#mr i could not prevent it

[venndaai]

I refuse to believe Armand was ever in any danger from the coven. they are all babies and he could incinerate them in a second if he wanted to

[riley-beautrelle]

Amazing interpretation

Be careful, it's one of a kind! - Or: the trial script.

I took a few screenshots and put them through the editor, and there are a few interesting tidbits of information that can be gleaned from the few shots we got of the final trial script:

Supposedly the trial was written by the "Vampire Santiago", and the "Vampire Samuel Barclay". With... "additions made" by the "Vampire Lestat de Lioncourt".

Now the last part is particularly interesting, because as we see in the screenshots we get, that there are quite a few "additions" that Armand makes, but he is not listed there.

We now have (additional) confirmation by Assad (at the SDCC 2024 panel) that Armand was the one who orchestrated Claudia's / their deaths, so let's keep that in mind here. Especially since he is not listed.

"Our red curtain. Our spotlight. Santiago acting as master of ceremonies. But this is the only part of the play that will mimic our normal fare. That and our finale."

There's several aspects to this.

We know that - at least in Armand's tale - Santiago "took over". "Master of ceremonies." But only acting, not actually being. The "mimic our normal fare" both hints at this being not what they normally do, and, given the mock aspect of the trial - it acknowledges the farce it is. It is not a play, not a trial, but something in between, framed as neither, while implementing both.

Santiago's entry speech. With an interesting annotation by Armand: "You are standing half in and half out of your light."

Only, Santiago isn't actually standing in and out of the light. (At least in the version we got to see.)

Now, those who know the books know that the force of Lestat's personality is often called a "light", and not always in a wholly positive manner.

For example there is this comment by Nicolas, which refers to it:

And for every aspect of our proposed damnation you found exuberance, and there was no end to your enthusiasm and the passion coming out of you-and the light, always the light. And in exact proportion to the light coming out of you, there was the darkness in me! Every exuberance piercing me and creating its exact proportion of darkness and despair!

The lights of the stage obviously put them all into focus, too, something that was forbidden before Lestat came and destroyed the old ways. The "walking in the places of light" was one of the things the Children of Darkness accused Lestat of when he encountered them.

I think the comment there is a kind-of-meta comment, of Armand being half in shadow hand half in light. There is a choice here, for light or darkness.

Here, he chooses darkness.

Some things we haven't heard in the episode:

"If the prosecution's evidence convinces you to condemn those HERETICS for the heinous trampling of the vampire laws we will carry out our sentence before your very eyes as only we at the Théâtre des Vampires know how: slowly, inventively, gruesomely."

And then, this lovely stage direction 💀:

"Agency: If and when Claudia or Louis speak, (drive) them together, close their throats, (Santia)go will address it with the audience, as per the below:"

"I don't need to hear from you..."

That part we heard in the trial.

Apart from the stage directions and the part we didn't hear Armand's notes are also interesting once more: "Remember to comment...." and something starting with "Fi"... "Fine" - or "Find their thoughts" (could fit I think). Because this note, even largely unreadable proves once more that Armand was fully in on what they did to Louis and Claudia there. Made sure that the blows... would land.

This one. This one we didn't get to hear! (The part after "Tik Tok")

Santiago reading from her diary: "He soaks in the light from everyone around him, making it all about Lestat. This is most definitely about you and your death."

Light reference again! (See the quote above.)

And (accompanied by Armand's notes to have Santiago hand the diary to the audience):

"I know she was your favorite. I know she was your baby lu. But she had us all fooled. She's the best actor of all of us. She lies so sweetly, doesn't she. But look closer. When the mask falls away, she's a monster."

Oof. When the mask falls away... Pot to kettle.

"I can't hear you." - say it louder.... Lestat.

And then: Lestat's entrance. Being seated in an especially prepared "Bergere en cabriolet".

And here we have another "I can't hear you! Let me f...". It's the counterpart to the blend-over (below), another read from Claudia's diary there, after Lestat talks about loneliness and Louis "abandoning him". (Btw, I don't buy this shift to blame to Louis and Louis "hunting" Lestat for one second, for the record^^. I think that was all very much BS for the trial, in order to make Louis seem guilty to the audience.)

Armand's comment (on Lestat's first lines) makes it seem as if Lestat was less than enthusiastic - or weak. Now, I said before, I think there's quite enough evidence to suggest that the "real trial" might have gone a bit more like in the book, with Lestat mostly out of his mind and his mind meddled with as well (see below).

But the counterpart to the blend-over is actually the most interesting one, imho:

(This is a hard one to see, it's only seen in blend-over and Louis' hand moves across it before the scene fades to Armand scribbling down the note!)

"It is too early for Lestat to acknowledg[e...]"

It's too early for Lestat to acknowledge. Louis and Claudia, would be my guess. This direction is proof that Armand made directions for Lestat especially as well. It's the only one (we have so far) where he actually writes the name.

Armand knew he could make this direction. And he made it.

Given Lestat and their history this, for me, is proof, that Lestat's mind has been meddled with as well, at times at least. Because there is no way that Lestat would have followed Armand's directions there, imho. Would not have done something, especially in that moment, where they set up the execution.

Yes, Sam is on record saying that Lestat played along with the play itself so he could get into the audience's heads, and therefore make it easier for him to make them shift Louis' sentence to "banishment" (that's where the "additions" come from, in all likelihood), but there, at the point of judgement and the execution being set up he does not look at Claudia (but he does look at her afterwards!), he's staring straight ahead, swaying on his feet.

Taken out of the equation, so to speak.

(That's an extra shot btw, extra shots always carry meaning.)

So.

Quite the script. -.-

Clear stage directions for Santiago, Lestat, and the other coven members should Louis and Claudia try to do something.

Now. I know there have been a lot of posts about Armand "master mind" or "villain" or victim, or what not. And I am glad that Assad has been so very clear on that just recently, though all of it is already given with what the show gave us, imho.

Armand did plan the trial. Did master-mind it. Did pretend. Did direct. Did lie.

He orchestrated their deaths.

And Lestat interfered with Louis' death. At the very least.

And.. Armand continued to betray Louis. For 77 years.

I said it before, I don't quite buy the tower scene, I expect it to get more context, at the very least.

It will be very interesting to see if they return to the trial next season, and in what capacity.

Because all the "hints" are, all the evidence is there already.

[icarusticrat]

I have been wondering, have you ever drawn Mr plant with his actual plant head or is there a reason why?

I don’t think I’ve ever actually drawn a detailed drawing of mr plant with his normal head aside from small doodles I’ve done. I don’t have any particular reason for not drawing him in his canon appearance, I think I just simply don’t want to???? I don’t know?? It’s harder to draw objects than it is for me to draw people, so I just draw all the characters in the way I’m comfortable with :)

Doodles of mr plant with his normal head btw

[blitz0hno]

Oh perfect it's Purge March day so anyway amane innocent sweep trial 3 let's Go

Listen listen listen it's p straightforward at this point

Amane does worldly medicine (on cat) -> breaking doctrine bc ur supposed to let god heal things -> punished severely, knows that's what is "supposed" to happen because it happens over and over as shown on Magic

Amane's "mother" kills the cat, presumably violently -> breaking doctrine on vulgar action (hurting/killing another living being; they make it a point to emphasize Amane's vegetarianism so it's obviously a very big thing in the doctrine) -> no punishment? No one around to punish her? No one else sees the contradiction? Well Amane is a big adult girl right? In her own eyes anyway, thanks to the cult. A FULL member of the group!! So it's her turn to deliver justice right????

I mean. Wrong but HOW WAS SHE SUPPOSED TO KNOW?? her mother and presumably her father CHOSE to raise her in that cult and abuse her. They showed in Magic how often she had those dogmas drilled into her head. It's not her fucking fault and she's traumatized if you care

Amane was shown in Purge March to be in almost a trance-like state. Yes, she's been "trained" for this, and no matter how she's related to the sinner "a sin is a sin." Did she probably go further than she wanted/needed out of pure rage and injustice?? Even if she did, she was NOT in control of the ideas and reactions she was LITERALLY TOLD TO HAVE.

I'm not saying she was right to kill a woman honestly but no never mind I am saying that child abusers deserve death haha anyway amane inno sweep 100 years

Like Jackalope DEFINITELY ain't tryna let inno Amane slide bc he sees a need for her to "take responsibility" even though she never denies responsibility at all?? She knows what she did, or at least is sure she knows. She isn't remorseless, she has been told that feelings are bad compared to God's word. Shocker that she represses them.

