#(who is like the corniest person alive)

[kaiminluu]

happy birthday to our most beloved will byers :) here're some byler grease concept sketches

[writing-funsies]

OP characters as besties p.5

p.1 | p.2 | p.3 | p.4 | p.5

characters: Ace, Shanks, Mihawk

warnings: mentions of alcohol, light cussing

notes: all platonic hc's

Ace

will share his food with you

but won't let you take any off his plate

falls asleep on you all the time

uses you as his personal pillow

and will make fun of you if you freak out when riding with him on Striker

despite the fact that it's designed for only one person

but I digress

also uses you as a napkin if needed

sometimes shoots little flames at you to see your reaction

talks about Luffy nonstop

like that's the only thing he ever talks about

by the time you actually meet his little brother

you're ready to strangle both of them

not really

but you could spot the kid a mile away

before you ever actually got to know him

Ace and you working together to become more confident

always teasing each other

you having to fish him out of the ocean when he falls in

drinking contests

staring contests

fighting contests

eating contests

just competing over everything and anything possible

training together

he may be really strong and have a devil fruit power

but he won't hesitate to practice his hand-to-hand combat with you

especially if you need it

will tease you about it though

so you just push him overboard again

long talks about your lives

your pasts

your families

where you see yourselves in a year

five years

maybe even ten years

your goals

and aspirations

just talks about life

he tells you about his dad

and is relieved when you tell him that just because he was his father's son doesn't mean that'll be his legacy 

you two would die for each other

nothing will ever tear you apart

besties for the resties

9/10

super sweet and funny

but won't bathe no matter how much you beg

Shanks

party boy™

genuinely doesn't give a fuck

he's here to have fun

and protect his family

that's it

tells you the corniest jokes you've ever heard

also laughs at everything you say

like Luffy, laughs even when you're being serious

uses his missing arm as an excuse if you ever try to get him to do his duties as captain

sometimes struggles with phantom pains

but assures you they'll go away on their own

drinking contests

if he's got a drink in hand

then everyone's gonna have a good time

100% threw up on your shoes once before passing out

laughed like it was the funniest thing he'd ever heard when you told him

quickly stifles his laughter when he sees how mad you are

offers to let you throw up on his shoes to make it even

you just stare at his sandals for a moment before walking away

watching Luffy's progress through the news together

bragging about the kid as if he were your own

the antics you two get up to guarantee that Ben will have a constant headache

the rest of the crew finds your dynamic duo to be hilarious

the sheer power of this crew is near unimaginable

so if the two of you ever actually fight enemies

they don't stand a chance

if anyone ever targeted you

and hurt you

Shanks would have his crew capture your attacker

and then show them exactly why no one messes with the Red Hair Pirates

8/10

always provides a good time

but will laugh at you if you fall 

Mihawk

I ain't ever seen two pretty best friends

until now

you are probably a little more lively than this warlord

he just doesn't care for drama

which means it's up to you to keep him in the loop

yet somehow he has the truly juicy details you could only wish to find on your own

y'all have a small book club

it's just the two of you

you tried to invite Perona to join

but she thought that your reading selection was so not cute

you even tried to invite Shanks once

all that accomplished was you gaining a new drinking buddy

which Mihawk begrudgingly allowed to happen

basically, the book club is just you two sipping on wine while discussing every mistake that the author made while writing your current read

salty bitches™

you're one of the only people alive who can get Mihawk to laugh

which is your favorite party trick

except that he's never laughed at the parties you both went to

(ie visiting Shanks and getting roped into a night of drinking)

he airs out all of the other warlords' dirty laundry to you

will talk mad shit about them

well at least most of them

he finds that no matter how powerful they may be

they're all idiots in his eyes

they can't see the big picture

he trusts that you have enough common sense to use the information sparingly

and you do

for the most part

it's giving rich single wine aunt meets vodka mom (but without the kids)

9/10

knows how to relax in style

but will not let you play with his sword no matter how many times you ask

[rainba]

Ok hear me out…

Luka and kairos with INSANE baby fever B)

Luka and Kairos both definitely experience baby fever, to some degree… It hits Luka harder than Kairos, but I like to think that Kairos’ side of things is much funnier. 

I… Thiiiink I answered this ask right? ｡ﾟ(｡ﾉω��｡)ﾟ｡I hope I did!

This ended up being a lot fluffier than I thought it would be...

(Darling’s gender isn’t mentioned! Only mentions whether or not they can bear children. (つω`｡)

Kairos knows that he’s broke and definitely can’t afford to raise a kid– not yet, anyway! But once he continues building up his portfolio and raises his prices, he will eventually make a decent wage!

If darling is capable of having children, Kairos’ mind would basically become mushy as he imagines your all’s children together. Like… Whose eye color would they inherit? Would they be a boy or a girl? Ooh, would they take after him and also be an artist–!? There are so many possibilities to consider! 

Kairos would absent-mindedly start drawing out what your all’s future children might look like. ^^;;;;

But also, most importantly: what would you all name your children? 

Kairos would definitely come up with the edgiest, kind of corniest names ever. They sound more like OC names than anything, names like, “Twilight!” Or “Lucifer!” So, unless you also want to name your kids that, you’ll have to tell him that you don’t really like those. ^^;;;;;

If you’re a darling that can’t have kids, then Kairos would also be happy to adopt!! When he has baby fever, he’d get all excited about the idea of going out and going through the process of adoption with you. It’d be a long journey, but a journey he’s willing to take if it’s with you!

The most kids he would want/be able to handle is two, but he’ll ultimately let you decide how many kids you'll both have. (o^ ^o) Kairos would feel so nervous taking in someone of any age, but he’d still try his best!!

He’d absolutely be the pushover dad who just does whatever his partner wants him to.

｡ﾟ(｡ﾉωヽ｡)ﾟ｡

As for Luka, the insane baby fever really does hit him hard sometimes. Like– throughout his entire life, the idea of being a father has sounded nice to him. And the idea of raising a child with you makes his heart and mind feel all fuzzy.

As shown in a few posts of him before… He mostly gets that baby fever when he’s in heat. ^^;;;;;; The thought of having a family with you just sends him over the edge, and all he can think about is fucking you until his dream becomes a reality.

Honestly, I think that Luka would be a decent father. Overprotective? Absolutely. Overbearing? Sometimes, for sure. Cruel and abusive? Not a chance in hell. (ﾉ_ヽ)

If darling can get pregnant, and they do end up pregnant, there would be a few nights where Luka is unable to sleep at night, tossing and turning in bed as he constantly glances over at you. You’re lying there so peacefully, carrying his child… He’d lovingly place his soft ears against your stomach while caressing you gently. He can’t help but feel that he’s incredibly lucky to have you– the love of his life– his obsession- his everything. The first and only person to ever make him feel alive. ⸜( *ˊᵕˋ* )⸝ The two of you are truly bound together, forever. ღ

Luka would honestly end up falling asleep with his head on (or beside) your stomach, all curled up with his pink tail wrapped around you. (o´∀`o)

He knows that he can be, um… An asshole, to say the least. And that he’s not very good at understanding complex emotions. But when you have his child, he’ll do everything in his power to get better at being empathetic and patient, for the sake of you and your all's family. (｡╯︵╰｡)

(Luka wouldn't stop his games with you entirely, though. It's always gonna be in his nature to tease and mess with you (´-ω-`). )

When it comes to adoption, Luka would have absolutely no problems with adopting multiple kids. For him, his ideal family size is four children!! He would definitely be able to provide for all of them– although, he might end up stuck at work doing overtime more frequently. But doing more work doesn’t matter to him, so long as everyone is happy. (=`ω´=)

Also, side note, Luka would definitely want you to be a stay-at-home, full-time parent. ^^;;;;;; It’s a small fantasy of his to always come home from work and see you all happy and cozy, smiling warmly as you welcome him back. Maybe you’ll have a meal prepared for him, the house will be all tidied up and your all’s kids will be excited that he’s home from work.~

The holidays, the vacations, the good and bad days… (っ˘ω˘ς ) Luka would like to live that kind of life with you, one day, if you let him.

[cakejerry]

Yeah bts need to retire ASAP I don't know when it was the last time they looked like they had blood running through their veins. Jimin looks completely SOULESS bro it scares me sometimes. The only gimmick he and jungkook have is pretending to love their fans, not an ounce of creativity left in their bony bodies. Thv will never be anything more than a ig model and not even a good one, he's so mediocre it's painful. Yoongi has been releasing the same album over and over again but he will do good producing for other people. Hobi is talented af but he had like 30 years to develop some kind of personality and failed, it's time to go man. Rm must perceive himself as tyler the creator's afro korean cousin but he's just the corniest lyricist alive. And jin idk he's just jin, painfully unfunny, brings nothing to the table. Honestly I can't imagine anything good resulting from a bts reunion in 2025 and they suck ass as soloists. It's time to let go.

Akdksldn you should make a blog or dm me or something. But bts will NEVER retire omg they will milk their delusional fans DRY. The number of people who will stan through HELL just because they USED to be good will be enough to make them millionaires several times over. Even though they already have enough in the bank to retire, they're just greedy like that.

You ate with the analysis kinda unfortunately, people being like "this is music jimin makes when he's HAPPY" um bro I don't think that's the case I think he's going through some sort of crisis. All of them going through middle age tbh, conscription and fame fucked them up badddd. Taekook on their steady way to onlyfans accounts, yoongi just greedy. You can tell rapline ran out of their creative juices BAD because do you agust d and 1verse (and the cyphers) were so GOOD man wtf happened. As for jin, he needs to put ME in charge because. Actually scratch what I said earlier about bts needing each other, I'm honestly seeing a Huge career for jin, first of all in music as a Norazo type, second of all as a televison darling. Like i just got a vison of him age 45 married with kids and a regular spot on whatever variety show korea gets obsessed with by then.

As for 2025 comeback, sihyuk still milking the hyyh cow is not instilling me with confidence. My dream (which i know they will crush) is them releasing actual KPOP. But im expecting american radio doodoo.

[uncaught-coolfish]

what are some general headcanons you have about sienna… Adam too!

🫡

sienna is the corniest mf ever me thinks…… she’ll be like “YOUR SUPER TRAINING BEGINS TODAY.” and she hands you a list and the first thing on there is “eat a nice breakfast :3”

she’s also like besties with the wf lieutenant (who in this fic, I’ve named Yu 😦👍). they’re just a silly little funny bunch, and there’s a reason why he was apart of her little group in chapter 3.

I’ve spoken about how Sienna was born on menagerie once, but fun fact: she was also childhood friends with Kali! A fact which she loves to tease Ghira about.

(Might’ve already said this idk) The green cloak she describes having been made by her husband in chapter 2 is one of the only things she retained into chapter 3. In fact, she wears it into the facility, and later, it’s what she wraps adam in. Cry.

ALSO remember how I said she was born on Menagerie? Specifically before how I said (I think I did LOL) how she had this big family? Yeah… a ton of her relatives are still alive, on the island. But would Sienna ever visit them? Fuuck no, for… multiple reasons.

While before she rarely interacted with anyone outside of Ghira and a handful of others (~trauma~), she enjoys personally training those under her, even going as far as to take them out for lunches or like. Go fishing with them… idk she’s fun!

