emily trying SO hard to not spit take while siobhan is visibly close to a panic attack and everyone else is crying with laughter as zaeth talks shit to koschei about taking out ermine
why yes i do pay $6.99 a month for dropout tv so i can watch jeremy culhane ask his boss âhow big is it?,â see lou wilson claim multiple white people called him âmy nigga,â and watch ally beardsley rip a bong with alcohol this is the exact content i needed thank you game changer thank you sam reich
The funniest love triangle in fiction happened in The Well of Ascension, the second Mistborn book, where Zane was like "[insert evil laugh here] I'm gonna torture my half-brother by making his girlfriend fall in love with me and force her to choose between us". Meanwhile Vin is just living her life and dealing with plot stuff and never gives any indication of harboring the barest romantic or even platonic feeling towards Zane, and when he finally makes his offer she's like "what the fuck dude of course I'm not picking you". The third point of the non-existent triangle, Elend, remains blissfully unaware of any of these events (including that he has a half-brother) because he's too busy dealing with other plot stuff. Anyway, kudos to Zane for inventing clowns in Scadrial
one of the underrated lessons from lotr's Aragorn is to avoid responsibility for as long as humanly possible, possibly in the woods, possibly without showering, until the small folk need you or whatever
So you know how human vision is motion activated but hacked via their eyeballs constantly vibrating so they can still see things that arenât moving
Humans are space orcs idea where other aliens donât do that so looking at human eyes constantly shaking is real unsettling. Theres a lot of fun to be had about the intensity of eye contact, the almost hypnotic effects of their gaze, the difficulty in ambushing them, ect.
This also mean that The Polar Express, being uncanny to most humans because the eyes arenât animated with micro-movements, is one of the few human films that can be aired on other planets without a content warning
Danny is in Gotham (yes, that Gotham, different universe, long story) to finish his education before moving on with his lifeâor afterlifeâand eventually ascending to High King status. Itâs a good reveal AU. He still has his parents. He still has his friends. Clockwork just strongly suggested that if he wanted to rule the Infinite Realms one day, maybe he should get some cross-dimensional academic experience first.
So now heâs here.
The problem? Everyone is rich. Not âmy dad owns a companyâ rich. More like âwe have generational trauma and private islandsâ rich. Danny tries being friendly. Smiles. Makes conversation. Offers help with homework. It does absolutely nothing. These people only care about connections.
Which would be funnyâif it werenât so isolatingâbecause they have no idea he is, objectively, the single most powerful networking opportunity in the multiverse.
So yeah. Heâs a little lonely.
Enter Damian.
One of Damianâs brothers (who will not be named but absolutely thinks heâs hilarious) jokes that Damian has never had a normal civilian friendship in his life. That if he had to, he wouldnât even know where to start. He offhandedly gestures at Danny like, there, that one looks harmless.
Itâs a joke.
Unfortunately, Damian takes it as a challenge.
Not because Danny is a âtarget.â He isnât. Damian just fully decides he will prove he can form a normal, healthy, civilian friendship. Out of spite.
There are misunderstandings, but somehow, despite everything, they start⊠getting along.
And Damian, internally victorious, decides to present Danny to his family as evidence that he can, in fact, maintain a normal friendship.
Danny is delightful.
He charms Alfred. He debates with Tim. He listens to Bruce. He somehow gets Jason to laugh. He and Dick vibe immediately. He treats Damian like an equal without even trying.
For months, the consensus is clear:
Danny is the only normal person at this table.
And then they find his admission essay.
Titled:
âWhy Clowns Are Not to Be Given Human Rights.â
a leather scrap described as the stirrup from the saddle of the Lioness's first mount, Moonlight. in the hall of wartime events, there's a rusty old piece of scrap metal that resembles a jointed finger ending in a knife, and a drawing of the killing devices copied from a soldier's letter home
a Stormwing feather, a Bazhir burnoose, a to-scale tilting field with a broken lance in a display, a knife made by Raven Armory, a shukusen carried by the Yamani ladies in waiting who attended Queen Shinkokami...
a walking tour will take you around the city, pointing out parts of the old walls and the building that now stands on the site of what was once called the Dancing Dove. occasionally the tour passes through squares with elaborate and historic fountains, and if you get the tour guide with a special interest in social movements, they'll tell you the story about how King Gareth's Fountain supposedly served as a safe space in the chaos of the bread riot in fall of 247
Pride and Prejudice, Elizabeth x Darcy, 1,7K. A03 link.
