#The mashup nobody asked for

[iseutz]

Nobody

Nobody ever:

Jayce Taliesin

Goodnight.

[timelesslords]

How about the "princes" in the Cinderella Story movies?

Or the new Cinderella w Camila Cabello 👀

Listen. This is going to be a bad take. A terrible take. A possibly unforgivable take.

But I liked girlboss cinderella, okay. Do I think it fundamentally missed the point of the story of cinderella? Yes. Did I think it was fun and camp and silly and made me laugh and gave me the warm feeling in my chest that a good cinderella movie does? Also yes.

I love royalty and vaguely medieval settings and marriage plots and it had all of that!!!! Yes the fashion was absolutely hideous and the casting was terrible and the music was bad but I had a good time!!! Alright!!!! And maybe I still listen to the mashup of seven nation army and whatta man on occasion!!!!!

For the record I 🏴‍☠️ it bc I’m not out here supporting c*milla or Amazon but fuck it I like it okay

I enjoy the cinderella stories very much though 😌 good soup

[mellybaggins]

cHicKeN cHaSInG!

THE X-FILES (1993-2018) | S02E24 ‘Our Town’

[mellosdrawings]

Aight, the Yuusona is done and posted, now my Pomefiore Oc!

Hayeli Callem

17 years old, 2nd year

Pomefiore, based on the Evil Queen's mirror

Originally from a border of the Scalding Sands

He/him

Signature Spell : Kaleidoscope Divine

-allows Hayeli to reproduce any kind of magic (even other Signature Spells) for a maximum of 15 seconds

-the stronger the magic, the shorter the time

-for other Signature Spells, Hayeli must have already seen said SS used in full without interruption

-for other Signature Spells, the original user must be in Hayeli's field of view

-Example: Hayeli can use Riddle's Off With Your Heads for about 10 seconds while Riddle is around, before the collar gets dismissed entirely.

-so far Hayeli has only ever managed to use Kaleidoscope Divine on others' Signature Spells on 5 different occasions only (one of which being Riddle's Off With Your Heads)

-Hayeli usually only uses it to copy regular spells he hasn't yet mastered, or to confuse his opponents long enough for him to run away

-Hayeli thinks his Signature Spell is useless because it has too many strict requirements

Originality? Don’t know him.

If you ask him, Hayeli will say he was probably cursed as a child, because he is simply unable to do anything on his own without having seen someone else doing it first. He always needs to copy others to achieve anything, and became so good at it that he can replicate someone’s mannerisms or handwriting in a glance. If he is around someone long enough, he can even replicate their accent. (To Vil’s horror, he is able to replicate both Epel and Rook’s accent, and he can even do mashups!)

Unlike for his Signature Spell, he doesn't need others to be around while he copies things. Once he’s replicated the skill once, he can do it again whenever (but always the very way he’s copying. Should he learn to draw from one specific person, he won’t be able to draw in any other style.)

He hides it a lot but he is constantly angry that he can never be his own person. He isn’t even sure who he IS! As far as he knows he’s just a walking, talking mirror.

OFF/ON modes

In Hayeli’s words : “The OFF mode is just when my stupid gimmick finally lets off.” When nobody is around for him to copy, Hayeli reverts back to his “natural state” which tends to be quite pessimistic and cynical. He grumbles a lot and gets frustrated regularly but at least he gets to be “him” (whoever that is) for a night. When in OFF mode he tries to do as little as possible, usually just reading novels or meditating, because every other skill he has comes from copying others.

The ON mode depends on whoever he spends the most time with. Pomefiore has a rather unique effect on his behavior. Should he stay around Savanaclaw students for any prolonged time for whichever reason though, he will naturally shift his attitude to match the more rugged and sporty behavior of beastmen. Hayeli has little to no control over his copying and regularly gets upset about it.

These days, since Pomefiore is taking a huge place in his life, he will be obviously (and obnoxiously) acting like a cliché Pomefiore student even when spending a lot of time with others.

The copying comes gradually the more time he spends with someone and takes as much time fading once he stops frequenting that person.

Random facts:

-Despite Vil's best efforts to improve Hayeli's skin, he is cursed with a heavy bout of acne and very red cheeks. Hayeli learned all his makeup skills by copying Vil and the contrast between his usual face and his makeup-ed one is so staggering people tend not to recognise him. He actually has a lot of fun with it.

-Hayeli gets regular headaches when there are too many people around him because his gimmick cannot decide on who to copy and makes ridiculous mashups.

-He has absolutely no shame cheating for tests by copying others. He was once caught by Trein.

-His pupils are naturally white and strangely shaped

-Vil has forbidden him from frequenting Azul and Sebek because he becomes the worst version of them with his copy gimmick

-He and Epel act like older/younger siblings

-His Signature Spell doesn't work on Ortho due to his robotic nature, and he has a hard time using it on Faes

-Hayeli is very eloquent and has a lot of vocabulary. Sometimes he speaks in rhymes without realizing

-He has a grand total of 16 moles on his body

[chaos-in-deepspace]

Can't believe I gotta do this, but okay...strap on in guys because this isn't only a rant, but informational. Gonna show you how to clock AI writing, why it's bad, how to abuse AI for writing, and how to prove something was written using a chat bot.

Have you ever read a fic and had to pause for a moment? Contemplate a few things? You almost feel like a few times you just couldn't figure out. Or perhaps you saw something that just read super awkwardly.

If this describe you reading some fics, then you might've fallen victim to "AI Writers". Yes, that's correct! A writer who uses AI to help them write their fics. Mind you most people when using this method actually use chatbots! So it's not like they just run into ChatGPT, give it a prompt, and then post it. Oh no. They RP it, maybe clean it up a little so it reads more like a fic, and then they post it.

If any of you are use to RPing with Chatbots like Janitor.ai, or even C.ai, then you might occasionally read a fic and realize it's strikingly familiar to chat you read in your own chats. I, for one, dabble in RPing with bots when I get bored, which is how now and days I can read a fic, see certain lines, and just know.

Now I'm certain I don't need to sit here and explain why this is so bad. However, I'll explain anyways if you'd like to hear my opinion, as well as many other artists and writers:

AI is Plagiarism!

