke

Lorraine Nicholson

Lucy Loken

Mackenzie Lintz

Maddie Hasson

Madelaine Petsch

Madeline Brewer

Madeline Weinstein

Madelyn Cline

Madelyn Deutch

Madisen Beaty

Madison Bailey

Madison Beer

Madison Davenport

Madison Lintz

Madison Riley

Malese Jow

Marielle Scott

Maude Apatow

Maya Hawke

McKaley Miller

Medalion Rahimi

Meg DeLacy

Meghann Fahy

Meredith Mickelson

Mia Rose Frampton

Mia Xitlali

Michelle Veintimilla

Midori Francis

Miranda Cosgrove

Miranda May

Molly Brown

Molly Gordon

Moses Ingram

Natalia Dyer

Nathalia Ramos

Natasha Hall

Nicola Peltz

Nicole Zayna

Nina Mairi Serna

Nishi Munshi

Noelle Renée Bercy

Olivia Culpo

Olivia Howard Bagg

Olivia Nikkanen

Olivia Stuck

Paloma Elsesser

Paola Andino

Paris Berelc

Perry Mattfeld

Peyton List

Priscilla Quintana

Rachel G. Fox

Rachel Keller

Rachel Hilson

Rachel Matthews

Raini Rodriguez

Ramona Young

Reign Edwards

Reina Hardesty

Rhyon Nicole Brown

Riley Voelkel

Ronni Hawk

Ruby Jerins

Ruby Modine

Ryan Newman

Sabrina Carpenter

Sabrina Haskett

Salena Qureshi

Samantha Logan

Sami Gayle

Samia Finnerty

Sammi Hanratty

Sasha Pieterse

Sarah Margaret Qualley

Sarah Pidgeon

Sarai Jones

Selena Gomez

Seychelle Gabriel

Shailene Woodley

Shannon Purser

Shyrley Rodriguez

Sierra McCormick

Simona Brown

Sofia Black D'Elia

Sofia Carson

Sofia Deler

Sophia Taylor Ali

Sophie Reynolds

Stella Hudgens

Stefanie Scott

Stephanie Hsu

Stephanie Koenig

Stephanie Styles

Summer Madison

Sydney Sweeney

Tashi Rodriguez

Tavi Gevinson

Taylor Spreitler

Tessa Albertson

Vanessa Marano

Vanessa Merrell

Veronica Merell

Veronica St.Clair

Victoria Justice

Victoria Moroles

Victoria Pedretti

Willa Fitzgerald

Willa Holland

Zazie Beetz

Zendaya Coleman

Zoe Graham

Zoe Levin

Zoë Soul

Zoe Weizenbaum

Zoey Deutch

Zolee Griggs

80s

Abbi Jacobson

Abbie Cobb

Abby Elliott

Abigail Spencer

Adriana DeGirolami

Adrianne Palicki

Adrienne Houghton

Afton Williamson

Aimee Spring Fortier

Aimee Teegarden

Aja Naomi King

Alanna Masterson

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70s

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60s

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Sherry Stringfield

Susan Blackwell

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Tamlyn Tomita

Teri Hatcher

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Valarie Pettiford

Vanessa Marquez

Vanessa Williams

50s

Allison Janney

Amy Aquino

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Andie MacDowell

Angela Bassett

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BJ Harrison

CCH Pounder

Chloe Webb

Dana Delaney

Debi Morgan

Ellen Crawford

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Jackée Harry

Kate Burton

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Lynn Whitfield

Madeleine Stowe

Mary Elizabeth Mastrantonio

Megan Mullally

Michael Hyatt

Michelle Pfeiffer

Patricia Bethune

Rene Russo

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40s

Alana Stewart

Barbara Hershey

Betty Buckley

Beth Grant

Blythe Danner

Caroline Lagerfelt

Diane Keaton

Dianne Wiest

Jennifer Rhodes

Kelly Bishop

Lainie Kazan

Mercedes Ruehl

Patti LuPone

Sally Field

Sigourney Weaver

Susan Sarandon

30s

Carmen Dell’Orefice

Elizabeth Taylor

20s

Betty White

Gene Tierney

Grace Kelly

Rebecca Schull

Unknown Age

Alana Bright

Alina Jenine Taber

Alison Jaye

Allison Shrum

Aly Mang

Alycia Pascual-Peña

Alyssa Cheatham

Amanda Jaros

Angela Lewis

Anna Maiche

Anna Rizzo

Avra Friedman

Caitlin Custer

Carly Hughes

Charity Cervantes

Cherinda Kincherlow

Clare Butler

December Ensminger

Devon Hales

Eden Epstein

Elizabeth Whitson

Ella Lentini

Emily Davenport

Fabianne Therese

Katie Wallace

Jackie Chung

Jennifer Ikeda

Jennifer Jalene

Jessica Heller

Jessica Vargas

Jojo Brown

Jordyn Chang

Lily Donoghue

Linette Beaumont

Lou Lou Safran

Mackenzie Marsh

Marcy Harriell

Margaret Odette

Markita Prescott

Megan Gray

Melissa Saint Amand

