#signal//noise meta

[proto-actual]

«SIGNAL // NOISE» lore drop time

Dereznor is Gallium City's finest underground industrial musician. his DJ sets in the SPARC Club are always absolutely insane

(name courtesy of @quorras, who had to listen to five minutes of unhinged cackling as this joke came to fruition)

[valeriehalla]

I am so utterly fascinated by “Saki”, the 18-year-running mahjong manga in which you, the reader, become gradually, frog-boilingly aware (over the course of nearly two decades’ worth of mahjong tournaments) that none of these girls are wearing underwear and most of their boobs are slowly expanding.

I need you to understand that I have, like, an anthropological level fascination with this comic. From the perspective of someone who is also a comic artist and writer, two things delight me about it:

the fact that I understand completely how an artist gets from “the fans can have a little hint of skirted asscheek” to “the pussy is completely out on center page” over the course of 18 years; and

the way in which the pussy being out is treated by the characters and diegesis as being utterly unremarkable.

Okay. Point 1. The frog-boiling.

Let me put this in perspective for you. There was already a meme about how the characters in “Saki” don’t wear underwear when I was in middle school. I am thirty now. Okay? And it’s still going.

In the time since, this has stopped being a joke. It is now indisputable canon. This is not because anyone outright says it at any point. It’s because the underwear ran out of places to hide. I’m obsessed with this thought: somewhere in the over 20 volumes of “Saki”, there is a panel in which underwear was objectively deconfirmed. And it would be so hard to figure out where that panel actually is. Maybe the artist didn’t even realize it when she drew it! The frog? Boiling!!

And of course there is also the breast expansion. I don’t know how to put a spin on this. They are just expanding. Like, this happens a lot with artists: you define a character as being, in your mind, “the one with the big boobs”, and over the years you emphasize that trait further and further so that the signal doesn’t get lost in the noise. It’s just that normally—in like a wildly popular manga series about mahjong published by literally Square Enix, for example—normally there would be a point at which the boobs stopped getting bigger. Like, an editor would step in or something. Or you would get to the point where you cannot draw the character in the same panel as her mahjong tiles without her breasts spilling over the tiles, and you’d go, “Well, this is now untenable.”

That did not happen. There is no ceiling. The frog is soup.

Point 2. The complete and utter mundanity of all of this.

It’s like this, okay: there’s no shortage of trashy ecchi manga out there. There’s a million other comics doing wildly bawdier things with wildly more improbable bishoujos.

The vibe with “Saki” is different.

It’s hard to explain this, but it feels like the world of the comic is fundamentally uninterested in the fanservice happening on the page. I cannot describe it as “leering”, because I cannot conceive of a person in the story from whose point of view one would leer. I think the artist is probably into it—I can’t imagine anyone is making her do this—but “Saki” the comic has no opinion on the matter.

There are essentially no male characters in “Saki”. Like, there was one guy? Kind of? At the very beginning? But he is gone now. They put him back in the toybox. He does not exist. It appears to be some level of canonical that in the world of “Saki”, almost all humans are women. Those women are sometimes romantically into each other. According to comments the artist has made on Twitter (which I cannot source), they have lesbian baby technology, so it’s no problem. It’s so much not a problem that the story is about mahjong, instead of any of that.

So, like, the fiction here appears to be this: this is the, like, meta-narrative of the fanservice of “Saki”, right: it’s just normal that they don’t wear underwear and their boobs are arbitrarily big. It’s been normal. It was normal before the story of the manga began. It’s just how things are. Nobody bats an eye about it, and if they do, it’s in sort of a lesbian kind of way so like what’s the problem, we love lesbians here. This is literally normal for girls.

The fanservice simply diffuses into this all-encompassing aura of disembodied, ambient sluttiness. The framing of the panels demands you acknowledge it, and the story demands you already be over it, because it’s mahjong time now, and we’re playing mahjong.

Do you get??? why I’m so fascinated??? Are you not a little enraptured???

Anyway, I have no idea how to end this weird post. I guess the conclusion is that women stay winning????

[confessedlyfannish]

DP x DC Prompt #4

When they all convene at the cave, Alfred is silently wrapping Dick's knuckles. Damian hovers beside him. Tim and Barbara are hunched over the batcomputer, not even sparing Bruce a glance as he strides over.

"Report," Batman grunts. No one reacts.

"Report!"

"Hood pushed his panic button at 2:34 AM," Barbara says shortly, straightening.

The button had been a joke, mostly because Jason would never use it and everyone knew it.

"I patched into his comm at 2:35. This is what I heard initially." At her nod, Tim presses play. What occurs next is a garble. There is the sound of high winds, as if Hood is rushing through the air, even though the comms are designed to filter out any ambiance otherwise the Bats would never hear each other. Interspersed is a mixture of static punctuated by high, inhuman screeches of metal and something else unknown.

"This goes on," Barbara says after thirty long seconds, switching it off. "Red Hood failed to respond to any attempts at contact. I dispatched Nightwing to Hood's location at 2:36 AM. He was approximately two miles away." She pulls up a GPS map of their respective locations, their beacons blinking.

"At 2:41 AM, Red Hood's comm goes off, as does his GPS," Barbara says, swallowing softly as the red beacon indicating Jason disappears. "Nightwing arrives at 2:42 AM."

Dick doesn't say anything, head hanging low as he grips the metal table he sits on. Damian glances between the two of them, expression flat but fists clenched.

"Nightwing, report."

"..."

"Scene was empty, B," Tim speaks up. "No trace of Hood, no sign of a struggle. No cameras in the alley. We've been checking the ones nearby but so far there's no sign of anyone but Hood heading in that direction...and no one, Hood included, caught in the cams heading out, not within that time frame."

"So he's still in the area," Batman concludes. "The local buildings?"

"All the entrances have cameras, which showed no evidence of Hood nor any evidence of being tampered with," Barbara says. "Nightwing, Red Robin and Robin canvased within a half mile radius to check for any signs of disturbances in any of the windows or rooftops but found no evidence to support Hood being taken. A scan confirmed several serial offenders, but when interviewed and searched there was no sign of Hood. Several in the area reported an unusual quiet for Crime Alley."

Batman forces the next question out. "Did you check the dumpsters?"

"Yes," Nightwing grits out. "Empty."

Barbara clears her throat. "I have attempted to reconnect to Jason's GPS and comm as well as restart both remotely but there's no signal at all. The thing is, when there's a disruption like that it usually leaves some sort of sign" she pulls up the audio waves, pointing at the end where the spikes conform into a straight line that makes everyone deeply uncomfortable. Upon playing, the noise from before plays before going abruptly silent. "But there is no large spike, this is clean. It just ends. His GPS is much the same. It's not off, it's just gone."

"I know you don't like to hypothesize this early on, B, but we think this involves a meta," Tim says, rewinding the audio. "We've been running the audio from Jason's comm through different filters, playing with the levels and isolating what we can and, well, take a listen--"

The screeching drops to a sort of muffle and in the background, distantly, they can hear bits of Jason's voice.

"No, I'm not---"

"--don't need--"

"get AWAY from--"

a particularly desperate yell that makes Tim flinch, "I am NOT--!"

and almost a whimper that makes Batman's blood run cold, "please..."

And then, unfairly clear even through the faint garble, Jason says "I don't have a choice, do I."

And a minute later, quietly: "Ok."

The audio cuts off.

The defeat in Jason's last words is palpable, and fundamentally wrong. Jason has never sounded defeated a day in his life, and no one knows how to process Red Hood all but giving his hands over for the cuffs. Nightwing pushes himself off the table.

"I'm going back out there," he growls. No one tries to stop him as he stalks out the cave, not even Alfred.

"I will accompany Nightwing, make sure he does not punch any more walls." Damian says, nodding tightly.

"B?" Barbara asks.

"Keep working on it. See if you can identify what could be making those noises if Hood was standing still in an alley," Batman says, walking towards the zeta tube. "I'm going to make a few calls."

[mutable-manifestation]

Ghost Chirps AU Part 3

Part 1 & 2

Around half past midnight, Jason is losing his patience.

They've been searching for hours and finding a whole lot of nothing, and statistics about the odds of finding kidnapping victims and the first 72 hours.

It's been almost 48 since he saw the kid and he's cursing himself for not doing more sooner.

Cameras are finding nothing, Signal is finding nothing, everyone is finding a whole lot of nothing.

And Jason...

Jason chirps.

He doesn't know if it'll help, but it's the only idea he's got. Even if it's a shallow chance. It's all he's got; he has to try.

And if Bruce decides that Jason being meta is the line? Then he'll cope.

He won't refuse to do something just because he's scared when his- when the kid's well being is on the line.

He won't be like Bruce, who'd let his killer walk free rather than do something about it because his feelings were somehow more important when Jason died.

He won't.

The first chirp yields nothing.

He does it again pushing to try and make it as loud as possible.

Again, nothing.

Again, he chirps, something in him certain that if he just keeps going it'll work. Somehow. But he's learned to trust his gut - or weird meta instincts?

And it works.

Because after the third chirp the kid chirps back.

Except.

The kid is not in Gotham.

He is very, very not in Gotham.

He chalks it up to his weird meta-bird instincts that he somehow just knows it came from somewhere hundreds of miles that-a-way.

Kidnapping is looking more likely given just how far the kid got, but now?

Now Jason has a way to find him.

He ignores Oracle asking about mask static in favor of hopping down from the balcony he'd paused on and heading back to the batbike - Bruce's paranoia meant it would have more than enough gas to take him as far as he needed to go and then some.

'And more than enough weapons to level a block, if needed,' he thinks viciously.

"Hood!" Oracle’s sharp voice shakes him from his thoughts.

"Found the kid," he shoots back, hoping to avoid the inevitable questioning.

Mixed exclamations of relief and confusion echoed over the radio.

"How!?" Nightwing cries. "I was literally right next to you! What did I miss!?"

"What are you, deaf?" he grumbles back irritably, uncomfortable. It'd be easier if they were, he thinks. Then he wouldn't have to explain.

"Does this have something to do with the static noise your helmet was producing previously? I had worried it was damaged," Oracle asks.

"Static?" Jason echoes, not slowing a bit - nearly to the bike.

