#but their idiocy does move the plot

[cynicalclassicist]

Maybe Guigamar has a bad memory for faces. Or maybe it was in the dark. Either way, it is a pretty silly plot. I suppose that it could have been years since they saw each other.

[galaxymagitech]

What Makes Robin Magic?

For @jasontoddweek2025 Day 7:

Return | Outsider POV | Crime Alley

Summary: Jason shows Damian around Crime Alley and explains his own interpretation of Robin's magic.

Characters: Jason Todd, Damian Wayne

Warnings: Shockingly, none this time!

You can read it here or on AO3!

When Damian steps outside of prison—sorry, school—he expects to see Alfred’s sleek black car waiting for him. Instead, he sees the standard line of flashy cars and, near the front, a beat-up red Honda Odessey that looks like it has seen far better days. For a moment, Damian thinks he can get away with ignoring the abomination and call an Uber home, but then Todd waves at him from the window.

Grudgingly, Damian marches over to Todd’s dubiously-safe car and slides into the passenger seat. He notices that, instead of Red Hood garb, Todd seems to be wearing a simple leather jacket, a Green Lantern T-shirt, and jeans. “You,” Todd says, “are eleven. You need to be thirteen to sit in the front.” Damian glares at him and does not move. Todd raises his hands in mock surrender. “Hey, it’s just the law.”

Todd does not care about Damian’s safety. No, he simply wants to humiliate Damian, for the sole crime of having obtained fewer years of age. “Tt. Need I remind you that murder is also against the law?”

“Went cold-turkey—try again.” As usual, Todd is making no sense.

“Why is this turkey cold?” Damian asks, tilting his head.

“Cold—it means I quit immediately,” Todd explains. “Eleven means backseat.”

“I am not a child,” Damian insists. “I am a highly-trained agent of justice.” Todd will not convince him to concede on this point. He is no doubt gathering blackmail—perhaps even giving it to Drake.

“Legally,” Todd says, “you’re eleven.”

Damian sniffs. “Legally, Todd, you are a corpse.” Satisfied that he has won the argument, Damian leans back in his seat. “And corpses cannot drive.”

Todd chuckles. “Fine then, brat. But the seatbelt’s going on at least.”

Damian buckles his seatbelt with the distinct feeling that he fell for some sort of trick. “Where are we going?” Damian asks as Todd pulls out of the line of cars.

“You’ll see.”

“Are you holding me for ransom, as you did Drake?”

Todd chuckles. “No. But if you wanna consider this a kidnapping, feel free.”

“If this is a kidnapping,” Damian says, “I will activate my emergency beacon.”

“Kidnapping is a…loose term. You’re being detained for a fun afternoon outing.”

“Is this how you got Drake too?” Damian asks.

“I’ll tell you a secret,” Todd says, leaning slightly towards Damian. “Tim didn’t even realize he was kidnapped.”

“How?” Damian is aware that Drake is often lacking in common sense and survival skills, but Red Robin is still a detective. Failing to realize you’ve been kidnapped while your enemy ransoms you back to your…guardian, because Father is not Drake’s father…seems to require uncharacteristic idiocy.

“Well, he just showed up at my safehouse because he thought I might be plotting something, and then fell asleep in the middle of said investigation. I managed to ransom Tim back to Bruce before he even woke up. Kid was shocked when B showed up, all worried. It was hilarious.”

“…I suppose,” Damian agrees. He will need to speak to his ally about this, as he has also noticed Drake’s tendency to fall asleep in bizarre locations. It could be dangerous, in the field. Although, he supposes it would be Father or Richard’s role in that case, as he has been repeatedly informed that he does not, in any way, outrank Drake. “Where are we going, then?” Damian asks.

“Home,” Todd says.

Damian arches an eyebrow. “This is not the way to Wayne Manor.”

Todd raises a hand towards Damian’s head. Damian stares Todd down, daring him to finish whatever patronizing gesture he was intending. Todd retracts his hand. Wise move. “Not your home, Demon Brat. Mine.”

“Crime Alley,” Damian surmises.

“Yeah,” Todd says. “Now shut up. My driving skills are for high speed car chases, not local traffic laws.”

It is foolish of Todd to admit such a weakness, but as Damian desires to keep his life and limbs intact, he remains silent until Todd pulls the car to a stop in a dirty alleyway. “You wanted to show me…cigarette butts?”

Todd rolls his eyes. “C’mon, demon.” Warily, Damian follows Todd out of the car. This is looking like more and more of a trap. He thought Todd was on decent terms with Father at the moment—primarily due to what Todd had called a ‘cold turkey’—but perhaps Todd needs leverage. Or, worse, he has regained his vendetta and is going after the current Robin. Perhaps Damian should have returned the mantle to Drake, if it is a target for Todd’s wrath… “Calm down,” Todd says, ruffling Damian’s hair and then dodging out of the way of his punch with a laugh.

“Why are we here?” Damian asks, composing himself.

“Well, I wanted to show you something.” Damian follows Todd as the man leads him through the Alleyway and down a street. They turn into a second alleyway, and Damian immediately sees what Todd wanted to show him.

The first thing that Damian notices is the color. The alleyway’s concrete walls are covered in a rainbow of bold, striking colors. Mostly reds, yellows, and greens, but there are accents in multiple shades of orange, pink, blue, purple, and white. The paint consumes the walls, eating away at the darkness and transporting Damian and Todd to a dimension of color.

The second thing Damian notices is the recurring image of boy in a leotard, tunic, and cape, leaping into action with a grin on his face. Although Robin’s likeness features red, yellow, and green, the unrealistic colors complement these and bring the mural to life.

Damian allows his gaze to drift around the alleyway. Behind the Robins, Damian sees various settings and objects: bubble-letter names, renditions of storefronts…even a spray-painted basketball. Each one, painted in its own unique style, seems to hold a story of its own.

“Isn’t this vain?” Damian asks, once he regains his voice. The murals are beautiful, but it’s just like Todd to make this about himself. “These are you, aren’t they?”

Todd shakes his head. “Nah. They’re Robin.” Damian steps forwards, reaching out to touch the painted wall. He traces the lines of Robin’s cape, taking in every color that appears within the yellow.

“Robin,” Damian echoes.

“And right now,” Todd says, “Robin is you.”

Damian doesn’t know how long he stands there, his hand resting against the wall. But eventually, he rips his gaze away from the art and steps back. “I didn’t know this was here.”

“Yeah,” Todd says. “I happened upon it when I was—I was in a bad place. It helped, a bit. To know that someone missed me. Even if they didn’t know who I was.”

“Who painted this?” Damian asks. The background is in a variety of styles, but the Robins all seem to have been painted by the same person.

“Olivia Medina. Do you want to meet her?”

Slowly, Damian nods.

As they walk, Todd explains their destination. It’s apparently a restaurant known as a “Diner.” Specifically, it is called “Livie’s Diner.” The owner has lived in Crime Alley her entire life and is nearing retirement. All of her children have moved out of Gotham, but she’s made up for it with a horde of honorary grandchildren. Apparently, her tendency to acquire children is somehow even worse than Father’s. Todd calls her “Livie,” but apparently, most of her own waiters and waitresses, several of the street children, and one very embarrassed cook call her “Grandma Livie.”

When they enter the diner, a bubbly woman with blue hair—grey at the roots—greets them. She kisses Todd on the cheek, and Damian watches in shock as Todd accepts it with a smile. “Is this the little brother you talked about, Peter?” Mrs. Medina asks.

“Yeah, this is little Billy.” Billy, Damian mouths in horror. What sort of name is Billy? He glares at Todd and swears he can see the man smirk. Nevertheless, he gives Mrs. Medina a nod of acknowledgement. “You know, Billy was admiring your work on Doyers Street.”

“Oh, that old thing?” Mrs. Medina asks.

“It was…” Damian searches for the right words. It was not particularly technical art, in the way that he saw in the art museums Richard took him to. But somehow, it seemed so alive, like Robin was really there. Like—as ridiculous as it is—the paint held magic. “It was visually striking.” That feels inadequate, though. “The energy…it felt very real.”

Mrs. Medina smiles. “Thank you. Are you a Robin fan?”

“Yes,” Damian says. He is Robin, so he supposes he could be considered a ‘Robin fan,’ as demeaning as the term is.

“Well,” Mrs. Medina says, “he saved this diner, you know? Mr. Freeze was right there and had frozen half my customers. He said he was going to turn on the permafrost section and was about to kill us all, when Robin leapt in from that window over there. And he said, ‘Freeze right there!’ and dropkicked him through the door. And one of my customers, she was frozen to the floor, but she had this baby and the baby was just bawling her eyes out, poor dear. So, Robin went over and picked up the baby and bounced her until she stopped crying. And then he defrosted all my patrons.”

Todd grins. “You tell that story to everyone, Livie.”

“Well, it’s a good story,” Mrs. Medina says, waving her hand. “Now, you boys go sit down.”

Todd leads Damian over to a booth. “Was that you?” Damian asks, once they’re seated.

“Nah, it was Dick,” Todd says softly enough to hide their words from prying ears. “I, on the other hand, saved the diner from Croc, but that’s not as fun of a story.”

Damian can imagine. If Freeze is in a decent-enough mood and caught early, much of the damage is reversable. Killer Croc, on the other hand…

“You’re vegetarian, not vegan, right?” Damian nods. “You’ll get an omelet,” Todd decides. “Livie refuses to tell me her secret recipe, but they’re amazing here. Want anything else?”

It is not lunchtime, but Damian decides not to argue. He could always use a snack anyway, with the physical exertion required for the vigilante lifestyle. When the waiter arrives, Jason chats with him for a couple minutes in French before ordering their food. He’s mostly silent, then, until the omelets get to their table. Todd was right—the omelets are strangely good. Not better than Alfred’s cooking, but…different enough, that they’re not strictly comparable.

“Why did you bring me here?” Damian asks, once he has taken a few bites of the omelet. He sees why Todd might prize this place—a strangely cozy restaurant in the middle of his crime-ridden territory, run by a talented woman who painted a beautiful mural to honor Robin. But, why would Jason take Todd to this place—to his ‘home’?

“Robin,” Todd says simply.

Damian doesn’t understand, but he certainly doesn’t want to admit it. So, he remains quiet and allows Todd to ramble about the de facto homeless shelter he set up a block away with money from his criminal activities. Damian is uncertain if he is supposed to be impressed or not—Todd is a criminal flaunting his crimes to a sworn crimefighter. And yet, Todd seems proud as he talks about how he bribed the police to leave the place alone.

When they finish the omelets, Todd walks over to the nearby booth and has a brief conversation with the shifty-looking boy sitting there. The man writes down a few notes in a notebook he pulls out of his jacket, nods somberly, and walks back. Damian doesn’t ask. Todd pays for the meal and they leave, walking back out onto the Gotham streets.

Damian trails behind Todd, but this time he looks out at the streets in a way he hadn’t before. Instead of simply scanning for threats and noting the presence of graffiti and cracked pavement, he starts to register each one—the face spray-painted on the pavement beside a bench some Boy Scout troop installed, the dandelion growing out of the cracks in the road, the circle with an X carved into the wooden façade of a bakery that indicates the possibility of food for the needy.

“You know,” Todd says, “when I left the League, I missed the baklava. We could get some from that bakery.”

Damian wrinkles his nose. The baklava he has eaten in America is very different from the Leagues. He says as much.

“Yeah, ‘cos there are different variations. The guy who owns this bakery moved here from Iran, and that’s where the head League chef in Nanda Parbat came from. Trust me, you’ll like it.”

So, they get baklava and walk back to eat the sweet and sticky dessert while sitting on the hood of Todd’s battered car. “Why do you own a mini-van?” Damian asks. “It’s…unbefitting of you.”

“No one suspects the mini-van,” Todd says with a laugh. “Really, there’s just more room to carry guns and dead bodies. Not that I’m transporting any dead bodies, anymore, but…you know. If I needed to.”

“Why did you bring me here, Todd?” Damian asks. Because this was surprisingly enjoyable, but Todd is simply an ally, not a friend or a brother. He has no reason to take Damian around the streets where he grew up and introduce him to the people he knows. This has to be some sort of trick or manipulation, some dastardly ploy to gain Damian’s trust.

Todd frowns, then pulls his legs up onto the hood of the car to sit cross-legged. “Because Bruce doesn’t get it. This is—this is why I’m Hood, why I was Robin. Bruce will tell you all about how this is a Mission, but he won’t show you why it matters. Robin has to…care. That's what makes him magic.” Magic. What a silly word. And yet Damian can't bring himself to disagree.

“I care about being Robin,” Damian says. Of course he does. The position is an honor. He is able to bring justice to the world and fight by his father’s side.

