#got this done in about... two and a half hours

[jinwoosbabyboo]

I Can't Sit Still

The lads men noticing that you’re fighting yourself to just sit still. [Requested by: luxis-journal]

Zayne

Zayne was being awarded tonight and all you needed to do was say a few hellos and sit pretty for the night. Why did your anxiety jitters have to kick in now? Those few hellos had turned into half an hour small talks with one too many people. Zayne was quite the hot topic amongst the healthcare community; it almost seemed like he was a celebrity. You being the beautiful woman on his arm it was only natural that people were curious about you as well. The night seemed to drag on as the mingling continued. Finally when everyone was seated at their respective tables for the showcase you thought this would help you relax. However the damage had already been done.

Your leg bounced furiously under the table while your fingers moved your silverware aimlessly. “Are you alright my love?” Zayne whispered in your ear pulling you back to reality. “I’m fine why?” You responded snapping your spine straight. You felt him place a hand on your thigh calming your ever bouncing leg. His palm was warm and you could feel your self relaxing into his touch. “You’ve been eerily quiet and you can’t seem to sit still” Zayne studied your face as you glanced over your shoulder at the many people in the room. “I'm not good in social settings” You sighed “It gives me anxiety as a matter of fact I think I may be sweating my deodorant off right now” You wrung your hands as your eyes continued to ping pong around the room.

Your gaze landed back on Zayne who couldn’t help, but look at you with concern ”If you’d like to leave I can have them send my award to the hospital” That was just like him willing you drop everything for you, but you couldn’t let him do that. “This is a big night for you I'll be fine Dr. Zayne” You smiled and kissed his cheek.

You were not fine.

Which is why Zayne did not stop worrying about you. The second he was called to receive his award, he gave a brief thank you speech and next thing you knew his fingers were intertwined with yours and you were quietly slipping out the room without a single goodbye or explanation.

He held the car door open as you folded yourself into the seat. You watched him circle the car and waste no time getting in and pulling out of the parking lot. “Zayne you didn’t have to do that we could have at least stayed for dinner” You tried to talk some sense into him as he glanced down and placed his hand on your thigh. “Look at that it’s no longer bouncing”

Rafayel

Attending these art exhibits with Rafayel was nothing new except tonight you two had to travel outside of the country for this one. Rafayel acted as a translator for you since he was fluent in many languages, but it did nothing to calm the rising anxiety in you. With the language barrier and the unfamiliar environment your anxiety was reaching its peak. You'd gone deathly quiet after an hour and found yourself hanging onto Rafayels arm while subtly hiding behind him.

You mindlessly thrummed your fingers on your leg and constantly fought the urge to keep adjusting your dress and rubbing your neck. You were about as slick as sandpaper though of course Rafayel noticed your fidgeting immediately.

“What's wrong?” He questioned, cupping your face. “This is a lot” You whispered, gesturing to the crowd. He scanned your face for anything else that you might be hiding. “Then let’s leave” He didn’t give you a chance to object before he was puling you by the wrist towards the nearest exit.

By the time you reached the street Rafayels’ driver was already there waiting. He promptly guided you into the car and climbed in behind you. “Raf you have got to stop disappearing during your own exhibits” You said, pushing his shoulder when he started chuckling to himself. “Those snobs aren’t worried about me as a person they’re more occupied with who can buy my work for the highest price”

“Still you didn’t have to leave just because I can’t sit still” You pouted. Rafayel leaned in close almost touching his nose to yours “You keep me sane through these if you’re uncomfortable then I’m uncomfortable”

Xavier

Xavier loved to read and eat hotpot with you and since today was chilly it was the perfect weather to stay in and do just that. The plan was to stop in Barnes & Noble, buy a few books and head back home quick and easy. Too bad you ran into a group of people you know and you hadn’t mentally prepared yourself for any kind of small talk.

Xavier noticed you constantly pulling on your sleeves and wringing you hands. He could tell you were hanging on by a thread trying to be nice and keep the conversation going.

“I don't mean to interrupt, but I'm not feeling well baby can we go home?” Xavier calmly grabbed your hand and stared deep into your eyes hoping he did the right thing. A subtle smile curved on your lips as a silent thank you for getting you out of this conversation. “My bad Xav let’s get you home” You quickly dismiss yourself from the conversation, grabbed your books and headed home. A wave of relief washed over you when you slumped against the passanger seat.

“Thank you so much I was about to start speaking nonsense if that conversation went on any longer” You kissed Xaviers cheek making him blush. “Im glad I could help” He muttered while rubbing his neck. He’s so cute when he’s flustered.

Sylus

Sylus couldn’t stand seeing those puppy dog eyes you gave him whenever he had to leave for something. Your tactic of keeping him occupied in bed wasn’t working either apparently this meeting he needed to get to couldn’t be rescheduled. So here you were sitting at the head of a long table with all eyes on you and Sylus.

Why did he have to sit you on his lap?

Many men brought different jewels and business prospects to Sylus as you fiddled with the hem of your shirt. As one of the men in the room rambled on about …. whatever the fuck …. you mindlessly shook your foot and constantly adjusted on his lap only for him to move you back to your original position. Sylus leaned in to whisper in your ear after yet again readjusting you on his lap. “Sweetie I can’t have you sitting at that angle you're crushing my balls” You felt a wave of embarrassment wash over you. Here you thought he was just trying to whisper sweet nothings in your ear like the smooth talker he is. “You’re shaking like a puppy in the rain what's the matter, tell me”

You drop your head to stare at your hands as you whispered “I don’t like how much attention is on me” Sylus nods as he takes in your words. “Can you sit still for an hour or would you like to leave?” You knew how important this meeting was for Onychinus so you tried to suck it up and stay still.

That just made it worse.

Sylus noticed your movements becoming more frequent and jerky. “Let’s go” He said under his breath. He stood abruptly from his seat cradling you in his arms. He ordered Luke & Kieran to stand in for him as he disappeared from the room with you. “Im so sorry I can’t control it” You hid your face in his chest feeling like you ruined his entire meeting. “No worries Princess I saw all I needed to see and I wasn't impressed” He readjusted to hold you a little higher. “Besides your anxiety seems to be winning this internal battle”

Your head snapped up at his accusations “I don’t-” He cut you off with a stern look “Don’t lie”

You bury your face in his chest again “Don’t judge me” Your words were muffled. “I’m not judging you” You looked up to find him staring down at you with a tender gaze. “Let’s get you back in bed”

[aikenakamura]

What if Al found the cure for blindness?

