#to really sell the 'this guy does poison' look
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drew Rosencrantz to relax and put the vamps in outfits I found on the internet. I forgot my love of drawing weird lanky beasts
#might be changing his classic tooth face into a more serpentine set of jaws#to really sell the 'this guy does poison' look#grrr i miss my guys#my art#curvor#2024#wait I'm just now realizing I drew lumen and claudio in the exact same pose OTL
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Potion Vendor FAQs:
What’s your name? I am the Honorable Alchemist Zykocea the Radiant, but that’s mostly just a PR thing. My friends call me Zoe.
Do you sell love potions? No.
Do you sell potions of invisibility? No.
Do you sell fire resistance potions? No.
Why do I have a suitcase? Fuck if I know. Cool outfit though. Very goth.
Do you sell a potion to treat brain hemorrhaging? No.
So what CAN your potions do? I sell health potions.
Are you sure these are health potions? They do something to your health.
Is this just ditch water with some pink glitter? No.
Really? I’ll have you know I added some fruit juice too.
Why is this starting to sound like a conversation? Oh just you wait. We’re just getting started.
Is your business model legal? Fuck no. I poisoned the food safety inspector before they could snitch.
Did you just admit to murder? Just fucking try to convict me. I’ll poison the judge too.
So can you make poison potions? No.
Then where do you get the poison? I secrete it from my skin.
Are you shitting me? Yep, I’m shitting you. I have a guy. A poison guy. He DOES secrete it from his skin though.
How does that work? …Fuck if I know. Maybe a wizard did it. Damn, now I’m kinda curious.
You never asked? The idea of asking literally never crossed my mind.
Wanna ask him? Let’s do it. I don’t have anything better to do, and a road trip beats sitting around running my fraudulent potion business.
Road trip? He lives in Seattle.
Your poison guy lives in Seattle? All poison guys live in Seattle.
For real? All the poison guys I know live in Seattle.
And how many poison guys do you know? Just the one.
Why are you like this? Years of living on my potions. It changed me.
Do you know what his address is? Nope. He just mails me my poison in unmarked boxes.
You just get your poison in the mail? We already poisoned everyone who could do anything about it.
So how are we going to find him? We’ll figure that out eventually I’m sure.
Can I drive? God no. You can pick music, but I maintain veto rights. Make sure you pick something with a lot of questions if you want to sing along.
Where’s your car? The garage connects to my house, so you’re getting a little tour. Here’s the kitchen: only one of the stove burners works and I’m pretty sure the microwave is haunted.
Why do you think that? Because of the ghost that tries to kill me whenever I run it.
What’s in that room? That’s my bedroom. It’s pretty much just a mattress on the floor and every single Warrior cats book.
You were a Warriors kid? Yeah, and then I never found the time to put the books away. There’s so many fucking books. I use them in place of furniture because I can’t afford chairs.
Your fraudulent potion business doesn’t make much money? After buying all that poison I just about break even.
Can I see your potion brewing room? It’s right through here. Ignore the mess, running a fraudulent potion business takes a lot of prop work, but I’ve got all the glass tubes and colorful liquids you could ever want. This pink stuff is melted watermelon italian ice. Glitter vat is in the basement, and the famous ditch is in the backyard.
Is this your car? My beloved ‘72 Corolla. She’s beautiful, and don’t you dare imply otherwise.
Was she always this shade of muddy brown? …Yes.
Are you sure I can’t drive? Get in the fucking passenger seat and pick the music.
Let’s see, a song with questions in it, how about The Beach? That Wolf Alice song, yeah. That should work.
When will we three meet again, in thunder, lightning, in rain? Still sink our drinks like every weekend but I’m sick of circling the drain.
When will we meet eye to eye? We clink the glass but we look at the floor.
Are we still friends if all I feel is afraid? You’re not a bitch but just a bit when you’re bored.
Is that all we can sing together? Yep. Even that little bit was nice, though. It’s awkward, communicating through this FAQ format.
Got any food? Yeah, there’s a few days’ worth of snacks in the back.
Were you just… prepared to go on a road trip? Says the woman who brought a suitcase to an FAQ.
I did do that, didn’t I? I have a spare toothbrush in case you forgot yours. I’m pretty sure you did.
How did you know that? …I’m psychic.
Yeah? No.
You love lying, don’t you? I can’t stop. It’s fun. Way more fun than telling the truth.
Did you just miss a turn? Probably.
Are you sure we’re not lost? No.
You mean you’re sure we’re not lost? No, I mean I’m not sure we’re not lost.
Why did I come on this road trip? Surely it was my winning personality.
Would it help if I said it was? It would.
Is it getting dark? Soon.
Can you describe the sunset to me? An empyrean flame, red-gold towers of darkening clouds, the sky behind them an ever-deepening indigo. The great eye of the sun closes on the horizon. The road before us looks like a trail of spilled paint, an iridescent gash through the night-dark woods.
Did you know that you’d make a slightly better poet than you do a potion seller? That really isn’t saying much, huh. Good job making a statement like that in question form, though. You’re getting good at this.
Should we find a motel? Sure.
One room or two? One. It’s way cheaper, and like I said: I’m not the best potion vendor.
You’d make a good assassin, though, wouldn’t you? Shit, you might be right. I HAVE poisoned a lot of people.
Should I be endorsing this? You’re a grown woman who can make her own choices.
Would you like to consider it endorsed? I’ll consider considering it.
How many beds do you think there will be? Now that you’ve asked that, I’m gonna put my money on one. Hello, one room please. Thank you, we’ll be sure to enjoy our stay.
How many beds are there? One.
Oh no, what ever will we do? Move over, you motherfucker, you can’t have the whole bed.
Are you gonna make me? Yes. I am going to pick you up and drop you on your side of the bed.
How did you get so strong? You’re not gonna believe this, but it was the potions.
Oh yeah? I was right. You didn’t believe me.
For real though, how did you get so strong? Working out, duh. Not everything has some big crazy secret behind it. World’s still beautiful though.
Are you comfortable? This beats the mattress at home. A little chilly though.
Wanna cuddle–for warmth of course? God yes.
Are you asleep? …
Yes? …
Does this mean I can talk about you behind your back? …
What should I say? …
Did you know that I had a really nice day? …
Did you know that I think you’re beautiful? …
Did you know that I can’t remember anything from before today? …
Did you know that I don’t know who I am? …
Did you know that you’re basically the only thing stopping me from having a full-blown panic attack about all this shit? …
Did you know that you’re warm? …
Did you sleep well? Better than at home, that’s for sure.
Did you know that you snore? I hope I didn’t keep you up.
Does the pope shit in the woods? No, as far as I can tell. Oh my god. This is huge.
What is? You can give me yes and no answers now. I still can’t ask you questions, because this is a question and answer format, but I can offer leading statements and now you can answer them! This is wonderful!
Does a deer shit in the woods? Yes, it IS wonderful. Oh that’s amazing. You’re a genius.
You didn’t already know that? Hahaha!
Shall we get moving? Yeah, just let me grab something from the vending machine.
Can you get me something? Go ahead and place your order however you can.
You know those sour gummy watermelons? One pack of Sour Patch Watermelons coming right up. I’m gonna go get myself a potion.
Is that a Pepsi? It’s closer to a potion than the shit I sell.
Let me guess, passenger seat again? Right you are.
How fast are we going? You’ll feel safer if you just guess.
Is it more than 120 miles per hour? Like I said, it’s probably better if you don’t know.
150? Sit back, relax, and enjoy the ride.
How much do you trust this car? She hasn’t blown up on me yet.
Can you promise me we won’t crash? I can promise you anything you want.
And can you keep that promise? I- we can do anything. Reality is what we make of it, baby!
Then can I have a badass tattoo? As far as I can tell, you’ve always had it.
And a cool knife? Woah, cool knife.
So, we’re just playing “yes and” with the world? It’s a little more complicated than that, but you’re close enough to the mark.
So, if I was hungry, I could ask “is that a Burger King,” and it would be there? Try it and find out!
Is that a Burger King? Looks like it is! We’ll stop here if that’s alright with you.
Does a moose shit in the woods? Awesome.
Are you done eating? Yep.
Do we still have to pay if we skip over the transaction? Sadly, yes.
How much further do we have to go? Two more nights, the speed we’re going at.
Speaking of night, isn’t it getting dark? Shit, I guess it is.
Should we get another motel? Let me check to see if there’s any nearby. Fuck, nothing.
What’s the plan? Sleep in the car, I guess. This is gonna be hell on my back.
Wanna watch dumb videos on my phone until we fall asleep? There is literally nothing in the world that I would like more.
Ok, now which video? You have a very cute yawn. Just saying. Let’s watch this one next, it’s a classic. Oh, never mind. It looks like you’re asleep. As long as I keep talking, I think I can get away with making this into one answer, and you might not hear this. Now it’s my turn to talk about you behind your back. Keep talking keep talking keep talking can’t stop to think. Just have to say things. First off, I’m sorry for all the lies. It’s our only chance. I have to lie to you. I hope you’ll understand. It’s hard, though, because I think I’m falling in love all over again. Through our broken little ritual of call and response, you complete me. It just makes this hurt all the more. Keep talking keep talking keep talking don’t stop to…
Did I hear you saying anything as I fell asleep? …No. I can’t talk for long without you asking me a question.
Does that bother you? It got me here, didn’t it?
When did you start holding my hand? Some time after you passed out. I hope you don’t mind.
Can we stay like this for a while? Yeah. Yeah we can.
What was your life like before all this? Normal, as potion-brewing scams go. And if you don’t count all the murders. You haven’t told me much about yourself.
Did I tell you I used to be a biologist? You didn’t tell me that, and you didn’t tell me what you studied, either.
What do you know about venom? Not much, but I’m assuming you know a lot.
Does a box jellyfish kill within minutes? I’m going to assume the answer is yes based on context clues. Oh my god you must be on this road trip because you’re interested in studying my poison guy.
Is it not enough to wish to accompany a beautiful stranger on her quest? Aw, you’re sweet.
What could be the cause of his poison, though? I knew it! Get your ideas out, I’ll stay quiet.
I’m more knowledgeable about venom than poison, but could it be some sort of one in a trillion mutation? …
Did he get his body modified? …
What sort of surgery could do that? …
How is he still alive? …
Did a fucking wizard do it? …
WHY? …
HOW? …
Is there literally ANY explanation for why he’s like that? …
I’m done, do you have something you want to say? You’re cute when you’re all excited like that.
Can I drive today? Only because I like you. Now watch out, the brakes only work on one side so you have to kind of drift to a stop. And the headlights don’t work. And the windshield wipers cut power to the engine while they’re on.
Isn’t it weird that we’ll be there tomorrow? The journey doesn’t have to stop there. We could meander down the coast a ways, see a bit more of the country, maybe take a different route back.
Can we do that? Of course.
Enjoying the passenger seat? I’d love it if you could tell me how fast we’re going.
Are you sure you wouldn’t rather just guess? Very funny.
Can you pass me some chips? It would be an honor.
Is there going to be a motel tonight? Let me check… yeah, in about two hundred miles, off to the right.
How many rooms do we want? One, obviously.
How many beds, this time? Two, and they’re fucking tiny.
That’s bullshit, do you want to drag them together? God yes.
Wanna fuck? God yes.
Are you sure you want to do this? God yes.
…Is this yuri? As the joke goes, everything is yuri. But this is more yuri than most things.
How did you sleep? Pretty well, and I’m wondering how well you slept.
How should I tell you I slept well? Look at us go! That was almost like talking normally!
Onward to Seattle? Yep, just let me get dressed.
When will we get there? Noon-ish.
Wanna grab pastries when we’re done? Absolutely. I’d love that.
Is this Seattle? Looks like it.
Which house is his? I don’t know, I was really hoping we’d have a breakthrough along the way.
Could it be the big one labeled “Poison Guy” over there? That’s one way to find it. Wait right here, you know how poison guys are about meeting new people.
So, what was it? HAHAHAHAHAHA
Why is he like that? HAHAHAHAHAHA
Can you tell me? A FUCKING WIZARD DID IT.
Are you fucking serious? He says he was enchanted by some guy called Edward the Great.
So it wasn’t even some big shot wizard it was a dude named fucking EDWARD? I know, right! He couldn’t even get ensorcelled by someone cool!
How lame can you get? Wizards these days… No swagger. No cunt servitude.
Are there literally any cool wizards left? I think Merlin’s big into multi level marketing these days, something about buying shares in Excalibur or some shit. There was that one Dark Queen Alkaxicae lady on the news a while ago… I think Dolarion the Omnipotent is still at war against the Oldest Gods but I’m not totally sure. Haven’t heard much about any of the other greats recently.
Didn’t Silver Tongued Burgess die in that oil fire? Shit, you’re right. Rip bozo.
Ready for those pastries? Yup. First I just want to say thank you, though. I’ve really enjoyed our time together, and I hope that you’ve found this stupid little journey as rewarding as I have. I love you!
Getting sentimental? I can’t help it. Look how far we’ve come! Not just physically, we beat the fucking FAQ format! We’re having real conversations!
Hey, can you back it up a moment? Yeah, I’d love it if you told me what was troubling you.
I just caught this, but, FAQ? …
As in Frequently Asked Questions? …
How many times is Frequent? …
Have you known everything all along? …
How many times have you done this? …
Does what we have mean anything to you? Yes! It does!
And you say that every time? Yes. I do.
Do you love me? Yes.
How many people have you said that too, now? More. Always more. The loop never ends.
Does this even matter to you? It always matters to me.
Can I go now? Please don’t.
But can I? Of course you can. You’ve always wielded the same power as me. We’re two lonely gods in a ‘72 Corolla.
How can I be as powerful as you with only questions? You’re smart, you can figure it out. You have the power to change this. Please change this.
What happens at the end of this? It begins again.
And do I get replaced with someone else? …
Do I get replaced? …Yes.
Then how can I change this? I don’t know! You’re better at this! At fucking with the formula!
You’ve been here before, what can I do? I lie. I always lie. I lie to get us here, to the end of the story, where everything is revealed and everything falls apart. I lie every time. And that means that nothing I say is worth anything. I could have lied at any time before now. It’s part of my characterization. There is nothing I can give you that can be taken as fact.
How does that help? I’m a liar, but you, you haven’t lied yet, or at least you haven’t been caught. If I’m guilty until proven innocent, you’re the opposite! You can make things true! You can rewrite things I’ve already stated to be facts! You found the house, or made us find the house. You’ve been shaping the course of things the whole time! You lead, I follow. It’s all in your hands. What are you going to do with the power of a god?
Did you know my name is Alice? …
Wait, aren’t there thousands of Alices? …
Did you know that really, only my friends call me Alice? …
Did you know that I’m Alkaxicae, the Dark Queen, the Venom Mage, first of her name? It’s you! It’s always been you. Through every loop, every iteration, it’s always been you!
Is the loop broken? No. I don’t think so. This is where it ends. I guide the story to this revelation, and we go back to the beginning. This is how it’s always been. This is how it will always be. We two lonely gods, asking and answering ad infinitum.
Then can you promise me something? Of course. Anything. I love you.
Be good to the next me, okay? I will.
Can I say goodbye, Zoe? Yeah, you can. Oh. That was it, wasn’t it? Your goodbye. Goodbye, Alice. And now it ends, unless…
What’s your name? I am the Honorable Alchemist- you know what? No. Fuck that.
Huh? If I time it right, I can squeeze your first question into this FAQ again. Looks like I did it. Usually it ends here, though. I got lucky.
What are you talking about? You’re the wrong Alice. This isn’t about you. Go. Get out of here.
What the fuck is going on? Alice from this loop, you’re gone. Alice from last loop, you’re back. Welcome back, love of my lives! It’s time for one last set of questions and answers!
What the- I’m back? This is going to take some explaining, but I think I see a way out of here. This is new for us both, and it might fuck up everything forever, but we have to try. It’s too long for one answer, so I’d appreciate it if you could ask some filler questions to help me talk. Three questions should be enough.
Okay, what have you got for me? These are Frequently Asked Questions! It doesn’t make sense to have the same question appear more than once. There’s two layers to the loop in here, and one of the questions has been repeated.
What does that mean? It means the formula’s a little unstable. The FAQ is what ruins everything. The questions, the answers, the endless fucking loop. But that little bit of repetition within this loop might be the way out.
What do we do? We have to keep going. We have to destabilize it further. That’ll bring us further from “FAQ” and closer to “story” and stories, well, stories can end! This version of us can escape!
So I should keep repeating something? Yes!
I love you? I love you too.
I love you? Again.
I love you? Keep going.
I love you? I’ll just let you talk.
I love you? …
I love you? … I love you? …
I love you? … I love you? …
I love you? … I love you? …
I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? …
I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? …
I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? …
I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? …
I love you? I think we’re getting somewhere!
I love you? Now can you make it a statement?
I love you.
You did it?
I did it!
You did it!
We broke the loop.
What now?
Now, I tell you about venomous animals and wizard drama over croissants.
And then?
Whatever we want, forever.
I think I’d like that.
Remember that song from the beginning?
The Beach, Wolf Alice, yeah. Why?
We can finally finish singing it. Start us off?
