#“What are you listening to?”

[the-drayster]

// A little story about Drayton picking Amarys up from Nacrene. Under the read more because this one is fairly long at 960 words.

The song mentioned is Homie by Mustard Service.

Tagging you here, @elite-amarys!

~~

Drayton looked up from his phone, peeling his blanket off as he stood. "Hey, I'm going to go pick Amarys up."

Iris peered at him from her spot on the back of the couch. "Is everything alright?"

"Yeah, her mom's just upset and she needs to get away. I'll be back soon-ish," Drayton said. He pulled up his map and set out for the door. He paused, turning back. "Let Ma and Grandpa know I'm taking the car!"

Going all the way from Opelucid to Nacrene wasn't Drayton's plan when he originally went home for the holiday, especially not on the morning of Delibird Day. But, he had offered to let his friend stay if she needed too, and may Reshiram strike him down if he wouldn't honor that.

Climbing into the driver's seat, Drayton hummed to himself. It would be a long drive.

Amarys stood at the street corner. Her bag was packed beside her. She had everything she needed. She was upset, but logically the distance would allow both her and her mother time to calm down.

Logically.

It wasn't long (She had timed her arrival to the street corner perfactly) before an old truck pulled up, and Drayton climbed out. He was wearing a Deli-Day sweater (A Litwick with an LED light instead of a candle flame), and a long, pleated skirt in off-white. Amarys was not surprised. He smiled at her.

"Finally here. How're you doing?" Drayton asked. He reached down to grab her bag for her, loading it into the truck. Amarys muttered a thank-you.

"I am alright. Father agreed to speak to Mother," she reported. She approached the vehicle and held out a handful of money. "While you were arriving, I calculated the cost of the drive from Opelucid to Nacrene. I did not account for pit-stops and the like made of your own volition."

Drayton stared for a moment before shaking his head and smiling again. "No need, Bud." Amarys watched his face for the subtle hints of a joke. There were none. Only amusement. She put the money away.

The two of them climbed into the truck, and Drayton fiddled with his phone before starting the older vehicle's engine. "You ready to go?" He adjusted his mirrors, and then turned to look at her. He was grinning widely.

Amarys ran over her mental checklist. Everything was accounted for.

"..Yes. I am ready."

Drayton nodded, and the two were off.

Once they were situated, Drayton relaxed, draping an arm across the back of the seat separating the two of them. Amarys was staring at her lap.

"I apologize. You should not have had to come so far to retrieve me," she stated.

Drayton waved his hand, as if to gesture her words away (She had never understood pointless movements such as those, but apparently it made communication easier for some). "It's nothing. I did this of.. What was it.. My own volition?"

"My reasoning is still valid. Delibird Day is a holiday traditionally spent with one's family. I have stopped you from doing so."

Drayton snorted, reaching over to punch her shoulder lightly. "You're my family too."

Amarys paused. He did not mean this literally, of course. They weren't related. Therefore, the implication was that he saw her as an adopted relation.

"…Thank you."

Drayton snorted again, little laughs breaking through. But the laughs weren't mocking her. Amarys turned to watch him.

He shook his head, smiling. "What do you say to some music?"

Amarys considered this. She wouldn't mind music, she decided. She said as much.

Drayton nodded, tapping his phone to wake the Rotom inside. "Play my one playlist. Start with Homie." He turned to Amarys as the music started. "This is one of my favorite songs. I feel like it's fitting to this whole situation."

Drayton hummed the lyrics, drumming the beat of the instruments on the steering wheel with his fingers. He seemed to be enjoying himself. His hum broke into quiet singing with the line "Just sit back and smoke your cigarette."

"I don't smoke," she stated. Perhaps this song wasn't as fitting as he thought.

Drayton laughed a little. "Nah, but the rest of the lyrics work well. You do look like you could use some sleep." He paused his drumming to turn on his blinkers in an attempt to change lanes. "..Let me merge, jerkwads…"

She probably did need to sleep. She'd been so stressed. She hadn't realized how exhausted she was.

