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I swear to god I'll stop updating soon
Hi! I know there've been a couple of new additions to the flist lately - first off, a huge hello hello to everyone! \o\
Also, to cut down on spam to everyone else, I'm thinking of putting together a Batman beta-filter, because I have five thousand weirdo ideas that I don't think everyone wants to end up seeing for this fandom. 8D If you guys think this is a good idea, lemme know - mi casa su casa, and if Batman squee posts are spammy, I'd like to clean up for everyone. 8D
ajsfkljlas okay, now I should be getting to bed so that I can get up and study my ass off tomorrow and finish off the Triple Bill. /o/ If I am lucky, I'll be alive enough to actually take my damned exams.
And because it wouldn't be right to go to sleep too soon: opening up the comments for flashdrabble requests! Just drop me a prompt or a character or an idea or a bomb, and I'll smash out a few lines for you before I get round to my zzzzz-ing.
Also, to cut down on spam to everyone else, I'm thinking of putting together a Batman beta-filter, because I have five thousand weirdo ideas that I don't think everyone wants to end up seeing for this fandom. 8D If you guys think this is a good idea, lemme know - mi casa su casa, and if Batman squee posts are spammy, I'd like to clean up for everyone. 8D
ajsfkljlas okay, now I should be getting to bed so that I can get up and study my ass off tomorrow and finish off the Triple Bill. /o/ If I am lucky, I'll be alive enough to actually take my damned exams.
And because it wouldn't be right to go to sleep too soon: opening up the comments for flashdrabble requests! Just drop me a prompt or a character or an idea or a bomb, and I'll smash out a few lines for you before I get round to my zzzzz-ing.
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Cloud + marmalade = fail
It's infuriating because he knows it can be done. There's one thing about saving the world and impossibility that makes it easy: the assurance that if you fail, you fail at something that no one has attempted, that no one has succeeded at before. Common failures put you beneath the rest of the world again, bury you under the achievements of a universe, and it doesn't matter who you were, or what you pretend to be.
The Geostigma seems to crawl under his skin, and Cloud leaves the jar unopened, on the counter, for Tifa to find, and see.
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... Would totally not mind being spammed with Batman squee-posts, by the way.
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'It's good food.'
'Good food,' Danny agrees.
'Tried the shrimp cocktail?' Rusty asks, wiping his mouth on a napkin. 'Hello,' he smiles and shakes the hand of a passing woman. 'Yes, you look fabulous.'
She leaves. 'You use the word fabulous?' Danny asks.
Rusty shrugs. 'It was that, or tell her the truth.' He snags a flute of champagne off a passing waiter.
'Point,' Danny nods, tucking his hands into his pockets. He smiles a congratulatory smile at the groom, whom he's never met before in his life. 'So why are we here?'
'Good food,' Rusty repeats, taking a sip of his drink to emphasise. 'Plus, this villa's the only one with a clear view across the bay.'
Danny takes a look. 'That's?' he asks.
'Yup,' Rusty smiles. 'Guess who's doing the pyrotechnics for the newly wedded?'
Danny's smile coordinates itself with Rusty's expression. He, too, takes a flute of champagne. 'To the French?' he proposes, lifting the glass.
'To the French,' Rusty agrees, raising his own.
The fireworks are spectacular, because Basher's quietly a show-off that way, but it's sweet, sweet victory to watch the "Night Fox"'s mansion erupt into a controlled fireball.
The wedding guests titter and clap and make pleased noises.
'He's away?' Danny asks, as they watch the smoke billow.
'Off for a retreat in the Carribean, or something,' Rusty says.
'Or something,' Danny nods. 'How about his Monet collection?'
'It stayed home for the weekend,' Rusty says, and when Danny closes his eyes, he swears he can smell the silent, sweet burn of oil and old canvas.
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(Do I sound like a squealing fangirl? If I do, it's only because right now, I am a squealing fangirl. Thanks very much for putting a big grin on my face!)
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He doesn't come down very often, but he makes a note to -- check up on her, before and after events. She's come to understand the significance of a shadow at her door that does not speak; both warning and apology. Her mother does not like him. He does not blame her, and is grateful for her acceptance of his offers. (Escorts past the so-called playground, an extension of the protection offered to him by his uniform.) To take Aerith away, momentarily, not as a Turk but as a human being.
'What are you doing?' she asks him, with all the faith in the world.
'Watching you,' he tells her - the truth - and lets her put an arm around his arm. The sleeveless dresses she wears don't hide the occasional blot of too-tight skin. He wears gloves when he touches her there.
She turns and smiles at him. 'It's something they tried,' she tells him. 'It'll help my mother with her illness.'
No doctor would put electricity that scars through you, he wants to tell her, but he's afraid she already knows, so afraid that she knows and accepts it nonetheless: he's not prepared for that kind of humanity, not in the least prepared to accept that that much goodness can exist parallel to the utility-seeking men he surrounds himself with (and has become part of).
'I'm sure,' he tells her, and smiles to match her smile, and wonders if anyone could be as strong in light chiffon fabrics and with so few defences.
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*to itty bity pieces*
*of love*
*and yay*
Yay!
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1. 'So, I see you on TV sometimes,' Terry says, polishing the -- "car" is a serious euphemism for the beauty that he's still not allowed to really take out. 'You must be pretty used to it, huh?'
Wayne just sits at the computer, so still that Terry'd think he's asleep if not for the fact that there's data scrolling sixteen different ways across the sixteen different screens. 'Okay,' Terry mutters to the reflection of himself in the car's hood, 'not the talkative sort, I guess.'
2. 'You know, you were really kind of creepy when you pulled that smile and nod routine with my mum,' Terry tell Bruce on the ride over to the manor, day one of the beginning of the rest of his life.
'I know,' Bruce says, and it's creepier that he seems to enjoy it.
3. 'Okay,' Terry says, stretching his back. 'Where do we start?'
'You start on the weights,' Bruce says. 'And then you move to the bars.'
'You've got to be kidding me.' Terry stares at Wayne. 'Aren't there crimes out there I'm meant to be stopping?'
'Do you want to hear the jokes I consider funny, McGinnis?' Bruce asks.
Terry starts heading for the free weights. 'Not really.'
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