#and they’re still very good obvious they’re all bats

[panakina]

I think it’d be funny if Dick and Jason, due to wearing bright yellow capes on the job for years, are capable of stealth to a frankly unhinged degree. They barely have to try anymore it’s so second nature. Dick can just completely disappear while in the loudest neon clothes imaginable. Jason is constantly startling people who don’t understand how they missed a guy the size of a fridge standing right there. Bruce is extremely grateful for his unbreakable poker face because they have both startled him by accident and would never ever let him live it down if they knew.

[narnian-neverlander]

For You, Always [Viktor x GN!Reader]

Plot Summary: You press your forehead to his lightly and whisper your thanks again, and “What you did was more than enough. You will always be more than enough.” He tightens the arm still looped around your waist and pulls you impossibly closer, the hand on your face slipping to the back of your neck, mirroring you. This is how things have always been between you two and how they should stay: clearly caring and loving, yet a certain line never crossed.

Word Count: 4,7k

Warnings: slight angst, self-worth issues (both of them need a freaking hug), internalized ableism, talk about a non-consensual relationship (nothing explicit/graphic or sexual, but reader’s ex is clearly an abusive, ableist pos)

This is part of a series of stand alone One-Shots that all feature the same reader, you can find the masterlist here :3

A/N: Jayce is playing matchmaker, because both Viktor and the Reader have such bad self-worth issues, they’re not gonna get anywhere unless he whacks them over the head with his hammer

“According to Mel, he is an absolute ass, but unfortunately one of the most influential people in Piltover, so—“

“Unfortunately, he’s also kinda, sorta my ex…” you mumble into the rim of your glass, interrupting Jayce and it is comical, cartoonish almost, how his head turns to look at you so fast you’re afraid his neck might snap. Not to mention Viktor accompanying his reaction perfectly by choking on his own drink. You watch Jayce open and close his mouth several times until he finally settles on: “That guy? Seriously? Didn’t think that was your type…”

He casts an incredibly unsubtle, overly obvious glance over at Viktor as he says this and you would’ve loved to strangle him for it; thankfully the man in question is too busy coughing up fancy champagne to notice, he does however manage to get out a “Oh please tell me you lost a bet.”

Downing the rest of your drink in one go, you shake your head. “Gods, I wish. Just… young and stupid and naive and always too eager to please and — and he’s coming this way. Gentlemen, if you’ll excuse me.” You all but flee the scene about to unfold, grabbing another glass off a passing waiter’s tray as you make a break for the nearest balcony. Your friends watch you disappear into the crowd with worried frowns; Jayce’s statement of “Probably a pretty bad breakup…” getting answered with an eye roll and a heavily sarcastic “You think so? I never would have guessed.”

The next hours are spent hopping from hiding spot to hiding spot, snatching drinks and snacks off trays whenever you manage while keeping an eye out for your personified worst nightmare. By some godly miracle you manage to utterly avoid the man and the next familiar face you spot when you dare venture back into the crowds is the Man of Progress himself, surrounded by nobles and merchants alike, polite smile on his face as he makes conversation. A polite, fake smile in danger of slipping that you spot from a mile away. Catching a glimpse of the band getting ready to strike up another song, you decide to be merciful and rescue him. It’s not entirely selfless though, as you figure if the asshole does end up spotting you, watching you dance with Piltover’s very own golden boy might be a good enough repellant.

“Excuse me, Mr. Talis?” Relief floods his features as he turns around to find you right behind him, having shoved your way through the circle of admirers. “I hate to interrupt, but you did promise me a dance. You’re not the kind of man to go back on his word are you?” Voice all sweet and coy and honeyed, batting your lashes at him; the picture perfect flirt making starry eyes at the man leading the city of progress into a brighter future. And it takes all he has not to burst out laughing, because he’s seen this from you before, except it’s usually not him on the receiving end of it, but his partner. It is charming, endearing even, he will admit. No wonder Viktor can never say no to you when you look at him like that. And right now he’s beyond elated you’ve decided to play his saving grace for some reason, so he wouldn’t even dream of turning you down.

“Of course not. If you’ll excuse me.” he states, ignoring any protests from bystanders and guides you to the dance floor with a hand on the small of your back. He leads you into a waltz and waits until you’re swallowed by dancing couples until he lets his face drop into an exhausted grimace. “Oh sweet Gods, thank you. Anymore of that and I would’ve driven the cocktail sticks into my ears.”

“You’re welcome. How did you even end up like that, though? Where’s your better half? He’s usually pretty capable of getting you both out of situations like that.” He sends you a knowing grin as he spins you. “Oh so you think he’s the better half? Ouch.” It earns him an eye roll, but you’re smiling nonetheless. “Like you don’t know I have a favorite. Now answer the question, golden boy.” There’s hesitation before he answers with, “He went home for the evening.” and you almost fumble your next steps. “Excuse me? The bastard begged me to come along for weeks and now he just ditches? The only reason I agreed to come was because he actually promised me a dance.”

Jayce hems and haws and you’re ridiculously close to intentionally stomping on his foot to get him to cough up an explanation; luckily for him he manages in time. “No, no, it’s more like… I sent him home cause if he would’ve had to be in the same room as your ex any longer, I was genuinely afraid he’d take the guy’s head off with his cane.” The laugh that bubbles up from your throat is joyful and real; Jayce has always been good at defusing your irritation with humor. It takes another few seconds and another look at his face to realize that he’s dead serious and your laughter dies on your tongue, leaving behind the taste of ashes. “You can’t be— He— What?! I left you guys for two hours max!”

“Yeah, well…” he starts as he dips you, “your ex has a way of getting under people’s skin.” No shit. But you’d honestly thought Viktor was above it. “What did the asshole do? Dismiss Hextech as an obsolete fantasy?” Shaking his head, he leads you into another turn. “No, quite the opposite, actually. He was incredibly interested, but his demands for becoming a sponsor were ludicrous, to put it mildly. Final say in the direction of Hextech, majority of the shares, unrestricted access to all stages of development and… you.” This time, you do stumble over your own feet in shock, falling straight into his chest. “Pardon?!”

The poor man looks as uncomfortable as you feel as he explains. “Apparently he saw the three of us talking earlier and one thing led to another and— fuck, I don’t know what happened between you, but that man is absolutely not over you. For some reason that is entirely beyond me, he was under the impression that because we’re friends we’d somehow be able to coerce you into being with him again. And the way he was talking about you? Gods, it made me wanna punch him in the face; it was so utterly vile I can’t even repeat it. Scratch that, I just really don’t want to.” All things considered, you’re glad for his hands steadying you, cause the room’s spinning even without the dance you’re still enagaged in and you feel like you’re gonna loose all the fancy hors-d’oeuvres from earlier on the polished marble floor any second now. “Great. Lovely. Perfect. And how exactly does Viktor fit into this now?”

He sighs. “Honestly, I can’t repeat what he said either.” This seems to ground your spiraling for a moment and you cock a brow at him. “Are you kidding? He’s usually pretty eloquent.” To say you’re surprised when he snorts in amusement would be an understatement. “I mean I literally can’t repeat it, because he was so utterly livid, he slipped into his mother tongue and while I can’t be sure, it didn’t exactly sound like he was complimenting the guy.”

Finally all the pieces click into place and when they do, you slow your steps to a stop and blink up at your friend owlishly. “He… Viktor got upset on my behalf?” The way he so openly laughs at you makes your ears burn and your fist connects with his chest in a halfhearted punch. “I don’t see what’s so funny about that!” Catching your hand as you ready yourself for another swing, this time aimed at his stupid, handsome face, he reigns in his laughter and simply smiles at you; not mean spirited or teasing, but shockingly gentle and sweet. “You really can’t even begin to understand the way he sees you, huh? The lengths he’d go to for you?”

The anger and embarrassment in your veins all but evaporates, replaced by something soft and warm; heat gathering at the back of your neck and the balls of your cheeks for an entirely different reason now. Your mouth drops open as you try to formulate some sort of response, only to fail miserably; incoherent stuttering and beginnings of words the only thing you manage to produce. The music finally fades out and is replaced by applause for the band as your friend chuckles and inclines his head towards the door. “You should go talk to him.” A glance over his shoulder shows you the gaggle of potential investors you’d saved him from earlier already making their way towards you again. “And you’ll survive if I leave you alone with these people?” An overly dramatic sigh is your answer. “I’ll gladly sacrifice myself for your happiness.” The ‘my hero’ he gets in return is dripping with sarcasm as he winks at you and makes a shooing motion towards the exit, then turns around to head back into the fray, giving you a clean escape.

Freezing winter air hits you as you exit the venue; bitingly cold but a welcome change from the sweltering warmth of the gala nonetheless. Starting left, you catch yourself after only a few steps to reconsider. Left would be Viktor’s apartment. Right would be the lab. You know him better than that, don’t you? So you change directions, readjusting your scarf over your nose. It’s a relatively short distance to the academy, even so your fingers are starting to go numb when you reach one of the big, heavy doors leading inside. The hallowed halls are quiet and dark, making the high ceilings and ornate walls seem even more imposing than usual as you make your way towards the lab with hurried steps. It all feels like you’re doing something illegal - or maybe it would, if all the security guards hadn’t seen you hang around the two Hextech pioneers often enough for you to know all their names by heart at this point. Arriving at the lab, first glance tells you it’s as empty as the rest of the building. Except for the tiny sliver of light peeking out from under the door. Bingo.

You gingerly, quietly press down on the handle, not wanting to involuntarily startle the man you know to be inside, just in case he’s handling something explosive. One experience like that had been enough to last you a lifetime. You’re in luck, as you instead find him hunched over one of the desks, furiously scribbling notes onto various scattered pieces of paper, muttering under his breath. The small lamp at his side casts deep shadows across his face, but you’re still able to make out the frown; thick eyebrows drawn together in irritation and lips pressed into a thin line. He couldn’t possibly still be upset about what happened at the gala, could he? No, impossible. Preposterous. Idiotic. He’s hit a roadblock in his equations, that had to be it. But seeing as you’re not in any danger of accidentally causing him to blow you both to pieces you make your presence known to him.

“I do believe Jayce told you to go home, didn’t he?” Viktor almost drops his pen in alarm, swiveling around on his stool to find you have sidled up to him, leaning against the desk, in the process of ridding yourself of your coat and scarf, an amused grin on your lips. He puts a hand over his racing heart, as he says “And a heart attack is a fitting reprimand for my crime in your eyes, yes?” You only raise your brows in return, smile slipping from your face, disapproval obvious in your eyes as they flit towards the clock in the corner of the room for just a second; it’s the same look he always gets from you when he’s working when he clearly shouldn’t be. Running a hand through his already messy, chestnut hair, he shrugs. “I simply didn’t feel particularly tired when I left.”

“So I’ve heard.” you muse and pick up a random cogwheel from the table to fiddle with. “Apparently you had some… disagreements with a potential investor?” He clicks his tongue in annoyance and all but chucks the pen still in his hand across the desk. “Potential investor, don’t make me laugh. That appalling, pathetic excuse of a man shouldn’t be allowed in a five mile radius of anything Hextech. Or a five mile radius of you, for that matter.” Humming in both agreement and intrigue, you continue with what’s really been eating you up. “Jayce said you hit him with some choice words. Mind repeating those for me?” A sideways glance your way to confirm you’re certain and then he launches into a repeat of his rant from earlier that evening. He gets about three or four words into it before you throw the cogwheel at him; it bounces off his shoulder and lands on the floor with a ping. “Oh someone thinks he’s particularly funny tonight. In a language I understand, maybe?” Try as he might to hide it, you catch the corners of his mouth tugging upward slightly. “That’s not what you asked of me, though.” Know-it-all bastard.

“Oh how dare you?” Hopping up on the table for additional theatrics, you grip your chest in mock offense and throw your head back dramatically. “Here I am, having braved a journey of freezing winds and complete darkness, to bestow my thanks upon you and you don’t even have the courtesy to thrill me with a retelling of your courageous deeds. Disappointing, truly.” A pointed cough into his fist does little to hide the laugh at your antics. “Please, the venue is a ten minute walk from here and all the streets are lined with lanterns. You’ll need to try a little harder, miláčku.”

Huffing, you run a hand over your face, desperately trying to hide how much the nickname affects you and give you a second to think. Your salvation stares at you from the other end of the lab, the golden horn of the phonograph glinting in the light of the moon that filters through the windows. And he immediately knows he won’t like what comes out of your mouth next, with the way your eyes flash and your lips curl in an absolutely wicked smile. “Well you see, I still haven’t been paid for tonight.” Confusion is clear as day in both his face and his voice. “I do not recall discussing payment for your participation in the gala…?”

“Oh but we did!” you giggle as you hook your foot around the center of his roller stool to drag him closer, very much enjoying the look of utter shock on his face and the slight graze of his hands on the sides of your things as they land on the desk next to you to try and regain his balance. “A certain someone promised to dance with me if I showed up. Guess who ditched before he made good on that?” At least he has the courtesy to look sheepish, a little knowing ‘Ah…�� sound escaping him as he rubs a hand over the back of his neck and drops his gaze to his lap. With how the night had gone, he’d genuinely forgotten all about it. And before the night had even started he’d hoped you’d forget. He really should’ve known better. A finger enters his field of vision to poke him in the chest. “You’re in luck; I am nothing if not merciful, so I’ll leave it up to you: a dance or an explanation. So what’ll it be, darling?”

He’s beyond grateful you can’t get a proper look at his face at the moment, with how pink he knows his cheeks to be, lest you realize how much the nickname actually affects him. And this shouldn’t be such a hard choice, really; the way his heart stutters at just the thought of either, he should be doing both. Besides, you deserve to know. Deserve to know that he’d told that pompous swine to go choke on his wine the moment he’d as much as uttered your name. Told him that he shouldn’t even be allowed to breathe the same air as you, much less be allowed close enough to touch you. That he could amass as much money and power as he liked, he’d never be worth even a fraction of you.

You deserve to know all of that. And yet he doesn’t tell you. Because while he did what he did for your sake, it had still been selfishly motivated. Because if he tells someone interested in you off, then at least it feels like you’re his, even for just a second. Because the irony of the situation is that while your ex might be undeserving of you, so is he. For different reasons, yes, but he feels it’s true nonetheless.

So he doesn’t tell you any of it, his personal demons are not your burden to bear after all, simply grabs his cane in silence and walks over to the phonograph. Slow notes of a gentle melody fill the air a few moments later, as he turns and offers you his hand.

And you’re absolutely shell shocked, to say the least. This is… not the choice you’d been expecting. Words are his forte; he’d always choose them over physicality if given the opportunity. Or so you’d thought. This doesn’t make sense to you; why was he so desperately trying to keep what he’d said about you a secret? Or had Jayce completely misunderstood the situation he’d recounted to you and Viktor had never said anything about you at all? Why would he bother to anyways? You and your past demons aren’t his burden to bear, after all. The uncertainty must be written all over your face, as you’re met with a concerned, “Are you alright?”

It’s a simple enough question, with a simple enough answer, yes or no, but all of a sudden, you’re a child again. Sitting bruised, bleeding, soaked to the bone and crying your little heart out in the shallows of one of the offshoots of the river, an altercation between you and some other kids having turned out to be another case of you biting off more than you could chew. And then a little pale hand holding out a dirty handkerchief had appeared in your peripheral, belonging to a small, lanky boy with a cane and big, worried golden eyes.

Are you alright?

You hadn’t known him then. But you’d taken his hand anyways. Had decided to trust him. He’d never once let you down since and you have no reason to doubt him now. So you do the same thing in this exact moment as you did all those years ago: just take his hand and trust him.

He pulls you flush against him, hands linked behind your lower back, your own coming up to rest on his shoulders. It’s nowhere near as elaborate and elegant as your waltz earlier this evening, more of a simple swaying from side to side, but it doesn’t have to be. Not for you. Not as long as it’s him.

Smiling softly, you say, “A dance with each one of the Hextech geniuses in one night. I must be the luckiest person in Piltover.” He hums in acknowledgment. “And do you have a preference?”

“Oh come now, that is an utterly unfair comparison.” And your heart aches at the way his face falls just the tiniest bit. “I’ve had my preference for years, regardless of dancing abilities; poor Jayce never even stood a chance.” It’s quiet and subtle, barely more than a deep breath in and out, but it’s a laugh nonetheless. “Don’t tell him that, it’ll break his heart.” In direct comparison to him, the bark of laughter that escapes you is loud and boisterous, only amplified by the muted, soft atmosphere surrounding you both. “Please, he knows. He’s been yanking my chain about that for a bit.” Not that you particularly mind; it’s a chain you wear proudly and for all to see after all. You’d shout your love for this man from the highest towers of Piltover if only he asked. “Besides…” you start while tucking your head into the crook of his neck, “I’m here dancing with you because I want to be. I really only danced with Jayce because I thought if… if you-know-who saw it, it might keep him off my back a little longer.”

