#ANYWAY YEAH I WAS ALSO NOT VERY GOOD AT GETTING ROBBED

[autisticmob]

holy shit you got carjacked? that must've been terrifying

oh yeah in the moment it was pretty wild. had a hard time sleeping that night obviously. but honestly between my roommate and my family & friends and everybody being very cool about it and letting me talk through it like, IMMEDIATELY, the discomfort was honestly pretty limited.

PLUS my car was a piece of shit anyway. it was so shitty that it actually broke down on the dude who stole it, which led to the police catching him. it ALSO led to my insurance company declaring the car totaled and paying me the full value of the damn thing, which helped me get a new car pretty quickly.

my roommate also had the catalytic converter stolen off their car in that parking lot a few days later, so they were actually 100% cool with breaking our lease at that apartment and moving somewhere else pretty much right away, and we magically found a really NICE apartment in our budget, like. nicer than the old place by A Significant Margin.

BASICALLY it sucked and was bad, but it snowballed very quickly into me having a way nicer car and apartment than i did before, so???

i can't, uh, really complain about this man taking my car from me at gunpoint, aside from the fact that it made me briefly afraid for my life and also i had to interact with cops a lot afterward???

and honestly. one of the cops was like a really hot butch woman and i know I KNOW ACAB okay? and like im aroace so its not like i wouldve done anything anyway but like. im also gay and i have eyes you know if it had to be ANY cop im just saying,

[gender-euphowrya]

fuck yeah i had another one of the nonsense dreams again

[sophiethewitch1]

What We Want - Chpt. 1 - Not Quite An Isekai

In Which A Romantic Breaks The Universe

(Yandere!batboys x f!reader) 18+ MDNI!

SUMMARY

Another lonely birthday, another empty year. You miss your family. You're late for your bills and rent, and even then, you got robbed last Tuesday.

Still, you buy yourself a cupcake, because you need it. I mean, hey. What's dessert for if not to get over cheating boyfriends and dead relatives?

As you blow out the candle, watching the clock switch from 11:59 pm to midnight of the next day, you make a wish.

And because the world doesn't like to make much sense, it comes true. Your life is suddenly flipped on a dime, and you're stuck trying to catch up with it. Fantasy becomes reality. You're a Wayne now, apparently. Or you used to be. You're loved, you're rich, you're talented and powerful.

Well, sort of. Careful what you wish for, right?

(TRIGGER WARNINGS AND MASTERLIST HERE)

PREV - NEXT

You awake to the sound of your phone ringing. You slap to the edge of your couch, aiming for the rickety side table. Your wrist smacks against the corner, and you hiss in pain. It’s a few inches too high, and wood, not metal. Seems you somehow got to your bed during the night, but you didn’t remember it. Still, you get your phone. Through squinted eyes, you find the screen, its 3:15, far too early for your drunken suffering- Wait no, it’s mid-afternoon. Still, you feel tired, and you want to sleep.

You answer the phone anyway, putting it on speaker and resting your head back against the pillow. Your head doesn’t hurt that bad anyway. God was smiling down on you today.

“Miss, are you awake?” a man’s voice rings through your apartment.

Who was that? Who called you Miss of all things? Your boss didn’t remember your name sure, but he just called you ‘intern’ instead. You’d been an official employee for six months now. Right, conversation, paying attention, replying like a normal person.

“Hm, yeah, I’m awake,” you say, fighting back the urge to yawn.

“You don’t sound very awake, Miss,” the man replies, his tone familiar.

“Who is this?”

He sighs, “Miss, are you being sarcastic?”

“What? No, I’m serious,” you confusedly answer.

“…This is Alfred, Miss. Now, Master Wayne has asked me to-”

“Master who now?” you cut this Alfred off, doubly confused now. Wayne? Like, the Wayne family? The rich, philanthropist one?

He sighs again, “I understand the relationship between the two of you is quite strained, and this is a personally difficult day for you, but he insists on seeing you. Your birthday gala starts at 7, as I’ve told you, and your assistant will be over at 4. I ask that you unblock both their accounts, as I would much rather I didn’t have to talk to you when you’re like this.”

“What?” you repeat, like the idiot you are.

“Good day, Miss. And happy birthday.”

He hangs up. You blink down at your phone. And then you roll your eyes, because oh my god are Molly’s pranks getting ridiculous. You never should have told her about your weird fascination with the Waynes, she was getting back at you hard for your drunken mistake.

You make a lot of those. Well, life goes on. You’ll put glitter in Molly’s car’s vanity mirror or something.

You turn off your phone, and let your face slam right back into your pillow. For a while, you try to go back to sleep.

…Something about this isn’t right. You, like the freak you are, take a deep inhale of your pillow. It smells like you, like the laundry soap you use, but it also smells like… Well, you don’t know. All you can think about is your new boss’s wife and her awful perfume that swallows the office space like noxious gas.

Your pillow… kind of smells like that. Your first ungodly thought is that, somehow, you spent a torrid night with your boss’s wife. The second is that Molly needs to die for her crimes.

You let your crusty, bleary, stinging eyes blink open.

Hm. Why is there a chandelier in your bedroom? You shoot upright in the bed, silk sheets falling to your lap. Silk sheets you can’t afford. You look around the room, eyes widening at the space. The bed is king-sized, while you had barely been able to afford your twin-sized mattress. The living room isn’t in the same space as the bedroom. You can’t see the kitchen and the bathroom to your right has shining marble tiles. And even then, the decoration’s are luxurious and clean, compared to your livable chaos.

You look to your left, and your mouth drops open.

A floor-to-ceiling window, showing the Gotham horizon with the morning sun. Fog and clouds twist around spiralling gothic towers, reaching down to the people down below. You’re looking out over the bay, and you can see the Narrows barely peaking through the mist, desperately clawing for any sunlight.

The sun rises on the right of your building, not the left. You don’t have a view, you’re on the fourth floor and there’s a brick building directly across from your window. You live in the Narrows.

You live in the Narrows. You press your face to the cool glass and look down. Oh my god, you can’t see the streetside. You’re too high up. You’re somehow on the opposite side of Gotham City.

Stumbling away from the window, you do your best not to touch anything, because you know it’s all too expensive for your peasant hand. Let’s start thinking… whatever was happening to you, through. Molly might kidnap you for a joke, sure, but she was barely any richer than you, and that was just because her boyfriend lived with her. She could not afford this level of fuckery.

So… so… is this, what? A big joke from the universe? Did someone else kidnap you? You have to have been kidnapped, right? Why the fuck would someone kidnap you?

Did the Joker kidnap you? Was he coming to finish you off? End your family line?

You reach down and pinch yourself hard enough you yelp. When the dazzlingly perfect apartment doesn’t disappear, it’s much harder to force yourself not to panic. Okay, okay, okay. It’s fine. This’ll be fine, and it could still be a dream. That whole pinching thing was a myth, right? Argh, maybe you should’ve listened to Molly when she was trying to get you into astral projection.

Wait, Molly!

You go back to your bed and pick up your phone.

It’s… it’s not your phone. What was this? The iPhone 27? You didn’t keep up with those sorts of things, but it looked expensive. Everything here looked expensive.

You think you’re going to go into anaphylactic shock. Wait, no, it’s hyper-something. What was it? Argh, you can’t do this right now!

You press your thumb to the ‘on’ button, and luckily whoever this phone belongs to is not worried about their privacy because there's no password. Stupidly, you look for Molly’s name in your list of contacts.

BLOCKED - ‘Bruce Wayne’

BLOCKED - ‘Damian Wayne’

BLOCKED - ‘Dick Grayson’

BLOCKED - ‘Tim Drake’

‘Alfred :)’

BLOCKED - ‘The Wicked Witch of the West’

You drop the phone. Because the floors, even in the bedroom, are marble, it shatters like glass. You make a sound like a dying chicken as you watch the piece of technology make a bouncing break for the bathroom. It slides to a stop against the giant hot tub, and you pick it up and cradle it between your palms like a newborn.

The screen still works. Even if it’s cracked to high heaven and takes multiple attempts to turn it on, it still eventually does. Thanks God, won’t forget this. You hiss as you open the contacts again, pricking your fingers against the sharp edges.

As fate commands, you click on the ‘Bruce Wayne’ contact. The description is very simple.

‘Massive dickhead. Hope you jump off a building and fall like a rock.’

You go back. Click on ‘Dick Grayson’.

‘Massive dickhead’s beloved firstborn. Most annoying man on earth congrats.’

Again. ‘Damian Wayne’ this time.

‘Massive dickhead’s massive dickhead. Demon? Grinch? Somebody kill it with fire please.’

And finally, ‘Tim Drake’.

‘The only acceptable one.’

…Well, at least your kidnapper liked one of the Waynes. Maybe they kidnapped you because you were their opposite or something? You definitely wouldn’t call Bruce motherfucking Wayne a massive dickhead. Or maybe they wanted to kill you.

The Molly prank idea was becoming more sound. Maybe she won the lottery and didn’t tell you.

You click on ‘Alfred :)’. He’s the one that called you earlier and also called you ‘Miss’, for some reason.

It’s just a bunch of heart emojis. Coherent, sure.

You go back, and click on the final of the list, ‘The Wicked Witch of the West’.

‘Don’t listen to Alfred. She wants to eat you.’

She wants to what?

A knock at the door has you jumping a foot in the air and nearly banging your head on the bathtub’s lip. You hear someone call your name through the door, and you freeze. Who… how? They call your name again, this time their voice louder. They bang on the door.

You creep over to the door.

“Ma’am, if you don’t open this right now, I’m quitting! We both know Alfred contacted you this morning, and he’s going to be very upset if I do so. There’s only so many assistants in this city!” from this close, you can recognise the voice belongs to a woman. She rattles the doorknob.

You lean down, peering through the peephole. The woman has a harsh face, a perfect pencil suit and her blonde hair in a pretty updo. Her makeup is impeccable. You get the feeling this woman is also more expensive than you can afford, despite her calling your name.

Bewildered, you open the door. She slams through like a battering ram, strutting 6-inch stilettos into the space.

She huffs, and then turns around. You can see very clearly she’s trying to keep her calm, but you did leave her at the door for like five minutes. It wasn’t your fault, you thought you were hallucinating or something.

“Ma’am,” she stresses the word, “Please unblock me.”

You blink at her, “Uh, sure.”

She waits, her hands clasped together in front of her.

“Oh- oh, right now?” you stutter, pulling the phone out from your noticeably lavish pyjamas.

Wait had someone changed you in your sleep? What the hell was going on? Maybe you should be more concerned about that, honestly. Still, you do as she commands.

She watches you like a hawk as you stare at the cracked phone. Your eyes flick up at her, and then back down at the screen. Slowly, watching for her reaction, you unblock ‘The Wicked Witch of the West.’ She nods, not even commenting on what was apparently her name in ‘your’ phone.

You were still slightly concerned about the ‘She wants to eat you’ thing, but she seemed… alright. Kind of scary. But not cannibalistic.

Still, this was Gotham after all. A healthy dose of fear was what kept people like you alive.

“Ma’am, did you just wake up? It’s already 4 o’clock,” she gives you a subtly disapproving look, and your shoulders sink like you’re being scolded.

“Yeah- yeah, sorry about that,” you stammer, embarrassed for some unknowable reason. This really was just like a dream. You could tell something was very obviously wrong, but you were still going along with everything like it wasn’t. Everyday life.

You were going to focus on that, this had to be just a dream. Just go along with… this, and then you’d wake up. And if you could manage to get over the uncanny valley-ness of the very obvious wealth surrounding you, maybe you could enjoy it.

You had always wanted to be rich. This was just your brain spewing out random information. Better than the nightmares you usually get.

You’re abruptly pulled back into focus when the woman clears her throat loudly. Ah, shoot. Had she been talking? You definitely hadn’t been listening.

“We need to get you ready, Miss,” she says like she’s repeating herself. You nod, because yes, of course, getting ready.

Ready for what? You think if you ask her she’ll yell at you. So when she grabs your arm and tugs you along, you follow. She pulls you into the bathroom, sitting you down in front of the mirror on a stool. Because this bathroom has stools in it. You stare at your reflection warily, before glancing up at her behind you.

“The stylists will be here in about forty minutes, and the makeup artists in two hours,” she pauses, giving you a strange look, “I appreciate you being so cooperative today. I understand this is all a delicate matter, but I am under Mr. Wayne’s orders first and foremost.”

“Wayne… like Bruce? Bruce Wayne?” you ask, even though there’s really no one else it could be. Still, you have to check.

Because it’s impossible. Even if it’s a dream, it still feels completely impossible. There was just something inside you that said ‘that can’t be right’, even if you knew none of this was real.

You realise, quite late, that you don’t even know this lady's name. ‘Wicked witch’

“Yes, Ma’am. Bruce Wayne of Wayne Enterprises,” she answers you, pulling out her phone and flicking through it. She doesn’t even respond to what you have to assume is an inane question. Maybe ‘dream you’ often asks stupid questions.

‘Normal you’ certainly does.

“Oh… okay…” the conversation drifts off, and she makes no attempt to fill it. Aren’t P.A.s supposed to… you don’t know, fix that? Or maybe she’s not your personal assistant, just an assistant. Silly you, making assumptions.

This bathroom deserves assumptions. You wonder if the gold frame of the mirror is, y’know, real.

The blonde woman walks out of the room without speaking another word to you. You think maybe you should follow her, but instead you just sit there with your hands on top of your knees. Your leg bounces up and down, and you glare it into submission, ignoring the way your muscles jump.

You look at yourself. You look… different. The bags under your eyes are worse than usual, and your gaze sunken into your face. Your hair is sad and oily, knotted in places. Your skin is almost waxy.

You look sick. You look like… you remember, you look like…

In the light of the day, you refuse to think about it. You’re not allowed to, you’ll break if you do.

You just don’t. Even if your reflection just confirms that you have to be dreaming.

Instead, you turn your gaze to the tub. You raise your hand to your hair again. Back in your apartment, you’d had a shower. It was a surprisingly good shower because you’d invested in a showerhead with better pressure. Still, it wasn’t a bath.

You missed bathes. You get up, close the door, lock it, and sink inside the tub. You take off your silky pyjamas inside the bath, and then you toss them on the floor beside you. Sitting there, you watch through the giant window at the world down below. At the ravens and pigeons that fly through the fog, at the few people you can see through the windows and balconies.

You press your cheek against the glass. It’s cold. You’re cold.

You’re sitting in an empty bathtub naked. What are you doing?