You know what’s not fun? This woman hasn’t gotten more than 4 hours of sleep in the last 12 years.

now…… my loser~

i think adam is good at singing. i imagine his mom possibly singing to him at night during his childhood and also… ~other things~ to be revealed in later chapters. but fuck no would he let a soul hear that

he hates crowds. like, viciously hates them. given the conditions of his past yeah totally see why.

hes the kinda bitch to tear up over good food you heard it from me ✌️😔

he wears gloves almost any time he’s out in public. no matter if he genuinely needs them or not, and why? in all honesty adams hands (notably his wrists) are almost just as fucked up as his eye is.

speaking of his eyes! yeah no he can’t see well. at all. aside from being blind in an eye his “good” eye still has very poor vision, and most times he can only ever make out someone’s face by standing close to them. given he’s a literal fucking TREE… that leads to some very awkward situations.

he’s very close to sienna, but despite that, always feels unworthy of even sharing such a bond (trauma). thus, there’s just this constant desire to “please” her in every way(trauma), to prove mainly to himself that he deserves the spot he’s currently at in life (TRAUMA)

Last but not least; he hates his reflection. Look out for chapter 8 baby!

[thesinglesjukebox]

JACK HARLOW - "LOVIN ON ME"

We're so back. And where else to start but the undisputed No. 1 song in America (only somewhat pejorative)?

[4.89]

Jacob Sujin Kuppermann: Last time we checked in, we referred to Jackman Harlow and his raps as "mediocre", "out of ideas", "perfunctory", "lazily gentrifying Babyface Ray", "very boring", "very gross", "smart", and "mumbled noncommittal twaddle." All these things are still absolutely true with regard to his work on "Lovin on Me", and yet something about the song still compels me. It's not just that gorgeous sample – it's something about Harlow himself, how his pathetic charisma feeds so goofily into the beat. His whole career has been positioned as a crux between the suave pop star and man-of-the-people rapper battling in his mind, but "Lovin on Me" succeeds because it rejects that dichotomy. Instead, Harlow simply fills a pop ecosystem niche long vacant: Flo Rida. [6]

Jacob Satter: Whenever I queue up Jack Harlow, I go in certain that I must be overstating how much I dislike his casual flow, his fratty sneer, his proud fuccboi pose. Then I hit play, and Nilla Wafers would never. [3]

Andrew Karpan: Impressively unpleasant, Harlow’s commitment to impersonating the most unbearable person you know accomplishes rare, unforeseen heights in this curious flip of an entirely forgotten Detroit R&B record dug up from the forgotten embers of 1995. Unlike Cadillac Dale, whose voice carries with it the broken, soulful signification of failure and frustration, Harlow’s career is one of perseverance, a kind of diligent technical precision taking the place of either form or substance. His rapping on “Lovin on Me” is almost good in the kind of tightly-rehearsed/‘90s kind of way that the format demands, even if none of it means anything.  The fact that he’s landed three number one hits doing this and, say, J. Cole has netted zero surely says something.  [5]

Ian Mathers: If you look up Cadillac Dale's "Whatever (Bass Soliloquy)"-- perfectly fine song! -- it is immediately clear how great this production is, absolutely an example of someone having the ears to take a one-off from the intro and realize it's a great fucking hook. It's just a shame the perpetually charmless Jack Harlow gets to take up so much air on the track; imagine how good this would be with someone with anything of interest to add, or even just as a mostly instrumental floor filler? Most disappointing presence of a rapper on their own track since "Hotline Bling" (although in that case the production was less transformative, and therefore less essential). [6]

Wayne Weizhen Zhang: Remember when Drake released “Nice for What” what feels like five lifetimes ago? “Lovin on Me” feels like a knockoff, aiming for a similar cultural spot: built around a sample impossible to mess up, reveling in its praise, and generous with its humor. The biggest difference is Jack Harlow, the corniest rapper alive today (pejorative, but occasionally not).  [6]

Nortey Dowuona: Jack Harlow has inherited Drake’s schtick of pandering to black women -- see Madisyn Brown’s video on it for more info. He also happens to inherit Drake’s problem of being a generic surface-level rapper who can comfortably ape being, say, MC Breed while not being MC Breed. Someone like Santan Dave, who has also inherited the Drake template, fills it with earnest, thoughtful dialogue about his rising station and the world he used to inhabit that his friends and family still do, and grounds his pettier boasts and bitterness with a gravity that gives them weight. On “Stop Giving Me Advice”, Jack snaps at the people crowding his DMs and YouTube reacts (even the Mallory Bros and the NFR Podcast, dudes who are part of the OVO promotional team, were critical of Come Home the Kids Miss You), while Dave instead sketches a miniature of a fan who is embarrassed that he’s met his favorite rapper at his boring job. It’s brief and not vivid, but it’s a shadow, a shadow that belongs to an actual, corporeal person Dave is living in the world with. Here, when Jack tells the “guys in the back” to wait for the DJ to mix in “Faneto” so they can stop grinding their teeth watching all the black women in the function getting their life, it feels simpatico to that, but it fails because it’s not even a photosnap of a shadow. It’s a selfie of you with someone you don’t know that you claim is your best friend. It’s no “Trip.” [4]

Katherine St. Asaph: I can't decide whether this would be better or even worse if Justin Timberlake did it  -- "did" being the only applicable word here, as both "rapping" and "performing" oversell Jack's work. [1]

Alfred Soto: He's put over casual incoherent sadism on what remains of top 40 radio with a haircut that's inspired more teeth gnashing on my end since the invention of the Croc; but he raps competently over the Cadillac Dale sample, and the self-congratulatory tradition of the heterosexual American male is preserved. [6]

Rachel Saywitz: Nothing in "Lovin on Me" makes me think that Jack Harlow would be a good fuck. He says it himself! I’m not interested in a man who’s only guidance for choking is to “not kill.” I don’t get it. People really heard this sample—which is, to be clear, the only reason this track gets above a [0]—and thought, “this would be perfect for the most boring rapper on the planet.” And then Jack Harlow heard this beat and thought, “this would be perfect for some watered-down noodly lines about Lord Farquaad and cheetahs.” The worst part is that the sample actually slaps! A goddamn shame! [2]

Isabel Cole: God, the Lord Farquaad line is like a jumpscare every single time. [3]

Thomas Inskeep: It cracks me up so hard that BBC Radio 1 omits the word "choke" from this song's chorus. Is the nation's broadcaster afraid that impressionable youth might be tempted to choke their partners upon hearing the lyric "I'm vanilla, baby/I'll choke you but I ain't no killer, baby"? Fascinating. Also fascinating to me: against my better judgement, I like this song. A lot rides on that sample of Delbert Greer's "Whatever," but Harlow still has to do something with it, and he sounds more nimble than I've ever heard him, delivering his stupid yet catchy lines. The musical equivalent of a Rice Krispie treat, "Lovin on Me" is sweet, empty calories.   [6]

Edward Okulicz: Since I don't think you can be vanilla if you're choking your partner, presumably Jack means he tastes of vanilla. But vanilla isn't plain or white -- it's an expensive spice that imparts an incredibly rich, complex taste to foods that is utterly unlike cheaply flavoured vanilla ice cream. Jack having written two mid verses and one that's extremely lame, and having repeated the lame part three times amidst an effective hook that nags like a playground taunt, my assessment is that he tastes like BO that has only been partially covered up by an overapplication of Axe body spray. The appeal is obvious and obnoxious, but you can walk ten metres away and it's harmless. [4]

Jeffrey Brister: I was down on this one initially, but it grew on me. He’s affable, he’s got a good voice, he’s got that effortless, subtly skilled performance that would come across as lazy if it wasn’t so exacting. It’s all very appealing and easy to listen to, the platonic ideal of a good-but-not-incredible pop song. Plus: Shrek reference. [6]

Alex Clifton: I’m predisposed to think that Jack Harlow is a neat dude because I live in his hometown, Louisville. He loves this place -- regularly shops at and shouts out local businesses, gives back a lot, visits high schools to say hi to the kids -- and I really appreciate that about him. “Lovin on Me” is the first time I’ve really gotten his appeal outside of being a local character, though. He’s dorky and charming, and I don’t know how it works but it’s won me over. The Lord Farquaad line makes me chuckle every time, as does “she 28, tellin’ me I’m still a baby.” (You are 25, Jack; you are indeed an infant.) It’s not earth-shattering stuff, especially given how much of this short song is taken up by the chorus, but it’s a good enough time. Now if I see him around town, maybe I’ll freak out a little.  [6]

Joshua Minsoo Kim: It is funny how when you’re 28, someone only three years your junior can really feel like a baby. “Young Jack,” as he calls himself here, mentions this anecdote because he knows how to wield the underdog status, that even though he’s seeing an older woman, he will play the role of the dom. It’s incredible: the Lord Farquaad line is dumb as hell, but his persona is the total inverse of that character—an average Joe who is quietly confident and convinced of his cool. The decades-old Detroit R&B sample is the catchiest thing here, and it serves as a reminder that swagger jacking is at the heart of all our roles—societal, sexual, and otherwise. [6]

Taylor Alatorre: Even for someone like me who still regards "selling out" as a relevant concept, it's quietly invigorating to see such a one-to-one match between will and outcome in the music industry. Jack Harlow wanted to release a two-minute loosie that rocketed to #1 off the strength of its TikTok appeal, so he did. He wanted to loosely channel the hip hop histories of Detroit, Oakland, and Toronto in the same song, so he did. He felt like resurrecting hashtag rap for the sake of a left-field Shrek reference, so he did. Nothing succeeds like success, and "Lovin on Me" is so self-assured in its superfluousness that it wraps back around to feeling essential somehow. The part where he apologizes to his po-faced male audience for the impending ubiquity of this female-oriented club hit is, I'm sorry to say, Babe Ruth-coded, and it's the kind of playful self-awareness that's disarming if done with a light touch. You know what, I will cut you some slack today, young Jack. Just this once. [7]

Daniel Montesinos-Donaghy: I like a fun pop-rap song like everyone else. Why the hell not? [7]

Leah Isobel: Great sample. Every time Jack says "I'm vanilla, baby," I like it a little less. [4]

[Read, comment and vote on The Singles Jukebox ]

[waltermis]

