#Commit To The Bit AU

[jessicas-pi]

Comit to the bit? If you please

sorry this is like 2.5 months late ANNNYYWAY okay so I decided to write a "missing scene" based on the idea from this bit in chapter 1 about their stargazing 'dates'—

She gives Ezra an open invitation to crash in her room whenever they get back late, and when he offers to keep a pair of his sleepclothes in her room so he doesn’t have to borrow hers, she nods, and pretends that the thought of him keeping his things in her room doesn’t send her heart rattling away.

—my noticeable tendency towards writing nightmare-induced hurt/comfort scenes, the Secret Sketchbook Of Secrets running gag, and the fact that Hera has been a little bit Suspicious of them for a long time!

And it got really really long!

And I am not even a little bit sorry!

---

Ezra has been Sabine's best friend since about three months after he joined the crew.

That's not saying much, though. He had very, very little competition.

After they moved to a base full of people their age, and she got more friends, he started to fall down the list. He was her favorite crewmember, sure, and she spent most of her time with him, but if it came down to hanging out with him or hanging out with Jia or Chisica or Amika, she probably wouldn't have picked Ezra.

That's changed now.

Being his fake-girlfriend necessarily means they hang out more. They've taken to going on "stargazing dates," which are easy and don't take much planning. It's given them lots of time to talk, and it turns out, Sabine likes talking to him. Even when they don't talk about much at all.

One night, while they are staring up at the stars, he tells her about the constellations on Lothal. Another night, she describes her homeworld to him. Yet another night, he sings a song for her in a language she doesn't know—she asks what it is, and he says it's just a sappy dumb Lothalian folk song. But the melody is gentle and soothing, and though his voice is occasionally off-key, it's low and full in a way she wasn't expecting.

(She decides the tight flutter in her chest is because music has always had the tendency to stir her emotions.)

Regardless, Sabine is finding herself caught deeper and deeper in the strangely bewildering feeling of wanting to know Ezra more. Wanting to know him past the surface. Wanting to know his soul.

When it happens, it's not how she's expecting.

It happens in the early hours of the morning, after they've gone back to her room, and she's reverted the seating area under her upper bunk back into being the lower bunk, and they've gone through the slightly-less-awkward-each-time-they-do-it process of changing into pajamas in opposite corners of her room, and they've climbed into their separate bunks, and she turns out the light, and they both go to sleep. Sabine doesn't realize what it even is, at first, when she wakes up, blinking into the darkness, trying to figure out what roused her from the dreams she refuses to understand.

Then it comes back to her, what it was—a rasping, panicked sound from the bunk beneath her. It was half-sob and half-cry and all-fear.

Ezra.

Sabine is fully awake in an instant, kicking off her blanket and sitting up all the way.

"Ezra?" she asks. "You okay?"

"Yes," he whispers, from the bunk beneath.

Well, that settles it.

Sabine hops out of her bunk, landing softly on the cold durasteel floor. Fumbling in the darkness, she turns on the lights built into the lower bunk, on a dim setting.

He's half-sitting, crammed into the farthest corner, his knees curled up to his chest, huddled up like he's trying to take up as little space as possible. His face is dropped onto his knees and his fingers are clenched in his hair.

He startles as the sudden light, and one watery blue eye peeks out at her.

"You're a crappy liar," she tells him frankly.

"I'm fine," Ezra insists. "I just—need a minute. I—it's nothing."

"Good fake boyfriends don't lie to their fake girlfriends," she half-jokes, and climbs lightly onto the bunk, kneeling in front of him.

He turns his head away from her, hiding it back in his arms, and shudders out a sigh.

"Bad dream," he confesses.

She figured as much, and though she wants to know more, she doesn't want to push. "Do you... want to talk about it?"

Ezra hesitates long enough that she's about to change the subject to something lighthearted to cheer him up, but just before she can, he speaks.

"It was about Maul."

It's not a surprise. The Dathomir thing is fresh on both of their minds, she knows. So Sabine reaches out and gently pries his hands out of his own hair, holding them in both of hers and squeezing lightly.