Rubbing at your eyes, you reach over to what you think are the controls. They all look very complicated, but there’s a switch that goes from blue to red, so you turn that. It takes another button press for the water to start flowing out. Steam fills the room, and you let out a sigh of contentment.

“Ma’am! Ma’am, the stylists will be here in ten minutes, and you need to get out. Ma’am? Ma’am!”

You shoot up in the bath, splashing water over the overflowing sides. Blinking, you turn your head back and forth and then sink back down. Oh. You’re still here. You went to sleep, but you’re still here. Maybe it’s one of those dreams where you think you wake up, but you haven’t. Or, ah, something similar.

You feel so tired. You really, really didn’t miss this feeling.

Quickly, you wash your hair and body, scrubbing furiously at the oily sweat on your skin. You stumble out of the bath on shaky legs, dry yourself off, and almost trip in your haste to get out the door. Showing off your negligible intelligence, you only realise you’re still wearing just a towel till she manhandles you towards the closet.

A walk-in closet, because of course it is. You think it’s bigger than your apartment. It has a flat bench in the centre because evidently all the walking around you’ll be doing will require a fainting couch.

The woman gives you, horrifyingly, a set of lacy, racy underwear. When all you do is just gape at her, she sighs, takes them from your hands and gives you a simple black set with no frills. You look down at them clasped in your wet hands. They’re clean, and they seem to be your size.

Still, this is a bit…

“Are these… new?” you ask, because there’s no tag or anything.

“Yes, Ma’am. But if you want, we do have some sets still unpacked at the back of the closet,” she says, going along with your weirdness. Even if she was a bit scary, you were grateful for that, at least. You guess celebrities were usually quite eccentric, so maybe this wasn’t out of the ordinary for her.

“Yes, please.”

She gives you a pair of Victoria’s Secret bra and underwear, plain beige and still in their plastic packaging.

“Cool, sweet, thanks,” you say, and she shakes her head just slightly.

She puts a white bathrobe down, and leaves the room, closing the door behind her. You lock it, and then you put on the underwear that you did not buy. The whole experience is strange, but still, you just go along with it. You’re a go-along-with-it kind of person.

You were… you were starting to not like that all of a sudden. Still, out of your depth in an odd dream is no place to start doubting your entire personality. You put on the bathrobe too. And the fluffy slippers that are tucked under them, with great pleasure.

You hear the many voices before you open the door. When you step through it, you feel like you’ve stepped onto the set of a movie. Or well, the backstage at least. Women and men are flittering about the chic apartment in the sort of rush you’d only seen working at BatBurger.

The woman from before spots you and you feel like a rabbit under a hawk's gaze when her brown eyes narrow on you. She strides over to you and then, once again, clamps her grip around your wrist and drags you over. You wonder as you stumble after her if she’s got some meta-human in her because no slim, perfectly put-together lady should be this damn strong.

She pulls you towards a set of three people. You can immediately tell they’re the heads of the operation, with an aura that squashes you like a pancake. Two women, one man. They’re all dressed to the nines, in their own unique ways.

They all look at you with assessing glances. You fear you do not measure.

“I’m surprised, Jeanine. You actually got her this time,” a woman with a black bob and a rocker look comments, her red lips twisting into a grin. You realise, with a start, that the blonde woman who was not incorrectly nicknamed ‘The Wicked Witch of The West’ was actually called Jeanine.

Lovely, you were getting the hang of things.

“Yes, she was very agreeable this afternoon. I’d like to apologise once again for any past issues,” Jeanine says, all business. You still have no idea what’s going on, and definitely no idea what they’re talking about. But what you assumed was the jist of it… was that ‘dream you’ wasn’t a very harmonious person.

Lovely, lovely, lovely. This was a bit of a personal nightmare for a people pleaser like you. Actually, it was a literal personal nightmare. Lovely.

“The disrespect I’ve faced is immeasurable. But, Monsoir Wayne pays exceedingly well. Still, it’s nice to actually have our dear client before us,” the other woman says, appraising her french tip nails. Which, considering she said ‘monsoir’ and the whole accent, would make a lot of sense. She’s closer to a classic beauty than her punk rock friend, with brown hair coiled and beautiful pearls across her neck.

“I don’t know, I thought I’d be getting paid for doing no work tonight. Ruins my plans,” the man teases, and you’re relieved at the kindness in his gaze. He’s wearing a suit with a dazzling but trendy red tie. His tie has an odd metallic sheen to it, a fabric your peasant mind couldn’t place.

If Molly were here, she’d jab you in the stomach with an elbow and whisper “One of those homosexuals, me thinks” even if she was bi herself.

You wish Molly were here.

“Yes, well, I’d like it if we could all work together tonight. And get to it quickly, the drive to the Wayne Tower isn’t a quick one with the evening traffic, so, if you’d please.”

And that was that. No introductions, no extra pleasantries. You were swept away in a whirl of fabric and hair products.

They stuff you into a gorgeous evening gown, its colour reminding you of a sparkling midnight sky. Rhinestones dot down the sides, coalescing at the bottom. You hope they’re not real diamonds. Gloves, a bracelet, a necklace, and dripping pearl earrings. It was all impeccably put together, and you felt uncomfortable with such items on you. You didn’t dare ask how much it all cost, despite being desperately curious.

They slip towering 6-inch stilettos on you despite your protests, cake your face in enough powder to make you sneeze. Dramatic liner and eyelashes that felt heavy on your face, a lipstick that had to be coated twice because you chewed on your lip with nerves.

And then you’re done, dizzy and confused but thoroughly made up.

You get one quick look at your reflection before Jeanine is pulling you up and out of the seat.

They’d gotten rid of the signs.

You ignore the part of you that desperately wants them back and follow Jeanine out into the elevator.

Despite the fact that it is, in fact, a very long drive to the Wayne Tower, she does not seem inclined to say a single word to you. The ride is awkward and quiet, broken only by the sound of you pressing buttons in the back of limousine, and even that stops when you get an unimpressed look from her.

So you just sit there, vibrating at frequencies unseen by man.

When you finally arrive at Wayne Tower, the crowd shocks you. There are so many paparazzi, nearly overflowing the flimsy barricades and onto the carpeted marble entryway. The tower itself is a display of outrageous wealth, towering over the rest of Gotham City easily. You think for a while it’d been the tallest building in the world, but you couldn’t remember your elementary school education all that well.

It wasn’t like this information would’ve been useful at any point in your life. You still don’t think it will be, as this is all a very vivid dream.

The door opens, and immediately you’re overwhelmed by the camera flashing. You hunch away from the lights like a vampire, but Jeanine pushes you forward.

“We’re already very late, Ma’am. No time for faffing around,” she says from behind you, hand placed squarely against your back.

What? But all you’d done was rush around all afternoon! You know, if you’d just taken one of the trains or even the Skyrail you’d have been able to avoid this. Still, you’re out the door, up the steps, not given a moment to react to the questions thrown at you.

“Miss! Miss, are you here to celebrate your birthday? Don’t you think it’s a bit callous to ignore the tragedies of today?”

“Miss! Is it true you’ve been disowned?”

“Miss, miss, about your family…!”

Oh, well, even if what they’re saying is awful, it’s a relief. It’s your birthday again. You think the guy who had called you said happy birthday. That meant none of this could possibly be real. See? It had to be a dream. Had to, had to… You decide to ignore literally everything else they say, letting the words float through your very hollow brain.

Life’s a lot easier when you play it a little stupider.

The heels and the stairs are an awful combination, and if it wasn’t for Jeanine’s herculean strength you’re certain you’d be tumbling down them right now. Your assistant… secretary… lady is careful not to let that happen, however.

Maybe you judged her too quickly. You appreciated anyone who made sure you didn’t fall flat on your ass. It was a good quality for a person to have.

You don’t get to appreciate the Wayne Tower all done up. You don’t get to stare at the lights and flowers strung into the art deco rafters. You don’t get to stare and gape and look like an idiot, because Jeanine wants you to look like an idiot elsewhere.

In the middle of all these fucking random rich people you don’t know. Hurray!

You’re shoved into a group of people, with Jeanine at your back. She starts rattling off names and titles and relations, and you can’t make heads or tails of any of it. You turn to look at her with what must be a genuine deer-in-headlights fear, and she stops and then starts speaking slower.

Thank God for that. Well, since she’s making an effort, you do too.

“This is Lianne Jenkins, wife of Senator Jenkins,” Jeanine whispers into your ear, and you nod. You knew him, you’d voted for him, in fact. How the fuck were you here talking to his wife? She’s not looking at you, instead talking to someone beside her. She turns, and you put on the best smile you can.

The socialite physically startles when she sees your face. Great.

“Oh- oh my!” her voice stutters over your name like she can barely even remember it, “I didn’t know you’d be here tonight, it’s a pleasure to see you!”

It… it was your birthday party, right? Your name was on a giant banner at the back of the room, so you had to assume it was. Dream logic. Just- just blame it on dream logic.

“Oh, look it’s Gerald! I’m sorry my dear I really have to-”

And she just ditched you. At your birthday party. You blink at the space she just evacuated and then turn around to Jeanine. You probably give her some sort of weird Kubrick stare, and she winces. She then looks around for someone else for you to talk to. From the growing despair on her face, you can assume she doesn’t find anyone.

“I don’t want to be here,” you say.

“I said I’d quit, remember?” she replies. You think she’s lying to you. She looks about as desperate as you feel, which is a lot. You were seeing a lot of sides of ‘The Wicked Witch of the West’ today. She seemed less wicked and more generally insane. Hey, at least the two of you had something in common.

You turn away from her, eyes roving over the party. You recognise some people, because you know, they’re all rich and famous. That guy over there was in a movie you pirated recently. The one on your right seems to be someone important in online tech spaces. You think he did NFTs or something, which made you sad because you did not want that sort of person at your birthday party. Oh, the woman on the other side of the room eating canapes is an Instagram influencer, you think. The fantasy of a Wayne party gala is fading fast, falling out of the sky like a comet of fire to bring doom and death to mankind.

You are so out of your depth.

You turn back around to Jeanine.

“I really, really don’t want to be here,” you repeat, and Jeanine, shocking you, grabs your hands in hers.

“Please stay. Just for thirty minutes, please,” she begs you, her dark eyes pleading. And because you are the living personification of a doormat, you sigh.

“Alright. But only for thirty. And I’m getting very, very drunk.”

“Thank you, thank you. I’ll be right beside you the entire time-”

You decide, oh so kindly, that you are totally ditching Jeanine, too. Spinning in your dress, you make a grand effort to get away from her, but she dogs you loyally. The goliath-like heels you’re wearing don’t make it any damn well easier. Still, you don’t stop trying to outrun the tiny, control freak of a woman. Because while she definitely seems to desperate to stay near you, you are also very desperate to not be near her.

Your hand itches. Randomly, it itches quite a lot. You don’t know why you only notice what must be a bug bite inside the gala, but you do. Awkwardly, you scratch your palm with your other hand, staring down at the skin. It doesn’t look red yet, but it honestly it’s getting kind of annoying.

You sigh again, and turn to ask Jeanine if she had any lotion or something, because you assume that’s what stalking personal assistants are for and… she’s not there. Somehow you lost her, without even noticing.

You throw your arms into the air. Yippee! Now, it’s time for alcoholism, as is the answer to all problems in life. It’s what the loving and maternal arms of Gotham had taught you, after all.

You stumble your way to a wall where there’s a set of food, and a server with a silver platter carrying a bunch of champagne glasses. You stop the guy before he moves again, your hands in the air like you’re trying to soothe a scared animal.

You point at the tray, “I want that.”

He looks at you with mild horror. You thought rich people were weird, like he’d be used to something like this. It wasn’t like you were asking for the shirt off his back or cocaine or something. If it wasn’t obvious, you really didn’t know anything about what rich people did.

“It’s my birthday. It’s totally cool. I asked Bruce myself,” You bald-faced lie, like you’d ever even met the man. Like a predator, you watch the man carefully put the tray down next to the rest of the food, and then he slowly backs away from you. Well, okay, you could admit that was kind of weird. This night is getting to you. God knows this loud-as-fuck party was more overstimulating than anything you could usually stand. And so bright. What a shitty fairytale ball.

You grab one of the flutes of champagne and swirl it, sniff it, and then once you’ve gone through the polite checklist of drinking you throw it back like it’s a shot of vodka. There were people watching after all. Wait, they’d probably seen you corner that poor server boy.

Hmm, this requires cake. You choose a random slice that looks like it might be strawberry something, and dig in eagerly. It tastes fucking fantastic. The cream is sweet and soft, and the jam has a pop of flavour you totally weren’t expecting. And the cake itself was a lovely, spongy texture.

Grand. Maybe if you just sat here like a wallflower and ate food and drank liquor you could handle this. It wasn’t any different from how you behaved at Molly’s college parties.

So, you decide to work your way up and down the buffet table. Most of it’s delicious, but when you try things you can’t quite recognise, there’s a twenty-percent chance it’ll be disgusting and you’ll have to spit it out to avoid poisoning. You’re careful not to try the caviar, despite your own curiosity. You’d heard that it just tasted like salty water, and that didn’t mix well with whatever you were currently putting in your stomach.

You look down at your hand. It’s another piece of the sponge cake, wedged between a napkin so your dirty fingers didn’t touch it and you didn’t have to bother with another plate. You giggle, because it really is that good.

Ah, this is great. You could do this forever, screw thirty minutes. You eye the entrance the servers keep coming in and out of, and wonder if Jeanine would get mad if you tried to follow them into the kitchens. Probably, probably…

The question was, was it worth it? You’re debating the merits when the sound of someone's shoes stops next to you. You think it’s a man, and you consider barking at him to get away from the buffet, but decide you’ve tried everything and can probably share again. It takes great strength, though. You decide you deserve some more champagne for the kindness.

It’s after a moment that you realise he’s not taking anything.

“Oh, so you actually showed up? Colour me surprised,” a familiar, calm, masculine voice speaks from behind you. Your mouth drops open, and you spin on your heel. If you hadn’t been clinging to the table cloth you’d have fallen over, but still, you drop the champagne flute, and it bursts in a spray of liquid and glass against your dress.

It also splatters on the dress shoes of one Tim Drake.

First the phone, now the delicious drink. You really wished you’d stop dropping things.

MASTERLIST - NEXT

[n0ct0urn1quet]

pov talking shit abt my sister in vc when my door is ever so slightly open and she probably heard me so now im all embarrassed to go out into the living room out of fear that she'll be like "so what were u talking about in there"

[imminent-danger-came]

Sun Wukong Knew About MK the Whole Time: A Theory

I am currently hyped up on leftovers and iced coffee, so let's do this!

