Toast

𝑻𝒐 𝒆𝒙𝒂𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒄𝒂𝒖𝒔𝒆𝒔 𝒐𝒇 𝒍𝒊𝒇𝒆, 𝒘𝒆 𝒎𝒖𝒔𝒕 𝒇𝒊𝒓𝒔𝒕 𝒉𝒂𝒗𝒆 𝒓𝒆𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒓𝒔𝒆 𝒕𝒐 𝑫𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒉.

[major-toast]

𝐓𝐨𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐨𝐫 𝐌𝐚𝐣𝐨𝐫 | they/them | 24

marauders fanfic and oc-related content (-> I took a sprinkle of canon and ran with it, and by canon I mostly mean names)

Original Character: Belshazzar Crouch (masterlist under the cut)

ao3 | currently working on:

The Sin That Binds Us All

My Dearest Enemy

microfics under the tag multa paucis

minors proceed at your own risk.

Belshazzar Crouch

general information: physical appearance | personality (character questionnaire) | moodboard | escort AU (og Belsh) | kink exploration | Bénja vs Belsh

Crouch brothers: some angst | moodboard | fruity pirate AU | Bunk Bed (rosekiller one shot) | their feelings towards the other

gildedthorn (Evan Rosier/Belshazzar Crouch): relationship thesis | does Evan miss who Belsh was before? | panchashire's artwork | First Waltz (microfic; first meeting of Evan and Bénja)

parental relations: what if Liza died? | dreams and ambitions | Sir Osmond Edwin Aldrich

Evan Rosier

general information: moodboard | kink exploration | personality trait: indifference

upbringing: his childhood moniker — briar | selective mutism | the rosier family | rosier family (headcanons)

transness: transition timeline and others' reactions | gildedthorn headcanons re: evan being trans | barty's feelings re: evan being trans

Barty Crouch Jnr

general information: moodboard | kink exploration | hypersexuality | character questionnaire

parental relations: what if his mother had raised him? (ask) | what if his mother had raised him? (moodboard)

rosekiller: rosekiller throughout the years

Crouch family

grievances (rosenior microfic) | Crouch brothers' contempt | family tree | association with the colour blue | Crouch Snr's marriages | seniorwives (crack ship)

My Dearest Enemy (gildedthorn long fic)

lighthouse (one shot; mde prequel) | My Dearest Enemy (gildedthorn long fic) | mde moodboard | mde summary (spoiler heavy)

The Forbidden Polycule

summary of their entire dynamic | what happens when Evan mistakes one for the other? | brothers tag-teaming Evan | a list of headcanons

[major-toast]

Ominous, I like it.

[the-heart-anon]

Rhea Minette Rosier

General info(Personality, family, etc..):

While their other two siblings are both seemingly in their own worlds, Rhea very hyper aware of the present, what's happening there and now, so much so they're almost incapable of looking ahead

They're personable and friendly, though if they have time to themselves, that's okay too, they don't mind it either way

A very mild person, kinda like a politician in some ways (she kinda reminds me of Aaron Burr)(sorry for the Hamilton reference)

If Pandora and Evan (and Felix but he's just kinda there) are the realistic and distrusting ones, they're the trusting one (and I hate to say it but that's on being a middle child)

They were the first daughter, Felix being the first son, the twins being the youngest

They basically have served as a buffer between their siblings and their parents, but also between the siblings themselves— With the twins being in their own world and not exactly fitting within the grain of purebloods(aka both being freaks), and Felix being stuck up, actively trying to uphold their family's status and being the heir, there were sometimes fights, Felix trying to help the twins fit in the best he could, while also getting annoyed with their abnormalities, and the twins getting annoyed with Felix for trying to force them into something they didn't want... There were arguments

Which led to her being considered "normal" but also boring, because when you have an extraordinary brother, and two very abnormal younger siblings, what happy medium does that leave? She had no idea, so that led to her suppressing anything she liked in hopes of coming off agreeable and normal, and the worst part is they know what they like, they've just never gotten to truly enjoy it, or be themselves

They're okay with that though, it's what's gotten them through life and a pureblood society, and has actually given them much freedom, as much as it shackled her (she gets forgotten)