"He's gone now," she tells him. "He's out of our lives, and he's never gonna bother you again."

She can see Ezra's face, but his eyes are still shut tight.

"I dreamed—he hurt you—you and Kanan and Hera and Zeb. I was so angry. And when I woke up, I—"

He falters, cringes, and goes on in a tiny whisper.

"I wanted the holocron. The Sith one."

Sabine says nothing. She just waits. His hands are hot and damp with sweat, and grip hers tightly as he keeps talking.

"I can't get rid of it," he whispers hoarsely. "It's like an itch in the back of my head, and I—"

He breaks off and goes nowhere, just sighs slowly.

Deliberately, Sabine pulls one of her hands away from his. He lets go, loosening his grip like he expects her to pull away entirely. Instead, she sits forward, reaching out and tousling her free hand into his hair, lightly scratching at the back of his head.

Then she stops and sits back. He's looked up at is staring at her in confusion, and she blinks her eyes innocently and asks, "Did I get it, or was it more to the left?"

The dumb joke seems to shock him out of whatever state he was in, and he actually laughs aloud. She shifts over to sit beside him, her legs kicked out to the side, and throws one arm around him in a half-hug, tugging him against her side in a rough, friendly way. He laughs again, shaking his head and breaking into a reluctant smile.

"You know, Ezra, I think you're kind of amazing," she tells him softly, then frowns and pulls her arm away from him. "And... also kind of damp."

He winces and mumbles an apology, but Sabine dismisses that with a pat on his arm.

"Must have been some bad dream," she says, not expecting or receiving an answer. "Do you want to change into a different shirt? You can borrow one of mine."

"Oh. Yeah, that might be nice," Ezra says, flashing her a grateful smile. "Thanks."

"Don't sweat it," she says, and he groans at the terrible pun. Swiveling in place, she swings her legs out of the bunk and hops up, moving quickly so she doesn't have to stand on the cold durasteel floor with her bare feet for long. She picks out one of her sleep-shirts—the biggest one, because though they're close to the same size, he's definitely broader in the shoulders than she is—and closes her drawer, turning back around.

"Here, I think this one should fit youuuu..."

She trails off, frozen in place. He stares back at her, equally frozen, equally wide-eyed, and equally red in the face.

While her back was turned, he'd pulled off his sweat-damp shirt, and he hadn't given her a bit of warning before she turned around.

Sabine is glad that she has some semblance of a verbal filter, because he has completely made her brain stall, and she barely stops herself from blurting out "Chances I could get you to pose for some anatomy studies?"

"Sorry!" he rushes out, finally jolting out of his frozen state. "I didn't think—"

"Do you ever?" she interrupts with an eye-roll, tossing the shirt at him and turning away. "Give a girl some warning next time!"

"Sorry," he mumbles again, and she hears him tug it over his head. "Okay, I'm decent now."

She grumbles jokingly about the situation as she goes back over and takes a seat on the lower bunk again, but drops the subject quickly, eager to think about something else.

"Feeling any better?" she asks.

He shrugs. "A little."

"You don't want to go back to sleep now?"

"I don't know if I can."

"That's okay." Sabine pulls her knees up to her chest and rests her chin on then, smiling at him. "We can just hang out, or whatever."

And they do. They hang out that whole night. They hang out, and they talk.

Little things, at first. Things that they've talked about before. And the things don't really get that much bigger, as the night wears on. In fact, they get littler.

They don't talk about their biggest traumas and their emotional scars. They talk about the smallest things in their worlds. She tells him about how she got kicked out of an art class when she was eight for headbutting her annoying classmates. He talks about how he had a stuffed Loth-cat toy that he used to carry around with him everywhere. Little details from their pasts. Little things now. Nothing big. Nothing important.

But maybe it is something important, because when he nods off and she climbs back up to her own bunk, she feels like she knows parts of him she never knew before. It almost scares her to know that now he knows new parts of her, too.

(Almost, but not quite, because she finds herself trusting him to hold her secrets as close as his own.)

