#first i bash a nonce

[solidsnakepenis]

They call me the man eater because I eat men

[cescalr]

Why Is Draco Malfoy So Underrated?

A repost of a Quora answer because Quora hates me for some reason

@vivithefolle​ i take little convincing here I go -

SO!

You. Yeah, you. You, nebulous quora questioner, you think Malfoy is underrated, do you? Well I, CescaLR, am here to set the record straight. The following is the answer I posted to Quora, that was flagged with ‘answer may need improvement’, which means some asshole was trawling the answers to the question posted and didn’t like mine so they had the moderators hide it because said person doesn’t like differing opinions. This post is thereby an archive, so if my answer is never again allowed to see the light of day on Quora, at least my maths is visible elsewhere. 

Hopefully, this entertains you, tumblr user reading this post. Also, as fair warning, if you do like Draco Malfoy and somehow stumbled across this post, I recommend skipping it. 

Why is Draco Malfoy so underrated?

Fleur Lee-Ranger

Author of 857406 words of fanfiction and counting.

ANSWER:

HAHAHAHA.

Ha.

Ha.

hah…..

For god’s sake, I hope you’re not serious.

Let’s look at YouTube, first:

Does 2.2 million f*cking views on a woobie Draco edit seem like he’s underrated to you? Any character that gets 2.2 million views on an edit that interprets the character in a sympathetic, caring light…. Jesus Christ. They’re not underrated.

You could make a clear argument for them being overrated, by matter of fact!

The first result is his entire life story, and a redemption of the Malfoy family as a whole, and it’s… super popular!

look at that! 70k likes versus 1.7k dislikes. Let’s use my favourite maths thing once again: Ratios!!

(I hate ratios. The things I do to prove a point, eh?)

This video has 5201431 million views. It has around 70k likes, 1.1k dislikes. We’ll round 5201431, as 70k and 1.1k are both rounded numbers and I can’t be bothered to deal with numbers that are too complicated right now, it’s nearly nine pm. 5201431 -> 5.2 million. It’s the rounded number YouTube itself uses on the search page - check the first image if you don’t believe me, and since YouTube thinks that’s good enough, so will we.

5200000 : 70000 : 1100

52000 : 700 : 11

Divide all by 11 (and round awkward numbers, because we’re already dealing in rounded numbers anyway, which is kind of bad practice, but it’ll do for this context):

4,727 : 64 : 1

As I’ve proven before (not on Quora, you can probably find it in the comments of one of my fanfictions, I’ll end up moving it over here one day when I find the right question), fandom content engagement rates are always pretty bad. But honestly? every four thousand or so views, you get 64 likes, compared to just one dislike. That’s great! That’s incredible! I’d kill for those kinds of ratings!!

(Draco’d probably wimp out, though. hehe. Jokes, jokes.)

As for his woobie video:

2.3m : 152k : 715

2300000 : 153000 : 715

Nice, don’t need to remove any superfluous zeroes. Bad, for… well, your hypothesis, to put it nicely, since that means there are only seven hundred and fifteen goddamn dislikes on this video, what the f*ck, why do so many people like this b*stard child.

Ahem. Sorry, that’s rude to illegitimate children like myself. There is nothing wrong with having unmarried parents.

…Anyway, lets slim down that ratio:

3217 : 214 : 1

Holy sh*t. I would do more than kill for this ratio. Oh my god.

That’s some great engagement there. So many likes! Clearly, Draco dearie is a very popular boy! He’d love that. I hate this on principle. God am I glad 13 year old me didn’t really use YouTube (I watched gaming content and little else, didn’t even find fandom content until 2015) or I’d have contributed one of those likes, probably.

Oh wait, no! Never mind! I can’t have contributed one of those likes, because this f*cking video was posted last year!!!!!

LAST GODDAMN YEAR!!!!

Do you understand that? Do you - do you have any idea how - just how difficult it is to get that many views that quickly and with that good an engagement???? Do you???????? It has been, get this, seven, seven whole f*cking months, Less time than it takes to make a baby, and this f*cking video has 2,265,900!!! million!!!! views!!!! With a ratio of 214 likes to one goddamn dislike.

oh my god.

oh my god

oh my god

I’m having a minor mental breakdown. Jesus f*cking H Christ on a goddamn bike.

Look at these comments! Look at how many likes they have!! Oh my god!!!! Draco Malfoy might just be one of the most beloved characters ever to get this sort of reaction, for hell’s sake!

I don’t know what kind of dunderhead you are to not notice how f*cking popular this jackass little b*stard boy is, but god, the whiny little sh*t has more fans than oh, I don’t know. Someone really popular. Tom Holland? I don’t know celebrities. Sorry.

But my point is, for god’s sake, Malfoy isn’t underrated. I don’t know what rock you’ve been living under, my friend, but that sheer idolisation you so crave of your wimpy f*cking husband is right there in front of you! Just search his name, and you’ll see it front and goddamn centre. Those of us that don’t worship the ground he walks on are generally much more background.

For god’s sake, he’s a trope namer.

Draco In Leather Pants.

How much more evidence do you need than that?

Of course, I could be jumping the gun. You could be a fan of his that is frustrated by the fanon interpretation of his character. ‘Why is he reduced to a bad boy with a heart of gold when actually he’s a more complicated asshole with sh*tty morality and no backbone that gives a whole ass damn about his family but not much else?’ Good question! Blame Cassie Claire, though I suppose that’s my go-to for most things.

Seriously though; Draco Malfoy is not even remotely overrated. He’s a whiny, terrible, useless waste of space in the books; and in fandom, he’s transformed into a cool, collected, redeemable or outright good person who’s smart and talented and like, super hot you guys, doesn’t he look cute with Hermione/Harry/Insert Author’s Projected Character Here?!!!!

Also: Y’all are f*cking creeps for this shit:

THAT’S A SCENE FROM WHEN THE KID IS TWELVE, FOR GOD’S SAKE. I’m not even joking, half of you are nonces and I want nothing to do with you! ‘hot draco malfoy edits’ HE’S TWELVE

HE’S TWELVE

HE’S TWELVE.

Hot take time:

Draco Malfoy is overhyped, overrated, and oversexualised and I want all of this to stop, because you’re doing it to Tom Felton, when he was a child. A child! That’s creepy! Please do not make hot edits of children, thank you!!!!!

Someone call the police. I’m done with this f*cking fandom, oh my god.

(Also, if you think I edited that in like some sick weirdo might do, just go find that video and give it a watch. I wouldn’t if I were you, I’d believe me, because watching that video probably puts you on a watchlist somewhere.

It should.)

Okay. Deep breaths. It’s been a few months, this answer was flagged with the wonderfully opaque ‘this answer may need improvement’, and I’m back to refine this. I’m not taking anything out, but I’m adding some extra investigation. For posterity’s sake; the original answer only contained YouTube analysis. Let’s look through Archive Of Our Own, shall we?

As I showed in my answer re: the well-liked-ness of Lilly and Hermione, this is the number of total fics within the HP tag.

This is the number of tags when ‘Draco Malfoy’ is added to the ‘included characters’ filter.

So, in terms of ‘fandom work presence’ (AO3 is mostly fanfic, but it is not all fanfic, there are a few vids and some art on there, too) Malfoy’s ratio is thus:

254603:65469

3.8889… : 1

4 : 1

So, rounding up, for every four works on AO3, there is one that includes Draco dearie. Good lord, he’s pervasive, isn’t he? Can’t turn a corner in the fandom without seeing his pasty ferret face plastered all over the walls… lovely.

Now, once again - that wasn’t the best ratio. I didn’t remove bashing, for example, so not all those works will be positive (as in, since you think he’s underrated, that means - I assume - you think people don’t like him enough) so let’s go the long mile:

I will find a ratio for Mr Malfoy Jr’s fans, versus his haters, in terms of - how many fics bash Malfoy, and how many greatly enjoy his existence?

Add the bashing tag, and now let’s see how many fics there are with a) Draco in it, and b) Draco Bashing:

hahahhahagag;k;asdkf

Oh no!

Oh my god I dodn’t…. one second… give me just one second….

Right. Laughing fit over, okay. 17.

So, 65469 works with Draco present, 17 of which don’t like him overmuch, and 65452 like him just fine/present him as he appears in canon! Awesome. Of course, people who present him as he is in canon may not like him the way you want him to, so, not awesome? Hmm. I’m not sure how to filter for that. I suppose you wouldn’t want people who write him OOC, though, because that’s not rating him properly, is it? Should we add OOC to the bashing, to get people who don’t appreciate his… many positive character traits… to the extent that you would like?

Yes, I think we should.

Now, there’s no tag for ‘OOC Draco Malfoy’, because that would make my life too easy. And, I’m not going through 151 works to figure out which ones have Draco being the one OOC. If they’ve written one person OOC, and they’re self-aware enough to tag it, then I’m going to meanly assume they’ve written Draco OOC as well. When one person’s out of whack, I’ve found everyone else is, too, so I’m not just doing this to be a dick, I promise, it’s for a real, good, understandable reason, one that is not only because I really don’t want to have to do any maths more complicated than basic ratios.

So. 151 OOC works, 17 bashing works. 168 works of not properly appreciated Draco Malfoy, coming up, which takes our 65469 Draco works down to… 65301.

Well, that’s a lot, still.

So, there’s still some tags to remove, like Evil, and Abusive, and all that lark. I’ll go do that quickly, and come back with the maths.

(okay, but I do have to show this:)

(fourteen works in the ‘Evil’ draco tag?? are you serious???)

(oh and you can’t filter by Abusive Draco Malfoy, like that’s not a tag, so I can’t exclude it, but it really adds to the general atmosphere of ‘Draco Malfoy? Yeah he’s cool I like him’ that this fandom has going on, doesn’t it?)

Alright so! We really only could take away those 14 works. Okay.

