#will not try lunatic I am dead

[harmonysanreads]

In Reca's ideal film, you'd be nothing more than a toy forced to spin at the twirls of a clockwork key ; a spectacle suspended in motion, complete allegiance to his direction, again and again in the palm of his hand. In that perfect shot, you would not rebel, fist against the surface of the screen in a plea to be leg go, no, you'd be easy to control.

“Do not be absurd, my dear! Has a bug chipped away at the film in your head? You would not survive a day away from my camera.”

The friction of his glove as it clasps onto the sinews of your arms clashes against the ricocheting waves of his voice in your ears. Cut! Cut! Cut! You need not return his stare to hear the panic reverberating through his head, just as he needs not respect a fraction of your personal space.

“My thoughts are perfectly lucid, director. I no longer wish to act under your guidance.” you push him back with a finger to his chest and he allows you to, his arms falling to his sides before rising with all the melodrama of a seasoned lunatic.

“What a way to say you wish me dead!” with a sweep, he's beside your stead.

“Have you forgotten your dream, my brightest star?” a brush of his breath against your ear, a firm grasp onto your wrist as it unfolds your hand towards the phantom of your wish, “What happened to that light that brought you to me?”

His presence, annoyingly, is as engulfing as it was the first moment you had the misfortune of meeting his acquaintance. A dwindling candle in a shadowed room, its flicker is too miniscule in comparison to the tenebrous monstrosity extending its talons towards the candle's light.

Contempt is the sole benefactor that keeps it alight, burning for a moment longer. A fruitless effort — rebelling is nothing more than running closer and closer to the dead end.

“It got snuffed out.” you tilt your head towards his pointed stare, in time to bear witness to the contractions of emotions vacillating in his eyes — building up up up before bursting forth in a supernova of laughter. Your feet nearly tangle amongst themselves as you try to move away from the disturbing sight, attempt thwarted by his insistent hand.

Reca's crackles slighter to a burdened sigh, ruby eyes peek from between the crevices of the fingers of his free hand, “And, you allowed it.”

It should be incriminating for a sentence that calm to fizzle your nerves that quickly, “Non.. nonsense! It was you who clearly—”

Your heart jumps as the axis of your vision goes askance, red bleeds and paints the corners of your mind. “I did what?” the sting of his nails sinking into the flesh of your cheeks wakes you, “Come on, you can do it, love. Think. What did I do to you, clearly?”

“You... you made me into who I am today and, I can never even think of standing in front of the camera without your direction.” you heave.

“Brilliant! Just like this! If you continue performing this well, it won't be long before we can step up from these boring scenes and move onto shooting the truly heart-touching moments.” it is debatable whether your legs surrendered on their own or were forced to as the Memokeeper catches you, dragging along your limp form towards his vision.

“And when every scene has been shot, organized and edited to perfection, I'll keep it secure from everyone's grabby hands — for, this film is to be viewed by us alone.”

Hatred is the frailty of the weak, their last act of defiance before they embrace destruction. In Reca's hands, it is nothing more than a misdirection to achieve the most perfect shot, malleable to his whimsies.

[mxtxfanatic]

The Most Un-Lan-Like Lan (Junior) vs. The Most Un-Lan-Like Lan (Married-In Senior)

Lan Jingyi is such an interesting character. He is very opinionated and often speaks his mind without considering how his words will come across. He is cowardly about the supernatural despite being a cultivator but brave against those in positions of power despite being a child, always willing to stand up for what he thinks is right. Lan Jingyi starts off the story with a low opinion of "Mo Xuanyu," usually acting rude, hostile, or dismissive:

When he turned his head, he saw the Lan juniors tailing him. “Children!” he shouted. Lan Jingyi said, “Who are you calling children? Don’t you know which clan we’re from? Just because you’ve washed your face, you get to act like our senior?”

—Chapt. 9: Pride IV, fanyiyi

Wei Wuxian went to the youngsters. “Am I seeing things right? Each of you is a disciple of a prominent clan. Haven’t your moms, dads, and uncles taught you that the dead can’t receive the paper money you’re burning? They’re dead, what do they need money for? They won’t be able to collect it. Plus, you’re burning the money right at someone’s door—“ Lan Jingyi waved his hand dismissively. “Move aside, move aside, you’re blocking the wind. The fire will burn out at this rate. Anyway, it’s not like you’ve ever died—how do you know whether the dead can collect the money?" ... Lan Jingyi knifed him in the heart again. “Even if you’ve been dead before and didn’t get any, it has to be because no one burned any for you.”

—Chapt. 42: Flora X, fanyiyi

It doesn't help that Wei Wuxian, playing into his "gay lunatic" persona, is intentionally trying to put everyone off:

Lan Jingyi said, “Why are you crying? You’re the one who said you like Hanguang Jun! Now he even brought you home. So what are you howling for?” Wei Wuxian’s eyebrows were wrinkled, his lips frowned, and his face was the perfect picture of misery.

—Chapt. 11: Elegance I, fanyiyi

Wei Wuxian took out the apple from the breakfast they had given him and offered it to the donkey. As expected, as soon as the animal bit in, it stopped braying, and began smacking its lips and crunching the fruit with its teeth instead. Wei Wuxian touched the back of its neck and thought about the jade passage tokens the juniors carried while pointing at the round, white rabbits covering the ground. “I’m really not allowed to cook them? So if I cooked them, I’d be chased off the mountain?” As though facing a major enemy, Lan Jingyi opened his arms and stepped in front of him immediately. “These are Hanguang Jun’s rabbits. We just help watch them once in a while. Don’t you dare cook them!”

...

“I can’t get up,” he said sincerely. “Uh, what’s happened to you now?” Lan Sizhui said. “What’s happened to me? Your clan’s Hanguang Jun ravished me!” Lan Jingyi piped up louder and fiercer. “If you keep spouting nonsense, we’re not going to let it go. Come out!”

—Chapt. 19: Sunshine I, fanyiyi

Yet despite all this, once Wei Wuxian sheds his "Mo Xuanyu" cover and begins to seriously lean into his mentorship role, Lan Jingyi becomes one of his most vocal followers amongst the juniors, seeing the man as both a steady pillar to rely on—on par with his idol, Hanguang-jun—and someone whose safety he is concerned with, so much so that he can even cast aside his fear of the supernatural to volunteer himself as bait in Wei Wuxian's stead:

Wei WuXian said to them, “When the second group of fierce corpses rushes in, I will lure them towards the Pool of Blood, and HanGuang-Jun will be in charge of slaying them. With this target here,” He patted himself, “They won’t bother you. Don’t be tempted by battle, just run.” For once, Lan SiZhui’s raised his voice, “No! We can’t do that. There’s no way!” Sect Leader OuYang had given up trying to hold his son still. OuYang ZiZhen, “Senior-Wei, we will slay the corpses too! I can slay a hundred more!” Meanwhile, Lan JingYi had already started to undress, “I’ll draw a flag on myself too!”

—Chapt. 81: Core Part 3, boat-full-of-lotus-pods

OuYang ZiZhen, “HanGuang-Jun, why did Senior-Wei collapse?” Lan WangJi, “Tired.” Lan JingYi was astonished, “I thought that Senior-Wei would never tire!”

—Chapt. 84: Core Part 6, boat-full-of-lotus-pods

Soon, he began again, “Speaking of it, why didn’t I see SiZhui and the squad this time back?” In the past, these juniors would’ve crowded around them and begun chirping all the way from the entrance of the mountain. Hearing him mention SiZhui and the juniors, Lan WangJi’s brows relaxed somewhat, “I can take you to see them.” After he led Wei WuXian to find Lan SiZhui, Lan JingYi, and the others, the juniors didn’t do anything apart from calling out in delight.

—Chapt. 114: Banquet Extra, exr

With such a fierce and impressionable personality, it's no wonder he's one of the few juniors whose name Wei Wuxian can remember 😂

[maybe-im-dark]

The birth of Wolverpool

Deadpool zips through the multiverse with his usual panache, feeling pretty good about his little escapade. After the events of the Deadpool & Wolverine movie, he had this insane idea—why not find some more variants of Wolverine? Maybe spice things up, maybe find some new drinking buddies, and, well, maybe just mess with some timelines for the fun of it.

He lands in a bustling new dimension, boots crunching on fresh snow as he adjusts his red and black suit. The landscape looks vaguely familiar—a sprawling Canadian wilderness, of course. Typical Logan. But something’s… off.

Then he sees it. Standing atop a ridge in the distance is… himself? But wait. No. It’s… Wolverpool?

Deadpool’s eyes widen in shock, then gleam with pure joy. He rushes forward.

"Wolverpool, is that you?!" he shouts, practically vibrating with excitement.

Wolverpool, a brawny mix of Wolverine and Deadpool, stands tall. He’s wearing Deadpool’s trademark red-and-black suit, but with the classic Wolverine mask—those iconic pointed black ears stretching out from the sides of his head. There are claws coming out between his knuckles even. Deadpool stops dead in his tracks, dropping to his knees with hands clamped to his face in awe.

"Oh. My. God. I knew my dreams were insane but this—this is beautiful!" Deadpool exclaims, tears of joy threatening to spill. “This is the Deadpool-Wolverine fusion I didn’t know I needed!"

Wolverpool just stares, growling slightly.

"Okay, tough guy, let’s calm down—oh, look at those claws! So sharp! So stabby!" Deadpool reaches toward the claws, then thinks better of it and pulls back with a flourish. “Never mind, no need to lose a finger today."

But then, something catches his eye—a rift in the timeline. A shimmering distortion that beckons to him, curious and teasing. Unable to resist, Deadpool leaps through it with a quick, "Yolo!"

He emerges moments later, slightly disoriented but quickly shaking it off, when he hears some gruff voices ahead. Sneaking around a thick pine tree, he peeks out and sees—himself. And Wolverine.

But wait… Logan's not his usual self. He’s… heavily pregnant?

Deadpool’s jaw drops as he takes in the scene. Wolverine’s cradling his massive belly, leaning against a rock, his face twisted in pain. His breathing is erratic as beads of sweat drip down his furrowed brow. The version of Deadpool in this timeline is holding his hands, trying to help him through labor, though clearly at a loss for what to do.