“You have to care about the people too, Damian,” Todd says.

Damian bristles. “I am the best Robin! Except, perhaps, for Richard.”

“I’m not trying to insult you,” Todd says, raising his hands. “Just—you care about your animals, right? You’re not just faking that or something?”

“Of course I am not ‘faking that’!” Damian slides off the hood of the car and crosses his arms. “How dare you imply such a thing?”

“Sorry, sorry. You care about your animals. And you know about what they like—I bet you get a special cat food for Alfred, yeah?”

“Only the best,” Damian says. “He deserves it.”

“’course. And you’d do anything to protect them.”

Damian nods. Is this an attempt to control Damian through his animals? Because Damian may follow Father’s code, but if Todd harms Alfred or Titus or Batcow, Damian will make him wish he was dead.

Todd steps onto the pavement and places a hand on Damian’s shoulder. Damian surprises himself by not trying to shake the hand off. “And that makes you strong, Damian. In a way you can’t get just from having a Mission.”

“But Father does care,” he says.

“Okay, Damian.”

“I mean it!” Damian protests. He remembers a time on patrol when Father found a child sitting outside alone. He knelt down and talked to her while Damian waited impatiently on a nearby rooftop. Father spent nearly ten valuable minutes just listening to the child tell him about her dolls. And then, he lifted her onto his shoulders and escorted her home. Father cares, even if Todd can’t see it through his haze of anger.

Damian hadn’t understood why Father had wasted so much time that night. But now, Damian stares at the brick walls of the alleyway and imagines the Robin murals, with their bright colors and secret stories and magic. He thinks of the taste of baklava still on his tongue, this remnant of his childhood tucked away in an area that no one ever gives a second glance. And he remembers the story of Robin comforting that crying baby in the diner.

He thinks he might understand, now.

“Thank you,” Damian says quietly, too proud to let his voice go above a whisper.

Todd pats him on the shoulder. “I’ve got people to maim and you’ve got homework to do, so let’s get you back to the manor. But—” He gives Damian a smile. “Let’s do this again sometime, alright?”

 “I would be amenable to that,” Damian agrees, with the barest hint of a smile.

[ren-rambles-often]

I finally watched Code Geass but before I get to my short rant about the show and the ship you can pretty much guess this is about…. Let me just say….

This show peaked at the pseudo incest brocon subplot, I'm taking no arguments!

Fine, fine, that's definitely not entirely true but Rolo's death had me pausing the show and staring at the screen like for what reason?! Let the boy be hopelessly obsessed goddammit 😭😭😭

Now I've gotten that out of my system…

Guess who's the character I hate most?

shocker I know/sarc

I haven't hated one half of my otp ship in a piece of media this much since that one Episode Nagi panel of Reo's heart getting destroyed by Nagi's dumbass (Reo my love love I'd treat you so much better)

Suzaku's case is worse by several degrees because his idiocy and attitude only continued to stoke the flames of my annoyance for the whole two fucking seasons until like the three or two episodes at the end cause oh my fucking God I cried.

(That shit was a wild ride enough nothing is making me watch any spin offs or side stories I care that little)

From the first moment he entered that Lancelot suit and agreed to help the side that attempted to silence him by murder, I clocked his ass and marked him as the dumbest bitch to ever exist but we love a protective loyal dog Top don't we ladies?

"I want to change the system from the inside-" bitch shut up these are colonizers you ain't changing nothing 😭

Even after they they tried pining the murder on him to sentence him to death AGAIN!! BOY WENT BACK.

AND!

He refused Zero?!

HUH?!?

Now I'm not a particularly patriotic person (I hate my county so so much) but if we got neo colonized, No matter what merits I would never be friendly or cooperative with the other side.

Suzaku stopped his country fighting back (valid reason or not I don't remember, he killed his dad and that meant surrender ig) and proceeded to kiss up to brits, fall in love with one of them, and further hinder every attempt of his own people fighting back because 'Violence wrong' but it's okay when he does it because some made up ideal told him being subservient would make a change. And it did….just for him tho, all other 11s? no one cares.

And it didn't even matter because Lulu's methods were always the ones that brought things closer!

I know it's a kind of a commentary on something, I ain't stupid but I was still pissed.

Literally had me gritting my teeth almost every time he stepped on screen, especially when he went pseudo emo after becoming a knight of round or whatever.

Bottom line, he frustrated me as much as he did Lelouch but I still wanted to see them FUCK.

The last couple of episodes where genuinely the best things I've ever watched and a brilliant end to the series. I wouldn't say I grew to enjoy all the characters but God did the plot threads keep me going.

Trust I understood very little about the gate shit and the killing God aspect but when you're having a fun time everything just looks good.

To sum up SuzaLulu…

Giving me friends to enemies to lovers (correct me not I won't hear you) All mixed together with the palpable hatred and vitriol they held toward each other is just too much.

And Lelouch as a bottom is literally my type >.< psycho, pretty, and bad at sports (also having a natural inclination to dominate others)??? SIGN ME THE FUCK UP!!!

His dramatic ass had me gripped and his personality contrasted so beautifully with Suzaku's dumbass that while I did want to be sad about that redhead he might have liked dying….girl bye 👋 make way for the gay 🏳️‍🌈

(Srsly tho, I was sad for a sec, it was a very shocking scene to say the least but Rolo pulled such a Brocon move I was laughing for a solid minute.)

I very much didn't want to be like most other yaoi shippers that watched this shit when they were ten and went for the very obvious but still delicious low hanging fruit yaoi but I see enemies to lovers mixed with tragic yaoi and an undeniably fun story and brain stops functioning lmaooo. Turns out I'm very much like other fujins ;p

Closing thoughts: Umm…If you're going to defend Suzaku in the replies…go for it I'm down to listen but he'll forever be my bitch. I love Lelouch but Light is better, Orange x Lelouch is underratedand C.C. and Kallen should have gotten married.

[cybussy]

pairing: zoro x sanji / zosan (one piece)

genre: fluff, idiocy, getting together, mutual pining

warnings: none, just headache inducing dumbassery from the two of them

ao3

sanji never liked books. he thinks they're too unrealistic to entertain him. the only ones he can stand are those with recipes.

that was until robin introduced him to a "stupid" romance novel, one that he liked quite a lot.

since then, he's become a bookworm and bonds more with robin over their shared interests. he has also been comparing a certain marimo to the books he enjoys.

about how unpredictable the novels that robin recommended to him are, just like the seaweed. how he enjoys watching zoro's day-to-day routine, just like how the books entertain him. how he thinks he knows where the story is going but then it takes a huge turn- just like zoro, who surprises him with every move he does.

a plot twist, an enigma, that's what zoro is. zoro is like a book to sanji, maybe that's what got him hooked to books in the first place- which he never liked from the start, zoro, yes that's it. he likes books like how he likes zoro.

but of course, the marimo doesn't need to know that.

just like in books, he's gonna be watching from afar, silently watching zoro until he gets his own lover and reaches a happy ending. then that's where his cue to stop is going to come.

books are entertaining and this should be as well, right? he's gonna stay as an outsider from zoro's romance story, like how he reads books. he's gonna root for zoro, the main lead, and his love interest, he would want them to get together, for his own enjoyment as well.

so why the hell does it hurt?

guess that's the difference between books and reality.

the other gives you little pangs of pain whenever the main couple have misunderstandings, the other.. well, makes you suffer in silence. much worse that being kicked by blackleg sanji himself, the very own sanji bets.

'whatever', the blonde brushes it off. these stupid feelings will go away soon anyway. he's too busy to fall inlove, it won't do him any good in finding the All Blue. 'it's just a little crush because zoro is so cool and hot- nothing serious.'

is what he'd like to say if this "stupid little crush" hasn't been here for the past 6 months already.

okay- so he might be slightly inlove with the marimo BUT it's sure to go away soon. he swears.

while he was having an internal conflict about his dumbass feelings, zoro casted him a look, and gave a gut-wrenching (positive) smile that made him want to rip out his beating heart in an instant.

it's times like these that sanji falls harder for the goddamn marimo. a smile so so small while he's working out and the blonde relaxing a few inches away, a pat on the head after zoro finishes his dinner as a praise for sanji's (usual) great food, zoro hearing him out when a sudden depressive episode hits him while they're on night watch, god fucking damn it.

he IS head over heels for zoro, fine. fuck you if you somehow get the balls to mention all of this information to the dumbass.

he has no clue about sanji's feelings, and it shall stay that way because he's not kidding when he says he's gonna throw himself out of the ship, in the middle of this huge ass sea, if god forbid his feelings reached the ears of the seaweed.

zoro suddenly stopped lifting his weights and looked at sanji for a second and said, "hey cook, the dessert earlier was amazing. you remembered that i don't like sweets, thanks."

FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK.

A RARE COMPLIMENT FROM ZORO HE'S GOING TO ACTUALLY DIE.

"ah.. it's nothing. what kind if cook am i if i don't please my customers, yeah?" sanji managed to reply normally despite malfunctioning like crazy on the inside.

he fucking hates this side of zoro.

the rare, soft, gentle, zoro who you might mistake for the man of your dreams if it weren't for the fact that this side of him is the complete opposite of the real zoro who is a brute, stupid, no-table-manners, swordsman.

the soft zoro who always manages to catch sanji off-guard and makes him wanna throw himself to outer space and never come back because of how much his heart was beating for the marimo.

he is exaggerating but he can't help it he's head over heels for the swordsman- not that he actually wants to admit to it.

despite sanji's brain going into ruins he failed to miss the smile that zoro- again- gave him.

this is the worst.

he only wanted to relax in this fine afternoon after the exhaustion of which feeding the bottomless pit that is luffy's stomach gave him, not fall inlove harder with this crewmate!

it doesn't help that their other friends are out enjoying themselves and left only the two of them to guard the ship.

yes, that's right, guard the ship AND NOT UNDRESS THE MARIMO WITH HIS EYES.

this is the worst, oh god- this is the first time he turned to the guy above whom everyone worships and it is shameless to ask but- sanji wishes for a sea king to just appear and swallow him, never to be found, never to come back aboard on the ship with the man he loves.

well apparently god hates non-worshippers because the marimo just had to talk to him again- now with a slight blush on his face.

huh? a blush? what? why-

"cook, are you dating someone?" zoro asked with a voice so quiet it makes it seem like he didn't want to speak in the first place.

sanji, confused, and quite frankly tired of running around in his own mind just because his crush did something cute, replied with a raised voice, "HUH?" which seem to have startled zoro a bit, he's used with the cook yelling all the damn time but he didn't really expect that the blonde would take offense from the question.

zoro slightly panicking, took his question back "shit. should i have not asked? sorry cook, i was curious and robin told me to ju-" but he was cut off when sanji gave a reply.

"no no no just wait you goddamn marimo- i'm not dating someone. and what do you mean you were curious?!" sanji replied with a blush that you can never miss, even if you were the dumbest seaweed on earth.

zoro returned the blush, equally flustered as the other because his motive was just exposed to the chef, "yeah- uh- i was curious, it's like i know everything about you but not if you have a lover or something.. i asked robin and she told me to just ask you directly and i did. is that weird?"

shit. zoro's actions makes it seem like he likes him back.

wait.

like.. him.. back?

"w-why were you curious in the first place anyway? i'm pretty sure you don't have a single romantic bone in you... the question isn't weird but now it is because it came from you!" sanji asked- more like demanded to know to be honest- the blush still not going away from his face.

zoro gave him a dumbfounded look, like sanji was THE dumb one, "why would you ask that? i thought you knew...?" he said with genuine confusion.

before sanji could ask- yell 'what the hell does that mean marimo?!' zoro spoke again, the most unbelievable sentence so far.

"i like you, cook."

for the love of everything holy.

sanji bursted out laughing, though not genuine, "no- haha, i must be dreaming! i read too many romance novels and now i'm projecting on my dreams that the stupid marimo actually likes me back! yeah that's it- that's what's happening here. this isn't real." he nervously laughed it off, after all it's impossible that the roronoa zoro has romantic feelings for someone, let anyone sanji himself.

the chef was proven wrong when zoro's reaction turned into one of concern, "the hell do you mean cook? this is real life. i'm being genuine here and you just laughed it off, just say so if you feel the same way, i can actually take rejections you know." after he uttered the last bit, zoro's expression turned into just genuine sadness, definitely a reaction you wouldn't expect from the man himself.

