#thanks for reading my dudes

[benevolenterrancy]

Zhuzhi-Lang, sincerely, what the fuck do you think gratitude means? I'm just curious. I just want to talk.

[luxaofhesperides]

We Are Robins meeting to Signal apprehending Danny ; requested by @zylev-blog!

“Hey, Danny. How are you feeling?”

Danny gives Duke a tired smile, his head falling back against the wall. He’s sitting up today, which is good. It’s definitely an improvement from the many days Danny was unable to do much but lie down and grit his teeth through the pain as Duke checked on the gunshot wound. It’s a good thing Danny’s a meta with a healing factor, or nothing Duke could have done would have saved him.

As it is, the wound was severe enough to keep Danny vulnerable and unable to move on his own without making it worse. Though Duke has looked, he hasn’t had any luck in finding whoever did this to Danny. He hasn’t brought it up to the rest of the We Are Robin gang, but only because Danny only let him help if he kept it between the two of them.

What’s another secret? If it lets him stay close to Danny and make sure he’s healing well, then he’ll keep quiet and carry on the search by himself. He’s got plenty of practice in doing things on his own.

“Busy out there?” Danny asks as Duke sits down next to him, dropping his backpack onto the ground. 

“Yeah, it’s tough with the cops after us, but someone needs to help Gotham and with Batman gone…”

A pained expression crossed Danny’s face. Eyeing him carefully, Duke opened his backpack and pulled out a few protein bars and sports drinks for him. Once Danny takes them and began eating one, Duke takes out the first aid kit, always kept at the bottom of the backpack, and sets it in front of Danny.

The most he can do is offer supplies and company at this stage of Danny’s healing. He gets twitchy and tense when Duke tries to tend to his wound, and seems to have plenty of practice in patching himself up. 

He didn’t answer when Duke commented on it once, so Duke let the matter drop. 

Metas may have legal protection, but that doesn’t stop people from targeting them. Duke has no intention of pushing Danny into remembering unpleasant things while he’s already wounded, hiding out in the upper corner of an abandoned warehouse taken over by a group of homeless people. Most aren’t inside during the day, choosing instead to be out with the rest of the city, which leaves them alone. 

Duke keeps an eye on the ground floor of the warehouse, making sure no one comes in while Danny tends to his wound. When he peeks back, he can see that it’s much smaller than it was the night Duke found him, crawling down an alley with one hand clutching his side, tears slipping down his face. There had been so much blood that Duke was sure he had just stumbled upon someone dying and froze, horrified. 

And then a shout down the road prompted him to move, hauling Danny up and helping him into the warehouse to hide. 

For a normal person, if it didn’t kill them, the wound would still be raw and bleeding, larger than any gunshot wound he’s seen before. But Danny’s wound is closing up quickly, no longer bleeding, the edges a healing pink.

It doesn’t look like it’s going to scar, either. 

“Think it’ll be all healed up by the end of the week?”

Danny glances up, then continues covering it with new bandage, large enough to cover the entire wound. “Hopefully,” he says. “Then I’ll be out of your hair and can figure out a way to get home.”

“Your folks gonna look out for you?”

“Probably. I’m not planning on telling them, though, since they’ll get way too overprotective. The only reason they’re not tearing Gotham apart looking for me is because I came here with my godfather and he told them we’d be gone for two weeks. Can’t believe he tried to kill me on day one…”

“Your godfather tried to kill you?”

“Yeah. Not personally, or anything, but he definitely hired the guy who shot me. Though he also yelled at him for shooting me? Not sure what that’s about, but I never trusted the guy and he didn’t try to help me afterwards when I ran away, so. You know.”

Duke wants to have a conversation with Danny’s godfather. Maybe bring the other Robins along to make sure the message sinks in: Don’t touch Danny.

But Danny, acting so casual about his godfather trying to kill him, would be unhappy about it, and Duke would really rather be able to take care of him than be shut out for trying to take control of the situation.

“Shit, man, that sucks,” he offers, instead of prying for details so he can hunt down his godfather. “You want a hug or something? I can’t really do much else, but if it can make you feel better about all this…”

Danny brightens and shoves the first aid kit away, his shirt (one of Duke’s old ones he offered up to replace the bloodstained one) falling to cover the bandage. “Please. I would love a hug, dude, I don’t remember the last time I felt so lonely.”

Carefully, Duke wraps his arms around Danny, leaning back so Danny could relax fully and not worry about holding himself up. Danny sighs into the hug, going fully limp as he drops his forehead onto Duke’s shoulder.

“Thanks for this. And everything,” Danny says some time later. He doesn’t move to pull away, so Duke stays as he is, watching the weak sunlight slowly move across the warehouse as it spills in from dirty windows. 

“You don’t need to thank me. I mean, I’m a Robin.” He brings up a hand to tap a finger against the R embroidered into his jacket. “It’s what we’re here for.”

.

.

.

It’s been years since he saw Danny. After he was fully healed, Duke helped him get to city limits, watching as he boarded a bus and disappeared down the road, leaving his life just as suddenly as he entered it.

After spending so much time together, quiet hours of stillness just looking out for each other, his life feels emptier without Danny in it. He knew it wouldn’t last, that Danny would go home eventually, but it didn’t make the parting any easier.

Even now, as Signal, taking a break from going on missions with the Outsiders to spend some time with the Bats, his thoughts drift towards Danny, wondering if he’s alright. In his darker moments, he wonders if Danny’s godfather has tried to kill him again, if he’s succeeded. In calmer, happier moments, he remembers Danny’s quiet stories about his family, his town, all his dreams and hopes for the future, remembers the easy company and how Danny didn’t look at him with pity when talked about his parents, just quiet and contemplative. 

Sometimes, he can’t resist the urge to look him up, but there are so many Danny’s out there that he doesn’t know where to start. He never got Danny’s last name or learned when he came from.

It’s not like he can just ask the Bats for help finding a guy he knew for two weeks before he ever joined them. They’re all busy with their own missions, and definitely don’t have time for Duke’s reminiscing. 

“Just caught sight of the truck entering city limits,” Oracle says in his ear. “It’s heading towards the Coventry.”

“On it. Any movement from the mobs?”

“None yet. I expect this to change soon. Red Hood and Black Bat are patrolling nearby if you need backup.”

“Got it. Signal out.”

His comline shuts with a little click, and then he’s grappling over the roof tops, keeping an eye on the roads in search of the truck. He doesn’t have time to think of Danny anymore, not when a shipment of new, experimental weapons is passing through Gotham. Spoiler had heard a few whispers of it and Red Robin helped find more solid details; the mobs are all looking to take the shipment for themselves in an attempt to get the upper hand in the nonstop fight for control of Gotham’s streets. 