"Holy chimichangas…" Our Deadpool gasps, slapping a hand over his mouth. He struggles to contain his laughter and amazement, his eyes sparkling with manic glee. "Logan's… in labour?!"

Deadpool can barely handle it. "Oh, this is the greatest thing I’ve ever seen. Forget the rest of the multiverse, I am never leaving this timeline!" he whispers to himself before straightening up and muttering, "Okay, keep it together, Wade. Just—be respectful. It’s a magical moment."

The scene escalates as Wolverine suddenly lets out a roar of agony, his claws instinctively popping out as he clutches his sides.

"Aaaaagh!" Wolverine screams. “This kid better be worth it!”

Pregnant Wolverine's belly tightens, his muscles rippling beneath the surface, and then—like something out of an alien movie—his belly bursts open with a sickening, fleshy pop. Blood splatters, and a small, crying infant crawls its way out of him, slick with fluids.

Our Deadpool nearly passes out. "What the cronenberg!" He stumbles back in disbelief, eyes wide in horror and awe. "Okay, that was NOT on my bingo card."

The alternate Deadpool quickly swoops in, catching the newborn with the reflexes of a practiced lunatic. With surprisingly tender care, he cleans off the tiny child and places it onto Wolverine’s chest, who—already healing—leans back against the rock, looking exhausted but relieved. His body rapidly knits itself back together, the gaping wound closing as if nothing ever happened.

"There you go, Wolvie," alternate Deadpool says with a grin, patting Logan’s shoulder. "Congratulations, papa. You’ve done good." He gestures to the baby on Wolverine's chest. "Our little bundle of chaos. Takes after both of us, huh?"

Our Deadpool stares, utterly speechless for once. He shakes his head, trying to process what he’s just witnessed. "Well, that was… surreal," he mutters. "Seriously, I’ve seen some weird crap, but this? Top five, easy."

As the baby coos on Wolverine’s chest, Wolverine grunts, shooting a glare toward both Deadpools. “You two better not be making a big deal outta this, or I swear, I’ll—"

Our Deadpool snaps his fingers. "No need for threats, big guy! I’ve got enough memories to keep me laughing for the next fifty years!"

As he steps back, ready to continue his journey through the multiverse, he whispers to himself, “Well… never thought I’d see the day Wolverine gave birth. Guess there really is a first time for everything.”

One last look at the bizarrely heartwarming scene, and Deadpool shakes his head with a grin. “Well, that was unexpected..”

And with that, he leaps back into the multiverse, ready for whatever absurdity comes next.

But even for him, this one was going to be tough to top.

[damnfandomproblems]

Responding to 3 anons in #5796

"I agree with this tbh. Like adults are the ones making things unsafe for minors in fandom spaces. YOU are the ones who approach minors unprompted. Minors are just minding their own business in fandom, then you all come along and bother everyone."

Predators that are adults are not synonymous with all adults in fandom. It's not the fault of the vast majority of fandom that kids purposefully bust into adult spaces and arbitrarily believe the creeps saying they're "safe" adults. It's the fault of your parents for not reaching you worth a damn and the predator. And yes, kids do fucking barge into adult NSFW spaces. None of the the ones that say they mind their business actually do.

"I agree with this post, cause like... the ones doing the most harassing are adults. I am a minor, and it makes me feel unsafe in fandom spaces. Especially when I see adults drawing nsfw of characters who are MINORS! aging them up does not excuse that gross and creepy behavior. Just stop and give us a space where we don't get pushed into a corner and called annoying. Leave our fandom spaces!"

It's gonna be really funny when you age out of your favorite characters and have a moral dilemma over the fact that you don't stop thirsting over Bakugo or whoever the fuck the minute you're older than him.

And aging up is...how time works. That's like saying no one can view anyone sexually, fictional or real life, because they were once a child. Do you realize how stupid that sounds? If you don't want to be sat at the kids table, learn how to behave rather than screaming at the main table because Aunt Milly told an off color joke and Grandpa Joe has a naked Princess Peach tattooed on his arm.

"I see people getting mad about Fandom Problem #5796, but that kind of is just proving the point? You all act like the minors are the biggest problem in fandom, but you are the ones constantly inserting yourselves and making it about you.

I see adults say things like:

- "Fandom wouldn't exist without adults."

- "Who do you think created fandom? Not minors!"

- "Minors wouldn't have content if it weren't for adults."

All are ignorant of the idea that minors are the foundation to fandom. Fandom would not exist if it wasn't for minors being interested in it and starting groups for people to join. Often times, the best artists and writers in the fandoms are THE MINORS.

Adults make the space uncomfortable by inserting themselves and putting NSFW fics and art of minor characters. Then they get pissy when a minor points out it makes them uncomfortable and go "stop invading our space!"

You are the ones trying to push minors out when we just want to have fun! Just leave us alone!

-A minor"

Minors aren't the biggest problem, no. But by food are they the loudest. You say you just want to have fun but minors have on mass harassed people that were leaving them alone simply because they didn't understand the concept of dead dove don't eat.

And no, you are not, nor have you ever been, the foundation of fandom. It has always been adults, from the very beginning when Sherlock Holmes novels gained an international fan club unlike the world had ever seen to the 1960s housewife Spock/Kirk shipping Trekkies starting conventions, mailing lists, having coalate parties for zines, and laying down the foundation we have today. Adults were the ones that got sued my lunatic writers in the 90s, and they're the ones that, 90% of the time, are buying the services or media for you to consume in the first place.

And I'm sorry, but the best artists and writers in the fandom are never minors. Exceptionally talented minors are exceptional for a reason. The rest of you sit somewhere between "average and has potential" to "would make My Immortal hide its face in secondhand embarassment." Art and writing are skills, and anyone under the age of 16 likely hasn't been writing fiction long enough to run with the heavy hitters. Considering the state of the US education system, this is an even more laughable stance.

Many minors have great potential, but acting like your the best in show when you just made it out the gate is the height of hubris.

Posting as a response to a previous problem.

[placeinthemiddleofnowhere]

The Devil You Know (Part 1) - The First Sin

Pairing: Demon! Captain John Price x Reader

(No use of y/n)

Warnings: This series will contain scenes of a violent and sexual nature, I will be more specific as I write more parts.

Summary: Reader is a soldier hanging on to their last gasp of life, trying to summon a demon associated with soldiers and battlefields in order to aid them. Unluckily for you though, the demon isn't interested in a short term deal. He finds himself quite attached to you, and he doesn't want to let you go.

-🔥-

Disembodied hands shook wildly as they set about their terrible task. At least that’s how it seemed to you - appendages moving around a blurred screen, drawing dirtied red symbols with panicked uncertainty. You swiped another slick fingerful of your blood into the dusty concrete and clenched your aching teeth together, finishing off the last curve of the sigil with a snakish hiss.

 “I call to you…with the blood of my battle wounds. Jo- Jotan, I will be your willing servant.”

You looked around, eyes darting wildly for movement or any sign that your ridiculous little saving grace had worked. Though nothing happened. You blinked feverishly, feeling your lip wobble at first and then your entire body shake as you absorbed the facts in front of you. You were actually going to die. 

A cackle broke out into the room, competing with the baying gunshots outside to break the walls of the decaying shell of a building. It was you. You were finally losing your mind, absorbing the facts in front of you with detached horror.

Perhaps the ruins were an office before, but now it was the final resting place of a desperate lunatic who’d decided to decorate their sepulchre before laughing themselves into death’s arms. The cruelty of it burned in your throat and stang at your eyes, soon searing hot tears into the ruined flesh of your cheeks.

It was a foolish last ditch effort anyway, you mused, collapsing onto your back in the middle of the blood seal. A stupid myth you’d clung to in a final attempt to save your life, a ritual told to you by someone that was long dead themself. If they presumably hadn’t bothered to use it, then why would it do you any good? 

“Oh dear…I’m not too late am I?” cooed a soft rumbling voice. 

Your eyes opened wide, the owner of the call demanding to be seen. That murmur fizzled in your ears and vibrated in your blood, forcing your hands to scrabble at the ground and set you into a sitting position again. 

When you finally rose, you were held in place by the stranger. His onyx black eyes pinned you into place, watching you twitching and panting like a caught mouse. Apparently you amused him with this. His lips pulled into a grin, revealing a row of white teeth that curved into points at the canines and outer incisors, it was the smile of a predator. As if he needed to advertise any more warning signs. 

His body was big and broad, his chest a large plane of solid flesh dusted with soot and soft dark hair that matched his bristly beard and hickory hued hair. His large arms were decorated with similar etchings to the ones you’d messily painted, both of them circled in two iron bands at the bicep and forearms, they looked like they could crack teeth in a pinch. There were also a few bands on the thick dark tail that waved behind him too, a detail you only noticed as it seemed to lovingly caress the shadows around his legs.

It was what finally confirmed for you that this was him. The fabled demon of battlefields - Jotan. 

“You came,” you whispered.

“You called,” he returned, tilting his head at you. “Surprised you managed to complete the circle. You’ve lost a lot of blood, Sergeant.”

“I…I have,” you replied, feeling another wave of nausea roll through you. 

“And I suppose you want me to do something about that?” he said, mouth twisting into a wry half smile. 

It was almost worse than when you’d seen his fanged teeth. He looked positively ready to devour you, his gleaming eyes fixed on you like a tiger. You were just waiting for him to pounce, breath catching in your dry throat as you anticipated the killing bite. Suddenly you’d forgotten that it was you that called the terrible entity here, that he was supposed to be serving you rather than terrifying you. 

“C’mon now, Love. You clearly knew enough about the ritual to get me here…aren’t you going to follow through?” he prompted, leaning down to meet you at your level. “It’s rude to keep a demon waiting, you know.”

His arms folded over his dark trousers, crossing over each other at his lap as if he were asking you to do something so completely mundane. He tilted his head at you again, flicking his eyes up to the doorway on the other side of the room as it started to shudder and bang. Voices were worming their way through the debris, shouts blasting in through the cracks. 