By the way, just so you know - I didn’t exclude tags like ‘Death Eater Draco Malfoy’ and ‘Bully Draco Malfoy’ (if the latter even exists), because those are things that happen in canon, and when I think of a character as being ‘underrated’ I include not acknowledging their canon actions, the bad and the good. A character is only as good as their complexities run deep.

So.

For the ratio, I guess;

65469 : 151 : 17 : 14

4,676.3571… : 10.7857… : 1.2142… : 1

4,676 : 11 : 1 : 1

…

Hmm.

For every 4 thousand 6 hundred fics Draco appears in, 11 of them have OOC tagged, 1 of them has Draco Bashing tagged, and 1 of them has Evil Draco tagged. That is…

That is unfathomably good. I’m really, genuinely having a hard time picturing it. I really, honestly, don’t think there’s been a character as unquestionably overrated as Draco Malfoy in all of fandom, because, good lord, look at that ratio! People love the guy!

Let’s see the good draco malfoy tag, shall we?

Now, to be fair, most people don’t bother tagging any of this sort of thing, usually, so that’s a minor flaw in my ratio-ing. We can’t actually know exactly how many works laud Malfoy, or hate him, or feel ambivalent, because people don’t tag their shit properly. But I’m hoping this helps, at least a little. Anyway, 905! That’s a few. Not many, but certainly more than Evil or Bashing or even OOC.

65469 : 905 : 151 : 17 : 14

4,676.3571… : 64.6428 : 10.7857… : 1.2142… : 1

4,676 : 65 : 11 : 1 : 1

Yep. That’s not bad, not bad at all.

So. Most people seem to like him, if we’re honest. As I pointed out above, he’s a trope namer. If you didn’t click on the link for Draco In Leather Pants, here’s a brief summary from the TV Tropes page:

[ Transcription:

Sometimes, a fanwork will portray a villainous character in a more positive light. It can be done out of sympathy for the character, for shipping reasons, as a part of a role-reversal story, several of the aforementioned or for the variety of other reasons.

The common subjects of this treatment are characters who are wicked in a classy or cool way. A physically attractive villain is much more likely to be subject to this trope than a physically ugly one; Beauty = Goodness, after all, and shallow as it may be, it seems that, for some fans, this is the case even when the character's beauty only extends to their appearance. All Girls Want Bad Boys may be a factor with male villains getting a female fandom that views them through this lens. A badass villain will naturally be preferred by many of these over meeker heroic characters at times, as well. Ugly Cute villains also get this pretty easily. ]

So! There’s that. He named a trope all about appreciating a character perhaps (usually definitely) more than they deserve, so I wouldn’t call him ‘underrated’ by most general definitions of the word:

People seem to mostly believe him to be quite good, actually! Certainly enough to write about him a lot, to draw him a lot, to edit him a lot, to theorise about him a lot, to ship him with the main character so much that the 99th filter ever on AO3 was Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter.

Hey, actually, that’s a good idea! Which filter id is Draco Malfoy?

Now, if I’m not mistaken, it’s been a while since I had to do this -

Draco Malfoy was the 1589th tag canonised in the tag system of AO3. Let’s check the Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter tag (which I know for certain was 99) to make sure:

And lo and behold, I was right. That’s mad. That’s mad!!!!

Ooh, I’ve found a fun trick

To change which rss feed you’re looking at, copy the https:// link up to .atom in the speech marks, and change the highlighted number. That shows you what uses that tag_ids: - in this case, 93 is Draco himself. The 93rd tag, dedicated to Draco Malfoy. Good lord, that’s insane! I guess there really weren’t many other things to prioritize at the time, but that’s still silly to me.

Fluff and Angst appears to be the fiftieth tag canonised, for comparison. Sometimes when you replace the rss feed’s ‘tag’ in the address bar it takes you to the tag’s page instead of the feed, because that tag doesn’t have an rss feed. The more you know!

Anyway, back on track: I think all of that, rss feeds, youtube analytics, fandom presence, all kind of proves my point:

Draco Malfoy is not underrated. He is, arguably, overrated as a character, but unarguably very popular within the greater Harry Potter fandom. Unpopular characters don’t tend to get paired with the lead, at the very least - and you can’t turn around in the Harry Potter fandom without seeing Drarry somewhere, can you?

[feverwritingandtextposts]

Can I please have a part two to the Kyōjurō x reader (shinjuku station)? I loved it so much I would be forever grateful if there was more to the story! Please and thank you!🥺😭💖💖

Thank you for reading my work! It took me a while to write this bec i was waiting to be ~inspired~ lmao. I hope you like it. Tell me if you do, defo tell me if you don’t LOL

This was also posted on AO3 here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21695521/chapters/52314919

Festival

"I have an idea of what we can do this weekend!" Rengoku yells, straight into the delicate inside of your ear.

You look up from the printer, peering at him warily. Here we go again.

After the first somewhat confusing whirlwind of a date, the two of you settled into a comfortable tandem of letting each other take turns to pick date activities. You had brought him out for ramen, and he took you to a sumo show (and then out yelled everyone else in the stadium), you took him for lunch in the park, and he took you to an escape room (in which he got too excited and ended up ripping the handle off the door, which got the both of you yelled at by the staff), and so forth.

This week, it was Rengoku's turn to decide.

Rengoku had spent the majority of this week bombarding you with what he calls 'perfect date ideas'. You had absolutely no idea where he was even getting these suggestions from, or if he had always been compiling a list of his own.

You'd never admit it out loud, but anything with Rengoku, despite how god awful it may sound, ends up ridiculously fun. His good-natured unquenchable enthusiasm and encouraging spirit made any situation exciting, and you loved it.

Although, you had boundaries.

"It's oil wrestling! It'll be a great test of spirit!"

"Watching or doing?"

"Doing!"

"Absolutely not."

Rengoku seemed to deflate for a moment, and you almost felt bad. Almost.

Making her way over to you, Kochou Kanae hums her agreement as she gathers her stacks of fresh handouts from the printer. "I don't know... Oil wrestling doesn't seem very romantic Rengoku-san. What about going to a haunted house instead?"

You sigh softly to yourself. It was bad enough that you had to fight off Uzui's repeated attempts to 'help' you and Rengoku's budding relationship, but now it seemed that everyone in the staff room wanted to meddle.

You still haven't fully recovered from Tomioka's suggestion to 'exercise' as a great date idea. You've never ran so many laps of a track field before, and never want to again.

Rengoku folds his arms, considering her suggestion seriously. "That sounds great Kochou-san! But I don't know of any haunted places in the area!"

Kanae smiles at him, excitement twinkling in her eyes. Fishing in her pocket for her phone, she proudly shows Rengoku a compiled list of 'Tokyo's Most Haunted Getaways'. Before you could pull the both of them (and their horrifying plans) apart, Himejima comes up behind you, huge frame blocking out the light.

"Sorry to interrupt..." he begins, looking not very sorry at all. "Have you all submitted your class' necessary forms for the school festival?"

At that Kanae titters, bustling back to her desk to pick up the forgotten forms while Rengoku, ever the star employee, nodded in reply.

Rengoku follows you to your desk as you try to locate the forms, looking deep in thought. "Why don't we go to the school festival then?" he suggests brightly.

"As in... on a date?"

Rengoku grins. "Of course! It'll be fun! My class is hosting a haunted house, it will be perfect!"

You couldn't help but smile at his excitement. You couldn't imagine any of the lively students being anything close to scary, but you were sure it would be fun regardless.

---

"Welcome," says a frazzled looking Aoi, standing at attention behind the little ticket counter.

Rengoku greets her cheerfully, his voice ringing loud even in the noisy hallway. His bright hair and brighter smile fit in perfectly with the excitement of the event. It seems to do nothing to lift her dismal mood though, as Aoi only sighs out her reply.

It was only eleven, but the festival was already in full swing; the usually rowdy students driven uncontrollably raucous with the lively atmosphere.

You can imagine why poor Aoi was already looking like she needed a ten hour nap.

"Look lively, Aoi-san! The festival has just begun!" cheers Rengoku, passing her a can of milk tea from the giant bag of treats he bought at the convenience store just before. You carry a similar bag of goodies, the two of you wanting to motivate your respective classes as they work through the  festival.

Aoi sighs, far too weary for one so young, popping open the tab of her drink as she complains. "Inosuke won't keep to his scare area! He keeps jumping around, and Tanjiro leaves his scare area to put him in his place! Zenitsu keeps whining that it's not fair that he has to watch couples go by the haunted house or something, and its driving me nuts! Rengoku-sensei, can you please talk to them?"

You wince, inwardly thankful that your class was easier to handle. Rengoku booms a laugh, feeling none of your apprehension or Aoi's tired annoyance at his misbehaving students.

"It sounds like they're fired up today huh!" he chuckles, as Aoi rolls her eyes. He hands over the tickets for her to take. "We're going in Aoi-san! I'll talk to them while I'm inside!"

Aoi perks up at that, nodding as she rushes to the door, peeking her head inside to yell at the scare actors to get ready. At her nod, the two of you walk inside, pushing aside the heavy black curtains as you move into the cramped, dimly lit space.

It seemed like the students had set up makeshift walls, covered in fake leaves and cloth, creating a narrow route that winded through the class room space. Lit only by lamps, the outside light blocked out with what was probably more curtains, they managed to make what seemed to be a decently convincing, forest-like atmosphere. It was an impressive feat for a bunch of high school students with no theater background and even less of an attention span, and you praised them to Rengoku who hummed loudly in agreement.

You pressed close to Rengoku's arm to walk side by side, and you feel him fumble around until he located your hand, squeezing it gently. Was it even acceptable to be holding hands while you two were in school? Ah well, it's dark enough that it shouldn't be a problem.

The first bend brought with it the first scare actor, the student's rustling the only sound that permeated the room. With a half choked "WAGHH!" Tanjiro leaps out at the two of you, teeth bared and arms splayed. Dressed in what seemed to be a werewolf costume, he had two little brown ears peaking out in small brown tufts from his messy red hair, and brown paw gloves. He looked... too adorable to be scary.