Ya, this is plagiarism. How do you think it's generating responses? Or for artwork, where do you think it's grabbing the images from. It doesn't do it itself. AI is basically giving a program information so it can generate things. A lot of programs that uses AI, as well as websites, uses that written information to generate your responses. You know Google Docs? Ya, it can take information from your writing there. Archive of Our Own? Bingo. Tumblr? Ya, it takes writing from here as well. That means the people who have spent a lot of time on their writing, spending years honing their craft, are having their writing styles and voices stolen from AI in order to make those generated responses. Now when it's just you RPing something, pop off. It's just you and your bot. Share it with a few friends, sure! If you post it online though, those words are a mashup of millions of stories written and posted online. So it's plagiarism. Plain and simple.

2. It sets you back as a writer

Ever wondered why some people can write the most amazing things ever? It's because they wrote. They learned. They practiced. It took time and effort in order to build up those skills. They got there by writing. So how is using AI affecting your writing? Easy, you're not writing. At least...not a lot. If you use a chatbot to write half the things in a fic, you're only doing half the work. You're also bouncing off the idea from your bot and going with it, instead of using your writer brain to figure out how this scene would best be executed. Imagine it like this. Someone uses AI to draw an image for themselves. Then they trace over it, add a few of their own touches, and color it the best they can. Did they suddenly learn how to draw? No. Because they didn't take the time to learn why something is placed like this, how the composition works, etc. Same thing with writing. If you're using AI to do all the work then you aren't learning, and you're not going to be getting better as a writer. If that's the case...why are you writing? It should be a fun experience to write, after all. It should be something you want to get better at. So why are you just having AI do it? Attention? You realize your fics need to be pretty well written to garner attention, right? That brings me to my third point.

3. We can tell...and it's not fun to read

Today a friend showed me an paragraph from a fic he found here on tumblr. I saw it. Without even having to ask I knew it was written by AI. Nobody talks like that except a robot. The wording? Repetitive for AI to use. "Their bond grew with every passing moment." | "Their shared connection." | "His voice was barely above a whisper." | "It was a testament to their relationship." | "He's determined to face this challenge with her, hand in hand, and to make the most out of the second chance he's been given." | "A renewed sense of purpose." | "He's determined to face this challenge with her" If I see these lines, I clock it as Janitor in a heartbeat. Sure, not every time it's used is AI, but those are the most common things I see in every RP with a bot, and I actively need to correct the bots or else they'll use it in every fucking reply. Another thing is...RPs read differently from a fic. They're not made to be read like a narrative story. It's a bot replying to someone, so when you do that things get weird. Not to mention sometimes clothes appear and disappear, a position is changed, etc. It's just not good writing...

4. It's lazy

Simple as that. It's fucking lazy to get AI to write a fic. Trust me, I am one lazy motherfucker. I hate doing things. I want to sleep for literally a solid week. However I made the decision to write things, so I write them. I put in the effort. Other writers who don't use AI? They put in the effort. I know at least 20 people who are depressed as all hell, can barely get out of bed unless it's to go to work, who decided to still write. Not everyone is going to be a fast writer. Not everyone is going to find writing easy. If you're going to commit, though, commit to it. Write it. Don't use AI.

With these points being made, I'm sure you can see why in the writer community, it's frowned upon to use AI as well as bots for your writing...especially when you don't disclose it. I could probably put everything aside if you just said it was written using AI. Honesty is the best policy.

People might not want to read it then, but at least they know that you used AI. At least you admitted to it. Using AI and then passing it off as completely original is disgusting.

So you clocked something as AI written. You’re pretty freaking sure this was written with a Chatbot. So you plug it into an AI checker and what? No AI detected? No fucking way.

Yes fucking way.

The detectors use a range of things like: Language Model Comparison, Repetitive phrases and structures, contextual awareness, among a few other things. Now look at the "Language Model" part. What if a Chatbot doesn't have the most common language models? It doesn't detect it as easily, that's what.

Where does that leave Chatbots? Well, it means it’s not really checking for things like Janitor or C.ai. A lot of times it flies under the radar because of this. I have found that there is at least one site that doesn’t do this. Instead of more or less checks the context of the text to see if it was written using AI, rather than relying on ai models.

Quillbot

This is what I use to check. I also did run it through some tests. Mind you, not every program is going to be completely accurate. This just happens to, after thorough testing, be the best at being able to tell if a chatbot was used.

As you can see here, the one on the far left is a fic that I ran through that was my own writing. In the middle I had copy/pasted my own responses, and my bot responses from Janitor. On the far right I pasted only Janitor responses. While it’s not accurate, it could still detect human written from a chat bot!

In comparison to me running it through other AI Detection softwares (one of them being Grammarly), where they detected nothing in the post that were written by both me, and the bot.

The entire reason I’m even making this post is because I happened to come across a fic that seemed like it was written using AI, so I was curious and ran it through. Mind you, the detection software only lets you paste 1,200 words of the writing, so this was just a snippet. The same size snippets that I had put for all of my own tests. This was the result:

So we can make a good guess that this was…probably written by AI. If you’re wondering, no. This isn’t a call out post. I won’t be stating the user who I did this. I ask you not to speculate in the notes of this post either. I don’t want to cause unnecessary drama, because honestly the writing community for this fandom already has that.

I will say, to the writers who are using AI, I’m not the only person who will probably get curious. If you’re going to use AI for your writing, at least state it in the description. It’s manipulative and wrong to not state it.

I know I said AI is bad, but it's also like Thanos. It's inevitable. I fully think we should abuse the hell out of it and make it our bitch. Now how to do that without using it to actually write? Easy.

Force it to give us ideas. Once upon a time I wanted to do some writing, but couldn't think of anything I wanted to write. Sure there's prompt lists out there, but a lot of them didn't fit what I needed. So I grabbed ChatGPT by it's lil grimy throat. I whispered in it's ears "Write me some prompts."

I then took said prompts to jog some ideas in my head, then wrote my own original content. I used AI to help give me a basic idea for my writing and then came up with my own stories. That's a simple way of doing it.

I know people who will RP with a janitor bot because they have a plot in mind for a story, but are uncertain with how they'd want to execute it. So they RP with a bot first, and then once they have an idea, they write a fic based off their RP. They don’t take what the bot said, copy/paste it, then say it’s their fic. They use it as a tool to help them with their ideas. Sometimes if the bot has a really good line, they might take that singular line from it as well. That’s not taking the entire story, it’s just a line that they knew would flow with the fic, and half the time they edit the line as well.

You can also use it for story titles. Can’t come up with a title? Tell ChatGPT the synopsis of your story and then ask it to generate 10 titles for it (actually I just tried to this see the results and am currently laughing my ass off, maybe don't do this).

Don’t forget things like Grammarly. That’s also AI! You can use it to check your grammar and fix awkward wording in your writing.