Surprisingly, she wasn't very parentified, but she became the mediator and therapist quickly

Which, she doesn't take laying down, because she does have feelings, she's not a pushover, she's just like the rest of her family in some way— good at covering up their emotions (Felix is good at it in the way he's always wearing a cold facade, Pandora chronically looks bored as a way to cover it, and Evan... nevermind he's not good at it, he's tried but it doesn't work, it's fine because he's usually disinterested anyways, and he doesn't make many facial expressions) her in her own way, just wears a mask, like those theater ones that have the happy and sad face, her face changes to fit who's she's with, no matter what they actually feel

Their parents have little to no issue with them, to the point where it borders neglect, but they pay just enough attention where it doesn't, they always seem to remember she's there just in time, and will shower her in a little affection and acknowledgement then (the most frequent attention is her parents telling Pandora to be more like her, when that's the last thing she'd want)

Despite everything, she truly cares for all of her siblings, loving them a lot, and wanting (almost) nothing more than for them to be able to live the lives they want/be happy, and they're not completely selfless, as I said, she still as feelings, but she does her best, pushing her own limits most times

She does snap, it's only human but very rare, but when she does, it's big enough to shock everyone into acting right for a couple hours because if she's upset, then... that's bad bad, though if it happens in front of her parents, it ends with a lecture for them

Appearance:

Like Felix, they mainly have black hair, but wanting to connect to the twins as well, so the front of their hair is blonde

Her curl pattern came out to be looser than the rest of her siblings, I'd say like 3C hair

Rhea faceclaim, the face in the middle is her face face claims, and the others are how I see her hair

Her usual style:

What she would wear if she was allowed:

(The best way I describe their style is if Barty and Mary had a child that was the perfect mix of them both)

Other things/hobbies:

They're a Hufflepuff, they're extremely loyal to her siblings and family, and they're very objective and just when they're meditating, which is probably a core part of her ability to meditate in the first place

She likes to sing, and do kintsugi(breaking things is a good stress relief, and putting them back together into something beautiful helps her a lot), she also likes drawing, mainly sketching and ink art (she CAN paint and is quite good at it, but she secretly despises doing it bc that's what's expected of her)

They loves fashion too

On the more weird side of things, because what is Rosier without their oddity, she's obsessed with dreams, decoding what they mean, especially the dark ones, as well as a fascination with death(which stemmed from the dreaming thing, bc well, people would say you don't dream during death), and what happens afterwards, she doesn't care how or why, just what happens afterwards

She also really likes eyeballs, which is random, but she just thinks all eyes are so pretty (Evan and Pandora have worked together to gift her preserved eyeball jewelry before, she loves it)(They're able to share a little more of their interests with the twins, as a way to bond)

They tend to wear gloves a lot because their hands are a little scarred up, her mother noticed once and it was not a nice experience, a lot of uncomfortable questions being asked (It was from accidents with the pottery being sharp, she also likes breaking things, and that can lead to getting hurt, and occasionally they prick their finger or give themselves a shallow cut that'll burn, so in stressful scenarios she had some sort of reminder to stay grounded— but thats rare, it's mostly accidents)

She's very hyper aware of everything going on around her in every moment (I think all of them are, they were raised to be extremely observant), but she especially pays attention to facial cues, and tone of voice, always trying to figure out what someone really means, and she's good at that with her family, everyone else... not much

They're also very anxious about either being found out, or becoming someone people dislike and talk about, they've lived their whole life doing so that way their siblings could be, and doing so feels like failing her family

Felix is four years older than Rhea, and the twins are two years younger than Rhea

Demigirl, but doesn't know the name for it, nor actively searches

They're sapphic, figured that early early on, never acted on it because Rosiers are heavily religious (that may have something to do with why they feel the need to suppress their hobbies and feelings too but who's to say)

She unfortunately does not have the affinity for nature the way Evan and Pandora do

(In another universe, I picture her as a cousin who's parents died, and moved in early with that family since she was a Rosier anyways, and was raised no different than a sibling)

@major-toast I finally made them!! This is the oc :D

[gut-alchemy]

Belshazzar Crouch and tangerines

✿⁠ Character by @major-toast ✿⁠ 

They are a little bolder in taste, making them a favorite for people who enjoy a stronger citrus punch. In some cultures, like Chinese culture, tangerines are associated with wealth.