Neyla Cantu

Noree Victoria

Presciliana Esparolini

Rachel Rosenbloom

Renny Grames

Susie Abraham

Quincy Tyler Bernstine

Sarah Baker

Shalini Bathina

Shelby Surdam

Shi Ne Nielson

Toya Turner

Zainab Johnson

Zión Moreno

#masterlist #90s fem american #2000s fem american #80s fem american #70s fem american #60s fem american #50s fem american #40s fem american #20s fem american #masterlist: female americans #30s fem american

[randomfandominserts]

Playlist Series

My Playlist Series is going to be a collection of pieces based on songs that I really enjoy/am inspired by. I have a few planned and I add new ones to the list whenever I find a new song that I love. Playlist requests are welcome (for characters and/or songs). Planned pieces/WIPs will have no link and sometimes no character. Hope you enjoy this series!

urs by Niki - Oikawa Tooru

Wonder What She Thinks of Me by Chloe x Halle - ?

Dear Happy by Gabrielle Aplin - Tsukishima Kei

Library by Bridgit Mendler - Draco Malfoy

High by 5 Seconds of Summer - ?

Back to December by Taylor Swift - ?

Lately I’ve Been Sad by Lilacs ft Lizzy McAlpine - ?

? (Who Do You Think Of) by Any Name’s Okay - Musician!?

Somebody by Crimson Apple - ?

Armour by Valley - ?

#Playlist Series #Masterlist #Haikyuu #Haikyuu!! #Harry Potter #Draco Malfoy #Oikawa #Tsukishima #Reader insert #x reader #haikyuu x reader #harry potter imagine #avatar #atla #lok #zuko #zuko x reader #hq x reader #hp x reader #atla imagine #OHSHC #Ouran high school host club #marvel

[arcanemoody]

Gotham Secret Santa

Title: Songbook

Author: arcanemoody Tags: Season 5, post-S05E07: Ace Chemicals, Bickering Like an Old Married Couple, Referenced Past Trauma, Pre-Slash, Developing Relationship, 78prm, Happy Ending Summary: Whatever Ed needs, he can have. Oswald isn’t sure how he can make that any clearer.

For @ckatattack for the @gotham-secret-santa. I hope you like it!

--

Oswald sorted bolts at his ally’s behest. He helped push the tables together in the library, cleared the combined space so that his partner could work on the engine of the submarine while maintaining a clear view of each schematic. All while humming to himself and emptying boxes of scrap on the side table designated for his work; filing bolts, screws, and other detritus into separate piles and compartments for easy retrieval.

Contrary to the accusations Edward liked to throw at him, he hadn’t intended for his old friend and enemy to be doing the majority of the work -- conceptualizing, working from schematics, redesigning schematics. Oswald himself found none of this intuitive, and had hoped by making himself scarce, Ed's progress could continue uninterrupted. His 10th-grade shop teacher had said once, with a screwdriver in his hand, Oswald Cobblepot was essentially a gremlin. He couldn’t even wire a lamp from a kit; couldn’t sand or carve the blocks used to make a simple standing clock. And his lack of technical acumen was matched only by his inability to commit to physical labor. A submarine was seriously outside his expertise. Seeing to their cargo and procuring the niceties and basic needs his colleague eschewed in favor of managing his labor was much more his speed. He checked on (and added to) their pile of treasure. He made sure Ed had decent food and untainted water. He sorted bolts. He worked very, very hard to tamp down any indignity he felt in each task.

"Are you humming Dinah Shore?"

It took a moment for him to realize that Ed was addressing him. "What?"

"That song. What are you humming?"

Oswald shook his head, slightly dazed. "I-I don't know. It's just something I remembered… maybe from one of my mother’s records? Put it in a box, tie it with a ribbon—'

“...would surely fill the deep blue sea,” Ed finished in his gentle tenor. “That's Dinah Shore.”

“Is it?” Oswald shrugged. “Huh. Well, if you're that desperate for me to not sing it, I think I must have the actual record somewhere.” Ed’s brow furrowed.

“78RPM? Red label? Columbia logo?”

“I think so.”