"no, god no, it's not like that you dumbass marimo! didn't you hear what i just said? i said i like you but i never expected for you to return the feelings- hell, i didn't even expect you to know your own feelings! it just feels like a dream, you know? i've been fighting my feelings for 6 months already and i swore to never let you know but here you are, confessing. i even compared you to the romance novels that robin gave me- said i would've been okay with just watching you from afar getting all happy and soft with your lover even if i knew it was a lie but then you went ahead and said all this. of course i wouldn't believe it!" sanji was practically rambling but he didn't really care, as long as the message gets through zoro's thick skull.

"what? 6 months? i never noticed!"

sanji lit up a cigarette to hide his embarrassment, "told ya' you're stupid." then he blew out a smoke.

zoro frowned at his response, "i could say the same thing to you shit cook. i've been flirting with you for 9 months already and you never noticed."

the chef choked on his own smoke, "what the hell?! how long have you liked me!?" sanji yelled while coughing slightly and zoro replied with the same volume, "since arlong park you dumbass!"

"then why the fuck did you not tell me!?"

"you're always flirting with women, who would?"

sanji looked over at zoro who he didn't notice scooted near him and stopped working out completely, and if he wasn't observant enough he would've missed the pout-y expression that zoro was making, though he was amazing at hiding it.

"yeah, my bad. we're just both idiots huh?" the cook extinguished his cigarette and grinned, zoro shortly returned the face, "yeah. you're worse though. dense as hell love cook."

"even the most intelligent person wouldn't know if you're flirting you idiot! you're always glaring at me and picking a fight, how the hell would i catch the hint? it's not like i can rea-"

"shut up and kiss me, shit cook."

they spent the whole afternoon making out (gross) and cuddling, when the crew came back they sneakily went back to doing their own thing as if nothing romantic happened in the first place.

the crew could tell though. the first fight that broke out between them after the others arrived back from their little trip was practically filled with hearts and flowers all over the both of them.

oh and a certain someone was definitely spying on them, congratulating sanji for making the scenes in his favorite romance novels come to life, albeit not as romantic.

though it is quite obvious that the cook wouldn't have his own romance any other way.

[daydreamingmia]

Walker Scobell X Reader | Series | You Belong With Me🔱 Part 20

Arrived!

You woke up to the sound of a lady saying the plane is landing. You sat up from Walker's lap and looked around. 

"Morning Annabeth" Walker smiles to you

"Morning Percy....wait isn't it like 5 pm?" You ask

"Well...yeah but it's morning for you" He replies

You grab your things and start walking off the plane when you suddenly stop

 "WHERE IS MY PHONE?! SOMEBODY STOLE MY PHONE...WALKER" you looks at him suspiciously

"Hey I'm innocent this time" Walker says with his hands up

You roll your eyes and go back to your seat and see it fell on the floor

"FOUND IT!" you annouce

"See!! I. AM. A. PERFECT. ANGEL." He says smiling a goofy smile

"Sure you are" You pat him on the head as he rolls his eyes

---

You get to the hotel. The man at the front desk is giving you your keys

"Here are your room keys. You are all in one suite but there are 3 rooms. Mz. Goodjohn and Mr. Bushnell will be in the dual bedroom. Mr. Simhadri you will be in the queen room. Finally Mz. Y/l/n and Mr. Scobell will be in the king room-

"What?! I don't wanna share a room with him! He snores!" You say a little loud

Walker just looks at you with fake offended expression

"Don't make that face" you say annoyed

"What face?" He says like he doesn't know

"That one-oh wait it's just your face" you joke

"Well now I'm gonna make this face until we both die" He says

"Well if you do...that day might come a lot sooner for you than you think!" You jokingly threaten

"You heard it everyone! She is plotting against me" Walker yells

Suddenly you hear squeals from about 50 feet away

"Oh no" You mumble

"Ahhhh it's Walker Scobell!!" The girls all squeal in unison taking videos

"Good job idiot now everyone knows we are here" You say annoyed

"Oops" He says under his breath

One of the girl runs up to the two of you

"Omg!! Can I get a picture?" She asks

"Sure" you and Walker say together

You stand to Walker's right and the girl was on his left. Suddenly she shoves you out of the picture and cuddles up really close to him. You fall down she pushes you so hard. 

"Are you okay?" Walker asks you and immediately runs to your side (ruining the picture) followed by Aryan, Dior and Charlie

"Yeah" you say as he helps you up

He hugs you as the girl just glares at you

Apparently she didn't care that you were bffs with Taylor Swift. Apparently she didn't care that you were 10 times as famous as Walker. (No offense to Walker)

"You moved and ruined the picture. Lets take another" She demands rudely

"The nerve of some people" Dior rolls her eyes

"NO" Walker says flatly and walks away with his hand on your waist

"No?! What do you mean no?!" The girl screams at the two of you

"You just shoved my girlfriend out of the picture then said it was blurry. That seems like your problem." He says and pulls you in tighter as the two of you walk away

"What about you guys?!" She says (on the verge of a hissy fit) to Dior, Aryan and Charlie

The three just start laughing hysterically at the idiocy of the girl as you smile

Walker notices this and kisses the top of your head

"I love you" He says sweetly

"I love you more" You reply

----

You were now up to your room

This is the suite⬆️

You look around and see only one bed.

"Oh ain't no way I'm sharing a bed with you too!" You protest

Walker just shrugs

"You're sleeping on the floor" you say to Walker

"What?! No I'm not!" He replies

"Yes you are" you repeat

"No I'm not"

"Yes you are!

"Goodness just share!" Aryan rolled his eyes

"Fine! But if you are annoying in any way shape or form I will kick you out of the bed. And I mean it! I will kick you!" You threaten

"Does she think she's in charge?" Walker says to Aryan

"Did you think she wouldn't be? Come on she's Annabeth" Aryan laughs

You were ignoring Walker and just thinking which side of the bed you wanted. 

"Dior which side of the bed do you think I'm less likely to be murdered in?" You ask her

Walker just turns around confused as Aryan and Charlie walk off laughing

"Hmmm...well I would think the one by the window because the murderer would probably use the door." She replies

"Wait wha-" Walker gets cut off

"Yes but what if he climbs in the window" You point out

"True. Hmmm...honestly i would go with the one by the window." Dior says

"Okay!" You smile

"Wait should I be offended you want me to be closer to the murderer?" Walker asks

"Yes" You reply with no emotion

"Well...RUDE" He laughs

---

It was raining outside

Idk I had trouble finding an outfit this time 😭 feel free to change it pookies😘

You all were playing board games all night (well so far it was only 10pm)

Dior was the banker

Aryan and Charlie voted Walker to be the banker while you and Dior voted Dior. 😝

You threatened Walker to vote for Dior so he reluctantly did hehe

Walker was sitting to your left, Dior to your right and Aryan was next to her and Charlie next to Walker. 

"Oh no" Walker grumbles

"Ha! Yes! You owe me $1000 seaweed brain" you say smugly

"How do you have so much money? I have $1500 left and you're taking $1000!" He complains counting the money

"I don't know. I think you're just a terrible Monopoly player" you laugh 

As Walker was distracted counting his money Dior (secretly) handed you a thousand dollars🤫

You wink at her

"Here. $1000 stupid girl" Walker rolls his eyes

"You mean wise girl" Dior says

"Nope" He smirks

"Idiot" You roll your eyes

"My turn!" You smile

You land on Dior's property

"How much?" You ask

"Uhhh...$50" She hesitates

"Okay!" You grin and start to hand her the money

"Hold on!" Walker says

"Uh oh" You mumble under your breath

"$50 for the boardwalk with a hotel on it?!" He questions as he quickly stands up and snaches the card from Dior

"Hey!-" She complains

"Ha! This says $2000!" He slams the card down on the table

"CHEATERS!" He points at the two of you

"Fine" you roll your eyes and attempt to hand Dior the money

"Hold on a second" Walker says and takes the money from your hand

"This is $200" He waves the money in your face

"Can't blame a girl for trying" You laugh

-

It was about 10 minutes later...

Walker was looking around himself and under things

"What are you looking for?" You ask confused

 "Some of my money is missing" He says still looking

"Did you look behind you?" You question innocently

He turns around and starts looking behind him as you reach over and grab some MORE of his money

Suddenly Walker's hand grabs yours and he turns around with an mischievous smile

"You really think I'm that stupid?" He smirks

"Yeah" you giggle

"Theif!" He yells

"I don't know what you're talking about" You say innocently with his money still in your hand

"What do you mean?! The money you stole from me is in your hand!" He holds your hand up to show you

"How did that get there!" You gasp as if you didn't know

"You're a cheater!" He says

"And? Did you expect me not to be?" You giggle

"I hate you" He replies

"I hate you more!" You reply 

"And you two!" He suddenly yells at Charlie and Aryan

"You two saw all this and let it happen!" He accuses

"They were giving us a cut" Aryan shrugs

Walker looks over at you fake shocked as you nod smugly

"YOU ARE THE WORST AND-" Walker yells at you then gets cut off by the lights going out

——————————-

Hi everyone!! Thank you to each and every one of you for reading!! I appreciate you so much!! I hope you liked this chapter!! What has been your favorite part of this story so far? Let me know!! Please vote and comment!! Love you all soooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo much!! 💓😘💞💓😘💞💓😘💞🫶😘💓🫶😘💓

P.S. HAPPY LATE BIRTHDAY ARYAN!! WE LOVE YOU!! (I know he won't see it but still lol)😝

Tags: @noajakah236482 @the-tortured-poets-depxrtment @yeeteddemigod @walker-scobell-obsessed @callsignwidow @froggyflower264

[mjolnir-brick]

SVT as Demigods

1. Scoups

• Obv Zeus son poor bby - plot twist he's a descendent of Jupiter but dumbfuck Zeus either forgot or doesn't know so he snag Cheol mom and baradaboom is this self incest fic??? Who knows

• Selfless, actually a cinnamon roll, but still intimidating and strong asf

• Jason vibe but more idiocy bc they're SVT

• Able to command the room but still scared of soonyoung s teaching(?) he once said that he'd rather jin the vocal team bc the performance team seems too disciplined

• Just like how Jason is low-key scared of Percy

• Jaw

2. Jeonghan

• Aphrodite son bc beauty(1) and he's sly af have u seen gose - maybe roman so venus instead

• Not as much as a sweetheart like piper bc have u seen gose

• He literally looks good no matter what clothes or hairstyle u throw at him

• Also he can talk u into going into jail effortlessly if that's not charmspeak idk what it is

• Prob likes to judge ppl s relationship but hates it when someone does it to him

• Unlike piper jeonghan has more confidence he knows he's pretty and he's not afraid to use it as a privilege

3. Joshua

• I'd say Demeter - maybe the roman side

• Petty bish we all know

• Combine him w jeonghan and dude will conquer the world w/o moving an inch

• Sunday morning screams Demeter idc

• Honestly idrk what else is similar but anyways

4. Hoshi

• I'd say Poseidon - maybe Greek

• Chill dude but also very energetic at times

• Big three bc he three leaders too

• Why not hades? Bc I think he's too cheerful for that

• But tbh imagine he's son of hades then raising a bunch of undead armies and commands them to dance Macarena and aju nice💀

• It's fine bc he can ask the fishes to do it instead

• Can be scary at times

• Yeogi ocean views 🌊🌊 ☀️

5. Jun

• Maybe Dionysus - def bc there's no way roman camp can handle him

• Bc both are smartass but too lazy or unfocused to do it

• Yk he's weird not even Dionysus god of insanity could understand him

• Tries to hug Dionysus one(1) time only to be soaked in wine instead

• Somehow managed to befriend Hermes and Hephaestus

6. Wonwoo

• Maybe Athena - maybe on the roman side

• He's intelligent he diligent he likes to read

• Has many strategies too

• One of the brains in gose

• Doesn't really see Athena as his parents but as his discussion collage instead

• Sometimes cracks up w no reason

• Blind w o his glasses

7. Woozi

• Obv pluto duh - not mars bc I think roman camp is more suitable for him

• Is also a descendent of Apollo that's why his music side is very strong

• Big three three leaders

• Is also secretly a sweetheart like his father but is very bad at showing them

• Really pale skin that either scares or amazes ppl

• Imagine him raising the undead to sing back vocal for him lmao

• Probably finds the quiet in hades palace relaxing

• Def loves Cerberus

• Gets along well with Persephone somehow and maybe have a beef w Demeter instead

8. DK

• God of music babyyy - Greek side bc Greek is more carefree

• He slays and he knows it

• Have u heard his vocal range

• Doesn't like fighting and prefers healing altho he can just scream and the enemies will stumble instantly if not dead

• Prob calls Apollo to rant once a week and Apollo loves it

• A literal sunshine. Give him smth he likes and he'll light up instantly also literally

• Doesn't like underworld but adores Cerberus

• Put him beside the son of Poseidon and son of Nike he'll be unstoppable

9. Mingyu

• Hestia son

• Personally has a beef w Hecate son bc he's always getting pranked

• Bc he likes to take care of PPL

• He cooks he cleans he listen he malewife harder than ur head

• Don't anger him tho or u'll be thrown out of any safe space u have

• Petty also so if his friends tease him he'll prob make their pillow warm all the time

• No one expects him to be son of hestia bc of his bulky body but once they know him they'll be like awwwww

• Goes twice a month to underworld just to spend time w Cerberus

• If jihoon let's him he'll prob go there twice a week

• Always put up the campfire bc he likes to talk w his mom

• SMH managed to befriend almost everyone in the camp and their respective parents both god and human

10. Minghao

• Hecate son

• He be magic swoosh swoosh

• Is playful but covers it w stoic face

• Likes to prank his friends by playing w the mist

• Idk what else

11. Seungkwan

• Son of Nike

• We all know he's petty af and likes to win

• Very competitive and hates losing

• Very energetic and weird just like Nike

• Wears Nike everyday everywhere and is powerful in it

• Prob has a hawk as a pet

• Speaks to his Nike shoes at times

• Is also competitive w his mom

12. Vernon

• Hypnos s son

• Have u seen ttt gose episodes bc boy sleeps all the time

• That one time nana tour editor has to put Vernon is alive subtitle

• Sleeps through chaos is his specialty

• Either no energy or seagull noises

13. Dino

• Ares son - not mars bc ares is more unhinged and so are dino

• Again dude is very competitive

• Likes to ignite wars

• Often seen in the crime scene either participating or laughing or filming or all of the above

• Has a personal war w himself (read: Pi cheolin)

• Knows his place tho so sometimes stops fights

• Fights w ares regularly

[stupidstrawberrystars]

Hiiii :) So there was a fic in the marauders fandom called Crimson Rivers I never got to read before it was removed.