Happy Belated Valentine’s Day

MASTERLIST ↠ SPITFIRE MASTERLIST

Artemis walked down the stairs that led down to her apartment mailbox. She had no idea why she was going, Wally had been dead for six months now, maybe it was to keep their tradition alive or maybe it was just hope. Or maybe she had gone crazy but whatever it was, it led Artemis out the door and down the stairs to the mailbox. She stood in front metal box looking to see if there was any new changes to the outer part of the box before she looked inside. As she looked she thought back to the first she did this, nearly 6 six years.

~~~ 6 years ago~~~

Gotham City

February 15, 13:34 EDT

It was the day after Valentine's day and Artemis was pissed to say the least. Her idiotic boyfriend had forgotten Valentine's day! I mean sure they've only been dating for 2 months but seriously! Was it too much for a simple text? Too much for phone call? And when she confronted him, he had the gall to look at her confused and ask 'What're you so mad about?'

She didn't say anything, instead she chose to turn and walk towards the zeta tubes. Faintly before she was teleported away, Artemis thought she heard Robin yell 'It's Valentine's day, ya dumbass!'

It's been 14 hours now and she hasn't responded to a single one of his texts nor has she answered any of his calls. She knew he was sorry but it kind of hurt thinking that everyone else had a gotten something for Valentine's day while she was left with nothing but her anger at her oblivious boyfriend. I mean for Pete's sake, M'gann even decorated the entire cave with pink and red streamers and heart shaped balloons! Who on earth would miss something like that?! Wallace Rudolph West apparently.

The blonde sighed as she heard her mother call her name, "Artemis! Can you go get the mail?" she asked from the kitchen.

"Yeah sure, mom." Artemis called back, as she rolled off her bed. She walked over to the front door and pulled on her favorite leather jacket and slipped on her combat boots before she walked out the front door. She walked down three flights of stairs and walked out the main doors; she strolled over to a mailbox with the name 'Crock' written on it and opened it.

Inside was a gorgeous yellow rose, along with with a card. On the front of the card, it read 'Happy Valentine's day' but someone added a 'belated' to it, so it now read 'Happy belated Valentine's day'. Artemis flipped open the card and there read one of the corniest things she has ever read. It read:

"Roses are red And though one isn't You know I love you, even though I forgot a present I may have forgotten that it's Valentine's But I'll always remember that you are mine"

Artemis couldn't help but roll her eyes at the first line but she had tiny unshed tears there as she continued to read. She shook her head as she continued to reread the card. "Happy belated Valentine's day, beautiful." A familiar voice said behind her. Turning around she saw the person who had caused her so much annoyance in the past 14 1/2 hours. Wally stood there wearing a white button down shirt, rubbing the back of his neck as he gave her a smile.

"So, this how your apologizing? By giving me a rose, a card and dressing up nicely?" She asked incredulously.

"Ummmm, yes?" Wally tried to sound confident but his words sounded more like a question.

"Hm," she hummed. Wally closed his eyes, afraid she might yell at him or even throw the flowers at him and break up with him on the him on the spot but he was caught off guard when she wrapped her arms around his neck and gave him a peck on the cheek. "Good, because I love it." she said, as she nuzzled closer to him. "But don't you ever do that again, or I might just have to break up with you."

Wally's eyes widen before returning to their normal size. "I promise I won't forget next year. Happy belated Valentine's day, beautiful." She let out a giggle before she returned his words.

~~~Present Time~~~

Every year after that he would end up forgetting Valentine's day and every year he would give her a yellow rose and a card with a corny poem in it. After their second year of dating he started to give her a red rose as well, and each time she asked him why, he would give her a different answer, "It's ketchup and mustard!", "It's the colors of Kid Flash duh!", "Yellow and red make orange and orange is fire!" and so on.

Artemis sighed, she couldn't find anything different on the outside of the box. It looked the exact same as it did two days ago, old and rusty but still it stood tall holding every piece of mail she and Wally have every received. She hesitated slightly before reaching forward and opening the small box, sighing when there was nothing in there.

She could feel tears burning in her eyes, threatening to fall. She knew that there wasn't going to be anything in there but a tiny part of her wished that she would find her red and yellow rose and her cheesy Valentine's day card. She was closing the mailbox's lid when something caught her attention, she blinked through her clouded vision and she gasped.

Inside was the box was a yellow and red rose weaved together with a pink and red card that read "Happy belated Valentine's day!" laying on top of the roses. She carefully picked up the card and opened it and practically cried her eyes out when she saw the familiar writing:

"Roses are red But the yellow ones mean so much more After I disappeared from you You thought I'd miss it just like before In those 6 months that I was lost I'd thought our paths would never cross I'm sorry I left you in those icy plains But I promise to never leave you again"

She couldn't believe her eyes, looking around she couldn't see anyone through her hazy vision. "You like my present, beautiful?" she heard that oh so familiar voice that she had dreamed about hearing for the past six months. She couldn't move, couldn't turn around, couldn't do anything but listen to his sweet comforting voice.

"Please be real! Please!" Artemis rasped out, as she silently cried. Tears pouring out of eyes like a waterfall as she collapsed to her knees just like she did all those months ago.

Wally immediately raced over to her and wrapped his warm muscular arms around her shaking body. "Shhhh, it's okay. It's okay, let it all out. I'm right here and I'm never leaving again. I promise." He whispered into her ear, whilst gently rubbing her back as she continued to sob loudly into his chest. After crying for god knows how long, Artemis finally composed herself as she looked at Wally for the first time. His hair was longer and he had a couple of tiny scraps on his face but other than that he was same old Wally. Her Wally. Her goofy, funny loving boyfriend. Her Baywatch. "Happy belated Valentine's day, beautiful." he said, with his gorgeous goofy grin. The same one where she could not resist grinning back at.

"Happy belated Valentine's day, Baywatch." she said, as he carried her bridal style back into their apartment.

↠↠↠

1272 words

[waterparchive]

Woodrow Whyte — May 19, 2021

"I don’t know if I want a lot of musicians I love to know I exist because then the possibility of them thinking I suck comes into play"

To quote a famous drag queen, the cheek, the nerve, the gall, the audacity and the gumption of Waterparks to name their fourth album Greatest Hits. It's a bold statement but if anyone can pull it off, it's the Houston trio and their charismatic frontman Awsten Knight.

Like many releases this year, most of the record was written, recorded and produced during the pandemic, and the enforced downtime leant itself to introspective songwriting sessions.

"When you’re alone for so long, it takes a toll on you and forces you to examine yourself more", Awsten said in promotional materials for the album, before adding “When you hear this album, I hope you walk away feeling like there’s no other band doing anything like it. In my opinion, these are our Greatest Hits. As long as you go into it without expectations of prior things, I think it’s going to be your favourite fucking Waterparks album.”

Fans won't have long to find out if the Greatest Hits lives up to its name, as it drops this Friday. To tide you over until then, we asked Awsten to take a trip down memory lane with our My Life In 20 questions.

20) What did you learn about yourself in 2020?

I learned that I can stop using social media if I want to. I knew we weren’t gonna be doing anything so I took a good 6 months off and when it was time to come back in September, I really didn’t want to. I broke that addiction to checking Twitter all the time. It was cool though because we also grew a lot in that period, so I didn’t have to feel guilty for taking that time.

19) What was your favourite album from 2019?

FANDOM. I make all the songs I wish someone else would because they’d be my favourite band if they did. I’ll also say Igor, Amo, Weezer (Black Album), When We All Fall Asleep..., Anonymous, 7, prob some others but the wiki list is very long and I still have 18 questions to go.

18) What was the most important thing to happen in your life when you were 18?

Graduating high school, I guess? Getting a car was good too! I got my permit late because I was scared to drive and didn’t really care about going places, what a dope guy!

17) Who was your crush at 17?

I’m kinda blanking. Maybe Miley Cyrus?? Do people normally remember this stuff?

16) What can you remember about your 16th birthday?

I truly don’t remember it. I was probably wearing a studded belt if that helps though.

15) What did you hate at 15 which you love now?

I hated the straight edge youth crew dudes that would hang out at local venues and crowd kill when there were only like 40 people, like bitch you’re 28 and I’m 15, stop punching kids you my children my bride looking bitch good lordddd corniest dudes ever, looking like Christian Joe Dirt punching kids for scene clout.

14) What TV show were you obsessed with at 14?

I think 14 I was into Dexter. Amazing show but oh my god that ending. I didn’t have opinions back then about quality, but even at that time I was like 

13) 13 is unlucky for some. Do you have anything that you’re superstitious about?

I’m very superstitious. Before shows I need everyone to stay away from me and let me play solitaire. I don’t walk under ladders, you can’t split the pole when you’re walking with people, I sage myself when I come home from anywhere, whole lotta stuff, baby.

12) If you could live the life of any other person for 12 hours, who would you be and why?

Honestly I’m fine being me, but if it was just for like 12 hours uhhhhh Charlie Day so I can do that thing with my voice when he says “OOAH HELLLLAOOOH”

11) Who was your best friend when you were 11?

Everyone I was friends with before music was just a friend via proximity, like we were on the same sports teams or had the same classes. That’s how it is when you’re younger. You don’t choose that shit when you’re younger, you’re just like, 'You’re near me, what’s up do u like Captain Underpants?' That’s kinda the deal until you’re old enough to be picky. I remember being friends with these twin dudes on swim team Benito and Ernesto, shout out those dudes wherever they are!!!

10) Where do you hope you'll be in ten years time?

Somewhere the internet can’t find me. I hope I’m into some stupid shit like boats, no wifi on the water.

9) What was your biggest fear when you were 9?

Ghosts, I think. And yeah, I used to hear voices! Not dope!

8) When you were 8, what did you want to be when you grew up?  

I used to want to be an author/illustrator for kids books and an archaeologist! I’ll still do the kids books but, man, archaeologists have to be in the sun so much and I need to keep my skin cute so people buy my album. Greatest Hits May 21.

7) Which of the seven deadly sins are you most guilty of?

I just googled them for a refresher and it’s all anime. I’d either say envy or anger. By the way, who made this? It’s stupid as fuck that “anger” is a sin, like huh??????? Bitch I’ll kill you.

6) You can invite six people to your dream dinner party (dead or alive), who would you invite?

No dead people at my dinner party, gross smell. Here’s the thing, I don’t know if I want a lot of musicians I love to know I exist because then the possibility of them thinking I suck comes into play, and if someone like Donald Glover actively had the thought “god, Awsten sucks”, I’d be devastated. So I don't know if I want anyone in that realm to know who I am, I’m cool with loving them from afar.

I’m gonna say a group of people who have nothing to do with me. Like, 6 people who are working on the next Conjuring movie and I just wanna listen in on them and be like, “holy shit??????” I love y’all so much. Quick shout out Lin Shaye.

5) Name five things you can't live without.

Besides the obvious ones: dogs, personal space, sunglasses that cover most of my head, coffee, and tennis/biking. I need to tire myself out as much as possible or I get moody.

4) Describe yourself in four words.

Capricorn. Flexible. Weirdly tall.

3) Your top three songs of all time.

The Beach Boys - 'Wouldn’t It Be Nice', Rihanna - 'Bitch Better Have My Money', and Macklemore - 'Thrift Shop'.

2) Name two things on your bucket list.

A platinum Waterparks album, get a horror music video produced by Blum House.

1) What or who is your one true love?

Having one true love would be scary! Too much emphasis on one thing, too much to lose; can’t put that much on one person either! That’s a crazy level of pressure and expectation! Also Gwen Stefani.

[marvelousstevetony]

would you do: Behind Closed Doors - (character) has a solid public face, but in private they let themselves be taken care of when they’re not well, for stevetony? thanks!

Ahh, anon, I love this prompt. It definitely gives me all the Tony-feels, so that’s what I went with. Hope you enjoy this little ficlet of sick!Tony and a very sweet Steve taking care of him. (2.1k words)

———

Had Steve not woken up to Tony’s stuffy, little snores, and had he not noticed the quiet sniffles and subtle nose rubs throughout breakfast, Steve would’ve never thought Tony was any less than a-okay. He would’ve kissed his boyfriend good morning with a gentle brush of their lips instead of pressing a peck to his temple, and he would’ve filled Tony’s mug with dark roasted coffee instead of lemon tea with honey. But Steve was… well, he was Steve, and though Tony was thought to be the genius of the two, Steve was an expert when it came to Tony Stark. It had not taken long, even in a sleep-induced haze, for Steve to conclude that Tony had caught a cold and that he was in for a very interesting morning. It went something like this:

Tony awoke to an empty bed that was still warm from where Steve had lain, which meant it could’ve only been about fifteen minutes since he’d left. Wincing at the sudden soreness he felt in his throat, he swallowed and coughed a few times as he scrubbed his hands over his face. He could hear pans clattering from the kitchen and figured Steve was making breakfast, but he wasn’t sure as he couldn’t smell anything through his blocked nose. 

