#before everything went to hell in a handbasket

[une-sanz-pluis]

What exactly do you think Henry VI thinks of his uncle Humphrey?

I'm glad you said what I think Henry VI thought of his uncle! The personal thoughts of any medieval individual are generally out of reach for us (there are exceptions; for example, we can tell that Henry V was pretty pissed off at his brother, John, Duke of Bedford here). It's even more difficult in the case of Henry VI, where historians have such wildly diverse opinions. The likes of John Watts and K. B. MacFarlane, who view Henry as a void around which kingship in his name was exercised (by his minority council, by his "favourites" Suffolk and Somerset), would probably say that Henry didn't think very much about his uncle or, well, anything. But even looking at the historians (e.g. Ralph Griffiths, Bertram Wolffe and Lauren Johnson) who ascribe to Henry far more agency in his reign will give us vastly different ideas of the relationship between Henry and Humphrey.

Johnson, for examples, depicts Henry as Humphrey's victim, depicting his quarrels with Cardinal Beaufort and his pro-war stance as a source of mental distress for Henry. She also depicts Humphrey as fully complicit in his wife Eleanor's alleged plot against Henry (there is nothing alleged about the plot for Johnson, of course) and arranging for his nephew to be sexually harassed.* For Wolffe, Humphrey is more the victim of a spiteful Henry - for instance, he argues that the treatment of Eleanor was an angry overreaction by Henry, who still bitter that Humphrey opposed his intention to release Charles, Duke of Orleans the previous year.

But what do I think?

Humphrey was pretty obviously a thorn in Henry's side. He seems to have advocated for Henry to get more involved in ruling, even though the circumstances weren't great for an inexperienced king and it appears Henry disliked the experience. As Henry matured, the policies he favoured were frequently in conflict with the policies Humphrey advocated for - as Humphrey often made clear (cf. his actions around the release of Charles, Duke of Orleans). What was often a common thread in Humphrey's chosen policies were that these were Henry V's policies. Humphrey seemed to be simultaneously urging Henry VI to greater independence but insisting that he exercise this independence through following the policies of his father.

It's easy to imagine that this became a sore spot for Henry. It's not nice to be constantly compared to someone else and always be found lacking. It's not nice to be someone who others are trying to shape into someone you're not. The fact that Henry was constantly being compared to his dead father who was becoming heavily mythologised would have only made it worse. It's really easy to imagine Henry coming to resent his father for that and easier still to see him resenting Humphrey who seems to have been the one who stuck at the "your father would've done this, do this, you should be more like your father" the longest.

This advocation of Henry V's policies seems to have led to Humphrey becoming seen as "a man who embodied the qualities Henry V had made them accustomed in a king, and which they were beginning to realize were lacking in their actual king". If Henry believed this too, it may be that he initially found Humphrey to be an intimidating, but not necessarily dangerous, figure - the embodiment of the qualities he was supposed to have, the representative of his father. Even if he didn't share the same view of Humphrey's qualities, Humphrey was, alongside John Duke of Bedford, the closest paternal blood relation Henry VI had and the one Henry saw the most of. He may have seen Humphrey as a threatening figure because of the popular belief that he had the qualities for kingship that Henry himself lacked (though, IMO, he wouldn't have been a good king) and, following Bedford's death in 1435, was Henry VI's heir.

If Henry didn't already view Humphrey as a threat, the accusations of treasonable necromancy against Humphrey's wife Eleanor would have likely made Henry come to that view. Most historians argue that Humphrey ended up estranged from Henry and alienated at court as a result of his wife's downfall. It may be that Henry (and others) suspected Humphrey had been aware of or part of the plot - although there is no evidence that this was ever suspected, much less that Humphrey was involved. At the very least, the accusations suggested that Humphrey was a figure others could see as a king and that he was an untrustworthy figure of poor judgement.**

It's pretty clear that from 1441 on, Humphrey was on the outs with Henry but it doesn't seem to be motivated entirely by fear. Henry made a number of grants in the 1440s of titles that Humphrey held to various people in the event of Humphrey's death (one of the most notable is Suffolk receiving the reversion of the earldom of Pembroke). One chronicle claims that Henry had forbidden his uncle from his presence since 1445 or 1446 and reputedly an armoured guard to fortify himself against his uncle. In 1445, Henry publicly humiliated Humphrey in front of a French embassy (according to Wolffe, the French ambassadors claimed that Henry "openly express[ed] his pleasure at seeing his uncle's discomfiture" at the treaty).

Finally, we have Humphrey's arrest for trumped-charges of treason*** and death in 1447. At the very least, Henry must have been aware and approved of the intention to arrest his uncle. Possibly, as Wolffe concludes, he had decided upon his uncle's "destruction".

We don't know what Henry VI intended to do with Humphrey following his arrest. The popular view at the time was that Suffolk was entirely behind Humphrey's arrest and his intention was Humphrey's murder, which was duly achieved within days of his arrest. It's not impossible that Suffolk was blamed because blaming Henry himself skirted too close to treason. It is pretty well accepted these days that Humphrey was not murdered and died as a result of a medical episode (such as a stroke or heart attack) caused by the stress of his arrest. But we have no idea about how Henry intended to deal with Humphrey, whether he intended to exile, execute, quietly murder or ultimately pardon Humphrey, and whether he was actively and knowingly involved in the plot against Humphrey and to what extent he was involved. Still, at the very least, we know that he approved of Humphrey's arrest and waited until the very last minute to pardon those who were to be executed for their part in Humphrey's so-called plot (iirc, they were literally hanging on the gallows when the pardon arrived). Amongst those pardoned was Humphrey's only known albeit illegitimate son, Arthur.

What is odd is that Humphrey seems to have been no threat to Henry. He may have disagreed with Henry on policy but there is nothing to indicate that his loyalty to Henry was ever in doubt. There is no suggestion he attempted to intervene to save Eleanor or that he planned to remove Suffolk from Henry's side. He did not head up an alternate court party similar to the Lords Ordainers or the Lords Appellant in the reigns of Edward II and Richard II respectively that saw him overthrow and execute Henry's favourites to impose his own will on Henry. Nor is there any evidence he intended to depose Henry to make himself king. As John Watts says, "if there is a single theme in the duke's career, it is one of obedience to Henry's personal authority [...] Faced with the destruction of his wife, a series of threats to his property and, finally, a thoroughly dubious charge of treason, Gloucester was unresisting."

Looking at the the various grants made by Henry of his uncle's titles and lands when he was still-living and the speed at which Humphrey's lands were granted out at his death (including the declaration that Eleanor Cobham was legally dead so she could not claim dower or jointure in the properties), it seems Humphrey had more to fear from his nephew (or those acting in Henry's name) than Henry had to fear from Humphrey. But it's easy to say that with the benefit of hindsight.

In short: I think Humphrey was a thorn in Henry's side, at first representing everything Henry wasn't and frequently disappointed in Henry. He advocated for policies that were frequently the opposite of the policies Henry wanted. He may have been viewed by Henry as a threat but by the mid-1440s seems to have viewed as someone of no importance, who could be publicly humiliated, and who would not fight back against his nephew. His arrest and death are strange but may be signs of resentment or fear by an insecure government and king.