"I do appear to be more tired than I previously assumed," Amarys admitted.

Drayton smiled. "I don't mind if you doze off. I'll keep the music low."

Amarys nodded. She had no intentions of sleeping yet, but the thought was appreciated.

It didn't take long before she was out like a light.

Drayton hummed quietly to himself as he pulled into the driveway of his grandfather's house. Amarys was still asleep, and he didn't particularly want to wake her. He had a feeling that this was first chance she'd had to really be comfortable.

It made him happy that she was comfortable sleeping near him. He let himself feel a little prideful over it before debating what to do next.

He could leave the car running, and let her rest, but if he just left then she might wake up and panic over where she was. That wasn't an option.

He could wake her, but he'd feel horrible doing it. She looked so peaceful. That wasn't an option.

The third, and seemingly only valid option, was to stay with her in the car. Drayton sighed, put the truck into park, sent a quick text to Iris to let everyone know that they had made it, and leaned against the door to take a nap.

[scribefindegil]

being a writer leads to a genuinely helpful but also very stupid kind of mindfulness where you'll be having a sobbing breakdown or the worst anxiety attack of your life and think "okay, I really need to pay attention to how this feels. so I can incorporate it into my fanfiction."

[holographings]

someone on twitter said Imagine what s2 jayce would give to talk to s1 viktor just one more time. and someone had a time travel alternate dimension fic ready to go. and i read it. and now my face is being eaten by 3750 feral dogs i think

[ered]

Here’s my take on the whole audio books vs. reading:

Oral tradition of storytelling predates written ones by millennias, and honestly, which one you like is just a personal preference.

The actual difference is

when listening, you have no idea how to write characters’ names

when reading, you have no idea how to pronounce characters’ names

hope this helps!

[inkskinned]

you said you were stuck in a time loop, which was fine. i feel like late-stage capitalism has us all in a time loop, ammiright? you came barging in at 5:33. in the morning. i hadn't even processed the idea of coffee.

but you had this look of utter panic in your eyes. terror like the ocean. you grabbed my cheeks. im in a time loop.

i don't know why in movies the first reaction is to deny it. when someone is panicking like that, it's not appropriate to ask them to calm down. it didn't matter if i believed it, what mattered was that you believed it so much that it was consuming you.

so here we are. i pour you some of the dark roast. "you look like utter and entire hell," i say.

you push your fingers into your eyes. "you always say that."

i try to think of something funny to say that i wouldn't have said on previous time loops, but jokes don't land without the proper timing (lol). "remind me to think -"

"-yeah, of a joke that only works in the future. and before you say anything, i know you're pissed i just stole your punchline." you bolt the coffee, which is wild. it's very hot. you don't seem to notice.

i blow on mine to cool it down. i both am very pissed at you and also i can't see you in this amount of panic without wanting to help. but i'm also not really sure what we are, not since i saw you kiss her like that, no offense. it just was like, kind of rude when you knew i liked you.

and besides. i'm just like, barely a person. i write omegaverse fanfiction. i love the concept of a time loop, but what the fuck am i gonna do? send an alpha in there? i open my mouth.

you point at me. "you're about to ask why me. and then say some disparaging shit about yourself. i'm just a nerd who plays dnd or something. that self-own is slightly different each time." you sigh. "i know you think you can't really help me. i don't know who can help me. i only came to you because you fucking believe me." you check your watch, sigh, and throw your head back. you cover your eyes with one hand. "i've come here on 26 separate revolutions," you say. "you have believed me every time. and yeah, i have no idea how you fit into this but i just -" you sigh again. "i just like fucking talking to someone about it."