There’s ways a writer can use AI as a tool. In my opinion, it’s no different from an artist using the symmetry tool for their art. Or using a 3D model to help them make a pose for a drawing in their program. It’s a tool that should be used to help and improve your own content.

[episodes-ff]

Family Man

Diamonté

Waking up, I looked over and admired Armando as he peacefully slept in bed. Things have been going quite smoothly for our newfound family. Armando has been building a bond with his son and nobody could be happier than Lil Papi. They play together, he helps him with his learning, and they even make time to annoy me throughout the day unless I’m doing my schoolwork. My relationship with my parents on the other hand has been a different story. They won’t talk to me unless it’s to check in with their grandbaby and they want nothing to do with Armando and his past, so I’m super devastated. He says they’ll come around eventually but I think that’s more so to ease my mind. Just thinking about how he’s been so supportive of me has my heart and pussy fluttering, but we have been taking our relationship pretty slowly. We are together, but we don’t want to move too fast and wind up hurt so while he does spend time here, he isn’t moved in and he still has his place.

Leaning up, I stretched and yawned before turning to use the restroom when I felt something tugging me. “Baby, what’s wrong?” I giggled seeing Armando cuddling up to my side. “Where you going, bebita?” He frowned in his sleep. “I have to pee, baby. I’ll just be a second, okay?” “Okay. Hurry back, baby.” He yawned rolling over. Blushing at how cute he was being, I got up and headed to the bathroom. Taking a look at myself in the mirror, I examined my face and body before sighing and going into my cabinets under the sink. Staring long and hard at the pregnancy test in my hand, I swallowed the lump in my throat as I contemplated taking it. Over the past couple of weeks, I’ve been more sensitive and irritable so rather than question my body, I decided to get a pregnancy to be sure. The only issue I have now is actually taking it and telling Armando. I know how much he adores our child, but I don’t know if he is mentally prepared for possibly another one.

Sucking up my fears, I took a much needed piss and I used the opportunity to take the test as well. Flipping the lid down, I stood and flushed before washing my hands. Setting the test on the counter, I nervously stood and waited for the results. Trying not to bite my nails as I anxiously stared in the mirror, I pictured our lives with another baby. Armando hand in hand with our baby boy as I pushed a stroller down the street; it brought so much joy to my heart. Hearing my phone vibrate, I quickly silenced my timer and took a deep breath before taking a glance at the test: NEGATIVE.

Feeling my body sink, I wiped a stray tear as I threw away the test and box and left the room. Getting back into the bed, I silently swerved Armando’s attempt at cuddling before going back to sleep.

LATER THAT DAY…

Armando

“Baby? The table’s ready.” “Ok…” She mumbled sadly as she got up with Papi in tow and walked inside. Sighing, I rubbed my chin as I held the door and followed them in. Diamonté has been in a mood all day and I can’t put my finger on what it is that I did wrong. I quickly picked up on the shift in attitude this morning and I figured it was due to my busy schedule, so I decided to treat her to a nice family day; shopping at her and Papi’s favorite stores, treating our baby boy to a fresh haircut, and now we’re at her favorite restaurant and the attitude has yet to leave. I’ve never been more confused and it’s honestly hurting my soul to see her so upset.

Pulling her chair out for her, she quietly thanked me before looking at the menu. “Do you know what you want to eat, baby?” She asked Papi as I admired her appearance for today. “You look beautiful today, Cariña.” I smiled reaching for her hand. Thanking me, she shied away from my advances making my smile fade. “Bab-“ “Hi! I’m Terrence and I’ll be your server for the evening. Can I start with your drink orders?” The waiter smiled as I tried to control my anger at his rude interruption. “Yes, can I get a fruit punch for him and a coke for myself?” “Sure thing! And you, sir?” “Water with lemon.” I gritted eyeing her. “No problem, would you like to order any appetizers or do you need some time?” “We need more time, Terrence.” I spat plainly as she looked up at me weirdly. “Uh, no problem! I’ll be back to check on you all.” “You do that.” Quickly leaving, I looked over to see her folding her arms as Papi played games on her phone. “What was that, Armando? You didn’t have to be rude to him.” “The same way you’ve been rude to me all day and barely saying two words without explanation?” Scoffing, she rolled her eyes and went back to reading her menu as I clenched my jaw and tried to remain calm. Thank you God for prison anger management.

Watching the waiter warily return to the table, I apologized to him for my behavior earlier before ordering an appetizer for the table. Silently mulling over the options on the menu as we waited on the appetizer, I took this as an opportunity to pick Diamonté’s brain. “Bebita, have I done something wrong? You’ve been distant all day towards me.” “No, Armando, it’s fine.” “Clearly it’s not fine. What’s wrong, baby?” I asked gently taking hold of her hand. “I’m fine.” She replied staring up at me softly but I could tell she was anything but.

Arriving back at the house, I got my sleeping AJ from his car seat and carried him inside before placing him in bed and removing his shoes and outside clothes. Putting on his pajamas, night light and placing his blanket on him, I removed my jacket and headed to the bedroom. Walking toward the light emitting from the bathroom, I watched her with worry as she removed her makeup for the day. “Do you wanna talk now, baby?” I asked leaning against the doorway. Looking at me in the mirror’s reflection, she started tearing up before walking over and crying in my arms. “Bebita, what’s wrong??? You’re breaking my heart right now.” I cooed wiping her tears and staring into her eyes. Sighing, she walked over to the trash bin and retrieved something before coming back over to me. Revealing the box for an at-home pregnancy test, I froze as she pulled out the test and showed me. Seeing the negative test, I shook my head before pulling her into a deep hug as she cried. “I was really excited, Armando.” She sobbed as I held her close. “Hey hey, don’t worry baby. We have plenty of time to make another baby. I’m not going anywhere, mi amor.” I soothed in her ear as she sniffled and nodded. Calming her down, I pulled her into a deep, loving kiss before lifting her onto the bathroom counter and starting a nice hot bubble bath to relax her while we talked about our future.

[oh-how-i-love-my-fandoms]

YouTube is where I go to listen to music when I just need to feel something, anything.

If there was a YouTube music wrapped yall would truly see my batshit music tastes because I really only use spotify to hype up my kpop groups I love because those numbers help them so youtube music is where I do my nightcore hamster dance and cats 2019 soundtrack-esque bullshit... and yeah that's where my true "you need therapy" ass self would be exposed lol

[hbyrde36]

With spooky season upon us, I thought this might be a good time to celebrate (almost) one year of

Steve Harrington: Vampire Hunter

It has all the vibes of the season, and the latter half of if even takes place on and around Halloween, or more specifically, MISCHIEF NIGHT!

