#which was what i was going for

[llamagoddessofficial]

Had my brain taken over by this scenario. Enjoy a snippet.

---

“Agent, are you in?”

“I’m in position.”

“Agent is in position. Everyone else, stand by.”

That was you. The ‘everyone else’ part- not the 'agent' part. About six other people were placed around the massive room in various spots. You didn't even know who the other people are, to preserve their safety. You glanced up from the bar, making sure not to look at the agent at the top casino table, instead admiring the very, very expensive casino you were in, the chandeliers and diamonds and saturated golden colour to everything. Your only job was to listen out for one of two codes. If you heard the first code, you were to make your way to the exit in your own time. If you heard the second code, you and the others were to get the agent out, and protect him with your life.

You were collateral.

... You had never seen such an expensive place. Chandeliers hanging from the ceiling, the usual blaring lights and sounds were missing, this was far too refined an establishment. This was the kind of casino where the small blind would be the cost of a really nice house. You were sitting at the bar, wearing a dress and jewellery provided for you, ‘drinking’ (not really) an incredibly expensive martini paid for by the company card-  in any other circumstance, you probably wouldn’t even be allowed into this place. Perhaps as a dishwasher hidden away in the kitchens, if you were lucky.

You sipped the drink. You didn’t even know what the mission was, only the people vital to the mission knew what the mission was, to protect those involved. Honestly, you were just absorbing the glitz and glamour. A glimpse of a world you’d never be a part of. You had nothing to do except intervene if things went south. 

“Target has entered the room. Wait for him to sit at the table and place his bet. Eyes on the prize.”

...

“Hold on. Target passed the table. He...”

...

Your earpiece cut out. Weird. But that probably meant things were getting serious at the betting table, and the important stuff was happening. You weren’t privy to that.

A skeletal hand placed itself onto the bar, just next to you. The deepest voice you’d ever heard spoke.

“... this seat... taken, doll?”

You glanced up from your drink, and found yourself staring into the eyes of...

... the eyelight of Sans Serif.

Woah. Holy shit. You froze, for a second, pinned under that burning red eye... Sans Serif himself. That signature golden tooth. All but leaning over you, his physique was absolutely was towering, especially considering you were sitting. Didn’t his dad own the guy who ran this place? He was more physically intimidating up close than he was in pictures, with those massive shoulders and hands, that vicious skull crack only just hidden under his hat.

... But equally, he was a lot more handsome than photos gave him credit for. You hadn't expected that. Sharp cheekbones, strong jaw, he suited the perfectly tailored red and black suit made exactly to his massive measurements.

“Oh. Uhm... no, it’s fine, you can sit here.” You were nervous. This guy was a big fish, easily the biggest in the casino, one of the biggest in the world. Private jets and yachts, he played at the betting table with amounts of money you couldn't even imagine. He was born into more money than you could ever even comprehend.

He and his family could make you vanish. Not that he needed his family, though. One hand could snap your neck.

... He sat beside you. Your eyes darted up, making note of the two security guards who shuffled to either end of the bar. Suited just as well as him, in matching colours, sunglasses over their eyes and earbuds in their ears.

“... sorry, darlin’. don’t... mind them.” His voice was warm, rich, very soft. He spoke slowly, as if you were the only person in the room with him, but with a precision and deliberateness to his words that sounded like he had spent many hours practising speech. “can’t... go nowhere... without ‘em.”

Wow. He was talking to you. What was he doing? Was he just bored? There were other available seats at the bar, next to much more beautiful women. There were a lot of very beautiful women in this casino who would be delighted to keep the company of the Red Devil himself.

“... If I’m honest, I don’t think they’ll be doing much guarding.” You figured you’d just engage him like he was a normal person. Politely, of course- but no reason why not. 

“hm?” His huge eyelight was fuzzy at the edges.

You gave him a look. “I mean... they’re half your size. They look like your minibosses.”

He chuckled at that. It was a gentle and handsome sound, it eased you. You were still trying to grapple with the fact that Sans Serif was sitting beside you, talking to you. The two of you were from completely different universes.

He seemed so much less intimidating than people described, though. Weird.

The bartender slid Sans a drink without him even asking. It looked like an expensive whiskey, in an equally expensive crystal glass, with a single piece of ice.