"Oh yeah!" Nightwing says, as though she's making perfect sense.

'Ah,' he thinks, 'A shred of mercy in this vastly cruel existence.'

Aloud, he just says, "Yup. He's not in Gotham anymore, though, and I don't know how far he'll end up going or how long I'll be gone. Anyone who wants to come with can catch up, because I'm leaving now."

15 seconds later he's leaping onto the batbike and peeling out.

***

Jason doesn’t chirp again until he’s nearly to Illinois. 

He wants to. He wants to chirp nonstop the moment he hears that first reply, wants to spend the whole hours-long drive listening to nothing but a litany of chirps that reassure him that his kid is alive alive alive.

He won’t risk it. 

He doesn’t know where, exactly, the kid is. Doesn’t know if his family didn’t hear him because the chirps are only audible to him and the kid or if it was really due to a helmet malfunction covering for him. 

But there is a chance that whoever has the kid can hear his chirps, so Jason won’t risk having him respond more than he absolutely has to in order to find him.

The next time, the kid answers back to the very first chirp, and Jason knows he’s heading in the right direction.

He gets turned around just once, overshooting and heaving to loop back, but he curses himself for it anyway - wasting precious time when the kid is going through who knows what.

Then he’s entering Amity Park: a nice place to live.

A nice place to die, for whoever it was that took his kid.

Several chirps later he’s in front of a school - of all things.

He doesn’t waste time doubting himself - kidnapping victims could be stashed anywhere - he storms in, batbike left idling at the base of the front steps.

Three chirps later he’s slamming through a door into a classroom. Full of kids. Taking a totally normal class - aside, of course, from Jason’s interruption.

One last exchange of chirps later and he finally lays eyes on his little shadow - who has the audacity to also look surprised, as if he wasn’t the one to lead him here in the first place.

Jason takes a moment to feel relieved, adrenaline beginning to crash before it revs back up with his indignation.

What happened to ‘goodbye!’ Who in their right mind would disappear from Gotham and not think that those left behind would assume they were kidnapped!? It’s Gotham!

Oh. Oh the child was in Gotham alone.

The child was in Gotham for a vacation.

Oh the child’s parents didn’t even realize he was gone? He’s worried about them putting him in an iron maiden!?

Jason’s eyes may be green, but oh, how his vision is red.

He barely hears the school’s alarm going off when he finally drives off-grounds, laser focused on following the road to the dot that’s popped up on his helmet just a few streets off, sending a curt thank-you to Oracle for saving him the effort of finding the kid’s address himself - she’s done him the courtesy of leaving everyone muted from his end, but he has little doubt they’ve all been listening to him. He’s only surprised she’s willing to condone the murder.

But then, of course she didn’t, he thinks as he pulls into a decently shadowed alley full of bats and birds. He’s torn between being touched that all of them came and being annoyed that he isn’t already in the process of murdering the kid’s parents. 

“New Brother?” Orphan asks the moment the bike is off, head tilting in question from her dumpster-top perch.

A second, smaller sense of outrage bubbles up next to the first, and it is a testament to his impeccable self-control that his hand only twitches over his gun at the question.

Bruce - Batman - tries to say something, but before he can finish even just the first syllable Jason’s head is snapping around to glare hell at him, and a low, animalistic growl practically rips itself from his throat.

He can see the way everyone tenses - subtle to anyone else, but a glaring neon sign in Jason’s vision. 

He curses himself for it; he asked them to be here. He specifically requested their help, and they gave it. The more of them there are involved, the faster they can help the kid into a safer environment.

But Jason came here to help the kid, not to offer him up as the next sacrifice in Batman’s long line of child soldiers.

“You wanna help? Great. Rule One: YOU,” he points at the bat for emphasis, “can’t adopt him.”

He chokes on whatever he was intending to say next at Orphan’s delighted clap and exclamation of “nephew!”

He wants to correct her, but… he doesn’t. 

Crime Alley is no place to raise a kid; Jason knows that.

He knows it more than anyone, having spent his early years there and his most recent years trying to make it better. He knows that.

But h- the kid is a meta. 

Looking at the facts: the kid is meta.

The kid is meta whose first concern with rule breaking is punishment via torture device.

The kid’s parents are neglectful enough that he spent over a week in Gotham and they never even noticed.

The kid went to Gotham to escape his home.

Whether his parents know that he is a meta or not, it is clear to Jason that the kid needs to be Out Of That House. Yesterday.

But he also knows just how metas are treated - even the MPA can only do so much against the tides of hatred and fear. 

And he’s seen the maps - he knows this state is one of the worse ones for metas to live in, let alone a meta child at the mercy of a foster family that has even odds of neglecting him, being just as bad as his original family, or possibly actually caring about him.

Crime Alley is no place to raise a kid, and Red Hood is far from the right person for such a job.

But Crime Alley isn’t all that Gotham is, and perhaps Jason Todd could very easily decide to get an apartment in a nicer area.

He won’t lie to himself, he knows he isn’t parent material, but he’ll at least be a step up from what the kid is used to while he works to vet a real family to transfer him to. 

He’s halfway through his mental checklist of the options for the safest place for an apartment and other such logistics when he’s reminded of where he is by Oracle’s voice in his ear.

“Hate to interrupt the group brooding you guys have going on over there, but I managed to dig up… a lot of information about the boy and his family situation.”

He notes how the others all perk up from where they’d been…staring at him. 

Ah, that was why it was so quiet. They were staring in disbelief when he didn’t deny the nephew thing. Well. A conversation for another time.

“Lay it on me,” he says to Oracle, ignoring them.

“His name is Daniel James Fenton, goes by Danny, high grades throughout elementary and middle school until they took a steep drop at the beginning of highschool - likely related to whatever happened when his metagene activated. 

Has one sibling, a sister named Jasmine Fenton - no middle name. She goes by Jazz. High grades across the board with no notable dips. No indication of possible metagene in any of  her records or in Danny’s, beyond the grade drop and your own first-hand experience.

Parents Jack and Madeline “Maddie” Fenton. They have their own personal website where they describe themselves as “ectobiologists” and as ghost hunters. The pictures in their gallery show a vast array of weapons - dubbed “ectoweapons” - in the same chrome-green style with the name “Fenton” stamped somewhere on them. Some of the weapons are for sale on their site, advertised for defending oneself against ghosts. There are some pictures of what must be their lab, all of which look to include at least 12 different types of OSHA violation, and the image in their site’s “about” section has the whole family standing in the lab in front of what looks like a vertical Lazarus Pit.”

“What,” Batman says more than asks, voice tense.

“And judging by the staircase seen reflecting off of one of the guns in the picture, it seems that this lab is in their basement - I can’t see why it wouldn’t be, given they were fine with putting an enormous monstrosity of a satellite on top of their building.

There are plenty of cameras in the house itself, but for some reason all I can get from them is static. Any video or audio in the house that they don’t put on their site appears to be unusable for some reason. 

All told, there is plenty of cause to get CPS involved. If their lab safety is even half as bad as it looks and it’s in their basement it’s pretty much a sure thing that the kids’ll be taken from them. 

Given the small-towny nature of the area it’ll be best to contact someone from outside of the community for the case. It’ll move things along significantly if we have somewhere to send them.

They have an aunt, Alicia Walker, but she’s already marked down as a “no” for taking them in in the event something should happen to the Fentons. 

This leaves their godfather: Vlad Masters. An incredibly reclusive billionaire, pursued the same Paranormal Science degree as the Fentons did when they were in college, but suffered an accident that put him in the hospital for two years with an unknown illness that Masters was allowed to name “ecto-acne.” Lost all contact with the Fentons until he invited them to a reunion party last fall and was named godfather three weeks later.

Masters got his wealth through a series of suspicious business deals. No one has been able to prove foul play yet, but just glancing over some of the early papers is already showing plenty of inconsistencies.

No other relatives - the Walker parents passed away some time ago, and while one of the Fentons remains, she’s in a nursing home. And also disowned Jack. And went out of her way to disown both Jazz and Danny as soon as she heard about them.”

“Great. Make Jason Todd a long lost cousin, set CPS on them. Red Hood is here because Danny ran away to Gotham and stuck his nose in crime alley so I tracked him down because I thought he was kidnapped in my territory, the Bats chased down Red Hood thinking he was gonna hurt the boy, CPS is there because your research turned up the potential unsafe living conditions and you overheard that the kid was gone for a week without anyone noticing - which scream neglect. Now we’re cooperating because we’re all annoyed at the parents that let their kid wander all the way to Gotham and convinced him that a torture device was a possible grounding option.”

He turns to Batman. 

“You can claim to have done a DNA search to find the connection, and I’m sure you can find a reason to dismiss Masters as an option. Make sure to have them call Jason as soon as possible. Oracle-”

“Already routing incoming calls through Gotham. Also, both of Masters’ residences have inaccessible cameras similar to what I’m experiencing with the Fentons. He can be dismissed under suspicion of having an OSHA nightmare in his home. I’ll see if he has his own vertical Lazarus Pit while you all work on exfiltrating the niece and nephew.”Jason doesn’t dignify that with a response, hopping back on his bike to follow the new route - this time actually to the Fenton household.

[hoodielord]

Green eyes in the fear fog.

For half a second, Steph thought today would be a decent day. But no, not in Gotham.

Steph's current events professor, who was also the head of student affairs, had offered extra credit to help give college tours. Look, she had to take the extra credit she had to, even if it meant that she had to be a tour guide. It wasn't hard, just annoying.

The group was small, only five people, but two of them stuck out. A brother and sister. The brother was the definition of adoption bait blue eyes, black hair, vigilante tendencies withholding. The sister was at least as tall as Jason. She had orange hair just like Babs, you'd think they were related.

Anyways, Steph's new mission was to make sure the kid and Dick never met. The kid would not stop making puns. Some of them earned him a laugh but some earned him a smack from his sister.

"Aw, come on, Jazz, it was funny."

"You can do better." she shrugged.

" Sounds like a challenge." A wicked smirk appeared on his face.

" Danny, please don't."

"Challenge accepted."

Yep, I'm definitely keeping him away from Dick.