It’s passing through during the day, visible and a good move to keep from being ambushed at night, but it’s not enough to stop mobs hoping to take out their competition with new weapons. Duke enters the Coventry just as his comline beeps once and Oracle begins giving him specific directions, along with a brief description of what the truck looks like. 

Apparently, the weapons are being moved in a U-Haul rental truck. That is… certainly a Choice™ to make for moving weapons around the country.

He follows it from the rooftops, but nothing happens. The truck passes through the Coventry without incident and takes a turn that keeps it away from Crime Alley and the Bowery. It gets to the middle of East End then pulls to a stop in the parking lot of a diner. 

Two people get out and stretch, then head in to get something to eat.

It would be the perfect time for someone to break in. Duke pulls the light over himself, manipulating it to make him disappear from sight as he looks down from the edge of the rooftop, tense and prepared for anything.

He almost doesn’t see it at first. It’s just a flicker, a flash of color, a shift in the shadows across the street. But he does see it, even if he can’t find it again, and drops down from the roof, creeping towards the truck.

Duke waits, holding his breath, off to the side of the parking lot. 

A minute passes. And then a figure materializes out of thin air, floating right behind the truck. All Duke can see is white hair and a black body suit; they’re either a meta or an alien, but either way, Duke is ready to take them down.

The figure lifts their hands and a bolt of neon green energy hits the truck, melting the back and leaving a large hole that gives them direct access to the weapons. And then they shoot again, destroying the weapons.

“Phantom!” someone shouts, and the truck driver comes tearing out of the restaurant, a white gun in his hand. His companion follows, her gun also out, and the begin shooting. 

Phantom dodges the blasts, then vanishes from sight. He reappears behind them a moment later, tackling back of them into the side of the truck. 

“No you don’t!” Duke say, rushing forward as he pulls at the shadows around him then sends them racing towards Phantom, restraining them. The driver and his companion collapse onto the ground, groaning weakly, and Duke grits his teeth. “O, send someone to look after the people moving the weapons. Apprehending an attacker now.”

He doesn’t wait to hear a response, tightening the shadow’s grip on Phantom, who struggles fiercely.

“We can do this the hard way, or the easy way,” he says, pulling Phantom closer to him.

Phantom doesn’t answer. They just scream, the force of it making Duke fall back. His shadows dissipate, and Phantom flies up.

“Get back here!”

Duke gives chase, dropping in and out of shadows, throwing some at Phantom in the hopes of catching him again. But Phantom is fast and it takes all he has to keep up as they cross Gotham.

He thought Phantom was flying around blindly, but the way they move across the roofs and then through the streets are too confident, too focused to be anything other than someone with a destination in mind. But where? Where could they be going? If they’ve been in Gotham, then Duke would have heard of them.

A flying, powerful meta with a multitude of powers? Yeah, he would have known about them.

Phantom flies through a wall and Duke curses, going onto the roof and looking around, waiting to see them fly out. But they don’t and Duke finds a broken skylight to drop in from, landing on the support beams of the warehouse, well above the ground.

He knows the warehouse, he realizes suddenly. It’s the warehouse Danny hid in while he was healing. Duke hasn’t been back in years.

“Just listen to me, please,” a voice says behind him, and Duke tense, spinning around to face Phantom, floating just out of reaching distance. “Those weapons are dangerous. No one should have them, it’s why I had to destroy them. Please, you can’t let them get those weapons out.”

Duke stares. Something about Phantom is familiar. The shape of his face, maybe. His voice. Maybe it’s just because he’s in the warehouse again, with someone pleading for his help.

Maybe it’s all in his mind.

“Danny?”

Phantom flinches, floating back a few inches. “What— How—”

“What happened? Is it your godfather again?”

“My— Duke? Is that you?!”

He definitely shouldn’t be doing this, but Danny’s here. Danny’s here in front of him, needing help, and he doesn’t need the Signal. He needs Duke.

He pulls off his helmet and lifts his bare face to Danny.

“Oh,” Danny breathes. “Well. I guess I should have known you’d be a hero. Can you help me one last time?”

“Yeah, of course Danny. Tell me what you need.”

“Those weapons, they were first made to kill me and others like me. It’s a whole thing I don’t have time to explain. But they’ve been changed to affect humans, all types of people, as well. I can survive a few hits from those weapons, but for most people, it would kill them instantly. I need to destroy all of them and stop any further production before the rest of the world gets a hold of them.”

“That’s why you—”

“They have to be destroyed,” Danny says. “And the people making and selling them need to be stopped. I can’t do it on my own. I’ve tried, but…”

“I’ll help,” Duke says, “I’ll help. This is a big enough problem to bring the Outsiders into it. Or the Bats, but they like to stay in Gotham.”

Danny floats closer, looking painfully relieved. “Really? They’ll be able to put an end to this?”

Duke reaches for him. “Yeah. they can do it. I’ll make sure of it.”

Danny’s feet land on the support beam as his hand meets Duke’s. They balance above the rest of the warehouse, drinking in the sight of each other. Duke rubs his thumb over Danny’s knuckles in soothing circles and watches as the tension begins to fall away from Danny’s shoulders.

“Duke,” he whispers, “I’ve missed you—”

The door below is kicked open, and a gunshot rings out. 

Moving on instinct, Duke tackles Danny, wrapping him up in his arms as they fall off the support beam. They hit the ground hard, rolling a bit, and Duke tucks Danny into his chest, bodily protecting him.

“Narrows!” 

The Red Hood stands over him, menacing, a gun pointed at him. 

“Hood?” He loosens his grip on Danny. “What the hell was that for?” 

“Thought you needed back up. You chased after our guy and lost your helmet, I think I’m right to be a little worried about you. So, who’s this?” There’s a hard edge to his voice, and Duke realizes with a sinking heart that all anyone else sees is an aggressor, a meta who attacked a truck full of weapons, attacked two people, and had to be chased down by the Signal. Jason’s seeing a threat and acting accordingly, putting Duke’s safety first. 

And with his helmet off, identity clear, Danny’s even more dangerous now that he has this knowledge.

“I’m sorry,” Danny whispers to Duke. He doesn’t have time to ask for what? before Danny’s shooting another beam of green energy at Jason then taking off, flying through the roof and out of sight.

“Shit,” Jason mutters, straightening up from where he ducked to avoid being hit, then puts his gun away and kneels next to Duke. “You alright? Why’d you let him go? I thought you had him.”

“I’m fine. He’s not… He wasn’t going to hurt me. He just needed help.”

“Sure. And what are you not telling me?”

“I knew him. He’s a good person, but he’s been in danger for a long time. This was him trying to protect others from what he went through.”

Jason takes off the helmet and stares at him. Then he sighs and reaches a hand down to help Duke to his feet. “Alright,” he says, “Let’s head back to the truck. You have until then to convince me that they’re the problem, and if they are, then I’ll help you blow up more of their weapons.” He claps a hand on Duke’s shoulder, then pulls his helmet back on. “Grab your helmet. We’re wasting daylight, Narrows.”

