#This weekend has been wild

[demonralph]

😅

[evercelle]

( just follow the script. )

[dont-offend-the-bees]

The Scenic Route

More dead boys! Post-canon, Payneland, pre-slash/getting together-ish, bestieism, bickering, sex talk/innuendo and soppiness. 2k. Enjoy!

Also on Ao3 (need to be signed in to read)

~

"Cheer up, Edwin," said Charles, brightly. "Might never happen."

Edwin gave Charles a look so haughty it had its own title. "It very much has happened, Charles." He sniffed and straightened out his newspaper with attitude, the rustle of it loud and sharp as a whip crack. "I don't see why we couldn't have simply hopped through the mirror and met Crystal there."

"At this point, Edwin, I'm in total fucking agreement," said Crystal, not opening her eyes. She was burrowed under her coat like a blanket, doing her best to make the uncomfortable upright seat look like a cosy bed. Fortunately this train car was basically empty, so she had space to stretch across two seats – and no one close by to comment on the floating newspaper across the table and the fact she was having a barney with it. "You're like, the worst person to travel with."

"He's just not used to taking the scenic route," Charles joked, nudging Edwin's shoulder. "Whole world out there if you look up from the crossword, mate."

"I've already finished the crossword," said Edwin.

"With my help," Crystal pointed out.

"I died in nineteen sixteen. How am I supposed to know which songstress recorded 'Strike Me Once More'?"

"’Hit Me Baby One More Time’," said Charles.

"Atrocious name for a song," Edwin muttered. "I was given to believe violence against women was frowned upon in this day and age. And yet here you are, making popular songs about it."

"It's a metaphor, innit?" said Charles. His brow furrowed. "I think. Haven't heard it."

"We get it. You're both old ," Crystal groaned. "Now shut up, I'm trying to sleep. Some of us still need to do that."

"You would've had more luck in my day," said Edwin, wrinkling his nose in distaste at their surroundings. "Decent benches, private compartments. Of course, travelling without a chaperone might’ve raised issues. I hardly think Charles and I count, given that no one but you can see us."

"And we're lads." Charles winked at her. "Fit, single lads."

Edwin gave him a withering look over his paper. "Yes, that as well." He flipped through to the personal ads, voice dry as a bone. "Lord only knows what tomfoolery we could be getting up to without supervision."

"No offense, Edwin," said Crystal. "But I don't see you and me getting up to 'tomfoolery' no matter what century we're in."

"Hm. Something else we can agree on."

"Well, I'm game," Charles grinned, folding his arms on the table and waggling his eyebrows. "Never done tomfoolery on a train before."

Crystal snorted. "Don't. Not fun. And don't ask me how I know that,” she said, cutting Charles off sharpish before he could quiz her. “Anyway, without Edwin's fancy private compartments your options are the bathroom or risk a sneaky handjob in your seat."

Edwin perked up. "There's that word again. Charles, you never did tell me what it means."

Charles winced. "Didn't I? Um. Right. Basically, yeah, it's when you..." 

"If you're gonna sit here giving grandpa a sex ed class, I am definitely getting up for coffee," Crystal muttered, throwing her coat aside and levering out of her seat. 

"Sure you don't wanna weigh in?" Charles called after her. He fully expected the middle finger she flipped him before stomping off down the aisle.

"So," said Edwin primly, newspaper set down in exhange for his notebook. He was poised and at the ready with his pen in two seconds flat. "Handjobs."

Charles squirmed. "It's not exactly arcane knowledge, mate," he said, struggling to look Edwin in the eye. "It's when you..." he made a strangled noise, and a descriptive hand gesture. "Y'know. For another bloke."

Edwin watched his hand, and realisation dawned. "Ah,"  he said, slowly tucking his book and pen away. "Indeed." He sniffed. "Crude name."

"Well, what would you call it?"

"Well. I haven't an equivalent term for the act as... bequeathed to another, so to speak.”

Charles bit his lip, holding back a grin. Who the fuck else in his life would use bequeathed in normal conversation? In a sex conversation? He crossed his arms before he could do something stupidly soppy and fond, like drop his head onto Edwin's shoulder and ask him to list his favourite words.

Edwin carried right on, oblivious to Charles' little moment. “But my father would've referred to the solo variation as ‘self-abuse’."