It's because of this that Sabine wakes up feeling so happy, and she doesn't think anything can get her down. The fact that she and Ezra both overslept (and have a heck of a time sneaking him out of her room) and both end up eating breakfast with the others while still in their pajamas almost makes it better; it's almost like she was a normal girl who just had a sleepover with a friend.

Her buoyant mood lasts about half an hour, before Hera asks her for some help on the Ghost, pulls her aside, and—in the most concerned mom voice Sabine has ever heard from her—quietly tells Sabine that you know you can talk to me about anything going on, right?

"Yeah...?" Sabine says, utterly bewildered. "But—why? Nothing's going on."

Hera raises her eyebrow-marks at Sabine as if it should be obvious, but Sabine is just lost.

Finally, Hera crosses her arms.

"If nothing's going on, then how come I saw Ezra sneaking out of your room this morning?"

"Oh! That! I can expl—"

"And wearing your shirt?"

Sabine freezes, mouth open mid-word.

Think fast, think fast, think fast!

"Well—we were—he—he was—"

~~~

Sabine picks up her pace as she passes Ezra in the hallway, clearly trying to avoid eye contact and get past him as fast as possible.

Too bad for her, because he's just spent forty minutes searching the base for her to demand explanations, and he's not letting this chance go.

He snags her by the arm and whirls her around to face him, a little too hard. She bumps into his chest, and they both take a step back on instinct.

"Sabine—"

"I panicked!" she blurts out, not even giving him a chance to ask questions. "Hera saw you sneaking out this morning and I had to come up with some reason for you to be there—"

Ezra cuts her off frantically. He doesn't know how Zeb caught wind of what Sabine told Hera, but that purple menace has been having a field day with this information, and Ezra is at his limit right now. He's supposed to be the one in this fake relationship saying the dumb things, not her!

"And the best you could do—" he hisses, gesturing in exasperated mortification, "—was that I'm "posing for anatomy studies"?!"

Sabine flattens her mouth into a grim line of repressed embarrassment.

"I don't wanna talk about it," she says flatly.

[clingonlikeclingwrap]

Can I interest you in my stupid ass AU where Nan Feng and Fu Yao are like actual real deputy officials who are dependable and competent and often involuntary witnesses to way more than they would care to know about their generals’ private lives

Instead of being a straight up mini-Feng Xin and Mu Qing, I thought they should just be the ideal subordinate for each, and ended up with a Fu Yao who’s expressive, frank (shameless), and genuinely admires Mu Qing (bc otherwise that dumbass would be sooo paranoid about his loyalty); and a Nan Feng who’s studious, loyal, very proper, and a bit of a nagger (and to his neverending chagrin is forced to handle all the Ju Yang prayers). They’re also besties, friendly rivals, and severely overworked at all times

+

Awkward meeting

Trusted Advisors

[t00thpasteface]

SUPERSHARK!! 🦈👽

[cj-the-random-artist]

I let them get friendship married so Narinder can get his tax benefits lol

But legitimately. I mulled this one over repeatedly for literal months. Like. Do I want them to get married in front of the cult? Should they even get married? It would be hilarious if the Goat married them and then cried at the altar the whole time, but also... that doesn't feel right, so maybe I won't do that. And then once I decided it should be a personal friendship-marriage ritual where it's just the pair of them making vows to each other, I wrote four different scripts and hated them all and ended up just pulling this one out of thin air pretty much on the spot and that was that. At one point, I wanted Lambert to basically suggest this idea and then have them get friend-married on the spot, but that didn't feel right (and it was also gonna be unreasonably long) so that's why there's no context going into this one. And the actual friend-marriage ritual is... maybe not the best designed one ever? I wanted it to in some ways be similar to like, the way I imagine a romantic marriage happening in the cult- the parties exchange vows and do rings and stuff...? (If it's not obvious, I haven't been to many weddings...) But I figured they wouldn't want an audience, or to party with the whole cult afterwards, or anything like that. I also had them kiss each other's rings as opposed to like... faces... because one of the fights I had with myself in deciding how I would want this to go was whether it would make sense for them to kiss or not. And I ultimately decided that in this AU at least they just wouldn't want to. They're also wearing the rings on their not ring fingers cuz. Honestly it just felt right that way. Based on vibes. But basically I just wanted them to exchange a vow of eternal partnership in a very casual, chill setting, because I don't picture QPR AU Narilamb doing... anything other than that.

