#I’d say either aled and dan

[heartstopperthoughts]

What is the most underappreciated Osemanverse relationship (either romantic or platonic?)

#question Sunday #haven’t done one of these in awhile #I’d say either aled and dan #aled and francis #or maybe Nick and Tara #they go from childhood crushes to the most supportive and caring friendship #osemanverse #alice oseman

[phanfictioncatalogue]

Pansexual Masterlist

Almost (ao3) - orphan_account

Summary: Dan Howell, a.k.a., british YouTuber, danisnotonfire, is in love with his flatmate and bestfriend, Phil Lester, a.k.a., AmazingPhil.

Phil comes out as pansexual in his recent vlog, but also has some other news in the video.

Now Dan is heartbroken, achey, and must try to get over Phil.

Who knows how well that will go?

An Insomniac’s Daydream (ao3) - Young_Rouge_Rose

Summary:

Dan Howell is an insomniac, a pianist, and possibly a modern day Nostradamus, as his twisted dreams seem to be pointing towards the destruction of the world. When plagued with such dreams he does what any sane and natural human being would. He gives up sleep. No sleep. No dreams. No end. Phil Lester is a humble barista who feels like a daydream and somehow manages to keep the monsters, which come with such twisted dreams at bay. But there is more to it than meets the eye, for the past always has a way of catching up with you. This has happened before, but it can't happen again.

Axiom of Infinity (ao3) - OliveTheHobbit, pttnwho

Summary: “We love each other in every reality possible, don’t we?”

In which Yazi Howell finally meets her girlfriend, and the love of her life, Fionna Lester.

Camp (ao3) - drxpdead

Summary: Camp Overfell is a two month long escape from the troubling teenage life. At least, that's what the website says.

For Dan Howell, it's nothing but an excuse for his parents to get rid of him for the summer, and rightly so. Okay, so maybe he fucks up sometimes. He didn't mean to set the classroom on fire, he was just trying to liven up the coma-inducing lesson. Long story short, he doesn't want to be here.

But he is, and dealing with it isn't easy. Three roommates, one bathroom and constant adult supervision? Not his idea of an 'escape'.

What he needs is fun, and maybe his eccentric bunk mates can help with that.

Dan Howell (ao3) - AlexLester98

Summary: Dan is 17 and pansexual. He has a secret boyfriend named Phil and a lesbian best friend named Kat. Everything seems perfect until prom night when both are hospitalised, after that everything goes to shit.

I Swear I'd Burn This City Down (To Show You the Light) (ao3) - JaydenMichaelis

Summary: Phil (AKA Amazingphil) and dress wearing Dan (AKA Danisnotonfire) are two very odd people. A romantic relationship between them could easily be the best thing in the world, or it could explode. Either way, things will catch fire.

Kanye Fuckers (ao3) - snailthesaints

Summary: Daddy Shrek added AmazingPhil, sleep lord, frnkiero, spooky jim, tj and kanye west.

Daddy Shrek changed the name to Favourite Accounts ✨

Daddy Shrek: hey guys! you’re my favourite accounts but we’ve never rlly spoken so i’d love to say hi Daddy Shrek: in case you didn’t know i’m dan :)

Maybe I Don’t Want Heaven - phanficsinyourhair

Summary: Something that started out as innocent can become something that ends up in tears.

Pills And Daffodils (wattpad) - howellyoudoing

Summary: 17 year old  Dan Howell feels as he has nothing to live for. He is constantly bullied at school for being pansexual and 99℅ of his family are homophobic assholes. Sooner or later, he finds himself at the psychiatric ward at the local hospital due to an overdose.

Phil Lester is a nurse at this hospital and notices  Dan when he is brought in on a bright yellow gurney. Instantly, Phil fell in love.  He decides to leave a little pink sticky note and a daffodil one night on Dan’s bedside table; an action that will change their lives forever.

Trigger Warning: suicidal themes and mentions of  depression.

push a button and rewind (everything comes back to you) (ao3) - localopa

Summary: the problem with being confident in his heterosexuality didn’t come until his parents decided to go to america for the summer. (or the one where coming to terms with your sexuality should be as easy as going on holiday) (or the summer holiday sexuality crisis nobody asked for)

The Origin of Love (ao3) - outphan

Summary: Every year after people turn 19, all of the kingdom gathers to find out those people’s soulmates. Most people find it out instantly, only some have to wait years. Phil is one of them. Prince Daniel has been studying at a faraway kingdom, but now he is finished with school so he’s to return to his kingdom. In time for his soulmate ceremony, 4 years after Phil's. However, there are more, darker things on the horizon, for both of them...

The Summer (ao3) - auroraphilealis (peachrosepetals), worriedpeach (skeletonflowers)

Summary: Dan Howell has spent the last three summers at Camp Bergamot, but it’s never been quite like this before. This year, he faces a summer full of new friends, a new relationship, and an entirely new view on his own sexuality. Perhaps Camp Bergamot should be renamed camp self discovery for all the changes Dan has gone through, but one thing’s for sure - despite all the hiccups and the drama, he just might have found the love of his life.

Worlds Collide (ao3) - enbyinaband

Summary: Originally posted on January 5th, 2019. As of July 5, 2020 this fic is being updated to remove Cryaotic from the work. Instead, Dan and Phil will be thanking Dave, Boyinaband, for writing the song Spectrum and being an ally who wants to help the community.

Dave gets to fanboy over Dan and Phil too since I will be iupdating this fic to include Basically I'm Gay and Coming Out To You.

#phanfictioncatalogue #phanfiction #phanfic #phan #masterlists #pansexual #pansexual masterlist

[iklees]

The Last Graduate / Naomi Novik

Scholomance #2

[Deel 2 van een trilogie: Spoiler Alert voor wie deel 1 nog niet heeft gelezen!]

De klas van El is nu de hoogste en zich aan het voorbereiden op hun eindexamen. El heeft geen idee waarom haar moeder haar heeft gewaarschuwd tegen Orion. Hij lijkt geen gevaar; nu er veel minder maleficenten zijn die hij kan verslaan, moet zij hem juist redden. Het lijkt erop dat de school het op haar heeft voorzien en dat zij niet alleen zichzelf, maar ook haar medestudenten over de eindstreep zal moeten helpen. Maar zelfs als ze aan de school weten te ontkomen, wil dat nog niet zeggen dat ze veilig zullen zijn. De nieuw-aangekomen eerstejaars hebben verontrustende berichten meegenomen uit de buitenwereld: de enclave van Bangkok is verdwenen, en iedereen vreest dat dat een eerste zet is geweest in een oorlog tussen de machtigste enclaves uit het Westen en Oosten.

“Still think you’re going to stop me? You’re not. I am getting them out. I’m getting them all out, and nothing you do is going to make me leave any of them behind. You’re not going to get a single one of them. I’m going to beat you, I’m going to win, do you hear me?” “Who are you talking to?” Sudarat asked. She gave me a bad start, which I entirely deserved since I’d been so enthusiastic about my stupid ranting that I hadn’t noticed her, and when I’d calmed down my racing heart and shoved down the sixteen different killing spells that had instantly leapt to mind, I said with an attempt at being cool and collected, “Nothing, I was only thinking out loud. What are you doing down here?” Then I looked at the little bundle she was carrying with the end of a loaf of bread poking out of it, and realized, appalled, that she was of Orion’s mindset about picnics in the gym. “You’ve got to be joking,” I said, revolted. “Didn’t I yell enough? You’re only going to mess your own head about, if you don’t get yourself killed. You’ve been in here long enough by now, you must’ve started to understand. It’s not the real thing.” She just stood there and took the lecture, small with her shoulders hunched forward, gripping the handle of her little carrysack with both hands, and then she said softly, “My mother used to tell me for a graduation present she would take me to see the cherry blossom festival in Kyoto. But I will never see it now.” I stopped talking, stopped breathing more or less. She paused, but when I didn’t say anything else, she said, “In my school—in the enclave—they taught us how to pick out the smart kids, the good ones, the best ones to help us. So I know what the good ones are like. And I’m not very good. And nobody wants to be my friend. The enclave kids are all afraid. They don’t know what happened in Bangkok. And I don’t know, either. Everyone thinks I’m lying, but I don’t. I took my grandmother’s dog out for a walk and then we came back and the door—the door to the enclave didn’t work anymore. It was just a door to an empty apartment. And everyone was gone.” She swallowed visibly. “My auntie was working in Shanghai, she came home and took care of me. She gave me everything she could spare. But it isn’t enough to save someone who isn’t very good, that nobody likes. I know it’s not.”

Het verhaal gaat in volle vaart verder. Nog wat grimmiger dan in het eerste deel. El blijft worstelen met haar kracht en de vloek die -- volgens haar overgrootmoeder -- op haar rust, en met de verantwoordelijkheid die ze door de school krijgt opgedrongen. Het verhaal neemt een paar interessante wendingen. Op naar deel drie The Golden Enclaves!

#Scholomance #Naomi Novik

[sportinternshipagf]

Entry 5:

Throughout my time spent at AGF I had many small achievements and milestone moments. An achievement was that all the hard work I’d put in throughout my lifetime meant I had a great CV. Which made me attracted to AGF.

I also achieved the experience of the city hustle and bustle of a businessman which I had been looking forward. There were many small milestones whilst at AGF “milestones are used to assess competency” (Tekian, A et al 2014)

Amys Gran Fondo was the first milestone in my internship. I also got to achieve something I had been wanting to do my whole life, go away on a business trip for work. Amys Gran Fondo took place in Lorne on the Great Ocean Road. On this trip I got to experience corporate dinners, lunches and partnership functions and corporate drinks. I got to taste what I had been looking forward to for a long time and it lived up to expectations. I liaise with industry partners, told my story, listened to others, asked questions and received professional and life advice.

I was lucky enough that I got 100 hours into my internship within the first month of my time at AGF. The first 100 hours went relatively well, I hadn’t been given any tasks that were meaningful or challenging but I was told that shortly we would be screenings, interviewing and hiring new employees once we received a grant. The grant would also allow me to look at the plan on how AGF were going to use the money to better the business. Insight into the strategy of AGF excited me and made me very excited for the next 128 hours.

At the 200 hour milestone I had been informed that we had not received our grant and that we were not going to either. Which was extremely disappointing for myself individually but you could also see how it affected the mood of the staff that make up the business. AGF were so low on money at this stage that Amelia was only working one day a week as the COO as that's all they could afford. I was working hard away on creating a dinner to be hosted at ExCEO of Telstra's house Andy Penn. Planning this event was a struggle as I didn’t have anyone to ask advice from or seek guidance as the organisation had withered away before my eyes. So I had to rely heavily on the likes of Holly and Kyle for guidance as they had already conducted similar feats.

On the 14th of October I reached the 228 Hour requirement of my Internship, I had spent 229.5 hours with the organisation to be exact. My last day was the Friday before Andy Penns dinner which would be held in a couple of days on Monday night. Thursday I received a message from Dan saying the name tags I had made were not adequate, despite having them ticked off by Amelia. And that I had spelt a name wrong, despite myself copying the names exact from the document I was given. I went into the office for my last day to print out 13 name tags. Concluding my printing session I emailed Dan asking him what he wanted me to do for the remainder of the day, to which he said he had nothing more for me to complete. So unfortunately I left my internship with a sour taste in my mouth as I spent more then twice as long on public transport that day than what I did in the office. Where I was correcting errors that had previously been signed off. 

Nonetheless, I was still grateful for my internship experience and that I had managed to achieve all of my hours in a fast duration. GIving me time to focus on studies and my job which was becoming rapidly more intense. 

References:

Tekian, A et al (2014) Assessing competencies using milestones along the way, Medical teacher https://d1wqtxts1xzle7.cloudfront.net/42783651/Assessing_competencies_using_milestones_20160217-11682-1no8f1d-libre.pdf?1455757646=&response-content-disposition=inline%3B+filename%3DAssessing_competencies_using_milestones.pdf&Expires=1673568232&Signature=VXiXnY4GrWJWIFd7p5RxACr-wplVmV3zg4yATqwjFWe0NT4lpQoWHerp8rLaFSxu9NWkMeyLV9CyQq1Ae~rjf3mSF4WpN0aLXT8-YSY~tqo7TvrOAKAaNvZtuqKJqcnyUcdOlDWuktHgP2PEA5gwcXN1CgJHvnZCq14bekE~Wh3Hhb0vSX5DRgoSDGFkzMiZMbxv2qU32OoLheAll58a6KTZJUQGZnAlvNbymS50Hl9uBQDSWx~~Tfo7mlpmCqoMceY9bLp~zvXyCuzCVP6FXmOCXc0kiSwrSjkWX6AAaEuP~EesvS6mAj5kGKWTsp33K6qakMlEJnX6rG-If7KVeQ__&Key-Pair-Id=APKAJLOHF5GGSLRBV4ZA

[weirdlandtv]

There’s an an old comics adage that says that if you can draw pretty women, you’re never out of work. I guess it could be true. Not so much today maybe, as modern audiences look for a little more, but in the days of the classic comic strips, sure. It’s hard to draw an attractive woman in that old-fashioned way. To not make them look stilted and designed or like hollow caricatures of voluptuous Venuses. There’s a bit of a catch though it seems: artists who had the gift of drawing beautiful women often tended to draw them all the same way, with the same faces and figures, just with different hair: assembly line style, like LEGO figures. Think of Dan DeCarlo’s JOSIE.

Daisy Mae, from Al Capp’s L’IL ABNER, has to be one of the most beautiful comic characters that ever existed. Especially in the hands of the masterful Frank Frazetta, whose drawing skills were beyond the beyond anyway.

In the comic, Daisy Mae is frequently admired as a creature of impossible physical beauty. The art reflects it, makes it believable. Time and again wolves pop up who are lusting after her—kidnapping her, carrying her off, tricking her into marriage, “You will learn to love me”, that sort of thing. One crazy artist who kidnaps her wants to draw her “perfect legs” but is so distracted by her beauty that he has to cover the rest of her or else he can’t get any work done. (It wasn’t until years later that I learned that Daisy Mae is “that one character” who graced so many fighter planes during WWII, as I wasn’t aware of the comic as a kid—it’s a very American comic, in Holland, where I’m from, it’s virtually unknown.) Daisy Mae herself of course is in love with L’il Abner, yet he most of the time has no interest in her and rather spends his time wrestling and tickling his friends (and enemies) and displaying his absolutely perfect physique and his swinging, boyish coif. (It all looks pretty homoerotic today actually.)