I've talked about this before, here and here, but I think it's finally time I wrote an official post. You can go and read those posts if you want to (I definitely hit the nail on the head with some of this stuff), but I will be compiling a lot of what I said on those posts here!

So. Let's get the Mr. Elephant out of the room first: The David Breen Tweets. (thread here).

I see this tweet mentioned a lot whenever I bring up SWK knowing about MK, and honestly, this is a far cry from the "it's been confirmed that SWK didn't know" definite answer everyone's been implying.

So let's break it down!

#1: "Monkey King ain't the father"/"Monkey King isn't his dad." Well of course! Being born from a stone means you don't have any parents. I see it like this: Wukong isn't MK's dad, but he's also not NOT MK's dad, it's a secret third thing (creator and creation). Or, perhaps Wukong didn't help create MK at all, but he at the very least was involved in the circumstances that lead to MK being created/being born from the stone. (Aka eldritch abomination MK theory. My Beloved. Okay sorry.)

#2: "Monkey King was ripping his way through memories looking for MK, but kept coming back to the stone. He doesn't know why." So, while Wukong was ripping through memories, he didn't know why the scroll kept spitting him out by the stone. This is not a confirmation that Wukong didn't know about MK and his origins. It also begs the question: how did Wukong know MK was in the scroll to begin with? There's also some speculation to be had about why Wukong was so desperate to find MK to begin with:

MK: "Monkey King did this?" Macaque: "It looks like he's been tearing his way through his past—trying to find his way to.." MK: "Me."

(4x11 A Lifetime of Mistakes)

-

What was he so afraid of MK finding? Or, what was he afraid the scroll would force MK to experience? I think these are questions worth asking.

#3: "Wukong's trying real hard to leave the 'not being open with MK' days behind after s3. Problem is he's got lifetimes of info to catch them up on." Well, this one is a DOOZIE. One: we already know MK doesn't know everything about Wukong and his choices because he doesn't know Wukong killed Macaque (thank you 4x11). Two: "trying real hard" and "successfully doing" are very different things. And three: YOU DON'T JUST DROP INFO LIKE "Hey, did you know you're a Monkey Demon?" ON TOP OF SOMEONE RANDOMLY. Especially not MK. You have to prepare them for it.

Wukong is trying to do better and be better for everyone around him, but that still takes work. That still isn't easy. He's still going to make mistakes, which means he's not going to always go about being open with MK in the best way.

Sun Wukong: “Point is, mistakes happen, but so long as you leave the world in better shape than you found it, then it’s all good. Right?”

(4x01 Familiar Tales)

-

This scene—to me—feels like Wukong is trying prepare MK for his eventual "Hey did you know you're a Monkey Demon?" conversation he wants (and needs) to have down the line. Yes, SWK is trying to be more open with MK, but he's also just not going to be given that chance before the truth comes out.

MK: "Yeah right, if Monkey King really was my dad don't you think he would have said something by now?" Mei: "Yeah...because he's normally SOOOOO forth coming with information." MK: "Well uh, whatever—when we find Monkey King's stone, then we'll just ask him!"

(4x05 Court of the Yellow Robbed Demon)

-

Notice how they never asked Monkey King that question? From a writing standpoint, why bring this up at all if it wasn't to imply that (even if Monkey King isn't MK's dad) he wasn't involved with MK's creation in some way?

ANYWAYS.

NOW THAT THE BREEN TWEET THAT HAS RUINED MY LIFE IS OUT OF THE WAY, let's get into the evidence given to us throughout the entirety of the show. Starting with this:

This isn't a scene that takes place during the "A Hero is Born" special, as I'm sure plenty of people have noticed before now. Of course, this could have just been Monkey King "scouting out a successor", but with everything we know now doesn't that...feel kinda weird?

We were told at the beginning of the show that Monkey King gave MK his powers, but now we know that's not true. MK has had his own powers this whole time—and that's something Wukong, at the very least, knew:

Sun Wukong: "Listen kid: You fought demons, and you didn't die, and you made it here! Not just anyone can lift my staff, but you did." (1x00 A Hero is Born)

-

MK: "This whole time, I thought my powers came from the staff! Sun Wukong: "The staff's just a big 'ol stick bud! It takes someone special to lift it." (3x03 Smartie Kid)

-

There's also 1x09 Macaque, which I have mentioned before:

Macaque: "Ohohoh no, can't you hold the magic staff anymore? Well, you know what that means—there really isn't anything special about you. You're just a kid with a heavy stick."

This scene is then followed by MK lifting the staff, which only happens because Wukong encourages him.

MK: "Ugh, I can't! I'm not strong enough." Sun Wukong: "Kid! We're definitely going to have words later, but it's time for the Hero Stuff!"

(1x09 Macaque)

-

Ultimately, Wukong knows MK can lift the staff again even after Macaque supposedly stole all of MK's powers. He knows MK can beat DBK (more on that later). He does something similar to all this in 3x14, being the one to let MK face the Lady Bone Demon, powered by the Samadhi fire, alone (even after Pigsy tries to stop MK):

Wukong want's to protect MK. That's why he went to face the Lady Bone Demon alone in the first place—but here, he let's MK stop the end of the world all by himself. Why would he let his beloved student face not only LBD, but a reality ending flame alone?

Because he knows how much power MK has. Because he knows MK is capable of doing it.

This all brings me to my main point: If before now we were supposed to believe that Monkey King gave MK his powers, and he so clearly didn't, how would Wukong not know he didn't give MK powers. And because he clearly knew he didn't give MK any powers, why would he not question where this kid's insane level of power came from? He had to have "chosen" MK to be his successor for a reason right?

ESPECIALLY because Wukong never planned on being a mentor in the first place:

Sun Wukong: "I know I can never make it up to you. Honestly, I- I never thought I'd live as long as I have let alone be someone's mentor—turns out I'm not very good at it. I guess what I'm trying to say is...I'm sorry MK. For all of it."

(3x14 Destiny Fulfilled)

-

This was also alluded to in 3x05 Amnesia Rules:

Pigsy: "Of COURSE you don't remember the kid—one day you are going to grow up to be a terrible mentor!" Sun Wukong: "Ha! Zhu Bajie, can you imagine me teaching someone? HA!"

-

So, Wukong clearly didn't ever want to become a mentor, and this directly contradicts what Wukong says to MK in "A Hero is Born":

Sun Wukong: "You're perfect!" MK: "Perfect for what?" Sun Wukong: "To be...my successor!"

Honestly, think about it: has Wukong ever once actually needed a successor? When given the opportunity, he goes off and tries to handle things on his own anyways (Leaving in s2, wanting to go and reforge the Samadhi Fire on his own, going to stop LBD alone). It's the classic "we're being told one thing and shown another" trick.

Sun Wukong: "No no no- in case you forgot I'M retired, you're the one supposed to be taking care of the bad guys." (1x01 Bad Weather)

Even in 2x01 he's lying:

Sun Wukong: "Aw, come on bud! I promised myself that when I found a successor I'd go see some friends, take a tour of my old stomping grounds, just cut loose you know?" (2x01 Sleep bug)

It's proven in the next episode, and by the fact that all of his friends are dead/gone, that literally nothing he said here is true.

And, it's also note worthy to point out, that by this point Wukong had already disappeared for hundreds of years. Why step in again at all? Why put the effort into getting a successor you definitely were never prepared to have?

MK: "*sigh* You think Monkey King ever felt like this? Maybe that's why he stayed up on this mountain, just having a good time with you guys. You know cause- cause he knew he'd be out of the way where he couldn't hurt anyone he cared about." Macaque: "Or, he was doing his usual Wukong thing and being a lazy peach eating idiot. Ignoring all the worlds problems.

(4x09 Roast of the Monkie Kids)

-

So, I don't know about you, but I'm going to trust Macaque's insight on this. I'm not sure Wukong ever planned on coming back. Sealing DBK, he effectively cut off one of his last ties to the world (please go read wlw-wukong's thoughts, they are delightful), and he had already left the world alone for a long time. Why did he feel the need to train a successor now?

The simple answer is this: because he knew he needed to train MK and teach him to control his powers, and DBK's return was the perfect way to do it.

NOW. THE S4 MK VISIONS.

So, the visions MK see's all through out s4 (4x03, 4x04, 4x05, 4x06) are of Wukong ripping through the scroll and going to the stone—David Breen confirmed that himself in the above tweets.

Here's a list of what we see:

(4x03 The Great Tang Man)

-

(4x04 Pig Napped)

-

(4x05 Court of the Yellow Robbed Demon)

-

These are what I would say are the visions of Sun Wukong trying to find MK in the scroll. Yet, they are distinctly different from what Subodhi presses MK to remember ("Tell me of your childhood, your parents." "You do not remember?" "And what else?"):

(4x06 Show Me the Monster)

-

Look at that difference!

Every vision MK has includes the same scenes, except this one. That's why I think it's a memory; that and the way it's framed, with MK closing his eyes in focus. The other visions from 4x03, 4x04, and 4x05 all are unprompted, being forced upon MK. Why make this last "vision" so different from the others? Why show our mystery lady making the stone monkey? That would be because it's a memory—be it MK's, something from the scroll, or a mix of both.

There's also the matter of like, why Wukong going to the stone would trigger any sort of vision in MK to begin with. Overall, it just seems like there something more to those visions.

This would be how I imagine the general timeline playing out:

MK is created (through help of Sun Wukong), a beautiful baby boy pops out of the stone, and Sun Wukong "loses" that beautiful boy (if Wukong knew he was born to begin with) with MK finding his way to Pigsy's.

Then it's later Sun Wukong finds MK again, coming up with a plan to make MK his "successor" (still leaving MK with Pigsy, which I think was the right call lol). As Wukong says in 4x01, "You make ONE mistake, and no one ever let's you live it down! Looks like the ghosts of my past have finally caught up with me." That's what I think this parallel in particular is really trying to show off—in some way, MK is part of his past mistakes, just like Macaque is.

AND SO. I WILL CLOSE OFF THIS THEORY POST WITH EVERYTHING WE LEARNED IN THE SPECIAL.

Sun Wukong: "Heh, nothing gets under his skin more than a monkey. Leave Azure to MK and me."

(4x12 The Plan Man)

-

Sun Wukong: "Kinda embarrassing for the Jade Emperor to have two little cheeky monkeys running circles around him the first day on the job." MK: "Well, one monkey and one unconfirmed, but *laughs* yeah! I'd be embarrassed for sure!"

(4x13 Rip and Tear)

-

Wukong sounds suspiciously confident that MK is a monkey.

Not even MK is sure what he is (which he's probably just in denial, but also "Until I know what I am, what my destiny is?" from 4x08 anyone?), but Sun Wukong is extremely certain about what MK is.

Sun Wukong: "We got this bud. Would have liked to give you some new training with your monkey form, but-" MK: "Oh yeah yeah yeah- uh um- about that— um. I- I was thinking, I've never really needed a scary new monkey form before, so, I just thought maybe I'd use it next time." Sun Wukong: "Next time? Kid, there might not be a next time! This is the time."

MK: "It's be fine! Mei and I have got this awesome new armor and everything! You know, when we look this good? Ain't nothing gonna beat us." Sun Wukong: "Kid. New armor isn't going to cut it! We have to hit Azure with everything we've got! You can't just ignore this whole part of your power because it scares you!"

(4x12 The Plan Man)

-

If the writers were trying to highlight the fact that Wukong didn't know, this scene would have gone very differently. Instead of "You can't just ignore this whole part of your power because it scares you!" I think it would have been more along the lines of "I know this is new for all of us, but you've got to accept this part of your power!".

Even this exchange at the end of the special raises some alarm bells for me:

Pigsy: "Heh, don't bother. I've been telling him that for years but he LITERALLY never listens." Sun Wukong: "Yep! That's how we roll."

(4x14 Better Than We Found It)

-

That's how "we" roll? As in him and MK, as two monkeys? Again, Wukong is surprisingly chill and okay with this new form for someone whose first interaction with it was supposedly this:

MK, writhing on the ground in pain, completely destroying the world around him, and unable to control his powers.

Sun Wukong: "Yeah! Go MK, go! Just try not to totally wreck up my stuff would ya-"

(4x13 Rip and Tear)

-

Overall, it gives me the impression that Wukong already knew what MK was before 4x07. This new form didn't scare him because he always knew that's what MK was. MK, to Wukong, is MK! And MK has always been a Monkey Demon. He has unshakeable faith in his protege, and even while MK is absolutely tearing up the world around flower fruit mountain he can't help but cheer for him.

After all, Wukong knows MK is the only one who could defeat Azure:

MK: "Ne Zha's right—while Azure has the Jade Emperor's power and the scroll, there's NO way we could beat him head on!" Sun Wukong: "I mean, some of us could beat him! *ahem* One of us, specifically-" MK: "Nope! None of us at all."

(4x12 The Plan Man)

-

"But Imp!" I hear you say, "Wukong was talking about himself here!". To which I would reply, that's not true! This scene is right after Wukong has already said he only almost beat the Jade Emperor:

Sun Wukong: "But don't worry—I almost beat the Jade Emperor single handed once! Between both of us, Azure doesn't stand a chance." (4x12 The Plan Man)

-

Between this and Wukong's pre-fight convo with MK ("We have to hit Azure with everything we've got!"), he's clearly banking on MK using the full extent of his powers to win this fight. Wukong isn't banking on his own—if he were, he would never have left MK to go and collect the scroll pieces during their fight with Azure.

Conclusion

Sun Wukong knew MK was a monkey the whole time, lol—and fate has plans for MK. Great plans, or foul? Time will tell.

And Wukong has done his best to ensure that those plans are great.

[suzukiblu]

excerpt from the one where Tim Drake goes to an alternate reality and decides to get his other self laid via the local Kon's bisexual awakening:

"Hey, remember when you saved my life earlier?" Tim asks. 

"Yeah, kinda," Kon replies in amusement. "Seeing as it was about two point five seconds after you rigged the evil alien robot army to self-destruct and helped save our entire literal reality's life, so I was definitely paying attention." 

"Flatterer," Tim says with a smirk even as he waves him off. The self-destruct function wasn't even that hard to hack, comparatively. That time he'd downloaded Lex Luthor's active IP files from his personal office while the asshole had been on his damn computer–now that'd been tricky. Interdimensional alien invaders barely compare. And the Brainiac incident still gives him stress migraines when he thinks about it for too long. 