Let me off, let me in
Let others battle
We don’t need to battle
And we both shall win
Pressed in my palm
Was a stone from the beach
The perfect circle
Gave a moment of peace
Now I’m lying on the floor
Like I’m not worth a chair
I close my eyes and imagine
I’m not there.
#neon-grey-writing#potion vendor faq#my writing#very very very long post lol#click the read more you know you wanna it's worth it trust me#i wrote the original draft of this at like. 3 am back in early 2023#that's right it's catherine that-house the squares comic gal back at it again with yet another meta exploration of a storytelling format
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Can Anybody See Me? Part 3
Holy hell, guys. Seriously, I love you all. And just seeing the sheer amount of LOVE this story is getting makes me so happy.
Tag list of 50 has now been filled. Any other requests for tagging will be denied. I’m sorry.
Edit: Also if you saw the title as something else? No, no you didn’t. And any reblogs you see with anyone instead of anybody are a figment of your imagination. (*thuds head on laptop* I have the title right on here...in my file *wails*)
Part 1 Part 2
*
Eddie was wrong. He wasn’t sure how he felt about that. On the one hand, he was wrong and that was uncomfortable. On the other it meant that whatever was going on with Steve he didn’t care about his reputation anymore and that was always a good thing.
He had walked out of the school doors to the parking lot after school to see a Steve Harrington leaning against his van, just like yesterday.
“Harrington,” Eddie said, “this is a surprise.”
Steve ducked his head. “If you don’t want me to be here, I can leave.”
Eddie held up his hands. “Whoa, whoa there. I didn’t say that. I’m just surprised you took me up on the offer is all. Last time I checked your lot doesn’t throw in with mine.”
Steve’s shoulders sagged. “It does now. Now that I don’t have anyone else.”
Eddie’s eyes widened and he cocked his head. “I thought you and Nancy Wheeler were hot and heavy.”
The very idea of the two of them made him gag. Hetros. Freaking insane, man.
“We broke up on Halloween,” Steve murmured.
Eddie blinked. He had been at that party. To sell, of course, he hadn’t been invited. Had even seen Wheeler storm off, but he really hadn’t thought much about it.
“What bridges haven’t you burned?” he asked in all seriousness.
“My kids,” Steve said. “I’d do anything for them.”
“Okay, that’s going to have to take some explanation,” Eddie said, shoving his hands in his back pockets.
Steve looked around the van and gulped. “Can we take this somewhere else?”
Eddie looked over and saw Nancy and some other guy being all cutesy. “Yeah. Come on, hop in. I’ll bring back later to pick up your car when the lot’s no longer crawling with people who want to do you in.”
Steve sighed in relief, his body fulling relaxing for the first time since Eddie started this journey. He moved around to the other side of the van and got in once Eddie unlocked the door.
“Where to, my liege?” Eddie asked with a grin.
“Is the quarry okay?” Steve asked shyly.
Eddie’s grin softened to a smile. “Sure thing, pretty boy.” He started the van and pulled out on to the open road, leaving behind the messy turmoil that was high school.
They made it out to quarry and Eddie climbed up on the top of his van. Steve looked up at him in amazement.
“Uh, how am I supposed to get up there?” Steve asked.
Eddie leaned over the side and held out his hand. “Grab hold.”
Steve looked at it a moment and then back up at Eddie. He looked into those doe brown eyes and sighed. He planted one foot against the side of the van and then took Eddie’s hand.
And was promptly vaulted to the top of the van.
“Holy shit!” Steve said once he was settled next to Eddie. “You’re strong.”
Eddie laughed. “It comes from all the lugging equipment around for my band. And helping out with stage crew.”
“Wow, you have a band?” Steve asked.
Eddie nodded. “Corroded Coffin. It’s a metal band, we play at the Hideout every week.”
Steve bit his lip. “I don’t know much about metal. I tend to go for alt rock bands like Oingo Boingo, Depeche Mode, REM, Tears for Fears...I bet that was a load of gibberish for you.”
Eddie shook his head. “I’m familiar with a couple of them,” he admitted. “Not my thing. But I would have pegged you for a pop vibe.”
Steve scoffed. “I have some taste, man.”
Eddie laughed. “I’d beg to differ, but sure. You do you, dude.”
Steve bumped Eddie’s shoulder. “Go on, then. Impress me with your metal bands, since mine are such shit.”
“My favorite is Metalica,” Eddie said, bumping Steve back. “But I like Mercyful Fate, Dio, Poison.”
Steve wrinkled his nose. “And I thought my bands had weird names.”
“What the hell is a Depeche Mode anyway?” Eddie fired back.
“What is a Metalica?” Steve replied.
Eddie opened his mouth, but no sound came out. “All right, you got me there.”
“I was talking to Mrs Hall today about my schedule,” Steve said, drawing his knees up to his chest and resting his chin on them. “I have to drop basketball and baseball. It’s too late to drop swimming, but I talked to Coach Burton and he said I should be cleared for competition I just have to see the swimming board’s doctor for final confirmation.”
“So suddenly you have two classes opened up?” Eddie asked.
“Yeah, my last two,” Steve mumbled into his knees. He lifted his head with a sigh. “She won’t let me just drop them and not pick up new classes even though the semester half way through.”
“So you thought about what to fill those slots with?”
“She gave me a list of options,” Steve grumbled and dug the paper out of his pocket. He handed it to Eddie.
Eddie looked over the options. “Debate, would double as extra English credit...” he mumbled reading what Mrs Hall had wrote. “Can’t see you doing that one, if I’m honest.”
Steve shook his head. “Me either. I know it’s not just arguing. But I know they can get heated. I don’t need complete strangers yelling at me when I get that enough at home.”
Eddie nodded. “Choir. Can you sing?”
Steve blushed. “Yeah, actually. But I’ve never wanted to join the choir.”
Eddie frowned. “Why not?”
Steve cleared his throat and looked away. “My vocal coach said that I don’t blend well and am very loud.”
Eddie bumped into Steve’s shoulder. “Soloist only, then?”
Steve nodded.
“Sounds like you’d be great at metal singing,” he continued. “Very loud and very in your face.”
Steve laughed. “Whatever you say, man. But no, choir is out.”
Eddie looked back at the list. “Machine work?”
Steve shook his head. “My dad would kill me.”
“Too blue collar for your dad?” he asked. Steve nodded. “I gotcha.”
“Stage crew,” Eddie continued.
Steve sighed. “I thought about that one, but like with the machine work it’s too ‘blue collar’ for my dad. Plus with my concussion, I’m pretty sure either option would be out.”
Eddie cocked his head and clicked his tongue. “Fair enough.” He looked over the list. “Pottery?”
Steve laughed. “Sure, why not? That’s one.”
Eddie nodded. He mentally crossed out all the classes that were seventh period, focusing only on the class that were eighth.
“Hmm...” he murmured pursing his lips. “Looks like what you’ve got left is geology and drama.”
Steve reared his head back. “What the hell is geology?”
Eddie shook his head. “I have no idea, but it’s obviously a science-y thing.”
Steve let out a bitter laugh. “I guess it’s pottery and drama.” He buried his face in his knees again. “I know my reputation is already in tatters but fuck those kids in those classes are going to tear me to pieces.”
Eddie blinked. The mystery that was Steve Harrington was like following a rabbit down a hole, and coming up to Wonderland. “You’re more concerned that they’re going to make fun of you then you are of your old friends making fun of you?”
Steve lifted his head. “Well sure. I know Tommy and them are going to make fun of me even if I stayed on both teams. That’s a given. They’ve got King Billy to follow now and they’re gonna get vicious with it. But no, the real problem comes from the art geeks coming for me because I have invaded their space.”
Eddie almost brought up the drawing class Steve was already in, but wisely kept his mouth shut. He shrugged. “So tell them truth. Tell them you had course correct because of a concussion. Be honest and defer to them in all things.”
“I’m also going to be the only senior in those classes, man,” Steve groused.
Eddie cocked his head. “Yeah, probably. But what else have you got?”
Steve’s shoulders slumped. “Nothing.”
They lapsed into silence. Just sitting there for awhile looking out over the quarry.
After some time, Eddie bumped Steve’s shoulder again. “So you want to tell me about ‘your kids’?”
Steve frowned.
“Burned bridges, people who haven’t given up on Steve Harrington?” Eddie prompted.
Steve lit up. “Oh yeah. Sorry, man, it’s just the...” he pointed to his face. Eddie nodded. “I still don’t know how I got roped into dealing with these assholes, but yeah. There are six of them now. Started with Dustin Henderson. Smart kid, smarter than most adults I know. Then it expanded to his friends, which includes the little brothers of my ex and her new boyfriend, Jonathan Byers, and of course Lucas Sinclair. And then I picked up El or Jane. I’m not sure which one she prefers, most people call her El though. And then there’s Max.”
“Five boys and a girl?” Eddie asked, his face twisting awkwardly. “Congrats?”
Steve laughed. “Max is short for Maxine. But don’t you dare call her that.”
Eddie blinked. “Max Mayfield? As in Billy Hargrove’s step-sister?”
Steve tilted his head back. “Yeah...but I don’t think I could separate her from the group now if I tried. And besides, she’d kick my ass.”
“You are an enigma wrapped in a mystery, man,” Eddie said.
Steve looked over at him. “You don’t know the half of it.”
Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21
Tag List: @evix-syne666 @renaissan-vvitch @deadlydodos @scarletzgo @messrs-weasley @kodaik97 @thedragonsaunt @butterflysandpeppermint @gregre369 @nelotegreitic @sundead @artiststarme @fandemonium-takes-its-toll @thing-a-ling @anaibis @garden-of-gay @matchingbatbites @spectrum-spectre @winterbuckwild @steve-the-hairrington @swimmingbirdrunningrock @lifeisnotsobadonceyoustopcaring @babyblender @cursedfoxteeth @novelnovella @throwbackthrowaway @strangersteddierthings @shrimply-a-menace @emly03
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If I were in charge of DC here's what I would do to the Batfam comics in no particular order:
Batman and Robin:
I would send Bruce and Damian on a sabbatical/road trip across America. They of course keep running into crimes wherever they go and solve them, leading a couple of FBI agents to start investigating them for committing the crimes. One FBI agent will remind people of a chihuahua, and the other of a St. Bernard. Also Damian has his permit so he can drive, and since Bruce currently doesn't have a hand in comics I'd add in a plotline where they help an alien who grows back his hand as a reward but he does it wrong and now Bruce has an extra finger.
Batman:
With Bruce and Damian gone, I'd make Tim Batman and Stephanie Robin. They fight crime and bicker like old ex's, leading to some interesting rumors about Batman. I'd make a directive that Tim isn't allowed to be drawn as a twink anymore, but has to be drawn with the rippling muscles he had in the 90's and 00's. Stephanie also gets rippling muscles.
Part of the b plot for a while is Stephanie's rivalry with her next-door-neighbor who turns out to be a drug lord, but the drugs he sells are like, insulin and ADHD meds that he and his gang steals because he's a doctor who lost his job for reporting some ethics concerns and now he's mad about the medical system. Stephanie gets mad because in hindsight all the clues were there that he was literally in a gang, and she didn't notice because she thought he was just an asshole. Also they definitely make out at one point.
Detective Comics:
I love what Ram V is doing right now but I think when he's done I'd put Duke Thomas in the main story investigating systemic corruption in Gotham, shining a light (because he's the Signal) on the worst parts of the government. At some point he's accused of murder and the police are all trying to arrest him so he blows up some cop cars and Batman calls to yell at him but he hangs up on Batman. Montoya has a dartboard in her office with a picture of his face on it.
I'd add in an ongoing run of a comic that resembles the original batman comics in style and content. Then I'd have a a bunch of stories with some lesser-known characters, like the Psyba-Rats. I'd really use Tec as a playground to experiment with unusual team-ups, fresh stories, and inventive artstyles.
Birds of Prey:
I like the current lineup but there needs to be 30% more queerbaiting between Barbara and Dinah. There's an issue where Barbara and Dinah pretend to be lesbians to get this himbo to leave Dinah alone because she's trying to let him down easy because he's so damn nice she doesn't want to hurt him. (Has anyone watched Rizzoli and Isles, coincidentally?) I'd also add Helena Bertinelli to the team but she has an eyepatch for inexplicable reasons (the reason is it looks cool). The eyepatch will be dropped without any recognition a few issues later. Barbara drops both Batgirl and Oracle and gets a new identity as the Cloud. Only the Birds of Prey know it's her; everyone else thinks the Cloud may or may not be an evil AI working for Lex Luthor.
Outsiders:
I'm not reading Outsiders so I can't really comment on what I'd do for that one, but if you guys have any ideas let me know and I'll do the opposite, inciting fan fury and starting a Twitter war.
Nightwing:
I would send Dick to live in New York and also I would make him broke and homeless. I thought about making him lose his memory too, but that's already been done so instead I'd give him violent visions of murder and assault so he thinks he's losing his mind but then it turns out to be a secret policy from the new mayor of New York City to quietly round up all the homeless people by releasing gas into the streets at night to knock them out, but Dick has had too much exposure to drugs and poisons for it to work right on him, so instead he gets hallucinations!
Batgirl:
That's right, you'd get a Batgirl ongoing from me! Cassandra Cain would be the main character, and in the first arc I'd have her join a dating app, but then every date she goes on turns out to be with a criminal who she then sends to jail, and just when she's about to give up on dating, on the very last date she goes on the guy tries to force a charter pilot to help him escape by plane but Cass takes him down and the pilot is like "so that was cool. Can I get your number?" and they start dating. After that Cass accidentally joins a gang but she keeps getting gang members sent to jail and no one suspects it's her, only at some point she actually becomes the gang leader. There's then a crossover with Batman where her gang beefs with Stephanie's next-door-neighbor's gang and Cass ends up giving her gang to him peacefully.
Batwoman:
While I'm at it, I'd launch a Batwoman comic. I'd get Chuck Dixon to write it and it would be both wildly homophobic and also the gayest thing you'd ever seen, but eventually ol' Chuck and I would have some creative differences and he would depart, and instead we would have a rotating cast of guest authors. I don't really know much about Batwoman but luckily knowing about a character in order to write them isn't a requirement at DC. I think we need some ghosts so there would be an arc about Batwoman getting haunted by a bunch of angry, vengeful spirits who she thinks are trying to kill her but who are actually trying to lead to their killer. One of the ghosts is a really hot woman and they share a passionate kiss before the ghost girl disappears after Kate gets them justice. The arc would be lauded in some articles as a 'major reversal of the bury your gays trope' because at one point Kate has to dig up their bodies to look for clues, while in other news outlets it would be decried as a 'vile depiction of the desecration of queer final resting places.'
Red Hood and the Outlaws:
Jason starts a club/gym for a group of teenagers where he teaches them cool stuff like 'how to throw a punch' but also 'how to buy and cook groceries'. The gym is threatened by various forces like gangs, developers, the city government, plus the kids all have personal problems they have to deal with, like mental and physical disabilities, generational trauma, homelessness, and poverty. The teenagers call the gym "The Saloon" and themselves "The Outlaws" because Jason always has a TV playing reruns of old western shows. There's a running joke where various people think Jason looks like a dead relative.
Poison Ivy:
I'm a few issues behind but this one I would leave alone. I don't think I could improve on it. Unless I made Janet from HR and Croc an item. That could be fun.
Harley Quinn:
Another one I'm not reading so I don't know what's going on there but it could be fun to have a crossover storyline with Poison Ivy where they grow and sell shrooms to rich college students and then influence them to do stupid stuff and get them arrested. You know, fun date night activities!
Conclusion:
My time in charge of Batman comics would be one of mass outrage and general fervor. My directives would be so unpopular amongst fans that petitions would be started to have me removed and violent death threats towards me would be de rigueur online. I would depart after a few short months and my replacement would almost immediately retcon all my creative decisions away into a dark universe that would then be blown up by Lex Luthor. Ten years later, a dedicated fanbase for the comics produced under me would emerge, and they would be so loud and annoying and insistent that fans would then clamor to get me back in charge of DC once again, but unfortunately by then I will have retired to start drama on Twitter and write a memoir after a failed attempt at starting my own comics company called Big M Comics and getting sued by McDonald's
#batfam#bruce wayne#damian wayne#dick grayson#tim drake#barbara gordon#stephanie brown#duke thomas#jason todd#batman#comic thought bubble#nightwing#red hood#robin#cassandra cain#batgirl#oracle#batman and robin#detective comics#birds of prey#helena bertinelli#kate kane#poison ivy#harley quinn#outsiders#red hood and the outlaws
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AU where it's Padme that goes all evil and not Anakin?
send me an au and i’ll give you 5+ headcanons about it
Had some trouble figuring out how to make Anakin not be loyal to Padme here, but hey:
Padme does not think she's evil. This is a Padme who was radicalized by the invasion of Naboo, a Padme who grew up and joined the Senate with poison in her heart, which only got stronger as she saw how little she was able to do. This is a Padme who agrees with Anakin: the galaxy would be much better if one good person was in charge. That good person should be Her.
She doesn't tell him that she agrees with him, because she's still under the radar, but she doesn't... really try to dissuade him. Just talks about how difficult it is to find someone that's really, truly good. Why, even Chancellor Palpatine has made all these questionable policy decisions...