* John Blacman's hagiography of Henry VI contains a scene where an unidentified "certain great lord" arranged for a troupe of female dancers to dance topless before Henry, who then angrily averts his eyes and leaves the chamber. The term used by Blacman to describe the dancers ("mulierculae") is more suggestive of prostitutes though the standard translation by M. R. James calls them "young ladies". Johnson claims that the "certain great lord" was Humphrey. Blacman is our sole source for this incident and does not identify the "certain great lord" and was trying to position Henry as a saint, for whom chastity was a chief requirement. As Katherine J. Lewis points out, the incident is part of a longstanding tradition in saints' lives where they resist sexual temptation (she also notes an "almost identical" episode in Caxton's life of St. Benedict) so it seems very doubtful that this incident actually occurred. Even if it was a truthful record, we have no way of knowing who the "certain great lord" was. Possibly, it was Humphrey but we have no way of determining it. It may be useful to note, too, that there is little evidence that Henry's piety was as strong as later traditions suggest.

** Contemporary sources made no suggestion of Humphrey's guilt, complicity in or knowledge of the plot. Although exculpatory, this made him appear a weak and emasculated figure whose unsound judgement had nearly brought ruin to his king and who could not control his wife or own household. Some modern historians have suggested he was complicit in or aware of the plot, but there is no evidence of this (the existence of the plot itself and Eleanor's guilt therein has been doubted explicitly since Tudor times). We have no idea what Henry, personally, made of the accusations. Johnson suggests he was frightened by Eleanor but given he was living in the same residence as she was imprisoned in at the height of the affair (literally when she was performing her penance walks) and one source claimed he intervened to save her life personally, it seems unlikely he was that frightened.

*** The exact charges against Humphrey are not known. However, the general consensus at the time and of subsequent chroniclers was that there was nothing in them, a consensus followed by historians.

[miraculousfaeofold]

Azriel’s and Cassian’s faces are hilarious in this scene! Love seeing the wholesome look of Rhys and Tamlin in this though. Plus, look at the babies when everyone got along- or at least semi-along lol. They’re very cute and I adore this.

@officialrhysandweek Day 2 - Illyrian Warrior

"I saw what Tamlin went through... I befriended him. Sought him out whenever I was able to get away from the war camps or court. Maybe it was pity, but... I taught him some Illyrian techniques."

"Did anyone know?"

"Cassian and Azriel knew. My family knew. And disapproved." With all the drama between them I like to look back on little pockets of time when everything was good and everyone got along.

[spectoral]

@bl4ckdevl | starter call.

" remember that, bill? " he's a rough man. sandpaper grinds in his gruff voice, stubble coarse on his jaw. scar tissue shells up on his knuckles, strangling the neck of a bottle sweating down the green glass, pooling at the label. frank jabs a finger toward him ; even his laugh is harsh, a sawed off shotgun blast of a sound that closes off as soon as it breaks free. " ----- or you gone too soft? "

[fake-married-my-dead-fiance]

I really loved this little scene from Ep 16 (before everything went to hell in a handbasket) where Scholar Husband and 1st sister are having a conversation and she's casually undressing him

It's so comfortable, I love it

[cosmichorrorsarestillnicerthanme]

Hers Forever-Izanami X Reader

TW: A little yandere-ish, description of crawly things, and all around ghost vibes courtesy of Izanami

You always felt like you were being watched when you worked. You could never tell who was watching you, nor where they were watching you from. Every second of every day you could feel their eyes on you, boring through your being and right at your soul. At first, it unnerved you. Eventually though, you got used to it. You had to. You just couldn’t jump at every sound or every little thing in the corner of your eye.

Then, one day, the Emperor summoned you and made a declaration.

For as long as the world remained alive, you were to be hers.

It was then that everything went to hell in her handbasket.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

You stared at the ceiling of your new “Home” as you laid in your new bed.

It was an empty, desolate place that was far, far too large.

You guessed that there were servants who took care of the place since there was less than a speck of dust on every surface, and yet you couldn’t say for sure.

After all, not once since you had been brought here had you seen any living thing beyond the occasional bird soaring through the air and squirrel scampering across the trees in the garden.

No, that wasn’t quite right.

As far as you knew, the Emperor was alive.

Admittedly, you doubted the validity of that thought with every passing meal.

Every meal, she sits across from you as you eat, an empty plate before her and her all too familiar gaze boring into you with that eternally flat face of hers.

You couldn’t even confidently say that you have seen her breathe.

In fact, you haven’t heard anything from her at all since she made her declaration.

Everything about her, from her footsteps to her robes which should’ve rustled and made noise with every movement but didn’t, was totally silent.

The only thing you had ever received from her was that eternal gaze.

Even now, you could feel it on you.

You… think it is meant to be warm and caring.

Maybe that’s just your mind trying to make you feel better.

Either way, it didn’t help the feeling that could be best described as maggots writhing within your bones, centipedes crawling up and down your spine, and flies buzzing in your skull.

Every single nerve ending in your body was screaming at you, telling you that there was something deeply wrong with her, and whatever was wrong with her was not something that could be fixed by anyone alive or dead and especially not you.

Yet, what could you do?

She was the emperor, her word was absolute.

The cards had been dealt, and the only thing you could do was play with a dead man's hand.

So, you might as well try and make yourself as comfortable as possible.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

It had been a month since you had been whisked away by force from your stable and normal life by the Emperor.

There were no restrictions on who you could talk to, but… what could you even say to the people you know?

“Hey! Sorry I dropped off the face of the planet! Turns out the Emperor digged me and decided that we are married now! What did you have for lunch today?”

No, that was preposterous and nearly drove you to a fit of maniacal laughter from the thought of it.

Right now, you didn’t need to talk to someone.

Right now, you needed something to clear your head, you needed a break from the deafening silence and the omnipresent feeling of her eyes upon the back of your neck.

You had tried reading, but were unable to truly focus on the material and what little concentration you had was shattered every time you turned the page, the normally quiet sound of papers turning into the shrill screams of banshees in your ears purely because of how unnaturally silent the world you now lived in was.

It was almost as if the pages themselves were screaming at you for being too loud, for disturbing the crypt-like quiet of their home.

That led you to the Inside of the large greenhouse on top of one of the wings, looking at the incredibly lush flora of all shapes and sizes.

It was the only place you had found that the silence seemed unable to reach, though her gaze still pricked at the back of your neck.

Luckily for you, you had long since gotten used to her gaze.

You took in deep breaths of the fresh, albeit humid, air as you walked towards a bench in the center of the room.

Without hesitation, you sat upon its wooden frame, leaning back, closing your eyes, and resting your weary and overstressed body.

This place was very, very different from the rest of the “House”.

It was actually alive.

It felt as if it actually existed, not like all the other empty rooms and halls that all felt as if they were pulled out of some world where only the long dead resided.

Briefly, you wondered who made the greenhouse before discarding the thought.

Thanking the creator of this paradise could wait, you needed to get your thoughts in order first.

You let out a deep breath before sitting up straight and opening your eyes.

In doing so, you revealed the face of a young woman, whose face was so close you would barely have to lean forward to kiss her.

She had vibrant purple hair that shone in the light, and contrasted sharply against her dull eyes that shared a shade with amethyst. Her skin was as pallid as a corpse’s and, in your opinion, looked closer in texture to ceramic or fine china than skin.

It was only after you noted her beauty that you noticed the robes and the headdress.

Your eyes widened and you had to bite your tongue to hold back a scream of shock.

The two of you remained in that position for a long while, or that is what your brain told you at least.

In reality, it could’ve been seconds, or hours and you would have no idea.

The spell was only broken when she spoke.

“Why are you in my garden?” The Emperor asked, her gaze unflinching and not at all betraying any form of emotion or apprehension about this being the first time she had spoken to you since she brought you here.

“I… wanted to relax.” you responded truthfully after briefly considering a lie before deciding that you would much rather not run the risk of execution.

“I see.” the purple haired woman muttered before backing away from your face, only to then gracefully step to the side and sit down on the bench next to you.