Metropolis sucks and Tim frankly has no idea how his own Kon can stand the place.

But like, getting off-topic here. 

"Well, I was gonna say you should let me pay you back for that," he continues. "But since you bring it up I'll also accept a show of gratitude on behalf of your reality, whichever gets you off harder.” 

Kon laughs, because he is apparently adorable enough to have assumed that was a joke. Precious little moron, Tim thinks fondly. 

"You know, you're a lot less uptight than our version of you is," Kon says, grinning down at Tim before flashing Tim's other self a smirk. "No offense, Rob. Dude's clearly just doing more yoga than you or something. Maybe drinking more tea? Taking the occasional bubble bath?" 

"Silly me, if only I'd invested in more bath bombs in my life," Tim's other self says dryly. 

"It's probably my sex life, actually," Tim himself puts in with an easy shrug. Turns out when you stop pretending you don't have a ridiculously high libido and actually just indulge the thing, a lot of life's little annoyances become a lot easier to handle. Go figure. "Plus my boyfriend Bernard is really great, just his entire existence does wonders for my mood in general and he also makes me eat real food on occasion and monitors my caffeine intake much more reliably than I'm capable of doing on my own. The man is a living antidepressant and I don't even mean that in a fucked-up way, he's just that good." 

"Boyfriend?" Kon blinks at him, then puts on another grin. It takes, Tim cannot help but notice, exactly two beats longer than his real grin would've. "Ohhhhh, okay, so the problem is just that you're not getting laid hard enough?" 

"It is not," Tim's other self says dubiously, watching Kon just a little bit warily and obviously worried about his potential reaction to the word "boyfriend". Well, Tim never claimed to be emotionally intelligent about Kon, so no surprise his other self is also a dumbass there. 

"It kinda is, actually," he tells his other self. "I was tracking my cortisol levels the last time I went on a solo away mission and let's just say they were . . . concerning? Like really concerning. Like by the time I got back I was kiiiiind of convinced I was going to need to go on anti-anxiety meds again. But then I jumped my Kon in the Titans Tower med bay instead and that pretty much solved the problem." 

Kon . . . pauses, sort of. Tilts his head. Tim's other self looks a lot warier.

"'Jumped'," Kon repeats carefully. "Like . . . what, you dragged him to the gym to spar or something?" 

"Like I blew his back out so hard that when he came his TTK fritzed out and disassembled my recovery bed," Tim clarifies helpfully. "It really helped with the cortisol levels issue." 

Kon blinks. Tim's other self looks pained, but also desperately envious. Tim would also be desperately envious if their situations were reversed and so does not blame him for said envy in the slightest. 

"I thought you said you had a boyfriend?" Kon says after a moment, sounding a little odd in a very telling way. Or at least very telling to Tim, anyway. 

As is the way that he's not looking at Tim's other self at all anymore. 

"Open relationship," Tim says. "Also Bernard thinks you're stupidly hot and really likes hearing about the kind of stuff you let me do to you. I've actually been debating inviting you over for his birthday so he can watch us live for once but I haven't asked you yet." 

"What, so your Kon is the side chick?" Kon jokes, awkwardly putting on another just barely belated grin. 

"More like my kept boy, functionally speaking, but he's having a 'weird about commitment' phase right now so I've just been making a lot of sugar baby jokes to soften him up," Tim replies with a shrug. It's only sort of been working, but it has been working, and he's willing to take his time on it. It's not fair to expect Kon to only be easy, after all. "Long-term goal is to marry Bernard and ideally get Kon to 'live-in boyfriend' status somewhere in there, but that would also require him not being weird about commitment and also figuring out how well he and Bernard get along in the same space, so we'll just have to see how that one goes." 

"Uh," Kon says. "Why?" 

"Because you are incredibly important to me and also look like a very horny Renaissance sculptor made you out of calacatta marble," Tim tells him matter-of-factly, gesturing meaningfully at him. "Frankly it's criminal that you ever put clothes on."

[dduane]

From the Writing Advice dep't: A complicated ask, a serial answer (part 1)

Every now and then I get an ask in the box that's complex enough that it has to be taken apart and answered in pieces. Also, sometimes I get queries in that are painful enough (in varying ways) that I elect not to attribute them when answering. This one is both.

I read the ask (and reread it, and rereread it, four or five or six times after it came in, and a bunch more times while I was on my back this week being sick), and gradually came to realize that for it to be properly handled I had no choice but to break it into pieces for best management.

There are three main strands to the issues this ask brings up: motivation, growth as a writer, and coping with or succeeding despite the current state of the publishing industry.

So let's dig in. Here's the first part of the ask:

I know there's no One True Path, but I'm struggling with this, and I'm sure others are too, so I'll just ask it. I want to make a career out of writing, but with shrinking attention spans and so much content to mindlessly consume, how do you keep the motivation to write? My friends get mad at me for getting discouraged when not even they read my writing. They get mad and say, "write for yourself, not for the validation!"

Welp. (sigh)

First of all, I think your friends are absolutely right. But we'll come back to that.

You have to understand that as far as the Search for Motivation goes, I'm probably Spiders DD, the outlier who seriously should not have been counted. I have been motivated to write stuff pretty much nonstop since I was eight, and did my first novel in crayon in a school notebook. (It was one of the thick notebooks. The ones with the black and white marbled covers. Most of you who come of US schools know the kind.)

So I'm really the wrong person to be asking about this, especially since it's now nearly the Year of our (Wood!) Dragon 4722, which would make me nearly, uh, six Years of the Dragon old. And being of such age, and a career midlist genre writer, I have the same source of motivation as the vast majority of my similarly-aged colleagues: the need to write or starve. (There's an Irish saying perfectly descriptive of my situation: "Too old to dig ditches and too scared to rob banks." That's my situation exactly. There's nothing left for me to do but to write.) :)

...Anyway, it's kind of amazing how that kind of motivation'll focus your intention, and help you keep it in place, once you're been working with it for a while.

At the beginning of a career, though, things can look a lot different as you start getting a handle on exactly what it is you like to write and why you like writing it. And having another job to keep you afloat while you find your way is seriously a very good idea if you can manage it.

It sounds very much to me as if you're still in the early "finding your way" stages. This is a place that a lot of writers pass through, so don't be concerned. It's rare for sudden perfect motivation-to-write to crystallize out of nothing. And never forget, the word itself is based on old Latin roots for movement, and provokes the question, "Yeah, okay, but which way?" Movement without intended direction tends to turn into a lot of unfocused flailing, which looks good on Kermit, but not so much on the rest of us.

(inserting a cut here, because honestly, this is gonna go on a bit)

So you need to sit down and start asking questions—and answering them—so you can draw some kind of map. "I want to make a career out of writing"? Fine. What kind of writing? Fiction? Nonfiction? If fiction, what kind? What do you like to read? Why? Is that something you'd like to write? Why? Why not? If there's something else you'd rather be writing—what else? And why?

The more you ask the questions and answer them—"Keep asking the next question," Ted Sturgeon never used to stop saying—and the further along your investigations get, the more likely you are (as you get close to the answers that matter) to start getting the itch to write something, something in particular. This process may take a while, and the itch may take a good while to manifest. Don't be alarmed by that. The old saying is that the fire from Heaven won't descend until you've built the altar for it. And it may take a while piling the rocks up into the right shape. Don't hurry. If this is something you intend to spend a lifetime on, make sure the foundations are sound. The time taken will be worth it.

And BTW, do you intend that kind of length of commitment? If you're not sure, that's fine. But there's no one else to ask at this point who can give you meaningful answers. This is the time to get into it. Work out what "having a career in writing" looks like for you. Then start investigating to see whether your conception has any foundation in reality as a kind of lifestyle you actually have decent odds on achieving. (Again, I'm an outlier here. I'd been writing for pleasure for a long time before I had the good fortune to befriend an actual career writer, examine his habits [and those of other writers in the LA area] at close range, and realize that this line-of-work choice was actually something that could be successfully pulled off by mere mortals.) After investigation, this is a call that only you can make.

But anyway. Once you've started experiencing the kind of motivation that comes of increased certainty about what you want to do and why, you'll find you're way less concerned about sourcing or supporting it externally. It tends to fuel itself. (As once it does descend, the fire from Heaven is tenacious stuff: more Greek than otherwise.)

But also: trying to designate outsourced exterior stimulants for motivation is a bad idea. The reason's simple: one day you'll need them and they won't be there. Conditions will have changed, or the outside-of-you sources into the hands of which you've resigned your motivational agency may not be available for one reason or another, temporarily or permanently... and then where are you? The concept's a nonstarter. If your motivation's acting up, you need to be looking inward, not outward, for ways to kickstart it. This is one of the most personal parts of the writing process. You need to own it.

(And yeah, even career writers' motivation slips sometimes: annoying career things happen, cyclic lows cut in at a bad time, you name it. Most of us work out ways to jar the motivation back into correct operation when it acts up. But for such corrections to work you must first know what it's like to generate or mine yours yourself... and you're still working on that. The methods you find to generate motivation toward doing the Work will also assist you in diagnosing it when it goes south, and putting it right again.)

Also: (sighing) Please let your friends off the hook as regards reading your material, and feedback. Your motivation to write should not be dependent on their feedback, and it's not a good idea to try to make friends feel responsible for keeping you on the creative track. Chief among reasons for this: they may not feel themselves up to the task of giving you the writing support you're apparently asking them for—possibly because they simply don't feel competent to. (This is where we could get into how I had to stop @petermorwood from rewriting his third novel for the third time due to conflicting notes from friends... but let's leave that for later.) At best you're possibly making your friends deeply uncomfortable. At worst, the pressure may damage the friendships.

Tl:dr; our friends may love us dearly, but that doesn't make them competent editors. If you're online, so are many writers' groups who'll welcome a new member who needs advice. Wait till you've got more data and clarity on your motivational issues, and then start shopping around for assistance that seems friendly and trustworthy.

And finally (for the moment), about other people's attention spans:

It'd be good if you can start training yourself away from the habit of worrying about those. For one thing, there's absolutely nothing you can do about them. You might as well worry about the 11-year sunspot cycle. The attention-span issue is just one more distraction from things you should usefully be thinking about. But also: A lot of what we hear about that situation strikes me as fearmongering (as, IIRC, it was supposed to cause the downfall of western civilization around the time I started writing for Scooby-Doo).

If you look around, you'll see that loads of people are willing to spend HUGE amounts of their attention on stuff they love. (I mean, have you been on AO3 lately? And we're just talking about free stuff, there. Lots of other people will do the same for traditionally published work, given the chance and the money.) Your job is to get on with writing, start putting what you're doing out there where people will have a chance to fall in love with it, and then deal with the consequences.

More of this next time. (And please bear with me, as I'm still not up to best operating speed after the last week's illness. I'll get to everything else you sent me, I promise.)

HTH!

[pseudophan]

some post wad weekend thoughts...

i just wrote all this on the plane and haven't read it through so apologies for any mistakes

first of all, this weekend was incredible. i usually just kinda sit at home doing not much of anything, and this was a much needed break to actually have some fun. london in general always lifts my spirits but i suppose that danisnotonfire guy contributed a little as well.

guys i think i've met more people the past few days than i otherwise have in years. like. holy shit. i started listing people but i'm petrified i'll forget someone so i chickened out, sorry about that. but you all know who you are. i've met friends i've had for years, people i used to know but haven't spoken to in what feels like a decade, newer friends, and a frankly baffling amount of people i didn't know yet but who told me they've followed me for ages. like holy fuck you guys lmao what the hell??? and i mean did the reaction ever get old no of course it didn't. bad for my ego i'm sure but totally worth it. there's something very amusing and incredibly surreal about being chronically lame in most aspects of life and then suddenly finding yourself in an environment where you're kinda cool???? SO fucking fun oh my god, but also i do kinda feel like i've tricked you all? but hey i'll happily let you keep believing i'm cool, that is more than fine with me.

most importantly though everyone was SO lovely. like i said i don't think i've spoken to this many people in such a short amount of time in years and every single person i talked to was awesome. guys did you know phannies are kind of great... don't tell anyone but, lowkey... everyone is so funny and cool and absolutely insane but in a good way (shoutout everyone left at the gates until the very end, we should probably get some help).

and then lastly of course, mr howell himself. i talk about this a lot i feel like but fuck me that man was born to perform. whether you think he's actually funny or not, nobody can argue he doesn't absolutely thrive on a stage. he plays off the audience so well and he's so very obviously having the time of his fucking life. i'd already seen the show twice before this, and i didn't think anything would top the previous london show but man... the first night he came back out after the show having clearly been tearing up backstage, apologising for being an inconsistent absent parent, and i can't lie the "i had daddy issues and THEN i subscribed to dan howell" got me cause yeah no literally dude, you nailed it, exactly, well done. i think something about doing this show again, his magnum opus as he considers it, now after the dapg return was very special to him. he seems genuinely surprised that so many of us were ready to just jump back in like nothing happened, i don't think he was expecting so many people to still be waiting and it's... man. he comes off so grateful for us all and it's so fucking sweet. and then on the last night, i think that was my favourite, when the show ended and he got the standing ovation and people throwing him flowers.. he was so HAPPY. and clearly overwhelmed with emotion which, i gotta say, there is something honestly kinda funny about daniel howell standing in front of you trying not to cry. like no by all means dude go ahead, please, you've made me cry an endless amount of times it's only fair.

ugh. i'm proud of him or whatever. dick. and i'm proud of our ridiculous fucking community. i'm not sure what 14 year old nora would say if you'd told me i'd still be kicking it in the phandom a decade on, but at almost 25 (fml) i'm so so happy to be here still. you know, we get a bad rep, but i genuinely think as far as fanbases go we're pretty solid. and i love you all so much.

i believe i will have to rob a bank or something because the next time dan and/or phil do a tour i think i'll have to just show up at every date like i'm sorry but this was too good of a high we need to do it again immediately

anyway. back to work 💪

(by which i mean giffing dan and phil. i am still very much unemployed. fr though i'm two whole videos behind this has never happened i feel weird. who am i)

[divorcedfiddleford]

You made a post saying “it has been zero days since our last alex hirsch hates ford so much bullshit” and i know it was mostly hyperbole, but you have some really good takes that I would love to be elaborated on in terms of how ford is written

it really wasn't hyperbolic. over the years he's just really shown a lot of hatred towards this one character.

content warning: discussion of abuse

i want to start with this clip from the commentary which i think of as a microcosm for how the writers and especially alex think about ford.

transcript:

rob renzetti: i mean he [mcgucket] should've basically knocked ford out, and... and destroyed the... you know, tied him up, and, destroyed... and... alex hirsch, speaking over him: yeah he should've beat ford with a wrench and taken this thing apart piece by piece! he's the one who understood how to built [sic] it, but...