One of the most apparent signs of a spoiled tangerine is its taste. While a fresh tangerine is sweet and refreshing, a spoiled one will have a distinct bitter or sour flavor. Mandarin is the broad category. Tangerines and clementines are different types of mandarins. While tangerines and clementines are closely related, they are actually two separate fruits with some notable differences. [source 1 2]

[major-toast]

hiii! What is the difference between Belsh and Bénja? I think I read something about it in your blog but I lost the post...

love your posts btw 💚

Hi, nonnie! I am glad to hear that you have found some joy within my madness and taken an interest in my beloved son.

Belsh/Bénja is a distinction @panchashire and I make to mark the point of the gildedthorn timeline we are currently discussing. Bénja is, albeit still arrogant and vain, the younger, kinder, gentler, and more compassionate version of Belsh. He is who Evan fell in love with, who Evan grieves after them breaking up, and who had always treated Evan as an equal. Belsh, in turn, is the older, crueller, more selfish, and more violent alter ego; the one who succumbed to expectations and pressure; the subsequent outcome of malign influences, such as Sir Aldrich, his mentor; the one who sees Evan as a possession rather than a human being.

When referring to Bénja, I always mean the man he was during his and Evan's adolescence. When referring to Belsh, it's that villainous, comphet character he has grown into. The tragedy of his character is that, no matter the universe, he cannot escape turning into someone his younger self would have loathed to be. To illustrate what I mean, a quick timeline: Bénja -> the incident (often linked to meeting Sir Aldrich and/or cheating on Evan) -> Belsh.

What might complicate this is that not every character in the story makes that distinction. Depending on whether it fits their character or not, they might solely refer to him as Belsh or even have a completely different set of monikers to call him. For example, Crouch Snr or his second wife call him Belsh, even if the story takes place during the time when he was still Bénja, whereas Belsh's mother tends to call him other variants of his name, such as Benyusha, no matter where we are currently in regard to the timeline.

Tldr; Bénja is the character that breaks my heart with sad fondness. Belsh is the character, albeit hot, I want to smash thrice with a hammer.

I hope I could shed some light on why he has two different names. If not, don't hesitate to ask me. This bread, too, loves nothing more than to yap about their blorbo.

[fourtoast]

Truly the best thing I ever did for myself in this fandom was building my characterizations of each of my favorite characters before even engaging with fics that had them as main characters.

[major-toast]

First Waltz | gildedthorn | 2,820 words | general audiences

A myriad of sparkles and glitters, velvet and brocade, silver and gold, as far as sight can reach. The floral scents of a hundred different perfumes linger in the air, and Evan almost scrunches up his nose in a mixture of surprise and affront. He never liked these sorts of events; the stuffiness and stiffness of it all. But Pandora had insisted he attend, and who is he to deny her?

Adjusting the cufflinks on his shirt, he throws his twin sister a glance. She looks absolutely stunning in that mint green dress with the ruffled white lace, off-shoulder sleeves, and dragonfly embroidery. On the left side of her head, her blonde hair has been braided into tight rows, while the other side falls freely over her back and right shoulder. An opal earring the size of a walnut dangles from her earlobe, matching the heirloom collier around her neck. Their mother had given it to her before leaving, mumbling something about suitors. But even without it, Pandora would have held herself with the grace of a sun-kissed streamlet running across a fresh, bountiful meadow. It’s the kind of grace she has always had, natural and easy.

Evan, in comparison, is more like an ill-managed forest.

Not that he lacks beauty — his features are identical to his sister’s, after all. Yet, with his hair cut short until no more than two inches curl on his head, the lack of blush on his cheeks, and the dark green suit feeling restricting around his back and arms, he’s certainly… different.

The speaker, who, until now, had reminisced about the life of the deceased married couple whose belongings are about to be auctioned off, leaves the stage. In his stead, the small orchestra picks up their performance again. Within minutes, the hall falls back into a friendly sort of chatter.

“Pandora, come.”