I’m totally cool with not having read it, I don’t know on what grounds the author chose to remove their work so I don’t wanna be disrespectful, but i’d kind of like to know the plot.

Like who dies? Basically i’m asking for spoilers. Does one of Jegulus or Wolfstar die? What other ships are in it?

I know people have said that it completely moved them and yet was also totally heartbreaking. So what did you love about it? 

Basically this post is just asking people who did read crimson rivers their opinion and some spoilers. 

And if you think telling me would upset the author then please let me know that and i’ll take this down, i’m just curious :)

thank youuuuu

Edit: i have been informed it’s on ao3… I just didn’t check while signed in. Who wants to applaud my idiocy 😭

[alexaplaydeepthroat]

Yours Faithfully, Dracula.

Simon slides a copy of Dracula across to Baz, what else is he supposed to do except sign it?

In which Simon is confused, Penny is exasperated, and Baz is just Baz.

7.2k words, angst, confessions, and excessive use of silence.

Read below, or alternatively read on Ao3.

Baz had been accused of many things. After all, if you’re the boy destined to kill Simon Snow, accusations will become part and parcel with your life.

And he is - destined to kill Simon Snow. He’s infuriating, impossible, and Baz is utterly obsessed with him. The only option is death (obviously). Baz will kill him, and Simon will plunge that infernal sword he’s always swinging about into his chest.

Accusations rolled off Baz like water off a duck’s back. Who cared about asinine accusations when you're a queer vampire, destined to die long before the age of nineteen? So, really, Baz shouldn’t have been bothered when Snow got all up in his face again, gritting his teeth and growling like a mangy animal, acting like Baz would drain every drop of his blood while he slept. When Simon got like this, Baz often thought he rivaled the idiocy of the merwolves—which was saying a lot, considering Simon might be dumb, but merwolves were vile, absolute imbeciles. The more Baz thought about it, the more he wondered if Simon was somehow distantly related to them. But he couldn’t believe Simon actually thought so little of him that Baz would kill him in their shared room—one that only they (and Penny) had access to. After all these years of supposed "plotting," Baz would have a much more sophisticated murder plan than that. Not that he’d given it much thought, but he’d definitely poison Simon’s food. The fool wouldn’t see it coming.

When Simon first called Baz a vampire, Baz nearly laughed out loud. After years of the same tired accusations—murder, uprisings, the usual—Simon had finally cracked it. To say Baz was surprised was an understatement. They’d shared a room for years. Yes, Simon had an irritating habit of tracking Baz’s every move. Baz was convinced Simon kept a diary dedicated to him. So, in theory, it shouldn’t have been such a shock. But then again, everything Simon did was shocking.

For years, Baz had perfected the art of maintaining a nonchalant expression, even while staring into a mirror. Surprise, surprise, Snow, I can see my reflection, he’d think to himself with a sardonic edge. But eventually, it stopped being amusing and became exhausting.

It wasn’t just being in the same room as Simon that drained him—it was the constant, unrelenting tension of Simon waiting for Baz’s fangs to pop out, as if he were some kind of monster about to snap. The anticipation was wearing, and after a while, it started to feel like Simon had given up on it altogether.

But that wasn’t Simon. He didn’t give up. He never had, and he never would. Simon knew Baz was ruthless—everyone could see that, and anyone with eyes could see he was just as gorgeous. Those Grimm-Pitch genetics were a jackpot, really.

Still, Simon had come to realize (thanks to Penny's persistent lectures) that he'd been incredibly tactless in revealing Baz’s vampirism. Baz was no Edward Cullen, and Simon would be lucky if Baz didn’t give him a Viking’s funeral for even implying such a thing. Basilton Grimm-Pitch does not sparkle in the sun, Simon reminded himself. He wouldn’t be caught dead uttering some creepy, “Say it” line either.

In fact, Simon had checked one day just to be sure. He’d stood there, watching Baz in the sunlight, expecting something dramatic—perhaps some sparkle, maybe a shimmer. But no, Baz didn’t sparkle. At all. It would’ve been cool if he did, though. Sparkly Baz, Simon mused, laughing to himself. That was definitely a thought.

When Simon had suggested this hypothesis to Penny, she slapped him on the back of the head. Hard. He was grateful for the protective barrier of her glasses—because, as he well knew, looks could kill. And that day, Simon had nearly found that out the hard way.

How ironic it would be if he weren’t killed by the Humdrum, but by Penelope Bunce instead. The Mage wouldn’t be pleased. Then again, the Mage was never pleased about anything.

The Humdrum—the creature that had stolen his face—was quickly becoming an insufferable thorn in his side. It shouldn’t even be called the Insidious Humdrum anymore. No, it should be renamed the Insufferable, Irritating, Bloody Annoying Prick of a Humdrum.

Even if he did manage to defeat it (though he highly doubted it, but for the sake of argument), his purpose would be over. He’d spent so much time sharpening his blade, perfecting his skill—only for it all to become pointless. His blade would eventually dull. He’d dull. Because without the Humdrum, he would be useless.

What good is a bomb when there’s nothing left to destroy? Sure, there were still rogue vampires and the brewing wizard uprising, but who needed a nuclear bomb for that? He was a weapon created specifically for the Humdrum, and when it’s gone, so was his purpose.

Simon poured all his energy into figuring out Baz. He started by compiling a list of things to test against him:

1. Garlic – Which had proven difficult to sneak into his food. He couldn’t even convince Cook Pritchard to make spaghetti bolognese and garlic bread.

2. Sunlight – Would Baz sparkle or sizzle?

3. Crosses – He’d once flung a cross at Baz, but any reaction was subtle at best, if there was one at all.

His reflection – There was no way Baz could get his hair that perfect without a reflection. If he did, it would have to be sorcery (literally).

But the list wasn’t getting him anywhere. Penny had even told him to stop getting his tips from Hollywood. Honestly, Simon thought Hollywood should start putting more fact into their movies.

They had been taught about vampires and all things monstrous before the Mage came into power, but the Mage had dismantled all the classes Headmistress Pitch considered essential. As a result, Simon couldn’t rely on the traditional methods of vampire detection. Nor was he properly prepared for everything Baz threw at him—but that was exactly how Baz liked it.

So, Simon knew he would have to get creative.

Unfortunately, creativity wasn’t his strong suit. But he knew running at Baz, sword swinging in every direction, had never worked. Not that he was opposed to continuing down that path, but lately, Penny’s pitying looks had become impossible to ignore. So, if he wanted to get anywhere, he’d have to find a new approach.

And so, Simon began a new list. The title? Mission: Get Creative.

But then something strange happened. Simon started staring at Baz. Not in the usual “I’m going to impale you on my sword” way, but in a completely new, unsettling way. Baz had endured his fair share of Simon’s stares over the years—especially recently—but this one felt different. Less hostile, more... curious. And it was driving him crazy.

They were in the study room, sitting side by side (not by choice—Baz wouldn’t willingly endure more of Simon’s awkwardness than necessary). Instead of reading the Normal book in front of him, Simon just stared. Unblinkingly.

For a brief moment, Baz wondered if Simon might be cursed. It would at least explain his strange behavior. But that theory was cut short when Simon slid the Normal book over Baz’s Elocution work, never breaking eye contact.

It took every ounce of Baz’s self-control not to laugh out loud.

Bram Stoker's Dracula. Whether Snow meant it as a threat or not, Baz had long stopped trying to make sense of his bizarre plans—especially when they got as mind-boggling as this one. It wasn’t as if Snow could take a photo of Baz with the book, then somehow the entire World of Mages would discover he was a vampire. “He who reads Dracula must himself be a vampire.” It might not be written anywhere, but Baz wouldn’t put it past Snow to try something like that.

What did he expect Baz to do? Sign it?

Thinking about it, though, that wasn’t such a bad idea. So, Baz did. He signed it in the finest calligraphy he could muster with a biro and, for added flair, drew a heart at the end.

He stood, making sure to leave the book open in the space between them. Then, he walked out of the study room, letting the heavy wooden doors bang shut behind him. Dramatic as always.

Being dramatic was all fun and games until Baz found himself sitting in their shared room—his and Snow’s room—and Snow was an hour late. Maybe subtly revealing he was a vampire to the Mage’s lapdog wasn’t the best idea. Fiona would have a fit if she found out—if she hadn’t already.

It was entirely possible that he’d already been expelled and they were just leaving him to spend his last hours at Watford in peace. Cruel, but in a strangely caring way. Or maybe the Mage’s men were preparing to take him out.

Baz would rather set himself on fire than let the Mage have the satisfaction of killing him.

It was Snow’s destiny to kill him—inevitable, like the changing seasons. One day the leaves would fall, and so would Baz. But the Mage, well, he was a different story. He might think he was omnipotent, but even the Mage couldn’t change destiny.

Baz really wished he could’ve finished school at least. Losing his spot at the top of the class would be a pain. Though, death might be a decent excuse for that.

Maybe, before Snow killed him, Baz would get the chance to kiss him. Just before Snow’s sword pierced his undead heart. Anything for a shock factor.

But thinking about kissing him—and killing him—wasn’t doing Baz any good right now. It never did. Right now, he needed to plan his life as a homeless vampire.

***

A heart? What on Earth was Baz playing at? Merlin and Morgana, it had Simon’s mind spinning. Penny had started looking at him strangely—more strangely than usual—but Simon couldn’t stop himself. He felt like he was losing his grip on reality. Of course, Baz Pitch was the one who’d be the cause of it.

His ears were ringing, his heart racing in a strange, unfamiliar rhythm. It was like the feeling after fighting a goblin or that time, back at Normal school, when the prettiest girl in class handed him a note. The note had been nothing special—no hearts drawn in biro, no love confessions—just a cruel caricature of his face, accompanied by a snide remark. But at least she had noticed him. Most Normals ignored him altogether.

Simon had crumpled the signed page, crushing it in his fist. The creases twisted the heart into a strange shape, but even now, an hour later, the thought of it sent a strange jolt through his body. Maybe he just wanted to fight Baz—that made the most sense.

Signing the book had been unexpected, almost funny. But Baz didn’t have a sense of humor—he wouldn’t know funny if it slapped him across the face. Simon passed the page to Penny. At first, her face fell at the sight of the inked page on the book, but then, she laughed—genuine, almost-tears laughter.

“Go back to your room, Simon,” Penny said between her laughs, clutching her stomach, looking up at him with watery eyes.

Simon was confused, staring at her. “But why, Penny? What does it mean?” He didn’t get why it was so funny, and going back to his room wasn’t even an option. Baz would be there.

“Merlin’s sake, Simon, just go to bed. Sleep on it if you really need to.”

Arguing with Penny about it was pointless—especially when she lowered her glasses, looking at him over them as she laughed, handing the page back to him like it wasn’t the most confusing thing Simon had ever encountered.

