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sleekervae · 5 months

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New York Romantic .2

Masterlist

pairing: Tom Blyth x ballerina!oc

summary: tom and noelle have dinner together

word count: 3572

taglist: @watercolorskyy @carolanns-world @alana4610

The first few weeks should've been easy, at least that's what one would've thought entering a faculty of acting. But the fact was out of the eighteen kids in Tom's classes, ironically a lot of them were very shy. Oh sure, you had the stand out performers; the 'put your spotlight on me' students whose bravado followed them even off the stage.

Not to mention the workload was quite overwhelming at first. Very quickly Tom found himself staying up late into the night, reading papers and excerpts from a handful of philosophers and authors that discussed everything from the precariousness of religion to ethical questioning of the modern nouveau. A couple of his classmates complained amongst themselves about how boring and dry the readings could be, and some were definitely more bland than others. Though when his roommate, Sunny, began his evening warm ups and practice Tom found the urge to dive in came so naturally. It just didn't come in handy when he was going into the early morning hours.

Sunjit, or Sunny as he preferred to be called, was an Indian native who'd grown up in Manchester. He figured Doris roomed them together simply for the fact that they were both English. And Noelle was right when she said he was a ray of sunshine; every little problem or obstacle they came across, be it commuting in the city or their arduous work load, Sunny always had a more optimistic disposition about everything. It was refreshing, and he and Tom became fast friends.

He had also been quite taken with Noelle, the ballet student just a year ahead of him. She was a year younger than him but had been accepted into her faculty a year ago. He'd see her around on the campus, usually flocked by her dancer friends in their joggers, leotards and slick buns. And when she caught his eye, even for a fleeting moment, she never hesitated to wave hello. Sometimes they'd catch up together in the hall or on their way to school. Noelle had travelled all the way down from Maine and she'd never been anywhere outside of the East coast, so suffice to say she had a few questions about England; the people, the weather patterns, if he'd ever witnessed one of the queen's convoy or her corgis. He quickly learned corgis were her favourite dog. Her questions, especially the sillier ones, always made him smile.

This particular Thursday had been rough. Sunny didn't have class today so he spent up until 2am practicing his tremolos, legatos, and all the other chords Tom didn't half understand. As a result, he slept in enough to just miss his bus, thus he was late to class. As if that wasn't bad enough, because he had been in such a rush he forgot his notes on his readings at the loft. That had certainly gone over well when his professor -- a well studied and prolific expert on the material -- called on him to give him opinions. It didn't quite go over as well as he'd hoped.

He also had a bit of a jump scare when he checked his bank account and the funds were dwindling. Expenses in New York were truly nothing to laugh about. And despite his mum's assurances that she'd send him the money he'd need, Tom knew it was in his best interest to get a job to help keep up. Where though remained to be seen.

Suffice to say dragging himself up the stairs after school was his mountain of a molehill. At least the lobby was quiet, not even Doris was at her desk to watch soap operas and eat her burnt popcorn. So he sat on the steps, exhaling heavily through his nose, trying to will away the headache that was tapping away to be let in. It had only been two weeks, and already Tom was exhausted.

He didn't so much as bat an eye or look up when he heard the door swing open. He did however open his eyes when he heard footsteps come his way, and he looked up to find Noelle staring down at him. Her hair was still tied slick, loose strands hanging from her ears, with her jeans pulled up over her leotard. Her big brown eyes were soft, complimenting the small gape between her lips as she watched him curiously; an overall calming and ethereal presence.

"Hey," she smiled kindly, rocking back and forth in her mis-matched converse.

"Hi," Tom grinned, moving to shift from his position, "Sorry, you probably need to get by,"

"Don't worry. Are you alright?" she simpered, "You look like you got woken up by one of Wallace's cracking contraptions,"

Tom bore a smile back, shrugging dismissively, "Yeah, I'm alright. It's been a long day," he replied.

"Tell me about it," she took a seat next to him, letting her bag slump to the floor, "First time today I've been off my feet,"

"What time did you start today?"

"Seven am,"

"Ouch,"

Noelle shrugged, "I'm used to it by now. I don't know if that's a good thing or a bad thing but..." she trailed off with a bashful giggle, her eyes still laced with concern, "Do you wanna' talk about it?"

"No, it's fine," he shook his head, "It's just been a lot, you know?"

"Hey I get it, the first couple of weeks are hell. Only by the time Christmas rolls around you feel like you're finally getting a handle on everything," she reached around to pull her elastic from her hair, shaking her head as her long hair fell around her shoulders, "You were picked out of over 2000 applications, only to be accepted into a class of not even twenty people. That's not something to scoff at,"

Tom chuckled, "You got a point," he glanced at her, "You look like you've got it all figured out, though," he said.

"Well, it sure didn't take overnight," she grinned, "Even now -- sometimes I realize I've forgotten my toe pads when I'm on the bus and if I'm late then I'll be drawn and quartered,"

"That doesn't sound pleasant," he simpered back.

"It's a living," she shrugged back, glancing up at the stairwell behind them. She then looked over at the desk, confirming that Doris wasn't at the desk. She then turned to him, "Are you hungry?"

"I could eat," he nodded.

"Alrighty then," Noelle stood and slung her back over her shoulder, "I'm making dinner,"

Tom was taken aback at first, after all, he barely knew her well enough, "Oh, I don't wanna' make trouble for you," he said.

Noelle shook her head, "Oh please, it's no trouble at all," she assured.

"Isn't your roommate home?"

"She's working right now, won't be home for a bit," she extended her hand to him, "You coming or no?"

Regardless of his reservations, Tom took her hand, letting her pull him to his feet. Standing up he realized she towered over him as she stood on the second step. Noelle seemed to come to the same conclusion.

"Damn, is this what it's like to be tall?" she raised her hand level to the top of her head, bringing it forward over the gap atop his own head.

Tom chuckled amusedly, "Savour it while you can," he took the step up and sure enough he towered over her again. Noelle simply rolled her eyes, smiling nonetheless as she lead him upstairs.

Noelle's loft was as cozy and warm as she was, the pale walls were bathed in the soft glow of lamps and the fairy lights strung up along the low ceiling. And one of them had an affinity for succulents, there were a plethora of tiny pots scattered across shelves and window sills. That wasn't to say the place was pristine, though; there were some loose jackets tossed over chairs and shoes piled up at the door. The kitchenette mirrored his own, only the pile of plates and utensils in the drying rack proved it was used way more than his own was.

Tom took a seat at the dining table, curious as he watched Noelle pull out packets of instant noodles, some eggs, and vegetables from her fridge. He offered to help where he could but she assured him she had it all under control. Ten minutes later she had two bowls of upgraded instant ramen at the ready.

The dining table only had four chairs, pressed up against a window with a faint view of the city. Tom was pleasantly surprised with Noelle's cooking, it was the first home cooked meal he'd had since arriving, and it was the tastiest dinner he'd enjoyed in a long time.

"Do you like it?" she asked between bites.

"It's fantastic!" he awed, tilting his head, "I'm also happy to find nothing's burnt,"

Noelle rolled her eyes, "Oh, shut up. It was one time," she giggled, "I've been cutting back on my noodle intake, but when I can't be bothered to stand at the stove for long I break 'em out,"

"Hey, a meal's a meal, sometimes nutrition is overrated," he replied, "And they're cheap, too,"

"That's a nice perk," she nodded, "If you want cheap groceries, Paddy's down the street is great. So long as you get there before 9am, that's when the nonnas go in and squeeze the shit out of the tomatoes and bread,"

"That's nice to know. Thank you," he sipped from his water glass, "Do you work, too?"

Noelle nodded, "Weekends at Frames. I slice pizza for the bowlers," she replied, "Sometimes my boss lets me take home some of the canned tomatoes if we didn't sell out,"

Tom hummed, "Is that what I'm tasting here?" he asked curiously.

She smiled, "Yeah! The spice is gochujang,"

"It's fantastic, Noelle," he replied, "Have you always liked to cook?"

"My aunt taught me how -- and my uncle served as the proverbial guinea pig," she said.

He cocked a brow, "You lived with your aunt and uncle?" he asked.

Noelle stopped mid-chew, realizing she'd let her tongue slip, "Yeah, my parents weren't really around. It's a bit of a long story," she shrugged back.

Tom swallowed heavily, "I -- I didn't mean to impose on you like that, I'm sorry,"

"Oh my gosh, don't be sorry!" she assured, "I mean -- my mom had some substance issues and my dad... well, we don't know where he went. So my aunt and uncle were named my legal guardians," her voice trailed off, bordering on dejection with every word she recounted.

Tom stopped at that, his heartstrings tugging but his curiosity nevertheless peaked. That being said he kept his questions at bay, he didn't want to offend or trigger her, especially being in her own space.

"I'm sorry to hear that. But you liked living with them?" he asked.

Noelle nodded, "They're wonderful people. I probably wouldn't have auditioned for Julliard in the first place if they hadn't encouraged me," she replied.

"How long have you been dancing for?" he asked, finding an out for new conversation.

"Since I was ten years old. I thought it might've been too late because everybody else usually starts at age three, but... here I am," she smiled back.

"Here you are," he smiled back, "And obviously you're very good if you've made it,"

"I suppose you have a point," she simpered, twirling her fork in her bowl absentmindedly, "Well, what about you, Tom?"

"What about me?" he asked.

She shrugged bashfully, "Did you like growing up in England?"

"As compared to the places I couldn't grow up in?" he simpered back, "I did. My parents split up when I was younger but I had a good relationship with both of them,"

"What do your parents do?" she asked.

"My mum's a counsellor in an employment office, and my dad was a show producer," he replied, "You ever hear of Emmerdale?"

Noelle shook her head, "Can't say I have. But that's pretty cool, though!" she said, "Is that how you got into acting?"

"Kind of. My mum signed me up for a youth theatre group to keep me busy -- awakened something in me I guess," he grinned sheepishly.

"I see. And is your dad still working in tv?"

Tom shook his head, the corners of his lips falling, "No, he passed about six years ago,"

Noelle nearly dropped her fork, quite taken aback though nonetheless she wanted to be respectful, "My God. I'm so sorry. How old were you?"

"Fourteen," he shrugged back solemnly, "It's alright, though. We're all making out okay,"

"Yeah but -- I can't imagine that could've been easy --" she stopped herself suddenly, becoming flustered, "I'm sorry, I know it's super personal and it's none of my business,"

"No, it's alright," he assured her, "Life's pretty fucked up sometimes, but we have to keep moving forward is all,"

Noelle nodded slowly, "You're right; and you made it here, after all. I think your dad's very proud of you," she replied.

Tom smiled, hoping the lighting was low enough that she wouldn't pick off the tinting in his cheeks. Taking a sip from his glass was the only natural response he could muster before uttering a quiet 'thank you'.

