or: anything that can go wrong in your tentative courtship of a miserable ginger vigilante, will. The first time Dan sees Rorschach without his mask, it doesn't go so hot.
Fowler and Bennett lock horns, again.
“Oh,” Qingming breathes out, his shoulders sinking deep with it, “how fortunate.”
Yes, Boya thinks, foolish and giddy and wrecked with affirmation, how fortunate.
Tom and Peter, partners in disguise.
For the prompt of Adrian being a big nerd, him being a small nerd about something that isn't Egypt or Alexander for once. When Adrian Veidt is twelve years old, he discovers Homer's Iliad.
Ammit consecrates her avatar to herself.
"Don't," he says, thin and strangled — no, not strangled, really. Smothered. The word hardly left his throat at all, and if John hadn't been so close, just about on top of him in an enclosed space, he might never have heard.
(For the Tumblr prompt "things you said while you were driving".)
There in that white-gilt bedroom like a tomb, where I believe none of Gatsby's guests had ever before set foot except by mistake — none until Daisy, and I was only her adjunct and proxy, an accessory to her presence there in the house. He had forgotten about me then. He had forgotten about me now. I was his only witness.
Artists and models.