Also technically it was her mother's responsibility to not get herself murdered by abusing her child and killing a cat and raising her kid in a cult. I'm not a victim blamer but that's a 12 year old dawg if you messed up that bad in life nothing's saving you try again next time.

[anotherpapercut]

literally so funny how internet leftists will be like "ummm actually using drugs is bad and evil and destroying society (I know bc the us govt and/or some random conspiracy theorist told me so 😌) and anyone who thinks we should end the stigma around drug use and try to make it safer for users is actually just trying to destroy America" but then they'll also turn right around and go "don't forget to take your meds!!! remember if you can't make your own dopamine store bought is fine ❤️. end the stigma around needing lifelong medication!!!"

like girl are you somehow laboring under the delusion that like xanax is safer and more effective at treating mental illness than LSD or ketamine or even like MDMA bc boy do I have some news for you

[pitagain]

Dream: The Dream Collector?

From: May 20th, 2023

Although I remember other parts of the dream, they were uninteresting, aside from one where I was playing a massive multiplayer rally car racing game (In which there was a 100 players online on a desert mountain, two people with red and blue cars teamed up to sabotage me and wasted lots of time, so I pushed them off the racing course with my white-and-green car when I caught up to them, which they’d bitch about as “illegal” with the swearing you’d expect from such sore losers), cuz then I “woke up” and had “memory” of that “dream within a dream”.

I was walking on ordinary concrete with the usual blue sky in the atmosphere, to an ordinary school/business building to visit a chubby human with a stereotypical “cartoon chubby boy” voice. He wore a magician costume, with black surrounding a dark blue vest underneath (Which may or may not have had some seemingly useless buttons on it), and a wide red tie. The top-hat had a thick red ribbon wrap around it, as did the area around the waist as if it was a belt. His arms had either black or blue sleeves, with white gloves covering the hands. The pants were about as black as expected for the magician attire, with either black or brown shoes. He had no beard either, just a humble looking person who never said his own name, although I addressed him during the dream as “Mr. Dream”, feeling some sort of excitement to finally meet him.

(This is an approximation of how his face looked, just with a more pronounced chin and a more orange skin tone; probably not of American descent. His top-hat covered up all semblances of hair, except his black eyebrows, so his hair color is likely black unless dyed)

We sat on a gray couch within the building after walking alongside a blue rug decorating an otherwise ordinary interior, and from our friendly talk, it sounded like Mr. Dream collected many documents from the many clients he visited, and could change the world with magic based on fortunes and misfortunes. I consciously brought up the aforementioned “racing game dream” I just had as if this dream was reality.

The dream seemed to “freeze” at this moment, or perhaps skipped to a part where I was told to wait until Mr. Dream returned, as I walked outside to notice a metal post near the entrance I came from, containing a document containing terms I thought I was familiar with, some terms being either highlighted in yellow or crossed out with a straight line. In hindsight, I must’ve been mistaken, but Mr. Dream stopped me from touching this document, saying something about his way of handling information being part of his creed. I seemed to have forgotten the “racing game dream” at this point.

Back at the gray couch next to Mr. Dream who was standing upright not on any couch, I decided now was the time to ask Mr. Dream to activate a fortune/misfortune based on his evaluation of my mind, which may or may not have anything to do with his whole dream schtick. As soon as he obliged to my request however, the whole world shaked up n’ down endlessly, not smoothly at all. Soon after, he seemed to say “oops” or “whoops”, before claiming that the world is going to end as a result of my misfortune. I did feel somewhat scared upon hearing this for a brief moment, but became even more half-conscious in the dream and saw this as an opportunity, as I put my hands in a begging pose with all my fingers crossing each other, asking him: “When I die, please make me a Pokémon in the Pokémon World!”

He looked very confused by this suggestion, so I repeated myself with more clarity: “When I die, please make me into a Pokémon in the Pokémon World!”. Whether Mr. Dream understood the request or not, I never knew, as the shaking got even more intense as my head bobbed up n’ down once before the dream came to a sudden end.

[spamton]

i accidentally napped and had a dream (nightmare?) where a new update for stardew valley released where everything was the same except on a random day in year 3 Evelyn would just straight up die. There was a whole cutscene that started in her house where she collapsed, and then transitioned over to the hospital where Harvey gave George and Alex the worst news of their lives. However, they got to speak to her where she said something along the lines of "Yoba will protect me, and I am sure he will let me watch over you."

Alex and George would not talk to the player for more than a few words for a full season after this event. George would spend most of his time in the bedroom, so if you had less than 2 hearts with him, you could barely ever speak to him.

And Alex... oh my god, poor Alex. If you were married to him during this event, he just stayed in bed all day. Otherwise, if single, he would just stand on the beach most of the time, staring off into the ocean. If you tried to interact with him, it would just say "Alex is grieving... Better leave him be."

There was also other NPC dialogue like mayor Lewis saying "I haven't seen the community in this state of mourning since your grandfather passed..."

there was also a glitch where you could make Evelyn live forever and there were entire guides for the "immortal Evelyn glitch" that got patched out in the next update. If you tried to perform the glitch after the patch, mr. Qi would tell you that "hey, it happens to all of us. We can't prevent it, and neither can you, no matter how hard you try."

[shigarosie]

"Fuck you want?"

"Hello to you, too, Bakugo," you say with an eye roll. "I'm here to see Kiri, he invited me. So can you move out of the way and let me in?"

"Say please," he teases with a glare that reminds you how superior he feels to everyone.

You scoff, crossing your arms. "I'm not saying shit."

"Fuck, you promise? Been trying to get you to shut up since the unfortunate day I met you."

"Oh hey! You're here!" Kirishima's head pokes up over Bakugo's broad shoulder, an unbothered smile on his face. He was used to the squabbling of his two best friends.

Bakugo pushed away from the door, knowing Kirishima wouldn't allow him to prevent your entry into the apartment any longer. He instead stands in the kitchen off to the side, angrily chopping vegetables.

"I got some of those face masks you recommended, thought we could wear them while we watch the show." Kirishima took your purse for you, hanging it on the coat hook while you kicked off your shoes. "I've already got Netflix up on the tv in my room so we don't bother Mr. Grumpy pants over there."

Bakugo chopped something with extra force in place of an obnoxious response before continuing like normal.

You followed Kirishima to his room, hating that whatever his hot headed roommate was cooking actually smelled pretty damn good. When the bedroom door closed and you were safely sprawled out on the big king sized bed, Kiri looked at you with a smile, shaking his head.

"You know he's into you, right?"

You roll your eyes. "Course I do. But until he gets over himself and handles his feelings like a big boy, I'm gonna match his energy."

[alwaysahiccupandastrid]

Pixar did not have to go as hard as they did with the Kronos Unveiled scene in The Incredibles (2004), yet they did anyway and gave us one of the best scenes in modern cinema. Literally cannot stop thinking about how good this scene is, from the animation to the build up to the soundtrack.

I don’t think I truly understood how dark this scene - and this film - was a child: Syndrome is systematically and strategically luring in superheroes and killing them off in order to test and improve his Omnidroid design… these people were not only supers but they also had family and loved ones too, just like Bob, and one day they would have just disappeared because chances are they weren’t telling people where they were going because it was "top secret" and against the law. They thought they were doing something good, like helping the people in the island, while also getting to relive their glory days, perhaps even paving the way for superheroes to make a proper comeback… only for Syndrome to kill them in cold blood.

Most of these people can actually be seen at Bob and Helen’s wedding in the beginning of the film - they weren’t just random supers, they were their friends, people they worked alongside and cared about. It’s even worse when you realise that Bob probably blames himself because, after all, Buddy/Syndrome was his biggest fan and he dismissed him by not letting him help.

The relief on Bob’s face when he realises Syndrome doesn’t know where Helen is - meaning he also doesn’t know where their children are because he didn’t realise they were married at this point - is so realistic and gut wrenching to see. The relief contrasting with the anguish of knowing how much danger they and their entire family could have been in the entire time without even knowing...it's so well-done, you can literally feel it.

It’s also worth noting that originally the next target wasn’t Mr Incredible but Frozone - that was who Mirage was trailing, hence why his location is “known”. Imagine if she/Syndrome hadn’t realised that Mr Incredible was with him and they’d lured Frozone in instead as planned; he would have gone to the island to fight the Omnidroid 8 in a volcano setting. We saw how being in the burning building dehydrated Frozone and made it impossible to use his ice powers - presumably it would have been the same in the middle of a lava filled volcano, and he’d have been slaughtered just like the other superheroes before him.

