#and dare to be stupid is a goddamn classic

[incomingawn]

My hottest Transformers related take is that I think The Touch is the least good song of the The Transformers: The Movie soundtrack

[sibylsleaves]

all at once you are the one i have been waiting for

7k | rated T | read on ao3

Days after the lightning strike, showing up at Eddie’s door, falling asleep on his couch. Buck had come to him. And Eddie had thought, maybe. Had thought, it’s almost time. And so he’d gotten him all dressed up and taken him out and they’d had fun and they’d laughed and maybe even flirted and Eddie had been so goddamn happy, so excited for what the future held. They were right at the threshold, he’d thought. No more doubts, no more fears, nothing holding them back, just the two of them stepping forward together. And now this.

He doesn’t understand how he could have gotten it so wrong.

or, Buck and Eddie are finally on the same page--until they're not. (A coda for 6x13 and a sort-of spec fic for 6x14/6x15)

When Eddie walks into the kitchen, Buck is pacing, phone clutched to his ear, stuttering and stammering his way through what sounds like the most awkward phone call anyone has ever experienced.

“No, it’s not a dare,” Buck says into the phone. “No, I just—I wanted to know because—statistically speaking—”

His face scrunches in a way that’s definitely not adorable (who would ever think that?) and then he lowers the phone from his face just as he turns and finds Eddie leaning against the kitchen counter.

“She hung up,” Buck explains needlessly, dropping his phone onto the counter.

“Imagine that,” Eddie replies dryly. “Have you been calling women all afternoon?”

They got off shift hours ago, and Eddie took Buck back to the Diaz house where they both crashed out for a well-deserved nap after a busy twenty-four. It’s early evening now, and Eddie just woke up. From the looks of it, Buck’s been awake a lot longer.

“Uh,” Buck says. “You want a beer?”

He pulls two out of the fridge, pops off the tops and comes around the table to hand one to Eddie. He leans up against the counter next to him, so close their shoulders brush. Eddie hides a fond smile by taking a sip.

“Can I ask you something?” Eddie asks after a minute. Buck looks at him, eyebrows raised in anticipation. “What the hell are you doing?”

Buck freezes for a second, looking caught-out, and then he ducks his head. “It’s stupid, I know. But you heard that guy…eighty per cent of—”

“Yeah, I heard him,” Eddie agrees. “But how exactly does that lead to you calling up every woman you slept with years ago to see if they had a good time?”

Buck ducks his head again, blushing. “Doesn’t every guy want to know that he satisfied his partner?”

“Sure,” Eddie agrees. “But Buck—”

“I know it’s stupid,” Buck admits, looking down at his beer instead of at Eddie. “But I just…I hate the idea that I didn’t…that I wasn’t…” He swallows. “Good.”

All the amusement and confusion leaves Eddie like an exhale. Because this isn’t about sex, or those women, not really. This is classic Evan Buckley self-worth issues, rearing their head just when it seems like Buck is finally moving past them.

Eddie sets his beer down on the counter behind him and turns so he’s facing Buck completely. “Let me ask you something.”

Buck angles toward him.

“How did you feel about those encounters?”

Buck blinks at him slowly, as if this question has never crossed his mind before. “Well, I…it was fun, you know? It was a release. Got me out of my head.” He takes another sip of beer and then continues, “Looking back, I guess it seems shallow. But at the time…I don’t know. I was so lonely. I wanted…something. Attention. Affection, maybe? I just wanted to feel wanted, for once. Maybe it’s sounds stupid, but even if they were just one-night stands or hookups or whatever, it felt like…a connection. Like I wasn’t completely untethered to the world.”

Eddie has to fight down the feeling that rises in him at Buck’s words, at the vulnerable expression on his face. An ache threatens to swallow his chest, thinking of Buck the way he was then, before Eddie even knew him, just a lost, lonely kid who felt like there was no place on earth he belonged. Eddie’s seen glimpses of that Buck—the one who squared up to him when Eddie first joined the 118 because he felt like his place there was threatened. The one that withdrew into himself and tried to sue his way back into a job that he felt like he was nothing without. 

The one that looked Eddie in the eye in a hospital room and said, I think it might’ve been better for him if I was the one who got shot.

“It doesn’t sound stupid, Buck,” Eddie says softly. “I get it, actually. You know, when things really broke down between Shannon and me, sex was the one thing that still made me feel connected to her. Even if I was hurt and couldn’t trust her, it was the one way I felt like I could hold on to her. So I do get it.”

“That’s different,” Buck says, gaze dropping back to the ground. “I mean, she was your wife. I thought I was finding connection with those women but it was only when I was with someone I really cared about that I realized how different it was. When the connection was real.”

“With Abby, you mean,” Eddie says, and he can’t quite keep the bitterness out of his voice completely.

Buck just nods. “Yeah. And after her, I knew that any hook-up would only make me feel lonelier. And that was also when I finally…felt connected to the world. To people. Our team. Maddie.” His gaze slides over to Eddie. “To you and Chris.”

Eddie takes a careful breath, holding Buck’s gaze.

“So it felt like I didn’t…need it, the same way. But I guess I do miss it, you know? Not—not sex, exactly. But feeling completely and totally connected to someone in that way.” He drops Eddie’s gaze again. “But part of me also wonders if I’ve ever really had it at all. I felt a connection with Abby. I did. And Ali. And Taylor.”

Eddie seals his lips together to stop himself from making a noise, or a face, that will give him away completely.

“But there was always some part of them…or part of me, that stopped us from having that complete, total connection. Where there are just…no walls, nothing holding you back from each other. Where it’s just total trust, and safety, and…” He stops, like he’s biting back the words he wants to say, and then shakes his head. “So I just wonder, sometimes. What that would be like. Especially now.”

“Now?” Eddie asks, his voice coming out rough.

Buck looks back up at him. Holds his gaze. “Now that I’m finally ready for it.”

(keep reading on ao3)

[astralartefact]

Placeholder Name for Atarase's Media Diary

Entry 005 - Paper Mario: The Thousand-Year Door Remake

<<Prev: Unicorn Overlord

Synopsis

The Only Plumber I know is made to visit Fantasy America to collect yet another set of mystical stars - and we gladly do it all over again.

How much did I know before playing?

I played the Original and I liked it very, very, very, very, very, very much. One of my favorite games ever.

Did I like it more than I expected?

It was everything I hoped for <3

If you say you like Turn-Based RPGs and own a Switch you owe it to yourself to play the Classic.

Since I liked it, here's what I hated about it

I would be hard pressed to find anything really.

I guess they could have added more things (the Luigi fight we all crave and the rest of the Paper Mario 1 cameos that were even hinted at in the game files of the original) - but I think what they added is good enough. They added Super Bosses, they added non-intrusive QoL - I don't need them to change the face of the game, I like the OG for a reason.

(and also a thought I had was - I don't know how many writers from the OG Games (both PM1 and TTYD) worked on the Remake and if there isn't much overlap I could see the Remake Devs feeling weird about putting those fanservicey kind of things in on their own)

Also the Thinking Music is punishing don't stop the banger while I'm over here being stupid navigating the UI q_q

What did this game make me think about?

Similar to what I said in my Entry on Unicorn Overlord, I kept thinking that this game - at least in this day and age - isn't even all that groundbreaking - it just does the thing you're supposed to do, the normal Turnbased RPG Overworld-to-Dungeon-to-Boss Loop really really well and it's kind of weird that people don't do it more often.

I guess Thematic Takes on RPG Staples aren't interesting enough for the Unique Selling Point Crowd anymore :/

Specific Impressions that will stick with me

the soundtrack

The Excess Express was the Progenitor of my love for Train Levels.

Specifically for this Remake - How having Vivian's Trans Moment* makes Mario's actions more heartwarming.

*look forward to hearing about this in the ramble section

Outstanding Audio

Very non-exhaustive List because Goddamn. This Soundtrack.

vs. Shadow Sirens

vs. Atomic Boo

Moon Battle

vs. Magnus Von Grapple 2.0

There is one single "bad" thing I have to say about the Soundtrack and it is... that I think Origami King's OST is still unbeaten as my favorite. The banger ratio of that game is simply unbeatable.

All the Partner Themes they're all so good and they're used like twice each

Edit: ___the bonetail theme, goodness___

Besides that they did exactly what I wanted them to do. The Paper Mario Sound Team is just amazing, they do not get enough credit. I'm so excited to see what's next - whatever it is the entire team decides and/or gets to do.

btw there's nothing quite as irritating to me than people complaining about remake soundtracks, even in the off chance that i agree with the sentiment its always voiced in the most condescending tone possible and it drives me up the walls. and sure, ppl can voice 'valuable criticisms' and disappointments or whatever, but i also can read them and be baffled why you thought you needed to share it sounding like you're the only person on earth who understood the original, especially when - like it is in this case - the remake sound team is the same as the original, they literally made the thing you like so much and you thank it by calling them names for daring to 'not get' one specific second in their own work as much as you do.

especially now that we don't really have technical sound quality to improve on there's always going to be changes you like more and less because any remaining difference is closer and closer to a lateral move and the only 'value' difference is subjective opinion. and regardless, the original keeps existing, you hear the new soundtrack in context for a playthrough at most, afterwards you can just listen to the og again.

Favorite Character

Toadette. My All Time Fave, she steals the show everywhere she goes <3

Also Mini-Yoshi, Vivian, the Rich Bob-Ombs, Kammy Koopa,...

Favorite Arc/Story Line

The Excess Express, I know it's relatively short but I just really love Train Levels

Also Glitz Pit, I guess I just like when the Dungeon is the RPG Chapter Location.

Favorite Set Piece

The Remake is so beautiful I could really put anything in here.

Honestly I love all of the Chapter 6 locations, the train in the different atmospheric lightings, the Sunset train stop, Poshley Heights,... (Bad Glimmerich in german, one of the reasons I will allow Fluffy)

Favorite Scene

The Excess Express being covered in the Smorgs (is that the name, they're called Fluffys in german which is kind of lame but I will allow it)

Best Performance

I'm leaving this in here because they didn't replace Charles Martinet for this one and they got me too often with random Luigi Dialogue sounds there's a really good one where they talk about luigi and when they show his picture he echo-ey goes 'wahoo!'

Also the new voice sounds they gave all the characters were too cute, some of them sounded really really nice.

German Localization Notes

I can happily confirm that Barbara is Trans in German too! I can't tell you with certainty how the situation was with the original but I'm pretty sure it was also removed there.

Honestly the German Localization for this Game is and was so good, you people have no idea. I don't know how similar the text between the two is (I haven't played the OG in years) but they kept all the names from the old Localization - which I was a little bit worried about since the german names are so wildly weird (in a good way) I could have seen them go back and 're-align' some of them.

The OG Localization didn't give that much of a damn about keeping in line with the source material when it comes to Character and Location Names, but also they got the Vibe so well they honestly did a better job at it in certain places.

For every weird thing like calling Petal Meadows Fire Valley (which makes more sense when coming from the japanese name but still mischaracterizes the 1-1 world of this game in a way that's honestly fascinating to think about) and boring names like Fluffy we have things like calling "The Great Gonzales" Bomba Luigi, a change I will defend with my life, that's such a funny name, it even makes that Bowser Scene with Rawk Hawk funnier when Bowser is perplexed who the fuck Bomba Luigi is supposed to be. (mini yoshi calls you bomba throughout the game and nobody remarks on you being called like your brother - not even luigi himself, which makes it funnier)

Also the Grandma Bubu (Puni) yells the phrase "Soll ich mir in der Kälte hier Gicht holen!?" (do you want me to get gout in this cold) at the Boy Bubu and that's just. I'm still laughing about it. I hope you have a similarly fun-to-shout sentence in its place.

Ugh, I love it. I know if I looked it up people would complain about how much they 'changed'.

--- ENTERING THE PRETENTIOUS SECTION OF THIS ENTRY ---

What about this game gives me Hope for the future of gaming?

I just want this game to be a sign to let future Paper Marios break the character design regulations again. (if you didn't know, these are an actual thing and are why post ttyd has either fully unique looking npc or entirely non-unique npcs, it's for brand integrity reasons so new characters aren't confused as 'official' and like all brand integrity stuff it sucks the fun out of everything)

I'm even one of the four people in favor of letting them do whatever they want with the gameplay if they don't want to do Standard Turn-based RPGs anymore - by which I mean to say I was fine with Sticker Star - but the texture that only PM and TTYD have, the Texture we all want and crave so much, comes squarely from the unique Toads and Goombas and Koopas and Bob-Ombs..., all the ones they're not allowed to do anymore because the Brand Integrity Manager says no.

(okay so to put this a little more thought out: specifically the unique npcs make the paper mario style less about 'haha paper pun' (which, as funny as they might be once in a blue moon, not a single person cares about) and more an abstracted story book-esque depiction of the mario universe. it makes the entire thing work better by just being 'real but less detailed' - which also makes the plot work better with fewer details - instead of... well, a paper(thin) joke.)

What about this game makes me scared for the future of gaming?

The Unique Selling Point will be the end of me.

Ever since Dexit (yes i'm specifically blaming that hot mess) awakened the worst type of Gamer to the fact that complaining about Problems caused by Capitalism means nobody can disagree with you, Nobody gets to have fun anymore. Not gamers, Not devs, Not anybody.

Everything has to have Value now, everything has to have a reason to exist, a unique take and always also a quantifyable improvement on what came before. If it isn't as good as 'it should be' it's an insult to the people paying money for this! You need to fix this, I paid for this! I know what's good and need to share my intellectual opinion on this minor detail that you clearly don't have any idea about! What in god's good earth are you smoking that you thought this was acceptable?

It comes with this "Customer can do no wrong" mindset (which is often enough wrong btw, you're very much responsible for your own goddamn actions) and it always belittles the thoughts and decisions of the developers who more than likely have to fight higher-ups for those to actually end up in the video games they produce.

Sticker Star really is a good example of that, aside from the Brand Integrity stuff that made us lose unique NPCs the other thing people endlessly complain about is that the Sticker System disencourages Battles which i'm pretty sure they just heard someone smart say once and that therefore the system sucks, who could ever have thought of pivoting to something that stupid???

Well, it's actually a really creative idea on a very foundational RPG problem: Turnbased RPG Battles and the Overworld are for the most part distinctly seperated from each other. For a standard TRPG what you do in the Overworld has fuck all to do with your battles. This is an attempt to make Overworld Exploration a meaningful part in the Battle Gameplay Loop. It has its downsides and it didn't work out perfectly, but I think it was an interesting idea to put to the test!

But I guess that's not allowed. The Devs simply were too stupid to realize you would just end up doing a lot of backtracking to get good Stickers. They just simply don't know what they're doing and we have to make that clear to them by lambasting the game whenever it comes up. (and also to prove to everybody that you have very smart opinions)

There's a thing I learned in school and you might have heard that too before: You shouldn't tell people negative feedback (first). And that might sound like "a nice thing" to do, you "shouldn't hurt anybody's feelings" after all, but here's the thing why I think we should do that: Most of the time People already know what they did wrong, but they don't know what they did right - what they can capitalize on.

Maybe keep that in mind the next time you share your "Valuable Criticism" underneath an official Instagram post (btw who in their right mind does that)

The Ramble Section where I get to actually talk about what I thought about

Let's talk about 'Nintendo adds Transphobia.' I know it's just a meme. Still don't like it :) I liked that they added the Transphobia! I just don't like the meme.

It's like bnuuy. I don't get the joke. It's not fun to pronounce. If the joke is that u and n are upside down, then you could also type pnuuh, that's the entire word upside down. Why are you all finding this so funny. I just don't get it. And just for the record, it's fine you find it funny. I hope you feel validated that I'm okay with your choice of meme. I just don't get it.

But with 'Nintendo adds Transphobia' there is this undertone of "What they did is good" (that's the happy reaction gif in the background) - but the thing they added, the Transphobia, is some amount of bad, or else it wouldn't be funny to be happy about it. We would prefer if you added the Trans Character without including Transphobia after all. But would we? Would that be "better" - whatever that would even mean?

And just to get it out of the way, yes, for a lot of people it's probably haha just a joke about how it sounds funny to be happy about adding transphobia - but then i still don't know what you people think you're doing when spreading a haphazard joke about 'nintendo does a transphobia' in a day and age where nobody checks any of the news they receive when nintendo is literally doing the thing they are supposed to be doing, like come on guys i do have the moral high ground here and i am firing shots

Fully aware that I'm taking this too seriously - If this is what's resting at the heart of some these jokes then I would guess this comes from the "It shouldn't be a huge/integral part of their character!"-BS that people (on both sides) have been peddling for years (because assholes really want that and well-intentioned people rightfully don't want to be fetishized) - but regardless of what you're using that sentiment for, clearly it's not that easy. Like, it should matter to the character or else it might as well be a JK JKRO "Dumbledore is Gay" Tweet and never be talked about again.

It's not like Beldam bullies Vivian just because she is Trans, Beldam bullies everybody, she almost bullies Doopliss more than her. It's just that 'her bullying feels meaner ever since she realized she was a sister, not a brother.' You know, exactly what they state in game and exactly like somebody would probably feel about it even if Beldam's Transphobia didn't play any part in the bullying at all, Feelings don't really care about Facts after all and it creates another dimension to Vivian, a tangible relationship between her and her bullying.

Sure, everything about her story would work without her 'being trans' - but a little change like that goes a long way to color all of her interactions. Even just the simple fact that Mario is nice to her hits a little different knowing that her sister treats her differently since she lives as a woman.

But that's all kind of besides the point because while they wrote a Trans Character facing a struggle that hopefully people will at least feel a little represented by - that's not the only thing they did. They put a Canonically, Directly Stated Trans Character right next to the best plumber you know. And that's kind of the thing that annoys me the most about "They Added Transphobia." Like guys. She's a main character. She's not some weird side quest character that appears one time, doesn't even have a name and says a weird line about it before disappearing forever like that one quest people bring up to say FF14 has Gay Representation. You Can Have a Fully Canonically Trans Woman on Screen for 50% of this Game, Right Next to The Mario Man, And He's Like "You Rock Girl. Love Wins." He doesn't even wince when she implies she has a crush on him.

This is a much bigger deal than some of you make it out to be! This is a serious occassion and you made the social blunder to show up wearing "They added Transphobia"!

And for the people that missed it: Origami King also had a Trans-affirming Birdo Moment where they used her for a Secret Drag Show at the Coffee House at the Rainbow Spring. The Paper Mario Writers know what they're doing with Mario's Image and even Nintendo's Brand Identity Manager can't stop them. You look foolish and don't know who you're talking to. These people made Mario canonically visit a gay bar hiding as a coffee shop. Fix your wig.

[eddsworld-enchanted-era]

Eddsworld Enchanted Info Masterpost!

-=-Characters-=-

The Main Cast:

Edward “Edd” Harpwing

Relations: Tord’s adopted brother, twin to Ded Harpwing. Nephew to Sharpay Harpwing, adopted son of Pat and Pau Harpwing. Best friends with Matt Hiddengrove and Tom Blackwell.