There’s nothing else he can do, no way to search for Danny when there are other leads to chase, so Duke grapples up to the catwalk where his helmet landed and grabs it.

Just before he puts it on, he sees a flicker of white just outside the window he’s facing. He ducks his head to hide a smile. It’s almost like he’s stepped back in time; Danny’s here in Gotham, needing help and asking for it in the warehouse. 

And though so much has changed in those years, there’s still one thing that Duke will ensure never changes: he’s Danny’s hero. Above Robin, or Signal, or anything else, Duke is Danny’s hero.

This time, he has the power to actually help Danny. He’s going to make sure no one ever hurts Danny again.

“Let’s go,” he says, jumping back down to Jason, helmet on. “I’ll tell you everything you need to know.”

[evidenceof]

Band of Brothers BTS Photos

"The boots of Winters [Damian Lewis] and Nixon [Ron Livingston] burning on the runway. They said they had worn them for a year and wanted revenge!" - P. Christopher, BoB Wardrobe Assistant, also the source of polaroid In the comments, he goes on to say that it was just their boots burning in that pile.

[froggychair05]

So @enden-agolor’s fic has once again made me lose my marbles in the best way

[dontlookatmytmntcollection]

hello! I was wondering if you had any thoughts abt how our turtles would be with an s/o that's a bit of a microcelebrity. Think like a streamer or a youtuber someone with a large but niche following

I hope you have a good day/night! :3

Given that MOST of the turtles' human contacts are celebrities or people in power- it wouldn't be that crazy to them.

Micro-Celebrity x Bayverse Turtles

-Your friendship would be unaffected by it. But entering in a romantic relationship with him, the changes and challenges would take you BOTH by surpise.

-First of all, your turtle cares EXTREMLY deeply for you, and he wants very badly, to make you happy and keep you safe. He is constantly proud of you and he is always watching you thinking, 'Jesus, how the hell did I land this. How.'

-I think the biggest fight or difficulty would be that you would go days, even weeks without seeing each other. Between his schedule and how often you are in front of thousands if not millions of people- it would be difficult.

-Your turtle would also be fighting with feelings of inadequacy or paranoia, more so than he ever had with his other human contacts. Constantly on your case about safety.

-He'd feel as if he isn't enough, that you deserve more in a partner. Someone to be proud to show off, to be someone who could show YOU off. God knows he wants to. It would have been like that without your following but now it's even WORSE.

-To be with one of the turtles demands you sacrifice a LOT just out of the gate. And sometimes that's enough for your turtle to call the relationship into question. So you'd have to put a lot of effort in making it work. Even if you DIDN'T have a following.

-A lot of LITERALLY sacrificing and scheduling time weeky and regularly SPECIFICALLY to spend time and connect with him. At times, it's the only time you see him, and he needs that time just as desperately (if not more) than you do.

-Nosey fans or pesky followers or stalkers would be hard to deal with, even if they were nearly asking questions about your love life. Or picking out the extremely small details that hint that you are hiding something or someone from them. It will be exhausting.

-It will be exhausting to him too. Feeling stressed over April's safety, and leaving her safety to her team's during daytime hours is all one thing. You, though??? Even worse.

-Having someone so close him in such an exposing light all the time hurts his heart, and it would help to include him anyway you possibly can when it comes to keeping you safe.

-LET him walk you home. Let him pick you up or follow you around town, or let him help with the computers or house- it will ease his worry. And it kinda feels good no one can touch you.

[bluerasbunny]

hes a material girl YN wouldn't understand

putting this under a read more to spare from my yelling, but holy SHIT! VKTRS is at 500 hits and 71 kudos, dude that is INSANE! especially for a fic with ONE chapter!!

the success was entirely unprecedented and unexpected, i'm honestly still trying to process it all!!

thank you all so much for the continued support!!! it means so much to me as a young author and artist!! <3 /gen

[shepscapades]

Objection!

Your honor, please carefully consider the tags on the stolen horns post. In them, The Shepherd alleges to be standing upon 5 boxes. This seemingly extraneous information would imply that The Shepherd is significantly smaller than DocM, and requires the boxes to take this picture with a level view of both parties. This would further the narrative that The Shepherd's horns are too small to be DocM's missing horns by making the audience mentally adjust the picture to think of The Shepherd as even smaller than shown. However, the cropping of the picture does not show us this at all! We can not see the true size comparison between the two parties, therefore nullifying this image as conclusive proof that The Shepherd's horns are too small to be DocM's missing horns.

However, one only needs to look back at previous posts of The Shepherd's to see the truth! In many of the recent pictures we can see the full bodies of both The Shepherd and DocM in close proximity to one another, and in these images we see that DocM is much smaller than the Shepherd is... !

Taps paper

You see, what we have here is a classic case of perspective fraud! By making both parties seem the same size, and further implying that The Shepherd is smaller than DocM, it would be completely impossible for the horns to be the very same set, given their size discrepancy. However, because DocM is actually smaller than The Shepherd the size of the two sets of horns are actually far more similar than this image may suggest! Please direct your attention to the Stop Torturing Him Doc Arm Guy post, in this you can clearly see that the size of the Shepherd's horns are roughly the same size as DocM's face,

Slams hands on desk

Exactly like DocM's missing horns are!

STOP IT IM ALREADY DEAD THIS IS SO FREAKING FUNNY

[andy-clutterbuck]

✨ HAPPY 50TH BIRTHDAY ANDY ✨

[flashdoesahundredyarddash]

Under blue moon, I saw you 🦇

[cheecats]

To soothe you from your Riverstar's Home trauma, how about you ramble about oneripple?

YOU'RE SO KIND FOR LETTING ME GO OFF ABOUT THIS TY TY 💞💞💞 I'm terrible at structuring logical/coherent rambles, so I'll just dump some thoughts I have (obv these exclude Riverstar's Home and are roughly how I'd like to play with their dynamic [give them to me NOW erins!!])

LONG POST UNDER CUT!

Obviously this is way before the mountain cats arrive. BIG FAN of the idea that River Ripple and his small circle at the time were the ones to help One Eye and baby Star Flower get back on their feet after the two lost the rest of their family to the sickness we see again in TBS (I imagine One Eye had already treated them with the Blazing Star, but the two were still so terribly weak and unwell after that.) The group find the two living inside a rotting hollow and approach them. One Eye is, naturally, EXTREMELY aggressive and reclusive at first — distressed from sickness, grief, and fear of losing his tiny daughter, for he hasn't been strong enough to feed them much. The other cats are nervous around him, unwilling to approach the tom for his sheer size and ferocity, even if he is weakened. But not River Ripple. He understands why he is acting this way, that his aggression is a defense mechanism to mask his fear, and ultimately wishes to convey to One Eye that he is not going to do anything to them without his explicit permission first: and he sticks to that promise! Every day he sits outside the makeshift shelter with food, asking permission to come inside, leaving prey, water and herbs at the entrance if One Eye is asleep or simply says no. He never challenges it, and simply obliges and wishes him and Star Flower well. It is through this gradual process that One Eye begins to somewhat relax around River Ripple, allowing ONLY him to come inside, communicating his and Star Flower's needs and whatnot (Vulnerability moment!!)