“not... bettin’, tonight?” He spoke slowly, lifting the drink to his mouth. He had a golden ring on his index finger that probably cost more than your rent. What was he doing? Were... were you being flirted with by Sans Serif?

You giggled. “No, no, absolutely not. I’m terrible at cards, and dice, everything. Not a chance.”

He grinned. “s’... smart. seen... lotta suckers... lose everything, at those tables.”

He sounded so friendly. So nice. You were unwinding- it strangely so easy to forget who he was.

“Not like I have much money to lose anyway.”

“what brings you... to a casino, then?”

“I’m gonna be honest, I don’t really belong in this sort of place. My friends like the casino a lot more than I do.” You glanced away, again having to make a conscious effort to avoid looking at the agent. “But it seems like they’ve abandoned me.”

... He looked down at your untouched martini. “well. may i... keep you... company? doll?”

You nearly flushed. “Of course.”

His eyelight raked over you. His voice was so deep, so pleasant. “d'ya think... i could start... by gettin’ you a drink you like?”

Sans wanted to buy you a drink? You were... well. Honestly, you were flattered. But also a little embarrassed at being caught out with disliking your drink. You pushed the martini glass away from you.

“It’s that easy to tell I don’t like it?”

The corner of his working socket crinkled. “made... a funny face, when y’sipped it.”

You couldn’t help but giggle again. “I’m sorry. I try so hard to like martinis.”

His smile grew. “why?” 

“... They look so elegant. But...” you nearly cringed at yourself. “... I think they’re kinda nasty.”

He laughed. You felt proud of yourself for getting the sound out of him. You didn't notice the surprised look on his guards' faces.

He brought up his hand, resting his chin on it- why was he looking at you like that? Like you were the only person in the room? “what drinks do you like?”

“The ones that are more fruit juice than alcohol.”

“that... can be arranged.” He purred. “no one will judge. since you’re with me.”

... He was right. Nobody was going to pick you up on drinking something less fancy, when you were with the man himself.

“... I like a tequila sunrise.” You said, sheepishly.

He grinned, and looked to the bartender.

“two tequila sunrises, rob.”

---

Sans straightened his jacket as you walked away. Once you were out of sight, his head guard moved over to him, speaking with a low voice.

“Sir?”

“change... my dinner reservation... to two. i want her at my hotel. tonight.”

“Sir, you're aware that she’s...”

He cast his gaze to his guard. His eyelight, soft and warm with you, was now sharp and empty of feeling. “do i look stupid?”

The guard bowed his head in apology. “No, sir. I am just concerned about the Institute.”

He sneered. “they don’t... care. they’ll see that... i’m interested in her... and turn her into ‘bait’. they’ll put her... right in my lap.”

“Yes, sir.”

“make sure... the jet is fuelled. once we’re leaving... it’ll be fast.”

“Yes, sir.”

... Sans paused. He stared in the direction you had left in. His voice, this time, came out much gentler.

“... make the cabin fridge drinks... sweet.”

“Yes, sir.”

[drowxiv]

The Bodyguard. I've always liked their size difference in the sense that Rachel is just as powerful as Viedyn, if not more. That only makes him more proud to serve as her guard.

[trans-cuchulainn]

as an aroace person with limited sexual experience, no interest in watching porn, and poor sex ed as a teen, there IS something simultaneously funny and vaguely tragic about being 28 adult years old and realising how extremely tiny your frame of reference is for genitalia and deciding you should expand this to better understand bodies (yours and others). and then you're just there like "okay so what the fuck do I even google right now, anyway"

[ink-the-artist]

Love the contrast between the Americans’ “Apollo” and the Soviets’ “Sputnik.” You got the Americans naming their rocket after a Greek god trying to communicate the grandness and importance of this rocket. And you got the Soviets naming their rocket “fellow traveler.” Like a friend you go on an  adventure with together. This rocket is our little friend lol 

[stargirl230]

you’re my hero!

bnha doomed yuri was not on my 2024 bingo card

(no reposts; reblogs appreciated)

[biggest-gaudiest-patronuses]

the fact that shakespeare was a playwright is sometimes so funny to me. just the concept of the "greatest writer of the English language" being a random 450-year-old entertainer, a 16th cent pop cultural sensation (thanks in large part to puns & dirty jokes & verbiage & a long-running appeal to commoners). and his work was made to be watched not read, but in the classroom teachers just hand us his scripts and say "that's literature"

just...imagine it's 2450 A.D. and English Lit students are regularly going into 100k debt writing postdoc theses on The Simpsons screenplays. the original animation hasn't even been preserved, it's literally just scripts and the occasional SDH subtitles.txt. they've been republished more times than the Bible