“Do be careful, we are rather high up.” she warmed in what you had to assume was her version of a kind tone of voice but instead sounded like ice being driven into your skull.

“I… uh… yes, Emperor.” you responded, not at all sure how to address the person next to you without running the risk of being put into a dungeon.

She turned to look at you, her eyes narrowing and sending your heart into what you imagined cardiac arrest felt like out of fear.

Had you addressed her the wrong way? Was she displeased by your hesitance? Were you about to die?

“My name is… Izanami.” The Emperor explained, revealing her name.

“Izanami?” you asked, your heart still racing at a speed that could not be healthy.

“Correct.” Izanami responded before returning her gaze back to the previous point it had been at, burning a hole into the wall of the greenhouse.

The two of you sat in silence, though it was markedly less terrifying than the silences that the two of you had shared before over meals.

Eventually though, your legs began to go numb and you were forced to stand.

“Your name is… pretty, Izanami.” you declared, hoping your wince was not too obvious to the one receiving the compliment.

“Thank you.” was all Izanami had to say in response, a tiny, imperceptible smirk on the side of her face out of view.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

After the… serendipitous meeting in the greenhouse, you could feel the tension between you and her lessen, if only slightly.

Sure, the “House” was still so quiet you swear that someone could drop a pen on one side of the place and it would be heard on the other, but that is beside the point.

Especially considering that Izanami was… speaking.

You hesitate to say talking, and balk at the idea of her actually conversing, but she would respond to you when you said something, and on rare occasions, would ask or say something of her own accord.

Sure, it wasn't a normal exchange, in fact, it wasn’t even in the same country as anything even close to normal, especially not in the context of… whatever the hell was going on between you two, but it was leaps and bounds above what was going on before.

Still, you did have questions, like why did she pick you out of all the people in the world?

The question ate at you from the second she made her declaration.

There were obvious reasons for why you hadn’t asked it, and even now you seriously doubted you would even get an answer from her, but if you didn’t ask her now, you doubted you ever would.

And so, deciding to rip the bandaid off, you posed the question you had for her over lunch, not expecting her to even consider answering it.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

“Initially, I took an interest in you because I found you attractive.” Izanami answered simply from the other side of the table, unknowingly putting you into what could be best described as mental stunlock.

It was such a simple reason, so common and pedestrian, something so antithetical to your perception of Izanami you could feel your brain cooking itself to comprehend it.

“You are not the only person I have ever considered attractive, it is also unlikely that you will be the last. However, you are the only one to hold my attention for a period longer than a few days.” Izanami continued to explain in a matter-of-fact tone that you associated with her natural speaking patterns but could barely recognize due to the words coming out of them continuing to deal mental damage to your psyche.

“I have no idea or hypothesis on why this is. Paradoxically, this increased my curiosity in you and-” Izanami continued to go on before you put your hands over her mouth, marking your first instance of physical contact with her.

A minute or so ago, such an action would have your mind up in arms at your idiocy.

Right now however, it was putting out fires that could best be likened to those that occur when a computer that is on its last legs finally gives out.

Though, in this event, it wasn’t due to the information you had been given, but due to who was giving it.

Izanami, someone you were convinced was more corpse than person and always went about her day with a sort of detached coldness, had such a… human reason.

Was it a semi-shallow one? Perhaps. 

But the reasoning was human in its entirety.

Someone she considered to be attractive caught her attention and, in some way, held it long enough for her curiosity to get the better of her.

Sure, it got the better of her and, rather than doing a rational thing like asking you on a date, she unilaterally decided that you were hers but that’s neither here nor there.

You let out a deep breath.

Right, your mind has finally caught up to itself.

Unfortunately, that let your mind point out that your hands were covering the Emperor’s mouth.

This whole situation was getting more and more complicated by the minute.

Slowly, as if you had just run afoul of a fearsome and temperamental predator, you removed your hands from Izanami’s face.

An awkward silence hung in the air for a long moment, your mind forcing you to think of the sound of crickets as you waited for her response to your foolish action.

The emperor turned her head to the side, giving you a look that you could not decipher.

“It occurs to me that we have not yet gone on a romantic outing.” Izanami observed, sending your mind into a tailspin once more.

Before you could stop yourself, your mouth had already spoken.

“THAT’S what you have to say!?”

“Yes. Please be ready before dinner.” Izanami declared before walking down the hall, leaving you dumbfounded.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Izanami was having a wonderful day.

She got to eat lunch with her beloved, talk with them for a bit, and even felt their touch for the first time!

Now, she was getting ready for a romantic outing.

Truly, it was as close to a perfect day as she could imagine.

Not even that Sn-

Izanami stopped that thought before she completed it.

Today was a good day, she was NOT going to sour her mood.

Not when she had already made plans.

Especially not when those plans were with someone she wanted to be hers forever.

She needed to put her best foot forward.

At least… that's what her research told her to do.

Who knew romance could be so incredibly difficult?

Still, it was worth it in her eyes.

After all, she found it… fun to be with you.

It didn’t hurt that she liked the sound of your voice either.

Especially when you asked her questions.

She thinks she wants to make that hers forever as well.

[abarbaricyalp]

Give Me Toothaches Just From Kissing Me

"But March 10th was two weeks ago!" Time doesn't exist. Happy Birthday to Bucky Barnes

The first time Sam had gotten Bucky a birthday cake, it was a joke. It was 2016, just a few scant months before their whole operation went to hell in a handbasket, and Sam had texted Bucky without expectation of a reply. Just a picture of the view from his fancy hotel balcony in Monaco or something, with a fancy chocolate cake on the wide balcony ledge. He was in town for a military tech conference, so his morning jogging schedule had been interrupted. Eating a whole cake on his own over four days would totally be in the realm of possibility. 

An hour later, when Sam was more than half a bottle of wine down and two albums in on a 'crooners' playlist, a shadow peeled itself off of the wall and greeted him with a, "Hey, birdbrain."

Sam, perhaps, did not do any work towards proving that nickname stupid by flailing dramatically and knocking the cake with his forearm. With twin movements, they watched the cake sail to the ground seven stories below and explode into a shower of sugar and cream. Then they turned to look at each other. There were three beats of shocked silence and then they both burst into laughter together.

"That was a really good cake," Sam whined in between the laughter as he leaned into Bucky's space and Bucky wrapped an arm around his shoulders.

"Yeah, I could tell. You already had half."

"I didn't figure you were gonna actually show up," Sam pointed out.

"Why wouldn't I show up? You called."

"That hasn't stopped you before," Sam pointed out. He spent a few extra seconds staring at the mangled cake on the ground before he sat back on the balcony furniture. Bucky followed him down. He kept his arm around Sam until it was unfeasible, and then he let his hand fall to Sam's, fingers tangling together. Sam allowed it because it was his birthday, even though it was vastly out of the range of usual activities for them.

"Well, this time I was promised cake," he added after a few seconds of amiable quiet.

Sam looked over at him to discern if he was serious or not. The grin pulling at his usually severe mouth said all Sam needed to know. They burst into quiet giggles again.

“Good thing I got all the sweetness I need right here,” Bucky eventually conceded. He tucked a knuckle under Sam’s jaw and leaned in to kiss him beneath the moon and the lights and everything but a cake.

. . .

The second time Sam tried to give Bucky cake, it was a year later. It felt almost impossible that the world had slowed down around them long enough to justify an impromptu visit to Wakanda to check in on Bucky.

When their jet had touched down, Bucky was waiting for them with a wide smile that Sam had never really seen before. "Now, I know I told T'Challa not to do anything for my birthday, but he went a step further and got me everything I didn't want," he joked as he and Steve collided in a fierce hug, the kind of thing that always made Sam want to look away.