“That‘s my record, Oswald!” he shouted, taking a large step forward.

His brain froze up in the way it tended to do nowadays any time Ed leveled an accusation at him, grappling with whether it was warranted and whether the vehemence required a match in tone. This did not. He took a deep breath.

“Technically speaking, it’s my record. I bought it.”

“Yeah, along with the rest of my records, my books and my clothes,” Ed shot back. “Well, excuse me for wanting you to feel at home when you got out of Arkham!”

The lot at the police auction had been purchased through an intermediary -- the same intermediary that made a hefty donation to the policemen's union under the name of the Van Dahl living trust. Oswald had known that if the GCPD had felt free enough to use his name to trap Edward into a confession, they would probably be vindictive enough to refuse his name on a purchase order. 

"And anyway, since you left them all at the manor, I'd say that still makes them mine.”

“Technically speaking,” he replied, mimicking Oswald’s earlier tone. “I didn't leave.” “You certainly weren't living there when I got back!” The air in the house had been stale the day he and Fries forced the front door open. Only the kitchen had maintained its normal, spotless, lived-in atmosphere, due to Olga’s continued employment, salary operating on an automatic deposit. The rest had fallen into a cluttered disrepair that illustrated the descent of Riddler’s madness.

“I wasn't not living there.”

“Of course not. You were on the run. Well, you were 'not living there' just enough that I gave Ivy your room.'

“No you didn’t.” Ed’s statement was dismissive rather than outraged. Not an accusation; a fact. Confirming that he had evidence to back up his claim. 

“How do you know?” Oswald asked, curious. 

“Because when I went there in March, my room was as I left it.”

March. 

Two months before Sofia had been taken out for good.

When Riddler had broken him out of Arkham, the purple panel coat with the fur trimmed collar  (flattened now and in desperate need of dry cleaning) had been slung across the passenger seat of the truck. The coat he had left in Ed’s apartment after Galavan’s murder, the coat he’d subsequently gotten back after the GCPD delivered the lot from the auction. He had been too preoccupied at the time to question its presence or how Ed might have retrieved it when Oswald himself had changed the locks a year earlier. 

“You broke into my house!” “It was hardly breaking in — the windows weren’t even locked,” he paused at Oswald’s shocked expression. “I never did it when you were home. Just after you were arrested and, later, when you were squatting at Falcone’s place.”

“Right, because that makes it better! What were you even doing there?”’

“Looking for my things, mainly. I wore the same suit for months and it wasn’t like I had a lot of loose change to throw around, even with Lee’s help.” “So you turned to house breaking. How clever of you.”

“One house. And I didn’t take anything that wasn’t already mine.”

‘Just as before.’ Oswald flinched at the thought, turned away. He shook his head, rubbed his eyes, refrained from upturning the table with all of the bolts he’d sorted. One could afford to pick one’s battles during a long-form escape attempt. .

“Well you can go back for your precious record collection any time you like! If the front door is still on the hinges, I’ll even loan you my key.”

Said key disappeared from his keyring two days later, around the time Oswald found the library work space empty.

-- He did not turn up to sort bolts, shuffle schematics or retrieve provisions for Edward the next day. 

Or the next day. 

He arranged trades. He drank wine on Barbara’s sofa, listening to her talk through the physical transformations of her second trimester and Lee Thompkins’ warnings about high heels being a fall risk and, therefore, a risk to the fetus. 

“As if I would ever fall,” she scoffed. 

He refrained from stating the obvious, pouring himself another glass to avoid grinding his teeth.

On the third day, he turned up to an empty room. He sat waiting in the empty library long into the evening. The sun was setting, filling the room with an orange glow when a member of his security team turned up, an anxious expression on their face. 

“Boss.”

“Where is he?”

-- First Bank of Gotham. A historic granite and lime building measuring half a city block on the edge of the industrial sector on the north side.

The Court of Owls had done a good job of hiding their centuries-worth of dirty work in plain sight. Post-No Man’s Land “restructuring,“ the alley where he and Edward had made their bloody escape two years earlier was on the edge of Firefly’s territory, frequently disputed by Fries’ minions staking a claim. The odds had been in Firefly’s favor recently and Bridgit, to Oswald’s surprise, allowed him to pass through with barely a nod of encouragement. 

“String Bean entered through the southwest staircase. My scouts say he’s been there a while,” she lifted her mask, giving him a pointed stare. “You’ve got an hour, Pengy.”

Oswald nodded, leaving his guards under his former housemate’s watchful eye (and flamethrower). This was Firefly being sentimental. He knew it wouldn’t last long if they overstayed their welcome. 