Charles snorted. "'Course he would."

"Yes, it was... a different time." He picked up his newspaper with an air of rigid discomfort. "People are certainly much more liberal in that regard nowadays."

"Yeah. Nowadays." Charles watched him closely. He'd always been a buttoned-up sort of chap, but. Since all that stuff in Port Townsend, with Monty and that bloody Cat King he'd... opened up, sort of. Wasn't going out snogging people or reading dirty mags in the office or anything, 'least not as far as Charles knew. But there was a curiosity in him, now. Something in those keen eyes that sparked up, latched onto certain things. All still wrapped up in good old fashioned Edwardian manners, of course, but Charles knew Edwin like the back of his hand – and he knew what his face did when he was interested in something. Just so happened what he'd been interested in lately was, well. Blokes. Some more than others. "You never try it then?" Charles teased. "The old, uh. Self-abuse?"

Edwin couldn't exactly, literally blush on account of being dead, but Charles could spot the signs. "Privacy was hard to come by," he said, carefully measured.

Charles raised his eyebrow. "But not impossible?"

"...No. No, not impossible." He cleared his throat. "Perhaps we should change the subject. Crystal will be returning shortly. Impolite to discuss it in mixed company."

Charles chuckled and sank back in his seat, casting his eyes out the window. The countryside rolled by, arid and golden. "Never been to France before."

"I suppose we haven't had any cases lead us here," said Edwin. "Nor have we had the need to travel through it," he added, voice clipped and curt. "Up until recently , that is."

"Got a right bee in your bonnet about the bloody travelling, haven't you?" said Charles. "C'mon, mate. Not like you and me are short of time, innit? Got all eternity to sit on bloody trains if we want to."

"I can think of better things to do with our time."

"Well – think of Crystal, yeah?" Charles reasoned. "I mean, she's alive. She's got what, eighty years or something left to be alive. How d’you think she feels 'bout having to spend half of it on public fucking transport?"

Edwin sighed. "Being alive was rather inefficient, in retrospect."

"I'm just saying... don't hurt to keep her company, eh?" He offered his best winning smile – and he had a good winning smile. “She's one of us, in't she?

Edwin rolled his eyes, but for once he didn't argue – Charles had him, and he knew it. "I'll... endeavour to be lenient," he offered.

"That's right big of you,” said Charles. He let their knees knock under the table. "Don't worry, not saying you have to be nice or anything. Just give the grumbling a rest for a bit, yeah?"

Edwin smirked. "Very wise of you to manage your expectations. 'Nice' is not a particular specialty of mine."

"I know." Charles grinned. "That's alright. I like it when you're a rude prick."

Edwin looked at him, and the hard lines of his face softened some. "Yes, you do seem to," he said; light, fond . "An ailment for which I fear there's no cure."

Charles ducked his head, smiling something daft. "We should do France properly sometime,” he said. “Go to Paris. Bet there's a load of old bookshops and that in Paris.”

Edwin brightened, with a little happy hum. "Capital idea, Charles. I haven't had reason to practice my French in some years." Then he sighed, proper dramatic. "Though I suppose we'll be taking the train again."

"Depends on if Crystal wants to come."

"Why wouldn't she?" Some of the stiffness had returned to Edwin's shoulders, but he was doing an alright job of hiding it. Anyone who wasn't Charles might not've noticed at all. "I daresay you two will want to take in the romantic sights while I peruse the booksellers."

Charles chuckled. 

Edwin flashed him an annoyed look. "It's a fair assumption."

"Yeah, well, we're not exactly like that."

"Is that so?"

Charles shrugged. "Had a bit of fun, but. She's still figuring some stuff out. Not looking for anything serious."

Edwin hummed, tightly, eyes fixed on the newspaper. 

Charles swallowed the lump of anxiety in his throat, and flicked the corner of the paper to get his attention. "Besides: had some stuff to figure out myself, too, haven't I?"

Edwin froze, the paper rustling in his hands as his fingers tightened on it. "Oh." He glanced furtively to Charles, while obviously trying not to look furtive. For a detective, he was a right crap actor, sometimes. "Yes. How is that... progressing?"