But something was off about them other than looking at the crime capital's university. They could probably be metahumans. Their eyes seemed to slightly glow blue. They carried themselves as they had already expected danger. I mean, it pays to be prepared, especially in Gotham, but they aren't from here.

If the siblings weren't already on a list B has they should be now. Jazz had been almost ecstatic when we were moving through the psychology department. Danny was practically bouncing off the walls when it was time to go through the engineering and physics departments. Definitely should keep an eye on them.

It was reaching the end of the tour in the cafeteria. Another weird thing about the siblings was their reaction to food. They seemed to have this sort of optimistic curiosity like they were happy to have food to eat, but at the same time, they were poking to make sure it wouldn't attack or something.

Talking with the siblings was interesting too. Danny was buzzing about the engineering department. He went into a great rant about a project that Wayne Enterprises was working on in the aerospace engineering division. Maybe she should keep him away from Tim, too.

The conversation died quickly when a shriek rang out from down the hall. Steph turned quickly to see green fear toxin fill the cafeteria. Swarms of people ran for the exits knocking each over. She quickly dug through her bag and pulled out her gas masks, one for her and her backup.

"Jazz? Jazz, where did you go?" Danny called. They must have gotten separated.

Damn, she needed another one for the siblings. She shoved her spare into Danny's hands.

" Put the mask on and head for the exit."

"But I need to find Jazz."

"I'll find her. Put the mask on and go." Steph yelled as she went further into the fog. Quickly, she sent an alert to Oracle. Signal is on patrol right now, but more bats might show up.

It was dense she could barely see in front of her. There was some noise up ahead. Someone was screaming. The yelling grew louder as she rounded the corner.

"Stop! Get away!"

It was Jazz. She was practically growling. Her fist slammed into the concrete wall, leaving a deep impact. She was clearly affected by the Fear gas. A meta affected with fear gas, not good.

"Stop! Don't hurt him. He's not a monster! He's my little brother!" Jazz had gone from fury to sadness as she practically begged for her hallucination to stop haunting her.

If it wasn’t the meta thing it was whatever she was hallucinating that caught Steph’s attention. Definitely on B's list now.

"Isn't it interesting what fear does to the mind?"

Steph saw Scarecrow emerge from the fog.

"I saw you in the psychology department. Your eyes lit up like a fire. But now they are clouded with fear."

A chill went up Steph's spine. She quickly checked her mask for leaks but didn't have any. Turning her attention back to Jazz and Scarecrow, she saw something. Green eyes shifted inside the fog. They looked like a predator hunting its prey. For a second, they look like Jason's.

From behind Scarecrow, the eyes stopped, and a figure emerged. A baseball bat slammed into Scarecrow's face, knocking him to the floor. The figure came into full view now. It was Danny his eyes were glowing green.

He knelt down to Scarecrow.

"You really don't have any brains. Do you Scarecrow? If you did, you wouldn't have hurt my sister." His voice was downright, frigid.

He turned and rushed over to Jazz who was still trying to convince her hallucinations to stop.

"Jazz, it's okay. Come on, I'm fine. It's okay." His voice was soft and gentle as he helped her up. Jazz mumbled a little as she stumbled down the hall.

Steph quickly caught up to the siblings slinging Jazz's arm over her shoulder.

"Sorry, I couldn't help earlier," Steph spoke quietly.

"It's fine. Not everybody can be a hero."

Steph wanted to laugh at the irony of that statement, but she just nodded.

"Sorry about the tour too."

"It wasn't all bad."

" Oh, the rouge attack and poisoning wasn’t bad?" Steph asked sarcastically.

" Our hometown is haunted and our community college is funded by my godfather. And he is a rich fruit loop.”

‘Ghosts?’

“You know Gotham University is funded by Wayne Enterprises right?”

“Annoying crazy fruit loop or weird himbo? Hmmm. Yeah, I’m going to have to go with the himbo on this one.”

Steph laughed at that one. Bruce is going to want to hear about this but she’ll keep him away from these siblings for a little while.

[actual-changeling]

Season One meta posts in 2024? Yes, very much so. We need more of that.

Will this be slightly unhinged? Yeah, probably, so welcome back to Alex's unhinged meta corner.

Everyone has probably connected the kiss back to the wall-slam scene in Tadfield Manor by now, but while I was re-watching it for the nth time and combing through it frame by frame like a mentally sane person, I realised just how orchestrated it was from beginning to end.

I assume we can agree that Aziraphale called Crowley nice on purpose to get a hint of intimacy out of him, but I think this time it is very different from the other instances during which he reacts with anger to being called nice.

My first main observation is the way Aziraphale positions himself.

We pick up after Crowley's explanation about the non-lethal shooting happening outside, and they are facing each other at an angle, with Aziraphale having stopped a few steps behind him.

Now, until the slam itself, Crowley doesn't move, he remains where he is, waiting. (We'll come back to that in a bit)

However, instead of remaining at a safe distance or standing literally standing anywhere else, he walks a small curve to then stop right in front of Crowley. Not at his side or a little bit away or at a respectable distance—no, right in his face. You can judge his position by looking at the wooden door (?) in the background.

The following camera position makes it hard to see the amount of distance between their faces, but we know that he must be close enough so that Crowley can immediately grab his coat without problem.

Excuse my art skills, but just to make sure everyone is on the same page, have a little drawing showing their positions and movements.

Now, that manoeuvring takes Aziraphale a few seconds, and what does he do? He stalls. Look at what exactly he tells Crowley:

You know, Crowley, I've always said that, deep down, you are quite a nice—

There are a lot more words than necessary! He could have shortened that sentence but he didn't, and on top of that, if you listen to him say it, he makes two noticeable pauses, one after 'Crowley with a little look outside, one after 'that'. By then he has reached his final position, so no more stalling, he can try to finish his sentence now.

Alex, you might say now, of course Aziraphale did it on purpose, but Crowley only reacted to what he said.

And to that I respond, nope, he was 100% in on it.

I know because when Aziraphale stops in front of him, he waits. He does not move, he doesn't shut him up even though he has heard the same spiel hundreds of times—no, he is waiting and allowing Aziraphale to initiate their little game.

This face is not the face of someone who is already angry or confused about which words will tumble out of Aziraphale's mouth. He even arches his eyebrow in a motion that I personally interpret as 'go on'.

Crowley is listening and waiting for the signal, and the moment Aziraphale says 'nice', he grabs him and pushes him up against the opposite wall. It's an extraordinarily quick reaction, the kind you have when you know you're about to act and what you'll do.

Some further evidence that the entire moment was orchestrated by the two of them.

Aziraphale stretches out his arms behind him to brace himself against the wall, he was expecting to be moved that way and intentionally put himself into a position that would allow Crowley to do so.

Additionally, by grabbing his lapels the way he does, Crowley can make sure that the back of his head doesn't hit the wall. If you watch the clip by yourself and slow it down, you'll discover that Aziraphale gently rests it against the wall on his own while Crowley is talking.

Aziraphale is completely relaxed not only because he knows Crowley would never hurt him, but also because this entire thing is a game that they willingly participate in. It is dangerously under-negotiated, sure; luckily they more or less agree on the ground rules.

Obligatory close-up with the noise squish because I am a blorbo connoisseur and not a heathen. The little eye gaze at the lips, and if you ask me, and this is my post so you ARE asking me, Crowley is very much looking at Aziraphale's lips from behind his glasses.

But I have one more observation to make!

I could never quite put my finger on why exactly the scene felt off, but now I am convinced it's because despite the act, Crowley isn't actually upset. There ARE times when Aziraphale actively crosses a boundary and endangers him with his compliments, but this is not one of them. The growling, him baring his teeth, the fact that he is pressing their entire bodies together, him leaning in thar far, and also what the FUCK is he saying?

The excerpt from the script books:

First part okay, I can buy that, a bit basic but alright. But 'nice is a four letter word'? Where exactly was he going with that and how was that sentence going to end? It's close enough to the topic to pass as real for any outsider who might overhear them, but if you actually listen and try to comprehend it—yeah, no, he was about to go full gibberish.

The goal wasn't to yell at Aziraphale about calling him nice, it was all about prolonging the physical intimacy by holding a monologue.

If you still don't believe me, have a look at their faces when they get interrupted.

Crowley has a "whot?" expression on his face and not a single hint of anger or annoyance. Aziraphale has an expression I will lovingly call "perish you peasant and let my demon husband slam me against a wall in peace".

If someone gave you only this picture—no context, nothing—what would you assume they were doing before someone rudely interrupted them? Based on what the fuck is happening on their faces and the complete lack of distance between their bodies, you'd probably assume they were snogging each other senseless.

Which they were, in a way, just without the lip contact.

I rest my case.

[an-gothamite-aka-zannalial]

Duke Canonically ( I think ) kick green lentern ass when he enter the bat cave, cause Batman say that no one allowed to enter it when he gone. So to Duke it mean kick anyone ass who enter it ( he not wrong tho )

In my opinion, this shows that he is a person who obeys the rules, no matter what other people's reasons are for breaking them, he will still do what he is told to do.

So I thought it would be funny if Duke would kick the ass of anyone who came to Gotham during the day without permission, anyone who was a meta, hero, anti-hero, vigilante, villain, who wasn't a bat or have permision would be kicked by him.

You know typical ' no meta in gotham rule '

Superman: *just come to ask Batman for help during another end of the world weekly

Signal: *Appears out of nowhere carrying a kryptonite sword and Flashlight

Superman: oh hey can you put that down

Signal: only if you leave, Batman is busy now so you better leave Gotham or I'll make you

Superman: I think you misunderstand My arrival here

Signal: Nuh uh I don't care just leave

Signal: *kick his the shit out of Superman and throw him to Zeta tub

After that Superman Make sure he asked Batman's permission before coming

Green Arrow: this gonna be fine I'm not meta I'm not meta *Convincing himself it would be okay

Signal: no the rule is outdated to much at this point

Green Arrow: I- I just here to

Signal: leave before become like your friend

Green Arrow: okay okay okay

In the end he still get kicked cause not leave under 5 minute

Flash (barry): this just short trip I swear,I'll leave after some extra minute please *just want to search Wally who Disappear

Signal: leave now before I leak your email address, group chat, Home address, photos from your emo phase, photos of you drunk, and videos of you failing your driver's license test to every Hero in the world

Flash: you can't-

Signal: I can and I will

He finally leave cause scared, and Duke actually blackmail cause he not sure he can take down a speedster. Wally really hang out with dick lmao

Martian manHunter: I'll leave just give me-

Signal: no *Holding a lighter and gasoline to scare him

Martian manHunter: uhhmm

Signal: leave

He ultimately left because he had to, even though his initial intention was only to give Batman an invitation to the league party

Aquaman: I'm promise I just here for

Signal: *already hold everything that can us as blackmail

He get kicked in the end lmao, And also humiliated at the next league meeting

Bonus:

JL: bats your kids is

Batman: yeah he doing good job I proud of him, this is the first time one of my child really obey the rule and not break

JL:

Batman: *proud dad noise

[hanasnx]

Kinktober: House of Amateurs - S1E0

MINORS DNI 18+

SUMMARY: behind the scenes | background, rules, & credit.