Although she was too young to remember, once she began to recover, Star Flower was always excited when River Ripple visited, coming up to him, chasing his tail, and telling him all about her big adventures (all just made up ones, but River Ripple would always listen and ask her questions about them!) One Eye initially doesn't take well to Star Flower going up to the near-stranger, pulling her back or growling at River Ripple to back off. But over time, he sees that the risk is minimal, and the two never leave his sight while interacting. Besides, it stops Star Flower pestering him to entertain her for just a bit (also I just find this funny because adult Star Flower can barely recall this and River Ripple is just looking at her like omg you've gotten so tall now!!! I remember when you used to tell me how you beat up monsters and dogs 🤭💙!!)

SO LIKE skipping the recovery period, and now One Eye and Star Flower are more present outside … One Eye falls first. He initially is bothered by this, still grieving the loss of his mate and their other kits moons ago. But the feeling is nonetheless there. It's complicated, because at first he had every intention of claiming the area for himself and pushing River Ripple & his friends out… but as much as he tried to resent River Ripple's philosophy, there was just something so…. soothing yet powerful in the way he carried himself. He realises he actually enjoys his company, which is also weird for him! One Eye has lived among opportunistic cats his entire life, learning that being aggressive and domineering is the only way to make it, and that the passive and meek were destined to be crushed. But River Ripple is a curious example to him. He is gentle and patient, but completely capable of establishing boundaries and shutting down veins of discussion that belittle or threaten him. He would call out One Eye's bullshit every single time, but in a way that didn't escalate the situation. His heart was soft and his identity was strong in that. Kindness without weakness??? In MY Warrior Cats??? Impossible??? (Erins: yes it's impossible. 🗿)

Anyway, montage of One Eye giving terrible rizz and making a complete fool of himself 90% of the time — getting frustrated and defensive while everyone else is like🧍‍♂️. River Ripple is confused at first, but slowly begins to catch on. He finds it both amusing and sweet… and yeah! He realises he does feel the same way! He always found One Eyes protectiveness of Star Flower warming, found his intelligence to be engaging, and he genuinely believes there is good in the tom's heart (me shaking my head slowly.)

First date? Swimming lesson! One Eye is terrible! He's half drowned, scrabbling onto River Ripple every .2 seconds, and hates how pathetic it makes him look. But River Ripple is patient, assuring him that they can always try again some other time, and that it took him a while to get used to it too <:)

^ I feel like it's important to emphasize that One Eye genuinely feels like he can relax around River Ripple. That this cat doesn't have any ulterior motivation to trick him or take from him. Nor' does River Ripple ever belittle his failures or negative traits. They simply exist, are acknowledged, and pass like water.

But of course there is difficulty in how these two's ideologies clash. Everyone's beliefs are different, but theirs almost completely counter. River Ripple's philosophy is peaceful. To live and let live, and be custodians of the land. One Eye's on the other hand is to conquer. To take, to fight for what you need, and to claim the land. While there is room to accommodate each other, they are both two strong individuals with strong identities. Neither is going to abandon their philosophy, and when they clash so strongly, it can make it impossible for them to see eye to eye on issues. Long term, that would be hard. I believe that is why they'd go their separate ways. It doesn't work out. But that is okay. For that period of time, there was coexistence, there was connection, and there was love.

TL:DR. Very brief romance! A spark of passion that burns then fizzles out when One Eye leaves to be on his own (with Star Flower) once again. River Ripple, of course, says One Eye can return any time if he needs anything. Even for a short visit. He never does. For everywhere the tom goes, there is destruction and disruption, and River Ripple's home is like an oasis to be left untouched in One Eye's head.

Even as One Eye's reputation worsens, they still feel for each other. River Ripple especially. He knows what One Eye is capable of, what he has done, and how downright hideous he can be. But it's hard not to miss the memory of him. (Cue the mountain cats like PLEASE stop talking about this asshole in flowery prose he is trying to kill us!!)

BONUS: Not really relevant here, but their presence in the narratives respectively as the punisher/destroyer vs the voice of reason… ooogh, sun that burns, moon that soothes e.t.c but that deity kind of vibe would be more relevant once they're spirits in the Dark Forest & Starclan!

I could go on forever but that's the meat of it. Ty ty i hope everyone enjoyed and its not terribly incoherent ✌️

[chimerahyperfix]

You’re looking for something— no, someone, too, aren’t you?

(I can’t comprehend how you understand what’s going on, with your lifeless shell. Craft as you are.)

[cervideity]

jackpot

The Enemy was published 15 years ago today! Wow! You should go and read it! Check out this scene for yourself! Nothing goes wrong!

[venusin-aries]

If I have one more e/riel burner account come on my page, trying to say elucien isn’t compatible (but E/riel is????) and compare Lucien and Elain’s bond to borderline abusive bonds, I’m gonna start fucking biting people.

I’m sorry, but this shit has happened one too many times and the comparison is fucked up.

All the parallels throughout ALL of SJM’s series prove elucien is, in fact, the most compatible for each other. Maybe her most compatible couple she’s written yet imo and NOTHING is changing my mind about that.

[power-chords]

I interviewed more than 50 people in relationships with age gaps from ten to 40 years and heard many variations of the same theme: Their relationships were deeply satisfying, and they saw their age differences either as irrelevant or as beneficial. Justin Lehmiller, a social psychologist and researcher at the Kinsey Institute, began studying age-gap relationships of ten years or more in the aughts. As with gay and interracial couples, he found that people in these relationships suffered because they felt judged. Societal unease around age gaps coincided with the feminist movements of the 20th century, as women entered the workforce and marriage was increasingly idealized as a partnership of equals. “The push for equality in all ways has led us to this moment,” Lehmiller said. When people see an age gap, they tend to imagine there is something intrinsically unequal about it — that the older partner wants someone they can control and the younger partner has daddy issues or is just out for money. Our judgments can also reflect our personal histories. If you worry men won’t find you desirable as you age, seeing DiCaprio with his latest model girlfriend might feel like confirmation of that. Sometimes we instinctively dislike what other people do just because it’s different from what we have chosen for ourselves. “People look for simple pieces of information where they can make a judgment without considering all the nuances in that situation,” said Lehmiller. But exploitation can happen in any relationship, regardless of the partners’ ages: “Just because somebody might be older and might have more money does not mean that they’re the one calling all the shots.”