I know I'm probably taking Wade's jokes too seriously, but this has been drilling into my brain since I re-visited the first two Deadpool movies. He states in the first one that next to the 116 kg of cocaine is the cure for blindness (which is probably more cocaine, but anyways), so, like, what if she got cured?

Don't even ask me how that'd happen, but in that case, imagine she passes out after taking the cure and snorting copious amounts of cocaine, and when she wakes up she can suddenly... See everything again?

Obviously her sight wouldn't be amazing, she's like 80 or smth, but she can see, the first thing she notices is the way the whole apartment is covered in already-dried blood and other questionable fluids, and the second is the god-awful-gremlin-looking-like dog that Wade and Logan adopted.

And talking about them: she isn't in any hurry to open their door and see them in the bedroom probably naked after fucking like they do on the regular—though they at least gave her a pair of headphones so she could ignore them as they got on with it—so she stares at Mary Puppins, who sleeps like the dead curled up in a little ball of bald ugliness. And Al can't help but be a little fond of the creature.

Half an hour later, Logan gets out of the room—unfortunately fully dressed—and Althea's jaw almost drops to the floor with the eye candy of a man she has in front of her: he has gained a bit of weight while living with them, but he's still ripped and she stares at him as he passes by murmuring a "Mornin' Al" and yeah, Wade's still her favorite, but she immediately gets all flirty and suddenly very kind with the Wolverine.

He makes breakfast, and she kind of slips up on the whole "I can see again somehow" and Logan's like "how the fuck" but doesn't push it past that, and when he's done cooking, Wade gets out of the room (unfortunately only wearing briefs, as he doesn't care nearly as much about her ex-blind-roommate's integrity) and there's where I think her reaction might vary. Would she freak out about his scars? Would she literally not give a fuck about it and wish she was blind again so she wouldn't have to see him almost naked rn?

This might be a little delusional thought on my part, and maybe I'm taking this too literally, but it hasn't left my brain in a while and I needed to vomit this weird train of thought in Tumblr.

[louisferrignojr]

[also on ao3]

Whoever said 3rd time’s the charm was fucking lying because this one has been the worst of them all and he downed three glasses of overpriced wine during those torturous two and a half hours before he was able to make a semi-graceful exit the fuck out of the restaurant.

He’s half-sober by the time he gets home and he strips and falls face-first onto the bed and he pulls up the conversation thread, Tommy’s name and a little heart emoji next to it that he can’t bring himself to remove. He starts reading through their conversation and God, he misses him so fucking much, the flirty texts and semi-nudes they’d exchanged only days before the break up are not helping right now and before he knows it he’s got a hand around himself and he’s listening to the dial tone and not before long Tommy picks up.

“Evan?”

“You were so wrong,” Buck says in a breathless whisper, “You were so wrong, Tommy, I fucking hate dating.” He squeezes his eyes shut and pictures Tommy’s face as he’s listening to Buck jerking off on the phone; there’s no way Tommy can’t tell what he’s doing right now, they’ve done this so many times, Tommy knows what he sounds like. 

“Evan.” Tommy says and his voice has changed, taking on that deeper pitch that Buck knows so well.

“It sucks so much,” Buck continues stroking himself in quick, frantic movements. He tucks the phone between his cheek and his shoulder and sucks his fingers in his mouth, making sure Tommy can hear the way he licks them as he coats them in his spit. 

“Evan, what are you doing?”

A laugh is startled out of him, bitter and humourless. “Missing you,” he says and tries to reach between his legs but the phone slips out of its place when he bends as he tries to push his fingers in, the angle is a little awkward and he sighs and flops back on the mattress, frustrated. He switches hands and picks up the phone. “I miss you so much, Tommy, what the fuck, I don’t want anyone else, Tommy, please, I just want you.”

There’s a long moment of silence and Tommy’s breathing heavily down the line, and Buck can’t help but feel a little gleeful, a little smug about the effect he’s having on Tommy with just a phone call. 

“You want me or my dick?” Tommy asks, and Buck can picture the way he’s smirking, and he hates how much he loves Tommy’s twisted sense of humour. 

Buck growls in response, his grip around his leaking cock tightening. “All of you, you asshole. Come over.”

“I’m on my way,” Tommy says, the sound of his keys jingling as he picks them up off the hook near the front door. “Don’t come until I get there.”

Buck’s face splits into a grin. He slows down to a leisurely pace, just enough to keep himself on the edge until Tommy gets here. 

“Okay.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

buck after 3 failed first dates: this sucks i wanna meet someone the traditional way [we steal an LAFD helicopter and fly into a hurricane to save people from a capsized cruise ship]

[half-dead-ham]

Tim Drake's I.E.F chap 4

[Previous chap][Ao3 chap][Masterlist][next chap]

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jason here, with some bonding on multiple levels!

It took Danny's core a total of four days for it to be satisfied with Tim's safety in the cave while recovering. Four days plus the three since before Tim got shot since Danny's checked in with his friends back in Amity.

He's honestly surprised the Boomerang hasn't beaned him yet.

Only after making sure he had a few methods of keeping Tim safe remotely and telling his new friend—as much as he was able to without talking—that he'd be gone for a bit did he fly back over to his old squat house and retrieve the rest of his things, including his phone. The new guys there didn't seem like the friendly sort, but when you can go invisible that's not really a problem.

His go bag was still in the same place he'd left it four days ago—inside the first floor bathroom's wall—along with the change of clothes and cash Sam had shoved in it on his way out of Amity. He took it easily and shot up through the top of the building, missing the guy sleeping in the bath tub's panicked start.

Hesitantly he turned his phone back on. The moment it was done the startup sequence it began vibrating nonstop, and Danny had to wonder how much of that was his friends worrying versus actual updates about his hometown. Scrolling through and, yep, that's a lot of 'answer or I'll kick your ass' texts from Sam, probably one every other hour since the second day, judging by the time stamps. The texts he was getting from Tuck were much the same, albeit much less violent and graphic about what bodily part's would be stuck where if he didn't answer soon.

Picking a direction and shooting off Danny soon found himself sailing high above the Atlantic ocean. He made sure Gotham bay was only a spec in the distance (to fool any attempts at trying to track his phone call, just to be safe) then hit the group dial on their chat.