Also this is the rest of Lambert's office, which I actually had a pretty clear vision for after my last doodle but I didn't really bother to draw before starting this comic. Maybe I should've but eh it looks good enough. Interior backgrounds are hard......

Anyways. I think I'm happy with this one? I was enamored by the concept of a chill friendship marriage, so I definitely leaned into it here. As per usual, it's not perfect, I think I could've done a lot of stuff better / differently, but honestly?? If I were to ever get friend-married I would want it to go about like this, it makes my little aroace heart happy, and I spent too long on it to not show it to anybody. Thus. Enjoy, and also happy new year cuz I totally forgot to make a post individually about that...

[muffinlance]

The feral cat gator of a 13 year old freshly scarred Zuko being forcibly adopted by the foggy swamp tribe! Bonus points if they willfully ignore the fact he's a firebender and treat him as a very strange waterbender bending-wise

It was Earth Kingdom ships that drove the metal one onto the reefs, so when the little thing came crawling up through the marsh spitting and hissing and dressed in red, they knew it weren’t no earthbender. No matter how much mud it had tripped in, trying to find where the ground stopped sucking at its feet.

“Wow-ee,” said Old Earl, “that sure is one way of keepin’ off the ‘squito-chiggers.”

And they all watched from Big Earl’s porch, sitting or rocking, as them bugs came for the all-you-can-eat and ended up on the bar-b-que.

“Sure is some weird bending,” said Little Earl, who was taller than Big Earl, but when they'd been twelve and they’d wrestled for the title it hadn't been Little Earl who’d won.

The little thing looked maybe twelve, too. And he was little little. But he had that same look like he was going to shove someone’s face in the mud until they said otherwise, as he stood there all panting and dripping and just realizing they’d been watching him this whole time.

“It’s firebending,” the one-kid mud-wrestler said, as bugs kept pop-snapping into flames around him.

Old Earl cupped a hand over his ear, like he couldn’t hear. And he kept doing it, while the kid got louder and louder about that bending of his, but quieter and quieter about looking at them like they were his next bugs.

“Oh, firebending,” Old Earl said, nodding like he’d only just got it, when the kid had stomped straight up to his chair. “Right, right, Old Jane’s got fire-water-bending, too. Why don’t you take him to her, boys.”

“It’s not-- ugh,” shouted the kid, but maybe he only had the one volume. Certainly only had the one volume for stomping, even though stomping was what got a fellow’s shoes shoved down so deep in the mud they’d be seeing them again as mole-shrimp hats. Not that the kid had shoes. Neither did Earl, Earl, or Earl. ‘Cept for Fancy Earl, but he’d gone off to Ba-Singing-Se, to be fancy.

Anyway, Old Jane was the best at turning anything and everything into fire water, which was the kind of thing a fellow called his or her liquor when they wanted fancy folk to keep right on walking. Was really good for making shouty little firebrands take their naps, too, which let Old Jane get her glowing mitts all over that fresh burn of his. And the love-bites from the shark-wrasses that had probably been half the reason the kid had come a-shore all a-shouting in the first place.

“Nope,” diagnosed Old Jane, when the kid woke back up. “That’s just how he talks. Mother was a screamer-bird, I’d say.”

“You take that back about my mother,” screamed their screamer-bird, who had pretty good hearing for someone who’s ear had lost the same fight as his eye. Anyway, Old Jane had done the best she could about both, and nothing was on fire that shouldn’t be, and she had that extra quilt she’d been working on that needed a body under it

And the waves and the shark-wrasses had all the rest of the kid’s crew

So sure enough they set their little screamer-bird up with a nest and let him cry loud as he wanted.