This is my longest work to date and I'm still SUPER proud of it, so If you're looking for something to set the mood, maybe give it a read! ❤️🖤❤️🖤❤️

Steddie | Explicit | WC: 91,810 | Ch: 17/17

enemies to lovers, vampire eddie munson, vampire hunter steve harrington, action/adventure, supernatural elements, angst, hurt/comfort, slow burn, eventual smut, dream smut, steve has powers, denial of feelings, pining, eventual happy ending

Tumblr | AO3

Summary:

Steve Harrington is an animator.

Some people call it a gift, the ability to raise the dead, but to Steve It’s just a job. A way to help mourning families find closure after the sudden death of a loved one, or aid the courts in settling everything from disputed wills to murder cases.

He's also a licensed vampire hunter and executioner.

Two years ago, vampirism became legal in the United States, granting its undead population citizenship and everything that new status entails. Which complicates things for Steve as he finds himself suddenly tasked with helping the very creatures he's grown accustomed to killing. He struggles in more ways than one when he finds himself working closely, intimately, with none other than Eddie Munson, an undeniably sexy several-hundred-years old master vampire.

Or,

The Anita Blake/Steddie mashup that nobody asked for but I'm having far too much fun with.

Hitting up the permanent taglist for reach ❤️(open): @penny00dreadful @pearynice @hitlikehammers @bookworm0690 @wonderland-girl143-blog 

@goodolefashionedloverboi @themagicalari @awkwardgravity1 @rocknrollsalad

[phoenixyfriend]

I think Modern AUs of Beauty and the Beast need to lean harder on the "since the morning that we came to this poor provincial town" line

Belle came from something that is not a small, economically shaky rural town! There are a few possibilities, but I choose to understand it as Belle being a City Girl, because I think I can make it funny.

This is a City Girl who moved here, and looks Generically Pretty, because she's just Different from the others (that's why she's the most beautiful girl in town). It's not necessarily that she is prettier, but small towns tend to have limited options, and a new look is an interesting one.

She reads so many books because she never got agribusiness classes in high school, so she isn't set up for small town life in terms of actually getting a job locally, and she tends to avoid other people and hide in her books because it's easier than people. Everyone reads into this as her being kind of stuck-up and snotty because she looks down on the locals.

Her dad is some Weird City Man Who Lost His Tenure For Blowing Up The Science Wing, so he's now the eccentric who had to move to Nowhere, Middle Of for the sake of getting away from a whole lot of Crap regarding his reputation.

The local dudes who all peaked in high school are joshing for a chance at Belle, because she's the Hot City Girl. They do all think she's weird as hell because she's got Political Opinions And Uses The Wrong Slang, and are very much of the opinion that there is a certain level of crazy that can be excused by being hot enough.

Cue "Dad gets lost, gotta go find him, agree to stay in the cursed castle because, well, gotta save Dad! And curses are a pretty extenuating circumstance to 'weird guy wants me to stay with him indefinitely,' especially since isn't asking for sex or housework while living with him, so... whatever. I still have a phone and Dad knows to call the cops if I miss a check-in."

Also in regards to the various servants, there are cult rumors. These days, live-in staff are a lot less common. Nobody's seen anyone from The Big House in ages, but the building still accepts food deliveries and puts out trash for collection, so someone must be there, so the only reasonable take on why they're out of contact is cult.

From the perspective of the town... she falls for that weird rich dude who lives in the foothills and has what seems to be a cult, which for the peaked in high school crew is very "Okay. You weren't that hot anyway, bitch."

The 'magic mirror shows that Belle is trapped by a monster' is actually just people going "aw shit, new girl got sucked into the cult, should we go check on her?" Her dad keeps saying that she's fine and hasn't said anything is really wrong, but everyone insists that she's lying because it's all Cult Bullshit.

After that whole mess is over, with the Beast and crew once again human and Belle clearly annoyed and reading the riot act to both the townsfolk and Adam, showing she's not fallen for any brainwash-y bullshit, she was just a pissed-off girl who decided "I can bully him into being a better person," which is probably a bad decision, but she's a grown-ass woman, so...

The cops are no longer trying to kidnap her back from the local rich eccentric (as opposed to the local poor eccentric, of which there are several, including Belle's dad).

The townsfolk decide by and large that this was probably for the best because Belle's apparently broken the cult situation? Somehow? And people from the big house in the hills are finally visiting town and proving they're alive again, so that's good.

It was never a cult, they just couldn't show their faces when the faces were furniture.

This turned into a bit more 'massive misunderstanding' with a heavy dollop of accidental Hallmark movie, but hey, we got there in the end. We all know I love a good genre mashup, and a romcom on one side with a horror on the other is basically how Disney did it, right?

Also I've been bingeing a lot of SNL and the actress I've got in my mind for this is Ego Nwodim.

[middleearthpixie]

Here I come bringing my obsession your Ask Box!

AUgust Mashup:

Eomer + Enemies to Lovers + “I didn’t know you cared.”

No pressure: Please and thank you! <3

Ahhhh... I know this took me FOREVER, but here you go (and you should know, this is my very first time ever writing Éomer, so I really hope I got him right!)

I hope you like it! 💜💜💜

Fair Enough

Trope: AUgust Mashup Enemies to Lovers

Quote: “I didn’t know you cared…”

Pairings: Éomer x fem!reader

Warnings: None. Just fluffy fluff

Rating: G

Word Count: 4.6k

***

“Isn’t there some way we could just—you know—knock him from his saddle?”

You bit back a smile at Cynewyn’s suggestion, although it did have merit, and tried instead to focus on the plate you were drying. “The trouble with that would be, we might spook his horse and if it was injured, we’d never forgive us, would we?”

“Well, no. I don’t suppose we would. But, the horse might be just fine. Only Éomer would get no less than he deserves.”

“True, but it’s a risk I’d rather not take. The last thing either us or papa needs is to to pay for replacing his horse.”

“It would be no less than he deserves as well, the snake. I’d like to throw a rock at him right now.”

“Makes two of us, but again—” 

“I know,” Cynewyn sighed, “it’s a risk you’d rather not take.”

“Exactly.” You smiled at your older sister. “We can only hope that one day, he gets his and that we are lucky enough to witness it.”