***

Simon reached his hand out towards the door of their shared room, hoping, praying, that Baz wasn’t inside. It was a stupid hope, really—he could already smell Baz’s soap from the hallway. The scent of cedar and bergamot hung in the air, making his head spin. It wasn’t even an awful scent, but everything about Baz made his body go into a reeling, violent anger. Even standing outside the room, holding the crumpled signed page in his palm—feeling the sharp creases pricking at his skin—reminded him of Baz.

He slammed the door open, not surprised to find Baz perched on the edge of his bed, a book in his hands. It was strange, though, that Baz looked up at him. Normally, whenever Simon barged into the room, Baz ignored him. And even stranger still, Baz didn’t break eye contact. His grey eyes locked with Simon’s, burning with a quiet intensity, then flicked down to the crumpled paper in his hand, before returning to Simon’s face.

Simon felt an overwhelming urge to know what Baz was thinking. His eyes, however, gave nothing away—emotionless, like tarmac on a road. It wasn’t like Agatha had once described, likening Baz’s eyes to a stormy ocean. No, Baz’s eyes were flat. Empty.

Simon couldn’t stand the silence, the stillness that hung between them. Breaking eye contact first, he marched across the room, stomping to the window. He pushed it open, trying to let the air clear his mind. It was too hot in here—too stifling. The heat from the shower seemed to have soaked into the room, and Simon felt it pressing against him, making everything feel more suffocating.

Baz, however, had turned back to his book, his head tilted toward the pages, his hair shielding half his face from Simon’s view. A few minutes passed, and despite staring at the book, Baz hadn’t turned a single page. Simon sighed, his frustration bubbling up again, before he closed the window—just enough to let in a sliver of air.

The smell of Baz’s soap wasn’t going to kill him tonight.

***

Two weeks had passed, and Simon’s silence had become an unsettling presence in the room. It wasn’t that he’d completely withdrawn—it was more subtle than that. He still moved around the room, still fumbled through his books, still made his presence known with those long, purposeful strides that always seemed to disrupt the air around him. But his usual bluster, his never-ending commentary, his inability to keep quiet for more than five minutes—it was all gone.

Baz couldn’t decide whether it was a relief or a cause for concern.

At first, he hadn’t paid much attention to it. Simon was always dramatic, after all, always bouncing between extremes. One minute he was charging in with a sword in hand, ready to shout at the world. The next, he was brooding in a corner like some moody hero from a teen romance. But this? This was different. It was quieter. Uncomfortably so.

Baz would never admit it, but he found himself looking at Simon more than usual. Just out of the corner of his eye, whenever the silence stretched too far. Whenever Simon absentmindedly pushed his food around on his plate, his fingers absently tracing patterns in the air. He hadn’t cracked a joke in days, hadn’t even tried to make Baz angry, which, to Baz’s dismay, was a familiar pattern.

Their room was silent except for the faint rustle of fabric as Baz shifted, watching him with quiet intensity.

Simon stood by the window for a long moment, staring at the fogged-up glass as if it held the answers to all the questions he couldn't articulate. The silence between him and Baz stretched thin, heavy in the air, until finally Simon turned around. His eyes, normally so sharp and filled with mischief, were now clouded with confusion—and something else Baz couldn't quite place.

The signed page was still in Simon’s pocket, crumpled but unmistakable. It had been two weeks, and Simon had barely spoken a word since he’d seen it. But the thought of it—the ink, the calligraphy, the heart at the end of the name—had been eating away at him.

Without warning, Simon strode across the room, his movements purposeful, but there was something unsteady about them. He stood in front of Baz, arms crossed, his gaze sharp.

“Why did you sign it?” Simon’s voice was low, but there was an edge to it. A quiet intensity that had nothing to do with the usual tension between them. “The page, I mean. With the heart.”

Baz’s heart slammed against his ribs. He’d been avoiding this moment, hoping Simon would forget or that somehow it wouldn’t matter. But there was no getting out of it now. Not with Simon standing in front of him, looking at him like that—like he was waiting for some kind of answer.

Baz took a breath, trying to steady himself. He’d spent years hiding things from Simon—everything from his vampire nature to the complicated mess of emotions that had been quietly simmering under the surface. And now... now Simon was standing there, asking about the heart.

Of course, he was.

“Does it even matter?” Baz muttered, trying to sound casual. It didn’t work. His voice came out more clipped than he intended, his usual bravado slipping away under Simon’s scrutinizing gaze.

“Of course it matters,” Simon shot back, his lips curling into a half-smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. He leaned in slightly, his stance challenging. “So why did you sign it like that? You didn’t have to. You could’ve just... I don’t know, not signed it.”

Baz’s stomach twisted. He had no idea what to say to that. The heart was stupid, reckless, and a little bit pathetic. What had he been thinking? Was he trying to send some message? Was he trying to get under Simon’s skin? Maybe. But it was more than that.

“Why do you care?” Baz asked, his voice barely above a whisper, as though it might betray him.

Simon frowned, his expression softening just a little. “I don’t know,” he admitted, his eyes flicking down to the floor briefly before meeting Baz’s gaze again. “It’s just... weird. You’re weird.” There was an odd vulnerability in his tone that Baz didn’t expect.

Baz laughed, though it came out rough and hollow. “Me? I’m weird? I’m not the one obsessed with Dracula and signs and—” He stopped himself, realizing how it sounded. "It’s just a stupid joke," he finished, his words falling flat.

But Simon wasn’t convinced. He stepped closer, closing the distance between them. “It’s not just a joke. It’s something else, Baz. I don’t get it. Why the heart?”

The question hung in the air like a spell, unspoken and heavy. Baz didn’t know what to do with it. His mind scrambled for something—anything—to say. To brush it off, to make it seem like it didn’t matter. But it did matter. It mattered far too much, and the last thing he wanted was to make it worse.

“I...” Baz hesitated, staring at Simon, his chest tight. “I don’t know. Maybe I thought it would be funny.” His own words sounded weak to his ears. But it was all he could say.

Simon’s brow furrowed. “You’re a terrible liar.”

Baz’s heart skipped. It wasn’t the accusation that hit him, it was the way Simon’s voice dropped, softer now. As if he was almost... disappointed.

A silence stretched between them, the kind that felt like a physical weight. Baz opened his mouth to say something—anything—to deflect, but the words didn’t come. Instead, he found himself looking at Simon, really looking at him for the first time in what felt like forever. His breath hitched, and something inside of him twisted. This was Simon Snow—his enemy, his obsession, his...

Merlin.

“I didn’t mean anything by it,” Baz finally said, his voice quieter now, almost fragile.

Simon’s gaze softened, and for a moment, he looked like he might say something else. But he didn’t. He just sighed and stepped back, letting the air between them cool.

“Whatever, Baz,” Simon muttered, turning away, his shoulders tense but his voice lacking its usual edge. “Just—don’t do it again. It’s weird.”

Baz didn’t reply. He couldn’t. Simon had already walked away, back toward the window, and once again, the silence fell over them like a shroud.

But Baz wasn’t sure how much longer he could live with that silence. Because no matter how much he tried to deny it, no matter how many times he told himself it was just a stupid joke, there was a part of him that didn’t want it to be.

And that, more than anything else, terrified him.

The silence in the room was almost unbearable, a thick layer of air between them, pressing down on both Simon and Baz. Simon had been pacing by the window, hands shoved in his pockets, still annoyed at himself for pushing the whole "signed page with the heart" issue. He kept thinking about what Baz had said—or rather, what Baz hadn’t said. It gnawed at him, making him more unsettled than he’d ever admit.

Baz, on the other hand, hadn’t moved since Simon turned away. He stood near the door, his gaze fixed on some distant point, as if the walls of the room suddenly felt too close. His chest was tight, and for the first time in ages, his mind wasn’t occupied with the usual thoughts of vengeance or hatred for Simon. Instead, all he could think about was that stupid heart. And the way it had made his chest feel when Simon noticed it.

Finally, the silence grew unbearable. Baz couldn’t stand it anymore. The words were bubbling up inside him, too loud to ignore, too persistent to silence. So, against every instinct telling him to run—against every instinct telling him to keep up the façade—he spoke.

“I’m not like you, Snow,” Baz started, his voice rough, like it hadn’t been used in far too long. He turned to face Simon, who was still staring out the window, but there was something in the way Simon’s shoulders were set, something that told Baz he wasn’t really there anymore.

Simon didn’t turn around. “You’re not like me, right. Big surprise.”

“No, I mean...” Baz took a shaky breath, and for the first time, he actually thought about what he was about to say. What he was going to admit. “I’m not like you in a lot of ways. But there’s one thing...” He paused, uncertain. His heart was pounding. “One thing that’s not—”

He couldn’t finish the sentence. Couldn’t find the words. How could he explain this to Simon? How could he put into words the tangled mess of feelings he’d been carrying for years?

But then Simon turned around. His expression was unreadable, but there was something in his eyes, something that made Baz’s stomach twist. Something that made him feel like he had to get this out, or he might never get the chance again.

“I care about you, Snow,” Baz said, the words slipping out before he could stop them. It wasn’t the declaration he’d imagined. It wasn’t sweeping, or dramatic, or anything like the romantic confession in those stupid Normal novels. It was raw and messy, and it tasted like bile in his mouth.

Simon blinked, clearly caught off guard. “What?”

Baz swallowed, hating himself for making this so difficult. “I care about you,” he repeated, but this time his voice was lower, quieter. More honest. “More than I should. More than I ever wanted to.”

Simon didn’t say anything, but his jaw tightened, and for a moment, Baz thought he might just walk out of the room. Leave him standing here like an idiot, waiting for a response that would never come. But then, Simon took a slow step forward, eyes locked onto Baz’s.

“You... care about me?” Simon repeated, his voice a little hoarse, like he was trying to make sense of the words, trying to fit them into a world that didn’t make sense to him. “You hate me.”

“I do.” Baz’s lips curled into a bitter smile. “I hate you. I hate the way you breathe. I hate the way you look at me like I’m a puzzle you have to solve. I hate the way you’re always in my face, making me want to break something just so I don’t have to feel it.”

He took a step closer, not letting Simon interrupt. Not that Simon ever did. “But... it doesn’t change anything. I still care about you. More than I should. More than I could ever explain.”

Simon was silent for a long time. The room felt so heavy, so unbearably thick with tension. Baz thought his chest might implode, suffocating under the weight of the confession. But Simon just stood there, staring at him with that same expression—a mixture of confusion and disbelief.

“I don’t know how to feel about that,” Simon said finally, his voice tight.

“You don’t have to feel anything.” Baz was almost relieved. He didn’t want Simon to feel anything—at least, not the way he felt. It would only make this worse. “I’m just—just telling you because... because it’s driving me mad. And I can’t go on pretending it’s not there anymore.”

“Pretending?” Simon’s eyebrows furrowed. “You’ve been pretending this whole time?”

“Every day,” Baz said. His heart pounded so loudly in his ears it was hard to think. “And now I can’t. So there it is. I care about you, Snow. I don’t know why, but I do.”

For a long moment, neither of them spoke. It felt like everything had stopped, like the whole world had held its breath, waiting for something to break the tension between them. Finally, Simon’s lips parted.

“I—” Simon started, but stopped. He looked down at the floor, as if gathering his thoughts, his brows knitted together in concentration. And then he looked back up at Baz, his expression softer than Baz had ever seen it.

“I don’t know what to do with that,” Simon said quietly. “But... I guess I don’t hate you either. Not the way I used to, at least.”

Baz’s heart skipped a beat. For a moment, he thought he might actually suffocate from the way his chest tightened. But he didn’t care. Not anymore.

Instead, he stepped forward, closing the gap between them until there was nothing left but the space between their breaths. "Good," Baz murmured, his voice low. "Because I don't know what to do with it either."

Simon stood frozen, his mind spinning in a thousand different directions. He opened his mouth to speak, but the words stuck in his throat. There was so much to process, so much he wasn’t ready to face.

He stared at Baz—really looked at him for the first time. Not the usual glint of irritation in his eyes or the smug, infuriating smirk, but something raw. He felt exposed.

“Why didn’t you just tell me?” Simon finally managed to ask, his voice rough and uncertain. His mind was struggling to catch up with what had just been said.

Baz was silent for a moment, his eyes drifting down as if suddenly aware of the way Simon was looking at him. His chest tightened with an unspoken weight—everything he’d just said hung in the air like a live wire, charged and dangerous. He’d crossed a line. He knew it the moment the words left his mouth.

His expression flickered—just for a second—before he quickly masked it. He took an almost imperceptible step back, putting just enough space between them so that Simon couldn’t read the uncertainty on his face. Baz’s posture stiffened, his jaw setting in a way that told Simon he was shutting down, retreating into the carefully constructed walls he’d built around himself for years.