"I'm sure your family's quite proud of you too, Noelle," he said, "Anyway, enough sad stuff,"

"Good," Noelle huffed, jokingly rolling her eyes, "It was starting to get wishy washy in here,"

He simpered under his breath, "Alright. What are your plans when you graduate?" he asked.

Noelle rested her chin in her hand, smiling with giddy, "To get a spot at New York Ballet. They're the American equivalent of the Russian Ballet," she replied.

"Beautiful," Tom mired.

"What about you?"

"Go audition for a movie or two, I guess," he chuckled simply, "Hope and pray I don't fuck it up,"

"Have you worked on any productions before?" she asked curiously.

"A couple here and there. Mostly small parts. I just finished a short film over the summer, though," he replied.

"No kidding! What's it about?" she had both elbows on the table now, leaning in closer as though he would share a secret.

His smile widened, "My character's an aspiring journalist who stumbles upon this gang who like to take rounds in a tumble dry machine for kicks,"

Noelle's eyes went wide, her shoulders caved forward as she recoiled at the thought, "Jesus -- really? Tell me this wasn't based off --"

"A true story? I'm afraid so," he confirmed, "The moral is about how journalism doesn't care about right or wrong as long as it captures their audience's attention,"

Her face twisted in a combination of horror and intrigue, the same way most people react when learning about a serial killer, "Lemme' guess: your character gets found out and thrown in the dryer?"

"You'll just have to watch the film to find out," he chuckled smartly.

She sighed dramatically, "Oh, you mean the torture of having to physically sit and watch a movie? Unspeakable torture," she teased.

Tom playfully rolled his eyes, "If you can withstand Don't Breathe for an hour and something, I think you can withstand this,"

"I'll take your word for it," she simpered, "Do you want to move to Hollywood after you graduate?"

Tom pondered it for a moment; the thought had struck him numerous times but he was on the fence about it. The racket, the chaos, it was such a stark 180 contrast compared to England. And perhaps that was why New York struck the perfect balance with familiar inklings of home.

But hey, there would always be sunshine...

"I'm not sure. I might go back to England, we have a pretty strong film industry over there. Or maybe I'll stay here?" he wondered aloud, glancing out the window, "Obviously, you'd like to stay in the city?"

Noelle nodded happily, "I would, but I'd also love to do some travelling. Farthest I've been outside of Maine was Disney World in Florida. Not that I'm complaining," she chuckled bashfully, "Maybe I'll come visit you in Birmingham one day?"

"I'd like that," he beamed back, "We'll wait out in front of Buckingham Palace and try and spot the queen's corgis,"

"Oh my goodness! Don't threaten me with a good time!" she teased back.

Their chatter died down when they heard the lock click, both of them looking over to find Bianca, Noelle's roommate, sauntering in. Another petite girl, she had vibrant blonde hair hanging loose and tousled past her shoulders, soft Bambi eyes that were tired and glazed, and her checkout uniform was wrinkled and warped as the fabric caught in her jacket. She was strikingly beautiful, the epitome of a blonde bombshell.

She stopped short when she saw Tom and Noelle, perplexed but nonetheless fronting a smile as she dropped her bag into a corner. She tossed her jacket over the back of the couch, sauntering over with her hands buried in her back pockets.

"Hey! What's going on over here?" she asked, looking curiously between the pair.

"We're commiserating about life over ramen," Noelle replied, extending her hand out to Tom, "Tom, this is Bianca. Bianca, this is Tom. He lives across the hall,"

"Nice to meet you," Tom smiled politely at her, nevertheless he had he feeling he was a mouse within the eye line of a cat.

"Likewise. You go to Julliard?" she asked.

"I'm an acting major," he nodded.

Bianca raised her brows, "That's awesome! Well I hope you make it," she turned on her heel and started for the fridge, "Do we still have that buttered broccoli?" she asked Noelle.

"Second top shelf on the left" Noelle replied.

Bianca gave an quiet, victorious 'ah ha' as she pulled a container out from the fridge, then fished for a fork from the drawer, "If you guys don't mind I'll bid you adieu," she gave a small bow, "I have a date with my bed,"

Noelle cocked a brow, "Honey, put the broccoli in the microwave at least," she said.

"Don't worry, it's fine!" Bianca waved her off, "Don't have too much out here!" and with that she sauntered down the hall, a slam of a door followed after.

Tom nodded, glancing curiously at Noelle as she just shook her head, "I promise she's usually nicer than that," she huffed.

"It's okay," Tom replied, "She looks like she had a long day,"

"She works at the grocery store,"

He cocked a brow, "So you're both on your feet all day, basically," he noted.

"It's a living," Noelle shrugged listlessly, "We do what we have to to get by,"

"I hear that," Tom glanced over at her empty bowl, reaching over to take it along with his as he stood up. "Here, let me,"

"What? No!" Noelle protested, "I can do that!" she moved to get up as well.

"Hey, it's the least I can do! You've been on your feet all day, and you cooked dinner for me!" he replied.

"Tom..." she darted to his side by the sink. He nearly reached out to touch her shoulder but hesitated, mindful of not overstepping any boundaries too quickly. It was then the pair realized how close they stood in proximity to each other, closer than what young strangers should've been. He could pick out the black diamond flecks in her irises, the faint freckles across her cheeks, the subtle but sweet notes of apple and bergamot that wafted under his nose. And the indent of an old piercing scar under her bottom lip.

"I got it, Noelle," he assured her kindly, willing himself to focus.

Noelle rolled her eyes, she knew she had a tendency to be stubborn but she could tell she'd met a match in Tom. She glanced at the soaking pot in the sink, already having made up her mind as she reached for it.

"Lemme' get this in the dishwasher at least," she decided.

"Fine," he conceded, stepping back to give her room.

Noelle huffed as she put the pot away, glancing at him over her shoulder, "What's your sign?" she asked suddenly.

His brow furrowed, "My sign?"

"Your zodiac," she clarified, "Like I'm a Gemini,"

"Ah," he nodded, "Um -- Aquarius,"

Noelle chuckled, "Damn, you're just as stubborn as me. And here I was thinking you'd be a pushover... I'm joking, by the way," she quickly clarified.

"Your dripping sarcasm wasn't evident of that?" he teased back. Before she could get a word in to protest, he placed the bowls in the sink and made a grab for the dish soap.

"Thank you," Noelle finally conceded, "Do you mind if I go get changed?"

"Not at all," he glanced behind his shoulder with a satisfied grin, "I'll be here,"

Noelle collected her bag off the floor and started for her room, pausing at the mouth of the hall and taking another look behind her. Tom was none the wiser to her silent presence, his back turned to her while his broad shoulders lifted and fell with each move he made. He had this unassumingness about him at first glance, she wouldn't necessarily pick him out from a crowd but if she knew to look for him she wouldn't have a problem. And when he smiled, little wrinkles formed at the corner of his bright eyes, clear blue eyes a sharp contrast to his pale complexion.

She turned swiftly on her heel and skittered down the hall, coming to the odd realization that she had never paid any mind to the drama department -- at least, not until now...

#tom blyth #tom blyth x reader #coriolanus snow imagine #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus snow fanfiction #coriolanus imagine #coriolanus fanfiction #tbosas #the hunger games #the hunger games the ballad of songbirds & snakes #the hunger games x reader #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #original story #original content #original series

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copperbadge · 5 months

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hi sam! do you have any recommendations for good sources of info for someone who'd like to learn more about cons and con artists? Any format is fine, books, podcasts, youtube, whatever, i'm just having a hard time finding a good source that really digs into and examines the actual techniques and 'mechanics' so to speak.

It is a little bit tough because of course most scammers are also self-embroidering liars :D And my education was very patchwork. For specifically cons and con artists (outside of art crime, which generally doesn't touch the con world directly) I'd advise starting with "Titanic Thompson: The Man Who Bet On Everything" by Kevin Cook, which is a biography of one of the early 20th century's most preeminent con men; it's a good tale but it also demonstrates the general life trajectory of con men, which can be pretty grim. Most cons end up in prison, and even those that don't or that get out tend to die poor and alone, because they can't stop scamming.

The Mark Inside by Amy Reading is one that I don't remember vividly but I did write a review of here, and I think it's another good starting place. (All the links following are to reviews I did.) If you've ever watched The Sting, which is a movie about con artists and also kind of a good primer, it's based on The Professional Thief by Edwin Sutherland, which is an anthropology of professional crime in the early 20th century. While technically it was written less by him than by an anonymous contact of his in the criminal underworld, that doesn't mean it's accurate per se; we only have that writer's word that any of it is true, so again, read skeptically.

I'd have to look up which piece it was because there's been a lot about her, but if you give Doris Payne a google she's another great example of a fascinating person who is just a giant liar. She paints a very vivid picture of her own career, but if you read about her later years you do realize that she's still conning everyone (she attempts to swindle at least one journalist working with her) and has nothing to show for her career, which may be a pack of lies to begin with. A lot of her stories have been fact checked and found wanting. I'd read up on the life of Victor Lustig as well; he's most famously known as the man who fraudulently sold the Eiffel Tower (twice) but I don't have a good biography offhand.

In your reading you will probably run across Han Van Meegeren, who forged Vermeers and ripped off the art world with them, then was tried for colluding with Nazis because he sold Nazis many "Vermeers" -- he had to paint a Vermeer while in prison to prove he'd forged the ones he sold the Nazis. This is a charming story but until very recently it was not widely noted that Van Meegeren was ABSOLUTELY A BIG NAZI HIMSELF. I was suckered by the story for years and I know most people were, so if you encounter media about him that does not include this fact, and you're interested in his story, look for newer scholarship.

There's a tangentially related book, "Where The Money Was" by Willie Sutton and Edward Linn, that is the semi-autobiography of a bank robber and it's very fun and funny, so despite not being directly about crime, I'd recommend that one.

The Napoleon Of Crime by Ben MacIntyre is a biography of the man who Moriarty was purportedly based on; it's sort of related rather than direct, but I recall enjoying it and there's a fascinating example of the VERY rare times when art heists are for a specific piece rather than for a specific goal.

There's a podcast called Scam Goddess that I found...enjoyable and informative, but also not very well-researched. In particular some of the earlier episodes are really poorly fact-checked. That said, she reads out letters from people writing in to discuss their scams and she talks about a lot of famous scam stories, so as long as you listen with the knowledge that she's neither a researcher nor an expert you should be okay.

Provenance by Laney Salisbury and Aly Sujo is what I'll close with, because it's about the interplay between art crime and con artistry, but it's also a strong argument for not valorizing cons; it's a documentation of how a couple of criminals out for nothing more than a quick buck really fucked up the entire system by which we authenticate art, and did insane levels of damage to genuine art scholarship. This isn't a little guy punching up against millionaire art collectors or fat cat museums, the way the narrative is often framed; art crime like this, involving forged or altered provenances, really harms art historians and the study of art.