With a gentle push to her shoulder, their father, a man with an air that is regal in its impassiveness, guides her further along. Immediately, she turns around, smiling as she extends her arm for Evan to take.

“They could at least pretend to enjoy it,” she mutters, nodding towards their parents who are walking ahead of them. “Look at those scowls! No wonder that no one has talked to us so far. They’re practically begging to be left alone.”

Evan, too, smiles. “Honestly, I cannot blame them. You might be the only one in this family who enjoys attention.”

“You would as well, if you were used to it. Ah-a! It appears we have our first truly brave candidate of the evening.”

A man, standing at a table a few feet to their left, has lifted his glass of sparkling wine in a toast as a means of greeting. As if on command, Mr and Mrs Rosier snap their heads around, fixing their gazes on him, the same way hawks would. Even if this rehearsed, almost mechanical manner of approach unsettles him, the man is not letting it show. Interested, Evan observes. He believes to have seen that face before.

Aside from the man, two other people occupy the table: a woman, around thirty, with long blonde hair and the most captivating blue eyes Evan has ever seen, and a young man, who must be a bit older than Evan himself. By the looks of it, he is the son of the man who had greeted them; every feature is eerily alike, albeit not yet fully developed and not yet marked by age either. They have the same broad jaw, the same hooked nose, and the same strong eyebrows. Only the eyes — they are different. Instead of the greyish tone his father inherited, the young man’s eyes are of a blue so dark it could almost be mistaken for black.

“Mr Rosier, was it?” the older man addresses, setting down his glass of sparkling wine to offer his hand for a shake. Evan’s father takes it so quickly that it almost borders on too fast.

“I had hoped to see you tonight,” the man continues, once again keeping his expression perfectly void of uneasiness, should he feel any. “May I introduce you to my family—darling, where is Junior?”

“I sent him to grab us both a pastry,” his wife answers, drawing her attention away from the orchestra up front. “Poor thing looked so bored.”

She puts on a smile, lifting her hand for Mr Rosier to press a kiss to her knuckles. Diamond bracelets twinkle around her wrist, and she wears a dress whose fabric gives off the impression that it had been plucked from the night sky itself: a cascade of glitter and dark velvet. Still, behind that warm smile and the powder, she looks tired. Sickly, in fact. There is a slight tremor in her hand, and a feverishness in her eyes that only those who are bound by long periods of illness are prone to have.

“Mr Rosier, Mrs Rosier, this is Annabella, my wife,” the man explains, placing a careful hand atop the woman’s shoulder, which she clasps instinctively. “And this is Belshazzar, my firstborn. I’d introduce my second-born, too, but he is currently underway.”

His other hand lands on his eldest son’s back. With a smile so charismatic it could draw every pair of eyes in the room, he, too, goes on to greet them.

“It is an honour to make your acquaintance.”

As he’s seen Mr Rosier do, he leans forward to kiss the air above Mrs Rosier’s hand. That brief second in which his head is bowed low, he uses to throw Pandora a shameless wink. Albeit barely noticeable, the irritated twitch of his sister’s mouth tells Evan everything he needs to know.

What a fucking sleaze.

“Mr Crouch,” their father mimics, and then it clicks. Bartemius Crouch — a former lawyer, rumoured to become the next prime minister. He has most likely stopped them not out of courtesy, but to secure more votes in his favour. “This is my wife, and this is my daughter, Pandora.”

“What a wonderful young lady,” Mrs Crouch acknowledges kindly. “And this gentleman over here? Your son, I reckon?”

At once, their parents go rigid. It is a subtle notion; neither Evan nor Pandora thinks much of it.

“What son?” their mother replies, with a bemused purse of her lips and her tone as patronisingly patient as it would be if she were talking to a small child. “There is no one here but us, silly. Perhaps you should lay off the sparkling wine a little. It can be quite heavy on the mind.”

This earns her a round of dumbfounded looks from the family before them. One after the other, they muster Evan as if he had just fallen from the ceiling. Especially the young man studies him more intently now. Evan, in turn, does not flinch, not even react. What is it to them, really? They’ll have forgotten about him as soon as he’s vanished in the crowd anyway.

