#do whatever and chase out chaos don't get it twisted but he cares and he's willing to be vulnerable and not ignore the impact his actions

[t-u-i-t-c]

Sakito Homura in Bakuage Sentai BoonBoomger 01x48 Your Handle

+ bonus

[winxanity-ii]

⌜Catch Me If You Can | Chapter 16 Chapter 16 | a god's ultimatum⌟

╰ ⌞🇨‌🇭‌🇦‌🇵‌🇹‌🇪‌🇷‌ 🇮‌🇳‌🇩‌🇪‌🇽‌⌝

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Apollo's golden aura flared, his eyes narrowing into slits as his fury reignited. His voice cut through the tense silence, dripping with disdain. "How dare you, you lowly, disgusting—"

"—I wouldn't finish that statement if I were you." Hermes stepped forward sharply, his wings flaring with a sudden burst of energy as his voice cut through Apollo's tirade like a blade.

Apollo's scowl deepened, his radiant face twisting into something darker as he turned his fiery gaze onto his brother. "You're siding with a mortal over your own blood?"

The word "mortal" was spat with such venom that it made your stomach churn. You flinched, your shoulders curling inward as your gaze dropped to the ground. You could feel his judgment, the sheer disgust in his words as if it were a physical force.

Hermes, however, didn't flinch. If anything, the slight flare of his nostrils and the subtle clenching of his jaw were the only indicators of the storm building beneath his calm exterior. His staff twitched faintly in his hand, and his wings spread wider, creating a barrier between you and Apollo. When he finally spoke, his voice was low, dangerous, and filled with a barely restrained fury.

"I said," he growled, his golden eyes locking onto Apollo's with unrelenting intensity, "watch your mouth."

Apollo's jaw tightened, his fingers flexing as if itching to release his power, but Hermes didn't back down. His stance was firm, unyielding, and for a moment, it felt like the very world held its breath.

You risked a glance up, your eyes darting between the two gods. Hermes' expression was fierce, but there was something else in his eyes—a flicker of protectiveness that made your heart ache.

Apollo sneered, his lips curling into a bitter smile. "And what will you do, brother? Protect her? Defend her honor like some mortal knight in a fairytale? Don't be ridiculous. She's beneath us. Beneath you."

The words stung, sharp and merciless, but before you could shrink any further into yourself, Hermes stepped forward, closing the space between them. His voice was quieter now, but no less fierce. "Say whatever you want about me, Apollo. Call me a liar, a thief, a failure—I don't care. But you don't get to talk about her like that."

Apollo's aura pulsed, golden light crackling around him as if the very air trembled in response to his anger. For a moment, it seemed like he might unleash his fury, but Hermes didn't waver. His wings shifted slightly, a subtle but deliberate reminder of his readiness to act.

Apollo's face went blank, his fiery aura dimming for a heartbeat before a sharp scoff escaped his lips. He shook his head, the golden curls catching the light like a crown as his eyes bore into Hermes with cold, calculated fury. "Reckless," he bit out, his voice low but laced with a searing edge. "Disloyal. Childish. That's what you've always been. Always choosing chaos, always chasing your own amusement, no matter the cost—no matter who you betray."

Hermes tilted his head, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips, though his eyes gleamed with something sharper. "Oh, please," he said, his tone as light as ever but undercut by a razor edge. "I'd hardly call keeping you in check betrayal, Apollo. Someone has to remind you that the world doesn't revolve around your golden glow."

Apollo's aura flared again, a wave of heat rolling off him that made the ground crackle beneath his feet. "This isn't about me, Hermes," he snapped. "It's about loyalty. Family. But you wouldn't understand that, would you? You're too busy stirring the pot, too blinded by your own selfishness to see the damage you cause."

Hermes' smirk widened, but it was anything but amused. "Family? Is that what we're calling your need to control everything and everyone around you?" His wings flared out again, golden light reflecting off the edges like blades. "Let's be honest, brother—you're not mad about the theft. You're mad because someone dared to defy you." His tone turned mocking, his grin razor-sharp. "Big bad Apollo, perfect golden boy, thrown off his pedestal by a mortal. Must sting."

Apollo's scowl deepened, his gaze flickering to you for a brief moment, disdain dripping from every movement. "Mortal arrogance," he hissed. "And you encourage it."

"No, what I encourage is seeing through the nonsense you call pride. You hold onto that golden throne so tightly, Apollo; it's no wonder you can't see beyond it."

The words hung in the air, heavy and unrelenting. You could feel the tension radiating between them, the weight of centuries of rivalry, grudges, and misunderstandings pressing down on the grove like a storm.

For the first time, you saw the cracks in their personas—Apollo's frustration wasn't just about the theft, and Hermes' defiance wasn't just a game. It was something deeper, something tangled in their history as brothers, as gods, as beings constantly at odds.

You felt caught between them, the intensity of their conflict washing over you. Apollo's anger was sharp and cutting, but there was pain beneath it—a wound of being disregarded, disrespected.

Hermes' mockery was biting, but his words carried a truth that made you wonder if his defiance was as selfish as Apollo claimed.

Maybe it wasn't about rebellion for the sake of it. Maybe it was about something more—a refusal to bend to expectations, to be anything but what he chose to be.

Your chest tightened as you realized you could see both sides.

Apollo, desperate to maintain the balance and respect his divine role demanded, and Hermes, unwilling to be shackled by anyone's rules, even the gods'.

It wasn't black and white. It was complicated, messy—like everything else in your life had suddenly become.

The two gods stared each other down, the grove crackling with their unspoken history. And for a moment, you felt like you were intruding on something far greater than yourself.

You didn't belong here—this was their realm, their feud. You were just a mortal who had made a mistake. A grave one, perhaps, but still.

Almost as if he could read your thoughts, Apollo's piercing gaze turned on you; it felt as though the sun itself had turned its full heat on you, merciless and unyielding. "And you," he snarled, his voice low and venomous, each word striking like a lash. "What made you think you could steal from me? A god? A mortal—a miscreant, a ryparós mys."

Your stomach dropped, the insult twisting in your chest. But it wasn't just the word; it was the tone, the sheer contempt in his voice, as though you were something to be scraped off the bottom of his boot.

The air around you seemed to grow hotter, heavier, under his gaze, and your instinct was to cower, to shrink away from the full weight of his fury.

But something inside you snapped.

Maybe it was exhaustion, the days of running, the endless fear and uncertainty.