[heedra]

talking to preschoolers is awesome bc they have not fully differentiated stories into 'true stories' and 'imaginary stories' yet so you will tell them about something that happened you once (coyote came out of a bush right in front of you and got startled) and they will tell you about how one time their house was full of coyotes in every room 'including five in the garage' and they're not even like, aware i think of the idea that they are technically 'lying'. they are simply telling stories about coyotes bc its time to tell stories about coyotes.

[lazylittledragon]

if i had a nickel for every au spawned from twitter that i SWORE i was going to be normal about

[bisexualpercyjacksons]

pjo tv show episode 5 alignment:

[starry-bi-sky]

I am loudly pushing the batdad agenda i am loudly pushing the— DPxDC Prompt

“Woah. You look like shit."

Granted, that’s probably not the first thing Danny should be saying to the guy that just bit the curb, but in his defense; he’s not running on 100% right now either.

The man -- tall, towering, and broader than Danny is tall -- whips around on his heel, black frayed cape flaring out impressively. Danny would've whistled in appreciation, but he takes the time instead to wipe the back of his hand across his mouth, smearing the blood running from his nose across his cheek.

"Sorry." He blinks widely, not even flinching as the man with the horns zeroes in on him. "That was rude of me. I have a really bad brain-to-mouth filter; Sam says its what always gets me into trouble."

And she's not wrong either, per say. His smart mouth is what landed him in this situation -- with blood blossom extract running through his veins and cannibalizing the ectoplasm in his bloodstream. Thanks Vlad.

The man grunts at him; a short, curt "hm" that shouldn't make Danny smile, but he does because he's somewhat delirious and probably concussed. The man keeps some kind of distance, sinking towards the shadows of Gotham's alleyway like he dares to melt right into it.

If it's supposed to scare Danny, it doesn't work. Danny's never been afraid of the dark; he's always been able to hide himself in it. He blinks slowly at the mass of shadows.

"You look hurt." The shadows says, blurring together around the edges. Danny squints, and licks his lips to get the blood dripping down his chin off. Ugh, he hates the taste of blood.

"I am." He says, "My godfather poisoned me. M'dying." The agony of the blood blossom eating him from the inside out looped back around to numbing a while ago, so all he feels is half-awake and dazed.

"Hey," Danny stumbles forward towards the man, a bloodied hand reaching out to him. "You-- you're a hero, right? You're not attacking me; which is more than I can say for most costumed people I've met." Maybe it's a poor bar to judge someone at, but he's already established that Danny's not in his right mind.

The man makes no change in expression, but Danny realizes blearily that it's hard to tell with the shadows on his face. He stays still long enough for Danny to latch onto the cape -- stretchy, but almost soft under his fingers.

He looks up blearily into the whites of the man's eyes. "Can you help me? I don't-- I don't wanna die." Again. He doesn't wanna die again. He blinks slow and lizard-like. "I mean- I'll probably get to see mom and dad again, but I told them I'd at least try and make it to adulthood."

There's a clatter down the street, and Danny's ghost sense chills up his spine and leaves a bitter, ashy taste in his mouth. He immediately knows who it belongs to even before the deceptively gentle; "Daniel?" echoes down the way.

"Daniel? Quit your games, badger, Gotham is dangerous for children."

Danny's mouth pulls back, and blood spills against his tongue. "Please." He rasps, and grabs onto the shadow's cape with both hands. "Please. He's going to kill me. Please--"

"Daniel? Is that you?"

His lips part, dragging in air to plead with the darkness again. He doesn't need to, the whites of his eyes narrow, and the cape whirls around him before Danny can blink. Soon swaddled in shadows, the Night lifts him up, and steals him away.

[umblrspectrum]

nevermind i figured out how to draw her

[egophiliac]

was this anyone else's first thought, or

[anna-scribbles]

last one i promise(<—lie)

[hinamie]

spiraling

[cimicherrychanga]

you may add ur height in the tags if u want ppl to see if they were right or not after they voted

[billpottsismygf]

Doctor Who: The Impossible Planet & The Satan Pit / The Legend of Ruby Sunday