And even if the older partner is calling all the shots, or some of them, that isn’t necessarily abuse. While Me Too made us all too aware of the way power dynamics can be and have been exploited, it didn’t do away with the fact that desire for these dynamics continues to exist. (Daddy, for instance, was the most-searched term on the porn site xHamster among women in America in 2018.) Sex-advice columnist Dan Savage, who is seven years older than his husband and 22 years older than his boyfriend, has found much of the conversation about age gaps to be fundamentally unrealistic about what human relationships are. “We are status-obsessed, power-obsessed primates always jockeying for control — socially and also in our interpersonal relationships,” he said. “There’s no interpersonal relationship without power differentials, without advantages or disadvantages on both sides. And if you want to correct for that, or eliminate that, you have to eliminate human relationships.”

[ennard-is-near]

FNaF 3 is crazy because imagine being Michael Afton and you’re working at a horror attraction themed around your childhood trauma. And they’re playing you recordings of a man you heard die. And your fucking FATHER is there and he’s trying to kick your ass and kill you and the only thing you have to defend yourself is a recording of a little kid. That would be unfortunate I think.

[potechiis]

homesick

one of my dearest friends drew this fanart from my fic 'Homesick' for my birthday, and im STILL geeking out over it!!

it was an unexpected collab where they did the lineart and I did the colouring ;w;

LOOK AT HOW CUTE YOUNG RICK LOOKS HERE!! HOLDING HIS BAG OF CHIPS!! Prime was such a tsundere in this fic and THEY TOTALLY GOT THE VIBES!!!! i am still SHRIEKING over this ;w;

As the fic is not currently available on ao3, if you're interested in reading the fic, check below the cut ;w; <3

“Dammit!” Rick exclaimed looking at the empty shelf, devoid of the super spicy chips he’d been craving. 

“What?” Prime trotted over, shaking his wet hands off, carelessly scattering water droplets everywhere as he went. “What’s up?”

“They’re out.” Rick frowned disappointedly, the corners of his lips turning down as his brow furrowed in. 

“Tough luck buddy,” Prime patted his back, not sounding sympathetic in the slightest, “Welp, shall we get back to the ship? We still got a couple more hours to go sooo….” 

Prime started walking toward the exit of the small corner store, vaguely checking out a section with different coloured plumbuses on one of the shelves as he wound his way through the colourful aisles stuffed full with wacky looking products. When he saw that Rick hadn’t followed him, he sighed with exasperation and doubled back with his hands on his hips. He found his twin still staring at the empty shelf longingly. 

“Come on, Rick. Let’s go.” His patience was starting to run thin.

“Man, I really wanted to get these.” Rick said wistfully, ignoring his impatient twin. 

“There’s snacks at home, let’s go.” Prime pulled on his arm but Rick still didn’t budge. “Rick,” he said warningly. 

“Okay, okay , fine,” Rick let himself be pulled away, “can we stop by the next gas station though?”

“No, we can’t.” Prime refused to let go of his twin’s arm until they cleared the threshold. 

“Why not?” Rick protested as they walked toward the ship in the parking lot. 

“There’s no more gas stations around here.” Prime lied as he unlocked and got into the driver’s seat.

“That’s not true— how would you know? You didn’t even check!” Rick argued as he slid into the passenger side. He pulled up the navigator and began typing in a search for the nearest gas station on the way. “Hah! See, here’s one.” He said triumphantly, pointing to a red dot on the screen. 

“It’s probably closed.” Prime started the ignition, ignoring the red blinking dot his twin was pointing to. 

“How can it be closed? It says it’s open 24 hours.” Rick rolled his eyes, “Every time you’ve said somewhere was closed, you’ve almost always been wrong.” 

“It’s my ship, I’m driving ergo, we’re not going.” Prime snapped as the ship rose into space quickly. 

“Come on,” Rick whined, “can’t we at least go check?”

“I don’t get why you’re so obsessed with these fucking chips. They’re not even that good.” Prime scoffed, “out of a million flavours in this universe to fixate on, of course you’d choose the shittiest one.”

Rick flushed, hands kneading together in his lap. It was difficult to say exactly why he’d been craving them as of late. The flavour wasn’t perfect but somehow, the hot smoky spice reminded him of home. His Earthly home, that is. Prime disliked it when he brought up Earth or any lingering ties to their home planet and with things as tense and rocky as they were in the ship at the moment, Rick found himself chewing on his bottom lip, not knowing how to defend his intense craving to his twin. 

“They’re not that bad,” he said lamely before looking out the window glumly. 

Stars and distant galaxies twinkled and winked at him like tiny gems sewed onto inky black fabric. Rick usually found the sight quite comforting and awe inspiring but today, they only seemed to remind him of just how far home was. 

Distantly, he heard Prime flick the radio on, an alien tune crackling through the speakers of the ship. Disappointment settled in his stomach heavily. He’d been really looking forward to munching on those chips on the ride back. 

Other than the radio playing and the drone of the engine shuttling them home, the ship was silent and Rick found himself lost in his thoughts, staring out the window with unseeing eyes. 

“We’re here.” Prime said roughly, jolting him out of his thoughts. 

Rick looked up and then out of the ship. This— this wasn’t their little dwarf planet! His eyes dropped to the navigator between them, the coordinates for the gas station still blinking on the screen as the ship closed distance rapidly. He sat up straighter, completely alert and awake. He could hear Prime snickering at his eagerness— but Rick couldn’t care less. His heart skipped, mouth watering eagerly as he silently urged the ship to go faster. So close! He squeezed his hands together tightly, anticipation welling in his chest. 

The neon sign for a gas station was spotted below and Prime eased the ship toward it. 

As the store came into view, Rick felt his heart plummet and the smile that had crept onto his face dropped. 

The lights were completely off inside. 

“No!” Rick cried out in disbelief, “you’ve got to be kidding me!”

“I told you so,” Prime said smugly as he parked. “Told you it would be closed. Now can we— Hey! Where are you—“

Rick threw the door open and ran toward the storefront. There was a notice tacked to the entrance and Rick squinted at the Galactic Standard written on it, deciphering it in his head quickly. 

CLOSED FOR MAINTENANCE   

“Are you serious?!” He groaned, hands and face plastered against the glass as he squinted into the dark store like he might somehow magick a store clerk into appearing if he stared hard enough. 

Prime walked up behind him slowly, lighting up a cigarette as he went. 

Rick turned around at the sound of a lighter clicking and hissing. 