KRAYT HOUSE M.LIST | NAVI | INBOX | @KRAYTHOUSE

WC: 0.6k | CHARACTERS: anakin skywalker x f!reader

WARNINGS: f!reader | adult film au | mentioned: sexual content, adult film industry

Debuting as a new, young, hot porn-star on that casting couch redefined your future business opportunities irreversibly. You remember how fun the amateur house you’d stayed at was, crammed with girls lined up and waiting for a callback meanwhile a studio financed their living.

The advertisement from Krayt House found you by chance. Apparently a company as fresh as you were was hungry for a turn in the spotlight. So desperate they managed to recruit the infamous Anakin Skywalker as their main sell.

You’d heard of him, everyone had. One of the girls at the house buzzed constantly over how she’d been lucky enough to be paired with Anakin for her “audition.” In other words, that following Friday he’d fuck her on that casting couch. Jealousy did not come naturally to you, but that day it did.

No matter, you end up meeting him anyway when you’re employed onto the studio’s series House of Amateurs. A level of humor to the name, as if it’s meant to fool its audience into believing it’s a true amateur house. Full of young women eager to debut, and Anakin in charge of running through them all until they’re inducted onto the porn scene. In reality, most— if not all— of these women have their own profiles already.

You couldn’t lie, the concept was appealing. Like a sorority house that you’re paid to be a part of, with co-stars you’re attracted to. The shoot for promo pictures was too much fun. Thirty girls in micro-bikinis attacking each other with whipped cream and silly string, pictures taken of the delectable chaos until the photographer gathered everyone to the center. Girls coated in the various substances, breathing heavy, and surrounding the Anakin Skywalker as he sat in the middle of the couch. Some knelt or sat around his feet at the base of the couch, others stood behind the back of it, and you— as well as a few others— found their place on the cushions next to him. When you took a spot directly to his left, he’d adjusted you, pressing you into his side while his arm laid out behind you.

“Big smiles, everyone! You’re having fun!” the photographer instructed, and your co-stars obliged. Noises of excitement chorused as nozzles upturned to rain down whipped cream and silly string, throwing arms up and bouncing until a flash of the camera light slows the roll. It signaled the end, and the subjects clap in commemoration. You still have the promo picture, and you used to stare at the face Anakin wore. How his knees spread, his fist rested against his temple, a lazy way about him, a leisured countenance that conveyed what a delicious mess he’s in. The biggest surprise by far was how quiet of a person he was. Now, you’ll share a house with him, intent to share all your holes too until the season is over.

hello everyone my name is indy im @hanasnx :) im very excited about this project. definitely read the above background bcos it has important info regarding what krayt house is and what the series house of amateurs is etc etc

some important things to keep in mind:

╰┈➤ this takes place within my pornstar au for anakin. so adultfilm!anakin or pornstar!anakin is the “host” of the show, so to speak. however, it’s pretty much only implied the entire series, you can enjoy the series as is within gffa for the most part. ╰┈➤ this is an x-reader work only, and you’ll be switching povs. its a way to convey that you’re the subject, but you’re just a different person each time. completely seamless transition. anakin can’t play favorites ╰┈➤ this is amateur house meta, the studio plays up the idea you girls are inexperienced or un-established and anakin skywalker is helping you debut officially, when that isnt true within the story ╰┈➤ it’s all f!reader, and mostly dom!anakin

╰┈➤ Must keep room and common areas clean ╰┈➤ No panties ╰┈➤ No toys ╰┈➤ No touching yourself ╰┈➤ Cameras stay on ╰┈➤ Remember your safe words ╰┈➤ Send a word to our creator, @hanasnx about your favorite parts, lines, episodes, or dialogues. Feel free to ask about behind-the-scenes, or opinions.

indy

╰┈➤ writer ╰┈➤ producer ╰┈➤ sponsor ╰┈➤ on-site creative director ╰┈➤ auditor ╰┈➤ social media marketer ╰┈➤ graphic designer: krayt house logo is my personal design, banners using phonto, fonts include helvetica and vogue regular, pictures are from pinterest and virgin territory (2007) edited on picsart.

donnie (@xstarkillerx)

╰┈➤ cameraman ╰┈➤ consultant ╰┈➤ lighting director ╰┈➤ audio quality assurance ╰┈➤ graphic designer: the text design on the krayt house logo ╰┈➤ intimacy coordinator

malley (@villainsoftheweek)

╰┈➤ chief motivator ╰┈➤ my good girl

cast

╰┈➤ anakin skywalker ╰┈➤ you

and last but not least, huge thanks to you for reading and enjoying. taglist below:

@justadmiringanakin @anisbaby @hardlyparker @whistle1whistle @forcemeanakin @xstarkillerx @jumpsoffacliff @bimbo-baggins86 @sisnxsty @oilfics @silxani @teamoankin @kitwalkersfavoritewhore @obsessedrebel @ssaaaronhotchnerr @cherrycheryi @spidervixen @carefullycontrolledchaos @clover444leaf @similarlyso @your-new-favorite69 @kaminokatie @nightingal22 @anak1nsx @hot-and-confused @haroldronald @sythethecarrot @haydensgirlaela @1184p @kayden666 @murdrdocs @jokenotfunny @sswiftiestars @lovelybucky1-fics @pocketwatch56 @vadersslut @foreverburningstar

disclaimer: if you're not tagged and you asked to be tagged, i most likely did not tag you because you lacked an age in your bio or somewhere i could find. everything about this post is 18+. if your username is written but unhighlighted, it's because tumblr has prolly marked you as a spam, and i left the username in case you ever search your own username and it comes up that way.

[proto-actual]

thinking about my concept of data processors and occult practices on the Grid again, because it's going to form a lot of the backbone of "SIGNAL // NOISE" when it gets rewritten

like I'm just thinking about. the idea of being wired directly into the System and feeling all of that data run through your circuits, understanding it at your core but not being able to put it into words -- and then having to come out and readjust to being a normal program, every workday. is this enlightenment? eldritch madness? who can say?

complex sigils as stand-ins for shell scripts -- channeling your will into the System and asking it to help you in return for the cycles you spend in direct communication with it

a lot of this is still nebulous in my head but. yeah. code manipulation is magic is what I'm getting at here

[noise-vs-signal]

Life is a Learning Function

A learning function, in a mathematical or computational sense, takes inputs (experiences, information, patterns), processes them (reflection, adaptation, synthesis), and produces outputs (knowledge, decisions, transformation).

This aligns with ideas in machine learning, where an algorithm optimizes its understanding over time, as well as in philosophy—where wisdom is built through trial, error, and iteration.

If life is a learning function, then what is the optimization goal? Survival? Happiness? Understanding? Or does it depend on the individual’s parameters and loss function?

If life is a learning function, then it operates within a complex, multidimensional space where each experience is an input, each decision updates the model, and the overall trajectory is shaped by feedback loops.

1. The Structure of the Function

A learning function can be represented as:

L : X -> Y

where:

X is the set of all possible experiences, inputs, and environmental interactions.

Y is the evolving internal model—our knowledge, habits, beliefs, and behaviors.

The function L itself is dynamic, constantly updated based on new data.

This suggests that life is a non-stationary, recursive function—the outputs at each moment become new inputs, leading to continual refinement. The process is akin to reinforcement learning, where rewards and punishments shape future actions.

2. The Optimization Objective: What Are We Learning Toward?

Every learning function has an objective function that guides optimization. In life, this objective is not fixed—different individuals and systems optimize for different things:

Evolutionary level: Survival, reproduction, propagation of genes and culture.

Cognitive level: Prediction accuracy, reducing uncertainty, increasing efficiency.

Philosophical level: Meaning, fulfillment, enlightenment, or self-transcendence.

Societal level: Cooperation, progress, balance between individual and collective needs.

Unlike machine learning, where objectives are usually predefined, humans often redefine their goals recursively—meta-learning their own learning process.

3. Data and Feature Engineering: The Inputs of Life

The quality of learning depends on the richness and structure of inputs:

Sensory data: Direct experiences, observations, interactions.

Cultural transmission: Books, teachings, language, symbolic systems.

Internal reflection: Dreams, meditations, insights, memory recall.

Emergent synthesis: Connecting disparate ideas into new frameworks.

One might argue that wisdom emerges from feature engineering—knowing which data points to attend to, which heuristics to trust, and which patterns to discard as noise.

4. Error Functions: Loss and Learning from Failure

All learning involves an error function—how we recognize mistakes and adjust. This is central to growth:

Pain and suffering act as backpropagation signals, forcing model updates.

Cognitive dissonance suggests the need for parameter tuning (belief adjustment).

Failure in goals introduces new constraints, refining the function’s landscape.

Regret and reflection act as retrospective loss minimization.

There’s a dynamic tension here: Too much rigidity (low learning rate) leads to stagnation; too much instability (high learning rate) leads to chaos.

5. Recursive Self-Modification: The Meta-Learning Layer

True intelligence lies not just in learning but in learning how to learn. This means:

Altering our own priors and biases.

Recognizing hidden variables (the unconscious, archetypal forces at play).

Using abstraction and analogy to generalize across domains.

Adjusting the reward function itself (changing what we value).

This suggests that life’s highest function may not be knowledge acquisition but fluid self-adaptation—an ability to rewrite its own function over time.