“I—I don’t—” Baz stuttered briefly, as if he could taste the words that had almost slipped from his tongue. Then, as if realizing how vulnerable he’d allowed himself to be, he threw his shoulders back and sneered. “Forget it,” he said, voice now colder, more distant. “It’s nothing.”

The words came out flat, defensive, and Simon immediately felt the shift. It wasn’t just the physical space between them—it was in the way Baz’s eyes had become hard again, like they had been moments before. That familiar wall of bitterness and arrogance was going up, brick by brick, and Simon couldn’t help but feel the sting of it.

Baz stepped further away, his back now to Simon as he brushed a hand through his hair with a dismissive flick. The casual gesture was meant to show indifference, but Simon could see the tension in his shoulders. “It doesn’t matter,” Baz said, his voice steady now, the earlier rawness buried beneath a veneer of ice. “Forget everything I said. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

Simon’s chest tightened. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to punch Baz or shake him. This... this was the Baz he knew. The one who pulled away the moment things got too close. The one who made it clear he’d never let anyone get close enough to hurt him.

But Simon wasn’t backing down.

“You can’t just say that,” Simon snapped, stepping forward, his anger suddenly bubbling to the surface. “You can’t just—” He stopped himself, the words catching in his throat as the weight of Baz’s change in demeanor settled over him. “You can’t just take it back, Baz.”

Baz’s eyes flashed, a challenge in them, but there was no real fight behind it now. The anger, the frustration that had driven him moments ago, was gone. He looked... almost defeated. He gave Simon one last glance, his eyes colder than ice, then turned his back completely.

Baz’s lips twisted into something that was almost a sneer, but there was no malice in it. Just bitterness. “And let you have the satisfaction? I don’t think so,” he said, his voice cold, but there was an edge to it. “Besides, it’s not like you would have cared, would you?”

Simon was taken aback by the sharpness in his tone. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Baz scoffed, his gaze flicking briefly to the side before meeting Simon’s again, more intense than before. “It means I didn’t want you to think you’d won. Not in this, not with me.”

Simon swallowed. It felt like a punch in the gut, but he couldn’t quite figure out why. His hands clenched at his sides, and he wanted to say something—anything—but the words felt like they were lodged too deep in his throat.

“Look,” Baz continued, his voice lowering, colder still, “I don’t want to care. I’ve spent years trying not to, okay? But it’s like everything I do, you’re there, making everything worse. I hate it.”

Simon blinked, thrown off by the bitterness in Baz’s voice. It sounded familiar, like the usual anger Baz directed toward him, but there was a deeper layer to it. A frustration that wasn’t just about Simon’s existence. It was about something more.

“But you do care,” Simon said, his voice quieter now. “You’ve been trying so hard to push it away, and I—I don’t get it. I don’t know why you care about me. Why now? Why after all this time?”

Baz’s eyes flickered with something unreadable for a moment, and then, in the blink of an eye, the sharpness was back. “You think I’ve been waiting for this moment? For some confession or whatever?” Baz sneered, taking a step back as if to distance himself from the situation. “I don’t do ‘feelings’, Snow. I never have.”

Simon could feel the tension in the air between them, thickening with every word. Baz’s eyes bored into him, and Simon couldn’t help but wonder if this was a test. If Baz was trying to provoke him, or maybe trying to make him leave. Push him away before things got any worse.

“So, what now?” Simon asked, unable to stop the words from tumbling out. “You just expect me to—what? Leave?”

Baz’s lips curled into something that could have been a smirk if it weren’t so tired. “You’re free to go, Snow. Don’t let me keep you.”

Simon’s throat tightened at the dismissive tone. But as much as he hated how Baz was acting, he couldn’t ignore the gnawing feeling in his chest—the strange ache that had been there for so long, but had grown sharper now.

“You’re really good at pushing people away, aren’t you?” Simon muttered under his breath, more to himself than to Baz.

“Doesn’t matter,” Baz said quickly, his voice cutting through the air with an edge that almost sounded like pain, though he didn’t show it. “Nothing matters.”

Simon stood there for a long moment, caught in the storm of his own thoughts, unsure of what he wanted from Baz, or from this conversation. He didn’t know what he was hoping to find here. He didn’t know what to do with any of this.

The tension between them was suffocating.

“I need to go,” Simon said suddenly, his voice tinged with frustration, though he wasn’t sure who it was aimed at. Him? Baz? Maybe both.

Baz didn’t respond, just watching him with those unreadable grey eyes. But the silence that hung in the room was thick with something unspoken, something that Simon wasn’t ready to unpack.

“I need to talk to Penny,” Simon muttered, turning on his heel and walking toward the door, the signed page still burning a hole in his pocket.

He heard Baz’s voice, low and sharp, just before he closed the door.

“Whatever you think you’ve figured out, Snow, you haven’t,” Baz said, his voice colder than before, but there was an undercurrent to it. Something that wasn’t quite anger, but something else entirely.

Simon didn’t turn back. He couldn’t. Instead, he stepped out of the room, his chest tight with conflicting emotions, the weight of Baz’s words lingering in his mind.

He had to talk to Penny. He had to make sense of all this. He couldn’t be alone with his thoughts right now. They were too jumbled, too confusing. All the signs had been there for years, hadn't they? The fighting. The tension. The obsession. The... heart.

Simon stopped in front of Penny’s door, knocking urgently.

“Penny!” He nearly shouted, his voice strained with something—he wasn’t sure what exactly—frustration? Panic? Desperation?

The door opened, and Penny raised an eyebrow at him, concern flickering across her face. “What’s going on? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“I—” Simon stepped into her room, closing the door behind him quickly. “Penny, I need to talk to you. About Baz.”

Penny raised both eyebrows now. “You mean... Baz? Is this about the signed page again?”

“Yeah. No. I don’t know,” Simon groaned, pacing in the small space. “He—he just said—he said something... and then he stepped back, like he didn’t mean it, like it didn’t matter, like I shouldn’t care, but—”

“What did he say?” Penny asked, her voice softer now, knowing the gravity of the situation.

Simon ran a hand through his hair, trying to organize his thoughts. “He admitted it. He admitted it. He admitted he has feelings for me. And then... then he shut down. Like it didn’t matter. Like he couldn’t let it be real.”

Penny was quiet for a moment, her eyes narrowing as she took it all in. Then she tilted her head, her voice calm but pointed. “Simon, I think you already know. Don’t you?”

Simon blinked, looking at her with wide eyes. “What do you mean?”

“Think about it, Snow,” Penny said softly, walking over to him. “You’ve been obsessed with Baz for years. You’ve fought, you’ve hated him, you’ve argued with him like no one else. You’ve been trying to convince yourself it’s just... rivalry, or maybe just... annoyance. But it’s more than that. You’ve always known. You just didn’t want to face it.”

Simon’s breath caught in his throat. He stared at Penny, feeling a strange, unfamiliar tightness in his chest. Was she right? Had he always known?

“I—” He stopped, shaking his head in disbelief. “But I’m supposed to hate him. It’s my destiny. How can I—”

“I know,” Penny said, interrupting gently. “But Simon, the truth is, everything’s been leading up to this. You’ve always been obsessed with him because you’re feeling something else. Something you can’t explain. You don’t have to figure it all out right now, but you know what you’re feeling. I think you’ve always known.”

Simon stared at her, her words sinking in slowly. It was terrifying. Everything he thought he understood had just... shifted.

And then, the realization hit him all at once.

He had to go back. He had to talk to Baz. He couldn’t leave it like this. Not anymore.

“I have to go back,” Simon muttered, more to himself than to Penny.

Penny smiled faintly, though it was a knowing smile, the kind that said she saw right through him. “Good luck, you’ll need it.”

Simon nodded, his mind already set, and left her room before he could second guess himself. Every part of him screamed at him to go back to Baz, to face what was really there between them. To stop running.

His mind raced with questions, doubts, and the overwhelming need to confront whatever had been building between him and Baz. All the years of animosity, all the insults, all the tension—it all came down to this.

When Simon slammed the door open, Baz looked up from his spot on the bed, his eyes narrowing, but his expression unreadable. Simon didn’t wait for him to speak.

“I need to know,” Simon said, his voice hoarse, as if the words were trying to escape faster than he could form them. “I need to know what you meant. You can’t just drop something like that on me and expect me to walk away.” He stepped closer, his pulse quickening with every word.

Baz’s face remained a mask, but Simon could see it in his eyes—whatever this was, it was new for Baz too. Baz shifted uncomfortably, almost imperceptibly, like he was trying to retreat back into himself.

“You’re right,” Baz said quietly, his voice carrying an edge that Simon couldn’t quite place. “I shouldn’t have said anything. It was foolish of me.”

Simon’s heart clenched. “Why? Why would it be foolish?” he asked, moving even closer, unwilling to back down now. “What do you want, Baz? Because I—” He stopped himself. No, he couldn’t say it out loud, not yet.

Instead, Baz took a step back, his posture stiffening. “You don’t want this, Snow. I told you—this doesn’t matter. I don’t care about any of it.”

Simon didn’t believe him. Not for a second. “You’re lying,” he said, his voice steady despite the way his body was trembling with uncertainty. “You’re lying to yourself, Baz. And to me.”

For a long moment, neither of them spoke. Baz’s expression remained unreadable, but his eyes flickered with something that Simon couldn’t name. Finally, Baz sighed, shaking his head.

“Maybe I’m the fool here,” Baz said quietly, almost to himself. “But I can’t keep pretending it’s nothing.”

The words hit Simon like a punch to the gut. Baz—Baz—was admitting it too. Whatever this was, whatever it had been for all these years—it was real.

And then Simon did something he didn’t quite understand himself. Something that had been building for so long, bubbling under the surface, until now. Without thinking, he closed the distance between them. His hand reached out, tentative at first, before resting gently on Baz’s chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart through the fabric of his shirt.. He didn’t look at Baz, not yet. He couldn’t. Because if he did, he might lose his nerve. Instead, Simon leaned in, closing his eyes as he moved closer, his breath coming in shallow bursts, desperate to feel what was undeniably true between them.

Baz didn’t pull away.

And that was all Simon needed to take the final step.

His lips brushed against Baz’s, hesitant but firm, as if he was testing the waters, trying to figure out if this was real. He expected Baz to push him away, to laugh at the absurdity of it all, to mock him as he usually did. But when Baz didn’t move, when he stood still, it felt like the entire world had paused.

And it didn’t feel electric, like fireworks and lightning and everything suddenly slotting into place - it simply felt like Baz’s lips against his own - it was a slow burn. A quiet question.

And then, something shifted in Baz’s body, like he finally gave in to something he’d been fighting for far too long. Baz’s hand moved up to Simon’s neck, pulling him closer. His lips were soft, but there was a possessiveness in the way they pressed against Simon’s, as though Baz was marking a territory that had always been his, in some twisted way.

Simon’s heart raced, the kiss deepening, as if everything they had never said—everything they’d hidden behind sharp words and fists—was suddenly being spoken without a single sound.

He wanted to pull away, to breathe, but he couldn’t. Not yet. Not when everything about this moment felt too right, too dangerous to stop.

When they finally pulled back, Simon’s chest was heaving. His face was flushed, his lips tingling from the kiss. Baz stood in front of him, his eyes dark, unreadable for a moment. Then, slowly, almost imperceptibly, a smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth.

“Is that how you’ve been spending all your time, Snow?” Baz said, his voice rough, but with that familiar edge of sarcastic amusement. "Building up to that?"

Simon let out a shaky breath, still too stunned to speak. His fingers were trembling, but his heart was pounding in his chest—fast, frantic, but alive. "I... I don’t know what I’m doing," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "But I know it was real. That kiss—it’s real."

Baz’s smirk softened, just a little, though he quickly masked it with that classic cold exterior. He took a small step back, the distance between them settling like a wall Simon hadn’t expected to see.

“Real, huh?” Baz’s tone had lost some of its bite, and Simon could hear something vulnerable behind his words. “You think it changes anything?”

Simon’s chest tightened, the weight of the question making the air feel thick. “I think it changes everything,” he said, his voice steady, despite the chaos in his mind. “I’m not sure what happens next, but I know I’m not going anywhere. Not now.”

Baz stared at him, his expression unreadable, but Simon could see the shift in his eyes. The walls that had always stood between them—the sharp edges, the insults, the distance—they were starting to crumble.

“Good,” Baz said quietly, his gaze softening just a fraction. “Because neither am I.”