Maybe it was anger, bubbling up from a lifetime of scraping by, of being overlooked and dismissed.

Or maybe it was that damn word—filthy rat.

Whatever it was, you felt it surge through you, cutting through the fear like a blade, and before you could stop yourself, the words burst out, sharp and bitter. "Why did I steal from you?" You took a shaky breath, then continued, your voice rising despite yourself. "You're a god. You have everything—gold, offerings, temples filled with treasures mortals could only dream of. Mortals like me? We have nothing. Nothing! Maybe I just got tired of gods taking and taking while we're left to suffer."

Apollo's glow seemed to intensify, the golden aura around him flaring with his anger. His lips parted, no doubt to deliver another scathing retort, but you weren't finished. The words kept tumbling out, raw and unfiltered, like a wound finally being lanced.

"As a child, I prayed to you... to all of you," you said, your voice cracking slightly. "I prayed every night, hoping—begging—for help. For a sign. For anything. But you didn't answer. None of you did. So don't you dare look down on me for trying to survive the only way I know how."

Your words hung in the air—bold and reckless, but true. Memories flashed through your mind: nights spent praying in vain as a child, asking for relief that never came. Watching your village struggle while altars to the gods overflowed with riches.

The simmering anger you had buried for so long finally spilled out.

Apollo's eyes burned into yours, his expression unreadable. There was fury there—raw and unyielding—but beneath it, something flickered. Doubt? Guilt? It was gone almost as quickly as it appeared, buried beneath his divine arrogance, but you had seen it.

The brief crack in his perfect facade gave you the smallest sliver of hope that your words had landed somewhere beneath the golden armor.

"How dare you," he said at last, his voice like thunder. Yet it lacked the sharpness from before. "You speak as though you understand the weight of the heavens. You speak of suffering as if it is unique to mortals. You know nothing."

But there was no conviction in his words. Not entirely. You could feel it—your anger, your desperation, had struck a nerve, however small.

Hermes, who had been unusually silent until now, stepped forward, positioning himself between you and Apollo. His golden eyes flicked to you for the briefest moment, and there was something almost like pride in the small smirk tugging at his lips.

He turned his attention back to Apollo, his usual nonchalance laced with something sharper, something protective. "Well, big brother," he drawled, his voice smooth but cutting, "looks like the little thief's got more bite than you thought."

Apollo's blazing eyes narrowed, the golden glow around him intensifying. His lips curled, but before he could speak, Hermes raised a hand, the motion calm but firm, his smirk hardening into something closer to a challenge. "She's right, you know," Hermes said, his tone lighter than the words he spoke. "We gods do take more than we give. That's not news to anyone. You're just mad because, like I said before, this time, you lost."

Your heart thundered in your chest, your eyes darting between the brothers. This wasn't a game anymore—not to Hermes. You realized, with a jolt, that he wasn't just playing his usual tricks. He was genuinely standing by you, his wings spread wide as though to shield you from Apollo's wrath, his words chosen not just to taunt but to protect.

Apollo's voice, when it came, was low and cold, each word dripping with barely restrained fury. "I thought you were joking before, but it seems you truly would side with a mortal over your own blood and kin."

Hermes tilted his head, his smirk sharpening into something almost wolfish. "Don't pretend this is about blood, Apollo. You're angry because she successfully stole from you and that burns, doesn't it? That your perfect little image, your untouchable pride, could be so easily bruised."

For a moment, you thought he might attack again, his fists clenching at his sides, the glow around him pulsing like a second sun. But instead, his expression shifted, his anger cooling into something far more dangerous. He stepped back slightly, the golden light around him dimming but sharpening, focused now like a blade rather than a wildfire.

You could see the way Apollo's expression shifted, the barest crack in his unshakable façade. His aura flared briefly, and for a moment, you thought he might retaliate. But instead, his expression shifted, his anger cooling into something far more dangerous. The golden glow around him dimmed for a heartbeat, only to surge back, sharper and more focused.

"Very well, brother," he said, his voice dropped and measured, yet carrying an undercurrent of simmering fury. "It's clear you care for the mortal, so I won't make it an issue. But let me make one thing abundantly clear. This isn't about pride, Hermes. I never cared for that. It's about justice. And justice demands restitution."

You flinched as his golden eyes bore into yours, the weight of his presence pressing down on you like a physical force. "You will return what you stole, thief," Apollo continued, his tone leaving no room for argument. "You will return it to the very shrine from which it was taken. Do this, and you may face my judgment with some semblance of mercy. But should you choose otherwise..." His form pulsed once, blindingly bright. "You will suffer the full force of my wrath."

His words were final, delivered with the chilling authority of a god who had no reason to doubt their inevitability. Your heart sank, the enormity of his ultimatum crashing down on you.

Apollo straightened, his features composed into a mask of divine detachment. "I'm not here to deal with you in person, so I trust you will follow instructions," he said, and your breath caught as the realization struck.

This wasn't even Apollo in the flesh—only an echo of his presence, powerful enough to terrify you nonetheless.

"Typical," Hermes muttered under his breath, rolling his eyes. "Of course, the golden boy shows off. You're not even here."

Apollo's lips twitched into a faint, humorless smile. "Did you think I'd waste my time descending in full form for this? No, brother. I have more important matters to attend to."

As if to emphasize his point, his glowing form began to waver, the edges of his figure flickering like sunlight on water. "But do not mistake my absence for leniency," Apollo said, his voice resonating with divine power even as his form began to dissolve. "You have one chance, mortal. Return the Sunstone and face what is due, or your next encounter with me will be far less merciful."

And with that, the glow consumed him entirely, and his form disintegrated into a burst of golden light like scattered embers, leaving behind only the weight of his words and the suffocating tension in the air.

The grove fell into a heavy silence, the echoes of his voice lingering like the fading notes of a haunting melody.

After the apparition of Apollo disintegrated, the sanctuary felt hollow, its magic shattered.

The golden glow that once suffused the grove had faded, leaving behind a desolate wreckage.

The ancient trees, once unyielding sentinels, leaned precariously, their branches stripped of leaves.

The air was heavy, not with divine power, but with a tangible silence, the kind that pressed against your chest like an unwelcome weight.

You and Hermes stood amidst the ruin, the tension between you thicker than the lingering smoke that curled from scorched patches of earth.

Neither of you spoke for what felt like an eternity.

The staff rested beside you, its polished surface gleaming faintly in the pale light filtering through the damaged canopy. Your fingers itched to hold it again, as though it might ground you, but instead, you clenched your hands into fists, your knuckles white.