Still, you pretend to be scared for his benefit, letting out a small "WAH!" of your own, but quite unable to keep the smile off your face. Tanjiro seems pleased enough with it. Rengoku laughs loudly, reaching over to clap him on the shoulder. "Kamado my boy!" he grins, letting go of your hand to rummage through his bag for another canned drink, "Excellent yell! Your fierce spirit really shows through! Here take this, and keep it up!" Tanjiro looks pleasantly surprised to be handed the drink, his "YES! THANK YOU!" loud and sharp like a soldier.

"I didn't expect you to come by, Rengoku-sensei, nor you (Y/N)-sensei!" he chirps cheerfully, not even bothering with keeping up his 'scary' persona in front of his teachers. "I would not miss a chance to cheer on my students!" proclaims Rengoku. He says it loudly enough that an excited murmur goes through the fake walls, probably from the other scare actors listening in. You smirk up at him. Rengoku was as popular with the students as ever.

Tanjiro grins up at him, seeming to get more pumped up by Rengoku's words. As he moves to go back to his hiding spot, he turns to you. "Ah! (Y/N)-sensei, be careful! I know you're not good with scary stuff, and our haunted house is pretty scary," he says, smile dropping in worry for you. You had no idea how he even knew you weren't fond of horror, but you doubted a bunch of students would be very scary anyway. Still, you smile encouragingly at him, but before you can reassure him of your bravery, Rengoku cuts in. "Do not worry young Kamado! I will protect her!"

You stare at him in disbelief, embarrassment colouring your cheeks in a hot flush. How does he even say things like that with a straight face? Tanjiro doesn't seem as embarrassed to hear it as you are, instead nodding at him very seriously.

The two of you leave Tanjiro, continuing down the dark hallway to the loud, snip snip sound of what was unmistakably scissors. Out from the darkness lopes out a giant set of garden shears, clipping shut way too close for comfort. You jump back in shock, and Rengoku takes a step forward, half shielding you and squeezing your clasped hand in comfort. The boy wielding it stepped out into the light, tear stained cheeks glinting.

"Even YOU Rengoku-sensei?!" cried Zenitsu, snapping the scissors a few more times for effect. He might have had more polished makeup at one point, but his tears had long smudged the white powder and black eyeshadow, making him look even more ghost like. His next words came out nearly indistinguishable, choked and warbled with tears but you picked out "unforgivable" and "punishment".

Rengoku seemed startlingly unconcerned by Zenitsu's behaviour, still grinning his manic smile down at him. In fact, he seemed almost impressed. "Incredible, young Agatsuma!" he cheers, fist pumping. "You have really gone above and beyond for your role! You are absolutely terrifying!"

At the (misplaced) compliment, Zenitsu's grief seems to clear. Immediately the tears stopped, replaced by a giddy bashful smile. "Heh, sensei do you really think so?"he asks, bouncing in his place and cuddling the giant pair of shears at Rengoku's affirmative hum. "I only did what I could," Zenitsu says, rubbing at his nose in an attempt at humble nonchalance.

Rengoku's grin, lit with the glow of the lantern, was blinding. Passing the boy one of the canned drinks, Zenitsu accepts Rengoku's praise happily, nearly skipping back into his hiding spot as the two of you went past. You had absolutely no idea if Rengoku had planned that entire exchange to calm him down, or if he truly thought it was all just Zenitsu's acting skills.

The two of you barely made it three steps away from Zenitsu before something came barreling down the path, knocking over the props, lamps and even a few walls before launching itself at Rengoku. Amid the chaos of the thing's growling roars and Rengoku's booming laughter, you could make out the boy's boar head, furry pants, and telltale lack of shirt and shoes. He would have been pretty scary in his own right if you, and most of the school hadn't seen him prowling the school in that same ridiculous headdress. He had gotten so excited over how 'cool and badass' it looked that the moment Aoi was done fashioning it a few days ago, he refused to take it off.

"SENSEI!" Inosuke roared, voice not diminished in the least by his mask. "BE AFRAID OF ME! COWER!"

Rengoku laughed even louder in response, grin threatening to split his face even as he wrestled with the boy. "Wonderful, Hashibira my boy! I can feel your passion burning stronger than ever!"

Inosuke barks out a laugh just as loud as Rengoku. "Praise me more! I'm FAR scarier than Monitsu and Gonpachiro!"

"I don't know who those people are!" shouts Rengoku. "But you are amazing in your own right Hashibira! I'm proud of you!"

You flutter around the two of them, pulling at their arms in a futile attempt to stop the impromptu wrestling match. Luckily, as quick as it started, Inosuke decided that he has had enough of trying to overpower and outshout Rengoku. He seemed very satisfied with Rengoku's praise, giggling happily to himself. From behind him, a few of the other scare actors emerged, upset that Inosuke had destroyed half the room's arrangement in his conquest. From behind you, you could hear Tanjiro yelling at him, voice audible even over the din of everyone shouting at once.

The chaos took a while for Rengoku and you to settle, and once everyone calmed down enough to start clearing up the area, you dragged Rengoku out of there, realising it will be better for them to work without Insouke trying to start a new wrestling match every few minutes. Rengoku left the rest of his treats with Aoi who promised to hand them out to the rest of the students on shift.

"So, wasn't it scary?" asked Rengoku, beaming down at you. You didn't really think scary quite covered the mayhem in that room, but you DID have a lot of fun, and tell him as much.

The two of you decided to stop by your classroom next, and you breathe a sigh of relief at how quiet your class is in comparison. Honestly, it was a silent reprieve in the midst of the festival's commotion. The dango the two girls manning the front of the store glistened enticingly in the light, and (to no one's surprise) Rengoku ended up purchasing nearly half their ready stock.

Nezuko thanked you for your treats with a muffled sound of appreciation, mouth stuffed with dango. You wondered faintly if she was selling the food or eating it, but Makomo beside her assures you of their good sales regardless.

Setting off now unburdened with treats but arms full of delicious dango, the two of you made your way through the stalls with Rengoku pausing every few steps to hand feed you his dango. Perhaps it was the cheerful mood of the festival, but you found yourself less embarrassed by the public display of affection than you would usually be.

The two of you strolled around, arms interlinked, enjoying your food, the giddy feeling of Rengoku's full attention making you feel like the two of you were in your own world. That is, until you heard the whistle.

Sharp and blaring it sounded right behind your heads, causing the both of you to jump. Turning, you stared right into the steely blue eyes of Tomioka, his characteristic frown setting him apart from the happy festival goers.

"Tomi-" Rengoku began, raising his arm in greeting before Tomioka blared his whistle again.

"Please maintain a sufficient amount of space between each other whilst on school grounds," he says, voice flat and serious. He jabs his ever present bokken at your linked arms, tapping until you unwind yourself from Rengoku. Rengoku's eyes widen even more than usual at Tomioka's intrusion. Although his smile remains ever present, the slight furrowing of his brow is the only indication of his true feelings.

Rengoku booms a laugh, slapping the bokken away from the two of you. "It's a festival, Tomioka-san! I'm sure its alright to be a bit lenient today!" Rengoku shouts cheerfully.

Tomioka doesn't seem in the least fazed, tapping his wooden sword against his shoulder in a flat, yet strangely menacing manner. "I disagree. Rules are rules, Rengoku-san. Please understand, we are teachers, we must maintain-"

"I understand!" you say, cutting off what was sure to be a rambling speech. "We'll be more careful."

Tomioka eyes the both of you, dubious, but finally he assents, nodding sharply before striding off immediately to hassle a student couple.

You moved to continue walking before you feel Rengoku grab your hand again. Eyebrow raised, you turn to him. "Tomioka just said that we can't be too close in school right?"

Rengoku grinned, blinding. "He did, indeed!"

"Then why?" you question, looking pointedly at your linked hands. At that Rengoku leans closer, cupping his hand around his mouth as if to whisper.

"He's not looking at us now," he says, voice still too inappropriately loud for a whisper. You turn to watch Tomioka smack the male student over the head with his bokken, presumably for talking back to him. For a second, you wondered if he'd smack the two of you for daring to disobey the rules even after a warning. You didn't doubt it.

As if sensing your thoughts, Rengoku's smile pulls wider, playfulness twinkling behind those burning sonic eyes. "We'll be sneaky."

In Rengoku's defence, he tried his best.

The two of you strolled around, hand in hand, dropping away from each other at the first sight of that messy black hair and worn blue tracksuit. It became nearly a game, greeting Tomioka's suspicious gaze with the most innocent expressions the two of you could muster (you, holding in giggles, and Rengoku, even louder with anxiety). Whenever he left, the two of you would stick together like magnets, the situation making you two even more touchy than usual, giggling your heads off like teenagers.

But in all honesty, Rengoku wasn't built for any sort of sneakery, and it wasn't long before the two of you heard the telltale blare of the whistle. It was the only warning you received before you spotted the gym teacher barreling down the crowded hallway, whose participants parted immediately, terrified of Tomioka's already swinging sword. You sighed, ready for the inevitable scolding, before you felt Rengoku tighten his grip on your hand, tugging insistently at you, as he turned to run down the hallway.

Too shocked at the sudden chase scene to say a word against it, you allow yourself to be dragged down the hall by a madly laughing Rengoku, his voice matched only by the repeated blares of the whistle. Students and festival goers threw themselves out of the way as Rengoku shot down the hallways like a burning blaze.

Stumbling along after him, you let him pull you into the space beneath the staircase, his laughter cutting off as he struggled to be quiet. Covering your mouth, he pulls you in close, the two of you trying to stay as quiet as possible as you hear Tomioka thunder past. The two of you stayed tense and quiet for a few moments more before Rengoku lifted his hand off your mouth, allowing you to properly catch your breath.