The words hung in the air, settling between them, not quite an admission, but something close. Simon could feel the heat rising again—the undeniable pull, the magnetism, the truth of what they had just shared.

For once, he didn’t have to fight it. He didn’t have to run from it.

[densesindealer]

Can I ask: why do you dislike Hajime Hinata? I like both him and Makoto for different reasons but I genuinely never heard such a statement before.

Hajime is consistently a non character. He doesn't have a personality for almost the entire game until the final chapter where he becomes just edgy and angsty. During the entire game, he also just appears in each place for the plot with no real rhyme or reason. Hajime just gets dragged around because they need him to be a camera on wheels rather than an actual character.

During the class trials, he never even really does anything and is constantly praised as smart despite his idiocy. He parrots the arguments of those around him and almost never actually presents the evidence on his own. He constantly needs to be spoonfed the answers by Chiaki and Nagito, who are the ones who almost always actually solve the trials.

Then you have the free time events with other characters. Whenever another character is in a free time event with him, he does nothing. They tell him their problems, and he essentially says, "Damn, that sucks. I hope that works out for you" and moves on from it. Then, that character will thank him and praise him like he actually did something.

He is absolutely tied for my least fav character in the series with Himiko because both are atrocious for separate reasons. In essence, this is why I hate Hajime so much.

[isupposethisisagoodusername]

Jason, at the biweekly dinner at the manor where everyone goes: Something wrong guys? You all seem awfully tired.

A bit after Bruce rescued Jason from the Joker and he retired, a new criminal showed up.

Red Hood, a crime lord that quickly takes over the Gotham underworld. He's violent and brutal, kills some people but usually refrains from it. He does shoot live rounds and injures people terribly but rarely ever murders.

And the bats are losing their shit over it, they just can't catch the guy, rarely ever crossing paths with him as if he knew their patrol routes and where each of them was at all times.

Jason, at the biweekly dinner at the manor where everyone attends, it's mandatory, if someone doesn't go they get a disappointed letter from Alfred and it fucks everyone up: Hey guys, are you alright? You seem all awfully tired.

Bruce, worried about telling Jason too much to not stress the poor kid out: Don't worry about it kiddo, just a new criminal worrying us.

And Dick catches the small glint of mischief in Jason's eyes as he agrees and drops the subject like Jason would've caught the same glint in his own eyes when they were younger and Dick pulled some prank.

Dick, later that night: alright little Wing. What's up with you? You're plotting something I can tell.

Jason, faking idiocy: me? What, come on, I'm not. You're just upset I moved on from being Robin. Wanna play videogames and eat cereal?

Dick, wanting to play videogames and eat cereal now: I wish, sorry. I've got patrol scheduled for tonight.

Red Hood, even later that night, taunting Nightwing with some dumb voice changer on: Come on Nightwing, where do you think you are, at home playing videogames?

It pisses Dick off so much that Jason legit has to fucking hide to not get caught and he doesn't even know how he managed to escape.

Jason doesn't taunt Dick anymore after that.

Then, one week, Jason is away for some nerd thing and Red Hood shows up on the other side of the country.

Without all the knowledge of where the heroes would be, Red Hood gets caught.

They bring him to the Watchtower and call Batman.

Superman: Batman, I think you'll like to know that we caught that Red Hood criminal of yours.

Batman goes over there with Nightwing because Dick has been dying to beat him up.

Wonder Woman pulls off the helmet and of course the dramatic theater kid fuck has a domino mask underneath that shit.

Red Hood, ashamed, looking the other way with a dumb apologetic smile on: Hey dad.. I can explain...

Nightwing folds over laughing.

Nightwing, fallen on the floor while Batman laughs softly: I fucking knew it you dick!

Red Hood, offended to be called by his brother's designation: Hey fuck you! You're the Dick here!

Batman starts laughing because now they're both bickering like they would as children.

The League is scared because Batman doesn't laugh.

Dick takes so many pictures with Jason tied up and then a concerning amount of children with bat symbols on their suits of armour show up to also take selfies with him.

Red Hood, being untied: I hate you all.

Nightwing jumps him and suddenly all of the children are sparring in the middle of the Watchtower.

The League is concerned for Batman's sanity.

After that, Red Hood is taken off the wanted list and gets a bat symbol on his chest.

He also takes selfies with Wonder Woman.

A fanfic idea:

Bruce was able to rescue Jason before he died, and after this experience, Jason stopped being Robin.

He became afterwards the golden child, he goes to college (with a scholarship), helps out in the city library, teaches children (helps with their homeworks and helps them to study), works part time in a car garage in crime alley, and is a supportive brother.

And it pisses his siblings off.

Because there has to be something fishy because no one, really no one, is that perfect.

And there is something fishy.

He is also Red Hood.

No one knows, and the vigilantes never talk to Jason about "the family business" because he needs to concentrate on his studies and other stuff.

So imagine, Batmans suprise when the JL was able to catch Red Hood.

Someone takes Jasons helmet off in front of Batman, Nightwing, and other members

And Jason, who wears also a domino mask, doesn't look Batman in the face even as he says :

"Hey Dad. I can explain."

And Dick loses his shit, he laughs so hard because, Jason, The golden child, the one who gave up on being a vigilante, who reads to children in the library, is a goddamn crimelord.

Bruce just stands there frozen because wtf Jason?!

And Dick takes selfies with Jason being tied up and calles the other Batkids in because they should definitely not be left out of it.

(Edit: As someone who doesn't really write (or can write good stories), I want to say, feel free to use this prompt for a fanfiction. Just please give credits to me (because I don't know if someone else had also this idea and posted it) and please inform me if you publish something (because I want to read a fanfiction like this too))

[shotgvnshell]

morgan jarrett, was it? welcome to the safe zone. it says here you’re a 30 year-old ranch hand? just verifying. according to the others, you’re both reliable and cynical. but, that shotgun you brought with you? keep it to yourself. guard it. things will blow over soon and you can go back to looking after livestock. ( brie larson, cis woman, she/her )

full name: morgan blanche jarrett age: 30 gender: cis woman pronouns: she/her date of birth: may 10 astrology sign: taurus sexuality: lesbian occupation: works on her parent's ranch in redding, california height: 5’9” parents: willa (60) and michael (61) jarrett sibling(s): little sister, katelyn (25) positive traits: loyal, independent, resilient negative traits: aloof, nihilistic, paranoid

background

religious trauma, homophobia mentions tw

eldest daughter to two cattle ranchers, morgan was raised in a loving family that espoused optimism and warmth. the jarretts were familiar faces among community events, known for their involvement and dedication to agriculture in the county.

morgan, however, has always been much quieter and more reserved than her extroverted parents. she was a familiar sight trailing behind them at community events or off in the sheds by herself.

her childhood was spent getting her hands dirty, with no illusions about the role of death in the family business. her parents made a conscious effort to involve their daughter in the operations of the ranch from an early age. she carries that quiet confidence in her capabilities with her to this day.

aged seventeen, her parents sent her to the local church youth group. in spite of being secular, they wanted to broaden their daughter's world view and hoped she would make a few friends in the process. instead of an appreciation in organised religion, what developed was a first love, born from morgan's constant questioning of the teachings and violet's curiosity.

upon discovery and subsequent loss of contact with her first love, morgan's naturally quiet disposition became her armoured defence. close emotional connections were never a need.

she finished high school and never considered further education. she knew her place was to take over the operations once her parents were ready to retire from the physical demands of the day-to-day.

she found herself in dc on her way to visit her sister in maryland. her sister had moved east to take over their late uncle's property. morgan never made it as far as maryland before the decay began, having opted to drive across the country in her pick up truck towing a trailer of equipment to aid the clean up of the property.

morgan is now stuck in dc, having found refuge in the safe zone for now, with no contact with her family.

wanted connections (apologies in advance, she's difficult to connect in by nature)

she keeps almost everyone at a distance, but she's capable of trusting a few people. she gravitates toward people like her- the quieter and more pragmatic souls.

on the flip side, give her some adversarial relationships. because she does not shy away from speaking candidly, especially in the survival situation unfolding, i'm sure she rubs some people the wrong way.

morgan does have some ambitions to leave the safe zone, too worried about her sister to sit idle. she's making plans (whether they eventuate or not is a separate issue), but she'd find connection and may band together with others with similar plans. or argue about it with people who (rightfully) see the idiocy in her ambitions

by no means is this list exhaustive so come have a chat if you're keen to plot!

[tabslabs]

Had a dream I was browsing Netflix and stumbled across a fun fantasy cartoon following these 4 and the shenanigans they got up to. The characters were pretty fun & the plots were kind of nonsensical but overall I liked it and I was sad to wake up and realized the show wasn’t real Purple elf mastered the 52 Elven Transformations (52 being the # of creators) which allows him to transform into anything 3 times a day. He also has the ability to turn into the world’s tiniest corgi at will (slightly smaller than a softball). Knew other non-named spells too Green elf didn’t really do much in terms of fighting or magic but implied she could beat everyone in the room with a single wave of her hand if she wanted to. She was mostly tagging along to watch what absolute idiocy the rest of the group would get up. Sarcastic but she cared Human was the only one who’s name I remember (Jason). He was friends with the dwarf because they competed in some tournament(s) together. Incredibly awkward, even more so when he has to keep a secret/tell a lie. Frankly just does what people tell him to as best he can Dwarven paladin, used to compete in tournaments, but moved on. A nearly textbook lawful good. He’d come up with thorough plans whenever he had to do something. If the plan starts going wrong he wouldn’t amend it or come up with a plan b, he’d just power through it. Worth noting that since Jason still competed in tournaments regularly there were I guess in show fangirls for him who assumed he was a really cool strong silent type instead of an awkward guy. Mostly he ignored them.

Mitch says he would be a tumblr sexy man if the show was real Oh also the green elf does have both arms she just regularly keeps them in her cloak.

[s7hummel-blog]

without ...

without any sense by ignorant

But the expanding universe exists, creates its own space. And even "physicists argue that the universe itself is the result of such a quantum fluctuation". But the existence of quantum fluctuation means that it is simply space … space before the Big Bang! So not finite universe without borders.

How stupid scientists must be if they think that Something appeared out of nowhere and from nothing, spontaneously, as the Big Bang. Energy from nothing, and next matter, stars. And over a period of 5 billion years, several trillion of galaxies appeared. And this is all that the universe may create, and next it is just expanding faster and faster until it disappears (big rip).

It is not enough to read the Bible or create revealed theories … enough to think. Because at this moment nothing make sense, as scientists have not yet managed to figure out how galaxies can form in the expanding space and even collide between themselves. Senseless questions, so why I ask. Because it is a question about the sense of the universe.

But it seems that brilliant minds in their naive wisdom are not even aware that the image of their ignorance is right before their eyes, as the pretty stupid analogy with baking bread. How make they think? Maybe my analogy help: we bake a raisin bread that weighs 2 pounds, and when baked, it is many times bigger, weighs 20 pounds, and 20 times more raisins.

"The analogy doesn’t give you the real stuff about the expansion of the universe" sc. That's true, but at the same time, it is the perfect example of scientific stupidity. Of course, this analogy may be (even) imperfect for various reasons, but cannot falsify the truth, even revealed truth!

part 1

Nothing is certain in cosmology, but if we observe a gravitationally bound cluster of stars, e.g. Andromeda, so undoubtedly also must be a gravitationally bound clusters of galaxies. But 99.99% of scientists say galaxies are moving away, and this denies the existence of clusters of galaxies. So scientists must explain how and where several trillion galaxies appeared? Probably not in the expanding space of the universe, because that's where galaxies collide (joke).

But from the very beginning, it made no sense at all. A theory describing the universe based on the observation of 24 or 46 galaxies. In the 1920s, Edwin Hubble had the right not to know that galaxies are not free objects without any constraints, but are grouped into clusters of galaxies, and so on. Scientific observations of galaxies (redshift) in a gravitationally bound cluster of galaxies, have no scientific sense at all. It is not known what redshift implies, but it certainly does not mean that dark energy working in the cluster of galaxies.

The greatest paradox of this supposedly scientific evidence is that cannot have a scientific basis. "Hubble first plotted the trend using 46 galaxies". And scientists so proud of their wisdom that observing of 46 galaxies allowed to understand the essence of the entire universe. How can scientists so cruelly mock one's own stupidity. "Today, 85 years later, the Hubble Law is a given, measured with high precision to vastly larger cosmic scales than Hubble's first glimpse into our immediate cosmic neighborhood".

part 2

The infinite eternal universe … and next was finite expanding universe, a stupid scientific creation something from nothing, effect of ignorance and misunderstanding.

Of course, it can be said (with a large dose of idiocy) that the universe (as the Big Bang), was created from nothing, but this is only the beginning of the problems.