This scene shows an entire generation of superheroes - Bob, Helen and Lucius’ generation - wiped out all because Syndrome felt slighted by his hero as a child, because he internalised that slight and let it drive him to revenge. And, if we take into account the deleted alternate opening scene, it’s mentioned that superheroes "aren't supposed to breed” - meaning there’s a likelihood that Violet, Dash and Jack-Jack are among the very few supers of the next generation. I know that it's deleted and so not really canon, but it's definitely a concept to consider, I think.

Then there's the fact Syndrome named the project "Kronos" - Kronos was a God who overthrew his own father in order to take over his rule, and then he ate his own children to prevent them doing the same thing to him. It feels like it reflects Syndrome once looking up to Mr Incredible and even saying "I could be your ward!", meaning Mr Incredible adopting or fostering him - the project name is a metaphor for Syndrome destroying the Supers, especially Mr Incredible, who he viewed as a father figure. The Omnidroids he built killed two birds with one stone: not only was he able to acquire the data to upgrade the robot to its final design, but it also eliminated the real super heroes and so left him as the last remaining "superhero", even though his powers are man-made, not something he was born with.

Not only did he want to become the only remaining superhero by killing the real ones in revenge, he also planned to sell his inventions at some point so everyone can be super - because "when everyone is super, nobody is". It's like a final blow to the memory of the superheroes he had killed.

I've talked too much about this scene but God... I love it so much more as an adult because it's just so chilling to think about. I'm sure other people can put it much more articulately than I just tried to, but I just really wanted to appreciate this scene.

[parapsychoiogy]

having Quite a difficult time coping with the agonies (physical pain in the same fucking leg that has been bothering me since i was 9 years old and also left untreated until hopefully next month)

[autumnmatt]

𝘨𝘰 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘭𝘦𝘦𝘱 𝘣𝘢𝘣𝘺.

summary: matt is playing fornite with his two brothers and he gets to loud when he keeps losing, causing his girlfriend to wake up from her slumber.

classification: fluff

warnings: kissing, pet names, suggestive language, use of y/n

it was about 3 in the morning and you were fast asleep in yours and matts bed, snuggled up in a blanket with matts stuffed pug mr. wrinkleton tucked under your arm.

matt on the other hand was in the middle of a very intense fornite match with his brothers nick and chris. there were about 10 people left in that match and your boyfriend was very determined to win.

all was going good during the game play until him and his brothers came across this very sweaty team. “on me on me!! these kids are good I need backup quickkk” matt yelled to nick and chris through his headset.

he then faced one of the opposing teammates but of course he lost the battle between them and got knocked. “FUCKKKKK” he screamed out of frustration. nick also got killed a little while after matt did by the same person.

y/n wasn’t that much of a heavy sleeper so when he started to yell out, she shifted in bed a little opening up her eyes to see what the yelling was coming from.

she looked up and saw the bright screen in front of her with fornite being played along with her boyfriend sitting in his gaming chair banging on the desk from just getting killed. she puts the blanket over her head and closes her eyes in an attempt to fall back asleep.

“CHRIS DUDE YOURE SO BAD THOSE KIDS WERE ASS” matt yells, slamming his controller on the desk making a very loud sound that could be heard throughout the room.

y/n tossed and turned once more slowly losing the battle of getting back to sleep. so she got up, yanked the covers off of her body, and started sleepily walking over towards matt, dragging her feet with every step she took.

once she made it over to the chair where he sat she stood there, waiting for matt to realize she was standing here. and once he did he could see the pout forming on her lips, instantly feeling guilt for being so loud so late at night.

“oh baby I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.” he frowned, muting his mic and taking his headset off then holding his arms out to her and patting his lap, inviting her to come sit down.

she straddled him and rested her head on his shoulder, enjoying the comfort of his warm body and taking in his familiar scent, the scent she loved most.

“go back to sleep baby, I promise I’ll keep it down”. he said and kissed the top of her head, wrapping his arms around her so that he could still have access to the controller also slowly rubbing up and down on her lower back.

“come to bed with me.” she groaned into his shoulder. she was already strarting to fall back asleep.

“of course I will baby.” he smiled taking his hands off the controller putting the headset on one last time to tells his brothers his was going to sleep. he shut of his computer, put his headset and controller up and gently picked her up to bring to the bed.

you wrapped your arms around his neck to prevent yourself from falling out of his arms. your face now buried into his chest.

he set you down on your side of the bed before walking over to his pulling the blanket over the both of you and situating the pillows so they were at a comfortable position under your heads.

you faced him for a few seconds to say your goodnights. you kissed his lips lazily before speaking. “goodnight I love you.” you spoke up, resting your head onto his chest and wrapping your arms around him.

“goodnight I love you too baby”. he said before wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you into him. he kissed your forehead before you slowly drifted off to sleep in each others arms.

a/n: AHHHH I think this is so cute. my 2nd story on here, thank you so much for the love on my first story and definitely send me some requests. hope you enjoyed this fic, love you all!!!

taglist: @stayingstromboli @conspiracy-ash

respond to this post to be apart of my taglist!

[salpho]

(Reblog 1/2 this is the first time I've reached 30 tags PFFH)

Something I noticed is a lot of people who hated BATIM love BATDR and a lot of people fond of BATIM dislike BATDR. To me, this seems like a mechanics vs story issue. The actual game mechanics and aesthetic of BATDR disguise the lackluster characters and plot holes. However, BATIM still suffers those same issues.

This is a vague question, but what are your thoughts on BATIM vs BATDR story wise? Is either of them truly better? Or are they just flawed in different ways?

Sorry, this is long, but so are BATIM and BATDR :')

I think you hit the nail on the head in the sense that yes- BATDR has better gameplay and mechanics than BATIM, but BATIM by far has a much more compelling story that was able to capture and keep attention over the course of five chapter releases. And yes, BATIM is not without its flaws, for example it's mainly a walking simulator in terms of actual gameplay- the only thing saving it being the unique ability to suck the player in through the rich, stylistic environments.

In terms of story, here's my take for both of them-

BATIM is more solid overall, there are more connected plot points and there's a thread there to be followed from start to finish. It does suffer from some WTF plothole moments, the biggest one being Alice's 180 degree turn with suddenly using Boris as a killing machine rather than...what I can only assume was a plan to use his ink/body as some kind of reparative agent for the hole in her face (like thicc ink premium idk), or...some kind of spell...? It's honestly not very clear HOW she was going to use him, but bottom line she decided to entirely change her plan off-screen, which could have been remedied with something like a cutscene's worth of explanation, and more of a buildup to Brute Boris. The "reveal" in the haunted house didn't hold that much weight (at least to me,) just because we didn't even get a cookie crumb of a hint that Alice was going to mutilate him and use him as a drone instead of just axe him.

There are other nonsense details like Allison's ominous "I'm no Angel" line, which didn't make sense when Tom was the one to want to leave Henry. It was never explained WHY the Ink Demon walks around with a limp when he can shapeshift into a bigger and faster Beast version of himself (and apparently he was ALSO the hand in the ink river??? I guess???) And can we talk about how the cult Joey started was just never brought up again? Wally talks about how workers were encouraged (or mandated, idk) to put offerings in the break room to "appease the gods." What gods? Was Joey worshiping Bendy like a god? NONE OF THIS IS EXPLAINED EVER and honestly I think Micheal D. and Meatstick just Forgot that Joey was a cult leader in favor of Sammy's cult storyline.

But despite all of the plot holes, we still get a tale of a deteriorating studio, humans being used as literal skeletons for lifelike versions of cartoon characters, themes of life, death, cults, art, and more. Honestly, going deep into the plot of Bendy would take its own post to really do it justice.

I guess the main plot is this: Ex-co-founder of Joey Drew Studios, Henry, is trying to get the fuck home to his wife, learning along the way that through the power of a mysterious ink machine, his ex-business partner decided to coerce and persuade people to Literally Die so he could have the necessary materials to create living versions of his cartoons, thus making "his" characters (and more importantly, Bendy,) a reality. Once Henry does escape, he learns that Joey has sent him through this same hell before, still filled with hatred and spite, just in time for Joey to assumedly "reset" him and send him on a different version of the same journey, as we can guess from the storyboards on display in Joey's apartment. THAT on its own is an intriguing and layered tale, and that's not even including the other details, voices, and faces we run into in BATIM, AND the new info we learn in BATDR.

Now, BATDR...is something I've come to view as a mixed bag.