Info: He’s a silly, fun prankster who’s almost always on a caffeine/sugar rush... or at least, he was, until it happened. Now he’s quiet and reserved, a far cry from his former self. You can usually find him cooped up in his room throwing himself into his work, or mulling over some classified documents that no one’s quite sure how he managed to get a hold of.

He’s been trying to pretend everything’s fine, but he’s so obviously barely holding together.

He cries a lot more often now.

Goals: Trying to find Tord again, or at least confirm that he’s still alive - he’s worried about his brother, after all.

-------------------------------

Thomas “Tom” Blackwell

Relations: Twin to Timothy Blackwell, best friends with Matt Hiddengrove and Edd Harpwing - former friend of Tord Harpwing

Info: Just classic stupid Tom. He's a bit edgy, a little snarky, but extremely loyal. The kind of guy who would absolutely cut a bitch for Edd and Matt.

He's heard tales of a rising army lead by a horned man in red, and he's bitter as hell. He must have missed.

Well, he won't miss the second time around, will he?

Goals: To find Tord - he knows goddamn well that harpoon shot didn’t kill him, and he wants his fucking revenge.

-------------------------------

Matthew “Matt” Hiddengrove

Relations: Best friends with Edd Harpwing, Ded Harpwing, and Tom Blackwell - former friend of Tord Harpwing.

Used to “adventure” with the Harpwings as kids after his mother mysteriously fell ill.

Info: A bit vain and selfish. He acts dumb and naive as a cover for himself, he’s actually extremely intelligent. Do not get on his bad side if you know what’s good for you. he and his zombeh army (recruited from the ASDFLand zombehs) will fuck you up.

Goals: To prove that he's not what everyone thinks.

-------------------------------

-=-The Typo Bros!-=-

Sharpay "Pay" Harpwing

Relations: Brother to Pat Harpwing, uncle of Edd, Tord, and Ded Harpwing. friend to Tim Blackwell and Pau Harpwing.

Info: Depressed, slutty, alcoholic, feeling lost and alone and as though he's been left behind by everyone he's ever cared for - what isn't wrong in Sharpay's life? That's the question he asks himself every day, but never seems to find a good answer.

Some days he wonders why he's still hanging on.

Goals: To find something worthwhile for himself.

-------------------------------

Timothy "Tim" Blackwell

Relations: Friend to Pay, Edd and Ded Harpwing. twin to Tom Blackwell, acquaintances with Pat and Pau Harpwing, and formerly Tord Harpwing.

Info: Pretty, happy, smart, and a successful guitarist - what isn't right in Tim's life? He's almost the exact opposite of Sharpay, so it's anyone's guess as to how the two became friends.

The two date on and off, though when they're on, they'd never dare admit it.

They're terrible for each other romantically, but you know what they say - opposites attract.

Goals: To be world famous for his music, and to help Sharpay out.

-------------------------------

Ded "GMan" Harpwing

Relations: Friend of Tim Blackwell, twin to Edd Harpwing, adopted brother of Tord Harpwing. Nephew to Sharpay Harpwing.

Info: Lazy and easygoing, Ded just wants to vibe with his geckos, man. He doesn't wanna deal with this shit.

He doesn't even know what a Red Army is - though, the rumored descriptions of the top members seem somewhat familiar.

His close friends call him G Man, like the Half-Life character - though in his case, the G stands for Geckos.

His favourite drink is, surprisingly, Dr. Pepper.

Goals: To become a herpetologist specialising in geckos, salamanders, and other kinds of lizards.

-------------------------------

-?-The Rumored Warriors-?-

Patryck "Pat" Harpwing

Relations: Husband to Pau Harpwing, adoptive father to Edd, Ded, and Tord Harpwing. Brother of Pay Harpwing. Acquaintances with Tim Blackwell. Vaguely aware of Tom's existence.

Info: "...Isn't that above your clearance level?"

Goals: To serve the Red Army, and to keep his husband safe.

-------------------------------

Pau "Daddy Eyebrows" Harpwing (maiden name Arakajime)

Relations: Husband to Pat Harpwing, adoptive father to Edd, Ded, and Tord Harpwing. Friend of Pay Harpwing, acquaintances with Tim and Tom Blackwell.

Info: "All you need to know is that he's a damn good shot with that rifle."

Goals: To serve the Red Army, and to keep his husband safe.

-------------------------------

The Red Leader, otherwise known as

Tord Harpwing.

Relations: Adopted brother to Edward and Ded Harpwing. Enemy to Thomas Blackwell. No longer cares for Matthew Hiddengrove.

He's trying to disconnect from his past.

Info: "Du kan ikke vet det. Ikke ennå."

Goals: Total control.

-------------------------------

~/\~Summary!~/\~

A fan-era that picks up where The End Part 2, the final episode of Eddsworld Legacy, had left off, adding some newcomers and a whole entire world of secrets and surprises and little background details.

Edd, Matt, and Tom are dealing with their own feelings and the aftermath of what they call 'the incident'.

Sharpay is finally learning to live life, Tim's career is picking up, and Ded's chilling with his pet geckos and drinking waaaay too much soda for his own good.

But what happens when Tord and his army rise like a phoenix from the ashes? (er, the molten metal and shattered glass.)

Find out soon!

-------------------------------

Extra notes: no, this will not focus on the neighbours. at least, not as part of the main cast, or even as secondary characters - there's an in-universe reason for this (Eduardo and Mark are in a bit of a depressive funk after Jon's untimely demise, and don't leave the house much. It's a rare sight, they'll mostly be in the background) and an out-of-universe reason (I suck balls at writing the neighbours LMAO... and also I don't really like them. Plus there's already too much fan-content revolving around them anyhow.)

There's a discord, join it here!

[it-all-begins-with-a-dream]

AI Illustrations - W. A. Auden Edition (part 2)

Welcome to part 2 of my hyperfixation du jour! Here's part 1 if you're interested!

Disclaimer: I do not support the idea of using AI tools for any sort of illustration, be it a printed or online work. What I'm about to show you is merely a silly idea I decided to play around with for a little while and share the results. This is just for fun, please take it as such.

Now comes the part where I show you what happens when you put W.H. Auden's entire Lady Weeping at the Crossroads into DeepAI's image generator and ask it to create illustrations in Art Nouveau, Gothic Literature Art and Stained Glass Window styles.

Art Nouveau style:

Gotta love that floating tree on the left :) So this is basically the barest hint at the very beginning of the poem but the colors capture the atmosphere quite well.

Gothic Literature Art style:

Again, this is just the first few lines but there's the ocean in the background which is an improvement!

Stained Glass Window style:

The lady fused with the hawk but at least now we have a real crossroads with the ocean on one side and the tree on the other and the Sun in the back. This is not bad at all! It certainly contains more elements from the poem than the others.

Now, at this point you would think that my curiosity was sated, my hyperfixation calmed and my stupid ideas were gone. You would be wrong.

I proceeded to ask ChatGPT to interpret each stanza of the poem and tell me what they are all about. Then, I put those interpretations through DeepAI again and I only did it in Art Nouveau because I might be crazy but I'm not a monster.

So here's the entire poem, again :)

Lady, weeping at the crossroads, Would you meet your love In the twilight with his greyhounds, And the hawk on his glove? ChatGPT: A serene twilight scene at a crossroads, with soft purples and oranges in the sky. In the foreground, a lady in a flowing dress stands with tears in her eyes, embodying both sadness and hope. To her side, a figure in a classic hunting outfit holds a hawk perched on his gloved hand, while two elegant greyhounds rest at his feet. The atmosphere is poignant yet filled with the anticipation of reunion.

Look at that! We have a lady! We have some crossroads! We have her love! We have a greyhound (kinda)! We have a hawk! We even have some goddamn telephone poles completely ruining the vibe!

Bribe the birds then on the branches, Bribe them to be dumb, Stare the hot sun out of heaven That the night may come. ChatGPT: A dramatic, sun-drenched landscape with vibrant colors of a blazing sun hanging low in the sky. In the foreground, a figure stands beneath a tree, looking upward with a contemplative expression. Birds perch on the branches, their beaks closed as if silenced. The atmosphere feels charged with tension, as if the figure is daring the sun to retreat. Shadows begin to lengthen, hinting at the approach of night, creating a contrast between the bright day and the promise of dusk.

Very nice and here is our recurring little problem again: whenever DeepAI sees the word "figure" by ChatGPT it instantly defaults to a man-shaped entity. There will be more of this.

Starless are the nights of travel, Bleak the winter wind; Run with terror all before you And regret behind. ChatGPT: A desolate landscape under a dark, starless sky, conveying a sense of isolation and despair. In the foreground, a lone traveler, bundled against the biting winter wind, runs with a look of urgency and fear on her face. The stark trees around her bend in the harsh wind, and behind the traveler, shadows loom, symbolizing regret and past choices. The atmosphere is filled with a haunting stillness, emphasizing the weight of both the journey ahead and the memories left behind.

This is a lovely image, although the footsteps are a little funny and very interesting that even though we are still in Art Nouveau style the MC is now wearing modern clothing.

Run until you hear the ocean's Everlasting cry; Deep though it may be and bitter You must drink it dry, ChatGPT: A rugged coastline where tumultuous waves crash against jagged rocks under a moody sky. In the foreground, a figure runs along the shore, her hair and clothes whipping in the wind. The ocean looms large, its deep blue waters reflecting the tumult of emotions described in the poem. The figure's expression is one of determination, as if she is both drawn to and apprehensive of the ocean's power. In the background, the horizon blurs, suggesting the vastness and depth of the sea, hinting at both challenge and the allure of what lies beyond.

This one looks so shitty that I almost gave up on this whole endeavor. Luckily for you, I'm insane so I got over it quite quickly.

Wear out patience in the lowest Dungeons of the sea, Searching through the stranded shipwrecks For the golden key, ChatGPT: A mysterious underwater scene, illuminated by beams of light filtering down from the surface. In the foreground, a figure dives among the remnants of shipwrecks, surrounded by rusting treasures and corals. The dungeons of the sea are dark and foreboding, creating an atmosphere of both danger and wonder. The figure’s expression reflects determination and hope as she searches through the wreckage for the elusive golden key, while ghostly silhouettes of past sailors might drift in the shadows, hinting at the history and stories buried beneath the waves.

Theeeere we go! Interesting to note that the three DeepAI versions all depicted this stanza to be above the water in a seaside cave or on the water's surface. Maybe ChatGPT does have some fresh opinions to offer.

Push on to the world's end, pay the Dread guard with a kiss, Cross the rotten bridge that totters Over the abyss. ChatGPT: A dramatic scene at the edge of the world, where a precarious, crumbling bridge stretches over a dark, swirling abyss. In the foreground, a figure stands resolutely, preparing to cross, her gaze fixed ahead. The "Dread guard" could be imagined as a shadowy figure at the entrance of the bridge, waiting, while the figure prepares to pay the toll with a kiss—perhaps a gesture of courage or sacrifice. The sky above is stormy and tumultuous, reflecting the emotional intensity of the moment, while jagged cliffs loom on either side, emphasizing the precariousness of the journey.

That dread guard just doesn't want to be seen, does it. Love the angle tho, it's nice to see the bridge from the front even if it doesn't lead anywhere.

There stands the deserted castle Ready to explore; Enter, climb the marble staircase, Open the locked door. ChatGPT: A grand, yet eerie, deserted castle bathed in soft moonlight. The castle's stone walls are overgrown with vines, hinting at years of neglect. In the foreground, a figure stands at the entrance, gazing up at the imposing marble staircase that spirals upward, inviting yet foreboding. The staircase glimmers subtly, drawing the eye. Above, a heavy locked door looms, adorned with intricate carvings that suggest hidden secrets within. Shadows dance in the corners, creating a sense of mystery and anticipation, inviting the viewer to imagine what lies beyond.

I just love how tiny he is :)

Cross the silent ballroom, Doubt and danger past; Blow the cobwebs from the mirror See yourself at last. ChatGPT: A grand, silent ballroom, its once-lavish decor now draped in dust and cobwebs. Moonlight streams through tall windows, illuminating the empty space. In the center, a figure hesitantly crosses the floor, her footsteps echoing in the stillness. As she approaches an ornate, tarnished mirror, she reaches out to blow the cobwebs away. The reflection reveals not just her physical self, but a deeper realization—perhaps hints of past struggles and newfound clarity. The atmosphere is heavy with both melancholy and the promise of self-discovery, as shadows linger in the corners, representing lingering doubts and dangers now behind them.

This is probably the most detailed version of this stanza but we really seem to be losing the Art Nouveau style :(

Put your hand behind the wainscot, You have done your part; Find the penknife there and plunge it Into your false heart. ChatGPT: An intimate, shadowy corner of the ballroom, where the elegant wainscotting hints at hidden secrets. In the foreground, the figure stands with one hand reaching behind the panel, her expression a mix of determination and sorrow. A glimmering penknife rests within the shadows, symbolizing both a tool of revelation and a means of release. The atmosphere is charged with tension, as if the act of plunging the knife into the false heart represents a decisive break from deception and pain. Dim light casts dramatic shadows, emphasizing the weight of the moment and the transformative journey she's undertaken.

This time DeepAI had no problems with knives plunging into hearts but it also did not deliver anything resembling Art Nouveau.

And now, for the final trick, I'll show you what happens when you gather ChatGPT's interpretations (all 9 stanzas) and feed it to DeepAI:

Art Nouveau style:

Once again, this is only the beginning of the whole thing but we have a lady, we have crossroads, we have no lover but two greyhounds (!) and we have a hawk so it's fine. And yes, we have the fucking telephone poles.

Gothic Illustration Art style:

Goodness Gracious Those Colors! We lost the crossroads and the greyhound is now a labrador (?) but at least we have the guy, it's so rare to see him where he's supposed to be.

Stained Glass Window style:

This is very very similar to the Art Nouveau version which is weird because previously they had next to no common details. Maybe poor DeepAI was getting tired.

Anyway, thanks for reading this madness of mine! If you've reached the end send me a star emoji :)

[xxanaduwrites]

DOWNFALL | a.b.

main hub of all important thangs

chapter 4

keep it sweet in your memory I was just tongue tied and I don't wanna make you feel bad, but i've been trying hard not to talk to you - sunflower, vol. 6, harry styles

——

Toothpick Umbrella Thief.

You have got to be fucking kidding me.

I must have said that out loud because suddenly a gasp came from my right, leading me to turn my head to an overly shocked and surprised Levi with his jaw practically hanging on the floor. He quickly covered it up, clasping a hand over his mouth, but his stare evidently kept his expression locked on his face – his eyes popping out of his goddamn head.

Could this get any worse?

I feared it could, and it did.

"What's going on?"I guessed Dax finally detached his eye sockets from his phone because there he was, his head peeking out the door frame in curiosity. "Oh fuck – aren't you that guy from –?" He started, but Levi quickly shut him up.

"Shhh!" Circling his hand in the air, he brought it to a stop with the sassiest – most dramatic – hand gesture I'd ever seen, flexing his fingers closed like one of those puppiteers that did hand puppets to signal him to shut the fuck up. "Don't  you dare ruin this for me." He hissed, shewing the kid away which brought out a classic eye roll from the boy before he disappeared again. Once he was gone he looked back at us who were both staring at him blankly. "Don't mind him." He said to Ken, and then proceeded to hold up a finger to tell us to hold our horses for just a second while throwing what looked to be a package of gummy bears on the counter and opened those bad boys up. "Proceed." He deemed it safe for us to continue as he leaned his head on his hand, popping a few gummies right into his mouth – munching on them as if he was in a goddamn movie theater excited to watch whatever this was unfolding.

If I wasn't too stunned to speak at this particular moment I would have absolutely laughed my ass off.

Taking the minimal percentage I had left in my social battery for the day, I turned to the man in front of me – locking eyes with him instantly.

Dressed differently than before — in a less casual and more professional get up. But still ridiculously casual. He had on a pair of black trousers with a white short sleeved button up — half buttoned up to expose his chest and that stupid gold chain, might I add — and those black boots from the night of the party. Curiosity washed over his face as he drank me in, recognition soon written all over his features.

I swore I could have melted to the floor when he reached a hand up to his face, his thumb brushing over his lip as if he was trying to stifle a laugh before holding his chin— looking like he was thinking something over. He failed when he dropped the eye contact, training his gaze to the floor for just a moment before looking back up at me and letting out a short laugh. "Toothpick Umbrella thief?" He finally spoke, a cheeky smirk taking over. "Do you think that low of me, Wall Girl?" He asked, while regarding me with my own game.

Nice one, Toothpick Umbrella Thief.

And there it was ladies and gentlemen. That silky smooth voice that weaseled its way right up into my memory. A voice that I figured I'd never hear again, but here we were.

Boy, did the universe have something against me.

Just when I was this close to avoiding my previous interactions with him and pretending it wasn't me that drunkenly laughed her ass off in front of him – I let my identity go with just three simple words.

Great – just great,  he remembered who I was.

"W-Well." I let out a shaky breath as my eyes darted over every inch of the store, refusing to drown in those blue eyes I already found myself getting sucked into. "Considering the record you set up for yourself, I'd say so." I felt Levi's eyes whisking back and forth between us as if he was a referee observing a sports game.

Biting down on his lip, he shook his head. "Guess I'll have to break it then."I didn't have a chance to digest the fact that it sounded like he was flirting with me before he completely changed the subject. Bracing his hands on his hips, he averted his attention to the store. "Nice place you guys got here."

"Thanks!" Levi pipped in energetically, watching him as he walked up to one of the displays. "Most of those are from our new releases." He pointed out, leaning over the counter as if he was ready to fall right over it and into the Greek god's arms.

Apollo picked up one of the books, observing the description on the back cover. After a moment of absorbing it, he asked Levi quite abrehensivsly like a shy school boy. "Do you have a music section?"

"Yeah! Of course!" The enthusiasm was expelling off of Levi as if some witch whored him over. "I could show you. It's right –"

"Maybe another time," I huffed, crossing over my arms in complete impatience. I hated to be the bearer of bad news, but we had places to be and people to see. I also couldn't stand one more minute of the full fledged model standing in my place of employment. "We'll be late."

"Right." Levi looked momentarily disappointed, but quickly covered it up with a sense of seriousness. "Keys." He ducked under the counter for a minute, grabbing his key chain that was littered with so many chains I had no fucking idea where the key was located. "Go long," he called before chucking them in my direction. My arms still crossed gave me a disadvantage, and I knew the moment I unfolded them there was no shot I'd be able to catch, but I attempted it for the sake of my dignity.

Of course Levi threw it too fucking high and I felt myself falter as the chunky chains whisked over my head. In that moment I cursed myself internally for even trying, feeling myself fall backwards.

Fucking great.

I was about to hit the floor.

Embarrassing as shit.

Right when I came to terms with my faith, my back hit a broad surface with a thud, stopping me in my descent. Turning my head and looking up to see what the fuck just happened, I found myself face to face with Ken. All up in my grill and all. It was then that I felt his hands holding my arms steady.

"You okay?" He asked, his warm breath fanning across my face, sending a shiver down my spine.

Opening my mouth to speak, I completely lost my train of thought and found it hard to even formulate a sentence – let alone speak words when he was towering over me like this.