I think the study of confidence crime and art crime is absolutely fascinating. There's a lot to learn about social engineering and society itself. But I think if I can impart to you one piece of wisdom, it's that con men are never, ever out for anyone but themselves and have no qualms or hesitations about hurting you to get what they want. The romance of con artistry often fools journalists and sophisticated researchers as well, so it's very easy to get swept up in it, but you should approach the entire genre with the attitude that everything you read has a 75% chance of being a charming work of total fiction.

On that note -- you may enjoy the short stories of O. Henry, some of which are about confidence men; I can't recommend specific titles but his fiction is very enjoyable generally, at least in my opinion.

#con artists #crime #scams

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katyawriteswhump · 3 months

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Bed of Roses (steddie love month, day 17)

For @steddielovemonth, Day 17 prompt: Love is about a hand reaching out to you so you don't get lost (@yournowheregirl ) Thank you <3

Rating: M. CW: prostitution, unwanted kink/abuse/pet-names (NOT between Steddie) alcoholism, substance abuse. Tags: rockstar Eddie, rent-boy Steve, make-up fic, angst, shameless perversion of Bon Jovi lyrics. WC: 2,000.

...

“'Cause a bottle of vodka's still lodged in my head…”

In his dressing room, pre-show, Eddie grasped his second bottle of vodka in an unsteady hand.

“…and some blonde gave me nightmares; I think that she’s still in my bed.”

This was NOT GOOD. Eddie had gotten sap-fest Bon Jovi lyrics slithering around his brain. He couldn’t for the life of him remember his own lyrics.

“Hey, Amigo,” he announced to the vodka. “I got a venue of ten thousand to entertain, and you’re literally my Obi-Wan—my only hope.” He caressed the bottle’s label. “80% proof, huh, Baby?”

I’m serious, Eddie, you’ve had enough. You WANT to follow Kurt Cobain into the 27-Club?

Riiiight. That was not a Bon Jovi lyric. That sounded more like Steve Harrington, in sensible-parent mode, hands planted on his slender hips.

The tears struck fast. Eddie clonked the bottle onto the dressing table then followed it, pressing his heavy head to the glass.

He seriously didn’t want to die. However, he was so through with this life. Of any life, without Steve. The cavity where his heart once lay veered between grating emptiness and an unbearable pain.

His fingers twitched toward the bottle. Screw it, the show must go on, and he’d lost his only light in the darkness…

“… as I dream about movies, they won't make of me when I'm dead.”

That still wasn’t one of his own darn lyrics. In fact, he couldn’t remember a single goddamn word of any of Corroded Coffin’s songs.

A sharp knock on the dressing-room door had him squealing like a little piggy. An old guy poked his head in.

“Who the hell are you?”

“You hired me, Mr Munson. Dirk Gordon—Private Dick?”

“Ah… Yeah, so I did.” Eddie’s rotten heart hammered way too fast. “Have you..?"

“Yes, Mr Munson. I believe I’ve found him.”

…

“What do you mean, you're not gonna pay me?” Steve wrapped his arms tight around himself. The only heating in his boss’s rundown office came from the guy’s endless chain of cigarettes. “I spent the whole evening simpering at that old dragon. You told me she liked music—I talked music endlessly.”

“You yammered on about some death-metal garbage. She likes Wagner.”

Steve wrinkled his nose. “What’s Wagner? That crusty old film-star?”

“Oh, Steve, Steve, Steve. What am I gonna do with you?” His boss sauntered around the desk and hooked an arm around him.

Jesus, you stink.

“You’re good-looking, kid, you’re charming, but you simply can’t cut it with that kind of high-end client.”

“She seemed happy.” Steve shrugged his shoulders, failing to shake the guy off him. “She paid you, right?”

“Not the full whack, and you got a fancy meal out of the bitch. Look, I’ll give you your cut, if you do better tonight.”

He squeezed the back of Steve’s neck. Steve tried not to shudder. When his boss produced a piece of paper and wedged it down the back of Steve’s skin-tight jeans, he stopped trying to hide his revulsion.

“Details are all there. He’s a banking exec, early forties—no more dinners and dances with Doris, you’re spending the night at his house.”

A dry lump clogged Steve’s throat. “Is he gonna want..?”

“Sex? Christ on a bike, what trade do you think you’re in?” He squeezed Steve’s butt.

“Jesus fu—” Steve bit his lip, fixed on his damp sneakers.

“Believe me, Steve, your hair ain’t your best asset. You’re gonna have to sell that plump lil’ ass for real, sooner or later.”

Steve flinched, then schooled his features as blankly as he could.

“This guy’s got a few kinks, but as Johns go, he’s a pussycat.” He lifted Steve’s drooping chin with his knuckles. “Show him what ya got, Sport.”

Steve couldn’t get out into the drab morning fast enough. He retrieved the paper from his underwear, shoved it in a pocket unread, then stumbled, zombie-like, into a diner. “Black coffee, please? It’s an emergency.”

The waitress smiled. “You want breakfast, Steve?”

He shook his head, though his stomach grumbled.

He ended up slumped on the table, his face pillowed in his arms. Christ, ‘male escort’ had never seemed like a great idea, but he’d figured the pay would beat waiting tables. So how come he was still behind on his rent, and that he still couldn’t afford to eat some days, let alone buy his pain meds?

He muffled a miserable laugh in his elbow. He genuinely wished he could afford to get smashed, get high, because nothing could fill that gaping black hole of pain. Even worse, one of his fave Bon Jovi songs was playing on the radio, and SO not helping:

“Tonight I won't be alone, but you know that don't mean I'm not lonely.” Shit! He was fighting back dumbass tears already. “I got nothing to prove, for it’s you I’d die to defend.”

Why the hell did he run away? He can’t recall any reason that mattered anymore. “I’m sorry, Eddie,” he mumbled. “I miss you so much.”

Somebody touched his elbow, and he jolted up. “Sorry, hon,’” said the waitress, “we need this table for dine-in customers.”

“Right.” Steve swiped any tell-tale moisture from his cheekbones. “I’ll clear outta your way.”

...

“Ready for playtime, Bunny Rabbit?”

Steve’s skin crawled, and his face burned. He’d gotten his head in the client’s lap, and the guy was playing with his hair. It would be tolerable, he guessed, if he’d not so often laid in Eddie’s lap like this, and… Christ, Eddie! Steve shut out the unwanted touching and began to drift. He was so beyond tired. And that song from the diner crept back:

“Now as you close your eyes, know I'll be thinking about you. While my mistress—she calls me to stand in her spotlight again…”

The pinch on his cheek startled Steve back to the present. “You kipping there, Bunny Rabbit?”

“Uh… er, sorry, Daddy.” Uuuuuuurgh! “Whatever you want, Daddy.” He dared sit up. “I’ll grab a condom and, uh… stuff.”

“Hey, hey, hey.” When Steve went to rise, his arm was grabbed, and he was held in place. “I don’t like rubbers, Cutie.”

“You heard of this thing called AIDS?” Dipshit!

Steve wrenched his arm free. The guy raised his hand and slapped him. Which wasn’t exactly out-of-the-blue, because face-slapping had been listed among this repellent son-of-a-bitch’s kinks.

“I’m paying top whack for you.” He leaned over Steve, suddenly kinda huge and scary, not least because Steve now saw double. “Your pimp said you were clean, so I’m gonna have you any way I like.”

“I… uh…” Steve kicked the bastard’s shin and shoved him hard. “Go to hell, asshole.”

He fled out into the night, still dizzy from the blow. He pulled his mesh vest back on over his head. The icy wind bit, and he realised he’d left his only jacket behind.

“Jesus Christ! JESUS CHRIST!” He kicked a lamppost, holding back on venting the true force of his feelings. Still hurt.

He limped off up the street, fast as he could. The ache in his toes at least distracted him from the ringing in his ears. An hour later, he stumbled around the corner of his block, thinking only of throwing himself into his bed, while he still had one.

He was so close, when the hairs on the back of his neck stood suddenly on end. Through the haze of his exhaustion, he realised a car crawled up the gutter behind him.

Had Mr Happy-Slappy-Sleazebag come after him? Then again, Steve’s pursuer could be anybody. After all, he was walking through a red-light district, shivering his ass off. Dressed like the whore I am. Hahaha!

The car pulled up right beside him. A blacked-out window rolled down.

Steve ran, turning sharp up a dark alley, then… Shit, shit, SHIT AGAIN! He was only a hundred yards from his digs, and yet he was so messed-up that he’d sprinted up a dead-end.

He nearly kicked the bricks. Instead, he punched them, as if that would blast through the solid wall. He turned about, bit his grazed fist, and sank slowly onto his haunches.

Two figures approached up the alley, silhouetted against the lights of the street behind. Get up, Harrington! GET UP! His legs wouldn’t obey, and his breaths came only as rapid gasps. Nothing felt real anymore. Am I gonna die..? I’m gonna die!

A hand stretched out of the gloom.

Steve stared at it—at the familiar chunky silver rings, which couldn’t be real. He glanced up, and… wtf? It was Eddie, apart from it wasn’t Eddie. This dude looked more like Eddie’s ghost. Steve’s eyes fluttered closed.

Maybe I scored some Benzos after all, and totally ODd.

“Stevie?”

No mistaking that voice. If this was a trip, it was a good one. Steve pried an eye open, and Eddie’s hand was still there. Steve took it, let it help him to his feet, because… Why not? Suddenly, they were in each other’s arms, clasping each other tightly. This is real. You’re real! Eddie reeked of booze, and also of something devastatingly comforting and familiar. Somebody’s wretched sobs shook through them both.

“I’m s-sorry.” Steve sounded broken. “I-I honestly don't know why I left anymore. I was such an idiot.”

“No. I was the idiot. I’m sorry, too. So very fucking sorry.” Eddie sniffed hard, lifted his tear stained cheek from Steve’s shoulder. “I’ve not been doing so good without you.”

Steve blinked the moisture from his vision. He wondered if he looked as wrecked as Eddie—red-eyed and waxy pale, under the distant glimmer of the streetlamps. Probably. If he hadn't leaned against Eddie, his legs would’ve given out again.

He laughed, without knowing why. Eddie laughed too, and it warmed Steve’s soul. “Gonna be honest, Eddie—not been doing so good without you, either.”

…

When Eddie got out of rehab, Steve waited on the steps of the clinic, hand stretched out to take his. He pulled Eddie close, and then into a sweet, lingering kiss that renewed Eddie more thoroughly than even a lengthy booze-free sleep.

“I’m never going through that again,” said Eddie, his lips still brushing against Steve’s.

Not least because I never ever want to be parted from you again, even for a fortnight.

“Yeah, but you’re dry, Eddie, and you’re alive. I’d say that’s goddamn metal of you.”

They started back to the car, hands still clasped tightly. “Not gonna take credit, Stevie. You’re what got me through.”

