#er not the jail thing the- you know what I mean

[veinsfullofstars]

💥 What a little firecracker! 💥

(ID: Paper Mario series sketch of Bombette, one in a cute winking pose balancing on one foot, and one with her eyes screwed shut and her fuse lit about to explode. END ID.)

Started and finished on 10/23/23. NOTE: This was originally posted on my deleted account on 10/23/23.

[good-chimes]

Based on @tibbycaps’s very funny convexian hitman au, where vexes Cub and Scar have been ‘voluntarily’ employed as hitmen by the governing NHO.

YR 1, DAY 1 OF CONTRACT

Receptionist: Hello and welcome to the NHO! We are proud to protect the citizens of Hermit City. How can I help you?

Cub: We want to get past those security barriers.

Receptionist: Uh…so you’re…visitors?

Scar: We’re employees!

Cub: Since this morning.

Scar: We have a contract and everything. We’re totally official and definitely allowed in the building.

Receptionist: Um. Do you have your passes?

Cub: Oh, yeah, yeah, of course. Just a moment.

Scar: Do we have passes! Of course we have passes. Cub, give her the passes.

Receptionist: Sir, that’s an aluminum bottle cap.

[The visitors examine the item.]

Scar: Looks like an employee pass to me.

Cub: My bad. What about this?

Receptionist: That’s a penknife. That’s a sandwich wrapper—that’s a library card—I mean, it’s the right shape, but—that’s a driver’s license which is obviously not yours—that’s a fifty-dollar bill—that’s a second driver’s license for a completely different person. Sir, literally none of these things are employee passes.

Cub: Yeahhhhh, but do you get paid enough to notice?

Receptionist: Do you have a line manager? Or, um, a hiring manager? Who’s in charge of you?

[The visitors consult.]

Scar: Someone is, probably.

Cub: Might be Beef.

Receptionist: Uh, Director Beef is, uh, one of the heads of the whole organization. Are you sure?

Cub: Eh.

Scar: He did have a nice suit. Good shoes, too! Shame about the soot stains afterwards.

Receptionist: Okay, I’ll…just ping my boss… and I guess we’ll just start the process to get you passes. Let me take your first and last names, please?

Scar: Mister Scar GoodTimes, and this is Cub.

Receptionist: Cub?

Cub: Yup.

Receptionist: That’s a nickname…?

Cub: No, it’s a full name. Cub. Uhhhhh. Fan.

Receptionist: Sir, did you just look at that baseball pennant?

Cub: Yeah. Huge coincidence.

Receptionist: Okay, I’ll send them to print…orientation booklet…fire exits…do you need any accommodations for your, er, your wings?

Cub: Naw, they’re not real in this dimension. Go straight through physical matter. Walls, people—

Scar: —bars, safe doors—

Receptionist: Um.

Cub: Vex joke. Cultural.

Receptionist: Oh, right, you’re Vex! Like—what were those guys called who ate that policeman on the news…? ConVex!

Cub: Noooooo, no, no, we’re nothing like them. We’re real upstanding citizens.

Scar: I heard those two went to prison.

Cub: To super jail.

Scar: For a thousand years!

Manager: Excuse me, I’m the head of front desk and security, what’s going on here?

Receptionist: Oh, hi, boss, these gentlemen were just—

Manager: I can see what they are! This should have been escalated as soon as they turned up. You should have known to call me the minute you saw a Vex!

Receptionist: They haven’t done anything wrong.

Manager: Not done anything wrong—you mean they haven’t eaten anyone yet.

Cub: I haven’t had my coffee.

Scar: I have! Who do you want us to start with?

Manager: Come with me, please. The Directors want to see you.

Scar: [voice retreating as the visitors are escorted away] This is a fancy office. I like the art.

Cub: Did you know you can turn that photocopier into a laser canon?

Manager: This is why they put you in prison! Stick close to me! Please stop touching things!

NOTICE TO FRONT DESK STAFF

The copier tray is to be loaded from the correct angle only. It is not a ‘useless piece of shit’, you are handling it incompetently.

HR will not be dealing with complaints of ‘substandard management’. HR are here to deal with your pay slips. Complaints of substandard management should be addressed to your manager, who will take appropriate action.

Colleagues are to act with caution around new NHO agents ‘Cub’ and ‘Scar’. Minimal contact is advised. Security can be contacted via the panic buttons.

YR 1, DAY 36 OF CONTRACT

Cub: Hey. Picking up a delivery.

Receptionist: Of course, sir. Have you got a parcel ticket?

Cub: Sure, give me an example and I’ll forge you one right now.

Receptionist: I just needed the number—never mind. Let me take a wild guess based on your deliveries so far: is it the crate that’s green and glowing?

Cub: Huh, thought it would be blue. Maybe a kind of teal.

Receptionist: Well, we only have one that glows. It makes a buzzing sound when you get near it.

Cub: Ohh yeah, that’s the one.

Receptionist: Last time you got a delivery it was snakes.

Cub: Important experimental material.

Receptionist: Can you let us know if it’s snakes again? Only I need to find a heat lamp if you’re out on a mission.

Cub: Oh, yeah, right. I can build a heat lamp for you to keep here. You want something for it?

Receptionist: Okay, sir, for the last time, I don’t know where all your unmarked fifty-dollar bills come from, but it’s not normal to bribe building staff to do our jobs. 

Cub: Yeah? No deal, huh?

Receptionist: …Can you really turn the photocopier into a laser?

NOTICE TO FRONT DESK STAFF

URGENT: ALL STAFF MUST STAY AWAY FROM THE PHOTOCOPIER UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE

YR 1, DAY 82 OF CONTRACT

Receptionist: Good afternoon, welcome to the headquarters of NH—Scar?

Scar: Hello there! How’s it going?

Receptionist: Hey, Scar?

Scar: Uh-huh?

Receptionist: Your whole arm is covered in blood.

Scar: Blood? Oh, this blood? Don’t worry, don’t worry, everything’s fine. It’s not my blood. How was your weekend?

Receptionist: Are you sure it’s not your blood? That looks like someone sliced through your whole sleeve!

Scar: [tastes his own arm gingerly] Wait, yeah, some of it is mine. Just this bit, though.

Receptionist: Don’t eat it, oh my God.

Scar: It’s fine, Cub says we’re immune to all pathogens.

Receptionist: Seriously?

Scar: Nah, I think he just said that because I took his research away from him when he had the flu.

Receptionist: You should go wash that wound. That can’t be healthy. What have they got you doing out there?

Scar: Oh, y’know, this and that, we solve problems. We’re problem solvers. In fact we signed a contract to do that, so I guess we keep solving problems forever. Can I have one of these mints?

YR 1, DAY 145 OF CONTRACT

Cub: Gooood afternoon. What a beautiful day. Y’know, this kind of day makes me think, the thing about human perception—

Receptionist: The what.

Cub: The thing about human perception is it’s subjective. I did a PhD on this. So sometimes you could think you saw someone bring something into the office that you need to write down in the biohazards register, but actually, you could report to your boss there wasn’t anything there.

Receptionist: Sir, you are trying to hide an eight-foot-tall Venus fly trap behind your back. It’s taller than you are.

Cub: Seven foot at most.

Receptionist: [sighs] I guess I didn’t see anything. You want a mint?

NOTICE TO FRONT DESK STAFF

Cascaded from Legal: Employees are required to familiarize themselves with the new and expanded Dispute Resolution Policy.

Pursuant to this, threatening to eat your senior manager is NOT an approved method of settling conflicts and WILL result in disciplinary action.

Lava traps are ALSO EXPLICITLY DISALLOWED.

YR 2, DAY 407 OF CONTRACT

Receptionist: Cub, you don’t have to bribe me to get into the building after hours. You literally work here. I know you have a 24-hour pass. Just use it on the main door.

Cub: Yeah, but where’s the fun in that?

Receptionist: Try bribing an IT tech for codes to the secure areas instead.

Cub: Got those already. Phishing email. But y’know, all the techs make triple what they pay you.

Scar: And! I wanted a mint.

Receptionist: The mints are FREE.

Scar: It tastes better if it’s not!

Receptionist: That doesn’t make ANY sense! You two get back here and explain!

NOTICE TO FRONT DESK STAFF

Please find attached the Employee Satisfaction Survey. As always, we look forward to listening to your views to make NHO a Great Place To Work. Participation is mandatory.

Our recent payment settlement unfortunately means no raises this financial year.

Operational note: does any Front Desk team member know how to disconnect the ex-photocopier from the power supply without it immediately blowing up? You are all being very unhelpful about it???

YR 3, DAY 763 OF CONTRACT

Receptionist: Oh, hey, Scar.

Scar: …

Receptionist: Wait—Scar? Buddy? Are you okay?

Scar: Have you seen Cub?

Receptionist: Not since last week, I think.

Scar: Oh.

Receptionist: It’s the night shift. Was he supposed to meet you?

Scar: Yeah. They gave him a solo mission, and I dunno what time he was supposed to get back, either, but it wasn’t two o’clock in the morning. I’m just gonna…hey, can I wait down here? Until he gets in?

Receptionist: Sure. If you pull the chairs together, I guess you could make a kind of bed. I’ll keep an eye on the cameras.

-

Scar: I mean, nothing can take down Cub, right? That man’s a tank, I tell you. A genuine tank.

Receptionist: Yeah. Definitely.

Scar: He would have called me if something went wrong.

Receptionist: He would’ve.

Scar: What time is it?

Receptionist: Just gone 3am.

-

Receptionist: Look, if you’re not going to sleep, I’m ordering you pizza.

Scar: Ooooh. Let’s get wings and make a night of it while we wait. Catch!

Receptionist: This is two hundred dollars.

Scar: Yeah, can we get sides?

-

Receptionist: Just gone 4am, before you ask.

Scar: I didn’t ask!

Receptionist: I saw you open your mouth. You’re really worried, aren’t you.

Scar: Noooo, I’m not worried. I never worry about Cub.

Receptionist: Cub’s always seemed way too capable to have a problem with a mission.

Scar: Yeah.

Receptionist: You two go back a long way, huh?

Scar: There’s just the two of us. It’s always been just the two of us. And, I’ll be honest, I like this work, we have fun doing it, but why’d they send him out solo? And you know what’s worse, I can’t even ask! If we put a foot out of line, we— [breaks off into a coughing fit]

Receptionist: Are you okay?

Scar: I’m fine, I’m fine! I’m fresh as a daisy.

Receptionist: It sure sounded like your own throat just tried to cut you off.

Scar: Well, maybe I just care a lot about the office Data Combustion Policy.

Receptionist: I think you mean the Data Protection Policy? On second thoughts, I remember last year’s Christmas party, so maybe not—oh, hey.

Scar: What?

Receptionist: I saw something on the cameras, is that—

Cub: Yo.

Scar: Oh my God Cub I was so worried.

Cub: ‘m fine. [blurrily] Are those buffalo wings?

Scar: You are so not fine. You can have wings when you’re lying down!

Cub: ‘m taking these wings.

Receptionist: Here’s the first aid kit. You need to close the bag or the rest of the wings will fall out, guys. Guys. Look where you’re going. You have to open the doors before you go through them. Take the first aid kit with you!

YR 5, DAY 1561 OF CONTRACT

Receptionist: Good morning, and welcome to—oh, it’s you two. You brought a guest?

Cub: Howdy. This is Grian.

Grian: Apparently I work here now. Apparently I have “limited employment options”. Someone told me I’m lucky I’m not dead.

Scar: Haha, Mondays, am I right! So he’ll need a pass, and maybe a helping hand if she spaces out in the atrium.

Receptionist: Sure…oh, Grian, you’re on the system already. Here, take a temporary pass, and we’ll have your real one ready by lunchtime. Uh, if you need any help—

Grian: Wait, my date of birth is wrong on your screen. It’s the year before.

Receptionist: Did you just…read that backwards from the others side of my computer?

Scar: Wow, Grian, another nosebleed?

Grian: Shut up.

Cub: Your brain must be shrivelled up like a raisin by now.

Grian: Still works better than Scar’s!

Scar: [leans on the reception desk as the other two leave, bickering] Sooo…Grian’s not allowed outside without a Director’s approval.

Receptionist: Is that right?

Scar: Scary stuff, huh? If you happened to see him leave with us, and we just forgot to show you a permit…can I convince you into some sort of deal? As a friend?

Receptionist: You know, you can just ask a friend to do you a favor, you don’t have to pay me. I’ve known you for five years. I’m not gonna turn you in.

Cub: [calls] You coming, Scar?

Scar: I gotta go! Grian’s just a Watcher, she’s not dangerous. Grab some cash from Cub’s bottom desk drawer. They don’t even search our office anymore, so it’s just labelled ‘proceeds of crime (not)’. Cub’s traps will let you past.

Receptionist: Wait, are you—was that person—a Watcher—holy shit—

Scar: See ya later! Get the money!

Receptionist: [rolls eyes] Of course, sir. Have a nice day.

*chau Grian uses he/she pronouns

*Check out tibby’s chau tag!

[minispidey]

01: Barbie and the Giftshopist.

Steven Grant x f!bimbo!reader. series masterlist. next part.

01. This Barbie is his new neighbor!

warnings: uses y/n once, get ready for kinda cringey bimbor!reader. over-use of the word like. extremely feminine reader. reference to elle woods. NOT BETA READ.