“Prime—“ 

“No! No way!” Prime exclaimed, catching the hopeful look on his twin’s face, “I’m not wasting any more time or gas on this goddamn wild goose chase for shitty chips!” He took a drag on his cigarette and blew the smoke out into Rick’s face. “We checked it out and it’s closed. End of story. We’re going home.” 

“Then—“ Rick looked around furtively, “then we break in! We still got the lock picking kit in the ship right— we’ll be in and out, super fast—“

“No.” Prime rolled his eyes as he inhaled. “I’m not gonna do that.”

“Come on,” Rick wheedled, “why not? We’ve broken into other places for less— how’s this any different?” 

“I’m not playing accomplice to your stupid chip heist.” Another cloud of smoke to the face. 

“Unbelievable! After everything you make me do!” Rick huffed, dispersing the acrid smoke with a wave of his hand. “You’re being so unfair right now!”

“I don’t care,” Prime flicked his half-smoked cigarette onto the ground, crushing it out under his boot with an air of finality. He began walking back toward the ship. “Come home with me or stay here licking glass, I really couldn’t give a shit.”

Rick stared at his twin’s back but Prime never looked back once. Fuck . His hands hardened into fists at his sides. He knew that tone of voice. His twin wasn’t kidding. Prime really would leave him here on this nondescript planet that only functioned as a pit stop for intergalactic travellers if he didn’t move his ass. He’d done it before. Rick spent the better part of a week hitchhiking through the galaxy just to get back to their base. 

“Fucking asshole.” Rick muttered crossly as he followed his twin back to the ship dejectedly, feeling like a leashed dog following its owner. He truly was at Prime’s mercy out here. Sometimes he felt like his twin was a golden ticket that could take him anywhere— but some days, he couldn’t help but feel shackled and bound to his whims. 

Rick yanked the ship door open and slammed it shut extra hard to vent his feelings. 

“Hey!” Prime barked, “Don’t take your shit out on my ship! You break the door, I’ll break your arm.”

“Fuck you, asshole!” Rick snapped, “I hope that shit shatters!” 

“If that shit shatters, we’re both dead in the water and I’m not gonna die because you wanted to get a bag of shitty chips!” Prime punched Rick’s arm hard enough to leave an ache. 

“Ow!” Rick yelped as he twisted around on his seat to face his twin, “what the hell, dude! That fucking hurts!”

“That’s for slamming the door!” Prime growled, “keep it up and the next one will be on the kisser!” 

“I fucking hate it here!” Rick yelled out, face reddening with hot frustration. It wasn’t true. But the bitterness at being foiled over something that should have been a simple pick up, coupled with his twin’s unreasonable attitude had him lashing out angrily. Rick felt like kicking the footwell of the ship but the ache in his arm restrained him. He let out a disgruntled snarl instead, clenching his jaws together. 

“Oh yeah? If you hate it so bad, you can always leave.” Prime said sweetly, but his eyes flashed dangerously. Honeyed poison. He hovered a finger over the glowing red eject button located on the dashboard threateningly. “You wanna leave?”

Stars had surrounded them once more. Leaving was clearly a death wish at this point. 

“No.” Rick said sourly, arms crossed over his chest again. 

“That’s what I thought.” 

Prime didn’t bother turning on the radio to ease the tension. His knee bounced restlessly, knuckles white as they gripped the steering wheel. He piloted the ship hunched over and grouchy, exuding an aura of quiet murderous rage. 

The ship felt uncomfortably cramped— almost claustrophobic with the silent tension crackling between them. A muscle in Rick’s jaw jumped as he turned himself towards his window, physically angling himself away from his twin. He rubbed his arm discreetly, glowering out the window. Fucking hell, Prime could pack a punch. Rick could already tell he was going to find a fist shaped bruise later from the way his skin ached hotly. 

They sat like that for the next couple of hours in stony silence. There were no comments on interesting looking nebulae or space objects. There was not a single joke or word exchanged. The only sound was Prime’s finger tapping out an irritating beat against the handle. Rick would ask him to stop but that would require speaking to his twin and he absolutely refused to do that. 

Both Ricks mirrored an identical expression of sulky anger; brows furrowed deeply, corners of their lips tugging downward as their shoulders tensed into hard lines. 

By the time Prime had landed the ship in the familiar parking lot, Rick’s bottom lip was practically swollen from how much he’d been chewing on it in an effort to hold back his acidic vitriol. He kicked the door open— not even bothering to close it as he stalked towards the building angrily. He could hear Prime yelling something at him but Rick simply flipped him off without looking back. 

Rick jabbed in the 20 digit passcode rapidly, scanned his hand and stormed into the bedroom, locking the door behind him swiftly. Shucking off his labcoat, Rick dropped it on the floor without a second glance, kicking off his shoes as well.

Starlight streamed in through the bedroom window and Rick strode over to it, closing the blinds and plunging the room into semi-darkness to match his mood. He paced around the floor, back and forth as he nibbled on his thumbnail. His chest was hot and tight with pent-up anger. Rage bubbled in him like a bottle of shaken soda; pressure building with no real outlet. The room felt extra small today. Like a jail cell. It may as well have been. Rick was stuck out here, millions of miles away from home, no way to get back. 

He heard Prime enter the apartment— front door slamming shut loudly. Rick’s heart began to thunder in his chest; half expecting his twin to pound the bedroom door down, demanding to be let in. He steeled himself for a blistering confrontation— shaking with equal parts dread and savage anticipation— but no such thing happened. Prime began moving around in one of the rooms noisily, clearly ignoring him. 

They’d woken up in high spirits, laughing about something insignificant and chattering over where they’d go over a bowl of cereal excitedly. What happened? How did their day turn out… like this? All he wanted was a bag of chips! If Prime wanted something he wouldn’t let them rest until it was in his greedy hands. If Prime had no vested interest in it, it wasn’t worth pursuing. Fuck what Rick wanted, right? It wasn’t fair.  

Rick scowled, flinging himself onto their unmade bed face down, yelling wordlessly into his pillow until his throat felt raw.

Soft cotton quickly absorbed the hot pinpricks of wetness that seeped out of his eyes. Rick continued to lie face down until he couldn’t breathe before finally turning over, chest heaving. 

He stared at the ceiling, at the weird stain that sort of looked like a dick. The one they always laughed at while lying in bed together. Rick glared at it like it had caused him personal offence. He wished he could rewind time and forget this afternoon completely. 

Rick got under the covers, cocooning himself as he curled into a tight ball. Safe in the soft darkness, there was no way to tell whether he was in space or on Earth. It didn’t matter anyway. 

The angry knot in his chest gradually loosened and was replaced by bone weary exhaustion instead. 