Two connection tones sounded on top of each-other, and the first words Danny heard from his friends in a week were "give me one good reason why we aren't already in Gotham looking for your half-dead ass after you literally ghosted us for a week."

"Hi to you too, Sam," he chuckled in response. It was nice actually getting to talk to someone, with actual words.

"Ohhh no. You don't get to pull the 'Hi to you too, Sam' bit after missing two check-ins in a row with no explanation."

"Danny…" Tucker's voice came in with a lot less fire in it, but with twice the worry of Sam's. "Why is your phone pinging two hundred miles off the coast of New Jersey? Did you get into something again?"

Ah, yes. His friends knew him so well.

"To answer both of your questions, my phone is pinging two hundred miles from New Jersey because I am two hundred miles from New Jersey, give or take with the altitude. I didn't mean to ghost you, really, something came up and I forgot the phone at my old place."

"Old place? Danny, what came up that you had to move safehouses? What do you mean something came up?" Oh yeah, Sam wasn't happy with him. If he weren't safely riding in international waters he was sure Sam would find him and make sure no one found his corpse. If he could leave a corpse that is.

"Yeahhh… about that?" He let out a nervous chuckle, free hand travelling to the back of his neck. "I kinda made a friend?"

"What?!" Sam's shriek had Danny's ears swivelling down and his toes curling at the intensity.

"Danny, I say this with all the love in my cold, dead heart, but what the actual fuck would make you think making a friend while on the run was a good idea?!"

"Danny dude," Tucker spoke up, "I thought you've had some bad ideas before, but this. Man, at least tell me you didn't give out your real name?"

"Heh heh eh… funny story? They kinda gave me a name."

The statement was met with only the sound of the rolling waves underneath him. As the quiet grew he started to get fidgety, maybe not starting from the beginning wasn't the best idea…

Finally, after what seemed like hours, a woosh of air passed Sam's mic as a single word came over the call. "Explain" left no room for jokes, rambling it is then.

"So I may or may not have been hanging around this guy at night while doing some flying to clear my head. The guy seemed nice enough and pretty popular so I kinda thought 'whats the harm?' and started haunting the guy when he went out 'cause I was bored and we kinda grew into this on official friendship between us? Cause apparently he knew I was there even though I was invisible like all of the time, so cause I knew he knew I was there I started helping him with the things he was doing? Like little not obvious things but apparently he noticed him anyway cause his family is like a bunch of detectives and so he notices things. Anyway like four days ago he was shot and I've kinda been with him since cause my core thinks he's someone I need to protect even though I didn't actually know the guys name till after he got shot and-"

"Danny, dude, this is like, waaaay too much info all at once. You got a spark notes version of this story?" Tucker cut in. Having a friend that both had a tendency to ramble and no need to breathe could give him a headache sometimes.

Before Danny could start back up, Sam cut him off "... Danny, what's the name of the guy you were stalking?" It was phrases like a question, but with who it was coming from, it was more of a demand.

Panicking he tries to evade the question, "stalking? I wasn't stalking him, I was… hanging out? Without him knowing it was a hangout?"

"Danny…"

"I mean really, stalking is such a strong word. I'd prefer the term non-consensual bodyguarding."

"Danny."

"It's not like I was even doing anything usually, just hanging around the same places he was. At night… alone."

"Danny, the name!" Sam snapped. He really shouldn't tell his friends, because if they know his new friend is Tim Drake-Wayne then they'll want to know why he was hanging around him at night, and why he got shot. Those were not questions he wanted to answer at the moment. He knew what they'd say if he did.

"I can't tell you," he blurted out.

"...What?" Oh, oh yeah, that was a bad play, Fenton.

"I can't tell you his name, you'll get mad at me," he knew she sounded like a child, but his friends were always the more responsible parent types anyway.

"Danny dude, what in Clockworks name do you think will make her any more angry than she already is?" While Tucker brought up a good point, he already knew the answer to that question.

"...Timothy Drake-Wayne?" Was all he could say to reply.

Once again all that joined him was the sound of the rolling waves. Were they shocked? Angry? (Of course they were angry, angrier?) It was really hard to gauge his friends' responses with just their voices.

Finally Sam whispered "what do you mean, Timothy Drake-Wayne?" That voice. He knew that voice, if he were any closer to her when she spoke in that voice he'd be halfway through the zone already trying to hide.

The heat of a thousand suns couldn't compare to the fury in that one question.

"I mean, I started haunting Tim Drake-Wayne accidentally? And then sorta got attached?"

Sam was trying to re-kill him through the phone somehow, he knew it. Tucker graciously offered an out with "Why was the co-CEO of Wayne Enterprise going out enough in Gotham to require a ghostly bodyguard Danny? The dude is, like, super kidnappable right?"

Ancients damn Tucker and his logical questioning making Danny want to drop his phone in the ocean and fly back as fast as possible. Unfortunately, now that they knew who he was haunting, they could just show up at Wayne manor to find him. That would definitely out him to Tim's family, he hadn't even done any pranking with the guy yet.

Audibly sighing into the mic, Danny's hand travels back to his neck as he speaks. "You guys gotta understand that what I'm going to tell you next is a secret, okay? Like, my level of secret secret. Tucker, this line is encrypted right?"

At Tucker's confused sound of approval he continues.

"So originally I didn't actually know I was following Tim Drake. I was following Red Robin. I only know who he is now because I followed him to the Batcave after he got shot."

He really should have something to do for when he accidentally stuns his friends into silence. Fidgeting can get boring pretty fast after a bit.

After another eternity a groan came from Sam's end. Danny hoped that was a good sign.

"So you were stalking a vigilante and accidentally put him in your 'I'd take a bullet for you' list? Danny, that's all kinds of stupid. He's a vigilante, it's his job to fight and protect, not be protected! And what were you saying about your core bonding to him?" Well at least she sounded more 'tired of this shit' and less 'grind him to dust' now, Danny for the win?

"You know how I get all ghostly protective about you guys getting in danger? It's kinda like that with him now. It feels so weird having my instincts labelling someone outside of Amity as one of my humans. Kinda the whole 'I've only known him for a day and a half, but if anything happened to him I'd kill everyone here and then myself' meme. It's creepy, and not the good kind."

"I hate that you just described your ghostly instinct to protect people with a meme, dude." Tucker half groaned, half chuckled. At least he appreciated the humour in it.

"At least he's acknowledging he's getting into stalker protective territory, before he just thought he was being a helicopter friend." Sam added in. He hated when she brought up his early phases, when he still didn't know how being a ghost worked (he still doesn't, really.)