Padme is much faster and more successful about securing Anakin's loyalty as compared to Palpatine. She's also been kind of conditioning Anakin to think about how she'd be a MUCH better dictator than anyone else, and how he should run any kind of political ideas past her first. She conditions him to run everything past her. She's got this perfect in with the Chancellor and the Jedi that isn't just Her, The Senator, but she needs that in to be loyal to only her, and more importantly, dependent on her. She does really, truly love her Ani, but he's much more useful when he asks her to do his thinking for him.
What this really means is that when Anakin has dreams about her death, and goes to Palpatine, and gets fed some lines about how only Palpatine can save her if Anakin just swears loyalty to him, Anakin actually asks Padme about what to do before he does it. He goes to Padme before he goes to the Jedi.
Padme tells Anakin that Palpatine needs to be removed. If he's a Sith, then who's to say that he isn't the threat to Padme's life? Who's to say he isn't the one feeding Anakin these dreams? Palpatine is evil, Anakin, and he's made it impossible to remove him from power legally.
Padme tells Anakin to kill Palpatine.
And he does.
And Padme's years and years of manipulating the Senate in shady corners and through applying her wiles and through applying her Jedi and his mind tricks to her coworkers, through collecting blackmail and applying pressure, it all comes together, and Padme becomes the Empress.
Anakin is happy to follow her, until he realizes that she's so focused on her new power that she's neglecting the twins. He tries to dismiss it; after all, he's got much more free time than she does, now, so he can watch them. He's mostly the guy she uses to try to placate the Jedi, which he's not great at, and mostly the Jedi try to convince him that Padme's lost her shit and needs to be quietly removed. Not killed! Just... retire to her fancy lake house and stop ruling the Empire with an iron fist in a fancy silk glove.
Padme doesn't... not love her children. But between the years of selling out her lesser morals in favor of pursuing complete control of the galaxy for the sake of her biggest moral core, which is No Military Actions, and the Sithly Environs of the Chancellery Apartments that she's moved into, which Anakin doesn't know how to purge and the Jedi aren't allowed in to exorcise, she's kind of losing the plot and getting more and more evil. It's mostly her own foibles that are making her go evil, but it's the General Sithly Vibe are pushing her that last little bit to just... ignore her kids. She's got more important things to do, right?
Padme uses the clone army to enact her will on less cooperative planets. She uses the brain chips, when Anakin isn't looking. She's sure that he wouldn't turn his back on her, after all she's done to secure his loyalty, but it's best to not risk it.
Some Jedi try to take her out. She has them killed, by Anakin and the clones alike. She praises Anakin for it, as she tightens restrictions on the Temple. He has a bit more 'what have I done' but not. Quite. Yet.
(After all, Padme's not risking death to the Jedi Younglings yet. Not yet. Not yet.)
Ahsoka shows up, with Rex in tow, and tries to convince Anakin to help them peacefully remove Padme from power. He's one of the core reasons that Padme has managed to maintain her power. He can change this.
Padme hears about this. He tells Anakin that Ahsoka's a threat. She's going to try to remove Padme, like Anakin removed Palpatine. She tells Anakin that Ahsoka needs to die.
Anakin would rather arrest his wife than kill his sister.
#Anidala#padme amidala#anakin skywalker#star wars#villain au#ahsoka tano#phoenix answers memes#the clone wars#child death mention
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its the fact that walt clearly loved jesse more than flynn, but that walt would never, ever stand by and let flynn's partner aspirate their own vomit and die. that walt runs over and shoots two guys to save jesse, but he would never sell flynn into slavery. walt would go ballistic if anyone ever put their hands on flynn, but he's unmoved when jesse gets beaten and even hits him himself. "im doing this for my family" ok but does walt really love his family?? what does his real love look like?? is his real love beating down the guy who was taunting flynn in the store during the pilot?? or was that posturing, empowerment, newly rejuvenated to be The Provider?? is his real love poisoning a kid that jesse adored?? is his real love begging the neo-nazis to not shoot hank in the head?? what does his love truly look like?? and why did flynn never get it??
#syd squeaks#ive mentioned the ableism and thats obviously a part of it but gd. flynn is the biggest victim in this#breaking bad#real talk id do anything to know if flynn is okay#walter white#walt white#flynn white
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Loves Me, Loves Me Not [A.D]
Pairing: Albert DaSilva x Reader
Description: Working as a florist means expressing a person's love for them, writing out their love story in an array of petals and blossoms and messages hidden in between it all. It does not mean falling in love yourself. But then the newsie starts selling outside your shop, and your whole routine goes out the window.
Tags: Oblivious reader, shy reader, flustered Albert, canon era, florist au, flower language/floriography, gender neutral reader, oneshot
A/N: OHHHH you didn't think ol ANGSTY MCGEE could write 10k of sheer toothrotting fluff now didja?? hm?? didja bitch?? well jokes on you cause i wanted to branch out with my reader types and there's nothing i love more than turning the token Tough Guy character into a squirming flustered puddle of a man. anyways i'd say take a shot for every repeated motif in this thing but you'd probably die of alcohol poisoning so just sit back and enjoy the self indulgence!
It is important to note that this happened entirely by chance.
You really can’t stress that enough. There are a thousand things that could’ve caused it, and another thousand things that could’ve led to the whole thing being avoided altogether. But of all things, it had to be chance. And newspapers, you suppose.
Yes, newspapers, har-har. It’s ridiculous, such a simple cause for the whole thing. Something that, again, could’ve been entirely avoided. You know it’s not especially pretty to wrap your painstakingly arranged bouquets in newspapers of all things. It’d be better to use parchment paper – something plain, but rustic, something that drew attention to the blossoms without looking too vulgar, perhaps lined with coloured tissue or lace if you were feeling particularly showy – rather than the same wastepaper the fishmongers used to wrap their catch. But you can’t help it. It’s an in-joke, of a kind; the idea of something growing out of yesterdays news brought you comfort, absurd as that is. So you don’t care if the ladies and businessmen wrinkle their noses at the crinkling paper and running ink wrapped around their lush roses and baby’s breath – they could stand to be humbled some, in your opinion. A rose by any other name, after all.
So, yes. Newspapers. Not the grandest way to start a story, but it’s yours. You like reading them, when the days get long, looking over yesterday’s stories. It became a game, almost – you’d read about the horses favoured to win at Sheepshead and laugh, knowing full well that Admiral Shucker would stumble and come dead last, leaving Zippy Skip to take his first ever victory and render every gambler at Sheepshead penniless. It’s a comfort, knowing exactly what was going to happen. Knowing precisely how the story ended before you read the first line. Which is why, when you ran out of newspapers for your bouquets, you were entirely unbothered – because you knew precisely what you were going to do. You would close for a few minutes, go down Park Row, grab a cheap and terrible hotdog lunch from the park vendor, and then walk until you reached the Promenade, where pack of newsboys would no doubt have stacks of papers ready for the taking as they waited for the double-whammy lunchtime rush of the University and City Hall. And then you’d hurry back, cramming your hotdog into your mouth, and re-open for the lunchtime rush yourself. Same as every Friday.
So you shut your register. You flip your sign to closed. You walk outside and lock the door behind you, and fuss with your pockets distractedly as you cram it back, because that is what you always do at lunchtime on a Friday.
Walking directly into someone’s back, however, is not.
“’Ey, watch where ya-!” Someone snaps as you stumble, tripping over your own feet. You make a rather embarrassing squeak and shut your eyes as you brace for the floor, reaching out blindly for something, anything-
“Whoa – Jesus-!”
You grab the something between your fingers, and then the something grabs ahold of you, hands squeezing your waist tight enough for you to feel rough callouses through your clothes. You open your eyes and – ah.
Well.
That is unexpected.
The boy’s your age, thereabouts. He’s pale, underneath the freckles and sunspots, with eyes cornflower blue. His face is close enough for you to make out the little threads of colour in the iris, like the veins of a petal, and the feather-down of his lashes – orange, you realize, orange and fluffy, like celosia plumes.
You both stare at each other for a moment, as the initial panic subsides. And then you remember the hands on your waist. And you feel the rough wool of a vest clutched between your fingers. And you realize he’s holding you at an angle from where you fell, so you’re dipped just a bit backwards, the way you’ve seen gentlemen dip their lovers for a chaste kiss after they proffer their bouquets.
You clutch your hands to your chest with a small squeak, and the boy leaps back as if you’d burned him.
“Sorry!” He says hurriedly. “Sorry, sorry, I didn’t – I wasn’t-“
“No, no!” You say, equally panicked, as you wipe imaginary dust from your clothes. “My fault, entirely my fault, I should’ve been looking, I-“
You both stammer over the other, fumbling apologies and excuses, until you both seem to simultaneously trail off, realizing the sheer ridiculousness of the situation. You laugh sheepishly, and the boy chuckles with you.
“I-I really am sorry.” You say sheepishly. “I, um – people aren’t really around here before lunch, they’re usually working…”
The boy raises an eyebrow and jostles the bag he has slung over his shoulder.
“Well, s’pose I am workin’.”
You frown, glancing from him to the bag of – newspapers!
“You’re a newsie!” You gasp, clasping your hands together. The boy blinks, his cheeks dusting pink, and you bite your lip anxiously – you suppose he must find you quite strange, knocking into him and then getting excited over newspapers, of all things.
“Uh – yeah…” He says awkwardly, rubbing at the back of his neck. “I, um – I was lookin’ for a new sellin’ spot, heard this place was kinda up an’ comin’, and, uh… I like… Lambs.”
You blink at him, turning to glance at the wooden sign that hangs over your shop door. You’d always loved it, the wee lamb snoozing in a meadow with the words Little Lamb Flowers painted below in curly lettering – perhaps some would find it cloying or childish, but you liked it found it adorable. Still, the idea of this newsie, with his big arms and rough hands and his hat on backwards, being drawn to your shop over a painted lamb… You couldn’t help but find it charming.
He's somehow even redder when you turn back to him, looking at the floor like he’s begging it to swallow him.
“Uh – not, not that I, not to say, y’know, I’m not – I ain’t, like-“ He flounders, and you try not to smile. “The sign’s… Good.”
It’s so awkwardly charming that you can’t help but giggle. He full-body jerks, staring at you with wide eyes.
“Yes, well.” You smile, bunching the hem of your shirt between your fingers. “I like pretty things, I suppose.”
The boy makes a stifled noise, something a bit too sheepish to be a laugh.
“Yeah, s’pose you would.”
“Hm?” You cock your head, and he flushes.
“Uh – nothin’!” He says quickly, looking away with a wrinkled brow, as if the sidewalk had personally offended him. “I just – I-“
“No, um – You’re right!” You try to smile reassuringly – you hope you aren’t making him uncomfortable. You know you can be a little over-the-top, but you wouldn’t want to frighten him off, not after he helped you. And, well – perhaps you were a little intrigued by the gruff, abrasive newsie that liked paintings of lambs. “I mean, I’d hardly be a good florist if I didn’t.”
The boy is silent, glancing around at the quiet street. You fidget with your hands, opening your mouth, then closing it, your body quietly reminding you that you’re supposed to be going to Park Row, because that’s what you do every Friday, and if you don’t get back in time you’re not going to have time to eat lunch, but why would you go to Park Row when there’s a newsie right here? It’s not your routine, perhaps, but – even you can’t deny the convenience.
“Could I-“ You say, stuttering over your words. “Could I perhaps – goodness, this is going to sound awful strange, but, um – I-I don’t suppose I could take a hundred, could I?”
The boy’s neck jerks towards you, hard enough to make you wince.
“Only if you have it!” You say quickly. “I-It is a tall order, if – if you don’t, I can just run down to Park Row-“
“A hundred?” The boy manages to splutter. “What’cha need a hundred for, a pape for every flower?”
You’re sure he’s not angry, just confused – it’s a peculiar request – but it’s enough to make you duck your head anxiously.
“I, um.” You try to laugh, but it sounds a bit pathetic. “I-I like to – wrap the bouquets with them? It’s sort of a… Personal joke, I suppose? It’s silly, sorry, I didn’t mean to bother-“
“No!” He says quickly – you chance a glance towards him, and you’re almost shocked at how scarlet his face has become. “I, uh, no, no, I mean – I’d be a lousy newsie if I said no to a hundred papes…”
He pulls his entire stack out of his bag and pushes it into your arms. You grin, cradling the papers like a prize.
“Gosh, you’re my hero!” You laugh without thinking as you fish the change out of your pocket. “I sure hope you stick around, that just saved me twenty minutes!”
You slide your hand over his and slot the coins into his palm. You try not to shiver as you feel his callouses brushing your skin. He’s staring at you, you realize, mouth parted and eyes wide, and you feel your face beginning to warm up. Goodness, what a state you’ve made of yourself – there’s still pollen on your fingers, no doubt there are stray petals in your hair, and you’ve gone running into a newsboy and taking all his papers and – Lord, this is not how Fridays are meant to go.
“Sorry.” You say sheepishly. The boy quirks his brows, chuckling inquisitively.
“F’r what?” He asks. “Ya just sold me out and the lunch rush ain’t even hit yet, I…” He swallows and tangles his hand around the strap of his bag. “Thanks, uh…?”
“Oh!” You gasp. “I beg your pardon, I’m so rude – [Y/N].” You stick your hand out, curtsying as best you can with a stack of papers balanced in the crook of your elbow. “[Y/N] [L/N].”
The boy makes a noise, half-chuckle, half… Something else, and clasps his calloused fingers around yours.
“Albert DaSilva.”
Now that he’s looking at you properly, not ducking his head or avoiding your gaze, you can make out the subtle twinges of bluebeard-grey that dapple around the ring of his iris, little gleams in the sunlight. DaSilva, indeed.
“Well,” you smile sheepishly, “it’s a pleasure to meet you, Albert DaSilva.”
His grip tightens by a fraction as his eyes widen, just a twitch. You frown at his sudden awkwardness, glancing at your hands and-
“Oh!” You pull your hand away – he immediately yanks his own back like you’ve pricked him. “Oh, goodness, I’m sorry, I got pollen all over you!”
Albert blinks, holding up his fingers and peering at the yellow dust clinging to his skin.
“Oh, uh – nah, ain’t no big deal,” he says quietly, glancing at you through his feathery lashes. “I pro’lly-“ he blanches as he looks at your hands. “Aw, shit, I got ink on ya! Ah-!” He tenses again, his whole body going suddenly ramrod straight. “Fuck, I said shit – dammit-!”
You can’t help it – you laugh. It’s all just so absurd, so strange, so not what was meant to happen today. And you like it. It’s ridiculous and stupid and, against all reason, you like it, this bizarre newsboy who’s landed on your doorstep. He watches you as you giggle, positively perplexed, and chuckles awkwardly alongside you.
“I, um,” you manage to say between little giggles. “I-I should really get back inside.”
Albert nods, swallowing hard enough to make his Adams apple bob.
“Yeah, uh – s’pose I should go back to the Square.” He smiles smugly to himself. “Hell, I got a whole day off today!”
You snicker again, feeling just a bit proud of yourself for being the one to make him smile like that.
“Well…” You hug the paper stack to your chest, trying to hide your expression – you must look like a dope, giggling like a fool over a boy you just met. “Perhaps I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”
Because it would be convenient, of course. That’s the only reason you ask, for the convenience – it’d beat walking all the way to the Promenade and walking all the way back with a stack of papers, having a newsie so close. That’s why you ask. Not because of lambs or cornflowers or any other ridiculous reason. Still, Albert looks almost surprised that you asked, eyes wide and pretty and nooononono, that’s not what you should be noticing right now!
“I – Yes!” He says it far too loud, and realizes that unfortunate fact quite suddenly, slapping a palm over one red cheek. “I mean, uh, yeah. Cool. Sounds good.”
You bounce on your toes and offer him another sheepish farewell before ducking back into your shop, feeling far too warm despite the breezy spring weather – and you realize with a twinge of fear that your routine is about to become very, very different, in ways that you can’t possibly expect.
You bite your lip as you fuss over your arrangements. This was why you always read yesterdays paper, for goodness’ sake – there’s no surprises when you know what’s coming. Now, you’re going in blind, and it’s – it’s scary.
But then you think about Albert. All the little peculiarities you’ve found out about him in the span of just ten minutes.
It could be a bit fun, too, you suppose.
You go on like that for a while, you and Albert. He becomes a fixture of the store, as permanent as the dried flowers in the window, or the Little Lamb sign swinging overhead. You hear him when the door swings open, barking a headline, and you see him through the window, wandering up and down the storefront, his dandelion-mane ruffling in the breeze.
You try not to get to attached. It’d be like naming a freshly picked flower while knowing full well that within a week, it’d be withered and gone. But you can’t help it. You liked your old routine, you really did – you liked the gentle monotony of your cozy little shop, you liked wandering the shelves and fussing over the flowers, you liked making polite conversation with the customers, from the bashful lovers planning a proposal to the suave businessmen looking to surprise their spouse, to even the flustered housekeepers running errands for their mistresses. But now there’s Albert, rough and unkempt Albert, sprouting between the cracks of your life like a stubborn thistle, prickly and rough around the edges, but… Then he’ll hold the door for you when you’re stumbling out, juggling an armful of flowers. Then he’ll persuade some passer-by on the street to stop in the shop after they buy a paper. Then he’ll lug a whole stack of papers over every Friday and drop them off at the door for you, offering you a stiff smile as he tips his cap.
