#so in this Too. i will be continuing his legacy. at least a little bit.

[orcelito]

Feel like I am absorbing as much as my father after his death as possible. I will carry on his Legacy. I will be the Biker (in time). I am already the weapon collector (though with knives, not guns). I even have accepted owning a minions mug, something I swore would never happen (I hate those fucking things), just bc it makes me think of him.

Maybe he's gone now, but I'm gonna make damn sure to live a continuation of his life... just in my own way, lol

[walkingstackofbooks]

Mikoshir ficlet where sometime after they get together, Julian realises he's aromantic, and has Many Many Feelings

cw: internalised arophobia

(Keiko and Miles are having none of it though - for once, this is entirely comfort!)

--

His first week of dating Miles and Keiko is just as wonderful as he'd ever imagined, and Julian's not sure if he's ever been happier. The hugs, the laughter, the unrestrained affection – Julian knows he's a lucky man, and desperately gives as much as he takes. But although he never stops enjoying it all, at some point he starts to notice that the way in which the O'Briens love each other seems very different to the way in which he loves them. Little things they mention off-handedly about their feelings sometimes seem worlds apart from how he views his own feelings, and while at first he puts that down to his relationship being new and Miles and Keiko being married, and so on and so forth, he can't shake the feeling that it's not just that.

Over the next few months he becomes increasingly convinced that even though he definitely loves them, he's not actually in love with them. He begins wondering if he's ever really been "in love" with anyone, now that he's properly paying attention to his feelings, and after a lot of lonely soul-searching – lonely because he doesn't really want to involve Miles and Keiko in this unless he's sure, and that means not confiding in his other friends, either, just in case it got back to them – he comes to the conclusion that he's maybe, probably, aromantic. Which is... well, it's fine, he supposes, but he really wishes he could have figured it out far, far sooner.

The worst of it all is that, now he knows – and god, he really doesn't want to admit it – but now he knows, it wouldn't be fair at all on Miles and Keiko to carry on with their relationship. He really, really doesn't want to lose what they have, but if he's never going to be able to love them the way they love him, it's better to end it sooner rather than later, right? That's just what you're supposed to do when you realise you're not in love, isn't it? You're meant to break up.

When he tells them – sitting on the sofa opposite them one evening, forcing himself to look them in the eyes – his quiet explanation is so full of apologies that the O'Briens initially struggle to make sense of what he's trying to say. But eventually they get there, and Julian finds that he's not met with any of the reactions he's feared. There are no scoffs of annoyance for having wasted so much of their time, no sarcastic eye rolls – not even a gentle-but-firm dismissal. Instead, they both move to sit next to him, expressions somewhat sad but still full of fondness. Which only makes it harder, because of course they'd never be anything less than kind, that's one of the many reasons he loves them, and he's going to miss them just so much...

Keiko puts her hand over his. "If that's what you want, Julian, then of course you've got to do what's right for you. But..."

"But what?"

"Well, it kind of sounds like you're only doing this because you think it's what we're going to want."

Julian frowns. "I don't understand."

"I think we're maybe going about this the wrong way," says Miles, the 'we' sounding as natural as ever, as though they really are all still in this together. "I get that it's never going to be romantic for you, sure, but what do you actually want to change? Is there anything we do that you don't like, that makes you uncomfortable..?"

Before Julian can reply, Keiko moves her hand away, shuffling a couple of inches back. "I'm sorry," she says, "I didn't even think to ask."

Julian shakes his head, bewildered. "No, it's fine, it's – I liked it!" he assures her. "There's nothing you do – I told you it wasn't your fault, you've always been wonderful. It's just me, and my stupid feelings."

It seems they believe him, at least, because at that they both move in even closer, their bodies pressing up against his, arms wrappinh around his back. "Is this okay?" Miles asks, and Julian nods miserably.

"I still think you're being far too nice to the person who just broke up with you."

"Probably because I'm not really convinced you have," Miles replies, causing Julian to stare at him in disbelief. Is this reaction all just... denial, then? "I mean, don't get me wrong – like Keiko said, if you don't want to be with us anymore, or need things between us to change, however that might look, we'll accept that. But you know you'll always have a place in our bed – I assume?" he adds hurriedly, glancing at Keiko to check.

"Always," she says. "If you want it, of course. We're not trying to pressure you into changing your mind, Julian. It just seems like you haven't considered any other options."

"I— You... But bed sharing – that's what people in a relationship do."

Miles shakes his head, the roll of his eyes softened by a small grin. "He's a smart one, our Julian," he teases, still looking across to Keiko. "Look, Julian... All we're saying is that it's been nice – uh, more than nice, I guess – you being around these past few months, and if you liked it and we liked it, then it doesn't matter what your feelings are, we don't have to stop—Wait, no. Shit." He pauses for a second. "That came out wrong, of course they matter... What I meant was, if you still want to be doing the things we've been doing, then really, we don't care about your feelings—"

Neither Keiko nor Julian manage to hide their amusement. Miles scowls. "You know what I was trying to say!" he grumbles.

"He's a smart one, our Miles," Keiko smiles, nudging Julian. "But he's right. I think what Miles meant to say, is that we're not worried if your feelings for us are different to what you thought they were. We want you in our lives in a way that makes you happy – and if that means you want to put emotional or physical distance between us, then you can, but if you don't want things to change, they don't have to! Does that make sense?"

It does, in a bizarre, upside-down, counterintuitive way. They're both deadly serious, and even if Julian hasn't quite worked out why, he can tell that all his worrying seems to have been for nothing. He sighs, sagging against her. "I should have told you about this weeks ago," he mumbles.

"Maybe," she replies, running a hand through his hair. "Or perhaps it was something you needed to work through for yourself. But you've told us now, and whatever comes next, we'll support you. You do know that, don't you?"

He does now, he thinks, feeling more than a bit rotten that he'd ever doubted them. But then, how could he have guessed that they'd be this fantastically illogical about their relationship?

"You're both amazing," he says earnestly. There's a part of him that wants to say more – to check and double check and triple check they really mean it, to get explicit confirmation they're still in a relationship, and what it even means for a relationship to be half-romantic and half-not. But he needs some time to work up to all that – and besides, it still feels strange to be quite so emotional around Miles – so he opts for the safer route: a joke.

"Well – you are, Keiko. Miles doesn't care about my feelings."

"Hey!"

Who needs romantic love, when you can have this? he thinks, as the familiar sounds of Miles' outrage and Keiko's laughter fill him with warmth. It's an unsteady thought, hesitantly finding its feet among the recent ruins of his belief that without romantic love, he couldn't have this. An hour ago he'd have laughed in its face, but it's there and it's hopeful – and, what's more, it might even be true.

[0viraptoraskblog]

Hello, I hope you're doing well, I love the things you write!

This is probably going to be a long one. It turns out that ever since I discovered btd 1 and 2, and tpof, I've always been really curious about Ren's character. I imagine that just like me, people must have been surprised to see how he had become in Tpof. I'm SO excited for Ykmet! I know this game is mainly focused on Strade, because of course his name is there! XD

I love him too, but I'm particularly looking forward to seeing the parts with Ren. I know about the changes that Gato has prepared for him, and I hope they're positive, I trust what she's doing.

Anyway! I think I've gone on too long. The thing is, since I finished Tpof, I haven't found many people who give analysis to the older Ren character. I don't know if I'm looking in the wrong place, but I always thought tumblr was the best place to look, because the fandom seems more active here.

There were many things I didn't understand, because I'm terrible at analyzing, I try, but I constantly feel like I end up overthinking, my head always tries to provide several explanations like A, B, C, D, and it goes beyond that.

From your perspective, opinions and thoughts on the DLC, what do you think people often miss about Fox? Something you noticed that some people probably didn't. I would particularly like to know about your interpretation of the ending. Yes, I know it's straightforward and clear, he saves us. But I've always wondered about his motivations. I think that conversation we have with him in the bunker affects him, but in what way? What are his thoughts? And what are his thoughts about us after that?

I constantly noticed that he was also always adjusting his posture in his streams, and in the third one when he bites and then licks the wound on Mc's neck, then he looks almost embarrassed. Was it just because he got too excited or was it something else that i didn't catch because im too stupid? lmao

I'll end the ask here or it will be too long, I apologize for that, and if I didn't manage to express my questions very well

(although, if you answer this, I hope it's okay if I ask a bit more)

I think Fox has built this new version of himself based on being in control. He used to be a captive, always weary of Strade, and then trying and failing to be in control of MC in btd2 (who either died or escaped, given that this is Ren’s darker path). After that, he wanted to be in control for once.

He runs the entire auction system, he has his own show, and he’s incredibly good at what he does. That security not only makes him confident in what he does now, but it makes him finally like who he is (at least, he thinks.)

Young Ren was struggling a lot with his image and self worth, in terms of being treated as a pet/property, being abused, and then convincing himself that it was all because Strade loved him. Those years affected his mind so much. When his plan with MC went wrong after the second game, I think he realized that he should have been following Strade’s advice more. He fell back into that mental state of idolizing Strade and his way of doing things, his way of thinking. Why would Ren try anything else? Of course Strade was right. (This is the wrong idea, sadly, but it must have been the conclusion he turned to.)

It started as him trying to follow the footsteps of the only person he’d ever had to look up to— Strade. That’s why he started doing shows, because Strade was successful and Ren wanted to follow his example. He was also swayed a lot by emotion, the loneliness he felt and the emptiness he has after Strade’s death. Continuing his legacy was a way to fill the void, at least a little. He also needed money sooner or later.

Over time, he started to make it his own. He started to think less about Strade and more about himself. By the time we see Fox, he’s pretty much moved on from Strade. He does it as his own show, in his own name, his own life.

He is a great showman, naturally. That’s where the posture, gestures, and lively way he talks comes from. He knows how to entertain an audience, and he’s spent years perfecting that skill. He does enjoy the shows, to an extent. But remember, when MC asks him why he does this? Because he’s good at it.

He does like the feeling of being in the spotlight, and entertaining an audience— but his answer wasn’t because it’s his passion, not because he likes being in power, but because he’s good at it.

He’s accustomed to it.

The thing I think people miss is that Fox still has that unsure feeling inside. Deep down, he likes you. And he wants to keep you. But the show must go on! He likes who he is now, and he has to perform for chat. Like I said, it started out as ‘that’s what Strade would have done’ when he was younger, but now he’s moved on from Strade and just become so conditioned to it that he doesn’t know how to break the cycle. It’s how the show goes: he tortures someone, does what chat wants, gets paid, and they die in the end. That’s how it’s always gone. But what about when he grows attached?

An Easter egg to prove my point:

Middle picture, third row down He literally hurts himself for letting you go, because he’s realized he likes you, but he doesn’t know how to deny chat. (this happens when you make all the wrong choices when he visits you in the bunker before show 3. Making all the right choices will result in the survival ending.)

That’s why the survival ending is so critical to his character— he did something for himself. Because he wanted to. It’s a sign of him breaking free, and realizing that he can be in charge.

MC’s dialogue choices are important there too. When he tells MC their fate is up to chat, and you say “I thought you were in charge?” It makes him stop and think. You set things in motion for him. That leads you to the ending where he saves you.

As for when he licks the blood on your neck, I think he got a little flustered because he let his animal side show/let his composure fall a bit. A big part of these shows is the power imbalance between him and the victim, and he always puts on a front of being more put together than they are.

But yeah, that’s my mini analysis on Fox. There’s so much more to his character, but that’s for a later date ;) You’re always welcome to ask more!

[jinxposting]

Jason Todd x Jinx! reader Chapter 6

Rough Housing

A lot has changed over the years.

Joker had kicked Harley out. She tried to defeat Batman. She would have succeeded too. Joker didn't like that.

You missed her.

You still saw her from time to time. You'd get drinks together now that you're old enough. Odd she enforced such a rule when she didn't bat an eye at breaking any other laws.

It was strange going home with her not there.

You were mad at Joker for a while after that.

But he's still your dad. You did eventually forgive him. Even though it didn't feel right.

You and Joker's legacy continued to grow. The Clown Prince and his little Princess. You certainly let it go to your head. It was kind of hard not to.

When everyone fears you it's hard not to take advantage of that. You could have virtually anything you wanted. Money? It's your's. Just please put down the gun. Information? Anything. Just don't call Joker. Hell, you even had connections at Arkham now. You never spent more then a single night in there.

Life was good.

There were rumors going around recently about a new vigilante. This one, however, was less than moral. He left a trail of death in his wake. He'd taken over the drug rings previously belonging to Black Mask. Not an easy task. This guy had to be strong to pull that off. Or crazy.

You smiled at the thought. It'd be nice to break in a new toy. But alas, your paths have yet to cross. You didn't even know his name.

"Jinx!"

"That's me!"

"I have a favor to ask."

"Oh?"

"I have a shipment coming in and I need you to make sure the numb skulls don't flub it. Think you can do that, my dear?"

"Easy peasy."

Or at least it should have been.

The good news is you know that new guy's name now! Red Hood. Bad news? He was attacking your men. You were transporting run of the mill weapons. You thought this guy was all about drugs? It made no sense.

"You work for Joker, right?"

You peaked over the side of a crate you'd been using for cover. He had an AK-47 pointed at one of your unnarmed henchmen.

"Y-Yes!"

"You're going to tell me where he's hiding."

"I don't know!"

"Five seconds."

"Do you know what he'll do to me if I talk?!"

"Do you know what I'll do to you if you don't?"

Oh this guy was a tough cookie. You liked it.

"Do you know what I'll do to you regardless?"

You stepped out, pistol raised at the assailant. He didn't budge. You couldn't read him with that helmet on, but if posture meant anything he seemed unphased.

"Jinx!"

"You."

"Me."

With a swift hit to the back of the head you knocked the henchman unconscious.

"Whoops! There goes your source."

The man pointed his gun at you. "You do realize you're also a source? A better one at that?"

"Oh, please. Have you met me? I may be a chatter box but there ain't nothin' I have to say. Threaten all ya want."

"Do you ever take anything seriously? I have a loaded gun pointed at you."

"As do I." You waved your fingers around the grip of your pistol. "And as if this is the first gun I've had waved in my face. You're not exactly special, pal."

Red Hood sighed. "You're not gonna talk, are you?"