"do you need more cof-" i start, but you're already holding the empty cup out. i frown at it. "you're not getting any more until you promise not to bolt this one like an animal."

you laugh a little and sit up, pushing your hair out of your face. "okay, that's new dialogue. but to be fair to you, i'm not usually this rude. i'm still pretty new at all of this." you check your watch again. another sigh. i guess you're cruising for a personal best in the Sigh Olympics.

i almost tell you im not an NPC but i've played enough video games to know i'm very much an NPC. i pour you another cup. "so what happens in the loop?"

"really bad explosion." you mutter into the mug. you put your elbows on the table (rude) and bury your face in your arms like an angsty teenager. one hand floats up while you talk, because evidently you literally can't talk without your hands. "i have to save the day and there's this bomb and i have no bomb training and it keeps moving, you know."

"do i die?"

you peek up from your arms. "yeah. bigtime. you keep trying to run or stay or do anything and you always super die."

"oh."

"to be fair, like, everyone dies in it though.... so you're in good company."

i hate that you make me laugh. i hate that being around you always feels tingly and strange, this electric tension between us. something that is evidently (given how you stuck your tongue down a stranger's throat literally 3 days ago) (well. 3 for me) super one-sided. i take a sip of my coffee and close my eyes.

i die today, i guess. a little spark of panic starts at the top of my hands and starts whipping up my wrists.

"shit," you say. you look at your watch and jump to your feet. "i have to go. if i can come back, i will. i am still trying to figure out when is best to do everything, you know? the order of stuff. maybe morning isn't good for us."

i look up at you and think about how you keep kissing me in the back of my car and in alleyways and in the dark. and i can never fucking get a read on you. and i also think about how incredibly panicked you look. how broken. how long have you been doing this? "i don't want to die," i say.

you glance downwards. "well, you're not really dead, you'll come back in the loop."

"but i will have died." my hands are shaking. i am trying really hard to stay calm.

you push your hands through your hair again. "i really have to go. i will have this discussion with the next version of you, though. it is like, something i am thinking about."

"but i don't get a next version," i say. i don't really have the language for this, because i haven't had 26 tries with you. i only have my memories: you, a week ago. drunk and telling me you loved me in my ear. you, kissing her anyway. you, months ago, throwing up on my birthday, whispering to me i ruin everything i touch, always, over and over. please don't ask. i can't ever fucking have that be you.

i run my finger along the rim of the mug. "i don't want to die in this one."

you seem baffled by this. "i get that but - time will reset, you'll be fine, you won't even remember we talked about this."

"but i know now." i stand up too. "i have to live the rest of this day knowing i could die. knowing i probably am going to."

"you could always die, to be fair."

i feel my hands get out of control. "earlier, you said i always say a different insult about myself. what if you're just going through different parallel universes and those are all just different - but real - versions of myself? what if you're not in a time loop, you're in a fucking universe loop?"

"if it helps, i've wondered this too. also, you're hot in all of them. if that helps."

i point at you. "no flirting. i'm trying to figure out if i die today."

"who's flirting?" you catch my wild hands and give me that long, perfect smile. like we're in this together. "i won't let ya die." you check your watch and sigh again. "well. maybe not this time."

i grit my teeth. you are so not making quips at me while i try to explain the existential dread i'm having. "does the time loop reset if i fucking kill you?"

"honestly i don't know how long it continues after i die, because i just wake up. it could be that the loop goes until the explosion for everyone, and we're all in the loop, or it could be that when i die, the loop restarts. when i die i wake up, is all."

i pull away from you and stalk into the kitchen and start doing all 3 of my dishes. "okay, first, you know i was joking. and secondly, this is exactly my point. you don't know if this is just a parallel universe. maybe in the ones where you died, the explosion happened and nobody reset and it's just you travelling." i have to stop and push the heel of my palm into my eyeball. "... how often have you died?"

i look at you. you look at me. you give me this very sad, halfway smile and a little what can ya do shrug. something in that action seems so old and weary that i want to burst into tears.