"Yeah, but like, I totes believe her. I mean she's totes being framed. I wanna help her." as Steven got off of the lift, he sees multiple boxes out in the hallway and hears a woman's voice talking to someone.

You walk out of the flat in front of his to push in the rest of your things. You were wearing something someone moving in shouldn't be wearing: a pink lace top, flared pink pants and cute high heels. You had a purse and everything.

"I need an alibi from her. Like, she can't just like go to jail for something she didn't do. That's a crime itself." you held your phone in between your shoulder and ear "I'm totally bugging. Where's a good manipedi here?"

"Uh, I think there's a salon across from the baker around the corner?" Steven spoke up from behind you.

You turn to face him, blinking twice "I'll call you back. I'll see you at the office." you end your call and smiled at him "Thanks so much. My nails have suffered too much this past week. Oh, we're neighbors!"

"It seems like we are."

"I'm Y/N. It's so nice to meet you." you two shake hands "I'm like, really struggling with these boxes. And I know I'd be like super desperate, but I am, but can you help me, please?" you smiled brightly, even batting your long eyelashes.

"Oh, uh, yes, absolutely." he said, taking a couple of the boxes from the hallway.

You kept kicking some of the boxes in with your pink high heels, clearly impatient and trying to push them all in. Steven halts your actions by picking them up and setting them down inside.

"You gotta uh, carry the boxes inside. They get stuck when you just push them." entering your flat, he placed more boxes down. He could see your walls were already painted a different color: pink. Steven was surprised to see such a bold choice of color, but he could already tell by your outfit what kind of woman you were.

A woman with great fashion-sense.

You were beautiful. Something about you was just so alluring, so hypnotic. He couldn't even believe a beautiful woman like you was talking to him, let alone letting him enter your flat. But he did notice you were a bit of a ditz.

"Do you need any help with anything else?" Steven asked, turning around as he spoke. His ears were slightly red because of the way you looked at him.

"That's all. Thanks so much." you smiled "I just moved here, and like, still adjusting."

"It's not a problem at all. If you need anything, don't be shy. I'm just in front."

"That's so nice of you! Totes, I'd definitely need some help. Oh shoot, I never got your name."

"It's fine. I-It's Steven."

"It's so nice to meet you, Steven."

His eyes shifted to the racks filled with clothes. Pink, to be exact. You were extremely feminine. He spots furs and his brows furrow a bit "Er... uh..."

"They're faux fur. Can't tell the difference anymore." you giggled, wheeling them to a corner with the rest of your clothes.

"Oh. Well, they're very nice." Steven smiled "Are you a model?"

"Gosh, that's such a compliment. No one's ever said that before. But no, just love clothes. How about you? Wait wait! Let me guess..."

Steven found it adorable as you squint your eyes, thinking of what his job is.

"Are you like... a sculptor? No, a painter! Am I close?"

"I work at a gift-shop, actually. A giftshopist." he smiled.

"No way. You have really pretty hands, you could be like a hand model. Or like I said, a painter."

Steven blushed like a mad man "Thank you. No one's ever complimented my hands."

"You're pretty handsome, you know? It's like... gosh you have a nice nose too." the way you complimented him was as if he was a sculpture.

Steven's heart almost stopped when you casually mentioned how handsome he was. You were incredibly blunt about it for someone he had just met.

"Thank you." he said, his cheeks turning a shade of pink. Something about you saying it that make his body feel all warm. It's such a strange and unusual feeling for him.

"No, but like seriously. You are so handsome. It's like driving me a bit cray, you get it, right? Gosh, I sound like a total creep."

Hearing the same thing two times in a row sent him into quite a little flutter. He had never been one to be flirted with and the combination of how direct you were, plus how much you were repeating yourself certainly made him feel something.

"No, it's fine. No, you don't sound like creep, it's totally fine." he looks back up at you "I'm just... I'm not used to... it."

"Used to what? Being called handsome?"

"Yeah." Steven chuckled, the sound escaping his mouth in such a high pitched and nervous way that it sounded almost like a squeak "And uh, being flirted with..."

Your phone suddenly rings, making you two jump up. You take your phone out, looking at the caller ID "So sorry. I gotta take this."

"Oh, no worries." he clears his throat, taking the opportunity to collect his thoughts and calm his racing heart and mind.

"I, uh, I should go now." he says "I'll see you around, luv."

"I'll see you around, Steven." you gave him a smile before answering your phone, pacing back and fourth across your flat.

As Steven enters his flat, his heart calms down but his cheeks were still red. His eyes shifted towards a mirror, a clearly judging Marc staring right back at him.

"So. You like her?"

"Oh come on, Marc. I just met her."

That evening, Steven heard a knock outside his door. His ears were perked up as he approached the door, opening it to find you in your cute animal print night dress and holding a casserole dish "Okay, so like, I got called in to the office earlier and I never got to properly thank you."

"It's not big deal, luv." he blushed "They're just boxes."

"And really heavy ones. You are like, super strong. Plus I finally got my manipedi." you giggled "I made lasagna in the office but I got leftovers, do you wanna split?"

"Uh... actually I'm vegan."

"Oh gosh, I'm like so sorry. That explains the fur thing!"

"Yeah." he nods "It's alright, luv. I don't wear a big ol sign saying I'm vegan."

"Well... I was just hoping we could hangout because you seem like a really nice guy. I mostly bond with food."

"It's alright, uh..." Steven looks behind him, looking if his place was presentable "If you want, you can eat it here while we chat? Maybe a cup of tea? I've stepped inside your flat, might as well welcome you into mine."

"Really? That's so nice of you! I swear, when I get my stove and oven I'll make you something vegan."

"You really don't have to. I assure you, it's alright."

"Don't worry! I can cook."

Ever since that day, Steven is ecstatic to wake up everyday and greet you in the morning as you both went off to work.

Your clothes were always consistent with the pinks and whites, but you always looked professional as you head off to work.

Steven began to guess what your profession was. You said you weren't a model, perhaps a designer? A professor?

He snapped out of his thoughts when you placed a plate of fried tofu with some sauce over it and spring onions.

"Stevie, do you know where I could like, donate books? Mine are sooo expensive but someone might want to use them." you asked as you cleaned up your countertop.

"Yeah, why?"

"Okay so like, Jean, he's like a newbie, he totally bugged me. Brags that he loves to donate his stuff. He once donated a canoe. He says like he was a hoarder back then. I thought to myself, am I hoarding?" you spin, facing Steven "I totally am! I have books I won't need anymore and I don't have bookshelves anyways."

"I have spots in my bookcase. Maybe I could take them off your hands?" Steven looks up at you with a smile "I don't mind. They have sentimental value?"

"Very. Plus, they were soooo expensive I swear. I could've bought like fifteen more pairs of heels if I hadn't bought them. Or maybe just a pair of Choos."

"What kind of books are they exactly?"

"Law."

"Law?"

"Law." you clear your throat, lifting your arm and bending your wrist in a dramatic way "I'm a lawyer, obvi."

Steven was slightly taken aback by the news. He certainly wouldn't have guessed that right "You're a-a lawyer? Oh, wow, that's super impressive. Wait, how are you dressed the way you are if you're a lawyer? Don't they make you wear suits and stuff?"

"Duhh, I wear pink ones! You see me wear them to work every morning." you smiled "I have a lot."

Steven's truly never met a woman like you.

"You're incredible..."

[adaptacy]

can i request johnnys gf who knows the family secrets and loves them all anyway, just disappears one day and they all think she finally just left for good, ran away and isn’t coming back, but she actually just went to jail or ended up stranded somewhere lol

CW: meaningless angst, red flags from family members (cough nancy cough), johnny feeling down

He didn't understand it. He'd done everything right, hadn't he? She'd known for two months now- had dinner with them, had helped chop the meat, had gotten along with his relatives.

And she just leaves? Wasn't she scared? Didn't she fear the repercussions of an attempted escape? Didn't she know what he was capable of?

"I tried to tell you, boy. She was nothin' but a waste of time," Nancy scolded, rolling her eyes at the boy on the stairs. He gave a small nod, but only because he didn't want to hear her complaints. "Frankly, I never liked 'er."

"Well, I- I did," Nubbins hiccupped, swinging his leg back and forth as he gently kicked the railing.

"You liked her like you like them photos you take. She was nothin' but a decoration," Nancy snapped, and Nubbins nodded, quieting down.

"I thought she was sweet. Different, too. Nothin' like most of his girlfriends," Sissy encouraged, placing a hand on Johnny's shoulder. He shrugged her off, and she pouted, scooting away from him.

"It's whatever, she wasn't nothin' special," Johnny grumbled, standing up. The trio around him watched as he turned and headed up the stairs, and though Sissy attempted to follow him, Nancy grabbed her shoulder and pulled her back.

Shutting his bedroom door behind him, he lay down on his bed, staring up at the ceiling. He just wanted to know why. She'd never had a problem with him. They'd gotten into arguments, but they'd always been resolved. The sex was good, she talked about it all the time. She'd constantly showered him with affection, and now she was just leaving? Who did she think she was?

Johnny hadn't enjoyed anyone else like he enjoyed her. Hadn't put up with anyone else like he'd put up with her. She was annoying, and weak, but he'd-

No, he wasn't going to use the L word. She ran away, she didn't deserve the L word. I mean- she ran away. She had a life here. A house, didn't she have a family-? She dropped all of that to leave, to ghost him? Instead of doing what any normal person would do and just break up with him?

But no, he wasn't deserving of a word, a note, an apology. An explanation. That's all he wanted. Just a reason. Just one reason. Clearly, it wasn't the cannibalism that turned her off. And she'd chosen to hang out with his braindead family members, so it wasn't them either. She liked the way Johnny looked, she'd said so, and he hadn't changed anything.

Did she meet someone new? No, they spent all of their time together. She just ran. Left.

Johnny sat up, pushing his hair back over his head. He wore a scowl, but his eyes were more hurt than anything. And wet. He raised a hand, wiping the pad of his thumb across his left eye. Now his thumb was wet.

He groaned, rubbing both of his eyes and shaking his head. He was angry. Not upset- he was frustrated, and angry, and violent. He was not sad. Johnny didn't get 'sad'. That was not a thing he was capable of feeling. Nancy had taught him that- people like Johnny weren't capable of real feelings. Emotions. 'You're special, boy,' she'd repeated, telling him over, and over, and over again. Throughout his entire life, that's what he was told. Reassured.

So he hardly understood why the hell his eyes were wet. His cheeks. He wiped his face again. Probably just sweat.

He just wanted an explanation. He wanted to see her again, too, but mostly just needed a reason. So he stood, grabbed the keys to his truck, and hopped down the stairs. Nancy and Sissy called after him, but he didn't listen.

The entire drive to her house, he was silent. The radio was off. He just stared ahead, his thoughts racing. His thumb tapped borderline anxiously on the steering wheel, and he was definitely going over the speed limit. Thankfully, nobody else was on the road.

When he reached her house, her car was out front, and he found it infuriating. He was growing angrier by the moment, and he didn't bother to knock. He picked up her doormat, inserted a key, and shoved open the door. He called out her name, but there was no response.

Stomping up the stairs, he opened her bedroom door and opened his mouth to yell, but he couldn't manage the words. There she was, sleeping on the bed, looking as peaceful as ever. As unbothered. As apathetic.

He just stood there like an idiot, watching her sleep, for almost ten minutes before he finally approached her.

"Wake up."

She stirred, gently opening her eyes. She squinted at Johnny, and then scoffed. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"I want answers."

"Me too, asshole!" She yelled, grabbing a pillow and swinging it at him. He caught it, yanking it out of her grasp, his eyes narrowing.

"What? What answers could you possibly need? Are you really that goddamn-"

"I loved you! And you got your fucking mom to break up with me for you? You are so goddam childish," she growled, sitting up and grabbing a second pillow. She swung it at him, and he caught that one as well.

"Wait- what?" He stammered, pulling the pillows away from her, holding them in front of his chest like a shield.

"Seriously? Don't play dumb. You're unbelievable. You think that just because-"

"You left me," he clarified.

"What? No, you didn't want to keep seeing me. Nancy told me," she replied, her eyebrows pinching together.

"That ain't true. You stopped showin'," he scoffed, throwing the pillows to the floor.

"Then why'd she tell me you wanted to break up?"

Johnny sighed, rubbing his temple. "Damn it. I knew she was gon' do somethin'. Darlin', that ain't true. I woulda told ya myself," he assured. She frowned at him, and grabbed a third, and final pillow, threatening to hit him with it. "I'm bein' honest."

"I don't believe you."

"You believe Nancy over me?"

"...No, but-"

"I thought you'd gone 'n run off," he huffed, sitting down on the bed next to her.

"Seriously? You think I'm that heartless? That I'd just run off without any explanation? Damn, Johnny, that hurts," she chuckled, almost nervously. "I was gonna call. But I didn't wanna end up as dinner in the case that you were really mad at me."

"You shoulda. Sorry, darlin, she's been on my back 'bout you. I shoulda seen it comin'," he apologized, she rolled her eyes, leaning a head on his shoulder.

"I probably should've been more skeptical. That is good to know though, cause uh... I didn't really know what I was gonna do without you," she murmured, taking a hold of his hand.

He furrowed his brows, turning to face her. "Did you say you loved me?"

"No."

"I'm pretty sure you did," he pushed, narrowing his eyes.