"Talk? Sure! Tell you what you wanna hear? No."

"You haven't changed a bit."

You cocked an eyebrow. Changed? Have you met this guy before? Obviously he was someone Joker knew if he wanted to see him so bad. You'd have to dig into this later.

The masked man jabbed the butt of his gun at you. You ducked, raising your own up to his chin. Which he then kicked out of your grasp. He grabbed you by one of your long braids, yanking you back up to your feet.

"You should seriously cut this."

You flung the second braid over his shoulder before pulling it taught. He gasped at the sudden lack of oxygen.

"But it's so useful!"

Red Hood threw his head back, slamming into your face with a headbutt. That mask of his packed a punch. You struggled to stay upright, the world around you blurring in a dizzy smear of color.

He grabbed you by the face, staring at you. Before he could speak you bit into his hand.

"Son of a- are you fucking serious?!"

"Deadly."

"This is getting nowhere."

The man decked you in the face. You fell to the ground with a loud thud. He clambered on top of you, fist raised and ready for another punch. Your nose was bleeding, you could feel it running down your chin. You stared up at him in shock. But he didn't move. Just stared down at you. Again, unreadable with the helmet on.

In an instant smoke enveloped you. This guy had tricks too it seems. By the time it cleared you were left alone on the ground, the henchmen around you either dead or unconscious. You breathed out slowly.

"Joker's not gonna like this."

You scanned the nearby buildings in hopes of catching sight of the vigilante. Only to be met with disappointment.

Red Hood.

You finally found a new playmate.

[davinashifts333]

PICTURE NOT SO PERFECT Part Dos.

(Rafe Cameron SMAU)

June 4th, 2022. 7:30pm, Y/N’s Cottage.

My pregame playlist blasted as JJ and the boys packed up the liquor into my Bronco, the only vehicle able to hold the lot of us aside from the Twinkie, she is on hiatus at the moment but, will be revived, per JB. My heart thumped in my ears as I remembered he would be there, waiting on my text.

“Yo! Almost ready little one?” Pope poked his head into my room where I sat on the floor doing my makeup and Cleo laid on ny bed already having downed her 2 buzz balls.

“Yeah, gimme 10, almost done and I just have this bit of my drink left.” I showed him the sphere and he nodded. Cleo sitting up catching me off guard as she watched me through the mirror.

“You sure you’re okay, love? I know you’re nervous about Satan and all.” Her voice calm but tactile, she knew how I feared opening up about anything to do with him. I nodded chugging the last bit of my espresso martini flavored buzz-ball and stood up, dress barely there but long enough that the boys wouldn’t get all ‘big brotherly’ on me.

“Alright, i’ll trust you THIS time, even though I can practically see your pulse racing. Just, find us if you need us okay?” I didn’t have it in me to say it out loud, to even believe it much myself but I had to hear him out. He always did the same with me. I had to repay the favor. She knew though, I could feel it in the tight embrace she enveloped me in before Kie and Sarah burst in rushing us to the car. She knew I had already decided on hearing him out, Cleo always knew. We all piled in the Bronco and JB drove us down.

Popular to contrary belief, Rafe wasn’t always a psycho killer/drug addict. He was also my best friend from diapers, until Sarah and Wheezie were born at least, then it was us 3 watching over baby Wheeze against the world. Our dads were friends, best friends even, running the developmental and real estate worlds of the easy coast, it’s how when I turn 18, I will inherit his multi-million dollar business and how at 16, I was emancipated and given the cottage he used as his ‘office’ to live in. We were always together, family vacations, road trips, business trips, etc. Rafe and I were being raised to continue their legacies. Now with both of our dads gone, our lives a mess but also seemingly calm? It wasn’t that complicated anymore. He had to live up to the ideals he had thrusted upon him from the moment he could say ‘Cameron Development’. I on the other hand, wasn’t as pressured, my mom knew I loved the Pogue life and even now, estranged we still cared for each other, she was working the business until I finished college (still a few years away but I was getting college credits already).

Back to Rafe however, he had to take control on his own, from the age of 19.. now 20, almost 21.. I could never know his stress. The Bronco reached a halt a good 25 minutes after leaving the house and the liquor had set a very light buzz on me. I was snapped from my thoughts by Kie squealing as JJ’s beer spilled onto her and Sarah.

“Jayj! This skirt was new!” JJ smiled sheepishly and gave her his sweatshirt, she loved the boy too much to not just ignore it and with that we headed to the beach, Sarah and I grabbing the bottles while Kie and Cleo grabbed the beach towels and chairs. Leaving the boys to carry the beers. The bass rumbled the closer we got and decided to settle at a bonfire a bit away from the hectic scene of it all. Just to give us our space. I look around hoping to not be scared shitless by Satan himself when his right hand man caught my eye, or I caught his? The dude was already staring at me. Topper Thornton. He smiled and headed straight for me. I quickly take a swig of tequila and prepare myself.

“Y/N! Long time no see gorgeous! How you been?” Yes he seems nice but, Topper was a hidden kind of evil. Trust.

“Been good, Top! Nice to see you too.” With a quick side hug and Kie shouting out for me (remind me to kiss her for that!) I excused myself and he went back to his Kooks. I wearily took out my phone from my shoulder bag and shot Cleo a look, she simply nodded as I texted Rafe.

With a deep breath I tell Cleo to cover for me and I head south of where we were settled, towards the hidden cave where Rafe and I used to sneak off to. Within minutes of me rubbing my clammy hands to dry them off I heard another set of footsteps.

“Squirt..” I look up and meet those gorgeous ocean blue eyes and in a shocking twist to myself am calmer than ever. I look down to brace myself before standing up and he reaches a hand out for me to take, I hesitate a bit but do. He helps me down the rock I had just sat on and when I’m steady on my feet I pull back my hand, crossing them over my chest.

“I uh- should have prepared better because now that you’re here, I can’t think of what to say.” His hands shoved in his pockets as he fidgets with something.

“You wanted to be heard, so I’m just repaying you for when you did it for me. Just say what you need to say, Rafe.” He was nervous, I could see it all over his face, his eyes trailing every inch of my face as if he was trying to omit it to memory.

“You look beautiful. I me- You always do! I just mean, the dress is wow. Ahem.” Yeah, he was nervous. He began by reminding me of why I left him in the first place and as if I needed to be reminded it replayed in my memory, the frantic texts when he had left for the restroom, me trying to find him in the halls and rooms of Tannyhill, Topper’s stupid smirk when he told me Rafe was waiting for me in his bedroom. Me walking in on him high as a kite, random bitch with her panties around her ankles sitting in his lap. I remembered everything. Just as we settled onto a soft patch of sand to talk, my phone dinged repeatedly. The Pogues.

“I wanted to talk to you again because I miss you. More than I could put into words, more than I could ever even imagine and wanted to do it now, a long while later, I know but, it took me this long because of rehab, therapy and well work. I would’ve done this so much sooner if I hadn’t had so many things in my way. I also just wanted to be a better version of myself when and if you ever gave me this chance, which I’m very grateful for by the way.” It hit me like a brick to the back of the head. He had gone to rehab? He’s in therapy?

“I never dated anyone after you, when what happened with Sofia, happened, I uhm. Cut everyone off. Called Rose a wreck and asked her to put me in rehab. Was there for a few months, then therapy right after, and it’s only as needed now.” His hand now on my knee as we had sat in the sand a few minutes into talking. His rings leaving a chill on my bare skin as he played with the hem of my dress absentmindedly.

“I wanted to get better for you. To be better so that I wouldn’t look as stupid as I was when apologizing to you, that night, that apology.. It was- Wasn’t the right time, it wasn’t even a good or decent apology.. So, yeah. That’s the last year of my life.. I just wanted to try and start over with you. Because I don’t see my life with anyone else but you, Squirt. You were my light, my girl, my everything and I fucked all of that up over drugs and money but none of that shit even matters to me now. It never mattered the way you did, the way you do. Y/N.” With that I was done. Folded. Broken and out together by a glue stick then torn apart all over again. He still loved me like I loved him. I don’t remember much after I sat there throat dry awaiting him to bring us drinks until I woke up on my couch, at the cottage.

[ball33rina]

CAN YOU FEEL THE TENSION?

robert fischer x femreader!y/n

You are one of the young secretaries that Maurice Fischer hired so that his son would not be forgetful every time he attended business trips for his dying father. By "one of the secretaries" I mean that they have already fired 3 because they did not do their job well or were simply too old to do it.

This time you were supposed to be accompanying Mr. Robert Fischer on a long trip to the United States. He seemed upset because he hated long trips, plus the fact that his father was dying miles away.

"This is crazy," the young man added, his elbows resting on the armrests of the comfortable chair he was sitting in on the private plane, his hands clasped together under his chin as he looked out the window. If he wanted to, he could be model (not like he wanted), but he had to continue the family legacy.

You were sitting in front of him, somewhat uncomfortable. Honestly, you didn't like the idea of being on a plane for so many hours. Since when was it so safe to travel by plane? Well, at least it's free. Your eyes wandered back to his form, completely tense and not looking up, his blue eyes illuminated by the little light outside the plane window, and how he looked like that, well dressed. He just looked up when the flight attendant asked if he would order anything and he just mumbled "just water" but soon his eyes landed on you and he said. "And I suppose the lady here can order whatever she wants."

He said and looked outside again, almost trying to avoid conversation, you looked up at the flight attendant and nodded.

"Yeah — um, coffee would be nice, thanks..." You said shyly, something that quickly interested Robert, but he didn't look up to look at you, he just listened to you.

"Coffee? We have... coffee with milk, decaf coffee, coffee and-" the flight attendant continued but you interrupted her because you really only drank plain coffee and that was it.

"Just...coffee please, no sugar...black" you said and the girl nodded and left again, you sighed in relief; wow, the rich sure do have a lot of options.

"You know, for a new secretary you sure do have something strange about you. Is this your first time working on this?" Robert cut off your inspiration of thoughts and you looked at him realizing that his ocean blue eyes were already looking at you.

But what could you say? It was obvious, your first and only job was being a secretary for a multimillionaire whose father was dying, the worst thing was that you didn't know if you were doing your job well, except that Maurice Fischer looked you up and down before saying yes to your contract.

"Something like that" you said timidly and swallowed hard, and he just raised his eyebrows looking away.

"whatever" He said, well, he was a brat.

But a very handsome brat, with brown hair combed back...those charming eyes, his protruding lips, and his perfect jaw.

An hour had passed since the small conversation, it was true, you and him didn't really talk besides him giving you orders. You just watched him take small sips of his ice water while you had already finished your coffee.

So you finally decided to break the silence by speaking up.

"And uhm, Mr. Fischer...are you comfortable in your seat?" you ask, what kind of question was that?

He looked at you again, raising an eyebrow. You felt his gaze boring holes into your skin...and god, that even felt good, or maybe it was the huge crush you had on him.

"Comfortably...perhaps," he said, setting his glass of water down on the small table in front of him. "What about you, y/n?" He looked at you again, still not smiling, he sounded very professional.

"Yeah, comfortable. A little bit," you said, biting your lip, more out of embarrassment at your silly question. Robert watched you bite your lip, distracted by that simple action, and then looked into your eyes.

"You should go to the bathroom, you've been moving around in your seat for a long time and we still have like 6 hours to go." He rolled his eyes and looked towards the window. Great, now he was getting you out of his sight.

You nodded, and like a lost puppy you got up from your seat to go to the bathroom in the hallway behind his seat, not noticing that when you passed by him his eyes quickly moved to your backside. His hands slowly went to his lap trying to control himself, but what could he do? A single guy with a cute and very attractive girl in front of him.

He blinked and looked forward trying not to look at your ass or even your body in that way again.

After taking care of yourself in the bathroom and returning to your seat, you looked at him again, just when his eyes were already looking at you.

There was definitely tension. You decided to give him a sideways smile and he smiled back, almost flirtatiously making you feel tickles in your stomach; if he's already handsome now imagine with that smile.

Maybe two seconds passed as his eyes scanned your form sitting in the seat, you looked so small there...so easy to just take you in his lap and hold you there.

He just blinked to get out of that trance and sighed looking for another place to look. Honestly, you weren't looking forward to the moment you would touch the ground and just... be able to flirt with him or have him flirt with you. If he did...what a lucky day would be.

creds of dividers: @/anitalenia

[mawlaeina]

CHRISTMAS SPIRIT | SAGAU Childe

🍊 content: SAGAU! Childe x Reader

✦ content w: none! fluff or plain or smthn along that line. Though, I think you should read Birthdays | SAGAU! Childe first before this for context igs.

It’s been a few months since Childe was acting weird in the game.

At first, you thought it was just your game lagging—with Childe just abruptly stopping in the middle of a run, or when you’re using another character and for some reason Childe switches in.

But it happened a little too often after a while.

Everytime you’d try to use another character, he would either switch with them out of the blue or the entire game would freeze.

Maybe your phone was being faulty, or the storage was at its maximum capacity (archons, you hoped not).

Whatever your reasons were, it had all been thrown out of the window on the day before Christmas.

It started out like any other day for you—no work or classes, just another day to grind in the game again (and another day to appreciate Childe ofc). You figured you could still play the game despite all the problems you’ve encountered so far, since those weren’t gonna stop you anyway.

While fighting the Pyro Regisvine with Childe, your screen suddenly freezes and glitches for a moment before the fight continues.

Wait…

Continues???

You watch, completely dumbfounded as Childe moves on his own. You try to tap on any of the icons but it doesn’t work—it’s like he was alive and conscious as he fought the large boss plant.

What surprises you even more so was the fact that he transformed… into Foul Legacy…? You rubbed your eyes, hoping that maybe you were just tired or maybe even dreaming.

After the fight was done, Childe settled in place, still in his Foul Legacy form as the Regisvine falls to the ground. He turns around, his attention seemingly focused on you before the screen turned black.

You take in the first few moments of silence, thinking what was that just now—like, no seriously, what just happened?

Reaching out to your device, you began to make an attempt to turn in back on again, but nothing happens. You sighed, scratching the back of your head as you wondered what you were going to do now.

You figured you could go celebrate Christmas—that’s no fun, you’d hate to celebrate Christmas by yourself, you’d rather spend the day grinding for primos or something.