He was right, though, because when he emerged from the bedroom and entered the kitchen, Steve was stood at the stove —clad in his apron that said I am tortellini in love with you, which Tony had gifted him because it was the corniest thing he’d ever seen and therefore very Steve— and something that looked a lot like blueberry pancakes were sizzling on the pan in front of him.

“‘Morning,” Tony rasped, slumped onto the chair at the breakfast bar and smiled sleepily and murmured a quiet thanks when Steve handed over his mug, then went on to frowning at it when he realized it wasn’t coffee. Steve couldn’t help but chuckle and said “It’ll feel good on your throat” as a way of explaining, then continued to ask, “How’re you feeling, sweetheart?”

Tony shrugged and sniffled into the cuff of his long-sleeved t-shirt, and Steve gave a sympathetic hum in reply.

“How did you know something’s up? I literally just woke up,” the brunette said and grimaced when he sipped at the tea, muttering something along the lines of disgusting flower-water.

“It’s not flower-water, Tony, it’s lemon,” Steve said with a roll of his eyes. “You were snoring,” he clarified, unable to keep the fondness from his tone.

“I don’t snore,” Tony defended grumpily.

“You do,” Steve retorted with a laugh. Tony huffed. “Especially when you’re sick. Thus, tea and pancakes.”

“You’re a heathen and a saint, and I don’t know how to feel about that.” Tony narrowed his eyes, forging a thoughtful expression.

“I think you love it,” Steve said charmingly and reached over the counter to place a stack of blueberry pancakes drowned in maple syrup in front of Tony, sweet and warm and perfect.

They chatted as they ate, Steve talking about the new recruits he was training at the compound, Tony grumbling about the press conference he had to attend later that day. When Tony’s nose visibly twitched and his eyes began to flutter shut, Steve reached to grab a few tissues from a box on the kitchen counter and handed them to Tony, who gratefully accepted them just as he drew in a desperate breath.

“h’uhh- hetCHISHhew! snff… hehSCHss!” Tony muffled the sneezes into the tissues and sighed stuffily.

“God bless you, baby… If you’re sick you should cancel. Tony,” Steve said earnestly, frowning concernedly when Tony rolled his eyes.

“It’s just a small cold,” Tony shrugged, “I’ve worked through worse things.”

Taking Tony’s hands in his, Steve rubbed Tony’s knuckles with his thumbs, then brought their combined hands to his lips as he plastered a myriad of soft pecks on the back of Tony’s hand.

“I know you have,” Steve said in between the kisses, “but the things is… you really shouldn’t have to. I want to take care of you.”

“It won’t take long,” Tony offered, his voice low and warm despite the slight rasp. “And then, later, I’ll let you fuss about me all you want, Doctor Rogers,” he added with a playful wink and a blinding smile, and how was Steve ever going to argue with Tony when looked like that; soft and sweet and drop-dead gorgeous.

“You play dirty, Mr Stark,” Steve sighed and shook his head, unable to keep the creeping smile from tugging at his lips.

——————————————

Steve was sat in front of the television in the common room, reading through various forms and applications, when he caught sight of Tony’s face in the large frame of moving pictures. He looked amazing, he always did, clad in a casual suit that fitted him faultlessly. It accentuated his body in all the right places, his shoulders, his waist, his butt… Steve caught his bottom lip between his teeth, and placed the piece of paper he was holding on the coffee table. Now that he was already distracted, he might as well watch his boyfriend outwit all the reporters.

Tony maneuvered his way through all question he was asked with ease; a trademark quip and an equally characteristic charming wink.

“Mr Stark! Rumor has it you and Captain America have separated. What’s your respond to this?”

Steve had seen the reporter before, multiple times, actually. Short, blonde, eyes so wide and piercing it made Steve a little uncomfortable looking at them. She worked for one of the tabloids, the one with all the celebrity gossip and that published an article about Iron Man and Captain America breaking up about every three months. The rumors were never true, of course, but Steve still felt a prickly feeling in his chest whenever he’d read what they’d written. Even just the headlines made his blood boil.

Tony Stark cheating on boyfriend Steve Rogers!

Trouble in Avengers Tower: Power-couple SPLITTING UP!

Iron Man leaving Captain America for personal assistant!

Tony had advised Steve not to read them — it never left him in a good mood and it was all a bunch of bullshit anyways. Steve couldn’t help it though and, as expected, he was furious at the fact that anyone dared calling his boyfriend a bedswerver. Tony just shrugged it off, I’ve gotten used to it, he’d say and laugh at Steve’s grumpy mutterings and adorable pout. The rumors didn’t matter, though, they both knew where they stood in terms of their relationship, both feet planted solidly, their names invisibly engraved deeply into each other’s chest. Which is why Steve barely even flinched when the reporter asked the question.

“Ugh, I wish. He’s such a distraction sometimes and never lets me work overtime. He’s all kinds of stubborn, though, so I doubt I can get rid of him that easily. And, he makes sure I’m alive, so I might just hang on to him until I get bored,” Tony said nonchalantly, but eyes twinkled and his tone was fond and left no doubt that they were still very much together.

Steve felt warmth rise to his cheeks and went back to reading the recruitment forms.

Every once in a while, he’d look up to catch a glimpse of Tony. If Steve hadn’t already known Tony was nursing a cold, he never would’ve guessed it. Tony was so good at switching between his public figure and the man underneath the armor, wether it was a three piece suit or his actual Iron Man amour. It made Steve sad, in a way, knowing Tony had so much experience pretending that it didn’t even bother him anymore. He loved Tony in every way, but he never hid the fact that his favorite Tony was the one who dressed in worn-out band t-shirts or Steve’s sweatshirts that were way too big on him. The one who sang and danced along to the overly loud music playing in the workshop and who didn’t care that he looked ridiculous doing so. The one who clung onto Steve like a koala bear when they were tangled up in bed, refusing to let go of him in his sleep-warm haze.

God, Steve really wanted that press conference to finish.

————————

It did finish, and not too long after, Steve heard the doors to the elevator open, revealing a tired and soft looking Tony.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Steve said as he got off the couch and walked to where Tony was taking off his jacket and kicking off his shoes. He started helplessly fumbling with his tie, but Steve quickly intervened. “Here, let me do that.”

Tony sighed thankfully, closing his eyes when Steve’s strong hands removed the fabric around his neck and sighed once more when Steve stroked his jaw with his thumb.

“You alright?” Steve asked softly and moved his hand closer to Tony’s face, tracing his index finger down the bridge of his nose. The gentle touch seemed to have an immediate effect as Tony’s nose twitched, and he drew back a couple of inches before turning away from Steve, crushing a fit of sneezes into his fist.

“hetCHISHhew! hetCHshh’oo!” Steve chuckled as Tony’s body shuddered slightly with each sneeze, and with a fond voice commented, “So sensitive when you’re sick.”

Tony managed to give him a disapproving glare before letting out a final sneeze.“huh’uhh… huhESChhh! snff! Ugh, sorry, excuse me.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Steve murmured, “you’ve probably been been holding those off all day, hm?”

Tony sniffled into his wrist and smiled wryly. “I guess so, yeah… didn’t really think of it, to be honest.”

“I truly don’t know how you do it.”

“Do what?”

“How you handle all those reporters, all those stupid questions. Especially when you’re this sick, babe.” Steve voice was a mixture of pure awe and deep concern.

Tony shrugged. “I guess I’ve gotten used to it. Stark men are made of iron and all that jazz. They’re just stupid reporters, anyways.”

Steve bit his lip, drawing Tony in close until he felt Tony’s stubble rub against his neck. “Yeah I- I know. It’s just… those articles, what they’re saying about you, it makes me so… so angry, and I-“

“Hey, no, none of that,” Tony interrupted. “I couldn’t care less about what those reporters say, hell, what anyone says about me. The only opinion I care about is yours.”

Steve sighed with a watery smile Tony couldn’t see. “I love you,” he said and leaned in to press a kiss to Tony’s forehead, which was warm, too warm, and frowned. “God, Tony, you’re burning up. You must be feeling awful.”

The cough Tony let out into Steve’s sweater confirmed that statement, but for good measure Tony said, “yeah, I think I need to lie down soon. I’m kinda tired and, uh, I-ihh, heh- huhETsch’oo! ehH’eschoo!”

“Bless you! How about you get ready for bed, and I’ll bring you soup and then some tea afterwa-“

“No! No tea,” Tony disrupted and winced just at the thought of it, “None of that yucky flower-water.”

Rolling his eyes, Steve let out a laugh and tried once again to explain that lemon tea wasn’t flower-water, and Tony just muttered tastes like flowers to me, but neither could bring themselves to discuss the matter any further.

“Okay, so no tea then. Soup, maybe some medicine, tissues, definitely, and— Tony, no.”

Steve’s expression went flat and stern when he looked down at Tony, who in return was looking up at the blonde with big, brown doe-eyes, pouting. “But Steeeve-“

“No, Tony, absolutely not!” Steve repeated. “No coffee, you’re sick and need to rest.”

Tony groaned dramatically. “Such a spoilsport. I guess you’ll have to compensate the lack of coffee with cuddles instead, then.”

“Cuddles instead of coffee?” Steve asked, raising an eyebrow in surprise when Tony nodded into his shoulder. “Now that is probably the best negotiation I could’ve hoped for.”

About thirty minutes later, the two of them were snuggled up in bed, an empty bowl on the nightstand, tissues scattered randomly across the bed, and some movie neither of them knew the name of was playing on the tv. Steve had him arm around Tony’s shoulder, feeling the heat from Tony’s cheek on his chest through his thin t-shirt. It wasn’t hard to tell the moment Tony drifted off to sleep, the way he cuddled even closer to Steve and his quiet, small snores were enough to tell Steve that he was finally resting.

[theonceoverthinker]

Wow...100 Fair Game HC’s...how do you PROPOSE we celebrate something like that?

Yup...it’s time, Fair Game Buddies.

You’ve waited patiently for it (By not knowing you were waiting for it, granted, but still, cookies for all of you), and now, here it is!

...

No, you’re not getting a Fair Game proposal.

Don’t be ridiculous!

...

...You’re getting two…

Surprise...

YES!

Look, there are many interpretations about how the Fair Game Proposal would work, and for good reason! There’s a crazy amount of variables concerning who would propose, what hijinks regarding their semblances would ensue, and who might be there to see it unfold!Basically, there’s a LOT to work with with these two and the art of proposing!

And for my 100th HC, it felt appropriate to give the limelight to both Qrow and Clover, since whoever was going to propose was inevitably going to get most of the focus in the HC, and I wanted a bit more balance. So I figured I’d give you a “choose your own proposal” surprise!!!

Okay! On with the show! Let’s get to it!

Everything is going under the cut because this is LONG! But hey -- your HC’s only turn 100 once, so go big or go home!!!