Seeing him from this newfound angle was ridiculous. I now had the opportunity to drink  in every small detail of his features – taking in the beauty marks that were littered across his right cheek. His eyes looked even bluer – if that was even fucking possible and his lashes looked so light and perfect when he blinked, I wondered momentarily what they would look like with mascara. His stupid pink lips were perfectly plumped. I was positive they were sculpted from the gods themselves. And boy did he smell amazing. What kind of cologne was that?

Noticing my lack of a response, he lightly squeezed my arms that were still trapped in his hold. "I'm – yeah, I'm fine," I said, once I collected myself enough to fall right out of the little trance I dived right into.

"Good." He let go of me, leaving me stranded and cold as I suddenly became aware of the warmth he possessed and once provided me. "Um. Shall we?" he whispered the question right into my left ear, raising his hand to jiggle Levi's keys that he must have caught during my failed attempt in my peripheral vision.

That bastard.

Must be nice to be tall.

Swallowing my nerves, I nodded and let out a defeated sigh – finding it completely difficult to even utter a single response after all of that.

Fucking embrassing.

My social battery was deader than dead and needed to be recharged as soon as possible. How the hell was I gonna survive god knows how long forcefully interacting with this man?

He dropped the keys in my palm. "After you."

Suddenly feeling overwhelmed by this close proximity and his scent that was taking over my senses and making me dizzy,  I made my way towards the door with Apollo in tow, following close behind me. So much for being distant. This man's scent traveled like a skunk. Not that he was stinky or anything. Definitely far from that. Like a whole flower or whatever.

Alright, time for me to shut up again.

My mind scrambled, I almost completely forgot about Levi. Halfway out the door, I stopped in my tracks. "Hold on." Ken-Apollo almost knocked right into me, but darted around — letting me walk right under his arm like a limbo game as he held the top frame of the door open. "I'll be back soon. Don't do anything crazy."

"Don't you worry." Levi brushed me off. "I always wanted to turn this place into the hottest night club, anyways." He joked — or at least I sure hoped he was fucking joking.

I gave him a long and hard stare — warning him that this wasn't the time to fuck around with me.

"Kidding!" he confirmed, or at least said so for the sake of my sanity. "Now go. But before you do say I'm in charge."

"You're in charge," I unfortunately threw out, rolling my eyes as Levi pumped his fist in the air — clearly ecstatic by his new title in this so called kingdom.

When I turned around, Ken-Apollo looked even more like a chiseled statue or a whole damn model. His hand still leaning against the door, his head dropped low, his eyes screwed shut as he shook his head and chuckled — clearly phased by the shit coming out of Levi's mouth. I was more than positive that Jeans was gonna have a field day with that one later when we debriefed about this entire interaction.

"Let's go." I nodded at him, rolling my lips into my mouth to stop myself from grinning like a lun at the sight in front of me.

He motioned his other hand for me to play limbo again — not moving from his spot. Too tired and nervous to argue with him, I ducked under again, walking out of the store and beginning my trek at an awfully fast pace to stay as far away from him as possible. I was still trying to process how this was fucking happening. First, the party, then the diner, and now this? And two of those things were from today. My brain felt inclined to explode at the thought.

Of course — him being taller than me and all — his long ass legs met my pace effortlessly. Soon enough, he was walking right next to me when I reached the parking lot — a pair of dark shades sitting across his nose. He didn't say a word which was kind of funny in my mind. It was giving —'bodyguard'. Like I was in some movie as the secret princess or the president's daughter of some made up country, and he could only talk to me when it was deemed appropriate. It made me feel at least a little better walking besides his fine ass — like Jesus Christ, what was in his water? Cause I sure as hell could use some.

Thankfully, I remembered what Levi's little vehicle looked like. She was old and beat the fuck up, but she still kicked and that was what mattered. He inherited it from his mother who passed it down to him — a red beetle bug that he called his lady. Or — as he liked to say — the only lady he'd ever ride.

The Greek god continued to stay dead silent as we approached the car, didn't say a word as I struggled to find the key for a solid minute, or let out a peep as he tried his best to fit himself inside — his long legs truly making it difficult.

"You good?" I asked him, as I was adjusting my seat, once he seemed settled enough inside.

He nodded, adjusting his seat as well. Even when he put it all the way back, his legs were still crunched up.

A small part of me felt really bad, while another was this close to laughing her ass off at the way he looked right now. "Sorry it's a tight fit." I apologized, trying to make some sort of conversation since I always found it awkward as hell when it was dead silent in a car.

"It's fine," he finally said, his sunglasses still firmly tucked on the bridge of his nose.

Turning on the ignition, we both almost jumped out of our seats when the radio blasted so fucking loud — I swore I went deaf for a solid minute. Quickly turning it down, I pictured what Levi probably looked like while he was driving. I could see him rolling the windows blasting whatever the fuck he wanted for the whole city to hear.

Was that fucking Pitbull on the radio?

Good god.

Classic Jeans and his party anthems.

"You can put on whatever you want," I told him, too fucking scared to put on something I'd like out of fear of the comments I could potentially recieve. I already heard it enough from Syd every time I switched on the oldies station instead of putting on current hits. Not that I cared what he thought, but I just couldn't handle being nagged today with all the current stress that was creeping through my bones at the mere thought of pulling out of this spot.

I started pulling out of the lot when he started fiddling with the radio — praying that this trip would be smoother than smooth. I hadn't driven in a while since I didn't have a car, meaning I felt rusty even just sitting behind the wheel. I could only hope we'd get there without a scratch.

I couldn't even comprehend what we were listening to, let alone detect what station he picked when I turned the corner down a busy street. Levi's disco ball that hung from the rearview mirror was driving me crazy as it swung around every which way as we hit bumps in the road. For a small car it sure liked to bounce around. The light hitting the ball reflected across the dash — semi blinding me. I could already feel a headache creeping in.

The light was green, but no one was moving. This was just great. God, I really missed my coffee from earlier. I should have nursed that shit so I could have saved some for now when I really needed it.

Oh, fuck.

Coffee! Shit we needed to pick up coffee for Syd's douchebag bosses and co-workers. How could I forget?

Of course we started moving the moment I remembered this. "Shit." I hissed, remembering that my phone was still in my bag and there was no way I could retrieve it.

"What's the matter?" The greek-god —that I really needed to learn his name so I could stop tagging a different name to his face every time I referred to him —probed, clearly detecting my moment of stress.

"I almost forgot about the coffees I have to pick up for the meeting," I explained while grabbing onto the wheel in pure stress, my knuckles turning white. "Can you get my phone out of my bag?"

"Yeah, sure." Picking my bag off the floor, he went to work swiping my phone out in one go.

"Can you go to my messages?" I asked. "There should be a picture of the orders that my friend Sydney sent me. It should be under Syd the science kid. Don't ask questions." I quipped in all seriousness.

"Alright." He seemed amused. "What's your password?"

"Don't have one," I admitted.

Pushing his glasses off his face, he gave me a wary look. "That isn't safe," he said, before he started thumbing through my phone. I didn't say anything as he scanned my messages in concentration. I sure as fuck hoped Levi didn't text me something stupid in the span of a few minutes we'd been departed about said man in the vehicle I was in right now. "Got it," he confirmed, before I could get too worried.

Stopping at a light, I motioned for him to hand me the phone which he obliged. "Watch the light for me, yeah?" I requested before scrolling through my contacts, finding the number of the diner and pressing the call button. Placing it on speaker and then going back to the picture messaged to me, I tossed my phone into the center console.

After a few rings, someone finally picked up. "Sunshine Spot. How may I help you?" a voice drew out quite unenthusiastically.

In my peripheral vision, Apollo's eye lit up—quickly recognizing the place I was calling, "Hey," I answered back, ignoring him. "Can I talk to Sherry? Tell her it's her girl."

"Oh hey!" I soon recognized it to be one of the hostesses, Beth. "Yeah. Of course. Just give me a second." She put me on hold.

We came to a stop again, this time abruptly as someone totally forgot  to put on their damn direction signal before turning. "I fucking hate other drivers," I murmured under my breath. I could have rammed right into the back of them if I wasn't paying enough attention.

Soon enough my girl's voice registered on the line. "Hello?" She questioned. "What's going on my girl? You scared the shit out of me when you ran out earlier, are you okay?"

I winced, glaring at the road and held onto the wheel for dear life – hoping the man next to me wasn't catching on that I was the girl that looked like a menu maniac running out of the Sunshine Spot this morning. "Yeah. Sorry! I'm perfectly fine," I assured her. "Just forgot I had something to do," I added in a teeny-tiny lie for good measure. Completely rerouting the conversation and getting to the point, I explained the whole situation to her in under thirty seconds.

"How many orders will that be?" She immediately got into her work mode.

"Um." I honestly had no fucking clue. I barely looked at the list. Looking over between my center console and the wheel, I momentarily debated picking up my phone.

Ken-Apollo quickly caught onto what I was doing and reached out for my phone right when I was this close to swiping it – our fingers brushing for just a second. I drew my hand back, hating the way my skin lit up like it was on fire the moment he touched me. "Lemme look," he said, but it sounded more like a question. "You're driving. It's the least I can do"

Swallowing the lump that pulled its way up my throat, I simply nodded at him – giving him permission and thanking him all at once.

"Rianne?" Sherry inquired, probably getting nervous by my lack of response and hearing my phone being absolutely man handled by the two of us. "Hello? Are you there?"

"Yeah!" I hollered, while Ken-Apollo propped up my phone in his hand between us, but she couldn't hear me.

My speaker must have eaten shit and died again. It liked to bug out on me from time to time.

"Hello? Rianne?" she called out again — this time sounding way more anxious.

"It's the speaker," I explained to him. "You're gonna have to take her off it and read the orders back."

"Okay." Doing just that, he held the phone up to his ear. "Hello.....No, this isn't her," he said. "I'm Austin."

Austin.

So, he had a name and it was Austin

Like Austin, Texas?

Yee-to the-haw? Was Texas all country-esce or was I totally off?

Weren't all those old films that Marlon and Marilyn watched filled with Texan cowboys?

"No. No –I didn't kidnap her.....I promise...." He let out a laugh. "She's driving me.....Yeah, she asked me to read off the list......Oh, okay. Hold on." He looked over at me, blowing air out of his nose as he shook his head. "She's a stubborn one. She wants to hear your voice first."

Of course she did.

She watched way too much Law and Order.

Without a word, I leaned over – allowing him to nestle the device against my ear. "I'm right here, and I'm fine. Austin's gonna give you the orders because I'm driving." Saying his name for the first time felt odd coming out of my mouth, especially since I was so used to Ken-Apollo.

"Fine." She huffed. "Only because you're driving. But scream some code word if you're just telling me this because he told you to make it sound like you're fine. How about banana?"

"Sher," I assured her. "I promise you."

"Alright. Alright," she let up. "Guess I have no choice but to talk to him then."

Giving Austin the green light, he detached the phone from my ear drawing away his warmth once again. Why the fuck was I shivering when it was hot as hell in this vehicle? "I'm gonna send the photo to my number if that's alright to make this easier."

"Okay." I didn't argue that logic considering it would be pretty difficult to read from a picture on the screen and talk into the receiver without having the accessibility to utilize the speaker.

After maneuvering about the features on my phone, he pulled his own out from his pocket and started the order process. "Alright, um – are you ready?.....Okay, two caramel lattes....Sorry, yeah.....I'll repeat it —

Poor dude.

This was definitely gonna take awhile.

It was then that it all hit me that this was really happening. That this was my life at this very moment. Sitting in a red beetle bug, squished next to a man – that I was convinced practiced his model faces in the mirror – talking to my girl Sherry on the line, as we drove through the busy streets of Los Angeles trying to pick up the pieces of this so-called disaster and put it all back together. What shocked me the most was that he was such a good sport. If anything, I figured he would have been fuming the moment he stepped in the car over the fact that he was left waiting at a restaurant and now had to travel across the city to make it up. Instead he was calm – way calmer than me – helping me out as I panicked over something that wasn't even my problem to begin with but became my problem by default.  Either he really wanted to work with these people and pull off a good firt impression, or he took up a lot of fucking yoga or something – because he was ridiculously zen.

"Yeah...I think that's it," he concluded the order, whisking me right out of my mental run down. "Thanks.....We should be there in —" he trailed off.

"Three minutes," confirmed.

"Three minutes," Austin relayed the message. "Okay....Bye." And then he hung up the call.

I stopped at another light. "Thank you."

"Not a problem." He placed my phone back in the cup holder.

And then it went silent again, besides the radio that suddenly went staticy. We must have hit an area that had shit service. In response to that, Austin leaned forward, messing with the radio again. He mulled over a few stations before finally picking one — was that Elvis?

He leaned back in his seat once he was satisfied with his choice. "Love this song." He whispered so low I probably wasn't meant to hear it.

"Didn't take you as an Elvis dude," I said matter of factly, pretty surprised that out of everything he could pick he chose the station with a song that was an oldies love ballad that reminded me too much of an Italian restaurant jam — It's Now or Never.

"Guess I'm full of surprises then," he mused, leaning his elbow on the edge of the windowsill, his fingers lingering against his chin— what I figured at this point was either a cruel seduction trick or some sort of nervous tick he picked up. "What did you take me as?"

Great — here we go with the questions.

I shouldn't have said a word.

Those rings were staring at me.

Thankfully, the light turned green again — leaving me obligated to turn my attention back to the road — and Sunshine Spot was right around the corner. Making a right, I pretended to be concentrated and too occupied to answer  him as I turned into the lot and found a spot with ease. "We're here." I said once I got the bug parked, completely avoiding the question. "I'll be quick." I told him as I opened the door frantically and darted out.

For a split second I felt like I could finally breathe, but that second passed far too quickly when I heard a car door slam shut and feet padding across the lot.

Guessed he didn't get the memo that I wanted to be alone.

Fuck me.

"Might as well join you," he said when he reached up to me. "Gonna have a lot to carry anyways."

Well.

That was true.

But, what if I had some sick ass balancing skills and could carry numerous things without an issue or I could just juggle the coffees in the air like a whole circus act? Too late for him to find that out. Could of been really fucking cool too.

His loss.

Walking into the Sunshine spot, I looked far from sunny or shinny considering this whole situation. I thought maybe he was gonna say something about being here before, but he just tagged along behind me as I stepped foot at the side of the counter that was reserved for pick ups.

"Rianne?" The dude in charge of the take out orders asked.

"Yeah."

He was quick to place the two trays on the counter piled with the most extra looking drinks I'd ever seen. I went to pull out my card to pay for the order, but when I looked up after shuffling for a hot minute in my tote — I saw Austin sticking his credit card in the machine.

"You didn't have to do that," I whined, a hint of irritation laced in my voice.

"But I did," he teased back, biting his lip as he shoved his credit card back in his wallet.

Cheeky fucking bastard.

How could I be mad at him when he did that, looking like that?

Ridiculous.

In a fatal attempt to stop staring at his stupid lips, I looked over the trays in front of us. I had no fucking clue what half of these concotions were. Reaching out I grabbed the first tray, and of course — when I went to grab the second the first one flinched in my arms, leading one of the cups to pop open and spill all over my white shirt.

"Fuck," I cursed out, once I felt the coldness of the drink seeping down my blouse. At least it wasn't hot.

So much for my circus act.

Immediately, the tray was drawn out of my grasp and set in front of me. I was too stunned to even look up and see who was assessing the situation, transfixed by my poor white button up and how it was saturated in the dark brown liquid of the black coffee.

"I'm so sorry about that! We'll get you a new one — on the house."

Shaking my hands at my sides, I tried my best to get rid of the sticky droplets that etched themselves into my skin while someone — who I soon realized was Austin was shoving napkins into my hands, trying to help me clean up the mess. I watched as he drew one of them delicately up my arm. Hating that I was already getting locked in a trance thanks to his touch, I shook out of his hold and began to assess the situation — dabbing a few napkins to my chest to dry myself off as best as I could.

Once I handled a majority of the damage, I immediately regretted looking up.

"What are —" My eyes nearly popped out of my head.

Austin was mother fucking stripping.

Well not full on stripping, but he was taking off his shirt— undoing each and every button.

What in the Magic Mike was going on?

I squeezed my eyes shut out of instinct and slapped my hand over them for extra protection.

Was he fucking insane?

"Don't worry." I knew he was grinning based on the laugh he let out. "I'm covered."

Once I deemed it somewhat safe, I peeked through my fingertips. Noting the white tank that I didn't realize was under his button up before, I drew my hand away.

He dangled the button up in front of me. "Here." He motioned me to take it from him. "Wear this. You're gonna be all damp and sticky if you keep that on."

"I-I can't," I rejected his offer, already knowing that I would lose my shit if I put on his shirt.

"Why not?"

"Because," I tried to reason. "Don't you have an important meeting to attend to?"

"Um," He thought about it for a second, looking up at the ceiling as he grazed his hand over his chin again. "Something like that." He shook the material in front of me. Somewhat sternly this time, he pleaded. "Just take it, Rianne."

Something about the way he said my name had to completely throw me off and rewire every ounce of stubbornness I once possessed because I snatched that shit out of his hand so fast and made a dash to the bathroom in a flash.

My heart was racing out of my chest when I finally made it to a stall, locking myself inside. Leaning against the door frame, I took a needed breath replaying the way my name sounded coming out of his mouth.

Like pure silk? Velvet even? Something rich?

I suddenly felt tempted to dive my nose right into his shirt and take a big sniff like one of those Downey commercials, but I soon debunked that idea finding it fucking weird.

Rianne.

Rianne.

Rianne.

I always hated the sound of my name. Always thought it was the most irritating, annoying, and most uninteresting name in the world.

Until now.

When he said my name — he made it sound worth it, and that was what fucking scared the absolute shit out of me.

——

welp, this was a tough-y to write. i was soups self conscious about this chapter because i kept over thinking it — wondering if i got rianne and austin's dynamic down in the way i saw it in my noggin. anyways, i hope you enjoyed it and i hope it wasn't cringe.

just levi (the whole gang) watching rianne (donna) and austin (eric) interact:

all the love, xanadu

[smallblip]

Hello sweetie! I swear your fics are like my fav things in the world! I wanna ask if you have a favorite Levihan and Jeankasa scene or moment that made you say I FUCKING LOVE THIS SHIP. I hope you're having an amazing week! <3

Thanks for reading them lovely😭💖

YES. Brilliant question. /pulls up a PowerPoint/

Levihan

For Levihan, I know this is cliche, but every levihan fan’s pilgrimage starts at this very spot:

Fucking “right here” sexual tension so thick it breaks my fucking butter knife. Because I’m an idiot, I didn’t *notice* it the first time (I used to watch the anime when having dinner during University forgive me), but when I rewatched it and this scene came on. Omfg. I just-

What even is that Levi? What is this smouldering look? Did your face have to be that close to Hanji’s to make your point? Omg! And Hanji’s stupid wide-eyed expression because Levi caught them off-guard? Stop it. Stop. We’re in public. We’re at work. Human Resources will be hearing about this!