... so that seems like a pretty violent course of action. shall we unpack that?

ford is a character who's pretty explicitly written as a victim of abuse, and who now has c-ptsd as a direct result of the abuse he experienced. alex hirsch believes that ford deserved everything bad that happened to him, that it's ford's own fault, and that he also deserved worse things to happen to him. this is why, given every narrative chance, alex hirsch has piled more suffering onto ford's plate. the biggest example of this i can think of is in the journal, when he wrote that fiddleford was actively erasing ford's memory (despite this being a massive timeline contradiction which i still refuse to accept). because god forbid ford even have one remotely healthy relationship with somebody. that would be too good for him. ford was manipulated and lied to by bill, but alex repeatedly compares him to icarus, a teenager whose demise was the result of his own ignorance. this comparison is still so fucking offensive to me. the sun did not lie to icarus, did not guarantee icarus all of the happiness and success and sense of belonging which he had been denied all his life, did not actively shut out the voices of those around him who would try to help him.

alex in general has a very strange relationship with abuse. he seems to get really upset when people read his characters as victims of abuse. the strongest instance of this is actually not with ford, it's with pacifica - especially in the nwmm episode commentary. the episode says "pacifica's parents have conditioned her to respond to a bell" and alex says people got "the wrong idea" about it. like. dude. what the fuck. you wrote abuse. even if you didn't mean to, that's what you wrote. you can't say people got "the wrong idea" just because you didn't think about the subtext of what you were writing. anyway, back to ford: i believe this extends to him as well. alex wanted to write a character who's a foil to stan and who was a selfish unlikable victim of his own arrogance. however that's not what he wrote. he somehow seemingly accidentally wrote a really compelling and relatable awesome autistic guy who had to fight for every good thing he he ever had in his life only for it to be taken from him every single time. but alex can't let go of seeing ford as just "the opposite of stan". when he talks about "how someone as smart as ford could fall for bill's tricks", he refuses to realize he wrote a situation in which a man was being psychologically manipulated and tortured.

it goes back further, too. people repeatedly theorized that filbrick was... not a very good father, to say the least. on top of the very explicit and canon fact that he threw one of his children out on the street (seriously, there is no defense for this), people pointed out that stan would flinch at filbrick, that ford seemed upset by things filbrick said but dared not talk back, that filbrick was mad at stan not for hurting his brother, but for "costing the family potential millions". but alex can't have people seeing ford as sympathetic. ford can't have it bad like stan did. ford had to have everything and he lost it all because he sucks so much. so he wrote the graphic novel story where ford is filbrick's favorite child and filbrick also is not even a bad parent you guys he's just stoic. ignore the whole thing in dreamscaperers where stan perpetuates the abuse that filbrick did to him. ignore the fact that ford was shouting at stan and then completely shut up as soon as filbrick entered the room and did not say another word for the rest of the night. ignore all that because i just made up this story where he cries at a present from stan. filbrick loved his boys for sure you guys!!!

i'm not even touching on how alex repeatedly villainizes traits commonly associated with mental illness and neurodivergence. ford's hypervigilance becomes arrogance. his passion for knowledge means he's a know-it-all. his difficulty socializing and making friends means he's a misanthrope. his lingering resentment for the way he was raised means he hates his brother and is the worst human being to ever have lived. i could go on, go even further into how the finale reaffirms this, but i feel weird talking about this too much.

[bonefall]

While we’re talking changing who appears in places- can we change the cats helping out with Sunbeam’s rock trial? I was so confused why the cats selected to help were selected. Sure Cherryfall because she was going to be the one opposing Sunbeam, why not, anyone can do that though honestly and not who I take issue with being there. But Alderheart was there? The medicine cat? Don’t you think he has better things to be doing than pushing a rock around? Where’s Lionblaze aka “I may as well still have my god given super strength”? He could easily be the cat that gets pissy for Sunbeam “not listening to senior warriors” and maybe with age feels that she doesn’t respect him, head of patrols, enough to warrant her staying this sabotaging her in the third trial. I felt robbed that Plumstone who seemed to be established as another bg strong cat was absent. Sure sending Sunbeam with all the strongest cats would make it easy but it’d also be making it safe considering Ivypool didn’t want the rock to hurt anyone and it’s a pecking rock. Why not send your strongest cats to deal with it?

I feel very strongly about this trial, can you tell?

I'm a bit dissatisfied with certain trials in general. Most of the time I LOVE the new trials they made, I think they've been super creative so far, but some have been so lackluster that I need to shine them up.

Namely Berryheart's active attempts to get challengers killed. Someone has to get ACTUALLY hurt by one of those, instead of them just being generally unfair and no one raises an objection about it. I did not like the spring-powered adder that went BOING out of a log.

I will say that I would like to expand on Plumstone in this arc, plus her whole little family. They're in an interesting place, with Bumblestripe coming back from Ferncloud's Parting while leaving his father with the Tribe, Blossomfall still reeling with emotional abuse she suffered at the paws of the impostor, Stemleaf's death and Spotfur raising his kits, and Shellfur's mateship with Fernstripe.

Plumstone ALSO has some stuff going on. She's besties-maybe-dating Thriftear, Bristlefrost's sister, and yet she's one of the more outspoken cats about how she's getting tired of the ThunderClan nepotism. She's strong, reliable, and a competent warrior-- so HOW is it fair that Nightheart keeps getting all these undeserved "chances to prove himself" when SHE is here, SIGNIFICANTLY more orange, and wants her own chance to shine??

I still see her personality as being "a dear" lmao, she's not mean, but she's also not willing to bite her tongue either. She will say what's on her mind, and point out unfair treatment when she feels it.

Thriftear supports this. Yeah, she's a descendant of Firestar and a great warrior, but she EARNED the respect she gets. Bristlefrost did too. Nightheart doesn't even want his legacy, why is this clumsy humbug still getting special treatment?

Good-cat bad-cat pair type thing going on.

So I'm probably going to let them both act as a unit, since BB's Dewnose isn't in ThunderClan and that was a really random pair-up anyway.

("wait! Elder Bones! Where did Dewnose go?" Probably ShadowClan, here is the BB!ThunderClan family tree. There's been shuffles; the Cloudbright kits are now Whitewing, Foxleap, and Icecloud, 3 "singlet" litters, spaced out over years.)

Quickie thoughts on touching up the trials;

(DISCLAIMER: NOT SOLID. WE DON'T REWORK UNTIL ARCS ARE COMPLETE.)

Berryheart's are going to need serious overhauls. Nightheart's were really cute and I enjoyed them, but BB is supposed to be about how her group is escalating towards violence. I do not want them to stay so "cute" for the story I'm telling.

I also don't want to keep Nightheart failing his last one on purpose. I want his growth to be more based in self-realization than trying to let Sunbeam "save face."

I kinda want Fringewhisker to get injured during one of her own, and then Antfur dies as collateral damage in Nightheart's last. I'd like Nightheart leaving to be half him realizing that his BEHAVIOR is a problem, and half for his own safety.

In ThunderClan, I'd like the boulder one to be more about Sunbeam assembling a team, almost like she's a patrol head.

Since it's her second trial and she displayed some pretty fantastic leadership skills with her first one, I've got an inkling of an idea that Squilf actually talked with Ivy about wanting to legitimately assess her talent.

Like, "We both know that this whole trial-system was just to appease the other Clans. These are meant to be easy because idgaf. But wow, Sunbeam was actually impressive with those kits. What else can she do, if we give her the chance?"

I really like writing Squilf as she's described in Bramblestar's Storm, where her good leadership comes from being attentive of details and making everyone feel useful.

Man... maybe ill save Rosepetal for this arc and let her be deputy during this. Something feels very Rosepetaly about this. Maybe even have Rosepetal be clearly treating her as if she's a Secondary Apprentice, preparing her to take over her reputation of being a prolific mentor... Nightheart comes back from his trip only to find Sunbeam with twice as much respect as status as he ever had.

I can always axe Rose later to get Ivypool in... But I also REALLY love all the Ivypool Deputy Drama with how there's a conflict with ShadowClan... man. why are there so many interesting girls.

Maybe Rose doesn't have to be deputy, but Ivy assigns Rosepetal as the only "mandatory member" of the Boulder Patrol. Like a tutorial tip lmaooo

Sunbeam: "I think I will pick......................" STARES AT ROSEPETAL, "aaalderrr-" Rosepetal frowns "--pluuuuumstone??" Rosepetal nods, "Wise choice."

And lastly. The final Sunbeam trial. Ngl hated it. It felt really boring compared to the previous two, which were super interesting and excellent ways to give some spotlight to background characters.

Riddles don't even feel like a ThunderClan thing. Idk that was a very RiverClan (philosophy) or ShadowClan (trickery) kind of thing.

I think I'll hold off on thinking about it though; I think it would be SUPER cool if I totally overhauled that last trial to make it foreshadow the later books, somehow.

I DO want to keep that disney channel ass Cherryfall being a bitch part though. I love her so much. I'm so glad she's walking in her father's pawsteps and becoming the snot-nosed brat of ThunderClan.

I will definitely be changing how Sunbeam HANDLES it though. Hate the way that the books emphasize never telling anyone anything.

In fact, I kinda want to make Sunbeam approach Sparkpelt for advice, to show she finally has a figure she feels like she can trust.

Explicitly contrast the way that she NEVER felt like she could approach Berryheart, and that so much of her appeasing, avoidant behavior had been because she didn't feel safe or respected.

Here, in ThunderClan, she has family. She begins to realize that even if Nightheart came back and dumped her, Sparkpelt and Finchlight would NEVER kick her to the curb.

So she goes to Sparkpelt about how she is being bullied by Cherryfall, and they TALK ABOUT OPTIONS.

Like, you know,

Spark: "We could go to Squirrelstar or the deputy."

Sun: "I don't want to cause a fuss if I don't have to... besides, idk, I don't want to set the peat on fire, it would be nice if I could be on good terms with Cherryfall later."

Spark: "that's very wise of you, but just remember that Squilst is a very fair person. We can always go to her. Do you want any backup at all or do you want to do this on your own?"

Sun: "I think... I think I actually do need to do this on my own. If I was being confronted, I think I would just double down if I was being attacked in a group. That was right with Brambleclaw because you weren't trying to convince him, but... what do you think?"

Spark: "I think Cherryfall's just like her father and her ego is everything to her, so I think you're right on the mouse with all this. Honestly, I don't even know how much I'm helping here!"

Sun: "Oh but you are helping! You're helping a lot! StarClan... it feels so nice to just... have someone to listen. Thanks, Sparkpelt."

Basically, tweak the trials to bring them more in line with the themes and messages of BB, y'know? And also beef up the Clans themselves, by stressing the various personalities that are at play here. Especially since I quite like how Sunbeam in ThunderClan has some super neat traits she wasn't expressing in ShadowClan.

Like... it feels like it could be a really cool story to tell about how supportive environments can make you really shine. How you can suddenly seem like a brand new person, just by having people who have your back and encourage your autonomy.

[estrellami-1]

Cutesy prompt, also derived from my life but just because I’m thinking about getting a switch after falling in love with animal crossing playthroughs lol:

Modern au, no upside down : Steve hasn’t really been one for video games he doesn’t like the jump scares and the violence there’s enough of that in real life if he turns on the news, but Robin gets him hooked on animal crossing playthroughs on YouTube and he falls in love with how comforting and straightforward the game is, you plant a seed and you see it grow to a sapling right away there’s a sense of accomplishment. Steve usually drives Dustin and the kids to their Dnd nights at a game shop and while it’s pricier than he would usually splurge on he’s been thinking about buying a switch to play animal crossing himself so he decides to go to the one game shop he knows off the top of his head, the one he takes the kids to, that just so happens to be owned by eddie who does weekly DND nights. Eddie talks with him about the pros and cons of different consoles and games and maybe suggests that if he’d like he could come over to his place to try it out first hand and maybe join him for dinner while he’s at it?

(Okay side note while I was writing this I thought of twists that could be added to it, like maybe after hearing his reasoning for liking the calmer games eddie writes a sweet low stakes type of campaign for Steve and convinces him to join them for a campaign to show him it doesn’t have to be violent or scary. Or maybe they have those play in store to try it out kind of things and eddie offers that he can try it out in the store until he’s ready to buy and Steve keeps coming back to the store under the guise of trying out the console but really just to spend more time with eddie. I could think of more but I think it has potential)

💜

Ok so I’m like Steve, I don’t play video games. I’ve played Minecraft and my favorite thing to do is farm 😂 I’ve never played Animal Crossing so my apologies if anything is incorrect! I do think this is a SUPER cute prompt though and I’m so excited to see where y’all take it! 😉

Admittedly, my love, I did not complete this prompt the way you had specified, but I felt like I hit enough of the major points and got to a good stopping place for now. Feel free to send another ask if you want me to continue! ❤️

Title Screen - Part 1

“Robin, what-” he flails as his phone is ripped from his hand.

She judges him. “Sudoku, Steve? Really?”

“I like it! What are you doing?”

“You’re gonna love this. Promise.”

He throws his hands up and waits for her to hand his phone back. When she does, it’s open to YouTube. “Trust me,” she asks. “Just watch the first video.”

He reads the title. “A video game playthrough? Robs, you know I don’t like video games.”

“I know you don’t like violent video games. This one isn’t violent, Steve. Promise.”

He narrows his eyes at her, but she’s his best friend and roommate for a reason, so he plays it as soon as she leaves the room.

When she comes back in to ask about dinner, she’s got a smug look on her face. “Fine, you were right,” he says, rolling his eyes. “It’s cute. I like the bunny.”

Robin chuckles. “I thought you might. Y’know that video game store the kiddos love? I think they’ve got it.”

“Probably,” he allows, very much not thinking about it. Or the very attractive employee who seems to always be there when he is, shopping for the kids. He sets his phone on his chest. “How’s Chinese for dinner sound?”

“I’ll marry you,” Robin says.

Steve chuckles. “Wanna call it in? You know my order.”

“Orange chicken.” She makes a face. “Yeah, I’ll call it in.”

“Thanks.” She waves him off, so as she leaves, he calls, “I’m serious! Thank you! I love you! Marry me!”

“I’ll leave you at the altar!” She calls back, and he cackles.

He plays the video again.