"You!" you begin, accusingly. "He's definitely going to scold us later!"

Rengoku looked appropriately chagrined, his grin looking almost sheepish. Humming softly to himself he thinks over your words. "Then, let's not leave this spot!" he says, hair bouncing as he visibly perks up at the thought of staying in the dark dusty staircase. You snorted at his antics, letting him drag you down, tucking you neatly against him as he sat down.

You lean your head against his chest, cuddled in his arms as you try to calm your heart back down after the impromptu marathon. Rengoku nuzzles his face into your hair, and the both of you sit in comfortable silence for a while. It's a welcome change after the chaos of the festival.

Rengoku, you knew thrived in that madness though, so you ask him when he'd like to return to the festival.

"Hm," he says, and his voice is uncharacteristically soft, making you turn to stare at him. He smiles, gentle, and he looks surprisingly sleepy, as if cuddling under dusty staircases was his perfect idea of a nap. "I realise," he murmurs, and it makes you wonder if this is what he's like in the early mornings, or the eaves of the night, when his perpetual fire (if ever) dims for rest. "I haven't gotten you all to myself all day... Let's stay like this, for a little while longer."

You smile back up at him, securing yourself more comfortably in his lap. It certainly wouldn't hurt to relax here a bit longer. You'll just have to hope Tomioka forgets about his scolding by the time the two of you get back.

[riddlesandqueries]

Valentine’s Evening

A roleplay between @themarmaladeblog and myself, concerning the relative conditions of a civilian, a rogue, and the unspoken.

It was… a date, right?

 It’s Valentine’s day. 

Bruce waits in a small cafe he’s fond of, where he knows the food and coffee are good and the people are friendly, where there’s quiet tables, and enough interference between them for a modicum of privacy. The atmosphere is close, and… affectionate, given the day, and the other diners. 

He’s dressed in blue. Edward’s suggestion, when they first had dinner together at the manor. He said he’d look better in color, than black and white, and Bruce had taken it to heart. ….He’d accepted. Edward had accepted the invite for dinner, and Bruce stresses over this, twisting his napkin between his fingers and nervously watching the door. Of course, the word ‘date’ had never been mentioned, it was just…. dinner.  - But, it’s a date, right….?

Oh, god, is this a date? Is this what dates are like when you actually care? Edward scowled against his nausea, parking the car and giving his hair a quick comb. This is probably what Hell is like, isn’t it. Just nothing but doubt and insecurity and never getting answers. The last one was his least favourite thing in the world, and it burned in him like an ulcer. Adjusting his tie, he strolled inside despite his stomach ache. “Hello, Bruce.”

God, he’s cute. Bruce muses, through a faint and worryingly earnest smile. 

Does he… look? As smitten as he feels? Bruce hopes not. It would be a terrible idea to actually… date, Edward Nygma. 

Nygma, A man he’s personally concussed three times, and locked in the VR, who’s tried to kill him on multiple occasions. He couldn’t in good conscience date Edward Nygma. Not when he still can’t actually tell him who he god-damn is. 

(Not that Bruce’s put on the cowl in some time. His heart, just…. hasn’t been in it, lately.)

Bruce finds himself searching Edward’s face, trying to discern his expression, weigh the amount of affection he can find in the other man’s eyes, see if it matches his own. He should’ve brought flowers, god. 

No, god damn it, under no circumstances should I be buying him flowers. 

“Hey, Eddie.“ His smile, despite his better judgement, grows just a bit. "Had a good February?”

“All half of it? I’ve had worse.” Edward says, taking a seat. He’s in rich green, so dark it’s almost black, with bright accents in white and gold and purple in his details. “How about you? You’ve been quiet.”

“Heh, it’s one of those dark months, I think, that kind of… carries me off into thinking…. So, uh, lost in thought? Lots of days in the gym, staring into space.” 

Bruce pauses, as dimly it occurs to him that he should at least greet Edward properly. “…You look fantastic. Heh, no surprise, though….”

“Dark months? Do you get that seasonal affective disorder?” Edward frowns curiously. “There’s light box therapies for that, you know.”

“Oh - no, nothing like that, I just… deeply crave it to be light enough to go rock climbing. I get nostalgic for warm-weather sports as the winter drags on, but it’s not depression, I don’t think, so much as I zone out easier on exercise machines.” Bruce rubs the back of his neck, a bit. “Easy to get lost in thought on an elliptical. I mean, I guess it’s good for my creativity….”

“Bruce, that’s dangerous.” Edward gently chides. “You could mash a toe.”

The first instinct is to object, to protest that he’s done it a hundred times before, that he’s had worse, but… Bruce quashes that reflex. It’s honestly kind of nice, he decides after a half-second pause, to be worried after. By someone other than Alfred. 

In fact, it would be nice if it was anyone worrying after him, he tells himself, the fact that it’s Edward has nothing to do with it. Bruce absolutely insists upon this fact mentally, though he can’t even manage to convince himself. He smiles, sheepish. “Yeah… you’re right. Old habits aren’t easy to break, though, y'know?”

“Oh, sure.” Edward chuckles wryly, looking over the drink menu. “Even new habits are hard to break: they’re there for a reason, after all. But I hope that things lighten up for you soon.” Bruce still has a tan. Maybe he should be a snowbird.

“Yeah, soon as the sunlight lasts past when I tend to leave the office.” Bruce laughs, a cheerful sound that briefly fills the small cafe. They’re smiled at, by a waitress, though ultimately she passes them over for the nonce, as Edward is pondering the offerings – largely Greek fusion – and Bruce picks up the drink menu. 

He’s, ah, quite thirsty for some reason, and… has the sneaking suspicion that this evening will go smoother one cocktail in. Just one. Don’t want to get sloppy drunk around a crush. 

…Come off it, it’s been months. I think we’re a bit past the whole 'crush’ bit. - Bruce just about catches himself before he sighs heavily at his own thoughts. - Knock it off. Focus on the drink menu.

Edward remains oblivious. Oh, that laugh…as cheerful as ever, if maybe a bit more honest than during his usual social performances. He swallows his thoughts, and decides on a simple sangria, as well as spanakopita: he hasn’t had the latter since the summer.

“They’re supposed to be really good at uh, traditional dishes here, according to all the reviews I read.” Bruce decides, silently, on Lamb Kleftiko, and he ignores the fact that 'stolen lamb’ is weirdly thematic given his company. It prompts a quiet chuckle, under his breath. Stolen - well, that’s fine.

“I was, going to get a drink while it’s still early, did you want to look at the wine list, or…?”

Edward wiggles the drink menu he’s holding. “I’m getting the house sangria to see what all of the fuss is about.”

That begets a fond grin. “I’ve only had it once….” Bruce considers, warmly. “If you get the white wine peach version, I’ll split a pitcher with you?”

“Done deal.” Edward grins. “Have you been here before?”

“No, but I’ve poked my head in and gotten takeaway pastry a couple times on the way home from work. If the rest of the food is as good as the baklava, we’re in for a treat.” Bruce’s grin is broad and easy when he talks about food. This is, good, this is fine, this isn’t weirdly awkward or yearning, he can do this. 

It’s probably not even a date. It might be a date. Bruce might not be great at spotting a date. He could… ask Edward if it was. But that way lies danger. No, maybe he could just,  just, see if Edward seems to think it a date, that’d… - Except, we really shouldn’t be dating the Riddler.

“If we aren’t, you owe me a decent meal.” Edward teases, smirking. This if fine. What was he ever worried about? Liking Bruce’s smile too much? …That sweet, endearing, dogged smile? AUGH.

“Work’s been all right?” asks Edward lightly.

“I mean, it’s been work.” Bruce laughs, lightly, rubbing his cheek. “Not that, you know, I’m really complaining. I do, honestly… find what I do to be, fulfilling. Busy, though, pretty much… all the time. Just, you know. It’s not a vacation in Hawaii, but…” His grin is his best attempt at disarming. A joke, right? 

No harm in jokes, not even if it is the flirtatious ones.

“If only it could be, huh?” Edward grins. “What a trip that was: I still haven’t gotten all of my photos developed. Kind of makes me wish I’d brought a Polaroid.”

Bruce’s face lights up. “Oh, hey, I didn’t know you were taking that many, I got… a handful, but…Man, remember the volcano summit? At sunset? That was amazing.”

You were amazing.

God, Bruce quietly chides himself, he almost said that out loud. 

“It was beautiful, wasn’t it?” Edward hums fondly. “It makes sense that people climb mountains, when they want to be that close to the sky. Makes me feel kind of bad for being such a city boy.”

“I mean…. if you wanted to travel again, it was… it’s something I’d love to do with you in the future. Not like we wouldn’t come back.” HI, MAYBE AVOID THE ‘LOVE’ WORD, BRUCE. GET YOUR HEART OFF YOUR ARM. 

Before he can freeze up too terribly, though, the waitress swoops in.

If only we could. Edward smiles kindly to the waitress, and asks for the pitcher of white peach sangria…the spanakopita, and… ”What was it, Bruce?”

“Oh, ah, lamb kleftiko. And bread, please?”

“Pita?” asks the waitress kindly.

“Yeah, just, something to soak up any leftover sauce.”

“Sure thing. Be right back with your waters!" 

Edward waves after her. "I don’t think we could do that again, Bruce, considering your schedule.”

“…Yeah, probably not this year.” Bruce mutters, gloomy. It seemed different, out of the city, more plausible while they’re away. 

I should tell him. Bruce muses, glum. At the end of dinner, like… like ripping off a bandage. I can’t keep talking to him if he doesn’t know I’m Batman.

Edward casts Bruce a sympathetic look. “I am sorry for that fact. It’s not easy, I can tell.”

Bruce chuckles, though there’s little humor in it, rueful. “I mean, half of it is, I think I got attached to having you around.” Mumbled. That was a bit more honest than he meant to be, but… well. He lives in a big empty house, right? He has… plausible deniability behind why he would miss something like that..