"Shut up."

[icycoldninja]

Can you perhaps write the DMC boys with a reader who’s quiet, reserved, nice and can be quite extroverted at times but can be incredibly vengeful when time calls

Basically if you have:

+ crackhead energy with a dash of spitefulness from a crashed out honey badger

+ The Punisher’s motivation to get to the end of Earth to enact his punishment

+ Amy Dune’s vengefulness and Homelander’s psychopathic and sadistic tendencies

All combining these elements you shall have the reader herself

———————————————————————————

Now normally she’s pretty chill, can easily converse with and overall a nice person but if you do something that particularly ticks her off or what she deems are ‘morally wrong’ or ‘unfit’, she’ll make sure she’ll get back at you based on the severity of the situation.

For example:

+ If you make fun of her outfit or doing minor troublesome things then she’ll orchestrate a detailed plan on how she’ll insult you next time or have you subconsciously do something embarrassing to put you in line or…very rare, spare you

+ However, if you’re caught doing something severe to her, her friends and family or morally wrong like stabbing her into the stomach and got her sent into the ER, k!lling her friends, etc then pray you’ll evict yourself from life fast enough before she can find you again because the next encounter…won’t be pleasing. If it means fully enacting her vengeance, she’ll even swim from the coast of South East Asia to Antartica just to find you, or maybe even hunting down your entire bloodline just to know your whereabouts…Once she finds you, it’s basically either you gave your life up to her just for her to draw your death in slowest ways possible or do yourself a favor and put yourself to rest in pieces…Like I said, she’s pretty sadistic and vengeful, so once she got you, be prepared to go through multiple torture methods that will put even the medieval torture methods to shame in terms of severity

In conclusion; fuck around with her and you’ll find out in the worst way possible. She may forgive but she’ll never forget

Sparda boys + V x Crazy determined!Reader headcannons

¤ Dante ¤

-Dante thought you were a lot of fun to be around, thinking you'd make for a great partner in crime or something like that.

-Then someone happened to cross you one day and he got to see how terrifying you could actually be.

-You were up all night pacing back and forth in your room, mumbling to yourself, drawing weird charts and graphs, and generally appearing insane. Dante was, for the first time in a long time, quite scared.

-The next day you took off to find that person's house, and did not return for a full two days. Once you arrived home, you proudly declared revenge had been taken, and when Dante watched the news the next day, he found that same person's face flashing about on the screen. He wasn't dead, though, just jailed for improper public behavior.

-This led Dante to realize how determined, vengeful, and absolutely crazy you could be. He loved it.

-Though you guys do need to discuss when such behavior is appropriate and when it isn't, Dante still stands by his first impression of you: you're a lot of fun.

■ Vergil ■

-Vergil noticed your bizarre, wild personality the moment he met you, and decided in that moment that he must watch over you like a hawk.

-Your determination to get revenge on anyone who inconveniences you is both remarkable yet absolutely horrifying. Vergil cannot imagine the sheer amount of chaos you could cause if allowed to roam free, because if he does, he will have a stroke.

-He once got to see your sadistic vengeance for real when someone tried to hurt your family for whatever reason. Needless to say, when he cut open the portal to that person's house for you, he was genuinely concerned. Not for you, for that person.

-When you returned, you returned covered in blood. The next morning, there was news of a person mysteriously disappearing without a trace in the middle of the night. Vergil made the connection.

-He knows you would never hurt him because you're crazy in love with him, but he still makes sure he has an escape route planned before bringing up any issues or faults.

-At least he can rest easily knowing you're able to protect yourself when needed.

□ Nero □

-Nero loves you because you're just like him, but louder, a lot louder, and a lot more free.

-You do have your quiet moments, which is good, because Nero needs to be able to sleep every now and then.

-He didn't think you were all that threatening until he witnessed you go full on psycho in your bedroom after someone insulted you in public one day.

-You were apparently concocted a convoluted plan to get revenge on this person, which involved a lot of humiliation, and depending on your timing, jail time.

-He thought you were nuts but didn't want to stop you, nor did he pay any mind to the news the next day. As far as he's concerned, he was never even home that night.

-He now thinks you're crazy, but you're a cool kind of crazy. He thinks it's so hot.

● V ●

-V found your extroversion to complement his quiet introversion, and rather enjoyed those rare quiet moments when you were feeling like being silent.

-The fact that you have the energy of a chaos gremlin is something truly entertaining in his eyes. He loves watching your shenanigans.

-When someone tried to mess with you, both V and that person learned how psychopathic you really are.

-Though he was rather shocked by how far you were willing to go in order to achieve your goals, V was not frightened.

-He trusted you and understood that you would never do anything to hurt him, especially when he never gave you a reason to, so why should he be afraid?

-He won't assist you in your criminal endeavors, however. Your business is your business alone, he will not meddle.

[howlingday]

Last human au) jaune has been stuck in a cell since he was woken up and he's gonna be honest not the worst day he's ever had but not the best either although he might have just made a new friend. A robot friend at that!

Penny is sure she's managed to ingratiate herself with her new primitive charge. Poor thing probably doesn't even realize that she's not even a real human! She'll have to keep that a secret though even when he falls in love with her. For science of course. Now to learn more about the human and move him to the study area where friend ruby is waiting.

Basically jaune might be more modern but everyone around him doesn't know that yet. In order to keep him comfortable and not be cruel to the poor primitive thing they commissioned a robot companion to befriend him and guide him back to the testing area. Surely they'll be able to account for everything on the simulated escape and jaune won't outsmart them all before wandering off to the city

Tldr: jaune out smarts everyone and now they're panicking because what they think is a caveman is wandering around the city. On the plus side ruby feels validated in her idea that just because jaune is less educated than modern faunas doesn't mean he's less intelligent. And penny is getting all sorts of interesting data

Bedrock Bottom

First/Previous

Jaune had never been to jail before. He was raised to be polite and respectful to everyone around him, or else the police would take him away from his family. However, looking back on it, the stories he'd heard about prison were distinctly different from where he was now. These tales of horror and warning scared Jaune to know end, his father terrifying him with tales of endless gang wars, violent guards, and other inmates who would view him as a plaything to do what they would with him.

Except none of this was true from his perspective. Right now, it felt more like he was a pet rat kept in a shoebox. Food was brought to him three times a day, as well as books, puzzles, and the occasional "letter from home," which was just some girl pretending to be his mom and warning him to not stay out too late or else the "dire rats would gobble him up".

Speaking of strange girls, he wasn't alone in his room, either. Delivering these items was Penny, a cute girl with red hair that curled just above her shoulders. She would ask him questions about himself, then respond with "Oh, I know about that! That's what all humans do, right?" There was usually a hiccup between these statements.

It had been a week since he'd been tossed into his cell, and six days since Penny came into his life. He would spend most of the day sitting on his bed, reading between meals, though at some points, he would forgo the reading and do some exercises instead. Penny would sit on the bed regardless and ask him questions. Questions like...

"Why are you doing pushups the wrong way?"

"It's not the wrong way." Jaune answered. "I'm just exercising different muscles."

"Oh! I know about that!" She hiccupped. "That's what all humans do, right?"

"Not all of them." Jaune lifted himself to his knees. "Can I ask you something, Penny? Human to human?"

"Sensational!" Penny's eyes widened as much as her smile. She jumped from the bed, hopping from one foot to the other in a little dance. "I've successfully integrated with the human specimen~!"

"But aren't you human?" Penny stopped. "I mean, you are human, right?"

"Affirmative!" Penny said, then hiccupped. "I am a human meat person, just like you!" She hiccupped again.

"Uh-huh." He let the issue go for now. "Anyways, I was wondering what you did to get locked up in here."

"What I did?" Penny repeated.

"Yeah, this is a jail, isn't it?"

"...Yes!" She hiccupped.

"And prisoners are locked up in prison for doing bad things, right?"

"Yes, that is correct."

"I, er, broke out of a hospital and pushed a girl over, so I guess I got in trouble for some kind of hospital rule."

"...Oh! I know about that!" She didn't hiccup. "That's what all humans do, right?"

"No, it isn't, Penny."

"It... isn't?"

"Penny, you're my friend, right?"

"I... Am I?" She asked. She then got really close. Almost uncomfortably close. "Do you see me as a friend?!"

"I... Yes?" Penny was quiet for a moment. Then she was quiet for a moment longer. Suddenly, she beamed with the biggest smile he'd ever seen. "Uh, Pen-"

"SENSATIONAL!" She hugged him, and she was squeezing him REAL tight. "I cannot believe I have two friends, and one of them is the human!"

"Wait, wait." Jaune groaned from his strained lungs. "Who's... Who's your other friend?"

Penny gasped, then shut and covered her mouth with her hand. She quickly ran to the door, not looking back as she pounded on the cell entrance/exit. The door hissed and slid open, and a team of four, burly guards rushed in, knocking Jaune to the ground. Looking up, he saw Penny looking back. Her eyes were the saddest he'd ever seen. And then she ran away, and he was left pinned to the floor.

As she ran, he couldn't help but notice the twin antennae extending from her hair.

[salternateunreality2]

AGSZC Taking Care of Their Feral Chocobo (often against his will)

Just some OOC crack excerpts from Cloud being feral and his boyfriends suffering.

from many a conversation with @strayheartless

-----------------------------------------------------------

Unjust Punishments

Cloud: *has dorm toilet duty for "fighting with" bullies* Eh, this isn't the worst thing someone in charge has done for something that's not my fault.

*Everyone's gaze sharpening dramatically*

Sephiroth: What WAS the worst thing?

Cloud, casually: Oh probably that time I saved the mayor's daughter and was almost thrown in jail with my broken ribs...or maybe the time Johnson...never mind, I got him back so it's fine!

*One-Winged Angel starts playing from four directions at once*

Cloud: The mayor thing was only that bad because I was 8 and freaking out too much, no big deal because Ma stopped them from actually throwing me in jail.

*Estuans interius...*

Cloud: And Johnson's nuts are crushed now, so yeah, all good.

*Ira vehementi...*

A little while later...

Cloud: Hey Zack?

Zack: Yeah, buddy?

Cloud: You know I love cuddling you...

Zack: YES, ME TOO! *squeezes tighter*

Cloud: ...but I get the feeling I'm stuck, and I'd like to know for how long.

*Zoom out to see Zack and Cloud have been tightly wrapped in a burrito together, squirreled away in Genesis' giant bed-nest, and their whole burrito bundle is swaddled so thoroughly that escape seems untenable. Outside, sounds of growling, pacing, and theme music can be heard*

Zack: IDK, last time they got me after I almost got trampled by a behemoth, they had me in here for a day or two. I say just enjoy it. I definitely am! *Pecks on cheek* You're the cutest!

-------------------------------------------------------------

Medication

Cloud doesn't take pills. Get that thing away from him. He will tough it out. Pills are for the weak! ZACK, GET OFF!

Zack's clamping Cloud's jaws shut while Angeal strokes his throat like a stubborn dog's to get him to swallow, "there, there, just swallow, that's it, be a good rabid chocobo, good"

Two minutes later, with lots of "bleaugh blech blaugh blep blech": *pill clatters to the floor*

Dissolving it in milk doesn't work because he can sMeLl It.

Genesis: "That's it, next time it's going to be liquid!"

Next time...

Genesis: *covered in disgusting cough syrup and germs* "NEXT TIME IT'S GOING TO BE A SHOT."

Next time...

The shot goes awry and gets injected wrong and now Cloud looks like the most sad and pathetic creature to ever walk the earth because (a) they BETRAYED HIM and (b) the shot got injected into something that HURTS and it was a NEEDLE and they BETRAYED HIM. Little tears glisten on his feverish cheeks and the tiniest of whimpers comes out and he holds his injured arm extra gingerly, and now everyone feels awful. 🥺

Genesis: "...fine, next time it'll be pills."

------------------------------------------------------------------

Weaponized Cuteness

Cloud: *doesn't want to do something* *stands next to Angeal and rubs his head*

Angeal: Awww my precious chocobaby, does your head hurt?

Cloud: *looks away, pouting*

Angeal: Sweetheart, we have to take care of ourselves. Here, sit down in the shade and have some juice.

Zack: *offended puppy noises* GEAL MY HEAD HURTS TOOOOO

Angeal: It does not, keep squatting

Cloud: *smirking behind his juice box*

-

Zack: Kunsel, you gotta help us, he's playing them! You see that, right?!

Kunsel: Yep.

Zack: Great, then we need you to tell the-

Kunsel: Nope.

Zack: What do you mean "nope"?! YOU ACKNOWLEDGE WHAT HE'S DOING?!!!!

Kunsel: Yep, and it is hilarious 🍿🍿🍿

-

It backfires when Cloud is actually unwell and doesn't want help.

Cloud: *coughs up blood very quietly* Bye guys, I'm off to kill a zo- er, off on a patrol!

Angeal: *appears from the ether* No, you are not.

Cloud: But 🥺 I gotta, for work!

Angeal: I smell blood.

Later...

Zack: Heh.

Cloud: Shut the fuck up.

Zack: Nah, you look like a marshmallow and I will take as many blackmail pics as I please, my angry little muffin!

Cloud: *growling and coughing up blood from his straightjacket cocoon*

-

Genesis being manipulated into giving Cloud's lactose intolerant ass more cheese:

---------------------------------------------------------------

They burrito him for the flu one time and come home to find that he CHEWED THROUGH the cocoon and is out racing Roche with a raging fever.