"So how are we going to play this, dude? Want me to hack into the Batcave, see what they got on you?" He could hear the gears in Tucker's head spinning, trying to find the best code bits to use on the bats firewalls. Danny chuckled at the image of Tuck going against  a family of trained hackers and coming out on top.

"Nah, Tuck. I-" Something cut him off, there was a buzzing in his core. The kind he knew was meant as a silent alarm. Tim was in trouble and he had to get back now.

"Guys, I gotta go. I'll check back with you later." He hung up, hearing his friends' voices of protest as he did so. Stowing his phone, he shot back to Gotham at mach speed.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It took Tim a while to get used to the fact that he was no longer ignoring the cold spot staying in his room. They were surprisingly easy to talk to, once they got past the fact that Arct could really only do yes or no questions with the statue as help. Trying to figure out that his friend had to go do something for a while took some time, especially with just the yes or no probing.

Before he left, Tim asked Arct to get him something to read, they came back with his laptop and the stack of files and books from his nightstand (how did it know which bedroom was his?) With one last Bob of the galaxy, his friend set it down and floated out, bringing with him the now comforting cold.

He'd finished up all the work emails saying he'd been in an accident and was just starting on the novel he's been meaning to read when he heard the revv of an engine coming to rest in the cave. As it was currently the day all of the usual bats were either at work or school, or resting up for tonight's patrol. Only a few members came in during the day, and he was about to try and figure it out when the question was answered for him.

Jason didn't even knock, instead kicking the door open with his boot and striding in like he lived here. Tim could only give a mildly annoyed glare as he watched his second eldest brother plop himself down in the chair next to him and kick his feet up on the side of the bed.

He sighed, realizing the book would have to wait again. Closing it and returning it to the stack on the side table, he looked to Jason, now with Red Hood helmet and domino mask off. He opened his mouth to speak but Jason beat him to it with. "Why d'you smell like death? I thought you survived the whole bullet to the chest thing."

Okay, that's not what Tim was expecting to come out of his brother's mouth. Not even a hello? Hell, how'd he even know he was in the medbay? He voiced that thought and he got a "group chat," in reply. Of course it was the family group chat.

Tim sighed and readjusted his position in bed. Talking with Jason was always tiring with how little respect he got from the former Robin. He knew Jason felt he replaced him when he died, but the fact he brought it up over and over again really didn't make him feel any better about it.

"Yo, Replacement, you gonna answer me? Why the hell do you smell like you took a shower in pit water? How'd you even find a pit not guarded by the League to begin with?"

"Do you really think I'd still be in a bed in medbay if I went anywhere near a Lazarus pit?" Tim really didn't know why his brother thought he had anything to do with the thing that brought him back before, he didn't really care either.

He watched as Jason scrunched up his nose and looked around the room.

"This place reeks of death more than the pit caves Ra's used. If you didn't come back, then why does it smell so bad?"

Jason was more connected to the pit than his other family members who'd been around them, Tim knew he wasn't lying about the smell. A trickle of cold creeped down his back as he started getting an idea as to what caused it. He didn't want to be right.

His older brother had redoubled his investigation, trying to pinpoint the source of the stench. Eyes finally landing on his bedside table, he swept the stack of papers onto the floor and grabbed the previously obscured ice statue. Tim's creeping feeling got stronger as his brother slowly turned to face him, green seeping into his normally blue eyes.

"Where the hell did you get this?" Jason asked with forced calm, gripping the statuette so hard Tim thought it might crumble.

"A friend gave it to me," he replied smoothly. It was the truth, his friend made him the statue of suspiciously never melting ice and he didn't question it.

The first twisting the collar of his hospital gown told him he maybe should have, as he was yanked forwards, pulling at the wires and tubes attached to him. Nearly off the bed now, Jason asked with Lazarus green in his eyes. "Who. Gave. You. This?"

Tim struggled to keep the groan of pain from escaping him. The drainage tube in his chest was being pulled in a very not fun way, and he would really like to not have Alfred redo his work in patching him up.

"I told you, I got it from a friend," he ground out.

Jason was about to say something else when an invisible force knocked him to the side and off his feet. The room dropped twenty degrees and the lights started flickering as Tim could feel hands on him. Cold and too long to be human, they kept him from falling forward off the bed and face planting on the floor. Gingerly laying him back down, his friend made sure nothing was taken out or reopened before raising in the air. Tim could feel the anger radiating off his friend in frigid waves, falling heavy like mist off dry ice and charged with electricity.

Jason could feel it too, as he looked exactly where Tim knew Arcturus was floating and pointed, hand cupping his cheek and still holding the statue.

"How the hell did you get a pit demon as a pet?!" He exclaimed.

Confused, Tim asked "what the hell is a pit demon?"

He watched as his brother looked from him to Arcturus and back, face cemented in shock and disbelief.

"You mean you don't know what the hell this is?!" Jason waves his arms in his friend's general direction. "Why are you not freaked out by this then?!"

The cold anger had died down some, replaced by static white noise and breaking ice. Shrugging as best he could, Tim replied, "he's not the weirdest thing I've seen, and he's pretty friendly too."

Jason was thrown. Could Tim not see the black cloud of twisted human floating in front of him? With eyes greener than Lazarus water on an expanse of black, hair dancing and jerking like it was underwater and getting electrocuted at the same time. The thing was only vaguely human shaped, a black cloud in the form of a body with no legs, and arms clad in white gloves ending in claws long and sharp enough to be daggers. He didn't want to look at it for long, its beady eyes stared right into his soul and face contorted into a snarl that held too many teeth for anything natural.

Tim still looked confused, why was he confused? Jason was about to get re-killed by something the pit water inside him curled up and cowered in fear of. He doubted he stood a snowball's chance in hell against this thing and his brother was sitting there like nothing was wrong. 

Okay, Danny clearly missed a memo before flying into his friend's rescue, so he's maybe a little confused on some things. Like firstly, Tim wasn't actually acting like he was in danger from this guy, despite him nearly pulling out all the equipment helping Tim to heal. His friend looked confused and mildly annoyed at most by New Guy's presence. Secondly, New Guy stank. Rotting ectoplasm stench seeped from him like he got dipped in a zone waste pool. Other than the green tinged in his eyes, though, he seemed otherwise okay, which was just another point of confusion. Lastly, his thoughts echoed what Tim had asked before. What the hell was a pit demon?