Oh… Edward smiles slightly, a bit of colour in his cheeks. It’s a lopsided smile, a bit bashful, a bit bare when he’s off his rhythm. “I bet you say that to just anyone.” he chuckles, brows raised. “That’s quite a compliment.”

Bruce can’t quite hide how… pleased he is at that smile, certainly not fast enough. He does his best to quickly look off to the side, but is visibly charmed. Pink, in his ears. In a way he can’t pretend is sunburn, not now. “I dunno. Never been on vacation with anyone else, I’ll, have to get back to you on that one. If, uh, if it ever happens.”

“As long as I’m out of lockup, I suppose I’m available.” Shut up shut up shut up and STOP STARING 

 Water is brought around.

Available. God, if only that were true. Bruce takes to the water, almost… gratefully. It’s going to be a long, long dinner, huh.

Edward sips his own, taking in and letting out a slow breath. This is torment. Say something. “So, it’s Valentine’s Day, huh?” - GOD DAMN IT NOT THAT - “I expected Calendar Man to do something.”

Oh. He noticed. Of course he noticed, why the fuck wouldn’t he notice, it’s a holiday. “Yeah, uh, heh, happy, uh - happy Valentines, Eddie.” 

The quiet as Bruce fishes for something else to say nearly deafens him. “…Could I... get you dessert, maybe?”

“Pick each other’s desserts? Sure.” - I swear by all that’s holy Edward do NOT overthink this.

Bruce nods. That’s agreeable, and… segue to small talk, maybe. Just, try and talk a bit… The romantic atmosphere is not helping, not at all. He shouldn’t have asked him out, not tonight, he knows this now. Jesus, uh… “I, missed this, you know? Dinner together.”

“It’s fun, isn’t it?” Edward grins. “We should just try out restaurants, I had a few friends back home who I’d do that with. Once a month, go try somewhere new.”

If you’re willing to speak to me after tonight, that sounds like a lot of fun. That thought translates onto Bruce’s face as a somewhat unusual, wistful smile. “That sounds fantastic, honestly.”

“It’s fun! It always keeps everything fresh: no falling back on old standards, and you can’t repeat a dish.”

Bruce grins. “I take it these rules are tried and true?”

“Absolutely.” Edward affirms. “Otherwise, someone orders the same baseline dish for every kind of restaurant they go to: tacos at every Mexican place and such.”

Bruce smiles a bit, nodding. “Anything you absolutely won’t eat? Don’t want to commit some kind of faux pas.” Food. Food is a safe topic.

“Me? Not really…it’s all worth trying twice at least, just to dispel bad first impressions if any.” he hums, thinking. Is there any food I don’t like..? Edward’s successfully been derailed.

“And no allergies, then?” Bruce asks, “Because I’m up for anything, yeah?”

“None I’m aware of, but if some develop, that’s a surprise for everyone.” Edward chuckles.

“God, I hope not.” chuckles Bruce, fond.

“Me too, frankly. Do you have any allergies?”

“No, not to food! Thankfully.” Bruce waves the notion away, “I don’t always get along with, uh, some kinds of polyesters, but that’s all that comes to mind.”

“Oh, I understand. The first problem is that you were wearing polyester.” Edward smirks.

Bruce grins. “…You were right, about the blue suit.”

“Hm? Well, you look good in it.” Edward says, gesturing to Bruce. “Do you like it more?”

“I mean, yeah. Brown and black all the time is, boring. I’ve gotten a lot of compliments today, too, so… thanks.”

“You’re welcome. You look good in black, but colours are a nice indulgence against the status quo.” Edward grins.

“I mean,” Bruce hums. “You always look amazing in green. I don’t think I’ve seen that suit before?”

“No, not this one. Bright shades aren’t for winter, not for me.”

Bruce’s head cants to one side. “They aren’t? …I wish I was half as good at clothes as you are. I don’t get seasons at all.”

“Black is never wrong. The rest of it’s made up, largely, so do as you will.”

Bruce smiles faintly, nodding, as food comes around. Smelling, as predicted, fantastic. It’s easy enough to keep up… this vein of comfortable, pleasant compliments and arm’s reach affection. It’s for the best, he tells himself, as dinner wends towards dessert, and they huddle together to pick what the other is going to be eating. He expects they can probably split it between them anyway. 

It’s for the best, because Edward’s definitely never going to speak to him again.

As a surprise for one another, just for extra fun, they order one another dessert: Bruce receives a chocolate torte with strawberries, and Edward receives a chocolate baklava, which he’s very pleased to see. “Perfect…geez, maybe I should have been more on-theme.”

“Well, on the bright side, I love strawberries?” says Bruce earnestly. (You keep using the love word, Bruce.)

“Hard not to. Bon appetit!” smiles Edward.

Bruce lifts his spoon in a lazy toast, and sets into it. Quiet. Right, he’ll break the bad news any minute now. Any minute. He just, needs to bring it up, so… like ripping off a bandage. Easy.

….Bruce takes a sip of the sangria, frowning into it.

“…Does it taste wrong?” Edward frowns.

“No, I uh…” Bruce stalls. Come on, get it over with. “I need to tell you something, Eddie, it’s…. it’s important.”

“…Yes?” Edward asks carefully, raising an eyebrow.

“…You probably won’t want to hear it.” Bruce mutters to himself, unable to keep his gaze. “I, uh. I’m…. I’m, um…” 

Go on. 

“I’m… I’m kind of smitten, with you.” 

BRUCE. WAYNE. WHAT, PRECISELY, ARE YOU DOING?

“…What?” Edward utters, gobsmacked.

THAT IS NOT WHAT YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO SAY, BRUCE. Yes, well, that doesn’t make it less true!

 “I - I, yeah. I um….Look, I know it’s… stupid, of me it’s… You’ve mentioned yourself, you don’t, think of people. Not like that, and…..God, I tried, you know? To put it aside, especially after Selina, this is, I know this isn’t something you want to hear, but. …It’s valentine’s day. Lover’s day, you know? It, I’m having trouble not talking, suddenly, feel free to interrupt me at any time, just...”

I wonder if this is what a nervous breakdown feels like. What was that checklist on therapy? The fact I can’t remember offhand says everything about the situation. Edward takes a big sip of his sangria, and takes a deep breath. “We should not discuss this in a public restaurant.”

…That makes it easier. Okay. Just, smile, and, it’s fine. “Yeah, that’s… that’s probably best. Okay.” Softly. Resigned, Bruce’s eyes fall to his plate, and he grows quiet to come to terms with what is at least seems like it will be a polite rejection. What did he expect, anyway? At least you can move on, Bruce. …Just focus down dessert, and steel yourself for heartbreak.

“…” Edward picks at his dessert, then sets down his fork. “Let’s get these to go.”

“ - Yeah, okay.” Check: paid. Not like he really has his appetite, anymore.

Boxes gathered, and they’re out the door. “…Somewhere private?” Edward murmurs.

“…Your house? My, house?” Personally, Bruce would prefer Edward’s, if he’s going to be shot down, but…

“That cliff on the outskirts of town, maybe.” says Edward firmly. Neutral is best.

Jeesh, punch me in the gut while you’re at it. “Yeah, okay, I can drive.”

“I’ll need to be brought back to my car eventually.” Edward warns, following along to Bruce’s car.

Stop complaining, Bruce, the horrid little voice in his head chides, this wouldn’t be an issue if you’d just confessed what you were supposed to confess. 

“I mean, yeah, that’s - “ Bruce flounders, numbly “ - it’s just weird to head up in, two. Cars, I mean.”

“Is it? I don’t know the protocol.” Edward mutters, getting into the car.

… On the bright side, I suppose it does solve the moral dilemma of crushing on someone you’ve hurt so many times. Now he even gets to hurt you back. You deserve this, Bruce. You know that, don’t you? Even if he doesn’t know why, never knows he’s got it, at least he’ll have his revenge.

Bruce is quiet, as he drives. A bit to shake off traffic… then not much longer, once the city loses its grip. “… Sorry.” is all he can manage, in a small voice, as they park.

Edward holds his dessert in his lap, staring determinedly out the window, thoughts almost visibly ticking like clockwork around him. "Sorry?” he says, snapping out of it.

“For shoving that off on you.” Bruce mumbles, finding that he can’t, actually. Look. At Edward.

“I’m, not angry.” Edward frowns, bemused.

“… Oh.” Bruce murmurs, also bemused. “… You, um, wanted to talk.”

“Yes, just not in the restaurant. People, paparazzi, there’s nothing I hate like gossip I didn’t start personally.”

Bruce nods, mute. For want of avoiding foot in mouth disease, Bruce very carefully has nothing to say.

“You like me, as in, romantically?” Edward asks, dissecting the words carefully.

“… Yeah. I - I know it’s, you’ve said on your blog yourself, you don’t… I’m sorry for inviting you to dinner with ulterior motives.” Bruce says this all so quietly, and he stares at his own hands in guilt. “I knew all that already, but…”

“Bruce.” Edward prompts.

Ah, Bruce. Even when he’s talking about his own feelings, he’s putting other people first. He’s rationalising rejection before it’s even been delivered. Giving Eddie an out. “I know.” he says softly. “ - Sorry, yeah, go on. I’m listening, I promise.”

“First of all, there’s nothing wrong with liking me.” Edward says primly. “I’m wonderful. But I’m also a very dangerous criminal, and you should not date me under any circumstances. I’m not good for you.”

Bruce pauses, reviewing the statement. That… that isn’t, that’s not really a rejection. Is it? He blinks up at Edward, visibly confused.

Edward looks stern. Determined, even.

“… Yeah?” Bruce almost sounds, hopeful, bless him.

“I can’t be in a relationship with you.” Edward says plainly. “You’re only going to get hurt and you don’t deserve that.”

Yes I do, that’s a fucking lie, I’ve hurt you more times than I can count, thrown you in Arkham… “I don’t know, it… Can’t be much worse than friends, can it…?”