“Which is not going to happen.” Cynewyn went quiet as she dunked another plate into the washbasin. “Still, why would he do that to you, anyway? What was the point?”

You shrugged, taking the plate to wipe dry. “To make sport of me, I suppose. After all, isn’t it funny when a man pretends he’s interested in you and then when you show up at your agreed upon meeting place, he’s nowhere to be found? And isn’t it funny when he and his friends were just outside of the pub, giggling like children, is just so amusing?”

“Men? Bah! They are but boys. Big boys, but boys just the same.” She passed you another plate.

You said nothing, but dried the plate and then slid it onto its shelf in the cupboard, atop the small stack you’d already dried. In the time it took you to do that, Éomer had moved on down the road that ran before the kitchen windows of your family’s small stone cottage. You should have known he’d been sporting with you when he asked you to meet him at the coffeehouse the previous week. Until that morning, he didn't seem to know you were alive. It was only too bad you could not say the same, because not only did you most definitely know he was alive, you thought he was the most perfect man alive. That afternoon, however, he toppled from that pedestal and shattered at its base as far as you were concerned. 

Of course, that didn't mean his thoughtless actions didn't hurt. Because they did. They most definitely did. 

But, you’d not think about what happened any longer. He’d gotten a good laugh at your expense, but you would rise above it. You had no other choice, really. He was the king’s nephew and you were… well…

You were nobody, really. 

A depressing thought.

You finished drying the dishes and left your sister to whatever it was she was doing. You shared a room and night after night, you would stretch out on your bed and try to read whilst she went through her seemingly bottomless supply of fabric for whatever gown she was going to try to copy from whichever lady she saw in town. She was really quite gifted, so you didn’t mind when she asked you to be her model, as you had no dressmaker’s dummy. But tonight, she did not need your assistance and, claiming a headache, instead she chose to go to bed early. A good night’s sleep was always welcomed, but as you lay there in the dark, sleep mocked you instead. It had been happening more and more often now, as the world grew more unsettled and while you could usually find some way to drift off, tonight was not one of those nights. You were simply too restless and so you slipped from the small stone cottage to go for a walk. 

You tried not think about how disappointed you’d been when Éomer stood you up at the coffeehouse. Perhaps you should have expected it, but it hurt just the same. Of course, you weren’t the only one who imagined catching his eye. Half the women of marriageable age in Edoras dreamed of doing just that and no one could blame a one of you. Not only was he the king’s nephew, but he was so blasted handsome, with his long, wavy dark gold hair and direct hazel eyes. And whenever you saw him on horseback—you melted a little on the inside each time.

Of course, now he knew you fancied him and not only that, but he’d used it against you. Knocking him off his horse wasn't even close to being enough. Still, you couldn't dwell on it forever. In time, everyone who was in that coffeehouse would forget.

Everyone but you, anyway. 

“And that is the last we will think of it,” you muttered, trying instead to focus on something, anything, else as you strolled on. 

It was a peaceful night, hints of the coming autumn in the crisp edge of the breeze that stirred the leaves last night’s storm had pulled from the trees. The best thing about the stone cottage at the end of the road in Edoras? You were the farthest point from the king’s residence, which meant you would most likely not cross paths again with Éomer at this time of night. True, he’d been riding south, which meant that at some point he would pass by here again, but you’d have enough warning, as the road was wide and almost no trees lined it. Sneaking up on you would be almost impossible. 

Not that he would even try. He’d made himself perfectly clear where you were concerned. 

The night sky was clear, spangled with stars and moonlight bathed everything as far as you could see an etherial silver color. There had been rumblings to the east, and you’d heard talk amongst the menfolk about the possibility of war, and you also knew that orcs had been seen on the borders of Rohan. And that was why you did not leave your house without a blade of some sort. Although your father was not overjoyed at the thought, he allowed both you and Cynewyn to carry a small sword, which you were almost never without. You weren’t a master by any stretch of the imagination, but Papa had made certain you and your sister learned how to defend yourselves, should the need ever arise.

Your walks had become your way of remaining sane when it seemed there was so much uncertainty all around. The thought of war was so foreign to you, as your father insulated you and Cynewyn as best he could, and yet you knew it wasn’t far off. The king’s health was failing, and you’d heard rumors that he, Éomer, and the king’s advisor, Grima, had been butting heads of late. 

Perhaps that was why Éomer had gone thundering past the kitchen windows on his horse as he had. One too many cross words with his uncle, maybe? In some ways, you hoped so, for if Éomer was banished, life would become easier for you.

But at the same time, if you were completely honest with yourself, you knew if he left for good, you would miss him terribly. How difficult it was, caring so much for a man you also tried so hard to despise! If only you could forgive him.

If only.

You vowed once more to not think about it. 

Instead, you concentrated on the beauty of the night sky, of how those stars seemed so vast and endless, how the moon managed to bathe things silver although it gave off no light. You listened to the whisper of the wind through the scrub grass and bushes that dotted the landscape seemingly to the edge of Middle Earth. The wind whispered, crickets chirped, and in the distance, an owl hooted. A normal night.

Or so you thought.

You heard the noise before you saw the creature that made it and as those sounds reached your ears, the stench reached your nose. Your heart lurched, your stomach kinked, and a sour taste filled your mouth, brought on both by the stink and the coldest, iciest, most petrifying fear that ever permeated your being.

Papa always told you not to venture too far from the road. One never knew what lurked in the fields sweeping east and west, where twisted trees grew in clumps and provided cover for many things.

Such as the orc now standing over Éomer’s prone body.

You ducked, shifting toward the stand of pine trees twisted by the winds, which thankfully carried any sounds you might have made away from the orc and Éomer. Metal clanged Éomer blocked the orc’s downward swing with his blade. He held fast, his arms trembling from the effort and his heavy glove the only thing keeping the dual-sided blade from slicing into his hand.

The orc appeared to brace harder against his blade, determined to run Éomer through and you couldn't let that happen, no matter how angry or hurt you were because of him. So, you slid your blade free and crept about the pines as silently as you knew how. You’d learned from Papa, who would take you with him when he went hunting, and although you could never bring yourself to kill anything, you learned from him just the same. Besides, an orc wasn’t anywhere near as beautiful as a deer or fox. Quite the opposite, really. They were the ugliest, vilest, most disgusting creatures to walk the earth as far as you were concerned. 

Your soft-skinned boots made no sound as you approached and the orc never knew what hit him when you swung and cleaved his head clean from his shoulders. What was left of him collapsed like a sandbag atop Éomer, who swore softly as the creature’s thick, black blood splattered him. 