You knees buckled, your hands trembling as your mind raced, torn between fear, defiance, and the sinking realization that your time was running out.

Hermes finally broke the silence, his voice devoid of its usual mischief. "I can't protect you from him forever, you know." His wings shifted slightly, folding closer to his back as though even they felt the weight of the moment. "Apollo... he doesn't let go. Not when it comes to something like this."

You didn't look at him. Your gaze was fixed on a small, cracked pool of water that used to mirror the stars. Now, it reflected nothing but emptiness. "And why is it so important to him?" you asked, your voice flat, though you could feel the undercurrent of anger bubbling beneath the surface. "It's just a stone."

Hermes' lips twitched—not into a smirk, but something softer, almost sorrowful. He leaned back against a fallen trunk, the lines of his face shadowed by the broken remnants of the grove. "It's not just a stone," he said quietly. "It belonged to someone... someone Apollo cared about. Someone he lost. As gods, time is meanigless, so it's common for us to forget the small mortals we've come to hold dear."

The words hung in the air, and your breath caught. You turned to look at him then, searching his face for any sign of deceit. But Hermes didn't meet your gaze; his golden eyes were fixed on the distance, his expression uncharacteristically serious. "He keeps it as a reminder," Hermes continued. "So he doesn't forget... And you took it."

Your chest tightened at the implication but it was quickly drowned by a wave of frustration, "You're telling me this now?" you snapped,your voice cracking with anger. "After everything? After all the running and fighting and nearly dying—now you decide to tell me the truth?"

Hermes finally turned to face you, his usual smirk completely absent. "Would it have changed anything?" he asked, his voice soft but steady. "If I'd told you from the start, would you have handed it back? Or would you have run anyway?"

You opened your mouth to argue, but no words came out. Instead, you glared at him, the betrayal twisting in your chest. "So this was never about helping me," you said bitterly. "You were just stalling until I gave up."

For a moment, Hermes didn't respond. He watched you, his golden gaze unreadable; the playful smirk you'd come to associate with him was gone, replaced by something quieter, almost pained. "I never said I could save you," he said quietly. "I said I'd help you. And I have."

His words hit harder than you expected, knocking the air from your lungs. You looked away, your jaw clenched, because deep down, you knew he was right.

Despite your anger, despite the chaos he often brought, Hermes had been there—risking his life, facing Apollo, shielding you in ways no one else would have.

A heavy silence fell between you, broken only by the faint rustling of leaves and the distant chirp of a bird brave enough to return to the ruined grove.

You couldn't bring yourself to look at him, but you felt the weight of his gaze, the unspoken understanding that lingered in the air.

When you finally spoke, your voice was quieter, steadier. "What do I do now?"

Hermes leaned back again, his wings shifting slightly as he exhaled. "You know what you have to do," he said, his tone softer than before. "You have to return it. It's the only way this ends."

The words settled heavily in your chest. You stared at the cracked earth beneath your feet, the anger ebbing away, replaced by a profound, aching sadness.

Returning the Sunstone meant facing Apollo's wrath head-on.

It meant giving up the one thing you'd risked everything to take.

And as you sat there, the weight of everything pressing down on you, you realized there was no other choice. You were so lost in thought, staring blankly at the cracked earth beneath your feet, that you didn't notice Hermes move until his shadow fell over you.

Startled, your gaze snapped up to find him kneeling in front of you, wings partially unfurled. The soft glow of his feathers caught the dim light filtering through the ruins, casting delicate patterns across the ground.

He wasn't smirking or teasing, and for once, there was no trace of amusement in his golden eyes. Instead, he looked... tired. Tired and sad in a way you hadn't seen before. His expression was calm, almost serious, as he reached out, his hand brushing against yours. The touch was light, fleeting, but it lingered just enough to ground you in the moment.

"You've got more fight in you than most mortals I've ever met." His thumb grazed the back of your hand before he pulled away, resting his palms on his knees. "But even you can't outrun a god forever."

You swallowed hard, your throat tightening as his words settled over you. You held his gaze for a moment, searching for something, anything, that might make this easier to face. But the way he looked at you, steady and unwavering, left no room for doubt.

Finally, you broke his gaze, your eyes falling to the ruined sanctuary around you. The golden glow that had once filled the grove was long gone, replaced by shadows and the faint, bitter scent of ash.

Your fingers curled into fists, your nails digging into your palms as you drew in a shaky breath.

"Fine," you muttered, your voice barely above a whisper. "I'll return it." You felt your chest tighten as you spoke, the enormity of the decision threatening to crush you. "But... I'll do it my way. If this is the end, I'm not crawling back like some... some... filthy rat."

Hermes tilted his head, studying you with an intensity that made your skin prickle. For a brief moment, something like pride flickered in his eyes. Then, he leaned back slightly, his wings folding in closer as he exhaled. "Fair enough," he said, a small, almost tired smile tugging at his lips. "But let me make one thing clear—I'm not letting you face Apollo alone."

The firmness in his tone caught you off guard. You looked back at him, your brow furrowing as a dozen questions swirled in your mind. "Why?" you asked quietly, the word slipping out before you could stop it. "Why are you still helping me?"

Hermes didn't answer right away. Instead, he straightened, resting one arm on his knee as he tilted his head back to gaze at the remnants of the sanctuary above. When he finally spoke, his voice was softer, almost reflective. "Because you're worth helping," he said simply, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Your breath hitched at his words, your heart giving a strange, unsteady flutter. You quickly looked away, your fingers brushing over the Sunstone still hidden beneath your shirt. The warmth of it pressed against your skin like a reminder of everything you'd done, everything that had led to this moment.

"I don't need a savior," you muttered, more to yourself than to him.

"No," Hermes replied, his voice laced with quiet amusement. "But everyone could use an ally."

You glanced at him again, and for the first time, you saw not just the trickster, the smooth-talking god who always seemed one step ahead, but someone who genuinely meant what he said.

It didn't make the fear go away, but it eased the tightness in your chest, if only a little.

"Alright," you said finally, your voice steadier now. "Let's finish this."

Hermes stood then, brushing off his knees as he extended a hand to you. His smirk returned, softer than before, but still undeniably him. "Let's," he said, his golden eyes gleaming with something that felt a lot like hope.

And as his hand closed around yours, pulling you to your feet, you realized that for the first time in a long while, you weren't facing the storm alone.