The women in L’IL ABNER are either very ugly or very beautiful, there’s no middle ground. They are either amazons or trolls. The men are all buffoons, some are creepy buffoons. Straight up old burlesque theatre really. Reading the comic, you realize how close things were to old theatrical conventions back then, not just comics but also cinema, cartoons—closer to the droll and sometimes cheeky antics of 17th-century farces than to our post-modern, meta, wink-within-a-wink sense of comedy. (Today we find awkwardness funny, rather than the subversion of social norms.) It’s much more physical. That said, it’s a clever strip, well-written, sharp and casually venomous. It provided commentary on itself and on other comics long before this became common. It had an edge.

And Daisy Mae, besides being gorgeous, does have personality. I’d say she has more personality than Abner himself, whom I find kind of annoying honestly. Daisy Mae is funny and sincere, and passionate if nothing else. Her desperate courting of the absolutely stoic L’il Abner comes off as stalkerish to us modern readers maybe, but fine, we’ll just brush over that a little—just like we, if we’re to enjoy the comic, have to brush over the fact that Al Capp in real life was a right bastard, a monster, and not very funny at all. (How quickly you find yourself becoming an iconoclast if you read up on the biographies of the artists you admire...)

L’IL ABNER once was the most popular newspaper strip in America. 70 million readers or some such astronomical number. Today, I see very little of it—I hardly ever hear it being mentioned or referenced, online panels from it are relatively rare compared to other comics (I had to dig deep). Is it on its way to being forgotten?

#comics #comic art #lil abner #l’il abner #al capp #frank frazetta #art #vintage #classic #legs #daisy mae

[thelastspeecher]

A Case of Mistaken Identity - Chapter 4: Fear No Weather

Chapter 1   Chapter 2   Chapter 3   Chapter 4   AO3

I don’t often just sort of, discretely, without warning, update a multichap.  I usually mention ahead of time that I’m working on the next chapter and it’s getting close, maybe I even post a small screenshot.  But this time, I was so focused on getting the next chapter of this fic up that I forewent that.

Anyways, this chapter has Stan being a cynic and Mabel being a delight and Fiddleford being suspicious of what exactly Ford is up to when he’s not around.  Enjoy.

———————————————————————————————————–

              Ford gaped at Stan.

              “What do you mean, ‘who are they’?  They’re your children!” Ford protested.  “I told you that-”

              “Yeah, you said that I had two kids that showed up at your place,” Stan said.  He crossed his arms.  “I was an idiot to believe you.”

              “They are your-”

              “Hey, kids,” Stan barked.

              “Yes?” Dipper squeaked.

              “You twins?” Stan asked.  Dipper and Mabel nodded.  “How old are the two of you?”

              “Twelve,” Mabel replied.

              “Twelve.”  Stan narrowed his eyes at Ford.  “If they were mine, I woulda had to knock up some poor girl while I still lived at home. I know you don’t think much of me, but do you really think I’d be a teen dad?  After everything Pops pounded into our skulls?”

              “I wouldn’t put it past you,” Ford said shortly. Stan huffed impatiently.  He began to walk away.  Ford raised his voice.  “After all, you seem perfectly fine abandoning your children!”  Stan rounded on Ford, his face beet red.

              “Fuck off, you prick!” he snarled.  Fiddleford let out a yelp.

              “Stanley, please, there are children here!” Fiddleford protested.  Stan didn’t even look over at Fiddleford, instead continuing to glare at Ford.

              “Shut up, Ford’s ‘partner’,” he ground out, etching air quotes around the word “partner”.  Fiddleford flushed.  “First off, kids should learn swears.  Second, I don’t give a damn about keeping a clean mouth when Ford’s telling me I’m a deadbeat dad and fine with it.  He knows that I always swore I wouldn’t do that.”

              “You also swore you’d stand by me, only to sabotage-” Ford started.  Stan threw his hands into the air.

              “Wow, it only took you five minutes to bring that up, huh?  I went outta my way to come see you ‘cause you insisted-”

              “As if you were doing anything of note-” Ford scoffed.

              “For all you know, I was solving cancer!”

              “You were either dumpster diving or being thrown out of a casino!”

              “Like you’re doing something more important, holed up in a romantic cabin-”

              “Gentlemen!” Fiddleford said loudly.

              “You’re not involved, hayseed.  And trust me, you don’t want to be,” Stan snarled.

              “Don’t call Fiddleford-”

              “I’ll call him whatever the damn well I want to!” Stan’s voice was now a low roar. Ford raised his to match.

              “Oh, Lord,” Fiddleford muttered, kneading his forehead.

              “Just let them tire themselves out,” Mabel said. Fiddleford shook his head.

              “Sweetling, I grew up with five siblin’s.  I know when an argument will turn into a fist fight,” he said tiredly.  Dipper and Mabel exchanged a look.

              “Should we spill the beans?” Mabel whispered.

              “They’ll figure it out eventually.  We might as well tell them before they bring the house down,” Dipper hissed back.  Mabel nodded. She hopped off her chair and walked over to the brothers, who had progressed to screaming at each other.

              “Stan’s right,” she called over the noise.  Stan gestured at her.

              “See, Sixer?  I told you I didn’t have any kids.”

              “What?  But…” Ford seemed heartbroken.  “I don’t-”

              “Stan isn’t our dad.  He’s our great-uncle.  And as far as we can tell, so are you, Ford.”

              “Great, huh?” Stan snorted.  He crossed his arms.  “Kid, we haven’t known each other long enough for you to know what I’m like as an uncle.”

              “Not great as in like, good.  Great as in…”  Mabel looked at Dipper, who got down from his chair and joined her.

              “Great as in two generations removed,” he explained. Ford frowned.

              “A great-uncle is the brother of a grandparent. Are you saying that Shermie is your grandfather?”  Dipper and Mabel nodded.  “That’s impossible.  Shermie’s children aren’t old enough to have children your age.  Not to mention, Shermie’s too young to be a grandfather.”

              “Right now, he’s too young,” Dipper agreed. Ford’s eyes widened.  He crouched down to the twins’ eye-height.

              “Are you suggesting you are from the future?” he asked breathlessly.  Dipper and Mabel nodded again.  Ford’s eyes, brown like theirs, sparkled behind his glasses.  “Remarkable.”

              “Really?  You believe them?” Stan demanded.  “You’re not even gonna ask for proof?”

              “I’ve seen far stranger things in Gravity Falls than time travelers,” Ford said.  He raised an eyebrow.  “Though maybe Stanley has a point.  Do you two have any proof to offer?”  Wordlessly, Dipper drew the journal from his jacket.  Ford’s jaw dropped.  “My journal!”

              “Don’t read anything in it,” Dipper said quickly. Ford nodded.

              “I won’t even open it, my dear boy.  Just seeing the outside is enough to fully sway my opinion.”  Ford looked the journal over a few times, then handed it back, despite clearly wanting to hold on to it longer.  Stan scoffed.

              “He shows you some book and you’re convinced, huh? Y’know, pulling a prank doesn’t have to be this damn complicated,” Stan said snidely.  Ford stood.  He frowned at Stan.

              “This is no prank.”

              “If you want me to believe you, I’m gonna need some proof.”  Stan stared directly at Dipper and Mabel.  “Tell me tomorrow’s lotto numbers.”

              “We don’t know those,” Dipper said.  Mabel shook her head.

              “If you’re really from the future, you’d have some fancy future tech,” Stan said.  Dipper and Mabel shook their heads.  Stan’s face hardened.  “Yeah. Figured.”

              “Uh, give us a moment,” Dipper said.  He pulled Mabel over to the side to whisper to her.  “How are we supposed to convince Stan?  He’s a notorious cynic!  I mean, he lived in Gravity Falls for years, but refused to acknowledge the existence of the supernatural!”

              “Well, we don’t have any technology that is future-y enough,” Mabel said slowly.  “Maybe we let him know something that we know about him?”

              “That would only work if Ford didn’t know it, either. If it’s something Ford would know, then Stan will just think Ford told us.”

              “So it has to be something that happened after Stan left home,” Mabel said.  Dipper nodded.  “Hmm…” Her eyes brightened.  “Oh!  I’ve got it!”

              “Really?”

              “Yeah!”

----- 

              A couple weeks into their stay in Gravity Falls, Mabel woke up before Dipper.  Knowing how late her brother tended to stay up, she decided to let him sleep in, and happily traipsed downstairs for some breakfast.  Her bubbly mood was slightly stifled by the sight of Stan in just his boxers and undershirt, cooking at the stove, looking more ogrish than usual.

              He probably just hasn’t had a chance to freshen up yet.

              “You’re up early,” Stan grunted.  Using a large wooden spoon, he poked whatever was cooking in the skillet.

              “I don’t need much beauty sleep,” Mabel replied. To her delight, the comment elicited a small smile from Stan.  She bounded to his side.  “What’s for breakfast?”

              “I went classic today.  Bacon and eggs.”

              “…Bacon?”

              “Yeah.  You heard of it, right?  It’s the best dam- darn food in the world, kid.”

              “No, I’ve heard of it.  I’ve even had it.  But Dad told us that you keep kosher, like Grampie Shermie.”

              “Heh.  He probably thinks that ‘cause Shermie told him we kept kosher as kids.  But the day I left home, I said ‘screw it’ and tried bacon. Never looked back.  Best decision I ever made.”

              “Really?  You haven’t done anything else in your entire life that was better than deciding to eat bacon?” Mabel asked doubtfully.  A sudden somber fell over her grunkle.

              “…No,” he said.

              “Oh.”  It was as though Stan’s mood was contagious.  Mabel could feel herself getting more serious as well.  “That’s kinda sad, though.”

              “Eating bacon is the best thing I’ve done so far,” Stan said brightly.  His mood switch was so abrupt that Mabel doubted it was genuine.  “I might be old, but I’ve still got some time to do something even better than eat bacon.”

              “Like what?” Mabel asked.  Stan raised an eyebrow at her.

              “Whattaya think?”

              “Hmm…”  Mabel frowned thoughtfully.  She beamed. “Oh!  You could write a series of mystery novels called Crime Grandpa!” Stan snorted.  Mabel took this as a sign to continue.  “You could teach a bear how to drive!”

              “That’s actually not half bad,” Stan said.

              “You could save Dipper from magical math!”

              “Magical math, huh?” Stan asked.  Mabel nodded.  “How would I do that?”

              “You’re the one that saves him, not me.”

              “Heh.”  Stan ruffled Mabel’s hair.  “Guess I’ll have to work on that one, then.  Now, stop bugging me, or I’ll burn breakfast.”

              Mabel went over to the kitchen table.  She sat in her chair, kicking her legs idly.  As she waited for food, she could barely make out Stan muttering to himself.

              “I bet Dan could find some bear I could use…”

----- 

              “What did you think of?” Dipper asked, dragging Mabel out of the memory.  Mabel grinned and trotted over to Stan.  She leaned her head back to look into his face.

              “Grunkle Stan, your favorite food is bacon!” she said. Stan’s face went slack.

              “No, it’s toffee peanuts,” Ford said.  “Stan’s never even had bacon.”

              “The day after he left home, he tried bacon,” Mabel said, “and he never looked back.”  Stan swore softly under his breath.  “Do you believe us now, Grunkle Stan?”

              “I don’t think I fully believe you, squirt,” Stan said after a moment.  “But you’ve got my attention at least.  I’ll hear you out.”  Mabel’s grin broadened.  Stan looked over at Fiddleford.  “Why are you so quiet, hayseed?  No comment?”

              “I already said my comments when they told me the truth the other day,” Fiddleford said with a shrug.  Ford’s jaw dropped again.  “Stanley, since yer willin’ to at least listen now, would ya mind joinin’ us fer breakfast?”

              “A free meal?”  Stan marched over to the table, grabbed a chair, pulled it out, and sat. He put his feet up on the table. “Like I’d turn that down.”

----- 

              While Dipper and Mabel told their great-uncles how they wound up in the past, Stan practically inhaled multiple bowls of breakfast scramble doused in sausage gravy.  The kids watched in almost awe as their grunkle put away food at an unnervingly fast pace.  The speed was actually concerning to Dipper, who began to wonder if there was a nefarious reason for Stan’s appetite.

              It’s like he hasn’t had anything to eat in days. A strange sensation squeezed Dipper’s gut.  That might actually be the case.  Who knows what he’s been up to?  Judging by Fiddleford’s concerned expression, he was thinking along similar lines.

              “Where is this time travel device?” Ford asked, once they had finished their story.

              “We gave it to Mr. McGucket,” Mabel said. Wordlessly, Fiddleford drew the tape measure out of his back pocket.  He placed it on the table.  Ford picked it up.  He let out a long breath of astonishment.

              “This is incredible.”

              “Looks like something you could get at the hardware store for two bucks,” Stan said in between mouthfuls of food.  “Why are you believing these kids?”

              “Do you still doubt they’re from the future?”

              “Yes.  I already said that,” Stan said impatiently.  “I’m just hearing them out so that I can decide whether I actually believe ‘em or not.  So far, I’m leaning towards thinking they’re pulling some sort of weird con.”

              “How else can they convince you?” Ford asked. Stan shrugged.  “If you can’t provide an example of the evidence needed, how-”  Ford was interrupted by a beeping sound.  “What is that?”

              “Hell if I know,” Stan muttered.  He began shoveling food into his mouth again. “Some sorta weird, nerdy, mad science thing?”

              “If it was something Fiddleford or I made, I would recognize the noise it makes,” Ford said irritably.

              “Maybe it started working right while you weren’t looking,” Stan said.  Ford glared.

              “You-”

              “It’s my watch,” Dipper said quickly.  He shut off the alarm on his digital watch. “It’s letting me know the battery’s getting low, that’s all.”

              “That’s yer watch?” Fiddleford asked.  Dipper nodded.  “I’ve never heard a watch make that sort of sound.  What kind is it?”

              “Uh…a digital electronic wristwatch?” Dipper said warily.  Ford and Fiddleford’s eyes widened.  Stan, however, held out a hand.

              “Show me,” he instructed.  Dipper hesitated.  “I won’t steal it from you.  I know better than to pocket something people are looking at.”  Dipper reluctantly removed his watch and handed it over.  Stan held the watch up to his eyes, squinting.

              Why is he holding it so close?  Dipper abruptly remembered how blind Stan was in the future.  Does he need glasses?  Ford does.  Finally, Stan set the watch down on the table.  He slid it back to Dipper, who put it on his wrist again.

              “Why didn’t you show me that from the beginning?” he asked.  Dipper and Mabel’s jaws dropped.

              “Wait, you believe us now?” Dipper asked.  Stan nodded.

              “But…it’s just a watch,” Mabel said.

              “It’s a watch I’ve only ever seen in movies. There’s no reason someone like you would have one.  So I’ll ask again.  Do you kids know any future lotto numbers?” he asked.  The twins shook their heads.  “Dammit,” he muttered.  “Coulda used the dough.”

              “Even if we knew, we wouldn’t tell you,” Mabel said. “We can’t change the future too much.” Stan smiled, but the expression seemed more sad than amused.