The second scene that made me absolutely feral was when Hanji barged in on Levi’s squad’s tea time and talked to Eren while the others were like “fuckkkk go awayyyyy” and Hanji just barks a curt “Levi! What’s Eren up to today?” And he replies, completely deadpan, and Hanji proceeds to ignore his comment completely, switches back to their “uwu hewwo bb Ewen” voice and pulls Eren out of his duties. It was such an embarrassing partner (who is the manager of another branch and technically my boss) shows up at my workplace to wreak havoc moment? And Levi is just- completely used to it by now? He doesn’t mind?

And the third, after investing countless hours on this goddamn ship, they hit me with the telepathy scene. God. If that doesn’t sum up why I love them- Hanji getting excited and Levi being like “how the fuck were you raised? Why are you so feral? Stop being embarrassing!” And Hanji getting annoyed because “I know! Don’t you think I know? How dare you think I wouldn’t know!” And then they proceed to demonstrate that they, in fact, do not know.

Jeankasa

There ain’t that many but- we do what we can… (I do have favourites).

The scene where Jean swoops in to save Mikasa? A classic. A cliche. A favourite. It’s always Mikasa who has a handle on things, but when she’s in danger Jean fiercely protects? He’s just a boy trying to save the girl of his dreams? So tropey? So heroic? Iconic.

But my two absolute favourite moments?

One would have to be when the gang was talking about Eren and how he put everyone in danger. And Mikasa knows he’s not the same Eren, but she just doesn’t wanna face it. And Connie’s had it with everyone’s bullshit and is like “so tell me Mikasa since you know him so well- Why did he laugh?” And Mikasa looks at Jean and this is me reading into it because I’m obviously a sucker for them, but she looks at him? You always look at the person in the room you’re most comfortable with- whether it’s a tense situation or whether it’s to laugh. Or you look at the person whose counsel you seek or whom you trust to give you an accurate read of the situation. And she looks at him for assurance, for confirmation. And when she sees his face- she knows he feels the same, that Eren has gone astray, he just doesn’t want to say it because what’s there left to say? What’s the point of hurting her more? At that moment she looks away and her expression is one of realisation? She finally faces the truth? Ugh. This moment has such brilliant hurt comfort potential? I gaped okay. This scene makes me feel things.

The other? When Eren said shitty things to Mikasa and they rejoined the group and Jean asked for elaboration on how Eren had hurt Mikasa. And she was like “it’s fine…” and Jean, very calmly but very firmly, said “no it’s not fine. What did he say?” Very protective, very delicious. But in a way that isn’t him swinging his ego about and yelling and being forceful about it and making it about him? And after when he tries to rationalise Eren’s behaviour, reassure them that he’s out of it and he’s saying things he wouldn’t normally say? It’s just such a defining moment for Jean? It shows how mature he is. He didn’t use that to his advantage to be like “lol told y’all Eren’s an asshole”? He just wants to make sure everyone’s okay, and that Mikasa isn’t hurt.

Picture a dog barking at the doorbell. That was me this entire post. Thank you for coming to my TedTalk, have a lovely week ahead and stay frosty❤️‍🔥

[rhysismydaddy]

Prisoner's Game Pt. 2 (Rowaelin)

Part 1

~Rowan~

Rowan didn't think he'd ever been so pissed off in his life.

The only time that even came close was when he lost his first and only court case, but over the years he'd come to live with that.

This though?

This immature, childish, irritatingly clever woman... he had a feeling he'd carry the rage he felt against her until the day he finally died of it.

Although, if he was honest, his returning move had been a little childish, too.

He'd ordered one of the guards to strip her cell of everything except the chess set. Her mattress, the makeshift knife he shuddered to think she'd had in the same room as him, her pillow.

If she wanted to steal his shit, he'd steal hers, too.

He'd also had the guard move one of his pawns forward on the board.

Not the most creative, but he didn't have many options.

What did you take from a woman who had nothing? How did you punish someone who was already serving the longest punishment available?

The bank had seized her assets when she'd been locked up, and the lease on her apartment had long since run out. She didn't have any personal items with her, didn't seem to even care about anything besides making his life hell.

Case in point, when he got home that night, exhausted from dealing with Aelin and spending a long day at the office, he'd discovered her retaliation.

She'd stolen his bed.

The whole goddamn thing, frame and all.

How she'd managed to get it out of a penthouse condo with security not realizing a thing, he had no idea. He knew from experience it wouldn't even fit through the door.

It'd seemed if she was going to be uncomfortable, so was he.

Steaming with anger, he'd showered and flopped on the couch like an idiot, not even able to sleep thanks to the rage she'd worked him into.

She was completely kicking his ass. From the inside of a jail cell.

He hadn't gotten more than a few hours of sleep before giving up on even trying. At six, he'd dressed and driven to Whitehorn and Salvaterre, the law firm he was a partner at.

If he couldn't sleep, he'd at least figure out how the hell she was pulling this shit off.

Looking through her folder, he went through her daily schedule, seeing nothing out of the ordinary.

Eight am wake-up, breakfast, shower, lunch, yard time, dinner, lights out at nine. Between activities, she worked out in her cell or read a book from the run-down prison library.

In the eight years she'd been in prison, she hadn't had a single visitor. Her cousin Aedion--a playboy Rowan couldn't be paid to associate with--delivered a care package on the first of every month.

Strange, considering nothing of the sort had been in her cell.

She'd been in solitary confinement ever since randomly attacking her cellmate a little over a month ago. She was still allowed yard time and meals with the other prisoners, but she was chained at all times.

Also strange, considering Aelin wasn't the type to do anything randomly.

Rowan watched the security tapes he'd strong armed the guards into giving him, going through the past few days to see how she'd gotten out of her cell to rob him.

He watched as she was escorted to the yard, watched as she ate breakfast and lunch and dinner alone, watched as she put herself through vigorous training in her cell.

Days of footage, and he didn't find anything.

Feeling like a bit of a creep, he watched the nighttime footage of her sleeping, but there was nothing out of the ordinary.

She didn't move too much or too little--both of which would indicate it wasn't really her under that thin blanket. There were no attempts to pick the locks in between her wrists and ankles, no digging into the wall behind her toilet.

Nothing.

Which meant someone was helping her.

He could go through the official channels and ask the police for her known connections, but he hadn't reported either of the robberies yet.

Partly because he wanted to deal with her himself, partly because he felt a bit stupid getting robbed from a woman in the most secure prison in the city.

Which means he'd have to go about it a different way.

Grabbing his keys from his desk, he debated how else he could make her miserable, unfortunately finding nothing else he could do to her, no revenge he could get from robbing her tiny little cell.

No, he'd have to try something new.

Maybe he could bribe her into confessing. She didn't have anything right now, but maybe he could give her something to lose.

He'd bring her lunch, force himself to apologize for yelling at her, and just politely ask who her accomplice was.

He thought on it as he rode down the elevator to the garage. It probably wouldn't work, but he didn't know what else to do.

And besides, he knew from experience Aelin didn't respond well to his anger.

Checking his email to make sure he wasn't missing any important meetings, he pressed the button on his car fob, expecting to hear the resounding beep from his designated parking spot.

Except the beep never came.

Slowly looking up, Rowan had to amend his earlier statement.

Now he didn't think he'd ever been so pissed off in his life.

He stormed over to the security booth, hardly refraining from grabbing the man inside and throwing him to the ground.

"Where's my car, Rolland?"

"In your spot, boss," the stout little man replied instantly and surely, snapping his gum and looking at him in confusion. "Haven't seen you drive out yet."

"Yes, exactly. Which is why it's a mystery why it's no longer in it's spot."

Rolland caught up slowly. "You mean... it was stolen? From here? From you?"

Jaw so tight his molars were practically fused together, Rowan growled, "Just let me see the security tapes from this morning."

The guard nodded quickly, eyes nervous as he typed something into the desktop in front of him.

"That's weird," he muttered a moment later, typing faster and sending Rowan a nervous glance.

"What?" he asked, trying to calm himself down with a few of the breathing techniques he'd learned over the years.

"The tapes are gone, but there's... this."

Rolland turned the screen so Rowan could see it, and all the breathing in the world couldn't keep him from slamming a fist into the side of the security shack.

The footage was gone, and on the blank black screen read: Bishop to J7.

He was going to fucking kill her.

~Aelin~

"Enjoy your taxi ride here?" she asked sweetly, leaning back in her chair and crossing her legs.

Rowan scowled at her as he crossed the small room inmates could use to talk to their lawyers. He yanked the chair across from her out, then threw himself into it. "You are such a pain in my ass."

She just shrugged.

He sat across from her, angry and broody, and for a long time, he just stared at her.

Finally he asked, "Why are you doing this, Aelin?"

"I told you. You locked me up for something I didn't do. I want you to be as miserable as I am. It's simple, petty revenge."

Nothing about it was simple, but that was besides the point.

He was quiet for another moment. "Why now?"

She sighed, but she wasn't upset. Truthfully, she'd been waiting for him to ask that question.

"I want to tell you a story."

He stood up suddenly, face exasperated. "I'm not fucking joking around. And I'm not going to let you waste any more of my time."

He made his way to the door, and his dismissal of her pissed her off enough to say, "Sit down, or your car's going off Whigsby Bridge."

He smiled like he'd won their little game. "So you admit you have it."

"Sure," she said casually, honestly not giving a shit about the car.

His brow furrowed. "You're giving up? Just like that?"

"You're a fucking idiot if you think this is about your car, Rowan. But sure, I admit I know exactly where it, and your bed, and your little dagger are being hidden."

He narrowed his eyes. "This conversation is being recorded, and you just admitted to being an accessory to robbery, so-"

"You aren't going to press charges," she cut him off, pulling a cigarette out of her pocket and lighting it.

Nasty little prison habit she'd developed, smoking.

Or maybe she just did it because she knew he hated the smell.

"Oh, really?" he asked incredulously, eyeing the cigarette with disdain.

She grinned. "Once you sit and hear my story and realize I'm telling the truth, you're going to feel so guilty you won't even care about the car. Now sit down. I'd hate to see a classic get totaled because you're being stubborn again."

He glared at her, but came back to the table and sat down again.

Then reached over and snatched the cigarette from her lips, putting it out against the steel table top.

She just pulled out another, lighting it with one of her last matches. The irritation on his face made it worth the loss.

He waved a hand as if to say Get on with it.

She'd debated how to tell him this story for a long time. It was long, and messy and not particularly pleasant for her. But she wanted him to know the full thing, so she'd decided to start at the very beginning.

"My parents died when I was four," she began, ignoring his dramatic sigh. "I went into foster care, and as you can imagine, I was a particularly unruly child."

She smiled at the few memories she had. "I stole from the nuns, snuck out of my room at night and ran through the house, set all the clocks back an hour so we could sleep in. Small stuff. But it irritated them, because they couldn't prove it was me."

"Sounds familiar," he grouched, making her grin.

"I was adopted by Arobynn Hamel a year later."

As she'd predicted, his mouth fell open at that.

Arobynn was the known king of the underworld in Rifthold. He had a hand in every aspect of crime, yet no one could do anything about it because he never committed the crime himself.

His name was revered, so much so no one ever dared to cross him.

"But your record says-"

"That I stayed in foster care until I turned eighteen, I know."

Arobynn hated public records and had a deal with someone in the system that he'd take some of the kids off their hands if they kept quiet about it. Illegal as hell, but he wasn't someone you refused without suffering serious consequences.

It was the perfect crime. No one would miss unwanted kids, and it gave the system one less mouth to feed.

"I didn't know it, but he'd been watching me for a while. He... I don't know, saw something in me. Natural, innocent talent he could work with and turn into something different. He adopted me on my fifth birthday. And then he started training me."

"To do what?" Rowan asked, shoulders tensing.

"Everything," she answered with a shaky laugh, taking a long drag from her cigarette. "Stuff I wanted to learn, like how to pick a lock or walk without making sound. But as I got older, he taught me other stuff. Stuff I didn't want to know."

"How to kill," he finished, picking up on her tone.

She nodded, finishing her cigarette and flicking the butt on the floor.

"I was good," she told him quietly, looking down at the table. "By the time I was fifteen, he said I was the best he'd ever had. None of his other... children could beat me in a fight, not even the older ones who had a hundred pounds on me. And I could steal anything and not leave a trace."

His eyes didn't show an ounce of doubt, and she didn't know how to feel about it. But she kept going anyway.

"I was his favorite. I was his best asset, and I didn't care about anything that would compromise me. I lost my parents, and despite how much he wanted me to, I never loved him. I had no weaknesses. Except Sam."

"Another of his students?" Rowan asked, and it wasn't lost on her he said students instead of children.

She nodded. "We were adopted around the same time, grew up together. He was a year older, and whenever I had a problem, he was the one I'd turn to. He was good to me, and by the time I was seventeen, not a small part of me loved him."

Aelin broke off and took a deep breath, wishing she had another cigarette and trying to figure out how to put into words how much he'd meant to her.

"Was?" Rowan asked, so softly and quietly and understandingly that she was reminded of the man he'd once been, the one she'd loved.

Shaking her head to clear it, she said, "He made a mistake. He went on a job; he was supposed to break into one of the underground casino's owned by Arobynn's competitor and memorize the ledger, but he got caught. It was messy and horrible and stupid, and the owner wanted blood. Arobynn promised he'd kill Sam as retribution."

Rowan's eyes widened, almost like he hadn't realized how brutally she'd been raised until that moment.

"I begged him not to. Sam had saved me and helped me so many times that I couldn't not do the same for him. I told him I'd do anything."

She studied her hands, regret and guilt thick on her skin. "Arobynn said if I took ten of the jobs Sam was supposed to do, he wouldn't kill him. I thought they'd be similar to the one he'd messed up on, small break-ins or robberies. So I accepted."

A tear rolled down her cheek, and she batted it away as she continued, "The second I shook his hand, Tern--another of Arobynn's--shot Sam in the head."

Rowan's face blanched so quickly, she thought he might pass out.

He started to say something, but she spoke faster. "I... snapped. I killed Tern, tried to kill Arobynn. You called me a murderer, and that's true. I am, and I don't regret it. Tern was a sadistic bastard, and I'm glad he's dead. And one day, I'll kill Arobynn for what he did."

Rowan shook his head, confusion and shock and something similar to pity in his eyes. "Why didn't you leave, run away?"

She leveled a look at him. "I didn't exactly have a choice, Rowan. My punishment for Tern lasted for over a year."

There was a long pause.

"Punishment?" he asked in a breathless voice that made something in her chest hurt.

She looked at the table again, skin pebbling at the memory of that year. "He locked me in a cell in the basement, in the dark. Once a month he'd come in to ask if I knew someone named Sam. It took me ten months to get confused, another three to say no."

Still not meeting his eyes, she looked at his hands, noticing they were clenched so tightly the knuckles were white. And a part of her, buried under all the rage and resentment and sadness, warmed at the thought that he was... he was angry for her.

"It took me a long time after to figure out what was real and what wasn't. But Arobynn never let me forget our deal. And right before I met you, he told me the first job."

"What were the jobs?"

Aelin looked back up at that, the air thick between them as she said, "You already know."

"The murders."

She nodded, somehow managing to keep her spine straight despite the feeling of a hundred pound weight being lifted from her shoulders.

He at least knows why now, she thought to herself.

It was one of the things that had bothered her over the years. That he didn't know why she'd done what he thought she'd done. That he thought she'd.. wanted to do it.

He was silent for a long time, just watching her with a carefully emotionless face. "Thank you for telling me that," he said eventually. "I never could understand why."

Then he stood and walked to the door again, and it was only when his hand was on the handle she spoke again. "You asked why I'm doing this, and why I'm doing it now."

He opened the door but paused. Waited.

"It's because I tried to tell you this all those years ago, and you didn't care. You just assumed I was guilty because the evidence looked like it."

She spoke around the lump in her throat. "I told you I didn't kill those people, Rowan, and you didn't even care."

He spun around, slamming the door so hard it rattled, and in a split second, he was in front of her. A hand on the table, the other on her chair, he leaned down and got in her face.

He was so angry, so unbelievably enraged she couldn't believe it. He was angry?

"I didn't care? I didn't fucking care, that's what you think? Watching you get dragged away in cuffs was the worst moment of my life, and you think I didn't fucking care?"

Shock hit her like a bucket of ice water.

That moment was crystal clear in her mind, and she couldn't put what he was saying with what she knew.

He'd watched her with that same expressionless face, with cold eyes that had haunted her ever since.

She opened her mouth to say something, but he wasn't done.

"I fucked loved you! I thought you were the love of my life, Aelin. I begged you to tell me something that would help, tell me anything. But you didn't! You just kept saying you were innocent; you didn't give me anything to actually work with."

"I-"

"I found that stupid fucking list five days before I reported it, did you know that?"

She shook her head, because she hadn't.

"Exactly. You don't know what the hell you're talking about," he growled, eyes flashing. "I spent five days investigating it myself, trying to make sense of why you'd know those names. After your arrest, I spent two weeks trying to find anything, a single piece of evidence, that said it wasn't you. And after the trial, I spent another two months trying to poke holes in my own goddamn case."

He slammed a hand into the table. "I did everything I fucking could! I was desperate for it not to be you. I argued my case so your lawyer could plead circumstantial evidence. I put you on the stand so you could say anything you wanted. I went for life sentences instead of the death penalty to give you time to actually tell me what the hell was going on!"

She was breathing heavily, heart breaking and reforming over and over again at what he was saying, what he was implying.

"I didn't assume shit," he said in a low voice, so close they shared air. "You didn't tell me anything."

Aelin's voice trembled as she croaked, "I tried."

He shook his head, letting out a breath of amusement. "No, you didn't. If this past week has proven anything, it's that you don't try to do anything, you do it. You didn't tell me anything, Aelin. You're still not telling me anything."

"I'm telling you to look again! I'm telling you you didn't look hard enough, because I left breadcrumbs only you could find, breadcrumbs that explain everything."

"Stop playing games with me!" he shouted, eyes flashing with a fresh wave of anger. "It's been eight years! Stop holding onto whatever secret you're holding onto and just tell me!"

Gods, she wanted to.

He was the one person she couldn't trust with this secret, this stupid, most important secret, and yet he was the also the one person she wanted to tell it to.

She opened her mouth to tell him, but what came out was, "I didn't kill them, Rowan. I promise I didn't kill them. I can't... I can't tell you anything else."

"Jesus, Aelin," he spat, pushing off the table and turning to leave.

"Just look into it," she called after him, fingers digging into the table to resist the urge to try and follow him. "I promise you can figure everything out, and you'll understand everything. Please."

She knew why, after all this time, it was so important for him to know the truth when that hadn't been her original plan.

It was because she'd spent eight years believing he hadn't tried, believing she hadn't been a good enough person for him to even look into the possibility it wasn't her.

And maybe it was because he was once again leaving her, or maybe it was because she felt like she was in that courtroom again, begging him to believe her, or maybe it was because of something she didn't even understand yet.

Regardless of the reason, she found herself saying, "I loved you, too, you know."

He looked at her with sad eyes that she was sure mirrored her own and shook his head. "Not enough, apparently."