A slight turn of his head has him nuzzling your hair; the hushed whisper of your name almost sounds pained as his arms tighten around you protectively. He isn’t sure what exactly happened between you and your ex, but he’d be willing to bet that the nature of your relationship hadn’t been… consensual. It’s plain to see that the man scares you and it makes him sick. Angry. Desperate. But most of all, he’s disappointed - in himself. The conversation him and Jayce had had with him had been one thing; the bastard knew how to behave at least somewhat diplomatically while there were people of importance present. Of course, Jayce, and by extension, you, couldn’t know that he’d had the misfortune of running into him yet again while he was leaving. He’d had to listen to that waste of oxygen in expensive clothing talk about you like you were nothing more than a filthy piece of his property yet again and this time around he hadn’t managed to remain even remotely civil. Had thrown every curse and threat under the sun in two different languages his way. Had hissed at him that he’d turn him inside out if he ever even looked at you again - only for the pig to laugh in his face, pat his cheek condescendingly and give a disgusted, embarrassed look at his cane, telling him that he was ’welcome to try’ before vanishing back into the crowd. Viktor had wanted to scream at the top his lungs; it had been a while since he’d felt so utterly livid, yet so humiliated and useless at the same time.

And here you are, wanting to thank him for some courageous, chivalrous deed he didn’t actually commit. Looking at him with the biggest eyes, like he’d hung the stars in the sky just for you, when in reality, he couldn’t even properly defend you against someone who’d clearly hurt you. He has to tell you. He’s not the hero you think him to be.

“About what I said to him—“ is as far as he gets, as you promptly cut him off with, “Don’t tell me. It doesn’t matter.” Not even ten minutes ago, you were essentially blackmailing him into spilling this secret and now you don’t care anymore? “I would argue that it does.” He feels more than sees you shake your head, your hair tickling his cheek. “You stood up for me, right? That’s all I have to know. It’s enough.”

Anger and disgust come back full force, choking him like bile rising in the back of his throat, not aimed at you, never at you, but at himself.

“It’s nothing.”

He doesn’t mean for it to come out so harsh and bitter and cold.

“It’s plenty.”

Soft and sweet and warm, the exact opposite of his own words in every way; the reassurance and comfort he’s supposed to be offering you dripping from every word. When did your roles get reversed? You’re the one in distress and you’re comforting him? He’s not just useless, he’s absolutely pathetic. And even though you might be none the wiser to his self destructive thoughts, some part of you seems to know; it always seems to know as your fingers dance across his shoulders to busy themselves with the hair at the nape of his neck, calming his nerves.

“I haven’t had— I mean, no one’s ever— Most people—“ A sigh, a clear sign of frustration as you try to get your thoughts in order, warm breath fanning over his neck, leaving goosebumps in it’s wake. “I can count the people who ever stood up for me over the course of my life on one hand; I mean, my birth parents never even bothered to. So knowing there’s someone who has my back, even when I’m not present? It’s…” Pulling back to look at him, his breath catches at the way the silvery light from outside empathizes the affection in your eyes and the tenderness of your smile. “It’s a nice feeling. Thank you.”

His hand is moving before his brain has time to play catch up, cupping your cheek and all but melting when you nuzzle into his warmth, eyes fluttering closed.

“For you? Always.”

He’s not sure he’s ever seen you look quite so peaceful and at ease and it feels like his heart is gonna jump right out of his chest; his gaze is drawn to your lips before he can fully think about what that could entail.

He watches your lips part slightly and when he manages to wrench his golden eyes back up, he finds yours already on him, wide in astonishment and he knows he’s been caught red handed.

And you consider yourself most fortunate, cause if he’d looked up even a second earlier, he would’ve caught you staring. The air is heavy and promising and whoever makes the next move decides wether or not things between you both are gonna change irrevocably.

Tonight, you’re the one that makes that decision. The decision that you’re not ready for things to change. You like what you have and are too scared of losing it. Instead, you settle for something different, yet just as poignant and important; a clear and explicit expression of love for people from Zaun. Softly tugging on his neck, he goes oh so willingly, happily even. You press your forehead to his lightly and whisper your thanks again, and “What you did was more than enough. You will always be more than enough.”

He tightens the arm still looped around your waist and pulls you impossibly closer, the hand on your face slipping to the back of your neck, mirroring you. This is how things have always been between you two and how they should stay: clearly caring and loving, yet a certain line never crossed.

Neither one of you notices the music coming to an end, replaced by the scratchy static of needle against vinyl, too wrapped up in the moment, in each other. A bell tolls outside, signaling the coming of midnight and just like in a fairytale, the spell you seem to be under comes to an abrupt end. With a deep breath, you step back, putting some much needed distance between you, if you want your brain to function properly again, that is, and clear your throat awkwardly. “I uh… I should be getting home. Some people still have a regular day and night schedule, unlike you.”

With a small smile, you go to gather your coat as he switches off the phonograph. When he turns back to you, his heart falls in disappointment; you’re already dressed and halfway to the door. He would’ve liked to walk you home, at least, but you honestly look like you’re fleeing from something; he apparently has imposed on you enough for tonight. Pausing with your hand on the handle, you call his name again, delicately, quietly. When your gaze finds him, you’re pleased to find his full attention already on you.

“Next time you’re pulling an all-nighter… save me another dance?”

And with the way his golden eyes start to shine like the stars and his beautiful lips quirk up into that crooked half smile you adore, you can almost believe Jayce’s words - almost.

You really can’t even begin to understand the way he sees you, huh? The lengths he’d go to for you?

“For you? Always.”

[gaywineauntsstuff]

See one of my favorite things about fanon is that Dick is like a normal dude outside of nightwing like genuinely he’s normal person who isn’t that extreme canonically. He loves his family but he needs space with them and doesn’t want to be a carbon copy of his father.

He follows Bruce is moral compass while also being more lenient on some crimes. He canonically values life and protecting the sanctity over it than actually stopping crime and has a very strong moral compass that exceeds “well it’s the law”. Dick canonically thinks that Corrupt police officials are worse than criminals and became a cop to weed them out the same way he did the mob. And has bad blood with the BPD despite working for them.

He has genuine reservations about trusting Jason for obvious reasons even if you don’t like Dicks run as Batman where Jason was flat out the worst or like stealing the Nightwing suit in New York in brothers and blood. While still being able to work with and like him.

He is supportive of Tim while still being frustrated at taking on more work bc he knows Tim does too much and will need help.

He loves Damian but steps away from that relationship because unlike Bruce at his age he’s emotionally mature enough to realize he cannot be a parent for the kid. A role model sure! A big sibling, yeah. But not a parent.

He didn’t want Steph as spoiler, Robin or batgirl bc she wasn’t well trained but neither did literally anyone else. Once she and him started working together they had a decent relationship.

Dick and Cass have a strong relationship and he helped Babs with her when Bruce was being an asshole while still not stepping into a parent role bc he’s in his mid 20s and not going to do that actually.

And Dick believes Duke is going to become a big leader in the hero world and sees his potential despite not agreeing with the we are Robin thing.

And the fanon goes 1 of 3 ways

he’s fully uninvolved, doesn’t like the bats, has cut them off after trying to send Tim to Arkham, and abusing/ mistreating or co-signing the mistreatment of Jason. All his relationships with everyone except Damian have been erased. He ruined Tim’s trust, hated young!jason, has never spoken to Steph or duke and Cass doesn’t like him because she’s on babs side or in Hong Kong.

Or

Literally Bruce Wayne’s lapdog, says yes to everything with the worst case of battered women’s syndrome you’ve ever seen. Jason must stand up for him and protect him from the big bad bat/ the bats cut him off aswell after abandoning the bat movement (more rare but I’ve seen it). He doesn’t have critical thinking and his morals are identical to Batman’s and he refuses to question them. Will call the police on a homeless man stealing food bc it’s illegal. And has never tried to rehabilitate anyone including his friends, abandoned Roy and Kory bc of moral differences. He’s still a cop and doesn’t understand the nuance that Jason, Tim, Steph and Duke do.

Or

Dumb himbo, doesn’t know nothing except smile and nod. Pretty face, no brain. Has had one thought and it’s the fact he misses his siblings and needs his cereal oh wait was that two thoughts? He forgot how to count lmao. Babs or Tim will roll their eyes and do stuff for him bc he’s so dumb and sweet like a puppy who has had a lobotomy. :( doesn’t even have a college degree dumb silly teehee. Worst liar you’ve ever met everyone can see right through him hehe. He’s loves Bruce and calls him Dad 24/7 and uses nicknames for everyone.

And like it’s total flanderization

He has some of these traits sure, (more rigid moral compass, more willing to work with other heroes and delegate though this one literally only became a thing during Tom kings run and maybe a little bit after Donna died, in the current canon he went to Uni for business and dropped out, he’s not as good on the tech side as oracle)

But they’re just so exaggerated and I firmly believe it’s bc the rest of the bats are so extra. Like Tim trying to clone his dead bestie 99 times.

Jason goodness gracious I’ve been bamboozled let me try and kill the penguin on live tv

Damian my mother literally tore my spine out

. Duke let’s start a cult that’s something that isn’t dumb and won’t get us murdered.

And Dick is just there like… yeah fuck okay.

Like he’s still unhinged even for a superhero but he’s just objectively more hinged than all of his siblings like you’re telling me if TIM got the talon ancestry storyline shit wouldn’t have hit the fan??? The mother fucker who at age like 13 broke in Nightwing and starfire’s house, memorized all their schedules bc he’s the most insane stalker you’ve ever met. You’re lying and we both know it.

And everyone thinks their fave is the sane won and you are all just wrong I fear. I have already slandered Tim so I’ll do the rest for funsies

“Oh babs is the only sane one”

Bby Barbara is such a stalker with a need for control someone stole her tech and turned Gotham into a police state. If she decided that she wanted to go dictator she has a WHOLE setup for it. She’s also unhinged

“Jason just needs to get away from the bats then he’s the only sane one who the others go to for protection”

Yall Jason’s 2 biggest teams were

An Amazon, and a kryptonian

An arrow and an alien (also some times an Amazon)

So the league big three knock off and a titans knock off

He has also slept with his dad’s ex and 2 of his brother’s exes. Let’s not pretend that he’s being dragged back into the bat family, bro never left.

He wears a bat on his chest

He has a helmet with explosives in it… when he died in an explosion and fought with a crowbar when it was one of the major reasons he died. Let’s not talk about his whole thing with scarlet but the Morrison run had some weird characterization.

“Damian-“ no actually you can’t even start with Mr let’s go to Lazarus island. Let me adopt a giant bat monster bc my abusive childhood means I slaughtered his entire race. No actually I will not allow it. The fucker is unhinged and I love him.

“Steph” - you know what she is also my fave so everything she has ever done is justified and she has the best batgirl run and also her and Damian are hilarious. (She’s also the best female bat hands down I prefer her to both Cass and Babs for so many reasons I will not get into)

In summary this isn’t actually a criticism I find it hilarious plz keep going my darling fanon fanfic writers

[bibluebutterfly]

Hoo boy. Now I've made it known multiple times on my blog that I LOATHE the whoobiefication of Vox, but lets get into why/how Vox is NOT a good person nor a baby that needs protecting and why he's all the better for it. Buckle up ladies and gentlemen, this will be long.

Now, why isn't Vox a good person? Easy. Because he (along with the other Vees) is supposed to be the bad guy of the story. Shocking, I know. Vox was NEVER intended to be a good person, and some of y'all just need to accept that.

Now for the long part: HOW is he not a good person?

Well, first of all, his literal introduction is an ad selling drones HE DESIGNED specifically for stalking,"peeping on the neighbors has never been more stylish"

Right off the bat, this tells us he doesn't care about people unless he can profit off them.

Which is also backed up by the point that he ADVERTISES Val and Vels "love potions" which are basically just roofies.

Again. This man ONLY cares about profit first and foremost, screw the people who can get hurt/SA'd by his products.

Next, he has a power of hypnosis which he is NOT hesitant to use. He can take away someones free will at a glance and uses that to his full advantage.

He's also very willing to give Val his lowest earners to shoot. Notice that he does so with no hesitance and no regret.

Also, (and most significantly) he's a huge, HUGE enabler. This guy has cameras EVERYWHERE, ESPECIALLY when Valentino is involved. He's got cameras in Val's room, Angels old room, at Vals corner of the club (which moves when Val does), there's NO WAY he DOESN'T know that Val is a r@pist.

And DESPITE that, he still sleeps with the man, is very likely in love with him, and oh yeah, FUNDS HIS WHOLE DEAL. The cameras Val uses are Voxtech cameras.

Val may be the one who does the dirty work but Vox willingly and knowingly makes a profit off of that. He doesn’t just know and do nothing, he actively HELPS Val out and obviously has no second thoughts nor regrets about it.

This is not a look of disgust or discontent, this is fondness. Genuine fondness. For Valentino. As a PERSON. Let that sink in.

There’s also the implications that Vox is jealous of the attention Angel gets from Val. Angel gets abused constantly by Val, Vox KNOWS, and still hates Angel because of the sheer fact that he takes up so much of Vals attention.

Not to mention the HEAVY implications that he gets off on watching people suffer.

“Well Vox can still do better than Val!!”

While I’m at it, I guess I should bring up the fact that BOTH Vox and Val are MASSIVE red flags.

With Val, aside from the obvious, he’s also a huge attention whore for Vox and isn’t afraid to break Vox’s property if Vox doesn’t pay attention to him. Yeah Vox gets frustrated with him, who wouldn’t be when their lover is throwing temper tantrums every other day?

With Vox, again, aside from the obvious, isn’t afraid to handle Val roughly when he’s mad, and literally screams about how watching his arch nemesis/obsession get the crap beat out of him is better than sex. Right in front of Val by the way. In regular circumstances, 9.98/10 that’s gonna get your ass dumped in a second.

Not to mention the mutual condescension ation towards each other.

And as much as fans (including myself admittedly) like to shit on Val for being a man child, Vox is literally no better.

Plus the explosive tempers.

Seriously. Vox LITERALLY cannot do better than Val. Vox is the only one who can put up with Vals BS and vice versa.

OH YEAH and lets not forget one last thing: VOX ALSO ABUSES HIS OWN EMPLOYEES.

This dude is scared of him, and it’s NOT because he’s worried about getting fired.

So yes. Vox is not nor HAS EVER been a good person.

And for me personally, I love that. I love that he’s entertaining yet awful. I love his dynamic with Alastor, and I love his relationship with Val even more.

If you’re wondering why I personally love Staticmoth, it’s because basic couple rules do not apply to them. They’re both toxic narcissistic red flags and therefore they can be as awful as they want to each other, and the other will simply shake it off. Yet there’s still heavy trust between the two (never being scared of each other) and they still have little moments together where they’re genuinely happy. It’s unique, and something I’ve never seen in media before.

Basically, if you liked Vox better when you thought he was a poor little baby being abused by Val, read a fan fiction. There’s a lot of them out there.

But people really just need to accept the fact that he’s an awful person. Always has been. He’s not better than Val by ANY means. He and Val are both evil pricks who deserve each other.

And guess what? LIKING AN EVIL CHARACTER DOES NOT MEAN YOU SUPPORT THEIR CHOICES. IT’S OKAY TO LIKE VOX EVEN IF HE IS EVIL.

But don’t go on saying that Vox was “ruined” as a character when all signs have always pointed to him being terrible.

[glossgojo]

father mayhew x fem! detective reader the long awaited part-2

picking up right where we left off with part 1 you know the drill

2.2k words

i’m a sucker for some plot with p0rn, oral!fem receiving, riding, creampie, no protection don’t be dumb wrap it up, not proofread and i fear it will be obvious, lowkey yandere /they’re both down bad

the rational part of your mind told you to hightail it out of the church after you’d both fallen back on his bed sweaty and blissful. your body wasn’t cooperating, the haze of desire had clouded the stark reality of your legs being sore and the space between them aching, still leaking onto his sheets. charlie was clearly going through some kind of turmoil himself as he covered his face with his hands, shoulder pressed against yours as you caught your breath. you cleared your throat, thinking maybe it would be better to walk very slowly out of his room and back home. as soon as you tried to sit up one of his hands found your waist, “no please don’t go.” they were still warm and rough, the bandaid on his finger reminding you of how all this started. you had gotten too caught up, losing the reason you came here in the first place. maybe now was the time to get him to talk. you turned towards him and batted your wide eyes, charlie couldn’t help but do the same, his hand traveling up and resting in the dip of your waist.

“i don’t want to intrude.” you whispered it knowing that there was no point in it, you were the only ones there and from how loud you were earlier anyone who was nearby would know what you two were up to.

“you’re not i just-“ he closed his eyes, the vision of you in his bed, duvet barely covering you or the marks he left was a test to his faith all over again.

“go on,” your voice although siren-like soothed his hesitation.

“it’s the catholic guilt.” he muttered, half confessing and half ashamed of it.

“i think god will understand, you can blame me if it helps.” you tried not to find the situation ironic, he was built like a sex god and touting the sin of premarital relations. if it helped him open up you’d be the degenerate for him.

“no i don’t think i could, you look like an angel.” he said it without flinching, your lips twitched at the corner. the situation was laughable and later you’d definitely tell lois about it over some wine.

“what does that make you? the devil?” you brushed a piece of his hair back, unruly from all your tugging and nearly unrecognizable from how it usually looked, gelled back and pristine.