Story-wise, it weirdly wants to have its cake and eat it to. Henry's story is elaborated on, and part of Audrey's origins are also brought to light. This is helpful information concerning the plot of BATIM...but then we get assblasted with a ton of new characters and lore for a completely new Cycle under the reign of a completely new Random Old Man. I know he's Nathan's son, and he was mentioned in both Illusion and Fade to Black...but those were de-canonized, so it almost doesn't help context-wise...???? So...????

In a lot of ways, BATDR almost acts like it wants to be an AU branching from BATIM rather than a direct sequel, which it was marketed/confirmed as.

I think my biggest problem with BATDR is that some of the main characters are bafflingly like. Mishandled.

I'm gonna have the mildest take on earth and say I didn't like the new Ink Demon. Old design was better and more uncanny by far, the new design looks like Generic Satan or something straight out of Baldur's Gate. He was given a deep, guttural growling voice because....tumblr sexyman I guess. Even if they needed him to talk, it could've been something more breathy and raspy, true to the heavy breathing of the original Ink Demon. Also, his alternate form was made very childlike, and I'm just weirded out by the fact that you have this oddly "sexified" version of the Ink Demon on the flipside of Bendy the Child. I don't think any ill intent was meant by this, but it's more confusing than anything thematically. I'm also not sure why Bendy's abuse was brought up and then never touched on....? Like wasn't this guy locked up and called a monster his whole life? Are we going to...say something especially considering the moral of this story......?

Memory Joey is completely fine, but I just can't shake the feeling that the narrative is trying to paint IRL Joey as "UWU fixed now" when that's not the case. The most sympathy I can extend to IRL Joey is that he was a gay man who desired to have a family at a time when that was not only frowned upon but dangerous, not just socially speaking but in terms of his physical safety. But beyond that, this was a dude who locked people in a building to keep them working, coerced and possibly forced the deaths of many people to get what he wanted (the ink machine was a scientific advancement that could've had AMAZING implications for society but he Did Not Give a Shit about that), and was abusive towards Henry. If we trust the Bendy books, he also gaslit and killed his teenage staff. This motherfucker isn't a patron saint of anything, and even if Memory Joey can learn from IRL Joey's mistakes, IRL Joey was still a shitbag who just happened to raise a daughter.

Which leads me to Audrey. Some of Audrey's tale is explained- she was raised by Joey, forgot Joey was her father, and came to work at Archgate as an animator. Got to know Wilson, who works as a janitor at Archgate, and then he drags her into ink hell because....idk, she's his version of "A Perfect Boris" I guess. Fair enough. However, it's NEVER EXPLAINED how Audrey doesn't remember her father, or WHERE she went to live after his passing, or WHO she lived with. Remember, Joey was as old as a cave painting, so he clearly passed when she was very young. While you could argue she doesn't remember his name because she was little, SURELY she remembers his face or voice, or the fact that she HAD A FATHER??? Like, was there some huge trauma there? (Other than the fact that Joey was her dad?) It makes little sense to me that she would forget so easily. If I had to make a guess (and granted I'm no Mark Twain), I'd wager that Allison probably found Joey dead. Remember that Nathan hadn't talked to Joey in years, and Allison was the one who went out of her way in the first place to visit. At this point, Allison's gonna find a little girl running around by herself, and assumedly her and Thomas would've taken her in. If that's not the case, someone else found Joey dead, at which point Audrey would've possibly lived with Nathan and Tessa, considering how much Nathan cared about Joey. Either party has ties to Archgate. But all of that is just speculation, not confirmed, and even if any of that were true, Audrey makes no mention of it. And I'm sorry, Audrey's backstory makes me want to cry, because it's just NOT THERE and she has the personality of a depressed bucket.

Alice was alright...but she was kind of stupid? Which is like....the antithesis of everything cool about her? Instead of using traps and luring the main character from a distance, she knocks out Audrey (via unspecified drink), plays Diet Jigsaw with Audrey, and then gets pushed off a balcony. She was also a lot more...idk, suave and sultry in speech mannerisms in BATDR, which isn't bad, but her unhinged and clever nature seemed a bit watered down.

I don't really have notes on the rest of the main cast. Sammy was brought back to die immediately, which honestly was fine considering his death track record. We get some mentions of BATIM characters. Wilson and Betty were fine, and even some of the lore explaining how the timelines work made sense.

HOWEVER,

I've already said it a hundred times, but the old cast was shoved to the side for a bunch of new characters we had no time to connect with. A new butcher gang member was added when we still have Miss Twisted as a potential female-role filler (keep in mind the Projectionist is based on Camera Man and Brute Boris was based on The Brute.) The whole "Amok" thing was a REALLY roundabout way to get the Lost Ones to stop attacking Audrey.

Wilson's motivations are mostly consistent and I'd argue somewhat compelling, but I don't understand why he didn't do more to protect Audrey if he was going to need her for the endgame for Shipahoy Dudley? Like what's all this about letting her run around and get killed? Was he just aware that she'd revive?

The main message of BATDR was fine, but it didn't work super well for Audrey's character. She'd already forgotten Joey was her father, and was living in blissful ignorance of that fact until Memory Joey decided to infodump on her right away. Sure, the "just because you were born of darkness doesn't mean you have to be darkness" thing applies to her AFTER she learns Joey was her father, but...Audrey was never threatening to Become Evil, so it almost didn't need to be said and was kind of a flat message...? I would argue Memory Joey would benefit more from that message- as he's a literal copy of a Very Bad Dude. My guy was projecting this whole time.

I do think BATDR was worse story-wise, but I'm not going to sit here and pretend it didn't have certain disadvantages from the start. The Kindlybeast debacle happened, BADTR was trying to continue a story from an existing property, and there was a severe lack of Adrienne Kress. Okay, maybe the last one was a bit much, but still. That doesn't mean I hate BATDR overall, I can appreciate a lot of things about it, but strictly in the story department, it needs soooooo much work and makes me want to jump off a Minecraft cliff.

[starstruckmiraclekitty]

“You’ve fallen for them, haven’t you?” Price asked, following Simon’s line of sight, his eyes landing on your figure.

Your laughter filled the air, causing a smile to form on both the men’s lips. They’d been watching you for the last few minutes, casually joking about with Soap.

Simon was quiet as his mind filled with thoughts of you. The way you always smiled at him, even in the worst of times. The way you laughed so care free, a laugh that could cure any ailment Simon could possibly have. The way you cared for him, more than he’d ever had someone care for him in his life.

Prices eyes drifted back toward Simon, a small smile dancing on his lips. “It warms an old man’s heart you know.”

Simon looked over at his captain, his brow furrowing in confusion. “What’s that?”

“I’ve known you for how many years, Simon?” Price rubbed his chin thoughtfully as he held Simon’s gaze. “Never once have I seen you smile the way you do around them. You deserve to be happy, son.”

Simon let Price’s words sink in, the prospect of being with you in that way was not entirely unwelcome for Simon. But he was scared. Simon was such a broken mess of a man that he truly believed nothing could piece him back together.

Price stood, drawing Simon’s attention back to him, and clasped Simon’s shoulder firmly. “Don’t let that thick skull of yours prevent you from being happy. Take it from someone who knows.”

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

Simon found you again later that day, his palms sweaty from his nerves. “Hey, you got a sec?”

You looked up from the stack of paperwork in front of you, the warm smile lining your lips as you looked at Simon had his knees nearly buckling. “Of course.”

Any confidence Simon had walking in there, was now gone as he stared down at you. Your E/C eyes melting his insides as he struggled to formulate the words he’d just practiced earlier.

“I..” Damnit! What was wrong with him? He was Simon fucking Riley for god sakes. He was supposed to be fearless. Yet here he was rendered a stuttering mess in front of you. “Fuck.”

You let out a soft giggle, causing Simon’s insides to warm. “Is everything okay, Si?”

Your nickname for him always had Simons brain in a fog, and it certainly wasn’t helping his case in this moment. “Yeah, yeah I just uh..”

You patiently watched as Simon struggled to form the words, your smile never faltering as his eyes drifted toward your lips.

“Are you free later?” He finally asked, his words coming out rushed.

“Is there a training?” You pondered, your mind flicking through the upcoming training schedule. “I wasn’t made-.”

“No.” Simon interjected. “It’s uh.. it’d just be you and I. There’s this pub I like to go to by base.”

Simon didn’t think it possible, but your smile widened even more, taking up the entire lower half of your face. “Are you asking me on a date, Mr. Riley?”

His cheeks burned crimson as your teasing, his belly doing flip flops as he gave you a curt nod. “Affirmative.”