Nausea rose in your throat as it spattered you as well, and you tried to ignore it as you grabbed the still-warm shoulder and threw the corpse back. “Are you all right?”

“I’ve had better nights,” Éomer groaned, rolling over and onto his knees, his sword clattering softly in the dust. “What are you doing out here?”

“I was but going for a walk. What is that—” you gestured to the dead orc—“doing here? They do not usually venture so close to our borders.”

“They grow bolder and have been for some time now.” He rocked back on his knees and swept his silver and brass helmet from his head to let it clatter to the ground alongside his sword. “Are you all right?”

“Me? I am fine.” You resheathed your sword and carefully crouched alongside him. His dark blond hair was damp with sweat, pulled away from his face and held back with a small strip of worn leather. “And you?”

“I’ll be fine.”

“What happened?”

“It’s nothing.” He winced as he shifted onto his backside and gingerly prodded at his left thigh.

You looked down, your stomach clenching at the sight of the wound that must’ve bled terribly, for the entire front of his trouser leg was stained with a large wet patch. It looked as if the orc’s blade had sliced through the fabric. Without thinking, you brushed his hands aside to see for yourself and as soon as you had, you wished you hadn’t. 

The wound was ugly and raw, a long slice from just below his hip to his knee, and still bled freely. “We need to get you home.”

“You go on. I need to find my horse.”

“Your horse is not here,” you told him, scanning all around to make certain you weren’t lying. You were’t. There was no sign of a horse anywhere about. “Come, let’s get you up and I will help you.”

“Just leave me…”

“Oh, don’t be a fool!”

He jerked back. “I am serious. Leave me. The last I want is harm befalling you on my behalf. So please, just go. There will be more of them coming, looking for this one,” he nudged the corpse with one boot. “And I am not at all certain I’d be able to protect you.”

“You mean you aren’t certain you’d want to.”

He just stared up at you. “I didn't say that, nor would I.”

“You might as well. Aren’t I only a laugh to you anyway? Ever the fool for you and your friends to chuckle over.”

At least he didn't try to deny his actions or motivations as he said, “Oh… the coffeehouse.”

“Yes,” you nodded, “the coffeehouse. So, you’ll forgive me if I don't believe you would lift a finger to keep an orc away from me. Of course, you would do well to remember that it was I who saved you from an orc regardless. Still, if you wish to be left alone, far be it from me to insist on staying.”

You moved to stand, only to have him catch you by the wrist. “No, please,” he said softly, looking up once more, “don’t go. I—I owe you an apology for that.”

“To save your sorry skin, no doubt.”

To your surprise, he chuckled. “I deserve that.”

“Oh, that’s mighty big of you to admit,” you said dryly. “How very big indeed.”

“Very well, you’re right, you know. About all of it. And I mean that in the most sincere manner possible. Honest.”

That took a bit of wind from your sails and you sighed. “Perhaps we might fight about it later?”

He bobbed his head. “I wholeheartedly agree with that notion. Much, much later. In fact, we should never speak of it again.”

“Once you apologize, you mean.”

“I just did apologize.”

“No,” you shook your head, “you said you owed me one, which you do of course. But admitting it is not an actual apology.”

To your surprise, he burst out laughing. It was cut short by a sharp inhale of pain, but his smile only wavered as he snorted, “You’re joking, right?”

“You mean to tell me you honestly considered that an apology? Those sorry words? Truly?”

“Well…” he nodded. “Yes."

“Fine.” You stood up and brushed dirt and crushed pine needles from your backside. “I’ll bid you good eve then. You should hope you’re mobile once more before they come looking for their friend.”

You had every intention of marching off, of just leaving him there to rot, not caring if any more orcs happened upon him. It would serve him right. Apology. Bah! He could go pound sand, as Papa would say.

However, you only got maybe ten feet away when your conscience got the better of you and you came back to find he hadn’t moved an inch. 

“Come,” you growled, crouching beside him once more to take hold of his left wrist. “Let’s get you back.”

“I didn't know you cared,” he said even as he allowed you to help him up.

“I don’t. I should let you rot.”

“So, why aren’t you?”

“I don’t know. I’m a soft-hearted fool, I suppose.” You gave a not so gentle tug. “We should go. His pack is bound to notice he’s not returned and I do not want to have to explain to your uncle how I let you get butchered by orcs.”

“I’ll be forever grateful,” he replied drolly.

“Do you wish my help or not?”

He draped an arm about your shoulder. “Yes, of course I do. And I appreciate it as well.” He winced. “How far are we from Edoras’ border?”

“It’s better if you don’t know.”

“That far, eh?”

He leaned heavily on your shoulder, and you tried to ignore the stinging along your neck, the dull ache that spread down into your shoulder from bearing the brunt of his weight, as he was considerably taller and heavier than you were. “I’m afraid so, yes.”

“Wonderful.”

For reasons you couldn't begin to explain, the drollness in his deep voice made you laugh. “Yes, I couldn’t agree more.”

You managed to get him back to the road, him leaning hard against you with each step he took on his wounded leg. And with each step, his gait slowed. “Take care,” he said when you stumbled. “It would do us both no good if we fell.”

“I beg your… pardon,” you gritted, hefting him higher on your shoulder once more, “but… you are… not light, you know.”

“I know and I appreciate your help here as well.” He went silent for a long moment, then, drew in a deep breath and added, “And I’m sorry. For what I did at the coffeehouse.”

“All you had to do was come in and tell me you’d changed your mind, you know.” you told him, staring straight ahead, waiting for Edoras’ reassuring lights to come into view. At least then, you knew you’d be close to home and close to safety. 

“The thing of it is, I didn’t change my mind.” The regret in his voice surprised you and you stopped without warning, catching him as he stumbled, then scolded, “Take care, if you wouldn’t mind.”

“I’m sorry, but what? What do you mean, you didn't change your mind? Of course you did. I was there, remember? I was there and you were not.”

“No, I know that, but,” he pulled free, easing his arm from about her shoulders before shifting to settle on a rock, “I need to sit a moment.”

You didn't fight him, happy to be free of his weight, even if only for a few minutes. You rubbed the side of your neck. “Only a few minutes, though. We don’t know how much time we have left.”

“I know.” He looked up at you. “I didn’t change my mind, you know.”

“So you’ve said. What you haven’t said, was why you just left me sitting there like a fool.” Finally, you were able to get that weight off your chest, your eyes stinging the way they had in the coffeehouse, when you realized he was not coming through the door. “Why did you do that to me?”