“in a way, yes.” you couldn’t believe that a modern man was so archaic in his thinking.

“i disagree, there’s nothing more human than succumbing to desire, no one is perfect, you can’t expect yourself to be either.” he rolled the words around in his mind, it was a nice sentiment but he was a priest he was supposed to be devoted to god and the faith alone. not the way your eyelashes fluttered or how your ankles felt on his shoulders.

“do we not all strive for perfection?” the pout on your lips was still there, it had been since he started this conversation and he wanted to kiss it away, he shouldn’t.

“you’ll always end up disappointed.” he leaned up on his elbow, looking down at you, lifting up the duvet to cover you up more, not that it helped his current situation.

“so what do you do?” his voice sent a chill through your spine, deep and gruff, like he’d just woken up. you imagined his voice would be enough to just get you off. you blinked away the thoughts, formulating a response to the best of your ability while looking into his espresso eyes.

“whatever i want, of course i have my own morality and i try to be ‘good’ but i know i’m not perfect.” religion had never led your morality, surely in some way it shaped it without your knowing, but you did what you thought was right.

“whatever you want? what do you want?” he could think of a few things he wanted, perhaps even needed, but you were involved in all of them.

“geez what a loaded question, hmm right now a shower and a snack would be nice, in general i want to help people.” he laughed at your response finding you even more endearing than before, you were so straightforward it was jarring. you watched the corner of his eyes crinkle. “what about you?”

“i want you.” he said it without a bat of his eyes like it was the most obvious answer in the world. you weren’t so nonchalant, lips parted in a small gasp and he tried not to smile at your reaction, tried not to let it etch into his bones.

“you have me.” you said it with all the conviction you could muster, it didn’t really take much if you were being honest because in that moment it was true. your legs were covered in him and the ache between them could only be filled by him. he’d haunt you for days if not weeks. your hands found their way to cradle his jaw before you knew what you were doing, titling his head down towards you, kissing him slow and gentle, as if he was a ghost. charlie thought you tasted sweet and the way you kissed him made his heart ache faintly in his chest. he moved on top of you, kissing you with an urgency you didn’t quite feel. you let him kiss you with desperation. his hands roamed down to your legs, parting them and bringing them to the side of his hips. you didn’t know if you could handle another round even if you clenched on air when his slightly hard cock rested between your chests. charlie had other ideas anyways, kissing down your neck, somehow knowing exactly where to nip at to get you to arch into him, kissing gently over the bite marks and bruises he’d left on your chest until he was under the covers, kissing at your stomach. and when he pressed another soft kiss to your clit you swore your heartbeat had moved south.

you throbbed against him, bucking into him gently as a soft whine of his name left your lips. when he licked down your slit, cleaning up his slick mixed with yours you sucked in a breath of air. it was so messy and he didn’t seem to care at all.

“this pussy is fucking divine.” he murmured under the cover of the duvet, licking your thighs clean next, nose bumping against your opening in the process making you clench on it. he didn’t mention that you smelled sweet too, he wished he could eat you for every meal of the day.

“s-such a dirty mouth.” despite your words your legs were parting more for him, he smirked against the soft skin of your thighs, holding your thigh open with a strong hand.

“might as well use it then huh?” before you could even think of an intelligible response he was delving his tongue into you with one of his fingers, pulling out everything he could as you gave, and gave, and gave. his fingers were already long and thick you knew that but the thick wet muscle of his tongue hammering into you, curling and slurping in a craze made you gush into his mouth. you imagined he was tasting himself there mixed with your cum and you felt a tinge of jealousy. his finger managed to find the spot that had you squirting earlier, his tongue quickly following and you pushed your hand up against the headboard, running from the sensation. charlie wouldn’t have any of that, tugging you by your legs right back where he needed you, in fact closer than before. his nose bumping against your clit as he fucked you on his tongue, as if you were a toy for his pleasure. the thought made you clench even harder on his tongue eliciting a groan from him, the vibrations against your core making you gasp. he was ruthless on your poor stretched cunt and just when you felt close he was pulling his finger and tongue out, playing with your puffy folds and blowing cool air on your throbbing clit.

“charlie-“ you gasped out, feeling your eyes starting to water at the desperation you felt to come.

“father.” he corrected you, clearly it wasn’t about respect, not like megan meant. you swallowed down the spit accumulating in your mouth and with it your hesitance.

“father mayhew please do something.” your voice sounded foreign, so desperate and whiny you almost cringed at it.

“so cute,” he murmured against your clit, kissing it once before licking at it, the rough pad of his tongue igniting every nerve in your body. two of his fingers pressed at your now drooling hole and you sighed in relief. he sucked at your clit as his fingers stretched you open, you were soaking his hand thoroughly practically dropping down the length of it. charlie knew he would smell you for days and when he didn’t he’d start missing it. your eyes wrung shut as you felt your orgasm approaching, the obscene sound of your gushing and his hand smacking against your wet skin filled the air as you started to see white behind your eyelids. you came so hard you were bucking up into him, shaking and squirming in his hold and he fucked you through it, cleaning up the mess you made of yourself and then his fingers. with one last kiss to your clit he lifted himself back up the length of you, kissing your lips and swirling your tongue with his, tasting the sin.

you felt like you were on a cloud, floating in pure bliss and charlie watched the way your eyelids fluttered shut when he pulled back. he’d let you sleep, in the meantime he needed to atone. you could feel him heavy and hot between your legs, clearly hard but not making any move to address it, the thought spurred on your need for more. you were surely addicted to him. his heady musk was starting to affect, you were being drugged by him and his body. you pushed at his shoulders he looked concerned as he broke off the kiss, you pushed a little more and he seemed to get the hint, falling onto his back and bringing you with him.

you straddled him, your clit bumping his hard cock, making you wince at the overstimulation. charlie pulled you along with him as he settled with his back against the headboard, his bare chest fully on display and you trailed a hand down his abs, resting on the small tuft of hair below his belly button. you didn’t know if you could take him again, but surely at your own pace it wouldn’t be too bad. at least that’s what you thought. when you were lifting up on your knees and lining him up, you still felt the stretch from just his tip.

“fuck.” charlie was on the brink of coming just from the sight of you struggling to take him. you had been so insistent on this and then in one second all your bravado went out the door. god he could just eat you up.

“need help baby?” you nodded your head weakly and he guided your hips down and you gripped at his shoulders. once you were down halfway you started to bounce up and down, trying to adjust to the pain. he felt so much deeper like this and you swore it didn’t hurt this much before. fortunately you were still dripping down his length, which helped with the friction and you could feel his precum dripping inside you. you set your own pace, grinding and moving up and down slowly. he wasn’t even fully in but the tight hug of your pussy was enough to make his eyes roll back, there was barely any room for him inside you and every twitch of his dick felt like a shock to your system. you got a bit braver, taking more of him as you leaned against him, his head was leaned back and you didn’t like how far he was, tugging him by his hair towards your lips. and that seemed to be the limit of charlie’s patience, the sharp feeling like some kind of trigger. he was kissing you back fiercely, biting at your lip as he snapped his hips up, filling you up and making you gasp into his mouth. your hole spasmed around him and he kissed you with a bloody devotion, snapping his hips as your own hips bounced down on him, a new mind breaking rhythm that ensured your legs would go weak. you were dripping down both of your thighs now, the force of his thrusts making your ass clap against his lap and you swore you were getting air from the force of his thrusts. it made the way he filled you up even more devastating, abusing your cervix and carving you out with every beat.

when it all became too much for him, he wove a hand between you both, pressing against your clit and made you come on his cock, milking him dry as he came with a few more thrusts up into you. even after he emptied inside you earlier he was still filling you up and leaking down onto his sheets, clearly pent up.

your body fell limp against him, he ran a hand down your smooth back, soothing you while he grew soft inside you. you didn’t think you could move and he didn’t really mind if you never did. you looked so beautiful on his lap almost as if you were made to be there.

[gilverrwrites]

I know they’re not an older man per se, but lately I’ve been thinking about Jason or Dick having a good cop-bad cop dynamic with Slade, where Slade is just incredibly mean to you but then Jay or Dick is there to coo sweet words at you

I know the obvious here is Bad cop Slade, good cop Dick or Jason. And I love that. Good cop Dick especially is MWAH! 💕 and I absolutely need to write actual smut for this, anon you beaut! Like Slade pistoning into your puffy, swollen, cum-filled sex, calling you ever name under the sun. Spanking your red raw ass, and calling you weak when you start to sob. But its okay baby, shh, shhhh. Dick is underneath you, kissing your tears, stroking your hair telling you how good your doing as if he's not contributing to your overstimulation, fuck!

But I implore you to stick with me here when I say, AK! Slade and Jason - bad cop, WORSE cop.

Specifically: AK!Jason/Bat!Reader/Slade

As per, Slade is loyal to the money, but this is definitely a darker portrayal of Jason.

Warnings: Dub-con, swearing, interrogation kinda, choking, restraints, humiliation. No smut, but maybe I’ll write an extension.

The first thing you notice is the smell, you're underground somewhere for sure. Then you feel the cold, a chill across your warm skin, making your hair stand on edge. From that, you register very quickly that you’ve been stripped down to your underwear.

Appalled, you shoot up, reaching to cover yourself but only manage to make it an inch before cold, hard metal cuts into your body. You're tied to a chair by a multitude of pressure points that both hurt and rouse something salacious.

Shit. Shit shit shit. You can’t believe you fucked up this bad. Bruce had told you to get out of the city but you’d refused. You had to be on your top game but you’d fucked it, caused more problems.

Accessing your surroundings your eyes dart around the room until they fall on your captor. Deathstroke is sat a few feet away, leaning back on his chair, seemingly examining something on a tablet. It's hard to tell, the one eye hole in his mask shrouded by shadow. You hadn’t expected him to be at the militia checkpoint. He’d taken you down easier than you’d like to admit, but you’d put up a fight. Tooth and nail. So seeing him so relaxed without so much as a chip in his armour is a little disheartening.

“Trackers in your suit, right?” His deep voice echoes through the room, making you jump. “I would’ve just patted you down, but the boss man didn't want to take any risks.”

His head turns, and you can feel his eye raking across your bound and exposed form. “Not that I'm complaining.”

You recoil into yourself, disgusted by his blatant perversion, and the warm flush it sends through your body.

“Tell your ‘boss’ to come face me himself.” You spit between gritted teeth. His response only adds to your unease.

“Don’t you worry, pet. He’s on his way.” It’s infuriating, the name, the way he words things so tenderly but laces it with obvious, sickly amused derision. If you could feel any smaller, that would do it. “And between you and me, I get the feeling he’s pretty excited to get his hands on you.”

As if on queue, the piercing sound of an opening door creaks behind you. Despite the squeaky warning, you nearly jump for a second time when it slams shut once more. Heavy boots forebodingly stamp against the concrete floor. As much as you want to, you refuse to crane your neck to get a better look. It’s all you can do to maintain even a little bit of power.

“Well, well, well.” The modulated voice is even more sinister in person. His hand grabs the back of your chair, pulling you back a few inches, no doubt just to prove that he could. To instil fear. He leans over you, close enough that the cold metal of his helmet brushes the side of your face, but still, you refuse to look at him. “If it isn’t Baby-Bat.”

“Don’t call me that.” Your venom surprises you. You haven’t heard that nickname in years and it brings out a visceral reaction. It’s what Jason used to call you in jest. Baby-Bird and Baby-Bat, heroes in training.

“Or what?” He challenges, shaking one of the wrist shackles, as though you’re not already well aware of your less-than-ideal predicament. “You’re in no position to be calling any shots, babe.”

“Not for long. Batman will save me, he’ll save the city.” He has too. “You won’t get away with this.”

“Ha.” Deathstroke’s sneer is dry. When you look over to him he gestures his head toward the top dog but you remain resolute in your refusal to look at him. “I’d keep that name out of your mouth, if you know what’s good for you.”

“Wh-“ The words are cut from you before you can get them out. The Arkham Knight, either pissed at your pitiful attempt at a power play, or the mention of Batman's name; lifts you and your chair completely by your throat, turning you mid-air, then placing you back down, precariously balancing you on the seats back legs before getting in your face. All the while his tight grasp on your neck never waivers.

Face hidden, tall, broad, he’s an intimidating sight. The whole display makes your heart race.

“He…” Red-hot rage drips from every word, and you feel your body temperature rising to meet it. “Can’t. Save. Shit.”

The sound of his ragged breathing is amplified by whatever tech he’s using to distort his voice. Each pant sends a shockwave through your body. And you press your legs together to suppress its effect.

“Get fucking comfy.” He barks as he releases you and stands back, watching as you heave for air and teeter wildly before willing the chair to balance on all fours. “Cause he’s not coming for you. Nobody is.”

“Case in point.” Deathstroke finally approaches. It takes his long legs less than 5 steps to reach your side. He stands about half a foot taller than the already gigantic Knight. The way in which they both tower almost impossibly tall makes you tremble, and you’ve no idea if they notice. You can’t stand the added authority they possess simply by being clothed and masked while you sit practically naked for them. Fear is one thing, you can handle being afraid, you’ve been trained for that, but their deliberate show of power, how they make you feel so fragile is awakening something you don’t know how to curb. “Take a look at your hero.”

A screen is thrust into your face, a live feed of a rooftop somewhere in Miagani Island. Batman is on his knees, fists pounding the floor. His mouth is moving but you can’t lip-read him from the angle. Clearly, he’s not okay. This isn’t like him, he must be dosed up on something. In the depths of your brain you know he’ll overcome it, he’ll save Barbara, you, everyone. But you can’t deny how dire things are beginning to look. The doubt must show on your face because The Arkham Knight's robotic voice lets out a short, cold laugh.

“Now you’re getting it.” The wicked pleasure he gets from teasing you is ten times worse than Deathstroke’s blatantly false niceties.

“W-why am I here?” You internally curse yourself for the way your voice breaks. It sparks you to muster a little more spunk as you keep questioning them. “You could have killed me, why didn't you? What do you want?”

“Bring us up to speed on what he knows.” Deathstroke poses. “His new hideout.”

“How he’s getting his gear patched up.” The Knight continues. Neither are looking at you, having turned the tablet back to themselves. “We know you know.”

When you don't respond The Knight slants his helmet upward to consider you, slowly cocking it to the side as you stare him down.

Eventually, Deathstroke follows suit. You wait until the device is tucked away, until you're certain you have their full attention to speak. “I won’t give in that easy.”

You keep your chin up as they turn to look at each other, but despite your bravado, you flinch when Deathstroke sharply drops into a crouched position. The rough fabric of his tactical gloves scratches the soft skin of your inner thigh as he wedges his fingers between your legs. You’d been pressing them closed, hiding how their interrogation had inadvertently been siring your arousal, but he pries them apart, shattering what little dignity you had left.

“Looks like he owes me another 10.” He nods at you before he turning back to the man in question. The Arkham Knight returns the look. Assholes, they’d bet on you. Now they’re having a silent conversation one in which you are the subject, but aren’t important enough to be privy to. Humiliating.

Finally, Deathstroke removes his hands, tracing them along your torso as he saunters behind you but before you can clasp your thighs back together The Knights boot comes down on your crotch, in a fast, precise motion. Pressing hard enough to make you keen and squirm. The chair rocks unsteadily beneath your withering.

“I thought you were better than this Baby-Bat.” No voice distortment can disguise his zeal. Something in the back of your brain suspects he’d been expecting, even hoping for this. And while you certainly hadn't been, you can't deny the sick intrigue you feel for whatever they have planned.

In shame you turn your head, screwing your eyes together as though blocking them out might make it all disappear. The grate of Deathstroke’s gloves on your face keeps you in the moment however, keeps your moral compass spinning.

“Gettin’ paid to break a cute thing like you.” He sounds wistful, gruff voice sinfully musing in your ear as he forces your head forward once more. “That’s a good day's work.”

“And you will break.” The determination in the Knight’s tone, the loudness of it has you peeking through your lids at his mask which is now inches from your face. Fear and excitement invoke a shiver that runs down your spine. “We’ll make you come apart, piece by piece, and we’ll enjoy every second.”

[kiame-sama]

Twisted Wonderland Monsterverse AU?

What monsters do you think each of the characters would be? (With the exception of the Beastmen, Mermen and Fae Characters since they’re technically monsters already)

These are a few ideas on what I think some of the characters might be (You can change these, since I’m mainly guessing)

I can definitely see Jamil as a Naga

Kalim makes me think of an Otter (So cute and adorable that you can forget that Otters are dangerous)

I feel like Vil would probably be a Harpy, specifically a Peacock Harpy (Very pretty, confident and can be aggressive)

Rook would probably also be a Harpy, specifically one of the Birds of Prey (He’s a Hunter after all) like a Peregrine Falcon or a species of Eagle

Idia would a God of Death, the Dead and Ruler of the Underworld and Ortho either being a Soul or Cerberus(?)

I feel like Silver would either be Human, Bear or a Bird, like a Barn Owl (They’re very cute)

Did most characters, some are more than a little obvious (given they are already creatures in Twisted Wonderland anyway).

Divus is a Selkie and is very protective over his fur.

Sam is a Shadow man (we all saw that coming).

Vargas is a minotaur.