"I'm not a pet," he grumbled offhandedly. He knew neither human could understand him—ghost speak couldn't be made by human mouths or processed entirely by human brains. Regular people just heard crackling static and creaking glaciers with emotional intent when he spoke it. He turned to check on Tim more thoroughly when he heard an unexpected reply.

"Then why the hell is a pit demon staying around my little brother," Jason breathed. Replying to the things grumbling wasn't the smartest thing to do, but the fact that something he thought wasn't even sentient had said something he could understand had basically turned his brain off.

That couldn't have been directed at Danny, could it? Maybe not going human for a while had him hearing things. Checking Tim over again helped his form settle at least, but now his brain spun with the possibilities. Also, this dude was Tim's big brother? Pretty dick move of him to hurt Tim for their first meeting then. Not even Dick did that.

Tim was still looking between Jason and Arct. Did his brother just reply to the static hissing he'd heard before? Was that actually his friend trying to communicate? But then how could Arct understand English? And lastly.

"You didn't answer my question Jason—what's a pit demon, and why do you think there's one in this room?" If Jason knew what his friend was then maybe they could figure out a way to communicate better.

Okay, so apparently Tim didn't know what the affront to nature tucking him in was, that was fine. Jason had to swallow down the bile working its way up his throat. At least the thing's form had settled enough he could look at it now. It was almost- Jason couldn't say human looking. With purple tinged skin, pointed ears and fingers, and eyes that shone brighter and greener than any pit he'd come across, no way could this thing actually pass for human. Didn't stop it from trying though, it had formed actual legs while Jason had been staring, making the thing about as tall as he was. The clothes it was wearing, a baggy black hoodie and cargo pants almost made the thing resemble a teenager, one who prefers comfort and function over style. Its gaze swept over him and he'd realized he hadn't said anything for too long.

Keeping his eyes on the demon next to his brother, Jason stood up on shaking legs.

"A pit demon is just what it sounds like, a thing that couldn't possibly be human that crawled out of a Lazarus pit. Surprised demon brat hasn't already tried to chase it off, but I remember something about only those 'chosen by the pit' being able to see it or some shit. Don't remember much else other than that they're extremely violent and attack anything with a heartbeat."

Well, Tim was at a loss. His friend was supposedly from a race that came out of the Lazarus pits to attack people, yet so far his friend has only hurt those who hurt Tim first. He turned his gaze to where he felt his friend standing, remembering what he could of when they'd saved him. Sure, Arcturus wasn't human, but he wasn't that monstrous, right?

"That's bullshit," came out of Danny before he could stop himself. So that's what people thought of the ghosts that used the waste pools? He knew they could be used to travel between the zone and the human world, but they stank of rotting ectoplasm too much for him to ever want to try it. Sighing he used a bit of intangibility to swipe the statuette out of Tim's brothers—Jason's?—hand. Only revelling slightly from the full body jerk he caused in doing so.

Okay, so, Jason wasn't hearing things before. He clearly heard the thing speak. It was also aware of how terrifying it was if the smile at making Jason recoil was anything to go off.

"You do realize this thing is horrifying to look at, right?" He told his brother, not taking his eyes off the thing that could potentially eviscerate the whole house.

Tim's eyes grew wide. "You can see them?!" He exclaimed in surprise.

Danny's words echoed Tim's almost perfectly. "You can see me?" The static in his voice popping like a live wire as he sat the statuette down on the nightstand.

"Yeah I can see you, ya freak of nature. How'd you end up in Gotham? There aren't any pits for you to crawl out from near here." Was Jason possibly inciting the anger of the thing that could rip him to shreds? Yes, yes he was, but he had to know whether or not a new pit had formed close to Gotham in case the League came a-calling.

"Ancients, you can understand me?!" Danny had to keep his eyes from going beyond human wide. He was talking to someone that wasn't dead. In ghost speak! Was it a side effect of the waste water in his system, maybe? How it got there was a question he didn't need to know right now as he just looked at the guy that had answered him.

"Yeah?" Jason drawled wearily, that was not the reaction he expected. "You sound like you're talking over a Tesla coil, but you're speaking English, right?" He looked to his brother for aid but only saw the calculated look all bats used when they didn't want to openly appear confused.

Looking back, the thing had risen from its seat, literally. It was floating in a sitting position about two feet above the chair.

"I've never heard of a human that could understand ghost speak before!" The thing said excitedly.

"And I've never known a pit demon that could speak at all before," he replied without thinking.

The thing cocked its head. "Well most ghosts that use the waste pools just use them to get into the human world to cause chaos, not to talk. Any ghost with any ounce of self respect would either find a natural portal or make one." 

"Ghost? Portals? Are you saying pit demons are dead people? And that they come to earth through more than just the Lazarus pits?" That was a terrifying thought. More monsters coming to earth from ways other than the pits? Who knows what destruction they could—have already—cause. "There any way to stop them?"

"No? Natural portals are random, and ghosts that can make portals themselves prefer to stay in the zone where it's safe? Why should I even be telling you this, you don't look like you have the weapons to fight a ghost. Who are you anyway?"

Jason looked at his brother (who looked entirely lost at this point) back to the pit demon—ghost?—that was watching him with suspicion, feet back in the ground and firmly seated in the chair.

"Hey, Replacement," he chuckled but cut it to a cough at the things scowl. "You haven't told your buddy about me yet? I'm hurt, really."

Finally being included into the conversation, and it was to introduce the asshole of a brother to his possibly terrifying friend? Tim sighed and waved his good hand at the end of the bed.

"Arcturus, this is my older adoptive brother, Jason Todd, aka Red Hood. Jason, this-" he motioned to the chair "-is my new friend, I call him Arcturus because he can't say his real name."

Jason snorts and finally peels his eyes off the dead thing in front of him. "Really Timmy? You see what is essentially an eldritch terror and decide to name it after a star?" At his little brother's blush he couldn't help but laugh. "How cheesy can you get?" He said between breaths.

Meanwhile, Danny was having a crisis. He had punched Red Hood. In the face. He had punched his favourite Gotham vigilante in the face. Ancients end him right now. He wanted to scream.

"I just my favourite vigilante in the face for my friend," he groaned instead, putting his face in his hands.

Jason had to laugh harder at that. He couldn't help it, you couldn't make this shit up if you tried.

"Hey Timmy," he wheezed. "Your friend here just said I'm his favourite vigilante. Take that!"