Three days later finds him inside the video game store. Not for him, he swears, but Dustin’s birthday is soon-ish, anyways, and he needs a present, and he had been talking about some figurine or another.

“Hey, welcome in!” Very Attractive Employee says. “Can I help you find anything?”

Steve smiles, shakes his head. “Thank you.” He walks around, doesn’t necessarily look for Animal Crossing, but doesn’t necessarily walk away when he sees it, either. He picks it up, examines the case. Robin’s got a Switch, and he knows she’d let him borrow it. The one part he’s not really sold on is the price. He sets it down, looks at it for a minute longer, as if that would make the price change.

“If you’d like to try, I can put it in the system,” Very Attractive Employee says. His voice is soft, and something about it sounds familiar.

“I dunno.” Steve sighs. “I don’t want to impose, and I know most of the beginning is a bunch of talking and naming yourself and the world, right?”

Very Attractive Employee frowns. “Have you played it before?”

“Ah… no. I, uh.” He’s strangely embarrassed to say it. “I’ve watched playthrough videos.”

Very Attractive Employee grins and motions him over to the trial station. “Yeah? YouTube, right? D’you know who?”

“Uh…” Steve pulls his phone out, opens YouTube. It’s one of the first recommended videos. “HFClub?”

“Ah.” He stills for a moment, then smiles at Steve. “Well, if you’d like to try, it’s available.” He gestures to the console. “And believe it or not, this isn’t a super high-traffic store. It can get kinda boring being the only one here. If you don’t mind me watching over your shoulder, I don’t mind you staying until I’ve gotta close up.” He grins at Steve. “Whaddya say?”

Steve smiles tentatively back, takes a seat, and picks up the device.

He was right; it takes him a good amount of time to get past the opening, but he does have fun, especially with Very Attractive Employee imitating the other characters.

When he looks up again, it’s dark outside. “Oh, shit,” he murmurs, checking his watch. Somehow he’s spent three hours playing. “Shit, man, that’s dangerous,” he laughs.

Very Attractive Employee chuckles. “I know, right?” He shifts. “I’ve seen you in here before buying other games, and you don’t hesitate. Can I ask why today was different?”

“I usually come in to buy things for these kids I used to babysit. This one is purely selfish.” He grins and stretches, grins more when he notices Very Attractive Employee’s gaze is drawn down to where his shirt has ridden up.

“Kids?” He finally asks.

Steve hums. “You might know ‘em, actually, there’s one with curly hair, usually wears a trucker hat. A redhead who will put the fear of God into you. A bitchy kid with hair that could be great-”

“Wait, wait, wait.” Very Attractive Employee waves his arms through the air. “Dustin? Max? Mike?”

“Holy shit,” Steve says, and begins to laugh. “Yeah, exactly.”

Very Attractive Employee looks at Steve for a minute before saying, “So you must be Steve!”

Steve gapes. “They talk about me?”

“Oh, man.” Very Attractive Employee chuckles. “Dustin never shuts up about you, man, he loves you.”

“Oh.” Steve stills. “I, uh. Kinda thought they just tolerated me.”

“No way. Well, maybe Mike, but you know how he is.”

Steve chuckles. “Yeah. Do you know them just from how often they come in here?”

“Oh, no. I’m their DM. Y’know, Dungeons and Dragons?”

“Oh,” Steve nods, thinks. “Eddie, right? And- fuck, what was it. Elf Club, or something?”

Eddie chuckles. “You mean Hellfire Club?”

Steve snaps and points at Eddie. “That’s the one. Man, they love you too, every time I see the brats it’s always Eddie this and Eddie that and Eddie killed our characters but it was great.”

Eddie chuckles. “That’s good to hear. Can I ask why you’re just now looking at this for yourself?”

Steve sighs. “I know the kids love your campaigns, but I don’t like anything too horror-y. I don’t like jump-scares, and it feels like most video games have some element of that. My best friend got me hooked on the videos, and I decided to try it out.”

Eddie nods. “Yeah, this is definitely a very calm game. Feel free to come back in any time to continue trying it out, though. If you want.”

Steve smiles at him. “I might just take you up on that offer.”

Fic-specific tag, once again, is the fic name (no spaces): #titlescreen and as always, my writing tag is #starambles and you can subscribe to either or both to follow along with this fic! Let me know what you want to see happen next in this ‘verse!

[italiansteebie]

Love on Screen

Welcome to my Streamer au :-) Episode One, also on ao3 (Preferred format)

Steve sighed as he opened his laptop, clicking on the ‘Youtube’ icon and pulling up his channel. He likes his job, really he does. But so many people do the same thing that he’s honestly running out of ideas. Luckily, his subscribers seem to enjoy the weird ass shit he’s been putting out lately. In the last one, he’d made a bed out of cheese for his cat, the only issue was, was that she wanted to eat it, and if you don’t know, cat’s are lactose intolerant, so what started as a stupid video turned into him vlogging how to clean cat diarrhea of a carpet.

His subscribers thought it was hilarious, paying no mind to his discomfort, moreso worrying about piggy, his cat, and how her tummy was doing. She’s fine. Just a little dramatic. So with a lack of ideas, he goes lives. “Hey. How’s it going, chat? Look, I really need some new ideas because honestly, I’m bombing here.” And like always the chat blew up with responses, ‘call robin!’ and Steve snorted, “call Robin? Fine?” He picked up his phone, tapping Robin’s contact and waiting for it to ring.

“What?”

“That’s real nice, Rob. What a way to answer your best friend.”

“You aren’t my best friend, Nancy is.”

Steve scoffs, “Whatever, say hi to chat!”

“Seriously? This is the content y’all like? God, give him good ones, like getting a life.”

“I have a life, okay? Just because I don’t-”

“Your life consists of bugging me and Nancy, now get off live and think of some real idea’s, Steve!” Her tone was accusatory and Steve didn’t have a chance to answer before she hung up on him. He sighed, looking into the webcam, “Well. You heard her. I’ll talk to you guys later. Bye chat!” He ended the live and shut his laptop with a huff. He pondered for a moment, before deciding to scroll, what better way to come up with ideas than to scan and see what’s trending, right? 

He knows it’s a lazy tactic but, hey. He’s been doing this for years, there’s only so many ideas a brain could hatch. Maybe he could play a new game? Nah, he’s played all the good ones. Maybe he could play a really bad one just for giggles, maybe that’d be fun? It’s not fair! Robin and Nancy use their lives as content! Steve’s life was boring! Maybe it was worth a try, and so, a dumb little morning vlog was in the works.  

-

And okay, so it turns out maybe his subscribers are somewhat interested in his life. How was he supposed to know? He wakes up, answers emails, makes breakfast, works out, and that’s it! It wasn’t anything special. He felt… Boring. 

And yeah, the video did well but he still felt like he fell flat. He was supposed to be funny! So in his fit of doubt, he decides to scroll a little bit. (A bit of mindless scrolling didn't hurt anyone, right?) Wrong, Steve. It hurt a lot of people. But either way, in his attempt to bury his feelings he came across a video titled “Freak Rage Quits and Then Cries,” and Steve was a little apprehensive. He doesn’t really do the bullying, mean girl content, well, at least not like he used to. (He was a different person then). But he clicked on it anyways, and holy shit. He was funny. And really hot. 

And soon enough, Steve fell down a rabbit hole. He couldn’t get enough of this guy, he was cute, and charming, and somehow chaotic in a way that made Steve weak in the knees. (And look, the liking guys thing was relatively new, but the whole ‘attracted to chaos thing’ came out of left field). Well, if he’s being honest, it really didn’t. When he thought he had a crush on Robin it was her chaotic energy that really got to him, which was surprising seeing as his ex before her was very much the opposite. But as it turns out, chaos is like this guys whole brand. Eddie. That’s his name by the way, goes by corrodededdie on twitch, which honestly, fit him perfectly, 

Steve didn’t get the guys subscribing count at first, over 1.5 million (which is almost as many as Steve), but he gets it now. He doesn’t understand how someone could make him fall in love, over video. It was a bit ridiculous, really. Luckily for him, corrodededdie struck the inspiration bucket and Steve fell asleep with some new concepts floating around in his head. And yeah, maybe they were a bit more chaotic than what he usually did but… Oh well. Blame it on his new muse.

—

Eddie grinned as he waved goodbye to the stream, he’d just finished a 12 hour long long haul that he did on a dare because some troll in the chat said he wouldn’t be able to do it. And well, Eddie runs off spite, so of course he made sure to do it, and do it right. 

So here he was, 12 hours later, absolutely exhausted. He’d started the stream at a nice time of 6pm. That meant he’d have to stay streaming and making actual content, not just farting around on his phone, for 12 hours. It seemed easy enough. 

It wasn’t.

Right around the eight hour mark he started to get pretty restless. He’d already played all the games he had within his reach like, twice, and he was honestly really sick of talking about himself, so he made the courageous decision to ask the chat for suggestions on what he should do. (That was especially dangerous since at the time he was doing it, which was 2 am, was the time his especially creepy subscribers like to join and torment him by suggesting really gross stuff. And not like eating dog food gross). But luckily someone in the chat, named ‘dustybun04’ came through for him, suggesting a channel by the title of ‘Steve goes to Hell’ and well. Needless to say, it wasn’t what Eddie was expecting with a name like that. 

It was mainly this guy doing different hair techniques and making weird shit for his cat. He has to be honest, ‘dustybun04’ really disappointed him. He was under the complete impression that this guy was going to be some metal badass that played COD and killed zombies. But… It wasn’t. “Oh come on, dustybun. This guy?” And the chat lit up.

Dustybun04: watch the one where he makes a chees bed for his cat it made me laugh so hard i threw up.

And that caught Eddie’s attention. So there he was, at 2 am, pseudo stalking this guys channel looking for a very specific video. And he makes sure he’s mic'd up so that the stream could catch his candid reaction. “Mr. Piggyyyy, look at what mommy made you,” and Eddie had to pause the video. The guy called himself ‘Mommy’? Oh god, who was this guy? He snorts, looking at the camera like he’s on ‘The Office’ before turning the video back on. And as much as he hates to admit it, he was crying with laughter by the end of the video. 

And so the 12 hour long stream turned into him doing a deepdive review on ‘Steve goes to Hell.’ And he wasn’t disappointed. He could tell that his viewers were ready to move on to something else, but Eddie couldn’t help it. He was just… Enamored with the guy. Eventually though, around the 11 hour mark, Steve ran out of content for Eddie to watch. So he reluctantly decided to bother his best, dear, friend, Nancy. She ran a channel with her girlfriend and they were so disgustingly cute that it almost made Eddie want to barf. He picked up his phone and dialed Nancy, waiting with a mischievous smile on his face. “Eddie? It’s… 5 am, why are you calling me?”

“Say hi to chat!” He cheered, far too loud and excited for the early hour.

“Ugh, Eddie. You’re the worst.”

“You love me, Wheeler.”

“Wha’s goin’ on?” Oh shit. Did he wake up Robin? “It’s just Eddie baby, go back to sleep. You woke up Robin you fucking asshole. I’m going to kill you the next time I see you.” Yep. 

She hung up on him with a huff, “Isn’t she a charmer, folks? Okay…. Let’s see.” Eddie muttered to himself, scrolling mindlessly, looking for something to get him through the last 30 minutes. “Okay… Thirty minute stretch guys. What should we do?” And then it happened. ‘Steve goes to Hell has uploaded a new video.’ “Awh, shit guys. Steve goes to Hell has another video,” He dragged out the ‘o’ far too excited for a channel he just found of a guy he knows virtually nothing about. “Wake up with me? Ew. God, he’s so cheesy. Let’s watch” And it turns out it was actually pretty cute. 

And yup. There it is. Eddie has a new crush on a guy. A guy who happens to look super hot when he wakes up and by definition out of Eddie’s league. He sits and watches silently, enraptured with the way this guy lives his life, waking up so god damned early. As the video comes to an end, so does the 12 hour stream. “Well, shit guys. We did it. Actually, I did it. You guys did nothing. Anyways. It’s been fun. wheeliemike, suck my dick, and fuck you for saying I couldn’t do this. Alright. Thanks for chilling with me!” 

And that brings us up to speed. Eddie slumped back into his gaming chair, breathing out deeply. “Shit. I am never doing that again.” He slid out of his chair and trudged over to his bed, flopping down onto it and groaning loudly. He was just about to succumb to the sweet release of sleep when his phone chimed. ‘Steve goes to hell just subscribed to your channel.’ And oh fuck. Oh fuck, was he watching? Shit. Well. His heart was beating too fast to go to sleep now, may as well instagram stalk the guy. Like all normal people do when they develop a new crush.

[nattikay]

Shoutout to my mom who let me dump a bunch of spoilers on her so I could cry about Neteyam. Finally had the chance to get all that sobbing that dehydration robbed me of yesterday out of my system, and I’m feeling a little better now. I mean, the situation still makes me sad, but I don’t think I’ll continue to have my eyes suddenly start leaking every other hour like they did for most of today. :’)

so uuuhhh now that I’ve more or less gotten over that hurdle, I can finally sit down and make a post about all the other stuff from the movie! So here’s a list of some of the other thoughts and observations I had, not exactly comprehensive cuz this is all coming after 24 hours of grieving so I may not remember every single little thought I had, but here we go anyways (also tagging @tenebrius-excellium cuz you said you wanted to hear my thoughts):

-I just want to watch the first five or so minutes on loop for a while (although maybe without the cuts to Neytiri singing the songcord because 🥲, good golly the moment I saw that shot I, already being familiar with the lore behind songcords, was like oh NOOOOO), just the scenes of those ~14 peaceful years where the kids are growing up and the RDA is gone and everyone is happy together and it’s all just so sweet, this is the content I want, I want more of it, please pretty please, I know it’ll be a while before all the gif-makers are able to get a hold of those scenes but man as soon as they do goodness gracious I’m just gonna stare at it all for hours 😭

-While I was already assuming that the Metkayina didn’t actually know English and that we the audience were only hearing English for convenience, I was expecting that issue not to be directly addressed. So I was pleasantly surprised when it was subtly addressed with Jake’s voiceover about now being familiar enough with the Na’vi language to understand it as easily English as the audio of the kids bickering swapped from Na’vi to English. Theory confirmed!

-Speaking of the Na’vi language, I did feel very excited because I was able to understand some of the unsubtitled lines, which was a goal! so yay!! I mean, I didn’t understand every Na’vi line spoken (some of the longer ones I’ll definitely have to listen to more than once to piece together), but to even understand any of it at all, especially the ones without subtitles, felt very awesome!! dopamine rush babey!!!