“You might’ve got me out of a fix, so we’re even.” Steve’s sigh rode on a wistful sadness. “I mean, I was so lost. Thinking of you was all that kept me… I dunno, alive, I guess. You know, I kept on thinking about that Bon Jovi song.”

“Uh, you know how I feel about Bon J—"

Too late. Steve burst into song: “Well, I'm so far away, each step that I take is on my way home. A king's ransom in dimes I'd give each night to see through this pay-phone—”

Eddie pressed fingers to his boyfriend’s parted lips. “As much as I hate cutting you off in your prime—two teensy-weensy issues. Firstly, I had no idea where you were, and you never called! Second, what’s wrong with my blood-and-death drenched lyrics?”

Steve took Eddie’s fingers and kissed them: “Hurt too much to think about them.”

“You know what, Sweetheart? Hurt too much to sing them, without you around. Even though none of them are actually love songs.” Eddie raised his gaze to the heavens, and looped his arms around Steve. “Go figure.”

“You sure they’re not love songs? C’mon—they’re all secretly about me, right? Only coded or something. I’ll crack it one day.”

Steve’s gently mocking smile destroyed him, in the best possible way. They tumbled into a French kiss, and he resigned himself willingly to the only thing that mattered:

“And the truth is… Baby, you’re all that I need.”

...

Thanks for reading <3 Likes, comments and reblogs always much appreciated :)

(also part of my steve whump fic series on ao3).

#steddielovemonth #steddie #steddie fic #steddie fanfic #steve harrington #steve harrington whump #steve harrington x eddie munson #eddie munson #steve x eddie #rock star eddie munson #steve harrington fanfic #stranger things fanfic #steddie fanfiction #eddie x steve #steddie love month

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homomenhommes · 18 days

Text

THIS DAY IN GAY HISTORY

based on: The White Crane Institute's 'Gay Wisdom', Gay Birthdays, Gay For Today, Famous GLBT, glbt-Gay Encylopedia, Today in Gay History, Wikipedia, and more … April 24

Twins Karl and Robert Oelbermann

1896 – Robert Oelbermann, German youth leader. (d.1941) In 1919 Robert and his twin brother Karl founded the Nerother Bund youth group in the Cologne region. Like other German youth groups, it aimed to bring youth closer to nature through camping and hiking. Homosexual relationships sometimes developed from the intense adolescent male camaraderie, and the Nerother Bund accepted these friendships, as did a number of German youth groups at the time.

Soon after the Nazis took power in 1933, they dissolved all independent youth groups and urged the members to join the Hitler Youth movement. Robert refused and secretly continued his connection with the Nerother Bund. In 1936 he was convicted under the Nazi-revised criminal code's Paragraph 175 which outlawed homosexuality. Robert was imprisoned with 13 other members of the Nerother Bund.

Robert was one of more than 50,000 men sentenced under Paragraph 175 during the Nazi regime. By 1941 he had been transferred to the Dachau concentration camp. Like many "175ers" in the camps, Robert was required to wear an identifying pink triangle. The "175ers" were commonly segregated in separate barracks, subjected to particularly harsh treatment, and often ostracized by other prisoner groups.

Forty-four-year-old Robert died at Dachau in 1941.

1951 – John Edward Heys is an American independent filmmaker, actor and writer who lives and works in Berlin.

John Edward Heys was born and raised in New Jersey. Upon his father's death two days after Heys' 12th birthday, he was enrolled and educated at a private boarding school in northern New Jersey. Upon graduating from secondary school, Heys moved to Miami Shores, Florida, to the home of his maternal aunts.

After two semesters of college majoring in Liberal Arts, Heys moved to New York City in 1968 and became part of the East Village and West Village alternative life and LGBTQ culture.

In August 1969, he founded America's first bi-monthly newspaper for the LGBTQ community, Gay Power, the official title totaling 24 issues and was editor until August 1970. One of its covers was created by Robert Mapplethorpe. The newspaper also contained illustrations by Touko Laaksonen, better known as Tom of Finland, as well as regular contributors as Arthur Bell, Taylor Mead, Charles Ludlam, Pudgy Roberts, Bill Vehr, Pat Maxwell, Clayton Cole and regular columns from all of the active LGBSTG groups, from the most conservative Mattachine Society to the most radical The Gay Liberation Front, and all the other groups in between.

Heys created several one-man performance pieces and he acted with Cookie Mueller, H.M. Koutoukas, Charles Ludlam, Ethyl Eichelberger and as part of the Angels of Light NYC Group which Hibiscus founded after moving to NYC.

Heys was a subject for the artists Peter Hujar, Francesco Clemente, Charles Ludlam, Richard Banks, Frank Moore and numerous other photographers. Heys was a close friend & muse of the photographer Peter Hujar and subject of many portraits. Hujar once remarked upon Heys' resemblance to Diana Vreeland, stating that, "I can take a picture of her and another of you and there is a resemblance".

In Berlin he was a friend of Charlotte von Mahlsdorf, the Neue Deutsche Welle (new-wave) band Die Tödliche Doris and to the radical gay-activist Napoleon Seyfarth. Heys made two films of Charlotte von Mahlsdorf, one of Napoleon Seyfarth, and was the subject of an 8 mm short film which Wolfgang Mueller made in 1984 in the legendary 1930's bordello, Pensione Florian.

Heys' films have been screened at many worldwide film festivals.

1952 – Jean-Paul Gaultier's clothes have both influenced fashions in the clubs and on the streets and have also appropriated ideas from those sources. Since his early shows Gaultier has drawn upon street styles and club culture for his haute couture creations.

A frequenter of gay clubs in London, he typically incorporates elements of gay style into his collections. His 1996 Pin Up Boys collection, for example, drew upon the sailor as a gay icon and presented figure-hugging pink and blue Tom of Finland style outfits.

Born in Arcueil, France, Gaultier was an only child. The future designer was greatly influenced by his grandmother, Marie Garrabe, a hypnotist and practitioner of alternative healing who encouraged him to pursue the unmanly pastimes of sketching and costume making.

Gaultier first realized the impact of his sketches when he was punished by his school teacher for drawing Folies Bergère showgirls. He was made to walk around school with the drawing pinned to his back. The punishment, however, only made the young Gaultier aware of his potential for showmanship.

Gaultier had no formal fashion training. Instead, he sent hundreds of his sketches to various couture houses. Pierre Cardin was impressed by the work and hired Gaultier as a design assistant in 1970, on the young man's eighteenth birthday. Gaultier worked for a number of other French design houses before launching his first collection under his own name in 1976.

However, it was not until 1981, when Gaultier began reflecting and adapting with his own inimitable touch key strands of London's youth subcultures, that his talent was established and his reputation as the enfant terrible of the fashion world was consolidated.

In addition to producing groundbreaking and outrageous clothes for his highly theatrical fashion shows, presented by unconventional models (transvestites, old and fat women, tattooed and pierced youngsters), he also launched cheaper diffusion ranges—Junior Gaultier (in 1988), Gaultier Jeans (in 1993), and JPG (in 1994).

In his designs, Gaultier toys with notions of masculinity and the appropriate forms of dress for men to wear. In 1985 he created his first skirt for men. While it did not create a major impact, it had some effect, as fashionable young gay men were seen in the clubs of London and Paris wearing skirts.

For his Autumn/Winter 1988 collection Gaultier again attempted to create a skirt for men; and in 1993, responding to the popularity of kilts amongst gay men on the streets of London and New York, his Vikings collection included his reinvention of the skirt for men in the form of the kilt.

Gaultier has utilized his distinctive appearance, especially his bleached blond hair and blue and white striped matelot T-shirt, as a fashion statement in its own right. When he launched his men's fragrance in 1995, it was in a male torso bottle that was striped to imitate his signature T-shirt.

At the end of the 1980s, Gaultier suffered several reverses, including most painfully the loss, from an AIDS-related illness, of his lover and business partner of fifteen years, Francis Menuge.

But in 1990 he returned to the forefront of fashion by creating the now infamous corset and other stage costumes for Madonna's Blond Ambition��tour. "I love Madonna. That was one of the best times of my career," he told the London Observer newspaper in 1997.

The designer lives in Paris, where his business is headquartered, but also spends time in Italy, where his clothes are manufactured.

1958 – Born: Brian Paddick, Baron Paddick of Brixton, British politician, and Liberal Democrat candidate for the London mayoral election, 2008, coming third behind Boris Johnson and Ken Livingstone. He was, until his retirement in May 2007, Deputy Assistant Commissioner in London's Metropolitan Police Service and the United Kingdom's most senior openly gay police officer.

Paddick was educated at Sutton Grammar School, Sutton then went on to study at Queen's College, Oxford (BA), the University of Warwick (MBA), and the University of Cambridge (Postgraduate Diploma in Criminology). When he was at Oxford, he was Captain of the University Swimming Team and Vice-Captain of his college's Rugby team.

Paddick was a sergeant on the front line during the 1981 Brixton riots, an experience which undoubtedly shaped his attitudes about confrontational police action and strengthened his belief in community policing. He was later in charge of CID at Notting Hill and responsible for policing the Notting Hill Carnival. He was promoted to commander in December 2000, and fulfilled his ambition of becoming head of policing in Brixton.

In November 2003 Paddick was promoted to Deputy Assistant Commissioner, and in April 2005 he took over management of Territorial Policing across all 32 London Boroughs, with responsibility for 20,000 police officers and support staff. He was accountable for reducing 'volume crime' in London (all offences up to and including rape in terms of seriousness) and increasing the number of offenders brought to justice. He was the national lead for the police service on disability and mental health issues for a year and a half. He was also in the media spotlight as the senior Metropolitan Police Service spokesman for the funeral of Diana, Princess of Wales and after the 7 July 2005 London bombings.

Following a widely-publicised disagreement with Sir Ian Blair, the Commissioner of the Metropolitan Police, over the wrongful shooting of Jean Charles de Menezes at Stockwell Tube station on 22 July 2005, Paddick was assigned the position of group director of information management, which he considered a 'non-job'. Claiming that the Home Office had intervened for political reasons to ensure that Blair would not have to resign over the incident as it had occurred in the aftermath of 21 July 2005 London bombings, Paddick says he came to accept that his police career was over and that he would never achieve his goal of becoming a chief constable.

Between 1983 and 1988, Paddick was married. According to Paddick, it was 'a fairly conventional marriage' and his former wife said it was 'a wonderful marriage'. She did not know he was gay. He struggled with his sexuality until towards the end of his marriage in 1988. Since then he has been a vocal and visible advocate for gay rights and diversity.

He had a knack during his police career of attracting controversy over his policies, outspokenness and his sexuality but this seems to have done him no harm and has given him much credibility and popularity in his post-police political career, as he seems to a confident and charming man of integrity. Being somewhat handsome has probably not hurt either.