              “Kiddo, you two definitely already screwed things up.”

              “But-” Mabel started.  Ford held up a hand.  She fell silent.

              “Stanley is right,” he said solemnly.  “You two have, undoubtedly, altered the future from the one you came from.”

              “So…we won’t be able to get back home?”

              “Not by using the device that took you here alone. You’ll need to also utilize a tool allowing you to travel between realities, as you now come from an alternate universe, as well as the future.”

              “How are we supposed to find something like that?” Dipper asked.  “We stole the tape measure and wound up breaking it!  We have no idea how to go to a different reality.”  A smile spread across Ford’s face.

              “Luckily, I happen to know someone who has much expertise in other realms.”  That got Fiddleford’s attention.  He watched Ford warily.  “I will go consult him.”  Without another word, he got up from his chair and left the kitchen.

              “Great, just great,” Fiddleford muttered under his breath.  He began to clear the table.  “He’s gettin’ his lil friend involved.”

              “You seem peeved, Fiddlesticks,” Stan commented. Fiddleford sighed.

              “I ain’t met this person he said he’ll talk to, which ain’t a crime in and of itself.  But I get a bad feelin’ ‘bout it.”

              “You gotta trust your gut,” Stan said softly. He eyed Dipper and Mabel.  “And my gut says that there’s something big that you two are either leaving out or just flat-out don’t know about.”

              “Why?” Dipper asked.  Stan raised an eyebrow.

              “You guys only think Ford’s your great-uncle. Which to me, makes it sound like you two didn’t even know Ford existed before you came here.”

              “I mean…sort of,” Dipper said, rubbing the back of his neck.  Mabel looked at him questioningly.  “We might as well tell him, Mabel.  You heard Ford.  We already messed up the future.”

              “Yeah,” Mabel said.  She took over for Dipper.  “We knew you, but we thought your name was Stanford.  We didn’t know you, or Ford, or, uh, both of you, had a twin.” Stan swore.  “What?  What’s wrong?”

              “How long was I going by Ford’s name?” Stan asked.

              “You didn’t go by Ford, you still went by Stan,” Dipper said.  “You just said it was short for Stanford.”

              “That’s a bit better, but still not great. Answer the question, kid.”

              “I don’t know how long you went by Stanford. But as far as we knew, our dad thought that was your name, and so did Grampie Shermie.”  Fiddleford, who had progressed from clearing the dishes from the table to washing them, froze.  “We were really confused when we got here.”

              “Yeah.  Yeah, I can see why,” Stan mumbled.  He closed his eyes.  “Shit.”

              “You need to explain yer sudden concern, Stanley,” Fiddleford said, propping a sudsy hand on one hip.  “We can’t read yer mind.”

              “Like you’re not concerned about this new information,” Stan snapped.

              “Oh, believe me, I am.  But yer clearly comin’ to some conclusions that ya need to share with the rest of us.”

              “Fine.”  Stan paused. “I don’t always like my life, but I wouldn’t try to take over Ford’s.  Sure, we pretended to be each other to confuse people when we were kids. But this isn’t tricking our mom. This is…this is something serious. I mean, what happened to Stanley? Ford wouldn’t be me, so what did I do with my real identity?”  Stan was silent for a moment.  “There’s only one circumstance I can think of, where I would pretend to be Ford for years and act like the real me didn’t even exist anymore.  Ford isn’t around.”

              “You think he’s passed, by Dipper ‘n Mabel’s time?” Fiddleford asked softly.  Stan shook his head.

              “I wouldn’t take over Ford’s life if he was dead. That’s wrong on more levels than I can count.  No, Ford’s alive.  Or at least, future me thinks he’s alive.  But he’s missing, in some sort of trouble, and I decided the easiest way to help would be to pretend to be him.”

              “Would you try to help him?” Dipper asked quietly.

              “Am I pissed at Ford?  Yes.  Do I hate his guts?  Yes.  But would I do everything I could to help him?” Stan asked.  He paused. “Yes,” he said.  “We might not be friends anymore, but we’re still brothers. We’re still twins.  I wouldn’t turn my back on him if I thought he was in danger.”

              “Maybe right now, that’s yer reaction, but there’s always the chance that you change,” Fiddleford said.  Stan nodded.

              “Yeah, hayseed, that’s possible.  Maybe I’m a different person in the future.  But at least right now, I can only think of one way to wind up in the situation these kids are describing.  Ford’s in trouble.”

              “What kind of trouble?” Mabel asked.  Stan let out a bark of laughter.

              “If I had any idea, little gremlin, I’d tell you.”

----- 

              Glad to have a reason to leave his twin’s presence, Ford entered his study.  He closed the door behind him, then sat cross-legged on the floor.  Excitement filled him at having such an excellently unique circumstance to consult his muse for.

              I highly doubt, even in his millennia of existence, he’s come across a situation like this.  Ford closed his eyes and began to empty his mind of thoughts.  His excitement made the simple act difficult; it took much longer than usual.  But finally, his head had been cleared.  And in the darkness and silence, his muse came.

              “Well, well, well,” sounded the familiar and welcome voice.

              Ford smiled.

              “Hello, Bill.”

#Gravity Falls #Time Traveler's Pig AU #Stanford Pines #Stanley Pines #Dipper Pines #Mabel Pines #Fiddleford McGucket #fanfiction #my writing #my stuff #(this chapter ended up being a bit shorter than I expected but eh I got everything I wanted into it so) #speecher speaks

[ragingbookdragon]

What Are The Chances?

Bruce Wayne x Reader Story!

A/N: This is still one of my favorite Bruce stories I’ve ever done. Also one of my favorite Backstreet Boys songs. BACKSTREET BOYS!!!! Enjoy! -Thorne <3

What if I never run into you? What if you never smiled at me? What if I hadn’t noticed you too? And you never showed up where I happened to be?

           He stood at the edge of the dance floor, surrounded by his sons and Alfred. He glanced down at his champagne then back to Dick who’d been telling them a story. “And Wally ran smack into the wall.” He had to pause he was laughing so hard. “He had that bruise for like two weeks.” His sons let out various reactions, Jason no more than a snort, where as Tim was rolling, telling about a similar incident with Bart; Alfred glanced at Bruce.

           “Master Bruce? Is everything alright?” His eyes met Alfred’s, and he nodded.

           “I’m fine. Just…bored.” The others chuckled and Jason elbowed him.

           “C’mon old man, you only turn forty-five once.” Bruce narrowed his eyes at him, listening as the others snorted.

           “Thank you, Jason, for making me remember how old I’m getting.” Jason smirked and quipped,

           “Anytime old man.” Bruce let the corners of his mouth curl upwards and he scanned the floor again; his eyes caught the sight of a waitress who was in a rather uncomfortable position. His jaw clenched and he handed his glass to Dick, who stared at him.

           “Where are you going Bruce?” He nodded at the older man whose hand was curling around her leg.

           “I’m about to go hand him his ass.” The others watched as Bruce stepped closer, and just as he reached them, a woman brushed by him, letting out a quiet, ‘excuse me’. She shifted quickly, one hand grabbing the mans, the other hand grabbing the back of his head; he let out a yelp of pain when she slammed him down on the bar and leaned into his ear.

           “Did you know that what you’re doing is a Class A misdemeanor?” She paused and twisted his arm. “The penalties for that can be up to five grand and a year in jail.” He squirmed and she twisted more until he stopped moving; she glanced at the waitress. “But I���m willing to let this young woman decide your fate.” She nodded to her. “Let him go…or call security?” The man started thrashing.

           “Do you have any idea who I am?” She scoffed.

           “I know you’re a sonovabitch who thinks its okay to put your hands up women’s skirts.”

           “You can’t prove I did anything!” She glanced at the waitress.

           “Did he touch you?” She nodded and he yelled,

           “She’s lying!”

           “No, she isn’t. I saw you touch her.” She eyed her. “What do you want me to do Hun?”

           “Security.” The man started screaming and two security guards walked over; she shoved him at them then flashed a badge.

           “Detective (Y/N) (L/N).” They nodded at her and she eyed the man. “I caught him assaulting this waitress. Escort him from the premises please.” They nodded again and walked off with the still-screaming man in tow. (Y/N) turned back to the waitress. “You alright?” She nodded and (Y/N) gave a firm nod in return. “I’m sorry I didn’t see it sooner Miss…I would’ve helped had I.”

           “It’s fine…what matters is you did.” (Y/N) opened her mouth to respond when Bruce walked up.

           “Cynthia you can take the rest of the evening off.” She turned to him wide-eyed.

           “But sir-my paycheck?” Bruce smiled.

           “I’ll have it sent. And I’m so sorry for that. I was on my way over when,” He paused and turned to (Y/N). “This detective beat me to it.” (Y/N) smirked and the waitress smiled.

           “I’m just glad she got here in time.” She excused herself and left the two of them standing next to each other. (Y/N) held out her hand.

           “Detective (Y/N) (L/N).” Bruce took her hand and shook it firmly.

           “Bruce Wayne.”

What’s a girl like you doing in a place like this? On a quiet night, what are the odds? What’s a guy like me doing in a place like this? I could have just walked by, who would’ve thought.

           He let go of her hand and leaned against the bar; she did the same. “What’s a detective doing at a billionaire’s birthday party?” (Y/N) smiled and nodded at the bartender.

           “Brandy neat, please.” He nodded, a few seconds later, a glass slid in front of her; she sipped it, then turned back to Bruce. “Gordon was busy working a case and needed someone to watch over the party tonight.”

           “I wasn’t aware GCPD had received any new detectives.” (Y/N) grinned.

           “I’m a transfer from Central. Also…Gordon’s a family friend, so when I mentioned moving, he had a spot opened for me.” Bruce raised an eyebrow.

           “Why on earth would someone as smart as you move to a place like Gotham City?” She let out a chuckle and nodded her head.

           “Yeah…Gordon asked me the same question.” She paused then shrugged. “Wanted a change of pace.”

           “Flash’s city too fast for you?” (Y/N) barked a laugh.

           “Contrary to popular belief, his brain cells don’t move as fast as his feet do.” She thought he was going to cry he was laughing so hard; when he calmed down, Bruce nodded to her.

           “So, what did you do over in Central?”

           “I was the head of the Anti-Meta-Human Task Force.” (Y/N) sipped her drink. “Honestly, it’s probably why Gordon wanted me over here in the first place.” Bruce raised an eyebrow.

           “Why’s that?” She eyed him.

           “He needed someone with major Meta-human/Supervillain expertise to run the Major Crimes Unit.”

           “I’d heard the MCU was getting a new captain. I wasn’t aware it was you.” (Y/N) winked at him.

           “I like to keep people in suspense.” Bruce matched her grin.

           “I’ve noticed.” He paused and motioned to the dance floor. “Would you care to dance?”

What are the chances that we’d end up dancing? Like two in a million, like once in a life That I could have found you, put my arms around you Like two in a million, like once in a life What are the chances?

           She slipped her hand into his and let him lead her to the dance floor; they moved together, and his hand rested at the small of her back. (Y/N) rested her free hand on his shoulder and began to move her feet. “You’re rather good at dancing Ms. (L/N).” She glanced up at him and smiled.

           “I took lessons when I was younger.”

           “But you stopped?” (Y/N) chuckled.

           “Dancing didn’t help me when I was getting into fist fights with the neighborhood boys. I took up martial arts instead.” Bruce snorted.

           “You used to get into fights?”

           “Oh yeah, all the time. I was the oldest of the kids and the bullies used to pick on the young ones who couldn’t protect themselves.” He studied her, then murmured,

           “So, you became their protector?” (Y/N) nodded.

           “No one else was going to do it…so I did.” They paused their conversation as he twirled her around, then she came back to him. “So, I have a question, if you’d like to answer it.” He grinned.

           “Shoot.”

           “How’s a playboy billionaire end up the proud father of four sons?” Bruce had to stop moving he was laughing so hard; (Y/N) raised an amused eyebrow at him, letting out a chuckle herself. They began moving again, and Bruce thought for a few seconds.

           “Dick, Jason, and Tim all came to me by chance.”

           “And Damian?” He looked at her, surprised she’d known; she grinned at him. “Detective…remember?” He huffed a laugh and nodded.

           “Damian’s mother gave me custody of him.” The song ended, and they stared at one another for a few seconds. She removed her hands and tipped her head up murmuring,

           “Talia al Ghul doesn’t seem like the type of woman who just gives up her children.” She watched his eyes widen and she winked. “See you around Mr. Wayne.” (Y/N) turned and began walking off, leaving a stunned Bruce behind.

What if I hadn’t asked for your name? And time hadn’t stopped when you said it to me? Oh Of all of the plans that I could have made Of all of the nights that I couldn’t sleep, oh

           They stood along the rooftops, staring down at the city; Dick nudged him in the ribs. “Are you alright B? You seem like you’re on edge.” Bruce shook his head, grunting out,

           “I’m fine.” Someone scoffed behind him.

           “Yeah right…you’ve been unnerved since that woman danced with you tonight.” The others glanced at Jason, then back to him.

           “Father…did something happen?” He glanced at Damian, then back to the city.

           “She knew who your mother was.” Their eyes widened at his revelation.

           “That is impossible…no one knows Talia is my mother.” Bruce nodded.

           “She did. And I think she knows who we are too.”

           “How’d she find out?” He glanced at Tim and deadpanned,

           “She’s the new captain for the MCU.” Tim eyed his wrist before tapping on it, then nodded.

           “Yeah…she is.”

           “What’s her record Timmy?” He showed the screen to Jason who read it. “Previous captain of the AMHTF in Central…Holy shit-she’s got a tenth dan in judo, a tenth in Kenpo, a tenth in aikido, and she’s even trained in Shaolin Kung Fu.” He paused and looked at Bruce. “There’s no way someone her age is a grandmaster in those. It’s nuts.” Bruce raised an eyebrow.

           “And what are we then?” He opened his mouth, then closed it, pointing at him.

           “Point taken.” Dick glanced at Tim’s screen.

           “How’s someone this powerful and this skillful end up in Gotham city?”

           “Says here that Gordon put in a request to have her transferred.” They looked at Tim who continued with, “Doesn’t say why though.” Bruce opened his mouth to respond when the sound of a store alarm went off; he looked at the others.

           “Go.” They took off, and he watched until they disappeared, then turned to GCPD, determined to find out why she’d come to Gotham City.

           Many of the officers and detectives had either gone home or were out in the city. He slipped inside and moved silently to her door; she was turned around, stacking a set of books on her shelf. Bruce slid open the door and stepped inside; he went to speak when she beat him to it. “You know Batman…I can see why Gordon gets so unnerved about you coming in and out of GCPD.” She turned at looked at him. “It’s practically impossible for people to hear you.” To say he was shocked was an understatement, but he hid it well.