There were more stairs than he remembered. Each floor opened onto a circular hall of doors with the door knobs either broken or missing, papers and files scattered, the mundane facade of an centuries-old evil organization that still needed three floors of pencil pushers to move their assets and occasionally serve as cannon fodder. Oswald remembered their holding cells being on the sixth floor, close to the roof. The trip to the ground level had been a whirlwind of improvised carnage -- guards, personnel, people in uniforms, people in office wear, he and Ed and tore through everyone on their way out, before crashing onto the pavement outside, covered in the blood of violent rebirth.

He found Edward on the fourth floor, door ajar on what had once been a holding area, dilapidated desks and disabled security gates, loose wires where key panel locks had once been. Long legs folded into a too small office chair, eyes downcast, his friend’s visage brought a lump to his throat.

“Reliving old memories?” Oswald asked, annoyed even as the fear and agony he’d been holding in check all day melted from him.

Ed didn’t look up.

“Edward?”

Another long moment passed before he finally spoke. 

“I found my overcoat,” he said, gesturing at the pile of green plaid slung over the crook of one arm and draped over his lap. Nearly two years in dark storage, no doubt covered in mildew, dust mites, and other unspeakable things. 

“Were you looking for that recently?”

“No,” he shook his head. “I hadn’t even thought about it, or this place in quite some time. I was looking for scrap steel for the outer panels, maybe some extra supplies... I took a notion once I realized where I was. Have I been gone long?”

“Six hours.” Eight, though Ed didn’t need to know just how early Oswald had turned up to the library.

“I couldn’t find any of your stuff. Or anything that looked like it might be yours. Sorry.”

Oswald did his best to contain his reaction, that Ed had done something thoughtful. For his sake. He winced against the ripple of familiar warmth, butterflies. Things he could not afford in the midst of a long-form escape attempt.

“It doesn’t matter. Are you ready to go now?” 

Ed nodded, walking half a step behind as they descended back down the stairs.

--

“How long were you their prisoner?” He asked, after they had crossed the perimeter, doubling back twice to avoid whatever shadows Ed seemed positive were following them. The sun had long since set and what little light they had was from the security teams flanking them, throwing long shadows on the broken pavement.

“Before you arrived?” Ed shrugged. “A few weeks maybe? I was interrogated before they put me in the cage. It was difficult to keep track but not impossible. It wasn’t like Arkham -- their  objectives involved keeping me alive. Though what keeping me alive meant in a city they wanted to destroy is anybody’s guess.”

Probably holding his sage intellect in storage for future endeavors, as Barbara had. Oswald felt angry on his old friend’s behalf as well as himself. He hadn’t been interrogated -- just sedated, stripped, and thrown in a cell. For the formerly missing mayor of the city, it was beyond insulting. 

Ed wasn’t finished.

“They gave me haloperidol so they could question me. That was bad. I was still detoxing at first -- that was worse.”

“From what?”

“Amphetamines, mostly. And whatever psychotropics Tabitha gave me. Withdrawal symptoms ideally shouldn’t last as long as those did. I tapered off to avoid complications with my heart muscle, adrenal glands...”

Oswald held his breath.

Following Riddler’s progress after his death had been difficult from the distance of Ivy’s greenhouse hideaway in Bludhaven. Even after returning home, tracking headlines and articles stopped at a certain date, bleeding into coverage of the mayor’s disappearance. One of those articles included a grainy shot of Ed leaving a press conference at city hall, face a mask of composure, but for the downward cast of distressed brown eyes in rubbed gray newsprint.

He knew Ed had tripled his original kill count in less than two months. And that he’d kept the authorities on the run right up until Jim Gordon decided handing him over to a cabal with designs on child abduction and mass murder was a charming notion. That Ed himself had crossed that threshold virtually without a fight.

“...why?”

“I wasn’t sleeping.”

“Uppers tends to do that--”

“I didn’t want to sleep,” his tone took on a sharp edge and he was glaring at Oswald again. “I don’t even know why you’re asking me. You know exactly how long I was there. You went to Jim first. You always go to him first.”

That jab… felt oddly personal. Oswald wondered what he was missing in that accusation— the narrowed gaze and the resentful pinch to his mouth. Never mind that Jim Gordon was the one who arrested and subsequently reported the “Riddler’s” escape and Ed, a forensic investigator, should have known the importance of following clues.

“If I could gauge what Jim knew, I had a bead on what the rest of the GCPD knew and I could plan accordingly. So, yes, I went to him. And he lied to me and I knew it -- just like I always know when he lies to me. The man has a terrible poker face.”

“So do you.”