Anyway, if there was one thing Earl Earl Earl and Jane knew, it was how to make a joke so good the other person didn’t even know it were a joke.

“Firebending,” their little fledgling shouted, and waved his arms around, like all that fire pointed at no one was going to get them startled off.

“A-yep,” nodded Old Earl. “That there is some fire-water-bending. Just like Old Jane.”

Old Jane wasn’t the kind of gal who showed off, but she wasn’t the kind who missed no cue, either. She swirled a lick o’ liquor out of her latest barrel and twirled it ‘round and straight into her mouth, and when she spit it out, it looked so much like the little bird’s breath-o’-fire that he didn’t even notice the spark rocks she kept on her fingers as jewelry. No one did, ‘til they’d seen the trick a few times.

The kid’s mouth hung open so low and so long, a moth-tick flew in. That was some kind of life lesson, that was. The swamp was good at sending those.

The Earth Kingdom sent troops a-stompin’ through, losing boots and scaring catigators out of their sunning spots left and right, askin’ all rumbly about those fires they’d spotted, and if anyone from that shipwreck had made it on shore, and talkin’ about how there’d be money in it for them if they made that last answer a “yes,” sounding like Fancy Earl and all his talk about commerce and living standards.

“Got a few parts of them ship people in the lagoon,” Big Earl said. “Probably still floatin’ if you want ‘em. But we better bring the shrimp-minnow nets, ‘cuase they’ll just slosh on through the turtle-sturgeon ones.”

“...No thank you,” the head stomper said, like sayin’ polite words made a fellow a polite man. He’d tracked those boots of his right up onto their porch without so much as a scuff on their mud rug. Even the kid had used the mud rug. “And the fire?”

“Oh,” said Little Earl, with a grin, “that was Old Jane.”

And she did her trick again, only less tricky, so they could see the spark rocks real good. “You boys want some fire water?” she offered. “It ain’t blinded no one who wasn’t already headed that way.”

They didn’t want any, which was grand, ‘cause she hadn’t really been offering.

When the last of them had gone stomping off back to the kind of land that let people stomp it, it took them two whole hours to lure out the catigators from under the porch. And their little screamer bird, too.

“...Why didn’t you turn me in?”

“What?” asked Old Earl, cupping his ear.

“Why—”

“What?”

“—didn’t—”

“WHAT?”

“—you—”

“Speak up, boy,” Old Earl said. “I never heard such a quiet child.”

And boy, did that set their bird back to singing.

[shepscapades]

[dbhc flavored] Hermit a Day May: Day 31 — Ren!

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

I won't let you go again.

(Timeskip follow up for the MDZS Homestuck AU)

[methoughtsphantom]

Danny fake guardian angel au

You know how sometimes it’s highlighted how you have to be very careful on what you say in the presence of a spirit because they can twist your words and end up bidding yourself to it?? well uno-reverse-card the spirit also has to be careful on what he says because when Danny had said he owed the dude one for coming to his rescue in a gala Vlad had dragged him to, he didn’t expect that to be taken literally.

danny: wait seriously?? i literally say that all the time!

cw: not after being crowned ghost king, you haven’t

danny: but—but I was also human when I said it. doesn’t that protect me or smth

cw: *shakes his head*

danny:

danny: omg this is a nightmare

cue timmy’s brucequest period (cuz he’s the guy) being so high strung and tired, he just wants some company, which is a so low stakes thing to want the deal Danny unintentionally goes sure we can do that and pulls him towards the guy, despite Timmy never outright saying he wants company. (tim always speaks in the sanctity of his own mind, not out loud)

So. random spirit manifesting. Tim going all who the fuck are u

and Danny panicking and saying your guardian angel

Tim not being impressed while Danny promptly blushes like a moron because that did not come off as he wanted it to.

Yes accidental dead tired where the dynamic goes from Tim trying to shake this probably demon that somehow latched to him being all like ??? dude leave me alone, and Danny being there like bitch i’m trying

to