"Hey Hermes... I just have to return the stone, right?"

"Yes, little thief, just the stone."

A/N: ahhh, it's almost over, i don't want this too end 😭😭that little hand-holding moment at the end? be still my heart. 😭 Hermes out here being more emotionally available than most humans. I mean, "You're worth helping"? Sir, I am unwell with projecting my fantasies onto a book character 😩😔

[littlealeta]

Wonka Review

I was skeptical about this film since I first heard of its announcement a few years ago. And then, I forgot about it until I heard it came out, like right the fuck out of nowhere back in December. I was surprised to see all the hype it got. I mean, clearly this was meant to be cash grab, right? Well, apparently, it surprised a lot of people. And I decided to go see it in the theater because after all, it IS a Willy Wonka movie, so at the very least, it should be fun right?

...

Barely.

Story

Right off the bat, I had little care about the story. Wonka, at first glance, is kinda an idiot. He signs a contract, ignoring a young girl's warnings, which leads into the film's conflict of needing to pay it off. And then, other chaos ensues after he sells chocolate without a store and Wonka is publicly shamed. Look, I don't know what things were like in the 1900s, 1800s or whatever, but is it really illegal and/or morally wrong for someone to sell their own products without a store in that time period?

Anyway, by that point, I could pretty much tell where the story was going.

I really don't care to explain the plot any further. It's just a boring origin story about a man trying to make chocolate while facing the bad guys (because we always need a bad guy for a story). You might as well watch the movie Chocolat instead. It has all the usual hollywood tropes and beats. Character wants something, they do something stupid because of plot reasons, people kick their ass because they're assholes, they partner up with the annoying sidekick who tries to brighten things up when things get tough, they get chased by bad guys, BIG action sequence, disney death, orphan finds out their family is alive plot twist, everyone is happy as they can be, the end. It's another movie made to milk a popular franchise and really not worth your time and money. If you're really curious about it, wait until it streams.

Not gonna lie, I do think a Willy Wonka origin story COULD work if they were willing to expand on the creative world he gave us in the movie and book, but the film barely even does that. It just throws in a few special effects and calls it a day.

Characters

It's been a long time since I've seen the Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory film, but from what I remember, Wonka had a lot of character. He was bubbly, zany, quirky, cheerful, and full of energy. This Wonka has barely any of that or any personality at all. He's imaginative and determined, but that's about it. He's also quite ignorant as well (which I don't remember the original Wonka being at all). It doesn't even feel like the same Willy Wonka.

Noodle is your average sassy, optimistic, precocious child sidekick. She wasn't really necessary. Just Hollywood shoving in child characters to appeal to their young audience. Noodle could've been an adult and it would still make just as much sense.

I don't have anything else to say about the other characters because there really isn't anything special to say about them and I don't remember shit about them.

I will say there are some witty dialogue here, but that's about it as far as characters go.

Acting/Music/Special Effects

The movie does well with all of these for the most part. The songs aren't the most memorable, but I will start signing Scrub Scrub whenever I clean. All of the actors pull off amusing performances and do well with what they were given. Timothee Chalamet makes for a fairly bland Wonka, but it's not really his fault. The special effects look great and are about one of the few actually imaginative parts of the film.

Overall

It's pretty much everything you expect out of a Hollywood prequel/sequel/remake. Almost everything about it is pointless, uninspired, forgettable, generic, and flat. If anyone is willing to explain why the hype for this movie was earned, I would love to hear it. Nothing about the plot or characters interested me. It's basically Chocolat with some action and fantasy in it. Willy Wonka doesn't even feel like Willy Wonka. Characters hate on the main character and the main character gets himself into trouble because... plot I guess. It reeks entirely of corporate meddling and crunched time.

Wonka gets 3.9 bells out of 10

I'm pretty sure that this will be one of those things that will quickly age and be mostly forgotten fairly soon. Just watch the classic instead.

[breadboylovin]

NEW POST FOR MY 95060 PLAYLIST!!! complete with explanations of every song choice under the cut because i love explaining my own creative decisions for some reason (PLEASE DO NOT FEEL COMPELLED TO READ ALL OF IT IF YOU DONT WANT TO ITS VERY LONG LOL). i may add a few songs here and there later on, or more likely rearrange what i've already put in slightly, but for now i consider it done.

alright now heres a look into my twisted mind

PART 1: TEMPTATION

Franz Ferdinand - Michael: It's a song about seducing someone named Michael. What more can I ask for (serious explanation is that it’s also very homosexually charged like you just have to listen to it… also feels taunting in a way where it’s like ‘oooooh you want me so bad’ and he’s RIGHT Michael DOES want him so bad). Also credit to this post for letting me know this song existed and inspiring me to make this playlist in the first place :-3

Mystery Skulls - Paralyzed: Just another song about how Michael is awestruck by David and feels compelled to follow him for whatever reason (the reason is that he wants him so bad)

TAEMIN - WANT: This is one of three Taemin songs on here because I think if David survived until present day he would fucking LOVE Taemin. Anyways this is a song about knowing you’re hot shit and everyone wants you and I think after seducing Michael through fucking?? Fatal motorcycle races and evil noodle mind tricks??? David deserves to feel that

Glass Animals - Gooey: OHGHGHGHFH THIS SONG… the vibes are impeccable on this one, Dave Bayley’s alluring voice feels like a slight remix of what David is going for and the way it feels like the singer is trying to convince the listener of something (even though it’s purposely vague) just FEELS like David with Michael. The line “I can’t take this place, I can’t take this place/I just need to go where I can get some space” especially fits when imagining how Michael is new to Santa Carla and may want a place to belong that David and the boys are happy to provide

TAEMIN - Impressionable: I see this as the moment that Michael downs the bottle of “wine”, where this song is David’s internal monologue reveling in how easy it was to charm Michael and get him to join. I always thought this sounded like a taunting villain song so it just fits. Also it’s like ridiculously horny which is a plus

PART 2: THE RELATIONSHIP ITSELF

MGMT - Me and Michael: In my head this is directly after Michael drinks the “wine”, and if it were an actual song in the movie, it’d play instead of Cry Little Sister in that scene. I already made art related to this but I really just love the juxtaposition between something that Michael will later see as horrible (becoming a half-vampire) and David seeing it as a perfect slow-dance moment. Also “Me and Michael, it’s not a question now” because the blood drinking has now linked them together… mmmmm. Credit to this post again for making me find this song!!