Clover’s Proposal

For Clover, the moment when he knew he wanted to propose to Qrow and the moment he realized he was in love with Qrow were one and the same. But part of being in love is knowing your partner, and while Clover was probably ready to marry Qrow from as far back as the moment they left Atlas together, he knows Qrow needs more time to parse out these kinds of feelings. It’s only when he gets a strong sense that Qrow’s ready for that big step does Clover start to prepare for it.

But that presents its own challenges.

Planning big events for Qrow is tough. Clover likes making a big show of things -- he wants to show the world that the things and people in his life give him pride and make him so happy. But Qrow has always been more introverted in that respect, and Clover’s always done his best to work with that. 

But this is his proposal -- one of those few once-in-a-lifetime events, and Clover can’t help but want to make a spectacle of things.

He goes to Ruby, Yang, and Tai on a solo trip in search of their blessing and after getting it (A topic for one of these for another day, perhaps), asks for their opinions on the best way to pop the question. During their conversation, Clover gets an idea, but it’s not from anything they say (GOD, is it not that -- “Ruby, I don’t think filling a pool with chocolate is a good idea”) -- but instead, it’s from them just being themselves.

Finally, he knows what will make this proposal special for both of them.

About a week later, Tai invites Qrow and Clover for a dinner party. It’s a regular occurrence in their lives, but it’s normally a small affair. Qrow doesn’t find out until they get there that more than just team RWBY, Zwei and Tai are in attendance as well as he and Clover are. No, it’s also team JNR, Oscar, Maria, Pietro (If he’s still alive), the Ace Ops (If they and Clover are still on good terms), Robyn, the Happy Huntresses, and Penny!

Clover looks to Qrow -- after all, he’s well aware that Qrow and big groups can be pretty hit-or-miss at times -- and asks if he’s okay with the unexpected crowd. 

But Qrow, looking about as relaxed as he ever has in his life, smiles back.

“Yeah, it’s family.”

Clover can tell that proposal or not, he’s a part of that population. 

He nearly drops on his knees to pop the question right there and then.

It’s only a sheer dedication to showmanship that keeps him on his feet as they enter. 

Dinner goes nicely as always, and afterwards, they all gather into the living room for a relaxing time. It’s so packed with people that Qrow and Clover share a cushion on the couch, utterly pressed into each other’s sides.

Suddenly, Ruby calls over Qrow’s attention.

“Catch!” she says, tossing a green coin bag into the air. 

Qrow and his nieces do that all the time -- tossing things casually to each other, and catching them just as casually. It’s pretty impressive how in sync they are with that -- though it’s pretty scary for Clover when he’s close to the hurled object.

But unlike all of the other times they’ve done this, Ruby’s throw doesn’t reach Qrow. Instead, it lands on Jaune’s lap, who is across the room from them.

Just out of Qrow’s line of sight, Clover smirks. 

The plan’s now underway.

“Your aim’s getting worse, kid,” Qrow teases, looking at his niece with all the cockiness in the world. “Looks like it’s all downhill from here for you.”

“That’s not funny, Uncle Qrow!” Ruby shouts at him.

Jaune then throws the bag to Qrow, but it goes just a bit over his head and lands in Blake’s hand instead. Blake then attempts to throw it over to Qrow, but it tumbles out of her hand just before she can throw it and lands in Maria’s hand. And from person to person, the bag makes its way to just about everyone in the room EXCEPT for Qrow. 

Clover can see Qrow looking at everyone, stupefied -- frustrated at first, but after the first six or so throws, only partially. By the time it’s passed ten people’s hands, Clover can tell his frustration has melted into curiosity.

Finally, Penny collects the bag and gives it a throw that makes it seem like it will land in Qrow’s grasp for sure, but just before it can, Clover hand gets in the way of Qrow’s own and grabs the bag for himself. 

“You too, Clover?”

Clover merely shrugs at him, and looks in the bag for himself. 

“Very nice,” he comments, innocently smiling. 

“What the hell is in there?” Qrow asks, more to anyone who will give him an answer rather than just Clover.

A smile -- one Clover himself can tell is probably not without the tiniest pinch of worry -- crosses his face, and finally, Clover slowly opens the bag, revealing the green velvet box hiding inside, and pops it open.

Qrow goes silent as he looks at the ring, and it’s at this moment that Clover knows he grabbed a real winner.

He looks back to Clover, and Clover can feel himself growing a little bit more worried and a lot more excited. Without taking his eyes off of Qrow, Clover pulls himself off the couch and lands on the floor on one knee.

“I was thinking about the best way to do this,” Clover explains. “We’re both so different, and I know you like more intimate moments, but I wanted this to make this as memorable as I can, and-”

Qrow chuckles, interrupting him. “Never thought I’d see the day where you started nervously rambling.”

Clover laughs. “Shut up!” he chastises, smiling and chuckling even as he says it. “Anyway, I realized that the best way to do that would be to have everyone close to us -- friends and family alike -- here to witness this. It felt like a good compromise between big, and intimate.”

“Clover, you’ve always been corny, but that is without a doubt THE corniest thing you’ve ever said.” 

With a smirk and a wink, Clover nudges Qrow’s knee. “Well, what can I say? You make me feel a little corny, so this is really your fault.”

Qrow mirrors Clover’s prior actions and nudges Clover’s arm. “Not a good idea to blame someone for something when you’re trying to get them to marry you.”

“Fair point,” Clover concedes.

“Can we get back to the proposal?!” Ruby calls out, causing everyone in the room -- Qrow and Clover included -- to laugh. 

Clover takes Qrow’s hand, holding it even more dearly than even the ring in his other.

“So what do you say, Qrow? Will you marry me?”

Qrow looks utterly speechless. Bits of tears well up in the corners of his eyes, though they don’t fall.

He takes a deep breath, and with a smile, finally speaks.

“Yes,” Qrow murmurs, passion seeping through the relative quietness of his words. Clover feels a weight in his chest he didn’t dare acknowledge before life above the wave of relief that hits him. Qrow pulls him up and onto his lap, catching him in a tight hug while everyone cheers.

As they exchange looks, words, hugs, and kisses of endearment, Clover knows without a doubt that this is an amazing start to what will absolutely be an amazing life together.

Qrow’s Proposal

Qrow has never been a sappy guy, but Clover has a way of birthing some sappiness in him. Nowhere is this more apparent in the moment that makes Qrow want to propose. When Clover surprises him with a night in watching movies and snuggling with takeout on Valentine’s Day after an afternoon spent fighting some of the most vicious Grimm he’s ever come across, Qrow knows that this life they share is all he wants for the rest of his stay on this mortal coil, and he can’t wait to let Clover know that, too.

He starts planning out his proposal immediately. Research is done about times of the year that historically have the best weather. Meaningful locales of their lives together are compiled and narrowed down until one remains. If there are living people in Clover’s life to ask for blessings, he does so (And in the most awkwardly adorable way possible, may I add). Secret day trips are taken to various locations to scope out their various qualities.

A ring is purchased.

And finally, Qrow comes up with exactly how he’s going to propose, and if it goes as planned, it’s going to make for one hell of a memorable experience.

It’s not rare for Qrow and Clover to visit Mantle these days. Robyn invites them out there from time to time to get together and for double dates with her and Fiona. Clover has other people he knows there as well, and also likes visiting Atlas to check on its post-war progress and leadership -- and that’s not even getting into all that Mantle’s rather diverse culinary scene has to offer. Because of that, it’s not out of left field for Qrow to suggest they visit Mantle together to go to some restaurant they’ve previously talked about trying -- after all, there are quite a few of those that they still haven’t gone to, and even without the company of their local friends, they can still enjoy a night out together. Naturally, Clover agrees, and a few days later, they’re walking Mantle’s streets to grab a bite to eat. 

Dinner is nice as always, and afterwards, Qrow suggests they go for a walk around the town. It’s late enough that most people have settled in for the evening, leaving the roads and sidewalks nice and empty, but not too late that Qrow needs to worry about Clover wanting to turn in ahead of schedule. So with shoulders leaning on each other, Qrow and Clover stroll Mantle’s quiet and comfortable streets.

There’s a lot of reminiscing done, and as usual, it’s mostly done by Clover. He always seems to have two or three new stories pop up in his memories about his life in Solitas every time they visit, and they’re always the right blend of entertaining, seemingly impossible, and totally plausible only for Clover Ebi. 

However, when they walk past Pietro’s laboratory, it’s Qrow who finally gets the chance to do some reminiscing. 

“Do you know where we are now?” Qrow asks, confident that Clover knows.

And as to not disappoint for even a second, Clover smiles at him, with the same knowing look in his eyes he’s had all night.

“This is where we met,” he says, answering a question he likely knows needs no answering in the first place.

Qrow separates from him and walks into the empty streets.

“Who’d have thought all that time ago that this is where we’d end up? After all, it wasn’t exactly love at first sight that first night.”

Clover approaches him, mock hurt all over his face, up to and including a hand to his mouth.

Drama king.

“Are you saying you didn’t fall for me the moment you saw me stand above your bound-up body?”

Qrow smirks. “What I’m saying is that that smirk of yours is an...acquired taste, to say the least.” He then snorts, backing up just a little bit more. 

“To be fair, it didn’t take THAT long afterwards for you to acquire it.” Clover winks. A wink like that when they first met would’ve turned Qrow into a blushing mess, but now, Qrow can not only take them, but give them back just as easily.

And so he does.

“You’re not wrong,” he says right afterwards. “But maybe I just needed to look at it from the right angle. In Mantle at night, you don’t always get the best lighting, especially when you have to stare up at him from the ground. It can make even the most handsome of guys look a little weird.” Qrow’s smirk deepens. He’s not sure of Clover’s realized this yet, but as he pulls his first surprise of the evening out of his pockets, he knows it doesn’t even matter. “But don’t take my word as gospel. You tell me.”

Clover has no time to prepare as the bolas hidden until  just now move from Qrow’s pocket to his hand and hurdle towards Clover’s ankles. Disbelief takes over Clover’s features, and gracelessly, he falls to the floor.

Despite the oddness of it all, everything is going exactly according to plan.

“So tell me, how do you like the view from down there?” Qrow asks.

From memory, Qrow recreates the moment their lives collided for the first time, stepping in just the same way that Clover did so long ago. Clover, clearly more than a little freaked out, looks up at him, just as he anticipated.

He smirks as he sees Clover try to piece together just what he’s doing, but remains calm with the knowledge that all will be revealed in just a few moments.

And finally, as to truly recreate the scene, in the place of the horseshoe Clover fiddled with during their original encounter, Qrow spins the loop of a small, red velvet coin bag casually around his finger. 

Well, he spins it until the bag falls OFF his finger and hits Clover square in the eye, that is.

“Ow!” Clover shouts!” Clover shouts, completely thrown off, as his hands rush to soothe his now pulsing eye. Qrow can’t exactly blame him, because now, so is he.

“I-I,” Qrow stammers, attempting to explain himself, but unable to come up with the words to do so. 

Why can’t his semblance just restrain itself for one night?

“Qrow, what the hell’s going on?” One of Clover’s hands pushes the bag that hit his eye out of the way, and just as it tumbles off of his face, the loosened bag releases its singular content -- a velvet red box. While the contents of that box remain hidden, it’s completely obvious to anyone with a brain.

And Clover Ebi definitely has a brain.

Well, it looks like the secret is out.