Charles rolled his neck, tilting his face in Edwin's direction. Edwin looked right strange, perched all prim and proper on the polyester train seat with its bowling alley fabric pattern. Charles could almost squint and see through time, to how he would've looked on a train in the nineteen hundreds; surrounded by wood panels and velvet, by family who wouldn't touch him unless it was to fix his hair, straighten his bowtie. He looked out of place here – but he was right next to Charles, so actually, he was exactly where he ought to be. And the afternoon sun on the yellow fields looked dead pretty scattered across his cheekbones and his nose and that neat, handsome sweep of dark hair from his temple.

Yeah. Charles was figuring a thing or two out, alright.

He looked away and fidgeted, trying to shut his eyes and settle back in his seat in a way that looked relaxed, unbothered – and not like he was trying to avoid looking too closely at his best mate's lips or his eyes or his long, clever fingers. "Let's make it just a you and me thing," he said. "Paris, I mean."

There was a moment of quiet, then the sound of Edwin's newspaper coming to rest on the plastic table. "...Yes. Yes, I'd like that."

Charles smiled, and let the rhythmic motion of the train roll over him – if he had a heart, it'd be thumping in time to the clickety-clack on the tracks. He couldn't sleep, not even in the dark behind his eyelids, but he could daydream. Imagine that he could feel the sun on his face, the vibration at his back.

And while he was at it, he could reach out, just a little, and hook his pinky finger through Edwin's. Just 'cause.

A very, very small laugh escaped Edwin – almost like a runaway gasp. "I suppose," he said, mildly. "The scenic route has its charms."

 ~

Soon, the thud of Crystal's boots rejoined them, along with Crystal herself. Charles didn't even need to open his eyes, so he didn't bother.

“Charles,” Crystal greeted – and then, curtly: “Edwin.”

“Crystal.” Edwin replied, with matching coolness. But the ice soon broke on an audible, weary sigh. “Truce?” he offered.

She took a loud, long, deliberate swig of coffee before answering. Her and Edwin were peas in a dramatic, petty little pod, much as neither of them wanted to admit it. “...Truce.”

Edwin cleared his throat. “Yes. Very good.” Then, after a moment: “Thank you for your patience.”

The sounds of Crystal getting resettled stopped abruptly. Charles opened his eyes and found her half in her seat, hand and coffee cup on the table, staring at Edwin like he'd grown an extra head.

"So you're in, like… a good mood, now?” she said. “That was almost an apology. What'd I miss?”

Charles glanced sideways. Edwin had his face angled to the window – and a small, soft smile barely tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"Oh," said Edwin lightly. His finger twitched around Charles’, just a little. Almost a squeeze. "Nothing of import."

Charles fought – and failed – to suppress a grin.

Crystal looked between them. "Charles. You didn't like..." She made the same crude handjob gesture he'd done earlier. "Give him a demonstration ...?"

Edwin squawked in indignation, Charles burst into surprised, sheepish laughter; and the golden fields outside the window gave way to row upon endless row of lavender and grapevine as Provence rolled alongside them, painting the plodding hours in green and purple.

And Edwin only complained about it ten, maybe eleven more times. New record, that!

~

Hope you liked it! Consider dropping us a comment or a reblog if you did 😊

Wrote this in part to distract myself from a horrifically busy train ride, in part as wish fulfilment while daydreaming about a world where the British public transit system isn't in shambles and I can get on a cross country train that isn't cancelled and sit in my pre-reserved seat as planned. Written and posted on my phone so apologies if that's reflected in the form and formatting!

Til next time!

[daydreamertrait]

a(nother) phoebe lookbook ཐི♡ཋྀ

1: hair // top // skirt // shoes // necklace 2: hair // top // skirt // shoes // bag 3: hair // top // accessory top // bottoms // boots // choker 4: hair // top // skirt // shoes // belt // necklace // bag

[likeasurgeon]

Do you know who my father is? Don't try anything funny.

[mobius-m-mobius]

I cannot believe that season. truly just. there was not a single episode I didn't sit down to without a genuine conviction that *this* would be the episode where they spit all over everything I loved about the show. I braced constantly throughout the episodes as they kept setting themselves up for Very Stupid story choices only to pull the rug and go "HAHA surprise, idiot!!! We've given you exactly what you wanted <3". until the final episode which was NOT what I wanted and also exponentially better storytelling and character development than any of the ideal scenarios I'd constructed.

something deeply meta about it all. truly a chaos season for the chaos god, where the most chaotic, unexpected, transformative thing they can do is to be good.

