You're not calling in a heli just to pick me up from the airport, shut your face. I'm impatient, not dying.
I am hungry, though. Stale peanuts and cookies can only take a guy my size so far. So you might get your pancakes after all.
Is traffic moving at all? I haven't heard anything on the police scanner I totally didn't hack into an hour ago...
I am hungry, though. Stale peanuts and cookies can only take a guy my size so far. So you might get your pancakes after all.
Is traffic moving at all? I haven't heard anything on the police scanner I totally didn't hack into an hour ago...
You think I only heard it from Bruce? You don't think your old team would judge me? You're an idiot.
There's no changing my mind now. You're done, Grayson.
There's no changing my mind now. You're done, Grayson.
second! first time he tried to blow up the batmobile (i generally play jason lost days #6)
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
secondrate
- 2024-11-11 14:01 (UTC) - Expandah so freshly fucked up by the pit--im not great w the comics but LET ME KNOW the hilights
farcry
- 2024-11-11 16:25 (UTC) - Expand(( ...contd.))
"I..." Is he enjoying this? He doesn't look away from Tim, because as ashamed as he is to have miscalculated this so badly and to have trusted someone he clearly shouldn't have, he's long since come to terms with this part of himself. The part that's addicted to the thrill, that's seduced by danger. The only thing he feels bad about is having to expose Tim to it.However, the question has his eyes widening ever so slightly, mouth parting in surprise as Tim seems to lean into it instead of shying away. A tense beat stretches between them.
"I've been waiting a long time." He draws in a slow breath, and he can't stop the way his eyes darken, the way his skin prickles with a shudder, his cock slowly hardening more under Tim's bold gaze. His body has always been his biggest give-away, and he doesn't doubt that Tim reads him loud and clear. "You have to understand, Tim, I'm really fucking happy to see you. It's you. Have you seen yourself?"
Tim opens his mouth, shocked into silence a second time, and then promptly shuts it. He's--- Did Dick just say what he thinks he did? Tim's never really thought of himself as anything exciting. He's the smart one. The brainy kid brother who's always doing a hundred and twenty percent just to keep up. The middle child. The loner.
The replacement.
It's a wild, wonderful thought to have. And it fills Tim with a hell of a lot of emotions.
"I'm... gonna need your safe word."
The replacement.
It's a wild, wonderful thought to have. And it fills Tim with a hell of a lot of emotions.
"I'm... gonna need your safe word."
Edited 2024-11-11 03:33 (UTC)
Yeah, I'm ready. I'll send her a frowny face and everything.
:)
See you soon.
:)
See you soon.
(( contd⦠))
[ that had twisted in his stomach and made him smile at the same time. ]
Iβm not gonna lie, that did impress me. So did your seedless green grapes.
And your fridge light needs fixing. Finally figured out thatβs why my phone was in there in the first place.
[ that had twisted in his stomach and made him smile at the same time. ]
Iβm not gonna lie, that did impress me. So did your seedless green grapes.
And your fridge light needs fixing. Finally figured out thatβs why my phone was in there in the first place.
Edited 2024-11-15 03:19 (UTC)
I've never looked into the science of it all. It's a different version anyway. Like, the basement version of an actual product.
That's sweet of you.
That's sweet of you.
(( ...contd.))
Right. That aunt. It sounds like she's taught you a thing or two. Have you been training with her?And tell me more about this guy who jumped you. Where'd he come from? Do you have footage?
(( ooc: ahhh tyty for that!! im not familiar with Lydia so i appreciate this note! ))
Edited 2025-02-01 19:09 (UTC)
A little bit. I never win sparring with her but do make her work up a sweat. She's awful at teaching beginners but fortunately I'm not. And img.jpg
Dick would probably recognise the alley behind a nightclub and might well recognise one of Gotham's rentathugs who'd just got out of jail. It was only a still of an injured thug on his back with a gun about a foot away, but to Batman's former apprentice it spoke volumes about just what Lydia had done and how outclassed the thug was and he was clearly in shock when the photo was taken.