ALI - DESPERADO: This one is less about David and Michael specifically and more about how the night in the cave went down for everyone there, starting with a soft slowness as they ate and then descending into chaos as Michael downs the wine and they celebrate a new addition to the pack. The bacchanal energy is off the charts

Dorian Electra - Man to Man: This song is just one that I attribute to all of the boys because I think they do a lot of homoerotic sparring. Also the part of the movie where Michael punches David in the face and David just goes >:-3 back at him

Chase Atlantic - Friends: I don't know what it is about this one but it just Hits… The chorus kinda sounds like David and the boys trying to convince Michael to stay with them instead of coming back to human society after drinking the blood, in the same sort of taunting manner that they had when David (presumably?) made Michael hallucinate the bike lights and sounds outside of his house

Taking Back Sunday - You're So Last Summer: THIS SONG IS JUST REALLY GOOD. I don't know what it is about this one either… I guess the “Maybe I should hate you for this/Never really did ever quite get that far” part could represent the first glimpse of Michael’s more conflicted feelings about David. Also the second half of verse 2 not only fucks so hard but could also be indicative of Michael’s repressed gay feelings, lying to himself about how he wanted to be around David because he’s cool or whatever but he actually just has the hots for him and would let him do anything if he asked to

MGMT - Little Dark Age: Mostly here just for vibes. Have y’all seen that one edit set to this song? Yeah

The Neighborhood - Prey: I feel like this song captures the general unease that Michael feels right before he sees the boys kill for the first time, knowing that he’s probably turning into a vampire and something horrible is happening… especially with “Something is wrong, I feel like prey” just generally describing what it must feel like to be a human among vampires (though he’s not fully human anymore at this point)

PART 3: REALIZATION + FIGHTING BACK

TAEMIN - Criminal: YET ANOTHER TAEMIN SONG!!!! It’s all about realizing you're with someone who’s like, an evil manipulative villain and genuinely bad for you but you can’t escape just yet because you’re kinda into it. I don't think David is THAT bad of a guy, but Michael could be like “I need to get out of this situation because this man is a vampire but I feel attracted to him and it’s hard to really get away”. Also the line “My hands holding yours that stabbed me are not clean either” just HITS cus Michael hates David’s vampirism but HE’S a half-vampire now so it’s not like he’s innocent either. This is just a really good 95060 song AND a good song in general, listen to it even if you don't normally like K-pop cus it slaps

Glass Animals - Wyrd: This would be the moment where Michael snaps out of it and just starts running away, but to no avail, because he’s still a half-vampire (“You can’t run so you must hide” meaning that he can’t outrun his new monstrous nature, the best he can do is hide it until it eats him alive). Meanwhile David laments over how this is a stupid decision from his perspective (“So, my friend, our time is done/You and I could’ve had so much”)

Moonface - Minotaur Forgiving Theseus: This is a very veeeeery bitter song from Michael’s perspective about David being a vampire… with the “You’re just a hitman” repetition referencing how David. Y’know. Eats people. And the “I heard you're coming for me now” references both how David first approached him and the impending confrontation

The Neighborhood - The Beach: This song goes from the bitterness of the previous one to a pseudo-acceptance of the end of their brief friendship and what’s inevitably going to happen next. However, I think the bridge of the song illustrates the little bit of Michael that doesn’t want this to happen, that wants this relationship to somehow work out because he cares about David even if he is a vampire (unfortunately he ends up repressing this because he feels a duty to kill David now)

Gorillaz - Rhinestone Eyes: This is mostly in here because of the music video, the buildup to a battle just echoes in my head whenever I hear this song now. In the context of this playlist it makes me imagine David looking up at the Emerson’s house from the hotel (and Michael doing the opposite) knowing that something’s about to happen and it’s going to be horrible

Glass Animals - JDNT: This entire song feels like the climax of the movie. Verse 1 feels like the Emersons and Frogs getting ready to attack the cave (“I’m all armored up”) with “I feel that final poke” being when Marko gets staked, and the chorus right after is a tinge of regret that Michael feels once the plan starts to take shape. Verse 2 is the other boys waking up to see that Marko is dead + them dying themselves (“Where my funny friends gone?”) and the bridge is Michael and David’s fight before Michael finally gores David on the antlers. The outro of “You can’t breathe without me” VERY much feels like David taunting Michael from beyond the grave, knowing how much Michael loved him and how horrible what he’s just done is

PART 4: GRIEF

The Brazen Youth - Burn Slowly/I Love You: Ooooooghghgh the conflicted feelings about their relationship is STRONG in this one… The “Burn Slowly” part being him trying to convince himself that he did the right thing by killing David while the “I Love You” part is him realizing that he really did love David and it fucking hurts

Sufjan Stevens - The Predatory Wasp Of The Palisades Is Out To Get Us: MAN. MAN… Everything past “I can’t explain the state that I'm in” is just so… it’s Michael realizing what he had even more and just how much it hurts that he’s lost it. He knows he was in love now and it fucking hurts SO MUCH!!!!!

Sufjan Stevens - The Only Thing: [head in my fucking hands] Michael moping around Santa Carla because it feels empty without David. All the “should I tear my eyes out now?/Should I tear my heart out now?” parts oh my GOOOOOOOOD sufjan stevens i'm going to slap you on the head.

Paramore - Tell Me How: THIS SONG HURTS SO MUCH ITS SO. It’s another one about conflicting feelings so theoretically it should be earlier in the story but I always envision something very morbid when listening to this (and have now written a fic about it so check that out)… Michael going back to the hotel where he put David’s body and musing to no one, asking how he’s supposed to feel now, the “And always coming to your defenses” where Michael keeps defending David and their relationship to his family who all think David was a horrible monster… this song fucking hurts. Also I unintentionally drew a parallel between JDNT’s “You can’t breathe without me” and this song’s “Do I suffocate or let go?” and now that I’ve realized that it hurts even more. Fuck this song

[clean-bands-dirty-stories]

The Best Things ~ J.V. (Part 6)

A/n: Things boutta get bad so like... I'm sorry. Practically nothing but angst this part won't lie. Side note: I know I don't actually have a lot of Jerome x reader content yet, but I wanted to show the reader's descent into madness before they're officially a thing. I promise you it's coming, and very soon :)

Word Count: 4300+

Playlist

MASTERLIST

Y/n shot to his feet, only for the guards behind him to draw their guns. Alfred held up a hand. "Is he alive?" Y/n demanded. He might have lost his mind just a tad, but Bruce was still one of the very few things Y/n Wayne cared about and no one was about to put that boy in danger.