Without looking up Danny took one hand off his face to point at Red Hood (ancients, Red Hood, his helmet was on the floor beside him how did he not notice?!)

"Second favourite," was all he could muster while reconsidering his half-life choices.

At the confused squawk of "hey!" He smirked and added, "Red Robin isn't an ass, so he got you beat there." 

By the way Jason was pouting and the room finally went back to its regular temperature, Tim could at least tell they weren't at each other's throats anymore.

"What did he say?" Tim asked.

"I've been demoted to second favourite. Dead guy can't handle sass." The reply had him chuckling, definitely not hostile anymore, that was good.

"Sounds like another dead guy I know," he commented. The look Jason gave him could have been angry, if the indignant undertone didn't make it so funny.

Huh, so the whole 'Jason Todd died but got better' thing wasn't just a rumour then. Interesting.

"So you're such a sore loser you came back just to spite death? Talk about petty," he joked at the vigilante as he lifted his face out of his hand. Another thing to have in common with one of his favourite heroes (anti-heroes?), they just couldn't stay dead.

Jason clicked his tongue at the ghost, "whatever you Kirby villain reject." The bark of laughter from his right and the stuttering in front of him had him feeling a lot better about his brother's safety. Yeah, he might not be able to beat the thing in front of him, but maybe he wouldn't have to. The fact that he could think clearly after not feeling the pit move since Tim's friend appeared helped.

"Alright, as fun as this meet and greet was, I need to head back to the Narrows." His brother's laughter died down as he slapped his knees and stood up. Still keeping a safe distance from Tim's dead friend he grabbed his discarded helmet and put his domino mask back on.

"Oh yeah," he heard Tim call out from behind him, "why'd you even come in the first place? I know you didn't do it just to annoy me."

Jason was glad he'd reasserted his domino mask as he half turned to view his brother. He looked him up and down one last time with a conflicted expression before turning back to walk out.

"A guy can be worried for his brother sometimes, give me some credit," he confided as he left for his bike.

The silence followed the rumble of Jason's bike out of the cave. That was not what Tim was expecting in this conversation at all. Jason came to check on him? He was worried about Tim? Shock couldn't begin to describe the mix of emotions he was feeling with that revelation.

A hum to his right brought him out of his musings as he turned his head to look at the space where his friend should be.

"So, that was my brother Jason." He huffed. "He's kind of an asshole, but he's family. The pit messed with his head a bit so he has some anger issues. Also I took over as Robin after he died, and since he's come back has pretty much thought of me as a replacement. I'm pretty sure he only uses the nickname as a joke now, though." That sounded better in his head. "He's seriously not that bad a guy though," he added on more as an afterthought.

He watched as the statuette lifted off its base as his friend showed he acknowledged the statement. A burst of cold then hit Tim square in the face. That was his friend's sign he was being self deprecating and, yeah, he kind of deserved that.

Comfortable silence enveloped the two as they both individually processed the encounter. The statue floating about half a foot off the seat of the chair in what Tim supposed was Arcturus' lap. He realized Jason had basically confirmed a few things about Arcturus through talking to him in the conversation Tim could only understand half of.

"Hey," the model twitched, "you can speak English, right? Not just that static noise that lets me tell what you're feeling?"

One dip of the statue means that yes, his friend could speak to him if he wanted to.

"Is there some reason you don't then? A reason you don't speak directly to me?" He watched as the statue stayed floating in its position for a moment, then almost reluctantly dipped a 'yes.'

"Why then?" The static that filled the room was charged with paranoia and distrust. It hurt, just a bit, but it didn't all feel directed at him.

"Do you not trust me then?" A rapid jerk to the side must count for a big 'no,' which made him feel a little better.

"…Maybe you don't trust my family?" Tim had found that if the statue didn't move, then he was halfway to the answer. Mulling the statement over a moment it dawned on him, it was stupid of him not to have realized sooner.

"You don't trust the bats, do you?" The statue dipping again meant 'yes' and tilted almost vertically. Was his friend showing he was ashamed in doing that? It didn't sting Tim quite as much as his friend not trusting him and he knew Bruce alone made a lot of reasons for any supernatural creature to stay out of Gotham. Tim turned his head to look at his lap as the gears spun in his head.

"Why did you stick around me then? I'm Red Robin, a part of Gotham's protectors, weren't I someone you should have avoided?" Maybe Tim didn't want to know the answer, but he had to ask for the safety of his family. If his friend got close to him just to get to his family, well, maybe Tim wasn't as smart as he thought he was.

The crunching sound of boots under snow mixed with a tuning radio had Tim feeling things he hadn't in a while. Curiosity and childish glee filled his chest with a warmth that was almost bringing tears to his eyes. Wiping away the damp he turned back to his friend with a smile.

"You can trust me, you know. Maybe you don't right now, and that's okay. But I promise I'll get you to trust me eventually." His voice was dripping with conviction that for once wasn't forced.

And if the hum he got back wasn't charged with emotion and only gave off a little reverb? Well, he could keep that to himself.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Y'know, when I originally rote this chapter I thought 'Kirby villain reject' was suck a great insult for something that looked like Danny. It just fits him, given his eldretch-ness in this fic.

Also, Kidnappable should absolutely be a real word. Calling it now.

Also also! This chapter has fanart! You can find it here!

[Ao3][Prev][Next]

[keyaho]

Because I kinda started and got ahead of myself and started writing on it @pocketsizedpanther / @kumkaniudaku - inspo taken from them!

character name subject to change. stasia is a placeholder name lmao. coming? sometime......

She threw back the curtains separating Terry from direct sunlight. The blackout curtains had done their job, but were no match for the five-foot-two personal assistant with a schedule to maintain. Except her only client was Terry Richmond, certified playboy and a direct pain in her ass twenty hours of the day. 

As she pushed the curtains open, the stench of alcohol, weed, and perfume poisoned her nose. She picked up her iPad and stalked over to the bed. He was half under the covers, one leg siting out from under the blankets, with his face turned to the side on his pillow. As the sun hit his face, she could see his eyes clench. Wake up! She wanted to scream. However, professionally, she tapped his bare shoulder. 

“Mr. Richmond,’ she greeted. “I need you to wake up.” 

He groaned and rolled over, turning his back to her. That wasn’t going to do. She walked to the other side of the bed, where more clothes were. She let out a disgusted sound when she almost stepped on a used condom. This motherfucker…,be calm, Stasia. She thought. Be. Fucking. Calm. 