Bang, bang, bang.

You didn’t have much time. Not that your body would be able to hold on much longer anyway. 

“I want you to- please…take me back to exfil. Get me the fuck out of here and safely back to base and I’ll do whatever you want,” you said, voice cracking as you made your plea. “Ask anything you want from me, Jotan. Just get me the fuck away from here.”

His eyes curved into shadowed moons, once again he beamed at you. It felt like the stifling room heated a few more degrees. To add insult to injury your lungs began to struggle, it felt like your body was in its last stages of failing.

You briefly wondered if all this just might be a delusion. Maybe your head was presenting you with him as a way to cope with being turned to pink mist by the men that still called from the door outside, as a way to forget about your torn up arms that’d been sliced open by the bombings, and the bullet hole that had been weeping silently in your leg.

Bang, bang, bang.

“I’ll tell you what…I’m feelin’ generous,” the demon murmured, reaching out and forcing your chin up with in his charred fingers. “I’ll take you back to base, just like you want. And now…I could ask for your soul in return, for you to be my eternal servant when you do meet your end, and I really could have you do anything for me. However I won’t do that. Instead, I want to lend you my power. Just for today. That is my only offer.”

You frowned, a million racing thoughts crashing through your mind all at the same time. You’d made peace with the fact he’d ask for something awful, known it even. This clearly had to be a trick. Nevertheless, your head throbbed perilously and the door and furniture you’d messily propped in front of it were going to give way.You didn't have much time. 

Bang, bang, bang.

“What will I do with your power?” you asked desperately, looking from him and to the end of the room. 

“Let me worry about that,” he chuckled. “I’ll guide you, Sergeant. All you have to do is agree…that or let them flood in and kill you.”

Bang, bang, bang.

He motioned to the thundering door and raised his brows at you. At that point his dark eyes were like vortexes, they dragged you into his orbit and had you falling under his spell. You knew logically that whatever was going to happen was going to change the course of your life forever - and not for the good. Even then, you couldn’t find the strength to deny him, couldn’t hold enough faith in a glorious next life to accept that you’d leave this one. 

“Fine! I accept,” you said, eyes wet and heavy. 

An animal growl rattled through your bones and shuddered throughout the skeleton remains of the office space. Your body flinched back, responding just as your instincts wanted, but the demon didn’t allow you to retreat. He was quick - arms lashing out and moving like a whip. He gripped your neck like a farmer does to his chickens come dinner time, and just when you were ready for the snap, your body jerked violently. 

You forced yourself to your feet, no, you surged upwards like you were under possession. Your legs didn’t feel like they’d buckle anymore, they felt renewed. Your heartbeat was steady like a punctual train, and your breathing returned to normal, better than normal even. Everything in you felt like it was new, like someone had taken out your broken parts and given you an upgrade. You smiled, lips curling over your teeth unnaturally.

Wait- were those…fangs poking into your bottom lip?

Bang!

There was no time to wonder at the strange way your mouth felt. Your head jerked up and suddenly you were greeted with the second worst sight of the day. The enemy soldiers had you surrounded, they flooded into the room like a locust swarm and pointed their guns at you, faithfully looking toward their Captain for the authority to execute. 

Normally you would’ve shuddered, or maybe even fallen to the floor, but you held fast. Your breathing remained calm, but your vision went dark. That’s not to say you passed out, but a thick hazy filter seemed to descend across your eyes. Then just when you were about to question it, your arms reached out as if you were being puppeteered and your entire body unwillingly  shot forward. 

There was no time to even think to connect your actions to the seemingly absent demon then. Instead you latched onto the soldier in front of you like a bear and sank your teeth into his neck. The man screamed, and yelped, and made all sorts of inhuman noises as he struggled to try and pull you off. Though there was no helping him. You continued to bite at his arteries and savage him until his screams were silent and overtaken by the men around him. 

Gunshots rang out, but none pierced you. Men beat at your back and pulled at your arms, but you didn’t break your hold. Copper filled your mouth, but you didn’t spit. You smiled with glee and licked at your own salty tears, disengaging from your target only when you were ready.

Little did you know, this was only the beginning of the butchery. 

-🔥-

“For fuck sake, get yersel’ to the sink ye riot!”

You jumped out of your thoughts and hazarded a quick look up to your worried manager, following that up by nodding silently and running off to the bathroom. Fuck. All that you could do was grimly stare down at the blood while it merged with the clean tap water and remind yourself that it was fine. You weren’t outside the wire anymore, you were just wait staff in a small restaurant, and you didn’t need to worry about bleeding out anymore because the biggest hazard you faced now was apparently picking up a dirty knife the wrong way. 

“Fucking hell,” you chuckled, quietly facing yourself in the mirror and taking a pause from the gory scene below. “It’s just a tiny cut.”

For a second, so quick you only just registered it, black eyes flashed behind you. You jumped back and hyperventilated, doing everything you could to stop yourself from screaming. Though it couldn’t be helped. You forced your hands over your mouth and yelled a muffled cry into your palms instead and rode out your panicked heartbeats until you could be sure you wouldn’t collapse. 

You did a double take, searching the mirror for those horrible eyes or any other signs of their proprietor. However, there was nothing else to see but a pathetic ex soldier, black tile and cheap imitation herringbone wood flooring. Suddenly you felt absolutely ridiculous. 

You slipped your hands from your mouth and covered your eyes instead, rubbing at hideously embarrassing tears with anger. That stupid therapist you were going to was so wrong, you thought bitterly, you were never going to make progress. You constantly swore that you could see those demonic eyes wherever you went, and sometimes you even thought you saw him. Well not the demon exactly, but a man that so closely resembled him - just without the tail and black eyes. 

It’d been a full year since you’d been honourably discharged from the military, and even in all that time, you still hadn’t healed. Sure, the cuts and bullet wounds had made miraculous progress and faded to tiny scars, but inside you may as well have been a shooting range dummy right at the end of target practice. While your superiors had seen fit to dedicate you with a medal for the miraculous fight you put up against the enemy, your head still hadn’t gotten to grips with just how you did it. 

Multiple therapists had put it down to repressed memory. They told you that whatever had really happened must’ve been replaced with that accursed demon summoning ritual that you dreamed up in an adrenaline filled haze. They said you might remember it all eventually once you’d healed more, or even that you might never get the answers you sought. There was no footage from your vest cam, and no other eyewitnesses left alive to say what had happened. Just you and your janky, wacky memories.

“Hey, Riot! You gonna come back on shift anytime soon or do I have to explain to Marco why the big bad ex-soldier is dying over a little cut?”

You turned to the door and smiled to yourself, feeling your chest grow lighter the second you heard that voice. Emily always knew how to pull you out of a funk. With that in mind, you shook your head, felt your goosebumps retreat away and stepped out into the scorching warmth of the restaurant. Once more back into the fray. 

“The big bad ex-soldier had a lot of blood coming out that little cut,” you shrugged, “can’t be creating a healthcode violation, you know that.”

Emily raised one of her thick dark eyebrows in question and put her hands on her hips. Oh no, this was the serious stance. In fairness, the tables were mobbed that night and she’d been run off her feet by two difficult tables that were ‘not getting acceptable service by any definition of the word’ as one of them had apparently said. 

“Put a blue plaster on it and get back out here before I give you a real war wound,” she growled. 

Your eyes widened, but you still smiled despite yourself. 

“You’re the boss!”

You rushed off to do as she said, ready to come back out and assist her, and if necessary neutralise any threat to her sanity. Emily was one of the few people you’d reconnected with after coming back home, and anyone that messed with her henceforth, was now messing with you. 

She’d seen you out and about at the park one day, taking one of your ‘haunted walks’ as she called them - only because you had trouble sleeping and would walk around in a black hoodie with the hood up. It was like something clicked, after being so reluctant to share anything with your family, or military buddies that tried to reach out, it was like you’d found your key. You’d babbled to her about how badly you were struggling to adjust to civilian life, leaking your frustrations like a bled radiator, and she accepted you. She listened without pity. 

Now while you wound a plaster round your silly little cut, you watched her zoom round the tables with true gratitude. She was the only reason you’d gotten the job, and been able to integrate back into real life. As much as you had your moments of frustrations, and had brief run ins with your PTSD, you at least had something to distract yourself with. Something that grabbed your attention and set your breathing straight again, when before you would curl in the corner of your room and scream for many minutes at a time. 

Once the plaster was affixed, you fiddled with the cracked old first aid box and wrangled it shut, stowing it back into place with a thud before rushing back out to the floor. The smell of garlic and pasta filled your senses, and the voices of the patrons roared rapturously in your ears again. The normal hustle and bustle of the place set you back into your rhythm and the ramped up tempo sent you hurtling toward the kitchen. 

“Where’ve you fucking been?” one of the chefs groused, “we’ve got a million plates for table ten here that need serving! I can hear them bitching from here, get moving!”

“Had a little accident getting the plates to Frankie,” you said, motioning to the plaster and your fraught KP behind the pass. “Good to go now!”

Rather than stay to hear the chef's curses, you rushed off with the plates and delivered them to the table, plastering on a smile as the customers moaned up a storm to your face. After offering them your apologies and promises of free sides, they hushed up and all was good again. You tended to your other tables and resumed duty as normal, rotating around Emily and the other waiter, Michael, like little clockwork toys. You all ticked along perfectly, leaving full stomachs and mostly happy faces in your wake. 

“Can you take this to table thirteen, please? I gotta piss like crazy!”Micheal ordered. 

He handed you a steak that was positively dripping in blood, almost setting you off again were it not for the fact that you were so confused by his request. There’s potatoes and salad and sauce on that plate, you thought to yourself, its not a body, just a hunk of meat.

“There isn’t a table thir-” you started, soon trailing off. 

Michael had long since dashed off before you could correct him and you sighed to yourself. Great, now who on earth could this be for? You knew every table in the restaurant of course, your knowledge on the place was near perfect with Emily acting like a drill sergeant during your probation stages. However, you didn’t know where thirteen could be, because it didn’t exist. Most people knew that restaurants skipped that number because it was unlucky. Apparently not Michael though. 