Well, not like you had a choice anymore. After all, your device was broken—playing Genshin Impact was no longer an option at the moment. Begrudgingly, you began to decorate your room a bit.

You started with a small, white Christmas tree you found somewhere in the storage room, adding a few decorations and lights to its leaves—making sure that it wasn’t too much or too bare.

After that you just added a few more things here and there to the room, lights and all that to make the atmosphere a bit more festive and warmer than it usually is.

Once you finished, you take a step back, sitting on a nearby chair as you pondered what to do next.

Out of pure randomness you just decided to bake some cookies instead—it would keep you busy for the remaining hours of the day, and maybe Santa would even grant you a wish if you leave some out for him.

No, you never really believed in Santa, but anyways-

You baked some classic chocolate chipped cookies, and neatly arranged them on a plate before placing it on the desk inside your room.

You partnered the cookies with a glass of milk, and a shot glass of vodka because why not? it was yours to drink in the morning anyway—at least, that’s what you thought.

You do a few more other things to tire yourself out before heading to bed, kissing your hydro slime and Childe plushies goodnight—hoping that by tomorrow your device is back to normal, and that what happened earlier was just a random glitch.

Eventually, you fell asleep, at a much earlier time than you usually do.

Meanwhile, when the screen turned black, Childe had noticed since your face had disappeared, and he couldn’t hear you anymore either.

He’s been trying to communicate with you or even move freely on his own—to show you that he’s conscious. But doing so was messing up the boundaries that keep you two separated (aka the device).

He turns back to his normal self, the after effects of Foul Legacy weighed down on his physical body a bit when he does so.

He steadies himself, as he wishes to himself again that he wants to see you.

Not just through the screen—he wants to meet you, physically. He thinks that by doing so he may be able to sort his conflicting emotions out, which have been growing by the day for some reason.

It amuses him in a way. How much you like him despite his nature, how he came to be who he is now, and despite knowing what he does.

You just like him as he is, and it was very unlike him to be swayed by it.

It was unlike of him to reread the letters that you sent to him, to look forward to his birthday every year—hell, to look forward everyday whenever you come online.

He keeps telling himself, that he could never feel the same way as you do. Being worlds apart only meant that it was futile to even entertain the idea.

But he somehow dislikes it when you use other characters, whether it was to buff his damage or to heal him, he just disliked it.

So, while picking up the rewards from defeating the Pyro Regisvine, he unconsciously finds himself wishing to meet you, even if it was just for a moment.

He sighs for a moment, closing his eyes and folding his arms, contemplating about something. When he opens his eyes once more, he immediately makes a double take.

He’s suddenly in a different room. He feels different too, he doesn’t know how or why, but he just does.

He looks down on himself for a moment, checking if there were any changes. A small, red and white hat falls from his head and onto the floor when he does, catching his attention.

He crouches down for a moment to pick it up. Once it was in his hands he inspects it—triangular in shape with a white ball at the top. He decides to hold onto it for now before looking around the room.

The place looks comfy, and warm and soft. It was definitely much different from his own room—with a lot of stringed lights, and a snowy…

A fake, snowy tree with a few decorations.

The design wasn’t overwhelmingly festive, it was just right for whatever ocassion the owner of the room prepared for.

He remembers that you had mention something about this in one of the letters you’ve written to him on his birthday. Merry Christmas was it? It was something about gifts and presents, though he’s not entirely sure.

He takes a few steps around the room, wondering how he got here—maybe the work of an Abyss Mage? He shakes the idea away, sitting down by the edge of what he thought was an empty bed.

As he places his hand behind him, he pauses as he felt the curve of a leg. His head turns, finally noticing you who was almost drowned by the covers, and surrounded by soft materials that resembled him and some hydro slimes.

Oh.

Oh.

He was frozen in place as it registered to him, his thoughts were suddenly racing, with an odd rhythm and pulse coming from his chest.

He was excited.

It wasn’t the same excitement that came from battling enemies, or fighting with strong people.

No, this was entirely different. It was like he was thrilled to see you, to meet you, face to face without any barriers or boundaries for the first time.

“Comrade?” He speaks, his voice is quiet—almost afraid to wake you when you looked so peaceful in your sleep.

But he also wanted to wake you up, and ask for your name.

He squints his eyes and gets off from the bed. He feels weird staying in such close proximity to you.

He walks over to your nearby desk, deciding to check out some of your stuff. He wanted to investigate—unable to help his habits as a Fatui harbinger.

Seeing a plate of cookies, a glass of milk, and a shot of alcohol on the desk, he was left rather confused and intrigued. What on earth were you up to?

Against his better judgement, he picks up one cookie and examines it. It looks good.

It doesn’t seem to be poisoned. So, there’s no harm in trying them, right?

Before he knew it, he’s eaten about half of the cookies, a fourth of the glass of milk, and took the shot of alcohol—which was much to his liking.

He comes back to you, sitting by the edge of the bed once more as his eyes watch how you snuggle with the toy that resembled him.

“You really love me that much, huh comrade?” He speaks to himself before scoffing quietly in amusement.

He tries to sort out his feelings as he just stares at you.

It’ll pass.

He was quiet for a long while, sitting still beside your sleeping figure. After a few moments he finally lets out a sigh, telling himself that he’ll think it through another time.

It’s not love.

He tells himself again, firmly believing it as he takes out the red and white hat from earlier.

He reaches out to the toy version of himself, carefully placing the hat on top of it as to not wake you up.

Seconds after doing so, he immediately finds himself falling to the familiar ground of Teyvat.

He groans as he stands up, clearly annoyed of what just happened. He scratches the back of his head, clearly confused how he got sent back to Teyvat in such a manner.

“Huh… I didn’t get the chance to say Merry Christmas.”

✦ it’s been a while since I’ve written anything, so this is a bit rough, also a bit rushed? idk, it’s not that great *sad noises*

✦ late Christmas / holiday fic for everyone, sincerely from ur favorite trash writer

✦ I love him sm, can I cry-

✦ not lore accurate Childe, don’t come at me

✦ lots of grammar mistakes, don’t mind it pls

[hestzhyen]

Chapter 64 Samurai Posting

HELLO, VOID! We got some excellent stuff this chapter. World building, character dynamic exploration, character progression, all told with awesome action- this is peak Kagurabachi! Bit shorter than usual because IRL is steamrolling me...

Rough TL of the Editor's Notes:

Front Page: 座村の娘イヲリを狙う久々李. チヒロを前に…? [Samura no musume Iori wo nerau Kuguri. Chihiro wo mae ni...?!] Kuguri targets Samura's daughter, Iori. Chihiro stands before him...?! Last Page: 逭せるなら今のうち♪ [(ni)seru nara ima no uchi] Now's the time to escape♪

The Fight

World building!

So all the bearers were chosen because of their skill and personal approval from Kunishige! Makes sense. Gotta have solid fundamentals to make the most of using these swords- but where does that leave Chihiro?

Pissing off Kuguri, the guy who studies the blade instead of going to parties and having normal social interactions!

So he's kind of scuffed with how he fights sans Enten. Also makes sense. But trying to learn in the middle of battle is a bit risky, isn't it?

He won't become a sword master after this fight but I wonder how he'll keep improving. Will he pick up random moves to copy? Maybe the Sushi Bearer can help him with the basics once this fight is done? Inquiring minds would like to know...

HMM

Chihiro is narrating this and we don't know if he got details on what actually happened from Shiba in the hospital yet or not. All he knows is propaganda that everyone else is taught. So this throws theories of Magatsumi's wielder being a child who accidentally picked up the sword causing The Incident into serious doubt, but doesn't totally deny it... god, we need more info. Please, Hokazono-sensei! I'm going numb from all the teasing!

But at least this explains why Samura et. al. are leagues above Chihiro. He's been figuring things out on his own like Hiruhiko wants to do and his fundamentals are actually pretty shoddy. He can tap into the blade's True Realm easier, and draw out more of it's abilities, but his stance and such leave him wide-open to experienced swordsmen.

Trying to summon the Great Serpent of Ronka...?

For the record, all these clangs and screech effects are to show how messy Chihiro's swordsmanship is. Someone who could fight properly wouldn't be dragging the blade around when parrying or swinging it like a club. Kuguri's got a lot to teach Chihiro...

Someone... listened to me?!

I'm pretty sure he's going to be yelling instructions at Chihiro on how to fight better while trying to kill him and I can't wait to see it. His need to fight and slice got tangled up with being taken seriously as a learning resource and I hope the results continue to bring the laughs! I'm completely won over by this guy and the "while you partied, I studied the blade" energy he radiates. I gotta know how he came to idolise Sojo but thank you for keeping the slightly ridiculous takes on "to clash is to converse" alive. Hokazono-sensei is keeping his favourite guy around even if it's in an indirect way.

It was really funny to see that John spoils Hiruhiko rotten and Kuguri can't fuckin' stand it. They're basically oil and water. I like that we are getting these great dynamics between the villains too- I'm even starting to warm up to Hiruhiko as John's special little boy that everyone else sort of tolerates. I'm genuinely interested in the backstory of how they all came together and... I say this every time, but... I hope we don't have to wait too long to find out.

As for what all of this means for Chihiro and his personal sorcery, we could find out what it is this arc but I think it will leave off at him learning to apply it to his swordsmanship. He's not adept at using his spirit energy like Shiba and had no foundational training like Hakuri did. All he's doing is dumping it into the weapon and using the White Lotus Iai move that Uruha explained and Samura demonstrated. The question of what his sorcery is would come up as more of a legacy question I think, as in if he could make more enchanted blades or whatever his mom could do (that blood test is still hanging around, don't forget).

There's ambiguity in what the sword contract means too- does it permanently remove the Bearer's ability to use their sorcery even if the bond is broken? Or is it only redirecting the flow to itself while bonded? ...Yet another question that will get answered eventually. Hopefully.

Can Someone Who Doesn't Feel Guilty as Fuck Please Stand Up?

You better believe I'm ranting about this with ship goggles strapped on at the end of this post.

And so, Chihiro does in fact blame himself a hell of a lot for Hakuri's current predicament. Never mind that Hakuri has his own personal issues that drove him to this point, Chihiro's adding to his burden of his own accord and no one's gonna stop him. The Masumi are doing their best but there's no getting through to everyone's favourite traumatized MC. I sincerely hope they stick around to keep trying though (and shoving food in Chihiro's face because it's funny).

The phrasing is interesting to me- remember this?

Chapter 58... feels like ages ago.

I'm definitely going to bet on Hakuri making some kind of grand gesture down the line- something in the vein of "we're friends so stop blaming yourself and let me help you!". There's so much tension being set up over Chihiro's complicated feelings involving Hakuri and feeling like he got the guy involved only to let him down by being weak, after all. Toss Hiruhiko's misunderstanding of friendship in the mix and we've got an angst cocktail garnished with crazy. I've got ideas about how it'll play out, but the author will be the best one to tell his own story so I'll just patiently wait to see what happens. Something something Hakuri/Uruha and Chihiro/Samura parallels right?

At any rate, we take a break from Hollywood block-buster action movies to do some super traditional shounen things this chapter and I'm completely in love with the execution. Chihiro's guilt and his insecurity as a swordsman are eating away at him, and now that he can't use Enten, he's actually not gonna fare too well with someone who's studied the blade. The only thing he had an advantage on others was sheer time spent with the enchanted blade- his basics are actually pretty poor! Makes sense since being able to cleanly cut a training dummy is nowhere near the same as fighting someone one-on-one. And a slicing freak like Kuguri who apparently cares quite a bit about technique would be too much for him... if not for some inspiration and Chihiro's ability to adapt.

Some Cool Shit

Small appreciation here:

Talk about making an impact.

I'm in love with how the キン (KIN, sharp clang) sound effect forms the border to separate Kuguri's face from the action shot. It's incredible use of non-traditional paneling and I hope it's not removed in the EN volume release! It would be ruining the artistry of the page to remove it!

Alright, and now...

WARNING: Ship Brainrot Ahead

I'm completely normal about this chapter after months of Chihiro and Hakuri not interacting with each other. Hokazono really saw me complaining in private about them being separated for four months in real time and gave us... this.

"Power of Friendship"? Never heard of it.

Yeah.

The title of the chapter is ビカム侍, "Become a Samurai". But they didn't have to have this flashback- Samura and Uruha are both clearly inspired by samurai already and they were the reason why Chihiro was able to pull off the awesome Iai move he did. It simply could have been a reference to those two and Chihiro learning more swordsmanship to become like them.

BUT NO

We had to know that he was doing this because of Hakuri. Specifically because Hakuri called him a samurai when they first met. Even though Chihiro doesn't seem to recall the "that's you!" part, he still wants to be that samurai Hakuri needs.

I. AM. VERY. NORMAL.

Like, even as a friendship thing, isn't that kind of... intense? Everything about Hakuri is intense, yeah, but I don't know man. Chihiro wanting to live up to the high regard that Hakuri had of him from the start and become the samurai his friend thinks of him as is... I ship this for a reason, okay? Every time I think "surely this will not go so far" the author trounces those expectations and says "NAH I'm making this gay as hell".

We finally got Chihiro's response to Hakuri saying "I need you in my life", and it's "I will become the person you think I am so you don't get hurt for my sake ever again". His feelings towards Hakuri were a bit unclear until now but it's obvious that they're burning bright. He cares so, so much about his "equal partner". HNNNGH YOU CAN SEE WHERE I'M COMING FROM, RIGHT?

And just as a reminder, not even two weeks have passed since they met each other.

So normal.

Both of them are trying to be the better person the other sees them as.

I'm having a Kuguri-style brain implosion right now.

I gotta say, it's really nice to see this sort of push to be better that isn't built off of rivalry but rather mutual respect. Chihiro and Hakuri both see each other as the better, stronger person that saved them and it compels them to keep improving themselves. They just have to work on the personal issues that drive them to hurt themselves in pursuit of this goal.

Friendly rivalry isn't a bad or unhealthy dynamic at all, it's just a bit over-used in shounen as the default relationship type between the MC and his deuteragonist. But that might be what happens to Chihiro and Hiyuki. With Hakuri, it's all about admiration from both sides. You know, the stuff the strongest relationships of any kind are built off of (but especially romantic ones).