Then Bucky was extricating himself from Steve's hold so he could crowd around Sam instead, ducking his face down to Sam's neck as he squeezed his waist. If it was supposed to be a hug, it was like no hug Sam had ever had. He could get used to it though. After a few heartbeats shared between them, Sam pinched Bucky's hip and stepped back.

"Hey, old man," he greeted. Bucky grinned at him, boyish and a little smitten. It was a look Sam was more familiar with. "Happy birthday."

"Is that what this is about? You stop paying attention after 90," Bucky joked. For a split second, his fingers lingered over Sam's but he didn't take his hand--Sam didn't take Bucky's either--and he turned back to Steve to amble along together as they instantly fell into a conversation like they hadn't just been apart for the better part of half a year.

By the time they got around to dinner and a small party, Sam felt silly for bringing a dozen store bought cupcakes--hidden away in his room upstairs. The dinner had been more of a feast, despite Bucky's protestations, and the dessert spread that followed was unlike anything Sam had ever seen. No expensive wedding or VA event or Stark fundraiser held a candle to the cakes and cookies and sweet bars that were available. Sam ate more Wakandan desserts than he could name American desserts and each one was better than the last. Bucky, for all his talk of not wanting anything, had at least sampled every chocolate food on the table and gone back for full servings of most of them.

By the time they managed to crawl into Bucky's room--which branched off into Steve and Sam's rooms and connected bathrooms--all of them were groaning about stomach aches and sugar comas. Bucky crawled under his blankets, becoming nothing more than a groaning lump, and Steve settled along the bench at the end of the bed, laying back on it and resting a hand over his stomach, while burping and then apologizing every few minutes.

Sam ducked into his room while the others settled and grabbed the two bags from him and Steve, as well as the plastic carton of cupcakes. It was absolutely not going back with him at this point. His stomach hurt just looking at it.

Back in Bucky's room, he passed off the bounty. Bucky set aside the gift bags, but his eyes gleamed at the sight of more sweets.

"Come on, open the gifts," Sam jostled, sitting on the bed nearest where Bucky was sprawled.

"Nah, I'll look at them later," he said as he peeled the safety seal sticker away from the cupcakes.

"Oh, come on," Steve laughed. "You're still shy?"

"I'm not shy," Bucky snapped. "I'm civilized. Not everyone has to tear into their gifts as soon as they're within reach."

Sam snorted and tried to hide it from Steve.

"I do not do that," Steve objected, but not with much conviction. Actually, he wasn't that bad, Sam had to admit. But clearly Bucky had better stories than Sam.

“What are these?” Bucky asked instead of fighting a battle he knew he’d already won. He took the cupcakes and deftly opened the package without making a cacophonous sound, which meant he knew perfectly well what they were and clearly had had his share of them.

“I know they’re not anything special after that whole show,” Sam acknowledged, waving his hand in the general direction of the kitchens. “But these are packed so full of preservatives, you’ll be able to keep ‘em until his birthday,” he joked with a gesture towards Steve.

“Way to sell ‘em, Wilson,” Bucky chuckled. He was already halfway through one of the cupcakes and he held a blue one out to Steve. It was the middle of march, so most of the predesigned things were spring flavored. This set, blues and greens swirled around, was about as festive as Sam could find. “I love the frosting on these things,” he added around a mouthful of cupcake.

Steve shot Sam a knowing, slightly gloating look. He’d been the one to insist Bucky would enjoy these, no matter what else was going on with the day. Then he shoved the entire cupcake in his mouth just like Bucky because apparently manners hadn’t been invented yet back in the ‘40s. Sam shook his head at their antics, both of them trying to one up the other until almost the whole carton was gone.

Bucky reached over to snag a smear of frosting off of Steve’s cheek and sucked his knuckle into his mouth while Steve cried foul about uneven division of frosting.

“You two are gross,” Sam laughed and made sure his own face was devoid of any frosting before their turned their attention on him.

It didn’t work. By the time Bucky had turned his playful, teasing expression on Sam, his eyes had darkened just a little and one eyebrow rose in a challenge.

“No,” Sam warned, holding up the half of a cupcake still in his hand. “Whatever it is, no.”

But Bucky didn’t listen. He reached out to and shoved the cupcake against Sam’s cheek, frosting first, then pinned him back against the headboard with a broad hand across Sam’s shoulder and collarbone. Sam swallowed thickly, couldn’t help the way he went lax beneath Bucky’s weight as the other man settled across his thighs and leaned forward to lick a stipe of the icing off of Sam’s cheek.

“Stevie, you might wanna think about gettin’ to your own room,” Bucky warned without taking his dark, hungry stare off of Sam.

“Ah, come on. You two are gross,” Steve complained, but he did hustle out of the room pretty quickly. Took a cupcake for the road.

Sam tried to put some structure back in his bones, tried to posture up under Bucky’s hold. He reached up for the frosting, wiped most of it off of himself, and then smeared it across Bucky’s cheek, down to his mouth.

That mouth split into a grin before it was against Sam’s, lips parted, tongue hungry as he licked over Sam’s lips, chasing after the frosting he was depositing.

Sam had to admit: this may be better than the desserts downstairs.

. . .

The next time he actually got to sit still for Bucky’s birthday, it was a few lifetimes later. He had every intention of sleeping in just a little bit, skipping his run to get up before everyone else and make a cake, wake up the house to the smell of chocolate and buttercream, the way his mama used to always.

Instead, he slept in a lot a bit and woke up to the sound of nothing short of chaos in the kitchen. Sarah was out already, he surmised when he finally dragged himself upright and grabbed his phone from where it had fallen the night before to check the time. He and Bucky had gotten in late the night before, stuck in New York doing paperwork after some giant worm appeared out of a sinkhole in New Jersey. He had no idea how Bucky had the energy to get up, much less start making noise in the kitchen.

Groggily, maybe a little grumpily, he pulled on a hoodie and a pair of shorts that wouldn’t aggravate all of the scrapes he was covered in and went out to see what was happening.

Bucky did make it a point to clean up the kitchen any time he was near it. Especially after himself, but even when Sarah cooked. He insisted that she did the cooking, so he should do the cleaning. And somehow this reflected badly on Sam, as far as Sarah was concerned, which seemed unfair. Sam cleaned plenty.

The cleaning never seemed to justify the mess beforehand.

“What in the world is going on here?” Sam asked, leaning on the wide doorjamb that led into the kitchen.

Cass whirled around first, clutching a too large mixing bowl to his chest. “Nothing!” he exclaimed.

AJ, less practiced in the ways of subterfuge, said, “We’re making cupcakes! For Bucky,” he clarified

Bucky, who was remarkably clean for the amount of flour and egg otherwise splashed across the kitchen, grinned at Sam. “I didn’t ask, by the way. They brought it up. I dunno how you and Sarah say no to these little faces.”

AJ preened and gave another spin with the spatula, sent more frosting over the edge of his too-small bowl.

“You guys are working at a disadvantage, trynna listen to Bucky,” Sam said, coming into the kitchen. “I know you know how to use paper towels. Why does the kitchen look like this?”

Cass let out a little noise of guilt, but Bucky saved him from having to answer by producing a roll of paper towel from behind himself. “It’s probably supposed to be my job, but I’m a better taste tester.”

“Uncle Sam, is it true he can’t get salmonella ‘cause of the super soldier serum?” Cass asked.

“Can I have some?” AJ added.