           “You knew I was coming?” She grinned and waved a buzzing device in her hand.

           “Electrical-circuit tape is connected to my door.” He paused and glanced back at it, sure enough seeing a strip of black tape with gold lining it. “When the door is breached-”

           “Your device alerts you.” She nodded as he finished her sentence; she walked passed him and shut the door, then sat in her seat behind her desk.

           “So, what can I do for you Batman?”

           “Why’d you come to Gotham City?” She tipped her head back.

           “Now that is the million-dollar question.” She paused. “Or should I say ‘billion’ dollar question.” His eyes narrowed and he rested his hands on her desk, leaning towards her.

           “Who are you? And why are you in Gotham City?”

           “I already told you my name.”

           “No, you didn’t.”

           “Yes, I did.” She leaned forward, her face right in front of his. “I stuck my hand out and said, ‘Detective (Y/N) (L/N).’ and you grabbed it and said, ‘Bruce Wayne.’.” Time stopped around him as (Y/N) repeated their conversation from earlier that night; when he could speak again, he did.

           “…How?” (Y/N) snorted.

           “I worked with Barry and Wally, Mr. Wayne. Your reputation extends far.” Bruce felt his eye twitch.

           “Barry told you?” She scoffed.

           “No. His brain cells move fast enough to keep a secret at least.” (Y/N) stopped. “Wally off-handedly mentioned Dick Grayson and Nightwing in the same sentence…I just had Barry confirm it.”

           “So, he told you?”

           “After I threatened to freeze his feet he did.” Bruce let out a long sigh and (Y/N) chuckled. “Don’t worry about the identities Mr. Wayne. I’m not here to cause you problems.”

           “Then why are you here?”

           “To run the MCU? I told you that too.” The sound of the precinct doors cut him off, and she winked at him. “See you around Mr. Wayne.”

What’s a girl like you doing in a place like this? In a crowded room, what are the odds? What’s a guy like me doing in a place like this? Getting close to you, but here we are?

           He knew better than to get close to her. A police officer? And the captain of the MCU at that. But here they were, sitting across from each other in the middle of a crowded restaurant-the eighth date they’d shared. He stared at her as she sipped her wine, her eyes focused on the pianist; she set her glass down and murmured, “You’re burning holes in me over there Bruce.” Instead of averting his gaze, he narrowed his eyes at her; she met them. “What’s got you so quiet?”

           “We shouldn’t be doing this.” (Y/N) let out a laugh.

           “What dinner?”

           “You know what I mean.” She leaned back a little and observed him, then tipped her head to the small dance floor in the center.

           “Dance with me?” He rose and she followed; they began swaying to the soft music and she hummed, “Are you worried that my feelings for you will come into confliction with other things?” Bruce glanced down at her, meeting her eyes.

           “I’m not worried.” (Y/N) grinned.

           “But you are conflicted about it.” She paused then surmised, “You’re worried that something is going to happen that will turn us against each other.”

           “We’re too different.”

           “Not really. We do the same thing…just I stand behind a shield and you behind a shadow.”

           “I’m not a good man for you.” (Y/N) huffed a laugh.

           “And that’s not your call to make Bruce.” She stopped and stared at him; her eyes as solemn as her voice. “I know what I want…Maybe you should listen to what you really want instead of focusing on mine.” (Y/N) turned and began walking off; she’d stepped outside when an arm curled around her waist, pulling her against them. The familiar scent of cologne wafted up her nose and she tipped her head to the side. “Figure it out that quickly?” His chest pressed against her back and his voice was low.

           “I want you.” (Y/N) twisted her head to look into his eyes; she raised an eyebrow.

           “You want me…or you want me?” The corner of his mouth raised, and his fingers splayed across her stomach.

           “Both.” She huffed a laugh and spun around in his arms, lacing hers around his neck.

           “You’re a handful of work Mr. Wayne.”

           “But?” (Y/N) flashed a smirk.

           “But I love having my hands full.”

What are the chances that we’d end up dancing? Like two in a million, like once in a life That I could have found you, put my arms around you Like two in a million, like once in a life What are the chances?

           He admired her features as she slept; his eyes traveled over her eyes and her nose, to her lips and her cheeks. She was beautiful, and he found himself wondering if he was truly falling for her. Bruce thought about the night they met, the first time he’d seen her. He remembered the way she’d brushed by him, her eyes focused on the task in front of her. Then, they way she danced, like it was so effortless for her. She’d come to Gotham City wielding knowledge he’d never expected her to know; but here she was, and she was a tempest. The MCU had solved more cases under her command than when Gordon had been running it, and they’d been doing it without his and his family’s help. She’d been in command of the precinct for almost two years, and they’d been together almost a full year. (Y/N) wasn’t bothered by the fame and press, only being angered when they stepped foot inside GCPD. She’d adopted the role of girlfriend rather well, taking it in stride; even the boys thought she was great. (Y/N) had also adopted the role of surrogate mother for his boys, and Bruce could tell it was making a difference within his sons, to have a mother figure around them.

Dick and she sat for hours talking about the police precincts and their times in the force; he’d even accidently called her mom a few times, but she just grinned at his flustered apologies.

Jason was rather aloof with her, but he was like that with everyone; he and (Y/N) had bonded over a discussion about literature, and Bruce was happy to see his second son visiting more often and staying over more.

Tim and (Y/N) were practically the easiest bonded together; (Y/N) mentioned Tim’s favorite TV show when they’d hit a dead end in a case and he’d turned to Bruce going, ‘Marry her or I’ll tell the world you’re Batman.’. She didn’t stop laughing for fifteen minutes.

Bruce was worried about his last son though; Damian wasn’t one to welcome new people, especially Bruce’s girlfriends. But surprisingly, the two of them got along quite well; he’d yet to figure out why they’d gotten along so well, but Bruce wondered if the fact that she showed them love, made them want to be around her. Whatever the case, Bruce thanked the stars above that their once-in-a-life meeting had occurred.

Is it love? Is it fate? Who am I? Who’s to say? Don’t know exactly what it means (ooh, oh, yeah) Is it love? Is it fate? Where it leads, who can say? Maybe you and I were meant to be

           The morning in the manor was quiet, and the family sat at the table eating breakfast, talking quietly. (Y/N) sipped on her coffee and turned the newspaper over to Bruce. She’d pretty much moved into the manor after Bruce had begged her to, saying, ‘We’ve been dating for almost five years (Y/N)…I think it’s time you make this your residence.’. She’d made the off-handed joke that it sounded like a proposal, and ever since then, the image of her in a wedding dress wouldn’t leave his mind. The longer he thought about it, the more he wanted to see it; he wanted to marry her. The words came out before he could stop them. “Do you want to get married (Y/N)?” The table went dead silent as the boys and (Y/N) stared at him in shock; she pushed past it and questioned,

           “Are…are you…being serious right now?” Bruce nodded.

           “I’ve been thinking about that comment you made about proposing, and I want to.” She shook her head and replied incredulously,

           “I was making a joke! I wasn’t being serious!” He leaned close to her, taking her hand.

           “But what if you were?” (Y/N) watched him pull a small black box from his pocket; she heard Alfred gasp.

           “Master Bruce! That’s Mrs. Wayne’s-” Bruce cut him off, flipping open the box.

           “This was my mother’s wedding ring.” Another ring was next to it and he pointed to it. “That’s my father’s. They’re some of the only true mementos I have of them.” Bruce gazed at her, his thumb brushing the back of her hand. “I wouldn’t offer you this if I wasn’t serious about it (Y/N)…I want to marry you.”

           “But…the boys…” His eyes drifted to them then back to hers.

           “I think I can speak for my sons when I say that you’ve only added love to this family.” He sighed and looked down. “I wasn’t prepared to be a father…and when they came into my life…I really didn’t know how to raise them. And now they’re almost all grown, and I keep looking back on the mistakes I made and the chances I missed.” Bruce squeezed her hand. “Ever since you came, I’ve seen the changes you’ve made in our lives…in Dick’s, in Jason’s, in Tim’s, and even Damian’s.” (Y/N) glanced at the boys who gave her agreed smiles, then she looked back to Bruce; he met her eyes and his tone was solemn. “I’ve made enough mistakes and passed up too many chances in my life (Y/N) …I don’t want to pass this up.” He squeezed her hand again. “…Marry me (Y/N).”

What, what What are the chances that we’d end up dancing? Two in a million, once in a life That I could have found you, put my arms around you (my arms around you) Two in a million (it’s like two in a million) Like once in a life, yeah (woah) What are the chances? (What are the chances?)

           They twirled on the floor, both of their faces in real, unrepentant joy. His arm curled around her waist as he lifted her and spun her around; she let out a surprised laugh, then he lowered her and pulled her close. He rested his forehead against hers and breathed, “I love you.” She grinned and replied,

           “I love you too.”

Two in a million, once in a life What are the chances? (What are the chances?) Two in a million, once in a life

           The waves crawled gently up and down the shore as they walked. Her heels were in her unoccupied hand, and her feet sunk into the wet sand with every step they took. She rubbed her thumb along the curve of his. “This is nice.” He nodded.

           “When you mentioned the beach, I thought about Bora Bora.” She grinned.

           “I’m glad you did.” She stopped and looked out at the water. “Hell, even in the dark it’s gorgeous.”

           “Not as gorgeous as you are.” She rolled her eyes.

           “Watch it Mr. Wayne…I’m not one for open flattery.” He snorted and stepped behind her, wrapping his arms around her, pulling her back to his chest; his chin rested on her shoulder and he turned to her.

           “What if it’s really good flattery…Mrs. Wayne?” (Y/N) tipped her head to the side, catching his eyes; she couldn’t fight the grin that crossed her lips and she murmured,

           “…I still can’t believe we’re married.” Bruce chuckled and took her left hand in his, gently raising it.

           “The ring right here will make you believe it.”

           “I hope you have a lot more than a ring to make me believe.” He tipped his head.

           “I have a marriage license and a group of boys,” He paused and raised his voice. “Who think they’re so well hidden that would make it real.” (Y/N) let out a laugh as the boys walked down the beach to them; Bruce turned to them. “The whole point of a honeymoon is for the husband and wife to get away without anyone around them.” Jason scoffed.

           “You can’t hog Ma. It’s not fair.” The others agreed, and Damian ran up and curled his arms around (Y/N)’s waist.

           “Umi is ours too.” The others moved up and shoved Bruce off, curling their arms around her; (Y/N) giggled and looked at Bruce, who’s eyes were narrowed at them.

           “Guess it’s going to be a fight for my attention then, eh Mr. Wayne?” He grunted.

           “That’s a fight I’ll gladly win.”

           “Give your best shot B. We’re her sons.” (Y/N) looked at Dick and smiled as the others nodded.

           “You’re going to regret that challenge Dick. She may be your mom, but I’m,” He pointed to himself. “Her husband.” Tim leaned up and whispered something in Jason’s ear who in turn did the same to Damian and Dick; they nodded and immediately let go of her, moving to Bruce. Jason picked (Y/N) up and began moving towards the walkways.

           “I’ve got Ma! Keep him busy!” (Y/N) let out a laugh as she looked over Jason’s shoulder, seeing Bruce slowly trudging towards them, with Dick hanging around his neck and Tim and Damian hanging on his arms; she called out to him.

           “Don’t worry Mr. Wayne! Family vacations are fun too!” They were farther from him, but she heard him yell,

           “But this is a honeymoon Mrs. Wayne! Not a family vacation!”

What if I never run into you? And what if you never smiled at me?

#bruce wayne imagines #bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne x reader imagines #batfamily imagines #batfamily x reader imagines #bruce wayne imagine #bruce wayne fanfic #bruce wayne fanfiction #batfamily #batfamily imagine #batfamily fanfiction #batfamily fanfic #batfamily x reader imagine #batfamily x reader #bruce wayne #batman #dick grayson #nightwing #jason todd #red hood #tim drake #red robin #damian wayne #robin #alfred pennyworth #dc comics #dc imagine #dc imagines #dc fanfic #dc fanfiction

[scrapyardboyfriends]

2021 Emmerdale Wishlist

(I was inspired by @softlass27 and wanted to do one of my own)

Some Overall Things

- More community involvement. I know, I know Covid, but hopefully they’ll be able to ease the restrictions before the year is out so it still applies. And aside from that, they need to work within the restrictions to do better. I still thought that clothing exchange in the cafe was a really good attempt to allow different characters to mix.

- In general, they need to really figure out how to work within the covid restrictions better because it has been very noticeable at times and the whole show has felt like it’s been a slower pace, including individual scenes and it’s a problem. 

- More appropriate story lengths. I’m tired of these never ending stories that just meander along. 

- Better story structure. Stories seem to either magic into being or they’re so slow to start you wonder if there is a story. I just want stories to have proper lead ins and build up and actual climaxes that feel worthwhile. And I want to understand the point of a story both as it’s going and for sure once it has finished. I don’t want to have to keep asking the question, “Is it going somewhere or is this just bad writing”.

- Work on relationship stories. Stop putting terribly suited people together. At least try and build relationships up naturally and allow them to have some time before just shoving them together. Stop having other characters talk about how people should be together. I want to see the actual couple together and understand why. If a couple isn’t working, actually break them up. Cheating stories can work but make them happen for an actual reason and not just cause you feel like drama. 

- In general, work on motivations for characters because so many people this year have just done things for little to no real reason. 

Character Focused things

- I too am willing to wait till the 50th Anniversary for Robert’s triumphant return. Enjoy that dad and son time Ryan, your time will come. Hopefully post pandemic restrictions and when there’s a new decent producer who has some robron nostalgia. 

- In the meantime, I would like the show to allow Aaron to become a real character again. While, I’ve very much been fine with his massive break this year because it’s given me time to process him not having a tall blond glued to his side, I would like it if he got a bit more screen time next year. And I would like for that screen time to include interactions with characters that are not Liv and Chaddy. I’d love to see him get a friend, whether that’s Mack or someone else, I just want him to have someone else to talk to. I would also like to see him have an actual story even if he is a supporting character, but make him a consistent one, not support to the support and not just a cameo for an episode or two. I’d love to see him have more to do than a relationship story but if he must, for the the love of god at least put some amount of effort into it. Or just let him go on random bad dates that he gets to talk to his new friend about how no one is right. 

- I want Chaddy to break up. Whether it’s actually a cheating story or they just realize how unsuited they are for each other after all, I don’t care. Let the Christmas wedding curse persist. (In lieu of that, I want them on screen as little as possible together and if they are they better not be having any problems or be overly sappy and if I hear more than one or two “Graaacieees” I’m out)

- As for Liv, either Isobel can get a big break with her music and Liv can take a never ending trip to Dublin or they need to do better. If she stays, I want to see her become an adult. I want to see her make some choices about her future, get a job etc. I’d still like them to explore what a relationship means to her without having it be a plot point in the next abuser’s story. That still means something to me and I’d like to see it on screen for real and not just in the background. 