Paddick was a contestant on the eighth series of the ITV1 reality television show I'm a Celebrity... Get Me Out of Here! in 2008. On 1 December 2008, he became the sixth celebrity to be voted off the show. Interviewed by the show's hosts Ant & Dec after leaving the jungle, he explained his reasons for participating:

"For a long time I've been doing serious stuff. Thirty years in the police and running for mayor. It's all bad news that they want me to comment on. So I thought why not come and do something trivial ... It's the hardest thing I've ever done in my life, anything after this is a breeze."

In 2008, Paddick was ranked number 101 in the annual Pink List of influential gay and lesbian people in Britain published by The Independent on Sunday, down from number 83 in 2007.

Paddick presently lives in Vauxhall, London, with his husband Petter Belsvik, a civil engineer from Oslo, Norway; they met in a bar while on holiday in Ibiza. They married in Oslo 9 January 2009.

It was announced that he would be elevated to the House of Lords in August 2013. He was created a life peer on 12 September 2013 taking the title Baron Paddick, of Brixton in the London Borough of Lambeth.

1989 – Thomas Sanders is an American internet personality made famous by Vine and YouTube. He is best known for his Vine career until the app was shut down by Twitter at the beginning of 2017.

After the shutdown of Vine, he shifted his online presence mainly to YouTube, though he had started to create content on YouTube before that as well. His online personality consists of comedy, impressions, singing, and social justice.

He also has a career outside of the Internet performing in local theater productions with the hope of someday making it to Broadway. He managed to amass over 7.4 billion loops and 8.3 million followers on Vine, making his career one of the most successful in the app's short history.

Thomas Sanders was born and raised in Gainesville, Florida and still lives there today.

Although he does not reveal much about his family or personal life, he makes clear his pride of his predominantly Irish Catholic heritage, and he has revealed that he has three brothers: Patrick, Christian, and Shea.

On June 12th 2017, Sanders came out as gay in his video titled Having Pride.

1994 – Yaroslav Mogutin, Russia’s most visible openly gay journalist, makes headlines when he attempts to register his marriage to American artist Robert Filippini. The head of Moscow’s Wedding Palace No. 4 refuses his application.

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randomperson3736 · 10 months

Text

His first love

Paring(s): Evan "Buck" Buckley x reader

Warning(s): none I think?

Genre: umm, idk?

Word bank: Y/N- your name

Summary: You were Buck's first love and as he watches you walk down the aisle he remembers all the times you had together when you were still his.

Notes: I am in love with this man! And for some reason I keep getting ideas for him so I'm gonna write before I forget them cus I am a dory ✌️

(Listen to this while reading)👇👇👇

~~~~~

I am not the only traveler

Who has not repaid his debt

I've been searching for a trail to follow again

Take me back to the night we met

~~~~~

Buck stared at you, adoringly. Something the 118 and your friends found common, ever since he'd found you there was some sort of light illuminating from him. As if your presence alone was able to change him for the better, as if you complete him.

Suddenly every memory flashes before his eyes. The first date, the stupidest moments together, the exhausting fights. It was all memories he wouldn't ever replace.

~~~~~

And then I can tell myself

What the hell I'm supposed to do

And then I can tell myself

Not to ride along with you

~~~~~

The very first moment his lips met yours, to the time you both wanted a family together, you were his first love– no his greatest love. And Buck knew no one would receive the love you had received from him. His love was only for you and nobody would be able to take that love from you. You remian in his heart as you do in his memory and mind.

~~~~~

And then I can tell myself

What the hell I'm supposed to do

And then I can tell myself

Not to ride along with you

~~~~~

Like a curse– you plagued Buck's heart.

It was pain he accepted, the only pain he liked. Pain from you is his favourite pain after all. It's from you. He'll embrace it. No matter how painful it gets, for you he'll keep going.

Even at this moment your memories with him clouded his thoughts, as everyone looked at you– his eyes were by far the most glued onto your walking figure, memories rushing through the course of his mind, like a disease– slowly ending him.

Those memories Buck loved, the memories he treasured. As they remian memories, and as you walk down the aisle.

~~~~~

I had all and then most of you

Some and now none of you

Take me back to the night we met

I don't know what I'm supposed to do

Haunted by the ghost of you

Oh, take me back to the night we met

~~~~~

Buck stared at you. Admired you like he always has, though perhaps this is the last time? He knows that's not possible. Wherever you are, whoever you're with, Buck would always be the one to admire you the most. As his first love, you own his heart entirely.

As you walk, inches and seconds away from becoming someone else's spouse, he smiled.

Buck knew he couldn't search his heart for love again, as he never wanted to let you go. Perhaps that's why it wounded him so much. Maybe it was because he was too much of a coward to purpose? Or was it simply just because he had let you go?

He had searched every nook and cranny of his mind to find the answers. But unfortunately he could never find the right answer.

~~~~~

When the night was full of terrors

And your eyes were filled with tears

When you had not touched me yet

Oh, take me back to the night we met

~~~~~

You've gotten the life you've always talked to him about, though this time it wasn't him by your side.

Your eyes met his just for a moment– oh those eyes, how they wound him. If you had known how much he hurt, would you come back? As silly and selfish as it was, he wanted you– no– he needed you back. But it was too late. He was too late.

'Y/N looks beautiful, just like she always had.' He thought with a small smile painted on his face.

~~~~~

I had all and then most of you

Some and now none of you

Take me back to the night we met

I don't know what I'm supposed to do

Haunted by the ghost of you

Take me back to the night we met

~~~~~

#first love #even buck buckley #x reader #x yn #buck x reader #evan buckley x you #reader x 911 #Spotify #fyp #buck 911 #wedding #kinda sad #the night we met #evan buckley x reader

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suddenlybambi · 1 year

Text

as long as you stay here [6] ♥ kyle broflovski

pairing : kyle broflovski x reader

college AU - 18+

tags : strangers to friends to lovers, slow burn, fluff, angst, alcohol, afab reader, she/her pronouns, eventual smut

words : 2.8k

chapter 6

previous | next | alaysh masterlist

a/n - 2.8k words for this one 💀 i need to catch up writing because i simply can't refrain myself from posting a chapter a day

fortunately i am british and we have a long bank holiday weekend so the next 3 days are gonna be full of writing

“Wait!” Kyle called out as Y/N started walking towards the diner after saying her goodbyes and thank yous for dropping her off.

He pulled her apron, neatly folded over and cleaned, out of the trunk of his car. He began jogging over to her to hand it over, but his foot managed to catch on something. Before he could register what was happening, Kyle flew through the air. He landed on the ground, one hand on the apron, which helped cushion his fall, but the other wasn’t so lucky as it slid across the gravel of the car park. “Shit, that hurt….”

“Oh god, Kyle,” Y/N ran over to him, he wanted to tell her not to in case she tripped as well, but she was next to him within seconds, his injured hand cradled in her own hands, inspecting the damage. “We need to get this cleaned! Are you okay to walk? Did you hurt your legs at all? Is your back okay?”

“Just my hand,” He sighed, looking down at the now-soiled apron that he had spent about an hour making sure was perfectly clean for Y/N. “I hope I didn’t scuff your apron up.”

“Fuck my apron!” She shook her head, flicking the apron to the side. “I don’t give a shit about that, but I do give a shit about you! Come on; there is a first-aid kit in the diner.” She carefully pulled him to his feet and walked him towards the door. One arm was looped around his waist as she held the wrist of the hand that was injured out in front. She didn’t need to support him as he walked, he was perfectly fine aside from his hand, but he saw the determined look on her face and realised that even if he insisted he was okay, she wouldn’t believe it until she knew for certain.

The warmth of the diner was a stark contrast to the cold October air of Denver. “Finally letting us meet your-” Doris had perked up as soon as she saw Y/N guiding Kyle in. She had been begging to meet him since day 1.

“Not right now, Doris!” Y/N interrupted, leading Kyle behind the counter to the small break room next to the kitchen. It was just a square room with two chairs and a table, barely bigger than a supply closet, really, but it was out of sight from the rest of the diner. “Grab the first-aid kit for me.” Without another word, Doris disappeared for a second and reappeared with a little green box.

“It’s really not that bad,” Kyle mumbled, but Y/N wouldn’t listen as she gently took his hand and started to wipe it down with an anti-septic cleaner. He hissed at the pain but tried to suppress it as he worried she would think he was weak. Doris decided she couldn’t do much to help, so she left the two be and went back to the front counter to continue serving customers, though there fortunately weren’t many.

Kyle and Y/N sat in silence while she cleaned and bandaged up his hand, the only noises being his occasional hiss of pain. Each time, she would gently soothe him by stroking her thumb across his wrist, which worked wonders in distracting him. Unfortunately, it just flustered him.

“I think that is the best I can do with what we have,” She broke the silence after inspecting her work to ensure everything was bandaged properly. “Oooh! I can do one more thing!” She picked his hand up and drew it close to her face, placing a feather-light kiss on the bandage. If Kyle wasn��t blushing before, he definitely was after that.

“Did you just…” He paused as he tried to comprehend what happened. “Did you just kiss it better?”

“Hopefully!” She grinned at him, placing his hand back down on the table. “How does it feel? Can you hold anything?”

“Uh… Not sure…” Kyle looked around for something to hold to see if he could do it without pain, but Y/N beat him to it by slipping her hand in his. He would have enjoyed it if it didn’t hurt so much.

“I hope that face is because you’re in pain and not because you hate holding my hand,” Y/N laughed, letting go. She froze, her own words processing in her mind. “I’m so sorry! That completely came out wrong! I didn’t mean to say that I hope you’re in pain; I hope you’re not in pain, but you clearly are, and I am just making things worse by talking….” Kyle surprised himself and her when he leaned over and used his good hand to pull her into a hug. Up until that point, she had initiated every hug as he didn’t want to make her uncomfortable.

“Thank you for taking care of me,” He whispered, pulling away and settling back down in his seat. He froze as he saw a man in the doorway. His expression was unreadable to Kyle, possibly somewhere between annoyance and anger, but it was really difficult to tell. “I don’t mean to alarm you, but there is-“

“Jay, I’ll be out in a minute!” Y/N groaned, not needing to look around to know her boss was in the doorway. He grunted and turned back around to go back to the kitchen. “Sorry, he gets grumpy when people don’t work to his standard… and when they do… He’s always grumpy… Do you want me to call someone to come and get you? You can’t drive with your hand like that.” Kyle didn’t want to leave. Y/N was only working for 4 hours, and he didn’t want her making her own way home late at night when he wouldn’t even have a car to drive to get her if she needed him because it would be stuck in the car park.

“Do you mind if I stay here?” He asked. “I’ll sit back in the diner and study until your shift is over.”

“That’s not for another 4 hours!” She shook her head, leaning back in her seat as she looked at him. “Wouldn’t you be more comfortable at home?”