“I would love that.” You said, as you stood to your feet. “It’s about damn time you asked me.”

Simon smiled brighter and wider than he’d ever had in his life, his mind now swirling with thoughts of the perfect first date. For the first time in a long time, Simon Riley was excited.

Maybe something could piece together his broken self after all.

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

A/N: please excuse my multiple Simon fluff pieces. Ya girl has to heal🥹

[charminglygrouped]

For the past several years (and perhaps longer) in the P&P fandom I've seen a lot of people who want to rehabilitate Mrs. Bennet: like, sure, she's uncouth and seems greedy, but it's because she cares so much about her daughters' futures; her situation is actually really stressful and uncertain and she's powerless to change it and her husband makes fun of her, and so it's natural that it would cause her to be anxious all the time; maybe she doesn't have the intelligence or social awareness to understand that her behaviour is actually harming her daughters' prospects, but at least her heart is in the right place.

I'm usually not the type of person who argues that fandom is actually being too nice to a female character, but in this case I don't buy the counter-narrative (which I think is popular enough at this point to be fanon / a narrative in itself) about Mrs. Bennet.

For one thing, she was never really powerless in this situation. These people are rich even for gentry. Mr. Bennet's income was always good, at 2,000 pounds per annum (even though I can't believe he isn't neglecting some practices that could raise it higher). Mrs. Bennet had 4,000 pounds from her parents and a further 1,000 from Mr. Bennet. Invested in the 4 per cents (for example), this is 200 pounds per year in pin money that Mrs. Bennet could spend without touching the principle of her dowry, and without affecting Mr. Bennet's income. This is more than some people's entire yearly incomes.

The picture of Mr. and Mrs. Bennet that we get in P&P is not of people who are helpless against their circumstances, but of people who are extraordinarily neglectful. We're told that:

Mr. Bennet had very often wished, before this period of his life, that, instead of spending his whole income, he had laid by an annual sum, for the better provision of his children, and of his wife, if she survived him. [...] When first Mr. Bennet had married, economy was held to be perfectly useless; for, of course, they were to have a son. This son was to join in cutting off the entail, as soon as he should be of age, and the widow and younger children would by that means be provided for. Five daughters successively entered the world, but yet the son was to come; and Mrs. Bennet, for many years after Lydia’s birth, had been certain that he would. This event had at last been despaired of, but it was then too late to be saving. Mrs. Bennet had no turn for economy; and her husband’s love of independence had alone prevented their exceeding their income.

We also know that the "continual presents in money which passed to [Lydia] through her mother’s hands," plus her allowance and food, amount to about 90 pounds per year. Rather than saving up from the beginning in case the entail is not broken, rather than beginning to save once it's clear a son will not arrive, rather than making Jane's dowry the full 5,000 from her mother (which would be something) and saving up for the younger girls' dowries thereafter—which is what would be typical, and that's why Lady Catherine was so shocked that all the girls were out at once—Mrs. Bennet's housekeeping, dress, the girls' allowance, presents of money over and above their allowance, plus whatever Mr. Bennet is spending money on (and other expenses relating to servants, carriages, maintenance &c. which are unavoidable), add up to their entire income. The only reason why Mrs. Bennet doesn't overspend even that is that that's where Mr. Bennet puts his foot down.

Mrs. Bennet is actively harming her daughters' prospects, not even of marriage, but of living respectably if they don't marry, because she doesn't have the temperance not to spend all of the income that is allotted to her. It is the role of the woman in a marriage to take charge of the housekeeping, servants, cooking, furniture, and all expenses relating thereto (plus certain attentions to her tenants and any living in genteel poverty in the area, though presumably this will depend on her income and whether there's a parish church with a parson's wife who's doing some of these things). She's an adult who should be competent to manage these things in a reasoned way without needing to be dictated to.

It is supposed to be the role of the woman in a marriage to take charge of her daughters' education—and yet Mrs. Bennet did not hire a governess, and Elizabeth says that she didn't spend much time teaching her daughters anything (it's not clear to what degree she's educated herself). Granted, the girls did have masters—but, from the sounds of things, that was only if they requested them. No one was required to learn much of anything, which will probably further harm the marriage prospects of the girls who "chose to be idle."

I think the "point" of Mrs. Bennet is that she is one half of one type of bad marriage which the novel illustrates, in contrast with the Gardiners' marriage. These marriages are two possible models for the Bennet daughters to look to. At one point, Elizabeth's prospective marriage is explicitly compared to her parents', with her in the role of her father: Mr. Bennet says "My child, let me not have the grief of seeing you unable to respect your partner in life" (emphasis original).

We might wonder whether Elizabeth saw herself potentially in the role of her father, in a marriage that was very intellectually unequal, when she rejected Mr. Collins; or whether she also saw herself in the role of her mother, married to a man who insults and doesn't respect her, when she rejected Mr. Darcy. Ultimately, she accepts Mr. Darcy after she realises that he is nothing like her father; that he is diligent in attending to his responsibilities, and that he does evidently respect her mind.

This isn't me defending Mr. Bennet, who is also a bad parent and a bad spouse. I do, however, find it a little disturbing when people suggest that Mr. Bennet is at fault for not controlling or curtailing his wife. His wife is a grown woman. Surely we don't actually believe that a situation where a man is legally in complete control over his wife, merely because he is a man and she is a woman, is in any way natural, moral, or just? (This also goes for people who suggest that Mr. Bingley needs to get his sister 'in line' 😬😬😬.)

Mrs. Bennet should be competent to manage her household and her daughters. Given that she's not, yes, Mr. Bennet, according to Georgian and Victorian ideas of the role of a man in a marriage, "should" have stepped in and started dictating to her. But I don't really think that's what Austen is suggesting went wrong here. The models of good marriages we have—the Gardiners, the Bingleys and Darcys after their weddings—are all ones in which the women were basically sensible people to begin with. In the latter two cases, we are told of particular ways in which the men stand to benefit from some mental quality of their future spouse (Elizabeth's good humour and ease in company; Jane's steadiness and determination).

The ideal which some Georgians had of a husband's role being to shape his wife's intellect doesn't seem to be what's being advocated here. If Mr. Bennet made a mistake, it was in marrying a silly, selfish, ill-tempered woman to begin with, not in failing to browbeat her into submission once he found out that she was silly, selfish, and ill-tempered. The idea is that you should choose your spouse carefully. But that message doesn't work if Mrs. Bennet is just a woman in a difficult situation who has her heart in the right place.

[kamiraaah]

TWST PARENTS! Howl, Zigvolt and Viper!!

⚠️⚠️First of all, I must warn you that these designs may change in the future, either because the game presented us with the official designs, or just because I really wanted to change... Or I could reuse these designs for these characters!⚠️⚠️ Given that warning...

Guys, gals, and non-binary pals. I present to you, the Howl, Zigvolt, and Viper families!

The Howl family, a close-knit and unique family in a way. Whether it's because of their personalities that always seem to clash but at the same time get along so easily.... Or because the children always seem to get into some adventure that may or may not be dangerous. Even Jack has a history of always getting into trouble as a child, something that he tries to prevent from happening to his younger siblings (and ends up failing a few times). Jack's family is extremely welcoming to travelers who visit Shaftland!... Or rather, Jack's mother is the most welcoming and charismatic of the small family nucleus, always appearing to be in a good mood, and is a peacemaker whenever things start to get out of hand. Jack's father is extremely suspicious of anyone outside the family, a typical lone wolf personality (something that Jack ended up inheriting), but he also ends up being the one who spoils his children the most... Okay, so Jack is no longer a little kid, but that won't stop him! He is also the one who ends up dealing most easily with his children's crises, especially Jack's younger brother, who now seems to be in a rebellious phase, and his younger sister who wants to be closer to her siblings... Sometimes it is complicated, but it is good that he has a loving wife who is by his side to help him.

Ah yes, the Zigvolt family… Now that's a family that always seems to be involved in something unbelievable. We don't even need to comment on the scandal that occurred when Sebek's mother decided to marry a human, nothing that would really change the young Zigvolt's mind, or even the shock when Baul's wife was the first to bless the couple's union! No one expected a fae like her to be the first to defend the couple, but those close to her already suspected that she had an affection for humans. After all, she also demanded that Lilia share the stories of his travels, whether in person or by letter (how she found out where he was is a mystery to this day)… Also, she was the one who helped Baul be less… extreme, against them, in a way. The wedding was a big event that caught the attention of many people in the kingdom, much to Baul's dismay, who wanted it to be something more private, just between family and a few close friends… But he couldn't hold back the tears when he saw his daughter's happiness. Sebek and his siblings ended up spending a lot of time with their grandparents, and with that, the olderbrother and sister ended up inheriting a bit of their grandmother's playful and bold personality. And whenever they can, they end up teasing the youngest in different ways, saying that he is too serious for his age, or that he has to quickly get out of this rebellious phase against his own father (nothing extremely serious, they just do this so that their brother can enjoy this new phase of his life).