Both Qrow and Clover are suddenly bereft of speech for a moment as Qrow takes in the fact that his plan has all but collapsed in a matter of ten seconds, and Clover takes in the box’s mere existence. Clover looks from Qrow to the box, and back again.

“Qrow,” Clover says, apparently so frozen by shock that he can’t find it in himself to move, “is that-?”

“Yeah,” Qrow says, quickly and now very nervously. He sighs, massaging his eyelids with his fingers as that very sigh morphs into a groan. “God, these things can never just happen normally, can they?”

And then, Qrow hears the sound that takes all of his anxiety away -- Clover laughing. Qrow opens his eyes to confirm what his ears tell him. Clover, now smiling, shakes his head. “No, they can’t, but it would be boring if they did, wouldn’t it?”

Qrow allows a smile that’s bursting on his lips to bloom fully. 

“Well, we’re definitely not boring,” he concedes. Another awkward pause, albeit less so than moments ago, takes place. They both smile at each other and after a few beats, Clover -- still on the ground -- gestures with his eyes towards the ring.

“So, you gonna continue?” he asks excitedly.

“Y-yeah.” Qrow grabs the box from in front of Clover and gets down on one knee. “Clover, I-” He stops and takes a deep breath. “I think you know by now that my days are never normal. They never have been either, for better or worse. And for the longest time, I wished they would be. To be honest, don’t think I’ll ever know the definition of a normal day.” Qrow sighs once more, his smile deepening, as he opens the box to reveal his ring. “But I wouldn’t trade a chaotic day with you for all the normal days in the world without you. Clover-”

“Yes,” Clover responds, with not an ounce of fear in him.

Qrow smirks. “You gonna let me finish?”

Clover raises a hand to his mouth. “Sorry!” he squeaks. “Go on!”

“Clover, will you-”

“Yes,” Clover interrupts. 

“Clover!” Qrow shouts.

“Sorry!”

While Qrow loves Clover’s enthusiasm, he doesn’t allow that to happen a third time.

“Clover, will you marry me?” he rushes out of his mouth, breathing as if he’d just run a marathon when he’s finally finished.

And of course, only now does Clover pause for a second.

“Yes,” he says when that second is over, warmly and with so much meaning packed into the tiny word.

Qrow takes Clover into his arms, lifting him up so they can kiss. When the kiss finally breaks, Clover tries to get up, but both he and Qrow are reminded of the bolas Qrow threw on him earlier. With the biggest grin he swear he’s ever sported, Qrow frees Clover out of them and pulls Clover close as he at last rises.

Life will never be normal for Qrow -- Qrow knows that well after the years he’s already spent in this world -- but as long as he has Clover by his side, he knows that the chaos life throws at him will be worth living with.

And now with his ring on Clover’s finger, he can hardly wait to make that future a reality.

Guys, thank you so much for following me across these 100 HC’s! It has been nothing short of a pleasure to take this trip alongside you all, and I hope you’ll stay with me for as long as I make these!!!

Tagging @homokinetic @skybird13 @whipped4qrow @mooksie01 @luck-of-the-caw @xwildangel @solitude-of-stars @magneto-is-neato @o0nashipear0o @unfairgamey @doctorrwby @clover-and-co @megan-atthedisco @wash-my-brain @bisexualdisasterqrow @baelonthebrave @doubledexterity @rwby-things-i-guess @atlas-heartthrob @the-answer-was-bi-klance @compoterie @thuskindlyiboop @oceansquid @transdemion @deltastream21 @mimiori @xya-hunter @delta-altair @genderfluidturtle @roman-torchtwink @subatomictealeaves @drbtinglecannon

Want to be tagged in future Fair Game HC’s? Of course, you do! So send me a reply, PM, or ask to be added, and I’ll grant your greatest wish! XD

[moirai-au]

Timeline: arc 6 - Aftermath, about a week after the Orator is defeated

Warnings: shippy, Davil, vague mentions of alcoholism and self-harm

Taglist: @immabethehero @bupine​ @tabbynerdicat @i-maybe-exist @its-ethan-bro @sandinthetardis @honestlyitsjustkenna @taikeero-lecoredier @idkwheresanti

if any of yall (18+ only for the love of god please) wanna see the ns*w version, it’s over here.

“And you still won’t tell me where we’re going, or what we’re even doing.”

“Nope! That’s the whole concept of a surprise, babe.”

Cecil pursed his lips, unamused. He closed the book he’d been finishing just a moment prior and set it aside, on the growing pile of useless volumes right next to the desk. It wasn’t as big or as comfortable as the one in his own apartment, but it made do. “You do know I still have three other idiots to take care of here, right?”

“They’ll be fine, trust me. Charlie can take care of himself, Mars barely does anything but sleep for now, and Ollie’s watching over him. You can leave for a few hours without the mansion burning to the ground, you know.”

Cecil raised a brow. “...Were you even here for the last month and a half?”

“Painfully present, yeah,” Dave chuckled. “Remember the smell of the oven melting? I still don’t understand how the kid pulled that one off.”

The older man groaned. “For someone who wanted to reassure me, you’re not doing a very good job of it.”

“Oh c’mon! It’s gonna be okay, I’m sure of it. Besides, you really need a break.”

“I do not!” Cecil protested, distractedly scratching at his appearing stubble. Dave peered up at him with a deadpan look, considering his wrinkled clothes, his emaciated face and the dark rings under his eyes. “...Really? You know what, it doesn’t matter,” he shook his head, his blue eyes hardening. “This is me putting my foot down, not a negotiation. I’m not gonna sit here and let you run yourself into the ground like this. You’re coming with me, and that’s final.”

 The doctor stared at the younger man, taken aback- he’d never heard him use this tone before. it was firm, confident, and evidently left no room for complaint. “...Fine.” he heard himself say before he even realized it. Verdammt. Maybe he was more tired than he thought, giving in that easily.

Or maybe Dave just had this natural sense of authority Cecil had never seen before, because he’d never actually needed it. It actually made sense, considering he was a father.

Thinking about it now, it was obvious. Cecil could’ve hit himself.

“Great!” David beamed, his previous sternness gone as fast as it had arrived. “Just lemme grab a few things first, and pack warm clothes. I’ll get my car.”

“I- your car?” the doctor repeated, his confusion growing- just how far was Dave planning to take them? The smaller male only winked in response, an impish grin on his tanned face. “You’ll see.”

 ***

 It was an abnormally warm night for mid-december.

Well, warm as in… not freezing. Enough above zero that you could stand outside comfortably with a thick enough sweater kinda warm. When-even-are-seasons-anymore-climate-change-is gonna-kill-us-all kinda warm.

“I don’t get it.” Cecil mumbled as they exited the car, making a valiant effort to tone down his annoyance. “Why have you brought us here?” There truly was nothing here, other than miles and miles of rolling hills, some train tracks a few yards away, and a forest somewhere East.

Dave didn’t respond- he just smiled up at him, a hand holding the strap of the backpack he’d brought along. A giddy smile that made Cecil’s stomach flutter a little. Then he silently pointed upward, looking at him expectantly.

Cecil frowned, nonplussed, reflexively following the other’s movement; what was he-

What… was…

 He was looking up. Up, up into the endless sky. And he kept on looking, jaw growing slack, arms falling to his sides.

Because there was just so many stars so many stars more than he’d ever seen in his entire life, it was like he was ten all over again looking up through the window and babbling about rocket ships and aliens and how he was going to see it all one day-

 “You okay in there, hot stuff?”

Cecil snapped out of his stupor, looking down to see David smirking smugly at him- he was holding a thermos in each of his hands, and there was a blanket laid on the grass, big enough for the two of them. So that’s what he’d packed in his bag. “How-” he cleared his throat, “How did you…”

Dave only winked, tapping a finger against his temple. “...Oh.” the doctor realized. Right. They’d all been in each other’s heads.

“It’s mostly faded by now,” Dave shrugged, setting the warm containers on a corner of the blanket, “Those are your memories, and nobody should snoop through them… but that one stuck with me. And I- I really wanted to surprise you, y’know?”

Cecil nodded, not the slightest trace of anger or annoyance on his features. He just looked up again, silent, pale moonlight lighting up his milky white skin.

Then he looked back at him and Dave was pretty sure he was going to die on the spot.

 Cecil was smiling. Not the cocky, arrogant smirk he sometimes wore. Nor the small, timid one he managed to draw out of him once in a blue moon.

An actual, genuinely happy smile that went up to his grey, dark-rimmed eyes, crinkled up and sparkling with joy. Oh, fuck me, he thought.

 Could one fall for the same person twice?

 “Thank you,” Cecil breathed out, his voice uncharacteristically unsteady. “I… You… I’m sorry. For- for getting annoyed, I know I shouldn’t, you don’t- you deserve better.”

Ah, shit. This tall motherfucker was actually going to make him cry at this rate. “Shit man,” Dave choked, stepping closer to Cecil. “Just- c’m’here.”

He wrapped his arms around the taller man’s middle and pulled him close, tilting his head up to welcome the German’s lips on his own, the older man’s slender hands settling on both sides of his face. The kiss was slow, tender, yet filled with latent intensity and passion. They somehow ended up on the blanket, sitting ever-so close and filling the chilly air with wanton sighs and hums, carried away by the cold breeze.

 They eventually pulled back, catching their breath- they were both flushed, eyes slightly glazed over, as they looked at each other with gentle devotion. “I must say…” the doctor murmured, still a bit lightheaded, “This is… quite the break.”

Dave chuckled fondly, before pecking playfully at his lover’s forehead. “Told you you needed it. You’re running yourself ragged Ceec, no wonder you’re on edge.”

“Still, I shouldn’t keep taking out my frustration on you. It’s not right.”

Dave hummed. “Yeah, I know. But you’ve gotten better at it, really. Just gotta keep going forward, yeah?” He tucked a strand of greying hair behind Cecil’s left ear. “ ‘sides, you know I won’t just stand there and take it if you really start to be an ass.”

Cecil snorted. “So I’ve seen. You’d probably snap me in two.”

“Damn right I could! Look at that scrawny ass, I could kick it into the sun.”

“Mmh, I don’t think so. You like it too much, as you keep telling me.”

“Aw shit, he figured it out,” Dave fake-whispered, before they both broke out into laughter. “Oh, also,” he gasped when the hilarity subsided, “this isn’t just a break. S’also a celebration!”

“A celebration?”

 Dave smiled, holding out a thermos to the older man. He looked proud of himself. “Happy one month clean, handsome.”

It took him a few seconds to understand, but when he did, he reflexively rubbed at his arm, feeling his face warm up significantly as he accepted the offering, taking a sip. Mmh, black coffee, no cream and no sugar. Just how he liked it. “Ah… yes, thank you.”

“And I’m almost three months sober!” the father cheered, wrapping an arm around his partner’s neck to pull him closer. “Man, look at us. We’re doing amazing, sweetie.”

Cecil chuckled, a little smile gracing his lips as he looked up at the inky skies above. “I… guess we are.”

 They laid down next to each other, their shoulders bumping together as they huddled under the extra blanket Dave had brought along. Alone, together on that grassy hill more than an hour away from the city, they tried to find as many constellations as they could while Cecil offered trivia and anecdotes on each of them, like the Earth’s sky map had been burned into his brain at a young age. 

But then again, with the doctor’s photographic memory, it might’ve just been.