- For the love of god give Matty a story. Let him date, let him and Amy finally get together but like...do it better this time. Let him move out of Moira’s and stop being a footnote in her stories. Let him get promoted at the HOP or get a new job. Go back to his transition story. Let him interact with his friends more. Just almost anything really. 

- With Charity, we all know Vanessa will be back eventually and they’ll put them back together, so in the meantime, I’d like to them to start figuring out a balance for her. I agree somewhat that the regressive behavior she’s engaging in now feels a little ridiculous but that’s mostly because it’s baseless. They need to find real reasons and motivations for her to have her scheming fun the way they did with Robert and Cain. So first things first, I would get her the hell out of the pub because that was always a bad idea. I want her back in a business that allows her to wheel and deal and scheme without it always having to be random criminal activity. I also NEED them to allow her to say she’s bisexual on screen and to own that and to stop having writers put in those stupid unnecessary biphobic jokes. And they need to allow her to realize that she’s okay on her own and that any growth she had wasn’t only down to Vanessa. 

- For Cain and Moira, I want them to actually stay together this time and not immediately get broken up by something absurd. They can be tested, but only so they can prove that they are really working on their issues. 

- I’d like Laurel and Jai to get through their grief and stay together. 

- I want Jamie to get a fucking back bone and break free of Andrea altogether and break free of Kim too. I’d be cool with him and Mack actually being friends. I’d like him to get a real love interest too. 

- For Mack, I want him to keep being the snarky, fun breath of fresh air he has been but I’d like to ground him a little bit too. I want him to find something real in the village, whether that’s a friend or a love interest. Jamie and Aaron are good friend options for him. Just someone to give him a real solid tie to the village and give him some to talk to/confide in. If they wanted to make him bi, I would not be opposed. I’d also like him to make some progress with Moira in the next year so that doesn’t remain stagnant. 

- For Kim, I want this stupid story with Cain to already be over because it’s based on nothing. I know she’s supposed to get a love interest and I’m already dreading it. I do want her to get a love interest but I want it to feel real with real feelings and not come out of nowhere like I expect it to. I think Kim needs real connections in general. That brief period where she was friends with Rhona was good. They should give her another friend. Just. something to make her feel less like a cartoon villain even if she still is an antagonist. 

- I want someone to run over Luke and Wendy. I want them the hell out of Vic’s life and the hell out of the village. I still can’t fathom why they ever introduced them or had them stick around. 

- I need Harriet and Will to go away. They’re useless and they’ve overstayed their welcome at this point. I want to free Dawn because I feel like she could be a decent character if she wasn’t shackled to them. If the Malone story FINALLY ends with Harriet and Will both leaving, that would be a miracle. 

- I want Dan and Amelia to move to Croydon so someone else can have their house. They’re just not relevant characters anymore. 

- I want the new vicar and his son to be good characters and for more of their family to come in, hopefully female family members so there can be more women of color on the show too. But also I just want them to all be good characters with good connections and good stories. 

- If Marlon and Rhona are going to get together again, I want them to actually work out as a couple because I’ve quite enjoyed their friendship over the years and I think they could work as a couple again if they just maintain what they’ve had and don’t ruin it. 

- I’d like this whole stupid Al story to blow up in his face quick so we can move the hell on. If Al’s going to stick around, I need him to do something interesting. Either ground him more and give him better relationships or have him go full villain. 

- For Gabby, I want to see her continue to grow and get more adult stories, once that don’t include her meddling in people’s relationships. I’d like to see them explore a relationship story with her too. If she wants to realize she’s bi or something too and that she and Liv are meant to be, I’d be fine with that too. 

- More Jimmy and Nicola but don’t use that screen time to destroy them. 

- For Meena, I’d like them to tone her down just a bit and resolve the weird petty stuff between her and Manpreet. I’m cool with them exploring her and David but I don’t want it to feel as rushed or haphazard. 

- For Amy, I kind of want Tracy to just blow the whole Frank thing just so she can deal with the consequences and move on. Or just have her tell Matty as they’re getting closer and have him be like “eh my mum killed Emma so this is fine” and then it brings them closer. I just want it out there so it’s not hanging over her head anymore. I also just want her on screen more and with Matty and being friends with Vic. 

- For Vic, other than being free of the Posners, I’d just like her to reclaim her life a bit more, maybe see her at the HIDE more, maybe catering more, maybe a better love interest.

- I’d like to see Billy get something decent too that’s not just another lame attempt at brothers at war with Ellis. Let him find a career he likes, make a new friend, finally make peace with Aaron, something. 

- Ellis can move to Dubai. 

- Sam and Lydia just need to keep being their perfect selves. Give them some fun little stories. 

- The Mandy/Paul/Vinny saga needs to END now. There’s just no reason Vinny should be keeping all of this quiet. It’s dumb. Paul needs to go. Mandy needs to steal Paddy away from Chas or something. Vinny needs to hang out with Sam and Lydia and Samson again and maybe find a better career than whatever scrap jobs Aaron can throw his way. 

- Belle needs to go back to maybe being a vet and maybe date someone that’s not an affair?! 

- Leyla and Liam need to just stay together or break up for good. 

- Rishi needs to stop being treated like a child.

- Tracy needs to just have this baby so we don’t have to hear about how she’s pregnant anymore (though I have enjoyed the reprieve lately) Are we sure Nate can’t go to prison after all? 

#emmerdale #emmerdale complaints corner #this is verrrrry long #no one is surprised

[slasher-party]

The Re-Animator: Welcoming Dr. Herbert West!

V: Al-right. This was a long time coming, and I’ve been EVER so excited to showcase this maniac. Let’s start this show, shall we?

(Spoilers ahead for the Re-Animator Trilogy:  “Re-Animator”, “Bride of Re-Animator” & “Beyond Re-Animator”)

V: Alright, alright. I’ll start with what I didn’t like. Obviously those of you who’ve seen it know about the absolutely fucking idiotic women - oh yeah. Absolute dumbasses. I did not like Meg - I’m very sorry to those who do. I don’t fault you, but she just rubbed me the wrong way. SPEAKING OF, that brings forth the topic of DOCTOR HILL???? Disgusting. The morgue scene with him and Meg made both Jess and I cringe out of our skins. Good villain, though I don’t like what he does. But hey, you’re technically not SUPPOSED to like the villain anyway.

But what I loved, absoLUTELY loved. Jeffrey Combs. His acting, his voice, his stature. I’d never read the Re-Animator series, but I loved this portrayal. He comes off as so terrifying when you hear about him, and then watching the film?? He’s so CUTE!! The way he looks at Dan, the little changes in expression when he’s done something wrong, those BIG ASS GLASSES!!!! The teary-eyed look of horror as Hill threatens him!? And the way he speaks and moves, he’s an incredible actor. I’m surprised this is my first time really knowing him! Either way, I’m looking forward to watching more of his work. Herbert is a blessing - this little gay doctor boy just wants to do his work. Believe in him.

J: Yes--

V: Bride was ALSO fantastic - Dan started to really piss me off, though. It was so clear that Herbert REALLY liked him, and that hurt, man. Gloria - the Bride - GOD she was GORGEOUS. I’m so sad that Dan freakin made her so sad she died. She was absolutely beautiful and she could TALK?? Stunning. A queen. I would’ve married her since Dan didn’t wanna--

J: You’d what--

V: And finally - Beyond. At this point I am so fed up with Dan. They would’ve been such couple goals IF DAN ACTUALLY CARED BACK anD STOPpED ChaSING puSS!!!! Herbert deserves better. We’re gonna give him better, but that comes later. Anyway! Older Herbert is very attractive - he aged well. This also was the first movie we SEE him WALK AWAY FROM, and THAT made me SO happy. He deserved that. Go Herbie!!

J: … You, summed it up so well I’m not sure what to add, haha! I also loved the series, and darling Doctor Lovebug. I’ve watched the first movie at least four times in the last few weeks, so it’s safe to say it’s one of my favorites, but I can’t really pin why? 9/10, points deducted for himbo Dan, annoying ladies and gross Doctor Hill. All 9 points go to Herbie.

(EDIT)

V: Jess and I also revisited the first movie for the Director’s Cut. As of right now, I’ve only seen a handful of scenes - Jess says it literally adds so much plot and explanation that was totally lost in the Final Cut. It also added in Herbert’s reagent addiction, which I’d heard he had in the novel? (personally I like it because I adore angst and being fucking depressed but y’know-). 

J: We see that Dan had an actual relationship with the Dean and we see why Halsey suddenly became so hostile toward him. The cut not only adds substance, though: it practically changes every character’s personality except for Hill. Herbert comes across as a lot more deranged, unhinged, and full of himself. Dan shows genuine passion for their project, passion for Meg, and isn’t just a himbo with panic attacks. Even Meg glowed up! Without seeing her and Dan fight about the work, her hostility made no sense, just like the Dean’s. She goes from being all over Dan to slapping and hitting him! However, the extra scenes made the movie drag A LOT. With so much substance in Dan’s story, it felt like him and Meg were the main characters, where the final cut felt much more centered around Herbert. So there were benefits, and there were drawbacks (big drawbacks. Like a tear I will not speak of.)  I think we’re gonna stick to the final cut for what we consider canon. 

And that’s our review! So let’s all welcome the oh-so-lovable genius that is Herbert West to the Slasher Party!

The man adjusts his glasses, offering a smile as he tucks his invite back into his suit jacket. “Hello, miss Jess. Miss Vana. It’s nice to meet you both. And… the rest of you.” He nods in acknowledgement. “I hope that I can finally have a space to do my work in peace.”

#the reanimator #reanimator #herbert west #herbert ask #slashers #horror #slasher ask blog #slasher asks #movie reviews #we LOVE this guy

[mr--clown]

The “needless to say” phrase

Esto es para ti @art-hurfleck​, sabes que te amo y por favor ya publica algo de tu arte (aunque sea para mí, ¿Si, si?) Lo he dejado en inglés y en español porque a veces cambio muchas cosas y además no pude decidir qué gif me gustaba más, así que... ahí van los dos. *Arthur’s thoughts*

English: 1,035

You're eating cereal at the table, it's barely morning and you're already exhausted, you run your fingers through your hair and rub your neck, soulless. The hours seem long, exaggerated like the commas in my texts.

And Arthur looks at you as if his life was sustained by the most tousled strands of your hair. You hardly notice him next to you on the couch: so drenched are you in your problems, so sunk you seem in the milk of your bowl.

You don't know or imagine it, but a Monday morning is a Friday night for him as long as you're by his side, even if it's just having the most common cereal for breakfast.

You can't take your eyes off the TV, watching the same old clowns doing the same old shit to entertain the masses, argh, you hate politicians, no, hate no, they don't even deserve that.

But you prefer to immerse yourself in them, in the monotony, in the "reality" as you usually call it, instead of facing Arthur: sometimes you feel like he will get tired of you, of your instability and the innate capacity that you have to come down when everything seems too 'good' much.

But no, there are people who fall in love with chaos, there are beings who see beauty even in the picturesque way someone chews their flakes:

“Oh, Dani

I never thought love would knock on my door,

that it had the audacity to caress the rough face that I distinguish every day in the mirror,

I never thought I'd find it behind the gaze of a mischievous woman with a heart that bleeds as much as mine.

I never imagined that it would be possible to kiss a soul with as much passion as tenderness at the same time and release my ego with relief every time I squeeze your hand.

I never thought the sadness, which manifested itself as a barbed wire hugging my throat, could be softened only with the fresh touch of your lips against my forehead.

You don't understand but I love you, I love you like I have never loved anyone and I love you for reasons that even I can't understand.

I love you because you have stayed when the world has implored you to leave, I love you because you make me feel that I deserve to be loved and that it is worth fighting for me,

I love you because being fragile with you doesn't make me feel vulnerable, I love you because you're the muse that inspires me and because when you read something in my journal you turn the pages as if playing the harp.

And when you smile at them, God, when you smile at the pages I feel complete, I feel like I don't need more while the being that I love the most smiles at my lyrics no matter how crooked, absurd or bizarre they may be.

I love you for that, because you know how to flirt with my soul in a way not even angels could.

I love you even when you think I don't just because the rest links love with vain and wrong reasons, I'm not like that and you know it better than anyone. I know you're not like that either.

I love you because you give me life; your curves, your triangles and rectangles give me life, you are one of those works of art that my mother told me were in the Wayne mansion.

I love you because I feel like I need to write everything I live by your side: when you comb my locks and put your colorful hair clips all over my hair (duh, where else, right?), when you let me eat you whole on the table, when you tell me that I'm your all-capable man (a smile is drawn on my face every time I think about it, 'all-capable man', I know you mean it), when you wear my clothes because you say you like to see me only in my tighties (although you always end up taking them off too), when you leave my sweaters smelling of you, when you walk into my shower without asking for permission and slide your mouth over my wet and ticklish body, when you attack me with kisses while I'm trying to see Murray Franklin, when I go late to work because it occurs to someone that the sheets are not enough to warm us, when you dance with me and the world becomes so surreal that I would swear everything's a dream.

I can't believe you're with a man like me, that you want to touch me as much as I want to touch you ... Do you remember the first time we made love?

I make love to you every day since then Dan, since you get up and put the spoon on the cereal bowl with that typical and subtle delicacy of yours, until you get in the blankets and give me a soothing Colgate-flavored kiss.

I love you because you have taught me to love myself, to love what I do and that's something not everyone would dare to do, let alone with someone who was a lost case like me.

I admire you Dani, and every night when I see you sleep in our warm little bedroom I feel that my heart is going to explode with pure happiness.

I love you so much that I have cried many times for how overwhelming this feeling is, I cry because you love me and because fuck, I don't even know what I did so well in life to have you.

You are perfect, especially in pajamas when you don't let anyone see you apart from me: so natural, so different, so mine.

You frown at the TV and then laugh, I see you and can't help but wonder... How come someone can be everything at the same time?

I love you Dan, I love you, I love you, I love you. And I'm not going to stop saying it until it's well-recorded in your mind that...”

“I love you.”

You just smile.

“Liar, why would you do that?”

Español: 970

Tú comes cereal sobre la mesa, es de mañana y ya estás agotada, pasas tus dedos por tu cabello y sobas tu cuello desangelada, las horas te parecen largas, exageradas como las comas de mis textos.

Y Arthur te mira como si su vida estuviera sostenida en tus cabellos más revueltos, a un lado tuyo en el sillón, sin que apenas te des cuenta por cuán empapada estás de tus problemas, cuán hundida pareces en la leche de tu plato.

No lo sabes, ni te lo imaginas, pero un lunes por la mañana para él es un viernes en la noche mientras tu estés a su lado, incluso si es sólo desayunando el más común de los cereales.