“…Can it?” he asks, wary.

“And you’re a fantastic friend.” Bruce adds.

“People are going to threaten your life over this, Bruce, it isn’t a game.” Edward says, annoyed. At least, this part isn’t, anyway.

“… No, I mean. I know.” Bruce condedes. “You’re right. You’re right, Eddie. People could try to hurt you through me, they could try to use me to get close and do terrible things to you.”

“Exactly. I’m glad you understand that.” Edward sighs.

“I know you’re right,” Bruce continues on, “But the feelings are here anyway… And I mean, it’s not like I don’t already hate to see you hurt.”

“Maybe I don’t want to see you get hurt, have you thought of that?” he snaps quietly.

Bruce rubs the back of his head, quiet. I should drop it. Drive him back to his car, and pretend this conversation never happened. 

Against all wisdom, Bruce pushes on: “… I can’t pretend it’s not a nice feeling to know that you care, either.”

“…” Edward huffs, sitting back in his seat, looking away.

“… So, um, thank you for that.”

“One of us has to keep his wits, I suppose.” Edward snips.

Bruce chuckles softly. “You always were smarter than me. … I know it’s a terrible idea. I know I shouldn’t, I know I should drop the idea and run. But I… I can’t. I’ve been trying to rationalise it away for months and, no matter which angle I look at it from, no matter how bad an idea this could be, it… I’m more attached to how, nice it might be, more than I am scared of the opposite.”

“How nice that must be.” Edward grumbles.

“… Honestly, it scares the shit out of me.”

“…” Edward looks over, incredulous. “You just said…”

Bruce rubs his nose, frowning. “… I’m not scared of being hurt, Eddie. I’m scared of… you leaving.Walking away, wanting nothing to do with me. I’m scared of, how hard it is to put this crush out of mind.”

“I’m not going to do that, Bruce.” Edward mutters, pinching the bridge of his nose between his eyes with a sigh.

“… Penny for your thoughts?” A pause. After a moment, Bruce adds,  “… You know, you haven’t actually turned me down.”

“I know.”

“.. Do you, want to talk about it...?”

Edward takes a deep breath, and slowly lets it out in a sigh. “To me, a river bed is better than water beyond grasp, and food in the air is better gone than present in despair.”

Bruce frowns at that for a moment, scratching his palm with the opposite fingernail. “… Is that…Do you mean like, Greek Mythology? Tantalus?”

Edward nods, lips pursed. It’s always so hard to speak, when it’s important.

“…All right….” Bruce mumbles, slowly. “To extend the metaphor, um… If, you do want I - I’m offering to bring you a cup. Or pick the fruit, so the trees can’t bend out of the way anymore.” Softly.

“You’d be cursed too, if you did such a thing.” mutters Edward, glancing away.

“… Yeah, maybe. It’s - I’ve been trying to tell myself this is a bad idea since the spa day, Eddie. I know this isn’t… wise. … But if it’s at least mutual, I’d… I’d prefer to, you know.” 

“… Try it with company, instead of alone.” Bruce’s laugh is tired, and hollow. “Even if it is a bad idea, at least it’s one I get to make with you, instead of in spite of you.”

Since the spa day? Geez. “What do you mean by that?”

“No matter how bad an idea it is to date you,  I still want it… And if that’s mutual, at least I wouldn’t have to navigate whatever comes next by myself. And neither would you. Which… you, implied was the case?”

Edward sighs, tired. Damn it. “Mhm.”

Bruce gives a brief nod, then stares out the windshield, frowning. You shouldn’t have brought it up.

Just because I’m struggling to communicate doesn’t mean you have to match it. Edward rolls his eyes, and grabs Bruce’s hand to hold it, chin propped in the other as he frowns out the window. Stupid crush. Stupid words, thoughts, FEELINGS.

.

… The pessimism vanishes, just… briefly, as Bruce squeezes Edward’s hand. “Let me try this again.”

“Go on.”

“I think you’re wonderful, Eddie. The smartest man I’ve ever met, fun to talk to, and company I treasure. I cannot really… put into the right words, in the right order, how glad I am to be able to call you at least my friend. I think you’re about the most attractive man I know, and I actually fancy you rather a lot. It’s a bad idea. For a lot of reasons between your… vocation, and my publicity, this could blow up in a bunch of ways that could hurt one or both of us. And despite this, I still think it’s worth it to… try. If you feel the same, I think it’s… worth being a little selfish. Just this once… but at least, I can’t just, sit on that anymore.”

“…I’m already holding your hand, Bruce.”

“Yeah, but I made a mess of the words.”

At least you can. “It doesn’t have to be perfect. It certainly won’t be,” Edward says. “But I’ve had some nagging issues on my mind myself, shall we say.”

Bruce nods, and is quiet for a moment.“… I was ready for rejection, you know.”

“What? Some genius I’d be, turning down a catch like you.”

Cautiously, Bruce shifts to lean against Edward. “… I’m not great at being selfish.”

“It’s a nice trait about you.” Eddie murmurs, leaning in a bit himself.

Faint smile. Oh, that’s all right then. Bruce settles, a bit less nervous. “Even if I treat myself, this once..?”

“…do you know who you’re talking to?” Edward grins.

“I’d hope so, or this has all been a terrible mistake.” A glib joke is a good sign.

“If you’re Clayface, you’re dead.”

Bruce has a brief flicker of existential horror. “God, I hadn’t even thought of that.”

“At this point, it’d be a hell of a long play.” Edward snickers.

With a faint grin, Bruce rests an arm around Edward’s shoulders. It’s not unlike the visits leading up to the new year, he decides, when a sleep-deprived Edward would lean on him. Except Edward’s not sleep deprived. 

You’re in trouble, Bruce, Warns the little voice at the back of his head.

Just… let me have this. Bruce pleads back at it, in turn. Let me enjoy it while it lasts. “… It’s a, a shame we missed sunset.”

“There will be others.” A promise, that. Edward’s nervous, despite the calm demeanor and measured words.

“… Eddie?”

“Hm?”

“Just…I’m here, yeah?” This is an effort to be comforting, complete with hopeful smile.

“You are, yes.”

“… I’m nervous too.”

“Why? I said yes.”

Bruce sighs, softly. “I’ve never really had a good relationship, before? Selina’s the closest thing to… and it’s not really the same. So this is all going to be new territory.”

“I’ve never had any. I’ve never had these feelings before and they’re not even slightly comfortable.”

Bruce slowly nods, taking that in. “… If I can, make that easier on you…I’ll, try. Though I don’t know how.”

“The concept as a whole is like a movie about a pandemic, such that everyone else around me always seemed to be getting infected and I was assumed immune…and the twist ending is that I’ve been a carrier, asymptomatic.” Edward shudders. "Obviously, I’ve made some degree of peace with it: I did that on the drive over, I was banking on it being one-sided, after all. It’s not all bad, it’s just a relatively immediate change after a lifetime of nothing, and it’s dreadful in every sense.“

“… I’m sorry, Eddie.” Bruce murmurs, not an apology this time at least, but compassion, emphasized by another gentle squeeze. 

Privately, he considers, yeah, it does sort of seem like a disease. It’s not like he hasn’t been arguing with his own head for months, trying to plead his way out of infatuation. Though he’s not sure he’d call it a virus; it’s not like it’s contagious. It’s more like dementia. Not the time to correct him, maybe. “I was… I assumed the same. That it’d be one sided, that… you remember in Hawaii, when you went to the porch for a bit? I thought you’d noticed, that I was too obvious, that you were upset.”

Edward had, in fact, considered it as such, but dementia was even less comforting as a prospect and he didn’t need the stress. "No…that was the time I’d realized what had changed in me, and why I kept feeling feverish with an uneasy stomach.” His analogy holds water. “I was upset, yes, but that was because I didn’t want to have a crush. I still don’t, but here I am.” Edward laughs weakly. “So what choice is there, but to pursue it?”“There’s always a choice.” says Bruce quietly. “I don’t want to make you sick.”

“I didn’t want to go through this like Tetch.” Edward frowns. “So I tried to outthink it. Like being on a diet, perhaps. But…yes, Bruce, there’s always a choice, and I made it on the drive over.” he hums, glancing over as he pats Bruce’s hand. “Keep up, I’m just monologuing a little, it’s my turn.” A half-joke, in these trying times.

He gets a quiet laugh at that, and Bruce defaults to nodding, resting against Edward’s side. God, this isn’t even a little bit comfortable with the gear shift between them, but who cares.

“But really now…a rogue and a civilian, it’s dangerous…I really don’t want to drag you into that swamp, that’s why I’ve never told you about any of it, plausible deniability and such. But now especially.”

“…Yeah, you still shouldn’t tell me any of that, I don’t think.” Bruce murmurs.

“I never will.” Edward promises. “It’s not that I don’t want to talk, it’s recognition of what I do not need to share.”

Edward is quiet for a moment, frowning. “…you’re really going to be all right with dating a super villain? I’m still doubtful about that, we’re notorious for being a handful.”

“I promise I know that already, at least. I’ve had a thing with Selina for… God, a couple years now.” Bruce replies quietly. “Different MO’s, maybe, but I’m at least, familiar with the idea of turbulence. I’m, honestly, more nervous about dating a man. You’re not the first guy I’ve had a crush on, but I’ve never actually brought it up with any of them before now.“ By this time, he’s quieted to a mumble.

"What do you think the difference will be like?”

…Softly, Bruce hums in thought. “I… have absolutely no idea.”

“…can we go somewhere that there isn’t a gear shift in my ribs?” asks Edward gently.

“Yeah, wanna go grab your car and just… head to someone’s couch or another?”

“Yes please.”

“Your place or mine?” Bruce asks as he leans away, stretches a bit, and puts the car back into gear. Seatbelts, seatbelts… “…God, that sounds like a terrible pick up line.I - I promise I don’t mean it like that.” Bruce says with a flustered chuckle.