Everyone always does.

“Your son is not, by any chance, still looking for a hand in marriage?” Mrs Rosier continues, unperturbed, as if the last minute had not happened, which, in her mind, might be just as well the case. “We’re always looking for a suitable choice for our darling Dora. He might be just the right one.”

“Maman!” Pandora protests, visibly displeased with the turn the conversation has taken. Despite his flirtatious mannerisms, the young man, too, appears uncomfortably flustered by this proposition. He simply hides it better than Dora.

Mrs Crouch blinks a few times before finally breaking out into yet another polite smile, albeit more perplexed and bashful than it had been the first time. “That is certainly an… offer. If I may ask, Miss Rosier, how old are you exactly?”

“Sixteen in three months,” their father answers in her stead.

Nodding slowly, Mrs Crouch contemplates her answer. With as much decorum and good-heartedness as she can conjure, she questions, “Sixteen is quite young for a girl to be married, don’t you think? And Belsh only just turned eighteen—”

“Well, I certainly think it would be best if we were on our way now,” Pandora cuts in, throwing Mrs Crouch a grateful but no less dazzling smile. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Mr and Mrs Crouch, but there are loads of people who would love to get a glimpse of us tonight.”

Skilfully, she ushers their parents onward. Given that they must have lost interest in the conversation and can never deny their daughter one way or another, they follow her lead without hesitation. Evan has to stifle a laugh at the absurdity of it all. Dora, too, shakes her head amusedly. They both know how little their parents understand modern social etiquette. And Mr Crouch had already looked far from pleased over the abasement of his wife.

Stuffing his hands in his pockets, Evan trails after his family.

Something about the way these people looked at him doesn’t sit right with him. Worst of all, he cannot put his finger on why exactly he finds it irritating. It is not like he hadn’t been in this situation before. Evan Rosier? In his parents’ reality, not even words on a page. All it took was for his infant self to fail at drawing his very first breath; nothing more, nothing less.

“Bugs,” he murmurs, and that’s all it takes to get his sister’s attention. “I’m going to slip out for a few. Catch up to you in a moment.”

Pandora’s mouth draws into a pout. “You and those awful cigarettes! You know as well as I do that they do nothing but kill you!”

“I already died once. Stillborn, remember?” Evan jests with a shrug. “One more time won’t make a difference.”

Making a scandalised noise, Pandora presses her hand to her chest. “Evan!”

He grins, stopping in his tracks. “You’ll survive fifteen minutes without me, Dora. It won’t be the end of the world.”

Whether his sister continues to protest or not, Evan doesn’t hear it. He has already vanished between the groups of guests behind and around them. Pandora is known for her stubbornness and the naturalness with which she expects to get whatever she demands. Evan might be the only one who can evade her wishes without having to fear one of her temper tantrums in return. That has always been his privilege.

On the lower floor, he finds a glass door leading out into the estate’s gardens. Out there, the chirrup of crickets blends in with the calm bicker of fountain springs and the now muffled sound of music and chatter that continues inside. The air is comfortably warm and smells of rose bushes, buddleia, and freshly cut lawn. Fishing for the pack of cigarettes in the pocket of his suit trousers, he leans against the estate’s stone wall, appreciating the coolness seeping through the layers of clothing clinging to his back.

The first inhale always hits the hardest; a quick and dizzying rush that drowns out everything else. A taste of freedom, no matter how short-lived. Evan still gets a little giddy whenever the nicotine high sets in. Dora is probably right that picking up the habit is a bad idea, but he doesn’t much care. Even with parents who consider him less than their deceased, he is not exempt from a teenager’s fervent rebellion.

A soft click announces someone else entering the gardens, either to take a nightly stroll along the flowerbeds, statues, and fountains or to escape the mingling crowd. Evan doesn’t pay them any mind, kicking a stone with the tip of his shoe and raising the cigarette back to his lips.

“Would you mind if I bummed one?”

His eyes snap up, landing on the young man from before. On his lips, the same stupid, charming smirk lingers, and Evan has half a mind to tell him no.

“What? Your old man took yours?” he counters wryly, shaking his pack until one smoke slips forward. The young man chuckles, taking the cigarette offered to him.