Trein is a sphinx.

Crowley is a Crow Fae (obviously).

Ace is a Satyr and thinks playing the pan flute is dumb.

Deuce is a Faun- basically a Satyr with better horns and a stronger sense of justice, known for helping lost travelers.

Cater is a water nymph and is often seen bothering Trey while he is resting in the waters of the lake of Heartslabyul.

Che'nya is a Bakeneko- cat creature that typically symbolizes bad luck. I think he would have two tails or a forked tail.

Trey is a Kelpie centaur and often seen with Riddle as they are good friends, or Cater riding around on his back despite the usual warning that comes with trying to ride a Kelpie.

Riddle is a unicorn centaur and he hates that so many tease him about being a 'girly' creature. Very gifted with magic and extremely proud, his mother was very strict about Riddle being the perfect unicorn growing up.

Jack is a Werewolf.

Ruggie is a Gnoll.

Leona is a Nemean Lion.

Azul is a Cecaelia- basically what he is now, an octo-merman.

Jade and Floyd are Eel Mermen (predictably).

Kalim is a Genie that genuinely wants to help people and grant wishes but always winds up granting wishes that have unfortunate unforseen consequences.

Jamil is definitely a Naga, but he is the Naga that protects Kalim's lamp and treasure since Kalim is a Genie from a long line of powerful Genies.

I agree that Vil is a Peacock Harpy. He loves to preen and make a show of fanning out his tail-feathers, very proud and wickedly smart.

Neige is a mourning dove Harpy.

Rook is a Drider- spider centaur- specifically a Huntsman-Spider Drider who is a master of spinning web traps and even hunting down his prey, as Huntsman-spiders (usually the males) are voracious wandering predators. (I headcannon all Driders can spin webs)

Epel is a wood nymph, specifically of the Apple tree variety.

Idia is a Shinigami. Technically still a death-god and likely a high ranking death-god given he is already descendant of a high ranking family.

Ortho is also a Shinigami, he is still the little brother of Idia despite what happened to him, so I'm saying he is still a Shinigami.

Silver is a Cervitaur- a Deer centaur- and is just starting to get more prongs on his horns, which Lilia is absolutely thrilled with and often teases Silver about.

Lilia is a Bat Fae.

Malleus is Dragon Fae.

Sebek is a Raiju Fae.

Rollo is a Fire Nymph.

[thelordofhats]

Dullahan as Heathcliff’s EGO

There’s two parts to this post, more or less: the first is the in-setting evidence that this could be the case. Honestly, this is the less interesting part of this to me, but I think it’s important to lay out why I think it’s possible. The second is about what this tells us about Heathcliff as a character.

There’s Canto 6 spoilers, obviously, but this is also just going to be long enough that it’s just polite to insert a cut, so here we go.

Supporting Evidence

First up, we have seen, both with Philip in LoR and Dongrang in Canto 4 of Limbus Company, that the EGO a person manifests and what they look like as a Distortion are connected—they’re going to use the same visual language. The Crying Children still has the fire and statue theming of Philips unnamed incomplete EGO, and when Dongrang manages to undistort, Farmwatch has the same hat, horns, and, well, farm imagery that his distorted form had, just not as a weird monster this time.

Wild Hunt Heathcliff is not the exact same as Erlking Heathcliff. Besides the obvious fact that he’s waging his war on Wuthering Heights instead of Himself as a Concept, you have visual differences like the eyepatch, Wild Hunt having an Iron Maiden instead of a coffin, and most importantly, a different mount. Where Erlking’s Dullahan is a straight-up headless horse (I say, as though that is a normal thing), Wild Hunt’s Dullahan is, as best as we can tell without the head, some sort of wolf creature—clawed feet, a different tail, that sort of thing. Which is, as you’ve probably already guessed, reminiscent of Distorted Heathcliff. And I don’t think that that’s a change that Project Moon made for no reason.

The other big piece of supporting evidence is in Wild Hunt Heathcliff’s UT3 story (well, stories), in which he reflects a bit on the whole “commanding the dead” thing he’s got going on now. Specifically, the fact that it just sort of happened. He didn’t schedule an appointment with Dead Corp to get hooked up with their sweet necromancy tech, it was just a thing that he became able to do. Now, we *could* say this is some wholly unexplained thing, but come on. This is Project Moon. They do not toss out massive no-reason plot holes at us. Of the framework we’ve been given, EGO is the most logical explanation for how this happened. Especially when you consider how it lives up for him ~*~thematically~*~

(Oh, but before I move on to that—Bodysack, like all of the Base EGOs, is manifested with the help of Mephistopheles. I don’t think we should necessarily think of it as being in the same progression, although it does fit with the coffin/iron maiden)

Character Themes

Or: What does this tell us about Heathcliff?

Well, first I have to talk a bit about EGO in general. Hitting the ignition point, where you get the Carmen Chat, requires Desire and a Will to see those desires out. Non-capitalized ego, if you will. Philip’s desire to stop feeling inadequate, Xiao grief (I know this is a bad summary of Xiao but this isn’t a Xiao essay), Dongrang’s need for More (please refer to Xiao parenthetical, substitute Dongrang for Xiao). Manifesting EGO instead of distorting is about Self-Acceptance and Self-Control—Philip was keeping it together (sort of) until he started denying his inner drives to Oswald and pretending that that wasn’t something he felt. Xiao went “yes, I am being selfish and have selfish desires, but that doesn’t mean I have to be a bad person”. Dongrang stopped being “Dongrang, Who Denies All” when he admitted “You know what, I’m a selfish piece of shit, and I’m going to embrace being a selfish piece of shit”. EGO does *not* require you to be a good person!

For Heathcliff, that desire is, as you saw on his bat, REVENGE. He’s spent a lifetime hurting, and there is a part of him that he’s been storing up all of that hurt, holding onto it, and nurturing it into a Grudge. He wants so very, very badly to be able to hurt those who have hurt him. But it’s not the only desire within him—his love for Cathy is also a powerful motivator.

In Canti 6, faced with truly losing Cathy with absolute heartbreak, we see REVENGE become his only pillar. He desperately needs to take out this pain in *somebody*, and it doesn’t really matter who. He’s ready to give in to it all, lose control, and blindly lash out at his surroundings until Wuthering Heights is reduced to rubble around him. Possibly on top of him—he does not care. And so, he Distorts.

Wild Hunt Heathcliff has taken the reins of these impulses, instead of letting them drive him blindly. He wants to make those who hurt him suffer, but he does so with his eyes fully open, ready to be patient to maximize the pain he inflicts—maiming Gregor, the mountain of corpses in his wake, letting the Heights organize one last stand against him, a grand banquet. And it is through this self-mastery that he gains the means to make this suffering he inflicts last beyond the grave—to bind their souls in his service, so that even as they despise him and curse him, they are nonetheless bent to his will. He has manifested Dullahan.

To Wild Hunt Heathcliff, suffering is the base state of the world. Any moment of comfort, respite, or tenderness is ephemeral, a momentary shelter against the rain that will inevitably be lost. He has rejected Cathy’s love entirely, not because he does not love her, but because he does not believe in love as being a solid, real thing. Not like hatred is. Hatred is forever. You can *rely* on hatred. And if you are able to find satisfaction in being hated, to drink deeply from that spiteful well, you’ll never go thirsty. No, you’ll live in a veritable land of plenty. A miserable, bitter land of plenty, and you’re going to be a miserable and bitter fuck, but at least you’ll have the satisfaction that the people who hate you died mad and continue to be mad. That’s the core of Dullahan,

The third act swerve of this essay is that I do not think that our Heathcliff is going to be able to manifest Dullahan, because he isn’t that person anymore—the path that leads there has been closed to him. Hindley and Linton are dead, and he has bigger concerns right now—the bat no longer says Revenge, it says Remember. The revenge pillar is the one that crumbled, so he is—unsteadily—driven more by his love for Cathy right now. If he continues in this path, his EGO (and come on, we *will* get to see the full EGO for everyone eventually) is going to be something else entirely. Some similar motifs, of course, but taken in a new direction. Hopefully a healthier one!

And I think that’s really neat!

[cringywhitedragon]

Just saw manly play indigo park and oh my goodness this is turning out to be mascot horror done right or at least some good handling

Mascot horror’s been kinda a meh genre since people starting riding off the coattails of FNAF (which in itself I find good but the series works better as more of a “Sit and Survive” style game instead of a open world/roaming kinda game like everything trying to follow Security Breach.)

Poppy Playtime is ok. It’s not perfect but the devs do shine with their animation skills (Even if I feel they kinda waste it most of the time with Minecraft animations and some other controversies) and it’s not really something with a whole lot of replay value (Very linear and at least in FNAF there’s some incentive to replay a majority of the games with stuff such as secrets/alternative endings and the custom night mode.)

We have stuff we do not talk about like Garbage of Banban and the fifty million other games trying to copy it.

Anyways back to Indigo park.

Yes it’s your standard affair of mascot horror but this game has a lot of charm to it from what I’ve seen. It’s clear that this project’s being made with love and has a few things I haven’t seen Mascot Horror games do a whole lot of.

Namely in the form of this game’s voice with an internet connection and companion, a goofy little guy named Rambly the Raccoon.

While having a character to act as a guide for the protagonist is a pretty common thing in these sorts of games, they either are a faceless voice over a phone/intercom, don’t show up until much later, or a simple pre-recorded infodump. Rambly is not that.

He’s met almost right off the bat not long after you start the game. While a bit glitchy, he shows right off the bat that he has is own personality to add a bit of comic relief to what is a horror game.

I kinda like to think of Rambly as a mix between Navirou (Monster Hunter Stories) and Wheatley (Portal) since he does act as both a companion character and voice for the (silent) protagonist but also interacts and comments on the environment that he’s a part of as well.

Also while a minor one, a feature for collectibles which also add a bit of lore (and humor with some of Rambly’s comments) to the game, not something we’ve seen too often in your free roaming mascot horror titles save for Security Breach (Yes there’s going to be a lot of comparisons between the two).

Finally, onto the enemies.

They actually work pretty well in the setting they’re supposed to be set in. As in, not overly gross and elongated abstract shapes that look super out of place or filled to the brim with mutations and razor sharp teeth but actually look like the characters one might find in the setting they would be in, abet still retaining that obvious “monsters out to get you look”. Kinda like the animatronics from FNAF that would be “in service” would fit appropriately in their specific location unlike something out of Garten of Banban which is supposed to be a daycare.

In all seriousness, who the fuck would be bringing their kids to a place filled with weird blobby creatures that look something out of a Pamtri video.

In other words, go check out and support the people working on Indigo Park!

[majaloveschris]

I hate that this is going to be an unpopular opinion but I feel it has strong merit:

The main reason people have been up in arms about AB since she entered the chat is because of her age.

I’m willing to bet 100% that if she was about 10 years older, or simply around his age, there would 50% less toxicity, while 50% of the fandom would still dislike her simply because she was with him. They would still dig up on her and the fact that she’s an obvious lazy opportunist would still be factored in, but they would treat her more like how they treat Annabelle Wallis since she is dating SS. Some don't mind her, some hate her, some like her/don't care. She'd be another boring blip in the radar.

The big thing here is that many of CE’s fandom wanted him to be a guy who “doesn’t date younger women” because that’s such a big deal for some of these people. It’s not for me, because despite whatever bs some people love making up on the internet, CE has always dated women his age and seems to get along best with people in his age group. If you look at his known relationships, both romantic and platonic, he gets along with women and men and his best friend of forever is older than him. His known exes are his age. His friend group outside of HW (and within it) are mostly people he’s known since HS and they’re all in his age group. His known flirtations with women in the industry have mostly been in his age group. these are real patterns that reflect and trying to make assumptions because he followed actresses or influencers in their 20s makes little sense because hate to say it, thats most guys married or not. He clearly connects best with people who understand the same references and cultural upbringing. You can see it when he talks to others. People bring up his old GQ interview where he was flirting with the reporter who did the spread. Guess what - they seemed to vibe because they were the same age and from the same area. She even wrote how he seemed to love that they got the same references and it just made it easier to connect. You usually do that with people in your same generation or demographic. I think the same thing happened with him and Jenny. Same age range, from the same area, got each other and just connected despite however their physical looks differed.

It’s due to his IG followings of some younger actresses and then AB that these rumors about younger women really began and to me, that’s projection. Also, lots of men do like younger women and that’s a pretty normal thing despite however you want to feel about it. It’s only a real problem now because people are much more aware of things like grooming and etc that they’re drawing attention to age gap relationships. But even Ryan Reynolds and Blake have a big age difference and he married her in 2012, when she was barely 24. He married Scarlett when she was also in her early 20s. Ryan is beloved (and now also hated) in the industry and known as wholesome family man but think about how his relationships being accepted but tbh could there also be some grooming involved? He was well into his thirties when he dated/married both these women but more or less the GP doesn’t bat an eye.

For CE, they couldn’t accept AB and that’s why the whole racism and problematic friends came into play so quickly after they went public. IMHo, the fandom needed a reason to dislike her even though she is easily able to be disliked even without her dumb friends tweets. She has no talent, no charisma, seemingly no work ethic, and is an obvious clout chaser with a very bizarre Lolita obsession and a weird obsession with older men.

That’s enough for me to side eye her but having the fans project things to hate on her makes them look worse and her like a victim.

But if she was the same age as CE, would it matter if she looked younger or did weird Lolita things? At that point, people would chalk it up to her just being a weirdo or at least compliment her for having good genes, but at least they’re the same age and then she has even less of an excuse to be as immature as she seems.

Her age and “inexperience” in Hollywood are the only passes I see her getting.

Also, CE clearly doesn’t find her attractive as his body language shows that literally for the past three years. Some of you need to stop attempting these gymnastics in your head and just admit that the relationship looks off because it is. It is most likely heavily manufactured and he needs to be married to someone to really uphold his rebrand. She clearly spends alot of time in a different country no matter what people wanna think and hollywood smoke and mirrors have a lot to do with it.

Yes, they are married and yes a bunch of PR rehearsed answers to push this and make people think it’s true love. But really…he is in the business of smoke and mirrors. Anyone who takes this stuff to heart really shouldn’t. It’s not that deep and will never be that deep.

I disagree but agree with you at the same time. I think her age plays a huge part in why people dislike her, but at the same time I don't think that's people's biggest problem with her. What I say is that even if she was older or closer to Chris's age, her behavior would still be the problem. I'm not saying people wouldn't just simply dislike her because she is dating Chris. That's a real thing and has always been in this fandom or even in different ones. I'm not in the Seb fandom, so I don't know how they treat her or what they are saying about her; however, the two situations aren't really comparable, since Seb is kind of over something similar to what Chris is still in (minus the kinda weddings part).

I think most people would've gotten over the age gap if she was a decent human being and if they actually looked in love with each other. I'm not saying that people wouldn't have disliked her just because, but it's much more than that. Her behavior is the problem; her friend's behavior is the problem. The age gap is also a bit problematic because she was only 23 when they got together. Their little trollings didn't help either. It's about her and her friend's personality and the way they behave around each other; the rest would've been forgotten after a while. 

As you said it, it's not that deep. Whether this is real or not, it doesn't really affect our lives. It isn't worth it.

[kawaii-queen-kaiju]

Young and Alone

Part One!

She should’ve done more. She should’ve seen it sooner. Should’ve talked him out of it, should’ve convinced him it wasn’t worth it. But she’d been a coward, and hadn't wanted to tell him she knew about Robin. Hadn’t wanted to risk him telling Bruce she knew and dealing with Batman, but that was stupid, it was Jason. He didn’t snitch, and especially never on her. Even that one time she swiped a granola bar from the corner store, or accidentally set fire to Old Man Johnson’s clothesline.

And now he’s gone. She could’ve done something and she didn’t, and now she’d never see him again.

Riley sobbed, kneeling in front of his grave (why was it in a public cemetery? She was grateful in a way, but what the fuck, Bruce?!), desperately trying to keep a grasp on her powers. Bright light would be awfully noticeable in dreary old Gotham and she’d singe the grass beneath her.

She should’ve done more.

Bruce should’ve too. He lived under the same ridiculously large roof, imposed the expectations and finally, restriction that was the last straw for Jason. He should’ve done more to reach out. This all could’ve been avoided. It was partly her fault, but also his.

Her sniffling slowed, despair giving way to anger and… a very horrible idea… one that would be oh-so-satisfying to see through.

She never claimed to make smart decisions when she was mad.

-

Bruce was tired. He was angry, and depressed, and grieving, and feeling a million other things he couldn’t name, let alone want to deal with. The last thing he needed was a new threat to deal with.

He was immersed in reports of people being sent to the hospital, beaten half to death. All of them said the same thing. A bright flash of life, pain, then they woke up in the hospital. Everyone was attributing it to Batman, but he knew it wasn’t him. He didn’t knock his out that quick.

At best, he was dealing with a new vigilante, who probably took notice of the recent… lack in Batman’s restraint and decided to take things into their own hands. Going off of their own marks, that’s not it. At worst, it’s a new Rogue. Considering they’re not going after innocents or committing crimes other than assault and battery on criminals, that wasn’t it either.

He had time to think about this later, it was time for patrol.