Sam shot Bucky an unimpressed look, but he was nothing but cheeky smiles and not a shred of embarrassment. “I guess we’re gonna find out if it’s true or not,” he said. He snagged the paper towels from Bucky to begin wiping up at least the bits of cracked egg that lined every countertop. “Lucky it’s me in here and not your mama.”

Cass made the same kind of noise again as he searched for a place to put down his mixing bowl. It must be an oldest sibling gene, because Sam remembered Gideon making the exact same kind of sounds. Usually when Sam was about to do something like jump off the stair bannister.

“Mom’s out at the restaurant,” AJ said, unbothered. He was usually unbothered.

“Come here,” Sam said, gesturing more for AJ to make space than for him to actually move closer. “Bucky let you pick the wrong bowl, so you’ve gotta be careful,” he said, holding AJ’s hand as he held onto the spatula. “Go slow, like this.”

He looked up as AJ failed to do that, more frosting going flying, and caught Bucky’s eye. Bucky grinned again, soft and lovely in the mid-morning light coming through the kitchen window.

“A guy could get used to this view,” he said with a warm honey tone.

“A guy will not,” Sam said. “Get to actually cleaning.”

Bucky gave him the laziest of salutes and took the paper towels back.

By the time Sarah came home, with balloons and, hilariously, an ice cream cake, the kitchen was clean and they’d managed to make the best cupcakes Sam had ever had.

. . .

It took finding their own place, saving the world a few hundred times, a lot of missed events, and one perfect spring day for Sam to finally have a cake on the table on Bucky’s birthday. Handmade, from the same recipe he always got for his birthdays as a kid.

“Happy birthday, old man,” he said, kissing Bucky’s temple.

Bucky caught Sam’s hand against his shoulder, tugged him down to sprawl across Bucky’s lap. “Is that what all this is about?” Bucky teased, like he did almost every time Sam tried to do anything for his birthday, no matter how delayed the celebration was.

“Yeah, yeah,” Sam laughed. He dragged the cake closer and lit the handful of candles–he was not putting a hundred candles on a cake–before sitting back a little. “Make a wish before you keel over.”

Bucky laughed, bright and loud, and his arms tightened around Sam. “I haven’t had to wish for anything for a long time, Sammy.” And he kissed Sam without even trying to blow out the candles.

[oathkeeper-of-tarth]

Werewolf Aylin. Is this anything?

It's not even a particularly big stretch, imo! Her mother is already the ever-shifting moon goddess, patron and guardian of non-malicious lycanthropes, so. She could be a were-anything, really - I'd personally immediately vote for some kind of cool bird, but that's just me. Though, of course, wolves are a classic, are appropriate, and give you the obvious tie-ins with Shadowheart and her dad, "a lost child, frightened by wolves in the dark", etc.

There's a bunch of interesting tidbits already there, such as some segments of Selûne's clergy being immune to lycanthropy, being able to remove the curse (if that's what it was) or help a person control it. There's also the silver ladies, and I love headcanoning Isobel was aiming to be one, before everything went to hell in a handbasket (especially with that white-hooded cloak of hers).

A detail I really like is that Selûne's realm at the Gates of the Moon has the feature that lycanthropes who arrive there gain complete control over their transformations, bodies, and minds on every level (while they're there!). So I'd tie that into Aylin; I'd say she's initially similarly very in control of herself even when she leaves the Gates, not cursed at all but born that way, all part and parcel of her Resplendent nature. Then, after her "century of sorrow" and imprisonment and everything that happened, reflecting her anger issues in a loss of control over whatever shape her lycanthropy would take feels appropriate - and maybe she needs to give her mum a visit at the Gates to become reattuned, and maybe she just needs to let herself process her trauma fully - or both.

[anotherbluesunday]

✨Fic Release: In Technicolor—Ch. 1: Hell in a Handbasket (Pugsley + Cheryl)✨

____________Pugsley/Lee____________

Just past the shopping center that housed the Erewhon Wednesday silently hissed at and Bertie audibly boo'ed was our new school. A glittering beacon of narrow-minded thinking disguised as liberalism if I'd ever seen one, I'd read up on the place. Had Jug and Reggie fill me in on what to expect and it wasn't good.

Insidious racism veiled as social work and fundraisers. Sender students being made into charity cases to make donating families and businesses feel better about themselves while they donate to political campaigns for politicians who couldn't give two shits about the working class. I could see it in the way they looked at us as we pulled up into the student parking lot and hung up the parking permit from the rearview mirror. They were sizing us up. Knew without having to ask that we were from somewhere else. Somewhere where it wasn't commonplace for sixteen year old's to have access to their parents Amex Black card.

Eyes down on the steering wheel for a moment as the girls to our right sat in their brand new canary yellow Jeep Wrangler "whispering" loudly about how dirty the truck was, Bertie reminded me it was only for a year and that chances were not everyone would be as bad as I was making them out to be in my head. Wednesday snorted a laugh from the backseat and I shot her a glance through the mirror saying "Probablemente sean monstruos chupadores de sangre." With a hard reluctant sneer, I forced myself to unbuckle. Grabbed my backpack from the backseat, slipped on my sunglasses, and heaved sigh.

"I can't believe we're actually doing this."

Shrugging her backpack onto her shoulders, Wednesday stood beside me staring at our new prison. "Just close your eyes and count to ten. It'll be over before you know it."

"Promise?"

"No."

Should have known better than to ask. But it made me laugh nonetheless. And that was the only upside here really. I wouldn't be going at this alone. I'd have Wen and Bert and a couple friends if Toni made it through the testing process since her mom made her apply too. We'd be okay. Not great. Not fine. But we'd be okay.

We'll survive.

.

.

.

____________Cheryl____________

Routine on repeat like some b-rate film that used timelooping as a metaphor for repeating the past until the main character righted their wrongs, I put on my morning music playlist as I stepped into the spacious en suite bathroom that had been warmed to seventy-two degrees for me. My shampoo and conditioner never seemed to run out. My bodywash was always in supply. Shaving razors never dulled and toothpaste never emptied paste the halfway point. The only thing I was burdened with was remembering when to restock my skincare items which, even when they did run out, it was never a problem because there was nothing that couldn't be handled with a quick call.

Perfectly controlled and acclimated. It was like a dollhouse inside of a greenhouse.

Everything's monitored and privacy is a privilege.

You missed practice this morning. It was from dad, the message brightening the screen of my phone as I stepped out of the shower. We'll double up tonight's session and split it for before and after dinner.

Staring at the message, I hesitated. Could hear the small scream itching at the back of my neck like nails dragging down the nerves hidden beneath my skin.

I wanted to throw up and I hadn't eaten anything yet.

I'll have homework. I told him.

You can do it afterwards. Slacking off once leads to habitual laziness Cheryl. No excuses.

My stomach knotted. Worked itself up until the familiar aftertaste of vomit ghosted itself on my taste buds.

The cold sweats that came with it.

The dizzying nausea.

Looking at myself in my vanity mirror, I dissected the bags under my dull brown eyes. Examined my hairline to see if it had thinned anymore than what mom had pointed to over the summer when we went on vacation to Portugal. "It must be from the stress. You should sleep more darling" she had said. At least my lashes had grown back after my nervous snap over spring semester.

.

.

.

*IMPORTANT NOTE!: Please do keep in mind while reading that the characters Pubert and Pugsley have nicknames that they go by and will go by for most of the story. For Pugsley, his nickname is “Lee” and for Pubert, his nickname is “Bert” or “Bertie.” Wednesday sometimes goes by “Wen” but I feel like that is a known in the Wednesday fandom but I wanted to mention it quickly for readers in the Riverdale fandom so that they’re in the loop.

.

.

.