"Yes," Alfred soothed. "I said he WAS kidnapped. We have him back now." Y/n calmed and Alfred seemed to almost smile, as if seeing the amount Y/n cared was very reassuring. That tracked. "He's been brainwashed or something though, and I've gotten special permission from Commissioner Bullock himself to let you out to help me bring him back. If we play this right, we might even get you released permanently. We can figure this whole thing out. You can come back to us. We can be a family again." Y/n thought about that. Seeing Bruce again. His brother meant everything to him. He cared about Alfred too, honestly. The man had been a good father figure to both of them, and a good friend even when their father was alive. Y/n would have a real home, without killing or chaos. He'd be working for the good guys.

Right?

He thought about that word. Good guys. Cops were supposed to be good guys, weren't they? But he'd gotten locked up in Arkham just for being associated with Jerome, and then gotten the shit kicked out of him when he'd simply been himself. He hadn't killed anyone, or hurt anyone. He'd shown affection to another man and had nearly gotten beat to death for it. He'd leave Arkham, the only place he'd ever really been accepted for being gay. Maybe not by that one guard, but everyone else seemed to not care since no one cared about him at all, except maybe Jerome. Oh god Jerome. Y/n would have to leave him. And Harleen as well. The new friend who really got him and had his back the best she could in a place where her words practically had as much affect as Y/n's did. He had a boyfriend and a potential best friend and room to be free... except that he wasn't free.

Why was this so hard?

"Y/n," Alfred interrupted, eyes wide and pleading. "Bruce needs you."

The last time Alfred had said that, Bruce had just witnessed their parents' murders. Y/n pushed down the boy he used to be that was fighting to resurface, trying to find at least a. Middle between then and now. They were so different... there was suddenly a battle again himself, and he was losing.

Finally, he just shut it all down. Everything else could wait for another time. "When can we leave?" Alfred smiled at his words, but Y/n suddenly had a terrible feeling in his gut. Why did he get the sense that everything was about to get really, really bad again?

-

"Penguins alive?" Y/n relaxed in relief.

Alfred frowned. "Yeah. Um-" He swallowed. "You've kind of really been involved with all the worst people recently, eh?"

Y/n actually scoffed at that, his lips curling in amusement. "I've met far worse people than Oswald, Alfred." He looked the butler in the face. "You might not like to hear this, but that redhead everyone in town hates so much? He wasn't the one who did this to me." Y/n motioned to his own face. "But the officer who did, did it for no other reason than because I'm gay." He let that settle for a second. Alfred seemed shaken a bit. It seemed to finally be dawning on him just what Y/n had been going through since his parents had died. "Now, enough about me." They'd finally pulled up to the GCPD building. "Let's get inside. Like you said: Bruce needs us."

Y/n had been required to be handcuffed, though he hadn't been put in a straight jacket and had been allowed to change into normal clothes as not to upset Bruce upon seeing him. He was still beat up pretty badly though, and had developed a limp as the adrenaline wore off and as his beating really sunk in. Alfred had to keep him handcuffed as they walked in, and the whole place went quite. It was becoming a habit that Y/n could walk into any room and immediately bring silence with him as he did so. All of Gotham had gotten to the point that they couldn't exactly make an opinion on Y/n Wayne. How did someone like him get born into a family like he had been, and turn out like this?

Gay and insane.

It had been in the newspaper. Someone, somewhere had gotten hold of the news that Y/n Wayne was gay and it had been released everywhere. Y/n had read the article a while ago. It's what had prompted Jerome to finally be more affectionate around other inmates, instead of just at night when they were in their cell together. People might give Y/n shit for being into dudes, but no one was going to mess with Jerome. He'd put his neck out for Y/n... It was becoming clear that few others would do the same. Maybe it was the insanity.

Y/n was brought to a room that was a different color than the walls at Arkham. The color outside had been overwhelming after seeing muted versions from a distance through windows that now, the dull color was kind of refreshing. Inside the room was Bruce, but he looked different. Y/n couldn't imagine the last time his younger brother had worn a turtle neck. His father used to try to get the boys to wear them all the time, but, especially in their youth, the boys had hated them and eventually their father had given up. Bruce hadn't worn one since they were both seven, when he used to just do whatever their dad told him to. And since when did he wear anything other than dark blue or black? Y/n found all his usual jokes about Bruce being a casual emo slip from his mind. He didn't know how to approach this new boy. He didn't know him.

To be fair, Bruce didn't really know him either.

"Hello, brother," Y/n greeted, unsure of how to go about this after all that stood between them.

Bruce narrowed his eyes. "Why are you here?"

Y/n sat down, scooting over as Alfred joined him with a second chair. "Just checking in," Y/n responded slowly. "Alfred told me about what happened. Getting kidnapped. Been there, it's not too fun."

Bruce rolled his eyes."You got kidnapped by a brainless psychopath. I got taken by someone who was trying to help me."

Y/n scoffed. "Help you? Bruce look at you. You're not yourself."

"I'm better," Bruce shot back. Y/n went quiet at that, looking at Alfred with raised eyebrows.

Alfred ignored the look. "Now we can talk all day, but what really matters is that you tell me what you meant when you said someone else was coming to Gotham. I thought that old fellow was the leader of the Council of the Owls, who else would be coming?"

An expression rested on Bruce's face. Far too complacent and calm. The Bruce Y/n was familiar with had the tendency to brood- this Bruce seemed to have no tendencies at all. No cares or anything. It was disturbing to say the least. "I want you both to leave."

"Well that ain't gonna happen, is it mate?" Alfred immediately matched. The butler crossed his arms. "You can't get rid of either of us that easy. Your brother here found time around being locked up to be here for you. Not much is getting us out of here."

"Especially with the city in chaos," Y/n cut in. "Not even your pals in the GCPD will be here to drag us away. Might as well end it now."

When Bruce didn't respond, Alfred leaned forward. "You have to remember who you are."

That seemed to set Bruce off. "I know who I am." Y/n scoffed. "I have a destiny," the younger boy continued, his volume raising as Y/n's mocking noise irritated him.

"Now you listen to me." Alfred had gotten very quiet. "That man that wanted you to detonate that bomb, whatever he promised you- freedom from pain, power - none of it, none of it was real. I want you to remember what is real."