“I was coming in,” he said slowly, looking up to meet your gaze, “and when I saw you… I got nervous and I know that sounds idiotic, but it’s the truth. It was a stupid, fool thing to do to you and I am ever so sorry I hurt you. If I could but do it over, I would walk through that door and we would not be having this conversation. And for that, I am also sorry.”

You had waited so long for him to assume responsibility for how he’d hurt you. And now that he had, you were at a loss for words. How did you respond to that? What did you say?

“Am I supposed to believe you had an attack of nerves? You, of all people?”

“Is that so hard to believe? I’m only human as human as any other man, you know. And that means that yes, sometimes, I have an attack of nerves. I’m not made of stone, I’ll have you know and you—”

You waited a moment for him to finish, your heart beating erratically now as those words were the last ones she ever thought she’d hear from him. But, when he remained silent, just staring at the ground, you leaned in. “I what?”

He looked up then, his eyes soft, and murmured, “You stole the breath from my lungs.”

You could only stare. Were you but dreaming or perhaps he’d suffered a head injury before you reached him? One of those had to be the truth because there was no other rational explanation for his words, no matter how they set butterflies free in your belly to batter your insides with their wildly-beating wings. 

“Éomer, I—I don’t know what to say,” you finally managed. 

“No, I’m sure you don’t,” he replied softly. “And I cannot fault you. But, if you could find it in your heart to forgive me, I would like another chance. A chance to right things between us.”

“Things between us? Is there a thing between us, never mind more than one?”

To your surprise, a sheepish smile lifted his lips. “I should like there to be.” 

“I don’t even like you, you know.”

His grin widened. “Somehow, I don’t believe that. After all, you came back, didn’t you?”

“Don’t let it go to your head. I could still leave you out here.”

“You could.” He nodded, then shook his head. “But you won’t.”

You stared at him for a long moment, then let out a heavy sigh of resignation. “No. I don't suppose I will.”

His eyes sparkled with mischief. “I knew it.”

You offered up a smile of your own and then, with all the force you could generate, you punched him square in the shoulder. 

He yelped as the blow sent him rocking backwards. “What was that for?”

“Because you, Éomer, are an ass and I should leave you here to suffer whatever fate you deserve.”

“You should, but I wish you wouldn’t.” He reached for your hand, caught it, and linked his fingers with yours. “I am truly sorry, though. You have to believe me.”

“Why should I believe you now?”

Éomer winced as he carefully stood. “Because I would like the chance to right my wrong where you are concerned.”

You looked up at him. “And how do you think you can do such a thing? I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.” 

“I’m fairly certain I do.”

He smiled then and bent and before you could say anything, his lips met yours. Despite his wounded leg, he caught your face between his hands, not so much as wavering as his lips moved teasingly and gentle against yours, as his tongue eased between your lips to caress yours, and you shivered at the silken caress. His lips were soft and warm and those butterflies fluttered harder now, with more fury as he kissed you slow and deep and made your head spin as it had never spun before. 

Éomer was slightly breathless when he drew back. “So, will you allow me another chance? A chance to right what I’ve done wrong?”

“By all rights, I should say no.”

“But you won’t.” His hazel eyes sparkled with mischief.

“No,” you shook your head slowly, “I won’t.”

In the distance, came the snarl of wargs and that was enough to spur Éomer to drape his arm about your neck once more and say, “We should go.”

“A wise idea, to be sure.”

You made it back to Edoras without incident and you wasted no time in rousing the healer  from her bed, just as she wasted no time in shooing you from the infirmary. Someone must have alerted Éowyn as well, for she came hurrying down the corridor, her hair bound up away from her face and still in her nightdress.

“What happened?”

“He was set upon by orcs just beyond the border.”

“But what were you doing out there?”

You managed a smile. “I was but going for a walk. I was having trouble sleeping, and sometimes that helps.”

“You need be careful,” she warned. “What if you’d been alone?”

“We won’t think about that.”

The healer came out. “My lady,” she said with a tired smile. “His lordship is resting now and he’d like to see you.” 

Éowyn stepped forward, only to have the healer shake her head. “No, my lady, I’m sorry. He meant you,” she said, looking at you.

You swallowed hard. “M-me?”

The healer nodded now. “He was very clear.”

“I’ll just see what he might want,” you said, feeling no little guilt at Éowyn’s almost hurt expression. “And when he hears you’ve come down to see him, I’m sure he will ask you be brought in.”

Éowyn said nothing, but bobbed her head and you followed the healer into the small, quiet, semi-dark room. 

Éomer was abed, the linens stark even against his pale hair, and your heart skipped a beat at the sight of him, as you’d never seen him so informally dressed, his loose tunic left unlaced to offer up an enticing patch of what you were certain was a finely-muscled chest. The image that came to your mind brought those butterflies to life once more deep within your belly. 

His eyes were closed, his enviably thick lashes dark crescents against his pale cheeks, but as you drew near, they opened and a tired smile lifted the corners of his mouth. “I thought perhaps I’d dreamed everything that happened this night,” he said softly, “but the pain is far too real.”

“I assume your healer stitched the wound. It looked fairly ugly.”

He nodded. “She did. I can resume duties in a week, according to her.” He gestured for you to come closer and when you did, he added in a whisper, “and we won’t tell her when I’m gone come morning, will we?”

“You should take her advice.”

“I cannot. Not right now.”

“Éomer, you will be useless with only a few hours’ rest and one leg. You need allow yourself time to heal.”

“Are you taking her side?”

“In this?” You nodded. “Absolutely.”

“But… you’re supposed to take my side.” 

“I would be, if you weren’t talking such foolishness.”

“Ouch. You wound me.” As he spoke, he reached out and caught your hand, and your mouth went dry as he gave a gentle tug. “Come and lay with me.”

“I couldn’t.”

“You could.”

“Éomer.”

“What?”

“I don't even like you.”

His eyes glinted with a hint of mischief. “We both know that isn’t true, don’t we?”

“Oh, it’s true.”

“Liar.” He tugged again. “Are you truly going to make a wounded man beg?”

“Éomer.”

“What?” He brought your hand to his lips, to your surprise, brushed its back with a kiss and murmured, “Please?”

You stared down at him for a long moment. “You are supposed to be injured.”

“I am injured. Nearly twenty stitches are holding that wound closed. But somehow, I don't think I’ll mind being trapped in this bed, if I have someone to share it with.”

Your heart fluttered. “Éomer. You are in an infirmary.”