“Many thanks.”

He lights the tobacco with a lighter procured from the breast pocket of his jacket. The flame makes specks of light dance in the young man’s eyes, bringing forth streaks of indigo that weren’t noticeable before, and the shadows cast on his face highlight the strong, masculine structure of his jaw and cheeks. Envy twists the inside of Evan’s guts.

Next to him, he feels inadequate, ill-fitting. His jaw is not as square, his voice isn’t deep enough, there grows no stubble on his chin, and no matter what clothing he chooses, it will never fit him as effortlessly elegant as it does the young man before him. With every breath he takes, Evan is reminded of the linen wraps rubbing along his ribcage, chafing his skin until it is raw and bleeding. Time and time again, Dora has told him to be more careful, but this is him caring. It is an attempt at erasing every bit of excess fat and tissue that should have never been there in the first place. The alternative would be to live a miserable existence; one in which he is alienated from his own body, even more so than he’s already been made to believe to be.

For inflicting on him what he has long fought to forget, Evan decides to dislike him.

“You’re quite hard to track down. One would expect the opposite, given how… memorable your family is, but — you? You keep yourself in the background. Untraceable, by sheer will alone.”

There is a slight accent when he speaks, most audible in the melodious manner with which the ‘r’ rolls off his tongue. Yet, it is subtle enough that Evan cannot fully place it. Only on occasion, it happens to slip out between the young man’s words.

Evan raises a brow sceptically. “Is this supposed to be a compliment?”

Nevertheless, something in him stirs: his heart does a little leap.

“In a way, yes. Apologies if my words have struck an unfavourable chord with you. It was in no way meant as an insult. Truth be told, I was a bit disappointed when your sister whisked you away so quickly. I had hoped to talk to you for a little while longer. It is not often one meets someone as fascinating as you.”

Evan snorts, but his voice is not as derisive as he thought it would be when he replies, “Careful, or you might slip and fall on that massive trail of slime. Are you always laying it on that thickly?”

“Well,” the young man takes a drag from his cigarette, taking Evan’s words in his stride, “we all have our roles to play, don’t we?”

Although the smirk persists, and he feigns suavity and nonchalance outwardly, something in his gaze shifts: there’s a tinge of sadness, brief enough to be easily missed. But Evan doesn’t miss it. What could possibly upset a prig like him? Someone who, other than Evan, gets to have it all?

“So, you’re telling me that flirting with my sister was also just part of an act?”

The young man hesitates for a moment. He tries to hide it, but his gaze grows distant, lost in thought. “More or less,” is what he answers.

Evan nods, his curiosity far from satiated. Jutting out his chin, he challenges, “Fascinating, eh? Well, what is it then that fascinates you so much?”

“Your eyes.”

The answer is much quicker than Evan has expected. Frankly, he is quite taken aback by it. Whatever cruel joke was building in his throat dies away on his tongue. Instead, a faint blush creeps into his cheeks, and his heart does a second, slightly stronger leap. No one has ever paid attention to him in such an intimate manner.

“Forgive me if that was rude once more,” the young man says, furrowing his brows, “This is probably not the proper way of exchanging pleasantries.”

Surprisingly, Evan shakes his head. “No, ‘s all right.”

Perhaps they have gotten off on the wrong foot.

One last drag, and the young man has finished his smoke, throwing it to the ground to extinguish it with the heel of his shoe.

“Either way,” he begins anew, offering Evan his hand, “Belshazzar Crouch.”

Evan shakes it. “Rosier.”

Crouch laughs quietly. “That much I figured. You certainly are full of secrets, Rosier. Very well. I must take my leave now. My stepmother must be wondering where I went, surely. Perhaps we will meet again at the next event? I will learn your name then.”

Despite himself, Evan smiles. “I wouldn’t bet on it.”

Deep down, however, he wishes for exactly that to happen.

You might be the only one in this family who enjoys attention.

You would as well, if you were used to it.

Yes, maybe he would. Maybe he already does.

[major-toast]

Nothing that hurts a writer more than coming up with a wording that solves the issue of a scene, only for said writer to forget the wording within the next minute.