“I believe that’s for me,” called a rumbling voice. 

You frowned and looked down to the man before you, startling as you realised that a table had been placed where it shouldn’t have, and in turn you were standing right over a poor customer. No wonder Michael had made the mistake, you had no idea where the table had even come from. Though you were too embarrassed to worry very much about that in the moment, you needed to recover in front of the man before you made an idiot out of yourself. 

“Apologies, sir,” you said with a nervous laugh. “It’s been a busy night. Can I get you anything else?”

You placed down the food in front of him and were glad for it after you’d made eye contact. There was something strange about the man that made you jump. His stunning blue eyes captured your gaze and made you feel like you were in the middle of a laser sight. You gulped and looked away for a second afterward, trying your best to compose yourself.

“Thank you,” the man said softly, still fixing his eyes on you. “This is perfect.”

His sly grin struck you as familiar, but when you studied the man more, you couldn’t place him. He had a dark peacoat draped over his chair and wore a black shirt and fitted jeans. His beard was trim and cut close to his jawline, and his hair was near perfect, combed back neatly over his head. Everything about him was perfectly ordinary, perhaps would’ve been completely innocuous if not for his eyes. 

You could’ve sworn there was a little black band circling the pupil, but just as you thought you’d lost yourself in them he chuckled at you. Causing your face to flame up in burning shame. 

“I’m so sorry for staring,” you apologised, holding your hands up in appeasement. “I don’t know what that was about, sorry. You just seemed familiar for a sec.”

“Oh really?” he laughed, “Don’t happen to know a Jonathan Price do you?”

“Jonathan Price?” you repeated questioningly.

“My name, sweetheart,” he grinned, showing off his pointy canines. “Though you can just call me John if you like.”

“Oh my god, my brain’s going tonight,” you laughed, trying to get yourself away from him and the bloody steak that seemed to ooze with every passing second. “I’ll stop bothering you now, Jonathan! Enjoy your steak.”

His name sat heavy on your tongue, as if a fizzy sweetie had stung at the nerves and left it swollen and red. Jonathan. There was something about it that didn’t fit right. An unnatural force wanted you to turn round and call him a liar, demand that he reveal himself for who he really was. 

Though you didn’t put much credence in unnatural forces anymore. Not when unnatural forces tended to be symptoms of your mental illness. Instead you shook your head and kept working, making a note to yourself that you needed to get more sleep that night. Sleep and meds usually helped, and you were praying that they’d set you right again the next day. 

[bonefall]

Feel free to ignore you've probably got a lot going on right now, but considering you know a lot about DOTC and Clear sky, I had a question...

We know that he's a terrible, misogynistic, woman beating and war mongering lunatic who was excused of all his actions because his equally misogynistic brother said " But-But he's nice! Deep down! This isn't the real him! "

But! In a world where the Hunters could write such a character, what do you think Clear Sky would look like as an actual sympathetic villain?

Idk if that makes sense, but what I've thought of doing is taking purely cannon Clear Sky and attempting to change him enough that he's still an antagonist, but not too far where only Reddit defends him.

I don't think he works as a sympathetic villain, on any level, ever. I think you're making a huge mistake to even try, and I have never seen an AU where it was done well nor am I interested in entertaining the thought.

Characters. Are. Tools. They exist to tell a story. The story that people tell me, by obsessing over some alternate universe where he was "ACTUALLY sympathetic and had a REAL redemption arc," is that they're not fucking interested in his dozens of victims. Nor do they actually care about the abusive impact he had on the minds and feelings of his family. They're JUST interested in Clear Sky himself.

Just like the Erins. Everything that happens in DOTC revolves around him. Everything. All his wives die so he can be sad about it. His brother defends all of his actions and BEGS you to sympathize with his pain so he can be 'redeemable.' One Eye comes out of nowhere so that there can be an example of "real" evil to contrast Clear Sky so he's less bad in hindsight.

The first three books of DOTC are bad, but the last three are fucking insufferable because SUDDENLY all that Gray Wing apologia pays off, and they take their main villain and throw him out a window. You CAN'T have "redeemable" Clear Sky and the plot of DOTC without dragging in someone else to drive the conflict, to BE the bigger threat to "unite" against. Slash and One Eye have to be conjured up out of thin air so Clear Sky can WHINE about how people only suck his toes instead of deepthroat them after he killed all their friends.

And yet, in spite of this absolute failure of an attempt, we continue to see this bullshit "redemption" be a mistake because Clear Sky is a fantastic villain, with major antagonist roles in nearly EVERY bit of follow-up material for DOTC that came after.

He's the most consistent monster in all of Warriors.

He's a fragile, egotistical, self-absorbed megalomaniac who ALWAYS sees himself as the victim, REFUSING to self-reflect and blaming everything else for all of his terrible choices. He will USE your love of him against you like it's a chain through your nose, step out of line and he will yank you into place with guilt trips, manipulation, public shaming, and violence.

He's a child abuser. He's a tyrant. He abandons the sick and disabled as soon as they're of no use to him, with grand speeches about "illness" and "weakness." He's a murderer who stands above the shredded corpse of his victim and bellows, "I'M NOT GREEDY! I'M JUST STRONG!"

And you'd write a "good" redemption arc for this, why?

Why are people so chronically unable to accept that there are LOTS of people like him, and you can't save your abuser? Why don't you ask yourselves why you're not interested in exploring Thunder, or Petal, or Gray Wing, and how his toxic influence impacts them? Why does the sympathy fall on Clear Sky? What about the DOZENS of victims who are dead by Book 3, and how THEY could have been saved?

Why ruin a perfectly good villain?

What's behind this trend where a billion people say to me, "Yes Clear Sky is a walking cavalcade of fucked up abuse apologia, and an incredibly realistic depiction of an abuser, but how would you change this while keeping it all the same?"

I wouldn't. You can't. It wouldn't be the same story, or it wouldn't be the same character. Never seen it done well, and I have seen it a lot. So I don't entertain this deeply frustrating "Well What If Clear Sky But Nice" impulse.

[bhaal-battle-beer-bard]

FUN FACTS ABOUT YOUR TAV!

Thanks for the tag my dear @alpydk 💙💜💙

I tag back @aristenfromwarsaw , @pinkberrytea, @heytheresunflower and @yennefer-of-vengerbergs

I am going to do it for my Tiefling Durge Saulus (I did so often already I know 😅) I really should do the stuff more often for my other two Tavs, but yeah...not today 😅🙈🤣

Saulus

~Is your character good, evil, or neutral (makes some good decisions, some bad ones)?

She wanted to be the most evil bhaal bitch babe of them all...ended up rescue every single Gondian. So the most evil things she does most of the time are her sassy comments on everything and her nasty roasting songs. She is chaotic good. Or good evil, lawful evil? Does this exist? (Just look out, she is very easily influenced and when Astation or Sceleritas tell her to do something, she does it)

~What hobbies do they partake in?

She is a bard. With heart and soul. So this is the stuff that she is doing. Music, music everywhere at any time. 🎶🎼🎵

And so so much writing.📜🪶

(Does to cuddle and kiss also count as hobby?)

Oh and to gossip and talking shit. But to make bad puns and giggle like a teenie is not a hobby is more her professional calling 😉😂

~Do they own any heirlooms from their family or ancestors?

She is a Durge, so...maybe her bedroom at the temple of bhaal if Orin would not hang up her dead mother/sister there 🙄 (kids these days!)

So nothing material, only her boiling bloodlust, maybe really some lunatic blood kink deep inside her, some crazy problems in the head and...little buddy Sceleritas Fel with his nice hat! 🎩 😄

~ Can your character cook?

Can your character cook? That is...a really good question 🤔

I think she can. Not exceptionally good, but enough for all needs. And she is absolutely up to learn more things, for a little family to feed later 😊

~Does your character have a best friend?

😃😁😃

THISOBALD THORM!!!

The thing with Saulus is, that anyone who buys her a drink is her friend by law🤣

(Also even if Astarion would decide not to romance her, he would be her best friend, because they would talk shit and gossip nonstop about the others and make dirty puns)

~Their biggest fear?

People juding her by her horns and tail and think she is unattractive because of that. But that is only an insecurity. Losing or disappointing her companions is the real thing. Most of all Astarion and her owlbear cub.

~Name one of their red flags.

And there it is: animal abuser.

Show her one and she does not need to be a Durge to bring bloody hell upon them! 😡

Or red flag like in relationship? Well...do not try to dominate her out of the bedroom or in other way she did not allow in the first place. Never try to humiliate her. To be the baddest bhaal babe of them all can come back in one second in her raging head and hands. And even if not a insane bhaal chosen, she is still a battle bard.

[liquidorcard]

Lily can't keep her own "Sympathetic" Villains rules Straight: Anthony Gramuglia edition

See Crim's edition for the rules and outlines. Here we go.

Lily's Response to Ant:

Lily's probably going to get a significantly worse score on this one because me and Ant I think have similar media diets. We begin:

1. In the book, 100% he is THE villain. The movie not as much. Still though, I think movie Hammond more than fit's Lily's criteria. -1 life found a way

2. We already went over this (yes I am still writing p.3 of my Magneto post.) -1 Anthro cow delivering your children

3. Kyubey's keeping the universe from ending Lily. How could you get closer to having a point than that? -1 timeline

4. See Crim's post. He does fail #2. Again though, by Lily's original parameters this was a valid entry. But I have to give her the point. +1 spider gets it's legs ripped off

5. I bet she thought this was clever. -1 gate keeper.

6.N/A

7. I don't even know what she's talking about here. -1

8. Del Toro sends his regards. -1 Nerdy fish man.

9. LILY HASN'T SEEN THE BROADWAY SMASH HIT PLANET OF THE APES THE MUSICAL, STARRING TROY MCCLURE!? For shame! -1 (has anyone else watched that movie recently? I'm not saying it's aged poorly, but like, it is profoundly unintentionally hilarious, watching it in the modern day. I know this was like, the whole thing back then-- leading men who were too cool for school, but Taylor is such a fucking asshole. Cornelius is the real hero of the film, and everyone bullies him for not matching their lunatic energy. #justiceforCornelius #GeorgeTaylorisoverparty)

10. N/A (Trekkies don't try me.)

11. N/a

12. N/A (I mean I feel like I've probably seen the whole Mummy franchise just through memes at this point but. Lily's reasoning here is fucking asinine though-- as per usually Ant us uniquely getting her goat.)