 Ursa Major. Altair. Alpha Centauri. Supernovas. Nebulae. His eyes shone with almost feverish enthusiasm as he talked, making him look so much younger, so alive, as Dave listened with rapt attention.

Then, as the older man was going over the specifics of the supermassive black whole at the center of the Milky Way, Dave rolled them over, coming to a stop to stand on all fours above Cecil, smiling lovingly.

The German stopped rambling and blinked up at him- with his hair uncovered and framing his face in auburn curls, his deep blue eyes crinkled up in amusement, and the myriad of stars surrounding him, David looked like he belonged in a Van Gogh painting. Beautiful. Almost ethereal, yet so real, so… tangible. Oh how he wanted to frame the moment so he could keep it forever.

He gulped. Ba-dum. Ba-dum. Before he could stop himself, his finger mindlessly started to trace invisible lines between Dave’s freckles, drawing a surprised giggle from the man. 

 His very own milky way. Full of constellations for him alone to name. All within his reach.

 “Shouldn’t you look up? The stars are up there.” he mumbled, thoughts not quite straight. Dave laughed, clear and deep. “Don’t need to. I can see them in your eyes. That’s more than enough for me.”

Silence. Cecil huffed. “That was the corniest thing you’ve said yet.”

“C’mon, you know you like it. You’re blushing.”

“Shut up and kiss me again, you dumm.”

 Dave happily complied.

***

It would be dawn soon. As they stared at the endless space above them- mostly void, partially stars- sipping hot tea and coffee from their respective thermoses, huddled together under a thick woolen blanket to shield themselves from the chilliness of that winter night… they felt like they’d brushed with eternity.

“Hey.” Dave whispered, breaking the comfortable silence.

A quiet hum of acknowledgement.

“Do you.. regret not going? Up there.”

“Mmh. F’course, a little still. T’was my dream.” the German mumbled, words slurring together. Right. Of course he did, dumb question. “But…”

The father blinked. “But…?”

“Wouldn’t have met… Mars. ‘liver.” A pause, an intake of breath. “Met you.”

 Dave bit his lip, his heart thumping loudly in his chest. Ba-dump. Ba-dump. He wiped at the wetness at the corner of his eyes, smiling so hard it almost hurt. “Y-Yeah. I guess so.” He squeezed his lover’s hand underneath the blanket. “Ceec…?”

 A quiet, soft snore was his only reply. Dave chuckled quietly and turned his head- Cecil was out like a light, lips slightly parted, his usually sharp features smoothed over and relaxed.

The smaller man gently reached out to cup the other’s sleeping face, his thumb slowly stroking over his cheekbone- just watching. This wasn’t a sight he was graced with often; they might have been sharing a bed for a few weeks now, but the doctor always went to sleep later than he did, and always got up before him, by the pale light of dawn… that is, when he even bothered to sleep at all.

That was the main reason why he’d dragged his partner out on this little trip- Cecil had been working himself to the bone again, going over piles and piles of old books in search for an explanation, for any information on Mars’ abilities and his newfound… condition. To no avail so far, which was driving the older man even more frantic. Between this, trying to cater to everyone’s physical and mental wellness, and the logistical nightmare that was the latest addition to their little group- an honest-to-god time-traveler… well, he looked like the slightest breeze would knock him over.

In short, he’d been in need of a break. Badly. Preferably the kind that would knock some sense into that big brain of his. Since they both had gotten together, Dave had been trying to get Cecil to take better care of himself, to stop skipping meals, to finally sleep a decent amount each night… hell, he’d started to see some actual progress before Mars was kidnapped and everything had gone to shit. 

He couldn’t let his efforts go to waste, especially not now. Not in such a delicate time, when they were all still recovering. And now, looking at Cecil, sleeping deeply and peacefully for the first time since the kid had disappeared almost a month ago… Dave was glad he hadn’t given up.

 And that he’d filled that thermos with decaf, but Ceec didn’t need to know that.

 Dave sighed contentedly as he snuggled closer to the other, burying his face in his chest and drawing the blanket higher over them both, letting himself be lulled into a comfortable drowsiness. Their backs would probably be sore from sleeping on the hard ground... but that was a problem for future them.

[massaquerade]

@leffjynne thanks for tagging me!

rules: answer 10 questions, tag 10 people and make another 10 questions.

1. How do you feel about sweaters?

Yes, yes, and did I say yes? I love sweaters so much!

2. What's a movie you find yourself watching often?

Mamma Mia, Phantom of the Opera, and Howls Moving Castle.

3. What's your favourite image on your phone and why?

This is my favorite photo in all of existence, it really makes me happy to just see some tough ladies fighting on a rooftop.

4. List the top 3 songs you never get tired of.

heehhhhhh you’re really gonna make me choose? Viva La Vida by coldplay, Tarzan Boy by Baltimora, and Heat of the Moment by Asia.

5. Are you a generally clean person?

I can not confirm nor deny the accusations of me being a messy bitch.

6. Biggest pet peeve?

Unfortunately I do not have a pet named peeve, sorry.

7. When was the last time you hung out with a friend?

Last night, may have been with the person who tagged me. It’s fineeeee.

8. Have you ever had a pet that wasn't a cat or dog? If so, what was it?

I had a squirrel! His name was Lucky and he was adorable!

9. Using a common object, how would you describe your favourite colour? (i.e. the blue of your baby blanket or the white of your mom's flowers)

The green of the fresh grass and trees in the beginning of summer, the day after a storm.

10. When it comes to shading in a drawing, do you like the look of stippling, hatching, or cross hatching more?

I am a slut for stippling, it’s really beautiful and can make a work of art really come alive. Plus with all of the time it takes to do, it’s just really beautiful.

Okay so I have some questions for the people I will tag and for anyone else that feels like doing this!

1. What is your guilty pleasure (this can be music related, tv related, book related, a fandom, or whatever)?

2. What is your biggest goal right now?

3. What was the last dream you had about?

4. What type of weather do you enjoy most of all?

5. If you had to draw something right now, what would it be?

6. What song helps you feel better on a rough day?

7. What’s your corniest joke?

8. What’s your love language?

9. What’s your learning style?

10. Is there anyone on tumblr that you would like to get to know better?

Okay I have to tag people, and I don’t know a lot of people that well so I’m gonna tag some people I think are neat! @devil-die @savsballs @hysteria--when--youre--near if y’all don’t want to do this that’s fine and if I didn’t tag someone that does want to do this, then absolutely go for it :)

[wonderfulworldofmichaelford]

Psycho Analysis: Freddy Krueger (2010 remake)

(WARNING! This analysis contains SPOILERS!)

Remakes hardly ever fare well, especially not remakes of horror films. Part of the problem is that constant attempts to modernize and redo horror films of old merely leads to retreading what we once found scary with less innovation and thought put into it. Arguably, the remake of A Nightmare on Elm Street falls prey to this, but it does have some redemptive value to it… namely in its completely and utterly terrifying portrayal of Freddy Krueger.

Actor: Jackie Earle Haley may be one of the single most terrifying actors on the planet, and I love him for it. That nightmarish, gravelly voice of his is just perfect for playing sinister villains, and it really suits the more monstrous, predatory Freddy he plays here well. If nothing else, his performance will certainly make you consider bringing your brown pants.

Motivation/Goals: This Freddy is a vengeful child molester, picking off the children who snitched on him for raping them. Nancy, our protagonist, was his favorite while alive, and boy does he make it clear she’s still his favorite. In a lot of ways, this is far more disturbing and even realistic than the original child killer Freddy, though I’m not sure that this better. The pedophilia angle was always a disturbing subtext of the original, something you could pick up on or choose to ignore. Here, though, it’s in your face and unavoidable, and I think it makes things a lot more uncomfortable, for better and for worse.

Personality: This Freddy takes things back to basics: he is not the cackling, murderous goofball he became on the later installments of the Englund franchise, instead returning to the terrifying murderer with a sick sense of humor he was in the original film. He does lack a bit of subtlety and depth compared to Englund’s performance, but he makes up for it by being utterly terrifying.

Final Fate: As was the case in the original, Freddy was defeated… or is he? He jumps out for one last really lame scare at the last second, casting ambiguity on the ending of the film and making you wonder if he was actually beaten or if it was all just a dream. Sadly, we’re not likely to get any sort of followup like we did with the original film.

Best Scene: The scene where we get to see Freddy burned alive in a flashback, because it is utterly horrifying and because Haley is really going full throttle with his performance. It’s a scene that almost makes you wonder if Freddy was innocent, which the movie does offer up for a while… too bad they squander that interesting concept. Ah well, still a great scene.

Best Quote: During the scene where Freddy makes Nancy fall into a hallway of blood, he quips: "How's this for a wet dream?" While I prefer his scarier quotes, I kind of enjoy they still managed to get this Freddy to say a quip worthy of Englund’s Freddy at his corniest. It shows they weren’t totally trying to stray away from the roots of the franchise even as they ramped up the darkness.

Final Thoughts & Score: Haley’s Freddy is a great villain in need of a better film. Most of the failings I can attribute to Freddy are a result of the script being more concerned with retreading old ideas than trying to make this new Freddy genuinely interesting in his own right compared to the original. This film could have played up the angle that perhaps this Freddy was actually innocent and was the victim of vigilante justice, and was now punishing those who mistakenly punished him from beyond the grave… and in fact, for a little while, they actually do play this up! But it’s quickly tossed aside and yes, he’s a pedophile, as the original was hinted to be but never outright stated. It’s a bit blunt and kind of removes any ambiguity the plot could have had, and it really is a sad what could have been; they were on to something here that could have made this a truly incredible reinterpretation.

Still, it’s hard to be too mad at what could have been when they actually managed to do one major thing right: they made Freddy scary again. As good as Englund was, by his final movie in the original Elm Street canon that wasn’t his crossover throwdown with Jason he was basically a cackling clown of a man, a regular joker. This movie makes Freddy an undeniably terrifying force of evil yet again, keeping him in the shadows and dialing the humor way back.

Ultimately, Jackie Earle Haley was always going to be in Robert Englund’s shadow, but I still think he deserves a solid 6/10. He really took the role seriously and managed to inject the horror back into one of the most iconic slashers of all time, and while he didn’t exactly make the movie rise above anything more than being a somewhat superfluous but mostly okay film, he was almost certainly the best part about it. I just wish the writing backed up his performance more instead of his performance managing to be good despite some really weak writing.

At any rate, this was one hell of an audition for Ruvik.

[princessstarkid]

some sergio/dma headcanons because,,,i read a fic and it made me ship them

DMA and Owen are separate characters for like all these headcanons

Sergio and his wife get a divorce and she takes their kids

He ends up completely gushing about it and over sharing to DMA

“Do I look like I care, love?”

The nickname makes Sergio completely melt immediately. “No.”

“Yeah, yeah. But for some reason I actually do. Keep talking.”

Sergio keeps venting about it and for some reason he’s really touched that DMA cares about him.

The vent ends with, “-and I’m not as sad as I should be. I’m worried about my kids but I could give a shit less about my wife.”

Knowing DMA he was probably fuckin sharpening knives the entire conversation or something. He whatever he’s doing he stops and actually looks at Sergio.

“Why the hell not?”

Sergio immediately tenses up and just shrugs, acting like he has no idea what’s up.

DMA doesn’t even try to hide his beaming smile. It’s not the crooked, strangely offputting smile it usually is. It’s looks like a genuine one.