The conflict in their relationship comes from the unhealthy personal issues each of them have, I think. Because as wholesome and sweet as Hakuri and Chihiro are with each other, their flaws are what's adding tension. For Chihiro, it's guilt over getting Hakuri involved and over-relying on him. For Hakuri, it's the Sazanami mindset of giving one's all compounded with his guilt over Ice Lady. This whole arc seems to be about addressing guilt, so hopefully both of them will be able to start forgiving themselves and become better partners to each other by valuing themselves a little more.

See you later, kind void, I've got fan fiction to write if I can find the time. Take care and hope 2025 is treating you well so far.

[pnfc]

here is some train-of-thought writing that came out today while i was thinking about labels/identity for d&p, sexuality and gender.

EDIT on ao3 here.

18+ for (brief) sex scenes, you’ve been warned, door is over there etc

When Perry laid out the realities of his private life to the Flynn-Fletcher family it was not, in his preplanning mind, a gay coming-out. That was like the 9th or 10th layer of the curtain he was pulling away in the grand reveal, a flimsy one attendant in its connection to Heinz Doofenshmirtz and all the messiness he embodied, mortal threats on Perry and tristate domination schemes and more than one cringeworthy viral video.

So it’s sweet and befuddling to Perry when Phineas and Ferb gift him a handknitted rainbow pride scarf for his birthday that year, maybe the last people he’d expect to take that particular tack.

“Phineas is really taking to Home Ec,” Ferb tells Perry as they refill at the coffee table. “I don’t mean to devalue our shared gift in your eyes, but he made that in just half a period, it was his first project. And I think,” Ferb continues in his low voice, as he retrieves the creamer for Perry. “He might be just a little excited to have a gay family member.”

That’s what Perry is, now that he and his connection with Heinz are out for the world to see. He’d never thought of it in those terms before, nor had Heinz used the word to describe their still-new romantic partnership. Perry’s gay and his former nemesis turned agent-partner is now his boyfriend, is the buzz at the office.

Perry thought it might have a welcome insulating effect, word spreading that Agent P isn’t into women, on an official basis this time. But it didn’t stop Agent Lyla from flirting at him, in fact seemed to goad her on, like Perry’s stony indifference to her was funny, fun to poke at. And it didn’t stop women from cooing over him in public, even with the enamel flag pin from Stacy pinned to his hat band -- again, that may have only exacerbated the situation.

But it did spare him from at least one Monogram holiday present, a profoundly haunting OWCA calendar starring female models in states of Christmassy undress, posed with plush animals. He’d yanked it back out of Perry’s hands, with what might have been bashfulness, and muttered “Gotta get a male model calendar for next year, too, so HR doesnt get on my keister. Carl! You’re in charge of the gay one.”

Perry accepted the designation of gay man, even if he didn’t feel it in his bones. It fit on him like a well tailored suit, the rainbow aesthetic was appealing, queer human history was deeply compelling and Stacy et al were so excited to share in his education on the subject, to share a place with him behind the marching banner. It affirmed Perry’s lifelong indifference to the human and non-human women he was assumed to feel attraction for. But it all felt a bit specious, since Perry harbored attraction for one person only. He couldn’t in a century feel for anyone else the way he does Heinz.

Still here he is, a man with a boyfriend, and if the fact that he’s a platypus threatens that definition, that opinion is not possessed by the people in his life who matter. So he’s gay.

Heinz shares Perry’s ambivalence around labeling, but out of a long legacy of experience that Perry lacks, so he’s a refuge in this. “Bisexual, yeah, that was the rage back in college,” he waxes nostalgic to Perry, during their nighttime couch convos. “The only way to be, unless you were a college republican finance major. But there’s pansexual now too, right? And so many flags -- Vanessa’s friends were over here trying to explain it to me. That girl Laci had so many flags on her bag, it was like the Olympics back there. Or like the last 50 years of Drusselstein regional flags from the warring states -- except like, in more colors than just grey and brown. Drusselstein had a serious dye shortage. They finally cut a deal with the Ukraine in 2006 for green, it was a real gamechanger, but it only complicated the flag design wars.”

“…Anyway it was fun to be bi, in the 80s,” Heinz says. He’s sprawled along the couch, Perry sitting against his bare bent leg, idly rubbing a paw around his knee. “Guys really put themselves together back then, they were electric. And if you slapped on enough liner and eyeshadow to partly obscure your weird shaped face maybe one of them would give you his number, if he had enough cocktails. And sometimes that number would even be legit.”

Pausing, Heinz looking up at the lofty ceiling, his head on the armrest. “I don’t know if I am bi anymore, Perry the Platypus,” he says with a note of regret. “Everyone’s just so sad now, so Linkedin and Panera Bread, even the evil scientists of the day are so sexless -- I dunno, maybe I’ve aged out of the crowd. Once I hit 30 it just seemed easier sticking with women. They can be a lot kinder, in my experience. Or at least more liable to pity a guy like me. Plus they’re, y’know, really hot -- trust me on that one, Perry the Platypus. So I dunno if I’ve got the right to be all ‘loud and proud’ just because I knew how to party in my 20s. …At least, I didn’t have the right for a good decade there.” Perry’s smirking across at him, elbow propped on the bend of Heinz’s knee. “You don’t need to give me that look,” Heinz scolds. “I know what you are to me. You don’t need to rub it in. “But, you know what I mean: you outgrow the bi phase, you get married, you work with a lot of cute dancers, accept an arduous future of heterosexual post-divorce dating efforts -- and then you, ah -- meet a very attractive platypus,” he says, struggling because Perry is pressing his hands into Heinz’s thigh, trailing a leisurely path upwards. “And it, uh. Gets confusing. …Oh my god, Perry.” His splayed leg shakes and he props it up on the back of the couch as Perry focuses on worsening the situation in his cotton workout shorts. He told Perry not to rub it in -- that’s always annoying, being told what not to do, what not to rub.

Despite all of Heinz’s wordy equivocating he is loud about Perry’s role in his life, the first to introduce Perry as his boyfriend or himself as Perry’s, though he tends to prefer the word partner, maybe for its alliterative quality. “Yes, Perry the Platypus is my partner,” is the line trod out to whichever party guest, since more often than not Perry is the one who needs no introduction. “And I mean romantic partner, just to be clear, so there’s no confusion. Because we used to be work partners too, and we still are. But we’re an item.” And if Heinz deems the partygoer in question to be sufficiently magnetic and therefore threatening he will follow this up with the even more unnecessary “So don’t even think about it.” Perry should find this more mortifying than he does, probably, except that it’s cut short conversations with a lot of people who turned out not to be worth Perry’s time. Quite efficient, letting your boyfriend trim the homophobic tallow off your social sphere with his blunt-sheared social crudity. More than one social blowout has turned into a furious makeout session back behind the venue, Perry dragging Heinz’s back down a brick wall so he can suck his tongue, so Heinz’s pleas of “Perry we’re parked right over there” muffle into whimpers under a canopy of evening cicada call.

Perry came up in OWCA right when they were transforming their internal messaging, making it superficially friendlier. Some changes were Carl’s well-meaning suggestions that became enshrined. “The agents shouldn’t be shamed out of exploring their natural desires,” was the gist of his plea to Monogram -- Perry retains a fuzzy memory of the scene, he couldn’t have been older than 3 then, was delivering a hot beverage to Monogram’s office as part of his daily duties. “Even the ones who aren’t, um… intact, they still feel things.”

“So we tell them not to. Anything less is insanity. It’s sick, Carl.” He took the heavy coffee from Perry’s hands. Perry’s palms were wet and burning. “The animals need to focus on one thing, and that’s the mission. Lord knows I don’t need to hear about whatever nasty business they get up to back at the zoo, in their off-hours. But we’re dealing with dumb, wild animals, Carl. We need to stamp out all that mating distraction with a vengeance. This is a war, Carl, against evil itself, and they’re humanity's front line.”

But Carl must’ve gotten something through, because the recruits younger than Perry endured less scare mongering around sex, fewer militaristic tirades from Monogram about the primacy of the fight and the evils of carnal temptation. Mono’s coffee mug featured a hula dancer whose bikini vanished at high temperatures -- it had always been difficult to take him seriously.

And one day they’d all been gifted a Carl-designed asexual pride tee, the OWCA logo in purple and grey, and a “Be who you are!” platitude written in Carl’s loopy cursive. This messaging was muddled to say the least. This was a human designation, asexuality, of which Perry had only partial comprehension -- and Carl seemed to be prescribing it to the agents even as his words encouraged free identity. But the design was nice, Carl had a flair for that -- the flag colors were classy and austere, not quite to Perry’s taste where t-shirts were concerned, but definitely suited to Heinz. Except Perry knew even back then that if any human pride flag fit Heinz, this was not it.

He still has that shirt bunched in the bottom of a drawer with the other old employee tees, including one with Carl’s face and chocolate stains on it. Maybe that human designation does fit Perry, in a certain technical sense. In the fall and winter. Seasons when he sits with Heinz watching trashy old 70s flicks that burgeon and bulge with more nudity than the plot demands. “You see how they filmed skin back then, Perry the Platypus?” Heinz will lament. “It’s crazy, her legs are like glowing -- people don’t look like this anymore.” He works himself up trying to explain the magic effect to Perry, while Perry just leans into his side and gazes up at him. Human attraction is cute, defanged like this, watching Heinz helpless in the thrall of some chainsmoking director’s bad movie about a city cop taking down apocalyptic gangs. And just to be mean Perry won’t touch Heinz’s hard-on -- but he’ll touch everywhere else, as the movie plays, nose his bill up the side of his shirt and kiss his hot skin, and he’ll watch Heinz shudder his way to breaking point, whereat he digs himself out of his pants and pulls himself off in a few fast strokes. Perry doesn’t need to get off to enjoy this. It satisfies just like the old thwartings. Perry’s just hitting other self-destruct buttons, on Heinz’s body -- he’s really one big button, if Perry’s honest, and Perry savors pushing it again, and again, and again.

So he could take or leave the labels. He likes that he and Heinz cut a different shape, one that doesn’t slot neatly into a human-made hole. But they mean a lot to the kids, Perry observes, as they grow into high schools and colleges, as they get passionate and motivated, as Vanessa breaks up with Monty and doesn’t look back. And Perry, Perry’s not even a person to so many of the humans he encounters, much less one with an orientation worth caring about. So it’s nice. He carries the cheery rainbow umbrella with the London skyline that Lawrence brought back from across the pond. He wears Ferb and Phineas’s snazzy rainbow scarf, Stacy’s hat pin. It’s not borne deep in Perry’s bones, this identity, but it’s a lovely accent, fortified by the people he loves. No depth required.

Which is why it does not seem too jarring, many years in the future, a decade onward, when his partnership with Heinz looks different. After they’ve danced through years of late night karaoke, hitting up gay bars and the vanishingly rare sapient-animal-friendly club, both of them growing loose and happy in their linkage to each other, holding each other’s hands and feeling the clink-clink of their rings. It was just more playtime for both of them, Heinz bustling around Perry to deck him out in 70s throwback fits with the big cheesewedge collars and migraine stripes, Perry standing tiptoe to zip up Heinz’s dress as he sits craned forward on the floor, holding frizzy wig ringlets out of the way, before Perry smooths his hands out across Heinz’s shoulders and he lets the hair bounce back down.

It’s still play, maybe, until the year that Heinz’s mousy hair is long and shoulder-brushing. Perry lounges in the balcony hammock with one hand trailing on the ground, as he watches Heinz pull it up into a ponytail before tearing into a vintage radio repair, an ongoing collaboration with Lawrence. And something that wasn’t serious now is, because even now, dressed down in oil-stained sweats and a holey tee, with wispy silver hair and no 80s eyeshadow on to obscure her charming face, Perry sees that she’s beautiful.

Perry wants to tell her this, when they’re getting in from an anniversary dinner out. He has the words in his hands, he’s already told her several times, because she needed to hear it those first few staggering attempts to hit the daytime streets in skirts, that she looked right in them, looked cute. Perry says it differently now, as he presses her down into the pillow with a hand, leaning across her skinny torso. Heinz’s natural hair fans the pillow, heat-curled and sprayed for the special night. Perry presses his soft bill to her forehead, trails down to her rouged cheek, further down to her lips, where her plum purple lipstick looks black in the dark. Perry says it with hands down her face, trailing into her soft hair and gripping it tight as she touches him. He says it with clawmarks trailing up her thighs and snapping the net of her tights as he swallows her down, the ritualistic tearing of Heinz’s fabric newly modified into a synthetic cherry pop, and if in the dark beads of blood flower up under his claws Perry licks them too, with love and apology, with a want to get more of Heinz into him. And he says it one more time when she’s asleep and curled around him like the crescent moon, and he reaches in to unhook her earrings, puts them on the nightstand.

Is Perry gay now, when the shape of him and Heinz seems so the same, despite her changes? Well, it’s not the most pressing question. It’s hard enough contemplating how Perry will introduce his girlfriend to his family, when he used to swear up and down the day would never come. But not girlfriend, wife, and not wife, partner -- so he’s circumvented it rather ingeniously, actually, a fact he hopes Phineas and Ferb appreciate. They decide to do it that week, packing the fixed-up radio and a few fresh loaves of zucchini bread, decoratively ribboned, into the truck. Perry helps smooth Heinz’s hair in the driver’s seat, and Heinz smooths her floral skirt down before taking off the brakes. Perry adjusts his hat in the mirror, and judges the scarf around his neck. It still looks cute on him, now flaming more vibrant in hue against the greying fur of his chest. It’s still his boys, hugging around him, all the unrestrained cheesy love they felt for Perry as kids preserved in rainbow yarn. So he wears it, as he and Heinz drive ahead together through the rest of it.

[tarwis]

About Robin…

Robin is light, Robin is hope, Robin is magic.

Batman is darkness, Batman is vengeance, Batman is justice.

Dick was light, hope and magic. Jason was light, hope and magic. So was Tim. So was Steph, for however short.

Do you know who isn’t light, hope and magic?

Damian f***ing al Ghul.

Damian is dark, broody, full of hate and vengeance. Sounds familiar?