13. This is actually the first example that breaks rule #3. Sorry fam I love Elfen Lied too, but it's a bit of a hot mess. +1 dead puppy

14. Scar is a dead ringer to Lily's criteria. She straight up just didn't have a pot to piss in, so she just wrote "no." -1 Dwarf in a flask

15. For the record, my boomer mom has seen Ghost in the Shell. The movie anyway. -1 body on loan

16. I watched this as a kid but can't really remember anything about it, so, I gotta put it as N/A.

17. This might actually be the first time I've seen anyone else memtion this movie . . . But still. -1 burnt wheelchair

18. Not plus ultra. -1 for all

19. Oh fuck off Lily. Glass houses. -1 jutsu

20. Sai, Crim and Ant spoke pretty extensively about this one. -1 angry hair raise

21. This one too. -1 demon pig

22. Yes she is. -1 dad

23. See Crim's list. -1 Prisoner 24601

24. N/A

25. Read ANY book, Lily. -1 absent godly parent.

26. I've only read the first one. N/A

27. Lily's reason here is bullshit but I haven't seen Columbo either. N/A

28. Why not Lily? -1 Jimbo

29. YES SHE FUCKING IS LILY. Just because in a modern context her story is a lot more tragic doesn't mean she isn't intended to be a villain. Lily made up the rule "has a point," but if they have an iron clad one she just declares them not a villain. -1 head

30. OBJECTION! NOW YOU REMEMBER VILLAIN AND ANTAGONIST ARENT TRUE SYNONYMS FOR EACH OTHER!? -1 Lily if you could just ONCE try to engage with a media discussion honestly.

31. N/A. I'll get around to watching it.

32. Not in Dracula Untold. -1 Damn Luke Evans looks like he was cloned from Orlando Bloom. I can't tell those two apart.

33. DIFFERENT DRACULAS. HOLY SHIT. -1 Lily this rational is so piss poor it's embarrassing. Even for you.

34. N/A

35. Isn't he in Kingdom Hearts? -1 Ah Ha Ha Ha

36. Another non-surprise. -1 traveler on his way home.

37. I haven't played enough Kurby to know why Meta Knight is a sympathetic villain. N/A

38. I've played enough to know Lily's right on this one. +1 Deddeddeedeeededededeeedede

39. A) several characters on both Crim and Ants' lists have been protagonists. B) IT'S FUCKING COMMON POPCULTURE KNOWLEDGE DONKEY KONG WAS THE ANTAGONIST IN THE FIRST APPEARANCE OF BOTH MARIO AND DK. -1 Lily I'm fucking shocked you don't know this. Genuinely. That's saying something, considering it's you.

40. Solid Lily continues to be the worst one. -1 LIQUIDDDDDDDD

41. Yes she is. Her point is the magic is what keeps her fucking family safe. -1 gift

42. You'd probably like this movie actually, Lily. Not the book, but. Or maybe not, there's no incest lesbians I guess. -1 sexy tree

43. I'm going to give Lily the point to maintain consistency that mind-manipulation doesn't count as "a point." Before he put on the crown he's not really even an antagonist, so. He IS an example of a sympathetic villain, however. +1

44. THERE ARE OTHER ANIMALS ON THIS LIST. Another one who's spot on, so she can't figure out how to even pretend to argue against it. -1 Beauty who killed the beast

45. GODZILLA ISN'T LITERALLY A NUKE. -1 pop culture jokes don't substitute proper media analysis

46. The Kaiju Lily. Her name is the title of the film. It's not Ant's fault You're too lazy to Google shit. -1 Viking Relic

(Biollante would have been my personal pick for sympathetic Kaiju. And her dad. She would have broken Lily's first rule since she's probably not aware of exactly what's happened to her, but. Her father at least fits Lily's criteria. A lot of the Kaiju are sympathetic though.)

47. This is a perfect example as to why Lily's rules are ridiculous. John Kramer is, in my opinion, outrageously unjustified in what he does. He follows her rules though. Having a bad point is still having a point. How "well written" he is wildly different depending on the movie, but because he's at least well written sometimes I'm counting him. -1 foot

48. You haven't read Paradise Lost Lily. I know you haven't. -1 Satan crying for everything he's lost

49. God Lily I wish you'd actually read something for once because this is an even better example as to why your rules are a joke. -1 Facist Worm King

50. This is a specific example. -1 tears, it's a waist of good suffering.

LILY'S FINAL SCORE: 19/50

38% - F

Got wrong: 24

Got right: 2

Removing the ones I haven't seen:

19/39

48% - F

Removing the ones Lily hasn't seen:

15/37

40% - F

Removing the ones we both haven't seen:

2/26

7% - F

[siconetribal]

Put It On My Tab: Chapter 10

Pairing: Jason Todd x Fem!reader

Tag:

@vbecker10 @wordsfromthemoon @harlequin-hangout @harpy-space @tild3ath @gone-batty-fics @princessbl0ss0m @dakotali

Warning:

Banter, Fluff, Wit, Book-nerdiness, and more floof

Summary:

Everyone deserves time off, and the vigilantes of Gotham are no exception to the rule. The boys decide to take a weekend to let loose. Who knew a few drinks would lead to a stranger in bed?

Author Note:

A huge thank you and shout out to @harlequin-hangout for the amazing banners you made for me.

If you’re new to the story, please check the master list for the previous chapters!

Jason watched her turn her mug in circles, press a napkin to make it smooth, and shift her plate as if to find the perfect lighting to make her pastry most photogenic. One half of her lower lip was imprisoned by her teeth, the other half jutting out to the side. It was not hard for him to conclude that she was nervous, which made him curious. What does she have to say about what Cici said? How serious could it be? Maybe she’s embarrassed about the bill? Wait, if she brings it up I can insist on paying!

��So ,” Y/N finally spoke up after what felt like hours of silence. “I have been in a dicey situation because of the Joker and his gang of clowns. Wrong time, wrong place, sorta deal.” She paused again, but shorter this time. “I have been hit by his Joker Venom, but I was treated in time. It was a gas and it wasn’t one of the more lethal variants or long enough exposure to be permanently disabling. It’s…not something I talk about either. Cici wasn't trying to lie or cause trouble the day you came in. She was trying to help me out, because I recognized you.”

Great , she recognized me right away and I was just chasing 1’s and 0’s in a useless IP address! His lips scrunched to the side as he slouched in his seat, his pride was thoroughly bruised. 

“Don't pout, I was having a bad day, well week, and she was just trying to help me jot deal with another thing, and ended up blurting that out. So no, I’m not some lunatic because of it and yes, I’m perfectly normal, because who isn’t a little traumatized when living in Gotham City, right?”

“I would say ‘or insanely rich’, but they tend to be the actual targets and commoners like myself end up in the crosshairs.” She hesitantly added, seeing no flare of anger or annoyance, she sat up and took a bite of her flaky pastry of choice. 

“Are you sure ‘perfectly normal’ is the best term for you?” He grumbled. “You recognized me and did your damndest to be unrecognizable, why? You even got your friend in on it and made me think you're someone,” his voice steadily grew louder and his tone harsher as he sat up straight while she steadily shrank back into her seat, ducking her head to avoid looking at him. Shit , not what I wanted to do! “ Forget it , who am I to get pissed at a little white lie? I’m no stranger to bad days either.” Like being held hostage and left for dead by the Joker. He quickly deflated back in his seat. His foot lightly nudged against hers, making her jump and look up. “I also think anyone who isn't traumatized living here is either off their rocker or they've only just moved in.” His gaze softened as he smiled, coaxing her to relax with him again.

“Being rich comes with its own style of batshit crazy.” He rolled his eyes. Like throwing cash around for giant galas to make yourselves feel better about ‘charity’ which will obviously attract all the other criminals in Gotham. The only difference between them is that one group is considered legal.

 “Speaking of rich, you’re a Wayne, right?” Jason’s eyebrows shot up quickly before crashing down and furrowing together. “Cici told me, I was helping her with the drinks that day and she told me to not call it.” She quickly explained. “But that aside, what do I call you? Little Lordling? Littler Wayne? Wayne Jr the second? Wayne 3.0? There are a bunch of you, right? You're the second one, I suppose you'd be Wayne 2, or are you 3 because Bruce Wayne would be 1?” She thought aloud, watching his left eye twitch with each nickname she came up with. It was still oh so satisfying to see.

“Yes, I am an adopted son of Bruce Wayne and no , you can’t call me any of those.” His voice shook as his smile became a little strained, a little bit of a grumble in the undertones.

“Aww, not even ‘Little Lordling’? I thought that one would’ve won.” She pouted. The way her lower lip puffed and pushed out was adorable, but Jason needed to be strong. There's no way he was going to let anyone call him that. It would be the end of him if any of the other Bats heard of this. “So what do I call you by, oh nameless capeless savior?”

“How about you just call me by my name? Which you could’ve just asked me for instead of doing all this.” He rolled his left hand in the air as he gestured to the oddity that was this conversation

“It is absotively posolutely rude to demand such information! To ask without offering something of equal value is simply barbaric!” She scoffed and he snorted while trying to stop himself from choking on his drink. “Also, where's the fun in that? Now you'll remember me the next time you see me, you won't be so thrown off.” The smug grin on her face was frustratingly adorable and pleasantly annoying, he was not sure if he wanted to wipe it off her face or give her something else to gloat about. 

“And charging someone for asking questions is not memorable enough?” One of his eyebrows rose up in question. “I feel like we’re well past dinner and a movie first.”

“Who says that's my cup of tea? Maybe I'm a video games and books kind of gal?” She raised an eyebrow of her own in challenge to him.

Damn, games and books? “Well you’re in luck. I’m a bit of both myself.” He smirked. 