---------------------------------------------------------------

It's cold, and Angeal is frantically wrapping Cloud up in many layers because he's "small" (compared to the giraffes the rest of them are) and unenhanced...and now Cloud is passing out from heatstroke before because his Nibelheim genes are strong.

-------------------------------------------------------------

Cloud: *sways*

Angeal, from two floors away: ...I smell naughty bird. GENESIS!

Genesis: Angeal?

Angeal: Did you eat today?

Genesis: Yes.

Angeal: 🤨

Genesis: SIGH I had a breakfast sandwich and a chicken dish for lunch from the cafeteria.

Angeal: Good. My bird senses were tingling, so I... *Looks at Genesis* 😱

Genesis: 😱 CLOUD

They both make it downstairs just in time to catch him. He hadn't eaten in a day and a half.

[aziraphales-library]

hello hello, if that possible, i'm looking for some fic where they are found in every era like the show (yeah that dumb but really needed) Thanks you

Hi. You'll want to check out our #through the ages tag for absolutely LOADS of fics like this. Here are some more to add to the enormous collection...

Have You Met My Lover by Asking_for_a_Fiend (M)

In the course of their long lives, Aziraphale and Crowley have found themselves in all sorts of uncomfortable situations.

And pretending that they are a couple was a solution to exactly five of them.

This is the story of those five occasions.

there are going to be a lot of hugs in this one by IneffableDoll (T)

Over 6000 years of human history, Aziraphale and Crowley hug. A lot. That's it. *** 20 days of hugs for an impromptu fluffy time challenge on the Ace Omens Discord server. Expect hurt/comfort, occasional touches of angst, humor, and enough fluff to keep me in Soft Jail for a long time. FLUFF, y'all.

He's Not My Friend by CopperBeech (T)

He didn’t need a meal with the angel, or oysters. But it was a novelty, and Crowley loved novelty. Even in Heaven no one had liked him. It was a meaningless concept Upstairs. Since becoming corporeal he’d found there were things he liked – wine, sun, warmth – but they were things, indifferent to his existence.

The angel was like wine and sun and warmth that liked him back. That guileless smile. That flush on the smile-plumped cheeks.

The angel was an idiot. But it would pass the time.

A poem, or a suite of music with recurring motifs, or a meditation on holding hands.

Holy Water by IOMT666 (T)

Aziraphale and Crowley's relationship through the ages. Our boys aren't just bad at figuring out what they're feeling. They are BEYOND bad at communicating with one another. Fair amount of angst. Happy ending.

The Other Testament by CassandraLie (T)

There was another book, its tales so contradictory to their traditional tellings, that it couldn’t even be counted among the books known as the Infamous Bibles. In fact, this book could hardly be considered a bible at all.

No, it was more like a love story.

Four thousand years of a six thousand year slow burn between an angel and a demon with mutual 'friends' (assignments), like Adam and Eve, Cain and Abel, and even Jesus of Nazareth (before he got famous and took his stage name).

All the jobs Aziraphale and Crowley (Crawley, for most of the four millennia) managed to bungle, or just skip out on altogether. And all the reasons they were omitted from the Good Book (though not the better book, Good Omens).

As the note delivered to Death by the International Express Man read, Come and See...

Do You Know What Eternity Is? by Elderly_Worm (T)

Aziraphale frowned. "What you’re saying, then, is that discorporating you would cause more temptations in the end?” “That’s exactly what I’m saying. Not to mention, they’d be better quality, more efficient temptations. And possibly more violent. A lot of Demons really enjoy that sort of thing.” “And you don’t?” asked Aziraphale, softly. “Oh.” Crawly blinked. “Erm. No, I mean, I really like violence. Big violence-er, me. Always calling for more violence in Hell. I like a good flaying, y’know. All that. Screaming. Er.” “Indeed,” said the Angel. Bless it.

-

This story follows Aziraphale and Crowley's experiences from Eden to the failed Apocalypse, with one scene per decade, every decade, for the entire 6,000 years. I drew predominantly from show canon, with elements of book canon, as well as Biblical and historical inspiration.

- Mod D

[disasterbiwriter]

You may have seen me obsess over this before, but... Luke tries to teach Jess how to play baseball, because "every boy likes baseball, right?" And it doesn't go very well. 😆

The Diner Dudes and the Bad Hop

Part I

Lorelai is bussing a table when Luke clatters down into the diner, and as she looks up and takes him in, it's clear she's trying not to laugh.

"What?" Luke demands. "What?!"

"Nothing, I just didn't know you realized you could wear those things with the brim to the front." She reaches up and gently flicks the brim of his ancient Mets cap.

"Knock it off." What does it say about him that even that miniscule degree of contact with her sends his stomach into somersaults?

"Sorry, sorry." She looks him over once more, from the hat down to the scuffed up Slugger hanging at his side. "So, you're really going to go through with it?"

"'Course," he says. "He's excited."

Her face is soft. "Of course he is. He loves to take the trash out if it means you're with him."

"It's going to be fun," Luke insists. "All boys love baseball."

"Right right." She snaps and points at him, cheeky. "Hey, do you think he'll put whatever he's reading down long enough to hit the ball, or are you thinking the reading material will be thick enough to be a stand-in for the bat?"

Luke rolls his eyes. "Are you in overtime yet?"

"Maybe."

"Go home."

Part II

"All right, bud, remember what I told you?"

Six-year-old Jess is vibrating with excitement. "Yep!" He ticks the items off on his grubby fingers. "Keep my eye on the ball. Don’t swing at anything below your shoulders or anything higher than your knees."

"Er, close. It's actually - "

"And quit when it starts to feel like all the baselines are running uphill."

Luke scratches his head. "Did... I don't remember telling you that last one."

Jess scrambles for the backpack he slung off along the first baseline and pulls out a pristine library book. "Babe Ruth’s Baseball Advice," he announces proudly. "Mrs. Gilley ordered a copy of it for the library when I told her you were gonna teach me baseball."

Mentally Luke runs through a catalogue of sayings attributed to the Big Bam and makes a mental note to remind Mrs. Gilley that Jess is still in elementary school. "All right, put the book down, let's get to it, kid!"

"I'm ready, Uncle Luke!" With comedic effort he hefts the bat over one shoulder and readies himself behind the plate.

"Uh, honey? Try taking the mitt off when you bat."

"You got it, Uncle Luke!"

Part III

"Jess, I think you'll probably have more luck if you open your eyes when you swing."

"Good idea, Uncle Luke!"

"Jess, honey, that's third base, not first."

"But we read left to right! Why do we run right to left?!"

"I, uh... I don't actually know the answer to that."

"That was better! Try running towards the ball instead of away from it next time!"

"What if it lands on my head and cracks it open like an egg?!"

"No, I'm definitely sure there are only three bases, kiddo."

"Chuck Presby says there are twelve, and if you miss any of them they make the umpire put you in JAIL!"

"But are you sure?"

"Look, sweetheart, I know I told you I don't actually know everything about baseball, so I guess it's possible... But I'm telling you, I don't think there has ever been a baseball player who was also a bank robber. And you've gotta stop listening to anything that Presby kid tells you, he's an id - he's just teasing you."

"Uncle Luke! We forgot the wickets!"

"No, Jess, there are no wickets in baseball, that's cricket."

"Uncle Luke! Uncle Luke! I hit it! I - oh no! Uncle Luke! Are you okay?!"

Part IV

Lorelai unearths a bag of peas from the diner's freezer and gently settles it against Luke's cheekbone. "Well, at least he hit it."

Luke glances over at the counter where Jess is wearing more ice cream than is getting into his mouth. He loves that little gremlin so much he might actually cry - or would, if any tears could escape his rapidly-swelling eye. "He certainly did. Baby's first bad hop."

"What on earth is a bad hop?"

"You know," Luke sighs, "ask me some other time. I think I'm done talking about baseball for the day."

"You got it. Need a beer, boss?"

"Make it two. Hey, didn't I tell you to go home?

"You want me to get you a beer or not?"

"Right, shutting up now."

Part V - Two Weeks Later

"And then," Jess says proudly, tapping the little square with his finger, "the guy hit a fly and got out at center field - so I put the 8 in his box Eight stands for center field, remember?"

Lorelai whistles over the scorebook, impressed. "That's so cool, kid. And you learned how to do all that today?"

"Yep." He spins a little on his stool, clutching the precious document carefully in both hands. "Uncle Luke says I picked it up faster than anyone he's ever seen."

"Well, that doesn't surprise me even a little bit."

"I think watching baseball is more fun than playing baseball." Jess beams at Luke as he comes out from the kitchen, Jess's dinner in hand. "Don't you think so, Uncle Luke?"

Luke sets Jess's plate in front of him and strokes his nephew's hair. "You know what? These days I think you're right."

[meltingpenguins]

Ineffable.

One of the most beloved and important words in the Good Omens fandom.

But are people aware just how deep it goes in the book? How much, in the book, it is tied to Crowley and Aziraphale's character-arc and development throughout human history?

When the word is first use by Aziraphale it's when he declares that one shouldn't question the Almighty's ways cause they're ineffable, not for people like him or Crowley to understand.

“You’ve got to admit it’s a bit of a pantomime, though,” said Crawly. “I mean, pointing out the Tree and saying ‘Don’t Touch’ in big letters. Not very subtle, is it? I mean, why not put it on top of a high mountain or a long way off? Makes you wonder what He’s really planning.” “Best not to speculate, really,” said Aziraphale. “You can’t second-guess ineffability, I always say. There’s Right, and there’s Wrong. If you do Wrong when you’re told to do Right, you deserve to be punished. Er.”

This is in the Garden of Eden. Aziraphale has just been appointed to guard the Eastern Gate, and has given away the flaming sword he had received for that task, meaning he was meant to strike down anyone who tries to get into the garden (i.e. Adam and Eve, at the time), and instead defied God's orders and gave the sword away.

What Aziraphale is doing here is he's using 'ineffable' as a 'get out of jail free-card'. He's using it in a way that pretty much says

'I technically agree with you, but I mustn't doubt the Almighty, what with me being an angel and all, and you know first hand what doubting and questioning God entitles.'

He has his doubts about the whole tree thing and all, but he fears Falling, so he weasels his way around it. Doesn't mean he's not thoroughly rattled at what happened and what might happen:

“I’m not sure it’s actually possible for you to do evil,” said Crawly sarcastically. Aziraphale didn’t notice the tone. “Oh, I do hope so,” he said. “I really do hope so. It’s been worrying me all afternoon.” They watched the rain for a while. “Funny thing is,” said Crawly, “I keep wondering whether the apple thing wasn’t the right thing to do, as well. A demon can get into real trouble, doing the right thing.” He nudged the angel. “Funny if we both got it wrong, eh? Funny if I did the good thing and you did the bad one, eh?” “Not really,” said Aziraphale. Crawly looked at the rain. “No,” he said, sobering up. “I suppose not.”

Here we have Crowley/Crawly pretty much forget for a moment who he is talking to. He might try to cheer Aziraphale up (he's only mentioning that a demon can get into trouble for doing the right thing) already showing traces of his own kindness, but Aziraphale's dry 'not really' and Crowley's reaction to it show how worried Aziraphale is, and Crowley respects that. Knowing first hand that the angel has all reasons to be worried.

But, chronologically speaking, the next time we see Aziraphale use 'ineffable' it's about 5000 years later:

And just when you’d think they were more malignant than ever Hell could be, they could occasionally show more grace than Heaven ever dreamed of. Often the same individual was involved. It was this free-will thing, of course. It was a bugger. Aziraphale had tried to explain it to him once. The whole point, he’d said—this was somewhere around 1020, when they’d first reached their little Arrangement—the whole point was that when a human was good or bad it was because they wanted to be. Whereas people like Crowley and, of course, himself, were set in their ways right from the start. People couldn’t become truly holy, he said, unless they also had the opportunity to be definitively wicked. Crowley had thought about this for some time and, around about 1023, had said, Hang on, that only works, right, if you start everyone off equal, okay? You can’t start someone off in a muddy shack in the middle of a war zone and expect them to do as well as someone born in a castle. Ah, Aziraphale had said, that’s the good bit. The lower you start, the more opportunities you have. Crowley had said, That’s lunatic. No, said Aziraphale, it’s ineffable.

See the shift? Now Aziraphale is using the term as a 'argument winner'. Like a smug 'I'm right, you're wrong, nothing you can do about it'. Why?

Because over 5000 years Aziraphale really settled into being upper class, posh, privileged. What's he's doing here is very much in the same vein as all those 'if you can't pay rent eat less avocado toast' articles.

He's saying that poor people have 'more' opportunities in life (not just in terms of doing good or bad, looking at it) than rich people, because why should rich people take up jobs for example. It is a twisted logic we still see today from people in positions of privilege.

The kind of people that will tell you you have much more a shot at saving the planet because you can just use paper straws, while they are woefully barred from doing this kind of good because there's only fancy black plastic straws on their private jets and yachts.

And they expect you to agree with that.

Aziraphale has the heart in the right place, but he's still an asshole who has grown very comfortable being part of the human upper crust.

(Crowley, and Hell by extension are more akin to the working class folks, and Crowley endorses it, but that is an analysis for another time)

So yeah, by now 'ineffable' has become more of an argument winner.