[ellieslovr]

I’ve Got You (e. williams)

——————————————————

A/N:Okay, so this is entirely self indulgent since I was having a bad night. Mental illness was kicking my ass so here’s the result of that. I’m too tired to know if it makes any sense but I hope you guys like it either way. PLEASE read the content warning below, it’s a bit heavy because as stated, I wrote it for myself originally. I figured I’d share this in case anyone else is struggling. Love you guys, and I’m always here if you wanna chat <3

cw: mentions of heavy intrusive thoughts, and mentions of mental illness and its various symptoms as a whole.

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧

You’re not sure what causes it. Maybe it’s the stress from work, or maybe it’s just something in the air.

The moment you get home, Ellie’s sat on the couch playing a game. She darts her eyes towards you quickly, still focused. “How was your day,baby?” She asks, flicking the joystick with her thumb.

You don’t say anything. This catches her attention, and she pauses the game and looks up. By now, there are tears streaming down your face.

“Oh, sweetheart.” She coos, placing the controller down and standing up. She opens up her arms, and you barrel towards her.

She strokes your hair gently as you sob into her chest, no doubt in your mind that you’re probably ruining her favorite sweater.

She doesn’t seem to mind though, as she lifts your chin to meet her eyes. “You wanna talk about what happened babe?” She asked. You shrug, moving to sit down on the couch.

She follows and plops down next to you, putting a hand on your back. You lean into her embrace and sigh, sniffling lightly. “I-I don’t know. It’s nothing really specific, I’ve just been upset lately. I’m not sure why.” She nods in understanding, rubbing your back softly.

While she’s silent, you suddenly feel bad. She probably just wanted to relax and play her game, and here you are, bothering her about nonsense. You knew she didn’t actually feel that way, but you usually preferred to not bring these thoughts up to her.

You were worried that if you did, she’d be upset that you saw her that way. You’d had many intrusive thoughts of harming either yourself or Ellie, and even though you know with absolute certainty you’d never act upon them, they still scare you. Some days, you felt like a monster. Incapable of loving or being loved.

Deep down, you know Ellie loves you. You love her too, more than anything in the entire world. You’d come to the conclusion one day though, that your brain wasn’t wired properly.

Before your thoughts could spiral more out of control, Ellie spoke up. “I get what you mean, baby. Some days it’s just tough, yeah?” She said. You nodded, a few stray tears slipping down your face. “The world just fucking sucks sometimes. Everything’s just so overwhelming these days.” You reply, curling into her side.

She laughs dryly. “You’re not kidding. It’s like in my case, I’m fine most days. But on the days I’m not, well you’ve seen me. It’s like a switch gets flipped or something.” Ellie said, running a hand through your hair. “It’s an exhausting feeling.” You reply, turning to face her.

She smiles. “It is. You wanna know how I get through it though?” You nod, and she cups your face between her hands. “I just think about you. World’s going to hell in a handbasket, but you’re always right there by my side. Remember that time I had a fight with Joel?” She asked.

“Mhm, I remember.” You say.

Ellie smiles. “Well, I was super upset that day. As soon as I stepped in the door, you knew something was off. I didn’t wanna talk about it, so you just kissed my cheek and went into the kitchen.” She paused for a moment, smiling.

“You made me chocolate covered strawberries, cause you knew they were my favorite. Then we cuddled on the couch and watched Star Trek. I’ll never forget that day.” She recalled fondly, her free hand tracing soothing circles on your thigh.

Your eyes well up. “I love you, Ellie.” You breathe, looking up at her. Her smile nearly splits her face in half. “I love you too, sweet girl. Always will, now and forever.” She replied, pressing kisses all over your face.

You giggle. “Ew gross, I’ve got snot and tears all over my face.” She fake pouts, brushing a piece of stray hair out of your eyes. “I don’t care, you still look adorable. Now c’mere.”

You playfully roll your eyes as she pulls you into a proper kiss, her hands cupping your face. When you both pull away, she leans her forehead against yours, stroking your cheek with her thumb.

“We’ll get through the hard days together, yeah? We’re a team, you and me. Like the byronosaurus and the citipati. Did you know their nests were adjacent?.” She asks you with a smile.

You laugh, nodding your head. “Yeah, exactly like that. You learn that from one of your little documentaries?” You ask her.

“I did, I watched a really good one last night.” She said. You chuckle, adjusting yourself to lay on her chest. “You’re a dork.” You tell her, playing with the strings of her hoodie.

You feel her chest vibrate beneath you as her laughter fills the air. “You love it.” She tells you, a cocky grin on her face.

You can’t help but roll your eyes and smile back at her. “I do. Not as much as I love you, though.” Ellie blushes, a nervous little smile on her face. No matter how many times you’d told her you loved her, she still got as flustered as the first time. It was one of your favorite things about her, something you’d never get tired of.

“I love you the mostest. So ha!” She exclaimed.

“That’s not a real word baby, but I’ll give it to you.” You told her. She fist pumps triumphantly. You cuddle further into her, and she sighs contentedly.

She picks up her controller and saves her game before exiting it. “What’re you doing?” You ask her. She kisses the top of your head. “I’m gonna put on that space documentary you like. That okay with you, doll?” You blush at the pet name and nod your head.

Ellie smiles lovingly at you before pressing play. As the documentary starts, you completely forget about the stress of life. Sure, things were hard. They wouldn’t change overnight, and it would take time for you to feel okay again.

But right now you had Ellie at your side, and you knew she would be with you every step of the way. She was the love of your life, and you were hers. With her, you knew you could face anything that came your way.

You fell asleep in her arms later that night, surrounded by her scent and warmth. You’ve never felt happier.

[scarletpath]

I was pondering, as one would while having a shower. About how close the events of Cazador's Ascension ritual and the plan of the Absolute were.

That if everything went accordingly to plan, Cazador would only enjoy his Ascension for a few weeks. Months tops. Before everything goes to Hell in a handbasket. Just thinking about all his planning, risks and the sacrifices he made, thinking he'll live on eternally with no vampire weaknesses, for it to only last for a blink of an eye.

Oh!

And what if Mephistopheles knew this? Because those turned into a Mindflayer don't have souls(I'm remembering that correctly?). But he will get 7000 easily before souls become a rarity. That's some hellish scam on a Wallstreet level.

[lumine-no-hikari]

Dear Sephiroth: (a letter to a fictional character, because why not) #284

...I wasn't able to call the animal hospital today. It is Saturday. They are closed. I will have to call on Monday instead. I'm sorry about that; I imagine you were looking forward to an update on our recently rescued pigeon friend. Rest assured I will try for an update on Monday morning.

I went to work today. Mostly I sliced breads and bagged rolls. But I also spent some time scooping muffin batter into muffin tins. I really like preparing the muffins. And I really like when my precision allows me to fill more muffin tins than my supervisors expect!

I wasn't able to get any pictures of any of my work today. But I did make sure to grab some other ones for you on the way in to work. The sky was a brilliant shade of awesome this morning, and the pumpkin and flower displays outside the front door of my store were especially striking today, so I took some pictures...

These ones were taken just outside my store...

...Here were some of the displays outside of my building today:

...I wonder who it is, who puts these together so artfully. I feel lucky to work in the same building with them, whoever it is. Next time I'm there, I'll have to ask who puts these together so I can tell them how amazing it looks. Clearly, a lot of love and effort was put into these. I'd like to meet them.

I got a bunch of odds and ends for the house on the way home. I wanted to try to make... drum roll please...!!!

...!!!!!!!

...A brie garlic bread with prosciutto!!!!!