"I know what's real!" Bruce yelled over the end of Alfred's sentence. Y/n tried not to smile. He really did. Bruce glowered as his older brother grinned at him. Mocked him. "You come in here and mock me? You're the crazy one. Don't you dare laugh at me like I'm the one who's lost my mind! I got vengeance for our parents' murder. That's real, and better than running around like an idiot with a lunatic murder!"

"You know NOTHING about lunacy," Y/n interrupted. "I've seen crazy. I've seen grown men beat on teenage boys and call it power. I've seen cops chase bad guys to predictable set ups and act like it wasn't the most obvious thing in the world. I've seen so called heroes save to be said innocent people, and then those evil little shits turn on those same heroes the first chance they get. I've seen love get ignored and then twisted. I've seen people laugh at pain and enjoy the suffering of others and then call themselves sane because that person who was dying was a bad guy, so who cares, right? I've seen people define good and bad like it's a dictionary entry and then immediately break the rules they lay down and still try to pass off as the victim of the story. THAT was real Bruce." Alfred put a hand on Y/n's shoulder, and it was only then when he realized he was crying. "I've seen stories about how evil and corrupt men are and how much women are victims, and then looked at Gotham and seen women in charge while I, a child, was raped by a woman again and again who was only using me for power." He cleared his throat. "Not to say that other people don't suffer, I just mean that everything is a grey area. What's real is bullshit and what's fake is seemingly the most honest option of those presented. Not everything is as clear as it pretends to be, Bruce. I'm supposed to be the crazy one. I was supposed to be the one who failed. I was supposed to be the screw up, but we're both in handcuffs and you were the one who was trying to ruin the lives of thousands of people just minding their own business. What was my crime, huh? Trying to be happy? Trying to be true to myself?" Y/n scoffed. "If only mom and dad could see you now."

"YOU SHUT UP!" Bruce screeched.

"Both of you calm down," Alfred snapped. "I was there when your parents had both of you. I took care of your mum and was there as you grew up. You used to be inseparable. No matter what anyone else did or said or thought, the Wayne brothers always had each others' backs. Good and bad is clear. Everyone is capable of it. Everyone does it. No one is innocent of evil, even in small amounts. Both of you have been idiots." He took a breath. "But you're also both my idiots." He looked between the two boys. "You're both my boys, even if I haven't been there for both of you." He looked at Y/n as he said that. "You want to talk about what's real? What's good?" He looked at bruce. "What's real is when you were sick as a kid, and your mum used to sit up with you every night and read to you when you fell asleep. That's real. Or when you were seven and you took that rowboat out and you got lost in that storm. Me and your dad were out, shouting and screaming, losing our minds, and when your dad found you, how he cried. That's real." He looked at Y/n. "When you were twelve and you came to your parents in tears because you couldn't understand why all the girls your age were talking about kissing you and you couldn't stop thinking about kissing the other boys. Your mum calmed you down and your dad told me that no matter what, they'd love you and you thought I didn't know but I did- all this time, I knew." Y/n felt his chest tighten. He felt terrible. "That was good, Y/n." Alfred gripping Y/n's shoulder. "When everyone came to your dad talking bad about you and they thought he'd laugh along, but he put an end to it immediately because you were still his son and he loved you. He was proud of you. When the news people came after you for secrets and they were nosey and pushy. When they crowded and stalked you because they'd caught wind that you had a dark secret and everyone wanted to know what the oldest Wayne son failure was hiding, and your dad nearly lost his mind on all of them, if your mum hadn't stepped in and stopped it cordially. THAT. Was. Good." Alfred returned to looking at Bruce, keeping his hand on Y/n's shoulder. "Your parents died in that alley four years ago, and maybe that man took away the pain of that night." This time he looked between the two boys. "Life has been hard since then, but there is no life, no love, without pain." He squeezed Y/n's shoulder and when the boy nodded, he returned his attention to Bruce. Bruce was the main focus right now, but Y/n had gotten the message. "He could not take away the love that your mum and dad gave you, that you still have in you- that you still have-" his voice broke as he reached over, pressing his hand against Bruce's chest, right over where his heart would be. "Right here." His hand finally dropped after a pause as he continued, "The same love I have for you. For both of you." His face flecked with. "I love you, Maser Bruce. Master Y/n. I would do anything for you. I would die for you. You must-" he cut off, focusing on Bruce. Y/n kept thinking Alfred was done focusing on him, but then Alfred would look at him again, and he hadn't felt so cared for or looked after since his parents had died. It all felt silly now... "You have to find that love again."

Every word hit home. Alfred was speaking to Bruce, but it was becoming more and more obvious that he was talking to Y/n too. Y/n reached over, his hand resting over Bruce's. "We both have to," he whispered softly. "You don't have to do it alone. I know it's been hard and chaotic, but I'm still your brother, Bruce. You're still my brother. And no matter what, you always have me."

Alfred leaned forward. "Come back to us, Master Bruce." There was a commotion outside and Alfred sighed before telling Y/n, "I'll be right back," and then leaving.

Bruce looked to his brother. "Did you mean what you said? I can depend on you?" Y/n nodded immediately. "Then get me out of here." Y/n went to argue but Bruce interrupted. "You can come with me and make sure I'm safe. But I HAVE to do this. I need to finish it. I need to see it through. I need to know if this really is my destiny. I need to understand-" he cut off, choked with emotion. But Y/n knew what he meant. The same thing that had driven him to follow Jerome Valeska of all people. That had gotten him to follow Penguin and ditch his family to begin with. There are just some things you have to do. So Y/n looked around, found a pen, and Bruce pick the locks on both of their cuffs before they booked it, side by side and headed for... something. Bruce hadn't cued Y/n into the plan this far.

In all honesty, it was just nice being by Bruce's side again.

They made their way through the city streets of Gotham at night until they got to a red door with the word "Yuyan" on the front. Bruce went in. Y/n followed. Inside was the statue of what looked like some kind of demon. There was a lot going on. Bruce didn't hesitate- he stepped up and began analyzing it. Y/n was still taking it in when he pulled something and the wall opened up, revealing a hidden passage. The brothers went inside, Bruce having to take Y/n's hand to get the older boy to follow him now.

The two walked down a staircase and through a tunnel. It seemed eery. Weirdly light and far too silent and empty. When people appeared, Y/n regretted his lament about there not being anyone around- they immediately attacked him. "No." Bruce said firmly. They stopped. Y/n looked at his brother with shock. Bruce's expression remained calm. Y/n's would be attackers simply pointed Bruce onward, making way for him to follow their direction.