"You don't believe that," she argued, shaking her head and trying to keep the building emotions down.

"If you'd loved me, you would've told me. You would've given me the proof, whatever breadcrumbs you're talking about. You wouldn't have let me watch them take you away."

"Rowan-"

"You wouldn't have thought, for a second, that I didn't try to fight for you. And you sure as hell wouldn't have waited eight years to do whatever it is you're trying to do."

"I had to," she whispered, even as she knew it wouldn't be enough.

She shook with the effort to not tell him everything, but even after all he'd told her and how everything had changed, she just couldn't. Not yet.

He stood at the door, watching her with those eyes she'd once thought looked like the most beautiful emeralds. "Sometimes I think about it, you know. What life would be like if I hadn't tried to fix your sink in the middle of the night."

She smiled sadly. "Me too."

Rowan shook his head, gaze taking in her face like he thought he'd never see her again.

He thought it was over now, she realized. He thought that now she knew he hadn't given up on her immediately, now that she'd told him the story she'd wanted to tell him, that it was over and she'd give up.

"Look again," she whispered. "You know I didn't do it. It's why you're here, why you kept looking after the trial ended. You know I wouldn't."

"Goodbye, Aelin," he said instead, not telling her any of the things she really wanted to hear.

It wasn't until the door shut behind him she finally let herself cry.

She'd told herself that it didn't matter; that in a month the truth would come out and everything would be normal again.

She'd told herself she was only messing with Rowan for revenge, not because she wanted to see him again or test that he'd find the clues she'd left for him.

She'd told herself this was just a game.