Rick dreamed of his mama. The old kitchen he grew up in with the sunny terracotta tiles. Warmth. Comfort. Soft arms folding him into her aproned chest, stroking the top of his head softly while she croons to him in their native tongue. Her clever boy. He looks up, the stovetop towering over him as she stirs something rich and fragrant with spices. Bubbling cheerfully. Rick inhales deeply, smiling widely. ¡Mamá! His mama beams down at him. Bright as the afternoon sun spilling across the yellow walls. The wooden spoon that often raps him across the knuckles when he’s being naughty is being held out to him. Today it offers love and nourishment. He opens his mouth eagerly—

Rick woke from deep sleep. For a moment, he was back at home. His childhood home. Any moment now, mamá was going to come in and get him up for dinner. He was still half dreaming, stomach rumbling as the rich aroma from his dream filled his senses. He longed to fall back into the warm embrace of the dream but it was quickly leaving him like cupped water in his palms. Slowly, the room came into focus and he remembered where he was. Millions of miles away from Earth. Middle of bumfuck nowhere. Rick sat up slowly, rumpled and groggy with exhaustion but the knotted tension from early had left him completely. All that remained was a gnawing hunger. 

Swinging his legs out of bed, he sat perched on the edge, not quite ready to leave just yet. The argument from earlier crept back into his mind and Rick chewed his cheek, feeling his arm ache dully from where Prime had punched him earlier. He rubbed at it, scowling a little. He wasn’t ready to face Prime but his stomach was insistent— still worked up from the delicious scent in his dreams that was somehow still lingering. 

Fuck it.

Maybe he could quickly sneak into the kitchen and grab a snack. With any luck, Prime might be passed out high on the sofa, watching TV or something. 

He padded over to the door, unlocking it quietly but as he opened it, Rick found himself stunned, frozen with his nose in the air like a hound catching the scent of a fox. 

That smell. 

Warm. Rich. Aromatic. 

It washed over him fully, making his stomach rumble and his mouth water. It wasn’t his imagination. It was real. But how…?

Rick swallowed. He tracked the homely scent, following it as if in a trance, feeling like he was still dreaming. 

The apartment was unusually dark and there was a warm flickering light at the end of the corridor coming from the kitchen. 

“What the—“

Rick stood rooted by the entrance as he looked over their kitchen that had transformed in the few hours he’d been asleep. The messy kitchen table that was usually laden with half drunk mugs of coffee, stacks of blueprints and various half completed inventions had been cleared. In its place sat two bowls and a few burning candles that cast an orange glow over the kitchen. The sink which was usually overflowing with glassware from the lab was filled with actual dirty dishes and bowls. A pot simmered away on the stove, bubbling lightly on low heat; the source of the delicious aroma that was wafting through the entire apartment alluringly. Rick gawked at all of it, mouth parted slightly. He could count on one hand the amount of times they used the kitchen for its intended purpose. 

A pair of arms circled his waist, lips brushing against the back of his neck causing him to jump out of his train of thought. 

“Are you still mad at me?” 

“Did you…” Rick swallowed hard, “did you do all this?” For me? The last two words were unspoken, but they hung in the air between them all the same. 

Prime made a noncommittal noise, his arms tightening around his twin. 

“Are you hungry?”

Rick nodded slowly, leaning back into his twin’s embrace. A small kiss was pressed into the side of his neck before he was released. 

Prime walked over to the fridge, bottles clinking as he opened it up. Yellow light pooled onto the floor briefly, illuminating his face. He pulled out two glass bottles by their necks, popping the tops off with his teeth before handing one to his twin. He cleared his throat awkwardly.

“Check the uh— check the cabinet over there. Food’s almost ready, by the way.” 

Rick went over to the aforementioned cabinet, setting his beer on the counter before pulling it open. He reached in, bringing one of the plastic bags closer to his face. It was hard to see with just candlelight but it only took a moment to recognise the brand. To his complete and utter astonishment, the shelf was filled with the chips he’d been looking for all afternoon 

“Y-you— when did you—?!” 

“I told you we had snacks at home.” Prime said gruffly, back turned to him as he stirred the pot. He had taken off his usual jacket, wearing his long sleeved brown shirt with the sleeves pushed up to his elbows. 

The bag crinkled loudly as Rick ripped into its contents eagerly, popping one in his mouth. Immediately, addictively hot, smoky spice tingled his tongue and Rick couldn’t resist crunching down a few more. He set the bag down on the table, not wanting to ruin his appetite for what his twin had made for them. Now it was his turn to wrap his arms around his twin’s middle for a quick squeeze before his hands drifted to rest on Prime’s hips lightly. He could feel the flavour heating up his cheeks and neck, the warmth spreading through his body. He pressed in closer, inhaling Prime’s comforting scent and the mouthwatering smell from the soup bubbling  heartily. All the animosity from the day melted away. 

“… Thanks,” Rick mumbled, the gratitude muffled against his twin’s back, barely audible. 

“Mm.” 

Rick peered over Prime’s shoulder to watch him stir the stew, making sure the bottom wasn’t burning. With only candlelight illuminating the kitchen, it was difficult to make out the contents of the pot. It could have been a witch’s cauldron from how dark the contents looked in this lighting. 

“It’s super dark in here,” Rick observed, “how can you see like this?” He reached up to turn on the stove light but Prime caught his hand, turning around.

“Don’t,” he laced their fingers together, “it’s fine.” 

Candlelight flickered in his twin’s eyes; twin flames dancing in an ocean of blue. Tipping Rick’s chin up with a finger, Prime kissed his twin on the lips tasting the cheap flavoured powder from the chips. 

“Yeah, they still taste like shit.” But unlike the chips, his words lacked any real heat. “Taste this, it’s way better than that garbage.” Prime grinned as he picked up the long wooden spoon, blowing on it a little to cool it off before offering it to his twin. 

Rick obediently opened his mouth to accept the spoonful of soup. 

The unmistakable rich, unctuous flavour of menudo spread over his tongue thickly and Rick closed his eyes; instantly transported back to his childhood. It was spicier than a conventional menudo. But it was perfect. Just the way he liked it. Rick swallowed around the lump in his throat. 

“Just like mamá makes, right?” Prime whispered quietly, watching Rick savour his cooking efforts with prideful delight. He leaned in for another kiss, stealing the flavour out of his twin’s mouth until Rick was left breathless. 

“Sit down, I’ll plate up.”

Rick picked up his beer from the counter, sipping as he watched his twin bustle around the kitchen, ladling the dark soup and throwing a couple of finishing garnishes on top of the food. He sat down on his side of the table, lips still buzzing from their spicy kiss, feeling completely bemused. He had no idea Prime was capable of cooking. They usually ordered take out, ransacked the local corner store for high calorie snacks or ate out at fast food chains. He never imagined his twin picking up a knife to cook rather than maim. 

“Eat up,” Prime set down a bowl of menudo down in front of him. Rick inhaled deeply, his stomach growling loudly. He could smell garlic, cilantro and other spices wafting up with the steam. Where did he get these things? He knew Earthly ingredients were notoriously expensive and hard to find, especially out here. Even KOI planets couldn’t quite replicate the taste of Earth’s resources completely. 