Was this a frat house? She yanked back the sheets to reveal a naked woman. Again. Her long curly wig was askew and Stasia sighed heavily. This was a regular occurrence. Women came in and out of this man’s apartment like it was a grocery store. Her printer was jammed from printing NDAs and with this current woman passed out, she was glad she got the signature last night. Like normal, she went to a different area of the penthouse, letting him and his fling have privacy. 

Placing her iPad beneath her arm, Stasia shook the woman awake. She was greeted with a scowl and as the girl tried curling up to Terry, he placed his hand on her face, mushing her backwards. 

“Get dressed and get out. Stasia, get her a ride.” 

He didn’t even look up or open his beady little blue eyes. 

“Yes, Sir,’ she grit through her teeth. 

Taking on Terry had been a huge career advancement. She was tired of working for small players who had her managing doctors appointments and trips to Target. She wanted to work. Mr. Richmond made sure that was the case, however, his tone was always lacking. She thought working for him would be good for her career. It was turning out to be bad for her health. Terry was nerve disrupting, smug, and knew it. He was still leading the pack as a tight end, endorsements were coming left and right, and the press….well, they were always looking for the next hookup turned gossip. 

Yet, as the girl whimpered and pulled herself out of bed Stasia care for none of that. Instead, she wanted to pack her foot into his tight end. 

“Mr. Richmond, I am going to escort Ms. Nicole out. Please, be up by the time I return.” 

Out the corner of her eye she saw his open. Blue and red rimmined, Terry rolled them shut as Stasia pointed towards a dress Nicole was looking for. Why did the league think he needed a babysitter? Because that’s what she was. A babysitter. Always on his ass about something. 

For good measure, Stasia grabbed the sheet he was using to cover up. As she led Nicole out, she pulled the sheets, dragging them to the floor. Luckily his body was in the prone position, but he still shouted profanities as she shut the door. 

Nicole looked at Stasia’s passive face. Clearly she was unamused and not bothered by Terry’s outburst. 

“I don’t see how you put up with him,’ she whispered. 

“I get paid to.” She pointed towards the door. “The driver will take you wherever you need to go.” 

Nicole, had the same optimistic look all his flings did when they left. He filled their heads with tales and reel them in with luxury. 

“He’s going to call me back, right?” Nicole asks, hopefully. 

Stasia looked down at her iPad and then looked up right before the door closes in Nicole’s face. 

“No.” 

He filled their head with lies.

Thank god for NDAs. 

[rainintheevening]

For @sergeanttomycaptain, a belated birthday present. Much love. XOXOX.

More Steve and Bucky angst, medical guesstimation, and crying. Post-Ultron. Hint of Staron.

41. "Go back to sleep."

Ticking of a clock somewhere, and outside the open window wind rustling through the leaves.

Steve wanted to close his eyes and listen to it, let it lull him to sleep, but he didn’t dare. Not when the slow, shallow breathing of the man on the bed was so much louder.

It had been 24 hours since they'd made it back to the compound, since he'd hoisted Bucky's weight (so horribly, shockingly light) into his arms and run past the people with the stretcher and the green scrubs, since he'd waded into a blur of voices and questions and hands and machines and clean white sheets, since he'd laid his best friend down in the middle of it all, and he'd been shoved away to 'go clean up', to get the blood and the soot and the dirt and everything else off of him.

24 hours, and still, for all that the doctors and nurses had done and were trying to do, for all that Steve knew Tony was pulling out all the stops to help in the only way he could, every measurement showed one thing: Bucky was dying.

Steve shifted in his chair, glanced again at the screens on the monitors. Dr. Dow and Dr. Cho had explained enough for him to know what all of the numbers and symbols meant. They'd done their best to explain everything they understood.

It was the serum. It was eating Bucky alive. For whatever reason he had ended up so far into a state of dehydration and malnourishment that his enhanced body was chewing itself up in an attempt to repair and maintain itself.

In the warm glow of the nearby lamp, Bucky's face looked ghastly, cheeks hollow, sharp bones seeming in the cusp of breaking through skin. Eyes sunken in under thin, blue-veined lids in a way Steve knew too well from the battlefield, a way that chilled him to the bone, if he didn't look to where the man's chest rose and fell under the heated blanket. They'd shaved his filthy patchy hair, and the oxygen mask only added only added to the eerie look of it all.

Steve yawned, smothered it, shook his head. He needed to stay alert, he needed to be here for Bucky when the scales tipped, whichever way it went.

He hadn't had more than the occasional power nap since the tip came in about the Winter Soldier's possible location. What was it now, three days ago?

He fought back the pain in his chest, in his throat, at the thought of what he would have found if he and Nat had arrived even a few hours later. There's still a chance, he reminded himself.

"There still a chance, Buck," he murmured aloud. "You know you've always liked long odds. That's why you always bet on me. So I'm betting on you now, okay? I'm betting on your life."

There was no change in the wheezing breaths, no flicker of movement anywhere else.

It would turn tonight, Dr. Dow had said. Either the nutrients and fluids being siphoned into Bucky's body, at the highest possible rate, would begin to take effect and halt the deterioration, or Bucky would tip into irreversible organ failure.

Tonight would either be the start of a long recovery process, or the end of Bucky's life. For good, this time.

What happened to you? It was on a loop in Steve’s thoughts. What happened? How had he he ended up like this? What had rendered him incapable of caring for himself? Who had removed the metal arm? Why had he ended up half dead in a relatively new apartment in downtown Waco, Texas? Natasha and Sam were hunting down information, of course, but everything was sketchy, and Steve suspected the only source of the truth was lying on a hospital bed in the Avengers Compound medical wing, perhaps hours away from death.

What happened to you? Or maybe the real question was: Why didn't you come to me? I would have done anything to help you. Why didn't you call me for help?

In the end, Steve had come, but quite possibly too late.

*

Despite his best efforts, Steve dozed.

Jerked awake.

Talked for awhile, dredging up memories of their mothers laughing at Christmas time, or the Irish family that had lived across the street, or any one of those thousands and thousands of things that only he and Bucky knew about anymore.

Dozed again.

The clock ticked. He never looked for it, never glanced at the time on the top monitor. If this night lasted forever, he would be happy, as long as the next breath came, and the next, and the next.

He talked about Sam, about Nat, about their favourite foods and music and books, talked about the shows the twins liked to watch, and Rhodey's exploits in the kitchen.