I dunno if anyone has tried it before, but it's hard to go wrong with garlic, butter, bread, cheese, and a salted meat product!!! Unfortunately though, by the time I was all done with everything, I didn't really have energy left to move my ouchy arm around (damn this rib injury to hell and back in a spiky, red-hot metal handbasket!!!!!). So after M and I put everything away, I just made myself a sandwich and ate it with some clementines...

...I kinda floundered emptily for a while after that. I feel like I'm drowning, and I've felt like that ever since Otakon, but I can't exactly pinpoint why; if you've got ideas, I'm all ears. At the moment, it feels like the best I can do is keep the sensation at bay for a little while. I guess I'm getting pretty good at finding ways of doing that, except for when I'm not very good at it. So that's something at least, right?

I'm sure it doesn't help that it's almost time for me to bleed; my body is going to be losing 4 times the normal amount of resources, as per usual. And then on Tuesday, I'm getting 4 teeth yanked out for the sake of those braces. I suppose I'm a bit apprehensive. My body is going to have a really hard time of it in the coming days. I tried some leisure writing to try to calm myself down a little, but... well. The leisure writing is a pale substitute for what it is that I actually want.

...I can't say what it is that I actually want. Not because I don't know what it is - I do know what it is. But... because it's so impossible and silly that if I said it, people would probably make fun of me a lot.

...I wish it wasn't like that. I really wish that others weren't so prone to making superficial judgments about things and coming to very wrong conclusions as a result. But it is what it is.

The wait to see what will happen to you is a very heavy thing to carry; I really don't wanna see you get slaughtered again. I don't like seeing you get hurt. Seeing you get beaten and broken in a number of ways was difficult enough as it is. I'm scared of seeing it happen more.

But I'll do my best with it, all right? I promise. You do your best with your things, too, okay? Promise me.

Well. Suppose I better end this one here before I start to ramble. I'll probably do some Dead Cells for a bit. Dunno how far I'll get, but... smashing up some zombies sounds like a great distraction right about now.

Please stay safe out there. Please don't die. Please don't disappear. Please don't go to some faraway place that no one can reach.

I'll write again tomorrow, hopefully about new garlic bread adventures.

I love you.

Your friend, Lumine

[danteleept]

Dante liked to think he went above and beyond to be the kind of man Annabelle Baxter would be proud of. He’d never faltered before but, shamefully, he rather thought he was doing everything he could to fail her right now.

He peered out of the window of the black cab, rain hammering down on the slick roads, and watched as London sped by him. He’d forgotten how easy it often was to get in a car and get somewhere in the same city in under an hour. If you climbed into a taxi in New York, you were condemning yourself to trawling through the grid of a city at a snail’s pace. Luckily, Dante was spared of that fate today, as he had a loose cannon of a race driver to contend with and, for once, it wasn’t Jackson Otto.

Annie was disappointed in him, and that stung. As for Jax… Dante wasn’t sure he knew exactly how the other man would react to his sudden departure, but he knew it wouldn’t be positive. He’d pondered on it too much as he’d sat on the flight, jiggling his leg as he’d teared up at How To Train Your Dragon 2 and let a child repeatedly kick his seat from behind (he’d only had time to purchase an economy class ticket, no longer having the luxury of Michael Baxter offering him a seat on his private jet). He’d thought about Jax during the movie, how he’d managed to wrangle him into watching it with him and a hungover Chloe during the week before they’d all ultimately fallen asleep on each other. He thought about him when he’d choked back his in-flight meal, and again when he’d landed in Heathrow, saw the shining light of a Marks & Spencers sign, illuminated like the North Star, and picked up a Vita Coco from the fridge. It wasn’t to his taste, he found, but something about Jax liking it still made it appealing.

He knew how it looked. He’d shamelessly flirted with Jax all week, only to up and leave Miami two days before the Grand Prix, all to chase down another man. His ex, no less. Dante only wished it didn’t have to be framed in such a way, but he’d had no time to recalibrate the optics of it to save his own image. Unfortunately, Jax would just have to be angry at him and Dante would need to find a way to bear it until he could apologise. 

The black cab slowed to a stop outside the hotel Mellie had told him about. She’d looked mildly surprised when she opened the door to find Dante standing there, but had recovered quickly and rattled off the name of the hotel her brother was staying at.

“He said he wants to be alone,” she’d told him, and the weight of her words settled heavily in Dante’s stomach, to the point where his panic crystallised and made his whole being ache.

“Here you go, mate,” he said, chucking a fifty pound note into the front seat. It was far more than necessary, but after using dollars for so long, he hadn’t had the time to exchange his money into anything smaller. The cabbie’s eyes widened, but before he could even offer any change, Dante had tugged his hood over his head and disappeared into the rain outside.

He jogged up the steps of the hotel, rain soaking him through by the time he got through the revolving door and into the lobby. The bar was to his right and he made his way over to it, wincing a little as he realised he was dripping rain water all over the marble floor.

It didn’t take long for him to spot Bash and his eyes traveled from the man slouching on the stool to the rows and rows of bottles behind the bar. Dante’s stomach turned uncomfortably as he approached the other man.

“I’m in a lot of trouble right now,” he said as he took the seat next to Bash. His eyes searched for any sign that the man was drunk, or on something even stronger. He swallowed nervously. “But if I’m already going to hell in a handbasket… mocktail on me?”

[murfpersonalblog]

IWTV Musings - My S1 & S2 Ep Rankings

IMO IWTV is a 10/10 show. This is a list of which eps I think are better overall; NOT which are in my Top 5 that I love the most (heart emojis).

1x1 (In Throes of Increasing Wonder): The Pilot ❤️ - The best tv pilot I've ever seen. Felt like a movie. Jacob Anderson, the acteur that you are~! Brad Pitt WHOMST?!

2x7 (I Could Not Prevent It): The Trial ❤️ - Disgusting. Riveting. Gaslighting. Infuriating. Entertaining. Humiliating. Sickening. Manipulating. Heartbreaking. Totally worth the cost of admission.

2x5 (Don't Be Afraid, Start the Tape): The OG Interview, the Loumand Fight - To have been the next door neighbors having to listen to all of that, omg. 👀🫣🍿 My jaw was on the effing floor.

1x7 (The Thing Lay Still): The Mardi Gras Murder Plot - Die, bish.

2x2 (Do You Know What It Means to Be Loved by Death): The Theatre des Vampires - Santiago had me at "Welcome." Bela Lugosi WHOMST?!

1x5 (A Vile Hunger for Your Hammering Heart): The Loustat Fight - To have been the next door neighbors having to listen to all of that, omg. 👀🫣🍿

1x4 (The Ruthless Pursuit of Blood with All a Child's Demanding): The Claudia of it all - Complete tonal shift. This was what I wanted from 1x2, more of a peek into Loustat's domestic years, before everything went to hell in a handbasket. But now there's a baby involved, who never did nothing wrong in her entire life.

2x8 (And That's The End of It. There's Nothing Else): The Reveal - Pyromaniac du Lac ready to risk it all. Armand ain't ish. Lestat ain't ish. Daniel's the goat. RIP Claudia & Paul.

1x6 (Like Angels Put in Hell by God): Disassociating ❤️ - One of my absolute fave eps. Mess City. No one's house is safe. Down horrendous. Not an ounce of dignity or self-respect. Love to see it.

2x3 (No Pain): The Armand of it all - Mofo you ain't slick.

2x1 (What Can the Damned Really Say to the Damned): Eastern Europe ❤️ - I've always wanted to see the Revenants on screen~!

1x3 (Is My Very Nature That of the Devil): The Race Riot - Crashout Louis is my spirit animal.