She'd told herself all sorts of things that turned out to be lies.

~~~

Part 3

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[young-dumb-and-vaccinated]

A Deafened Bard (Stephen Strange x Female!Reader) pt. 2

Doctor Strange and y/n confide their tragic backstories in one another. Y/n struggles with her feelings for him.

Trigger warnings: abusive parenting, use of firearms, discussion of death and grief, mention of alcoholism

"On the outside, always looking in

Will I ever be more than I've always been?

Cause I'm tap, tap, tapping on the glass-"

You stopped yourself before you could indulgently belt out the titular lyric.

"Ew, why was I singing that?" You muttered to yourself. "I don't even like that song." 

You knew, subconsciously, that it was because you were trying to avoid what you really wanted to sing. For the first time ever, you had an audience. Someone was paying attention. 

"Love of my life, you've hurt me-"

"Oh, come on, butterfingers." He interrupted. "Love of my Life by Freddie Mercury. Give me something hard." 

"I wasn't aware it was classic rock trivia night." 

"Then why were you staring straight at me while singing?" He smirked. 

"Was I?" You cocked your head, expertly deflecting his implication. "I'm so spaced out I don't even know where I'm looking." 

"It's Freddie Mercury." He insisted.

"Uh, yes and no." You corrected, drawing on your encyclopedic knowledge of Queen from one particularly weird summer in high school. "While Freddie Mercury wrote the song, it was recorded on a Night at the Opera. Which was accredited to the whole band." 

"That's a nitpick," he shook his head. "I'm still right." 

You couldn't wear your heart on your sleeve anymore. You could only distract him with 70s glam rock trivia for so long before he started to notice a pattern. Although a sappy love song was in your heart, you sang the anthem of the depressed theater kid. 

You were staring straight at him, though. But who wouldn't? You studied his features only for artistic inspiration. His sharp jaw and high, high cheekbones were… inspiring. 

You couldn't lie to yourself. You fell and fell hard.

"Butterfingers!" Master Strange called out from the other side of the sanctum. "I need you!" 

You dropped your pencil and pushed yourself out from the chair. "Coming!" 

You followed the voice into his chambers. This was a new development, you thought. Out of respect for his privacy, you'd never dared to snoop around in his bedroom. But this was practically a written invitation. 

The room was spotless. Not a book or a scrap of paper out of place. Nor was there much to look at at all. A handful of picture frames, some magazines from when he was a surgeon, all featuring himself on the cover. 

"Butterfingers!" He called again, as if he knew you were about to snoop.

"I'm here!" You yelled back, eyes wandering around the room. "What do you need?" 

"I left my watch somewhere in the library!" He sounded disproportionately panicked for what was just a minor inconvenience. "I need you to go get it for me." 

"What does it look like?" You asked. 

"It's a $27,000 watch." He snapped impatiently. "It looks like one." 

"Jesus." You cursed.

"Don't give me that shit, [F/N]." He ordered, slamming his fist down against the sink. "Just do what you're goddamn told." 

"Alright, alright!" You put your hands up. "Fine, I'll get it." 

You hurried down the stairs and into the library. On the floor between his favorite chair and a stack of musty old books was a slim, silvery watch with a plain black band.

You picked it up and examined it. Apart from the price tag, was there really any reason for him to be so worried about it? He knew exactly where he left it. Did he have reason to believe it wouldn't be there when he returned? 

All you needed to do was flip it over to get your answer. You read the inscription on the back. 

Time will tell how much I love you -- Christine 

You should have known that his massive ego wouldn’t keep the women away forever. Hell, it certainly didn’t deter you. Much uglier douchebags have gotten far prettier girlfriends than they deserved.

You closed your fingers around the watch and sighed. The fantasy you created for yourself, of slowly, deliberately earning his love was shattered. Christine already beat you to it, it seemed. You tried to smother the part of you that resented this person for her exclusive right to Master Strange's affections. You didn't know her, but you loathed her. And you felt filthy for it.

With a heavy heart, you brought the stupid, criminally expensive little timepiece back to its rightful owner. 

"Here's your all-important watch, master." You mumbled, placing it on the bedside table. 

"I know I told you I would give you space to question things," He said, swiping it from the table and expertly affixing it around his wrist. "But I'd really appreciate it if you didn't question this." 

You tried to sound as non-passive-aggressive as you could. You attempted a more forgiving tone, but you couldn't hide your hurt. "It's fine. I don't care." 

"I didn't mean to get short with you, [F/N]." His voice softened. "I'm sorry. But this watch-" 

"It's fine." You cut him off, peering at the floor. 

"It was a gift." He finished anyway. 

You felt the lump in your throat rising. You knew what the watch represented and you wanted to smash it to pieces. Along with the sting of rejection, you felt the sting of tears in your eyes. "I know. I saw the engraving."

"She died two years ago." He lowered his head. 

Suddenly, all your ill will towards this woman turned into guilt. 

"I'm sorry to hear that." You said. "I can't imagine what it's like to lose someone who loved you so much." 

"She had agreed to come to a speaking engagement with me. As a second chance, and-" Pain wrapped his voice. He closed his hand tightly around the watch and held it close to his chest. "Have you ever been in love before, [F/N]?"

From the way your heart ached, and how easily the thought of never being with him made you cry, you knew the answer. You'd been avoiding speaking it into being thus far, but you couldn't lie to yourself anymore.

"Yes." You whispered. 

"You'll learn soon enough." He muttered. "It only brings more suffering." 

The tears finally breached and you tried to blink them away. You didn't know what emotion was causing them: guilt, shame, contempt, anger, sadness-- they were all present.

"Master Strange, I-" you stuttered, tripping over your breath. "I respect what you've gone through, I really do, but it's not fair to take it out on me." 

"You're right." He conceded. "I'm sorry. Please, go get some sleep.”

You nodded. “Right.” 

You slept as late as you could get away with the next morning. In apprentice terms, that only meant sleeping until eight thirty. Your dailies could wait an extra hour while you laid in bed, feeling like garbage. 

You stumbled down the spiral staircase in your pajamas. No bra, no makeup and no effort. You didn’t even run a brush through your hair. Why try, you thought. Why make an effort for the man who would never see you as anything but the help? 

When you saw the piano, though, you did a full 180.

In the living area was a French cherry baby grand piano that definitely was not there before. You certainly would have noticed it before. You placed your phone on the counter and approached the new addition. 

As if the memories were woven into the very muscles and ligaments of your fingers, you ran down a few octaves of C Major. The keys were smooth as porcelain and the sound that emanated from the instrument was next to heavenly. 

A bright orange post-it note was stuck to the music rack. 

“Love of my Life”, Queen, A Night at the Opera. 1975 

Was this a request, or an admission of wrong? Whatever the case, it made you smile. 

"You weren't being entirely honest with me, Butterfingers." He said, randomly materializing behind you. 

You turned around on the piano bench and looked up at him. "What was I not honest about?" 

"I'm so glad you asked." He sat down on the bench next to you, phone in hand. "Because when you said you used to play piano, you didn't specify you were actually a student prodigy." 

Sure enough, on his phone, he was scrolling through your Instagram. Dozens of videos of a much younger [F/N] playing hundreds of different songs, singing with too many vocal runs and doing so with the entire content of her soul behind the music. 

"Student prodigy is a bit strong." You turned your head to hide your blush. 

He scrolled up and found a picture of a young, zit-faced teenage [F/N] holding an acceptance letter. "Last I checked, Juilliard doesn't give full-ride scholarships to just anyone." 

You covered your face with your hands, smothering an embarrassed smile. "God, please. I'd rather you'd found my OnlyFans." 

He raised his eyebrows. "As tempting as that sounds, I'd still rather hear your explanation on this. Why did you give up on something you loved?"

You looked at him in surprise. "You really want to know?" 

"Well, I told you mine." He playfully nudged you in the side. 

You took a deep breath in. "Well, it was about two years ago, now-”

"Cheers to you, [F/N]!" Your best friend Holly raised her glass of champagne in your direction. "Juilliard ain't gonna know what hit ‘em."

"I'll drink to that." You said, bring your own flute up to your lips and taking a swig. You wretched in disgust as the vile liquid ran down your throat. "Or maybe I won't."

"You're gonna have to get used to it." Holly nudged you with her elbow. "I think most professional musicians are alcoholics."

You narrowed your eyes at her. "I don't think that's right."

"Is too." She smirked. "Conductors are mad strict. Abusive even. Drive musicians to drink all the time."

You laughed. "Is everything you know about the world of music from Whiplash?"

"And The Perfection." She added.

"Thank you, Holly." You said, attempting to take another sip of champagne, purely for dramatic effect. "Very cool."

You felt a pair of hands on your shoulders. "Hi, Holly. Enjoying the party?"

Holly took a step back. "Hey, Mrs. [L/N]. Yeah, it's great."

"I hope you don't mind," Your mom said, her fake nice voice eeking through her clenched teeth. "I need to borrow [F/N] for a few minutes."

Holly's face fell. "Sure. I'll catch up with you later, [F/N]."

Your mother tugged you off to the side. With a stressed huff, she began. "Jason is out in the fields with his ROTC friends."

"And what do you want me to do about that?" You asked, knowing her drunk self couldn't read your sarcastic tone.

"Could you go get him and bring him home?" She said, squeezing your upper arm.

"Are you kidding?" You spat.

"[F/N], he's drunk." She scolded. "Do you want him to get another strike on his record?"

"I don't care." You mumbled under your breath. "Have him call an uber. Hell, let him sleep it off in the field. Not my problem."

"You know what he's like when he's drunk." She rationalized. "He gets rowdy. It had better be you."

You tensed up. "No. Holly and I are going to the French Quarter. I don't have time to babysit Jason."

"Just pick him up on your way there?" She pleaded. "It won't take long."

You knew this wasn't going to stop. "Fine, but this is the last time."

You were both dressed far too well to be trekking through the swampy ass nowhere when you should have been fucking your way through the French Quarter. Luckily for your evening plans, all you needed to do was follow the sound of gunshots.

You slammed the car door shut and Holly followed suit. Finding him was the easy part. The hard part was hauling his drunk ass back home.

"Fun's over, shithead." You announced, heels sinking into the sod as you spoke. You didn't have much trouble projecting over the gunfire and getting their attention.

"Shit, [F/N]?" Jason sputtered, so drunk he could barely keep his head straight.

"Holy shit, I didn't even recognize you in that dress." One of his dumb fuck friends added. He jabbed Jason in the side. "Why didn't you tell me your sister's hot?"

"Buster, I-'' You clenched your teeth. "I don't care if you live or die, but my mom needs me to bring Jason home."

"If you get in the car now, we won't have to use the chloroform." Holly added.

Jason scratched the back of his head with the barrel of his gun, then pointed it at you. "You're gonna have to make me."

"Jesus fucking Christ!" You exclaimed, hitting the deck. "What the fuck, Jason!?"

Jason and his dumbass friends laughed. "You should have seen the look on your face, [F/N]!"

"Put down the fucking gun-" You seethed. "And get in the fucking car."

He lowered the gun and looked like he was going to concede. Just when you thought he would cooperate, he stuck it up again. He keeled over in a fit of laughter when you and Holly panicked again.

"Look at them!" He shouted. "They're so fucking scared!"

You knew out in the middle of the swamp, nobody could hear you scream. So you used it to your advantage.

"Jason, you're going in the car, or under it." You raised your voice. "I will mow your drunk ass down like eight day old roadkill right here in this field and you will be LUCKY if anyone finds your bloated, shit-covered remains before the crocodiles get a whiff of you."

That seemed to get his attention.

"Sorry, boys." He pouted. "You heard her."

He had to 'get you' one final time, though. Only that time, the gun went off. Just centimeters from your ear. You clutched the side of your head, trying to drown out the deafening ringing with your screams.

You vaguely remembered Holly pistol-whipping Jason before loading you into the car to drive you to the hospital, leaving him desolate and drunk in the field.

"It was a one-in-a-million shot." The otolaryngologist tried not to sound impressed at what was clearly some kind of anomaly very few got to witness in a medical career. "When the bullet fired, the gunpowder traveled down your ear canal, burning the cells of your auditory nervous system and... singing your eardrum... clean off."

Your eyes widened. "Off?!"

The doctor lowered her head. "I'm sorry, Miss [L/N]. I'm afraid you'll never return to full hearing again."

You didn't want to kill the messenger. You knew she was only doing her job. "Are you fucking kidding me?!"

"If we could do a tympanoplasty, which, given the condition of the drum, is unlikely-" she began. "There would still be no way to fully repair the hair cells along the ear canal."

You took deep breaths to try and quell your simmering rage. "I'm leaving for Juilliard in three months."

"Hearing aid technology has improved significantly over the last decade." She said, a somewhat hopeful upturn in her voice.

That was when your mother decided to join in on the conversation. "Oh, we can't afford that."

You thought you were going to crush your teeth into bits from how tightly your jaw was clenched in fury. "Take it out of Jason's college fund, then."

"Oh, [F/N]." She said as if you had just told the funniest joke imaginable. "Please. That wouldn't be fair to Jason."

"You can afford to send that blithering idiot to the Citadel." You hissed. "You can afford to buy me a hearing aid so I can play piano."

"Beethoven was entirely deaf." Your mom pointed out. "And he became the greatest composer of all time. It's really just mind over matter, sweetie-"

"Sure, that makes perfect sense!" You plastered on a deranged smile, feeling driven to the brink of madness. "I can repair my destroyed eardrum with the power of positive thinking! Jason gets thirty-five thousand dollars a year to play soldier, but I have to just use my imagination."

She covered her face with her hands as if she was being attacked and went into kicked-puppy mode. "Don't be mad at Jason, [F/N]. He didn't mean to hurt you-"

"Fuck this." You said, releasing all your tension in those two words. "Fuck all of this. I'm tired of you defending that chauvinist asshole. The next time you see me will be when one of us is dead."

"Where are you going?!" She wailed.

You snatched your purse from the table and threw it over your shoulder. "I'm moving out."

“Disgraced at age nineteen?" Master Strange said, leaning back on the piano. "Let me guess, you turned to alcohol to cope?"

"You'd think, but actually no." You shook your head. The tone of the conversation had taken a sharp left turn from sadness to dry, apathetic amusement. "I probably would have if I could have afforded it."

"You missed out." He said. "Drinking a whole bottle of eighty year old scotch was definitely the highlight of my grieving period."

You'd never joined the clauses 'Master Strange' and 'drunk off his ass' in the same sentence before then. It was an odd mental picture for sure. One you needed to see to believe.

"I got desperate." You admitted. "Luckily, New Orleans had a lot to offer someone like me, so I didn't have to go far to find people claiming to have answers. But it was all essential oils, incense, binaural beats-"

"I'm sorry," he cut in. "What kind of dickhead suggests binaural beats to someone with only one functioning ear?"

You threw up your hands. "Right? Doesn't make sense. Anyway, I came across a woman named Mistress Fantina and she pointed me in the right direction. How to heal my body through control of my spirit."

He looked at you with that fascination of the human body characteristic of those in the medical field. "It worked, I assume?"

"I figured it out." You shrugged. "But I got so invested in the Mystic Arts that I forgot all about Juilliard. Became a full-time student. Ever since, I never once thought about returning to my old life."

"I suppose if I'd discovered this world because I had lost, say, my ability to perform surgery, it would be hard to leave it behind and return to the operating room." He thought out loud. Sighing, he closed his hand over his watch. "But no matter how medical science evolves, you can't reverse death."

You let the quiet linger for a moment.

[takingback-thepenguin]

Starkid’s Nightmare Time Sentence Starters: Killer Track

I’m not quite sure if anyone else has done this yet, but here is a list of sentence starters taken from Starkid’s Nightmare Time season 2 episode 3, part 2: Killer Track. Some of the lines have been edited to fit as sentence starters, and feel free to change pronouns/add names/etc as you see fit. Tw: death, smoking mention, food, sexual themes.

“Let's go!”

“No need to run away, you little runaway.”

“The nightmare will get you soon.”

“No need to contemplate how deeply that you're afraid.”

“Your life is a waning moon.”

“It's a matter of time.”

“It's all by design.”

“You can run, but are you fast enough?”

“You can hide, but I will find you.”

“You can run if I don't catch you.”

“Tick, tock, baby!”

“Take every precaution, babe.”

“Do you even understand the danger that you are in?”

“You're standing on shaky ground.”

“I'm in your head and you know it.”

“Nothing that you can do about it.”

“Come down from that tree!”

“Just run away if you want, if you dare.”

“Are you ready?”

“Your set rocked.”

“I’m afraid I have to agree with you.”

“Hey, dude. There’s, like, no smoking back here.”

“Wait a minute. Agree with what?”

“Your set. It was shit.”

“Kick his/her/their ass, _____.”

“What’s the big deal? You said it yourself.”

“There’s a difference, dude! We don’t know you.”

“Come on. Let’s go to Denny’s.”

“_____. You coming?”

“You’re not gettin’ any fries.”

“Hey...what’s your name?”

“Why do you care?”

“So, _____...you wanna hear some real hardcore shit?”

“It’s called...the Killer Track.”

“Isn’t that off the False Lashes’ new EP?”

“No one knows who wrote it.”

“No one knows where it came from.”

“That explains why no one knows who wrote it.”

“Seems like a shitty way to grow your fanbase.”

“Is this a fuckin’ joke to you?”

“This song has killed before, and it’ll kill again.”

“They say it gets in your head. Haunts you. It breaks you. Then...it takes you.”

“That’s what it said on Reddit.”

“What a stupid gimmick to get people to listen to your crappy single.”

“Hey, if you’re scared, get out of the car.”

“Go listen to some weak ass shit like the False Lashes.”

“I’m not scared.”

“Hiya, _____. Thanks for coming.”

“So, how’s/how’re she/he/they doing?”

“I don’t know what to think anymore.”

“Twelve thousand dollars. That’s how much damage she/he/they did.”

“You never should’ve bought her/him/them that goddamn guitar!”

“She/he/they in here?”

“Wow. They’re a pain in the ass.”

“I’m a classic rock fan, myself.”

“I work with families. Help where I can.”

“I heard about your...incident at Guitar Zone.”

“You smashed a few speakers, a drum set, a couple guitars.”

“Just ‘cause Pete Townshend did it, doesn’t mean we all can.”

“You’re not sleeping.”

“You wanna talk about what’s going on?”

“You mind if I hang out for a while then?”

“You wouldn’t believe me even if I told you.”

“Nothing can stop it.”

“Everything he/she/they said would happen, happened.”

“I started hearing it. Everywhere. On the radio. The TV. From the goddamn speakers at Guitar Zone!”

“I just wanted to make it stop.”

“So there. A song’s gonna kill me. Think I’m high?”

“See? I knew you wouldn’t believe me.”

“A killer song. That is... unbelievable. But I’ve been doing some digging.”

“Sometimes, unbelievable things happen here.”

“Order up!”

“Heya, Darlin’.”

“Lemme guess. You’re _____.”

“Love the make-up. Real...spooky.”

“I just gotta close up.”

“You want some pie?”

“Great. My life is in the hands...of Barbie.”

“So _____ tells me you’re a musician.”

“I used to play music too. A long time ago.”

“What’s with the candles?”

“I’ve got a plan.”

“We’re gonna need the darkness, and the flame, and the smoke.”

“Just think of it as aroma therapy.”

“You’re right. That’s all I needed.”

“You call yourself a specialist?!”

“I could get this shit at Bath & Body Works!”

“I knew this was a waste of time!”

“I don’t have to do anything. I’m outta here!”

“_____, relax and eat your pie.”

“Make me.”

“It’s good, right?”

“If you wanna walk out of here alive, I’m gonna need some cooperation. ‘Kay?”

“You’re, like...a witch!”

“I thought I was Barbie.”

“Is that your spell book?”

“Now that’s an album cover. That’s fuckin’ metal.”

“Close your eyes. Breathe in. And out.”

“The van. I want you to reconstruct it in your mind’s eye.”

“What did it look like?”

“What’d it smell like?”

“The clock on the dashboard. What time does it say?”

“Now take my hand.”

“Are you still in the car, _____?”

“Ugh...what is that smell?”

“Oh, god. Is that you?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Don’t give me shit after I took your ass to the Bell.”

“We didn’t hook up, did we?”

“Y...You wanna hook up?”

“I can’t change things too much here.”

“Can you just play this song so I can leave?”

“Breathe, _____. Just breathe.”

“Wha...? What’s happening?”

“You’re in _____. Remember?”

“The song. Why can’t I remember it?”

“It’s just a teeny, tiny paradox. They happen all the time.”

“You want another piece of pie?”

“So...that’s it then? If I never heard the song, it’s not hunting me...I’m safe?”

“You’re safe.”

“You did it...you broke the curse!”

“I took the curse.”

“Okay. When the song attacks, I’m gonna hear it coming from anything with a speaker. Right?”

“It’s gonna be loud. Like, front row at Slayer loud.”

“You’ll do anything to make it stop. Break anything. Instruments. Electronics.”

“Right. I totally forgot about my phone.”

“I thought my 7 Plus was old.”

“_____, can we have a chat?”

“I just wanna make sure everything’s safely locked away.”

“I don’t wanna lose control and cause twelve thousand bucks of damage to this place.”

“You didn’t tell me the whole plan.”

“That’s why I have to stop it.”

“Stop it?! We don’t know what it is.”

“What if you can’t stop it?”

“What if it’s...I dunno...a ghost? Or something?”

“If it’s a ghost, I’ll trap it in this jar.”

“I’m not worried about that.”

“What if it’s one of those monsters from your book?”

“I’m not gonna lie to you.”

“There are things out there above my pay grade.”

“If something happens to me, I want you to read this.”

“Don’t read it now. Only if something happens.”

“If you really wanna help me, you’ll take those blankets and wrap up the juke box.”

“If I break it, I’ll be very upset.”

“Well...we got three more minutes.”

“So how’s this gonna work?”

“I know this thing’s sadistic.”

“When it comes, it won’t be what you expect.”

“We locked up anything that can make music.”

“At least you don’t have to worry about smashing something you care about.”

“It’s here! It’s here!!! Oh god! Make it stop!!!”

“I don’t hear anything!”

“What do we do? What do we do?!?”

“Why are you asking me?”

“Get away from me!”

“Don’t worry! I’m not going anywhere!”

“SHUT UP!!!”

“What are you doing, darlin’?”

“Oh my god...it’s us!”

“She/he/they hear(s) the song coming from us!”

“I understand.”

“Well. Here we are.”

“Tell your parents I say hi.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“This is my fault.”

“This is what she/he/they lived for. To help people.”

“She/he/they had a thing for the decade.”

“You were in love with her/him/them. Weren’t you?”

“Guess I’m dead.”

“It’s okay. Relax.”

“Have some pie and wait about two hours.”

“I was in love with her/him/them.”

“What am I doing here? I must be outta my mind.”

“What did my note say?!”

“Y...y...you died.”

“Now the whole town knows that! This is great. Just great.”

“Let’s get outta here.”

“Look what it made me do.”

“Now it’s personal.”

“I’m gonna make some eggs. You want anything?”

“Yes. I do want something.”

“Hotcakes?”

“I want the truth.”

“I wanna know what the hell happened tonight.”

“I saw the EMTs cart you off in body bag. And now? Here you are.”

“You’ve seen me use magic before.”

“I’ve seen you hypnotize people.”

“I’ve seen you help kids with nightmares.”

“This is different!”

“I get it. All that other stuff could have had a rational explanation.”

“Now you’ve seen something that’s truly undeniable. And it’s scary.”

“Took me a while to get used to it too.”

“There’s no getting used to this.”

“I’ve followed you into some zany scenarios.”

“I’ve kept an open mind. Now, I want some answers. I think I’m owed that.”

“I wanna know who you are. Really.”

“I wanna know how you can do the things you do.”

“It’s a long story.”

“I’m all ears.”

“Where do I begin?”

“And that’s the whole story.”

“That’s all of it. Who I am. Where I came from.”

“You didn’t say a damn thing!”

“Look at your watch.”

“Look at that empty plate.”

“Look outside the window.”

“We’ve been talking for four hours, _____. You just don’t remember.”

“You think this is the first time you asked me about myself?”

“I don’t know how many times I’ve told you.”

“You never remember. And you never will.”

“Anytime I share a part of my past, it just...disappears.”

“There’s no point explaining.”

“You have to realize how frustrating this is for me.”

“I figured out what the song is.”

“It’s not a curse. Or a ghost. It’s alive.”

“It wants to be heard, by as many people as possible.”

“I know where it’s headed next.”

“This year’s celebration is bigger and better than ever.”

“We have games, music, and after a flood of complaints, paddle-boats are back by popular demand.”

“I hope you all remember this night for the rest of your lives.”

“Did you want me to cut the mic?”

“I’ve got just the thing to soothe her/his/their throat.”

“I’m looking for something that would make it worse.”

“I wanna ruin her/him/them.”

“You don’t have to be so rude!”

“Never say never, handsome.”

“You gotta check out this song, _____. It’s killer.”