One that Crowley throws back into Aziraphale's face at a later point and with great impact, but we'll come to that in a moment.

Because chronologically speaking, we see another shift in its use:

“Listen,” said Crowley desperately, “how many musicians do you think your side have got, eh? First grade, I mean.” Aziraphale looked taken aback. “Well, I should think—” he began. “Two,” said Crowley. “Elgar and Liszt. That’s all. We’ve got the rest. Beethoven, Brahms, all the Bachs, Mozart, the lot. Can you imagine eternity with Elgar?” Aziraphale shut his eyes. “All too easily,” he groaned. “That’s it, then,” said Crowley, with a gleam of triumph. He knew Aziraphale’s weak spot all right. “No more compact discs. No more Albert Hall. No more Proms. No more Glyndbourne. Just celestial harmonies all day long.” “Ineffable,” Aziraphale murmured.

This is when Crowley is trying to convince Aziraphale that this whole Armageddon business is a rotten cause, and let's just not do it and all...

Now Aziraphale uses 'ineffable' in a way more akin to what it was used like in Eden, but with a bit of a twist. Now it's more of a 'I mustn't question God's ways, but dang I have an urge to bite someone'. It's again used as a way to avoid outright doubting god, but he's really grumpy about it.

Curiously, when he uses it again a few lines further down:

“And then Game Over, Insert Coin?” said Crowley. “Sometimes I find your methods of expression a little difficult to follow.” “I like the seas as they are. It doesn’t have to happen. You don’t have to test everything to destruction just to see if you made it right.” Aziraphale shrugged again. “That’s ineffable wisdom for you, I’m afraid.” The angel shuddered, and pulled his coat around him. Gray clouds were piling up over the city.

Now it's more leaning towards argument winner again, but mixed with the above. (but leaning towards argument winner, or better argument ender.)

The next use is from Crowley, when they're both very plastered:

Crowley decided not to argue the point. “There you are then,” he said. “All creatures great and smoke. I mean small. Great and small. Lot of them with brains. And then, bazamm.” “But you’re part of it,” said Aziraphale. “You tempt people. You’re good at it.” Crowley thumped his glass on the table. “That’s different. They don’t have to say yes. That’s the ineffable bit, right? Your side made it up. You’ve got to keep testing people. But not to destruction.”

Crowley is using it part in the dictionary meaning of the word, half in a throwing it back into Aziraphale's face way, as if to say 'hey, here's this nonsensical bit that people keep getting told not to question, cause if they would it'd very quickly fall apart'

However:

“I can’t interfere with divine plans,” he croaked. Crowley looked speculatively into his glass, and then filled it again. “What about diabolical ones?” he said. “Pardon?” “Well, it’s got to be a diabolical plan, hasn’t it? We’re doing it. My side.” “Ah, but it’s all part of the overall divine plan,” said Aziraphale. “Your side can’t do anything without it being part of the ineffable divine plan,” he added, with a trace of smugness. “You wish!” “No, that’s the—” Aziraphale snapped his fingers irritably. “The thing. What d’you call it in your colorful idiom? The line at the bottom.” “The bottom line.” “Yes. It’s that.”

Now (a few lines of drunken philosophizing and stumbling over each other's thought) Aziraphale uses the term very smugly again, in an attempt to get the upper hand in the argument. Crowley's not buying it.

Aziraphale still tries, though:

“Then you can’t be certain, correct me if I’m wrong, you can’t be certain that thwarting it isn’t part of the divine plan too. I mean, you’re supposed to thwart the wiles of the Evil One at every turn, aren’t you?” Aziraphale hesitated. “There is that, yes.” “You see a wile, you thwart. Am I right?” “Broadly, broadly. Actually I encourage humans to do the actual thwarting. Because of ineffability, you understand.”

(Translation: I -could- do that myself, but I can't be arsed, too much work)

Then, 11 years later, we have this bit:

He thumped the steering wheel. “You’ll be amazed at the kind of things they can do to you, down there,” he said. “I imagine they’re very similar to the sort of things they can do to one up there,” said Aziraphale. “Come off it. Your lot get ineffable mercy,” said Crowley sourly. “Yes? Did you ever visit Gomorrah?” “Sure,” said the demon. “There was this great little tavern where you could get these terrific fermented date-palm cocktails with nutmeg and crushed lemongrass—” “I meant afterwards.” “Oh.”

Crowley uses it in a similar way to how he used it in the drunken talk, but more bitter. And in a 'I know how much you love using this word to win arguments >:Y ' way.

And then comes the bit where everything culminates:

“What’d I do? What’d I do?” said Crowley, pushing open doors at random. “There are people out there shooting one another!” “Well, that’s just it, isn’t it? They’re doing it themselves. It’s what they really want to do. I just assisted them. Think of it as a microcosm of the universe. Free will for everyone. Ineffable, right?” Aziraphale glared. “Oh, all right,” said Crowley wretchedly. “No one’s actually going to get killed. They’re all going to have miraculous escapes. It wouldn’t be any fun otherwise.” Aziraphale relaxed. “You know, Crowley,” he said, beaming, “I’ve always said that, deep down inside, you’re really quite a—” “All right, all right,” Crowley snapped. “Tell the whole blessed world, why don’t you?”

THIS is the ultimate bit of usage of the term between these two. Crowley takes the word that Aziraphale, for 6000 has come to use as a privileged way of winning arguments and throws it back into the angel's face.

And Aziraphale? He catches on, but he also knows Crowley well enough for a glare to convey two things:

That was low, but alright, I get you, and I apologize for using the term to win arguments.

However, I know how much you care about humans and Earth and all, even though that is a thing -you- can't say out loud, so I know you are not happy with the prospect of these people killing each other.

Because after this moment, the term is used twice in a way that seems to have it replace 'fucking' or 'bullshit' or 'ffs can't we just get our shit together about this', by all means:

Good old Malachi. He’d been a nice old boy, sitting there, dreaming about future popes. Complete piss artist, of course. Could have been a real thinker, if it hadn’t been for the poteen. A sad end. Sometimes you really had to hope that the ineffable plan had been properly thought out.

(when we learn more about Aziraphale's collection of prophecies and which prophets he knew personally)

“This is not to say you have not performed well,” said the voice. “You will receive a commendation. Well done.” “Thank you,” said Aziraphale. The bitterness in his voice would have soured milk. “I’d forgotten about ineffability, obviously.” “We thought you had.” “May I ask,” said the angel, “to whom have I been speaking?” The voice said, “We are the Metatron.”

(When Aziraphale's contacting Heaven)

His shades flew to a far corner of the room, and became a puddle of burning plastic. Yellow eyes with slitted vertical pupils were revealed. Wet and steaming, face ash-blackened, as far from cool as it was possible for him to be, on all fours in the blazing bookshop, Crowley cursed Aziraphale, and the ineffable plan, and Above, and Below.

(after Crowley got hit by the jet of water in the burning bookshop)

This ALL brings us to the most amazing double-act in the whole book, the bit that really let's Crowley and Aziraphale's chemistry shine:

Crowley stuck his head in his hands. “For a moment there, just for a moment, I thought we had a chance,” he said. “He had them worried. Oh, well, it was nice while—” He was aware that Aziraphale had stood up. “Excuse me,” said the angel. The trio looked at him. “This Great Plan,” he said, “this would be the ineffable Plan, would it?” There was a moment’s silence. “It’s the Great Plan,” said the Metatron flatly. “You are well aware. There shall be a world lasting six thousand years and it will conclude with—” “Yes, yes, that’s the Great Plan all right,” said Aziraphale. He spoke politely and respectfully, but with the air of one who has just asked an unwelcome question at a political meeting and won’t go away until he gets an answer. “I was just asking if it’s ineffable as well. I just want to be clear on this point.” “It doesn’t matter!” snapped the Metatron. “It’s the same thing, surely!” Surely? thought Crowley. They don’t actually know. He started to grin like an idiot. “So you’re not one hundred percent clear on this?” said Aziraphale. “It’s not given to us to understand the ineffable Plan,” said the Metatron, “but of course the Great Plan—” “But the Great Plan can only be a tiny part of the overall ineffability,” said Crowley. “You can’t be certain that what’s happening right now isn’t exactly right, from an ineffable point of view.” “It izz written!” bellowed Beelzebub. “But it might be written differently somewhere else,” said Crowley. “Where you can’t read it.” “In bigger letters,” said Aziraphale. “Underlined,” Crowley added. “Twice,” suggested Aziraphale. “Perhaps this isn’t just a test of the world,” said Crowley. “It might be a test of you people, too. Hmm?” “God does not play games with His loyal servants,” said the Metatron, but in a worried tone of voice. “Whooo-eee,” said Crowley. “Where have you been?”

These two little shits <3

They know to the rest of Heaven and Hell and probably Earth 'ineffable' has an entirely different meaning than the term has to them. And they are milking it for what it's worth <3

The last word in this, however is not had by either of them:

“Well,” said Crowley, who’d been thinking about this until his head ached, “haven’t you ever wondered about it all? You know—your people and my people, Heaven and Hell, good and evil, all that sort of thing? I mean, why?” “As I recall,” said the angel, stiffly, “there was the rebellion and—” “Ah, yes. And why did it happen, eh? I mean, it didn’t have to, did it?” said Crowley, a manic look in his eye. “Anyone who could build a universe in six days isn’t going to let a little thing like that happen. Unless they want it to, of course.” “Oh, come on. Be sensible,” said Aziraphale, doubtfully. “That’s not good advice,” said Crowley. “That’s not good advice at all. If you sit down and think about it sensibly, you come up with some very funny ideas. Like: why make people inquisitive, and then put some forbidden fruit where they can see it with a big neon finger flashing on and off saying THIS IS IT!?” “I don’t remember any neon.” “Metaphorically, I mean. I mean, why do that if you really don’t want them to eat it, eh? I mean, maybe you just want to see how it all turns out. Maybe it’s all part of a great big ineffable plan. All of it. You, me, him, everything. Some great big test to see if what you’ve built all works properly, eh? You start thinking: it can’t be a great cosmic game of chess, it has to be just very complicated Solitaire. And don’t bother to answer. If we could understand, we wouldn’t be us. Because it’s all—all—” INEFFABLE, said the figure feeding the ducks. “Yeah. Right. Thanks.” They watched the tall stranger carefully dispose of the empty bag in a litter bin, and stalk away across the grass. Then Crowley shook his head. “What was I saying?” he said. “Don’t know,” said Aziraphale. “Nothing very important, I think.” Crowley nodded gloomily. “Let me tempt you to some lunch,” he hissed.

The book leaves it delightfully ambiguous if the figure is Death (who we have seen talking like that so far) OR if this is actually God stepping in and vibes part of their memory because they've gotten a little too close to the truth and it's not yet time. The book's ambiguity really works wonders here.

So, yeah, there you go. It's amazing how much the use of this single little word tells us about these characters and who they are as people.

<3

[genshingorlsrevengeance]

(Genshin Impact/ToCS) Shenhe, Beidou, Kokomi, Sara, Sharon, and Duvalie's S/O who speaks in opposites

No one requested this but I'M BRINGING IT BACK FOR PART 3 BAYBEEEEEE

And for anyone who doesn't get this, reader speaks like this when they mean something very nice:

Shenhe thinks her S/O was trying to pick a fight the very first time they spoke.

But upon realizing how panicked they were saying how hideous she looked, Shenhe thought something was up.

After giving them a bit more time to speak, she realizes that they're speaking in opposites.

Which is even more confusing to her.

Was this normal? She had been gone from human civilization for a while.

In some strange way, it helps her understand conversations a bit more speaking with S/O, because she has to pay attention to their facial expressions, not their words.

(Shenhe) "Is everything alright?"

(S/O) "Everything's going just great!"

(Shenhe) "Ah...A bad day, then. If you need to talk about it, I am here."

She will not question the way it helps, only that it helps her, and she's able to help her S/O in return.

Beidou's about ready to glass her S/O when S/O first spoke to her.

Being drunk did not make the translations any easier.

She squints her eye as she reads their facial expressions as they're casually saying the rudest things to her.

(Beidou) "...You uh...drink too much there, bud?"

After getting to know them, she can't help but stick around when she can. She definitely tells Ningguang about the case of the opposite speaking man/woman.

At first she thinks it's some kind of curse before learning they speak in opposites for the most mundane reason.

They didn't have the heart to tell their sibling their birthday present was atrocious, and then it just got out of hand.

Beidou laughed at that fact for a solid five minutes.

But Beidou quickly grows accustomed to how they speak.

(Beidou) "Miss me while I was out on sea?'

(S/O) "Of course I didn't, I'm disappointed you didn't crash and drown out there!"

(Beidou) snrrk! "Ha! Love you too, babe."

When S/O approached her and the other shrine maidens and immediately spouted out insults in a calm manner, Kokomi blinks in confusion.

(Kokomi) "Er...what?"

When they repeat the insult, with a more panicked expression, she figures it out.

(Kokomi) "Oh dear...is this a curse?"

Kokomi is determined to get to the bottom of this and wants to help them out.

...Before realizing that they weren't cursed, they just have a weird mechanism for lying.

Kokomi doesn't particularly mind, though admittedly it does take some energy to translate what they mean sometimes.

And when they call her the ugliest woman they've ever seen, it adds a week's worth of energy to her.