-And on that note, the fact that Quaritch of all characters was making an effort to learn the language really surprised me! He struck me as the type of character to not give two craps about that sort of thing but hey. I definitely got a kick of out of Spider absolutely roasting him for his lack of skills hrh (note, I very most certainly do not condone actually mocking new learners making mistakes, obviously, but seeing as this is Quaritch we’re talking about...^^”) Spider’s line here was also a place I even managed to catch a subtitle discrepancy -- iirc, the subtitles read “You sound like a three-year-old!” but the actual line was nga plltxe na ‘eveng ahì’i! you speak like a small child! Which, I mean, y’know, same gist, but it was cool to be able to understand the actual words!! I also greatly enjoyed Spider trying to teach Quaritch the distinction between na and nga, just because man that’s one of those things every learner has been through, idk it was delightful to watch it go down between canon characters hrh

-Speaking of Quaritch and Spider....wow, I was surprised just how early they dropped the “Quartich’s son” bomb. That had been a pretty popular and plausible theory for a while, but I was expecting it to either be left up to interpretation or used as a bombshell later in the film. But nope, from the get-go it’s pretty heavily implied that not only is Quaritch Spider’s biological father, but that they’re both aware of this. So. Yeah, that was certainly a surprise.

-Kiri “I would rather drink acid than have Norm be my biological father” good gracious girl! like I mean yes the idea that Norm and Grace were secretly hookin’ up is obviously preposterous, but what did Norm ever do to you to deserve that reaction ^^; haha

-I mentioned in my High Ground post the three primary theories on Kiri’s origins. Having now seen the movie, I now think the mystical-Eywa-conception theory is by far the most likely. However, canonically it still remains a mystery/up to interpretation. Perhaps we’ll get more answers in movie 3...

-Y’know what, vulgarity is not typically my type of humor, but Lo’ak flippin’ Quaritch the double bird when asked to let him see his fingers did get a chuckle out of me hrh

-hey um yo the Metkayina kids were absolute JERKS, what the heck?? like good golly heckin’ rude. Except for Tsireya she’s chill I like her :)

-Personally I don’t think the story of this movie is a total rehash of the first one overall, but I can very mostly definitely see how people would consider it so. There were several lines in two scenes in particular, the one where the Sullies arrive at the Metkayina clan and the one with the tulkun hunters, that were just soooooo similar to lines from the first movie, not quite verbatim but certainly awkwardly close. I can absolutely see this becoming a common complaint from internet critics.

-Tuk pretty much solely exists to make the audience go d’awwwww!!, and y’know what, that’s ok because boy did she succeed :’)

-unfortunately, Quaritch’s ikran has by far the coolest design of all the ikrans, like bruh that color palette is heckin’ dope. what a shame ur now stuck with this jerk lol. Though I did snicker at Quaritch feeling the need to bond with the ikran “the hard way” solely because he couldn’t stand to be outdone by Jake lol

-I liked Lo’ak and Payakan’s friendship, it was very sweet. Also very interesting design-wise that a tulkun’s queue is in his mouth, and that the mouth has more of those bioluminescent patterns on the inside.

-The fact that the tulkun hunters are 100% aware that the species they’re hunting is fully sapient feels very ick to me. Sir that’s...that’s murder. Good gracious. and um “tulkun brain juice stops human aging” wh...what?? can uh...can we get some more explanation on that??? like is that gonna be somehow relevant to later movies or is it just some arbitrary thing to make the brain juice valuable, valuable enough to attempt to justify murder idk but uh....yyyyyyeah 😬

-minor thing, but I was surprised that the swimming baby from the trailer was, in fact, not Ronal’s. In fact, we never actually meet Ronal’s baby, which, again, surprised me. Why make her pregnant if we don’t get to see the baby, it feels kinda random ^^; to link her to her spirit tulkun who just had a calf I guess?? idk. once again, maybe it’ll become more relevant in movie 3.

-until proven otherwise, I am heretofore declaring that final “a son for a son” line to be Spider’s official adoption into the Sully family 😭😭😭

anyways, I guess that’ll do for now. I’m sure there was other stuff but I’ve been sitting here typing for over an hour already. Perhaps later I’ll come back with more comments, idk. I’ll be seeing the movie again next week with the rest of my family, so maybe I’ll notice different things/remember stuff that got swallowed up in the feels. Will I cry more than I did on my first viewing because I’m gonna try not to go in dehydrated again, or less because by then I’ll have had a week to process and accept everything? I have literally no idea. Guess we’ll have to just wait and see...

[careful-wish]

I know that Eddie had to die bc plot reasons yada yada

But they could have done that in season 5. We had so many deaths deaths in 4 (tho Max did end up living). The stakes are higher in season 5 and having a beloved character die halfway through would have had such an emotional impact

But also Eddie and Argyle not being included in season 5 with the other older kids feel like a joke, especially Argyle.

Nancy is the only one of the older teens (now young adults) to have a real close friendship with someone (Barb). Could probably argue Eddie too bc of Gareth, Jeff, and that other guy in Hellfire but they're younger than him so Idk how long they've been friends or how close they actually are.

In s4, though it's through super unlikely circumstances, Eddie does develop friendships with Steve, Nancy, and Robin. Probably, he already has had some interaction with Robin and Jonathan in the past due to the fact all three were considered weirdos or freaks (Jonathan was The School Freak(tm)) but he had no interaction with Jonathan this season.

Jonathan after being apart from Nancy for a few months then meets Argyle and they become pretty close mates, weed aside. Jonathan finally has someone he can talk to and open up to, and you can tell Argyle genuinely does care for Jonathan and is a LITERAL ride-or-die for him.

Why, WHY did they take Eddie and Argyle away? Yeah, we get the monster-hunting trio back in s5 along with Robin and Vickie in the group, but why'd they take Argyle away? He is also wanted by the government and knows everything. We're just going back to Jonathan having no friends, Nancy really having to confront what happened to Barb, and only Steve having a best mate? Why does Steve get to keep his best friend and Jonathan doesn't?

Also, the group would have been a little bigger than the Party but the dynamics and just absolute chaos would have been amazing.

Steve realising he is absolutely outnumbered by nerds and that he is not the leader, that role goes to Nancy and her babygurl Jonathan.

Vickie being introduced in a group that has several very loud ppl (Steve, Argyle, Robin), joins them immediately and Jonathan goes insane bc the four chatter like kookaburras at three am.

Nancy insisting they need to be discreet and Argyle explaining that while yeah, having an all black van would be cool but bad guys have those too and they would blend in better with a pizza van bc "Who would question the pizza man, Wheeler?"

Eddie secretly having tons of respect for Jonathan and nearly falls over himself trying to make up for the fact he tried to push another guy at Jonathan's girlfriend. Also develops similar respect for Nancy and feels guilty after seeing how happy Nancy is with Jonathan, and also realising it was never his, Robin, Steve, or anyone else's decision what Nancy does or who she wants to be with, it's all her.

Vickie learning about everything but still not knowing the kids very well and fellow newcomer Argyle is like "Idk about the others but Little Byers and Wheelie-boy are good, and of course our amazing super-powered little friend"

Steve discreetly being a terrible wingman for Robin without accidentally outing her. She comes out to Nancy first, then Argyle on accident after they have a weed sesh ("You're good, Batman's sidekick, boobies are great"), and of course ends up with Vickie.

Mike being the one of the Party Vickie ends up bonding with the most, mainly so they can make fun of Steve together but also other reasons

Anyway, we were robbed of these seven chaos nerds being a group together.

And if Eddie were to die halfway through, the turmoil. Dies similar to s4, Dustin is there, but it not only affects Dustin and Hellfire, but the other six he'd started becoming close with.

[deaf-solitude]

can i request platonic frenchie&reader where they run scams or heists together? reader can be g/n!

(A/N: Of course! :D So sorry for the delay, I’ve been dealing with a lot these past months and trying to get out of writer's block. I may have gotten… a little off topic and carried away but I meannnn… I had a vision and I ran with it. I hope it didn't come off as romantic due to some dance scenes. Hope you enjoy! <3 (also season 2 RAHHHHHH!!! I’m staying up to date with the episodes as soon as they come out, so feel free to submit requests for season 2 stuff as well!) also this starts in third person, but is written in 2nd person afterwards!)

Pairing: Platonic Frenchie x Gender Neutral! Reader

Word Count: 3.5k

Warnings: None (aside from rich people ugh). Very fluffy :]

Summary: You and Frenchie snuck into a fancy party to rob some rich people, as one does. The night was going so very smoothly, and you both racked up quite the haul for the night. A bit of trouble arose as you were trying to leave, but there's nothing you can't... dance your way out of?

“Hey, get back here!” A voice shouted from somewhere in the crowded ballroom, but it was only met with giggles and hushed exclamations as two figures rushed away from the fancy Englishman. A few other posh citizens were shoved to the side as they ran, causing them to let out offended gasps and surprised shouts, but that didn’t deter the pair from making their getaway.

“Go, go, go!” One of the two encouraged, pushing the man in front of them around a corner to get away from any pursuers they may have picked up. The two yelped as they turned the corner, coming face to face with a taller, burlier man. He… did not look pleased. The thief behind their male counterpart suddenly launched forward, grabbing his hand and dragging him down another hallway. He stumbled slightly from the abrupt movement, but quickly regained his footing and kept pace with them.

They could hear the larger man giving chase behind them, spurring them to run faster. Through many narrow hallways and past many closed doors (which they didn’t dare test to see if any of them were locked or not), the two finally saw a break as they turned a corner: an ajar door. They charged through the doorway and nearly crashed into the wall opposing it, but scrambled to quietly shut the door behind them anyway. The space was small, almost too small for the both of them, and they were forced to painfully squish together.

They covered each other’s mouths with their hands as they heard the hurried footsteps of their pursuer, lying in wait as they approached and then passed their hiding place. They could hear each other's racing heartbeats in their ears from the close proximity, waiting at least a minute more before even considering moving. Slowly, they exchanged wide-eyed glances before breaking down into quiet laughter.

“Up top!” You exclaimed through laboured breaths, struggling to free your arm before holding one of your hands up toward Frenchie. He grinned and enthusiastically gave you a high five, doing a little fist pump right after. You giggled quietly at his action, covering your mouth with your hand. 

“You got the goods?” Frenchie questioned eagerly, to which you procured a decent sized pouch from behind your back, its contents jingling around as it moved. 

“I sure do,” you responded with a mischievous grin, shaking the pouch slightly before tucking it back behind your back, straightening up a bit–or, as much as you could in the small space. “Now let’s get the fuck outta here, yeah?” You proposed, gesturing the best you could to the small closet the two of you were still standing in.

Frenchie nodded, “right, right.” He leaned forwards to slowly open the closet door, carefully peeking his head out to scan the hallway. Empty. He withdrew his head and gave you a thumbs up, indicating the coast was clear, before shoving his hands in the small, intricate satchel tied around his waist, trying to look for something. He fished out two masquerade-esque masks with a flourish a few moments later, the masks similar to the ones some of the other guests were wearing, but a little more crude due to the materials Frenchie had on hand when making them. “Our disguises,” he announced, handing the one over to you that matched your outfit’s theme and colours.

“Oooo, very nice,” you complimented, taking the mask offered to you gently. It covered a little more of your face than a normal mask would, and yours had some beautiful feathers fanning out from one side, no doubt stolen from that rich man’s ship that Blackbeard’s crew had raided earlier. “You sure these masks will be enough to stop people from recognizing us? Or rather, the blokes that were chasing us earlier?” You questioned as you fastened the mask to your face, adjusting the string holding it in place so it wouldn’t slip.

“Oh yeah, a hundred percent. We’ll be out of here in no time.” Frenchie reassured, waving a dismissing hand at you as he fumbled to put his own mask on. You nodded at Frenchie’s words, choosing to believe him rather than fret over the fact that the masks would definitely not conceal your identities well enough, but you supposed you would cross that bridge when you got to it.

Within a few more moments, you were both ready to go, checking that the hallway was clear once more before exiting the cramped closet. You made quick work of navigating the halls the two of you had just been running down, making your way back to the main area. There was only one problem that stood between you and your escape: you had to make your way back through the crowded ballroom, where you had both stolen several valuables from several different people. You found yourself standing in front of that very room before long, pausing in one of the extravagant arches that led into it. It was still as packed as ever, and the band set up in the corner of the room were still playing their baroque music.

“Ugh, this is going to be terrible,” Frenchie groaned, already shivering in discomfort from the thought of having to get through this room in a non suspicious manner, which most likely called for some interaction with these upper class snobs. You also found yourself shuffling your feet anxiously, your mind already jumping to find other solutions. 

“Uh, maybe there’s a way around…?” You had begun to move away from the busy room when suddenly you were taken by the arm and pulled in another direction. Your head snapped to the side to see a posh Englishwoman had hooked her arm with yours, a tight smile on her face. “Oh, darling, I love the embroidery on your outfit! Wherever did you get it?” She gawked, eyeing you –an unsuspected thief– up and down.

You were quick to put up a bashful facade, giving the woman a coy smile in return, but you couldn’t shake the nervous twinge in your body language. “Ah, this old thing?” You waved a hand at her, straightening up a bit, “I’m afraid it’s handmade by a friend of mine, a gift to me. They don’t take clients, unfortunately.” Of course, you were lying through your teeth: this ‘friend’ of yours was actually that wealthy man that had been robbed earlier that day, who had an odd amount of fancy outfits aboard his ship. He was dead now, courtesy of Izzy. You supposed the outfit counted as a gift, along with the feathers adorning your mask.

“Oh, please, you must put in a good word for me! Their work is simply exquisite!” The woman pleaded, holding both of your arms now. You chuckled nervously, trying to wrench yourself from the woman’s uncomfortably tight hold.

“Of course, of course! I’ll be, uh, sure to do that!” You responded hastily, your gaze flicking to the side to meet Frenchie’s, but instead found that he was missing from where you were just standing next to him. Your eyes widened in panic, beginning to search the rest of the room for your companion. Luckily, it didn’t take long for you to catch a glimpse of him again, the poor man also being dragged away and crowded around by some posh couple. 

Shit, you cursed inwardly, excusing yourself from the Englishwoman as you began to make your way over to Frenchie again. You nearly groaned as yet another person intercepted your path, talking your ear off about some party gossip you couldn’t be bothered to pay attention to at the moment, only responding in hums and nods as you kept your eye on Frenchie. Eventually, he turned and met your gaze with a distraught expression, a frown tugging at his lips.