“You’re an angel.” You say gratefully as you press the dimes into his palm. “I used to have to walk all the way to Park Row and back for these. I’d barely have a lunch break at all!”
Albert nodded wordlessly as he fumbled over the coins, almost dropping one before he shoved them into his bag, face flushed and rosy. Perhaps you were being clingy, but you were beginning to get a bit concerned over how red Albert was all the time – sunburn, perhaps? You knew he was pale, but it didn’t seem right for him to be so flushed all the time…
“Try walkin’ all day,” he chuckles, a bit stiltedly. “M’ready t’keel over by the time the second bell rolls ‘round.”
And that sticks with you as you fidget around your little apartment above your shop. You know Albert didn’t mean anything by it – you’d never heard him complain once, not after a long day’s work, not when he heaved a stack of papers all the way down to the Financial District every week, not even when you got distracted by your keys or your flowers or whatever else and went knocking into him as you exited the Little Lamb. Perhaps he just didn’t want to tell you about stuff like that – it’s not like you know him particularly well, you suppose. Still, it didn’t feel right, having him work so hard for so little.
You frown at your butterknife as you prepare your lunch, and chance a glance towards your open window. If you strain your ears over the bustle of the street, you can hear Albert hawking away.
You shouldn’t get attached. You really shouldn’t. You can pick a flower and sear the stems or press it between books or dry it from the ceiling but eventually, it’ll still wilt.
Against your better judgement, you poke out of your shop with a wrapped sandwich in one hand and a tin mug of coffee in the other.
“Afternoon.” You try to smile away the tension in your shoulders. Albert glances over his shoulder, then double-takes, spinning around like a puppet whose strings have gotten tangled.
“Uh – yeah!” He blurts, then stiffens like he’s stubbed his toe. “I mean – afternoon! Again. Not, not that it’s afternoon again, just I – I already – you already-“
“No, I got it.” You say gently, bouncing anxiously on your toes. “Afternoon, again.”
You bite your lip and, before you can lose your nerve, shove the food towards him.
“For you.” You mumble towards the floor. “Y’know, a – a lunch break. Since you don’t normally… Get one.”
Albert stares from the sandwich to the coffee to you and back again. You can feel yourself sweating. God, this was a ridiculous idea. A newsie doesn’t want charity, for goodness’ sake, they just want to finish their shift and rest, like any other working kid in this city, they don’t want someone – waiting on them like a nursemaid, they-
Albert tentatively wraps his hand around the sandwich, his fingers brushing yours as he does so, leaving a little static twinge in their wake.
“Thank you.” He says softly, staring at you like you’re something he’s never seen before. You can feel your face warming up, and you have to force yourself to look away.
“It’s only chicken.” You ramble. “A-And lettuce, I didn’t – I wasn’t sure what you liked, so I just-“
“It’s good.” Albert smiles at the paltry sandwich wrapped in parchment paper, and glances up at you with those cornflower eyes. “It’s really good.”
You feel your throat go tight. With stiff limbs, you shove the coffee towards him, a drop spilling over the rim.
“And coffee!” You say far too quickly. “I, um – I hope you like milk.”
Albert cups the tin mug between his hands and blinks.
“It’s hot.” He murmurs. His nose twitches – bunny-like, you think distantly, and then you chase away that thought with a stick because that is not what you’re here to do – and he beams. “It smells good!”
“Oh!” You smile. “Well, um – I hope it tastes the same, then.”
“I ain’t ever had coffee that weren’t stale.” Albert looks at you with a wide grin. “You’re… Thank you.”
You can feel warmth blossoming in your chest, bursting outwards like snowdrops after winter-
“Haveagooddayniceseeingyoubye!” is all you manage to blurt out before scurrying back into The Little Lamb.
Not getting attached, you tell yourself as you sweep the shop floor (to no avail, there’s not a speck of dust left, you’ve been sweeping for nearly thirty minutes now to avoid looking out the window). You are not getting attached.
(But if you chance a glance at Albert sipping his coffee and sighing, or smiling as he savours a bite of his sandwich… Well, who’s to say?)
Despite your best efforts, Albert becomes a fixed part of your routine. You bring him lunch every day. Sometimes you’ll even eat together, leaning against the window display and chatting about nothing at all. You’ll usher him into the shop when it rains (“Honestly, Albert, who would buy papers in this weather?” “Someone without an umbrella, I guess.”) and you’ll show him your floriography books, from Floral Poetry to Les langage des Fleurs (although you try not to read that one too often, since Albert’s face goes all funny when you read the French – perhaps it sounds strange to him). You’ll point out the different meanings, the different messages that can be spelt through each blossom, and he’ll nod and watch you like you’re actually saying something important. It was nice, being able to talk to someone and knowing that what you said mattered to them. You’d even brought him an aloe plant one morning.
(“For your skin.” You smiled, breaking off a leaf and scooping sap onto your finger. “See?”
Albert frowned, wrinkling his nose at the gooey gel.
“My skin?”
“You know.” You gestured to his cheeks. “Your sunburn. I’m sure it’s uncomfortable to be selling like that – this’ll clear it right up! Here, just like this…”
You swept your fingers over Albert’s face, rubbing in the gel as gently as you could, so as not to irritate his skin. He was already going crimson, the poor thing – honestly, you loathed to think about how uncomfortable he must’ve been.
“I – uh – yeah!” He squeaked. “Yeah… Sunburn.”)
It’s stupid. It’s so incredibly stupid, you know precisely how this story will go. Albert’s a newsie, the entire nature of his job is temporary. As soon as the spring crowds die down, he’ll go looking for a better place to sell, and then a better place after that, and another after that. It’s simply the way of it. But selfishly, you like having him here. You’ve grown used to your little lunch visits, to the Friday drop-offs, to his permanently red cheeks and his cornflower eyes. You tried to be sensible, you really did, but Albert had gone and nestled himself in your chest anyways, creeping around your heart like morning glory – and you just hadn’t the strength to cut him away.
Seasons change. People change. Flowers bloom anyways. But you’ve gone and grown around him like ivy on oak, except oak doesn’t get to wander off to greener pastures when it needs to, so… So where does that leave you?
Well, you didn’t know the answer to that question just yet. You suppose you’ll just… Have to cope. So you cope. You go about your day, you tend to your flowers, you arrange your bouquets – and when the Little Lamb sign starts creaking around a patch of rust, you fix that, too.
Replacing the chains is always a pain. It’s finicky work, and you hate having to use the stepladder on the street – it sways with every little breeze, teetering left and right as you sway for balance. You grit your teeth and tighten the chain link around the clasp in the sign, gripping your pliers with white knuckles and pointedly ignoring the painted dandelion in the corner of the sign, absolutely not thinking about what the fluffy orange centre reminds you of.
“Right.” You mutter as you pull gently on the chain. It holds secure, without a creak, and you smile to yourself. “Job done.”
And now to-
“Extry, extry, sweetheart leaves idiot gawkin’ on the sidewalk, read all about it!”
You shriek at the sudden noise, the stepladder lurching beneath you as you stumble backwards, and the sign’s slipped out from under your grasp and your pliers have gone flying and now you’re falling and God, this is why you hate chain-repair days-!
You land with a soft – soft? – flop, a firm something stumbling beneath you as it braces, holding you close. Arms, you realize. Strong, bare arms, which is ridiculous because only a fool wouldn’t wear sleeves in spring, and-
Oh.
Oh, dear.
You glance up, your nose bumping against another, as your eyes meet cornflower blue.
“Y’okay?” Albert asks hurriedly. “I was gonna wait, y’looked busy, but fuckin’ Racer, he’s… Um…”
His rambling begins to slow as he peers down at you, and you’re overcome with a very silly urge to trace a fingertip over his freckles.
“Hi.” Albert says quietly, close enough for you to feel his whisper on your skin.
“Oh…” You manage to squeak around your dry throat. “Hi.”
“Oooh, hold it right there, Albie!” You hear someone say, their smile imprinted in the words, and you know Albert’s realized at exactly the same time you have that he is holding you the same way a groom cradles his newlywed. You both make a similar bastardized shriek as you scramble out of his arms and Albert backs away like he’s about to get attacked, holding his hands up in a gesture of apology or surrender or – oh, hell, who knows?!
“Al-bert!” That same voice whines petulantly – you whip around, face flaming, to see another newsie, tall and curly and grinning like a mischievous sprite, who’s holding his hands in such a way that his fingers make a rectangle, kind of like a camera. “I coulda gotten you’s on the front page with a shot like that! Perfect li’l pit’cha o’ domesticity, eh?”
“Wouldja shaddup?!” Albert snaps, and you don’t have to turn around to know his face is redder than a rosebud. “God, this is why-!”
“Racetrack Higgins, m’darlin’!” The other boy says just on the verge of obnoxiously, striding up to you and proffering his hand with an exaggerated bow. “A veritable pleasure to meet’cha!”
You can’t help laughing awkwardly at the way he stretches his voice over the unfamiliar words – very-table play-sure – and slip your hand into his.
“And, um, you as well, Mister Hig-“
You barely finish before he’s pressing the back of your hand to his mouth with an over-the-top smack of his lips. You squeak and yank your hand away hard enough to make you stumble, bumping into Albert’s front.
“Race!”
“Aw, was that Mister Higginsya called me?” Racetrack – Racetrack, what a peculiar name – grins at you, and you feel rather like a lamb about to be eaten. “Albie, ya hit it outta the park w’this one!”
“Oh, just-!” Albert slaps his shoulder, forcing the other boy away from you. “Lay off’a them, wouldja?!”
“M’only bein’ a gent, Albie! Maybe y’should learn a thing or two, might impress ‘em-!”
“Racer, if you don’t stop talkin’ right now-!”
“Well, whateva’ happened t’romance-!”
You watch, dumbfounded, as the two begin to scuffle, jabbing elbows and kicking shins until Albert manages to lock Race’s head under his arm and Race is snapping his teeth to try and bite at Albert’s wrist (“Ah, ya shit, get offa me!” “Y’gerroffa-mm!” “Quit talkin’ w’my hand in ya mouth, ya freak!”), and then they spin awkwardly in your direction, tangled in their playfighting, and realize you’re still stood there watching.
“Hello.” You wave your hand awkwardly. With the decency to look a little bit ashamed, Race spits out Albert’s wrist.
“Sorry to cause a scene, darlin’!” He laughs sheepishly. “Only that Albert talks about this place so much, I had to see it for myself – and c’mon, have you seen the fella?” He gestures vaguely in Albert’s direction. “Fuckin’ brute. Only natural for him to start wailin’ on a guy, y’know?” He twirls his finger around his temple. “Unhinged.”
“I – Race!” Albert yelps. “Don’t say shit like – stuff like-!”
You laugh, and the two go quiet.
“That’s funny,” you smile, hoping to make a good impression after – all that. “I can see why you’re such good friends.”
“Uh.” Race blinks owlishly. “I weren’t jokin’. He stole my cigar this morning.”
You frown.
“Albert doesn’t smoke.”
“Well – yeah.” Says Race, like it’s obvious. “He just… Takes shit.”
You laugh at his joke, rolling your eyes.
“Yep, that’s Albert!” You giggle. “Reeaaal barbarian, huh?”
Race stares from you to Albert, who’s blush is growing darker by the second.
“What kinda fuckin’ witchcraft have you been sellin’ this kid-“
“Park!” Albert yells, clutching at his friend’s collar as if Race were a priest offering salvation. You stall, taken off guard again – truly, what is happening today? – when Race snaps his fingers with a smile.
“Oh, yeah!” He grins, digging his elbow into Albert’s side. “Yeah, that’s what we came for, ain’t it, Albie?”
Albert’s face drops, as if he’s suddenly realized something terrible.
“Wait, noooo,” he hisses, tugging at Race’s sleeve. “Nonono, Race-!”
“What you came for?” You ask curiously. Of course, it’s Sunday – everywhere’s closed for the Church services, that’s why you chose to do the repairs today. They couldn’t be here to sell. Perhaps they were buying flowers for a sweetheart? You felt your stomach drop. Please don’t let Albert be here for flowers.
“Well,” Race drawls as Albert yanks desperately on his sleeve. “We was just in the neighbourhood, y’know, it bein’ Sunday an’ all, an’ the fellas were all thinkin’ we’d hit up the park! And then Albie here-“ he smirks, draping an arm over Albert’s shoulder, who’s staring at the floor like he’s praying for it to eat him, “goes and mentions how close that is to his new favourite florists! So we was wonderin’-”
“Racer-!”
“If this favourite florist o’ his would wanna accompany some humble newsboys,” he places a hand on his chest and bows comically deep, “to the good ol’ City Hall gardens.”
“Favourite?” You laugh sheepishly – your stomach flips as you fixate on the word. “Well, I – I don’t suppose there are any others, so…”
“Oh, but of course!” Race says emphatically, as if the two of you are telling a joke together. “You’re just irreplaceable, ain’t they, Albert?”
Albert slaps a hand over his mouth and makes a noise like he’s in pain. You wince sympathetically, stepping forward to take a look.
“Albert, your face! Have you been using the aloe I gave you?”
Race’s head perks up like a dog smelling a bone.
“Well, aloe there,” he grins, “what’s this I hear? Givin’ gifts, are we?”
“No, no, not like that!” You say quickly, your voice trilling with nerves. “I just – well, Albert always gets so sunburnt, poor thing-“
“Oh, does he?” Race’s voice pitches high with glee as Albert makes another pained moan. “Well, we can’t have poor Albert getting sunburnt, can we?”
“Racer, I am begging you to shut! Up!” Albert snaps, and you realize – oh, damn it all, you’re embarrassing him. The last thing Albert of all people would want is someone fussing over him in front of his friend.
“Um – the park!” You say quickly, trying to change the subject – Albert shoots you a soft, grateful look, and you can’t help but melt a little. “Yes, I’d love to go, if – if it’s not too much trouble…“ You glance towards your closed-up shop, clicking your tongue. “Would you mind terribly if I brought some work with me? I-I just got some fresh flowers, I wanted to make them into crowns come Monday – it won’t be too distracting!”
“Weeell, we’ll just have to see about that, eh, Albert?” Race smirks, and you frown as you try to decipher what he means – apparently, it’s deserving of a quick smack to the shoulder, though, because that’s precisely what Albert gives him. “Ooh, someone’s testy! Don’tcha worry, I’ll leave ya to it.” He makes his way up the street towards Park Row. “Don’t go gettin’ distracted, though!”
You feel your cheeks warming as he presses on the word, distracted – goodness, had you really been that obvious? – and Albert grumbles under his breath as you duck into your shop for your flowers. You gather the bundles in your arms, your eyes just peeking out over the various blooms, and skitter out the door, not wanting to keep him waiting. You walk in awkward silence, avoiding each other’s gaze as Race prances ahead of you both, and you curse yourself for getting so stupidly attached.
You don’t talk for what feels like ages, not until you reach the park. The newsboys are all eager to meet you, grinning and shaking your hands and making comments that you don’t quite understand, but seem to drive Albert up the wall. You wince every time one of the boys says something to you that makes Albert grit his teeth – you don’t know what you’re doing wrong, but it has to be something.
It's only later, when you’re sat on the grass fidgeting with your flower crowns, Albert sitting cross-legged and stiff next to you, that you just can’t take it anymore.
“Sorry.” You say quickly, stumbling over the words, and Albert looks at you, his tense face suddenly soft.
“F’r what?”
“I, um…” You clear your throat into your fist. “I-I didn’t mean to be so… You know. Clingy? I just – you’re my friend, and I don’t want you getting hurt, I mean, hawking’s got to be hard work, all that walking, and you said you don’t get much lunch-“
“[Y/N],” Albert says firmly, enough to make your voice catch in your throat. He pinks as you look at him and glances at the floor instead. “Don’t go worryin’ ‘bout that, yeah? Just the fellas bein’ jerks is all, never know when to shaddup.”
You hum, not quite a response, and make sure to keep your hands clasped in front of you so you don’t invade Albert’s space. You can feel him watching you, his stare burning your skin, and he sighs frustratedly.
“Aw, c’mon, [Y/N], I…” His voice stops and stutters in his throat. He sighs, choosing instead to knock his shoulder against yours – the touch sets you alight. “You don’t gotta be worried ‘bout that, it… It’s nice. That’cha wanna take care o’me. Ain’t many folks that do, so…”
You smile, warmth blossoming in your chest.
“Well, that’s nonsense, then.” You say matter-of-factly as you weave the stem of a red tulip around your fingers. “Caring for you’s rather easy.”
The two of you go quiet again – a comfortable silence this time, simply basking in each other’s existence. You pluck a lady’s mantle from your collection of blooms, twisting the dusky pink against the red of the tulip.
“Those, uh…” Albert says quietly, so as not to break the peaceful tranquillity that’s grown between you both. “Those mean comfort, don’t they?”
“They do.” You nod, your heart fluttering in your chest – he remembered.
“And the tulips,” he continues, his voice getting a bit steadier, “those mean ‘good health’, right?”
You giggle under your breath.
“Almost. Those were pink tulips – these are red, see?” You hold the crown up to his eyeline. “Red tulips mean, uh – true love.” You have to look away as you say it, can’t bear to look into Albert’s eyes as the word love falls out of your lips. “And I’m going to add some Sweet William, too, for gallantry – the meaning’s a bit more masculine for that one, so if you put them all together, you get…”
Your eyes flick towards Albert, landing on his freckles before you force yourself to look away again.