...As strange as that sounds.

(Kokomi) "+100 energy for S/O calling me ugly...Wait a minute."

Sara is highly unamused by S/O's thanks by calling her a ruthless woman.

(Sara) "Watch your tongue! Do you know who you're speaking to?"

S/O got down on their knees to apologize as the insults sprung out more.

(Sara) "...What?"

She's extremely confused as their expression showed they were sorry and panicking, but the words coming out of their mouth indicated otherwise.

Weirdly enough, it was Itto who managed to translate for them, making her even more confused.

Despite the harsh words used on her, and applying the backwards logic to their speaking, they held a lot of affection for her.

Which she didn't know how to feel.

It's kind of hard to have a heart flutter getting called the meanest, most hideous woman of all of Inazuma.

(S/O) "I'll be sure to burn this necklace in a ritualistic fire, Sara!"

(Sara) "...G-Glad to hear it."

Sara and Itto spend some time together to get S/O to say what they mean, lest they say the wrong thing around the wrong people and get into jail.

(Sharon) "...Oh my."

Sharon figures it out right away that S/O is speaking in opposites.

Her sadistic side can't help but play around them, acting offended, though it's obvious she's joking.

Her tone of voice is enough to make them stiffen in fear before she lets out a small giggle.

(Sharon) "Worry not, I understand what you mean. Though, is there any particular reason you speak like that?"

Honestly, Sharon was expecting something a bit more dramatic than a lie spiraling out of control.

But she makes sure that secret never gets out to anyone, and doesn't hesitate to drop in to translate for them.

(S/O) "You look ugly today, Sharon."

(Sharon) "Ah, thank you, you look quite hideous yourself."

(S/O) "S-Sharon!"

(Sharon) "Hah! My apologies, I couldn't resist. Thank you, dear."

(Duvalie) "SAY THAT AGAIN, I DARE YOU!"

Duvalie is about to deck S/O for talking mad shit. And the fact they actually had the gall to repeat themselves!

...Why do they look so nervous?

(Duvalie) "WHAT, LOST-...Your...Nerve?"

She takes a step back and closely watches their body language as they let out even more insults, sweating pinballs.

(Duvalie) "Uh...Are you alright?"

She has no idea why they speak like that, but quickly grows used to it.

Once she realizes what they actually mean, she grows pretty indifferent about it. At least until she thinks about it.

(Duvalie) "...Did you just call me ugly?"

(S/O) "I did, you're absolutely revolting to look at, like a coward in rusty armor."

(Duvalie) "..."

Duvalie doesn't know if she should be blushing or punching them right now.

(Duvalie) "Grr...JUST SAY WHAT YOU MEAN, DAMN IT!"

(S/O) "That's a bit rich, coming from you."

Now her eye was twitching. Option B was looking a bit more appealing now.

[sardonic-the-writer]

Hai! I was wondering if you take requests for Lalo? If you do I was thinking a Lalo x reader x Saul 👀 in the situation where Saul went out to the desert and Lalo met Kim for the first time surprised that Saul could pull someone like her. In this case Lalo gets to intervene with the reader? 😈

i kept this gender neutral since i didn't see myself being able to write feminine reader right now. sorry! hope you still like it :]

You weren't supposed to be here.

You weren't supposed to be imitating a lawyer on the case of Jorge De Guzman. You weren't supposed to be in this chair right now, leg nervously bouncing subconsciously.

You especially weren't supposed to be talking to Lalo Salamanca.

He hadn't said a word since the guard had brought him in. Only eyeballing you as he sat down with a gaze you couldn't read even if you wanted. Really, the only audible sound that had been made was the sound of the heavy metal door locking shut from behind the two of you.

It made you nervous. This whole situation made you nervous. You hadn't seen Jimmy for the past two days, and all you had to go on was a name.

Eduardo Salamanca.

Just hearing about him from Jimmy made you grit your teeth with nerves. You weren't into law like he was, instead opting for a much different profession, but you were pretty sure being offered to pick up seven million in cash for someone currently lying his ass off to get out of jail wasn't typical client/lawyer behavior.

"Uh. Hi."

He just kept staring at you. Expression unmoving.

"So, er, I'm not a lawyer. If you couldn't already tell." You tapped your fingers against your opposite arm in a way to comfort yourself. Something that Lalo picked up on and stored away for later. Not that you would notice his flitting gaze.

"I just want to know where you sent Jimmy. Saul. Mr. McGill. Whoever you know him as."

His eyes were one of the most beautiful things you had ever seen. Jimmy's was a cool blue, often reminding you of the calm sea crashing against a sandy shore. You swore you felt like you were drowning every time you looked into them. But Lalo's were much different. Striking. A deep brown, with a few flecks of what could only be described as a honey like color in them. They were as enticing as anything you had ever seen before, while still reminding you of the situation you were in.

"I have no knowledge of what you speak of."

God, even his voice was soft with a bit of bite to it.

You swallowed uncomfortably.

"Please, excuse my french, but cut the bullshit. I know who you are. Really are. Certantly not some 'De Guzman'." Your fingers formed quotes in the air at the last part. Albeit a bit shaken. "I just want to know where you sent my Jimmy. I don't have any other boons to crave with you."

Lalo clenched his jaw. If Saul—er, Jimmy—had been in the room with them at that moment, the lawyer would have a new hole smack dab in the middle of his forhead to spit gum from. Who was he to share that information with some random person? For all Lalo knew you had been picked up randomly off the streets to come and deliver this message.

But he restrained himself. That hypothetical situation didn't seem likely the longer he sat with you. You were already visibly uncomfortable. No need to increase that. It gained him nothing. Besides, it was something else you said that had caught his rapt attention.

"Your Jimmy." Lalo leaned forward, one eyebrow higher on his face than the other with curiosity. He placed his elbows firmly on the table and rested his chin on the top of his folded hands. It wasn't a question—it was a statement. Repeating your own words back for you.

"Did I say that?" You stumbled through your words now. "I mean, I wouldn't nessicarily say he's my Jimmy. I mean, he's everyone's Jimmy. Howard's, Kim's, that guy from the coffee shop—"

Words died in your throat as you realized the man across from you was no longer listening. Instead he had leaned back a significant amount, clearly getting comfortable, in his own goddamn handcuffs, as he laughed.

"Wow! Just wow. He managed to pull you?" A bright smile had since overtaken his face, as well as a hearty chuckle every now and then. "¡Querido Dios! No pensé que tuviera la capacidad de ir tras tal belleza. Moi bein."

With a clearing of your throat you brought his baby browns snapping back to your face. Not the best feeling if you were being honest.

"I feel like I'm missing something here."

"Ah. You wouldn't get it." He waved you off still smiling. It reminded you of the way you would be excluded from a group of your so called friends back in your school days, clearly being the outsider out of all of them amongst inside jokes and playful banter. You pushed that away, not eager to imagine Lalo as a pimple faced teenager mocking you. You couldn't decide if that would make him scarier or not at this point.

"Oh-kay then." Your voice drew each syllable out unnaturally. Lalo started to drift again, seemingly losing motivation in this conversation. He was interested in whether you would scramble to keep his attention or not. How much you really cared for Saul slash Jimmy. He wasn't disappointed when you quickly picked up your speech again.

"Listen I don't really think you or I want me to be here right now. So if you could just tell me where Jimmy is I'll go and it'll be like this never happened. I swear. Besides me and you—" Your hands gestured back and forth over the metal table, pointing to each of you individually. "—can legally keep this a secret without getting in trouble. On account of, uh, law stuff."

Lalo wanted to laugh. It was amusing to him, this whole situation. Clearly you were someone of interest in his play now. Just another card in the deck he had happened to be delt. And an interesting one too if his assumption about that ring on your finger was right. Which was something you had probably forgotten to remove before coming to visit him. The idea of you being in his line of work crossed his mind before it was shattered with a chuckle. You wouldn't last a day.

"Alright. I'll tell you where he is."

You brightened.

"Right after I get my seven million."

And there it was.

"I can't do that, you sent Jimmy to get it." He watched as you grew more upset, just shrugging with an unbothered smile in response. Your expression didn't change in the slightest even as he offered a shrug of his shoulders and a chippy apology.

"Hey! We're done!" That was all Lalo responded to your distress with, standing up and stretching as much as he could. Words of urgency attacked him from behind as he wandered over to the door and rapped on it. But Lalo couldn't be bothered. You were now a card in his hand, yes, but he would have to set you aside for another time.

"Hey. Listen." He turned around as the guard who had escorted him there opened the large large door, facing you. "I'm sure he'll come back. He's got a mouth on him after all. Managed to escape my cousins wrath, and that's a talent on its own." Handcuffs clicked loudly as they were succumbed around his wrists. Lalo temporarily stopped facing you to look over at the guard, telling him to ease up in spanish.

"But. On the off chance the guy doesn't turn up, feel free to call me anytime azúcar."

A wink was just barely tossed your way before Lalo was gone. The only evidence he had even been in the room a strong smell of cologne and pepper. You thought for a minute about how he manged to smell like that while rotting in jail but quickly shook your head to rid yourself of the thought.

That certantly wasn't how you thought today would go. But based on the flush in your cheeks and dryness of your mouth, you didn't have room to complain.

[a-lonely-dunedain]

Ethedis for the LOTRO ask game?

(for this ask game where you send in one of my OCs, and I give you a synopsis of what it would look like if they were the main NPC in a tutorial quest)

o hmm, I think there's a way I could be a little mean about this heheh

so I think that I mentioned at some point that before the elf intro, Ethedis had actually befriended Amdir. I haven't fleshed out all that much of it up until now, but I'm thinking this could be a short adventure with Ethedis and Amdir where you could see them being besties (before The Horrors)

this will probably just have to be one instance, as it would flow best into the Elf or Human starting zones and we don't need to stack two entire intro questlines on top of each other lol

(under the cut bc How Did This Get So Long??)

I think it actually starts in Rivendell, with the Player Character (probably an elf/human only intro) preparing to leave on the expedition to Ered Luin, at which point you are introduced to Elrond's excited young apprentice Ethedis, and the Ranger Amdir who is going to tag along for part of the trip but plans to part ways in Bree.

Fast travel to somewhere in the wilderness of the Trollshaws, you Ethedis and Amdir are a little ways ahead of the group to make sure the road is clear. Surprise! wood-trolls! combat tutorial! After the fight Ethedis will remark that it was the first time she's actually had to put her combat training to the test against a real foe, which surprises Amdir, who says that he wouldn't have guessed it was her first real fight. One of them might ask the player character about their combat experience, which would allow you to pick from a few different responses (always a fun roleplay option and tbh I wish they would use it in more quests). I think if the PC says they're also inexperienced Amdir will mention that he's very glad you're both catching on quickly and didn't get hurt (bc he would not have fun explaining how he let two newbies get injured on his watch, and would feel very bad. classic protective Ranger moment)

Fast travel again to somewhere in the Lone Lands, you all are camped near Weathertop. Ethedis is talking about the history of the area (it sounds like she's been talking about this for a while now), and overall seems very excited to be here and see this historical site in person. Amdir smiles and says he's glad that she's interested in Dunedain history, as it brings him comfort to know that others still wish to keep his people's history alive. Your character might be prompted to give an opinion on Ethedis' loredump, either saying they found it boring (which Ethedis will simply laugh off and say that's probably why she's not a minstrel, but Amdir will just glare at you) or say it was interesting (which will prompt both her and Amdir to loredump even more)

Once you make it to Breeland, somewhere in South Chetwood, Amdir says that he must part ways here. Ethedis says she's sad to see him go but hopes to meet him again once the expedition to Ered Luin is done, and Amdir will tell her that he looks forward to it if such a meeting can be arranged, but tells you both to be careful in your travels (vaguely alluding to a growing danger in Breeland.

Then you can have two different outcomes depending on your race:

If you're a human, you part ways with the Ered Luin expedition at the same time as Amdir. He will bid you farewell and safe travels, and says that he has urgent business to attend to before disappearing into the woods without further explanation (as Rangers are wont to do). Your quest objective tells you to head to Bree-Town, but after you've been heading in that direction for a while you run into a large group of Brigands and get knocked on the head. Wake up in the Blackwold jail, human intro progresses mostly as normal from that point onward (but without the combat tutorial) although Amdir's quest dialogue would be different. If we want to get really mean, maybe one of the last things he says to you as himself is something along the lines of "I fear... I will not make it to see our friend again... tell... tell her that I tried"

If you're an elf, shortly after Amdir departs Ethedis will offer to explain to you the history of Edhelion as it was told to her by her mother before she left for the Havens. Then you get the old elf intro instance but cut down a bit and framed as a flashback, there will also be an elf woman there with a vaguely familiar face holding a baby in her arms (it's never explicitly stated, but that's Ethedis' mom and baby Ethedis), she will be there when Ethedis' dad Talagan brings down the library and she collapse to her knees in a sobbing heap when it happens. No one draws attention to her but she's still There. Anyway after that you arrive in Ered Luin, quests progress as normal but Ethedis is along for the ride. Like when you go to talk to the survivors of Edhelion, Ethedis will be in the ruins with some quest comments ("Even after all this time, I can sense the sorrow in this place..." "The land remembers it like it was yesterday, and I understand now why we still leave it abandoned" and "I think this may have been my parent's house. And to think, we all could have lived here together..."), she's also going to have Opinions about the Dourhand's borderline-worship of Skorgrim lol

After everything in Thorin's Hall is over with, she will disappear for a little bit but rejoin the story during the united elf/dwarf assault on Rath Tarag. When she hears that you're planning to go to Bree next, she will ask you to try to find Amdir and see how he's doing (surely you'll only have good news! surely!)