Spent the day processing my love for this season only to have your message sum my thoughts and feelings up perfectly, thank you so very much for sending it 💖

Same as you, not for a second did I go in truly expecting anything from s2. Owen and Mobius have my heart, always will, so primarily the show was a vehicle to provide whatever crumbs of his scenes and chemistry with Tom I could get and with the start of every episode I braced for the moment that would get ruined in some way, only to be continually hit with everything I've ever wanted in a show or pairing right up until the finale. Which, while not what I would've chosen, was beautifully crafted and an almost Shakespearean tragic romance that will haunt me for the rest of my days and is still infinitely better than the nightmare scenarios I'd been floating around in my mind so at least there's that and it's impossible not to be thankful for eps 1-5 for giving content anyone could dream of and more 😅

Besides the obvious ending, I'm mostly crushed our Loki and Mobius didn't get a proper goodbye but honestly believe Loki decided to seek out s1 Mobius instead knowing s2 Mobius loved him too much to ever let his sacrifice happen and it would've been too much to bear, so having made his mind up already he at least tried to visit a version most likely to validate his choice. Just wish the Mobius now waiting until the end of time had at least a similar opportunity, but I'm just thankful he didn't lose his memories and could make his own decision that his faith in Loki is what's carried him before and will continue to do so now.

The flip of their characterization from order or chaos is exactly what has me convinced Lokius will reunite because how can they not with such an open ended future?? Even in separation they revolve around each other and they're the only ones left wanting. Mobius and his life are in ruins with nothing but the passage of time and possibility of some spent with Loki ahead while Loki's surely going to find a way to meet halfway when the choice of order has not only made him potentially the most powerful being in existence but one who spends eternity looking at the only person who ever saw him back.

[aninkwellofnectar]

[buzz lightyear meme]

racefakers. racefakers everywhere.

[lastweeksshirttonight]

John Oliver performs at the Fringe for the first time in over a decade

Two days later Oasis teases a reunion

COINCIDENCE????

[twin-chains]

Based on any criteria: whoever was the most fun to fight, the coolest or most clever design, the hardest battle, general vibes, etc.

[softquietsteadylove]

I know it’s probably so annoying of me to keep asking for more every time you fulfill one of my prompts, but once again you hit it out of the park with the memory loss au!!! Gil is so sweet and kind and such a good husband who loves his wife no matter what 🥹 i don’t have a specific prompt, but just would love to read more about that journey. Thank you as always for keeping this ship alive, you have a reader in many of us still!

Gil paused in front of the door to the apartment. He leaned his forehead against the door, letting the cool of the air temper his mediocre (at best) day.

He loved his job, he loved the bakery. But the questions about Thena were getting to him. They came from a good place, he knew, and of course they would have their curiosities. But it was hard to deny that he was annoyed with the questions about if it was weird for them.

No, it wasn't.

Of course it was.

He had to come home and gauge if his wife was feeling particularly nervous around him that day. He had to ask how she was feeling because she went out of her way to hide that from him. She was recovering well, but no memories had emerged as of yet.

In his worst moments he really had to wonder if they would at all.

But he couldn't stand outside and dwell forever on that grim thought. He pulled out his keys to unlock the door. Thena herself had said she would leave it unlocked but he told her he would feel a little better if she didn't.

"Hi."

Gil blinked. It wasn't necessarily a welcome home kiss or anything, but Thena was standing by the door, smiling at him as he dropped his backpack where he stood. "Hey."

Her smile wavered faintly, but it certainly wasn't fake. She was nervous. "H-How was work?"

"Uh," Gil tried not to flounder. She was trying something, and he didn't want to discourage her. He also smiled, kicking off his shoes and starting to take off his coat. "It was okay. Kind of long, but at least it's friday, right?"

Thena just nodded, stepping back to let him in. "Come and tell me about it."

Gil tilted his head, squinting at her so long as she wasn't looking at him. It wasn't that she never asked to hear about his day before. But even just last week she was still trying to figure out how to start a casual conversation with him, or ask where they kept the coffee filters (again).