No apartas tu mirada de la tele, están los mismos payasos de siempre haciendo de todo menos divertir a la gente, uffff, como odias a los políticos, no, odiarlos no, ni siquiera eso merecen. Pero prefieres enfrascarte en ellos, en la monotonía, en la "realidad" como tú sueles llamarlo antes que confrontar a Arthur: a veces sientes que se cansará de ti, de tu inestabilidad y esa capacidad innata que tienes de venirte hacia abajo cuando todo parece demasiado 'bueno'.

Pero no, hay personas a las que el caos les enamora, hay seres que ven belleza incluso en la forma tan pintoresca en la que alguien mastica sus hojuelas:

“Nunca pensé que el amor tocaría a mi puerta, que tuviera la osadía de acariciar el rostro áspero que a diario distingo en el espejo.

Nunca pensé que lo encontraría tras la mirada de una mujer traviesa con un corazón que sangra tanto como el mío. Nunca imaginé que fuera posible besar un alma con tanta pasión como ternura al mismo tiempo y desprenderme con alivio de mi ego cada vez que aprieto tu mano.

Nunca creí que aquella tristeza que se manifestaba como un alambre de púas abrazando mi garganta se suavizara sólo con el toque fresco de tus labios contra mi frente.

No lo entiendes pero te amo, te amo como nunca había amado a nadie y te amo por razones que ni yo logro entender.

Te amo porque te has quedado cuando el mundo te ha implorado que te fueras, te amo porque me haces sentir que merezco ser amado y que vale la pena luchar por mí, te amo porque ser frágil contigo no me hace sentir vulnerable, te amo porque eres la musa que me inspira y porque cuando lees algo en mi diario pasas las hojas como si estuvieses tocando el arpa. Y cuando les sonríes, Dios, cuando les sonríes siento que estoy completo, que no necesito más mientras el ser que más amo sonría ante mis letras por más chuecas, absurdas o bizarras que éstas sean. Te amo por eso, porque sabes coquetear con mi alma de una forma que ni los ángeles podrían.

Te amo incluso porque crees que no lo hago, sólo porque el resto vincula al amor con razones vanas e incorrectas, yo no soy así y tú lo sabes mejor que nadie. Sé que tú tampoco eres así.

Yo te amo porque me das vida; tus curvas, tus triángulos y rectangulos me dan vida, tú eres una de esas obras de arte de las que mi mamá me contaba que había en casa de Thomas Wayne.

Bueno, eres mejor, no tan plástica.

Te amo porque siento que vale la pena escribir cada cosa que vivo a tu lado: cuando me peinas y pones tus broches coloridos en mi cabello, cuando me dejas comerte entera sobre la mesa, cuando me dices que soy tu hombre capaz de todo, ( se dibuja una sonrisa en mi rostro cada vez que lo pienso 'hombre capaz de todo', sé que lo dices en serio), cuando usas mi ropa porque dices que te gusta verme sólo en calzoncillos (aunque luego también me los quites) , cuando dejas mis suéteres oliendo a ti, cuando te metes a mi ducha sin pedir permiso y deslizas tu boca sobre mi cuerpo húmedo y cosquillento, cuando me atacas a besos a propósito mientras intento ver Murray Franklin, cuando voy tarde al trabajo porque a alguien se le ocurre que las sábanas no son suficiente para calentarnos, cuando bailas conmigo y el mundo se vuelve tan surreal que juraría que todo es un sueño.

No puedo creer que estés con un hombre como yo, que desees tocarme tanto como yo a ti... Recuerdas la primera vez que hicimos el amor? Te lo hago cada día desde entonces Dani, desde que te levantas y metes la cuchara al plato de cereal con tu típica y sutil delicadeza, hasta que te metes en las cobijas y me das un beso adormilado con sabor a Colgate.

Te amo porque me has enseñado a amarme a mí mismo, a amar lo que hago y eso es algo que no cualquiera se atrevería a hacer, menos con alguien que parecía un caso perdido como yo. Te admiro Dan, y cada noche cuando te veo dormir en nuestra pequeña y cálida alcoba siento que me va a explotar el corazón de la felicidad.

Te amo tanto que he llegado a llorar por lo sobrecogedor que es este sentimiento, lloro porque me quieres y porque joder, no sé qué tan bueno habré hecho yo en la vida para tenerte.

Eres perfecta, sobre todo en pijama cuando no dejas que nadie te vea más que yo: tan natural, tan diferente, tan mía.

Le frunces el ceño al televisor y después ríes, ¿cómo es que alguien puede serlo todo al mismo tiempo?

Te amo Dani, te amo, te amo, te amo.

Y no voy a parar de decirlo hasta que en tu mente quede bien grabado que yo...”

“Te amo.”

Tú sólo sonríes.

“Mentiroso, ¿por qué lo harías?”

#arthur fleck #joker #carnival #arthur fleck x you #arthur fleck fanfic #arthur fleck x yn #arthur fleck/reader #joker fandom #arthur fleck imagine #smut #fluff #fic #mr clown #clown daddy #clownfuckers #chuckletown #espero que te guste #edit rapido #te quiero mucho #joker movie

[robynmarkius]

Language Differences (Part 2)

Welcome back to the (delayed posting of) ramblings on memories of Amaurot; glimpses of a long-forgotten past. Now, obviously, there’s Patch 5.3 Spoilers in this, so if you haven’t gotten through Shadowbringers yet, I would suggest not yet clicking through.

This post discusses the first Echo vision we see in 5.3. It’s kinda-sorta short, but I feel like it’s very important to set up the longer vision we see in Anemnesis Anyder later; which will be the focus on the next post. (I know I said that before, but I mean it this time. lol ^_^; )

Once again, credit where credit is due, and much thanks to @xehniscreations​ and @shiro-from-cafeberry​ for the French and German Translations! We’ve got one more for me to finish writing up/formatting yet after this!

[Cut for Spoilers and Images]

Part Two: Welcome, Elidibus

The first of two Echo Visions/Flashbacks we have is on the lookout tower in the Crystarium when Elidibert shows up behind us and doesn't know why he's there. 

He saw us as Amaurotine for only a blink. After we glimpse into his memories, he asks us straight, what was it that Emet-Selch seemed to see in us. We have the opportunity to tell him what Hytholodaeus said to us or keep silent. Either way, he doesn’t seem doesn’t seem to recognize us at all.

The vision we had here, is from when he was welcomed to the Convocation; when he first gained the Seat of Elidibus.

English: ”On behalf of the Convocation, I bid you welcome to our order.

At times you will stand with us. At times you will stand against us. All that you might steer mankind and the very star upon their true course.

For yours is the seat of Elidibus, the Emissary, and by this name shall your every action be guided."

Japanese:  十四人委員会の議長：おめでとう、お前を十四人委員会の一員として迎えよう。

十四人委員会の議長：ときに我らと同となり、ときに我らに異を唱え、 人と星とが正しく進むよう、尽力してほしい。

十四人委員会の議長：調停者の座……エリディブス。 それが今より、お前のしるベとなる名だよ。

Romanization: Committee Speaker: omedetou, omae o jyuuyonnin iinkai no ichiin to shite mukaeyou.

Committee Speaker: toki ni warera to dou to nari, toki ni warera ni koto o tonae, hito to hoshi to ga tadashiku susumu you, jinryokushite.

Committee Speaker: shouteisha no gi......ERIDIBUSU. sore ga ima yori, omae no shirube tonaru na da yo.

English Translation: “Congratulations, you're accepted as a member of the Convocation of Fourteen. 

At times, we will agree, at times, we will yell at each other in opposition, I'd like you to endeavor to properly advance this star and its people.

Elidibus... The Seat of the Arbitrator From now on, let this title become your guidance.”

French: (Thanks to Xehnis) Président du Concile des Quatorze: Félicitations, to fais désormais partie du Concile des Quatorze.

Président du Concile des Quatorze: Tu nous conforteras dans nos idées ou tu t'y opposeras, mais toujours pour le plus grand bien de la planéte et de ses habitants.

Président du Concile des Quatorze: Elidibus, le médiateur. Bien plus qu'un poste ou un titre, ce nom guidera désormais chacun de tes actes.

English Translation:  President of the Council of Fourteen: Congratulations, you are now part of the Council of Fourteen.

President of the Council of Fourteen: You will consolidate in our ideas or you will oppose them, but always for the greater good of the planet and its inhabitants.

President of the Council of Fourteen: Elidibus, the mediator. Much more than a position or title, its name will guide each of your actions. 

German: (Thanks to Shiro) Anführer des Konvents: Hiermit bestätige ich deine Erhebung zum ordentlichen Konventsmitglied. Willkommen in unserer Mitte.

Anführer des Konvents: Du wirst uns zuzeiten bestärken, zuzeiten widersprechen. Du wirst unser Tun leiten, auf dass dieser Planet und seine Kinder dem rechten Pfad folgen.

Anführer des Konvents: Dies ist deine Aufgabe als Elidibus - als Fürsprecher. Beherzige sie stets.

(Note from Shiro: “Konventsmitglied” means 'member of the convocation'.) English Translation: Leader of the Convention: I hereby confirm that you have been promoted to be a full member of the Convention. Welcome to our midst.

Covenant leader: You will at times encourage us, at times contradict us. You will guide our actions so that this planet and its children may follow the right path.

Covenant Leader: This is your job as Elidibus - as an advocate. Always heed them.

From the moment he's brought in as Elidibus, he's told exactly what he held onto for the rest of his existence. He is Elidibus; his title will dictate his actions. The phrasing may be slightly different in each language, but no matter what, he is told that he may not always be on the same side as the Convocation, however, so long as he holds onto his title as his identity, he'll guide the Star and its inhabitants on the proper course, and that is what is the most important aspect of his Title. Mediation, Arbitration, Advocacy, Emissary. So long as he does this, he will fulfill the expectations and duties of Elidibus. 

After all this time, Elidibus knows what drives him. Elidibus knows what Zodiark was summoned to do. He only remembers "I am Elidibus." 

We saw this because it helped us understand his motivation, and an understanding of how it could have gotten so far out of hand. He was not a Primal when he gained his seat, that happened when he became Zodiark’s Heart; one could even argue, Zodiark himself. To quote Emet-Selch/Hades, one of “the eldest and most powerful of Primals”. He held on to just enough of himself to remember what he was supposed to do. He was supposed to save the star, save the people, save his family and friends, prevent the star from being destroyed; he was to maintain homeostasis as best he could, while trying to return things to the way they once were. The desires of those who had first summoned Zodiark.

The question Y'shtola asked him after she confronted him in the Capitol, "you who've spoken with such a cacophony of voices, how can you be so sure you still speak with your own?" is a perfect one. After all this time, how can he be so sure he retains anything that is his own? I believe we saw what was left in the last scene, the Remnant of Elidibus; his sorrow and his own hope to be with everyone again when everything was over.

There is an importance to this moment though. It's the first time since we gained our 8th shard that we've seen into the memory of an Ascian. Before the final battle with Hades, we saw nothing from him as much as we were around him. The argument could be that it's because Elidibus was inhabiting the body of Ardbert; the body that once belonged to a piece of our soul; that we were able to break whatever protection there was and finally see something with our Echo. It could also be argued that since we regained another soul shard, we've grown in power too. The Echo in these situations seemed different too, more static, and a brighter light when they started and ended. Perhaps because the memories were so long ago, but... maybe also because Elidibus might not even consciously recall much of his past. After all, he says we wouldn't have seen anything useful, but who's he to say what we consider useful? lol

This actually sets up the second, longer flashback we see in Anemnesis Anyder later in the patch, when we go to pick up Y'shtola and tell her that she's been in the library long enough, she should come eat this breadcake Tataru sent over before she passes out. (...only to find we were a bit late on that last part. Oops!)

This was a short-ish post but it better sets up the second flashback sequence, and I think helps understand what drove him to awaken the Warriors of Light at the end; it was just instinct. Oppose Darkness. Awaken Heroes. Save the World. He's been looking at things in such black-and-white terms for so long, he's completely forgotten the shades of gray that exist on the Moral Spectrum. Something we learned by helping the First and forestalling the Eight Umbral Calamity. We aren't perfect, but we can strive to do our best to give everyone hope even when we're no longer there; for those we have lost and those we can yet save.

I will update with a link to the next part when I’ve compiled it... it’s longer just because the flashbacks are longer, but it contains the line about the rain, which we only call back to in English.

[<< Previous Post] [Next Post >>]

#It was storming in Lakeland/Crystarium when I took these screenshots #I found it perfect for the ambience XD #extra drama #screenshots #saved from cutscene #robyn translates #ffxiv #translation #translator ramble #more like discussion #language #comparison #differences #english #japanese #french #german #deutsche #français #日本語 #thanks #shiro-from-cafeberry #xehniscreations #robynmarkius #large images #image heavy #spoilers #obviously #5.3 spoilers #ffxiv 5.3 spoilers

[wordsandrambling]

You’re across from me and laughing at something on your phone, and then you tilt it to show me. As you move your hair falls over one shoulder and you tuck it behind your ear absentmindedly. I look for a little too long. You lean back into your seat, an armchair that’s probably over 100 years old. Around us, others laugh and talk, and a barista calls out someone’s name. you look back at your computer, so I look at mine.

“I’m going on a trip next week. Only for a few days, but apparently its important,” you tell me over the top of your laptop. Your eyes leave the screen for half a second, then you look back down as a notification appears. You groan. “Dan just emailed. He recons its something to do with our talents.”

I make a face while you type up a response, then say, “You could always not go. Stay here with me instead. We can watch TV and make mac and cheese not think about talents at all.”

That gets a snort out of you. “But if we don’t think about talents then how are you going to be able to carry all the mugs of hot chocolate in for us?” you joke.

“I’ll wear oven mitts. For the pretence, you know, and maybe I can even wince a bit if I spill anything on myself. Really put a show on.”

You grin, but it quickly fades.

“As much as I’d love to spend several days watching shitty chick flicks with you, honey, you know I can’t say no to this trip. I’d lose my job.”

I nod, and look back down at my computer, and so you do the same.

 ----

“No, I’m sure- your wifi, this hotel is too posh for- have bad connection,” you say, voice cutting out every few seconds. My screen is frozen on a still of you grinning at the camera, and I’m tempted to take a screenshot. I have a whole album on my phone dedicated to shitty photos of you, and I remember the first time you saw it, you laughed so hard you cried, and I remember thinking nothing in life could beat that sound. I hum in vague agreement with what you said, and you suddenly come to life again on my computer.

You suddenly look sombre. “I think I need to go soon, but before I do, I need to tell you something.”

My stomach flips, and I reach instinctively for my soulmark, then catch myself and instead brush my hair our of my face. In 12 years of friendship, you have never seen my mark and I’ve never seen yours. I think I like it that way. At least like this, I can fool myself its you, even though the chances are almost non-existent. Even though you wouldn’t feel the same way even if our marks were from each other.