"i have to go," you say. "really. for real. there's this family of five i save from getting into a car crash. and i know it's like oh but we're all gonna die in the explosion anyway, what's the point. and..." you shrug again. "it matters to me, is all. at least i saved them for now. at least i saved anything."

you pad over to me and wrap me in a tight hug. you always seem so tall against me. i feel your cheek rest against the top of my head for a moment. for a second, it's just us, and the space is warm, and my heart is a little broken hare.

you leave me there, and i stand in my stupid badly lit kitchen with my stupid mugs. i think about you. i start texting my mom that she needs to get out of the city, but it feels pointless.

i don't know what to do. tomorrow is the same day for you. but i have to prepare to die in my today.

[twisting-in-wonderland]

'Yuu!'

[gin-juice-tonic]

remembering one of the times i was getting evaluated by a therapist to determine if i was "really trans" or not or whatever and he was like "so if you transitioned to male, how would you dress differently?"

and i was like "i.. dont know. I wouldnt?"

and he looked at me blankly and wrote something down and said "really? you wouldnt wear anything more masculine?"

and i realized i'd given the wrong answer so I just said "I would... wear... suits?"

and he smiled and wrote something else down like "ah! yes"

[akanemnon]

One last heart-to-heart.

So I don't know if this is technically a mini, or a full part (hence the different layout). This was originally not written as part of the script. But I felt it was way too important to not bring up. Especially considering Susie's run-in with that emotional parasite and that whole (not) throwaway line from Lesslo about Kris having been literally discarded and abandoned as a child.

Let's just call it part 91-1.

FIRST - PREVIOUS - NEXT

MASTERPOST (for the full series / FAQ / reference sheets)

[hinamie]

subject, specimen, spectacle;

should i say that you're dead?

[notbecauseofvictories]

I don't know how strictly accurate this is, but one of the things I find shocking about watching historical dramas is how many people there are around all the time---according to Madame de... (1953) a well-off French household in the Belle Epoque maintains a workforce of at least 3, and the glittering opera has staff just to open doors. According to Shogun (2024) you can expect a deep bench just to mind your household, and again, people who exist to open doors.

Could people....not open doors in the past? Were doors tricky, before the standardization of hinges? Because otherwise, the wealthy used to pay a whole bunch of people to do it for them in multiple contexts, and I find myself baffled.

[o3o-lapd-o3o]

after six hundred strike

*odysseus and poseidon are both still on the rocks in the middle of the sea*

odysseus: ok, let's just agree to both say we're sorry

odysseus: on the count of three

odysseus: one..two..three

poseidon:

odysseus:

odysseus: see, now i'm just disappointed in the both of us

[secondbeatsongs]

source

[swiggity-swexual-i-am-asexual]

We all know the semi-canonical ‘all the Robins know to hide/duck inside of Batman’s cape, even as adults’ thing.

We also know that Danny ‘is LITERALLY a ghost’ Fenton sucks at remembering his own intangibility while ALSO forgetting to look ahead of him.

All I’m saying is, Danny Fenton (or Phantom, if you’d really like) would absolutely SLAM into Batman on accident while running on roof tops and Bruce ‘Brooding Instinct’ Wayne doesn’t even think twice about letting the kid hide and scanning around for danger before there’s a record scratch of ‘wait who tf is this?’ kicks in.

[ayo-edebiri]

You don’t get to yell at me like that!

[keets-writing-corner]

Thinking a LOT about Lucifer in the latest Hazbin episode. Idk what I was expecting but not this??

As I was watching my immediate thought was just "huh... Lucifer is kinda of weird..." but as the episode went on I realized the issue

the dude is off the chain depressed, like he says it as a joke but holy cow it is SO BAD

He's manically just creating rubber ducks cuz his daughter really like it that one time but it's empty, it's never good enough but he keeps doing it, maybe cuz he doesn't know how to pass the time otherwise.

like I get the feeling he HAS better things he SHOULD be doing than making rubber duck after rubber duck. At first I was like, "Bruh why isn't the king of hell doing anything?" aaaaand then it became clear...

