#hey dweeb

[liehelm]

@cursedeye

   When one thought of the word ‘god’, magnificent things were brought to mind. Glowing divinity and pure grace, the judgement to determine what is right and what is wrong, and the power to enforce it. One thought of benevolence and wrath, and an existence beyond their very comprehension. They did not, however, think of shoplifting. And yet, to anyone who was keen enough to notice, that was just what the god of mischief found himself doing. Nimble fingers plucked the apple from the fruit street stand almost effortlessly, the stolen object already safely tucked away into Loki’s pocket before the stand owner had even turned his head. A few more steps and Loki would be home free, his lips already curling at the corners at the thought.

   And yet.

   ❝ May I help you? ❞ His voice was pleasant as Loki turned to face the boy who had just placed a firm hand on his shoulder, sly green eyes giving away nothing. ❝ In need of directions, perhaps? ❞

[batsheir]

@warincarnate

             The boy sat, alone, at the metal-worked table situated in front of the small café, a small plate of coffee cake and a latte sitting before him. He picked at them absently, his attention more focused on the object in his hand. A book, old and worn, its canvas cover scuffed. Still, the title, embossed in gold-leaf, was clear enough: THE EPIC OF GILGAMESH. A timeless classic that Damian had read before, when he was younger, but one he did not mind reading again. His eyes flickered over the poetic lines, enraptured, even as careful fingers turned the faded pages. He was not, however, so engrossed in the novel that he didn’t notice the man that stopped before him, his long shadow falling over the boy as he blocked the sun’s light. Damian shifted his gaze from the book in his hand to the golden-haired man before him, eyes suspicious.

        ❝ What, ❞ he asked, tone clipped and controlled, ❝ do you want? ❞

[futurebat]

@scavengess

             It was the gentle blue glow that had drawn Terry in, initially. It bathed the brick of the alleyway with ghostly lights and threw haphazard shadows across the ground, giving the scene an almost unearthly feel. He was a moth to a flame, his curiosity driving him towards the source... although not blindly. He was alert and wary, his steps light as he approached. If the glow’s source ended up being something hostile, he didn’t want Terry McGinnis to stick around as a witness—although Batman was a whole other story. And so he was cautious as he peeked his head around the corner and rested his gaze on... a girl. In her hands she held a crackling blue laser, and it was from that which the light originated. Terry blinked, once, twice, three times before making the decision to step out from around the corner and approach the girl. Although she looked strong and wiry, nothing about her seemed hostile, and so Terry allowed his fascination to draw him ever-closer.

        ❝ That is way schway. How does it work? ❞ Man, what Bruce wouldn’t give to get his hands on one of these.