“I’d be more comfortable here with-“ He almost said he’d be more comfortable with her. It was true, but he didn’t want to make things weird between them. “I’ve got my books with me, so I can just study, which is what I would be doing anyway.”

“You’ll get all the crappy free coffee and food you want,” Y/N smiled, giving in. “Come on; I’ll sit you in the best spot. The window has a great view of the dumpster, and sometimes a raccoon will pop out. His name is Big Dave, and he is a single father raising two little girls.”

Kyle didn’t pay much attention to studying while he was in the diner. He couldn’t keep his eyes off of Y/N as she worked. She had an answer to every question from every customer, and she delivered them so confidently. Even when a customer was rude, she had a smile on her face that seemed genuine.

The only exception was when a woman kicked up a fuss after paying for her burger and fries.

“Here is your change, ma’am,” Y/N handed over the cash after the woman paid at the register. She seemed to be in her late 40s or early 50s, and her scowl was one that rivalled Cartman’s when he didn’t get his way.

“This is the wrong amount,” She scoffed. “I gave you two $20 bills.”

“You gave me one $20 bill, your total was $15.67, and I gave you $4.33 change. You didn’t give me a tip,” Y/N calmly explained. “I can ask my manager to double-check my math if you want?”

“I gave you two $20s!” The woman repeated herself, crossing her arms and stamping a foot on the floor. “You need to give one back.”

“Ma’am, it has been a slow evening so far,” Y/N had taken a deep breath before speaking. Kyle watched from his booth, absolutely mesmerised by how poised she was able to stay despite how aggressive the woman had already become. “There is one singular $20 bill in this register. It is the first one we have received tonight. It is lonely, and if you listen close, you can hear its cries for companionship. If you had given me two $20 bills, it wouldn’t be sat in this register as single as me on Valentine's Day stuffing three boxes of chocolate in my mouth while watching true crime and reminding myself why it’s better that I’m painfully alone because I can never truly trust another living soul.”

“I don’t-” The woman was about to argue back, but Y/N wasn’t done.

“If you’re so insistent that you gave me two, then where do you think the missing $20 bill has gone? Has a portal opened to another dimension where the magical pixies have taken it to turn into a blanket for the needy? Have the $10 bills murdered it and disposed of the body in a gang-related crime? Did the other $20 bill develop a sudden fetish for cannibalism and eat it? Or do you think that maybe, maybe, you lied in an attempt to get free food and steal money from this poor little diner?” Y/N held the woman’s gaze for what felt like an eternity for Kyle but was really only 10 seconds at most. The woman, without saying another word, turned around and left the diner. “Have a wonderful evening, ma’am!” Y/N called out after her, a small little smug smile tugging at the corner of her lips.

“Attagirl!” Doris patted her on the back. “Taught you well!” Y/N laughed, turning her attention over to Kyle and giving him a dazzling grin. He couldn’t help but smile back at her with the same enthusiasm.

The next hour passed by uneventfully. Y/N took orders, cleaned tables, and chatted with the few regulars, but the diner was next to empty. Kyle managed to get a little bit of studying done, but each time he looked down to focus, he caught the smell of Y/N’s perfume as she walked past and got distracted again.

“Y/N, hun, the diner is as dead as my grandpappy,” Doris patted Y/N on the shoulder as she cleaned the same table for the fourth time in a row. “Why don’t you two head off early?”

“You sure?” Y/N looked around for anything that needed to be done. “What if there is a sudden rush?”

“At 9pm on a Thursday?” Doris let out a short little laugh. “Honey, if that happens, I’ll call you. But we’ve never had a late Thursday rush in the twenty years we’ve been running this shithole.” Y/N took this into consideration before making up her mind with a nod.

“Should I get us an Uber?” She slid into the booth seat opposite Kyle, taking his injured hand to examine it and make sure the bandage was still in place.

“It actually doesn’t hurt that much anymore. I should be okay to drive,” He smiled, tapping the wound and holding back the winces of pain that threatened to escape and betray his composure. “It’s not far to yours or mine, and I’d rather not leave my car here overnight.”

“Security camera is broken,” Jay added from the other side of the window to the kitchen. “Ain’t safe leaving it here.”

“Are you sure you’re okay to drive?” She was absentmindedly tracing her fingers around the bandage, making Kyle shiver a little. He hoped Y/N hadn’t noticed, but the knowing look that Doris gave him from behind the counter said that the older woman definitely had.

“I’m sure, come on,” He grabbed his bag as well as hers since he had been keeping guard over it at the booth, swinging both over his shoulder. Y/N immediately took them from him before he could take a single step, grumbling something about him being injured. “Thank you for the food and coffee!” He called out to the two owners of the diner. Jay grunted, and Doris responded by saying he was welcome whenever he wanted.

“She loves you,” Y/N smiled once they were outside. “And he may not show it, but Jay likes you too. He plated you up way more fries than he usually does for people. That’s the equivalent of a fatherly hug in Jay's terms.” She opened his door for him and chucked their bags on the back seat before getting into her usual spot in the passenger seat.

“You dealt with that horrible woman really well,” Kyle complimented while starting up the car, being careful with his hand on the wheel. “I’ll have to start watching you more. I think I could pick up some tips for being a more assertive lawyer.”

“Watching me more suggests you already watch me a little?” Y/N teased. Kyle’s face heated up. He was about to stutter out some excuse, but she saved him the embarrassment by changing the subject. “Are you sure you’re okay to drive?”

“I’m sure,” He insisted again. “My hand barely hurts anymore.”

Unfortunately, he couldn’t say the same when he finally pulled up to Y/N’s apartment. He had accidentally gripped the wheel a little too tight when Y/N reached over to fix the collar of his shirt while at a red light. Fortunately, they were only a block away from the apartment at that point.

“Come on; you’re staying over. You can’t drive like that,” His poker face was poor and had given away his pain in an instant. She didn’t give him any other options this time. She just pulled him into the apartment and straight to her room. They hadn’t stayed overnight together since that first night. Kyle was somehow more nervous now that he knew her better. “Happy to wear these again?” She held up the clothes he wore to sleep the last time he was round.

“Of course,” He nodded, taking them from her. “I’ll get changed in the bathroom again.” He turned to the door, but she caught his arm.

“Clyde is in there; you won’t want to go in for another hour at least,” She sighed, having heard the music he played out loud every time he was in the bathroom when they entered the apartment. “Just get changed in here. We can face the walls if you’re uncomfortable?” He didn’t trust his voice to not crack as he spoke, so Kyle just nodded, turning to face the wall and getting dressed.

“Ready,” He announced, once changed. She confirmed she was too, but when Kyle turned around, his eyes widened as he realised she wasn’t wearing pants, just a long t-shirt and underwear. “Are you going to be comfortable in that?” Y/N looked down, confused. It took her a second to realise what he was referring to.

“Ah shit, sorry, I didn’t even think about that. It’s hot in here right now, and this is how I would usually sleep,” She looked around her room. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I have some shorts somewhere-”

“No! It’s fine!” He hadn’t meant to sound eager, but he was worried it had come out that way. “Uh- I mean, if you’re more comfortable like that, then I’m okay with it.”

“I didn’t think anyone could be worse than Stan and Wendy, and I share a wall with them,” Kyle mumbled, turning his head to look at Y/N as she settled against the pillow next to him. “I can’t believe they’re that loud from across the apartment.”

“This is my life,” She sighed, suppressing a laugh at the ridiculousness. “It’s honestly impressive; they go for an hour straight almost every night.”

“Next time, you’re sleeping around mine,” He exhaled softly, closing his eyes.

“Already planning another sleepover with me?” His eyes widened at her words, despite her teasing tone. “Good, you smell nice. It’s very comforting to be next to you.” Kyle thought his heart would stop beating when he heard that, but when Y/N rolled over towards him and wrapped her arm around him while she rested her head on his chest, he was sure it had stopped, and he was dead. “Is this okay?”

“Yes,” He answered without thinking, his uninjured hand resting on her waist before he could register what he had just agreed to. There was no way she couldn’t hear how heavy his breathing had suddenly become as he tried to calm himself down.

Then again, Clyde and Bebe’s moans had somehow increased in volume. It was hard to hear his own thoughts over that.

“Goodnight, Kyle,” Y/N managed to get out through giggles. Her laughter soothed him more than anticipated.

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

a/n - let me know if you would like to be on the taglist for this fic

current taglist - @n0tangeliccc @solana-central @charqing-qing @eiizabeth-torres @hand-writxen @audiliah @cosmicbroenies @himoutolikesjojo @katnipkoffee

#kyle broflovski #kyle broflovski fic #south park fanfiction #south park fic #south park kyle #alaysh #alaysh suddenlybambi #as long as you stay here #kyle broflovski x reader

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perfettamentechic · 1 year

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20 aprile … ricordiamo …

20 aprile … ricordiamo … #semprevivineiricordi #nomidaricordare #personaggiimportanti #perfettamentechic

2022: Robert Morse, Robert Alan Morse, attore e cantante statunitense. Morse è molto noto per le sue apparizioni teatrali in musical e spettacoli di Broadway. Il suo ruolo più conosciuto è quello del giovane imprenditore J. Pierre-Point Finch nella commedia teatrale How to Succeed in Business Without Really Try, in scena a Broadway dal 1961 al 1965, e nell’omonima riduzione cinematografica, Come…

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goldenraeofsun · 2 years

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Day 7: Fine Wine

“You aged like fine wine.”

Castiel chokes on his drink. He slowly turns on his barstool to see a stranger swaying slightly in place. A light sheen of grease – or cheap gel – reflects off his hair in the lights behind the bar, and twin lilac bags sag underneath each eye.

“Pardon?” Castiel says. He discreetly sniffs, but the man must have showered more recently than his appearance suggests. Either that, or he simply drank enough so the scent of alcohol masks the smell of body odor.

“You’re Cas – Castiel,” the man says as he braces himself on the bar and laboriously climbs on the stool next to Castiel. He adds, almost accusatory. “Dr. James Novak of Seattle Mercy Hospital.”

Castiel’s jaw drops.

He hasn’t gone by Dr. Novak in close to fifteen years. He was twenty-two when he got his first role on a longstanding medical soap opera (an impossible age for a doctor of his character’s reported caliber, but Castiel was assured this was normal at SMH).

When Dr. Novak was killed off for the sixth and final time, Castiel went on to play a few bit parts in CSI and Law & Order spin offs. He reached the pinnacle of his acting career a few years ago with his starring role in Hell Hazers II and a seven-line part in a Marvel movie. Afterwards, the acting jobs seemed to dry up, or maybe Castiel was tired of the constant sisyphean cycle of auditions chewed him up and spit him out a little worse than before.

Currently, he teaches high school drama in a local private school. While it doesn’t fill him creatively, he can’t say the same for his bank account.