Again he dozed.

He was startled to see the pattern on the blanket, surprised by the grey light suddenly sprung in the sky outside above the woods, and a robin's song warbling clear in the still air.

"Hey, Buck," he murmured, rubbing knuckles in his gritty eyes. "Hear that? It's morning. And you're still here."

Sound of rubber-soled shoes on smooth tile, heavy curtain drawn back, and Dr. Cho came quietly across to the monitors.

There were no trumpets, no crash of cymbals or burst of song, only quiet fingers tapping screens, and a warm voice saying, "Deterioration has halted. He plateaud about three hours ago. Levels have risen an average of point-four percent in the last half hour."

She smiled over at him, came to him as he tried to rise, and could not. How had he never noticed the way Helen Cho's smile could light up a room?

She patted his shoulder. "He'll live, Steve. We'll find out how permanent the damage is in the next few days, but he will live."

He nodded, tried to speak, but couldn't. The robin sang into the silence.

After she left, he cried. And then he stretched out on the floor, with a wadded up blanket for a pillow, and closed his eyes. Fell asleep to the sound of Bucky's breathing.

*

He was on the phone with Sharon, when Bucky woke for the first time.

Face still deathly thin and pale, ribs still straining against skin, but breathing deeper, more normal, and Steve could only promise Sharon that coffee 'sometime', could not tear himself away from his best friend's side.

He had Sharon on speakerphone, chuckling at her retelling of an old joke Nat had played on her in their SHIELD days, but his ears caught the change in Bucky's breathing, the faint guttural noises from behind the oxygen mask.

This time though, when he looked over, Bucky's eyes were open.

Squinting, filmy, grey-blue roving, searching, till Steve gasped out: "Bucky!"

Those eyes went wide then, snapping to his and on the screen, out of the corner of his eye, Steve knew there were jagged mountains beginning to race through that green line.

"Hey." He dropped his voice, slowed his lunge to a smooth careful lean. "Hey, Buck, it's just me, just Steve. I swear you're safe, I'm taking care of you, and I'm not going to let anyone hurt you. I swear. You're safe."

He reached under the blanket, found Bucky's hand, saw the eyes widen again as he gently squeezed it. Flesh and bone fingers in his, and they tightened suddenly around his, no stronger than a baby, but a burning sprang up behind Steve’s eyes, and he had to catch his breath.

"Buck, do you know me? Do you recognize me? It's Steve."

"Steve."

Harsh and whispery thin at the same time, muffled behind the oxygen mask, but it might as well have been a shout that echoed in Steve’s ear, reverberated through the chambers of his heart, lodged somewhere deep.

Steve had to work hard to keep the tremble in his stomach, and the ache in his chest, but his vision still blurred, and the tears were hot on his cheeks when he blinked.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm here and you're safe. I found you. You were in really bad shape, and it's been almost a week now, but I'm here, and you're safe. Do you trust me on that?"

He was desperate to avoid Bucky getting too agitated, thrashing or striking out. Not that he would do much damage, to anyone but himself, but that was precisely what Steve wanted to prevent.

He stared into Bucky's weary wild eyes, searching, waiting... and then the wildness bled away, and Bucky blinked slowly, lips forming a barely breathed, "Yes."

"Then you should rest," Steve whispered, choking back his tears, limbs gone all shaky, but he held onto Bucky's bony hand like a lifeline (gentle, oh so gentle though, he could too easily snap those thin fingers if he wasn't careful). "Go back to sleep. I've got this watch, Buck."

The hesitation was significantly shorter this time, the decision having really been made in answering the question of trust. Slowly his eyelids slid shut, and Steve felt the hand in his relax, just a hair.

Bucky's breathing dropped back into the deep rhythm of the past several days, and Steve dropped his head into his free hand.

Faint and tinny through the phone, he became aware of Sharon weeping too, her joy a little echo of his.

"He knows me!" Steve choked out. "He knows me!"

He knows me.

Starting from there, they could go anywhere.

[xxplastic-cubexx]

need a hardened respectful fujo to sit down with james mcavoy and discuss cherik with him insteada this peanut gallery cause if i have to hear people laugh about a gay ship one more time i just might eat rocks

[hidey-writes]

Day After Day | 日复一日

25k | T | Weilan | Case Fic, Undercover Married, Grief

Shen Wei swallows. “And this is why you asked me to—” he makes a vague gesture that means go undercover as your husband “—pretend with you.” Zhao Yunlan comes to a stop, eyes on Shen Wei. “That’s why the cover is a married couple. The reason I’m asking you is because there are no other options for people to go undercover with.” Shen Wei scoffs to give himself an excuse to look away. “You certainly know how to flatter someone, Zhao Yunlan.” Or: Four Haixingren disappear for two months after a stay at a romantic mountain retreat. Shen Wei and Zhao Yunlan book a weekend there to find out what happened.

it's finally here!!! my beloved fic for the 520 day guardian reverse exchange! this was written for trobadora, who gave me the most delicious set of ideas to fit into a story. it was so fun.

i have no idea how to describe this fic, frankly - this is, hands down, the most complex and most heartwrenching and most incredible thing i've ever written in my entire life.

here is a list of some things in it: a kiss, a mystery, a change of heart. old chinese people, dark energy world-building, lesbians, big-time character parallels, forgery of documents, rainstorms, rowboats, lollipop symbolism, [redacted], bedsharing, grading, the stupidest undercover name ever. zhao yunlan described with so many light metaphors. shen wei being the most shen wei i could make him.

read Day After Day | 日复一日 on ao3 here!

[saintshigaraki]

there’s nothing like going to the library and getting done exactly what you said you were going to get done….i feel like a god on earth

[wewindondowntheroad]

sky sure is a spooky color right now

[skitskatdacat63]

I will read the most inane and useless stuff for hours just for my own interest/enjoyment, but reading academic papers is like pulling a tooth 😭😭 like I genuinely think I'd find the info interesting but the fact that ik it's in pursuit of doing an assignment somehow manages to kills my motivation 100%

[sodacowboy]

oh man today has not been a good day lmao

[ereborne]

Song of the Day: January 14

"Diva's Lament (Whatever Happened to My Part)" from Monty Python's Spamalot

[kipaia]

surprise panic attack???

[imagine-nerd]

The fucking disconnect is so real.

[serkonans]

can't stop thinking about this woman who I'm supposed to cover for saying the rudest shit to me earlier