“Al, it’s Dan,” you say. For a second, my heart drops, until I remember that Dan only has one soulmark and he’s already found her. I ask you what you mean.

“I mean,” you explain, “I’m scared for him. He’s getting brighter.”

“Oh god,” I say, because that’s all I can say. I’m reminded again why you hate your talent so much, because your talent is that. The first time you described it to me, it sounded a little ridiculous, but then we were in that café during our weekly meet up and you could barely look at this woman, she was so bright, and then she dropped dead right there. A heart attack, the paramedics told us. I remember how shocked you were, and how right after it happened you kept blinking as if someone had just turned off all the lights.

When you speak next, I can hear a slight tightness in your voice.

“Yeah, and fast as well.”

There’s nothing I can say that will help, because we both know there’s no avoiding the truth, so I just put my fingers up to my screen as if I could reach through it and get to you. You do the same and I can almost feel your fingertips on mine.

I hear a door open, and then Dan’s voice off camera. He says hi and you look up and immediately flinch and tear your hand away from the screen to cover your eyes.

Dan chuckles. “what, am I that ugly?” he jokes. Dan, who doesn’t know what your talent is. Dan, who’s now bright enough to make you look away.

He continues as if nothing is wrong. “Anyway, I was thinking of going to get some lunch and wondered if you were hungry. Just because I think there’s a pretty great place along-“

An alarm starts somewhere in your building and I see your eyes widen in fear.

“Huh,” he says, “I think that’s the fire alarm.”

“We have to get out of here now,” you tell him, and he says he needs to get his phone from his room. You can’t even look at him as you tell him there’s no time.

I take a screenshot of the both of you standing there together, and then I say goodbye because you need to hang up and when I try to tell you both I love you, my throat closes up. In the end, the words come out forced and strangled, and he looks at me weirdly for a second and then says he loves me too and he’ll talk to me later. Right before you hang up, I think I see a tear on your cheek but I can’t tell for sure because you’re moving the fastest you’ve ever done. Maybe you think if you can get out of there quickly enough, he’ll get darker again. Maybe you’re just trying to distract yourself from the inevitable.

I lie back on my bed and try not to think about what possibly could be happening where you are, and fail, and then tears come and fill my lungs and heart and I’m sinking down and down and I can’t really tell if I’m breathing. The room gets darker, eventually, and after that everything is blank but after a while I wake up and the memory winds me like a punch to the throat. I sit there for a while, staring at my wall, and then I reach for my phone and call his soulmark.

 ---

There’s a lot of in-between time, after that. Time where I’m not quite asleep but being awake is too hard, time where I wander aimlessly around my house, leaving unfinished cups of tea on whatever surface is nearest at any given time. The first couple days were the worst, where I heard nothing from you and was left wondering what had happened. We don’t really know if you can see brightness on yourself, and I had feared the worst. You texted, after a while, just enough to tell me you had made it and Dan had not. I send back the most comforting message I can, and you read it but don’t respond, and then I sit in my room with the curtains drawn and think about all the inside jokes that I am now the only one in the entire world who understands, and all the memories that are solely mine now. I call my mum, but I’m too tired to talk long so she hangs up to let me sleep and I cry instead.

After a week of radio silence, you text me to say you’ll be back in another eight days because things have been delayed. This time, when I text you back, you read it and respond with a heart.

 ---

The airport is crowded, and a man shoves his way past me but he’s muttering something about being late for a flight so I let it go and instead stand on my tiptoes, craning my neck to try to see you over the mass of people. I can see others, presumably from your flight, coming out from behind a pair of white doors, all with tired eyes and messy hair. When someone sees someone waiting to pick them up, they seem to grow a couple inches, and a smile appears on even the most annoyed faces.

Right after a big family with at least five children walk through the doors, I see you, dragging your suitcase behind you. I can tell when you see me because you lift your hand to wave, and you looks so alone and so beautiful that something breaks inside me because suddenly I’m running towards you and in the back of my mind I’m thinking that security probably doesn’t like running that much, but I don’t care because now you’re running too, and when we reach each other you wrap your arms around my waist and half collapse into me, burying your head in my shoulder. I throw my arms around you just as fiercely and we stay like that, clinging to each other, until you stop shaking and almost everyone else from your flight is long gone.

 ---

This time, we’ve managed to secure a place in the corner of the café, away from the usual mild chaos that happens in the early afternoon. You have a large ring binder open in front of you, and I have a book on my lap, although we’re both not paying any attention to either of them.

“I just keep thinking that if I had done something else he could have made it,” you tell me. I nod.

“Same. I mean, I could have come with you on the trip. I’m heatproof, I would have been fine. I could have helped.”

You sigh, then say, “There was no reason for you to come along. And besides, the smoke is the actual problem, not the fire.”

“And you can’t change whether someone goes bright. It’s not your fault,” I reply. You don’t say anything for a while, then you ask me to pass you the tea. I do, accidentally spilling some on my hand in the process.

You smile while handing me a napkin, and say, “Clumsy much, sands?”

A small area on my right arm immediately goes numb, and then there’s the same sensation as when you put your hands under freezing water and for a moment you can’t tell whether it’s hot or cold. I stop moving completely for a second, then sink back in my chair in a way that I hope looks casual. You give me a questioning look that I pretend I don’t see.

“That’s a new nickname, is it?” I ask. You look at me strangely, so I continue, “I don’t think I’ve heard it before, is all. And, you hadn’t come up with any new ones in a while, I was wondering if you had run out of creativity.”

“Hey, you know I’ll never run out of nicknames for you, dumbass.”

“I like that one less than the others,” I comment.

You throw your napkin at me and call me an idiot, and I think ‘I love you’, but instead I ask you if you’re talking about yourself. You laugh and I think you laughing is the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen, except then you make a silly face and I think the same thing about that too, so maybe I’m just a little biased. Even before my mark burned, I couldn’t imagine loving anyone but you like this, and maybe one day I’ll tell you that, but for now I cross my legs and sit back and watch as you blow a strand of hair out of your face, and I think, god, you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and I start to hurt a little less.

 ---

When I get home, I stand in front of my mirror, staring at the bold print on my arm and think about how your voice sounded saying it. Then, I call my sister, and scream into the phone and she asks what’s going on and if I’m ok and when I tell her what happened, she screams back. I had always hoped it would be you, but you call people nicknames with the reckless abandon of someone who’s already found their soulmark, or who has no soulmark at all, and I had assumed I would never get that particular wish of mine. There’s nothing for sure saying I have to be your mark as well, but its more likely than not, and when I remind my sister of this, I tell her that I expect nothing, that I’m happy enough with having you as my mark, because that’s true. She calls me an idiot and says that there’s no way I’m not your soulmark, and in that moment, I believe her.

 ---

I can hear the pounding of music from inside the building as I stand waiting in line, and I wonder how you managed to talk me into this. Both of us would prefer to stay home and watch a movie or play a board game together than to go out for the night, drinking and clubbing. Nevertheless, here we are. Your hair is drawn up in a ponytail that falls over one shoulder, and I want to lean forward and push a stray strand of hair out of your face but I don’t.  

We stand for a while, waiting and chatting, although there are slightly awkward silences where comfort usually lies. Eventually, the line shifts forward and we enter the club. My eyes take a moment to adjust to the dark of the room, and when I look over, you gesture to the bar before starting to make your way towards it through the crowd. I follow you, and you buy us both a drink which I hold because I don’t want to be rude, but I don’t drink anything from it. You lean back against the bar, and my eyes catch on the curve of your shoulder. I see your jaw clench as a light flashed over us.

A pretty girl comes up to you and you buy her a drink. She has dark hair and glitter around her eyes. Her hand curls around your forearm. I turn to look into the crush of people and wonder how long I have to stay. You tap my arm. When I look over, you gesture to the dancefloor and then the girl, and send me a questioning look. I nod, so you grab her hand to pull her into the crowd. I tilt my head back and take a big drink of whatever it is that you bought me, then try to convince myself the burning behind my eyes is from the alcohol.

The sign for the toilet is a burning light compared to the rest of the building. Inside, there’s a group of drunk people laughing, and one girl is leaning heavily against the person she’s with, makeup brush in hand. In one bathroom stall, a man hold back the hair of someone making horrific sounds in the general direction of the toilet bowl. I stumble into another stall and lock the door. I see you, pressed against her, and then you with her hand on your waist. You bring your hand up to tangle in her hair and she presses even closer to you. I shake my head and instead imagine your legs draped across my lap and your arms around my neck but then it’s you and her with your lips on her neck and her fingers on the small of your back. I put my hand on the word etched into my arm, and think about how you must not have a matching one. A smile is on your face as she presses her lips to yours. I feel a salty dampness on my cheek.

Suddenly, the sounds from outside get louder again, and then a door slams and everything goes back to muffled dullness. There’s something familiar, although for a second I don’t realise what, until it registers that I’m hearing my own name. I unlock the stall door and push it open to see you. You’re shaking and there’s black tear marks down your face.

“Can we go?” you ask. I reach out as if to touch your cheek, but then stop myself.

“The lights are scaring me. They keep landing on people and- can we go?” you repeat. I must have nodded, because next thing I know we’re in a taxi. You’re staring out of the window at the passing buildings. Your hair is mussed, but not terribly, and one of your dress straps has slipped off one shoulder. There’s a small collection of glitter next to one eye.

The taxi stops, and you get out and walk to the door of my flat in a daze, so I pay the fare and thank the driver. I unlock the door, and we wander into the kitchen, scattering shoes and bags around the flat as we go.

 ---

Neither of us drank much, and so after some burnt popcorn and several mugs of hot chocolate, we begin to return to normal. You’re sat on my kitchen counter with your legs crossed in front of you, so I climb up too and pull my knees up to my chest.

“Would you feel it,” you ask into the silence, “if someone did say it?”

I think I know what you’re talking about, but I send you a questioning look anyway. My heart begins to beat faster in my chest.

“I mean, you’re burn proof, right? What if it didn’t burn you?” You look devastated, although I don’t know why. I sigh.

“I think it wouldn’t matter. I’m not going to fall for someone just because of a name. I want to care about a person, not a tradition.”

If anything, you look even closer to tears.

“BUT,” you say, and I wince at the volume even though you’re probably more sensitive to loud noises than me at the moment, so you apologise before continuing.

“But,” you repeat, “what happens if you like a person but you don’t feel it burn?”

There’s a long silence before I say, “It burned.”

“Oh.”

I’m looking anywhere but your face, and in the corner of my eye I can see you doing the same.

“Who-“

“Please don’t ask me that,” I interrupt.

I can hear you sniffing softly, but I don’t know what to do so I just press my leg ever so slightly against yours.

“Mine is you, you know,” you tell me, and the whole world stops turning. “I didn’t want to tell you for the longest time because-“

I interrupt again. “Are you drunk still? At all?”

“No. Although I have no idea why I’m saying this sober.”

“Good.” I take a deep breath. My heart has decided to learn how to tap-dance. I lean closer to you and now I can see the faintest of freckles strewn across your nose. You’re perfectly still, and for a forever second, everything in the world stops.

“Are you drunk?” you breath. I can feel the words on my skin.

“Not even slightly.” Then I kiss you.

Everything about you is soft, and I put my hand on your waist because I want to. There’s a weight on my shoulders and I fee your arms wrap around my neck.

Eventually, I have to pull away because I’ve bent over myself to get to you, and my leg is numb. You let out a small laugh, and then I pull my sleeve up to show you my mark and you do the same. I shift my legs and you pull me back in again.

#my writing #love #bro!!! this is like #3282 words #pls love me bc this took So Long #also its not properly edited but u know what? #this was for fun & idc #pls appreciate this tho or i Will Cry #writing the end was like... GOD bro i want a PARTNER #also can u tell ive never #1- been to a club #2- kissed anyone #death tw

[shadowofthemoth]

Friar Laurence and Prince Escalus for the ask meme XD

Hello and thanks, wahah, now that’s what I call a perfect ask! 

Friar Laurence (or Lorenzo, as I like to call him):

favorite thing about them: his general goodness. I love that he is a benign and good-natured character, very understanding and willing to help. 

least favorite thing about them: he really should have thought of telling someone ahem, the Prince, ahem about the whole “secret marriage and fake death” affair instead of just keeping it all secret like a little boy playing spy. So many problems could’ve been avoided, but no. (But I still love the man).

favorite line: all of them! And in particular, this part of “J’Sais Plus”:

La vie était facileIl suffisait d'aimerMais l'encre des EvangilesDans mon coeur a séchéOh, Dieu de tous les hommesToi qui sait tout sur toutEcoute la voix d'un hommeQui te dit à genouxQu'il devient fou

brOTP: Romeo, in a way, especially if you think of the new Italian Lorenzo. They’re such good bros there! xD

OTP: Prince Escalus (obviously).

nOTP: everyone but Escalus? xD Idk, I just don’t really ship him with anyone else… 

random headcanon: 1) in a modern setting, Lorenzo is a surgeon; 2) when it comes to escalawrence, Escalus is the one to fall in love first, but it is Lorenzo who confesses first. 

unpopular opinion: as opposed to the way he’s portrayed in many versions, Lorenzo is actually not that old, 40 years maximum. I’d even say 36 to 38. 

song i associate with them: “Angel” by Poets of the Fall. 

favorite picture of them: all credit goes to Julien Vachon and my dear Rubick Chen.

Prince Escalus:

favorite thing about them: I admit that these features may be more of a headcanon than not, but I love the man’s strength and determination. He’s immensely charismatic, for sure; but it’s a character whom I - first of all - respect and admire because of how strong and resilient he is. Even based on the La Vengeance scene after the duel, it’s clear to me that Escalus hides his emotions well. He seems calm on the surface, but on the inside, there is a storm that no one is meant to ever catch a glimpse of. And being calm and rational and fair, all the while hiding that storm inside you… that takes immense strength. And that aura of strength-despite-all-the-pain was what drew me to him in the first place; and it’s still my favourite aspect of this character.

least favorite thing about them: this is more about the way he’s shown in some versions, thanks to the Le Pouvoir thing (a grateful shoutout to the Austrian and the Hungarian versions for leaving it out). I don’t like this lust for power he’s shown to have, so I invented a separate explanation for this, because I love the song itself, I only don’t like what it does to the whole image of the character. 

favorite line: guys, honestly, come on, it’s “favourite lineS”. 

1) Austrian: 

Willkommen in der Stadt! 

(”Verona”. Iconic, fucking iconic, man).

Ich als Fürst hatt’ hier die Macht,Der Hass hat mich um sie gebracht.Nur der Friede war mein Ziel,Bis meine Welt zerfiel.…Viva Verona, dunkles Verona.