Rick picked up his spoon. The flickering candlelight made the dark chunky soup gleam and shine. Menudo never looked great, but it more than made up for its looks in flavour. Ugly delicious. He began to eat, making sure to get a good ratio of chopped onions and other fixings on his spoon. 

Instantly, the flavour of garlic, aromatic spices and tangy citrus hit his tongue and started warming his body from the inside out. Hunger seemed to increase twofold and Rick was ravenous. The crispy fresh ingredients contrasted delightfully with the soft, braised meat— tender from having been cooked for hours. It was hearty and healing. It was everything Rick never knew he needed. His cheeks pinkened slightly— from the heat of the chilis and… his twin’s unexpected thoughtfulness. Had he known? That Rick had been feeling homesick? Or had this all been one gigantic coincidence? Rick mulled on it as he ate, savouring the flavours of home. 

The table was quiet apart from the sound of chewing and spoons scraping against bowls, but it was an amicable, comfortable silence. 

When Rick had gotten halfway through his bowl, he stopped to take a break with a sip of cold beer. The intense spiciness had begun to creep up on him and his neck and ears felt warm— tongue tingling with heat. But Rick wouldn’t have it any other way. He sat back, regarding his twin with a content expression on his face. 

“Okay,” he said, “I have to ask. Where’d you get these ingredients? It can’t have been easy sourcing cilantro and cumin and all the other stuff.”

“Oh well, you know,” Prime shrugged, busy looking at his bowl, “just here and there. I got a— ah— uh— a pretty sweet deal on some meat. Picked up some stuff last time we stopped by Earth. No big deal.”

Prime spooned some more menudo into his mouth before he looked up, almost shyly like he was nervous about Rick’s reaction.  

“D’you—“ he cleared his throat, “do you…uh, like it?”

“It’s good,” Rick nodded, “really good. I—“ he hesitated, “you should— uh, you should make it more often. If you can. Of course.” 

“I mean,” Prime swallowed his mouthful, washing it down with a glug of beer, “it’s extremely time consuming to make. Not to mention getting all the right stuff takes a lot of effort and then there’s planning—“

“Yeah,” Rick said quickly, looking back down at his half eaten bowl, “I get it. It’s a lot—“

“—But if you want it, just tell me. I can make it happen.” Prime shrugged, leaning back in his chair as he ruffled the back of his head with one hand. 

“Really?” Rick looked up.

“Yeah,” Prime spoke to the bottom of Rick’s beer bottle on the table, “‘cause, you know,” he paused, rubbing his neck sheepishly, “… I miss mama’s cooking too, sometimes.”

There was a beat of silence after this admission and the pair chuckled together. Something in Rick’s heart eased and then swelled. 

“I didn’t even know you knew how to cook.” Rick said teasingly before spooning a large mouthful of stew into his mouth, biting into a chilli by accident. Instantly, his eyes watered, cheeks peppery hot as he swallowed the spicy mouthful. He quickly took another sip of his beer as a chaser, blinking back tears. 

“Hey! There’s a lot you don’t know about me. Anyway, I am the smartest man in the universe, after all. Name something I can’t do.” Prime grinned cockily before balling up his napkin and throwing it at his twin lightly. “You missed a spot, by the way.”

“What— where? Did I get it?” Rick licked around his burning mouth before attempting to wipe off whatever it was with the back of his hand only to feel his twin catch his wrist, pulling it away. 

“Here.” Prime caught the dribble with his thumb, slowly pushing it back and over the curve of Rick’s lip and into the soft heat of his mouth. 

Rick’s mouth tingled as his twin pressed his thumb into his tongue gently causing saliva to well up around the intrusion. He swallowed, inadvertently sucking the tip of Prime’s finger, feeling it drag over his teeth as it left him too soon. Heat flooded him as he dazedly watched his twin suck his thumb clean of himself. He wasn’t sure if it was the chillis or something else that was making him pant lightly. 

“Eat your food,” Prime smirked, catching the flushed look on his twin’s face. 

Rick blushed, bending his head to quickly shovel the remains of his dinner into his mouth. 

The candlelight was dwindling, struggling to stay alive in the melting wax as the candles reached their stumpy limits. 

Still, the kitchen never felt warmer or brighter. The pair found themselves leaning in closer over the cramped table— two stars orbiting one another, powerless to their combined gravitational pull. 

Even after they’d finished and pushed their bowls to the side, they still lingered at the table— sipping out of mostly empty bottles of beer, talking about nothing and everything in between. Neither of them wanted to burst the fragile bubble of serenity this meal had brought them. 

But finally, when the last candle fizzled out, Rick sat back and stretched, sated and relaxed. 

“I’ll wash up.” 

“Oh— uh,” Prime sat up hastily, “that’s okay. I’ll do it. There’s a lot of stuff to wash and I wouldn’t wanna—“

“Why? You cooked so, it’s only fair, right? I don’t mind.” Rick stood up and carefully began clearing the table, squinting as he stacked their empty bowls. “God, it’s really dark in here, huh.” 

He walked over to the light switch in the corner. 

“Wait—!” Prime nearly tripped out of his chair, bumping the table loudly as he lunged for his twin. “Don’t—“

“What?” Rick turned around as the kitchen lights flooded the area starkly. “What the—“ 

Rick’s eyes widened as he stared down at the empty bowls of menudo in his hand, streaked with blue. In fact, he could see a bunch of the dishes in the sink were also covered in an unfortunately familiar shade of blue. 

“Dude,” he started, “tell me that’s not the—“

“God,” Prime rolled his eyes, huffing out a breath of air with his hands on his hips, “I told you not to turn the lights on! I knew you’d be such a baby about it.” 

“When you said you had a sweet deal on meat, you meant—“ Rick paled as nausea twisted his stomach. 

“I mean,” Prime flung his hands into the air, “what was I supposed to do? Leave the bodies to rot in the lab forever? What a waste. At least this way we can get rid of the bodies and save space and get free protein. This is a three birds one stone sitch! You have to appreciate that! It’s an extremely economical solution to a—”

“Have you learned nothing from putting alien things in our bodies?” Rick demanded, one hand on his hip.

“Relax, it’s totally fine,” Prime shushed him, “everyone knows heat kills germs and this stuff’s been boiling for hours!”

“…” Rick stared at his twin incredulously, not knowing what to say. “I’m going back to bed,” he said finally, feeling a bit ill as he set the bowls on the counter. He turned to walk out the kitchen. 

“Sure you don’t want seconds?” Prime called out to him, “You looked like you were really enjoying it!”

“No!”

“Okay, we can have it for breakfast tomorrow, then!”