-

She’s scared. Anyone would be when face to face with Batman, especially with his recent behaviour. Yet, Riley - Phoenix in costume - found herself grinning ferally. The height difference was definitely obvious. She stood at 5’3”, and Batman had to be at least six foot. The kevlar added bulk to his figure as well most likely, contrasting her leggings, skate knee and elbow pads and black bomber jacket with on-the-nose star and sun patches. She spent what little budget she allowed herself on the tinted goggles that acted as her identity protection, as well as keeping herself from getting blinded by her own abilities. She had to wear the goggles in lieu of her glasses, so everything was a bit fuzzy, but she was still more than capable of kicking ass.

“Who are you.”

It was less a question, and more of a demand. The man’s voice was low and gravelly. She crossed her arms, glaring up at him - not that he could see it. “Nunya.”

Batman wasn’t impressed. She could feel the aggravation rolling off him in waves. Good, but not enough. She wanted him roiling in anger. She wanted him to be at his limit, then to push him past it herself, to make him have no other option but to listen and see.

Well, if he didn’t kill her first. Chances of that were slim, but not zero. She wasn’t too worried. Worse comes to worst, her mother would hunt him down and kick his ass with a chancla, carrying on Riley’s mission in her stead.

She’d like to think she took him by surprise, not wavering in the face of his ‘Bat-glare’ as it was dubbed.

“What you’re doing is dangerous. You’re a child. Go home to your mother and father. This isn’t your place.”

She could hear the anger in his voice, depression shining through too. She felt just the slightest bit assuaged. At least Jason’s death hit him hard too. He wasn’t doing enough though. Had he found Jason’s killer? Did he make whoever it was suffer? He didn’t even hold a proper funeral for him… though it could’ve been private, so she tried not to let that contribute to the rage she felt toward the man. Not that it would’ve made much of a difference.

“Please. My father was a scumbag. And oh, I’m sorry, was Robin not a teenager? Silly me, I suppose I was wrong.” She let her voice drip in angry sarcasm, a sense of petty satisfaction hitting her as Batman visibly bristled.

“That was- different. It’s,” He stopped, showing a surprising amount of emotion for how much she’d heard of his stone-cold demeanor. “It’s why you're going home. Now.”

She scoffed, trying not to let her waning determination show. It was too late to be worried now. “I’m not a Robin, you can’t tell me what to do.”

Her statement seemed to surprise him. What, did he genuinely expect her to listen to what he told her to do? Hah, dumb bitch.

“What do you mean, a?” His voice lost some of its growl, something of a familiar voice seeping through. She frowned, turning her sentence back in her mind. ‘I’m not a Robin.’ She smirked. She caught Batman off guard.

“Come on. It was obvious the two weren’t the same guy. Also, I gotta say, not a good look for you, putting a preteen in a speedo, ya asshat.” She jeered, delighting in the choked sound he made.

“I didn’t want him to wear that, he insisted.” He dropped back into his growl, but the affront was still there. Riley… actually believed him. She’d seen clips of the first Robin on the news, and insisting on a banana hammock seemed entirely in character. Plus, Jason had… had pants. She had gotten distracted, but her goal was back at the forefront of her mind. “Whatever. He was still out doing this shit. And so was- the other one. You have no leg to stand on, hypocrite.”

Batman froze, and the temperature seemed to drop several degrees. He took a step toward her, and she stepped back, a spike of the fear she’d heard she was supposed to have in the face of the Bat shooting through her. The little patience and soft (as soft as Batman could be) demeanour he’d had was gone. She’d hit a sore spot, and she suddenly remembered the small-time criminals he’d put in the hospital, and the fact that she was technically a small-time criminal too. She’d counted on the fact that he’d hold back because of her age, but maybe pushing him to seeing red was a worse idea than she’d initially thought.

“Go. Home. Now.”

Despite her earlier attitude, she found herself clumsily racing back along the rooftops towards her apartment.

The next day when Bruce Wayne shows up at their door, she kicks herself for not making sure he wasn’t following her.

~

Part Three!

[leprosycock]

I've been wondering! If you dont mind me asking, which of the cults related to which character in the ttwky quiz, and why? Also honestlu any explanation of any of the choices in the quiz would be great, I love hearing and learning about these guys

:D yes!! yes of course!!!

- “pick a cult that interests you the most”

jonestown and the ant hill kids were related to jay because they were both directed and controlled by charismatic but pathetic men who presented themselves as relatable and kind and generous benefactors and they used their perversion of religion and social justice to manipulate and control the people they claimed to love. heaven’s gate and the manson family were related to eva because they were knotted into rat kings through togetherness, common ideas, and a sense of faith and community. a lot of this also involved sexual exploration and discovery of the self and a greater purpose. the children of god and the true russian orthodox church are related to annie because of several self-imposed rules relating to pleasure, indulgence, and family ties. they also heavily toy with ideas of self-harm as a kind of cleansing mechanism and are ridiculously isolated, closing themselves off to ideas and living spaces that keep them safe and comfortable. they have a lot of strange ideas about sex and the body that are impossible for them to let go of because they’re so intrinsically tied to who they are as people.

- “choose the name of a mel bochner painting”

mel bochner is a typographist and his statements are the art itself, so these phrases were just meant to apply to the boys themselves. ‘do i have to draw you a picture?’ and ‘meathead’ were annie because the former is a childish expression of frustration, anger, exhaustion, and rules imposed by small-minded people who mean to control the art world; the latter is a manifestation about self-loathing and hating traits reflected back on oneself. ‘i don’t want to think about it’ and ‘it goes without saying / in other words / talk is cheap’ are jay for somewhat obvious reasons—they’re all avoidance tactics and a reservation from elaboration. a very strict want and need to ignore the worst of his trauma and never unpack it. don’t talk to him. he hates it. eva gets ‘kick against the pricks (blah… blah… blah)’ and ‘money/obscene’ because he fancies himself as a punk and a drag on society for who he is and how he performs and he loves to wallow in that and every bit of attention he can get. he wants to be famous and he wants to be good and he wants to be loved and he wants to be popular and he wants to be a subject of ridicule and hatred because it fuels him and keeps him alive.

- “choose an adult swim show”

jay’s are moral orel and venture bros for. obvious reasons. but just in case you’re unaware they both focus on an emotionally devastated abusive father whose traumatic childhood still affects him and he extends that to not only the people in his life, but his sons as well. annie gets space ghost and aqua teen because they’re both highly surreal and write extremely insensitive jokes and are cheap, cobbled-together shows that present strange characters in strange settings, but are inherently and devastatingly human. eva gets smiling friends and superjail because they’re loud, colorful, attention-grabbing, shrewd, edgy, and tons of fucking fun.

- “what feels good?”

jay (fatherhood):

annie (too-grown-up child):

eva (rotting corpse of a child inside an adult):

- “choose something that flies”

annie is an airplane and a lost balloon. airplane = wanting to escape, balloon = bright fresh young thing that will forever be lost. jay is a mosquito and a jumping cactus because they’re both annoying and dangerous things that plague arizona. eva is a canary and a bat because he’s a free spirit who still longs for companionship and will bite things because it’s just in his nature.

- “choose something gross”

these were all just things that i think each boy hates more than anything else either due to trauma or sensory issues. annie = coleslaw + puddle of pee, jay = the smell of metal on your hands + sticky stain on the counter, eva = wet food in the sink + spiders

- “pick some hentai to read”

annie = Kasetsu Toilet Sanchoume/Brocon!: i won’t explain this one because it contains spoilers

jay = Pet Shop [yaoi]/AS GOD SAYS: both are stories about older people abusing their power and influence in order to attract compliant young boys

eva = Best Friend *woof*/Super-market sweets time!!: you get no points for guessing what the first one is about. the second one is about lolis dressing up as idols and invading a supermarket to seduce older men just looking to buy groceries, which is what he imagines his dynamic with jay to be

- “pick a popular early 00s character”

annie is domo-kun and gloomy bear just because he’s boyish and edgy and emo. jay is happy bunny and spongebob because he is permanently stuck in an era that has long since passed him by and he wants to be loved and clung to. eva is gir and hello kitty because he’s bright and loud and has a ton of different outfits. this one really didn’t have a lot going for it i just kind of pulled it out of my ass

- “choose a place that’s overgrown”

annie is a local park and the woods nearby. they’re childhood spaces that are often not a lot of fun and typically contain a lot of animal and insect life and are rife with poison. jay is the backyard and the basement. a backyard because it’s a staple of a once-lived-in house that is now devastated and gnarled and all evidence of childhood is condemned, and a basement because they’re a staple of new england homes and they’re often dark, damp, unloved, and terrifying. eva is a condemned gas station covered in busted neon lights and old advertisements as well as a playground that is often retreaded by brave kids and arrogant teens looking to start problems.

i’m not going over the “choose a song” one because it’s sooo cringe and i regret putting it in. no one likes that question

but that’s pretty much it!! <333 i hope you found it enlightening 🙂‍���️

[grunkle-no-more-colombian-nights]

Hey all! Sorry for the wait on this chapter. I started up a second job for the holidays and have been sick twice this month already so it’s been hard to take the time to write. I promise it won’t be a constant issue. Thank you everyone who has followed so far and I can’t wait to keep going with it all. Happy holidays to all and thank you again ❤️❤️❤️

No More Colombian Nights - Feral

Stan swallowed hard as the old brown pickup truck skidded to a stop in the gravel not far from their little group. Ford was out of the truck yelling before Soos could throw it into park. Stan rolled his eyes at his brother’s normal theatrics, sure he had been going over his words since he had jumped in the truck.

“Stanley! What in the world are you doing out here? Trying to get eaten a second time tonight? And why is Wendy here?” Ford huffed, meeting his gaze with stubborn frustration. He couldn’t deal with it.

“Ford, take the kids home. I have some general hero-in’ to do again.” He growled as he got into the back of his car, taking the bat back from Wendy and making sure the pelt was safely tucked away before he slammed the door shut. Soos was already ushering the kids into the back of the truck, amongst strong protests from both.

“No, Soos I need to be there. As Ford’s official assistant I have to take notes!” Dipper grunted and struggled against Soos’s arms as he spoke, desperate to stick around and see the end of this. Mable similarly whinged, nearly climbing Soos in attempt to escape getting taken away.

“Grunkle Stan wait, we can help. Please! We’ve fought Gideon a bunch of times!” She called as she got over Soos’s shoulder. Ford and Stan groaned nearly simultaneously.

“How did you not notice they got into your car?” Ford asked, rubbing his clearly exhausted eyes. Stan scoffed at that.

“Yeah, like I’m the one who shoulda been watchin’ them tonight.” He rolled his eyes, pointing at the lump that still sat squarely on the side of his concussed head. Ford pursed his scowl, clearly not having much of an argument to that.

“What are you going to do? Go fight a child to find a potentially dangerous anomaly who could kill you both?” Ford protested as Soos called out.

“Dudes, uh I’m struggling a little bit!” Mable had maneuvered her way to the back of Soos shoulders, clinging to the back of his head, her hands over his eyes as Dipper went through his legs, nearly tripping him in the process.

“I can’t in good conscience let you go do this alone.” Ford stated as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. Soon the kids had overtaken Soos, quickly escaping him and clinging to their Grunkle’s arms. Soos came up behind them, panting with the effort of trying to get them into the truck.

“Sorry, dudes. They’re so wiggly.” He huffed, his hands on his knees as he tried to catch his breath.

“I’m not going back to the shack.” Dipper declared, his sister nodding in obstinate agreement. Stan groaned, this was getting too complicated. Wendy crossed her arms as she watched them all struggle to decide how to proceed.

“I feel like this would be easier if I went alone. Sneakier at least. It won’t be very subtle if we roll up with a whole crew.” Stan sighed.

“Dude, you barely made it in Tate’s house. There’s no way you’re going to fight Gideon and his goons alone.” Wendy was shaking her head. It didn’t seem like he was going to have a choice, and his own panic was growing as the minutes passed, all too aware that Honey was not in good hands.

“Fine. Everyone get into a vehicle. We’re headin’ to the old abandoned bar in town. Park a block or two down. Don’t want to be caught before we have a plan.” Stan gave instruction before he moved to get back into his car, jumping into the drivers seat as he waited for Wendy to climb back in. Much to his frustration, she had clearly been instructed to go to the other vehicle, being replaced by Ford who fell into his passenger seat with a huff.

“Sixer, if you’re gonna lecture me the whole way back into town I’m gonna make you go sit in the truck bed.” He grumbled, not even in reverse yet. Ford shook his head, raising his hands as if in feigned surrender.

“Clearly you’ve made up your mind. I’m not here to fight you. I’ll help you even, but we will need to have a discussion when we get back with her.” Stan jammed the car into reverse, peeling back the car quickly and speeding out of the area as he scoffed at the offer of “help”.

“Yeah, no offense Sixer, but you’ve already helped me enough tonight.” Ford looked mildly offended at the implication, unwilling to let it rest.

“Once again, you would have been eaten without me, Stanley.”

“Once again, you really don’t know what you’re talkin about, poindexter.” Stan couldn’t deal with this conversation a second time around. “Your mind machine, it lets you walk through my thoughts, yeah?”

“In laymen’s terms.” Ford said, waving his hand through the air.

“Wait to make any decisions until you see for yourself what was happenin’ on the beach.” He could see out of the corner of his eye Ford considering the possibility.

“Fine, I will reserve my judgement until I can review your memories of the situation. But don’t think that means if she attacks before then that I won’t protect you or the kids.”

“She’d never.” Stan said, sure of her gentle nature. He could see it in the way she talked to the kids, how she encouraged and adored them already. He pressed hard into the gas, speeding his way towards the old bar he had been told the gang had been known to hang out in now. Wendy and Soos had kept him up well enough on the town while they were gone he guessed that would be where they headed first.

Soos was behind him, keeping up just barely as he barreled down the highway and into town. Stans heart squeezed in his chest as they pulled up two blocks from their target, trying to think of the best way to break into the place. He hopped out, followed by Ford as Soos was pulling up just behind them, putting it into park as the rest of the crew piled out.

“Ok, we need to approach with caution. First, we….” Ford started, trying to head the infiltration before Stan cut him off.

“I’m going in on my own first. If you hear a scuffle come back me up.”

“Grunkle Stan, I think it would be best if someone goes in with you. Your head is still pretty…lumpy.” Mable grimaced as she pointed at the bruised lump on his head. “I brought my grappling hook. Or I could just…knock on his door. We haven’t spoken since last summer. I’m sure he’d be….excited to talk to me.” She shuddered uncomfortably. Stan shook his head.

“No offense sweetie, but if he did take her, he’ll be expecting someone to come looking. It’s the middle of the night. If you just show up it’ll be obvious.” He stated, getting into the back seat and donning his brass knuckles before running his hand over the silvery blueish pelt. Ford was clearly annoyed with having been interrupted.

“I was going to suggest a distraction as well.” Ford said through grit teeth, annoyed with his brother’s determination to do this on his own as well as his interruption.

“How many goons does he normally have around him? Last summer it was a whole prison crew…” Dipper asked, sounding concerned as he spoke.

“I know Ghost-eyes still hangs around him pretty regularly. The rest seem to be in and out. So anywhere from two to ten?” Wendy said with a small huff, rolling her eyes.

“Ok, Mable, Dipper. I need you to stake it out, keep your distance but figure out how many people are moving in and out of the hangout. Once we know that I’m gonna have Wendy and Soos create a distraction, get them out of there while Ford and I find her inside. Plan?” The group nodded nearly in unison, looking determined to get this plan over with. With that, they began to make their way down the street to the old bar that had shut down and now served as Gideon and the Discount Auto Mart Gangs hang out. The building looked a bit dilapidated; with boarded up windows and crumbling brick it was a mostly unassuming place. The only thing that made it clear people were inside were the small amounts of multicolored trickling light that shone through the boards on the windows. Dance music muffled behind the locked door, giving a strange sense of liveliness in the otherwise dead street.

They sat in the bushes across from the building for a moment observing. After a few minutes Ghost-eyes pulled up, jumping off his motorcycle with a fairly large bag of salt and fish food. He kicked the door in before kicking it closed, the lights and sounds of others pouring out as the door slammed behind him.

“Mable, Dipper, there’s a sky light on the roof. Go up there and see if you can see who all is in there.” Mable nodded, clearly determined to make good on her promise to help. Dipper seemed a little more reluctant but Mable grabbed his hand, yanking him across the empty street and into the back alley. Stan pumped his fist as he heard the grappling hook make a tink noise as it attached to the roof, Mable and Dipper quickly making their way up and onto the flat surface. They all watched as minutes passed, the two having disappeared behind the old sign that denoted it as an old bar, and back to the skylight Stan recalled being there from his frequent visits when the place had still been open. After about ten minutes he heard them drop back down to the alley, escaping back to the bushes they all hid behind.

“Right now only Gideon, Ghost-Eyes and Killface are there. They have a big tank in the back, but it’s pretty dark and hard to see in there past their dance lights. There is an open part to the skylight thought. May be the best way to get in after the distraction. Ghost-eyes was pouring a bunch of salt into the tank for some reason.” Stan nodded, taking it all into consideration as he tried to decide the best course of action.