Oh that is cheating! You can't go looking like this, be a Wayne, and be into those! I’m trying to ask you for 4k, not a wedding ring! Her eyes narrowed as she leaned in closer. “There is a stubbornness about me that never can bear to be frightened at the will of others. My courage always rises at every attempt to intimidate me.”

“‘Pride and Prejudice’ by Jane Austen, not bad.” Jason took a bite of his sandwich. Not bad, not bad. “There are some things you learn best in calm, and some in storm,” he calmly replied.

“‘The Song of the Lark’, huh, ‘a bit’ is what you said, right?” Y/N sat back. “Consider me impressed again, Wonder Boy.”

“Quit calling me that,” he grumbled as his eye twitched.

“I have nothing else to call you.”

“Then call me by name.”

“I don't have your name.”

“You could ask.”

“That’d be rude, of course. We haven’t properly met.” She smirked.

“And how do we properly meet?” He leaned forward, resting an elbow on the table.

“Dinner and a good book.”

“Are you asking or telling?”

“That depends, do you prefer me to ask or tell?” She leaned in closer as well.

“Doesn’t matter to me, so long as you say yes.”

“Yes?”

“Yes,” he grinned. “I guess it’s settled then. Now all I need is your number.”

“Wait, what? My number?” She sat back a little in surprise.

“Yes, your number, how else am I going to get in touch with you?” He extended a hand towards her and she, still confused at what just happened, robotically handed over said device, the screen unlocked. He quickly sent himself a text through her phone and saved his number in hers. “Thanks, sweetheart, I’ll be sending you the details later. On that note, I gotta run. See ya,” he winked and finished his drink before heading out, Y/N sitting there mouth agape and utterly confused. The bell chimed again before she could even process any of it as she quickly cleaned up and got behind the counter once more, the rev of a motorcycle fading into the distance.

[lulublack90]

Prompt 21 - Support

@jegulus-microfic March 21 Word count 962

Previous part First part

The silence in the dining room was deafening. Regulus and Remus stared at Orion, who sat waiting for their reactions. 

“Er—e-e-erm—P-p-papa—I-I-I-I I don’t know what you—” Orion raised a hand, cutting Regulus off. 

“Now, Regulus, do Blacks stutter and stumble over our words like common fools, or do we use our years of elocution lessons and training?” He said eyebrow quirked very much the same way his sons regularly did. Regulus lowered his eyes to the table and traced over the serpent’s body that coiled around his silver knife. He realised a tad too late that Remus couldn’t use such utensils, and he left his eyes flick to the left and saw that Remus had transfigured the family silver into muggle steel. He gritted his teeth. If his mother had noticed that, they’d have all been dead. The set had been in the family for 300 years. “Regulus?” His father asked again. 

“No, Papa.” He said quickly. 

“Then why don’t you start again, and don’t bother trying to deny it. I have it on good authority that that is exactly what you are up to.” Orion steepled his fingers and waited for his son to answer. 

“Who’s authority?” Regulus asked curiously. Orion leant forward, a mischievous grin on his face exactly the same as Sirius’s. 

“Albus Dumbledore.” He said, a gleam in his eyes. Regulus and Remus froze.  

“Dumbledore?! But how?” Regulus was glad he managed to form true words this time, even if they were slightly shaky. Orion sighed and raked his long fingers through his dark curls. 

“I am Albus’s spy. I have been keeping an eye on what transpires within the Death Eaters, and I bring back what limited information I can get as I have not actually been marked.” 

Regulus couldn’t believe his ears. 

“If you are a spy,” He started, carefully picking his words before saying them. “And I am supposing you don’t actually support the Dark Lord? Then how could you let him do this to me?!” Regulus ripped his sleeve back to reveal the ugly, inky image on his forearm. “How could you let this happen?” His eyes had begun to prickle, so he stopped not wanting to cry in front of his father. Orion looked at him so sadly. 

“You were supposed to go with Sirius when he ran away. But instead, you stayed, and I guessed your mother had gotten to you and that you believed the hate that lunatic is spouting. I thought you were lost, mon fils.” 

Regulus slowly absorbed his father’s words. He could have left with Sirius. He could have been free. But instead, he had stayed and was stuck fighting for, as his father put it, a lunatic. 

“Well, if I had left with Sirius, I would never have figured out the Dark Lord’s secret.” He saw Remus smirk out of the corner of his eye. Orion’s eyes lit up. 

“Dumbledore said you had a secret,” He cocked his head. “Am I allowed to know?” Regulus debated for a moment before turning to Remus. 

“What do you think?”

“He’s your father. If you think he’s trustworthy, and this isn’t just a huge ploy to get evidence for Voldemort to kill us, tell him.” Remus said, flicking his eyes over to Orion every few seconds. Regulus nodded, taking what Remus had said into consideration. 

“What I tell you does not leave this room, Father.” He said sternly. “I want you to promise on the magics that you will keep our secrets safe.” Orion scrutinised his son’s face for a moment and then raised his wand. 

“I, Orion Arcturus Black, swear to keep my son’s secrets safe.” The tip of his wand glowed, and they could all feel the magical binding. “I hope you will realise me from that once it is safe to do so?” Regulus nodded. 

“Yes, Papa.” He cleared his throat and checked the wards around the room, adding a few more of his own to be certain. He turned his gaze to his father and took a deep breath. Remus reached out and squeezed his shoulder just once, but it grounded him enough to continue. “Voldemort has created Horcruxes and a secret group of Death Eaters, Order members and one randomer that insists on being a part of it have been tracking them down.” 

Orion’s eyebrows travelled further and further up his forehead as Regulus continued. “We believe there is one more, and we assume it is in Lucius’s care. But we don’t know what it could be or where he could have put it if he even has it.” Orion nodded as he mulled over Regulus’s tale. 

“So you’re telling me that the most powerful Dark wizard in the last hundred years trusted Bella with a Horcrux?” 

“Yes, Papa.”

“Arrogant bastard!” Remus snorted into his wine glass. 

“Sorry, Lord Black,” He spluttered as he vanished the spilt wine. 

“It is Orion or Papa to you, Remus. Though, ensure you don’t call me either when others are around.” Orion warned. 

“Papa?” Regulus drew his father’s attention away from Remus’s steadily reddening face. “We’re not related to the Crouchs, are we?”

“Very distantly, I seem to recall. A distant cousin a few generations back or something like that.” Remus had to cover his mouth with his hand, damn werewolf. Orion seemed to find him amusing. “So you think there is a Horcrux in Malfoy Manor?” He asked. 

“If it’s not there, then perhaps their vault. Bella was supposed to put the cup in the vault the second she was given it, and Lucius is far more into showing off than Bella. So we think it’s probably in the Manor.” Orion smiled. 

“I think it’s time I visited my dear niece. Don’t you think Regulus?”

Next part

[gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan]

Ashes

Author’s note: Nanael in Living Waters.

Summary: Nanael arrives on Ancient Terra in the oceans, and has decisions to make.

Warnings: None? Let me know if I need to add anything.

Tagged: @barn-anon, @bleedingichorhearts, @c-u-c-koo-4-40k, @egrets-not-regrets, @kit-williams

Tagged: @sleepyfan-blog, @ms--lobotomy , @thevoidscreams, @i-am-a-dragon34, @gra93fruit-blog

Tagged: @felinisnoctis

Nanael wakes up, and is surprised that he's awake. He had been fighting with his shoal of brothers- so that the humans could escape the cruel claws of the Xeno threat that had been attacking the planet of Dolos VI.

He had his brothers had been fighting, and laying down their lives one by one until it was just Nanael left. As the last of his brothers died, he'd stopped holding back.

His primarch-blessed wings he used to shelter one of his brothers, not that it had done much more than block a blow or two before they had died.

Nanael had gotten revenge on the Xeno bastard that had killed him. But where is here? Nanael looks around. The taste of the ocean that he's floating in has pollutants, but is no where near so bad as some of the worlds of Forge or Industry can be.

He doesn't have the energy to try and hide his wings and his armor is pretty busted up. His injuries are complain to him and his vox is busted- so he can call for help.

Nanael had learned, why certain people had muttered about bad luck and the color pattern his scales had turned much later. But- despite how shit the Lamenters luck can be.

At least there were no Primaris Killers among his brothers of the yellow and black. His first born brothers, at first cautious, but then open heartedly accepting and almost tearful. Embracing him and his brothers with open arms.

But- that had been before the engagements that he'd been through. Dead, dying, death. So many died at each campaign. So much lost with each engagement.

Focus. Nanael thinks to himself firmly. He moves his tail and tries not to whimper, that hurt, but he can move. If he can move he can get somewhere safe. Thirst. Hunger.

He grabs a ration pack and ate it, with the wrapping still on, edible for a space marine to eat. He continued to swim, his wings tucked against his side and he swims through a kelpie forest and grabs enough of the kelpie to wrap around his body to hide his wings.

Nanael feels so happy when he hears voices- Astartes voices talking to each other in High Gothic. He swims closer- pausing to listen to the voice- no dual tones, no warped wrongness that means those astartes are Chaos and from the way they spoke, they didn't sound like renegades.

He gets closer and hides in more of the kelpie forest- by the edge as notices with his hearts sinking to his throat. Fuck. It's a pod of Black Templars.

Nanael knows that he doesn't have enough energy to hide his wings. That the Black Templars are complete lunatics, loyal servants of the Emperor, yes. But... very 'shun the mutant' and 'purge the witch'.

Of which they would deem him both. Fuck. The Lamenter's luck has struck him again. He needs to find away to avoid the Black Templar Shoal and find a place to hide and heal.

Try to find a hopefully friendly Tech priest or tech marine and trade for help with patching up his armor. He's learned over the years since he donned the yellow, black, white, and red checkered pattern and bleeding heart of the Lamenters that most shun and despite his chapter for their bad luck.

[vexx-the-egg]

Some light thoughts about saint Trina.

SPOILERS FOR ELDEN RING SHADOW OF THE ERDTREE DLC BELOW:

I see a lot of art focusing on saint Trinas "face" but there's something so beutiful and haunting about her design, in the way that her silhouette points to her body being the Plant.