“I know, but I’m in my own room, as you see.” He smiled. “No one will bother us and I promise to keep my hands to myself.”

With that, his smile grew mischievous. “Unless, of course, you’d rather I didn’t. And then, the next time I see you in the great hall or the yard, I’ll just look across at you and smile and only you will know why.”

You sighed softly and then, after a quick look about, gingerly stretched out alongside him, your heart beating faster as he drew his arm about your shoulders to tug you closer. You peered up at him. “And why will I be smiling?”

His eyes glinted with that same hint of mischief that let loose even more butterflies in your belly. “You’ll see.”

With that, he caught you beneath the chin with one bent finger, lifting your face ever so slightly and as his lips captured yours, you smiled. “You aren’t going anywhere come morning, you know.”

He broke the teasing kiss to gaze down at you. “Is that so?”

“It is,” you nodded, “because you have some very real making up to me to do. And I’m fairly certain it will take longer than a few hours."

“Making up to you, you say?” One dark brow arched and his smile grew wicked with promise. “I think that’s fair enough.”

***

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[alto-the-avocado]

the mashup that nobody asked for! Max as David 8… other versions and reference photos under the cut :)

the 2 reference pics!

[jimmyjrsmusoems]

the bob’s burgers x bridgerton mashup that nobody but me wanted or asked for 🍔🐝💕

song : give me everything - stripped by archer marsh

[jaywalker-129]

Since it’s canon that’s Jay is a video game MASTER, I have this head canon that on the ninja off days, Jay and Lloyd have this boys night called “ Video game mashup” In which they play every game the ninja have overnight along with a shit tone of snacks and drinks. When the ninja wake up the next morning they’d still see Lloyd and Jay laughing their asses off watching Lloyd tryna jump over a gap and failing for the 23rd time. Eventually, they’d get put to bed by Zane since it’s the only time the ninja can really catch up on sleep

Sometimes I also like to think that Jay would game overnight in his room with random people on Ninjago under the gamer tag “ LightningGod”. He goes around trolling people that he knows the ninja and their his best friends and nobody believes him cuz he has a voice changer on to sound like a kid and when the “ kid “ Jay asks for the real Jay he turns off the voice changer and talks in his normal voice and everyone in the lobby or game just lEaVe-

[agendergorgon]

Nighty Night

A fusion of two non-characters with no lines, next to no mention, and a bizarre combination power. Nighty Night is Bonesaw's surgical combination of deceased founding S9 member Nyx and alive at the time closing S9 member Night Hag. I guess Bonesaw forgot Night Hag was alive cos she still cloned her anyway. This nerd surviving Worm to never come up in Ward is funny to me. Every other surviving 9 member is in that thing. Anyway, since nobody is likely to ask Wildbow about them (myself included, I like that there's places in the margins where people can make doodles and headcanons) here's some fanfic ideas 1) Nyx and Night Hag can fuse and unfuse. Night Hag's power is to reform herself after death. Does this reform Nighty Night after she dies? Does this reform Night Hag and Nyx separately if Nighty Night dies? How does Bonesaw's surgery even hold up against a breaker state? Does Nighty Night reform with or without any modifications Bonesaw made like with Damsel?

2) Night Hag has access to more bodies at a time. Night Hag's power is to reform herself after death and there were upwards of 9 of her at the end of Worm. Even if Nighty Night can't fully respawn her other selves from Nighty Night, maybe she can reform her dead selves and partial limbs from her possessed terrain, granting her access to a bloody lot of extra parts.

3) Nix wanted to be in Ward but Nighty Night got to her first.

4) Bonesaw, Damsel, and the Number Man clones never mention Nighty Night cos they forgot she was alive, the same way Bonesaw forgot Night Hag was alive and cloned her between 8 and 9 times. Its possible Bonesaw even lost track of which one was the real Night Hag and ended up using the original to make Nighty Night. 5) Bonesaw, Damsel, Swansong, Spawner, Number Man, and the Harbinger squad know who Nighty Night is and just don't care for them at all. 6) Night Hag's shard is eating Nyx's a little more every day, infecting it like Night Hag infects the environment. 7) Nighty Night gets along with themself. Spawner and Murder Rat both were two conflicting mashups. I think it'd be funny if Bonesaw was trying to go for something like that or an interesting power mashup and just ended up making a more rounded and balanced individual than either was on their own. 8) Nighty Night is double trans. Fellas is it trans coded to stay in a breaker state all the time when that breaker state is just a goth lady? Night Hag is prime trans headcanon material and Nyx is a C53, and thanks to Sveta and Gregor we know that all C53s are allegories for being a trans with a disability. Anyway I think it'd be funny if they were both headed in the other direction and their fusion ended up happily squatting in the middle. 9) Nighty Night retired and lives at home with themself, sipping tea and watching the rain pour down on the windowsill on a cold night, sometimes even leaving the patio door open a crack to better hear the pitter patter.

[lemonsharks]

Someone, please, book-show mashup where Flo and Holly go to the same hair braiding salon and have been gossiping about the Co for over three years before Lockwood even gets the glimmer of expanding the business in his eye

Book show mashup where Flo occasionally crashes on Holly's sofa when she's on the lam and Locky is being annoying

Book show mashup where Flo carefully stashes her take *outside* after she finds out that Holly is not keen on supernatural souvenirs inside her flat

Book show mashup where Holly's secret girlfriend is Florence Bonnard and she never says anything because nobody ever asks her

Book show mashup where Lucy goes "HER?!" when she finds out and all Holly can do is smirk about it and go "She cleans up."

[i-need-of-a-hobby]

taylor swift mashups i think should exist:

delicate x invisible string

"cause i know that it's delicate, isnt it, isnt it, just so pretty to think, that all along there was some, invisible string, tying you to me"

2. new years day x cornelia street

"please don't ever become a stranger whose laugh i could recognize anywhere, and i hope i never lose you, hope it never ends, i'd never walk cornelia street again"

3. never grow up x the archer

"and even though you want to, just try to never grow up, now i never grew up, it's getting so old, help me hold onto you"

4. innocent x this is why we can't have nice things

"who you are is not what you did, you're still an innocent, but this is why we can't have nice things, darlin', because you break them, i had to take them away"

5. no body, no crime x florida!!!

"and all of my girls got their lace and their crimes, and your cheating husbands disappeared well, nobody asks any questions here, they think she did it but they just can't prove it, she thinks i did it but she just cant prove it"

thank you for coming to my ted talk.