“Right, Soos, Wendy, this is where you come in.” Both nodded in determination as well. He smiled at them both, all these crazy kids willing to help break his girl out. What more could he ask for in his little family? “You guys will need to draw them out and keep them out for a little bit. Do what ya gotta. Break things, scream, yell, whatever ya gotta do to keep those guys out of the building. Wait until I give the signal and then go. Once we’re good to go, meet us back at the shack.”

“I’ve got some fireworks in the back of the truck. I picked them up for the Summerween party in a few days, but I can get more.” Soos offered.

“Perfect. Let’s go, Sixer.” Stan stood creakily, groaning softly as his knees complained from the crouched position they had been holding. He could hear Ford reluctantly move behind him, keeping close and quiet as they snuck their way back across the street.

The alley was dark, smelling of wet cardboard and indescribable human bodily smells. He crinkled his nose as he looked for a pipe or fire escape to climb. Stan heard a grunt behind him, his brother finding a small pipe about half way up the building that he jumped and grabbed onto, pulling himself up and climbing. Stan rolled his eyes. He moved back under where his brother had climbed up, trying to do his own jump, grabbing the pipe but failing to actually pull himself up.

“Sixer, get over here and help me. Fucking show off.” He whispered harshly, waiting for Ford to peek back over. His shadow finally materialized over the side, slinging a rope down that must have been left on the roof at some point. Stan yanked it to test the strength, making sure it wouldn’t snap when he did put his full weight to it. With a grunt he hoisted himself up, trying hard not to think about the height as he did. He panted softly once he was up on the flat roof, not bothering to look behind him as he straightened himself out, pushing into his back a bit to try and soothe the aching that clenched. Voices caught his attention though, moving him towards where Ford was crouched.

One of the panes of glass of the skylight in the old building was cracked and broken, letting the gruff voices mix with the little gleeful one. Gideon’s little chuckle made his blood boil as he moved to look into the dirty glass, seeing what his niece and nephew had already confirmed for him. Killface sat close by as Gideon paced in front of them, monologuing as he normally did. Ghost-eyes silhouette stood near the back.

“Drop her again! We have to figure this out tonight.” Gideon yelled in his squeaky little angry voice. “Those Pines are going to start sniffing around any minute. I’m sure of it. And we need this to go right if we’re going to start up our plans!”

“Yeah boss, we got that…but how do we know she’s actually a mermaid? She hasn’t changed at all since we’ve been dunking her. I know what those old dudes were saying when we went to go screw up that date…but she hasn’t done anything since we got her here.” Killface’s voice was timid with his question as a muffled growl cut through dully. It was high and low at the same time, sounding just as otherworldly as it had before through the coughing as a machine hoisted her back up to the surface.

“Maybe she needs more salt? Mermaids are like salt water fish right? I had an aquarium once and you couldn’t keep the freshwater and salt water fish together. They would die if they didn’t have the right water.” Ghost eyes offered.

“I am not a fish!” It was Honey, her voice unmistakable, breathless, coughing and shaking. He could barely see her in the dark, the water thrashing as he caught a glimpse of her bound wrists writhing against the restraints that were being used to winch her out of the water tank. It was like seeing red, Stan’s breath getting ragged as he heard her struggle to breathe. Ghost-eyes climbed a ladder that was leaning against the tank, adjusting the restraints as she thrashed and chomped at him with her teeth. Stan’s fist ground into the gravel of the roof as he silently willed her to sing, to use the strength he’d seen her use to break free, but the next time she opened her mouth to do anything, Ghost-eyes’ solid fist went into her stomach, making her grunt loudly and whimper in pain.

“I said drop her again.” Gideon’s voice became more of a threat as Ghost-eyes climbed back down the ladder to do as he said, releasing the lever that had been used to hoist her out of the water. A splash followed as Honey’s form sank back down to the bottom, her bound fists pounding against the glass. For the first time he could see her face, her eyes as black as they had been when they had first been attacked. She looked feral, inhuman in the way she shuddered and moved against the bottom of the tank. Her dress had been near torn apart by the violence they had faced that evening. Why wouldn’t she sing?

He hadn’t realized it, but as he sat and watched Ford had already called for the distraction to start. Wendy and Soos started setting off fireworks towards the building, one crashing through a broken window and setting off inside, making Gideon scream and the two men to start yelling as a fire broke out from the sparks. He cursed under his breath as Gideon began yelling commands.

“Killface! Get me out of here! Ghost-eyes, get her out! We need her!” Killface picked up Gideon and they slammed out the front door as Wendy sent a firework towards them, sending them scrambling as it exploded near them again. He couldn’t wait any longer, the fire was starting to spread. Ford was clearly thinking clearer than he was as he smashed out the skylight and jumped in onto the pool table that sat right bellow them.

“Stanley, move it!” Ford yelled from inside, smoke starting to plume as Ghost-eyes charged him. Stan jumped down himself, regaining his wits as he tackled Ghost-eyes, planting his fist into the man’s face, repayment for the fist Ghost-face had placed into Honey’s stomach. Ghost-eyes yelled as they struggled with each other, grunting and grappling around the smoke filled room. His eyes began to water as Ghost-eyes took another swing at him, glancing off his shoulder before Stan shoved him hard back and over a chair, sending him sprawling onto the floor. Ford was struggling with the lever, wrenching it back and forth to no avail. A mechanism was jammed. There was’t time to fix it, the building would be burnt down before they could escape.

“Ford move!” Stan yelled, grabbing a chair leg that had come unattached and running as fast as he could with it in his hands into the front glass panel of the tank. It cracked, smaller cracks webbing across the glass before it finally shattered, the water washing through the room and putting out some of the fire that had started to lick the ceiling of the room. Without hesitation he swept Honey off the ground, her wet, frail body tensing in his grip as he threw her over his shoulder. Ford ran to the back door, slamming it open with his shoulder before calling back to his brother.

“Stanley! This way!” Honey gnashed her teeth viciously at him, the growl emanating from her chest deeply disturbing as she struggled to free herself from him.

“Doll, it’s just me. You’ve gotta’…” his words cut off sharply as he gasped, trying to keep moving while her sharp teeth sunk deep into his shoulder. “Fuck.” He growled, trying to keep his wits about him as he made his way behind Ford out to the front of the building, shifting Honey so she sat back further and could no longer bite him. Sirens had started to blare somewhere near by. Blubbs and Durland would be by soon for sure to see what all the commotion was about. Thankfully Soos and Wendy had already gathered the kids and left. Gideon and Killface were no where to be seen, much to his relief.

“Ford, something is wrong. She’s not recognizing me.” He gasped softly as she violently writhed in his grasp. It was like trying to hold a wet cat, the way she hissed and spit. Ford opened the back car door.

“We don’t have time. You wanted her so now we have her. Let’s go.” Stan nodded, knowing they really didn’t have the time as he shoved her in the back seat, grabbing her pelt and throwing it over her before he jumped into the front seat. Ford slid over the hood, jumping into the passenger seat as the peeled out, barely escaping the large flood light that was being panned near the half burnt building. Ford panted, taking a minute to glance at Stan, whose shoulder was soaking his shirt in blood.

“You’re going to need stitches. Did she do that?” Ford winced as he looked into the back seat, hearing her growl in an animalistic way. “Her eyes haven’t always been like that, have they?”

“No, I’ve never seen this. Like I said, something is wrong.” He grumbled as they flew down the highway towards the shack. “She needs a hospital.”

“Well we can’t take her to one. She’s an anomaly, Stanley. Agents would be there before we even had any idea of the damage that’s been done.” Ford shook his head, clearly uncomfortable with the direction things had taken.

“You’ll have to do it then. You know… medical stuff, yeah?” Stan asked cautiously, knowing Ford would be deeply unhappy with the request.

“Stanley…” Ford rubbed his eyes with his fingers under his glasses. “I can keep her under observation in the lab until we decide what to do with her and until I go in and deprogram you. But that’s it. She bit you while you rescued her. Is that not enough proof for you that she is not what she has put into your head?” It was almost a plea, his brother trying to convince him out of his feelings. That had rarely worked in the past though, and it certainly didn’t apply here, he thought. But better not to fight it yet, it was clear Honey was not ok. This would be his best chance at convincing Ford of her gentle nature, although she was not doing a good job of it now. He could hear her in the back seat, whimpering and preening like a wounded forest animal.

“Fine, keep her wherever you want for now. But she needs help. It’s the least you could do for me since you hurt her earlier.” Stan pressed, pulling into the shack’s parking lot. Ford groaned, but didn’t protest further as Stan killed the engine, taking a moment to peek over the back seat at Honey’s curled up form. She had pushed herself into the furthest corner of the seat, her pelt wrapped tightly around her body as she shuddered and whined, her black marble eyes indecipherable.

“We’re gonna get you inside, babygirl.” He whispered, almost more for himself than anyone else, but she heard it regardless, her eyes shifting in his direction with a feral growl rumbling from her chest. Without warning she launched herself towards him, landing into the front dash with a painful crack as both the brothers bailed and shut their doors behind them, leaving her an angry and thrashing creature inside Stan’s car. Her face was pressed against the window glass, fogging it with her furious breathing as Stan stared helplessly at her. Ford dusted himself off, walking back toward the shack with some sort of authority as he called behind him.

“I’m going to get some sedatives. Don’t let her out.” With that it was just the two of them, his hand resting against the window as she shrieked and thrashed. Pain gripped his chest as he listened to her, his eyes wide as she tried to gnash at his hand through the glass.

“What did they do to you…?” He whispered into the closing night, waiting for Ford to come back with some form of relief.

[faeriedays]

“#i loooooove fashion stuff its so cool #especially good omens metas #like i can rant to you about crowley's costume designs all day long”

I’m listening 👀👂

Sorry it took so long for me to reply! I was busy writing this out all day, lol.

It's long so I'm putting a 'Keep Reading' for anyone who wants to back out.

So I'm not very good at explaining things and these have probably already been mentioned but here goes :) I also have images but I messed up their formatting (I do have image descriptions though, even if I'm bad at writing). Warning for probable spelling mistakes and if something doesn't make sense, I literally have spent all day doing this instead of homework and I am so excited that I might have missed something in editing.

Before we dive deep, I’m going to list off the bat the outfits I don’t necessarily talk about or use as examples all that much in this essay thing/rant:

I’m going to put the knight outfit here because I don’t talk about it in great detail here but it’s still amazing and I love it. It definitely plays in with the classic ‘all black, nice shape, cool texture’ package that you’ll read about later. He must’ve been so uncomfortable in this but he looks great, I also wonder if he had long luscious locks underneath that helmet 👀

I also don’t talk about his Original fit much, but it's still so slay. I like how Crowley is wearing dark gray and not just black in his beginning outfit, because it already shows that he’s not quite on the side of evil but a shade of gray. He never was on the side of evil…think about it, most of his outfits have some sort of color other than black, even if it’s really dark gray...

I think the Angel fit is important because first of all he’s adorable and secondly it gives us more insight to what his rank could have been based on his sleeves and collar. It also makes me sad because he’s just a little guy !!! Poor thing.

And though it’s one of my favorite things, I don’t talk much about the 70s fit even though he’s literally so handsome I can’t even. The shirt, the boots, the glasses, the moustache...I want to be him, he’s sososo gorgeous aughhhh,,,,, (I also think his big chunky watch is really funny lol)

Oh, and I almost forgot his pretty little turtleneck. This outfit doesn’t vary much from his other outfits, and also it’s possibly normal for him to be wearing this garment, considering he wore a turtleneck in 1966. I just think it’s fascinating how he changed his outfit for a fun little date with Aziraphale going around SoHo. That’s really cute of him. 

I also think it’s funny that the only 3 times he wears a turtleneck is 1967, this time, and his angel disguise. They’re his ‘time to be mischievous’ garments, because in 1967 he’s robbing a church, modern day he’s sneaking around SoHo with his angel, and in Heaven, well, he’s infiltrating it and going through secret files.

And as I was editing this, I forgot his Eff Stuff Up Jacket. He wears this in the deleted scene where he took down the phone networks, and idk I just thought it was cool. The fake ID card is great too. He’s doing it with style, he is.

Look at that beautiful demon right there. I love how his lapels point down towards hell when he does this, since he’s doing a hellish task. That’s really neat.

Moving on...

First of all let's talk about the color palette. This is kind of obvious so don’t judge me, but I absolutely love the colors that are picked out for him. Mostly black, yes, but also red (which I find fascinating as it is the contrasting color to Hell's green look and also the stereotypical 'devil' color), and sometimes a dark gray or an oxblood. I think it's just really cool because no matter how many different outfits, Crowley, like Aziraphale, has mostly the same colors.

I think it’s nice (well maybe not nice, nice is a 4 letter word…) how he has a more warm-toned, deep, rich palette while Aziraphale’s colors are more cool toned and light, complementing each other (as always, but you’d assume that the warm, caring angel would have more warm, full tones and the cold, aloof demon would have the opposite). 

I’d also like to add that since Crowley has his beautiful snake eyes, he’s likely dichromatic, meaning he can see in two colors, blue and green, but also that he could be colorblind to red (this is probably why Aziraphale dresses in blues, but it also makes me wonder about Crowley and his outfits; does he think he’s dressing in grays or a less saturated red?) Anyway, more images because he's pretty and I like colors :)

 His selective color palette means that a lot of what makes his outfits, well, his, is something else. This would be mainly texture. Whether it's scaly (like his snakeskin…‘boots’) or ruffly (see 1827 for a major example of this, just look at these freakin patterns omgomgomg) or an almost stripy texture (like the 1941 suit and Bildad’s fire fit), Crowley's outfits benefit because of those extra touches. They make his outfits stand out, especially with a ‘limited’ color palette.

In addition, he is often dressed in the kind of clothing that accentuates his height and build. He wears waistcoats that almost bring a cinched waist effect (and accentuate that pretty little waist of his!!! god i wanna see him in a corset so bad), and sometimes he wears vertical patterns/textures to make him seem even taller, which is especially fitting for a lean demon.

His shoulders are accentuated with either a puffy sleeve (see 1827 or 1601) or a squared off look (see modern day and various suits from time). It definitely gives a nice touch and affects his overall shape and appearance.

I also just wanted to mention in this section before I move on that I love how his lapels point up like little demon horns. I think that's cool 😈.

Okay this part is one of my favorite parts. Crowley LOOOOOVES to adorn himself. B U T T O N S (this mfer is addicted to buttons), serpent pieces, bows; you name it, it’s probably going to end up in his outfit. He is so fancy and with time brings even more ways to add glitter and glam to his clothing. And he isn’t careless with his accessories either; his extras line up with his outfit and instead of distracting from the rest of his garments, brings it all to a more composed, complex look while making it still look complete and not ‘busy’.

It’s also good to notice that he usually wears jewelry/metal that is either silver or black. Gold isn’t his color and he knows it; this is especially important because that’s a ‘heaven’ color (white, gold, light gray) while silver is more of a hellish color (silver, green, black).

The bows and neckwear:

The buttons !!!:

The snake pieces, the snake pieces! Whether it’s a texture, a silver piece, whatever it may be, there’s always something snake related in his outfit.

Another thing I find fascinating is the fact that modern Crowley wears a lot of clothes that appear in the ‘women’ section and things that would not be considered stereotypically masculine, but rather androgynous. He dresses like a snazzy little lesbian and I adore it. (Looking at those super skinny, too tight jeans,,,)

Girl you ATE.

I am now going to go on a tangent about the fact that Crowley is not afraid to dress in a way that would worry and/or agitate people. He plays with expression and probably loves when people give him weird stares. Whether he dresses in a surprisingly feminine way (see Mesopotamia, see the Crucifixion, see Ashtoreth), whether he dresses like a mourner (see Rome and kind of 1827 a little bit), whether his outfits go against the status quo (literally pick your poison), he is always doing it in style.

Images:

It's interesting for her/him/whatever Crowley wants forever to dress more feminine at the earlier two times, because it would be more customary for her to be accompanied by a man, meaning she's giving off the vibes that she's related to Aziraphale by blood or marriage. I think that's cute tbh. I also love Ashtoreth, she is SERVING, I love her hair, I love her vibe, I love how she was inspired by Mary Poppins. She reminds me of Mrs. Andrews from the Mary Poppins musical.

More images:

I didn’t know where to put this but I wanted to mention that Crowley in 1827 is dressed masculine but more flamboyant than Aziraphale at this time, and corrects pronouns/honorifics when Mr. Dalrymple tried to say ‘Mr.’ Nonbinary ICON right there I love them.

Okay now let me give a more fascinating and detailed example of Crowley being a weird little guy, Rome.

Oh, Rome. Crowley is basically dressed like either a dead guy or a tourist tbh and I think that’s hilarious.

The laurel wreaths are usually either for emperors/high class (which was probably what Crowley was going for after tempting one) or they’re in funeral portraits. The wreath represents your achievements in life and Definitely is not street wear.

His hair is definitely not in style with the military chic kind of vibes that were going on at the time like Aziraphale’s–no no no, his curls are more fit to be a lady’s hairstyle (if he’d grown his hair out ofc). 