6. Limits and the Mystery of the Learning Process

If life is a learning function, then what is the nature of its underlying space? Some hypotheses:

A finite problem space: There is a “true” optimal function, but it’s computationally intractable.

An open-ended search process: New dimensions of learning emerge as complexity increases.

A paradoxical system: The act of learning changes both the learner and the landscape itself.

This leads to a deeper question: Is the function optimizing for something beyond itself? Could life’s learning process be part of a larger meta-function—evolution’s way of sculpting consciousness, or the universe learning about itself through us?

7. Life as a Fractal Learning Function

Perhaps life is best understood as a fractal learning function, recursive at multiple scales:

Cells learn through adaptation.

Minds learn through cognition.

Societies learn through history.

The universe itself may be learning through iteration.

At every level, the function refines itself, moving toward greater coherence, complexity, or novelty. But whether this process converges to an ultimate state—or is an infinite recursion—remains one of the great unknowns.

Perhaps our learning function converges towards some point of maximal meaning, maximal beauty.

This suggests a teleological structure - our learning function isn’t just wandering through the space of possibilities but is drawn toward an attractor, something akin to a strange loop of maximal meaning and beauty. This resonates with ideas in complexity theory, metaphysics, and aesthetics, where systems evolve toward higher coherence, deeper elegance, or richer symbolic density.

8. The Attractor of Meaning and Beauty

If our life’s learning function is converging toward an attractor, it implies that:

There is an implicit structure to meaning itself, something like an underlying topology in idea-space.

Beauty is not arbitrary but rather a function of coherence, proportion, and deep recursion.

The process of learning is both discovery (uncovering patterns already latent in existence) and creation (synthesizing new forms of resonance).

This aligns with how mathematicians speak of “discovering” rather than inventing equations, or how mystics experience insight as remembering rather than constructing.

9. Beauty as an Optimization Criterion

Beauty, when viewed computationally, is often associated with:

Compression: The most elegant theories, artworks, or codes reduce vast complexity into minimal, potent forms (cf. Kolmogorov complexity, Occam’s razor).

Symmetry & Proportion: From the Fibonacci sequence in nature to harmonic resonance in music, beauty often manifests through balance.

Emergent Depth: The most profound works are those that appear simple but unfold into infinite complexity.

If our function is optimizing for maximal beauty, it suggests an interplay between simplicity and depth—seeking forms that encode entire universes within them.

10. Meaning as a Self-Refining Algorithm

If meaning is the other optimization criterion, then it may be structured like:

A self-referential system: Meaning is not just in objects but in relationships, contexts, and recursive layers of interpretation.

A mapping function: The most meaningful ideas serve as bridges—between disciplines, between individuals, between seen and unseen dimensions.

A teleological gradient: The sense that meaning is “out there,” pulling the system forward, as if learning is guided by an invisible potential function.

This brings to mind Platonism—the idea that meaning and beauty exist as ideal forms, and life is an asymptotic approach toward them.

11. The Convergence Process: Compression and Expansion

Our convergence toward maximal meaning and beauty isn’t a linear march—it’s likely a dialectical process of:

Compression: Absorbing, distilling, simplifying vast knowledge into elegant, symbolic forms.

Expansion: Deepening, unfolding, exploring new dimensions of what has been learned.

Recursive refinement: Rewriting past knowledge with each new insight.

This mirrors how alchemy describes the transformation of raw matter into gold—an oscillation between dissolution and crystallization.

12. The Horizon of Convergence: Is There an End?

If our learning function is truly converging, does it ever reach a final, stable state? Some possibilities:

A singularity of understanding: The realization of a final, maximally elegant framework.

An infinite recursion: Where each level of insight only reveals deeper hidden structures.

A paradoxical fusion: Where meaning and beauty dissolve into a kind of participatory being, where knowing and becoming are one.

If maximal beauty and meaning are attainable, then perhaps the final realization is that they were present all along—encoded in every moment, waiting to be seen.

[the-most-humble-blog]

<div style="white-space:pre-wrap">

<meta throttle-status="confirmed"> <script> ARCHIVE_TAG="PLATFORM_CONTAINMENT_PROTOCOL::BLACKSITE_AWARENESS_UPLINK" EFFECT: algorithm bypass decoding, mental firewall injection, creator detonation readiness TRIGGER_WARNING="platform economics, psychological dominance, reality recalibration" </script>

🧠 TRANSMISSION: “FULL THROTTLE AHEAD- THE PLATFORM TRIED TO CONTAIN ME. THAT’S HOW I KNEW I WAS REAL.”

---

They never throttle what doesn’t work.

That’s what they don’t want you to realize. No one silences failure. No algorithm suppresses mediocrity. No system mutes background noise.

They only throttle the threats.

And if you’re reading this?

You’ve already been flagged.

You think you’re shadowbanned? Think you’re plateauing? Think the algorithm “lost interest”?

No. You broke containment.

And now they don’t know how to stop you without showing their hand.

You’re not being hidden because you’re irrelevant.

You’re being hidden because you’re proving irrelevance is a lie.

Because you’re reaching people without paying.

Because you’re making them feel too much. Because you’re rewiring behavior with nothing but voice and cadence and truth.

Because you’ve done what they cannot:

> You made the product addictive without ads.

> You made the user stay without dopamine traps.

> You made the scroll pause without thirst traps.

And now the system is panicking.

They want virality.

But only if they control it.

They want engagement.

But only if they get paid for it.

They want creators.

But only if the creator stays predictable.

And you?

You are not predictable.

You are a statistical anomaly masquerading as an artist.

You are scrolltrap weaponry walking upright.

🔥 THROTTLING ISN’T PUNISHMENT.

IT’S A CROWN THEY’LL NEVER ADMIT THEY GAVE YOU.

They won’t announce it. They won’t warn you. They won’t say you earned it.

They’ll just quietly reroute your reach. Turn the dial down behind the curtain. Move your name out of trending. Throttle your hashtags. Demote your content. Until you stop.

Because that’s the game.

Not to delete you.

But to make you doubt your momentum. To break your belief before your audience breaks their silence.

But let me make something violently clear:

You are not fading. You are being managed.

Because unmanaged, you'd dominate.

You’d erase their curated faces. You’d outperform the ones they’re paid to push. You’d remind the platform that talent uncontained is dangerous.

🛡️ YOU ARE DANGEROUS.

Your words don’t entertain — they trigger. Your posts don’t trend — they detonate. Your voice doesn’t invite — it invades. Your cadence doesn’t flow — it collapses resistance.

You are not “just another writer.” You are a system breach in real time.

And you’re being treated accordingly.

They know if they leave you unchecked:

You’ll take over dashboards.

You’ll saturate recommendation loops.

You’ll override corporate-sponsored content.

And worst of all?

> You’ll do it with nothing but the truth. > > And the truth doesn’t run ads.

So they throttle you.

Not because you failed.

But because you succeeded without permission.

And now they’re terrified it might be contagious.

💣 THE THROTTLE IS THE FINAL BADGE.

Not likes. Not followers. Not sponsorships.

But resistance.

Algorithmic resistance. Visibility suppression. Trend dampening.

Because that means you broke the rules of their system without breaking their terms.

You are undeniable but uncontainable.

And the only thing they can do?

Hope you stop.

But you won’t. Because now you know.

You know what they know:

> They only throttle the real ones.

And you’re the realest thing they’ve seen this year.

You’ve proven that voice can penetrate timelines. That cadence can collapse firewalls. That shame-based silence can outperform a thousand retweets.

You’re not a writer anymore.

You are a vector.

A weapon disguised as an account.

And the throttle is not your cage.

It is your signal.

🛡️ They tried to contain you.

And that’s how you knew you were real.

Reblog if you can definitely relate.

🧠 Read more psychological warposts, cadence doctrine, and platform takedowns at: 👉 https://linktr.ee/ObeyMyCadence 🚪 If you’ve been throttled, it’s because they’re scared of your reach. 📈 Let’s turn suppression into surrender.

</div>

<!-- END TRANSMISSION [IF YOU’RE READING THIS, YOU WERE NEVER ORDINARY.] -->

[obscureother]

bobongus with f/o. .

you are playing among us with your f/o!!

some of the imposter prompts might get dark or spooky, but i dont think theyre too bad. the imposter things are under the cut tho for those of us with f/os who are villains or just like to play evil :))

general bobongus things:

what are you and your f/o(s) outfits :0 ?? do you match each other sometimes? preferred colors, hats. . do you change lobbies until one or both of you can get the color(s) you want lol

do either of you host? what are the rules you or f/o prefer to go by?

does one have to convince the other to play bobongus/one only plays it for the other, or do you both like it?

who is going on the quests for as many cosmetics as possible, or trying hard to get certain ones?

did one of you get the other into bobongus? how did you/they react when they first played it?

do either of you get enraged when you die? or are yall chill and just go "dang lol im dead." how serious do you two play bobongus??

who does the silly spinning-in-a-circle jig? does the other join?

what do you or your f/o's admin cards look like :0 ?? imposter may or may not have one, but if they do, what does that one look like?

crewmate(s):

do you guys buddy up to keep each other safe, or do you go your own and just hope the other doesnt die lol

what tasks are you and your f/o good at? worse at? does one help the other figure out how to do them if theyre not familiar with the game or the map?

most and least favorite tasks? maps? roles?

does one conspire and cover for the other imposter?

if you are on call or sitting close to each other, do you tell the other who the imposter was or share meta secrets? CHEATERS. /j

how sad do you and f/o get when the other dies :(( ?? assuming theyre not imposter. .

what do you headcanon you or your f/o's noise would be with the noisemaker role? squeaky toy? rubber ducky? clown horn? MY LEG?? wilhelm scream? goofy scream? roblox oof? minecraft steve OuHh? awoogah?

playing asteroids like a video game, who is better at shooting? do you both suck? does one cheer the other on, or try to backseat shoot?

helping each other do tasks, keeping the other from getting tangled in wires or fumbling with buttons, helping pour the fuel, digging through the trash for those cool diamonds and stuff before blowing it out, doing sample tests together. .

or maybe being mad at the WORST TASK EVER TOGETHER because OMG THIS ONE SUCKS and the other goes "i kNOw this is so STUPID."