The Vipers have a complicated history... Mrs. Viper was born and raised within the walls of the Asim mansion, so a lot of the things she was taught ended up, in one way or another, affecting her relationship with her children. She loves them more than anything in the world but... Some teachings are too hard to forget. Mr. Viper has worked at the Asim mansion since childhood, and ended up getting close to and falling in love with the young Viper and, despite all her warnings, he decided to get married and carry the burden of the Viper name alongside his beloved. Promising himself that he would do everything to bring some happiness to his children and his wife. The dance was something that Mrs. Viper insisted on becoming a family tradition, whether on special occasions like birthdays or as a way to help everyone understand and express themselves. Mr. Viper created a small tradition of doing everyone's hair almost every day, were to teach his children how to do more elaborate hairstyles,to talk about everything or nothing to relax or whether to comfort them after a hard day… Even in difficult times, the Viper family is very loyal to themselves, always looking out for each other's safety even if it costs them their own, whether in a direct or indirect way.

AND MORE FAMILIES DONE!! And I'm still going to draw pictures of other members of the TWST families, so please bear with me a little… I'm going as fast as I can! 🙃

I took a long time with the designs again and I got carried away with the drawings…😅 And... Can you tell I'm not good at creating clothes? Anyway! I hope you enjoy them, and feel free to share your headcanons! <3

[droopycoquette]

Ridin' or Nothin' || Benny Cross x Reader

Summary: A little exchange of services

Warnings: hella fluff, angst, suggestive content

Word count: 5.1k

|*|

You had been watching him, that much you could admit. Your eyes always caught him on the road, riding around with the wind in his hair. Sometimes you’d even see him walking around with a cigarette tucked between his slightly chapped lips, he was rarely without one. He exuded a sense of danger that both intrigued and scared you. But there was something about the way he moved, rough yet graceful, that made your heart skip a beat whenever he passed by. However, you never dared to approach him, always hiding in the background observing.

You didn’t mind, it was comfortable.

The town was small so it was easy to watch him. Easy to find him even because he was always in the same places. Bar, road, gas station, and occasionally grocery store. That last one was rare though. When you saw him across the aisle looking at bread, you thought you were hallucinating.

It was a rather strange sight; he looked so out of place. A tall, blonde biker in a grocery store with mothers and children, casually looking at bread. You would have giggled if you weren’t so nervous. Your lips slightly parted as you lost motor control of your body, the bag of rolls you held falling out of your hands.

“Shoot,” you muttered as you quickly bent down to pick them, trying to prevent the weird looks from staying on you.

You chuckled nervously as you rose up, giving timid looks to the grandmas and moms looking at you.

“Hello dear,” a high-pitched voice greeted cheerfully, forcing you to shift focus.

Turning around, you came face to face with Mrs. Leonard, a regular at your family’s bakery. She was an older lady having several grandkids that she loved to gush about. But, despite being older, she still had strength that astounded you greatly. You weren’t surprised to see her here, just bummed that she was here now, the only time you had seen biker boy here.

“Hello, Mrs. Leonard,” you smiled. “Fancy seeing you here.”

“Oh, likewise,” she smiled back sweetly. “What are you doing looking at rolls, sweety? I couldn’t imagine buying rolls here when I could have yours to eat for free.”

You smile at her compliment, your ears warming.

“I was simply looking. I’m actually looking for ingredients. I’m trying a new recipe for a raspberry curd cake. How’s your son? I heard he’s back in town.”

“That sounds mighty tasty. And oh, he is just wonderful. It’s so nice to see my grandkids. Ya know, ever since they moved to California-”

And she was off. You liked Mrs. Leonard, truly you did, but you could never get used to her never-ending monologues about who-knows-what. She was a cute old lady, though.

As she spoke, you moved to put the rolls back on the shelf, and when you turned to look back at the biker, he was gone. A small crease in between your eyebrows developed as your bottom lip found its way between your teeth. You nibbled on it as you felt disappointment wash over you. However, you quickly masked it with a well-practised smile.

As you wandered the store next to the old lady, your mind wandered back to the handsome biker who had been standing right across the aisle. You perked up slightly as you realised that that was the closest you had ever been to him. You could practically smell the gasoline and cologne that wafted off of him. You had even seen the small freckles on his face and took note of his faint sun-kissed cheeks, just the slightest bit of pink.

This was also the first time you’d seen him without a cigarette.

You felt a tug at the corner of your lips that only stopped when you rubbed it away.

“Dear? Hello? Bun!”

Your eyes snapped to Mrs. Leonard, hearing the nickname given to you by your family.

“Are you alright, bun,” she asked, placing a hand over yours. “You’re awfully quiet.”

“Oh. Yes ma’am. I’m quite alright, just a bit tired is all. No need to worry. What was that you were saying?”

“Oh, yes! Monti, the dreadful boy has been tearing at-”

Her story continued on until you had finished checking out and had to part ways. And when your back hit the seat of your car you let out the biggest sigh of the week. What was supposed to have been a ten-minute grocery run for fresh raspberries and lemon juice had turned into a 45-minute gossiping session. The energy that was supposed to be used to bake that new raspberry curd cake had been exerted to try to keep up with Mrs. Leonard. Now, you’d have to pull from nothing.

Your head slammed into the steering wheel with a groan that was quickly replaced with a yelp when your car horn went off. People entering and exiting the store turned to look at your car in confusion and slight offence.

“Sorry,” you chuckled timidly.

|*|

The next day rolled around, and you were excited to put out your new Raspberry Delight, which is what you had decided to call your new cake. You had been experimenting with this cake for the past two weeks, figuring out what to layer, and how sweet the raspberry curd should be. Should they have a raspberry jam? Was that too much? Perhaps, a layer of crumble? But, last night, you had perfected everything and had gotten the green light from both your mother and your father to sell.

You had decided to sell it in these cute mason jars and had personally tied the little maroon bows on it. You were setting out the last of the baked goods into the little window by the register when the doorbell rang, letting you know that someone had entered the store.

“Good morning,” you greeted cheerfully, from below the register, setting the dirty trays there.

“Good morning,” a gruff voice spoke.

You stood abruptly.

He was here.

Tall, dark, and handsome was here…right in front of you.

You, who probably has flour all over her and who is sweating from the ovens.

“What can I get for you today,” you say softly, looking down and wiping your hands on your apron.

“I couldn’t help but overhear you yesterday, about the raspberry…something cake. It sounded mighty good and I thought I would come by and get it before it sold out.”

“You were listening,” you let out, surprised.

“I sure was missy. I don’t think I’ve ever heard of something so tasty,” he admits with a sly smile.

You couldn’t help but giggle at his statement.

“Okay, one Raspberry Delight, anything else?”

“Is there anything else you would recommend?”

As you let yourself think, the man let himself look at you. You didn’t notice, but the biker’s eyes never left you and one thing he noticed was that your eyes never met his. He didn’t like that. He wanted to look at him. He needed you to look at him.

He saw your eyes light up as you thought of something, making the man smile. And just as you were about to speak, a sharp voice interrupted

“Excuse me.”

The sharpness in your mother’s tone made you bite at the inside of your cheek.

“Good morning, ma’am,” the man smiled politely, despite her cold demeanour.

“We don’t serve customers like you,” your mother bit.

You knew your mother’s opinion on the growing biker gang in town. Your father and your mother both thought that the group of men were a bunch of bums who had no right to be causing such a fuss. They hated The Vandals, almost as much as satan. You recalled nights at the dinner table where your father's anger had boiled over, making him claim to do awful things to the biker gang. What’s worse, your mother had egged him on.

The man’s smile faltered at your mother’s words, but he recovered quickly.

“I just wanted to buy a cake,” he said calmly.

You could see the tension in his posture, the way his eyes flickered between your mother and you.

“Mom,” you said softly. “You always say business is business.”

“Well, this is MY business,” she snapped. “And I reserve the right to refuse service. Get out of my store.”

You felt a mix of emotions swirling inside you - frustration at your mother’s closed-mindedness, and sympathy for the man standing in front of you.