Am I saying he’s evil, tainted, or irredeemable? No. Am I saying he is too full of unaddressed trauma to be Robin? Yes! Every Robin before him had trauma in some shape or form, but his is the one unaddressed by the writers. So, yes, Gotham needs Batman, Batman needs Robin and we already have a perfectly Robin-shaped child to fill the role. (I’ve already reblogged the whole post about that, but for good measure, here:

So, who should Damian be and what happens with my precious headcanon identities Cardinal and Crow?

Robin is Dick’s legacy and Dick’s alone. It was why he was so mad that Bruce gave it to Jason without asking — Robin was Dick’s mom’s pet name for him. Robin’s colours are the Grayson’s colours and the whole Robin identity revolves around Dick’s family, their deaths and his attempt at avenging them. Batman is Bruce’s, Robin is Dick’s, but Bruce forgot that, thinking Robin was Batman's. And he passed it along, making Robin a tainted legacy where Batman is a symbol of darkness. Fitting, yes, and morbidly ironic, just as Gotham likes it.

So now, to keep the legacy, the city keeps spewing children who crawled out of various holes to fight against the darkness, inspired by the hope and light and magic that Robin is. The world tells them to give in to the darkness, to give up the light, and they spit in the world's face in defiance. (Another thing Damian isn’t. He’s a spoiled prince in both worlds, trained to be a weapon. He didn’t have the chance to choose to fight for light and hope, because the choice was made for him)

So, once Robin (Tim) becomes an adult, I think he should break the tainted cycle. Just like Tim was Duke’s Robin, I think there will be other children inspired by him and for whom the only Robin will be Tim, too young to know of Robin's messy history. Children who refuse to back down and it is either train them before they go out to fight, or pretend you can stop them and they go out untrained to die. They may not become Robin, but maybe they can all be robins, if the idea of many street children in bird costumes infesting the streets to fight crime under the watchful eye of the Red mama bird (since I'm sure at least half of them will be Alley kids and everyone knows that Robin and hurting children are not allowed in Red Hood's territory) is appealing to anyone.

Meanwhile, as Robin continues as a legacy, Tim will probably also take a more secretive alias — Cardinal. Where Robin will be loud and funny and a bit cheeky, Cardinal will be invisible and silent. Both will be dangerous, sharp and precise, but Cardinal will be more like a dark mirror hidden in the shadows that Robin’s light casts. Because Tim is both and his work in the underground world cannot be associated with Robin.

Alternatively, Tim could take the mantle of Crow as a secondary occupation and work exclusively as an informant and hacker. A shadowy presence in the internet almost on par with Oracle and her "unofficial rival", if the rumours spread among the Bats’ enemies by O and C themselves are to be believed. Again, no connection to Robin, who will still be active and well in the field.

If Tim decides to create Cardinal, that may leave Crow to Damian if he does not want to be called Batboy, but somehow Crow does not fit him. He could also decide to go all in and call himself Shadow to mock or acknowledge his past. He could be Echo, a silly little reference to the echolocation of bats. There are many names under which Damian can thrive, but I don’t think Robin is one of them.

Thank you for coming to my Ted talk.

[hunipeye]

What Remains of Winter

Read on Ao3; https://archiveofourown.org/works/66008359

————————————————————————————

A little bit of housekeeping; You take the role of Mel Gold. Assume you did all she did in “Thunderbolts*”. However, y/n doesn’t have a personality entirely consistent with that of Mel, she’s not intended to be the same character.

I might interject with the odd Bucky POV chapter but it won’t be every second one and they’ll probably be shorter.

I also don’t intend to include a lot of Valentina Allegra De Fontaine, at least no more than is necessary. I’m too lazy to write about her complex relationships with each character so let’s just consider her an angel investor/spokesperson of sorts! Good? Great! I’m also not American so I don’t have a clue about how the government and shit works, I’m writing horny Bucky fic, not some “House of Cards”, “Succession” in-depth, masterful political drama lol.

While writing this I got so genuinely, unironically depressed over the fact that I couldn’t have Sebastian Stan that I had to stop writing it for a week. I was straight-up bedridden from lust.

This is my first time writing anything so it might not be good but I hope it’s not bad lol

————————————————————————————

It’s been 2 months since the formation of the New Avengers under your boss, Valentina Allegra De Fontaine, months before the beginnings of a momentous space crisis.

The blackmail you have against Ms De Fontaine has benefited you immensely, resulting in an unprecedented rise in rank and salary. Gone are the days of fetching coffees. With Valentina being nothing more than the money of the operation, you now act as a tactical field analyst and a liaison officer between the New Avengers and the public. Frankly, it’s all very new to you, but it’s better than grovelling at the feet of a woman who’d sooner have you killed than fire you. At least you have the guidance of a veteran (quite literally).

————————————————————————————

Chapter 1

“I understand your frustration, Senator, this change is as sudden for us as it is for you. We’re all moving at the same pace, here.”

My voice had become different after the attack on Manhattan, more stern perhaps. In my new position a change like that was necessary. My face was new, my reputation nonexistent. Due to my role in the attack - my revealing of confidential information to ex-senator Barnes - being kept on an entirely need-to-know basis I needed to make an example of myself and prove that I was more than Valentina’s old personal assistant. A goal like that is significantly harder in a world craving superheros when you only have vaguely moral assassins in your ranks.

The senator continued, “I don’t think you grasp the collective trauma the city feels. They need to feel secure. You need to get those Thunderbolts-”

“That is not their name, Senator, and we have established that,” I snapped, growing tired of having to explain our troubled naming conventions.

A huff sounded on the other end of the call, “I don’t give a damn what you’re calling your little band of merry men. What I do give a shit about is getting them out in the public eye and getting them formally associated with the American government.”

I could feel the crease forming in my brow as I retorted, “I’ll ask you once more to mind your language with me, Senator. You had no need for the Avengers to be in league with the Government, why is it different with us? Do you think you can frighten me and back me into a corner? Our group will follow the same outline as the Avengers; we aim to protect global stability, not just within the United States.”

His laugh was cruel, laced with hatred and arrogance, “But will you live up to their legacy? You don’t even have a name, in fact, you barely have a team. What was it I heard about that Bob guy? Can’t seem to keep it up, can he? Shame that your best asset has fallen flat-”

“Senator, I appreciate your interest in our new group but I really don’t see this conversation benefitting either of us.”

I didn’t wait to hear his parting words before I hung up.

My office was located on the top floor of the Watchtower, the floor-to-ceiling window behind me boasted a clear view of the setting sun over the New York skyline. Picture perfect, like one of those insufferable souvenir postcards. My desk was nearly overwhelmed with paperwork on everything from ‘Avengers’ copyright to surveys on what people wanted stocked in the vending machines littered throughout the Watchtower offices. Certainly below my rank. I had just begun organising everything when a telltale heavy knock sounded on my door. I didn’t need to lift my head to see who it was, “Come in.”

Bucky’s footsteps were steady as he entered and shut the door behind him without having to be asked. He was dressed casually, in dark cargo pants and a slim-fit, slate grey t-shirt that stretched ever so slightly over his upper-arms. I noted that his hair was still in that jaw length, wolf-ish cut. I secretly hoped he had no intention to crop it anytime soon.

“Busy?” He murmured, his eyes darting to the stack of papers I tried to put order on.

“Exceptionally Mr. Barnes,” My tone was flat and humorless, “What is it you need?”

He seated himself in the dark leather armchair in front of my desk without invitation, cocking his head to the side as he spoke, “I need clarification on our intentions here.”

My skin grew goosebumps under my satin blouse, the back of my neck grew hot and cold all at once. Intentions? Our relationship was nothing more than business, with the odd flirtation, we had no need to discuss intentions-

He continued, “Everyone’s growing impatient, you know? They need order, so we need to know your intentions.”

I suddenly realised I had been holding my breath and tried to exhale as steadily as possible. Bucky’s eyes seemed to bore into me, tracking every movement like a true marksman.

“I understand your frustration-”

He waved that bionic arm dismissively, “I don’t want your press statement. I don’t want to hear what you’re telling every media outlet. What are your plans? Real tangible plans.”

I bit my lip, forcing down the urge to shout back at him about how maybe this was easy to him but it was all new to me and that I felt like a mule with all the workload I was carrying. His blue eyes followed my bottom lip as it slowly slipped out from between my teeth.

“I’m working on it, Mr. Barnes. I am learning the ropes as I go and ask that you, and everyone else, stay patient as we move forward.”

He didn’t try to mask his scoff, “Fucking P.R.”

My nails dug into my thighs, I barely noticed the ladder that formed as a result, my mind in a haze of stress and frustration, “If you’re so damn eager to get your feet on the ground, what do you recommend we do, Winter Soldier?”

I stood up, my heels clacking against the polished black tile floor as I strode over to him, standing over his seated body. I forced my eyes on his face, not on how the soft, warm light above us revealed the shadows and contours of his muscled torso, or on how his forearm twitched as I moved closer, and not on how his trousers stretched over his thighs and hips, giving a faint outline of his crotch.

Yes, I would keep my eyes on his face.

“I’m working as best I can, Mr. Barnes. If you want to be helpful, by all means assist me. But if you’re going to come into my office and tell me how to behave, I’ll have to ask you to leave.”

The soldier held my gaze, his face as serious as cancer as he retorted, “You didn’t mind being told what to do at the fundraiser party. What did you call it? ‘Working you’? All I had to do was give you a business card and you ratted on Val,” His face barely shifted as he continued, “You want my advice? Actually try to work with us. You’re not some higher up executive who doesn’t need to mingle with the talent. Like it or not, you’re in this business now, and that makes you the talent too.”

“And what exactly is that supposed to mean? Is it some veiled threat? You want me to fall in line and just take it?”

The unintentional innuendo hung in air for a heavy, silent moment before Bucky responded, “You’re a public figure now. You’re not some faceless assistant or a glorified waitress. People know what you look like, they know what college you went to, your allergies, your mom’s maiden name.”

I bristled at the mention of my mother, trying to remain composed. My back straightened as he rose from the chair, he was over a head taller than me.

“My point is, you’re the same as us. You might not have blood on your hands and you might be new, but we’re all in the same damn boat. You can’t run this shit on your own, you have no experience. So maybe you could stand to be with the workhorses and get out of this ivory tower.”

His tone was dripping with venomous distaste and the soldier slipped past me, making his way towards the door.

“Mr. Barnes,” I didn’t move as he turned back to face me, I kept my gaze stubborn and hard, “You should know I don’t view you all the way you seem to think. That’s in no way conducive to a successful working environment.”

His laugh was gruff and tired, “It’s all business to you. You want to turn a profit and make us some media sensation-”

“That is not me, Bucky, and you fucking know it,” I snapped back, striding toward him and pressing a manicured finger into his chest, “That’s Val. Don’t you dare make me out to be like that woman.”

I watched as his eyes scanned down my body to the long hole in my stockings that ran from my upper thigh to just below my knee, revealing a strip of bare skin. Bucky seemed to smirk as a cold, metallic finger ran along my leg, “You’re already falling apart”. The touch ended as quickly as it started. He paused a moment before continuing, ”So what is it you want?”

The question stumped me and its double meaning forced me to think about my response.

“I trust you,” My breath caught in my throat, “I trust you and Yelena and Alexei and Ava and Walker. And I trust you all to help advise me on how to move forward with this. But I need you to work with me, I won’t sit by and be a fucking secretary”. I threw my arm back and gestured to all the paperwork left untouched on my desk.

“I never expected you to be. I’ve already explained that.”

Now I was taking my frustration out on him, I sighed at my actions. “Alright, Mr. Barnes, I appreciate your help. I won’t keep you any longer.

“I’m the one who came here.”

I couldn’t bear to see the look on his face any longer, ”And I’m sure you’ve got all the answers you need, so good evening to you, Mr. Barnes.”

He wordlessly turned away from me, exiting my office and striding down the hallway. I let myself observe the tight muscles in his broad back before the door clicked closed and left me alone in my ‘ivory tower’ once again.

[wingdingery]

Hello! I really wanted to say that your writing is amazing, I always look forward to what you upload especially for Brudick, but even just their platonic readings too caught a bit of my interest! I had a question that I felt that you probably could answer. Who do you think is closer to Bruce, Alfred or Dick? I've seen this question pop up, and usually people would say Alfred, but I feel like that's not true, though I could just be biased. So, I was wondering what do you think?

Thank you so much, anon! 💙

There’s a lot of nuance to this but ultimately I would say Dick is closer to Bruce, at least under my definition of “close”. I’m also obviously biased BUT I will try to give some context for why I think so.

(This is under the cut because, as usual, I went much longer than you probably bargained for when you asked this, but hopefully some of it will be interesting to you!)

So, first of all, Dick’s overall existence predates Alfred by a few years (Batman was created in 1939; Dick was introduced in 1940, and Alfred in 1943). Dick was also clearly meant to be Bruce’s close ally and partner from the very beginning, whereas Alfred grew into that role.

Detective Comics (1937) #38

Batman (1940) #16

These early Golden Age comics have little bearing on modern canon and characterization, but as the “birth” of these characters, I think it still provides important context – particularly regarding their relationships to each other. It’s fairly consistent across retellings that Dick and Bruce are drawn to each other because of their shared grief and trauma, and the ways they help each other work through that. At its core, and from the very beginning, their bond is a highly emotional one.

Bruce and Alfred’s is not. What’s consistent across retellings is that Alfred is the family butler, and a bond doesn’t immediately develop between them once Bruce’s parents die. In some tellings, it’s presented as simple emotional distance that Alfred doesn’t know how to cross, even to comfort a grieving child:

Batman: Dark Victory #9

Sometimes, the emotional connection existed between Alfred and Thomas and Martha. In those cases, Bruce is “Thomas and Martha’s son” who Alfred watches over in their memory, but he (at least initially) cares for Bruce as a way of caring for the Waynes’ legacy, and not for Bruce’s own sake.

Batman: The Knight #1

And this continues into Bruce’s adulthood. Even as they get closer over the years and Alfred helps Bruce with his activities as Batman, he actively maintains the employer-employee relationship between them. You could argue addressing him as “Master Bruce” is habit/formality, but regardless, it creates emotional distance between them, and Alfred consistently refers to their relationship in terms of employment, even when it’s clear they care deeply for each other.