“You, not flirting? Casanova himself?” Edward says, settling back into his seat with a grin. “Let’s do yours.”

“Yeah, all right.” Bruce grins faintly, pink in the ears, and heads back to nab Edward’s car before the lot closes. And then, off he drives for home.

Edward follows at his own pace, back to Bruce’s, pondering. This is unturned ground for him, after all. Could be gold in those hills. This could be fun, actually, couldn’t it? It’s new, It’s interesting…yeah. Yeah!

Meanwhile, Bruce takes the drive back home to overthink. God, he should’ve put on cologne. Does he need mouthwash? That wasn’t even what I was supposed to tell him in the first place fuck damn it, how long do you think you can keep it hidden now? From the smartest man in Gotham? 

You’re a fucking idiot, Bruce.

…Maybe it won’t be so bad. Bruce finds himself hoping, against all hope. Maybe he’ll forgive me. Maybe he’ll never find out. Even if it blows up, I just… I want to enjoy this while I can.  

[heartwoodventures]

Under the Mask

After landing with a thud Nazyl would feel slightly lightheaded from the sudden teleport, his surroundings different from where he once fought off the voidsent with his companions. From the way the trees looked, he could tell he was still within the Shroud but it was off, the pressure of voidsent was all over the area and even around the trees a fleshy substance was starting to form.

The sound of small cackling echoed throughout the area, masks floated around the area but one stuck out from the others that had made root into a tree that flesh was oozing out of.

“Dammit, I got careless…was bound ta happen one o’ these suns…” He reached up to brush at his chin, blinking some, “…Don’t think I’m dead. Hmph, devil probableh couldn’t find a way ta eat me…wouldn’t get anehthin’ outta it.” He spoke to himself, mostly to keep himself grounded as everything around him quickly turned to a hellish landscape, “Where is this…?” Getting up to get a better look at his surroundings, stopping on the mask rooted into the tree. A chill ran down his spine, panic suddenly gripping him…but no, that voidsent is dead. Gamigin is no longer. Something evil had rooted itself into the wood as a means to anchor itself here, "What the hells…”

The masks that floated around the area all turned towards the lalafell, their mouths opening and closing, making a clicking sound as if to communicate with one another. The larger mask on the tree had slits where the eyes would be that started to glow an eerie purple.

Nazyl may have developed an irrational fear of masks…though given what he had to go through before this, that was understandable, the moving and clicking causing the hairs on his neck to stand on end. Mythrite was drawn, and in his shield hand rested a bottle of holy water, “This where ye’ve set up huh?!” He shouted up at the masks, “Always got a place ta return ta eh? Not while I’m here ye don’t. Yer time here has come ta an end!” He pointed the blade up at them, winding his left hand back.“Hope the othahs made it out alright…they seemed green, but they can handle a single persona aye…?”

The larger mask’s mouth started to creak open and once it was fully open a banshee of a scream fell from its jaws, it rattled the area around them and the smaller voidsents screamed in delight as they darted through the air. A clear sign the leader had given its orders already.

Nazyl flinched, his eyes going shut from the shrill noise. That was it, the start, and the demons now flew around him. He was alone in an unfamiliar place, with darkness all around–the normal for a void hunter. He recovered, frowning and readying himself, watching the moving voidsent carefully, “…Wondah if that pearl will work here…” He mused, pouring a trickle of the water down his sword, igniting it in white flames.

Five small voidsent charged at the lalafell with great speed, their mouths opened wide and an icy mist could be seen forming within their open jaws. One after the other they launched at him like little torpedo’s, they weren’t aiming for any vital areas but mainly for his limbs.

The void hunter let the demons come for him…he was in his element here. With a turn of the wrist, the first was dashed across his shield, and with that motion he flowed into a flaming arc that parried another, metal against darkened fangs in a deadly, flashy dance that left him unscathed, affording no openings, and when they came about for another round, they were met with fierce counter strikes, another flowing dance that had the white-hot blade sever the lesser voidsent cleanly in two, bashing the others into the ground to finish them off, their cries music to his ringing ears. The butchering ended with their ashes, pointing the blade back up at the master mask, “Now ye’ve realleh done it.”

The lesser voidsent that remained clicked their jaws as they watched their brethren die in front of them. Each one turned to the tree as if wondering what to do next, clearly outmatched by the voidsent slayer. The leader opened its mouth again and inhaled deeply to suck in the lesser masks into its mouth, five of them in total went in and the leader snapped its mouth shut. The slits of its eyes grew brighter and its ‘mouth’ seemed to move as something formed within it.

Once it was done 'chewing’ its mouth opened and a large blob slid out of its mouth and dropped to the ground with a thud, something within seemed to be trying to punch its way out and seconds later five masks shot out and found its home on the body. Limbs shooting out just like the last one he fought back with his companions Nazyl was now faced to face alone with the same creature he once battled before.

Nazyl frowned. He couldn’t reach the mask above but doing this had to cost it some manner of aether to perform…in essence, it couldn’t keep this up forever. The question was…how long did he have to fight to get to that point? Even now it simply felt like a test, “Just ye wait…” He growled, stepping forward, but only to throw the bottle of sanctified liquid right towards the reformed persona, “Die damn ye!”

The Persona roared in pain as its body fell to the ground, its mouths clicking rapidly as its limbs sucked back into its body as if trying to hide from the void hunter. Its mouths opened and closed slowly as if it were trying to calm itself from the pain…..or was it really. Without warning the four tendrils that were its limbs shot out from underneath Nazyl in an attempt for a surprise attack. It was a crafty bugger and the lalafell would have to be quick on his feet to dodge its limbs.

The Lalafell squinted, mayhaps he should start with the holy tools first to debilitate it…and before he knew it, black tendrils whipped from the dark and struck him from underneath, lashing across his chest, legs and arms, forcing him back with his shield up, "GAGH! Bastard, had me fooled fer a nonce…” He spat, “Alright…” He held his now quenched sword at the ready, testing the defenses of the tendrils with quick, snapping strikes.

The tendrils swatted away the strikes and those that hit felt like small paper-cuts to the beast, the four tendrils waved in a frenzy as each one came slamming back down towards the ground to slam into Nazyl causing his shield to be battered away, forcing him back yet again with another lashing, dripping blood beneath him, “Tch…” He unhooked another bottle, “I shoulda waited fer Go Bi ta finish me blade…” He tossed the holy water towards the appendages and rushed to follow with a spinning strike, hoping to catch the flames on his sword again. Mayhaps he should try and back off if he could defeat this incarnation.

The limbs waved wildly as one was cut clean off and fell to the ground, wiggling as the flames swallowed it and soon nothing was left but ash on the ground where the tendril once was. The voidsent roared in pain as it lost one of its arms, one of the masks sunk into the body before reappearing on one of the tendrils, its mouth opening wide to spew a large amount of ice towards Nazyl, covering even the ground below the void hunters feet to make it difficult for him to move.

He dove to get away from the ice, kicking off the forest debris to launch himself towards the newly formed mask, spinning into an aerial sawblade to shred the face into pieces–the source of a persona’s power. Without that, it would diminish in power at least.

The mask slammed its head into the blade and a sickening cracking noise reached the lalafell’s ears, the mask had cracked from the blow but it would still be able to fight and that’s exactly what it did. Opening wide the voidsent clamped down onto Nazyl’s sword and lashed the man back and forth through the air to make the swordsman let go of his weapon.

Nazyl held fast, quickly clapping his other hand onto the mask to keep himself from being flung. it was here he used the opportunity to bash his shield into the mask repeatedly, in an attempt to shatter the rest of it into tiny pieces, “What kinda persona…are ye?! Ye got more fortitude than an aurochs!”

With a final blow from Nazyl’s shield the mask finally crumbled into tiny pieces and releasing Nazyl’s sword from its hold, and when that mask vanished so did that tendril however he still had two more to worry about and the voidsent wasn’t too happy Nazyl was out besting it. The last two remaining limbs started to rapidly smash against the ground in an attempt to squish its target.

Nazyl had its number now. His study of this strangely powerful persona had yielded some results, and that he could predict the movements of each tendril before it struck, deftly bounding out of the way and far from their reach, panting, “Definiteleh got a lot ta work with here…” He withdrew a silver knife and held it between his fingers, narrowing his eyes at the multitude of masks beyond the writhing black. He spun to throw it with heavy force, aiming to at least pierce one mask with it, reaching for his ear afterward to open the line, “Dunno if anehone can hear this, but this is Nazyl Tharazyl, stuck in a remote…part o’ the Shroud with heaveh void activiteh. I’m requestin’ assistance.”

As the knife flew through the air and at its target a small 'thunk’ was heard as it hit one of the masks but had done no damage to it. The swordsman would hear his linkpearl start to flicker with static as a voice spoke up over it. “Nazyl!? By the twelve I’m on my way.” The voice would be familiar to him and he could hear the sound of heavy boots hitting the ground along with the sound of a chamber door closing shut. “Whatever yer dealin’ with out there try and hide till I’m able to get to you.”

“Hm…Normalleh ye can’t hide from the void, but…” He stared at the tendrils and persona, “The seals might make me hidden aftah all…” He assumed a defensive stance, putting the shield at the front.

The tendrils shot back underground and back to its home within the voidsent, its arms returning to normal and it started to crawl its way around the area, mouths opening and closing to make the clicking noise that bounced around the area.

Nazyl held still, confused at first. Was he so invisible to it already? The clicking seemed odd…until he had a thought. It’s trying to locate him through sound. If he posed as still debris, he may be able to buy himself time…he could hope that the person on the other line knew where to find him.

Mouth clicking faster it faced Nazyl’s direction and at an alarming rate the Persona shot towards the void hunter, its hands digging into the ground to drag it across the ground and didn’t stop when it reached Nazyl. Its body went to slam into his shield with great force and the void hunter would either have to block the attack or move out of the way.