Your eyes met his, and you hoped that he could understand the apology. He nodded towards you, and you watched his jaw feather in annoyance. You felt your heart drop at the realisation that he might blame you.

“I’ll take my leave then,” he said, walking away as he took a cigarette out of the box.

“Yeah, you go on now,” your mother sneered, causing you to flinch.

He didn’t respond as the doorbell dinged.

You watched as the man walked away, his back straight and his steps purposeful. You couldn't shake off the feeling of guilt weighing heavily on your shoulders.

You swallowed in disappointment in yourself and your lack of ability to stand up to your mother and in your mother for her lack of empathy and kindness.

“Don’t you ever talk to them folks again? Ya hear?”

“But-”

“I don’t want to hear it,” she cut you off. “You so much as go near them, and I’ll make sure you don’t leave the house again. You understand me, girl.”

You just looked down, and your mother took that as a yes. She went back to the kitchen, muttering obscenities under her breath, and you went back to setting up for the day, now with a heavy heart.

As the day went on, you found it difficult to concentrate on the daily operations of the bakery. Your hands moved mechanically as you went through the motions of baking, but your heart was heavy with a mix of curiosity and guilt. Each served customer was a reminder of the one you couldn’t serve, the very one you wanted to the most.

“Hey,” your dad said softly. “What’s going on in your head bun?”

“Oh, nothing,” you smiled sweetly, perfectly masking your growing frustration with your parents, the town, and life in general. “Just a little tired is all. I stayed up late trying to come up with a new thing to work on and now that the raspberry cake is done I need something new. I’m going to go make a new batch of the Raspberry Delights.”

You tightened the scarf around your head as you walked back to the kitchen to grab the fresh tray of cookies that needed icing.

“Okay,” your dad called. “But focus! We don’t need you burning yourself again because you were off in Neverland.”

You knew he was joking, but it did nothing but jab the knife a little deeper.

As you began making the base for the cake, you found yourself wondering why you bothered to stay. It was your baked goods in the window, and yet, it was their name on the sign, getting the money, and it was them making fun of you.

Every time you brought up the fact that you wanted a portion of the profits because they were selling your ideas, they had a fit and said, “Your baking isn’t even that good. Since you now have a couple of things in the window, you think you can call the shots, huh? Is that what it is? Well, maybe we’ll just take them out.”

It was empty threats, and you knew it was, your items were some of the best sellers, but it never stopped the fear that entered your system. However, the thought that you might never leave and be stuck here with parents who don’t respect you or your creations scared you more.

A newfound determination lit up in your gut as you baked.

That evening, after closing up, you told your parents you wanted to work on a new pastry that you’d been thinking about and that you’d meet them at home. They had been hesitant but let you stay in the end, telling you to be careful on your way back. You waited a good 20 minutes to make sure they weren’t coming back before gathering up your things and the two freshly made Raspberry Delight jars and locking up the store.

The cool night air brushed against your skin, sending a shiver down your spine, your heartbeat quickening. You hopped on your bike and threw your bag in the basket, careful not to break the glass before you took off down the road. Even a couple of blocks down, you could hear the rumble of engines and the faint sound of laughter from the home of the town’s biker gang.

As you approached the bar, you hesitated, hopping off your bike that suddenly felt childish next to the rows of motorcycles. You could hear the whooping and hollering of the men inside and jumped when you heard the sound of shattering glass followed by laughter.

Your breath left you in small huffs as the chilly night air nipped at your cheeks. The two jars in your bag hit each other softly, causing a ‘clink’ to echo through the empty space. It also caused a surge of resolve. You jogged up to the doors before the newfound confidence disappeared and opened them gently. You entered the bar without making a sound and closed the doors even softer than you had opened them.

The dimly lit bar was crowded with rowdy bikers, their denim jackets adorned with patches and studs that allowed the light to glint off of them. The air is thick with the scent of smoke, sweat, and alcohol. As you stood there, taking it all in, you could also smell the distinct scent of leather and engine oil.

As you make your way through the crowd, you try to avoid making eye contact, feeling small and out of place.

Don’t draw attention. Don’t draw attention. Don’t draw attention. Don’t draw attention.

That mantra in your head continued as you hugged your bag close and made yourself small. Navigating the crowded bar proved to be rather difficult, especially when you were trying not to hit anyone. A plethora of ‘sorry’ and ‘excuse me’ left your lips before you reached an empty table in the back. You sit your bag down and allowed yourself to breathe as best you could anyway, the taste of smoke filled your mouth, making it dry and slightly bitter. You try to swallow, but the air feels too thick and heavy to allow it.

The dim, hazy lighting of the bar, combined with the smoke from cigarettes and the bodies, made it difficult to see clearly. People pressed close together, their limbs hitting one another.

You stuck out like a sore thumb. You had worn a corduroy skirt that day and, if that wasn’t bad enough, a pastel blue halter accompanied it. If ‘Look at Me’ had a mascot, it’d be you.

The tips of your ears burned as your eyes scanned the crowd of bikers. Normally, you could find tall and blonde easily but, in this crowd, it was like trying to find a needle in a needle stack.

However, after about 10 minutes of searching, you found him near the pool table. His eyes fixed on the green felt with an intensity that you could feel from all the way across the room.

You allowed yourself to just stare, taking in his rugged appearance that finally seemed to fit into his surroundings. His arms were on full display, and the light caught the ridges of his muscles in a sinfully perfect way. His hair was tousled and swooped up as if the wind had permanently swept it there. The thought made you giggle. You took in his tattoos, his rings, and the grease stains his shirt housed. The stains alone sent you to a whole daydream.

Visions of him fixing a motorcycle, his muscles moving seamlessly as he worked. His focus fixed on the machinery, understanding the beauty and power of the bike, and knowing exactly what it needed. A playful smile on his lips as he caressed the engine. The sunlight catching the sweat glistening on his skin, highlighting every curve and ridge of his body. His strong hands, covered in grease, as he worked with precision and finesse. The occasional grunt or sigh as he exerts force in just the right places. Every now and then, he let out a satisfied chuckle as he successfully fixes a part.

Before you knew it, you had replaced the motorcycle.

You let out a squeak at your own imagination. Causing heads to turn towards you. For once, you didn’t notice because you were too busy mentally beating yourself.

You had to give him these cakes before you embarrassed yourself even more.

You took a deep breath to steady your nerves before making your way over to him, each step feeling heavier with the weight of uncertainty.

As you approached, he finally tore his gaze away from the pool table and locked eyes with you. There was a flicker of surprise in his expression, quickly masked by a guarded demeanour. You could sense the tension in his posture as you stood before him, unsure of how he would react to your presence.

He walked toward you, cue stick in hand. His piercing blue eyes bore into yours as he got closer.

“Can I help you with something, sweetheart,” he asked, his gruff voice filling your senses. He leaned against the cue stick, bringing him closer to you. Even hunched over he looked down at you, you had never felt so small.

"I... I brought you these," you stammered out, holding out the two jars of Raspberry Delights towards him. "What happened at the bakery earlier wasn't right and I’m ashamed that I just stood by and let it happen. Please accept them as an apology."

He studied you for a moment, his face contorting slightly as a myriad of emotions flickered. Finally, he reached out and took the jars from your shaky hands.

“Thank you,” he said quietly, his gaze softening.

You nodded with a smile, clasping your hands together and letting out a breath of relief. You rocked back and forth on your feet as you realised that you hadn’t planned out a conversation in your head. You had no clue what to say to the man standing in front of you.

As you struggled to find the right words, only two came out:

“Okay bye.”

You were moving before you could register, bolting out of the crowded bar and into the crisp air of the night. You allowed yourself to breathe in deeply, filling your lungs fully for the first time since you entered the bar. It was also easier to breathe without him being near.

You swallowed as you stood straight up and shuffled towards your bike. Your lip found its place between your teeth while you replayed the interaction in your head. You shrunk into yourself at how you acted. You had dreamed of an interaction with tall and blond for months, given him numerous names that never seemed to fit. You had thought about wowing him with a quick tongue and a perfected sense of humour. But, when it came down to it, you chickened out. You literally ran away.

You reached your bike, which now seemed extra childish coming out of the bar. Now that you think about it, you’ve never been so close to a motorcycle before, only looking from afar. The need to inspect the bike tugged at your heart. It didn’t take much for you to give in.

You reached out and let your fingertips graze the frame of the bike, collecting the dirt that had found a home on the metal. Your eyes trailed the winding metal of the interior, wondering what each thing did. You could smell the gasoline and faintly taste metal on the tip of your tongue, and you smiled at its slight sweetness.