They’ve been ‘doing business together’ for a while, which is what they say instead of facing the fact that they’re literally best friends.

DMA ‘accidentally’ brushes his hand against Sergio, who flinches away almost automatically.

“You’d think after all this time you wouldn’t be scared of me.”

“I’m not!”

DMA raises an eyebrow at him.

Little does Sergio know DMA’s hella gay and hella into him and has been since the first time they met.

DMA keeps doing small things to flirt with him as they keep talking. More touching and he sits a lot closer. He even just outright whispers ‘your hair looks so fucking good today’ in his ear. Sergio just smiled and said ‘thanks’ way too quietly. His face was red the entire time.

That went on for like an hour.

DMA just can’t stand it anymore and gently cups Sergio’s cheek, turning his face to him.

“Why don’t you miss your wife?”

Sergio snaps and kissed him. It doesn’t take long for them to be all over each other and for there to be more grabbing and such.

Once they pull away from the kiss, DMA smiles in a way Sergio’s never seen before and it warms his heart.

“You’re a bastard. Should’ve done that sooner.”

Sergio hugs him tighter. “I had a wife!”

“And I’m a hitman.”

“I’m not letting you kill my ex-wife.”

Sergio knows he’s the only person who could tell the Deadliest Man Alive what he’s ‘not letting him’ do.

“You...are so fucking lucky I fell for you, no one else can talk to me that way, love.” DMA responded, not knowing he read Sergio’s mind there.

They just kiss more after that and it turns out DMA’s sort of a huge sap who doesn’t want to take it any further until it ‘feels right.’

Sergio teases him about it.

“Feel special, prick. Anyone else’s clothes would already be on the floor.”

“Aww, got a crush on me?”

“Fuck you.” But he’s smiling when he says it.

They just sleep in the same bed and Sergio feels like the most lucky guy in the world to have DMA’s arms around him.

It was still weird to wrap his head around the fact that he was...sort of the boyfriend of the literal Deadliest Man Alive.

When they woke up, Sergio kissed his forehead and made DMA smile and get even closer to him.

“I know you won’t tell anyone about us but you better not tell anyone-“

“That you’re one sappy motherfucker?”

DMA just paused and kissed him. “Oh the things I would do if I didn’t love you so much.”

If Sergio didn’t miss his wife before, he REALLY didn’t now.

As the relationship went on, Sergio heard DMA say ‘I love you’ more times than he ever expected.

Maybe he was the Deadliest Man Alive, but he was also the corniest, most sappy, and quite unexpectedly snuggly man alive too.

also DMA’s a total power bottom like literally fight me

[the-end-of-art]

Nobody in love is original

Christian Wiman wrote this gorgeous remembrance for poet Craig Arnold that is full of everything "the necessary but destabilizing intensities of poetry, and the life that one risks by cultivating those intensities, and the life that—in some cases, our cases, we both felt—poetry also rescues." I don't know about you, but in college I was trained to separate the poet from the poem, and while I think a poem needs to stand on its own without needing the context of a poet's biography to fill it with anything it's lacking, but in the last few years I have wanted so much for poetry to connect and reconcile me to other people, places, and things - and not least the people who write poems, inasmuch as we can ever know another person, or at least for as much as we can know them through an experience of their words. 

I truly believe that books find you exactly when you need them, and I just want to tell of the happy journey that led me to this at exactly the right time: years ago someone loaned me Carl Adamschick’s Saint Friend, still one of my all-time favorite poetry books. It was published by the McSweeney’s poetry imprint, and some months later, at random in the library, I saw another McSweeney’s book, and while I was really put off by the title, Love: An Index, which made me think it was going to be a book of poems built around a conceit, a trick, on the strength of the many good McSweeney’s poetry books I’d read, I borrowed it, and devoured it. There was definitely a central operating principle - sections began with A, B, C through Z - but I remember many moments in that book as rising above it to be really good, and I was moved that Rebecca Lindenberg had written it in memory of a partner who had died suddenly and unexpectedly in an accident. About three years later, @waitingforthecat liked one of my posts and I was intrigued enough by that handle to look up their tumblr, which wow is full of stuff I really love, and when I read the poem Bird-Understander I got that I-must-read-everything-by-this-poet-immediately feeling, and it turns out to be by Craig Arnold (and the beloved in Bird-Understander could well be Rebecca Lindenberg - and even if it isn’t literally, autobiographically, everything we write comes from who we are, and the people who make us who we are).

From an interview with Jeremy Richards, “How to Write Love Poems”:

What’s the most pressing challenge in approaching a love poem? Craig Arnold: For a poet at the beginning of the 21st century, I think the most difficult thing is how to navigate this brave new world, where we’re in the midst of making up our collective mind about what it means to be men and women. In the Western tradition most love poems have assumed a male poet writing to or about a female object, who can accept or refuse the offering but who doesn’t otherwise say much, and the formal conventions of poetry have crystallized around that assumption. There are those wonderful Provençal troubadour poems that imagine the poem as a dialogue, a back-and-forth between two mutually desiring individuals, but those are among the few exceptions. Now when we sit down to write poems to our lovers—or to the people we hope will be our lovers—we’re more likely to be thinking: What am I responding to? How do I hope this person will respond? How is this part of an ongoing conversation? With “Bird-Understander” I wanted to say not, as an Elizabethan courtly sonneteer might have said, “Look, I made your words into poetry, aren’t I fabulous?” but rather “Listen, what you said to me, it’s already poetry, better than anything I could write, and it would make me happy simply to have you see that.” Where do you think most bad love poems go astray? Any love poem has to strike a careful balance between the particular and the common. As a lover you feel as though you and your beloved are the most intensely particular people in the world—“Never again a love like this,” as Roddy Lumdsen says. But the fact is that you’re submitting yourself to what is possibly the most common or universal human experience, and that sometimes the most direct and most accurate expression of that experience may, in fact, be the language of cliché. I’m thinking about the duet that Ewan McGregor and Nicole Kidman sing on the rooftop in Moulin Rouge, which is just a pastiche of trashy pop songs, and in some way that’s what all love poetry is leaning toward. But when you think about [it], what is a cliché, if not a poem that won? We feel that so many love poems are bad, or clichéd, but I suspect that what we dislike about them are not the clichés, but the experience of being in love itself. As poets we like to think that we’re original, and it embarrasses us to remember how utterly unoriginal we can be—the sudden appeal of the corniest things, the mood swings, the crying at movies and the like. Let’s face it, nobody in love is original. We all feel and do pretty much the same things, make fools of ourselves in the same ways, and hopefully come through it alive and well and happily in bed with someone else. But that’s also precisely the appeal of love poetry, the intensely humbling nature of the experience it tries to describe. As a younger poet, did you ever fumble with the bad, saccharine attempts at love poems that most of us write? What can we learn from those fumbles? It’s hard to say. I came into my writerly existence in the 1980s, the Decade of Irony, when it was very uncool to express any sort of strong feeling directly or plainly. If you wanted to be taken seriously as a writer, you learned to police yourself for any signs of sincerity, to cloak them in irony and diffidence and perhaps a certain obscurity. A while ago, my first lover sent me a copy of a poem I wrote when I was maybe 19, and what strikes me about it now is, though I clearly meant it as a gesture of love, I didn’t frame it as such. Rather than I addressing you, it was all in the third person, a sketch of a character from a noir novel, a sort of Philip Marlowe–like individual smoking underneath a window. It was a stealth love poem, a meta–love poem, a sort of “I have this friend who’s in love with you” kind of poem. The habit of indirection was already very strong in me, as it was with other poets of that era. So I think the danger then was actually not being too saccharine, but rather of being too cool, too frigid. Now the danger is probably being too caffeinated—I’m thinking of the maniacally antic poems of the New New New York School, whatever generation of that we’re on now. So one can fumble by being too cool, and one can fumble by burying the truth of one’s feeling under a heap of jagged and jarring images. I think Creeley, of all people, was able to hit the right note, plain and plaintive and wistful and awkward—what he brings out is the awful hesitancy of that moment where you’re holding out this little offering to somebody else and hoping to hear Yes I said yes I will yes. And what you’re risking is a certain kind of sentimentality. But for my money, I think it’s better to risk the sentimental and fail, than aim for frigidity and succeed.

So now I’m going to read Robert Creeley. I am so grateful to have poetry in my life.

(https://www.poetryfoundation.org/articles/69223/how-to-write-love-poems)

[joeys-piano]

2, 15, and 17 for the writer meta asks!

2. Tell us about what you’re most looking forward to writing – in your current project, or a future project.

My Dead Dove: Do Not Eat project combines my love of food, sharing experiences, learning and re-learning who you are and who you want to be, and how the hardest things in our lives involve trusting someone with a secret -- with a part of you you've wanted to rip, but someone looks at it and knows the trouble they're getting into when they accept that part as being you and help you find closure from whatever that is.

I've missed writing for monsters, so this will satisfy that itch.

I also have a smut that'll be featured in a semi-public space, revolved around dirty dancing and how being unabashedly yourself is the sexiest thing on the planet. So. That's going to be fun. Because I'm going to be writing some of the corniest dance descriptions that will slap you with how bad this character is dancing, but he's having so much fun that it makes his boyfriend feel like the luckiest man alive.

Like, "Yeah, he can't dance. And I'm the lucky man who gets to teach him all night long" sort of thing.

15. Which is harder: titles or summaries (or tags)?

Tags are the easiest part of the writing process. They don't require too much thought. It's like a very quick, sparknotes summary of what you're doing and the vibes.

Summaries aren't easy, can be really challenging, but I feel they're manageable and they challenge me in a good way. Because AO3 accepts 1250 characters in their summary box, I do my damndest to get close to that limit as possible. Because it's free real estate and I want to distill what the vibes are to my work in a fun way that tells you if my writing style is for you or not. I'm not the best summary writer, but I feel like it's my specialty. There's a distinct way I do it that let's you know this is a Joey work.

Titles are hard. I'm always changing them. I never know what it'll actually be until it's minutes before I'm posting.

17. Do you think readers perceive your work - or you - differently to you? What do you think would surprise your readers about your writing or your motivations?

It's art. It's bound to happen, whether it's voiced or not. It's why I like incorporating my perspective/experience of what it was like writing the work and how I felt about it into the author's notes. It provides something so others can see where I'm coming from and how that compares/contrast with what the reader experienced.

For myself? I think readers perceive me as being more confident, more approachable, and nicer than I really am.

I don't shy away when something was hard to write, or if I struggled or felt "meh" about something I made. I think it's a fun thing to include in the ending author's notes because it gives light that not everything was made in sunshine and rainbows and that art's got a powerful force to it that helps you through tough times and can challenge you to be a better person than you were before.

I think what would surprise anybody about the way I write, or what I write in general, is that I'm experimenting and writing the things that people in the past have told me I could never do, or wasn't good enough, or told me I should stick to my lane because it's clear I'm not meant to write certain things. It's why I'm so vocal about experimenting with your craft, trying new things, and not letting yourself remain complacent.

It's the biggest "fuck you" I could give to those naysayers because by failing, experimenting, and learning the rules and how to break them so they work for what I want to do has made me a stronger writer and even an interesting writer sometimes. Because you never know what I'm going to do next, it keeps you on your toes.

Writing Meta Ask