The dark clothes definitely give a mourning kind of palette, but that’s relatively normal with Crowley. What isn’t is his weird shawl thing with the red zig zag that is definitely foreign and most certainly draped the wrong way.

He’s wearing a pin and ring brooch??? That’s definitely not from Rome. That’s more of a British Isles thing–this kind of pin and ring brooch is not from Rome. But it’s very weird because unlike the Romans, who loved snake jewelry as it represented rebirth and healing, the British Isles did not do snake jewelry. So where’d he get this commissioned?

Bro is so unfashionable, and he’s homeless, gay, has aids, and is new in town /ref new in town. His dark glasses are probably the only thing that’s relatively normal here, as it makes sense that his glasses could exist in this time period, whether they be from Rome or any number of other places.

✨Snazzy ✨

Which brings me to my final topic: his sunglasses. I love how they change to reflect himself throughout history. Of course he follows the latest trends in fashion and such, but I also appreciate his little spin on them.

Here are some of my favorite pairs:

So yeah, in summary I love Crowley’s overall design and how it suits him over the course of 6000 (or let’s be real, millions of) years.

What's your favorite outfit (and also can I have a freaking wahoo after this, I'm so out of breath metaphorically)?

PS: I bet you’re wondering, ‘well what about the angelic disguise???’ Well fret not, for I loveloveloveee the heaven disguise. It just didn’t make sense to group it with the things I was talking about earlier, so here goes:

He’s still in grey, which is nice, but it’s really light grey. He also is wearing a turtleneck, which I find funny. Perhaps this is because most of the angels don’t wear a stereotypical dress shirt, so it helps with blending in. His jacket, however, is specifically not heaven-like. It’s far too casual, and even zips up, which leads me to believe that this is supposed to be satire on how professional the angels are supposed to be. He does have the color-coding right, though; he has a white shirt under a darker color jacket.

His thick ass tie is hilarious. It’s bright, it’s flashy, it's glittery, and it would seem very suspicious and attention-grabbing to me if I were an angel. I also find it fascinating that he does this, as gold is shown to be not as fashionable in season 2 (I’ll be using Uriel as an example in a moment). I think he does this so that he can show how tacky angels are and how not up-to-date he is with them. 

Crowley’s tie:

Uriel (a very fashionable angel indeed) keeping up with the trends:

You can see in the set of images how the angelic fashion changed from copious amounts of gold to no gold at all. 

Finally, I want to talk about his other accessories. 

The headband is really silly, and it gives him a little bit of poof in his bangs, which ever so slightly mirrors him when he was an actual angel. The black with light swirls definitely gives off a tacky vibe. 

His glasses have lighter colored metal frames, which I find interesting too. 

And he didn’t dye his tattoo gold for this btw. He put a freaking STICKER of his tattoo over his actual tattoo. That is HYSTERICAL to me I can’t even.

Overall, the fit almost gives off a Y2K vibe to it. I think that’s interesting too because maybe that’s the last time before the Apocawhoops that he saw the Angels’ clothing? I dunno, and that would also be interesting because he usually tries to dress as modern as possible, maybe he's being a couple decades out of date for the funnies. Anyway, it’s working and it is hella funny. And I love Muriel’s expressions during this scene, they are not convinced.

So, in summary, our snakey boi decided to dress in the tackiest, most satirical way for his angelic disguise. He does not look like a bee in this beehive, he looks like a poorly-dressed wasp, hehe. I wonder how Aziraphale would've reacted if he saw Crowley's disguise...

(also, I didn’t mean for this to end up as a ‘Do you love the color of the sky Crowley’ kind of post, I just find fashion, especially historical, really fascinating and I definitely didn’t get all my words in but I think it’s more than enough for now)

[wish-incorrect-quotes]

A Royal Pet

Queen Amaya decides that life in the palace could use a new furry friend (or perhaps a not-so-furry one).

--------‐-----------------------------------------

Amaya adjusted the cloth resting lightly over the basket in her hands, and she wondered what the chances were that she could actually keep the contents inside hidden long enough for it to be any sort of surprise.

Most likely, it wouldn’t be long until the secret was blown. But she couldn’t say she would mind too much. She was eager to see what the group of friends in the castle would think.

This time, she didn’t need to go all the way down to the lowest floor to find them. A castle was a lot of space, and it had occurred to her that when there were plenty of rooms sitting largely untouched, there was no reason why she couldn’t give them one of those rooms as a place to enjoy their downtime. She still found them down in the kitchen fairly often, and she suspected they would always have a sense of familiarity there that made it appealing. Not to mention, she thought with a smile, it meant they were ready to pounce on trays of baked goods as soon as they came fresh out of the oven. Though she still found it nice to see them realizing they didn’t need to stay down there all the time.

Shortly after she had entered the room and heard all of their greetings, Dario’s eyes landed on the basket, and he lit up with an excited grin.

“Are we having a picnic?”

Before she could start to answer, Hal and Dario were already in the process of dragging one of the tablecloths to the floor to see if it would provide enough space for everyone when spread out.

Gabo usually tried to keep the complaining to a minimum in the presence of royalty, though the fact that a (thankfully unlit) candlestick tumbled into his lap as they pulled at the tablecloth was enough to make him ask, “Why are you so excited to eat off the ground when there’s perfectly good tables here?”

As if the answer should be perfectly obvious, Dario explained, “Because it’s not a real picnic if you’re just sitting inside at a regular old table.”

“I’m afraid it’s not a picnic at all.” Amaya gently interrupted. “But I do have a surprise for all of you.”

She began to beckon them all closer to look, and at that moment, the basket jostled in her hands and began to let out a chorus of eager-to-explore meows. It seemed that the cat was out of the bag, somewhat literally, and she pulled the cloth away to reveal the creatures playfully tumbling around inside.

“Kittens!” Hal squealed. After a quick glance at the queen to confirm that it was alright, she reached to pick one up, laughing in delight as it reached a tiny paw to bat at her necklace.

While several more of the teens began lifting the rest of the kittens out of the basket to play with them, Dahlia smiled at the sight of them all having fun, though she still turned to look at Amaya, clearly curious for an explanation.

Just slightly raising her voice to be heard over all the commotion, Amaya spoke up with, “They’re all going to be adopted soon, and plenty of very nice people in the kingdom have offered to provide a good home. But first, I was hoping you all could help me choose one to live here in the palace.”

The excitement immediately picked up further, and Amaya happily slipped towards the side of the room to observe.

She tried to keep an eye out, watching carefully to see if there was one they seemed to be bonding with particularly well. There was the little calico still happily playing with Hal, a white snowball of a kitten happily chasing sparkles around after Asha had pulled out her wand as an impromptu cat toy, a ginger tabby in a fierce battle with the laces of Simon’s boots, Bazeema, after pushing past a bit of shyness, deciding to try petting the black one with a splash of white on its chest, Gabo not quite managing to pretend to be unhappy about the idea as he watched the scene unfold…

It appeared this had been a very good idea, Amaya decided. It was plain to see that whichever cat they picked would be one they could have a great time playing with. And it would be nice for her, too. As much as she enjoyed having this group and their chatter filling the castle halls nowadays, they did, of course, have to go home at the end of the day. But while she did still enjoy her alone time now and then, it might be nice if she wasn’t completely alone, and she would be glad to have a little companion to spend quiet evenings with.

But with how much she was enjoying watching the teens and kittens playing together, it took her perhaps longer than she felt it should have to notice that one had retreated to the far corner of the room.

Safi was watching his friends with a warm smile, but his expression gradually began to grow troubled. As minutes went by, he started to swipe a sleeve at his nose, trying to keep it subtle enough to go unnoticed, though it was getting more and more frequent.

Just about anything with fur or feathers could get him sniffling, and usually he was perfectly willing to tough out a few sneezes to spend time with them. After all, he didn't think he'd ever get to leave his room if he tried to avoid everything he was allergic to. But cats had always been the worst by far. He desperately wanted to avoid calling attention to himself when everyone looked so happy, but it seemed his nose didn’t want to give him much choice in the matter.

He managed to keep the first few sneezes quiet enough to avoid his friends hearing, but his willpower soon lost out, and it was difficult to tell how much of the redness in his face was from a persistent fit of sneezing and how much was from knowing everyone had turned to look at him.

Dahlia stepped into action, and crossed the room to ask, “Are you okay?”

He did his best to mutter something about probably having a cold through a face buried in the crook of his arm. Thoroughly unconvinced, Dahlia pulled up the sleeve of his free arm to examine it.

“You’re getting hives. Come on, I’m taking you outside.” She stated decisively. Defeated, Safi only nodded, and stumbled after her as she gently but firmly pulled him along.

Quickly realizing she ought to be helping as well, Amaya started trying to gather up the kittens and get them back into the basket again (a task that was much easier said than done).

“My apologies. I should have thought to ask before bringing them here.”

Safi managed to briefly glance up, and the queen almost hoped the tears streaming from red and puffy eyes were only a reaction to fur.

The room had rapidly changed from joyful to quiet and concerned, and even if no one’s looks of disappointment were necessarily aimed at him, it was clear that he noticed them sharply. Amaya could practically hear him thinking, “All my fault.”

Feeling a sinking in the pit of her stomach, she pulled her eyes away to return her focus to gathering up the last of the scurrying kittens.

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

Amaya felt terrible.

Technically, she supposed everything had turned out alright. Safi was fine, thank goodness. Dahlia had assured her that he was right as rain after some time out in the fresh air and washing off any cat fur that had found its way onto his clothes. And the queen had promised to make sure the room was thoroughly cleaned out before any of them wanted to use it again. And alright, so her plans had been scrapped, but as much as she had been looking forward to the idea, she was perfectly willing to live without a cat if getting one was going to make anyone suffer.

But that look on the poor boy’s face…

She’d wanted this to be something to make them all happy, and she couldn’t stand the thought that she’d left one of them guilty and miserable instead.

Now that it had turned to an evening alone in the castle, she was determined to find a way to fix things. She was certain she could find a solution if she just thought about it enough. This wasn't exactly a high-stakes diplomatic issue, but still, competent royalty had to be good at smoothing out incidents.

Was there a way they could make things work with a cat after all? It was a large building, perhaps they could be kept far enough apart? But she would just hate to start putting up barriers again now that she was finally getting them all used to knowing they were welcome throughout the whole castle. Besides, he would still be left out if the others decided they wanted to go spend time with her pet, and she didn’t think that would be a fair way of fixing things.

A different kind of animal, maybe? She did like dogs as well, and they didn’t seem to set his allergies off to nearly that extreme. But running a kingdom was something that kept her busy much of the time, and she didn’t think it would be right to get one when she couldn't guarantee a regular walk schedule.

Was this a problem that required magic to solve? If he wanted to give it a try, there might be a spell that could ease his symptoms. It was an option she would definitely keep in mind, though she decided she wouldn’t jump straight to asking for Asha’s aid. She trusted their new fairy godmother, but it was still important to show their people that many problems could be fixed by finding your way around the stumbling blocks. Also, she supposed it could get a bit risky to have someone just starting to learn magic attempt a spell involving someone’s health.

There had to be an answer, she was sure of it. And since she didn’t feel much like sleeping yet anyway, she would try to keep thinking until she figured it out.

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

“If you have a minute, could you all come with me? There’s something I’d like to show you.”

Amaya decided that this time, she wouldn’t bring her surprise to the teen’s break room, and had instead left it in the entry room of the castle just in case things once again didn’t turn out as expected. But as the group of friends eagerly got to their feet to follow her, she allowed herself to feel cautiously hopeful that she had found something that could make a pleasant surprise for all of them.

The little creature was rather tired out after its journey to Rosas, and as Amaya had expected, it was contentedly staying put now that she had left a cushion in a sunbeam perfectly inviting for a nap.

Pulled out of dozing by the herd of footsteps coming down the stairs, the head lifted with a curious “Mrr?”, revealing a pair of large, bright eyes.

“Oh, awesome!” Dario quickly picked up the animal and lifted it up to his eye level, beaming as it began to vibrate with a soft rumbling noise. A few moments later, he looked over at Dahlia to ask, “What is it?”

“It’s a cat, Dario.”

His head tilted as he examined the wrinkly forehead, then turned it slightly in a few different directions to see the rest of it. Silvery-grey, dotted and striped with various tabby markings, but completely lacking when it came to fur.

Cheerfully, he decided, “No, I don’t think so.”

“What happened to it?” Gabo blurted out, eying the creature in a way that suggested he was certain they were all at risk of catching some sort of mange. Suddenly remembering that he was talking about something belonging to the queen, he flinched slightly and sent her a nervous glance.

To his relief, Amaya only let out a good-natured laugh and assured him, “It’s alright, she’s perfectly healthy. Sphynx cats are born this way.”

With his nerves at ease again, Gabo muttered under his breath, “Awful funny looking if you ask me…”

Bazeema came closer to see the cat, reaching out tentatively at first, but soon petting it with a bit more confidence when it purred louder and eagerly leaned into her hand.

“Well I think she’s beautiful.” She said in a soft voice.

Safi had begun to come closer as well, and Amaya watched with bated breath. She could tell that he was nervous as well, but gradually, his eyes lit up as the usual symptoms didn’t appear, and he became positive he wasn’t going to get anything worse than a few light sniffles.

He pulled his eyes away to look at the queen, and found that she was already watching him. Seeing her give him a questioning look, he nodded to confirm that he would be perfectly alright if this one stayed.

“So, what do you all think? Will she make a good fit for the palace?” Amaya asked.

Though they were all too busy excitedly talking out once for her to make out the words, Amaya could see that the answer was clear.

Dahlia quickly stepped in to make sure they took turns and didn’t swarm the castle’s new pet, though it barely seemed necessary when the cat was calmly, and obviously with much delight, soaking in all of the attention. She was going to prove quite the charmer next time she had guests over for royal events, Amaya was certain of that.

But more importantly, seeing how happy the group of friends looked had Amaya knowing she had done something very good here.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Raven Crowley Broomquet Interview

Similar to last year, I wrote some quick dialogue for the interview questions and sketched a little something for Raven’s birthday card this year~ In the first year, I had commissioned an initial illustration, a Groovy, and wrote some voice lines.

It’s her Broomquet this time, and I decided to make the other birthday character her interviewer 😆 Ignore that this is coming to you one day late—

Happy Birthday!

Raven: Hehehe 🎵 What a most merry time of year. It won’t be long now before my birthday interviewer appears before me. They’re picked at random, so it could be potentially anyone! Oh, I feel as though I may burst any second from the excitement!

Leona, off to the side with his arms folded: …

Raven: Yup! They’ll be here any minute now.

Leona, hand to temple: …

Raven: Aaaany… minute… now…!

Leona, starting to look mildly annoyed: … Oi. Get your head out of the clouds and stop ignoring what’s right in front of you.

Raven, wincing: … Please don’t tell me… Are you my interviewer, Leona-san?

Leona: Would you look at that. Took you long enough. What are the chances, hmm?

Raven: Pretty low, actually!! Of the hundreds and hundreds of students at Night Raven College… It had to be you who was picked? (What terrible misfortune!)

Leona: That’s not a very grateful way to speak to your interviewer and birthday twin. I thought you’d have more decorum than that, canary.

Leona: Shouldn’t you be proud of me for not skipping out on this momentous occasion? You always get on my case whenever I miss a lecture. Be consistent, will you?

Raven, embarrassed: Hnngh…! V-Very well, I concede—you do have a valid point. Perhaps I was a bit quick to be wary.

Raven: It would not do for me to spoil the mood on this festive day, nor waste our time. We have so precious little of it. Shall we begin the interview? The sooner we start, the sooner we end. Such is the sweet sorrow of parting…

Leona: Hmph, that’s more like it. I knew you had it in you. Let’s knock this out so I can get back to my birthday cat nap.

Leona: Alright, first question. How good are you at flying?

Raven: I’m most excellent at it!

Leona: … You are?

Raven: Y-Yes! Is that really so hard to believe!

Leona: You’re lying through your teeth.

Raven: Ex-CUSE me?! Who are you to insult my flying abilities when you are a creature of the land?

Leona: Don’t kid yourself. Everyone has seen you fly once or twice in P.E. and they all say you do it worse than a blind bat. I’d say you’re about on the same level as the octopunk.

Raven: H-How rude! If you meant flying in the human sense, then you should have specified! I’m very well aware that my flight skills need some... practice.

Raven: But can you really blame me?! It’s extremely difficult to adjust to an entirely different body shape and mechanism for the procedure. A human lacks the same aerodynamicism and compactness that a bird does.

Raven: I assure you that I am more than capable of flying well! ... in my original form. 

Leona: Yeah? All I hear are excuses.

Leona: I’m just “a creature of the land” according to you--but this “creature of the land” can outfly you any day of the week.

Raven: Ngh...!! Must you remind me?! I-It’s obvious that the captain of the Magift Club would be skilled at flying. You must have worked diligently to be at your level of mastery. I lack that time and training.

Leona: Maybe I did, maybe I didn’t. Who knows? One thing’s for sure, though: if all you do is sit around and whine about what you don’t have, then you’ll never get over it or change.

Raven: Oh? That’s ironic coming from you, Leona-san. You also...

Raven: ... No, never mind. I misspoke.