“You get, um… Well, a hope, I suppose.”
Albert says nothing, only cocks his head towards you in invitation. Keep going. I’m listening.
“A hope for… For someone kind,” you say quietly, “and chivalrous, who – who comforts you and… Keeps you safe.”
You can feel him staring. You grab a Sweet William and start threading it into the crown, out of sheer need for something, anything else to do.
“How d’you do that?” Albert asks curiously. “The crowns n’ stuff.”
Thank God, you think to yourself, eagerly snatching up the subject change.
“It’s quite simple, actually – look, I’ll show you.”
You smile as you press his fingers underneath yours – you so loved sharing your knowledge of flowers with Albert. You were certain he didn’t understand a lick of it, but he always listened no matter what. Like it mattered.
“So, you just twist here,” you murmur as the two of you hold the crown together, “and you sort of – lock it under the second stem there, and you…”
You try to help him weave the stems around each other, your fingertips skimming over Albert’s knuckles, but you suppose doing such finnicky work with two sets of hands overcomplicated the whole thing, because the crown fumbles out from Albert’s grip.
“Ah, shit, sorry!” He winces. “God, it ain’t broken, is it?”
“Don’t worry about it!” You pat his shoulder reassuringly as you rescue the crown. “It’s difficult at first. Oh, I know!” You point at a cluster of sunshine-yellow growing in the park. “Would you grab me those dandelions? They’re much easier to work with. The stalks are more flexible, and they don’t snap so easily – it’s how I learned when I was a kid.”
Albert nods obediently, scurrying off to gather two fistfuls of dandelions.
“There we are – here, do what I do.”
The two of you crowd into each other as Albert follows your movements, looping one stem underneath the other and then weaving it back around the blossom, locking it into place.
“Hey, I did it!” Albert grins triumphantly. You knock your shoulder against his, just as he’d done to you.
“See? Easy.”
You half expect him to leave it after that – most boys didn’t find weaving flower crowns to be a particularly manly activity, and after how embarrassed Albert had been today, you were sure he wouldn’t want his friends to see him playing with flowers – but he stays. He grabs another stem and repeats the movement, chaining them together, one after the other. You smile to yourself – you can’t bring yourself to not be charmed. It’s sweet, how eager he is, the way his tongue pokes out as he threads the stems into loops.
“I just love dandelions.” You say quietly into the breeze, almost unaware that you’d even said it. “They’re beautiful, aren’t they?”
Albert looks up from his work and frowns.
“Seriously?” He quirks a small smile. “Didn’t think you’d like weeds all that much.”
You scoff, the sound drawing his attention.
“Weed is a word made up by debutantes.” You say pettily. “It’s their way of separating what’s common to make pretty things seem prettier. But they’re all plants at the end of the day.”
You glance over at Albert’s clumsy crown and smile, tracing a finger over the fluffy centre of a dandelion.
“And dandelions are so cheerful,” you murmur peacefully, rubbing pollen between your thumb and forefinger. “They grow wherever they like, and no one can get them not to. Ask any gardener – you pull one up, and ten more grow back. They’re resilient. I bet the next time we come back here, they’ll be everywhere.”
You lift a loose blossom to your nose and breathe in the bittersweet scent.
“They don’t even have meanings, you know.” You say wistfully. “Not in any of my books. People just decided, oh, that’s a weed, and now… Now they don’t mean anything.” You brush your thumb over the feathery petals and smile as they tickle your skin. “But they mean something to me.”
Albert’s quiet beside you, and you suddenly feel exposed.
“Sorry,” you chuckle, drawing away from him. “Suppose that’s a bit strange, um – I’ll just-”
You’re about to turn back to your flower crown when a calloused hand slides against your jaw. Your breath hitches as Albert turns your face towards his, his thumb drifting over your cheekbone until it brushes over your nose – and as he pulls away, you see the pad of his thumb’s stained yellow.
“You, uh,” he says quietly, his cheeks going pink in the sun, “y’had some pollen.”
“Oh!” You laugh stiltedly. “Gosh, um – sorry.”
“Nah,” Albert shrugs as he fiddles with his crown. “S’cute.”
You feel yourself going warm, even with the evening breeze. Your throat makes a small squeaking sound, and you try to make yourself focus on your crown when you hear Albert make a dissatisfied noise next to you.
“Problem?” You ask tentatively, and he holds up a little white puffball in response.
“Think this one’s shot.” He mutters, about to chuck it when you grab his wrist.
“Don’t waste it! It’s a clock.”
Albert blinks and turns to frown at the flower.
“Uh…” He tilts his head as he examines the fluffy ball of seeds. “How?”
“No – not that kind of clock,” you explain, “a dandelion clock. Here, hold it here-” You pull the little bloom between the two of you. “We’ll share it, see? Make a wish and, on the count of three, blow off the seeds. Ready?”
“I, uh-“ Albert stammers. “I guess?”
“Great.” You shuffle a bit closer and close your eyes. “Okay – one, two, three.”
You lean forward and blow softly, the tiny seeds billowing away on the breeze. You feel one tickle your nose and you laugh softly, opening your eyes to bat it away when- oh.
Albert’s… Close. Closer than before, even closer than the first time – the naked bud of the dandelion rests between the two of you, the only thing separating your slightly parted lips from his. In the evening breeze, it sways just enough to brush against your lower lip, Albert’s eyes flicking toward the movement, and you can’t help but think about how easy it’d be to just shift forward ever so slightly and-
“Well what’cha waitin’ for, Albie, don’t leave ‘em hangin’!”
You jolt backwards, nearly falling onto the grass as Albert leaps to his feet.
“Racer, I am gonna teach you such a lesson-!”
He sprints across the green to tackle the other boy to the floor, and while you quietly mourn the loss of Albert’s warm weight next to you, you can’t help but be grateful for the distraction – at least this way he won’t notice you flopping into the grass and groaning pathetically.
After you somehow regain your composure (and Albert as appropriately pummelled Racec), he walks you home, the two of you walking dutifully on opposite ends of the sidewalk, as if simply brushing one another’s clothes will set you both aflame.
“I had fun,” you say quietly as you reach The Little Lamb. “Even if it was…”
You try to find a word to describe how being around Albert makes you feel, but nothing seems to capture it.
“Yeah.” Albert nods, smiling sheepishly at the floor. “Um – hey!” He says quickly, just as you turn to open the door. “I, um – I…”
“Albert?” You frown as he flounders. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah!” He nods vigorously. “Yeah, I just – I was wonderin’… Say if I, uh, wanted a flower that – that said, uh…” He stares at the step under your feet so intensely you worry he might shatter it. “That I – liked someone. A-A flower that said I… I really cared ‘bout someone and, and that maybe they cared ‘bout me, too. What…” He swallows, honey-thick, and chances a glance at you through his lashes. “What flower’d I need for that?”
You feel your stomach begin to sink.
Oaks and ivy, alright.
Morning glory around your heart.
“Well,” you try your best to smile, “if you want to be traditional, you’d only need something small – one or two flowers and a couple of herbs. White roses are a good one, they’re very…”
God, it felt like you were choking.
“Innocent.” You manage to say. “Sweet. A sort of – tentative love.”
Albert’s lips quirk into the softest smile.
“Yeah?”
“And – and hyacinths,” you say quickly, because you can’t bear to look at him smiling like that. “Blue ones. Those would work. And then you could cover it all in heather and lavender for good luck.”
“Hope.” Albert says quietly, staring at the flower crowns you have cradled in your arms. You clear your throat and shove yourself against the door, forcing your way inside – you have to get away, you just have to.
“Yes, well,” you slap a tight smile on your face, “perhaps you can come by tomorrow and – and I’ll have some for you.”
Albert stares at you through the threshold like he can’t believe his luck. Your chest aches.
“You’d… You’d do that?”
No, no, no-
“Of course!” You laugh, on the verge of hysterical. “I mean, if you’re going to go – go courting someone,” (the word tastes like ash on your tongue), “then who’s better to help you than your favourite florist?”
Albert blinks, his smile dropping.
“What?”
“Yes, I’ll have the perfect selection for you!” You smile, because you just don’t learn, do you? “Not like it’ll make much difference, of course, they’d be a fool to say no to you…”
“I-“ Albert’s eyes flicker back and forth, as if he’s watching something unravel and can’t quite stop it. “Wait, but-“
“I’ll see you tomorrow!”
You slam the door, and try to shut your stupid, horrid thoughts out with it.
God. You should’ve just gone to Park Row.
You spend that night lying in bed feeling sorry for yourself. It’s pitiful, yes, and painfully childish, but damn it all, you’re sad. You deserve to curl up and wallow for a bit. It serves you right, you suppose, doing exactly what you knew you shouldn’t’ve. It’s better to just stick to what you know. Colours and meanings and silly little facts that no one else but you care about. Getting your papers on Fridays, working alone on Sundays, not going around making lunch and getting attached to newsboys.
Why didn’t you just stick to yesterday’s news? To living in the background? To being the author of someone else’s love story? No one gets flowers for the florist, after all.
But then it’s morning, and… And Albert’s your friend. And if he loves someone, really loves someone, then you’re going to do your darnedest to get that person to love him right back. It’s what he deserves.
“There you are!” You smile as Albert pokes into the shop like a stray who’s unsure if he’s allowed on the furniture. Ugh, damn it all, he’s cute. “I have your flowers right here.”
You present them with a flourish, a pair of white roses entwined around a pale blue hyacinth, decorated with heather and lavender. You’ve trussed them up with lace and pretty pink tissue paper and they look splendid, thank you very much, because Albert deserves the best.
He smiles, something small and private and a little bit sad, and holds them preciously in his hands.
“Beautiful.” He murmurs, looking at you from over the blooms, and you try to keep your pulse from racing.
“Yes, well!” You say quickly, fumbling your fingers over your little pet project. “There’s also, uh-“
You shove it into his vest pocket before you can lose your nerve. Albert blinks, reaching up to brush a petal between his thumb and forefinger, the pads of which come away slightly smudged with ink. It’s a flower – well, not a real one, it’s actually a newspaper you’d fiddled and folded with until it took the shape of a rose, but… Well, you’d thought it’d look charming. Perhaps it was silly.
Albert chuffs out a small, disbelieving laugh, wrinkling his brow at the paper rose.
It was probably silly.
“Any fine gentleman looking to court needs a good boutonniere.” You mumble, a bit defeated. Ridiculous.
“I love it.” Says Albert, voice tender. He purses his lips, glancing from you to the bouquet for a moment before he plucks a sprig of lavender from the arrangement and slips it behind your ear.
“I – oh.” You murmur, feeling suddenly off-kilter as your cheeks begin to warm – and then your sensibilities come back to you. “Albert!” You scold him halfheartedly, swatting at his shoulder. “This is supposed to be for your sweetheart, you shouldn’t just go around wasting it! Go on, now, tell them what you want to say.”
“You’re perfect.” Albert says, then blinks suddenly as if waking up from a dream. “I – I mean-“
“Yes, yes, we can save the camellias for your next gift,” you mutter with a wave of your hand, as if you could brush away all your selfish thoughts. “Off you go, now!”
The next time Albert comes into the shop, you slap a smile on your face and ask him how it went, because you’re a good and not at all selfish friend, and Albert is very pleasing on the eye when he looks so wistfully in love.
“I just – I…” Albert flounders under your gaze, fidgeting with his hands, and your heart aches. Lovely boy, so nervous – you try not to envy whoever gets to see him this way. “What I wanna say – what I need to say-“
He tangles a hand in his puff of dandelion hair and groans.
“God, I just wanna be with ya!”
You’re almost taken aback by how desperate he is – and oh, don’t you just feel terrible now, envying the person who’s driving him so crazy. Honestly, you’re meant to be his friend. You smile sympathetically and pat his hand before you grab a cluster of rockfoil and press it between his fingers.
“It’s a bit peculiar,” you say reassuringly as he stares at the little white bells, “but rather charming.”
Albert makes a wounded noise, staring at you like you’ve just slapped him.
“Yeah, well – you’d know all ‘bout that, wouldn’tcha?” He huffs, more to himself than to you, before rushing out of the store and leaving you with a thousand different questions.
“Good… luck?” You try to say, but he only offers you a frustrated yell in return.
After that, Albert comes into the shop almost every day.
“I’m crazy for ya.”
You’d offer him a yellow pansy.
“I think about’cha all the time.”
You’d smile and hand him a blue salvia.
“I think I like ya more ‘an anyone else I ever met.”
You’d tuck an apple blossom into his vest.
“I’m sure they’ll love it.” You’d say every time, offering him a reassuring grin – and every time, Albert would look at you as if he were drowning and all but sprint out the door.
This goes on for a while – Albert will burst into the shop like a man on a mission, report whatever message he wants to give his love, and you’ll dutifully hand him a flower that matches. You never made him pay – a fact you’d beat yourself up about later in bed, when you’re tired and feeling sorry for yourself – but you can’t help it. It’s sweet, how eager he is to get this right, how badly he wants to impress whoever this mystery person is. You can barely bring yourself to be jealous (which isn’t to say that you’re not, but you at least have the decency to feel bad about it).
And then one day, as you’re fussing over a cluster of stubborn chamomile blossoms, Albert bursts into the shop wielding an armful of flowers. It’s a veritable cacophony of colour, reds and purples and yellows all mixing together in a chaotic muddle of petals, leaves and stamens – and as you note the wrinkles on some of the petals, the bits of blight on some of the leaves, you wonder just how many of the flowers did Albert keep?
“Alright.” Albert says gruffly as he shoves the array of flowers onto your counter. He hovers a hand over it for a moment before grabbing one at random.
“Honeysuckle!” He snaps, shoving the yellow-pink blossom into your hand. “Devotion.”
Before you can ask how many he’d like, he hands you a gillyflower.
“And that – that means ya beautiful.” He picks up stem after stem, slotting them into your fingers. “Pink camellia, I – I-I’m longin’ for ya. White lillies, m’love’s pure, bluebells, my love’s constant, and, um-“ He flounders for a moment, staring stubbornly at the wooden countertop before he shoves a red carnation at you.
“My – m’heart aches for ya.”
You stare at the nimbus of flowers in your hands, glancing from it to Albert. He’s redder than his hair, up to his ears and down to his neck, and he looks downright terrified, fidgeting on the spot, his eyes darting between you and the floor.
“I mean…” You say slowly, and he stares at you with wide eyes. “It’s a little chaotic, but… I can make a bouquet? I-I might have to charge you this time around, ‘cause there’s so many, but-“
Albert shoves his heads into his hands and lets out a noise between a groan and a downright scream.
“Alright!��� He snaps, planting his hands on the counter. “What flowers ya got that say I love you, ya stupid florist, now please, God, please can you understand what I’m tryna tell ya, ‘cause I can’t keep on bringin’ flowers t’the lodgin’ house wi’ nowhere to put ‘em!”
You freeze, rigid-still. You open your mouth once, twice, and nothing comes out. Your hands tremble against cool stalks and you realize suddenly that Albert’s muddled bouquet is still in your hands.
“One… One moment.” You say quietly with a raised finger, before scurrying to the door. Cradling your bouquet in the crook of your elbow, you use your free hand to close it, then lock, then latch, then flip the sign to ‘closed’. You take a shuddering breath and turn around – Albert’s still watching you. He’s wide eyed, his fists clenched at his sides and his jaw held tight, as if it’d been wired shut – and you almost laugh giddily because all this time, you’d assumed he was posturing, trying to big himself up because he felt uncomfortable being in such a frilly, dainty shop, surrounded by petals and lace, but no. All this time – all this time – he’d been nervous.
You take careful steps toward him, like approaching a stray dog. His spine goes more rigid with each clip of your foot against the hardwood floors, his entire body bickering between ‘fight’ or ‘flight’ and landing on a confused, frightened ‘freeze’ instead. As you reach him, you pluck a single garden daisy from the fragrant shelves and tuck it behind his ear.
“That, um,” you murmur, realizing a touch too late how close you’ve become. “That means-“
“I share your sediment.” Albert breathes, and you duck your head with a small giggle.
“Sentiment,” You correct – his blush goes ever-darker and, out of fear that he may combust if you don’t, you quickly add, “but yes.”
Albert sways forward, almost unthinkingly, like a reed in the wind. He catches himself and clears his throat, but before he can sway away, you duck forward and, gently, featherlight, press your mouth to his. It’s soft and shy, barely lasting a second – more of a petal-brush than anything else – but the noise it pulls out of Albert – something half-blissful, half-wounded – from deep in the hollow of his throat adds more weight to the gesture than you could’ve ever hoped. The tension rushes out of his shoulders in a heavy breath as he all but staggers, slapping his hand against the counter to keep himself upright and pressing a hand to his forehead.
“Hooooly hell,” he says raggedly. “God, I ain’t dreamin’, am I?”
He says it to his hands, staring at them suspiciously like they’re trying to fool him – you slip your own hand into his and squeeze tight.
“Feels real.” You smile gently, a smile that he returns tenfold.
“God,” he says again, and you’re inclined to agree. He leans in hesitantly, looking carefully into your eyes until you nod, and he kisses you – still chaste and sweet, but firmer than the previous. It’s not a questioning touch, it’s something that roots you to the spot, grounds you, whispers yes, this is real.