Later on you might run into Ethedis in Rivendell, and she'll have a short quest for you, talking about missing your fallen friend but finding comfort in your shared memories of him (very similar in tone to Gorwen's quest in Thornhad after finishing Before the Shadow) Amdir was the first mortal friend she knew, and she didn't realize how much this loss would sting. Overall it's a bittersweet reunion.

(man I really saw Ethedis and was like "the elf into didn't give her enough trauma. she's connected to the human one too!" someone please make me Give Her A Break)

[bittyfromquotev]

Didn't want email notifications but sure here we go. I can't tell if you're being willfully ignorant or not, but I'm gonna give you the benefit of the doubt. Also from looking at your responses, just wanted to let you know that was 3 different people on anon there. I was the one telling you "probably" is still an accusation. Those other two were not me, though I'm pretty sure the anon who used bold italics was likely the person who first send you the dot points ask after the rude quotev anon.

If you're old enough to pull the "I'm a minor" card then you're old enough to know what you've done is wrong or questionable. I've seen this a couple times where you throw your minor status around where it's completely irrelevant. Being a minor isn't a get out of jail free card in case you didn't know.

You tend to assume every criticism is "assuming your intentions" or aren't valid because they "don't know you". That doesn't mean anything when your actions have consequences and you post them publicly for people to make judgements on. You are on social media, nothing you do here is ever truly private and any expectation that people won't view your blog is naïve.

Your behavior is attention seeking. You say you don't want to be in the drama, but you keep talking about it and stirring the pot and then get upset when you're inevitably brought back into the drama. You say things in a way that implies you want the gore anons to harass you. This is attention seeking behavior and it doesn't even have to be intentional. This is not me saying you as a person are an attention seeker, it is me saying that the things you say display attention seeking behaviors. There is a difference. I also find it concerning that you are, even perhaps jokingly, inviting a harassment group to do the same to you.

"Start telling them 'like a teach(er) or parent' how to act. No one likes a social dictator." To that anon? Way to completely not read what I said at all. I said that just because you're a minor doesn't mean people can't call you out for shit, *like teachers and parents do* as an example. You wouldn't pull the minor card on them, would you? No, because it means and accomplishes nothing other than telling someone you're young.

Not everyone who is rude or doesn't agree with your beliefs or actions is a gore anon or supporter. You do not deserve to be harassed, no one does. Which is why you shouldn't throw accusations like that around lightly. It's invalidating to the people who actually had to suffer from them. It dilutes the problem and makes it harder to actually know who the gore anons target and how they act because suddenly everyone is a gore anon or supports them. There are 3 main gore anons that have identified themselves, and they all have distinct ways of typing, which is how people have started to recognize some people in the group.

You constantly say not to assume your intentions, well what about you? Did you not also assume the intentions of people? That sort of thing is why this drama got started in the first place, because people *assumed the intentions* of people. To clarify, this *is not me saying this is your fault*. Let that not be twisted. I am talking about the general actions of several individuals throughout all this drama.

Anyway, hope the rest of your week goes well!

Thank you for letting me know that it was multiple people. Let’s go over this again.

As I explained, I did not pull the “I’m a minor” card to get out of stuff. I said it because I didn’t know what to say to the anon that was initially rude as fuck. I’m not trying to excuse ANYTHING with being a minor.

You seem to only be looking at this specific trend of asks, which mind you, is basically OPENLY agreeing with someone telling me to get the fuck of the Internet. I know my actions have consequences. I’m not saying people’s criticisms aren’t valid, though I can see where you’re coming from. I’m just saying that I didn’t ask for criticisms on my actions. Judge me all you want, I just don’t want people telling me stuff when I didn’t ask for advice/criticism.

This is actually something I can give you credit for. However, the Gore Anons themselves haven’t got near me, but they’ve gone near my friends. I do that because I find it ridiculous how they won’t talk to ME but will shit on my friends. Of course, I’m not saying that my friends suffering is funny, I’m just saying that I’m a little baffled as to why they haven’t come to me after so long of me defending my friends and antagonizing the Gore Anons.

Dude idek what you want me to say here. We’re just saying that I have not asked for criticism from a stranger. And I already explained the minor card thing in point 1.

Okay you got me there. That comment was unnecessary. See how I’m taking accountability here? Yeah.

Again, this has only happened once or twice. If you’d look at my ask tag, you’d see that a few time I state that I TRY MY BEST not to assume people’s intentions. I respond to things that I have done with something, then follow it with “it’s not an excuse but this is happening”. Plus, if I ever DO assume people’s intentions, it’s because of what their intentions have been towards my friends and strangers in the past.

I did not invite random, unsolicited criticism from strangers. If I wanted criticism, I would have just said “okay” and moved on.

Also, how am I just NOT SUPPOSED TO BE PISSED when I get ROPED INTO DRAMA that doesn’t even have to do with me!

I’m not gonna block you unless you send another ask like this. I hope you have a good rest of your week as well/gen

EDIT: I also think that if I was really undermining victims (which I’m not) then my friends who are/were victims would have either blocked me or called me out on it. Neither has happened.

[hausofmamadas]

Tell Me Sweet Little Lies

Part 1

⁂

Pairing: Danny Lyon x Kathy Cross

Word count: ≈ 3.1K

TWS: Allusions to infidelity, love triangles, angst, civil disobedience, mentions of jail.

Notes: (ꔘ) indicates this comes directly from movie dialogue. SNCC = Student Nonviolent Coordinating Committee, a student-led Civil Rights activist group in that organized campus sit-ins, boycotts, and other civil disobedience campaigns in protest of segregation in the south throughout the 1960s.

He couldn’t figure why she didn’t kick him out after staying so long, why she’d let him carry on jabbering away about himself like that. 6mos documenting the lives of the Vandals, Danny Lyon’s got new colors, a promising book idea, and a lotta trouble ahead thanks to the highly inconvenient crush he’s got on Kathy Cross. As she’s progressively pushed aside by her husband, Benny’s allegiance to the club and his own personal code of lawlessness, she too finds solace in Danny, their shared half-in/half-out club status bringing the two closer than either bargained for. Forging a bond strong enough to jeopardize his journalistic objectivity and her marriage, the question now is when and where to draw the line.

⁂ “Yeah, so that’s when I punched’a guy. I mean he’s over here all apologizin to me and y’know– I mean jeez what kinda sissy ya gotta be to do a thing like dat?”

“But– okay, so,” Danny responds, squinting, face half-obscured by his Nikon F, “weren’t you the one who dented his car?”

With a lethargic nod, Frankie drags from the cigarette at one corner of his mouth and exhales out the other without disturbing its peace, like the cigarette was always there. Like he’d come out the womb with it right there.

“So, but–” Danny’s confusion, though audible, is still hidden behind the camera as his finger comes down, punching the shutter button and pulling the advance lever twice - punch then pull, punch then pull - grabbing a couple of shots before the vignette of smoke framing Frankie’s face dissipates. “So, why hit him? I mean, you’d already dented the guy’s ride, right?”

“Maaan,” Frankie waves his hand like he’s shooing away a meddlesome pigeon that won’t take no for an answer. “I just don’t got no patience fer those kindsa guys, y’know? I mean, yer not wrong. I’m the one who dented his car, right. But it’s like, then– So whats’a loony fuck apologizin to me fer? I’da respected him more if he’d gotten in my face er somethin, y’know. Least showed some spine. I promise, I know it sounds daft-backwards but it just really got my goat y’know, him apologizin like that.”

Danny can’t help chuckling at Frankie’s logic there, shoulders shaking as he drops the camera. It bobs against his chest drawing the strap taut around his neck while he reaches in his shirt pocket for a joint he’d rolled earlier. Smoke discharges in short, sharp gusts when he lights up because he’s still laughing, pretending like he can’t wrap his head around Frankie punching some guy after being the one to scratch his car. But if he’s honest, Frankie’s logic makes more sense to him than Danny cares to interrogate further just now. There’s a reason he’s on this side of the camera.

Frankie isn’t part of the main cast Danny’s been tagging along with, more a featured guest, a “now introducing” sort of fella. But Frankie’s just the same as the other guys Danny’s gotten to know in the sense that while Danny observed, Frankie didn’t observe him back much. That wasn’t like every job he’d had either. How many times had his subjects challenged him, flipped the script as it were, started giving to his take, that kind of thing. But the club guys were good like that. No one inspects him too closely. He’s as good as another barstool to these guys and they’re as good to each other in the same way.

Which in truth, after the last job, is a welcome relief. And since Danny’s not out to volunteer too much personal information about himself, certainly not all that had happened in his time with the SNCC before he came back to Chicago, he’s liable to slide on by, undetected. No waves, just pictures. Not like his time down south. The protests, the violence, the thin blue line that seemed to crush them from all sides, the hope, the fear, the stark reality in the voice of a promising, young black activist, no more than 18 or 19, from Montgomery; a voice that still rings in his ears like the kid’s there, right in front of Danny in that pool hall.

What’s it mean for you that our struggle’s what puts guys like you on the map? Will you remember us when you’re acceptin that Pulitzer? And if you do, will you say you remember out loud?

To this day, that chafes his ego, ruffles his feathers, the lens fixed on him like that, subjected to being a subject. Because Danny knows how right that kid really is. But as much as he hates it, he also knows the value of, every once in a while, being put in focus like that. Still, he squirms under that kind of scrutiny more than he’d care to admit, an ant under a magnifying glass with the added misfortune of being in the sun’s path. So yeah, it suits him just fine that the club guys don’t look so close. Well, except for the occasional scattered, out-of-nowhere but not entirely unprofound observations. Usually from Zipco.

Out of all the guys, Zipco has a way of taking Danny the most by surprise. Because even as Danny embodies much of what he rails against, Zipco, more than most people, has a surprising capacity to rethink some of the broad sweeping proclamations he’s always making. At first, he might cling to them like a drowning man to a life raft. Until, confronted by the opposition up close, he’d realize the pool he’s in is only waist-deep, at which point he’s forced to let the life raft go, dazed and confused as to why he was holding on so tight in the first place.

Like that time he was going on about pinkos and college boys and the navy, the first car show Danny went to.

…

Danny held the microphone out and away from him, arm extended toward Zipco, “Lookit dese pinko mothafuckers,”(ꔘ) who was moving around so much, Danny already knew the audio was going to be dogs hit no matter how much he messed with the levels. Sound quality doomed the moment they stepped foot outside because who tries getting good audio in an open field with some crappy, used reel-to-reel?

But Zipco was on a roll, “S’like my brudder,” so Danny let it ride. “Y’know my brudder? We swing the same way but only thing is he’s a pinko. There’s somethin in is head, is wrong, y’know? But when he gets drunk he’s just like me. Otherwise he thinks different.”(ꔘ)

“What do you mean by ‘he’s a pinko?’”(ꔘ) Danny asked, still fiddling with the knobs on the tape deck in the hopes he could level set enough so he wouldn’t have to hold the mic out so far. The muscles in his arm were already starting to cramp.

“Ey,” sidestepping the question entirely, Zipco launched into a separate interrogation, “ain’t you s’posed to be takin pictures?”(ꔘ)

“Yeah,” Danny replied coolly.

“So what you got the microphone for all’a time, then?”(ꔘ)

Danny broke focus from the recorder to look at Zipco, “I don’t know. I was thinkin,” pausing to slide his aviators up the bridge of his nose. “I could record people talkin maybe. Use it with’a pictures. Make a book or somethin maybe.”(ꔘ)

“A book, huh?”(ꔘ) Zipco examined him through narrowed eyes like that was the richest, most quaint thing he’d ever heard.

Unphased by the skepticism, Danny just nodded, “Yeah—”(ꔘ) voice trailing off, Zipco’s disbelief deemed either too small or too simple to be bothered by.

“Yeah.”

“—maybe.” Danny redirects the interview back to the original question, “So, what d’you mean by ‘he’s a pinko?’”(ꔘ)

“Pinko, uh y’know,” Zip shrugs, “college boy. Dey wear tennis shoes and short pants, y’know, shit like that.”(ꔘ)

“Uh-huh. And what’s your brother do?”(ꔘ)

“Ah, he’s in the Air Force. Goin to Thailand, next November. Air Force mechanic. Dey took him. Dey wouldn’t take me, y’know. Dey took him cause he’s a clean-cut, all-American boy. Y’know short pants n’ tennis shoes.”(ꔘ)

Danny was altogether unprepared for the nerve he’d struck or the ensuing monologue, as Zip became more and more impassioned.