"During inflation, as the universe gets bigger and bigger and more and more matter is created" guth. So it was inflation … but how when the speed of (repulsive) gravity cannot exceed the speed of light and the space that creates matter is no longer empty space (the limits to the speed of light begin to work).

If inflation failed "produce" something that could form trillions of trillions galaxies, then we have a problem. But that's just a rather scientific thoughtlessness. Maybe it is a just a joke from scientific stupidity. Because even if the Big Bang could create something out of nothing or inflation produced something that could create trillions of galaxies, it doesn't make any sense. Because such stuff can be only created by expanding space, of course if such a universe were to make any sense at all.

But at this moment nothing make sense, because scientists have not yet managed to figure out how galaxies form in the expanding space, but not in clusters of galaxies. It is not enough to have a brilliant theory that for the first 5 billion years, gravity dominated, and this enabled the formation of 3 trillion galaxies. And next dark energy began to dominate and no more galaxies. Only there is a small problem.

This universe is not something temporary. If arise, cannot disappear or fall apart; such a universe must be eternal. Because energy (spacetime) cannot be lost, it cannot rip, and it is absolutely necessary for the trillions of trillions of galaxies to appear. So the rapidly expanding universe means not only more space containing energy, and proportionally more matter, more galaxies. Because space produces matter, and every process depends on all others, so there won't be more space without galaxies - without trillions of trillions of galaxies, there is no expanding universe.

But scientists don't understand any of this. So maybe they know how to add a pound of raisins to a just baking raisin bread? Or maybe brilliant minds, in their naive wisdom, are aware of how to add trillion of trillions of galaxies to the expanding universe. Maybe a similar analogy: You bake a raisin bread that weighs 2 pounds, and when baked, it weighs 20 pounds, also 20 times larger, and 20 times more raisins. Perhaps the stupidest analogy that contradicts the wisest scientific truth: "Universe is getting less dense as it expands".

But the time is coming, when a new Webb telescope may change everything, even stop the expanding universe, the greatest scientific blunder ever. When everything that made sense was thoughtlessly rejected and evident nonsense was accepted with blind faith, without worrying too much it doesn't make any sense. So maybe Webb take us to a new, more sensible universe. Maybe we are in for a very (un)pleasant surprise. If Webb telescope is as good as is described, it may shift the age of the universe a lot in time. Soon it will be not 13.8 but 17,2 billion years.

So maybe it would be more sensible to reject revealed truth and return to reality. Because in fact, the creation of new stars or the formation of galaxies, such processes can only take place in (our) eternal universe; in cluster of galaxies, where only idiots can see the expanding space between galaxies.

……………………

7 April 2023 s7Hummel. Poland Copyright ©2023 by Stan Humel s7hummel@yahoo.com ……………………

Allegedly artificial intelligence far exceeds the capabilities of the human mind. So why couldn't catch all the nonsense and inaccuracies in human reasoning? Enough to read the full of wisdom essays great professors from renowned universities about cosmos devoid of any deeper sense. So in case it turned out that a stupid little man (IQ 73) who for 20 years did not manage to master English … so in case it turns out that the really expanding universe is only a scientific illusion, then the question arises what is the value of this ai? A human thing to err, but rather not to risk entrusting the fate of humanity to ai.

Let's look at the drawing of the expanding universe. At the beginning of the drawing is 5 symbolic galaxies are drawn. In the further part of the picture, the tube expands and at the end of the tube 5 galaxies are drawn again, while at least thousands of symbolic galaxies should be drawn. This is the whole essence of the problem. Actually, the drawing depicts the space of the expanding universe, and that could only be half the truth. While there could have been 5 million galaxies in the early universe, now there may be 5 trillion. and must be trillion of trillions galaxies. Possibly created from nothing, possibly created in dark energy, but this is only the beginning of the greatest mystery.

…………………… Nothing is wrong with the Big Bang Theory, except that ignorant people don't understand it and reject it because they don't understand it or basic math or basic physics or the scientific method. nyt

[the-leegend-99]

To be honest, The Acolyte sucks. It's a giant mediocrity, worse than Obi-Wan and Ahsoka precisely because it does NOT do the things everybody on this site praises it for. Its critique of the Jedi is defanged halfway through into not being a systemic issue but the corruption and idiocy of a couple members trying to cover their asses, and the filmmakers try to make look bad that one Senator who rightfully points out the flaws in the Jedi's philosophy and system from a practical standpoint, because nooo, we still have to have the Jedi as heroes in the next season.

The perspective of dark side users is also barely explored. Qymir is an anime villain haphazrdly transplanted into Western live-action, who does not square up with Sith lore and has nothing under the surface level of "Draco in leather pants".

The characters are barely sketched and only Sol holds it together due to Lee Jung-jae's acting chops. Amandla Stenberg, as good an actress as she is, is stuck playing two undercooked characters with shaky motivations. Sure. The plot is written as a tragedy, but it only works because nobody has the guts to sit down and explain things, or ask. You might say "well their feelings didn't make them have the time or thought to do that!" and I'd agree with you...if this were a movie. In that short of a timeframe it would have been believable. Instead it's a 2-hour script stretched into a 6-hour miniseries, where all the juicy exploration of themes and raw drama is replaced by padding, box-ticking and posturing. Why TF did we need the Darth Plagueis cameo? They knew they had to graft "something interesting for the fans on it", they'd realized they'd made an uninteresting product.

Gods, even the space lesbian witches are barely there. Aniseya is bidimensional, the stern mom who only at the end turns around to her children's wish because she loves her so much, and the other one, what's her name, is a one-dimensional caricature of dark-side character.

And it's not like bidimensional characters and archetypes are a problem in themselves--in movies, like the OT, they work well, but in long-form projects like this you need more to latch onto to sustain your interest over such a long period of time. That's why Andor works so much better--even one-scene characters there behave in a grounded way you can immediately get behind and think of them as "real people" and layered, because they have real-life concerns like safety and security moving them, in a world that is much less magical and abstract than that of the Acolyte, and much closer to our own. You could also solve this equation but going the opposite way into melodrama--tons of anime or action movies do it to cover their writing flaws, and this show is clearly inspired by both, but only copies the fight scenes.

That's been the big problem of stuff like Ahsoka (where the acting save few exceptions is phoned-in, to boot) and Obi-Wan, too, and even The Mandalorian S3. Andor has managed to avoid it by being, you know, competently written and not commitee-driven. The Acolyte had potential--wasted potential.

Ultimately, because of these factors, it's the worst-performing Star Wars series since they started doing live-action TV, and that played a much more important factor in its cancellation than the pandering to racism. But also--ofc they'd pander to racists, what did you expect? It's Disney. It was friends with the Nazis and did anti-communist anti-union witch hunts since it wasa born. It cut Kelly Marie Tran out of Rise of Skywalker to appease the racist trolls that had hounded her off Twitter. As long as the system is a capitalist one, big media producers will behave this way, flooding the market with mediocre products to keep saturation and assure their dominance of it, and cutting their losses even when there is potential for innovative storytelling, and pandering to progressive attitudes but ultimately sticking to the kind of audience that is less of a threat to their hold on the economy--the fascists.

Disney's decision to cancel The Acolyte after just one season is utterly baffling. Imagine creating a show set in the High Republic era, an unexplored period in star wars lore, bringing fresh perspectives and focusing on new, intriguing characters and themes—only to cancel it. It's even more frustrating when you consider that the show faced backlash from the beginning mainly from alt-right and racist fans who couldn't handle a series that dared to be diverse and multilayered. By caving to the pressure of those who oppose diversity, Disney is essentially giving a big FUCK YOU to the rest of the fans who were excited for something new and meaningful in the SW universe.

The Acolyte, while imperfect, is a solid setup for what could have been much more. It had so much potential to expand the star wars franchise in new and exciting directions. but of course it wasn't given the chance to grow its audience because some good for nothing incels felt threatened by the inclusion of characters who don't fit the traditional white male dominated narrative that Disney has been feeding us for years.

Fine Disney. Stick with your incels and racist fans. But eventually your nostalgia driven empty projects will wear thin and no amount of CGI young Luke Skywalker or green puppets will be able to save your ass. You fucking cowards.

[finitefall]

I can't even properly hate Alicent because the character writing is a fucking shit show. She wants something, but then doesn't. She does secret meetings with Vaemond Velaryon to steal the throne, she clearly is very much into weakening Rhaenyra by shutting her down during the petition and making everyone recognize her sons as bastards, but then acts surprised everyone's following her lead, and in the next scene, she tries to reconcile with Rhaenyra and tell her she will be a good queen. She told Aegon he’d be king and goes off on him spouting that Rhaenyra gonna murder him so he needs to strike first and then she goes “did you SECRETLY plan to make my son king ?” Am I not supposed to be questioning the IDIOCY of it ?? And apparently she wasn't doing anything to make it happen, to secure the throne for her son, so what ? She was expecting the crown to plop on his head someday and for Rhaenyra to simply accept it and move on with her life ?

Even the writers know that that character has no ambitions, no goals, no narrative motivations, so they had to suddenly manufacture one at the end of episode 8 in the form of misunderstanding. Her saying to Rhaenys you should have been the queen then asking her to fuck over another woman for her rapist son.

I feel this so much, nonnie. It's not that we hate Alicent, I could love to hate her if she was a well-written character! But the writers are as confused as she seems to be, and she ends up being more frustrating than anything else. In wanting to "give depth to her character", they were just unable to write her as a coherent character.

That's another thing show!Alicent stans don't understand: book!Alicent is interesting, because she's a coherent character who clearly, without ever going back on it, wanted her oldest son on the throne and hated her stepdaughter. Book!Alicent wasn't her father's puppet and her voice during the secret meeting after Viserys' death was important, no one had planned behind her back.

Making Alicent and Rhaenyra childhood friends but keeping the actions and goal of book!Alicent would have been great, the treason even more tragic for Rhaenyra. But they want to push Rhaenicent so much that Alicent also has to speak in favor of Rhaenyra and not plot too much behind her back. So we end up with Alicent wanting her son on the throne to protect her children, but not wanting to betray Rhaenyra because she still loves her, which results in her contradicting herself all the time because she doesn't know what she wants and what she's doing.

[agentnico]

The Menu (2022) Review

I totally understand getting annoyed by bad customers, as I myself work in hospitality. So here I am siding with the film’s villain. All the ‘Karens’ can do one!

Plot: A young couple travels to a remote island to eat at an exclusive restaurant where the chef has prepared a lavish menu, with some shocking surprises.

Nicholas Hoult has become that go-to choice in Hollywood for playing pompous idiots. Whether he’s the self-centred nincompoop Peter the Great in The Great, or the proud rich diva-fool in The Favourite, Hoult knows how to really capture the details of idiocy in his characters, and doing so in a comical yet believable way. Now he does the same in The Menu, where he gives a near pitch perfect performance as a pretentious foodie who acts like he knows everything and all when it comes to culinary dishes, and this results to some great comedic effect. However he isn’t even the main character of this movie. The main stars are Anya Taylor-Joy (who’s acting resume grows more and more each month) and she plays the straight faced eyes of the audience perspective, and then there is Ralph Fiennes, who’s on another level. How had this man still not won an Academy Award?? He’s incredible here as the mysterious Chef Julian Slowik who has created an artistic exclusive multiple course menu, however has sinister plans of his own. Right from the beginning you know something is off with this guy, yet Fiennes accompanies every dish with such vigorous monologues making you so enthralled and invested in everything he has to offer. With that in mind though the dishes themselves are ridiculous. For example there is an entire bread course with accompaniments....but with no bread! This isn’t like Jon Favreau’s movie Chef where one has to make sure they eat something before watching is, as the dishes in that movie can make any belly lust for hunger. But in The Menu, aside from a plot-significant cheeseburger, there isn’t much real celebration of the food cuisine culture. But that’s the point of the entire movie - the social commentary on the the rich and working class, and how pretentious critics may be...as I’m writing a review of a film myself. 

The Menu is enjoyable and has plenty moments of dark humour and the tense interplay between Fiennes and Taylor-Joy is engaging to watch, however I must say this film is a one trick pony. It’s a well done trick, but the Master Chef-like style that the movie plays out causes the movie to be a tad slow paced. A lot of jokes do also fall flat, however the film’s humour worked best when the guests went into critic-mode and voiced their metaphors and poetic pretentious opinions. There is also an artistic directorial flair as the camera moves through the kitchen, and the movie is never boring. It is weird, ridiculous and over-the-top satire, and though it doesn’t break new ground, I was glad to watch a foodie thriller that didn’t actually include cannibalism as a subject matter.

Overall score: 6/10