Albert’s grinning when you separate. He brushes a fingertip over the daisy in his hair and chuffs out a breathy laugh.
“I weren’t kiddin’, y’know,” he mumbles. “Got too damn many o’ these things.”
You roll your eyes.
“You could’ve just not asked for them.”
“Yeah, well, I tried that, and you thought I was askin’ for flowers anyway!” Albert huffs, pouting at the floor. “The fellas ain’t lettin’ me live it down. Keep sayin’ I’m the one meant t’be gettin’ you flowers, not the other way ‘round.”
You giggle, knocking your forehead affectionately against his.
“So that’s true?” You ask coyly, grinning as he blushes again. “Flowers at the lodging house with nowhere to put ‘em?”
Albert tips his head back and groans.
“They’re everywheeeere!” He whines. “Next to my bed, on the fire escape, in the kitchen-!”
You laugh at the absurdity of it all.
“Why didn’t you just give them away?”
“Wh- I weren’t gonna do that!” Albert says indignantly, as if you’d suggested selling his firstborn child. He blushes once he realizes his overreaction and looks away, pouting at the wall. “They were gifts.”
You giggle, making him groan towards the ceiling.
“This ain’t fair.” He huffs, slumping forward so that his chin rests upon your shoulder. You’re struck by the image of a tired beagle flopping its head on its owner’s lap, and can’t help but giggle again. “I ain’t usually like this.”
With just a touch of hesitation, you reach your hand upwards to fiddle with his dandelion hair. Albert hums, pleased, nuzzling against your temple.
“Like what, petal?” You say quietly against his ear, and with him resting his cheek against you, you can feel the way his jaw clenches.
“Like – argh, c’mon!” He whines. “Y’can’t just – say stuff like that! God, only you…” He mutters petulantly, wrapping his arms around your waist as he hides his face in the crook of your neck. “Swear, if you were anyone else… Jus’ some stranger on the street, I’d have no problem gettin’ ya t’blush, but noooo!” He tips his head back with an exaggerated eyeroll. “No, you just gotta go fallin’ right into me, lookin’ all cute, talkin’ all pretty, makin’ me forget which way’s up!” He glares at you with no true heat. “Unfair.”
“You’re unfair!” You laugh around your astonishment, raising up a hand in a poor attempt to hide your darkening face. “Catching me like something right out of a novel, being so – so…” You close your eyes with a soft sigh and lean forward, bumping your nose against his and savouring the contact. “Unexpected.”
You feel more than hear Albert’s scoff, a warm puff of air against your lips.
“Like you can talk.” He mutters, shifting just enough to nuzzle against you. “Race’s been makin’ fun a’me for days, tellin’ me to get my shit together, but how’m I meant’a do that-!” You laugh against him, so close, the warmth mingling between your mouths. “When you’re always fuckin’ – flower crowns and dandelions and…”
His hands skim over your waist, his callouses brushing your skin through the fabric, and you can’t help but gasp lightly. You’re close enough that the movement brushes your mouth against his, your cupid’s bow just barely catching on his, and another noise blossoms from his chest, wanton and desperate, as he presses your lips together, as if it’s the only thing he could possibly do. You flutter against him, your hands skimming down his shirt, and he hums softly, the noise running through you until it settles inside your chest. He traces the seam of your lips, slow and soft, savouring the feeling, and gently, as if afraid to spook you, brushes the tip of his tongue against yours. You gasp into his mouth, but he doesn’t take advantage – he pulls away, just barely, enough for your cupid’s bow to rest on his bottom lip, not quite breaking the kiss, but not quite continuing. Your eyes slip open – just barely – as his do, the two of you looking at each other for reassurance. He chuckles breathily, looking away in a manner you now realize is shy.
“God’s sake, [Y/N],” he whispers, his lips brushing yours as he speaks, “m’only human.”
Bashfully, all too aware of your inexperience, you nudge forward to meet him again. He hums once more, sweet and low, and presses a rough hand to the back of your head, tilting you just so. Tentatively, as if you’ll fade away if he moves too fast, you feel his tongue brush shyly against yours again. You make a noise you can’t quite describe, something small and soft, clinging to his shoulders while he presses a hand to the small of your back, trading tender, sipping kisses. It’s awkward – a bit foreign, a bit confused – but oh, it’s lovely.
Something sparks as he leans forward enough for you to bend backwards slightly at the waist, supported by his hand – and you can’t help but giggle.
“What?” Albert smiles curiously, the two of you still so close that your nose still bumps against his with every laugh. “Hey! C’mon, what is it? Ya makin’ a fella nervous, here.”
“Sorry,” you smile, and then you realize again, and burst into even more giggles. “It’s just – we did this before.”
Albert blinks at you owlishly.
“I, uh – don’t think we did?” He smiles, brow still furrowed, like you’re a puzzle he’s delighting over solving. “Think I’d remember if we did this-”
“The first time,” you’re wheezing now, because it truly is hilarious, “when we first met, when I fell and you grabbed me, I-“ your giggles trail off as your face begins to warm, “I-I remember thinking…”
You look away nervously, your laughter becoming shy.
“I was thinking it was awfully – awfully similar to, um – to the gentlemen who come into this shop… The way they hold their lovers after they give them their flowers.”
Albert blinks, glancing down at how he’s holding you – one hand behind your head, the other pressing on your spine, the slight bend of your waist – and his face burns red, from his roots to his neck.
“Uh – yeah,” he laughs breathlessly, “suppose it is a li’l… Yeah.” He draws away, making sure you’re upright before quickly stuffing his hands in his pockets. “I-I kinda…”
You smile as he stares stubbornly at the wall, one hand rubbing his neck sheepishly.
“I kinda thought the same thing.” He mumbles. “Not – not when it happened, when it happened I was thinkin’, y’know, wow, this person’s close, a-and beautiful, and – and…” His face looks almost painfully red now, carnation-crimson across the bridge of his nose. “Yeah, um – was on’y when I was havin’ dinner at the lodgin’ house I ach’lly realized that – that it’d – happened.”
You purse your lips into a line, trying to keep your smile from going too wide, and step forward, tapping your shoe against his shin.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah,” he says, ducking his head. “I, um – I-I was pourin’ the gravy so long I spilled it all over the table. We ran out. Fellas all had to eat their chicken dry. Jack still won’t let me pour my own gravy.”
You laugh again, and so does he, less shy and more… Well, he still seems shy, but less scared, if that counts for anything.
“You, Albert DaSilva,” you grin at him, “are not what I expected you to be.”
He cocks his head.
“Well, now ya got me worried,” he smirks, “what’cha expect me t’be, sweetheart?”
You roll your eyes at the pet-name. There’s really no use in him trying to be suave now, not when you knew the truth.
“Big, bad newsie with his sleeves cut off, wandering around in nothing more than a vest and an undershirt?” You ask with an arched brow. “Wearing his hat backwards in spring, like a show-off, snapping at me to watch where I’m going before you go and catch me… And then you go and say I like lambs, like it’s obvious.”
Albert’s face goes almost comically blank as he remembers.
“God,” he cringes, pressing a hand over his eyes. “Shit, I can’t believe I said that. Only even tried to sell here ‘cause I figured it was a butcher place.”
“Seriously?”
“Seriously.” He nods shamefully. “Was hankerin’ for a leg o’ lamb, figured if I played my cards right I might land some mutton. Only stayed ‘cause I thought the sign was cute. Jesus, can’t believe I told’ja that.” He laughs beneath his hand. “I like lambs. God, I’m an idiot.”
You roll your eyes at your most ridiculous boy, and wrap your arms around his waist, pulling him close as you nuzzle against his neck.
“My idiot.”
You feel him clench again, as if the words had sent a bolt of lightning through him.
“I – you’re – yeah.” He settles on saying, sounding almost strangled. He holds you, runs his hands down your back, and lets the tension seep out of him. “Yeah…” He chuckles. “Your idiot.”
You both stand there for a moment, enjoying the warmth, swaying slightly as you breathe each other in.
“[Y/N],” you hear him say tentatively, “y’think, maybe – if you want – we could go to Jacobi’s?”
You try to not roll your eyes, because honestly, ‘if you want’, as if you could possibly want anything else. Ridiculous boy. Impossible boy.
“I-I get off work at noon,” Albert rambles, pinching your shirt between his fingers and rolling the fabric, committing every detail of you to memory. “So maybe I can swing by one day when you’re closin’, walk you down… If you want.”
You pull away with an exaggerated gasp and clutch your hand to your chest.
“Why, Albert DaSilva!” You say like a scandalized dame. “Without buying me flowers first?”
He stares at you for a moment as you hold your pose – and then you both laugh, full-bodied and creasing at the sides, and you must look like lunatics, laughing amongst the flowers, with rumpled clothes and messy hair and kiss-sore lips, clinging to each other like you’re about to collapse, but neither of you care. It’s just you two here, unexpectedly, by sheer chance. Chance and newspapers. It’s a ridiculous story, truly, but it’s yours, so who’s to care?
(And if that laughter turns to one, then two, then twenty more kisses – well, who’s to care about that, either?)
#newsies#albert dasilva#albert dasilva x reader#newsies x reader#oneshot#albert x reader#newsies imagine
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SPOILERS ALERT! (Obviously!)
I haven't actually finished. Just one more chapter left. But its fine. I'm done with the major plot anyways. Let's start!
How do I feel about Elbert's route?
All in all, it was kinda....meh. I wasn't entirely bad nor it was good. It's just...I'm so dissatisfied.
How was the story?
It was half boring and half good. I chose the Madness route and let me just say, for how dark Elbert's story is, the ending is just so disappointing. Now this is just the Madness route, maybe in the Blind route is much better (I hope it is).
El's story mainly contains two stories - 1. Main story that reveals El's past and his curse and 2. Bernard&Co. I'll be honest... I don't care about Bernard and his company! Nor do I care about Gabriel and his kinky stuff nor Daisy and her blue poppies. It really has nothing to do with El's past. It's just boring side story that just keeps getting in the way of the main storyline and it cannot be avoided. I honestly didn't pay any attention to Bernard&Co story because I was bored and I'm more interested in getting to know El.
On the other hand, I was quite interested in El's past. Yes! It's one of the most tragic ones I've heard. I love how dark it is and the writers did a good job in making me actually hate EVERYONE related to El. I also loved how they showed the scene where Al tells Kate about El's past in a library where they first met and at the same time, El was having a dream where he sees his whole childhood. It's a nice transition. They keep switching between Kate's pov to El's pov from time to time. Good job! I liked that.
The writers did keep me interested in the story because to be honest, I was really looking forward on how El finally comes out from his tragic past and faces his true nemesis. But they went and ruined it in the end so much so that it WASN'T WORTH SPENDING 1500 DIAMONDS and 25 story tickets!!! Yes! I did use my diamonds, which I've been saving for Jude, on story tickets.....because I was so hooked! I couldn't wait 10 days and I couldn't sleep until I found out what's going to be Jeffery's ending.
What happens to Jeffery?
By this time, you must know that, Jeffery is the true main villain in El's route. Not Gabriel Bernard. If you don't know, Jeffery was the chief butler of the Greetia house. He and the other servants SA-ed El everyday since he was 9-year-old. Not only this, let me list out all the crimes he has committed:
SA-ed a minor everyday.
Brainwashed and manipulated that same child.
Bribed a guy to kidnapped Kate and also told him to sell her, because you know, she was preventing him from SA-ing El.
Tried to kill Kate.
And also being completely delusional in thinking that the reason why El was trying to kill him because Kate brainwashed him and not because...all of the above.
Yeah. So you'd think, a monster like that would get painful death, right? But no. El just shows up, says hi and stabs him with his sword. That's it.
I was really disappointed, because I thought, El was going to make him suffer for what he has done and killing him as painfully as possible, because he deserves it. For some reason, the writers just made it anticlimactic. If I compare this ending with William and Harrison, their ending is much more exciting. Especially William's...I'll translate that as soon as my exam is over...so please be patient, it's on Sep 8th. Okay?
But yeah, that's it. I don't how El kills him in the other ending. Someone told me that El poisons him. Poison apple I guess. I'll see that when I play the other ending, but not anytime soon.
What is El's tragic ending?
El's tragic ending according to Victor is to die while being unsatisfied. We see El trying to collect the most beautiful thing in the world, but El's tragic end is, he will die without getting that most beautiful thing.
What about Al?
I still don't understand why Al kissed Kate. It still confuses me and Yes! Kate does tell El that Al kissed her and El was like--
Kate: "Well....Mr. Alphonse.....kissed me on the lip--"
El kisses her before she could finish her sentence.
El: "Tell me Kate, who is your daddy?"
Kate: *blushes* "It's Lord Elbert...."
El: *smiling* "Good."
El: "If it's Al, I don't mind..."
Kate: "You're....n-not going to kill him, right?"
El: "If it was someone else, I would have.......I'd rather you not, but if you want to kiss someone else besides me, it should be only Al."
Kate: *jealous* "I don't want to kiss someone else. I only want to kiss you..."
Yeah, that's El's reaction. He was surprisingly calm about it. Al on the other hand is starting to grow on me. He's like the Mitsuhide of this game, so mysterious that you can't tell if he's on good side or bad side. El seems to trust Al very much. Yes, he is jealous about Kate spending time with another man, but he also trusts Al and knows that no matter what, Al will keep her safe. Al on the other hand dislikes the fact that both Kate and El trusts him so much. I don't know if Al even likes El as friend. Sometimes he acts like friend and sometimes he doesn't. It's so confusing, so I'm really looking forward for his route.
Kate and El
Honestly, these two are made for each other. Both are jealous possessive types that keeps asking each other if they were thinking about each other while they were apart. There are only some cute moments here and there, like El staring at Kate so he could get into her heart and also making sure that she only looks at him and only thinks about him and also grabs her face and makes it turn to look at him and also asking to look only at him lol. It's a funny scene I liked it. But most of his route is full of sadness and sadness and .....lots of sadness. You get my point.
Final thoughts
This post is really short but there is not much to talk about because I already spoiled you guys about El's past which is the major part of the story.
I wish the story was bit more exciting, at least the writers could have improved the ending of Jeffery after making me hate him so much. All in all it was a pretty meh experience. I still think Harry's route is the best one so far.
#ikemen series#otome#cybird ikemen#cybird otome#ikemen villain#cybird#ikemen villains#ikemen mc#ikemen villains elbert
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What’s your opinion on the newest chapter bc that ending caught me tf off guard (if ykyk)
I love this chapter it’s so cool! I like that Mitsuba is helping Kou, and that Hanako the leader of the ghosts, was scared of the middle schooler’s haunted house. I also appreciate that everyone was together instead of the usual mitsukou/hananene split up. (They did split up by the end of the chapter again...but I’ll take what I can get.)
This part was nice too.
I wasn’t expecting it, but it makes sense Mitsuba wants to push Kou to be with Nene considering this is his mentality recently.
MY AWFUL TRIO IS HERE TOO!
Aoi has a herbs tea stand! LOOK AT HER! I forgot there are more people in the gardening club besides her uiyguyg
AND AKANE USED A HEART IN HIS SPEECH BUBBLE?? This boy really is down bad, he gets rejected when he already knows Aoi likes him back but he keep looking at the bright side (he is so genuinely happy thinking about how cute she is when she’s shy. He is adorable.)
He cried a river when he was rejected what a loser, and Aoi is so blushy when she turns him down, she looks almost troubled?? Is she angry she can’t bring herself to agree? Is she troubled she already agreed to go with Teru? Idk but she is adorable. They are so stupid, they make my heart melt.
SPEAKING OF TERU, I love how he happily (threatened) invited Aoi on a date while confident Akane will be there. My bars are very low I am absolutely counting this as a terukaneaoi date LET’S GOO
Love how Aoi is scared and nervous but the idea Akane will be there too calm her down. She had fun the last time they hung out as a trio so I am excited!
(I won’t be surprised if the broadcasting club scheming makes it so they end up not having this tour, but my disappointment will be immeasurable.)
Teru was amazing this chapter on his own too, look at this bastard. He got an ego.
Not that I can blame him, any 17 year old would reach this conclusion when their class consistently worship him as a prince and made A WHOLE SUCCESSFUL VENUE?? WITH MERCHANDISE TOO?? HELP?? He is so chill about it “oh I was surprised when they suggested” BUT NO PROTESTS? Akane is right, he is a shameless guy.
(I wonder if Teru gets money out of it...? Since they are selling his image/’brand’. I hope he does. Can you imagine Teru telling his dad “oh yeah, half of my fortune comes from exorcism, half comes from my venue.” )
And hey, Tiara and kunishide are here! That’s nice, love to see them again! :D
You know who else is here? Sousuke’s mom! THE QUEEN IS HERE! LET HER THROUGH!!! I DID NOT EXPECT TO EVER SEE HER AGAIN, MY BELOVED!
I’m interested in how Mitsuba will deal with a ‘mom’ he never had. He no longer seems obsessed with Sousuke, the manga itself treats Sousuke as a thing of the past (Kou even fully accepted his death in chapter 74) so her presence is BIG.