Lydia had been clinical and not especially worried but ensuring that the guy wouldn't be in any state to threaten her or anyone else. A broken trigger finger as she smashed the gun out of his hand, with the electrified stick sweeping round into the back of his knee to unbalance him and start to send him down. A step and harsh snap kick to his other knee dislocated it and she used his weight and the momentum from his fall to break his arm across the escrima stick. And it wouldn't even be easy for him to claim any sort of gratuitous violence; he'd had a gun and although the violence had been effective it had taken only a couple of seconds. He'd survived although his right hand and arm were a mess and he'd probably not walk without a limp. And she hadn't pressed charges for pretty obvious reasons given that there almost certainly wasn't a scratch on her and he wasn't a threat any more. It wasn't one of Dinah's combinations that Dick was aware of but held the same 'I don't want to fight but if we have to I'm putting you down fast and hard' energy she often did.
Dick would probably recognise the alley behind a nightclub and might well recognise one of Gotham's rentathugs who'd just got out of jail. It was only a still of an injured thug on his back with a gun about a foot away, but to Batman's former apprentice it spoke volumes about just what Lydia had done and how outclassed the thug was and he was clearly in shock when the photo was taken.
Lydia had been clinical and not especially worried but ensuring that the guy wouldn't be in any state to threaten her or anyone else. A broken trigger finger as she smashed the gun out of his hand, with the electrified stick sweeping round into the back of his knee to unbalance him and start to send him down. A step and harsh snap kick to his other knee dislocated it and she used his weight and the momentum from his fall to break his arm across the escrima stick. And it wouldn't even be easy for him to claim any sort of gratuitous violence; he'd had a gun and although the violence had been effective it had taken only a couple of seconds. He'd survived although his right hand and arm were a mess and he'd probably not walk without a limp. And she hadn't pressed charges for pretty obvious reasons given that there almost certainly wasn't a scratch on her and he wasn't a threat any more. It wasn't one of Dinah's combinations that Dick was aware of but held the same 'I don't want to fight but if we have to I'm putting you down fast and hard' energy she often did.
(( ...contd.))
Because we're all nosy as hell when it comes to each others' business. Maybe he's trying to prove a point. Maybe I'm proving a point by telling you this at all. It's complicated.[ instant regret comes with the very pointed question Ed asks. ]
Honestly? I'm not really sure. It feels like you get me. Like I can talk to you without you casting judgement over everything I do and you're very. Interesting. I guess I like talking to you.
As for what you are to me? A friend. I think. If I had to label it.
Edited 2025-02-01 19:29 (UTC)
It certainly seems that way.
Are you worried he's going to judge you for speaking to a rogue?
Does everyone you normally speak to judge you so much?
[another long pause.]
Do you often kiss your friends?
[Don't forget that mistletoe kiss Dick because he certainly hasn't.]
Are you worried he's going to judge you for speaking to a rogue?
Does everyone you normally speak to judge you so much?
[another long pause.]
Do you often kiss your friends?
[Don't forget that mistletoe kiss Dick because he certainly hasn't.]
Do you have time to come over after patrol?
I'll be sure to let you know if it ever happens.
I forgot you were bringing chilidogs. [Jason tosses his bag behind Dick.] Philly Cheese Steaks, but theyβre probably cold.
(( ...contd.))
Who says you have to fit into those spaces?
[ he challenges, a little bite in his words, a little annoyance because now she's making him think he needs to pay their friends in Gotham a visit to learn more. but he's not that rash, and it's probably the last thing she wants. ]
You can make your place. Take up your own space.
Edited 2025-02-17 19:00 (UTC)
[ The wind pulls at her jacket, cool against the heat of the engine beneath them. She listens, the weight of his words settling inβnot heavy, but firm, meant to stick. There's no immediate answer. Just the rhythm of the ride, the smooth lean of the bike as they weave through traffic, the city rising and falling around them.
Finally, her voice crackles through the comm, quieter now: ] Tried. Feels like...I take up the wrong space.