“I, yes, I was,” Castiel fumbles. He hasn’t gotten recognized since his Dr. Sexy, MD days, and, even then, it didn’t happen frequently.

The man beams, and the smile transforms his face. He looks almost handsome. “Knew it,” he says. “’M Dean.”

“You already know my name,” Castiel replies, unsure of how to proceed. He’d come to the bar for a quiet celebratory drink – he’d finally finished all his college recommendation letters in time for early decision deadlines. On the other hand, Dean wasn’t technically bothering him as Castiel didn’t have many plans to bother.

“Yeah,” Dean agrees with a long sigh. “Figures I’d run into you today.”

Castiel has no idea what that means.

Dean points a shaking finger in Castiel’s face. “You’re the reason I became a doctor.”

Castiel’s mouth falls open. After a beat, he forces out, “You’re not serious.”

“As a heart attack.” Dean chuckles, the sound grim and humorless.

“I – I’m sorry?” Castiel tries, feeling entirely off balance with the abrupt turn of their conversation.

“Don’t be,” Dean says bitterly. “Not your fault I killed a patient today.”

Castiel shoves his horror down. With a determinedly neutral expression, he says, “I’m sure it’s not your fault,” because he didn’t act in 147 episodes of a medical soap opera for nothing.

Dean shakes his head, tapping the bar to get the bartender’s attention. “A double of Jack for me, and one more of whatever my friend here is drinking.”

As the bartender moves back down the bar to prepare Dean’s order, Castiel frowns. “Are you sure you should be having another?”

Dean scowls. “’M not on call for another 48 hours.”

Castiel gives him a deliberate once-over. “I was referring to your current state of drunkenness.”

Dean waves his concern away. “’M fine.”

“You don’t seem fine.”

Dean exhales an explosive sigh. “You fuck up a aortic dissection repair on a twelve-year-old who just wanted to perform in her school dance recital next month, and tell me you’re all hunky dory after.”

He’s a surgeon. A pediatric cardiac surgeon.

Castiel inspired a pediatric surgeon?

He leans in, his heart twinging in sympathy for both Dean and his late patient. “I’m sure there were complications.”

Dean mutters, “High blood pressure and Type 2 diabetes.”

Castiel lays a hand on Dean’s arm. “I may not be a real doctor, but I spoke often enough with our medical experts to know those aren’t inconsequential conditions when it comes to your specialty.”

Dean harrumphs and greedily grabs the drink the bartender sets down before the pair of them. He takes a long pull of his whiskey. “But enough about me. How come you quit acting?”

Castiel shrugs. “It’s a hard life,” he says vaguely, continuing as Dean makes a go on gesture with his free hand. “I was tired of not landing parts and struggling to make my rent each month. I gave it until I turned thirty, and, well, you can guess what happened next.”

Dean snorts into his glass. “At thirty, I wasn’t even done with my residency.” He casts Castiel a surprisingly shrewd look for how much he’s had to drink. “I think you gave up too early. You were doing good stuff.”

Castiel’s biggest sore spot throbs painfully. “Forgive me for tiring of living off PB&Js and inhabiting a technically illegal bedroom according to the housing code of Los Angeles.”

But Dean just huffs a dry laugh. “You haven’t suffered until you try to convince your way too smart younger brother that fluff marshmallow mix and macaroni is exotic and not a move of pure desperation.”

Castiel chokes on his next sip. “That sounds horrendous,” he says, his temper softening.

“Yeah, well, it was food, so,” Dean shrugs, “he ate it eventually. There weren’t that many options while snowed in at the Royale Motel in Scranton.” He tips back the rest of his drink. “We moved around a lot, growing up,” he says, spinning the empty glass between his fingers. “Sometimes the only things I could rely on were the daytime soaps.”

Castiel’s heart breaks. “I would have thought you would have become an actor, in that case.”

Dean laughs. “My old man said actors made shit money, so I picked something else.”

Castiel can’t help rolling his eyes, chuckling lightly under his breath. “Your father was right.”

“Guess so,” Dean says thoughtfully. “D’you miss it?”

Castiel nods. “Every day.”

Dean leans in and lays his hand over Castiel’s. He throws a significant glance at their empty glasses. “Whaddya say we get out of here?” he asks in a suggestive voice.

Castiel blinks. “I – I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

Dean pulls back at once, but not before Castiel catches the hurt on his face.

“You’re drunk,” Castiel says gently. “I wouldn’t want to take advantage.”

Dean grunts but gets to his feet without arguing. “’S fine,” he mutters. “Had to shoot my shot, right?”

“Of course,” Castiel says, not exactly sure what he’s agreeing to, but it’s evidently the right thing to say since Dean just nods and starts to walk away, reaching into his jacket. But, to Castiel’s alarm, he pulls out a set of car keys instead of his phone to call a taxi.

Castiel hurries after him. “Dean!” he calls.

Outside the bar, Dean turns around, a smirk playing across his lips. “Change your mind, big guy?”

“What? No,” Castiel says as Dean tenses. “But you can’t drive,” he says helplessly.

Dean scowls. “I’m not that drunk.”

“I’m pretty sure you are.”

Dean rolls his eyes so hard Castiel is surprised they don’t pop out of his skull. “Out of the two of us, only one has a real medical license.”

Castiel crosses his arms over chest. “If you won’t call a cab, come to my apartment. It’s just down the street.”

Dean step forward, and Castiel lets out a silent sigh of relief. “Your apartment?” he repeats.

“So you can sober up,” Castiel says resolutely.

Dean shoves his hands in his pockets. “Lead the way, Dr. Novak.”

* * *

Castiel wakes up with a crick in his neck and a shooting pain in his lower back. He never made it to bed after talking with Dean for hours on his sofa in his living room.

A muttered swear comes from behind him, and Castiel cranes his head around to see Dean, still wearing his clothes from last night, bent over Castiel’s finicky coffee machine.

“You have to flip the switch on the side,” he tells Dean as he gets to his feet.

“Mornin’,” Dean says with a grin. “Thanks for letting me stay over.”

“Thanks for not throwing up on my couch and trying to make me coffee.” Castiel slides around Dean to open the cabinet with his mugs. He pulls out his favorite sky blue cup.

“C’mon, I wasn’t that bad.”

After some rooting around, Castiel finds the novelty Dr. Sexy, MD mug he received in a gift basket on his last day of filming.

Dean laughs out loud as he takes it from Castiel. “It’s even got his cowboy boots!” he exclaims as he inspects it from every angle.

Castiel nods, turning so Dean can’t see his smile. “You’re welcome to take it,” he says. “I have far more mugs than I need for one person.”

“Aw man, don’t tell me that,” Dean groans, “or else I’ll actually do it.”

“Take it,” Castiel says firmly as he pours coffee into Dean’s new mug.

Dean cradles to his chest, breathing in deeply. He inhales half of it in one go, to Castiel’s concern. “Christ, that’s the stuff.” He meets Castiel’s astounded gaze with a little grin. He polishes off his cup in the same time it takes Castiel to add enough sugar and cream to his satisfaction. “Coffee is practically a pro sport for surgeons; you have no idea. But I’ll get out of your hair after this,” Dean says, an apologetic note to his words, “but do you mind if I leave my number before I head out?”

Castiel gapes at him before he realizes Dean doesn’t see his answer as so obvious it goes without saying. “Yes, of course,” he says in a rush, half a beat too late.

Dean grins. “Awesome. You were always on my celebrity hall pass list.” At Castiel’s furrowed look of confusion, Dean’s smile broadens. “You know, that list of longshots that’ll never happen so you might as well give your girlfriend the OK to sleep with Idris Elba or Hugh Jackman or Chris Hemsworth.”

Castiel watched enough Marvel movies to prepare for his own role to know what all those actors look like. “I’m nothing like those men,” he splutters.

“Well, yeah, everyone has a weird one – my last boyfriend would’ve fucked Scar from the Lion King if given half the chance.”

“A flattering comparison,” Castiel deadpans as Dean chuckles.

Once Dean washes out his mug (he insists on it), grabs his jacket, and inputs his phone number in Castiel’s cell, there’s no reason for him to linger.

Castiel awkwardly trades goodbyes on his threshold before he shuts the door behind Dean.

He thinks about calling for the rest of the day. Dean is his first thought on Saturday morning too, but he concludes it’s too soon.

He debates reaching out on Sunday, but 48 hours have passed since their first meeting, so Dean’s probably in surgery. It’s clearly a bad time to make contact.

By Monday, Castiel talks himself out of it altogether. Dean is a pediatric surgeon at one of the most prestigious hospital systems in the county (Castiel looked him up on the off chance Dean wasn’t being truthful, but his degrees are published on the hospital website for all to see.)

Dean saves lives every day.

Castiel is a washed up actor who peaked a decade ago. The closest he got to saving a life was convincing Siobhan that getting bangs a week before school picture day would not be in her best interest.

But Castiel won’t let his strange run in with Dean mean nothing. In a fit of productivity one weekend, exactly one month after Dean stayed the night at his apartment, he stops by the local theater and marks down the day of their next auditions.

In January, he tries out for a small play written by a local playwright, and wins a part. Not the lead, but a good, meaty character part.

He mostly forgets about Dean in between classes and his own rehearsals – until the director hands out their complimentary tickets. None of Castiel’s family live in the area, and his friend, Meg, is out of town that week.

As Castiel wracks his brains for someone to invite, he can’t help but keep coming back to Dean.

He chickens out of actually calling Dean and instead sends him a picture of the tickets with the date prominently displayed and a short text, “If you’d like to come.”

Dean texts back four hours later.

Dean Winchester 5:22 Sorry surgery just ended Of course I wouldn’t miss *the* Castiel DeAngelos’s big comeback!