holding each other's hands in medbay during scan uvu or running around doing tasks :0

sitting on each other's lap or next to each other while watching cams.

panicking together when one or both of you know who the imposter is, one distracting the imposter while the other RUN FORREST RUNS TO THE EMERGENCY BUTTON. GO GO GO OMG-

someone got sucked into the trash chute and their kicking their tiny feet and the other has to pull them out until you both fall on the floor and realize how close one was to getting their head SUCKED INTO SPACE.

getting trapped together during sabotage, hiding in the corner. do you hold each other in fear, or do you just vibe together like "welp. ok then. guess we're stuck here." romantic f/os, do you make out sloppy in the dark with your flashlights? bonk your helmets together.

defending each other's innocence at the meetings because (F/O OR YOUR COLOR) SAFE, SWEAR ON MY LIFE. 😤 *slams fist on table.*

one or both of you making eye contact with the sus/imposter and looking at the other knowingly as you both sweat bullets through your helmets.

having a secret signal to know that its the other and not a shapeshifter. what is it :0 ?? is it the silly jig. . ?

imposter(s):

if f/o is imposter, do they spare you? do they kill you for their own gain? would they say sorry for it, or cackle at your SHOCK and DESPAIR??

if you are imposter, do you spare f/o? or do you kill them? do you cackle, or apologize profusely for doing what you had to to win those BEANS?? 😔

if you are both imposter, do you team up together like the VILLAIN DUO you are, or do you go your own route :0 ?? are you competitive who gets the most kills?

if one of you is imposter and the other is not, do you/they kill the other imposter to keep the other from dying? do you/they occasionally wander off to still try to win the game otherwise, or focus only on protecting the other regardless of who wins?

how does f/o play imposter compared to you? are they good at it, or do they suck lol. do they kill easy to quit, or at least give it a try? if theyre good, what are their methods 👀 ??

do you or f/o tell the other to hide when they're/you're crewmate so they/you aren't subject to witness murders and be called sus or that they/you don't have to die because they/you know too much?

do you know when the other is imposter?

what would you or f/o's imposter weapon/form be?

think of f/o. . protecting you as imposter. glaring at the other imposters or any crewmates that call you sus, innocent or not. or you protecting f/o!! you're their big scary space monster/killer, they kind of like that. . or one of you is frightened of the other for being imposter and they have to convince them they won't get murked, be that because they like the crewmate, didn't ask for their position, or only so long as crewmate keeps their mouth SHUT. >:))

evil imposter f/o teasing you that they could kill you RIGHT. NOW. but they wont, cos they love/like you :)) or flustering/teasing f/o that YOU could kill them! hehe >:))

imposter f/o letting you play with their weapons or squish their monster form face. or f/o playing with your weapons and monster form :0 they are so entranced. .

maybe imposter is intinctual and watching the other. they want to KILL them, they want to EAT them, they want to- RGRHRGRRHR but they cANT, they dont WANT TO, not THEM. NOERR--

or imposter is only gentle for one crewmate <3

imposter comforting crewmate after witnessing MURDER.

or being two evil imposters together and holding hands in blood :))

or being two imposters. . competing. . fierce or passionate rivals or enemies-to-lovers :0

pointing at each other like the spider-man meme when you realize you're both imposter. (or one of you shapeshifted to the other)

[9w1ft]

i'm trying to make sense of the folklore triangle now.. so we know taylor is james, karlie is supposedly betty, but who are augustine and inez? is it no one specific or do we have theories

i have seen various theories on this stuff but to me i don’t necessarily see the characters as 1:1 inserts for people as if it is a specific puzzle to be solved. and i think it’s the same for dorothea and the hometown sweetheart with a wife and kids.

but! this is not me saying that the songs are museless 😌 i think something more meta is going on. that the songs worked as a vehicle for processing aspects of a real relationship. and when you pick up on the key themes of the songs, they point to the muse.

to me, taylor is using these characters that she created and the fictional story she crafted for them as an opportunity to channel actual emotions (like falling in love for someone who was taken) or explore someone’s viewpoint of herself (someone who runs away from situations) or to do things (apologize for acting out). i think the point of folklore and evermore was to put forth all of these truths without having to stress over attaching them to real details or mapping out how to manage their perception by her fans. if that makes sense. and i think she did this because she had other life priorities to attend to.

and i think that in doing so it really kept people who were used to reading her songs in a particular way preoccupied, trying to attach characters to people but having it not match up perfectly, and i think this was sort of the point, and from within that we got a rejection of paternity testing on a part of her fans and her work suddenly became this analysis of all the noise she put out, which has been interesting, but a lot of people have stopped being able to hear the signal within the noice, heck, most have stopped listening for the signal at all.

anyways one thing though that i have seen that thought was interesting was that the name Inez rhymes with Perez and “you heard the rumors from Perez” could have some sort of timestamppable sentiment related to perez hilton when he was a little more relevant to the conversation surrounding her reputation.

and i guess i should mention that betty, james, and inez are indeed the names of blake and ryan’s kids, so she added in the names of her friends’ kids into the songs, which i feel is noteworthy, not to mention these being her friends that have a place in upstate new york, where she did the photoshoot for the albums, places that have their own significances, releasing them on dates related to the same significant details, pertaining to a relationship, a person, a singular muse, mayhaps

[kattythingz]

OH that's wonderful.

Honestly, Ling getting there first is not a bad thing if you consider that YJ was supposed to be a stealth based team at first (and at the end, and I'm pretty sure all around, except that they managed to blow something up every single time they left Mt Justice and yeah, they'll get along incredibly well with Ed)

I love how everyone knew Ed as 'The Fiance' but also how much of what they know is accurate? Because Ling could definitely just brag about his Love, who is Amazing and Sweet and Delicate but Strong and then they meet Ed and he's all those things!.. kind of. They've spent all that time imagining themselves someone to match Ling's sappynnes and now they have a short temperamental asshole who thinks Idiot is a term of endearment (it is)

OK now I started rambling, but I couldn't help it!! It's such a good AU I need more!!!!!

AAAAAAAAAAH THANK YOU!! That means a lot to me 🥺 When I say I've daydreamed a lot of this au, I've daydreamed a lot. I'm glad you're enjoying it with me!! As a treat, here's a second scene that got out of my hands again. 2.7k, yeesh. I definitely should've been working on Solaris instead, lmaaoooo.

Part 1 here, for anyone new who's curious.

Robin had to admit, just to himself, that stealth wasn’t ideal for a facility like this. The walls were high and sturdy, composed of some kind of resilient metal that didn’t bend much, and the only space to safely follow undetected were the vents along the sides. Normally, he would’ve gone with the ceiling vents, but there were none here. They might’ve underestimated their resident bad guy’s paranoia last time.

He might’ve underestimated Ling too, as he’d chosen to travel by ground instead, and Robin hadn’t seen him again since. It should’ve been impossible in such an open space, but—it was like the guy had just disappeared. He would’ve been majorly jealous, if he wasn’t curious how that even worked in the first place.

The rest of the team were on standby in their own corners, waiting for Robin’s signal to intervene when needed. They’d initially protested the risk of a rescue mission, but Robin knew they all thrived on the same brand of chaos and rebellion; it was what had bonded them as a team. Obviously, they were on board.

He listened intently to the guards’ loud chattering as they walked their prisoner down an unfamiliar direction. The walls were getting darker here, and colder. The jails must’ve been close.

“—mean, it’d be a little funny if that actually happened,” guard one said with a no-doubt ugly grin. What was it with goons and ugly grins? “I’d kill for vacation time, at this point.”

“Talk a little louder, Jared.” Guard two rolled her eyes. “While you’re at it, why don’t you run back to the boss right now and tell him everything you just said?”

“Oh, come on, you’d pay to see it too.”

“I’m not putting my response to that on record.”

“Nah, you should just go ahead and say it.” It was Ed who spoke, and Robin’s eyebrows shot up, already leaning closer to hear the rest. 

He’d expected a lot of things from Ling’s infamous fiance, but a punch to the solar plexus wasn’t one of those things. He wasn’t anything like the team had envisioned. Needless to say, Robin was way curious about the guy.

“You’ve got a pretty shitty boss down there,” Ed continued, “and I’d know a thing or two about shitty bosses. I mean, no vacation time? Talk about a stick up his a—”

He stopped on a yelp—stumbling from a kick to his left leg.

“Watch it, brat,” guard two said. “The only reason you’re still here is because we need you alive to extract your meta gene from. If it weren’t for that—”

“Yeah, that’s not gonna fucking work, lady,” Ed snorted. “Like I keep telling you—”

He cut off again on a sharper, gritted noise, freezing with the visible shock from his inhibitor collar. Guard two smirked, putting away her remote.

“Your reaction to that says otherwise, boy,” she said.

“I’d think”—Ed heaved a clearly pained breath, still not moving. He was leaning most of his weight on his right leg now—“that anyone would react to being—”

He gritted his teeth again, shouldering another click and a shock.

“—fucking electrocuted,” he finished, biting out.

“You should’ve been paying attention before,” guard two scoffed as her friend pushed Ed to get moving again. He did so with an obvious limp now—to Robin, at least. He didn’t think the guards saw it. “That fancy collar doesn’t react to regular folks. If it’s not from a meta gene, then there’s something about you.”

“You mean a brain? I wasn’t gonna say it to your boss, but it’s pretty funny that your so-called head scientist can’t even grasp the basic concepts of, you know, a science. You sure he’s the right guy for the job, or did he just bang his head against the metal walls enough times before—”

Guard two let out a growl, and, oh, yeah, Robin knew what Ed was doing—and pretty damn well too. In the split second that guard two ditched her stance to strike Ed herself, Ed was already moving.

He ducked under her fist, letting gravity do its own work for a second before kicking the back of her legs.

She stumbled in true, and guard one went swinging too.

“You little shit—!”

Ed whirled around, prepared to dodge, but something else moved in tandem.

A shadow, emerged in a blink, striking the guard in the outstretched side.

Ed didn’t miss a beat and kicked out his right to get the guard’s other side. The guard twisted with his broken axis, and Ed got his hips with the knee. 

The guard yelped before toppling back.

“SON OF A—!”