2x6 (Like the Light by Which God Made the World Before He Made Light): The Madeleine of it all - I am NOT a fan of the whole N*zi Collaborator angle, it really grosses me TF out. But this was a lovely ep. And that cliffhanger....

1x2 (After the Phantoms of Your Former Self): The Loustat of it all ❤️ - A slow ep, but an in important & criminally underrated one. Lestat's white privilege & toxic positivity color blindness was loud and clear. Recipe for disaster, love to see it.

2x4 (I Want You More Than Anything in the World): The Loumand of it all - Loumand's shenanigans were giving me a stress ulcer; total recipe for disaster. But Claudia came in clutch to tell BOTH those idiots off thank god; someone needed to.

[ask-the-barista-stone]

you talking about the guy who tried to interrogate you before the doctor came back as god and everything went to hell in a handbasket? that guy?

That is in fact the guy, he’s being so infuriatingly talkative and persistent . Would it kill him to leave me alone? Because I might kill him if he doesn’t.

[002yb]

Ok, Titans (2018) - the interval between S4 beginning up to Tim's "gauntlet" under Jason.

Any headcanons how Dick and Jason mended things? How did they go from Jason saying his goodbyes to Bruce and "never been here" (aka last fight at the end of S3) to being on phone call terms with Dick and plotting & executing The Hazing Of One Tim Drake?

How did they become close again? How close at all?

What has transpired?! 😳😳😳

(...I know this has to be full on CanonDivergwnce for Dick ends up with Kori in the series, no questions here, but hey, we do what we do to survive....)

The ask in which I get exposed for having only watched through s2. 😳😳😳 It's totally cool though, I've got this ahahaha. I'm vaguely aware that things went to hell in a handbasket in s3 from the Jason clips I watched, so let's see what I come up with. >)

It's Dick who reaches out first - a text about some suspect rumors or a potential case.

Strictly work related, completely impersonal - a professional inquiry

And Jason sits on it for days

Because obviously Dick is fucking with him. Why the fuck would he be reaching out to Jason for anything after everything? It's uncomfortable.

Personal headcanon that for as bratty as (2018)Titans!Jason can be, he's more concerned with how he fucked up than with how Dick slighted him

And it's not that he's disillusioned by Dick (Robin) anymore, that ship sailed and burned in a tragic wreckage, but like...he's still eager to impress

Praise this boy immediately

Days pass and Dick figures that Jason is ghosting him. That's fine. Reaching out was a shot in the dark. The casework was nothing he couldn't look into himself. More than that, it was just an excuse to check in.

But Jason doesn't owe Dick anything. Maybe Dick hopes that by by asking for 'help,' Jason might come to him if needed.

A long shot. They both fuck things up too much for that (in their own opinions)

But then Dick gets a message out of the blue. No comments, no insights, just a plethora of information for Dick to sift through.

And it's...organized? Not so much in an anal Bat sort of way (although it's that, too), it's just. It's compiled in a way that's very easy and pleasant to follow along with. Highlighting, diagrams, math written out in margins and worked through; formulas deconstructed and it's - it's a lot. It's curious and insightful and smart.

For as much as I loved the narrative impact of Dick's comment on Jason not reading AHHHHHHHHH and idk if Dick ever found out that Jason did all that complex chemistry with the fear gas thing, but FFFFFFFFF any and all opportunities to have (2018)Titans!Dick be confronted by him never having known Jason on a deeper (not even that deep omg) level is so wildly important

Anyway, yes. Dick being at a loss on how to reply because he doesn't want to provoke Jason's ire. So he just sends 'thanks'

And Jason ahhhhahahaha, poor boy. He put so much work into this project. He's doing it on top of his own work too, so when he gets the reply - 'thanks' - he's seriously just ._. before huffing and having a tiny tantrum because typical fucking dick

But then later Dick messages again and Jason swears that he's not going to read it. He'll leave it alone until he has the time to spare

Then of course he reads it immediately, a text that asks how Jason got to xyz solution for whatever formula or equation

And then they talk math/chemistry/what-have-you like a bunch of nerds

Tbh Dick just be marveling Jason being as smart as he is and enjoying the conversation for what it is

Some time passes. Their conversation would have ended as soon as it began, really. It goes back to radio silence until Jason thinks about that case again and checks in on the status

It's resolved, of course. Which is nothing Jason couldn't have looked into himself, in hindsight. He's a bit embarrassed for texting, but Dick texts him again with another, 'thanks again (:'

And Jason is just //n/// as he tosses his phone aside and gets back to his own thing

With no case to use as an excuse though, neither of them have any reason to text. They'll look at their phones occasionally though. Contemplating, maybe drafting something before deleting it and going back to their days

Then, one day, Jason receives a text that has some sort of equation. Which. Wtf is Dick working on now? Jason can't figure it out, but he sends a text back with his answer and how he found it

Following is a text from Dick; different method, same result

And that becomes the new norm. Sending one another complicated hypotheticals or brain teasers/puzzles to solve. And Jason doesn't necessarily enjoy the subjects much, but it's still a fun break to his days

More fun still is when they work together to solve something - sending bits of progress to one another and using that joint effort to come up with something grandiose and sometimes entirely wrong and they're both flabbergasted but get back to work because they won't be bested

And yes. This paves the way for Jason reaching out to Dick for help with something he's looking into.

Even when Jason outright rejects Dick's first response and is vicious in his teardown of the ones following, Dick is diligent with lobbing thoughts out there, finessing them with each of Jason's rejects and further insights until they unwittingly solve the case together

To be cheeky, all Jason texts is: 'thanks'

It's a slow crawl to mend what was broken between them but they get there, however tentatively. ///U/// As for how close they get? Probably just far enough to occasionally joke around and ask for work-related favors.

Also oh gosh just reread the ask and apparently they talk on the phone on occasion? How intimate LOL. These are probably less common though, just because there's no backspacing when in a verbal conversation and Dick has a habit of putting his foot in his mouth and Jason can and will take offense if Dick so much as breathes at him wrong, so help him.

I like to imagine Jason answers the calls with a gruff, 'what?' Just so inconvenienced even if he's not really bothered by it. And depending on the situation Dick might get straight to business or he'll get cheeky and have to call back after Jason hangs up on him.

Last Minute Addition:

Probs will make a different note of this if I remember but dickjay doing crosswords together 👀

=====

As it turns out, even with only two seasons under my belt I've got a lot of 2018Titans Dickjay feelings hahahaha. I'm real sorry if the thoughts aren't very accurate for what the vibes might be for post s3&4!

[starlightandetherealshadows]

IF Update on a mighty fine Monday

Hi honeybees! ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆

So, I've pretty much set the code for the prologue. The name, pronoun, and hair customizations seem to work, and I'm now familiar with linking passages/branching storylines.

That means...

Once I finish writing the prologue, I'll have an idea about when that will be released as a part 1 of a demo! You don't meet the RO's in the prologue, but you get to experience MC's first day of the alien invasion.

I'm so excited to share what I've been working on. If things look good, I'm planning for a mid-late August release of the prologue ｡･:*˚:✧｡

If we're talking numbers and percentages, I would say I'm 40% done with the prologue. I have the outline; I've written the bones of most scenes, and like I said earlier, I've began putting everything into Twine to test how it runs.

I have maybe 3K left to write before I'll go back and edit/add/delete as I see fit. I'm considering adding more choices, but the overall gist of it is "the day everything went to hell in a handbasket."

Thank you to everyone who has sent messages, interacted with my posts, and been so lovely. 𖡼𖤣𖥧𖡼𓋼𖤣𖥧𓋼𓍊

All my love,

Cheye