huh. im actually being protected by a spirit like he said he would. he’s strangely an idiot but also he’s overpowered and just never leaves my side which he says it’s an angel obligation but I think it’s bullshit but also hoping it’s not because it appeals to my crippling fear of abandonment (anyways he really seems to take after those little cartoon angels that poof into your shoulder to keep from me doing wrong decisions) translate into my future boyfriend seems increasingly appalled to what i am up to

meanwhile danny

Bitch you better thank your god I’m dead because otherwise I would already been killed. I did not sign up for a assassins what the fuck I thought you were a normal civilian not a literal superhero and omg that is a fruitloop. no no back off you wrinkly raisin this is my emotional support idiot you can’t have him and what do you mean you’re messing with time whatever this way I can get back to clockwork—

[garbagewith-a-cherryontop]

Do gothamites know about the Waynes’ weird cat? Like I feel like with the fact that people go to their house for Gala’s there’s a big chance of at the very least rich socialites running into Snitches. Idk how you picture Danny but I can imagine him just pranking random rich people at a Gala held at Wayne manor.

Like at first the Waynes try to keep him in a certain part of the house but they look away for a literal second and he’s just, gone. Meanwhile elsewhere in the manor some poor unfortunate, unprepared soul is having an Encounter with a capital E while looking for the bathroom.

'News About The Waynes' New Demon Cat' has definitely showed up in the headlines more than once, what with Steph regularly terrorizing the local Cat Lovers Community. Those that arn't busy questioning Vicki Vales' sanity either think it's all a very alaborate (and weirdly specific joke), or they full heartedly belive it. Gotham's already weird, a demon cat or two is to be excepted at this point.

Pets arn't allowed at Galas, so very few people have actually seen Snitches in person. Though not for a lack of trying on Dannys' part.

The first ever Gala hosted with Snitches in the manor ended with at least half the guests needing therapy. And Bruce had to bribe the press into blaming it all on fear toxin. (Scarecrow was very confused by the sudden spike in notoriety but he wasn't complaining.) Now there is at least one person keeping an eye on Snitches at all times whenever there's a sosial gathering. Not that it helps. All you have to do is blink and the damn thing vanishes.

Witnessing a Wayne jogging out of the room, holding a partly hairless cat, is almost expected at this point.

Whoever Danny decides to terrorize is mostly random. Tripping people, walking through solid objects with only one witness, eating off of plates while invisible. Anything that will make them look suspiciously at their drinks and than discreetly pour the rest out into a vase or potted plant.

Old creeps on the other hand... as well as young creeps, nosy reporters, assholes, or just anyone who acts/looks a bit too much like Vlad don't leave the Gala unscathed. Bit in the ankle, clawed in the face, tumbled down the stairs, saw something unspeakable in the bathroom that wasn't just their own bland reflection, the list goes on.

People don't go looking for the bathrooms anymore. And on more than one occasion has someone brought a priest as their plus one. Some have even tried handing Bruce the business cards/phone numbers of exorcists or others within the occult who can help. In fact, Steph has started collecting them! It's Snitches victory wall! :D

[northstarscowboyhat]

I'm just imagining now Starlo playing horsey with Clover just like some dads play with their kids.

It'll be SO cute and goofy!

Would've be even better if Clover started playing it with Frisk after they grew up.

The sacred act of playing horsey passed down through generations

[seraphont]

Your AU's idea of SolverCyn keeping Tessa's consciousness alive inside it actually seems really in-character for the canon SolverCyn. I remember someone pointing out that between Cyn and Tessa's matching hairstyles, the way that SolverCyn has been wearing Tessa's human corpse as a skinsuit and impersonating her identity in the spacesuit ever since the Well-Timed Giggle, and the way Cyn and Tessa both share a special fondness for N among the drones, it really seems like either the Solver - or the part of the Solver that's still Cyn - has a real underlying fixation on emulating Tessa.

Yeah, I see Cyns disturbing fixation of Tessa being a once innocent admiration that got twisted by the corruption. When you like someone enough you tend to parrot them and pick up their tendencies. this is really apparent in impressionable kids, and Cyn is our resident possessed robo child. Imitation is the highest form of flattery.