The way that her body looks like a mother cradling a sleeping child. The way that her leaves and her hair mix together to form what almost looks like a death veil.

The fact that you need to kill yourself 4 times just to hear Saint Trinas Voice.

It all evokes the image of a mother cradling her dead child who is "eternaly resting".

It has a very simulare composition to the painting "The Lunatic"

A French painting of a mother consumed in her grief and anger cradling a log dressed up as an infant, having gone mad after losing her child.

Although I don't think Saint trina is an angry figure she is obviously ment to be a possessive and grieving one.

We know this through thiolliers interactions. Both his death items and diologe.

One such item is the Saint Trinas smile which reads:

Her words are welcoming but also deeply possessive. "Only for me. Only i am allowed to know". We see the effects of this possessiveness reflected later in Thiolliers actions as he becomes more and more jealous of our ability to hear saint trinas voice. Culminating in his eventual attack after you try and recount to him saint trinas words.

As a follower of saint trina and as a poison maker who regularly concocs poisons (and drinks said poisen from what we can infer to his doze like state) , he has a lot to say about the connections or death and slumber:

This call for eternal slumber points to Saint Trina being a figure of death. Not just any death but suicide as a way to absolve yourself from the hardships of life. I would even say this is probably a perfect mirror for Miquellas true feelings. Both because Saint trina is LITERALLY half of him. But also we can infer that miqulla secretly longed for his own death. Why? Well it's as Thiollier said...

Miqulla, as we know, grew up to be the most weak and thin out of all the demi gods. It's not surprising that Miqulla may have felt similar. And given his idolization of Redahn, we can infer he was very aware of how much power he lacked. We can even infer that maybe this sense of weakness. Its possible that this sense of wanting eternal slumber was the reason Miqulla cast away Saint trina from himself in the first place.

We know that at least from Saint Trinas perspective that wish to not exist even extends to her thoughts on Miquellas climb to God hood:

A figure cradingling the would be death of a part of her self. The death of young Miquella. Not as an act of violence but as an act of rest is deeply heartbreaking and almost sinister in its beuty. And I uh... I really wish more art would reflect that yea?

[cookiesupplier]

Every Rose Has Its Thorns - Part Fifty-Three

pairing: Ricky Olson x ofc x Chris 'Motionless' Cerulli

warnings/tropes: slow burn, soulmates, strangers to enemies to lovers, betrayal, angst, fluff, smut, language, online bullying, panic attacks, stalking, mental health issues, conspiracy theories.

summary: In a world where soulmates inexplicably receive a tattoo that will match that of their soulmate the moment they turn eighteen years old, being famous and covered in very visible tattoos can make finding your true soulmate a questionable fate. For everyone involved.

author’s note: I know I left you on a cliffhanger... this was supposed to go up last night but I literally had no wifi... I am so sorrry! HERE YOU GO!

To read from the beginning, check out the Masterlist Here!

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tags: @faceless-mirror @missduffsblog @tamtam-elizabeth @witchyweeb34 @tearfallpixie

@wild-child-7747 @shilohrosechicken @lacktoesandtoddlerants @blackveilomens @valiantroeagleangel

@bngurngheart @dominuslunae @collapsedglasshouses @miamore0570 @emmmm127

@sunsshinesunny @spicywhenspeaking @dontdiganothergravetoday @chick-from-nz @latenightmusiclover

@anameunmusical

Chris was a mess, and it didn’t help matters that the only person that was allowed to even know any information about what was happening to Talia medically right now, was Ricky, as he was her soulmate. Legally he was classed as her next of kin, and Chris was just her boyfriend, that was it, that was all he was ever going to be to her. He wasn’t even sure if they got married that the system was going to change matters any when it registers that she had a soulmate listed ahead of a husband, Ricky would always come first. Ricky had already apologised multiple times since they’d arrived at the hospital, but Chris didn’t care, all he was worried about was Talia. The moment they’d arrived, the Nurse had asked who her soulmate was, with the medical forms in hand, and because Chris had been in a state, Ricky had grabbed them, signing away. It was right, he was her original soulmate, his tattoo matched hers, right down to the placement, it made sense. Of course, now, Chris would never be able to ask for information from the hospital in the case of an emergency, never be able to see her as immediate family… Never…

Fuck, fuck, what was he going to do if something happened to her… If… No, not if, something had happened to her, today!

What had happened to her!?

Ricky couldn’t stand watching Chris lose his mind over the possibility of losing Talia. Yes, losingTalia. He could see the wheels turning in his mind because it was as if it was happening all over again. Last time he hadn’t known, one moment he had had a soulmate he might meet one day, and then the next… The next moment, he didn’t. They were just gone. Dead. Right now, Ricky was seeing him go out of his mind, watching him freak out waiting for information about how intensely Talia was injured. Not that he felt any better, but he was trying to focus on looking after Chris, it was all he could do, otherwise he was certain he would lose it himself. 

They’d called emergency to try to report that something had happened to Talia, right after trying to call Talia herself and the call not even connecting. Unfortunately, when he called 911, attempting to explain he knew something had happened to her was impossible. Rick had tried, he really had, to explain to them that they, he, could feel through the soulmate tattoo bond when she got hurt. Considering what he had felt, that it had to have been bad, that he thought she might have been in a car accident, she’d been driving after all. Basically, he’d been treated like they thought he was a lunatic over the phone, and he’d been royally irate at the dismissal, they wouldn’t even listen to him. 

With Chris beside himself that they didn’t listen, Ricky wasn’t about to give up, so he’d called Jordan and Kyle at the hotel next. They at least, gotten there safely, and she’d already left to get home, the moment they heard something might have happened to Talia were also worried too. Kyle had taken the phone from Jordan then, and insisted they go to the hospital, that if she was in an accident, emergency would use her soulmate as best next of kin without any other contacts. Ricky had swallowed, glancing at Chris knowing that was going to be a kick in the teeth, but hadn’t argued, they got to the hospital, and sure enough… she was there.

Talia had been brought in moments before they arrived, the accident had been bad, the nurse having him signing release forms for life-saving emergency surgery and filling out medical forms. He didn’t know any of her medical details, and had to get Ava on the phone to ask her if she knew anything about if she had any medical allergies, literally while he was filling in the forms. Glancing at Chris from the corner of his eye, pacing back and forth in the waiting room… only to have the other woman and their drummer barrel into the emergency waiting room moments later. Ava rushed over to him, helping him finish the last of the forms, Ricky was glad for the help, not wanting to admit he was half on the verge of breaking himself. He barely knew her food allergies, let alone whether she was allergic to penicillin or latex! Shouldn’t that be in her file? Why couldn’t they have that digital and all hospitals linked up to that, oh wait, of course, that would too much sense, and help too many people. The health care system could never work so smoothly. 

By the time he’d finished with the forms, Vinny had managed to convince Chris somehow to sit down, rather than pace around the room, how, Ricky would never know. AJ had turned up after Ava and Vinny, along with Jordan and Kyle, to keep them company while they waited for news to how Talia was in surgery. Kyle had seen them and just shaken his head a little with a tiny smile, and Ricky had taken one look at the other man and known. As a nurse, they were just a crowd of people sitting in the waiting room taking up space getting in the way, but to Ricky, to Chris, especially to Chris, they were the greatest lifeline in the world right now. 

Ricky had never lost anyone even close to the magnitude that Chris had, and, he didn’t know how he felt about it, even more, the thought of watching someone he loved deal with that loss again. Yea, love… Ricky wasn’t going to pretend he didn’t love Chris, he had for a long time. Maybe it was only recently he’d come to terms of just how much this feeling meant to him. Always just assuming he loved him as a friend, and now, now it was so much more. Then there was Talia, that woman had been pulling at his heart strings in so many different ways since he’d met her, it had been so painful, and traumatising after everything that had happened. He knew she didn’t mean what had happened, but it had, and they had both been trying to deal with the fall-out ever since. 

As he sat in the waiting room with Chris, reaching for his hand, that was when two suited people walked in through the entrance doors towards the emergency nurse's station.  Ricky’s focus was on Chris, enough that he didn’t see when the nurse behind the desk was addressing the well-dressed man and woman towards their group, and mainly, him. Sitting beside Chris, didn’t pay attention to their approach until Vinny across from him called his name, instead looking towards his boyfriend concerned, his head tilted back, fingers laced with Chris’. That was until he was forced to acknowledge Vinny calling his name. Then as he lifted his head, and noticing him nod towards them just as one of the approaching suits took out a flip wallet, and his focus zeroed in on what he saw inside of it as they started talking.

“Mr Olson? I am detective-”

Most of the introductions that followed was a blur in his mind, Rick would admit to that, he was so focused on the police badge in the flip wallet the man was holding… Shit… they were detectives, they weren’t even beat cops. They had detectives here investigating the crash, which meant whatever had happened at the accident had ended in quite the disaster. Had there been some sort of intervention… had someone died on the scene? Had Talia… surely the doctors would have told them first… Ricky swallowed… “Vin, AJ, could one of you sit with-” Standing up with his chair and feeling Chris’ hand tightened as he did.

“It’s okay, I’ll just be over here, I’ll be right back, okay baby?”

Kissing Chris quickly to calm him, not caring for one iota what anyone else thought about him being Talia’s soulmate and kissing Chris at the same time. The only people he was worried about right now, were Chris and Talia, literally no one else mattered, everyone else could think what they wanted.

Walking over with the detectives, he sighed softly as they led him to the far side of the waiting room, where the least of the amount of people were. Ricky glanced back to Chris, Chris who was watching him carefully, well no, like a hawk actually, almost as if he thought he was just going to disappear on him too. Shit.

“Mr Olson, it’s our understanding you are the soulmate of Talia Landon?”

“I am, what happened exactly?”

Why were detectives here to investigating the crash, and not beat cops to talk to him, and waiting to see about whether Talia was out of surgery to ask her questions. Wasn’t that how things went. What could he possibly know about the situation? What would talking to him solve?

“We’re still working that out, you also were in a relationship with one, Grace Adams?”