“Hey hey hey hey hey! Stop right there! Do not play that!”

“Come on, dude. They’re not that bad.”

“Let’s split up.”

“Find whatever those are hooked up to.”

“Chill, babe. You’re gonna slay.”

“If I blow this gig, the band’s done.”

“That’s not gonna happen, _____.”

“I got a confession to make.”

“I was scared!”

“See? Told you it was bullshit.”

“He’s/She’s/They’re looking spry...for someone who should be dead.”

“Where you going? We’re on in five!”

“Don’t tell me you’ve got a witch too.”

“That’s why it picked me. It wants to be heard.”

“You’re gonna play it.”

“I don’t have a choice!”

“I don’t even think I’m human anymore.”

“I don’t know what I am.”

“I know what you are.”

“You’re scared. I know I was.”

“I think you wanna stop.”

“Could you stop me?”

“Ugh. What is that?”

“I hope this works.”

“I hope I’m not too rusty.”

“Are you guys any good?”

“What are we playing?”

“Don’t worry about it! It’s one of mine!”

“Lost in the dark away from home.”

“When no one is helping you, there’s someone.”

“Just run away with me, a light on parts unknown.”

“You’re gonna run away with me.”

“Just run away with me. You won’t feel so alone.”

“I’ll carry the torch for us both.”

“Even a hero needs some hope.”

“There’s someone deep inside.”

“Just run away with me.”

“Follow my lead and we’ll keep running.”

“Even when you’re feeling nothing, I can make your heart keep beating on.”

“That was the deal after all.”

“That was radical. I mean it.”

“I gotta play the song!”

“Whoa. Fuckin’ metal.”

“The Honey Festival really is a magical time.”

“It’s when dark forces can walk upon the earth.”

“The celebration’s so nice, it almost makes you forget all that.”

“Well, I gotta say. It feels good to be the hero for once.”

“Usually you’re the one who saves the day, but this time it was all me.”

“I got him/her/them with the old right hook.”

“I usually don’t condone violence, but there comes a time in every person’s life…”

“You shoulda been there.”

“What was I doing?”

“So how are we gonna explain your miraculous recovery?”

“You were declared dead.”

“I don’t think we will explain it.”

“_____ had a good run.”

“Maybe it’s time to move on to the next persona.”

“People start to notice.”

“So you pick a new name. Change your hair.”

“I’m not touching my hair. It’s been like this since the 80s.”

“It’s not gonna fool anybody.”

“People aren’t gonna forget what you look like.”

“You’ll remember _____.”

“You’ll forget she/he/they had powers.”

“You’ll forget the book.”

“Soon you’ll just remember...she/he/they was/were your friend.”

“No. That’s not fair.”

“You can’t make me forget you.”

“I couldn’t forget you even if I tried.”

“You know how I feel about you!”

“_____, relax. I’m trying to say goodbye.”

“That’s some ride.”

“Yeah, she’s a classic.”

“Some things never go out of style.”

“So...you dropping off your kid?”

“I work with kids. Families, really.”

“One of the kids I help had an accident in shop class.”

“I think the school should cover the medical bills.”

“Yeah, take ‘em for everything they’re worth.”

“Don’t tell ‘em I said that.”

“I’m new here.”

“That’s very similar to someone I used to know.”

“Aww. That’s too bad.”

“Well, you can’t dwell on the past.”

“Is that a tape deck in there?”

“What can I say? I love the 80’s.”

“Bye-ya, _____.”

[lamen-trash]

19 for Damen/Laurent? 💙💙

19. Forehead kisses (Prompt from this list)

Laurent did not know when he first started noticing it.

Maybe it was a few months after his frequent visits to Damen’s apartment began, or maybe earlier. He couldn’t be sure.

All Laurent knew was that somehow, in the midst of making dinner, watching a movie together, and the inevitable drooping of his eyelids as the night wore on, he magically ended up in a bed every night. Granted, it was the guest bedroom, but Laurent never had any recollection of saying goodnight to Damen or walking to bed. None of that seemed to matter, though, when Laurent was greeted with the sight of Damen cooking breakfast in the morning light, curls askew and smile lethal as ever.

It never bothered him before. That is, until one night, when both men had consumed one too many glasses of wine and made more than a few jokes at the other’s expense.

“Oh, come on, you’re the one who can’t even stay up until midnight and falls asleep on my couch all the time,” Damen laughed, his finger flung out accusingly and his eyes full of glittering mirth. The alcohol brought a sweet flush to his cheeks that made Laurent feel like he was melting on the inside.

His words, however, brought Laurent to a halt. He could only stare as Damen started to laugh harder at the stunned expression painted across his pale features.

“Don’t look so surprised,” Damen teased. “You always complain about being too tired to drive home and your words get all slurred and I have to carry you to bed.”

“I– What?” Laurent could feel a fiery blush start to overtake his features. “You definitely do not.”

“Wow, so you really don’t remember, huh?” Damen’s laughter had died down, but the soft, amused gaze he directed at Laurent stayed on his face.

Laurent had to change the topic. To something. Anything. “Kind of like you don’t remember spilling all those people’s drinks at The Abbey?”

That seemed to do the trick, as drunk indignation twisted Damen’s features. “Hey, I have no recollection of ever–”

And, bingo. Oaf distracted, crisis averted. “Of course you don’t remember – you were hammered!” Laurent laughed. “All of those women kept giving you dirty looks for the rest of the night.”

As Damen tilted his head back for a hearty laugh, Laurent stalwartly ignored the strong column of his throat and the dip of his Adam’s Apple. They had been friends for years, and Damen had never made a move. Laurent needed to get over himself.

Later that night, as their energy faded and the conversation dwindled, Laurent was determined to stay alert. But there was something about the soft leather of Damen’s couch, the warm lighting of the apartment, and the soothing sound of Damen mumbling an old story that had Laurent’s vision fading.

When the feeling of arms folding around his body permeated the haze in Laurent’s mind, he had the wherewithal to mumble “M'awake,” and try to squirm out of Damen’s arms.

It was to no avail, as Damen only tightened his grip before leaving the living room. “Let’s get you to bed,” Damen whispered close to his ear. Laurent could only let out a little noise of acknowledgement in response.

Everything was still hazy when Laurent felt covers being pulled up over him, and then, a pause, like the entire world was waiting for something. Maybe Laurent was waiting, too.

And suddenly: the gentlest feeling of lips against his forehead, like a butterfly wing fluttering against his skin.

Laurent would’ve stopped to think about it more if his mind wasn’t already slipping into unconsciousness the moment the feeling faded. That night, Laurent slept a sound, dreamless sleep.

Waking up the next morning was like emerging from the cold ocean after a long swim. It was as if liquid warmth was bleeding into every one of Laurent’s limbs, making him snuggle down further into the soft bedding.

And yet, when he opened his eyes and remembered the previous night in a sudden rush, all Laurent could feel was panic.

What had Damen meant by that? Was he supposed to remember the kiss? Did Damen kiss him in a platonic way or in a we’ve-been-friends-for-years-but-I-secretly-want-you-like-you-want-me way?

Laurent couldn’t help but bury his face into a pillow and let out a silent scream. Leave it to Damen to do something so innocent yet so loaded, and not think twice about it. It was cruel, really – Damen wasn’t the one with severe mental health issues prone to overthinking and thought loops.

The more Laurent thought about it, the more he could feel himself getting fired up. How dare Damen play with his heart like this? Especially after everything Laurent had told him about his past, how much he had trusted him with…

However, all thoughts of chewing out a too-large Akielon verbally that morning dissipated when Laurent peeked out of the guest room to see a fully-prepared breakfast with pancakes, berries and homemade whip cream.

Fuck, Laurent thought, and his heart instantly swelled in size. Damen knew the key to his heart all too well – sweets. Damn him.

While Laurent filled himself with sugar and carbs and coffee, no mention of last night arose, and Damen continued on like everything was normal. He took Laurent’s prickly morning attitude in stride and even ruffled his blonde hair before going to get dressed.

If you want to play oblivious, two can play at that game, Laurent thought to himself, and chewed thoughtfully.

From that point on, every time Laurent went over to Damen’s house, he made an effort to hold onto the last shreds of consciousness before everything slipped away. Like clockwork, around midnight, Damen would gently pick Laurent up and carry him to bed before tucking him in and kissing his forehead. The feeling was always fleeting, but treasured in Laurent’s bruised heart.

Sometimes, if they had laughed particularly hard together one night, Damen would spend a few extra seconds stroking Laurent’s cheek or hair, before pulling away as if burned.

It was maddening. Not that Damen was treating him tenderly for seemingly no reason – that, Laurent particularly enjoyed – it was that Damen seemed to want to touch him more, yet never did.

“We’ve been friends for years, and nothing until now,” Laurent exclaimed, waving his hands around as if that would solve his problems. “Why doesn’t he just make a move already?”

Aimeric only raised his eyebrow over his freshly-brewed coffee as he took a long sip.

“You’re judging me. Why are you judging me? You know I hate it when you look at me like that,” Laurent deadpanned.

Aimeric let out a little chuckle before shaking his head fondly. “You,” he began, pointing a perfectly-manicured nail in Laurent’s direction. “Have a problem. And Damen does, too. There’s something wrong with you guys.”

“If you could skip out on the insulting me part and move on to the advice segment of this coffee date, I would really appreciate it.”

Laurent couldn’t hold in his begrudging smile when Aimeric wiggled his eyebrows suggestively and raised his voice an octave. “Ooh, we’re on a date right now? Should I delete my dating apps and tell all my boy toys that I’m taken?”

After a firm smack to Aimeric’s arm and a classic over-the-top reaction from the brunette, he sighed. “Listen, I’m only going to say this once. Do with it what you will.”

Laurent nodded, gravely serious.

“Damen’s in love with you,” Aimeric said, and then took a sip of coffee as if those words hadn’t just flipped Laurent’s entire world upside down.

“And before you wipe that stupid look off your face and deny it, you should hear that you’re definitely in love with him, too.”

“Wh–”

“Don’t make me say it again, and don’t deny the truth.”

Laurent’s mouth snapped shut. He chose his next words carefully. “Yes, it is true that after many years of friendship I do feel a certain… fondness for Damen, but that’s not–”

“Oh, for crying out loud,” Aimeric exclaimed, and slapped his hand down onto the table. “You guys have been in love with each other for years and we’ve all been waiting for one of you to make a goddamn move. I’m sick of this back and forth ‘Will they, won’t they’ and ‘Oh they’re pining for each other and it’s romantic’ bullshit.”

“Wait–” Laurent felt like his eyes were about to pop out of his head.

“I’m being dead serious when I say you need to make a move as soon as possible or else I will spontaneously combust from lack of attention. All our friends ever want to talk about when you’re not there is how much you and Damen want to bone each other but act like you’re just friends. I told Pallas about a new guy I’m dating the other day and his response was to ask me if I want him as much as Damen clearly wants you. How is one man supposed to live like this?”

“Aimeric, stop–”

“It’s always Damen this, Laurent that. ‘They’re meant for each other,’ blah blah blah. What about my fairytale slowburn friends-to-lovers romance? What about any of us? It can’t be about the It couple all the time.”

“We’re not even a couple!”

“Exactly. That is my point. Get your shit together before we all excommunicate you two from the friend group for being dumbasses.” Laurent could see in Aimeric’s pointed look that his friend was serious.

While Laurent sat in stunned silence, Aimeric regained some of his usual amused nonchalance. “I’m late for my 2:00 meeting.”

With that, Aimeric was up out of his chair and patting Laurent’s shoulder in farewell before breezing out of the coffeeshop door.

Laurent could only finish his coffee quietly, sitting in dazed contemplation of what he was about to do.

That night, Laurent knew he had to bring out the big guns.

“Wow, wine and vodka tonight?” Damen asked upon opening his door, eyeing the alcohol in Laurent’s hands.

“Let’s play a drinking game,” Laurent said in response, a smirk playing around his lips. He didn’t miss the way Damen’s eyes strayed to his mouth.

Hours later, when Damen was thoroughly drunk and laughing way too loudly at Laurent’s insults, Laurent decided to make his move.

“Damen,” Laurent began, waiting until his friend looked up at him with glazed eyes. They were both sitting on the ground in front of the couch, a few candles lit around them. “How long have we been friends?”

“Is this still part of truth or dare?” Damen asked.

“No, it’s just truth now. We each ask a question, and the other person has to answer truthfully. If the other person refuses to answer, they have to take a shot.”

Damen let out an overdramatic whine and let his head fall back against the couch. “No more shots.”

“Then answer truthfully, and we won’t have a problem.” Laurent’s smile was sharp. Too sharp, and he could feel it. Even with the drunkenness running through his veins, Laurent’s nerves were on fire.

“Okay,” Damen said.

“Okay?”

“Yes, I said yes!” Damen laughed, and turned to face Laurent more fully. “You go first.”

Laurent made a show of thinking before starting again: “How long have we been friends?”

Damen’s smile turned dopey. “Hmm. Five years? No, six. Was that just a test?”

“Maybe,” Laurent couldn’t help but be charmed by Damen’s drunken earnestness. “Your turn.”

“How do you get your hair to be so soft?” Damen asked in wonder, reaching out a finger to twirl a golden loc around.

Laurent laughed. “Conditioner.”

“Never tried that,” Damen said thoughtfully, which made Laurent laugh again. Damen, being Damen, joined in, until both men were giggling uncontrollably on the floor for no apparent reason.

It was when their laughter started to die down that Laurent decided to rip the Band-Aid off.

“Are you in love with me?”

Damen’s laughter abruptly cut off. Laurent couldn’t bring himself to meet Damen’s gaze, so he opted to stare down at his crossed legs and fidgeting hands.

Wordlessly, Damen poured himself a shot and downed it in one go. Laurent risked a glance up and was met with Damen’s solemn face, uncharacteristically stoic.

“My turn.” Damen said in a rush. “How long have you been awake when I kiss your forehead at night?”

“A couple months now.” Damen wasn’t meeting his eyes, so Laurent pushed on. “Do you want me?”

Another shot, downed hastily by an increasingly-drunk Damen who still refused to make eye contact.

A shred of irritation slithered into Laurent’s heart. Why wouldn’t Damen just talk to him?

“Do you ever think about it? Us together?” Damen went to pour another shot, but before he could say anything else, Laurent shot to his feet.

“Oh, so you’re just not going to answer me, then? You’re not going to answer any of my questions? How about this: Have you ever thought about fucking me? About me naked underneath you? About us kissing and holding hands and going on dates in public together?”

Damen raised the shot glass to his lips, but Laurent knocked it out of his hand before it reached his mouth. Finally, Damen met Laurent’s gaze, and the panic that had been seizing Laurent’s heart for months seemed to be reflected in his dark irises.

“Stand up and talk to me, idiot, before I leave this apartment and never come back,” Laurent hissed.

Slowly, Damen rose to his feet. “I love you,” Laurent managed to get out, despite his throat closing up with emotion. “And if you don’t love me back, I’m not going to wait around and–”

Between one second and the next, Damen had a strong arm wrapped around Laurent’s waist and was pulling him in, closer and closer until their mouths met.

Laurent could only freeze, everything in his body coming to a halt, as he registered what was happening. Damen was kissing him. He had refused to answer all of his questions, and yet–

“You’re the idiot,” Damen whispered into the scant space in between their lips when he pulled away. “I’ve been in love with you the whole time.”

“But– I– you–” Laurent tried and failed to get a coherent sentence out.

“I thought you were asking all of those questions because you were mad I was carrying you to bed and kissing you goodnight,” Damen laughed. “Granted, I am quite drunk and not thinking straight, but that’s not the point.”

“The point is–” Damen began, but interrupted himself to steal another quick kiss. “I want you more than anything in the world. I’m happy with your friendship if that’s all you’re willing to give, but you need to know I’ve been in love with you for years.”

The room seemed to come into sharper focus, as if every detail in Damen’s apartment had been hiding from Laurent previously.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Laurent could hear the shrill tone in his voice, his incredulity overcoming all reason.

“Laurent,” Damen deadpanned. “I’ve barely dated anyone else the entire time we’ve been friends and I make you food all the time. You’re my emergency contact for everything. Hell, you’re the only one of our friends who has a key to my apartment. Was I not making myself clear enough?”

After a moment of contemplation, Laurent could only laugh.

“What?” Damen asked defensively, as Laurent leaned forward to rest his head against Damen’s shoulder, stifling his giggles in the fabric of Damen’s sweater.

“I just… this whole time?”

“Yes.”

When Laurent pulled back, he was met with the softest look he’d ever seen on Damen’s face. It was almost unbearable. And yet, he could bear it. For Damen, he would.

Laurent leaned in for another kiss. “Six years, huh?”

“Mm-hm,” Damen murmured against his lips.

“I guess we have lots of lost time to make up for,” Laurent smirked, and grabbed Damen’s hand.

“We are both way too drunk to have coordinated sex right now,” Damen warned, and Laurent laughed.

“Not sex,” Laurent said, and took back his spot in front of the couch. “We’re playing the questions game again, and this time you don’t get to evade. I need some answers, starting with a detailed explanation of when exactly you started to like me as more than a friend.”

The wicked yet playful look on Laurent’s face made Damen groan.

This was going to be a long night. Somehow, Damen couldn’t find it within himself to care.

Read this on AO3.

[hintofelation99]

Hi! I love your posts and want to ask your opinion on something. Who do you think in the batfam has the most and the least common sense of a normal person? If you can, can you also list how they are arranged? Thank you!

Ooohhh, this is a fun one! In my mind all bats lack common sense. Like obviously they're hella smart, after all they are a family of detectives, they just aren't very bright.

Here's a quick rundown (least to most): Tim and Dick tie for first place, both lack common sense in just in completely different ways. Then Damian (mostly cause of the whole 'being raised by league of assassins' thing), Bruce, Cass (controversial ik), Steph, Jason, Duke, Babs, and last on the list is obvs Alfred. (Kate is probs between Cass and Steph, but I've only really seen her in the DCAMU and need to get to know her better).

And Ima add a 'keep reading' cause this is gonna get long.

Tim:

Tim is one of the smartest in the family. He deduced Batman's identity as a child, majorly fucked up the League of Assassins, and has been honored (I say this v sarcastically just btw) with Ra's creepy obsession. He's smart, plain and simple. However, when it comes to just day to day survival and being loved, goddamn that boy is dumb.

He regularly mixes energy drinks and coffee. Sometimes he even mixes energy drinks, alcohol, and coffee.

In his mind warnings are optional. "Tim, did you just sniff that drano?" "Yeah, why?" "IT LITERALLY SAYS DO NOT SMELL" "Oops"

He regularly tests shit on himself. "Why is Tim on the floor?" "He mixed joker venom and fear gas to see what would happen" "HE WHAT"

Also if you try to compliment him or tell him you love him he will find a way to misunderstand. "Tim, I love you and you are an amazing son." "I don't know who this Tim is but he sounds great" "It- it's you, literally you. Timothy Jackson Drake." "I'm a bit confused, I didn't know you knew two Timothy Jackson Drakes. You should really introduce us."

Dick:

Dick in many ways is a total himbo. He's a complete sweetheart, super supportive, and very ditzy. His ditzy-ness directly correlates to how relaxed he is. Chilling in the manor? Peak himbo. A mission in space? Absolute genius and amazing leader. Just took down a bunch of thugs? Slowly reverting into dopey boi. He always has the ability to be super analytical, smart, and big brain, but he likes being whimsical and even airheaded. And that's not a bad thing, it's just him taking mental breaks, being lighthearted.

"YOU PUT DIESEL IN YOUR CAR?" "...Yeah, in my defense the nozzles look basically the same" "They're different colors?! Also the diesel nozzle doesn't even fit into your gas tank, how did you get it in?" "I'm a good pourer."

He always responds to the word dick and it always confuses him. "God Ra's is such a dick!" "What?" "Ra's is a dick" "I'm not Ra's!" "Wha- no! I mean penis dick!" "Ohhhh, yeah he is a penis dick"

Once Dick is safe he reverts into himbo pretty quickly, even after stressful situations. "Hey Wally?" "Yes babe?" "I forgot how to change my lock screen again" "Dick, you just hacked into an alien spaceship not even an hour ago??" "What's that have to do with anything?"

Damian:

Damian lacks common sense from growing up with the League of Assassins. He's an amazing warrior and super analytical but casual human interaction alludes him. He is getting better though, so eventually he'll be lower on the list than Steph. But for now he's a senseless bby.

The first time someone tried to give him high five he assumed it was an attack and flipped them. Same with a fist bump.

This is complete canon but his original treatment of Alfred, his brothers, and, well, everyone. Like bby boy please read the room.

His ego can easily override common sense. Like he wouldn't jump off a bridge if everyone else was doing it, but if someone said he couldn't he'd immediately swan dive off that bridge.

Bruce:

For the world's greatest detective he can be a major dumb bitch sometimes. Some of it's growing up rich and some is being so wrapped up in his 'crusade for justice' that he just misses basic shit.

One time he walked in on Roy and Jason making out, the next day he saw them cuddling, then they mentioned moving in together. It took him three months to realize that they're dating.

He doesn't understand coupons, like at all. Jason has tried to explain them but Bruce just gets even more confused.

Bruce tried to make coffee once. He literally just poured coffee beans in water and microwaved it. He was surprised when it didn't taste good.

Cass:

Cass is similar to Damian in she lacks common sense from an unconventional upbringing. However she's learning way faster than Damian and depending on where in the timeline you're looking she might have more common sense than Babs.

Basic things like lines, turn taking, and speaking when spoken to aren't innate to her. Like, she knows and understands them, but often forgets about them.

There are many times that she blurs the line between civilian and vigilante because she'll do something that looks v stupid and dangerous for a civilian. The thing is she never notices when she does this.

One time she was in a restaurant and there was a cockroach on the wall across the room (cause Gotham) and instead of getting up and killing it like a normal person she threw her steak knife and impaled it.

Steph:

Steph is probably lacks common sense the most conventional yet slightly concerning way. She lacks common sense in the same way a cartoon character or sitcom character would. Like it's sorta realistic but at the same time damn bby girl why are you such a disaster??

She will do anything on a dare. Anything. There is a rule against daring Steph to do things while in the manor or on patrol.

Every time she hears someone say Red Robin she yells yum. This has gotten both her and RR shot.

Steph is v lucky that 1) she's a badass and 2) the batfam loves her because she annoys absolutely everyone just for shits and giggles and the only reason she hasn't been murdered is that Cass scares everyone.

Jason:

All common sense is lost when dramas at stake. Say what you will but Jason is the (second) biggest drama queen in the family. Also he, like most bats, lacks a sense of self preservation which leads to shit common sense.

He tried to steal Batman's tires.

Sometimes he listens to music during patrol and tries to hit people/shoot on beat. This has lead to stab wounds.

Jason loves to loudly quote classic literature while on stake outs. This is a problem for obvious reasons.

Duke:

Ok this is around the time you get to average common sense levels. But he still runs around Gotham beating people up in tights (or kevlar) so he doesn't get full points. Also he's still not Babs level common sense. One area Duke lacks common sense in is how to deal with the Batfam (which is v understandable tbh)

One time Duke was joking around with Jason and decided to steal a roll off of Damian's plate. This ended in blood.

Other than lacking Batfam common sense, most of his poor judgement moments are less notable but still concerning.

For example the time he challenged Dick to a hot dog eating contest then went on a roller coaster.

Babs:

Other than being a vigilante Babs almost has normal human common sense. However being a vigilante has negative side effects on ones common sense.

While Babs' sleep schedule isn't as bad as Tim's it's not a whole lot better. She's stayed up 72 consecutive hours multiple times.

She has accidentally poured coffee onto her computer instead of into a coffee mug.

One time she drank an entire gallon of milk before realizing it was a month expired.

Alfred:

Most assume that working for Bruce Wayne is a sign of him lacking common sense. But nah, it's him knowing, understanding, and challenging his own limits. Also it's him being a charitable human being. Like he has enough common sense to go around and tbh it's the only thing keeping the family alive.

"Master Bruce, you may not use Elmer's Glue All to close a wound."

"Master Dick I would encourage you not to teach Master Duke acrobatics on the glass coffee table."

"Miss Stephanie I would not advise trying to consume an entire jar of peanut butter in one sitting, and no, I do not care if Master Jason dared you to."