“I told my brudder– he went to college. One year. I said,” Hand gripping the neck of the glass jug of wine Zipco always carted around with him, he pointed the bottle in accusation, like Danny was actually his brother, “‘Fucker, you don’t quit that college im’a beat da shit outta you!’ And he quit. Cause I tole him I don’t want no goddamn pinkos in my family. Cause I can’t stand dat shit, y’know. Cause if you can’t work wit your fuckin hands, you ain’t no fuckin good.”(ꔘ)

That was when Zipco finally stopped to take a breath, but before Danny could get in a word of follow up, he chugged right along, albeit more calmly this time. “I, uh, y’know I like to work. I ain’t no fuckin prick. Like to work wit my hands n’ shit. I work hard for my money y’know.”(ꔘ)

Danny took a beat, in case he had more left, before agreeing, “Oh yeah, yeah.”(ꔘ)

As Danny put the mic down in the grass next to him to set up the camera, Zip eyed him suspiciously. “So, what d’you do?”(ꔘ)

“I studied photography …” When that was met with no response, Danny dropped the punch-line, real smooth, “… in college.”(ꔘ)

Chuckling, there was a smirk of admiration as Zipco nodded, knowing he’d been got but not as sore about it as he’d expected to be.

And while he had enough respect not to call Danny ‘pinko,’ Zipco had still taken to calling him ‘college boy’ occasionally after that. That is, until a few months later, on a ride-along out to Ohio for a different car show when Danny finally convinced him that he technically did work with his hands.

“Ey, lookee here,” Zip put his foot on the cooler and tipped back the lawn chair he was sitting in as Danny approached from behind, “college boy’s made it to da party, eh?”

“Hey Zip,” Danny said, “Lemme ask you something,” adjusting his lens before kneeling down to snap a picture of Zipco looking right at him, arm defiantly flung over the back of the lawn chair. “You, uh— you ever consider it actually takes hands to do what I do?”

“Fuck outta here. What you mean?”

“I mean,” Danny stood back up again, hands up like the cops got him surrounded, camera in one of them and said, self-satisfied as a politician, “There are no pictures without these.”

Zipco chewed on that for a moment like he couldn’t figure if it was the most profound or profoundly stupid thing in the world. He must’ve fallen on the side of the former when he made up his mind though because there was a little head-bow of agreement and a smile of surrender. He dropped the whole ‘college boy’ bit after that.

But yeah, aside from the occasional mini-revelations from the Gospel of Zipco, these guys don’t look at anything too close.

Heck, if it wasn’t for Kath none of them would’ve even known about the few times Danny’d been to jail. Which of course, he had no way of knowing Kathy was gonna break that news because if he did, he never would’ve told her in the first place. Just considering the possible scenarios as to how it might’ve come up in conversation – one he wasn’t there for, no less – Danny wished a hole in the earth would crack open and gobble him right up.

But boy, were the guys floored when they heard. Worse than a sewing circle the next time Danny came to the bar. Chattering amongst themselves, eyeing him as he walked past the pool tables to greet them like– well, Kathy once described it as, ‘like dey was plannin somethin over dere.’(ꔘ) And the closer he got, the faster they closed ranks and hushed up. Virtually indistinguishable, but for the tattoos and tough stares, from a gaggle of primary school boys talking all kinds of shit by their lockers about that poor kid who didn’t know he’d stepped in dogshit and tracked it through the hallway.

Naturally, Brucie started busting his balls the minute Danny pressed play on the tape recorder.

“Ey, here comes Mr. Forty-Five-to-Life. Tell me, how funny were you walking on yer way outta that place?” Brucie announced it without looking from his newspaper like it was one of the bylines. “Pretty boy like you’s bound to fetch top dollar in dere.”

Talk about deer in headlights. So caught off guard, Danny’s head practically spun. “The heck you goin on about?”

An arm whipped around his neck with the force of a U-lock, and in that low Golden State lullaby of his, Cal joked, “That’s some solid civil disobedience there, brother. And here we all were thinking you’re a law-abiding, tax-paying cit-o-zen,” ruffling Danny’s hair with each over-enunciated syllable.

“Yeah, not some dirty commie,” Corky hooted into the neck of the beer he’d been sipping out of.

Releasing Danny, Cal stood up straight, all serious now and a little bit salty, “Hey, dipshit. Y’know communism and the Civil Rights Movement aren’t the same thing?”

Corky just rolled his eyes, with another one from Wahoo on its heels in a show of support like, Get a load’a this guy.

Johnny chimed in from a stool all the way down at the end of the bar to settle the matter, “You clowns think I let just any ole asshole in here wit’a fuckin camera? Mm-mm, I clocked that this kid weren’t no princess.”

A surprising remark from someone Danny thought he’d made no impression on, nevermind one that favorable. Sure, Johnny let him tag along on rides and take pictures but he and Danny weren’t especially cozy. And Johnny wasn’t especially sentimental. Not out loud, anyway. Second only to Benny, he was the most reserved of the bunch. Except when he was drunk, which Danny noted pretty early on with some fascination, happened less often than the other guys.

Still, uncomfortable as it was, being discussed in his absence, Danny held his breath waiting for it to get worse. For the real kicker to land, the punchline that would launch a feeding frenzy of accusations that he’d been telling tales out of school. Because surely Kathy had told them who’d been in the jail cell across from him. He could already hear the ridicule, the disbelief that didn’t even exist yet.

Probably it’d be Brucie who’d start in, maybe Zipco. So, you mean to tell me you met Mr. Big-Fuckin’-Dreams, Martin Luther King, in a fuckin drunk tank? In middle-of-shit-fuck-nowhere Arkansas?

Before Danny could get the chance, Cal would already be correcting them. Alabama, you nitwit. Not Arkansas.

Cockroach might pipe up, Ey, ain’t dat guy, uh, a doctor er somethin?

Someone else’d interrupt, Nah, dat guy’s a man o’ the cloth wit The Man Upstairs. Deacon, er a reverend, er some shit.

Cal would beat Danny at correcting them, again. He’s both. Reverend and doctor.

And Danny would just sit there, fiddling with the camera, ears red, laughing but the laugh’s all thin and tense because really, how do you convince a bar full of blue-collar bikeriders that you, little old you, met the Martin Luther King Jr. locked up overnight in a rural county jail down south?

Mercifully though, he wouldn’t have to convince them. Because it seemed apparently, Kathy hadn’t offered up that part of the story. So relieved Danny was at the time, he had to hide feeling nearly knocked over with it.

See, because he’d told Kath the whole story. He hadn’t even meant to really. But by the time she was pouring a fourth cup of coffee, the afternoon sun was shining right through the window, lighting up the shag area rug on her bedroom floor, a bright orange reminder he’d stayed past their agreed-upon 12:30 curtain call. And mid-telling her all about how he wound up getting his last job – how he’d been makin pictures since he was 17, how he’d had a knack for it throughout college, but that his time in the SNCC’s what made him a real journalist – he couldn’t figure why she didn’t kick him out after staying so long, why she’d let him carry on jabbering away about himself like that.

Anyway, the punchline never came, and Danny was grateful to avoid the regret he might’ve felt sharing that with her. There was no way the guys would’ve bought that he met the good Reverend King in the klink. That would’ve been dead on arrival. Truth perceived as a lie that he would’ve never lived down. And nothing’s worse than the truth you can’t live down.

But Kath was that good at flipping the script that way, putting him in focus without him noticing. He suspected it was from all the time she’d spent watching Benny, casting her impressions of him and then voicing them, if only to cultivate some back and forth that might resemble a conversation. Because Danny had seen it, Benny was a tough nut to crack. Even for those that knew him, it was hard to know know him. Every once in a while though Kathy would catch him in a sharing mood and that’s the most Danny’d see him talk. It was in those moments, he got it - why they were together, why they got together in the first place. Something special, intangible, that thing called love, that two-person ecosystem insufficiently described by words or pictures no matter how hard we still try.

Yet there was distance too. Always would be. Impossible, really, trying to know someone like that, aloof, prospecting for new info, digging up a bit more each day, piece by painful piece. Because talking to Benny wasn’t like talking to an actual person. It was more like he was some great celestial object and you, always in-orbit; the only way to him was around. In that sense, Danny really felt for Kath.

Still, even as he felt her loneliness like it was his own, like he’d been living it all these years, he also found her love for Benny, her commitment to loving him, altogether compelling even if she still hoped to change him somehow. There was a resilience, a covert reserve of strength in that loneliness, something that made it so sometimes he got to thinking she might even be better at making pictures than him. Like if someone put a camera in her hands and let her run wild in that human zoo they called the Stoplight, yeah, Danny’d bet money she’d make some memorable pictures.

…

There’s no easy way to tell her though - heck, he learned it the hard way himself - operating on the edges of things doesn’t make for the most efficient agent of change. But it’s the best for documenting the moment, the for-right-now. If he learned anything in the Montgomery county jail, if he learned anything from those moments watching Kathy and Benny, it was that.

On the edges and right now are certainly his place, anyway.

═

taglist: @narcolini, @drabbles-mc, @ashlingiswriting, @tofuwildcard, @cositapreciosa, @axreliono, @bellinitini , @complete-nonsequitur, @when-did-this-become-difficult, @ladygoatee (tagged everyone I previewed this to in wc but no pressure to read bc I know not everyone is in this fandom)

[world-of-stones-and-colors]

i should probably post what i have for larrys backstory here huh shkffsd heres more or less what i have in my discord server (which u should Totally join if u want ✨️super secrect access✨️ to this kind of character development :3) (tw drug use, drug overdose, suicidal tendencies)

- larry came from a rich family. it was the classic overbearing parents, constant running of his life, no regard for what he wanted or how he was feeling

- the rough and tumble lifestyle was done to get back at them, something that kept escalating well through his teens and into his 20s until he was a well known figure in "that crowd"

- he'd be in jail every other week (to which is parents would always bail him out, not that he asked them to. it wasn't out of concern for his wellbeing either, they were more concerned about the families image)

- all this eventually reached a head in the form of Drugs

- what he had taken though, he couldn't tell you. he never knew anymore, just took what was handed to him and rode out whatever high it gave him

- he doesnt remember much about That Night, only that one minute he was with his 'friends' popping whatever at a party in some old warehouse, and the next he was waking up in the hospital after having overdosed on a cocktail of different drugs

- he doesnt know if it was because of what he initially took, or if he'd taken more after he'd blacked out, but either way he very well could have died if his 'friends' hadnt left him in the parking lot of the ER

- he wasn't alone in this, his older brother that he'd dragged along with him that night (the brother was worried, didnt want larry to go alone, felt like his brother was slipping away and was grasping at any way to relate to him, to get a foot in the door to bring him back to, not his 'old life' his parents wanted, but anything aside from this) had also taken just a bit too much of Whatever along with larry, only he hadnt made it.

- larry, of course, blames himself, hed told his brother to let loose, have fun only for it to end up in tragedy

- after that, larry turned his life around, but not really for the better, at least not for him. he did everything his parents said, feeling like he owed them for the death of his brother

- his dad got him a job at a well respected league office, and since his parents were only ever happy when he got a promotion or did well at the job, he just kept working his way up until he got to where he is now

- if you ask him what he likes to do for fun, he literally cant tell you, because he doesnt really know. his youth was a rebellion, and his adult life is a mask for his parents happiness. what he wants doesnt matter anymore, he took his brothers life away, so its only far that he gives up his own along with it

- he wasnt even supposed to Happen in the first place, his parents only had his brother because youre 'supposed to have a kid' at a certain point in life, and they also wanted someone to pass the Company(tm) down to

- larry was an 'oopsie' baby and thats how his parents talk about him. hes the kid they didnt mean to have but look at him now! all that aggravation was worth it because look how successful he is! he was an accident he was never meant to be so he better make something of himself now

about his gym battles:

- the reason larry hosts his gym battles inside (hes literally the Only leader that does that btw) is to give the illusion that the battle will be mundane, so mundane that no one there seems worried about the dangers of it while theyre eating

- it throws trainers off, making most of them not battle as hard because theyre afraid of hurting someone or something, which in turn gives larry an advantage

- the secret? it lies in the illusion itself, that being exactly what it is; during days where trainers challenge his gym (i imagine there are like, set days/times, at least for larrys gym, which adds to the whole 9 to 5 Thing and also ensures there to be multiple people challenging at once for the gym test to work smoothly) the restaurant has a mr mime put up their 'walls' around the arena area

- and the people in the arena itself arent actually There either, its yet another illusion that disappears when someone solves the test, which again throws people off trying to figure out how things changed so quickly

heres how he feels about his jobs and how they came to be in the first place

some misc facts:

- during those rebellious years, larry was in a band as both a guitar player and occasional vocals there are cds of this but good luck finding one :3c

- being a Rich Kid(tm) larry took many language classes growing up and knows at least conversational levels of the common languages in the pokemon world (IE any language i need him to speak lol)

- his nose his crooked from a past fight but its hard to tell unless you look at him head on

- he likes knitting/crocheting

- hes passivly suicidal

- from those Younger years he has 3 tattoos: a starly sitting on a branch on his right bicep with the branch actually being an old scar from one of his first fights. his brother had said it looked like a branch and that he should get a starly for it, so he did. this one is typically hidden by the sleeves of his shirt.

the second on his simple; 'live to die' is tatted on his left wrist though its normally covered by his watch

the third? a tramp stamp he got while absolutly shitfaced one night, its got the hearts and Everything

- he also used to have piercings; bridge, left brow, tongue, snake bites, dick. he still has the holes for these from Years of having them, and he still has the actual jewelry somewhere (except the dick piercing, that one is still there because anyone who Sees It would have to be close to him, and therefore most likely already knows about his past

- he used to hussle pool

- he used to ride a motorcycle, probably still has it stored away somewhere

- hes banned from at least one bar in every region