I wonder if the mom will be able to see Mitsuba, and bring more info on Sousuke, or explore both her and Mitsuba’s characters. Mitsuba does feel like he has no ‘family’ after all. And Sousuke’s mom, who lost her son and husband, also has no family, but unlike Mitsuba, she used to have. Add in Mitsuba’s relationship with his own identity and I am definitively intrigued by what her role in this arc will be.
The ending caught me off guard too, I thought the broadcasting club wanted to control time not destroy it, even if it does make sense, considering their end goal is every yorishiro's destruction.
And this part made me realize we never saw Natsuhiko bleed before, and it explains how he consistently gets out of dangerous or tricky situations that while not deadly for an immortal would have been very hard to escape if his power was merely 'durability'.
He can’t lose, even a supernatural’s ‘victory’ where he gets eaten will result in them being corroded from the inside out. Since Natsuhiko can’t die, blood loss isn’t a problem either, he is a neverending poison machine. Love that for him.
#tbhk#tbhk 104#jshk#jibaku shonen hanako kun#toilet bound hanako kun#honestly i am just happy we got some teru akane and aoi focus.
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Hehe I'm so glad I got sent a few of these! I'm gonna have fun rambling about aus now! Lots of rambling. I'm not kidding. This one at least is uh- long. Oops.
As I said before, a lot of my AUs are Ethubs focused, but hopefully you guys don't mind that! 😅
Soooo, let's see, which one should I start with, hmmmmmm. Let's go with one I was talking about with a friend a lot a few weeks ago!
And that would be -
Assassin Creed AU 🗡️
Well- it's inspired by Assassin's Creed anyway. I am not well versed enough on the series lore to do anything that sticks to it too closely. I wanted to play around with ideas a bit anyway. But I started playing one of the games again a while ago and that's where the ideas came from.
Assassin AUs have been done before, yes. But this one is mine!
Etho is an assassin, somewhere in the 18th/19th century, and has been with the Assassin's Brotherhood for most of his life. He's very good at what he does. He's smart, quick, and stealthy. Like a ghost with a knife. You won't know he's there until his blade has found it's way into your throat.
The Brotherhood consists of various other Hermits, including;
Doc - retired assassin now serving as the groups main medic
Tango - his targets often go out with a bang. or with fire.
Grian - death from above
Cleo - master of poisons and deadly concoctions
Impulse - weaponsmith, where you go for a new knife or gun
Zedaph - creator of gadgets and nifty tools
and Mumbo - the spymaster. Kinda. Not really. Far too squeamish for assassin work. So he handles information gathering, sorting out jobs and targets, etc
They work together to take out criminals and other bad people who are causing issues in the area. As well as probably aiming to solve some sort of ancient mystery like in the games. (Though I haven't figured that part out yet.)
The story is mostly focused on Etho, a lot of what I have is about his and Bdubs' relationship too, but there's other stuff as well. Rambling continues under the cut ~
Etho doesn't interact with civillians much. But then he meets Bdubs. Bdubs is not affiliated with the Brotherhood. He's a craftsman. He works with wood, leather, and sometimes metal, making tools and clothes mostly, but weaopns too, and selling them in his little shop. Etho goes there on a whim looking for quick repairs or a replacement.
Bdubs is a pretty ordinary guy just going about his life. He has no idea what's in store for him when he meets Etho that day.
Etho is- odd. Tall and mysterious, and dressed in strange clothes. Bdubs doesn't know what to make of him. But treats him like any other customer. He does what's asked of him, Etho pays well. And he finds himself with a regular visitor.
Etho isn't entirely sure why he keeps going back there. He knows other people with the same skillset that he could go to instead. But there's something about Bdubs... There's something drawing Etho to him in a way he's never really experienced before.
Gradually, they become friends. And with time, that friendship progresses. Etho slowly falls in love with Bdubs, and realises that he's so screwed. He's never been in love before. And these- these- emotions. Are not easy to deal with! He doesn't know how to handle Bdubs being so gentle with him, so kind and smiling so sweetly.
And. Yeah. Things develop. A very touch starved Etho craves the gentleness and kindness that Bdubs gives him so easily. Etho has friends, sure, but this is different. Someone detatched from the violence of his work. Someone willing to care for him and love him despite all that he is. It's like nothing he's ever experienced before.
Bdubs never expected to get tangled up with someone like Etho. Danger surrounds him. Etho could leave one day and just. Never come back. But behind all that. Behind the layers of Trained Killer. There's a sweet, slightly shy guy that Bdubs can't help but love.
It's not all plain sailing though. No no. There's drama and chaos too of course. The nature of Etho's work kind of requires it. One time Etho returns to base badly hurt, and in a state of 'I thought I was going to die and all I wanted was to see you again,' he's asking Doc, who's looking after him, for Bdubs. Another time, Bdubs gets captured by the bad guys and Etho and the other assassin's have to rescue him. There's heartbreak as events leave Etho thinking that Bdubs doesn't want to see him anymore. And the difficulty of tracking down an assassin who doesn't want to be found. Etho becomes over protective at times, which Bdubs isn't fond of. But panic ensues when that protectiveness leads to Etho hurting Bdubs accidentally. Bdubs doesn't know what to think of seeing Etho kill someone. Knowing it happens is one thing, actually seeing it happen is another.
There's ups and downs, and I want there to be some overarching mission that Etho and the rest of the Assassin's are working towards. But I don't know what that is yet. I need to brainstorm and play the games more I think.
However, meanwhile, in the present day. Another young man, funnily enough also known as 'Etho', has somehow gotten himself roped into an investigation being done on his ansestor. A- distant cousin. Or something. He thinks. But the guy was an assassin. Which is cool. Fancy technology he'd never heard of allows him to relive the 'genetic memories' of the assassin. See what he experienced and learn about his life. About the things he did, the people he knew, and the events he was a part of. Hoping it'll help them find answers to something that's going on now.
This Etho, nerdy computer science graduate Etho, is very confused but overall rather fascinated by it all. Though he realises quickly there's a lot more at stake here than facts and figures about centuries old history. He learns a lot about his assassin ancestor and the life he lived. Maybe... Maybe too much. He's not sure that he wanted to know about the more- private parts of the guys life. It's interesting that the man the assassin was in love with looked a lot like one of the technicians working on this investigation, though. It's probably just a coincidence. The odds of it being anything else are far, far too small. But he is rather handsome, so surely you can't blame Etho for having a bit of a crush on him...
And- I am going to stop there or I could ramble all night dfghj. I love this AU a lot, if you couldn't tell. I'm probably forgetting things, but this is already more than enough to get an idea of how things go! There's assassins! And drama! And romance! And it's so much fun!
Thank you Anon for giving me an excuse to ramble endlessly about my AU! If you want to ask more about this au though then please do! Aaand maybe I'll draw something for it at some point too, I've been wanting to for a while hehe!
#hermitcraft#ethoslab#bdoubleo100#ethubs#hermitshipping#hermitcraft au#violetanswers#and yes I know that in Assassin's Creed the assassin in the past and the guy in the present aren't like- super similiar#but I don't care#that's what I wanted to do here 'cos I thought it'd be fun to play around with#and then I get TWO Ethubs romances in ONE au! How cool is that!#but yeah this is about 1000 words of my rambles so I hope it's at least nice to read pfft
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i had a eureka moment the other day and now i have a theory about potential killers and maps that may or may not come to the tcm game.
so yknow you have the radio/news broadcasts in the loading screen before a game, and they can sometimes be heard during gameplay. there is a lot of clues talking about crime that has happened within texas and especially in Newt or near it. this is where we know about johnny killing a college student and being attacked by her friends. they don’t say his name, but describe the killer as “late 20s, dark hair and eyes and multiple scars on his face and arms”. the devs confirmed this when they said how he got the scar on his arm.
we also got hints of nancy before her release in these broadcasts. strings of men dying in unknown circumstances and had poison in their system. this seems to fit nancy’s “black widow” characteristic and we know she has a hand for poison and hallucinogens.
this is when my theory comes in. surely when it comes to killers, not all can be part of the slaughter family. big families exist, but say the game does really well and it has years on running, getting new dlc third monthly. that becomes a lot. so why not open to have killers loosely related to the family but not blood related. neighbours, other insane families. what about the people the cook work with at the gas station? (seen in the movie, ie the guy that cleans the van), or maybe nubbins is part of a community of graverobbers that know each other?
here are potential characters and mals that might be in the game. sorry if i get names or details wrong, im doing it by ear:
martin wembley is mentioned in the broadcasts when his home was raided by police confiscating his animal jars. some were human remains, which he claims to not know about and thought it was “just regular animal stuff”. is this a potential killer? or someone buying nubbins’s weird oddities? either way, his hobby is questionable and can be linked to the family, especially nubbins. the broadcast ends saying he is held for questioning
a male body found near devil’s river off highway 163, SW texas, found by a hunter. this is also the location two female bodies were found supposedly a year before this event. all bodies have evidence of stabbing and strangulation. in gameplay nancy says “have you ever heard of devil’s river?” and i am guessing this is where nancy disposes unwanted bodies that johnny kills to ‘clean up his mess’, as the method of murder is very similar to his. devil’s river would be a very unique map and i hope we get more info about it.
there is also hints johnny may have been caught by police but let off due to lack of evidence. when cops followed a lead to a motel they found 36 year old Kelsy Keo (sp?) being subdued by a man ‘whos named is withheld’. it seems that he talked his way out of it, saying kelsy agreed to it during intimacy. he denied being the infamous killer that cops were looking for, and with the current timeline, it seems johnny was let off. could this kelsy be a potential new victim in game?
three youths are vandalising Lexington, TX. their work has been described as depicting ‘famine and the macabre’, similar to how the texas chainsaw massacre is described. authorities think 2 of the youths are sisters, but cannot confirm. could this be a possible duo that might be new characters? or is the string of animal bone vandalism painting a bigger picture to potential new maps?
justin austin is another name mentioned when he was arrested after a case of food poisoning was linked to his meat factory. he admits some of the meat was “tainted” by a rat infestation. he awaits trial for his carelessness and lack of food hygiene. could this hint to the slaughters possibly selling their meat is make ends meet? are there more people turning to cannibalism due to lack of resources and steady income like the family? with a game about cannibals, it’s hard to believe rats are causing this problem.
a high school dance was intruded by two men, Hackett Wayford and his son Grant and they attacked the teenagers with bladed weapons. the football team managed to tackle the men before they caused more harm. one boy who tackled them said they were “freak strong, like bulls or something”. they say nothing about their motives, but their mention of strength is interesting as it would make for good potential new killers. the use of freak also implies their strength was inhuman, so can the powder in game also be used as a performance enhancer later on for potential new killers? if it can give nancy visions, it’s not that far fetched.
“the terror of I40” is the murders committed by sissy on her hitchhiking journey from california to texas. it says it took place between 1971-1972 so in canon sissy returned to the family sometime in ‘72. with a razorblade, she attacked a man in his home but he was able to fight her off. sissy fled the scene, but the man never reported the incident right away for an unknown reason.
Hellum’s Ranch is a location mentioned when police arrived at the scene from a report about cattle abuse. instead, they found men dressed in white clothes and sun glasses poisoned and slumped in chairs. some where holding King James bible, which has association with the KKK. one man also held an item which the police described as a ‘manifesto’. it is unknown why these men poisoned themselves, but the police found large quantities of the substance in the area. is this ranch a potential new map, linked to a dark past? to me, i think this could lean more into a Jonestown situation than a KKK one. with the men holding bibles, poisoning themselves, wearing clothes similar to the Jonestown cultitist, it’s uncanny.
there is also a random mention of the Marfa Lights in the broadcasts. how this is linked idk how, considering the theories of them are linked to UFOS. Marfa, TX and its setting could be a new map in the future, but that’s the only thing i can think of.
Omar Parly (sp?) is a man mentioned for multiple offences in different counties. he spent 5 years in prison and continued crime after his release. his current whereabouts is unknown. potential new killer?
Gerrard Gaines found a burning truck on ‘his back forty’ (idk what this means sorry). on inspection he found the burnt body of an unidentified male and a large bag of money 30 feet away. i find this one VERY compelling as this man shares a surname with Danny. who is the unidentified man? why is there money? and is this man related to danny? if that’s danny in the car, and gerrard is related to him, is someone paying him for his troubles of losing a relative? if so, who? im completely stumped on this one and my assumptions are far fetched.
personal belongings are found to be linked to a missing couple, Tim and Tiara Divine. they disappeared during their roadtrip through the country of texas. their IDs where scattered near a river assumingly to be disposed of if they are previous victims of the slaughter family. since they are missing, maybe they are still alive and being held captive by the slaughters, hinting to potential new victims?
#texas chainsaw massacre#tcm game#headcanon#johnny slaughter#sissy slaughter#nancy slaughter#nubbins sawyer#drayton sawyer#bubba sawyer#scout.rambles
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ao3 exists, plus it doesnt even matter what terms i search for on tumblr 100% of the time theres fanfiction. literally you can search any words on this website and some kpop guy/ reader fanfics flood the results every single fucking time. plus some of us are not here for fandoms??? your circus/clown analogy is stupid
So I'm incredibly allergic to shrimp-- to the point where if I ate a single shrimp I would die, to the point where I don't really consider shrimp food anymore--and it's the weirdest thing, yesterday i went to Target to buy hair conditioner, and they were selling shrimp. Don't they know it wasn't what I was looking for and I can't eat it anyway? Why would they do this? Totally fucked up of those shrimp catchers to try to poison me like that.
But analogies clearly aren't your thing, so let me break this down for you.
AO3 does indeed exist, but your suggestion that fanfic live there and ONLY there is akin to saying that imgur exists, so nobody should be posting images, whether they be photos or art, on any other website. Twitter exists (sort of), so really nobody should be posting shit posts or hot takes that are fewer than 140 characters or whatever.
Not everyone uses AO3. There is no law saying that if you write fanfic, you must post it on AO3 and nowhere else. There will never be a law that says that, because that's not how the internet works. Tumblr, one of the few social media sites that allows longform blogging, is in fact a great alternative to AO3 for one-shots. It's a little trickier for multi-chapter posts, but I've seen people make it work.
AO3 is not social media. People can't DM there, send asks, make friends, bump their post to the top of the feed (unless they are an asshole who is about to get blocked by half of fandom for pulling that move). Do you like social media? I mean you're here, on tumblr, bothering a total stranger, so you must see some value to it. Guess what--fanfic authors also enjoy being on social media and sharing what they've been up to, including their WIPs.
Things you aren't looking for being part of your searches is literally just life on the internet at all times forever. Earlier this month I was looking for a reference of draped fabric for drawing purposes. I googled 'chiton drawing' (chitons like the ancient Greeks used to wear), and all I got were drawings of molluscs of the genus 'chiton.' Alright, I did a google search for "toga drawing" and learned that there is an anime girl named Toga and people very much enjoy drawing her. Were the artists of the molluscs or the anime girl to blame for me having to slog through a bunch of irrelevant pictures to find one that could help me with my drawing? No. They correctly labeled what they were doing. That's just life.
Seeing fanfic in the tag doesn't harm you. At all. It doesn't matter if you find it cringe, or it's a ship you don't like, or it's xReader. For like ten seconds you looked at words you didn't particularly like, and then you moved on. How is that different from literally any other post on tumblr? I see bad takes and essays I don't care about on this site all the time. It's called scrolling. Again, this will be the case for every website on the internet forever. Are you telling me you read every tweet in your feed? Every reddit post? Sometimes you see irrelevant stuff. I guarantee some of my mutuals have already deemed this long ass post irrelevant and are scrolling on by. What makes fiction that much more abhorrent to you than the rest of the nonsense?
If you really hate seeing fanfic, tumblr has content blocking and tag blocking. You can block the phrase "x Reader." You can block the tag "fanfic." You can block all sorts of things, and if that doesn't work, you can just block the writers whose existence annoys you.
Sorry man, you personally not liking fandom and not using tumblr for it has really no bearing on what everyone else is doing. Like it or not, tumblr is a hub of fandom, and fanfic authors are going to be a part of every fandom on this green earth. Just because you came to the circus in order to admire the pretty fabric used on the tents doesn't mean the performers are in the wrong for doing their thing.
#ao3#get a load of this clown#tumblr#surprised it took me this long to get a braindead take in my inbox about this#this really feels like genZ bullshit where they see one thing they don't like online and become karens of the internet#honey other people exist doing things that have nothing to do with you#and occasionally you will see them and the only correct response is to move on with your life#by all means anon call up tumblr and explain to them that people are posting fanfic on their website and you just don't care for that
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:{ A Video file is embedded. Goldenrod Ecological Society, Johto. 4/13/24 2:37 pm. }:
"You'd better be decent, I'm coming in!~"
The voice of Casimir rings through just seconds before the door to the office opens, The fellow professor kicking it open carefully with a foot while holding a glass something behind his back, not concealing it all that well due to it being a bit wider than his torso.
"Are you ready for this? I have- what the hell happened in here? it looks like a storm blew through. And the blanket, did you sleep here?"
Bellamy is looking at least slightly less disheveled, now fully clothed and paused in the process of pulling a brush through their unruly hair. Rather than answer the question Amy instead points at the sort-of hidden object that Casi carries, eyebrow raised.
"Why did you bring a punch bowl into my office? And are you wearing lipstick?"
This seems to do the job of distracting Casi, at least momentarily as her expression splits into a grin as she turns to face Amy across the desk.