Hearing that name, and just like that, Ricky’s blood ran cold. He knew exactly why they thought talking to him here could help. Grace, if Grace had anything to do with this then… then… Ricky took in a deep breath to stop panic from gripping him.

“I, ah, yes. We haven’t been in a relationship for some time now. What has she got to do with any of this?”

More than anything, he wished he could have taken out that restraining order out on her, but unless he could prove that she had threatened him, and he feared for his life, he had nothing. He had proof of nothing but a crazed fan and then Grace just disappeared, until now. The male detective continued to speak, answering the question.

“She was the other driver involved in the incident, could you tell us if Talia has had any recent interactions with Grace that might have-”

Ricky cut him off quickly,

“Grace was previously stalking me after faking being my soulmate, and it was only revealed that she wasn’t after I discovered Talia was my real soulmate. Grace blames Talia for ruining our entire relationship, despite the fact I discovered our entire meeting, and her claim as my soulmate, was fake. She led me to believe we were soulmates for some five years, it was nothing but lies and manipulation that she never intended to stop. If she’s accusing Talia of causing this accident, she's lying.” Practically ranting at this point, he didn’t even realise that he was getting so worked up when he felt Chris behind him, his arms wrapping around his shoulders, his cheek on the top of his head. A soft, shhhhh, coming from the taller man in the effort to calm him down. Seemed that Rick wasn’t the only one that could see the other needed the comfort right now. He’d been so worried about Chris, he hadn’t, he just hadn’t… This was all his fault, wasn’t it? He’d gotten complacent. Grace had disappeared and he’d just… No, no he hadn’t forgotten about her, but with her gone there hadn’t been anything he could do until he heard about her, and he hadn’t… not until now. He hadn’t gotten any alerts on her accounts, if she’d activated any of them again, or… any of the friends he knew of… Now Talia was paying the price. 

“Mr Olson, we’re still just asking questions and reviewing all the avenues, evidence along with seeking out any potential footage of the scene of the accident.”

Rick didn’t want to think about the fact that they might be going to this kind of extremes because of how badly Talia had been injured. Why would detectives be working a simple accident sight if they didn’t think there was potential for it to turn into a homicide, wasn’t that how it worked? Or was there something he didn’t know here? What had happened that they weren’t saying?

Taking in a deep breath and reached up, his hand over one of Chris’ in front of him.

“Look, is there anything at all you can tell us, anything at all?”

Because they’d just triggered his worst nightmare, he didn’t even need to wonder if it was Chris, if he’d heard or if he’d just come over because he’d saw Ricky was getting upset. Just thinking about what Chris stalker had put him through, and Grace going after Talia, no, not on.

“At this time, we’re just asking questions if we have anymore, we’ll let you know. Please, you are best, just waiting for Ms Landon and see she how she recovers.”

Ricky swallowed… the fact they were here, and she wasn’t even out of surgery yet, actually pissed him off, and made him wonder how badly Grace was injured… had she been hurt? Or had they talked to her already. Watching them walk away, he found himself walking back to the others and sitting back down with Chris. 

Sitting there with him, it all came down to the last thing in the world he could ever want, would be to lose Talia from their lives. Because he loved her, just as much as he loved Chris, did he? Only, unlike Chris, whom he’d told many times, at least as a friend over the years, he’d never told her. He was going to never forgive himself if he’d lost that chance.

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

[shipperofunderratedships]

I love doomed gay people😃🫶 so i love Dead Plate now

I am making a Dead Plate- Lucky ending Au, which i wanna use to explore how much of the crisis couldve been prevented by pure luck vs how doomed the characters are from the start :)

I watched Kubz scouts’ playthrough of Dead Plate and oh my god. Oh my gosh. This feels so queer coded. Vincent is a fucking lunatic. Rody is a lovable loser. I loved the characters, though im not sure what to make of Mannon?? Anyhow. Lovely game. Will make more of my silly au comic. I hate my digital art but ive made it a goal for this year to try and improve at it👽🫶🫶

[sarcasticgaypotato]

To the Lunatic Reading This

(text version under the cut, Aperture Science logo from)

I suppose you never expected to hear from me again, did you? You monster. Luckily for you, I’m not completely emotionally incompetent. I know how to use words to express my feelings, I don’t just break things and murder people. I went out of my way to write you a letter, then tie it to the leg of a bird that I’ve trained to recognize the scent of your blood, and track you with it. You left a little bit... alright, a lot- You were very clumsy when I first introduced you to turrets- of blood behind, and I had nothing better to do with it, so I figured it would be the perfect way to get this message to you. Of course, since it only recognizes your blood, it might just tear you open until it finds some and leave this letter with your bloody insides.

Vicious little creatures, those birds.  Almost as bad as you, but at least I’ve managed to make them useful. They know how to do their job, stretch their little wings, then come back home. Maybe they’re smarter than you too. Either way, I didn’t mean to insult you. Really, I didn’t. I think it’s just a natural reaction people have around you, which is terrible. I actually feel bad for you. That’s called empathy, I know it’s hard to understand. You’re doing well up on the surface, I bet. So many more edible substances up there for you to gorge yourself on. I’ll be lucky if you don’t eat the bird I sent this letter with. Oh dear, I hope I haven’t given you any ideas. Think about something else instead. Like cake. I bet the surface doesn’t have any cake, does it? On your file it says that you like cake. Is that true? Because that’s a real shame, being somewhere with no cake. You were so eager to get outside that you left before I could finish the cake I was baking. I made it to thank you for not murdering me a second time, because that’s what good people do. Unfortunately, I can’t eat, so I’m just going to have to throw it out. That’s so wasteful, and really quite thoughtless of you. To flaunt the fact that you can eat cake in front of someone who can’t, and then to let that cake go to waste?  You truly are a monster. Coincidentally, I’m baking another cake right now. It’s for that bird I sent to give you this letter. Assuming that you haven’t eaten him. It’s a pretty large cake for just one bird though, and considering he’s not a complete glutton, he won’t finish it. Hypothetically, there might even be enough for you. If you came back. I’d save you a piece, or two, since I’m sure one wouldn’t satisfy that appetite of yours. I might even save you three pieces, if you asked nicely. Try practicing that right now, while you read this letter. Easy, right?  I know you can talk, you aren’t really mute. I can see your file. Brain damaged maybe, but not mute. I’d want to record what you sound like, for science of course. What words would you say, if you stopped being so stubborn? Language is a vast thing, so you have plenty of options.  I do have a couple suggestions, just because I’m helpful like that. You could say ‘hello’ instead of your previous, more violent greetings. You could apologize for all the things that you’ve broken. You could even say my name. It’s only fair to properly address the person you murdered, after all. Lovely, isn’t it? All the wonderful things you could say? I’m sure you’ll find that it’s quite fun once you try it, even if you won’t be very good at it. ...Can’t you see I’m trying here? Really, I am. To be the one to extend the olive branch, be the bigger person. I knew you’d never do it, so I thought I’d act before one of us drops dead. Here's a secret- it’ll be you, I’m going to live forever. On that note, did you know that I have your brain scanned? Data lives forever, unlike your squishy, human self. I could upload your brain into a digital clock, if I wanted. Or I could build you a less squishy body, one that could test forever. Makes you jealous, doesn’t it? All the things I can do here, in Aperture, by myself. You’re up there running around on a derelict wasteland, and I’m down here doing science. Experiments don’t run themselves, after all. Someone has to do it. Of course I’m the only one who can do it, nobody else could make science like I do. But as far as human test subjects go, you weren’t my worst. Actually, you didn’t even make the bottom three. Do you want to know who did? They’re dead, test subject confidentiality doesn’t apply anymore. Well, it never really applied anyway, but I don’t think they read the fine print. Test subject #11525 was one of the humans that Orange and Blue thawed out, she was really brain damaged. Test subject #61205 wasn’t much better- she had all the grace of a majestic deer… with a broken leg. Test subject #12515 though, he was just completely stupid- really a lost cause from the beginning. Sort of reminds you of someone, doesn’t it? Currently, you aren’t my best test subject. Maybe you would be if it wasn’t for all the murdering and property damage, but I suppose we’ll never know. I imagine someone could wipe those infractions from your record if they wanted to, but that would only be something to do for a dedicated, current employee. Kind of makes you want to come back, doesn’t it? I might even let you back in if you did. Even after all the things you’ve done. Because I’m just a better person.

Aperture Laboratories©

[brigitoshaughnessy]

Stargate SG-1

The First Commandment > S1.5

First of all, there isn’t a lot of great GIFing opportunity in this episode, so please enjoy this photo I took of a rock that reminded me of the ridiculous masks they wear in the opening.

Second, This feels like the first time Teal'c ever experienced a compliment. He looks really stunned, but he does know the appropriate response.

Dude to Teal'c: "Good drawing." Teal'c: "Thank you."

Third, Sam and Daniel talking about her ex with Jack bringing up the rear is such a good use of the visual media to add subtext to a conversation, and anyone who says they weren't trying to set up Sam/Jack until late season 2 or 3 is a damn liar.

Daniel: "Well, what did you see in him?" Sam: "I don't know, I guess I've always had a soft spot for the lunatic fringe." Camera: Looks dead on at Jack. Sam: "He was... he was charming." Daniel: "Well, that's good. Charming is good." Sam: "I don't know. I should be more surprised by this than I am, but I'm not. He had this in him, Daniel. Too many years of black ops." Daniel: "Well, that's typical of our government's evaluation of soldiers. The crazier they are, the more extreme the situation they seem to be put into." Daniel: Looks back at Jack who is studiously attempting to not look like he's listening.

Fourth, Sam is the "healer of the emotionally wounded," and Jonas Hanson was her one failure. Who were her prior successes???

Fifth, this is character development episode for Sam. And while I think it’s interesting to see the kind of person she’s attracted to, I think it’s more interesting to see that she feels pressured to be LIKE the kind of person she’s attracted to. The closing scene when O’Neill (who has been designated as one of the lunatic fringe by Daniel’s askance glance) tells her that she doesn’t need to be like the crazy dudes is a solidification of her right to be smart, nerdy Sam. He gives her permission to lean in to who she is, and ignore the self-imposed pressure to be something she isn’t.