Thena seated herself on the couch, waiting for him expectantly. He chuckled, ruffling the stress out of his hair. When he rounded the corner of the couch he looked at the coffee table. The beer can was visibly cold, on a coaster and everything. "I thought I was out of these."

Thena shifted her knees, tugging at her skirt. "I decided to go to the store, today."

Gil tried not to look freaked out about that. He was just being overprotective, and there was no reason Thena couldn't want to get out of the house for a little. She remembered where the store was...apparently.

"I noticed there weren't any in the fridge, but I picked some up while I was out," she added, tilting her head as he cracked it open. "It smells familiar."

He smiled at that. Smells could be very good for her memory, he had already discovered by way of their laundry detergent, and his cologne. "You want a sip?"

She shook her head, and that made him smile too. "Yeah, I guess you never really had a taste for beer. You don't mind a glass of wine with Kari, though."

"Hm," she sighed as she leaned against the back of the couch. Her eyes were still intent on him. "So?--work?"

He cleared his throat, setting the beer down on its coaster again. "Right, uh...it was okay. Things ran normally, it was kind of quiet, but I guess it's just that time of year. And the weekend guys will be fine."

He had worked the very early mornings for the weekend before, actually. But since Thena's episode he did what he could to be at home whenever she was up and around.

"What do you bake specifically?"

"Oh," he blinked. It was light enough conversation, but Thena asked it like she was going to be quizzed on it later. But then again, he could remember their first date having a similar intensity to it. That was just what Thena was like. "I guess I mostly do the croissants, some of the desserts-"

"I looked up the bakery online today."

"Really?" he tried to ask casually, but she was going somewhere with all this.

Thena looked down at the small but comfortable space between them on the couch, picking at one of the cushion seams. "I considered walking by, but... "

She usually wasn't one to trail off during a sentence, but obviously she had really thought about whether to go through with it or not. Gil scooted just a little closer to her (not enough to spook her). "Hey, that's okay. I probably wouldn't have been able to come out and see you for long, anyway. It's sweet, though."

She looked embarrassed, but didn't shy away from him, at least. "I was worried someone would recognise me and...and I would leave them wanting."

Gil nodded; Thena was quietly terrified of having to meet everyone in their lives all over again. He couldn't blame her. Meeting people was never her specialty, and the pressure on her was now worse than ever. "It's okay, hon. We can face that later."

She sighed faintly, but she allowed him to just sort of wiggle his finger in her direction. She mustered the courage to hook her finger with his. It was small, but it didn't escape him that it was big for her.

"Hey, on sunday we can go by together if you want. Pick up some stuff for brunch here at home?" he suggested it gently, testing the waters. If she truly never wanted to speak to anyone they knew ever again, he didn't really have any argument to stand on.

He was willing to do anything to keep her from considering leaving all together.

"That sounds lovely." She smiled to match his smile, although softer and gently. Her hand did move, from just their fingers linking to more of a tentative hand holding. Affection wasn't her specialty either.

"It's a date," he grinned, unable to contain himself. Thena blinked and he nearly flinched, "I-I mean, not-! It doesn't have to-"

She laughed, though. He had missed that sound like the air he breathed. "My second chance at our first date."

He knew she meant it as a light joke, or maybe even in a self-deprecating way. But he melted. He couldn't help it! His wife was going to go on a date with him!

Thena watched passively as he brought her hand up to his lips. He gave her the chance to pull away, but she didn't. He kissed her knuckle gently. holding on just so he could admire the wedding ring still on her finger.

She had once asked if he had taken his off, and it had horrified him. But he asked if she wanted to take hers off. She had every right, even if the thought made him want to shrivel up and sink into the sea. But Thena had looked at the foreign object on her finger and answered very plainly but honestly: no.

Thena tilted her head at him again, "Gil?"

He gave her hand another kiss before looking at her again. Her hand in his, a beer to his left, it felt a little more like old times. But it was also new, in an endearing way. "So, you looked up the bakery?"

"Yes," she smiled, indulging his much improved mood, even letting him run his finger against her wedding ring. "It's a lovely site, the products are photographed well."

They had an instagram that Sprite mostly ran herself, but Thena didn't actually know that a lot of the product photography on the website had been done by herself back when Gil first got the job.

He had bragged all about how his wife was an amazing artist with a great eye for beauty! Thena had come in and done the photos for the website and then scolded him for embarrassing her.