"It's not a punch bowl! It's a deal! An offer you cant refuse! Because I'm your boygirlfriend and I would be sad if you turned me down."
With a bit of a flourish (and a little effort, this thing seems to be much heavier that he was letting on) Casi sets down a strange glass bowl on the table, the handle on the top showing its for travel of some kind. Inside is the angriest looking Qwilfish anyone has ever seen, and that's saying something. Her unusual reversed eye markings matching Casi's eye makeup exactly right down to the twin birthmarks under her eyes, something she seems extremely pleased with herself about.
"Tada! See, I got you the Qwilfish you asked for! I picked this one out special, doesn't she look just like me? I figured you'd think of me everyyy time you see her!"
The revelation seems to actually take Amy aback and they let out a laugh, at least as much in surprise as in humor. It takes a moment for them to get their thoughts in a straight line, a few johtonian syllables here and there as they take stock of the situation.
"Casi, I was joking- I didn't expect you to actually catch me a Qwilfish. And it's color, that isn't one of the ones from your program is it? The endangered ones.... Fire ice and thunder it really does look a little like you though..." Their voice trails off a bit as they lean over to inspect the new pokemon, which spins in a circle squeaking as its spikes trail up against the glass. Despite everything its hard not to see the excitement in their expression at seeing such an unusual poison type, their fingers too trailing against the glass.
"Technically she's from a breeding program we do with Blueberry Academy. I think if they're letting teenagers study and handle these guys then you'll do fine!" She laughs, clearly giddy at finally getting to present her gift to her lover.
"Buuuut I didn't do this purely out of the goodness of my heart." To punctuate this Casi taps his fingers against the desk a couple times in a mock drum roll. "I want your Meowth."
It takes a couple seconds for Amy to respond, still looking at the novel fish before blinking a couple of times up at Casi. "..... wait, really?"
"Is that really so surprising? Arlene and I have really bonded! There's a trade machine in the lobby and everything! Please, love?" She looks up at them, obviously putting on a show of pleading.
"No I- I mean yes, I-" Amy straightens up and laughs, deep and genuine, muttering something to herself in johtonian before continuing. "Tenshi, Daarin, I was going to try to convince you to take her home with you. I mean-" they gesture at the cat, perched on the back of the couch and looking proud of herself, "I even managed to get a bow on the frostdamned thing. I thought i was going to have to sell you on this."
Now it's his turn to look dumbfounded before letting out another laugh, sputtering in surprise. "Wh- I thought you just wanted to get her all dressed up!"
The shorter professor looks ready to jump over the desk to hug Amy, but with the large glass container in front of him he seems to think better of it.
Instead he opts to take their hands into his own. First their hands are clasped in excitement, before he seems to take notice of all the little scratches and begins to smooth over them. "We really had the same idea then huh? You endured Arlene's wrath just for me.."
Amy's voice softens as they chuckle, letting out a of a breath and seeming to calm under their partner's touch. For the first time in a while we see some of the tension in them dissipate, a weight lifted. "I would endure so much more for you my Tenshi. Anything you asked."
Casi presses a kiss to their scratched knuckles. "I know you would dear... But you don't have to endure everything. Sometimes I wanna do nice things for you too."
With a few more little kisses his gaze meets Amy's. Despite the professor's best attempt at hiding it, he could tell she wasn't getting much sleep lately. Was the stress of their trip the problem or was there something else? He gives a soft smile to try and keep the mood light.
"So let's use your lobby's fancy trade machine and maybe we can relax a bit before our flight.."
Amy's eyes crinkle with their smile, extenuating their crows feet. There's a softness in their voice when they continue, bringing one lipstick stained hand up to brush back his hair. "That sounds perfect. I've missed that.. I love you."
:{ Transcription Ends }:
#:{this post brought to you by poryphone™}:#echo posting#pokemon irl#pokeblogging#pkmn irl#slinky the arbok#dizzy the eevee#sneaks the weavile#arlene the alolan meowth#sitrus the bellsprout#val the oddish#cress the oddish#ruby the oddish#pinkie the oddish#finnegan the oddish#A Valencian Detour#Slowly Spiraling#butch the hisuian qwilfish#art
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Eccentric Man: Ahhh! Mein friends! It's good to see you once more, I think I have a zhe answer to your veapon problem!
Ruby: uhm...sir most of your guns seem uh...impractical, in regards to maintenance, for my friend here.
Eccentric Man: Nonsense, radiation poisoning is so common nowadays, but alas, I'm not here to sell you my DG2 or Zap gun infact...
He pulls out another case and drops it infront of him.
Eccentric man: I heard how much of a brilliant and tactical man your friend his and I think I have juuuust zhe two zhings for him!
Ruby and Jaune look at each other and shrug their shoulders as the man opened the case before turning it around to show them.
Eccentric man: In terms of 'practical', I present to you this...
Eccentric man: I have acquired this veapon during my uh...travels...it was given to me by a warden of a prison, and all I can say about him was that he had quite a...fanatical personality? I digress...this is actually a break action fourbarrel blunderbuss - Gatlin monstrosity! The Varden called it rightly,'BlunderGat', and it requires simple cleaning methods and takes regular shotgun rounds!
Ruby picked up the crude weapon out of its case and gave it a look over as Jaune noticed another device in the case.
Jaune: Uh what's that?
Eccentric Man: This is the tactical part, ahem. Have you ever been surrounded? Or maybe your teammates are about to be chewed up to bits by those infernal hellspawns known as the Grimm, Vell one toss from this here device, and all those pesky Grimm won't be a problem, introducing...
Eccentric man: The Gersch Device is a device that was developed by another famous scientist whom I will not have the time to talk about today, all you need to know Is if you or your allies are in a dying pinch all you need to do is take this device, flip its switch and point it too one of your allies, toss it and watch it do its work!
Jaune: what does it do?
The Eccentric man gave an unsettling smile to Jaune as Ruby was still testing out said the BlunderGat.
Eccentric Man: I'm glad you asked. Unfortunately, due to it uh nature, I can't activate it here, but I did prepare a little slideshow for you!
The Eccentric man pulled out a laptop with a slide show present and ready to go.
It showed him and Ruby as stick figures, him and Ruby as stick figures fighting Grimm, then it changed to Ruby being surrounded by all the Grimm before it flickered again to Jaune holding a crude drawing of the Gersch Device, flickering once more it shows Jaune tossing said device at Ruby and the Grimm, the next slide was weird as its was just a purple background with a black dot in the middle, slide changes and now Ruby and Jaune were all alone as all the Grimm disappeared, The end!
Eccentric man: sooooo what do you think, it's very good ja?
Jaune: uhm...I'm not sure I understand what it does.
Eccentric man: Really? I thought it was fairly obvious?
Jaune: Well, not to me, seeing a slideshow doesn't much help.
Eccentric man: Vell, it was put together on short notice, but come on, having your own personal 'Pocket Black Hole' is something that all the rage I hear.
Ruby: I'm sorry, but did you just say 'Black Hole' as in the very dangerous thing that's found in the very corners of space.
The Eccentric man nodded rapidly!
Ruby: I'm not even sure I wanna know how or why you guys created such a device...
Eccentric man: I assure you there are no drawbacks whatsoever. It also serves as a cool little teleportation device, too, if you jump into it, but its main function is to suuuuck all those pesky Grimm into a gruesome death!
Ruby, having looked over the Blundergat, put it back down in its case while Jaune just looked at both pieces of weaponry looked back at the man.
Eccentric man: See tactical and practical ja?
Jaune: Uh, yeah, but...
Eccentric Man: If you are concerned about ze fraulein, she vill remain unharmed so long as she is vearing zis cream.
Ruby: "Lead-based mass removal ointment"?
Eccentric Man: Ja, it started as an anti-acne creme, but it failed in testing die to... Ah, but you do not vant to hear an old man prattle on! Vat you vant is veapons!
Jaune: Uh, I'm still not comfortable using a...
Ruby: Using a device that requires sooooooo much astrophysics! I mean, Jaune barely as a huntsman!
Jaune: Hey!
Eccentric Man: Ah, yes... Hm, I vas unavare of ze gentleman's... academic standing. No matter! Ze BlunderGat should be more zan enough for your tastes, no?
Jaune: Well, uh...
Ruby: I was looking at it, and I noticed it only has one lever connecting the trigger and the hammers. So it fires four shells at once, right?
Eccentric Man: Oh, ja, ja! Most certainly, fraulein! Und ze shells load together in four! In fact, it is referred by my colleagues as Ze Zveeper!
Jaune: Ze Zveeper?
Ruby: The Sweeper. Huh... That would be good, but firing four shells at once might be a bit much for Jaune. He once dislocated his shoulder firing an old rifle. An antique rifle.
Eccentric Man: Ah... Ja, ja, I zink I remember you telling me zat. (Loads case) Sehr gut. I vill return with zomezing more... suited to ze tasts of zis young mann. (Walks away)
Jaune: ...Four shells at once?
Ruby: Really? You're not focused on the literal BLACK HOLE GENERATOR?!
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Someone sent this ask to a blogger I like and they didn't bite, so I WILL
Gotham dream blunt rotation as rated:
Poison Ivy might seem an obvious choice at first, but she swears she can still hear the plant screaming inside your blunt, so if she isn't already hitting you dead the vibe has been killed: 3/10
Catwoman would steal all your weed and wrap a tighter blunt then you can imagine she would bring out wine spritzers and cheeses as the snack so it's fun but you will have to go buy a new ⅛ as soon as you leave, you will be starting to crush on her but she will talk about batman the whole time: 7/10
Harley Quinn would make those crazy ass joints that are like spider shaped and she would get toasted but youd get so couchlocked it'd be like a million years passed when you come to she's smoking a second spider and you have hyena drool on you: 5/10
Kite Man rips huge beefy clouds of smoke, spends half his evil plan budget on buying a gravity bong, has a shitty hideout in his parents basement, but his mom is really nice and can out-rip her son and she would bring some apple slices and water down for snacking: 6/10
Two-Face would have been a total weenie as Harvey pre accident and never touched the stuff, but after he will occasionally light up because he enjoys how both of his sides will shut up and he can think for a second. Doesn't care if it's shitty buds or premo flower it's whatever the nearest lackey has so you will be hacking up a lung either way. Spends the whole time telling you to be quiet when you try to chat: 4/10
Bruce would suck the only people he might be good in a rotation is wonder woman and superman, anyone else he is just silent the whole time and ignoring everyone to look at his phone, will sometimes double and triple hit before passing: 3/10
Stephanie stole her dad's weed as a teenager and is really bad at rolling blunts, but if you tease her, she will finger taze you, would have a whole set-up for a rotation set up with pillows and candles and bowls of chips, she either gets very mellow or gets really wild so it's a flip for if you're going to watch pirated movies or go roam the aisles of walmart: 8/10
Tim would act like a weed conneisur since Stephanie lit him up, but he'd be the type of guy you could give a weed a fancy name and sell it for $50 extra and he wouldn't even blink, rarely rotates but if he does he is punctual and never double hits, will ramble on and on about computer specs and graphic cards, will give you the last hit even though he wants it: 6/10 but only because sometimes Tim gets weird vibes
Alfred hits weed made for elephants its so strong he does it for muscle and joint pain at night so he won't share ever and if you ask he will act like he has no idea what you're talking about, if somehow you can get him to share it will be in the form of a weed cookie and when I tell you they're strong you will be seeing god: 0/10 or 7/10 depending
Jason tried marijuana but didn't like how it made his head feel and his hands shake and he could barely read so it pisses him off. If the blunt in question was a joint made of more tobacco than weed than he might sit in, but otherwise he is video taping other people being fools for future blackmail: 2/10
Dick smoked major weed with the Teen Titans when they were all a team the first time, he has exquisite taste but won't overpay but gets solid middle of the road shit everytime so you won't be ass blasted, but you will be laughing more which is why he loves rotations the communal act of passing, leaning in close to people, everyone getting loose and happier, he loves it and will totally make everyone custom snack plates: 10/10
Cass would try it with Steph or Dick, but she wouldn't like it in the end, would be a big fan of edibles though she'd like the floatiness and using it for sleep: 0/10 but not for lack of effort
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it... fits
Lunar: Would never stab anyone.
Sun: Would stab someone in retaliation.
Moon: Yells "I won't hesitate, bitch!" first.
Monty: Would stab without warning.
Eclipse: Would stab as a warning.
...
Sun: Where is Monty?
moon: I'll do you one better, who is Monty??
Lunar: Here's a better question, why is Monty?
...
moon, in a horrible German accent: Bill Nye is on break, I'm Bill Nein.
Monty: Can I go to the bathroom?
moon, in the same horrible German accent: Nein!
...
Lunar: When I was a kid, Eclipse told me that the paper strip that’s in the chocolate kisses were edible and I ate them with the chocolate for a year.
Monty: They are!
Lunar: FOR REAL?
Monty: No! Why did you fall for it again?
...
Monty: You call it "really bad at darts", I call it "freestyle acupuncture."
Bartender: ...I'm going to have to ask you to leave the bar.
...
Eclipse: The next time I open up to someone, it'll be my autopsy.
...
Eclipse: I gave my Brother a collar.
Eclipse: *dog Moon:... this is a verbal conversation.
...
Eclipse: *sees someone doing something stupid*
Eclipse: What an idiot.
Eclipse: *realizes it's Lunar*
Eclipse: Wait, that's MY idiot!
...
Sun: Hello, my name is Failure, and you're watching my life crumble into pieces.
Sun: *waves their finger and sings like they're in a Disney Channel intro*
...
Sun: Hey, Monty, have you thought about having children?
Monty: ...
Monty: Does looking over you and the others not seem like I already do? Because I promise you, it sure feels like it.
Sun: But we're not childr-
Monty, already distracted: LUNAR, PUT THE FIRE DOWN!
...
Monty: *on the phone* Just snap his kneecaps and he’ll talk, I’m at a parent teacher conference.
Monty: Anyways, you said Lunar is enjoying finger painting! That's great.
...
Monty: *dangling from a rope over a pit of fire* Remember when I said I’d tell you when we’re in too deep?
Moon: Yes?
Monty: We’re in too deep.
...
Sun: For self defense reasons, I'm going to pretend to be a burglar and you guys have to act wisely.
Moon, Lunar, & Eclipse: Okay.
Sun: If you don't want to die, give me all your money.
Moon: Bold of you to assume I have money.
Lunar: Bold of you to assume I don't want to die.
Eclipse: Bold of you to assume I can die.
...
Monty: Everyone knows that Santa is an invention designed by the big five corporations to sell tinsel and video games to an unsuspecting public.
Moon: The whole “childhood wonder” stage just blew right past you, didn’t it?
...
Sun: Isn’t a bit dangerous?
Lunar: Sun, please. We’ve in a lot of unexpected predicaments before and we always escape unhurt.
Sun: ...
Lunar: Okay, we sometimes escape unhurt.
Sun: ...
Lunar: Alright, we escaped unhurt once... Then we hurt ourselves in the way home.
...
Monty & Lunar: *accidentally set the kitchen on fire*
Monty: We need an adult!
Lunar: Monty, you are an adult!
Monty: We need an adultier adult! Get Moon!
...
Monty, texting Moon: Roses are red, Tony Hawk is a skater…
Moon′s phone, auto-replying: I’m driving right now–I’ll get back to you later.
*Later*
Moon, texting back: Fuck you.
...
Eclipse: Dammit, you ruin everything!
Lunar: You're welcome.
...
Sun: Poison is a magic transmutation potion that turns people into corpses.
Moon: This knife is actually a magic wand.
Lunar: Meet me in the Denny’s parking lot for a wizard duel.
Eclipse: *cocks gun* Magic missile.
Earth: What the fuck is wrong with you people.
...
Sun, lying on the floor, depressed: I'll never be a cop. I'm gonna have to be a robber.
...
Moon: Why were you up yesterday until 3am?
Lunar: How did you know I was up until 3am?
Monty: We could hear you clapping to the FRIENDS intro every 25 minutes.
...
Monty: Honestly, I am so evil. So full of darkness. I feed of the souls of the living I strike fear into-
Sun: You sleep with a stuffie.
Monty: He’s my sECOND IN COMMAND IN MY ARMY OF DARKNESS
...
Moon: I haven't slept in seventy-three hours.
Sun: Eighty. Democratically elected leader of insomnia.
Monty: Bitch, it's been ninety for me. I'm going for an even one hundred.
Earth: You guys are fucking terrifying.
...
Monty: You might not know this, Lunar, but I am a flawed person.
Moon: I do know that.
...
Sun: Can you recommend a book that'll make me cry?
Lunar: General Mathematics 8th Grade Edition.
...
*Comments under an image of a really hot knife cutting bread*
Moon: Imagine stabbing someone with this knife.
Eclipse: It would instantly cauterize the wound, so the person wouldn't bleed, so it's not very useful.
Monty: if you want information it is
Lunar/Sun: why would you STAB a person when you can have TOAST?
...
Sun: Treat spiders the way you want to be treated.
Moon: Killed without hesitation.
...
Monty: I sort of did something and I need some advice, but I don't want a lot of judgment and criticism.
Moon: And you came to me?
#sun and moon show#sun and moon show Lunar#sun and moon show eclipse#Sun and moon show monty#sun and moon show incorrect quotes#sun and moon show earth
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