[requiem-on-water]

“Storm at Sea off the Norwegian Coast” (details, 1837) by Andreas Achenbach

[stupid-waffle]

30 day writing challenge ft Cal, Barty and Pandora

🅳🅰🆈 3 words: 569

Find day 2 here!

Barty tilted his head as he tried to keep up with whatever they were saying. Not that he wasn't smart enough for this, but Cal had been rambling for a while now about some sort of project that only they understood. "-and Pandora said that-" "Dude. This is the 5th time you mention Pandora. Get a grip, it's embarrassing" Cal paused and stared at him, making Barty feel like he spoke in a different language "Huh? Well, she is my partner" "She is what now?! Since when?" Cal looked a bit confused, raising their eyebrows in that amused way that pissed Barty off. He wasn't sure why, probably because it looked so sarcastic. "Since ages. It gets lonely in the lab" Barty blinked, turning to face them completely. He definitely didn't expect to hear Cal admit it so easily, he was mostly saying it to tease them and make them shut up for a minute or two. "Actually? Does Evan know?" Cal let out a snort, shaking their head. Barty had a feeling they didn't like Evan that much, which could make sense in the current context…maybe? "I…guess? I mean, it's her hobby, maybe she does it at home as well?" Silence followed for the next few seconds. Cal could have sworn he heard something turning and twisting in Barty's brain, but they couldn't be sure. "Why are you looking at me like that?" "I'm trying to understand what the fuck you're implying here" "I'm not implying anything! I was just trying to explain our project!" "You make zero sense, dude!" "If you visited the lab more often, maybe you could help as well" The way Barty's face did a complicated grimace before he blushed was very fascinating to Cal. They tried not to laugh. "Help? Help with what?!" "You're open minded, we could use an extra pair of hands" "An extra- uh-" Cal crossed their arms, looking at him with a serious expression that creeped Barty out. "What's going on here?" Unfortunately for Barty, it was Pandora's voice who interrupted his train of thought. He looked between the two, as Pandora walked closer to stand next to Cal. "Well your boyfriend over here-" "Partner", Cal corrected calmly Barty threw them a glare. "boyfriend, girlfriend, dog, whatever! Cal over here is being inappropriate about your relationship" Pandora narrowed her eyes, before turning to look at Cal "What is he talking about now?" Cal shrugged innocently as if they hadn't mislead the poor boy to a completely different conclusion than what they originally meant. "Don't shrug, they just implied I could join you in whatever romantic shit you have going on" Cal lost the battle against themselves and turned a bit away to laugh in their palm. Pandora seemed amused, like she understood something Barty hadn't. "Aha… right… Barty, I think Cal was talking about lab partners…not the other kind "

She explained it so calmly, makes you wonder how many times she had to deal with the exact joke. Barty blinked slowly again, staying silent. Oh he was plotting. "Cal. I'll give you a 3 second headstart"

"Thank you!" Very generous. Cal gave him a thumbs up with a chuckle and started running away. No complaints from them, they basically asked for it. Sure they were smart, but Barty was faster…Now! Where to hide…

This is a bit ooc but it's okayyy it was funnnn.

[katakosmos]

he's so american i'm sorry

[major-toast]

HELLO!!!

How are you this fine day

-- @the-heart-anon

Still a little sickly and a bit frustrated with the touchpad of my computer. For some reason it has decided to no longer function properly, and become the bane of my existence. Not the most fun when you're trying to write, but alas!

On a happier note, I caught up with reading some fics, and finished a little something I was working on. So, stay tuned for that, I guess :D

How has your day been, dear nox?

[panchashire]

The Rosiers family heirs

[major-toast]

When they're supposed to be smitten with each other, but that idiot keeps insulting him.

[loversbrotherskillers]

lights up my ocs and smokes them like a cigarette

[ashen-crest]

I can do it. I can write a chapter. I am capable of putting sentences together. I know what a comma is. I am Aware of the Character.

[moths-canyon]

i think we need more of barty topping evan and being extremely toxic to evan icl

[major-toast]

Might I offer my ao3 for this exact premise? I have one or two fics where Barty is not only derranged but also topping. Derranged Barty is a house specialty, actually.