Tada, there's the list! Sorry that was probably a lot longer than anyone wanted, but I enjoy talking about how ditzy the batfam is. Like they're all geniuses but at the same time they're just sooooo dumb.

[alycosworld]

Borrow A Kiss

Midoriya X Reader

Request: nope!

I kinda wanted to have my first oneshot be a Todoroki x reader bc I'm a Todoroki girl, but Deku is adorable too so I'm not mad.

❁❁❁

Picking dare. That was (Y/N)'s mistake.

In what was supposed to be a light-hearted game of truth or dare with the girls late at night, (Y/N) had been given a challenge harder and bigger than she could ever imagine.

It didn't even compare to the school festival, or the Shie Hassakai ordeal, or every encounter with the League of Villains.

The dare that Mina Ashido gave her that fateful night was:

"Get Midoriya to kiss you! And you can't tell him that this is a dare, he needs to kiss you because he wants to!"

Now, (Y/N)'s crush on Midoriya was no secret to the girls and some of the guys in class 1-A. But this? She could not go through with this.

"What? Kiss Izuku? Mina, you gotta be fucking kidding me, that's impossible!"

"Hey, you're the one who picked dare!" She grinned evilly.

For the next week after that, (Y/N) was a little more amorous than she would've normally been, and damn, Midoriya noticed. Since he was the target of her flirting, he got all the cute smiles and winks he could dream of, and as soon as he calmed down and stopped blushing and stunning over his words, she'd do something else to get him flustered.

She had even leaned in a few times, getting as close to his lips as an inch or two apart, but for one reason of another, one of them had pulled away at the last second.

(Y/N) could've always just given up, but then Mina would tell Izuku about her crush. And that was not happening on (Y/N)'s watch.

There was only one thing that she could think to do after all her failed attempts at kissing Midoriya.

She was cute and flirtatious before, but that wasn't all she was.

The situation was dire, and if she didn't get the kiss over with, she was done for.

It was time to bring out her last resort.

❁❁❁

Meanwhile, Izuku Midoriya was facing a similar situation, sitting in his room with Bakugo, Todoroki, Iida, Kirishima, and Kaminari.

"But guys, I don't know what I should do!" He sighed, and the guys groaned.

"Ugh!"

"Midoriya..."

"Come on, man!"

"Seriously?"

"DEKU, WE JUST TOLD YOU WHAT TO DO!" They all complained.

"It's not that simple, okay? (Y/N)'s just...she's amazing. I can't just walk over to her and say that I like her, that's weird! And what if she reacts badly?" Midoriya sighed, burying his face in his hands.

"SHE WON'T!" They all shouted, and he just shook his head.

"Okay, okay, I guess I'll try and--" A loud knock on the door interrupted him, and all heads snapped to the sound.

Midoriya slowly stood from his bed and opened up the door, revealing (Y/N), standing there with a less than happy look on her face.

"O-oh! (Y/N), I-- uh..." He started, but she just walked, almost stomped, in without speaking.

Midoriya stepped back and matched her pace, blushing at how close they were but also a little scared of her stern expression.

"Izuku Midoriya, you are fucking infuriating." (Y/N) sighed, and he frowned a little. What had he done wrong?

She saw the rest of the guys in the room, and they looked at her confusedly.

"What's the hell's wrong with--?"

"Get the fuck out. Now." (Y/N) said, and everyone's eyes widened at her tone as she cut Bakugo off.

Bakugo just rolled his eyes before the guys filed out.

(Y/N) shut the door harshly behind them, confusing Midoriya further. What the heck was going on?

"U-uhm, is something wrong, (Y/N)? Did I do something?"

"Yes, You did something! This is all your fault!" (Y/N) said, raising her voice before pacing around the room.

Midoriya could've started to cry right then and there, but held it back for one reason or another. Instead, he slumped on his bed and hung his head down.

"You just had to be so goddamn cute and kind and handsome and everything about you is literally perfect!" (Y/N) she implemented him, but very aggressively, causing Midoriya to have some mixed feelings and a very big blush on his cheeks.

"W-what?" He asked.

"See? Your fucking voice is adorable too! And what am I supposed to do when I see you everyday and talk to you all the time? What, not develop feelings for you? Yeah, like that was even possible." (Y/N) said.

"So, yeah. You did do something! And then Mina dared me to kiss you and if I don't do it soon, she'll tell you about my crush on you. And I don't want that, so I've been trying to kiss you all fucking week!" (Y/N) complained.

"Seriously?" Midoriya asked.

"Yes! I just wanted to borrow a kiss! Is that so much to ask for?" (Y/N) said, sitting down next to Midoriya and looking at him through her lashes. He got flustered again at how close they were. Classic Midoriya.

"W-wait, how do you, uh, borrow a kiss?" Midoriya asked.

"You just have to give me a kiss. I'll give it back, I promise." (Y/N) said, holding back a grin.

"Wait, wait, let me get this straight, you actually like me? Really?" Midoriya asked, and that's when (Y/N) started to doubt herself.

"Yeah, I know I shouldn't have said anything but I just...I don't know. I couldn't let Mina tell you but I also couldn't just leave it forever-- well, I could but that's not really what I, I don't know, it's just really--" Midoriya cut (Y/N) off by pressing his lips to hers. Her eyes fluttered shut and she kissed back a little, before they pulled away.

"Sorry...was that too much? Or too little? I've never really done this before and maybe I shouldn't have done that at all but--" (Y/N) smiled at him reassuringly before quickly pressing her lips to his again.

When they pulled away, Midoriya couldn't stop blushing and (Y/N) couldn't stop grinning. She winked at him and laughed a little as she spoke next.

"You let me borrow a kiss, I gave it back."

BONUS:

"Ah! They're so cute!" Mina squealed.

"Tch, took them long enough." Bakugo growled.

"Can you assholes shut up and stop staring? We're kind of in the middle of something." (Y/N) rolled her eyes at the group of students crowded around the door, peering in through the crack.

"We can see that." Hagakure said, pushing the door open fully.

"One kiss for the camera!" Mina pleaded, pulling out her phone.

"Uh, I don't think we should...uhm...y'know..."

"Sorry, Izuku." (Y/N) smirked.

"Wait, you're going along with this?" Midoriya asked shyly.

"Don't freak out." (Y/N) smiled at him kindly and linked her fingers behind his neck, making Midoriya freeze up and go crimson red.

She leaned in and gently pressed her lips to his, and he kissed back slightly, hesitantly placing one hand on (Y/N)'s hip and brushing the other against her cheek.

She eventually pulled away and Midoriya pouted a little, making her laugh.

"That enough for you, Ashido?" (Y/N) asked.

"I think I can die happy now," Mina said.

"Good, because I am going to KILL YOU FOR THAT STUPID DARE!" (Y/N) yelled, standing up and running after Mina.

"I GOT YOU AND MIDORIYA TO KISS! YOU SHOULD THANK ME!"

"STILL GONNA KILL YOU!"

[putseraphinaonthaphone]

Chromatic

Classical Pianist Katsuki Bakugou has a favorite coffee shop on the short walk from his studio back to his apartment. It's small, 24 hours, and has a stage that's always free for musicians to use. And it's run by you, a would be musician who's a better baker and coffee maker-that he can't stop coming back to see.

@nanamisbento & @hanji-is-life both made a world of difference in making me feel confident enough to write this as a full drabble, so thank y'all <3 y'all are sweethearts and I love this au so muchhhh

~light angst, slow burn, black!queer!reader, musician au~

"Cross my heart hope to die, I ain't got no love to give," you plucked at the guitar strings lazily your eyes focused on nothing but the strings and trying not to cry- and if felt like your alto voice was fighting through gravel. Huskier than normal, verging on tenor like you always dreamed about, and you were too fucking sad to enjoy it.

You missed your friend, you missed talking to him. Teasing him, making him laugh. And worse, you knew the home he went back to wasn't the healthiest. You knew all too well how a house could be so much worse than the stress of school.

"Baby boy so goddamn fine, swear you give me a peace of mind," and it was true. Just being near him, talking about poetry, anything, made you feel so calm. Fuck you missed him.

"Swear you make this young girl go crazy," If some tears fell onto your fretboard at least it was late enough that no one would come in until the morning rush.

"Now how could a man like you want somebody, so incredibly immature, insecure just like me?" Because he was just as insecure as you. It's why you two would talk on the phone for hours on end, about all your fears and worries, as much as your happiness. He was the friend you could talk about the lowest lows with because neither of you were afraid or unfamiliar with rock bottom- mentally, emotionally.

You slipped the strap of your electric guitar over your head and put it back on the rack (you left it out for musicians of all kinds to play when they felt inspired by your shop's vibes) and wiped your aching eyes. You didn't see or hear Bakugou slip back out the side door he'd came in through.

~

He'd first started coming in April, when the Washington rain was too torrential not to seek cover. He'd walked in soaking wet and spitting curses as he shut the door behind him. Ash blond hair and garnet eyes plus a jawline you'd cut yourself on meant you were half way infatuated before he even ordered.

"Black coffee with extra raw sugar, and whatever bread you have that's not sweet." It was a rumbling bass of a voice and damnit now you were officially in love- but then you noticed a case that you guessed carried an electric keyboard by the shape at his feet and in your excitement (that distracted you from his stunningly pretty face enough you could talk to him without tripping over your words like you were sure you were going to when you first came to take his order) you grinned at him so genuinely he forgot he was pissed.

"Sure thing, but just so you know- we have a permanent open mic set up here. You can play whatever instruments of mine you'd like to use, or you could set up your keyboard. It's great to see more musicians in here." You meant it, he could see in the way you seemed to light up like fireworks just talking about it.

"..Maybe next time." He tried to say hell no I'm never coming back to this tiny ass shop, do you know the size of the stages I usually play?!

But how could he regret his grumbled words when you clutched your small notepad to your chest and asked him in a rush (with a sparkle in your big doe brown eyes that didn't match your shaved head or heavy silver rings and earrings but was adorable nonetheless) "You mean it? You'd play here?"

It wasn't the same eagerness of ochestral directors prepared to embarrass themselves for a chance for The Katsuki Bakugou, classical pianist prodigy, to play with their ensembles. It was just a person who loved music and ran a tiny well cared for shop that was full of second hand furniture and mismatch cutlery and china, that was excited at the thought of music being played at all.

"Why not? I could play some of my own compositions for once instead of another goddamn Bach piece." You must have been imagining the blush on his cheeks because it was gone in seconds, and he was glaring at you with only the slightest of smiles taking the sting out of his words. "But am I going to get that coffee before I catch a cold from the fucking rain currently soaking my fucking clothes?"

Now it was your turn to feel heat burning in your cheeks as you sheepishly saluted "Right, coffee," and ran back to your bar to start his order. You found some fresh plain yeast rolls on the top shelf of your display case and an old towel in your supply closet. And if you didn't think about how much of a dork you made of yourself in front of your hottest customer to date your hands didn't shake when you put together his coffee in the largest cup you could find.

"Least sweet bread I have, black coffee with a fuck ton of raw sugar.." You winked to (hopefully) let the blond know you were kidding, "and a towel to make sure you'll survive long enough to play for me sometime."

He snorted and snatched the towel from your hands, starting to rub it vigorously over his hair with a blatant lack of fucks for how fluffy and wild it made it hair, but it seemed to you that there was humor in his voice as he sighed, "That depends on how good your shitty coffee is."

~

He started coming in on the regular after that. Sometimes dressed in a suit, that he was all but ripping off until he could roll up the sleeves of his dress shirt and unbutton the collar so he could breathe. (The first time you saw the bare column of his throat and the obvious strength of his chest meeting the delicate structure of his collar bones, you had to blame lifting heavy bags of coffee beans for your breathlessness.)

Sometimes he came from the opposite direction, dressed in jeans and old tshirts when it finally started warming up. He brought in his keyboard on those days and played a range of compositions you knew were his without him having to tell you. His left hand was more comfortable in the lower octaves of his keyboard when it was his own work, and there was more grief mixed in the bombastic anger that fueled the more staccato and forte phrases that had everyone in the small shop falling quiet to listen. Because it wasn't just hammering at the keys, it was complex harmonies of thirds and major sevenths that haunted the air even as he was moving on to the next phrase that was more of a murmur of echoing themes that passed back from hand to hand.

But your favorite times to see him was during your night shifts, when the shop was mostly deserted except for your quieter night owl regulars. Then he'd play pieces that were.. lullabies. Soft melodies and less minor chords than his daylight pieces. He'd take breaks in between pieces to come talk to you at the bar, ask your opinion on his playing- the genuine way he listened to your comments and compliments making your heart melt more than his good looks could have done alone.

And some nights, especially when it rains, he's telling you about the superficial nature of the classical music world and how sometimes he wishes he'd never gone into orchestral piano and just stayed in his old tiny but cozy apartment.

"Maybe we would've met anyway, and you'd still have this place and I'd come play for scraps on the weekends." And damn the wistfulness hits him hard, you can see it in the way his eyes soften for the first time in knowing him.

"I wouldn't let you play for scraps, it's tiny but it's my place. And your music would only add to the atmosphere. You'd get full employee wages and free coffee on the house." You're wistful too, and maybe it's the rain but you'd love for this dream to be real. Even for a moment.

~

You were sure you'd actually walk into being head over heels in love if he did one more sweet thing for you with his signature grumble and glare. But it was weird, ever since a few weeks back he'd stopped coming by as often. Looked at you strange when you teased him like you were both used to, and played pieces with more anger and sorrow than you'd ever heard from him before.

It was turning into the longest you hadn't seen him by the end of the week, so you were fucking furious when he strolled in one night.

Obviously coming from one of his bigger performances with the coattails and tuxedo tie, but no smile to show for it. Not even smugness in his eyes from a performance well done. He looked a little like shit actually, dark circles under his eyes and something indescribably sad in his garnet gaze that sought you out as soon as he walked in. It was the only thing that stopped you from completely ignoring his order when he came to the bar.

But you couldn't stop the obvious way your jaw was clenched while you worked, the hurt in your eyes when you set his coffee down in front of him.

He said your name, low and questioning, confusion growing on his perfect stupid face and that's when you couldn't take it anymore. He looked like shit, but you felt it. Losing one friend in a year was more than enough heart break for you. Having a friend, who you were already half in love with, start ghosting you on top of that? You weren't strong enough to take the highroad.

"Don't you fucking dare look at me like you don't understand. I don't understand why you decided our friendship doesn't mean shit to you anymore. If you were going to fucking ghost me I would've preferred if you'd done so before I started waiting for you to come by." You were glad no one was in the shop but the two of you when you realized somewhere along the line of yelling at him you started crying. Kat was looking at you with his mouth open in shock, and you didn't want to wait around to drag out your embarrassment.

But you were surprised when he came after. Calling your name again, moving quickly to get around the counter to follow you.

"Wait. Wait." His hand grabbed your wrist, the first time he touched you with no pretenses or excuses. The strength and gentleness of his hold only making it harder to stop your tears.

"I didn't mean to make you cry." You almost wished he'd go back to his more brash daylight self, you can't handle how quiet and gentle he gets in the early morning hours. Your heart was too soft on him already- even in your anger, you didn't resist when he pulled you close and cupped your cheeks. The pads of his thumbs wiping away your tears.

"You were crying that night too, when you were playing. I'd never heard you sing before." His fingers were on your lips, silencing you before you could even ask what the hell he was talking about. It was too much. Being unable to escape the way his eyes watched you, the way his voice got quiet- confessional.

"Let me finish. I heard you sing, and I saw you cry, and the thought of you crying for another man made me so angry I thought I'd die from how much I hated him. Whoever he was. So I stopped coming by as often. I didn't know that would hurt you.. I didn't think you would care if you were still heartbroken over some asshole." It was starting to make sense, starting to make you hope that maybe.. maybe he felt the same way you did.

"I get heartbroken over friends you know. Just friends." Your words are slightly muffled by his fingers, but its worth it to see the hope flare to life in his eyes.

How had you both missed it? All these months of longing.

"But the way you broke my heart by just not coming by? When I didn't even know what was wrong? That's worse than anything I've ever felt before-"

Your first kiss with Katsuki was salty from your tears, but it was okay.

He wanted your tears, your lips, you to be his and only his.

~

[munsontm]

“i’ve been worried sick! where the hell were you!?” — steve ofc

The buzz of neat vodka and a couple lines of coke wrapped him up in immunity from his boyfriend's worried tone, and that look of fear mixed with a hint of anger in his caring hazel eyes. Eddie had always thought Steve looked goddamn gorgeous when pissed, but not when it was aimed at him, at least very rarely. Tonight was no different, yet the outburst had been expected when Eddie stormed out hours ago during an argument. He'd run away. Why? Old habits die hard; some can't ever be cured completely. Instinct told him to go, and he listened. The downside was that the only place for him to go once the city quietened for the night, bars closed, was back to Steve. There was no avoiding the situation. They were in a relationship, lovers, boyfriends, partners, whatever, and he knew deep down beneath the slightly intoxicated haze that it took both of them to make it work. He also knew Steve wouldn't dare shut his eyes without knowing he was safe. So, going home, back to their apartment, he had to.

Except when Steve spoke to him, hands on his hips in that way he did when in classic Steve mode, Eddie shrugged and kicked his shoes off into their designated area by the front door. He'd gone to a bar, drank and bought a bit of coke to drown his sorrows and calm down. Anger wasn't an emotion that suited him or plagued him much despite all he'd been through in twenty-two years. That particular feeling got redirected into his music, so no one else need ever see him that way. But the writer's block had hit Eddie hard over the past month or so, and when the anger had nowhere to go. It bubbled to the surface. The drugs and booze, as unhealthy a mechanism as they were, pushed those emotions back down into the dark where he wanted them.

"I'm back. I'm fine. What more do you want, Steve?" A poor answer even by his standards, and it's what the other man is left with when Eddie goes into the bathroom to get ready for bed. The worst part was that he couldn't recall what they'd argued over, not entirely. Only that is escalated into some other shit about bills, chores, and that they weren't spending enough time together---Oh, right. That'd been the original argument, to begin with, hadn't it? Eddie worked late nights, making him distant from Steve physically and then emotionally because of writer's block. But Eddie never brought the latter up with Steve; he didn't know why. Maybe because of the personal nature of his writing or that he didn't want Steve to know how it helped calm the anger rarely seen in him. Stupid reasons, stupid, stupid.

Sighing, he washed his face, brushed his teeth and combed his hair, failing to realise Steve's returned presence until he turned around to leave. Eddie jumped, hand going over his cocaine-fuelled heart. "Jesus Christ, Steve," he muttered with no actual malice, only exhaustion from the night's events. Their eyes met, and his same jittery heart went about a thousand miles a second. Even when they were fighting, Eddie was still completely and utterly gone for him. Unfortunately, an accustomed goodnight kiss seemed highly unlikely. He looked away before drowning occurred, brushing past the taller. "I'm tired. Let's just talk about this some other time." It sounded cruel on his tongue, even if there was no tone to suggest cruelty. He stopped for half a second to consider saying otherwise, but then his feet kept walking away, every step like a stab in Steve's chest.

Why was it so hard? Talking had never been an issue for Eddie Munson; he'd been known to overshare on more than one occasion. Maybe the stress of being unable to write finally took a toll on him, and eventually, all that frustration would spill out in one ugly and dramatic scene. Until then, it was fucking with his relationship instead, hurting the man he loved. The only good thing in his shitty life. He needed to hit the hay before the path to self-loathing opened up in all its unholy glory and made things so much worse. Without risking one last look at Steve, Eddie changed for bed quicker than usual, hoping that the day after would bring better thoughts and behaviour his way.

@harringtontm

[goodomens-goodomenseverywhere]

BIG FUCKIN LOKI EP 5 THOUGHTS (spoilers ahead…obviously)

-big smoke babey???

-Sylvie's curly hair 🥺🥺🥺

-judge renslayer I don’t fuckin trust you one goddamn bit

-WHY WOULD SHE FICKING TRUST YOU FUCK YOU

-alligator Loki is everything to me

-"All I know is I got pruned and I woke up here, and now I’m surrounded by variants of myself, plus an alligator, which I’m heartbroken to report I didn’t even find all that strange” I LOVE YOUFJENDK

- I am in love with alligator loki

-buff Loki sarcastic ALSO HOLY SHIT???? KID LOKI FUCKIN KILLED THOR?? KESUS FUCKING CHRIST

-TINY THORNSCJSKDJ

-”why do you want to return to the TVA”

“Did you leave your glorious purpose there?” JFKSKFKD GOT EM

-tHEY JUST CONVENIENTLY HAVE A VOID SOACECRAFT LYING AROUND OKAY BITCH GOOD FUCKIN TIMING RAVONNA

-fuckin called it bitch

-"do you have any good memories?” Fuck you ravonna

-HOLY SHIT SHE PRUNED HERSELF

-marvel if you pull this selfcest bs when Loki and Sylvia reunite I’ll go rabid

-HAPPY GIGGLE ALLOGATOR LOKI IN POOL

-AALOGATOR LOKI ATE THE BEIGHBORS CATDKSJCKSJ

-classic Loki is the only smart bitch

-so….Loki’s timeline continues? HE SIRVIVES AFTER INFINITY WAR???

-Loki:*rousing speech*

The other Lokis: no ❤️

-okay so what’s the beef between these Loki groups

-THAT WAS FUCKIN COOL WHATD SHE DO

-is it mobius

-pls tell me it’s mobius

-ITS MOVIUS ITS MOBIUS ITS MOBIUS IM GONNA CRY ITS MY BOY

-I’m crying real tears i haven’t felt this much serotonin since I watched Save The Cat from shera s5 I had to stand up and walk around my house but I can’t DO THAT BECAUSE ITS 3 am

-I walked around my room I had to pause for a bit

-moving on

-“you should be careful just jumping into a strangers car like that” I LOVE YOU YOU FUCKIN BASTARD

-“watch out!”

“I see it I see it”

“Really because you’re driving RIGHT towards it”

“God you really are one of you”

-THE MONIUS/SYLVIE INTERACTION IVE BEEN CRAVING

-loki veing super fucking done with his own variants is SO FUNNY

-TBEY JUST KEEP BACKSTABBING WACH TOHERRKDIFJSJ

-"WHY RHE HELL IS THERE AN ALLIGATOR IN HERE"

"HES A LOKI"

-HE BIT OFD HIS FUCKING HANDKFODKCKS

-KID LOKI HOLDING ALLIGATOR LOKI LIKE A BABYYYYY

-our Loki trying ro sneak out of the Loki brawl

-"and whenever one of us dares to fix ourselves they send us here to die" cries?? Ur so little

-sylvie I love u but girl

-"cmon Mobius let's just drive into the thing that EATS MATTER"

-"just bc its not complicated dossnt mwan it's bad"

"doesn't mean it's good"

-THE ALLIHATIE IS PRAYINGDJCKSJD

-did the tva ORUNE THE SHIO???

-better yet did they ARRESTTHE SHIP??

-many questions

-REUNION EEUNION LOKIUS REUNION

-IM GONNA CRY

-I LOVW RHEM

-CRIWS

-"US AS AN ALLIGATOE"

-ALL QUESTIONING THEIR PLANSJCISJFKS

-sylvje being like "oh my God THAY was your plan"

-mobius I love you

-I wanted a better ruinion marvel I better get SOMETHINF

-UR TELLING ME LOKI ALMOST CRIED WHEN MOBIUS WAS ORUNED AND HE JUST GIVES HIM A HALF ASSED 'MOBIUS!' WHEN HE SEES HIM AGAIN??? OKAY

-ravonna what r u up to

-B-15 NOOO

-I want more b-15 content

-also she's hot

-ur telling me Mobius read about literally everything Loki related and doesn't remember the ALIGATOR???

-I am loving the Lokis and Mobius interactions

-questioning alligator Loki on whether or not he's Loki

-"HE CARWS ABOUT YOU" LOKIUS??

-pls dont

-pls dont share the blanket

-okay cool no selfcest

-pls

-this is awkwaed

-FRIENDS FRIENDS FRIENDS

-God pls just admit you're friends

-theyre sharing the blanket OK fine

-judging his blanket conjuring skills I see

-i am actually appreciating the friendly nudges I do want them to be close

-nebermind I take it back

-THE DAEK ASTERRRRR

-HEY BITCH

-sylvie I believe in you

-loki you stupid bitch

-WE'RE SPLIRTING UP LOKI AND MOBIUS AGAIN?? HOMOPHOBES

-im mad

-I better see more of them I STG ILL GO FERAL

-HUG HUG HUG

-THEY HUGGED I'M GONNA CRY BUT STILL

-HE CALLED MOBIUS 'MY FRIEND' GOODBYE

-I LOVE THEM

-sob

-stilk mad abour them splitting up

-alioth is baby right? Can we all agree?

-loki if u sacrficie yourself

-bitch

-OMG AZIRAPHALE MOMENT

-FLAMINH SWORD???

-hot

-SO FUCKING TRUE CLASSIC LOKI LOVE U BITCH

-HW JUST CREATED AN ENTIRE ASGADD ILLUSION

-LOKI I BELIEVE IN U

-NOOOO DONR EAT CLASSIC LOKI

-OH HES HELPING??

-ope

-nvm

-GOT EM

-FUCK YEAAHHHHY

-K so what's all this then