Knightquest (Batman: Legends of the Dark Knight #60)

I should caveat here that I haven’t read a ton of solo Bruce content so there may be things I’m missing, but from what I have read, I get the sense Bruce had a lonely childhood due to the lack of emotional connection between him and Alfred. In fact, despite Alfred’s constant presence, Bruce is commonly depicted as lonely/emotionally stunted until Dick comes along.

Batman: Full Circle

Robin Annual #4

This page in Robin Annual #4 also hints at another thing I wanted to mention, which is that Alfred usually disapproves of Dick’s presence at first, and especially disapproves of Dick becoming Robin, but he comes around to it because he sees how good Dick’s presence is for Bruce. Alfred knows that he can’t give Bruce the emotional connection that he’s lacking, but Dick can.

Robin: Year One

In Alfred’s eyes, Dick is the one who Bruce can confide everything to, who can be his light and pull him back from the brink if needed. If something is going on with Bruce and Alfred doesn’t know what to do, Dick is the one he turns to.

(Not to say Alfred and Dick don’t develop their own close relationship over time, because they do! But Alfred puts a lot on Dick’s shoulders and has a lot of expectations for him when it comes to Bruce.)

52 #30

Bruce Wayne: Murderer?

Nightwing (1996) #99

Okay, that was a lot! In summary, I think it’s clear that Alfred is extremely close to Bruce. Even when they have a tense employer-employee relationship (see: the Caped Crusader show where Bruce calls him “Pennyworth” and spends most of the time treating him like an asshole boss would treat an employee) Bruce immediately trusts him with the secret of his identity as Batman. Alfred is undoubtedly loyal, and Bruce undoubtedly cares for him on some level.

But because of the origins of their relationship, their emotional connection takes time to develop, whereas Dick and Bruce’s is immediate and visceral. I really think you can argue that Bruce’s emotional connection with Dick is the first one Bruce really experiences since his parents’ death, and it’s also what actually allows his emotional connection with Alfred to develop.

I want to end with something Scott Snyder said in a 2011 interview with Comic Vine:

To me, one of the things that's really interesting about Dick Grayson […] is that relationship is pathological at times and completely endearing at others. Dick always wears his heart on his sleeve, he cares about Bruce openly. He's compassionate and empathetic. Bruce is just a darker character, and for me, he's someone who needs that connection but won't admit it. […] The idea is that Dick Grayson is also the person who is his greatest tether to humanity. When I think about the future for Bruce, I think about him either very very lonely […] or dying in the line of duty as Batman or…you know, there aren't a lot of good endings. Dick's the person that would pull him back from the edge, or even bring him down, honestly if he needed to if Bruce really went too far in some way and bring him in.

If you want to talk about who’s been physically at Bruce’s side for longer, then sure, that’s Alfred. But that doesn’t necessarily mean Bruce feels closer to Alfred than he does to Dick. Alfred is Bruce’s loyal butler, and there isn’t much he wouldn’t do for Bruce, but he acts as Bruce’s hand.

But Dick is stated over and over again to be Bruce’s heart. So if you were to ask me who’s closest to Bruce—who he trusts with his emotions, his life, his legacy—that would be Dick, no question, every time.

Batman (2011) #11

[ruins-of-tragedy]

Going to continue the RWBY watchalong textposts. 'Cause I will probably need them to cry over simpler times once I finish the show.

Ideas on just the first three episodes of season one here because I had too many...

Season 01 Episode 01: Ruby Rose

- Very reminiscent of "I will show you fear in a handful of dust."

- That crime boss was in Yang's trailer. Now we know why he was there. He wanted it to rain men.

- The way Ruby made sure to check in with the shopkeeper before leaving. 🥹

- OOOOOOooooooooh! NOICE fight scenes!

- Hmmm. Villain with an obscured face. A mystery is being developed. Betrayal imminent.

- Blonde huntress. I too would want her autograph. She looks so pretty.

- The way she goes, "If it were up to me..." somehow reminds moi of both McGonagall and Snape.

- Silver eyes are worth calling attention to. Huh. If I remember what my sibling had mentioned once, this is important. Professor Ozpin notes it as well. I can't recall why though. Good thing, I guess.

- Cookies be so good Ruby can't help but stuff her face. Relatable.

- Ahhh. Uncle Qrow. I hope he didn't get too bullied for his name.

- Ruby is freaking precious. I love her. Noble little kiddo. Plus that high-pitched excitement... Cinnamon roll alert!

- Professor Ozpin's glasses are so extra. The heart monitor like thing beside the frames. The small little spectacles. The arch between the viewing bits akin to a parabola. I MUST HAVE THEM.

- Yang. Such a great sister. Almost suffocating her sibling with her love. Adorable!!!

- Ruby doesn't want bees knees. Do bees have knees?

- Yang coming in clutch with the truth. Special ladies, the both of them.

- I can't. Love how the headshots for Roman Torchwick look like the sketch equivalent of our world. Gave me a good laugh.

- Faunus rights. Must be important. Don't like the White Fang's disruption of the peace, but their logo is cool.

- From Signal to Beacon... They really want to shine a light on the guiding forces. Appreciate it.

- Blonde huntress is Glynda Goodwitch?! Is Elphaba coming too?!?!

- "Our world is experiencing an incredible time of peace..." Way to jinx it. Now we know where it all went wrong. 😂

- The ending credits song is so gooooooood!

- Looks like the vomit guy has a legacy to live up to. At least his team has his back. That's nice to see.

- "Victory is in a simple soul." Really honing in on the simple part. The introductory bit also stressed on it.

- Consider me intrigued. Who will Ruby and Yang meet in Beacon? How shall the peace be discarded? And will "Vomit Boy" ever get rid of his initial impression and nickname?

- Wait. Is Ruby the youngest because 'Little' Red Riding Hood is her character backdrop?

Season 01 Episode 02: The Shining Beacon - Pt I

- This opening song. Ugh. So good. Chef's kiss!!!

- Beacon is here. So are Yang and Ruby. And fangirl Ruby as well.

- Her weapon is called Crescent Rose?!?! 🤩👏🏻😍

- Pulling Ruby by the hood of her cape. Using it to cover her face and be an annoyance. Yang knows exactly why it was made and how to use it.

- Oh my Gods. Yang left Ruby spinning and she fell for Weiss. Well, her suitcases I guess. But still. Meet-cute!

- My bad. This is a meet-disaster. I love it! Plus, Weiss' points sank in a little too well. Both for Ruby and her. That sneeze proved it.

- Blake being buried in a book and finding the vial of dust with what can only be the Schnee logo. Huh. It's the same one which was present on the boxes Adam and her were looting. Snowflake. OOOOOOooooooh!

- Ruby is not just a dolt. She is a "complete dolt."

- Listen. Ruby called Weiss princess. Of course I am shipping it. Trimberly in a different bottle... Jokes aside though, I can't wait for Yang and Blake to meet soon!!!

- Whoa. Blake is really giving it to Weiss. NOICE!

- Weiss is pouty heiress baby, as well as a lowkey bully. Blake left. And Ruby is sad and lying on the floor. What a day.

- Vomit guy is Jaune. Ahhh. Motion sickness really out here kicking his arse. And now he is thinking of giving Ruby a nickname; "Crater-face." Is this what they call banter?

- Jaune wants the ladies to love him. Samesies my dude.

- The sword and shield fall out of Jaune's hands. That's what they do. 😆

- Wait. Ruby made that weapon?!? Holy mother of shirtballs. Does that mean Yang also forged hers? Coooool!

- Jaune does not only seem like a good guy, but also someone who has a name to live up to. Hmmm. Is he okie?

- "Strangers are just friends you haven't met yet." So sweet! Jaune's mom should consider adopting me.

- Basically Ruby and Jaune are those biatches who look at each other and go, "Exactly!"

- The end credits song... 😍

Season 01 Episode 03: The Shining Beacon - Pt II

- Opening song. Love you always... Ruby is behind a white caped lady emitting white roses. Her mum am assuming. Also, the winged figure and other assorted monsters with what I think are bones at their back are giving major zombie vibes.

- Yang saved Ruby a seat. Of course. She be a good sibling. The cycle of leaving folks behind continues... Jokes!

- Poor Jaune though. He really be complaining out loud. Someone heard him it seems. Maybe she is "nice and quirky."

- Yang really thinks Ruby is dramatic enough to call a possible meltdown an explosion. LoLL! I can see it.

- Ruby's snort was cute and now she is recalling her encounter with "a crabby girl," while said crabby girl is right behind her... Why is this so funny. It's been done before. But this is somehow better.

- "Oh my God. You really exploded." That line delivery was goooood.

- Weiss just carries a pamphlet titled "Dust for dummies and other Inadequate Individuals" on her at all times?! And of course she has the disclaimer memorised.

- Jaune is catching strays, Ruby is a sweet bean who cannot understand sarcasm and Weiss needs to be not so mean.

- Why did I just realise Professor Ozpin is supposed to be the Wizard of Oz? Still don't know what fairytale character Jaune is though...

- This isn't a first day toast. It's a roast paired with an almost sinister call for action. Hmmm. Maybe Ozpin sounding like he isn't there will play a major role later.

- Jaune. You lovable dork. Who questioned your natural blondeness?

- Sleepover alert!!! Ooooooh! Love Ruby's eye mask.

- Not the boys showing off and preening. Ugh. At least Yang likes it. Also, Jaune is actually wearing a onesie?! Little baby!!!

- Ruby writing a letter to her friends back home is ADORABLE!!! Awww. She is also feeling lonely.

- Yang's pause when trying to describe Jaune isn't fooling anyone. And Ruby. You precious kiddo... Negative friend. 😆

- "You just made one friend and one enemy!" Yang really does not pull her punches. 😂

- There should have been a drinking game going on in that hall for every time Yang gets hit by a pillow. The doggie cushion was extremely cute though.

- Yang giving good advise. Love to see it!

- Oh my Gods. Ruby is the reason Yang meets Blake for the first time here?! AGHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!! If this somehow parallels to Weiss and Ruby also getting together, I will throw a party.

- Just realised Blake is reading by the candlelight. This girl. What a nerd. (said as affectionately as possible)

- On an unrelated note, I really like both Yang and Ruby's tanktops. And what Blake's wearing. The fashion in this show is on point.

- Ruby was so nervous she almost asked Blake to call her Crater-face... Been there.

- Yang is extrovert extraordinaire. Blake will not budge. War of attrition, anyone?

- This "lost cause" will be your future girlfriend Yang! Funny how that works... 🤩

- I would totally read the book Blake's reading. Sounds pretty interesting. Is it a real thing?

- Awwww. Ruby has such a good heart. Happily ever afters for everyone. Gods. I hope she never loses her belief system.

- The fact that Yang used to read to Ruby as a kid reminds me of how the blonde practically raised her sister. She should be proud. Of both Ruby and her own self.

- Weiss and Yang saying the 'you again' dialogue together, while aiming it at someone else entirely was so good. Made me laugh.

- "...that's how I met your mother. And aunt." Blake someday, probably.

- Different ending song. Featured only Weiss. I want to hear all of it. Why did it stop like that?

- Wait. Is Jaune supposed to be Joan of Arc?! If so, NOICE!!!

Edit: If you saw the original 'Juane,' which I then proceeded to turn into Jayne here and there when I tried to fix his name... No you didn't.

Edit Edit: Added the 'Season 01' prefix along with episode names to each header of them thoughts, and changed their colours to blue while turning them bold... 'cause am nice like that.

(Don't spoil stuff pwease! Or I will find you, and I will make sure you witness my not-so-particular set of skills that will end with you having an existential crisis. Toodle-oo!)

[georgeharrisonsmiling]

Maybe you won’t know but you’re like the only person I see on here that consistently even acknowledges Olivia Harrison’s existence so I thought I’d ask:

Do you have any knowledge/idea as to why she (apparently) cut off George’s sister Louise after George’s death? To my understanding (which could be wrong it’s been a while and a lot of what I’ve seen has been on gossip sites so I’m prepared to be wrong), he was giving her some sort of “allowance” (which from what I read was admittedly rather small compared to his wealth but also was probably more money back then maybe even up to 2001) after she divorced an abusive husband that he continued until he died, and then Olivia apparently stopped the allowance. I’ve seen some people say it’s because Louise was somehow connected to a Beatles fan/tribute band (i don’t remember whether she was managing it or what), and maybe there was something about a Beatles restaurant?? But never seen Olivia comment on it herself so much of that seems to be hearsay

I ask because a) from what I’ve seen it seems George hired his brothers or at least had them interacting with Friar Park in some way, which Louise living in the US obviously couldn’t have done but it still shows to me that he had strong familial ties and b) every interview I’ve seen of Louise she seemed in pretty good spirits to the day she died, very little if any resentment towards being cut off.

Its just an all around fascinating situation to me! George and his family’s relationship to money has always fascinated me because of the weird space he occupied of being in one of the most successful bands in the world, a multi multi millionaire, reportedly generous with his money not just to family and friends but also projects he liked, while also consistently being fucked over by things like Northern Songs and Lennon-McCartney in general, and also maybe not having the best understanding of money considering his issues with tax fraud and taking out huge mortgages to fund projects he liked

I'm not that well informed in all the drama there is, maybe @oliviasflapjacks can help us with this?

Louise Harrison is a complicated topic. Obviously she and George used to be close but it seems like she enjoyed the attention from Beatles fans a bit too much for George's taste and they ended up distanced because of that (she called herself "the unofficial Mum to the family of Beatle People). I know she managed a tribute band but their most known disagreement was when she promoted the creation of a "Beatles Bed&Breakfast" in the place where George stayed during his first visit to America.

George and Louise reconciled before George's death but things remained tense with Olivia and Dhani. We know that they are very protective of George's legacy so things like the tribute band probably weren't well received by them. Louise published her own book in 2014 where she expressed her displeasure with the Harrison state and even made a weird comment about how there weren't biological Harrisons managing it.

George's relationship with his brothers was better as they worked in Friar Park and they appeared in George's documentary.

[666writingcafe]

The Kingsblood Crucible

MC

I'm not gonna lie, I'm a bit annoyed. I get that Diavolo can't control the exact time of his trial, but did it really have to be mere moments after I woke up from the coma that Nightbringer put me in? It's almost like the universe is playing some sort of sick joke on me.

At least I'm able to eat the food Lucifer brought before Diavolo and I leave.