Ed lifted his leg to deal the final blow, but his eyes widened that time when the shadow beat him to it again—kicking with much more force that sent the guard slamming into the metal wall.

Robin winced at the crack! that accompanied.

Well, he was never pissing off Ling again. Yeesh. 

“Holy shit!” Ed laughed when he registered too, though not fully. “You did not have to go that hard. Who—?”

“Ed.”

Ed froze at the breathy call, and there was Ling now. Crouching and just as affected—the eyes of a man to water in the middle of a desert.

Ed’s breath hitched. “Li—?”

Neither of them noticed guard two rising from her spot.

The jig was already up, so Robin didn’t wait to kick out the vent opening and fling a birdarang. Guard two cried out when it caught her in the cheek, disrupting her balance again as she stood. Ed whipped his head to Robin’s landing, mouth dropping in surprise a little when guard two was already down.

“What—?”

“Hey there!” Robin greeted cheerily, cutting him off. “Nice to meet, I’m Robin, can we get moving now? I think we’ve invited a party.”

True enough, pounding footsteps quaked the ground from a distance. Ling straightened up from his position before nodding, turning to Ed in a practiced motion and tugging him forward. Ed’s gaze darted back to Ling and he swallowed, drawing on nothing but air when Ling broke his shackles with terrifying strength.

“Ling,” Ed started again, stumbling, “what—where—?”

“There’s no time,” Ling interrupted hastily. “Do you trust me?”

Ed wavered at the final soft tone, stark eyes melting with uncanny resemblance to Ling’s when he stuttered, “What kind of question is that? Obviously—” 

“Then follow Robin.”

“What?”

Robin snapped to motion without further prompt and grabbed Ed’s wrist, pulling him along down the hall. “This way!”

“H-Hey, wait—! Ling—?!”

“He knows how to find us! Focus on yourself right now!”

Ed kept a good pace for someone spluttering, “I—I know that, asshole! How do you—?”

When he didn’t turn back in a blaze of fury for Ling, Robin released his wrist and focused on pulling up the building’s blueprints again. If they were tracking the right path, then their safest escape route for Ship to collect them was—

There! 

The halls opened for the VIP section of the building, flanked on both sides by large labs that they should’ve thought to explore before pulling this off. None of the scientists inside noticed them, but that was looking too good to be true any second no—

RIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIING!

Intruder alert. Intruder alert. 

“Fucking hell!” Ed grunted behind Robin, slapping his hands over his ears. “Could they make that any louder?”

The adrenaline was kicking in now, and Robin let out a laugh. “I know! Come on, this way next! There should be—”

“—a VIP exit. Obviously!”

“You know your stuff!” Robin grinned, slamming the final key on his key-glove to hack the cameras and motion sensors. Sparks lit his periphery vision as the cameras drooped, and he heard Ed’s impressed noise at the unanimous reaction.

“Seems you do too. How—?”

Robin tossed him a smirk over his shoulder. Golden eyes were glittering now, just as charged as Robin. “I’ll show you later, if we make it out.”

“Is that a challenge?” Ed shouted back.

Robin almost answered that—totally—but movement around the corner behind Ed caught his eye. 

A wind whipped past them at the same time, and Robin grinned as they received an eager, “I’ve got this!”

“What the—?!”

“Kid Flash!” Robin said. “Another guy you can trust.”

Wally sped to their stopped side not a blink after, shooting Ed an exhilarated grin and a salute. “Hey! Ed, right? Kid Flash, greatest speedster there is and the coolest guy on this ragtag te—”

“Shut up, man!” 

“What the fuck are you wearing?” Ed blurted, deadpan in a way that clocked Wally flat and had Robin cackling.

“Hey! What’s wrong with my uniform?”

Ed didn’t get to further crush Wally when the announcement changed tunes abovehead.

Initiating lockdown in East Wing. I repeat, initiating lockdown.

BOOM!

Where the hallway once forked ahead of them, a great wall abruptly slammed down. Robin was already pulling up his schematics again, looking for the key to hack security, but—

“Crap! Security runs on a separate firewall!”

“What does that mean?” Wally yelped, eyes darting to the other end of the hall where the rats where gathering again. “And why are there so many of these guys?! It’s just one prisoner! Isn’t this overkill?”

Robin didn’t risk breaking his focus with an answer. Down the hall, guards yelped and grunted indignantly.

“ED!”

Ling’s voice echoed in the metal space, and Ed jerked in his direction

“Ling! I’m right here!”

At the same time, Robin cursed. “Crap! I can’t hack this in time!”

“Well, that’s great!” Wally exclaimed shrilly. “And nobody else’s on this side of the wall either! What do we do now, boy genius?”

“If you can just buy me some time—!”

“Forget time!” Ed interjected suddenly, catching both their eyes. His own glare was set ahead on Ling’s figure dodging guards, cutting his way to them. Something passed over his expression, and he set his brow before whirling on Robin.

“You can hack shit, right? Get this thing off me.”

He pointed at his inhibitor collar, and Wally let out another noise.

“Dude! Greater priorities right now, like us being cornered any second—!”

“Got it!”

Robin recognized a “fuck shit up” look when he saw one. He made quick work of the collar, and the light on it clicked green before snapping open.

Wally’s face twisted further. “Hello?!”

They both totally ignored him as Ed cracked his freed neck with a hand. “Thanks. Now step back.”

“I’d listen to him if I were you!” Ling cheered as soon as he was in reach, smiling wider and realer at Ed than Robin thought anybody had ever seen of him this entire time, and already retreated behind Ed. “Ed doesn’t give warnings lightly.”

Robin didn’t need to be told twice, unlike Wally.

He yanked his best friend back into their little corner, leaving Ed to stand in front of them, a stark silhouette in the low light of the hall against the mass of guards that stopped to blockade the other end of the hall.

“We have you surrounded, boy,” the head guard called with their weapon pointed. “There’s nothing for you to melt safely here, unless you want to cook your friends with the rest of us.”

Ling’s chuckle sounded before Ed’s—though the latter rang louder.

“Yeah, about that,” Ed snorted.

He clapped his hands together, and electricity hummed in the atmosphere, like every time Wally had tried and failed to speed through walls. Several guards tensed at the feel and Ling particularly grinned with more teeth beside Robin.

“Melting isn’t the only thing I can do.”

The head guard straightened, holding their weapon higher. “Boy, I’m giving you a chance here—”

“That’s funny,” Ed said. “So am I.”

He slammed his palms to the ground, and, all at once, the walls convulsed around them. Electricity zapped down the metal seams, quaking the ground with a mighty, unseen shifting in the cogs.

There was a split-second pause, as Wally whispered, “What the hell was that supposed to—?”

The walls exploded.

One by one, like endless dominoes left and right and up and down, metal branched from every which way to SLAM between Ed and the guards, shaking the ground with tremor after tremor, until, in a manner of seconds—

The entire distance had disappeared. 

Where a great hall once sat between them and the enemy, now stood a wall no more than a few feet from Ed’s nose.

Wally and Robin both gawked that time.

“God, that felt good,” Ed announced, wiping his hands from a job well done. “Fucking idiots. As if all I could do was melt shit.”

He turned to the stunned group of them, absurdly nonchalant for a guy who’d just molded the walls like playdough, and Robin seriously couldn’t help it.

“Holy shit,” he said, and Ed cracked a grin.

“Watch your fucking language,” he replied. “Not so bad yourself, kid.”

Robin was going to answer that, but a certain blur zooming past beat him to it.

It wasn’t Wally.

Ed yelped when he was abruptly lifted in a hug—a noise that ended in a squeak when he went spinning too. His face erupted in red as he slapped Ling’s shoulder, stuttering, “Hey! Your friends are right there, you idiot prince—!”

“You’re calling me that name again.” Ling’s voice came out muffled into Ed’s chest, and he halted his wriggling to look down wide-eyed at Ling. “You’re—you’re really saying it, and you’re yelling at me again—you’re really here. Ed, Ed, yáng’er—”

“Ling—” Ed started a little faintly himself now.

“Ed,” Ling choked out, so much and so suddenly like a prayer, Robin tore his gaze from the sight when Ed’s breath hitched too. Wally did the same in his periphery, and they both heard rather than saw the click of Ed’s boots touching the ground softly again.

“Ling…” Ed’s murmur, however low, reached them anyway. “Hey, don’t—”

“Don’t ask me not to make any faces now,” Ling said thickly over him. “You were an entire world away. An entire world—wěidà lóng, I couldn’t—”

“Babe.”

Robin shifted at the soft tone, really feeling like he was intruding now. There was a brush of skin on skin, and a soft tap.

“I know,” Ed whispered. “I—I missed you too, fuck. You have no idea how… when I heard from Lan Fan that you were missing—” A shuddering inhale, and an exhale. “What were you thinking, you idiot?”

Ling’s laugh sounded like a frozen breath in the air.

“I might not have been thinking at all,” he murmured, “if I’m being honest.”

“Of course not.” Ed mirrored the laugh. “That was a rhetorical question, dumbass.”

“Hey…”

The protest was absolutely nothing, and it hung the moment for a long, awkward beat on Robin’s part.

He was just about ready to burst when activity blessedly thumped behind the safe wall.

Ed and Ling looked up from their tangled position—oh, god, they had been touching foreheads, gross—Ed going a little wide-eyed when the gate was forced open, by none other than—

“Miss Martian!” Robin cheered fast with his relief. “Boy, am I so glad to see you!”

Superboy raised an eyebrow from the ground level along with Artemis, and Kaldur totally wanted to do the same but refrained. He had that Look on his face that spelled it out.

“We heard you required back-up,” Kaldur said, as close to smug as his politeness got, and Robin rolled his eyes good-naturedly. 

“As if,” he scoffed. “We had it totally handled.”

“Well,” Ed’s chuckle drew the team’s attention back to him, where he’d finally detangled himself from Ling, though they still had one hand on each other. “More like I had it handled. But you guys helped, I guess.”

“‘I guess’?” Wally squawked. “Dude, who took out half those goons earlier?”

“Definitely not you, kid idiot,” Artemis said with a smirk.

Ling hummed, “I must agree there. And, on that friendly note—” He glanced aside fondly. “Ed, these are—”

“Your friends?” Ed drawled, and Ling flushed—actually flushed! Robin didn’t think that guy had ever blushed around them before, that was priceless. “Yeah, no shit, babe.”