It starts to rain just as Elizabeth sees Mr Darcy at Pemberley.
Elizabethâs thoughts were in a whirl, even as she was utterly frozen in place by the sight of the person who walked out from behind one of the hedges that enclosed this part of the gardens of Pemberley. Even if she could move, there was no chance to run and hide. She couldn't even call out to her aunt and uncle. All she could do was stare at him as he beheld her in shock.
Mr Darcy was here! He was standing in front of her, and now knew she was here. At Pemberley. His family home. Oh, what must he think of her?
"Mr Darcy, Iâ"
The dark grey clouds, that seemed all day to be so far away, suddenly broke overhead, dropping in a rush, quickly plastering her dress and spencer to her skin.
"Miss Elizabeth, please, come this way!" Mr Darcy leaned in closer and shouted to be heard over the deafening sound of the torrential rain. Before she could have responded, whether in agreement or protest, his arm wrapped around her waist and he started pulling her towards the house. "Sir, ma'am, please follow us!"
They quickly made their way down a path she hadnât noticed before, rounding the south-west side of the house. The hedges on both sides towered above them, blocking her view of the rest of the formal garden, not that she could see much as the drops kept rolling off her forehead and flooding her eyes.
They turned a corner. One moment, she was keeping pace with him, and in the next, her foot slid out from under her. But Mr Darcy, whose arm was still around her, tightened his grip, keeping her upright, and they kept on running without slowing down.
"Hold on! We're almost there! Look!"
The dark chestnut door, overhung by a great ivy, was just visible through the rain. Mr Darcy threw it open and pushed her inside. A minute later, it closed with a bang.
Pushing her dripping hair out of her eyes, hoping that somehow her bonnet at least protected the rest of her hair, Elizabeth saw that her uncle and aunt also found refuge inside. Her aunt was leaning heavily on her uncleâs arms, clearly exhausted.
"Mrs Reynolds," Mr Darcy saidâwith such an amount of respect that Elizabeth couldnât help but look at himâas the housekeeper rushed towards them. âCould you find some blankets and help the ladies recover? And tell Lynton to bring blankets forâ"
"Mr Gardiner, Sir," her uncle introduced himself.
"âfor Mr Gardiner and myself as well. He will be in the Oak Room. And please, take the ladies to the Queen Catherine Room.â
"Of course, Sir."
Elizabeth raked her fingers through her dishevelled hair as she watched him talk to his housekeeper. The nerves that had gone away as they rushed towards the house were now fully in the foreground again.
She had once stood before him with the hem of her dress covered in mud and felt no trace of embarrassment or shame; her thoughts were solely on Jane. But there was nothing to distract her now, nothing that could make her feel better about the situation she was in. What must he think of her? Since their days at Rosings, since that day he gave her that letter, she hadn't seen him. Nor had she heard of him. And here she was, visiting his home, and looking like a cat that fell into a river. And the ground wouldn't even grant her the mercy of swallowing her, saving her from what was going to happen.
Stepping towards him, tensing up at every loud squeak her shoes made, she said, "Mr Darcy, I wish to apologise. If we had known that you were to arrive today, we would never have presumed to intrudeâ"
"It was my intention to arrive tomorrow with the rest of the party, but certain matters with my tenants required me to return today," Mr Darcy said with no apparent emotion.
"Oh."
Elizabeth not knowing what else to say, they lapsed into silence. Outside, the rain kept slashing against the windows.
"You are well, I hope. You have not been injured?" Mr Darcy asked.
"No," she said softly. After everything that happened between them, how could he still be concerned for her? "You caught me in time."
She waited for him to say anything else, anything to distract her from how uncomfortable she felt from being near him again. But he didnât. He only kept looking at her with a mix of concern and astonishment, like he still couldnât believe she was here. Elizabeth felt a chill running through her limbs that had nothing to do with the cold.
"Thank you for your hospitality, Mr Darcy," she said, and before he could have uttered another word, she gave him a quick curtsy and walked over to where her aunt and uncle were waiting.
"Let me help you, Aunt."
Taking hold of her aunt's arm, Elizabeth forced herself not to just break into a run and followed Mrs Reynolds down the hallway.