Once the two of us arrive at the royal tomb, we walk inside and go up to the statue of the Fairy King. According to the research I've done beforehand, the land that makes up the Devildom used to belong to him, but then one day a demon gave him some wine made from his own blood, putting the king into a deep sleep. The demon stole all of his land, thus becoming the first ever king of the Devildom.

Diavolo turns and gives me a ceremonial knife, and I draw a line on the palm of his hand.

"Fairy King, I present you with the blood that courses through my veins. My name is Diavolo, descendant of the rightful King of the Devildom and heir to the royal legacy."

The statue absorbs his blood, and its eyes remain closed. So far, so good.

Suddenly, the statue issues an order: prove thy virtue and thy destiny. The royal tomb is momentarily plunged into darkness before revealing...

Oh no. I've seen this before. Question is, why is the Fairy King showing us this particular memory?

"Oh, Lucifer," Diavolo whispers. "To think I'd have to see you like this again. The way you looked on this day..." He's holding back tears. I gently pat his shoulder as a way of letting him know that it's okay.

"I don't remember being so angry," he quietly observes.

"You weren't," I respond. After a brief moment of confusion, Diavolo nods his head.

"Of course. That makes a lot of sense. Do the others know?" He's referring to Barbatos and Thirteen being aware of my relation to Lilith.

"Yes. Lucifer suspects it, but I've been able to get him off my case for now."

"Good. He can't figure that out. Not yet, anyway."

"I am sure there could be no greater disgrace to one such as yourself, he who was once celebrated as the pride of the Celestial Realm," the memory of Barbatos states before turning to face the two of us. "However, it's far too little given the circumstances. Wouldn't you agree, Young Master?"

A shiver runs up my spine as Diavolo's eyes widen.

"This isn't how I remember it going--" he starts to tell me. Barbatos--or rather, a fake version of Barbatos--interrupts,

"The Celestial Realm has already rendered its judgement. Her punishment has been decided. If you willfully ignore that and choose to help her, it will mean war between the Devildom and Celestial Realm."

"I'm aware, but--"

"--but these dazzling jewels from the heavens have landed on your doorstep, and you must have them." The smile on fake Barbatos' face is rather eerie. If I didn't promise Diavolo to stay by his side through this trial, I'd start running.

"No matter the price, no matter how many demons must be sacrificed in exchange, you want these seven brothers for yourself," he continues. "And I know exactly why."

"Barbatos, stop. Don't do this." I see the fear in Diavolo's eyes, which means the illusion can, too.

And it will do anything in its power to use that fear against him.

I don't recall seeing anything about witnesses being allowed to help candidates pass the Kingsblood Crucible, but there also wasn't a rule prohibiting it, either. Should I take the risk?

"It's all about being a great demon, one who's worthy to call himself the Demon King's son. Isn't that right?"

Screw it. I'm not about to let an illusion lie to Diavolo like that.

"Don't listen to him," I tell the prince.

"They're so rare and beautiful. It's hard not to compare them to gemstones. If you were to command a group of demons like that, your esteemed father would surely be proud. All of this is so you can live up to his name."

"That isn't true!" I exclaim. Unfortunately, Diavolo doesn't seem to hear me. His eyes are glassy, like he's under a trance.

"I have to surpass him," he mumbles. "Otherwise, my life has no point."

Shit.

"Exactly, which is why you're willing to help this 'family in need', even though you know it entails far too great a risk. But ask yourself: is that really the sort of conduct you'd expect from a demon king?" Diavolo slowly shakes his head.

"It's almost as though you don't even want to be king," the illusion adds. "You just want to earn your father's approval--nothing more."

"Diavolo!" I yell. Nothing.

"Lord Diavolo!" Still nothing.

"Goddammit, look at me!" That finally gets his attention.

"I'm not fit to be the demon king," he whispers.

"Are you seriously going to believe a fairy apparition?!" I don't mean to sound quite so angry, but him seemingly giving up like this is rather frustrating. If he fails this trial, I might as well kiss everything resembling my home goodbye, and I won't allow that to happen. Not on my watch.

"Look, maybe you've acted this way before," I add. "It's not like I knew you as you were growing up, so it's perfectly possible that your sole motivation was gaining your father's approval. But I can tell you this: the Diavolo I know cares deeply about others. Not just your people, but everyone you meet and befriend. You try your hardest to do what is right, even if it goes against popular opinion. You strive for a future where the three realms can live harmoniously, because you know your father's way of doing things was selfish and cruel. If anyone is fit to rule over the Devildom, it's you."

"Do you actually think I can be the sort of king everyone hopes for?" Diavolo asks. "Can I be proper and just?"

"Trust me: I'm one of the last people that will blow smoke up your ass. If I felt you weren't capable, I'd let you know in a heartbeat. Besides, you won't be doing this alone. You'll have others helping you."

"Including you?" I find myself smiling, recalling the time he once told me that he'd want me to rule beside him someday.

"Including me." Taking a deep breath, he steps forward and grabs my hand.

"Then maybe there really is hope." The scene around us disappears, and soon we find ourselves back inside the royal tomb. A note awaits us at the base of the Fairy King's statue.

𝔗𝔥𝔢 ℌ𝔬𝔲𝔰𝔢 𝔬𝔣 𝔏𝔬𝔯𝔡𝔰 𝔥𝔞𝔰 𝔡𝔢𝔱𝔢𝔯𝔪𝔦𝔫𝔢𝔡 𝔱𝔥𝔞𝔱 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔥𝔞𝔳𝔢 𝔭𝔞𝔰𝔰𝔢𝔡 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔎𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰𝔟𝔩𝔬𝔬𝔡 ℭ𝔯𝔲𝔠𝔦𝔟𝔩𝔢. 𝔑𝔬 𝔣𝔲𝔯𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔯 𝔞𝔠𝔱𝔦𝔬𝔫 𝔰𝔥𝔞𝔩𝔩 𝔟𝔢 𝔱𝔞𝔨𝔢𝔫 𝔞𝔱 𝔱𝔥𝔦𝔰 𝔱𝔦𝔪𝔢.

(Transcription: The House of Lords has determined that you have passed the Kingsblood Crucible. No further action shall be taken at this time.)

Once we're outside the tomb, Diavolo stops and looks at me.

"You know, I'm not sure if I'm ready to return just yet. I need some time away."

"Perfectly understandable," I reply. "You've just been through a rough experience."

"So have you." Wait a minute.

"You're not suggesting I join you, are you?"

"That's exactly what I'm doing." Well, damn. Didn't see that coming.

"Of course, it's fine if you don't want to. I can have Barbatos open a portal for you to return to the castle. I just..." He momentarily trails off. "I feel bad for not allowing you to properly recover, and I want to make it up to you."

"Got somewhere in mind?" He grins at me

"Of course. I think you'll like it. It's nice and quiet, and the view is absolutely breathtaking."

Taglist: @lost-in-time-wanderer, @fuzztacular, @dianedancer18, @sweetbrier2908, @flare-love, @completelyshatteredbrokenmschf, @thunderlightning351, @l3v1chan, @anxious-chick, @5mary5, @expressionless-fr, @tenkobitch, @interconnectedmatrix

[toons-inkwell]

Finding "Frankie" AU. Chapter: 1

Warnings: Death, blood, this is a horror game AU ya know so all that.

Words: 4,980. (Check reblogs after for author's notes if interested)

The sound of metal springs rapidly coiling and relaxing reverberated off concrete walls deep in an area hidden from the public's eye. What once was an attraction built to harbor cheer, joy, and entice adults and children to come play now was a demented trap built to trick unsuspecting fools looking for money. Posters and murals depicting what the mascots were supposed to look like were plastered all over, nothing but imagery that would give people a false sense of security before finding out what those mascots really looked like. Originally cartoons, the cast of a once beloved TV show now were twisted beyond recognition. The one the springs belonged to and what lurked through staff only areas was none other than the titular protagonist and namesake of the entire show, Frankie. Of course Frankie was a bit different from his on-screen appearance, in fact he wasn't Frankie at all. Sure his name was effectively the same and he had some semblance to him in terms of appearance, but from the very moment he was created he was told a different story. He was born of the soul and in memoriam of one of the departed showrunner's who died too soon, "Franky"—with a Y. Out of grief the remaining showrunner and the brother to the deceased crafted him to carry on the legacy, for him to help continue the show even in its... New format. He didn't like to think about that though, truth be told he didn't know what he was in his current state. He held no memories of what he was like, what Franky was like, nor did he feel like something that was once a man. All he knew was that he was created to help his brother get their show back and if that meant being a ruthless monster who would rip contestants apart, so be it. He knew his place and that was right alongside his brother–

["FRANKY!"]

Franky's long lop-ears twitched as he heard his name be called out over the facilities' intercom. His body jittered unnaturally, all the springs connected to his limbs froze up and he rotated his head to face a camera on the wall pointed directly at him. On the other side of the screen watching him dwelled his creator and only family, the real Frankie.

["Sorry there Franky, didn't mean to alarm you yet we got SO MUCH to do in such a SHORT amount of time that I thought it was important enough to use the intercom to speak to you!”]

The rabbit’s ears twitched again. With a tilted head he looked at the camera and stood still, not wanting the rustling of his springy joints to drown out whatever was about to be said

["While nobodies watching right now that won't mean they won't be soon! As of this very moment I've been getting everything in order for when they are! Apologies Franky for not telling you sooner but I'm sure you'll be happy to know that we managed to earn enough donations to get this show renewed for ANOTHER SEASON!... Just barely at least..."

Franky's ears raised slightly hearing the last few words muttered quietly. Keeping the show running as well as all the expenses of the parkour palace had eaten up most of the money they were supposed to be saving up to renew the long canceled television show. He usually didn't concern himself with the finances but if it was affecting the chances of them getting what was once theirs it would soon become his issue as well.

["Heh, don't you worry your big ears about it! Just meet me in my office, we have some BIG things to discuss this new season, I'm thinking for a little shake up!"]

With directions being given, Franky scampered towards the other rabbit’s office, scrunching down here and there whenever he needed to go down an elevator or up stairs. He often wondered why he didn't have an office like Frankie did, did he merely not need one? He did run on electricity, at least his body did, so wouldn't it make more sense to give him some sorta special room where he could recharge instead of having to share a room with the other mascots? Was it that he didn't... Deserve one?

With a shake of his head he dismissed such a silly thought and he pressed on into one of the final areas of the little show they had crafted. A momentous attraction dubbed "Frankie's Frozen Peak" that was ripe to face the action of people attempting to reach the top. Sadly no one even made it past the first area, let alone this final one. Despite the rather grim decor he had been commanded to setup, not a single soul was ever able to bear witness to the various platforms, hazards, or the rising pink "slime" that were installed into the mountain. Franky didn't really care about the lack of use the mountain saw though, in fact the less people he had to deal with the better. The only thing he really paid attention to in the immediate area were the various cardboard cutouts placed along where people would line up to participate. The friendly smiling face of what he was modeled after and what a cartoon should look like followed him as he veered to the side and ignored the mountain, instead heading towards a staircase on the side. With a quick stretch of his hand to the very top, Franky let his stressed coil arm relax and skyrocket him upwards. The entire stairway shook once he landed on it, his heavy feet kicking up dust as he tilted his head towards the human sized door with a sign next to it reading "CEO OFFICE". It was a tight fit but he was more than adept at squeezing into tight spaces, with a contract of his springs he waddled over and opened the door to the office.

There awaiting him sat Frankie, his supposed brother and the one destined to eventually take the role as the host once this silly gameshow came to an end. While Franky himself looked rather unruly with rows of horrendous sharp teeth, a maw always partially agape, and accessories that consisted of old scrap metal with a sloppy, almost worn down paint coating them, Frankie had none of that. The once human was what the TV show Frankie was supposed to look like, pristine, cleanly, and friendly looking. The only real difference between the cartoon appearance of the magical rabbit and Frankie’s body was the fact that Frankie had these small beady eyes and while his was smaller than his own prototype body, it was still quite large unlike the tiny toon that was showcased everywhere. Once upon a time when Franky first awoke Frankie himself was human as he once was. His brains and nervous system wasn't exactly attuned to his body like they were now but he could still remember opening his eyes and through faded vision being greeted by a smile of his brother who welcomed him back into the world. His creation was what led to Frankie becoming as he was now, once he was created and subsequently Henry Hotline, Frankie perfected the process and ditched his old human self to become Frankie to take back the old TV show and renew his place as the host. Franky was aware once the TV show was renewed he would not be showcased in it, he wasn't perfect nor anywhere near as appealing looking as his brother, but being the main one who the cameras focused on when slaughtering the contestants was more than enough to satiate his desire for fame. After all he has 57 seasons worth of footage of him doing what he did best, and soon it was to be 58.

"FRANKY!" Frankie greeted as soon as he saw his brother's rustling limbs and head squeeze down the corridor "took ya long enough! Now take a seat because you may wanna sit down for this one"

Franky looked towards the wall and noticed a chair. Considering his torso was twice the size of it he silently rejected and stared back at his brother.

"...Okay that's perfectly okay—now DOWN TO BUSINESS!" Frankie reached down and from his desk he pulled out a file holding a stack of miscellaneous papers "we got a lot of ground to cover... A lot..."

Although Franky didn't know what was in the folder of the papers, the intensity of his brother's stare alerted him to something being off. The air grew thick and he felt unsettled to know that something changed his brother's usually cheery mood. If he was capable of sweating in his metallic body he would at the sudden light switch tone shift and feared the worse about their current show and the future renewal of the original. With a small raise of his hand he reached over, hoping to take a peek at what could possibly be considered "a lot".

FWHIP

Frankie had slammed the folder shut and leaned back "HA! No, no, no, no! You don't need to worry yourself about this!" Frankie opened it once more and sifted through the papers, his head moving with each scan of the contents "I wouldn't want you to get stressed with all this, after all I know how sloppy you can get when you're out of the zone, wouldn't want a repeat of season 26 would we!?"

Franky's hand went back into its resting position and a growl emerged from his mouth. It was his personal way of expressing subtle annoyance although it quickly subsided at the mention of season 26. The cries were something that stuck with the viewers even after all this time.