Y/n hadn't been this scared in a long time. Surely he wasn't in danger. This was Bruce he was talking about. Golden Boy Bruce Wayne who used to cry when they were really little and Y/n would step on a bug. Who shut down after their parents died because he loved them so much that seeing their murder changed him... except that his heart of gold kept him from corrupting like Y/n had. He was driven by justice and refused to let up until evil was destroyed. Bruce Wayne was a hero.

And yet, when Y/n looked at the back of Bruce's head now, he didn't see his younger brother. He saw a man in a child's body. He saw a straight back that was well trained and perfectly postured. He saw clothes Bruce would never wear and a silence Bruce would prefer not to bear, especially with Y/n around to talk his ear off. He saw Bruce leading them down a tunnel of doom, being completely docile after someone tried to kill him. After he almost poisoned maybe hundreds of people with just the press of a button. After, of all people, he had chosen some random old dude weirdo over Alfred and almost killed one of two family members he still had left.

Very suddenly, Y/n realized that he hadn't realized how bad Bruce was. How dumb it was to follow after him right now. And he was more scared than he'd ever been. More scared than even when he looked in the face of a cold blooded, sadistic murderer who had completely lost his mind and only saw an endless world of things to fascinate him. More scared when the doors would close and all he saw was red lips curled in a devious smile as the one person he trusted the most took advantage of him. More scared than when that stupid guard had locked him in that room and he had really thought he was going to get beaten to death for being gay.

Bruce pushed two double doors open with each hand. They creaked as they opened slowly, revealing a room with a green pool in the middle. Bruce leaned over and Y/n stepped forward, reaching out to stop him. Then he felt a pain at the back of his head and everything went black.

-

Y/n woke up alone.

It was dark, but it only took him a few seconds to remember everything and realize where he was. He looked around- the pool was still there. Otherwise, the room was empty. Y/n groaned as he sat up, looking around again for signs of those people that had attacked him earlier. When he still saw no one, he stood and began walking back the way he'd come. It was even scarier now that he was alone. "Bruce?" He whispered into the empty hallway. He jumped at every noise, resulting in him eventually misstepping and tripping. He would have face planted if his scrambling abilities hadn't improved recently due to all the running away from cops and other crazies alike in his days by Oswald's side. Thankfully he didn't fall because, as he was noticing while trying to get his feet under him, there was blood on the floor.

Oh my god there was blood on the floor.

He sucked in a breath, beginning to look around again. "BRUCE?" His heart picked up and he felt the back of his eyes burning with tears. "Bru-" his shoulder hit a wall and he screamed. Shaking his head to calm himself, he pressed his lips together and retraced his path that he'd taken with Bruce to get in here. Eventually it lead him outside. Weirdly enough, the wall was open again. Which meant that he didn't have to figure out how this side of the trick worked... but it also meant he wasn't alone.

The night air outside was cool, the sun rising in the distance. He looked down at himself- he was filthy. He took a second to think. To remember. The last thing that had been clear to him was that he was absolutely terrified of Bruce.

That's right. Bruce wasn't... right anymore. Well, that meant he couldn't go home. He also couldn't just walk back into Arkham. They might think he'd done something if he came back, dirty and hysterical, without Alfred. So he went to the GCPD department instead, because where the else was he going to go?

He was inside for maybe a second before he saw a familiar face. His eyes went wide and his heart nearly stopped- in his vulnerable state, of course it would be the guard that almost beat him to death that would be there to greet him. The man smirked, tilting his head. "There you are. We were wondering when you'd find your way back." He approached the teenage boy, putting a hand on his shoulder.

Someone else approached. Y/n almost melted in relief to see Harvey Bullock. "What's going on here?" His eyes laded on Y/n. "What... I thought you were in Arkham."

"He was," the officer responded. Y/n had already forgotten his name from when Harleen had said it before. "Alfred Pennyworth came and got him out for the day. Needed him for some Wayne business. I'll be taking him back now."

Harvey looked confused by that. "Why? We were already debating letting him go. Now he's out, there's no reason to immediately put him back in." The guard seemed horrified by that idea. Harvey put his hands on his waist. "He didn't do anything wrong."

"Do you know what this boy is?" Y/n's heart sunk. "He's a homosexual."

Harvey's eyebrows rose. At first Y/n thought it was in surprise, but then he said, "So what?"

The guard looked stunned. "He needs help, Bullock. He was canoodling with Jerome Valeska in Arkham. In public. Like there's nothing wrong with that."

Now Harvey was surprised. Y/n swallowed his emotions and met the older cop's gaze evenly, sticking his chin up. Harvey sighed. Y/n didn't even have to say anything- the old man just seemed to... immediately understand. "He turned to someone who accepted him in a world of people who hate him." It was Y/n's turn to be surprised. "That's not punishable."

The guard scoffed. "Son, have you ever killed anyone before?" Y/n looked away. He thought about the first time he'd ever killed someone, and then thought about all the many times after that he'd done it himself or helped. Another experience he'd picked up while hanging with Oswald. "The thing won't even deny it. And he's proud to be with that redheaded psycho. There's something wrong with him, Commissioner. He needs to be detained and get some help."

Harvey and Y/n both knew that was not the reason the guard wanted Y/n back in Arkham. The two men looked at each other, both put down at the fact that they couldn't stop anything happening. Maybe Y/n should have lied. Maybe he should be fighting. Unfortunately, he'd just lost his little brother and he had no idea what kind of shape Alfred was in. Currently, he had to assume that Alfred was either dead or would be soon, if Bruce could help it.

The guard tugged Y/n's arm and they were headed back outside toward his car. "Thought you were gonna get away from me that easily, did you?" The guard growled under his breath, leaning close to Y/n so the Wayne boy would be the only one to hear. "I finally have a reason to get at you, you little shit. Things are only gonna get worse for you from here. Now I can say you've killed people. No one will stop me from knocking you now."

Y/n looked at the city one more time before he was shoved into the car. The guard pulled out a pair of cuffs and put him in them. He looked at the city the whole time. The entire ride, he took in every inch of it. Every dirty corner. Every dirty human. Every inch of the buildings- no matter how close, far, tall or small they were. If he could see it, he took it in as much as he could. Above everything else, he took in the sunrise.

Maybe it was the fact that Y/n might never see it again outside of Arkham, but it wasn't overwhelming this time.

It was beautiful.