I think it’s a funny twist of irony that the entities that hate humans so much, are so deeply obsessed with one. In the end they just want to own every piece of Tessa.

[jessicas-pi]

CTTTB for the ask game?

You got it!

Whoever’s in those walkers must think the Rebels are totally out of their minds to go at them with a lone single-pilot fighter craft. They’re absolutely right, of course. But “You’re out of your mind!” was Thrawn’s last statement to Ezra, as Ezra made his escape by jumping out of the shattered front window of the Chimaera, and Ezra is currently a successful Jedi, happy husband, and soon-to-be-father, while Thrawn is presumably on a tour of the unknown expanses of space with a herd of purrgil as his navigators, so Ezra thinks being out of his mind might actually be an advantage.

[capesch-arts]

If you're wondering why I'm not posting much like usual, Welp I've been focusing on Ramadan and the first week has been really exhausting (body is trying to adapt and I also had to do some big stuff too).

Anyways, I've been designing an occultist OC for LA-KiY. I won't share much yet, but this is Richard Joy, a sculptor and The King's current High Priest.

He is bby. Totally do not worry about the knife he has.

[the-witchhunter]

DP x DC Phantom Punk: We are the Outlaws

Back on my punk Danny AU

So punk is pretty anti-authoritarian, loud, fast, and contains a lot of anger, anger at how the world is. It can also be very compassionate to the downtrodden an those the system fails

You know who else has a lot of anger and compassion?

Jason Todd

Jason Todd, the second Robin, the Red Hood. The man was born to be punk.

Danny just works as a punk. His villains range from the government to a Billionaire to a ghost cop. It makes more sense than not for his experiences to have turned him in that direction, and let's face it one Sam Mason would have helped, even if punk and goth are different

So we have one dead punk boy living in a shitty apartment in Gotham, and we have another dead punk boy moving into a shitty apartment in Gotham

They're neighbors(I'd say roommates for the meme but Jay needs the added privacy)

So now we have two punks with messed up sleep schedules living next door to each other. They clearly vibe, they hang out, go to each other's apartments and Jason practically force feeds Danny a healthy meal that has enough preservatives in it to give Ra's a run for his money

Then Jason got careless

Jason, after accidentally mentioning the outlaws multiple times during a phone call, now has to deal with the fact that Danny thinks it's the band he's in. It's fine, all he has to do is play it cool, roll with it and it'll be no big deal

being unable to shut his mouth, he actually digs himself deeper. Now, Danny doesn't just want to see them play, he wants to join, and Jason has made the mistake of saying he needs to ask the band first, only to call Roy who is a little shit and goes "Yeah he can join our band."

Cut to Jason, Starfire, and a sheepish Roy scrambling to actually be a punk band as they get sucked further and further into committing to the bit

or

Fake Band au, like a fake dating au but with more people and instruments and probably ends in polyamory

[philtstone]

psych is goated show of all time for its hyperspecific past episode references but literally none of them gets me in hysterics on the floor like that one episode a full season after the telenovela case when lassiter and juliet go to some random russian laundromat on a lead and theres a grainy blown up picture of chad. like. printed out on printer paper. on the wall. in the laundromat. and the russian lady at the desk looks lassiter dead in the eye and says 'i want to have his babies' with so much longing

[hiding-under-the-willow]

i’m loving the bbc ghosts au, do you have any cub scraps? 🤲 if you don’t just know that i love him!

I can't stop thinking about the moment Joe and Cub meet and figure out that Cub kind of indirectly killed Joe with the same fireworks accident that killed him.

Just. Joe staring at this guy in a scout's uniform covered in soot and powder dyes like.

"So. uh. how is it, exactly, that you died?"

"Oh, fireworks accident. It was crazy dude, you'd be surprised how dangerous homemade fireworks can be."

"I don't think I'd be that surprised actually." "..." "When did you say this happened, again?"

"Oh, it would've been uh... June, 1990?"

"..."

"What about you?"

"..."

"Joe?"

"You know- and this is gonna sound crazy-"