At that moment, a new song started up, and all of the partygoers suddenly perked up and started to cheer, seemingly getting into… pairs? Oh. OH. Your heart dropped into your stomach, realizing that people were starting to dance. Unfortunately for you, it seemed as though the crowd was pulling in any dance partner they could find, which included onlookers. You looked back to Frenchie with a panicked look–you were never confident in your ability to dance. He gave you an empathetic look, shrugging before being pulled away by a tipsy woman who was far too giggly for his liking.

“Out of all the fucking times,” You grumbled to yourself, your fists clenching at your sides in annoyance and slight nervousness. A tap on your shoulder had you whirling around, your posture stiff as you stared at the masked woman who had wanted your attention.

“Oh hun, you seem awfully lonely. It’d be a shame if you missed out on all the fun,” she purred, holding out a hand. You hesitated, trying to ease the tension in your voice and body by clearing your throat as you scratched the back of your neck.

“Oh, I don’t know… I’m not the best dancer,” you explained, but your hand was grabbed by the woman anyway. You were startled at first, every muscle in your body screaming to pull away from the unfamiliar woman, but fuck it, causing a scene was the last thing you needed right now.

“That’s quite alright, just follow my lead,” the woman responded quietly, unnaturally kind for someone of her stature. You nodded without a word, letting the woman take the lead in a more relaxed step pattern. It was easier to get into the flow than you thought, and after a bit of stumbling, you were following the woman’s movements effortlessly. She smiled up at you, pulling you a bit closer. “See? You’re a natural.”

You barked a laugh and dare you say, although the woman’s proximity was a bit worrisome, you found yourself having a bit of fun. You couldn’t remember the last time you actually enjoyed dancing without making yourself look like a fool. “I wouldn’t say a natural,” you responded casually, your gaze wandering to inspect the rest of the ballroom, looking for a way out despite the fun of it. That’s when you spotted your counterpart a few feet away, trying his damndest to keep up with an overly eager damsel. You suppressed a laugh, lest you make your own dance partner suspicious, and took the lead to slowly make your way over to him.

“Fancy seeing you here,” You smirked as you passed Frenchie on the dance floor, bumping your hip into his as you spun your dance partner away from yourself for a moment. Frenchie, taken off guard for a second, chuckled at the action and was grinning at your unusual confidence, but was pulled away by his own dance partner before he could get a word in. The interaction left a giddy smile on your face, even as your dance partner came spinning back into your arms.

After another minute or so, the song picked up the pace and suddenly everyone was switching dance partners. Despite her friendly attitude, you still couldn’t help slipping off the gold rings around the woman’s fingers as the two of you parted, discreetly pocketing them with a smug smile. You half-bowed to her as you scurried off, hoping she wouldn’t notice the small accessories missing anytime soon.

You tried picking out Frenchie in the crowd as everyone mingled again, but were unable to before a man approached you with unmistakable, arrogant confidence. “Why, hello there,” he greeted, his voice nasally and annoying as he grabbed your arm and pulled you much too close to him, “may I have this dance with you?”

You exhaled sharply through your nose, trying your best to keep your smile from slipping as you eyed the exit, still having half the room to traverse. You turn your attention back to the man in front of you, eying him up and down with a feigned look of coyness. “I suppose,” you trailed off, fighting hard to bite back any snarky remarks or pointed looks. As he took your hand and started to lead you in dance, however, you couldn’t stop yourself from stepping on his shiny shoes a few times… accidentally, of course.

You found yourself smiling, not because of the dancing, but from the pure enjoyment of toying with the man in front of you as he tried to remain polite, despite his lips twitching in annoyance. Another step on his foot nearly had him pushing you away from him, and you tried hard not to laugh. It came out as a stifled inhale, easily mistaken for a gasp. “Oh, I’m so sorry! I don’t know what’s gotten into me tonight,” you pouted up at the man, rolling your head to the side to rest it on your shoulder.

The man sighed heavily, but still managed to give you a strained smile as he pulled you close again. “Ah, it seems dancing just isn’t your forte,” he rudely commented, his hand trailing up to your face and towards your mask, “maybe we should just cut to the chase, hm? See that pretty face of yours?” 

Your facade broke instantly, reflexes almost lightning-quick as you seized the man’s wrist in your hand, your breathing suddenly uneven with anger and surprise. You glared up at him as your lip pulled back into a scowl, but before you had the chance to spit any insults at him, everyone was changing partners again.

You swiped the jeweled bangle from his wrist in all the commotion before eagerly shoving the man away, who stumbled from the force. He was taken aback to see you flipping him off as you backed away from him, giving him a disgusted look. He didn’t have any time to take action against your sudden impertinence as another woman swooped in and begged for him to dance with her, but you still refused to turn your back on him as you continued walking backwards.

That is, until you inevitably backed into someone. 

You whipped around, agitated and ready to snap at whoever had gotten in your way, but your expression and posture immediately softened when you saw who it was. “Hey! Thought I lost you for good for a second there!” Frenchie exclaimed, smiling brightly at you. It was contagious, really, and you found yourself smiling along with him.

“Yeah, it’s easy to get caught up with the crowd in here,” you chuckled, tension leaving your body with every second spent being in Frenchie’s presence. You don’t know what you would’ve done if you had to spend one more second mingling with these upper class gits.

“Tell me about it! I never knew these snobs could be so energetic,” he admitted with a sigh, and now you could see the exhaustion that had begun to slow his movements down. You hummed in response, your eyes flicking to the side as you caught an Englishwoman approaching the two of you in your peripheral vision. You were quick to grab Frenchie’s hands in response, pulling him in the opposite direction and easily transitioning into a slower dance in order to prevent the two of you from getting dragged apart again. He let out a small yelp of surprise from the action, but didn’t pull away or protest as you guided him away from any prying hands. 

You were both silent for a moment while you focused on getting into the rhythm, but before long, you had looked up and made eye contact with him, causing the two of you to burst out into stifled laughter; laughter from the absolute insanity of your situation. “You’re not a bad dancer, if I do say so myself,” Frenchie grinned, promptly stepping on your foot and immediately gasping out an apology as he did. You winced a bit, but laughed it off when you caught sight of his guilty expression, his lip pouted as it usually was.

“Thank you! It doesn’t seem you’ve gotten the hang of it though, eh?” You joked, continuing to lead him in the half-ballroom style the majority of the partygoers had adopted. It was so easy with Frenchie, despite his slightly messy footwork: easier than it had been with the first woman you danced with.

“Oh, fuck off, will you?” Frenchie retorted, smacking your arm lightly. A warm laugh bubbled up from your chest again, and you were unable to fight the bright smile that stretched across your face. You debated spinning Frenchie away from you for his little comment, but when you went to see if there was room behind him for the maneuver, you paused very suddenly and caused Frenchie to stumble.

“Wh-? What’d you do that for?” He whined, following your gaze as he looked over his shoulder. You were both suddenly frozen in place, realizing you had made it to the other side of the room with your antics. The two of you stared in disbelief for a moment, trying to figure out how you had even ended up here–if you even wanted to leave–before a loud shout resounded behind you: “There they are! Get them!” 

Dread filled both of you, slowly turning around to see the two men that were chasing you earlier, and then slowly turning to look at each other. The moment you made eye contact, you bolted forwards and out of the ballroom with the two men in tow again.

Through the marbled front foyer and out the grand double doors, you two left the beach-side building sprinting, laughing and shouting as the men tried to give chase behind you. You both stumbled onto the beach, Frenchie momentarily losing his footing in the soft sand before you pulled him back up to his feet and continued running. The cool ocean breeze was like heaven on your skin, cooling you down from the stuffy interior of that stupid ballroom.

When you reached the rocky shoreline, Frenchie almost leapt into the rowboat hidden behind a larger formation of rocks, despite the men having stopped chasing as you ran onto the beach. You were both still giggling at the whole interaction, not even noticing that the bottom of your outfit was getting wet as you clumsily pushed the rowboat out and hopped in yourself.

You both lay in the small dinghy for a moment, exhausted but entertained, as you attempted to catch your breath. “Fuckin’ mental,” you mumbled, leaning your head back and over the side of the rowboat. Frenchie hummed quietly in response, and when you sat up to look at him, he looked like he was on the verge of passing out; his eyes were firmly shut and his limbs splayed out across some of the benches, but his lips were still slanted upwards in a small, soft smile.

You shook your head with a light chuckle, taking off your mask and fully sitting up, adjusting your position so you could start paddling back to the Revenge, which was anchored a little ways off the coast. It was late now: the sun had begun to dip below the horizon line and painted everything in a brilliant orange light. Backdropped against the fading sun, the Revenge looked even more magnificent than usual.

Frenchie called your name quietly, and your eyes moved back to him to see that he had straightened up a bit and his mask had been removed as well. “Pass the bag here, yeah?” He mumbled, his movements sluggish as he extended a hand out with a grabbing motion. You snickered and stopped rowing for a moment, reaching your hand behind your back to untie the bag from your belt. In a few moments, the small bag was in Frenchie’s hands, and he was eagerly digging through it like a kid on Christmas.

He went through the pouch of assorted jewelry, pulling out a few different accessories to examine before dumping them back in. There was a surplus of pearl necklaces, of which he promptly ignored. Finally, he caught a glimpse of a bejeweled necklace and pulled it from the bag, studying it carefully in his hands. The gems that adorned the necklace were bright and beautifully cut, reflecting the orange light of the sunset in every which way.

It wasn’t long before he lifted the necklace up to his neck and made some smug expression, turning his nose up in an exaggerated manner. “Why, I can’t believe you’d disrespect me so!” Frenchie croaked, his voice a bit hoarse as he strained to talk in an octave above his usual tone. “Do you not know who I am? I am Zippery Von Sweets the sixth! I-”

You had already been fighting laughter for the entirety of his impression, but as soon as he had uttered that ridiculous name, you cut the rest of his impression off and started cackling. Watching you doubling over, Frenchie joined in soon thereafter and threw his head back as you both laughed, the action rocking the boat slightly.

To say tonight was a success would be an understatement.

End. <3

[respectthepetty]

hi!! i can’t stop thinking about your wild-ass theory about saifah and how it feels like you’ve predicted the whole dang plot!

im thinking next episode is gonna be mostly happy and fluffy with a bit of angst about kang and his dad (otherwise you’d think they would’ve had the saifah getting arrested clip in the trailer for the episode). but then I reckon episode 9 is where shit’s gonna go DOWN (although it might also be episode 10, but it feels like there’s several subplots that’re gonna happen and they’re gonna need as many episodes as possible to unpack them while still having a satisfying ending)

anyway this isn’t really saying anything, I just wanted to tell you how much I LOVE your theories and reading your posts, and I also love dangerous romance this series is so good, it very very quickly became my entire personality and I can’t stop rewatching it hehe

BUT YEAH, I LOVE YOU HAVE A GREAT DAY YOURE AWESOME FJEKEIFJEJEJFIEJE

Wild Ass Theory Update

@quodekash, because this is you giving me a compliment and me blushing from it, I'm giving you everything that has been stuck in my head over the past couple of weeks.

TLWR: Episode 8/9 - Kanghan is going to throw a tantrum about his dad paying for him to get on the team, spend all his dad's money on Sailom on a trip, and sleep with him, only to return home and see that his dad has been shot and Saifah had something to do with it causing him to question everything about Sailom.

Thank you very much for saying that you love my theories, and that I'm awesome, but I appreciate even more that you LOVE Dangerous Romance.

Because I, too, love it. An unreasonable amount, in fact. It makes me so happy even though I know some pain is headed our way.

And much like you, I think that pain is coming in episode 9. Now that Saifah is in Kang's house, we might see some warning signs in episode 8 in the shape of this beautiful giant red flag.

I feel more than confident that Papang is capable of stealing, but I don't think he has it in him to rob an employer's home or shoot someone, which is also a part of my theory (let the dad get shot, please!), so Name has to be involved!

But that's partly why I love this show. It has done a good job giving us crumbs along the way about what is to come, which is why I don't feel like it's a wild ass theory because I think Saifah does feel some type of way about Name enough to help him with a dumb plan.

Because even Kang's dad paying for Kang to get on the soccer team was implanted into the story well.

Since we knew from the first episode that he regularly donates money to the school for students, so it wouldn't seem out of the norm for some of that money to benefit his child as well.

Even Pimfah's crush on Sailom seemed written in stone to me from the first episode when the dog discussion came up since she stood firmly on the "show the dog love" side then continued to show Sailom love while Kang is in the "punish the dog" boat.

So, once again, I think the show has done a great job telling us Saifah is going to be involved in robbing that house, even if it's as simple as letting the actual robbers in. But robbing the house doesn't seem enough to split the couple up, which is why I think someone has to get shot.

DON'T LET IT BE THE GRANDMA! It must be the dad.

The grandma has to be the one to convince Kang to trust himself and his love for Sailom, so he can believe Sailom had nothing to do with this plot, and that Saifah didn't intend for anyone to get hurt.

The dad has to be shot because there is still tension between him and Kanghan, AND wouldn't it be interesting if the robbery (and shooting) were less about "eat the rich" and more of the political backstabbing variation?

So with all that being written, I think the robbery will happen either at the end of episode eight or the beginning of episode nine IF Kanghan finds out early in the episode that his dad paid for him to get on the team since Pimfah is going to drop this line in eight.

Would really suck for Kanghan to be focused and on the right path only for his last parent to get shot, and him be lost all over again, no? Would be awful for Kang to find out his dad paid his way onto the team, be pissed off about it, throw a tantrum, and use up all his money on a trip with Sailom where he tells him how much he loves him . . .

Spend the night with Sailom (possibly their first time together) telling him how much he appreciates Sailom for believing in him like the best version of a BL honeymoon

Only to return home and see his dad has been shot and think Sailom had something to do with it since Saifah is being arrested.

Kanghan will push Sailom away from guilt of being upset at his father who is now in the hospital and confusion of his feelings for Sailom, which means Sailom is going to have to start escorting again to make ends meet because Name is NOT in jail and still in charge of debts (10?)

Then Kanghan is going to assault Sailom. (10?)

The grandma is gonna be like "IDIOT!" and Kanghan is going to rescue Sailom (11?)

And Sailom is going to cry about having no one left, and Kanghan is going to be like "you still have me" (11?)

And then we get episode 12 where the real baddies go to jail.

*curtain closes*

The crumbs have been laid, and I'm following them all the way to grandma's house. Name x Saifah, don't just be my ghost ship.

Be the ship to cause some shit!