**
An hour later, dressed in a borrowed nightgown and a dressing gown that Mrs Reynolds said once belonged to Lady Anne, Mr Darcyâs late mother, Elizabeth stood at one of the windows in the Queen Catherine Room. She didn't know how she felt about wearing his mother's clothes. It felt like she had crossed a boundary that she, as a woman who rejected him, wasn't supposed to come close to, let alone cross. Elizabeth shook her head. The less time she considered the matter, the better she must surely feel.
But that only left her to consider the hard patter against the window, which so far showed no sign of stopping. Elizabeth sighed softly. Going back to Lambton at this time was unfortunately not an option; they would be completely soaked by the time they reached the inn, resulting at least in all three of them catching a cold or something worse. And then there was the matter of the roads. The drenching rain would have washed-out some of, if not all, the roads between Pemberley and Lambton, add to that the disastrous combination of mud and axles.
Furthermore there was something far more concerning to keep in mind. Turning away from the window, Elizabeth's eye met the dozing figure of her aunt. They had barely left her uncle and Mr Darcy behind when Elizabeth became aware of how much her aunt was leaning on her. And after some persuasion, she learned that while Mr Darcy was able to save her from falling, her dear aunt had slipped on the cobblestones and twisted her ankle. Her aunt could barely stand on that foot, let alone rush to the carriage. She needed to find her uncle and hope he'd figured out how they could leave this house behind as soon as possible.
Opening the door, Elizabeth nearly jumped into the air at the sight of Mr Darcy standing there with his hand raised, about to knock.
âMr Darcy,â said Elizabeth, startled. A soft, sleepy hum of inquiry came from behind her, and Elizabeth quickly pushed Mr Darcy back as she closed the door behind her and tugged him towards the windows on the other side of the hallway. For a moment, they stood close enough that she could feel the warmth of his body, and immediately let go of his hand and took a step backwards. Back to what polite society deemed appropriate, and away from this strange closeness that had engulfed them all day.
âMiss Elizabeth, Mrs Reynolds informed me about your auntâs injury.â Elizabeth tried to speak, but Mr Darcy continued undeterred. âPlease, know you and your family are welcome to stay here at Pemberley until your aunt has fully recovered.â
Elizabeth was already shaking her head. âWe could not impose on you, nor on your party. I recall you said they will be arriving tomorrow, surely you do not want us to intrude, especially considering that my aunt and uncle live near Cheapside.â The words were spoken, before she could have thought of the wisdom of that particular revelation. But she could not forget how he once spoke of his displeasure to love a woman, that he loved her, when her family was in his eyes inferior.
She had no doubt that he and Miss Bingley had spoken in contempt of her beloved aunt and uncle, all because of where they lived. She watched him carefully, waiting for what? A twitch. A widening of the eyes. Anything that showed that this reminder of her family social standing had affected him.
If Mr Darcy was shocked by this, he hid his displeasure behind a facade of politeness. He even smiled at her. "I shall look forward to meeting them properly. And you have no need to worry about intruding, since all but one, you are already acquainted with the party.â
âI am?â
âItâs Mr Bingley, his sisters, and Mr Hurst. The one person you are not yet acquainted with is my sister, Georgiana."
A mix of emotions swirled within her. Astonishment that he was alright with her being in the same room as his friend when she knew Mr Darcy was instrumental in separating Mr Bingley from Jane. The disappointment in Mr Bingleyâs character for staying away, and the hope that maybe she could figure out if her sister was still dear to him.
"Miss Elizabeth?"
Elizabeth was fairly sure she was blushing.
"Pardon me, Mr Darcy, what did you say?"
"I asked if tomorrow I may introduce my sister to you?"
Elizabeth swallowed. She had heard much about Miss Darcy. Mr Wickham described her as proud, but she could no longer trust his opinion, and Miss Bingley often talked about how accomplished she was and made no secret of her wish that her brother would marry her. Could she be similar to her aunt, or was she more like her cousin, Miss de Bourgh?
Elizabeth smiled and felt it bloom easier than she imagined. "I shall be delighted to make her acquaintance."
Mr Darcyâs face lit up, and a soft smile graced his face. In all the time theyâd known each other, Elizabeth had never seen him look this unrestrained or happy. A warmth spread within her at the sight of it. She wanted to see him more like this. To be happy in her presence. To maybe, still in some way, care for her. Perhaps even love her.
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