The lalafell went wide-eyed at the sudden lunge. He was right, it was trying to find him through sound. His body lurched to the side and he turned, now that that main body of the demon was here, he swung out his blade into the black mass to tear into it as it sped by. It must be able to find his heartbeat and breathing. “Yer luckeh I don’t got Atgalia with me…ye’d be dust alreadeh.”

One of the masks was quick to move in the way where the blade wanted to strike its exposed body, its mouth jittering as if laughing to mock the Lalafell for not being quick enough. Its hands dug into the ground and its large body rotated in a circle to slam into Nazyl, not giving the poor lalafell much time to catch a break.

Nazyl Tharazyl turned to meet the swiftly moving persona, too fast for him to react as it forced its whole weight onto him, slamming him into the ground. He felt his body shriek in pain, feeling fatigued and the damage begin to catch up with him, “L-laugh at me will ye…” He had a dangerous plan in this position…a last resort to keep himself from dying in this rotten hell. He grabbed the voidsent with one hand, and unhooked his last bottle with the other, only to shove it straight into the black mass and squeeze hard enough to shatter the glass.

One of the masks ripped itself from the body that held the shattered bottle and whatever contents were within it, flying off to a distance the voidsent started to shake before bursting into a million pieces. The last remaining masks moved over the body to make their main focus on the downed lalafell, they all opened their mouths in sync with one another but before they could do anything a blast was heard that took the mask off the voidsent and something slammed down onto it. “Not on my watch ya damn beast!” Gunblade stabbed into the void N'yami held the voidsent in place so Nazyl could gain his footing again. “Get up and move away if ya can while I have it locked down!” The voidsent thrashed back and forth to try to get the gunblade wielding Miqo'te off its back.

“Right on time…” He half chortled, turning to punch the ground, forcing himself up to move and gain his bearings. He fished for a potion, something to keep the pain away, for now, gulping whatever he had down, “I owe ye one.”

“Can owe me a drink once we get out of here.” N'yami grinned down at Nazyl before reaching into her pocket to pull out something marble shaped to toss within one of the voidsents mouth. Removing her gunblade from the beast the Seeker jumped down from the beast and snatched Nazyl off the ground. “Sorry sorry sorry sorry! Gotta move gotta move!” The sorry’s were a mixture of the discomfort she was probably causing for Nazyl's battle wounds and also for carrying him like a sack of popotos. It was with good intentions cause not a moment later a large blast went off that caused the voidsent to explode and the explosion itself caused a large knockback that sent the two tumbling to the ground to roll a few fulms. “Shit! Nazyl you alright?!”

Nazyl was ready to continue fighting…but the Seeker had decided otherwise, her arm sweeping him right up, a confused noise escaping him, “Wh-what?! HEY! We’re just gonna leave it here?! It’s–!” He was immediately interrupted by a massive blast, sending him rolling into the red floor. Slightly dazed, he waited until the world stopped spinning to sit up, “Urgh…” He groaned. “…..That bettah have killed it…there’s more….”

“What do you mean there’s more!?!?” Looking back over to the tree the Seeker noticed the large mask that had made its home on the large tree as it let out a shrill shriek. “Oh gods there’s more…..” Ears laid flat against her head N'yami had to figure out a plan to get them both out of here. “How much fight you got left in ya?”

“It got me a couple of times…drew blood, n’ near crushed me. I’ve dulled the pain some with some medicine, but that’s not gonna last ferevah. I’ll fight 'em 'till I draw me last breath, but I get the feelin’ ye won’t accept that as an option."Nazyl Tharazyl stood, dusting the blood and  gore off, "I’ll keep fightin’ as long as ye can.”

N'yami Synch gritted her teeth as she stared at the voidsent, both of them were stuck in a bad situation luckily N'yami’s carbuncle Whackara was already heading back to Heartwood to report where the two’s location was. “Stick close to me, you owe me a drink remember? That means we’re getting out.” Sliding into position the Seeker took a defensive stance in front of her friend and the lalafell would feel an immense amount of aetherical pressure coming off her as her ruby orbs started to glow. Even the voidsent could sense it and the smaller ones started to dive down towards N'yami and Nazyl while in the back the larger persona started to shake and the roots of the voidsent popped up from under the ground.

 "This again…“ Nazyl steeled himself for the onslaught, catching many of the smaller swarming demons with well-placed bashes and slashes, but fatigue caused him to slip, letting one through to strike him from behind, his tunic tearing, "Damn ye…”

The gunblade user twirled on her toes as her blade danced through the air to slice the voidsent that were unlucky to connect with it, the Seeker didn’t realize how fast the little bastards were one slammed into her stomach while the last into her back. She coughed up a pained noise but there was no time for the two to expect what was to come, large tendrils shot towards them while they were distracted by the smaller voidsents.

The tendrils grabbed them each by the leg and dragged them down, starting to slowly drag the two towards the tree to hold them hostage there. N'yami tried blasting the tendril with her gunblade but it seemed the thing wouldn’t budge even after the shots it took. “What in the seven hells is this!? Let go ya bastard!”

Nazyl repeatedly stabbed at the tendril, but without the holy enchantments his hunting blade had, he feared he wouldn’t be getting very far. Even with the silver he managed to draw and thrust into the devil’s flesh, it didn’t seem to be enough, and he had exhausted the rest of his tools, “What do ye hope ta gain with me eh?! Ye won’t get nothin’ outta me!” He glanced to Yami, a frown forming. She was far more at risk. He twisted his body, and with a roar he swung out in a large arc towards Yami’s captor, hoping to free her at least from the clutches of the demon. He’d be without strength to free himself…but the voidsent wouldn’t get anything from taking him alive.

Nazyl grunted as his blade didn’t cut through all the way, his hand slipping from the handle. He wondered if mayhaps he needed more training….this sword was impeccably well made, yet he found almost no use from it since he obtained it. That world did more to him than he had thought, “C'mon…” He caused the void quite a bit of pain, with a painful roar the tendril N'yami was held captive in thrashed in every direction. “I’m not a fan of this!” The Seeker squeaked out as she attempted to keep her stomach calm. “Not a fan at all!” N'yami tried her best to aim her gunblade at the spot Nazyl had cut into as she swung through the air, it was now or never so she took the shot and another scream from the mask echoed throughout the area and with one quick flick of its tendril the Seeker was sent straight into its mouth and all Nazyl would see is Yami’s final attempt to keep him safe as a ball of aether was sent flying towards him to absorb around him. The aether that covered the lalafell was comforting as if he were being hugged by someone to keep him safe. “They’ll be here soon just hang on a bit longer!” She yelled from the mouth before it slammed shut.

He watched in horror as the Seeker was devoured, “NO! Ye…yer the one who’s in danger from this!” he cried out, but it was fruitless. Nothing he could do now, when his weapon had fallen to the floor, and he was out of tools. His strength had waned, and he could do little but stare at the mask with sheer hatred. If the rest of them showed up, he’d make sure this thing wouldn’t go back to the void–he was going to destroy it permanently.

All the two could do was wait for help to arrive and hope that it got here quickly, the tendril brought Nazyl towards the tree to stick him against the flesh of the tree to hold him hostage. Will Heartwood make it in time to save their comrades?

[songslaidupinstore-blog]

Wednesday’s Delusion - Diggin’ It Big Style

Wednesday's Delusion were supposed to be Leed's answer to Manchester beat magnates Northside. That was until singer Ronno Ovens, the bad boy of early '90s indie, throttled Radio 1 DJ Steve Lamacq, effectively putting end to the band's brief career in music. "I just remember walking int' Radio 1 studios and seeing this wanker, right, Steve Lamacq," Ovens explained in a rare interview with The Daily Express. "And he were grinning at us, like that, so I said, 'Y'ere, you're that nonce, aren't you? That indie nonce?' and he were all like, 'No, no, mate. I'm Steve Lamacq. I present t'Evening Sessions.' But I just started seeing red and were like, 'I know who you are, you dirty bastard. I've seen you on't telly,' then smacked 'im in't face. Then Gibby, the guitarist were like, 'I think you've confused him with somebody else, mate,' and he were right. I had. I thought he were, you know, Return of't Mack, but that were some other bloke, who so far as I know weren't a nonce either. But this is what I've been saying, right? It were a wild time. Lots of drugs. It’s hard to regret what you can’t really remember." 

Lamacq, who is the face of “Caramac”, a caramel-flavoured bar whose name rhymes with Lamacq. 

When Lamacq regained consciousness he was furious, ordering his staff and entourage to break the band's legs and screaming, "I'm Steve Fucking Lamacq! Nobody fucks with Lamacq! Nobody! You'll never work in this town again," again and again. The session Wednesday's Delusion had recorded for the show was never broadcast, and a short while after the incident the band were dropped by its label, Sheen Records. Wednesday's Delusion have nevertheless maintained a strong cult following over the years, owing entirely to the strength of their first and only album, Sunshine Splinter (1993), which upon its release was described by the NME as "A captivatingly vital onslaught of pop bash blast, with glacial hints of credibility." Without a doubt the album's best song is Diggin' It Big Style, which has been covered by Katie Melua, Sting and indie rockers Tosser. The song briefly popularised the saying, "Diggin' it big style," which means enjoying something very much. In 1995 it was used on an advert for Hofmeister Lager, in which the brand's mascot, a geezer bear who wears a little trilby, exclaims, "Oi! Oi! I'm diggin' this big style, me old mucka!"

Follow the bear: the Hofmiester bear struts his stuff in an attempt to have sex with a human woman.

Wednesday's Delusion have no plans to reform, and for the past decade Ronno Ovens has been running his own business, Ronno's Meaty Treats, which produces canned artisan meatballs. Gibby Rentman, the band's guitarist, has in recent years toured with a new band, Gibby and The Casabas, but admits that he has no plan to record new material any time soon.