#suptober22 #destiel #destiel fanfic #fanfic #actor castiel #doctor dean #first meetings #celebrity au #rae writes fic

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madmaxified · 1 month

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dc super hero girls ( 2019 ) swap au because I have no self control. it’s essentially just a role swap of the villain group and the hero’s ( and batman with the joker, mostly for narrative )

the hero ( formerly villain ) group themselves are INCREDIBLY unorthodox, mostly because none of them other than harleen and selina ever wanted to do something for other people before, they were mostly using their powers for selfish reasons ( not evil ones, just for personal gain ) so even though they’re all learning to be better people they’re not super well liked by the general public because of their destructive and frankly dangerous methods ( mostly adults hate them, other teenagers think they’re the coolest ) they’re referred to as vigilantes more rather than actual heroes

harleen swaps with babs, she still retains her canon personality she’s less apathetic, and genuinely cares deeply for a lot of her friends. she still loves playing pranks and practical jokes, but she’s less rowdy and rambunctious in the beginning, especially when she meets new people, mostly because she’s now really worried about making a good impression and not getting into too much trouble. rather than her dad taking a new job in metropolis, harleen got expelled from gotham high for playing a big prank ( it’s a running gag that no one but babs knows what it was ) and her dad was so pissed that she got kicked out of the only high school in gotham that he kicked her out. she lied about her address to her address to get into metropolis high, and she’s really trying her best to do well in school, and like diana was in canon, she was kinda just homeless for a bit. since the joker is a superhero in this universe, harley quinn ( a superhero name the others poke fun at sometimes because of how obvious it is ) is a crime fighting vigilante

selina swaps with diana, she isn’t an amazonian or anything ( that’s still diana ) but instead she’s more of a robin hood type character pre canon. she’d steal from banks or take valuables and sell them on the black market and give the money to people and families who need it, which isn’t an amazing tactic, but her intentions were good. she didn’t have any real interest or intention in starting a superhero group or actually fighting any crime before harleen brings up the idea, but she has been keeping a close eye on a couple girls ( pam, leslie, doris, carol ) at school that she thinks might have superpowers. once the group is formed she is the leader, mostly because she has the most battle iq / experience. like diana, she is the one leading the main training in the beginning, and though she’s the elected ‘leader’ she’s not really the mom of the group. she does care deeply about her team though, and she does try her best to keep them safe. she’s the least destructive member of the team because of how practiced she is at sneaking in and out of places without getting caught but she’s one of the most disliked because of catwoman’s already existing presence pre show, her intentions were good, but robbing banks is bad

the rest of the girls are less obvious swaps, it’s mostly just the villains are now heroes and the heroes are now villains

leslie is the more tech savvy one ( like karen ) she’s actually super smart which comes as shock to people based on her punk looks ( she hates when people say she doesn’t look like she’d enjoy math or science ) she’s not a bully anymore, instead, like kara she’s more sarcastic and just pokes fun at people, though it she takes it too far with people she cares about she’s very quick to apologize. she’s the one who is put under ra’s’ spell ( she’s still super punk guys OF COURSE she loved the league of shadows ) and her lighting gets all red and stuff and she looks super cool. she’s actually part of school newspaper, since she’s nicer, she doesn’t run a gossip column ( though she’s constantly BEGGING lois to let her start one ) she’s instead a field reporter, who always manages her to somehow get the inside scoop and really good pictures ( she’s hiding out the in tech guys ) also her and doris are one hundred percent going out

doris is more the mom of the group, she’s no longer a bully and instead uses her strength to defend people she cares about / beat the shit out of people she doesn’t like, she gets in trouble a lot because she’s constantly beating up kids at school who make fun of pam. her and pam are really close because their parents are both scientists and they grew up hanging out at labs together. both of them were experimented on by their parents, and have been aware of eachothers powers for a while. she’s super over protective of the others in the group, mostly pam ( because they’re basically sisters ) leslie ( cause they’re going out ) and harleen ( because harleen’s always putting herself into harms way ) she’s quite literally the type to just grab her friends and walk away with them tucked under her arms if she feels that something isn’t safe, despite their protesting. she’s the world’s biggest man hater ever, she gets pissed off so much if a guy says something misogynistic to her or her friends, her powers act ho so much it’s not even funny

carol is still the overemotional one of the group, though it’s mostly because her ring is more connected to strong emotions rather than love, but because she still not super sure how to control her ring yet ( none of the others really know what to do either so they’re all just trying their best ) so whenever her friends, or anyone else around her frankly, are feeling something really strong it effects her pretty deeply. she’s not obsessed with hal, though they are still exes, but him being a shitty boyfriend is one of the reasons she became so intune with her ring in the first place. she’s like the opposite of a therapist friend, in the sense of she’s a friend constantly trying to give therapy but also needs it more than anything. her and thaal are the definition of ‘twink and in denial lesbian’ friendship ( and she totally doesn’t dump to him about how hot she thinks lois lane is, even if she is trying to uncover the identities, they’re essentially this aus barry and babs ) she’s still a hopeless romantic, and is constantly gushing to the others about her ‘dream’ guy ( and theyr all like ‘carol you dumb lesbian my god!’ )

pam is basically the same, other than the fact that she’s less inclined to use her powers, mostly because she’s scared to. she really only goes into poison ivy form when she desperately needs to photosynthesize and when she’s either completely alone or with doris. her parents exterminated on her when she was little, and because of that fact that they literally turned her into a walking plant she’s completely incapable of eating plants ( people just think she has a weird medical condition ) though she’s still anti social, she does quite enjoy the company of a select few people. when she does finally agree to join the others in becoming a super hero, she really only does it / participates in certain crimes to try and help the environment. it isn’t until she and harley come face to face with batgirl that she finally starts using her powers to actually fight. she’s also less anti social, she still doesn’t have many friends, but it’s mostly because she’s shy and not because she doesn’t want them ( her and karen have basically swapped personalities ) she’s very much the sweetest member of the group ( leslie, doris and her are literally simon, alvin and theodore )

diana is a lot more like her aunt antiope, she spent a lot more time with her as a child and so she’s a lot more reckless and carefree. she doesn’t really care that much about her teammates, and to her they’re really just pawns she uses to achieve her goals and help her have a good time. she’s still new to metropolis, having just arrived at the time of the first episode, but rather than wanting to protect the world of man, she instead just wants to cause problems, have fun and possibly grow rich. antiope sent her the the human world willingly, because in this universe she’s the older sister and is the queen of the amazonians, rather than diana’s mom. she’s less academic and way more sporty, a trait she’s picked up from her aunt since she never really had to study when she was younger. diana is incredibly manipulative in this au, almost every member of her group was manipulated into joining by her, and it continues as long as they remain part of the group

( bonus : the episode #thewarriorandthejester plays out basically the same, including diana figuring out harleen is harley quinn. during nightmare in gotham diana is present, and when harley’s tied up on the roof she reveals to babs that harleen is harley )

babs’ dad is still commissioner gordon, but she instead idolizes batman, and since batman’s a bad guy in this universe, so is babs ( she’s just extra careful about keeping her identity a secret ) like in canon, babs is extremely hyperactive, but in this universe it’s a lot more unchecked. since harleen forced herself to learn how to tone down and not always draw attention to herself in fear of getting kicked out again, her babs’ energy doesn’t match eachother’s as well as it used to. babs lacks a filter, so she’ll often just say what she doesn’t like about someone to their face, which is one of the reasons harleen’s new friends don’t like her as much. batgirl is a lot meaner in this universe, she’s rude, and blatantly makes fun of people, particularly harley ( cough … the reason pam gets so worked up and uses her powers in a fighting sense … cough ) while out of the costume harleen still is the more overprotective one ( she still would willingly kill for babs ) babs is the one who often goes to extreme measures to make sure the other is happy

zee is somewhat of an accidental villain, she used dark magic one time on accident ( she caused the gremlins to spew out of ace of spades a lot earlier on ) and diana, who witnessed this, pressured her into jointing her villain group, claiming it would help her ‘learn to control her dark magic better’ ( spoiler alert, it doesn’t ) while zee enjoys the freedom and publicity being a villain brings her, she really doesn’t enjoy using her dark magic, because she has no idea how to control it, she avoids using it most of time, because when she does use it, things get chaotic and very out of hand. she’s still the most popular girl in school out of costume, but she’s a lot less nice ( she’s stereotypical mean girl core and I’m sorry ) she’s a lot less open and kind as she is in canon, even to her friends, she’s a total asshole to everyone but especially to her friends

karen is a little wet rat in this universe, she was tired of being called small and weak and being picked on, so she built the bumblebee suit with the intention of getting revenge, but even with the broken growth tech diana still recruited her to her team, karen being the only one she didn’t have to manipulate in some way. she used to be incredibly shy, and while she’s still anti social ( her and pam have kind of swapped personalities ) she’s just rude now, and thats why she doesn’t have many friends. she’s a little wet rat and will a hundred percent bite you. she’s still constantly fix her growth tech, but she also refuses to let any of her team mates help her. basically all of them besides diana and maybe jessica like hate her because she’s so rude to them all of time and never follows any of their plans and just does her own thing half the time, but diana won’t listen to them when the tell her to kick karen off the team

jessica doesn’t want to be a villain, she definitely doesn’t enjoy it, like zee and literally every but karen, she was manipulated by diana to joining the team. like pam in canon, most of her motives for doing literally anything villain related is when she sees or hears about social injustices that she wants to fix. she does believe in fighting in this universe, she doesn’t love it, but she thinks that the only way to deal with social injustices is to use violence to punish people. in this universe, her fears of not being good enough for the green lantern core got the best of her and she ran off, quitting and instead taking up a yellow ring ( thaal still has his green ring in this au ) she’s a lot less of a social butterfly, she still uses school as a place to voice abut problems around metropolis, but because she’s a lot more self conscious the negative response get to her a lot more. she’s no longer like “I don’t know the meaning of the words leave it alone” and more just “oh … okay I’ll stop 😞” she’s still one who tries befriend pam, and they’re still adorable and probably dating. she also needs a hug asap

kara became a villain because she was really jealous of super man ( he’s still a hero in this universe ) and diana used that against her. she started out trying to be a hero but literally no one cared and they all called her destructive so diana was like “become a villain and then you can beat up your cousin mwa ha ha” and she was like “that sounds dope I’m in” when zod shows up, she still helps defeat him, because she still wants to be a hero deep down, she wants to help people, but diana won’t let any of them leave her villain group. she does try to help people whenever she thinks diana isn’t looking, and she always tries desperately not to hurt people when they’re pulling off heights or schemes. she’s still destructive and thinks punching things is a solution to everything mostly because diana tells her that it’s a great idea to do that, and so she’s never really learned any other way to deal with problems

lena and lex swap, so he’s the little rat child and she’s the super genius billionaire asshole. people don’t love lena as much as they do lex in canon mostly because she’s still a bit of a brat. she’s still beloved and held to a super high regard but people are also like “she’s also super fucking weird and is like a rat” she also has a keytar because fuck it ricky owens reference. so when she’s fighting with the girls instead of some weird dance she’s like putting on a little concert for them. most of her robots that need to be manually controlled have a piano as the control piano, so when lex is fighting the girls in the beginning he’s just slamming his hands on random keys and hoping it works

barbi still starts out a villain, she’s jealous that harleen became captain of the gymnastics team and was like “magic is the only solution fuck it” her and selina are exes but it’s so obvious they have not gotten over eachother at all ( “why’d she break up with you selina?” “it was over something stupid - I stole from her” “that’s a really good reason to dump you” ) cheetah is still a villain until around after the girls fight when lena because she was captured and then like immediately let her out and selina like was begging her to be a good guy with them, she late becomes an honorary member of the team. while she was captured she was in the tube next to selina and the whole time selina was like “barbi I’m sorry please take me back 😭”

the joker and batman swap so babs is the one who idolizes a villain and harleen idolizes a hero. the hive five also swap with the teen titans

dexter is literally the same except selina is the one who works at the animal shelter and is the one who adopts him

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