“You like bikes?”

Your hands flinched back as if the bike itself had spoken and your eyes went to the voice.

“Um,” you stuttered as you were met with tall and blond. “I, uh, I don’t have an opinion on them. They’re pretty though.”

“Pretty?” he chuckled, flicking the butt of the cigarette to the ground.

“Mmhmm. I’ve never seen one up close before. I apologise for touching them, it won’t happen again.”

“Calm down,” he smiled. “You look like I’m about to cut your hand off.”

You swallowed thickly and dusted off the dirt your fingertips had collected.

“Come here.”

His tone was friendly and inviting yet commanding, so you followed him over to a particular motorcycle that he leaned against.

“This one’s yours?” you asked/stated.

He just smiled a crooked smile and nodded.

“You can inspect to your heart's content, little miss.”

You feel a familiar tug at your lips as you let yourself circle the bike. It was a lot nicer than the last one, in your opinion. The black colour of the fenders matched tall and blonde, and the framework looked well-loved. You allowed your fingers to touch the bike, letting them trail down the seat until they reached the end of the bike and fell off.

“Hey, listen,” his voice making you snap your eyes to him. “How ‘bout as payment for the cakes, I take you on a ride?”

Your heart jumped into your throat, “Oh, I could never. I’m happy to watch from a distance.”

“Oh,” he feigned a pout as you walked back to where he was leaning. “Well then miss, I hate to say this but I can’t accept these.”

He pulled out a jar from each of his pockets and presented them to you.

“What?” you looked at the cakes and then back at him, offence displaying itself on your features.

“You heard me,” he smirked. “It wouldn’t be right. You put an awful lotta work into these cakes, you can’t just be given ‘em away.”

You bit your lip at the predicament in frustration and furrowed your eyebrows. The tall man raised an eyebrow and fought a smile that told you he was enjoying this.

“So, you’re saying if I let you give me a ride…you’ll take the cakes?”

“Yes I am, miss,” he confirms. “It would be my pleasure.”

An internal battle raged in you, but all you had to do was glance at the look on his face. The thrill of the unknown mingled with the warmth of his smile was enough to make your heart race. His eyes housed a genuine want, a need, and far be it from you to deny him. The “battle” was over before it even started.

“Fine, yeah, okay,” you relented.

His grin widened as he got on and gestured for you to hop on behind him. You couldn’t contain the flutter of excitement as you settled onto the motorcycle. The engine roared to life beneath you, vibrating with power and promise, mirroring your heartbeat.

“Hold on to me,” he instructed.

You swallowed before wrapping your arms around him gingerly, really your arms formed a ring around him, not touching him at all.

“You’ll need to hold on a little tighter, miss,” he chuckled.

Slowly, your arms tightened around him, a little too slow for him apparently because he kicked off suddenly causing you to grip him harshly.

“You jerk,” you shouted, as the wind nipped against your skin.

You couldn’t hear it but could feel the laugh the man in front of you let out, his strong back convulsing in a familiar rhythm. Your cheek was pressed against the denim of his jacket, and you could feel the warmth radiating from him. Lights and corn fields passed by in a blurry mix, and soon the stars were the only thing you could see clearly.

His rythmatic breathing brought a smile to your lips, and you could picture the look of pure serenity on his face. His cologne mixed with cigarettes and gasoline became one you already missed as you breathed in deeply, savouring every moment.

You understood now, the feeling The Vandals sought out, it was peace. It was forgetting everything and giving it all to the road ahead of them. The thrill of speed coursed through your veins, exhilarating and freeing. You held on to the man in front of you, feeling the powerful rumble of the motorcycle beneath you as it devoured the distance.

Every now and again he would look back to check on you, and every time you’d give him the same reassuring nod that let him know you were doing okay.

As you rode deeper into the night, a sense of liberation washed over you. The worries and insecurities that had plagued your mind earlier faded into the background, replaced by a sense of adventure and possibility. The road stretched out before you like an endless ribbon, beckoning you to explore its twists and turns.

However, it was over too soon. Before long, you had found your way back to the biker gang’s bar.

He finally came to a stop in a small open space, the engine purring to a halt. You untangled yourself from him, stepping off the bike with shaky legs.

You turned to face him, his silhouette illuminated by the soft glow of the moon. His eyes bore into yours, a mix of mystery and need.

“Thank you,” you beamed. “That was wonderful.”

“My pleasure miss,” he grins back, a hint of sadness flashing across his face as he got off the bike.

“I’m jealous,” you admitted, watching as took off his gloves. “You get to do that every day.”

“You could too,” he says before he could catch himself, leaning against it. “If you wanted to.”

“That would be amazing,” you say, rocking back and forth on your toes in thought.

The man smiled at your frame, admiring the way you could disappear into your head at the drop of a hat.

“Oh,” you snapped out of your reverie, shocking the man before you. “Now you have to eat the cake.”

“What,” he deadpanned.

“You have to eat the cake,” you repeated. “I kept my end of the deal now you keep yours.”

“I don’t have a-”

“Here,” you say, pulling a spoon from your bag.

“I don’t know where that spoon had been,” he smirks.

“Can you just try it,” you mumbled. “I want to see if you like it.”

He couldn’t say no to you even if he wanted to.

Putting the spoon in his mouth, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out one of the jars of Raspberry Delights. As he twists it open he swears he sees your eyes widen, and he has to stop himself from blushing at your eagerness.

You're practically bouncing while you watch him dip the spoon into the cake and put it to his lips. You hold your breath as he takes it in.

His brows furrow before he breaks out into a smile.

“That’s fucking delicious,” he lets out. “It's not too sweet, which I like.”

He watches as you glow brighter at the compliments.

“I’m glad you like it,” you sigh, looking at the ground in shyness.

“I love it, little miss,” he corrects, as he takes another spoonful of the raspberry cake into his mouth. “Now, I’m jealous. You get to eat these all the time.”

“I can fix that,” you giggle, and before you can think you're cleaning the corner of his mouth with your thumb lovingly.

As you begin to retract your hand, he grabs hold of it, keeping your hand on his face. His eyes watched you intently. There was a raw intensity in them, a fire that burned bright against the darkness. His rough fingers smoothed out yours so that you were caressing his face, his hand still covering yours.

You were so shocked and entranced by the touch that you didn’t notice his tongue darting out to clean your thumb.

A yelp echoed through the night as he sucked on the leftover raspberry cream, your skin prickling with a sudden heat. His eyes remained trained on yours, a twinge of playfulness circling his irises. He observed your gaze fall to where his tongue connected with your finger. He watched as your lips parted in concentration and curiosity.

He loved that look, the eagerness in your eyes to see what would happen next. He also loved the power you gave him in the moment, the trust you gave him to guide you.

He wanted more. He craved more. He craved you.

Your eyes flickered to his as he released your hand and reached out to caress your face. The rough calluses of his hand actually felt nice against your soft cheeks and, unconsciously, you leaned into it. The gesture brought a loving smile to his face.

He set the jar of raspberry cake on the back of his bike and let his hand fall to the small of your waist, pulling you closer. The gasp you let out only fueled his growing need for you. Your chest rose and fell against him and you felt the tips of your ears beginning to burn. The focus in his gaze made you feel like the only girl in the world, and that terrified you. At that moment, the only thing you wanted to do at that moment was look down or away from him, but the hand on your cheek didn’t allow it.

“Can I kiss you miss?” he breathed out, already bringing you closer.

“Please,” you let out, surprising yourself.

He didn't waste another second and closed the gap between you, his lips meeting yours in a fervent, intoxicating kiss. The world around you seemed to fade away as you melted into each other, a whirlwind of passion and desire consuming every inch of your being.

His kiss was like nothing you had ever experienced before, a mixture of roughness and tenderness that sent shivers down your spine. You found yourself lost in the moment, your hands instinctively clinging onto his jacket as he deepened the kiss, his demeanour shifting from playful to intense.

As the kiss lingered, time seemed to stand still. It was just the two of you, wrapped up in each other's arms beneath the moonlit sky. The night air crackled with electricity, and you could feel the heat radiating between you as if it were its own entity.

When you finally pulled away, both of you were left breathless and flushed, your chests rising and falling in sync. His eyes bore into yours, lips falling into a smile.

“I’m, uh, I’m Benny,” he stuttered, his cheeks becoming a slight pink.

“Hello Benny,” you giggle at his sudden show of shyness. “Everyone calls me Bun.”

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A/n: first time writing for Austin!! Feedback is welcomed. Hope you enjoyed!!