(”Verona II”).

2) French:

On m'envie mais de quoi?On dit lui en parlant de moiOn me craint on me croitPour qu'ils aient chaud j'ai froid…Le pouvoir ça brûle en vousLe pouvoir ça vous rend fouLe pouvoir on s'y cramponneEt quand il vous abandonneOn en meurt!

(”Le Pouvoir”)

brOTP: idk… I headcanon that he has a close relationship with his nephews (Mercutio and Valentine), but that’s not a brOTP. I also headcanon that he was best friends with his younger sister Beatrice, his nephews’ mother, in their childhood and youth and up until her demise. Guess it counts as a brOTP? 

OTP: Lorenzo, Queen Mab, der Tod, Juliet (in various AUs). Benvolio, if it’s the Hungarian version where Escalus is younger than everywhere else. Mercutio, if they’re not related by blood (and only in the Italian version). Also I now have a headcanon that (in some AUs of mine, especially in the modern AU) he was married once but his wife died very tragically, together with their child (either unborn or still very young), well before his sister died and left her children in Escalus’s care… and I’ve yet to come up with his wife’s name, yeah.

nOTP: pretty much everyone else.

random headcanon: 1) Escalus sings really well and can play more than one musical instrument. 2) in the modern AU, Escalus works in the police. Bonus round, because I feel like it: Escalus and Lorenzo have matching tattoos which depict two intertwined snakes. Escalus’s is on his left bicep, covering an old scar he got on an operation. Lorenzo was the one to patch him up afterwards; and that was when Lorenzo couldn’t hide his feelings for Escalus anymore, and they’ve been a couple ever since.

unpopular opinion: more of a headcanon rather than of an unpopular opinion, but oh well, Escalus is afraid of spiders.

song i associate with them:“My Dark Disquiet” by Poets of the Fall.   

favorite picture of them: can’t find my all-time favourite atm, so I’ll post a sketch I drew based on it, ok? 

Whoa, that took long! Hope you enjoy this monsterpost, my lovely anon! :3

#ask meme #prince escalus #friar lawrence #friar laurence #retj #musicals #frederic charter #boris pfeifer #shadowofthemoth is drawing #Anonymous #jesus what's up with the formatting? #I had to edit this again because everything went rogue after publishing #sorry

[dutch-class]

Jullie zouden Limburg moeten bezoeken! Limburg is een heel mooi gebied van in Nederland. Daar liggen veel kleine steden en dorpen. Jullie kunnen door het platteland fietsen van dorp tot dorp. Jullie zullen schattige huisjes, bruisende rivieren, en wat grote heuvels zien. Jullie zullen ook* gansen ganzen, koeien en paarden ontmoeten  tegenkomen.

Limburg heeft ook redelijk grote steden zoals Maastricht. Maastricht heeft interessante oude gebouwen en kerken. Één oude kerk is nu een boekwinkel! Ze hebben twee verdiepingen gebouwd binnen in het kerkgebouw en ze hebben deze verdiepingen gevuld met boeken. In de het koor van de kerk staat een café met tafels en stoelen. Op de wanden staat  n er nog steeds schilderijen. Het is wel een boekenparadijs. Maastricht heeft ook Andre Rieu, dus je kan heen en weer dansen op het plein! 😆

Volgens Naar mijn ervaring is Limburg ook een goed gebied waarin je, je/jouw kan jouw Nederlands kan oefenen. In Amsterdam, Rotterdam, en andere internationaale steden spreken ze vaak Engels, en ze haasten ze zich (I’d personally say: en ze zijn gehaast) ; dus als je in het Nederlands te langzaam spreekt of stoppen t om na te denken of om je je de het goede woord te herrineren, (dan) veranderen ze naar het Engels omdat dit makkelijker is**.

In Limburg, vooral in de kleine dorpen, hebben mensen een beetje meer geduld met jouw slechte langzaam langzame Nederlands! Misschien is dit zo omdat zij daar minder vaak daar Engels moeten*** gebruiken.

* You can also say “Ook zullen jullie”, so it sounds less repetitive compared to the other sentence. 

** I would either say: (dan) gaan ze op het Engels over, omdat het makkelijker is.

*** “hoeven te” sounds better imo

@sonsoroi First of all, you’re doing a very good job! You don’t make many mistakes and most of the mistakes are rather small. I’d only advise you to try and play around with word order and linking words a little more, so the story sounds more fluent and natural. You can also try to replace some repetitive parts with demonstrative pronouns and stuff. 

#corrected

[femsff]

Every number that contains a 2 please 🍍

“hi, I’m not from the US” ask set

given how Americanized this site is, it’s important to celebrate all our countries and nationalities - with all their quirks and vices and ridiculousness, and all that might seem strange to outsiders.

For the record, I’ve included previously answered questions.

1. favourite place in your country?

Is it weird if I say my bed?

2. do you prefer spending your holidays in your country or travel abroad?

This is a toss-up. If I could choose without any consequences it would definitely be abroad. However, holidaying for me has always meant relaxing, preferably near the beach and an occasional stroll around town and maybe, depending on the company, a cultural outing, but I’ve been diagnosed with melanoma in the past and therefore such vacationing is out of the question. So, in actuality, it more often means I’m staying in my country and I’ll go somewhere (or visit friends/family) for a long weekend or something. It’s unfortunate, but I’m pretty sure my two cats are happy with the arrangement.

3. does your country have access to sea?

4. favourite dish specific for your country?

5. favourite song in your native language?

Hmm. I actually don’t listen much to the radio and especially not to songs in my native language specifically. The only one that really comes to mind right now is an older one that I heard a lot in my teens and it’s actually a sequel to another song by the same band. Part one is about when a good relationship starts to get rocky, all the dangers threatening their relationship, but that he (the singer) will keep the course because he knows their final destination. It’s pretty hopeful, I guess. Part two is when everything is ending, how they’re always fighting and love has turned to hate. Both songs have a maritime theme, and in the beginning he’s the strong one, the captain who’ll get them through it and in the second it’s like their ship has two captains and they’re steering in opposite directions.

6. most hated song in your native language?

7. three words from your native language that you like the most?

Gezellig - has no direct English translation but basically means something along the lines of cozy, intimate, warm, fun, snug, homey and can be applied to situations (like having a great time with family/friends), an atmosphere or even the interior of a house or something.

Katuitdeboomkijker - has no direct English translation but literally translated means ‘someone who stares a cat out of the tree’ and basically means that you tend be a bit reserved and will observe everyone/a situation first before engaging. Often used to describe a person’s behavior in social settings.

Mierenneuker - literally translated it means ‘ant fucker’ and is basically the same as a nitpicker or hairsplitter.

8. do you get confused with other nationalities? if so, which ones and by whom?

9. which of your neighbouring countries would you like to visit most/know best?

I’ve already been to all my neighboring countries several times. My least favorite was probably Belgium (no offense, Belgians) although my friends and I did have a blast there when we went there on a week-long school excursion in high school (I think as freshmen or maybe sophomores). I haven’t explored much of Germany yet, so maybe that would be it? I also like the UK and would definitely want to explore more of it (and yes, I’m using UK rather than England because that way there’s more to explore!).

10. most enjoyable swear word in your native language?

Oh my. Hmm. I think I’m going to have to go with ‘kut’, because of the k-sound which just sounds really good when expressing it in dismay/anger. It’s basically a vulgar word for a woman’s private parts and can be used in a similar manner as the English ‘fuck’. It is not considered as being on the same level of offensiveness as the English cunt. I also like ‘tering’ because you can really draw out the e. That’s the word for consumption (tuberculosis), by the way, but I only use it as an exclamation (there are variations where people basically wish it on you or, from the olden days, accuse you of suffering from it).

I probably should have prefaced this answer with the fact that in my culture, we tend to use diseases (often dreaded ones from the past) and sex organs in our swearing and profanity (also, often food for insults, like calling someone a pancake for being a dumbass).

11. favourite native writer/poet?

12. what do you think about English translations of your favourite native prose/poem?

Eek! I feel like this answer might disappoint folks, but I’m not a big fan of prose/poems and honestly, couldn’t name one. In my experience, translated written works always seem to lose something in translation though.

13. does your country (or family) have any specific superstitions or traditions that might seem strange to outsiders?

14. do you enjoy your country’s cinema and/or TV?

15. a saying, joke, or hermetic meme that only people from your country will get?

This is a tough one. I think I’m gonna go with a saying, “doe maar gewoon, dan doe je al gek genoeg”, which basically means ‘act normal, that’s weird enough’ because we don’t like crazy or over the top things.

16. which stereotype about your country you hate the most and which one you somewhat agree with?

17. are you interested in your country’s history?

I feel like this is a trick question and am now wondering if this questionnaire was created by an American or non-American. Why? Because, in comparison, Americans are very patriotic and nationalistic. My country and many in Europe are far less so, not in the least due to having seen the devastation such extremes can bring (WWII). This is not in any way meant as an accusation, it’s just an observation and I think, for the context, an important distinction that should be made.

Anyway, to answer the question, I’m not obsessed with my country’s history but am informed. History has never been my favorite subject (dropped it in high school as a freshman) but I do like to learn the origin of certain things in my country/culture.

18. do you speak with a dialect of your native language?

19. do you like your country’s flag and/or emblem? what about the national anthem?

20. which sport is The Sport in your country?

Looking at the Olympics, probably ice skating. But soccer (football for the Americans) comes as a pretty close second and it’s definitely one the whole country goes wild for when the national team is in the EC/WC (think: orange madness). Don’t get me wrong, we also like the Olympics but it’s not on the same level. Yet.

21. if you could send two things from your country into space, what would they be?

In order to destroy them? Or to make contact with the aliens?

22. what makes you proud about your country? what makes you ashamed?

Like I’ve said in another answer, we don’t really do the whole national pride thing to the same extent as some countries, but I like how we’re so small and yet are pretty good at certain things (water management, infrastructure, sports, agriculture, healthcare, science). My identity is not really tied to my country or vice versa, so I can’t say I’m really ashamed of something my country as a whole has done or does, but we used to be known for being very tolerant and the past decade or so you see more and more intolerance and that’s just a shame.

23. which alcoholic beverage is the favoured one in your country?

Good question. I think maybe beer or wine? A quick google search gave me no definitive answer either.

24. what other nation is joked about most often in your country?

Belgium! There’s a long standing tradition of us calling the Belgians dumb and, apparently, they do the same thing about us! However, lately, the US is a very hot topic as well.

So, I’d say historically/traditionally the former but in every day conversation and such it’s the latter.

25. would you like to come from another place, be born in another country?

I used to feel that way, but now that I’m older I think I’m far more appreciative of my country and culture.

26. does your nationality get portrayed in Hollywood/American media? what do you think about the portrayal?

Yes, sometimes. They’re all cliches and many of the stereotypes are very dated. Also, for some reason certain movies/shows like to use the language probably because they feel it’s “special” since, relatively speaking, so few people speak it worldwide but then they apparently can’t be bothered to actually hire a voice coach who speaks the language and it ends up being incomprehensible for native speakers as they pronounce the words often in a mix of German and some kind of Eastern European language or something. Very strange. I mean, why even bother?

27. favourite national celebrity?

I’m not really into celebrities, so I’ll pick the king&queen.

28. does your country have a lot of lakes, mountains, rivers? do you have favourites?

Nope, flat as a pancake as we like to say.

29. does your region/city have a beef with another place in your country?

Not really, anymore. We just have a long standing tradition of mocking the Belgians for their lack of intelligence and accusing Germans of stealing our grandparents’ bikes.

30. do you have people of different nationalities in your family?

#not from the US ask #me #rl #thank you for playing #diamondorloj

[therealtrashhole]

I was tagged by @80smikewheeler (Thanks! but also I hate you now -not really lmao-) Rules: Tag 10 followers you want to get to know better. Rip you guys.

Name: It's Paul. But a lot of friends call me Pauly.

Gender: Male

Star Sign: Taurus (aka the best one)

Height: I'm either 5'8 or 5'10 I honestly have no clue.

Age: I'm 19. But ya boi is turning 20 in April!

Sexuality: Gay. But I have been a curious gay as of late...

House: Slytherin (Aka the best house)

What image do you have as your wallpaper?: My phone lockscreen wallpaper is Iron Man, cause he's the best. And my laptop's is a simple Stranger Things background.

Have you ever had a crush on a teacher?: Nope. A lot of my teachers were usually old. Like really old. Some might be into that, but not me. Rip. Still loved them tho, they were cool.

Where do you see yourself in 10 years?: I honestly hate thinking about my future. Puts a lot of strain on me. So I'll just leave it at that.

If you could be anywhere else right now, where?: Hmmm I'd honestly like to be at my families mobile home near the seaside, right now. I like watching my little pupper run around on the beach.

What was your coolest Halloween costume?: I wouldn't say coolest, but I did put the most effort into this one. Okay so I "cosplayed" as my favorite Naruto character, Deidara. I was like 13 or 14? Don't fucking judge me! Judge young me!

What was your favorite 90's show?: So I was born in 98 so I obviously didn't grow up watching 90's television. But I guess I can say, The Fresh Prince of Bel-air, Friends and The Simpsons? One of those, can't decide.

Last Kiss?: It was a drunk party dare like back in December, right around New Years. Nothing special really. Just friends being drunk and gay.

Have you ever been stood up: Nope.

Have you ever been to Las Vegas?: Noooo, but I really wanna go. You know how much I love casinos? Isn't that place like, one big casino lmao

Favorite pair of shoes?: I only have three pairs okay? I use one pair for my day to day life. One pair just in case the previously mentioned pair gets ruined or something. And finally a pair of boots I use for outdoorsie type of stuff.

Favorite fruit?: I FUCKING LOVE GRAPES!- so long as they're seedless. Watermelon is a close second!

The Stupidest thing you've ever done?: Fallen in love....Just kidding, I'm not that edgy. Hmmmm. I'd have to say, the time I abandoned a friend when they really needed me. I still feel guilty about it and have tried to make amends, but...well, that's al I'll say.

All-time favorite TV shows?: I could make an entire essay. But I'll stick to just a few. Breaking Bad (masterpiece), Game of Thrones, Stranger Things, Shameless (US), Avatar The Last Airbender,  Drake & Josh (almost all of Dan Schneider's live action shows), Waterloo Road (It was a UK drama series) and The Walking Dead. I'll stop here before I ramble on lmao.

The Last movie you saw in theater: That'd have to be Black Panther. Mwuahh, it was amazing!

Tagging (I'm sorry guys. Ye don’t have to if ye don’t wanna!): @devilstrip @the-angry-pixie @the-curly-haired-club @biggestbyelershipper @tozierbraks @childishsoup @stonedzier @reddietoroll @doarecords @totallytrashmouth

#Paul's personal shit #get to know me