“So stop playing with me,” he said, choking up. Having his own methods questioned was galling. And it wasn’t as though his talent for shallow subterfuge hadn’t fooled him once— back when Ed cared about him and a blind spot was established. Memories that brought a salty weighty to the back of his throat and behind his eyes. “Did you even find out ‘who runs Gotham?’”

The question was flippant, almost cruel. Ed’s answer was not.

“That and more,” he replied, somber, almost pensive; enough to deflate Oswald’s ire. 

“Well. Good for you, then.”

“There are things they told me,” he said, serious now, neither chiding nor angry. “...I can’t talk about it. Not yet.”

Oswald kept his eyes on the dark path ahead, tried not to think about what could be worse to talk about than his anguish over the deaths at Haven or the almost blissful oblivion of his first murders. A distant part of his brain reminded him that it could be still another play, but he had seen Ed devastated enough over time to recognize truth from fiction.

“Okay,” he nodded. 

“Things that involve you.”

“I understand. Save it if you want, Ed. You can tell me whenever you want to or hang onto it forever. I don’t care.”

The walk back to the library seemed longer than before. Oswald was surprised that Ed continued to shadow him even as the streets (what had once been streets) diverged and he headed in the direction of city hall.

“Don’t disappear again.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“You’re not capable of scaring me!” he said. Patently untrue and Ed knew it, too. “Anyway, I thought you might have gone to the manor.”

“I tried that first,” he replied, producing his keyring from the pocket on his boilersuit. “Yesterday.”

“And?”

“I want to say the front door is still on the hinges, but I couldn’t get more than a few yards away to look. Nature seems to have taken back a good portion of your father’’s estate and... some of it was not happy to find me there.”

“Ivy. Well, it’s good to hear that she's kept up her hobbies,” he laughed, breathlessly. Guilt was rare and pulsed dully in the same pained spot in his stomach where heartbreak loved to dwell. The teenage plant maven had kept Oswald company when he had wanted no one near him and he’d rewarded her generosity of spirit with contempt and vitriol. Forgiveness was, as ever, too high a price to ask for. He’d have to settle for just knowing she was alive. 

“Hang on to the key, anyway. We may need it eventually.”

If they ever went back (and if Ivy killed him on sight), Ed would still need to get inside the house.

—

After the bolts and the sonar, after Penn’s arrival and subsequent dispatch, aborted departures and new arrivals and scrambling to recover what they could from the bottom of the river, they managed to fight through the vegetation and rehome the manor.

Oswald arrived with lunch one afternoon and found a 78rpm in a battered paper sleeve on the dining room table. He reached out to touch it, wondering briefly if it was a trick of his remaining eye.

“Ed?” he called out. 

“I found your record,” Ed said, closer than he’d initially guessed, initially in his blind spot and then moving over to his left side. No longer disputing ownership. “Not here. It turns out the library’s music archives weren’t completely depleted.”

Oswald smiled, turning the record over, noting the red label, the Columbia logo.

“Do we still have a working turntable?”

Ed smiled, amused, offered an arm to guide him.

“Back here.”

It took more than a few breaths to blow the dust off both record and player, more than a few minutes to turn the crank on his father’s old gramophone without overwinding, and finding the appropriate place to drop the needle. The voice that warbled out was familiar in a way that conjured images of his mother’s living room, frying onions in the kitchen, the sharp bite of paprika and heavy salt in the air… none of which echoed Ed’s place in his mind. 

“This isn’t Dinah Shore.”

“No, it’s Doris Day,” he replied, a hint of amusement breaking through what, no doubt, had to be a heavy sense of injustice (Ed’s impeccable brain turning on him yet again). “I got the song and the label right but the vocalist wrong. Such an obvious detail to miss.”

Oswald shook his head, reaching out to take his partner’s other arm, squeezing lightly.

“It’s an easy mistake,” he replied, his non-bandaged eye focused on his dearest friend’s shifting expression; dark eyes misty, a hint of a smile. “No worries, my friend.”

Oswald watched Ed swallow, feeling an answering squeeze on his arm. The two of them leaned against each other, swaying, almost in a dance. Oswald hummed. -- A/N: The song Oswald sings is “Put ‘Em in a Box, Tie ‘Em With a Ribbon,” sung by Doris Day. Ed’s thinking of “Love That Boy” sung by Dinah Shore (and actually misremembers it with a lyric from “Mad About Him, Sad Without Him”). Both were released by Columbia in 1947, Doris is singing about taking romance and chucking it in the river, while Dinah is still in the bloom of loving someone from afar, alternately delighted and miserable.

#gotham secret santa #nygmobblepot #my writing #my fic #happy solstice