Leona: ...

Leona, groaning: When I was still a furball, I’d play chess with this old coot in the palace. He’s a lot like you, feathers and all. Always running his mouth at me, being a real pain in my tail. But you know what? That geezer could kick my ass in chess.

Leona: ‘Course, I didn’t take it lying down. I’d make a racket and demand rematches. I’d win some, I’d lose some, but no matter what, I’d get back up again every time.

Leona, with a smirk: Now? I can beat him with both arms tied behind my back.

Raven: Was there a moral in that story about not giving up? It felt like you were also just rubbing your victories in some poor old man’s face.

Leona, laughing dryly: Hah. Very good. Gold star for you.

Leona: My point still stands. You want to complain? How about you put forth some effort and do something about yourself before you talk about others? I know where my strengths lie. Do you?

Raven: ...!!

Raven, reluctantly: You’re... You’re right. If I want to improve my flying, then it is action, not words, that will see me through to that end! Starting tomorrow, I should try to squeeze in at least 30 minutes of flight practice after class.

Leona: That’s the spirit.

Raven: You’ll help me, right, Leona-san?

Leona: ... What?

Raven: I don’t have the proper form or formulas memorized yet. Since you’re the expert in this, it would be helpful to have you as my tutor.

Raven: Besides, weren’t you the one encouraging me a few minutes ago? It’s your job as a responsible upperclassman to aid the underclassmen in need of your assets.

Leona: I wasn’t volunteering to chase you around! Go find someone else to babysit you.

Leona: Next is... What’s your favorite thing about having magic?

Raven: Heheheh, isn’t it obvious? Clearly, the best thing about having magic is...

Raven, striking a silly pose: THIS!!

Leona: ...

Leona: And just what am I looking at?

Raven, flailing her arms: Y-You know! THIS!!

Leona: ... Posing stupidly? That’s your favorite thing about having magic?

Raven: Gah, why do you always have to phrase it so simply?!

Leona: Isn’t that what it is? Stop kidding yourself by dressing it up with fancier words. You’re just posing weirdly to try and look cool while you use magic. End of story.

Raven: That’s not all!! It’s the range of movement that I most enjoy about using magic.

Raven: Humans have the same number of limbs as birds, yes--but humans also have more joints, which allows them to move in complex ways while spellcasting.

Raven: There’s no one set way to cast a fire spell. You could wave your arms in different, complex patterns to summon fire balls, fire columns, fire circles...

Raven: It’s fascinating when you think of it like that! You’d think that a bird would have more flexibility, but humans actually surpass them in that aspect.

Leona: Magic can manifest any number of ways, it just depends on how you visualize it and command it. Posing has little to do with the form magic takes.

Raven: W-Well, it still adds a nice dramatic flair and dynamicism!! Especially in combat situations!

Leona, sighing: Listen to yourself. You sound like some kid that hasn’t even cast their first spell yet, running around waving a stick for a magical pen and shouting nonsense, getting excited about looking cool.

Leona: Like Cheka.

Raven: Aw, that actually sounds really cute!!

Raven, suddenly frowning: ... Wait a minute, did you just compare me to a child?!

Leona, smirking: Aaah, he’s a real pain in the tail. He’ll only get wilder once his magic comes to him.

Raven: That’s part of the joys of childhood~ Discovering new things about the world and about yourself... It can be confusing, but it gets better with time and hands to help you along the way.

Raven: Cheka Kingscholar, the princeling of the Sunset Savanna... With that level of enthusiasm and energy, I’m sure he has potential as a mage.

Leona: You seem fine with hyperactive furballs. You should keep each other company, practice your dumb poses together and cheer each other on.

Raven: Why am I suddenly becoming your on-call babysitter?!

Leona: Look at the pot calling the kettle black. You’re the one that volunteered me as YOUR babysitter earlier. I’m only repaying the favor.

Leona: Next is... What do you do in your free time?

Leona: Don’t say reading or writing either. Anyone could already guess that.

Raven: Alright, then I...

Leona: Or making your own inks.

Raven, grimacing: ... Always one step ahead, aren’t you?

Leona: I’m familiar enough with you and your hobbies to be aware. It’s hard to ignore them when you’ve got a little bird screeching in your ear and demanding toys. Asking for pen and paper, glassware and fresh ingredients.

Raven, flustered: Aside from those activities, I find that I enjoy the mundane. There is nothing quite as relaxing as finding a comfortable spot to sit and just... watching the world go by.

Leona: Seriously? You do nothing? You might as well catch up on some Zs instead of watching grass grow.

Raven: It’s not as though I’m doing nothing! I people watch. Lots of students and staff pass through in a day, each of them different and unique. I sometimes see them and wonder what their stories are, trying to piece together observations and make a little guessing game of it.

Raven: In the town, for example. There goes the baker with his tray like always. He has bread and rolls to sell. So early in the day, he must have risen bright and early to prepare them. A hard worker with, perhaps, a family to support back home. 

Raven: That girl is crying. Did she have a bad day? Heartbreak, or maybe a fight with a friend or family member. She’s scared to let others see her this way, so she hides where she thinks no one will see.

Raven: Those sorts of things. It gives me new material to work with, inspirations for my writing.

Leona: A bird that people watches instead of people who bird watch... You’ve picked up an unsavory habit from Rook and that Octopunk’s goon.

Leona, with sarcasm: I shudder to know what dark secrets you’re keeping stored away in that pretty little head of yours.

Raven: I-I did NOT learn this from anyone!! And it’s NOT unsavory!!

Leona: Saying that doesn’t make it any less creepy.

Raven: It’s nothing more than an exercise in imagination! That’s very important talent to hone as a mage.

Raven: It’s not just people I watch either. There are plenty of ideas to be gleaned from scenery, or just an item. Sometimes I find myself entranced by the things displayed in store windows.

Leona: If they catch your eye, why don’t you just buy them? Then you can stare at them all day from the comfort of your own room.

Leona, with a smirk: You know, instead of doing it out in public.

Raven, frowning: Truth be told, I have very little pocket money. Uncle is very stringent when it comes to matters of the purse... so even if I do find an item that catches my fancy, I’ll rarely ever have the money to purchase it.

Leona, scoffing: Poor you.

Raven: It’s okay! What I lack in material goods and money, I can make up for in creativity! I’ll take what I see and weave it into a story where the impossible is made possible.

Raven: Oh! Maybe I can write something from this interview.

Leona: Hah?

Raven, smiling: Because... I’ve been watching you this whole time, Leona-san! And you’ve been watching me as well. It could make for an interesting story, perhaps the same narrative told from two totally different perspectives.

Raven: The world can look so different from another person’s eyes and perspective. Don’t you think so?

Leona: Whatever you say.

Leona: Next is... If you could fly anywhere, where would you go?

Raven: I write about many far away places in my stories, but I haven’t had a chance to visit many of them. The next best thing I can do is to research them well, then recreate them as settings to the best of my abilities. Ideally, I would like to visit some of them someday.

Raven: I would love to experience habitats that I’m unfamiliar with, just for the experience. The ocean floor, the sprawling savanna, frozen tundras, mountain villages, massive cities... Perhaps they would come with some unpleasant experiences, but I feel that those, too, would be valuable for expanding my horizons.

Leona, sarcastic: Keen on the savanna? If that’s the case, you’re welcome to the Sunset Savanna as a guest of the crown whenever your little heart pleases. I’m sure my exalted older brother would just love to entertain you.

Raven: Hold on just one moment! I... I never said that was my top choice!

Leona: Yeah, then what is?

Raven, looking slightly uncomfortable: ... There is one place I wish to visit. It’s the Castle of the Loveless King in the Shaftlands.

Leona: That dusty old site? Thought the lizard was the only one into roaming ruins. That place isn’t anything special.

Raven: But you know the tale, don’t you?

Leona: Of course I do. It’s taught in Magic History, second year.

Raven: Once upon a time, there was a king who loved no one but himself. On a dark and stormy night, an old woman appeared at his door, asking for shelter from the rain. The king rejected her twice, and before she asked the third time, the old woman offered a rose, claiming it as a symbol of everlasting love.

Raven: She pleaded with the king, warning him that it was not too late to change the course of his path. When he rejected her a third and final time, the old woman shed her robes and revealed herself to be a powerful fairy enchantress.

Raven: She cursed him with immortality, so that he would witness the world and all the love it encompassed pass him by. But instead the king relished in the curse, growing even more daring and cruel. Slowly, the people around him left, fearing for their own lives. And the king was left loveless and alone, withering away in his castle.

Raven: By the time he realized what he had loss, it was too late for him to get it back. So the story goes.

Raven, to herself: (... It’s not the complete story. Only I will ever know what truly happened to him.)

Raven: That castle where the Loveless King fell... it’s important to me. That was where I was first taken in by my “father”--and he was the one that directed me to Uncle. It’s really where my story started. It’s where I learned to write. I want to honor my heritage by visiting it again.

Raven: Admittedly, father was not... the ideal parent. But he tried his best to raise me with an understanding of the world before releasing me into it. I’ve always regretted that we were not able to fully reconcile before he...

Raven: ...

Raven: I want to learn more about where he came from, his history before having me. Starting at the castle is my first and only clue.

Raven: Father was the one that allowed me to live this life. I owe him a great debt, so I wish to honor his humble beginnings.

Leona, crossing his arms: Hmph. You’re really concerned with legacy, huh.

Raven: Legacy is important, after all. You must know, being a prince yourself. You have a lot of expectations on your shoulders.

Leona: Ugh, don’t remind me. The last thing I want in this world is to flatter my ancestors by repeating the exact same mistakes they made.

Leona: Times have changed. We need to change with it and adapt, or risk losing ourselves to the wilderness.

Raven: (Risk losing ourselves...)

Leona: In the Sunset Savanna, we say the great kings of old are embedded in the sky. They’re the stars themselves, watching over each and every one of us. The idea is that if we’re ever lost, we look up to them for guidance.

Leona: But what can the dead do for the present? We can look back on them, ask them for advice, but we can’t rely on the past to pave the way to the future.  That can only be done by people who are here and now. People like you and me, canary.

Raven: !!

Leona: Look back all you want, but don’t stay fixated on it. The future is littered with prizes--you’ll miss them if you’re not focused.

Raven: ... I understand.

Raven: Dead men tell no tales. That’s why their legacies live on in us. We must serve as the torchbearers that carry their stories with us to the future--not for their stories to be repeated, but for the next generation to understand where they came from, and to learn from it.

Raven: I will keep moving forward.

Raven, pensive: You as well, Leona-san. You... should also keep looking forward.

Leona: ... Hmph. Looks to me like you’re living up to your old man’s legacy just fine by doing your own thing.

Leona: Let’s get a move on.

Leona: Next is... What’s one thing you hope to do this year?

Raven: I’d like to get better at communicating face-to-face.

Leona: Oh yeah? That’s a first. You always have your head shoved in a book one way or another. Thought you’d be comfortable sticking to that.

Raven: Yes, and that’s part of the problem...! I tend to prefer the company of books over people. The issue is that I tend to fumble in conversation... Maybe I’m too formal, or too stilted, or too uptight, or just too awkward... Or maybe I say something but it comes off the wrong way because my emotions aren’t fully coming through in how I say the words out loud.

Raven: It makes communication a challenge if I’m not writing down my thoughts--but it’s unrealistic to think that I’ll always have paper on me to write on. I have to get used to communicating clearly with just spoken word.

Raven: I wish I were as free-spirited as Kalim-senpai is. He wears his heart on his sleeve and is amicable with everyone.

Raven: Then there’s Silver-senpai, who is earnest and lives in harmony with the woodland critters.

Raven: Both he and Kalim-senpai are so kind, honest, and approachable. They have boons I can only dream of having myself.

Leona: You’re definitely different from those two, that’s for sure.

Raven: Urk!! I knew I was lacking in this area, but you needn’t affirm it so bluntly!!

Leona: Hah? Whaddya mean? I’m stating an objective, neutral fact. It’s not inherently a bad thing.

Raven: Eh?

Leona: They’ve got their own strengths. So what? You’ve got yours. Weaknesses too.

Leona: Let’s say Kalim was meeting an important dignitary. Sure, he’d chat them up real good, but he also has no filter. If he messes up, that’s it. He’s offended the potential business partner, and no trade deal goes through.

Leona: But you’re cautious. You know when to hold your tongue. You wouldn’t have made that same slip-up.

Leona: Stick you at a party though? That’s where Kalim would thrive and you’d merge with the wallpaper.

Leona: It’s not the skill that matters, but the setting and how the skill is used.

Raven: That’s true... That’s also part of what’s so complicated about speaking with others face-to-face. There are variables you cannot control, another person whose responses you must account for. Things constantly changing.

Raven: When I write, I can manipulate each and every aspect of the conversation. I have as much time as I need to think of a response. 

Raven: I just hope it will come to me with practice. I’ve been pushing myself to go out of my comfort zone lately, staying behind class to exchange a few words with my first-year peers. Even this conversation that we’re having now is considered part of my training regimen!

Leona: Good for you.

Raven: Come to think of it, you’re quite well-articulated yourself, Leona-san. Er, when you want to be. It must come with the royal tutoring.

Leona, slightly amused: You don’t say. Am I riveting enough of a conversation partner for you?

Raven, warily: Well... You’re certainly not Prince Charming, but you’re a prince with your own ‘unique’ charm. Let’s leave it at that, shall we?

Leona: Next is... What is your best subject?

Raven: That would be Ancient Curses.*

[*NOTE: In the official localization, this subject is called “Ancient Magic”.]

Leona: No kidding. It looks like birds of a feather flock together after all.

Raven: Eh, you too?!

Leona: Yeah. ‘s not all bad. It’s a test of your wits, not just busy work to waste time.

Raven, smiling: I know, it’s so interesting!! Deciphering ancient languages, unlocking spells wanted to be kept secret... It’s like solving a puzzle or a riddle, so it’s really satisfying when you finally find the answer. It feels like you earned the right to see it!

Leona: Huh. You’re pretty gung-ho about this.

Raven: I have a personal fascination with it as a writer.

Raven: I mainly write stories in the common tongue, but there are many languages spoken in Twisted Wonderland, each with its own unique grammatical and social rules.

Raven: And in Ancient Curses, we often look at languages no longer spoken. That is to say, dead or extinct languages. Words forgotten by the natural passage of time, or purposefully buried by its original authors.

Raven: If we unearth those words, we can learn more about what once was, and all the things we have yet to understand. There is much knowledge and wisdom from the past that we’ve yet to find.

Raven: Ancient Curses is the bridge between now and then.

Leona: Guess so. 

Leona: You talk about it like you’re looking for something. Did a forbidden dark magic spell catch your eye?

Raven: An answer. I’m looking for an answer.

Raven: (... for this curse of mine.)

Leona: Aren’t we all.

Raven: What are you hoping to get out of your Ancient Curses studies?

Leona: Me? Nothing much. It helps keep me momentarily amused. I’m not looking for the secret to life or the cure to disease or whatever.

Leona: Unlike you, I don’t have any lofty ambitions.

Raven: What a shame. With your abilities, you just may be able to uncover whatever you like.

Raven: In fact, I would say I detected a hint of sarcasm just now, when you said you don’t have any lofty ambitions. It’s not good to tell little white lies, Leona-san.

Leona, with a laugh: Hah! Thanks for the vote of confidence, canary. You put your faith in the strangest of places.

Raven: I don’t think it’s so strange. The flowers in Heartslabyul’s gardens do stranger things than believe in lions. ‘You can really do it if you put your mind to it’... That saying is true for everyone!

Leona: Now that’s some topysy-turvy logic if I’ve ever heard of it.

Leona: As for your ‘answer’... if you manage to find it, be so generous as to share those secrets with the rest of us, won’t you?

Raven: Hehe. Of course I will. That’s a promise!

Leona: We’re done here.

Raven: And not a moment too soon!

Leona, sarcastic: Yeah, yeah, I get it. You’re just so eager to be free of my clutches. I won’t take a second more of your precious time.

Leona, with a smirk: Here. Your bouquet. It’s the first and only time I’ll hand you flowers, so enjoy it while you can.

Raven, flatly: Thank you.

Raven: ... Oh my. What a lovely bouquet. Dark blue and burgundy flowers with speckles of small white and gold flowers... It looks like the night sky. They would make for a lovely color of enchanted ink.

Raven: I don’t recognize a lot of these, but blue roses aren’t natural, are they?

Raven: (It’s like me. Something that doesn’t belong, placed there artificially... but it’s still a part of the bouquet, still a part of the story.)

Raven: If I recall correctly, blue roses mean “mystery”, “the unattainable”, and... “a dream come true’.

Leona: Ever the romanticist. Are you going to stand there stalling for time, or are you actually going to fly the Birthday Road? I’m going to see your flying again one way or another. You might as well get it over with now with some grace intact.

Raven: I-I will! I was just admiring the composition of the bouquet before I left! (Oh, WHY did he have to point that out?!)

Raven, getting on the broom and clearing her throat: W-Well then, if you’ll excuse me! I must be off!

Leona: Finally off to see the world? Bring me back a souvenir and a good story while you’re at it, canary.

Raven: I make no such promises, Leona-san!