"That's what I thought, now as for what we gotta discuss–" Frankie picked up a piece of paper displaying a graph, one that had the direction one line steadily set in the red "things haven't been... Great with the gameshow and for the past 3 seasons we've had to dip into the savings just to keep this place up, running, and funded"

Franky let out another growl, this time one of worry. If they weren't profiting or bare minimum breaking even with each season that meant there would be no big Finding Frankie comeback. With how much they desired to get that show back it made him fear their dream would be out of reach.

“What I wanted to go over with you was the ratings regarding the past few seasons and why we are actively losing money, it seems here that nobody getting far becomes boring, honestly the fact that barely now it's starting to become repetitive is a miracle!" Frankie chuckled and waved his hands in the air "now we are running a gameshow here and while we certainly can't let anybody win there's at least gotta be players to play in it"

Franky didn't understand...

The mascot saw his brother's confusion and sighed, with a shake and roll of his head to mimick and eye roll Frankie spoke in a quieter, more serious tone "Listen, while I know you just loooovveee~ ripping the contestants to shreds or squishing them underneath your feet we gotta break even this time or else there may not only be no TV show, but there may be no gameshow or even parkour palace!" Frankie held his head as it spun around on his spring neck before stopping "All you gotta do is simply hold off until I give the signal, heck maybe at least let them meet Henry, I'm sure he's probably dying to chat with somebody that isn't over the phone."

Franky didn't like the sound of that. He didn't like the sound of that one bit.

His entire body vibrated in discomfort. The very idea of anything different being done made him unleash a guttural noise from the depths of his head that was lined with bolts. Springs of his emitted a rattling sound as they stretched out, his hands and feet pushing against the confines of the tiny room. It was his show, not Henry's, why would the audience care if the contestant met Henry or not!? It was bullshit on every degree and account, until they got the money HE should be the one with all the attention on him. This gameshow would be the only time he got the spotlight so why was it being stolen by the person who the show was named after—Oh wait! That's right! IT WASN'T! The shows named Finding Frankie! NOT FINDING HENRY FUCKING HOTLINE!

"FRANKY!"

Franky froze up. The heavy tone carried by the other rabbit made him feel like his entire body had spontaneously rusted. Although incapable of seeing any emotion other than a giant smile, he could feel the rage in those black dots that stared at him.

With Franky slowly retracting back Frankie sighed, releasing his anger at his brother "...listen, I know you love to kill but just this once let at least one live okay? Just long enough to give the audience false hope, donate some more, and then once we reach a goal you can do with him whatever you please" With a wag of his finger Frankie switched back to his energetic persona, speaking hoppy and jolly "we're running a game show here, we gotta at least showcase somebody actually running through a few obstacles right?! This isn't just some snuff livestream!" Frankie suddenly perked up and looked towards a printer that had a stack of cold papers in the output tray "well... At least it wasn't intended to be" Frankie reached over and looked at a few of them, each page lined head to toe with requests of donors. It was times like this the once-human wished he could grimace and not be held back by his wide smile "I'm pretty sure everyone who sends us some of these just wanna watch you kill people in different ways, pretty uhh... pretty disturbing stuff now that I think about it" he scratched his head seeing only a few of the very graphic descriptions "eugh... whatever—THIS IS A GAME SHOW AT THE END OF THE DAY!" Frankie tossed the papers and let them fly about in the air before turning to Franky one last time. With a shoo gesture he gave one last command "go tell Henry he'll be expected to actually chase a contestant this time around, maybe that could liven up that old sourpuss, last I saw he was letting the stress of that talk show of his get to him again”

Franky said nothing and did as he was told, crawling out through the small area he fell all the way to the floor of the mountain parkour area. The springs his legs consisted of broke his fall upon landing down, his torso bobbing for a few seconds absorbing the impact. As he made his way to Henry's local he couldn't help but feel... Robbed? Was robbed the right word? He didn't know, all he knew was that he didn't like this direction the show was going in if it meant he was going to get shelved. The people didn't want to see Henry, and they definitely didn't want to see some loser in a costume run about, they wanted him! They wanted Frankie—or at least who they believed to be Frankie. His name was pronounced the same and even if he wasn't the host Frankie, that title belonged to his brother, he was going to cherish every moment of attention he could get where the audience believed him to be the one and only. Just the thought of having to give up something that belonged to him made his body quake but he tried his hardest to not show any emotion, not wishing to risk having an outburst that could easily be recorded on one of the many CCTV cameras scattered about. He'd just tell the objecthead the plan and get ready for what attention he could garner by only killing 3 of the 4 contestants immediately.

"Ring! Ring! Ring! Ring! It's all they FREAKIN' DO!"

Franky came to a halt as he heard the familiar voice of the talkshow host lament his frustrations. He was only at the museum and was surprised to find Henry out of his household, the mascot just trying to exert the pain of his head constantly ringing. The monstrous rabbit couldn't help but watch the sad display before him, smelling the distinct scent of rot that filled the air from a few of the people who he had killed.

Henry stood with his back to him, preoccupied with using some of the blood of the past contestants to create a grim mural as a testament and hopefully message to all those that saw to stop calling in "why does Frankie gotta insist on playing reruns—actually better yet why do the MORONS that watch them call the number—WE AIN'T ON AIR! QUIT CALLING MY GOD DAMN PHONE!" Henry placed his hands on his receiver, repeatedly picking it up and slamming it back on the hook to hang up whoever was calling "AGH! If I could get my hands on that stupid rabbit and his STUPID FREAKIN' SMILE I'D–"

Henry turned around and was met with the sight of two springs extending upwards. The rabbit had approached him as he rambled on and upon looking up and seeing Franky face to face he felt his blood and oil run cold. Henry dropped the receiver he held and let it dangle off to the side by its cord, his pitch black eyes eyes fixated on nothing else other than the rows of large sharp teeth and black spheres with glowing circles on the center that the rabbit had. His limbs felt heavy as he took a step back and tried to speak, his once normal voice now broken revealing a nervous one overlaid with what sounded like dead air or static.

"F-Franky! How nice of you to stop by! What can I uhh... Do for you on this lovely day?"

Franky didn't respond. Instead his eyes "blinked", the blue light turning off and back on. With a slow look past the mascot he stared at the mural behind Henry, one made out of pain from simply serving his role. Henry's "eyes" followed the path Franky's took, landing on the crude drawing he made depicting him with the message "DON'T CALL" next to it.

"Oh that?... Uhh d-don't worry about that, I'll clean it up, I promise! I know Frankie leaves you in charge of decorating after all" Henry clasped his hands together, the blood smearing further over his glove-like hands "I didn't mean to make that mess I just... Just... I can't deal with this GOD FORSAKEN ringing anymore, you understand? Right?"

Henry's voice glitched again, going back to its previous tones as he surveyed Franky's eyes for any sign of sympathy. Instead all he saw were those cold lights staring back at him. With a raise of a giant "gloved" hand Henry soon began taking more steps back, the springy appendage coming near him.

"Woah! Woah! Hold on there Franky!" Henry felt his back touch the smooth surface of the wall, the dark blood smearing all over his suit "Listen I wasn't talking about you! It was your brother who I was mad at!"

Henry winced and shrunk under Franky's gaze. With a past memory playing back in his head where the rabbit had been commanded to hurt him, the telephone head covered his face in order to spare whatever damage would soon come. Franky's big hand approached closer by the moment and Henry could only imagine the worse, what if Frankie had heard him and commanded his monstrous sibling to teach him a lesson. What if the Deputy had put him up to it? That quacking AI was always looking for every excuse to lock him up and maybe this was the opportunity the duck was looking for. His mind raced with ideas of both what Franky would do to him or what set the beast off. The constant flip flop between thoughts made his head rattle and shake as if he was getting a call. The migraine he had a moment ago returned in full force and he fell to his knees, desperately grasping at himself to keep his head still and quiet down.

click

"Huh?"

Henry opened his eyes, the heavy weight of a hand was brought atop him but there was an odd sense of relief brought along with it. Instead of hitting him or using those hands to crush the plastic his face consisted of, Franky had reached down and fixed the receiver back on its hook. The rattling stopped and the talk show host sighed, relief filling him as Franky continued to look down at him. This time with the knowledge that the rabbit had no malicious intent or cause behind his surprise visit.

Truth be told Franky pitied his fellow part machine part man. Henry was the second creation made using the leftovers of another deceased person, another predecessor to what Frankie was and his perfection. The mascot head wasn't as hideous as he was, but he still suffered from the result of imperfection and ultimately being just a prototype. While the idea of a character whose head was a telephone was a good idea on paper and worked well in an animated format, sadly when that fictitious character became a reality he suffered from horrible pain from the nonstop calls he received. Each time anyone would call in on the hotline Henry would be forced to advertise on his show or press a button on the many rotary phones placed about the facility it would go directly to his head. Even if he was nowhere near the museum or household he could hear the ringing every night when he was charging. The ringing and attention had driven Henry mad and Franky wished for nothing more than to relieve him of the horrid sound and pain, to be able to take over his segment just so the object head could catch a break. Sadly he couldn't, instead all he could do was be there and hopefully provide him some solace.

"Franky... You gotta stop, you can't just scare me like that!”

Franky understandably knew where Henry was coming from and gave a small nod in response. Against his will back when Henry lashed out at a caller on his talk show Frankie had sicked him on the telephone and knew where the fear stemmed from. He couldn't fault him for thinking in such a way and recoiled his hand away, letting Henry catch his bearings before giving him the message.

"Err– thanks for hanging up for me" Henry stood up and dusted himself off, although still dirty he tried to maintain what the pristine color of his red suit should look like "Now did ya come all this way to meet with lil' ol' me or did the higher-up boss man send ya?"

Franky raised 2 fingers.

"Of course..." Henry made a sighing sound and pressed his blood stained fingers to the numbers on his head, repeatedly turning the metal dialer around he said "What is it now? I certainly didn't blow up at anyone last night nor do I think I did anything to make the big man mad" he looked back to his drawing and pointed at it "it wasn't for that... Was it?",

Franky shook his head and pointed to one of the turned off TVs. It was at this point Henry got the message, it was an all too familiar gesture signaling what soon would be the airing of a new season of the gameshow they starred in. Well, they all supposedly starred in it but it was only really Franky who did the dirty work of taking out contestants. This season was clearly different though, Franky pointed at him and Henry didn't know what to make of the gesture. The cogs in and wires in his brain started to turn and after staring into those glowing blue eyes of his mascot partner in crime it all clicked.

"Wait! Wait! Wait! No! ya don't mean that I–!?" Henry pointed at himself "But I thought you were the–" he turned his finger to Franky "I know I am using their bodies for paint but I don't–" Henry gestured to the bodies before finally letting his arms rest to his sides. With another sighing noise he looked upwards, hoping he was mistaken "You don't mean to tell me the boss wants me to actually participate in the show right? I thought you were supposed to kill 'em quick!”

Franky continued to point at Henry and gave another subtle nod. He didn't like the idea either but ultimately knew better than to get jealous, besides this would be a temporary break for the object head where he'd be free of the ever present ringing. Franky regretted thinking such harsh things earlier, seeing how Henry reacted it was clear he didn't intend to steal the spotlight in any way shape or form. The rabbit overall did enjoy his phone—associate? Friend? Brethren? Whatever he was—he found Henry not only somewhat humorous but a stark contrast to his brother. While he occasionally worried and was fearful of what Frankie would do, Henry was the complete opposite and actually feared him. Franky didn't exactly like being feared but he understood it, trying his best to appear friendly and to ease any nerves he caused to someone he never wished to harm again.

This friendly and relaxed attitude did help. Henry took a step past Franky and started to head out of the camera’s blindspot, watching closely as the rabbit tailed him "Well I can give it a shot but I wouldn't know what to actually do, it's just chasing them and trying to grab ‘em right?”

Franky stood still. That was essentially it at a first glance but there was a bit more complexity to killing in his book. There was a right and wrong time to do it, like when they are trying to run back out from whence they came and they are only a step away before you quickly grab them, yank them back, and watch as they scream as they watch the exit they were so close to get quickly farther and farther. It was small things like that that made killing a lot more than just “grabbing someone”.

“Honestly if it's as easy as you make it look then I'm sure I can put on a show that'll be close to what you're capable of” Henry stroked his phone as if he were slicking his hair back and nudged Franky’s springy legs “of course no one does it better than you big guy, honestly it may be better if I give them one little scare and BOOM! You can come out and finish ‘em!”

Franky immediately nodded at the suggestion, his head rocking so fast his spring made it bounce up and down a bit.

Henry gave a small chuckle at the rabbit’s enthusiasm and kicked a vent open “alrighty I guess that's settled, be seeing ya once we're on air then Franky”

With one final wave the objecthead departed and Franky finally calmed down, giving a wave as he watched his friend intently.

Was Henry truly his friend? It was very well established the object head did fear him to a certain degree but simultaneously Henry was the only one he felt truly comfortable with. He loved Frankie of course but sometimes he couldn't help but feel like he just wasn't his brother. As horrible as that was to say, certain moments made the rabbit consider he was wrong in one more way than he thought. He held no memories of what Franky was like when he was alive nor did he have any interest to have those memories. Franky, the original, would probably unconditionally do what he was told and not question the commands of someone that was family.

So why was it that he was questioning Frankie?

It didn't make any sense and he felt himself grasping at ideas in his head that would perhaps explain. Instead all that Franky could think of was what happened with Henry and the mural still on the wall. The demented drawing made from the deceased was a straight cry for help made because Henry was created with a massive flaw. Frankie surely didn't intend for Henry to be pained by the very shtick he was known for but why was it that he forced the telephone to do his show every single night? Why did he force Henry to continue pretending to want people to call in? The question that plagued him most of all and was what caused Henry to fear him in the first place was why did Frankie force him to punish Henry for rightfully getting mad once? It wouldn't have affected the show that drastically and it was a small mistake. Was it simply that he was in the wrong here? Were the begging words of Henry truly meant to be ignored and he was supposed to blindly carry out such a task without question? Franky didn't know. He felt like he probably didn't need to know. After all, with a new season coming on the air he should focus on getting things set up for the incoming contestants. Everything had to be perfect, and if it meant blindly following orders then so be it. It wasn't just about the TV show anymore, this was about Frankie and his desire for this entire gameshow to grow into what it originally was. To be so much bigger, better, so much more than they currently had.