"They are," he agreed quietly. "And we have some seasonal stuff, too. We'll still have the usual--the croissants, the pain au chocolat, the mont blancs. But we also still have the petit fours right now, since we get so much extra in for valentine's day."

Thena's face betrayed a split second of horror.

"Hey, hey, it's okay," he reassured her, and also used it as a great excuse to kiss her again (this time her open palm). "You were still in the hospital then. And we were never really valentine's people anyway."

There was some clear doubt in her eyes at that statement, but she didn't choke out a positively miserable apology (again).

"Besides," Gil put on his most charming smile, which she always said made him look suspicious, "I think valentine's is a little much for our first date, isn't it?"

Thena laughed again, and god he could listen to that for hours. He would make it his ringtone if she would let him. "I suppose that is a little forward of me."

"I mean Thena, I don't know what you heard about me, but I like to take it slow," he continued to joke, relishing in her laughter. It was so light and cute for how stern she always tried to look. "I'll pick you up and everything."

"You'll 'pick me up'?" she repeated back to him with her sandy blonde eyebrows raised. She had plucked them recently; she really was bored sitting at home all day.

"Sure," he shrugged and nodded in the direction of the guest room--her room. "I'll pick you up at 10."

[oculusxcaro]

While Khare wasn't exactly considered a 'success' by PROMETHEUS, there are times where her body does function according to plan. One of these are enhanced capabilities, particularly in regards to improved jumping thanks to the frog DNA inserted into her genetic sequence. One time when walking to Pauli's, Khare was startled by a group of young thugs calling out and running after her. When met by a dead-end, she jumped straight up and on top of the building, losing the group but ended up arriving late to work as she struggled to find a way down after getting on top of a (very) high roof.

[snowangeldotmp3]

on my hands and knees for rival monster hunter ronance

zoey i have a few pieces of this au for u!!

first, some rivals (still working on this part kshgkg)

Nancy grabs Robin by the jaw, brings her down to Nancy’s level. Firm, slender fingers keeping her in place. Robin’s mouth runs dry. “Don’t ever get in my way again,” she says through gritted teeth. “Understand?”

then, some friends....perhaps more....

“I’m not jealous!” “Never said you were, Wheeler,” Robin says, grinning. Nancy’s face reddens, and Robin’s enjoying every second of this. “Besides, we both know that you’re the better shot anyway. Annie has nothing on you.” Robin’s magic thrums again, electricity humming just under her fingertips, and she has the strangest urge to reach out and— “Hey, lovebirds!” Max shouts from across the saloon. “You might wanna come see this.” “We’re not—” “Don’t,” Robin sighs. “You’ll only encourage her.”

and, bonus! steve and robin:

Robin turns around, clutching the vials close to her chest. “No, I can't just magic it away. It doesn't work like that. There are rules, and this is supposed to be a back-up plan anyway,” she says, motioning toward the cauldron. “Plan 'A' is to use Wheeler's special shotgun.” “Special shotgun?” Robin shrugs. “It's charmed or enchanted or some shit. She won't let me experiment on it to see what it's actually made of, or what the charm is. She's very protective over it.” Steve hums, snaps his fingers. “Oh, like you and that book you always carry.” "For the last time, Steven. It is a grimoire. I have to have it in order to do this,“ she motions to all the vials and the smoking cauldron in front of her. ”it's not just a book.“ ”Whatever,“ he says, grabbing his hat and boots, slipping them on before he slips out the door. ”I've got to go meet Claudia for Dustin's lessons. Says he needs to do more than just experiment on her garden all day. Actually, I might send him here if he keeps that up. He could be a great apprentice.“

[swinging-stars-from-satellites]

what da heck

[landinrris]

Sitting down for the first time since Monday night to proof this fic 🫠😭

[did-you-fall-for-a-shooting-star]

The last time I cried over missing my boyfriend was when I was drunk and 3 time zones away. Now Im sitting in my own bedroom, sober as can be, and I cant get him out of my damn head

[pizzazz-party]

very late update: but i finished refining the backing cards and sent them out to get cut and printed! they look great, and I can’t wait to see what they look like when they get back to me. :D

the vinyl sticker, on the other hand, is still a thing in progress. i’ll finish post that maybe… Wednesday morning? it’s getting there.