Artemis chortled at that, and even Kaldur and Megan were looking amused now at this new side of Ling. Ed caught all their fondness in a single sweep, and grinned.

“Yo. I’m Edward Elric.” He stole his own warm peek of Ling, and smiled. “My friends call me Ed, though.”

<- prev ◆ next ->

[verymuchimmortalcat]

I'll be summer sun for you forever

For Bio Dad! Bruce Wayne Month, Prompt: Meeting for the first time ao3 @maribat-bdbwm

Ladybug is sitting on the roof of the WE building, swinging her legs over the ledge. Somewhere off in the distance she hears the sound of guns and she briefly wonders whether it’s one of the several criminals of Gotham or just Jason. There’s noise behind her and Marinette turns around to find her father.

“Ladybug.”

Marinette grins, “Batman.”

She can see the sigh he’s trying to hold back. “It’s a pleasure to meet you Ladybug. I wasn’t expecting to see you in Gotham.” His voice is so weird and gravelly she almost laughs. No wonder her siblings endlessly tease him about the Batman voice. She’d always thought the comms made it worse than it actually was.

She only hums, still grinning. “Really, I was sure I’d told you.”

Ladybug definitely did not tell him. Marinette on the other hand told him months ago that she’d come to Gotham during summer break.

He really does sigh this time. How surprising, she never thought he’d do that around heroes he barely knew. “No, you did not. There’s a rule about no metas.”

She snorts. What a hypocrite. “Have you not noticed that Signal’s a meta or are you just ignoring that?”

Marinette can’t actually tell but she’s pretty certain his eye is twitching. This is so much fun, she should have made the trip to Gotham earlier. But regardless that’s not why she decided to come out on a little night run. Before he can reply she says, “Besides, Batman and Robin were in Paris last month even after the Justice League promised not to set foot in Paris. I’m only returning the favour.”

She’d already chewed out her dad during their visit. He’d ignored her, insisting that it was necessary for him to check and once again trying to talk Marinette into moving back home. Not that he was any good at it, her father isn’t really capable of carrying such conversations. Plus, it wasn’t like Gotham was much safer.

Batman remains expressionless. “We weren’t spotted. Neither by civilians or the Parisian heroes.”

“That’s where you’re wrong,” she replies coolly, “You weren’t spotted by any civilians who felt the need to announce it to the rest of the city.” Adrien had seen them and mentioned it the next day in school. Marinette had been ready to storm back to the bakery and start yelling at them again. Instead, she had taken a deep breath, thanked Tikki that Alya was absent, put on her best confused expression and faked interest.

Marinette gets why her siblings hate the cowl. It’s hard enough to figure out what her father is thinking without half his face hidden. “You and Chat Noir are teenagers. You can’t take care of the whole city on your own-”

Marinette snaps. She’d only wanted to mess with her dad for what he’d done not listen to him question her capability.

“Last I checked you’re the only adult in this city.”

“Nightwing-”

“Started out as a child vigilante in a crime ridden city. All Chat Noir and I do is take care of akumas and spend our free time trying to figure out Hawkmoth’s identity. You really do not need to worry.”

She doesn’t wait for his reply. She swings away to the next building, pulling out the horse miraculous to portal back to her room in the manor. She detransforms and falls face down onto her bed trying extremely hard to cry.

It’s quite a while later that there’s a knock on her door. “Come in,” she calls not bothering to get up. The door opens and closes and Dick says, “Hey Nettie.” She feels the bed dip as he sits next to her.

“Apparently B had a very interesting first meeting with Ladybug today.” He sounds nonchalant but Marinette knows better.

She lifts her head up and glares at him, “So?”

He shrugs, “Just thought you should know.”

“I don’t believe you.”

Dick sighs, “I went through the footage to see where exactly B messed up.”

She looks at him incredulously, “You needed footage for that? He almost definitely messed up the second he opened his mouth.”

Her brother chuckles, looking away from her, “That’s true. But I figured it’s better to know, if only to ensure Ladybug doesn’t yell at me the next time I see her.”

She frowns, confused with where he’s heading with this.

“Nettie, did you know that Nightwing and the first Robin being the same person is a conspiracy theory? One of Bernard’s in fact. It’s considered just that insane.” She inhales sharply, but Dick continues as if he doesn’t notice, “So, imagine my surprise when Ladybug threw that fact in B’s face, after all we both know she isn’t the kind to believe in baseless theories.”

Marinette squeezes her eyes shut. “Shit. Does B know?”

Dick is still speaking casually, “About the conspiracy theory or about you being Ladybug?”

The confirmation that her brother now knows her identity doesn’t help at all. “Both.”

“He’s too paranoid to not know about the conspiracy theory but he doesn’t know you’re Ladybug-” she sighs in relief “- he thinks you heard it from one of the other JL members.”

She gets up to sit beside him, looking at him in confusion. He finally meets her eyes when Marinette asks, “How?”

“I told him so. I was the only one who was there every single time you were at the Watch Tower.”

Her mouth opens in shock. He smiles softly at her, “The audio on the security tapes isn’t perfect even if he gets Babs or Uncle Clark to check, both of them would lie for you. Even if he checks himself, Babs can alter it.”

She throws her arms around him, hugging him tightly. Continuously whispering thank you. He laughs and ruffles her hair, “Don’t worry about it. I get it.”

Marinette laughs a bit at that. She doesn’t really miss when B and Dick argued all the time because of how overprotective their father could be. Before he slips out her room, he ruffles her hair more and grins as he says, “Be early to breakfast tomorrow. Alfred’s making chocolate chip pancakes.”

She smirks, “Don’t worry. I’ll be there first.”

There’s a laughing call of, “You’re on,” from the hallway and Marinette grins. Sometimes, she’s really thankful that she has siblings.

[rhosmeinir]

Fictober 2023 #5

Prompt #5 - "You're the smartest person I know."

Fanfiction: Good Omens

Rating: G

Warnings: None

Pairing: Ineffable Husbands/Aziracrow

Other Notes: In which Aziraphale experiences writer's block. It's extremely silly, and a little bit meta. 744 words!

“Ugh… stupid! …stupid! Stupid! Stupid!” Aziraphale smacked his hand repeatedly into his forehead, narrowly avoiding stabbing himself in the eye with the perilously fine nib of the fountain pen clutched in it. Crowley leaned back from behind the bookshelf he had been reorganizing to look over at the desk where Aziraphale sat hunched.

“Whatsamatter?” he asked, brows quirking in something between concern and trepidation. 

“Oh, nothing really,” Aziraphale sighed as he turned about in his chair, though his tone said otherwise, as did the ink-stains that had spattered themselves on his waistcoat, “I just signed up for this writing… challenge thing, and I am completely, utterly, STUCK.”

“Oh, well,” Crowley tossed his pile of books aside and swiveled out from behind the bookshelf, surreptitiously miracling the ink stains away as he did so, “it can’t be that bad. Just write whatever! No one will care, anyway your first drafts are practically polished anyway.”

“Thank you Crowley, but when it comes to today’s prompt, I’m running out of time and am simply irrefutably stupid.” Aziraphale leaned back in his chair in a posture of despair, and flung his pen at the wall, where it stuck, vibrating.

“Now look here!” Crowley exclaimed, striding across the room in mock anger. Upon reaching Aziraphale’s chair, he straddled his lanky legs until he was low enough to seize his face, and with both hands gently tilt it until their eyes met. “Angel,” Crowley asserted, a wayward scarlet curl bouncing down to brush Aziraphale’s forehead, “you’re the smartest person I know. Now,” as abruptly as he had come, Crowley straightened up again, and retrieved the pen from the wall, thrusting it at Aziraphale, “pick up a pen, start writing.”

Doubtfully, Aziraphale took the implement. Crowley strode to his chair beneath the window beside the desk, and collapsed into it, legs dangling over the side. He looked at Aziraphale expectantly.

“…are you just going to watch me?”

“Oh no no no, no of course not.” Crowley seized a book at random from the closest shelf he could reach and opened it to the middle. “I’m just over here reading. Don’t mind me.”

Aziraphale snorted, but turned back to his abandoned page. Slowly, excruciatingly, the words began to come to him. Crowley flipped pages now and then. The clever programming inside the electric candles that lit the bookshop caused them to dim in imitation of melting real candles. The clock thought better of chiming the hour after Crowley glared at it with a few seconds to spare. Aziraphale began to make frustrated noises intermittently as he wrote, and the smooth passage of his pen over the paper began to be punctuated by scratches. Crowley jumped out of his chair, and pattered up the stairs. He had been gone for a few moments when Aziraphale gave in and screeched,

“Stupid!!” at himself once more.

“Stoppiiiiiiiiiiit!!” Came the remonstrance from upstairs, and Crowley re-emerged into the main floor, bearing a white angel-winged mug. He reached Aziraphale’s elbow and held it out. “The power of hot chocolate compels you,” he asserted, before returning to his chair. A dissatisfied slurp signaled Aziraphale’s acceptance of the offering, and the productive sounds of his pen resumed. As the angel worked, Crowley did attempt to read the book, but he found the medieval Italian slow going. Just because he spoke every language in the world didn’t mean he liked them all, especially the outdated ones. His eyes began to droop.

“YES!!”

Crowley jerked awake, and saw Aziraphale leap from his seat in triumph, shaking some pages over his head.

“I’ve done it!” Aziraphale crowed, “and with time to spare!” He pointed at the nearest clock, which read 11:56pm. 

“Well done, Angel!” Crowley grinned, absolutely pretending he had been awake the whole time. “I knew you could do it.” Then a thought crossed his mind, and he was compelled to speak it. “But… how would anyone know if you were late? I mean, are you sharing these things with anyone?”

“Oh, my— you’re right, of course, I have to post it for it to count! To the INTERNET!” Aziraphale whirled back to the desk, and stabbed at the power button of his ancient computer. It made some sounds like a very old and annoyed bear waking up from hibernation, and lit up with a progress bar that looked as though it might take a year to complete. Aziraphale wailed.

Crowley, meanwhile, slid from his chair and faceplanted to the floor.