The dude is disassociating so bad he can barely hold a conversation let alone remember information. He clearly WANTS to, he wants to be involved with his daughter so bad, he wants to care about the things she's doing so bad, but his depression keeps interfering. It's like he can only hear every other word and he grasps onto the ones he does hear semi-out of context. Like you can see every time he catches something that he hadn't before and he just "well shit I didn't catch that part"

and that's why he reacts so weird when people talk to him. He is struggling so bad to engage with the conversation he's only getting 50% of it

does that look like the face of a man who knows what the hell the conversation is even about??? he is STRUGGLING

like Charlie spent so long telling him about the hotel, and he STILL didn't understand what she wanted. Yeah it comes off as ditzy but literally I've been in that position where your brain just "nope, not doing this right now" and nerfs your conversation comprehension. So as someone who's BEEN in that position, to me it feels exactly like what he's dealing with. He's sorta engaged with the conversation, but only as much as his brain will allow

For example, when I'm dealing with this, this is what someone talking to me feels like this where the crossed out parts are what I missed and bold is what I catch, "Hey! You know I was thinking for dinner we could either make some chicken with rice? But if you don't feel like cooking, pasta is super easy and you love that right? What do you want to do?" you can kinda get that someone is trying to talk to you about dinner, and towards the end you get the impression that they asked something that needs your input so you can decently put 2 and 2 together and try and pass off, but crucial bits were left out, I would have no idea that either chicken or pasta is in the conversation only having heard "rice". When someone is just talking at me, I can decently pass off as being engaged but the second I'm required to participate in the conversation I'm screwed. Seem familiar? At which point I have 2 options, try to give a bullshit answer, or admit that I missed what they were saying and ask them to repeat

Lucifer, unfortunately, is trying so damn hard to hide that he's dealing with like 24/7 dissociation, so he can't admit that he's missing entire chunks of the conversation, hence his really weird replies. He does eventually get the full picture and then he and Charlie start having the real conversation

Also, the Alastor/Lucifer rivalry was hilarious but also really indicative of more of what Lucifer is dealing with

Alastor is, unfortunately, really good at picking up people's insecurities, and thanks to Charlie's description earlier and watching Lucifer clearly trying to overcompensate, he immediately picks up on the fact that Lucifer KNOWS he struggles to be a good dad (we know cuz it's cuz of the depression, hard to be engaged when your brain keeps turning off) and decides to rub salt in the wound by pretending he's been acting as a surrogate father to Charlie. Now why Alastor decided to pick a fight with the king of hell is beyond me, I do not understand Alastor (and I LIKE IT) (maybe it's cuz Alastor thinks he's hot shit and was expecting Lucifer to at least have heard of him but Lucifer just treats him like a nobody? who knows)(why would Lucifer listen to radio anyways when he can't even pay attention to a conversation it'd just be white noise)

But yeah I just was expecting someone who oozed either charisma or presence and instead I got a depressed dad who's dissociating so bad he can barely function and be present in his life. The only thing it seems he CAN do is make rubber ducks cuz his daughter really liked it that one time

Idk Lucifer is tragic to me. Whatever the full details of what heavan did to him absolutely broke him and he can't deal with it. He's aware of it, and he doesn't know how to fix it, so he tries to over compensate and sorta makes an ass out of himself but no one says or does anything cuz this guy is supposed to be THE king of hell

Suddenly it's making a lot more sense why he just rolls over and lets heaven do what it wants and even told Charlie to go in his place the start of the show. He's not in any headspace to hold a basic conversation let alone negotiate! He didn't even know who Alastor was, he's been so out of touch

idk I like him, he seems sweet, I hope Charlie brings some light back into his life. He really needs to get out of that rubber duck room

[heynhay]

in some other realm, you are waiting for me