[ A strange admission, given how effortless she makes moving through the world seem. But that's just movement, not belonging. Still, there's no defensiveness in her tone. Just that same, quiet honesty she offers only to a few. And, maybe, a small part of her wants to believe him. ]
Finally, her voice crackles through the comm, quieter now: ] Tried. Feels like...I take up the wrong space.
[ A strange admission, given how effortless she makes moving through the world seem. But that's just movement, not belonging. Still, there's no defensiveness in her tone. Just that same, quiet honesty she offers only to a few. And, maybe, a small part of her wants to believe him. ]
[The rain in Gotham pours in sheets. It coats everything in sight, makes the roads and roofs slippery, and-- lucky for Jason-- muffles movement. He crawls along one rooftop after another. He breaks into one apartment after another, taking only valuables he can carry on his person. It's when he reaches what seems to be a rundown apartment that he's struggling with the lock. There's something about it that keeps kicking him out.
Jason should give up on this particular apartment, move onto the next, but the challenge has him hooked. Just one more turn of the tumbler and--
He's in.]
Jason should give up on this particular apartment, move onto the next, but the challenge has him hooked. Just one more turn of the tumbler and--
He's in.]
[ the rain pelts against the windows of the safe house, cloaking the gentle sound of scrubbing against his armour. blood wipes off the nomex weave and flakes off with a brush, and for the third time of the night, Dick finds himself wishing for a different outcome.
the first clicks against his door have him looking up with narrowed eyes, and any second thoughts about the sound of the rain are only dispelled by the notifications blinking on his screens. the imagery pulled up outside his door show a figure cloaked in a hoodie.
Dick is at the door in a split second, back pressed to the wall on the latch side, listening, waiting, calm breaths sifting steady through his nose.
the second the door swings open, he reaches out and flips the the intruder onto his back, slamming him back against the door with his right forearm wedging hard beneath a chin, constricting against a throat as his left arm readies for a block. ]
Who the fuck are you?
the first clicks against his door have him looking up with narrowed eyes, and any second thoughts about the sound of the rain are only dispelled by the notifications blinking on his screens. the imagery pulled up outside his door show a figure cloaked in a hoodie.
Dick is at the door in a split second, back pressed to the wall on the latch side, listening, waiting, calm breaths sifting steady through his nose.
the second the door swings open, he reaches out and flips the the intruder onto his back, slamming him back against the door with his right forearm wedging hard beneath a chin, constricting against a throat as his left arm readies for a block. ]
Who the fuck are you?
[ Rain splashes on the pavement next to where Tim had sheltered himself under the eave of an apartment building. His civvies (a black band t-shirt and a pair of jeans) are soaked all the way through. Water droplets drip from his dark hair, sliding down pale skin that's flushed red from the wind that feels colder from being so wet.
People walking by spare him pitying glances, but Tim doesn't pay them much mind. He's been waiting a while. Hasn't looked at his phone so he can't sure exactly how long. An hour at least. A wiser person might have checked that the person they were trying to visit was at home, or at least text them to ask when they would be. But he can't get himself to. Tim thinks he's probably about to be dumped and not in a hurry to rush it. The weather reflects his mood and allows his precious mind to overthink everything, just the way it likes to.
This is his fault, if you think about it. He pushed Dick into dating, could have waited for it to come up naturally but was too eager. Asking right after asking Dick to take his virginity was unfair of him. So it's not terribly surprising that Dick's been too busy to visit or ask him to come over. He has his own life and responsibilities, too. And who knows what he was getting up to as Nightwing. Tim had never doubted Dick, but Nightwing readily admitted he didn't do exclusivity. They aren't actually different people. So was Dick trying to tell him something in the midst of Tim being a playful dork?
There's plenty of time to think while he waited, leaned against the brick. And that's dangerous in itself. ]
People walking by spare him pitying glances, but Tim doesn't pay them much mind. He's been waiting a while. Hasn't looked at his phone so he can't sure exactly how long. An hour at least. A wiser person might have checked that the person they were trying to visit was at home, or at least text them to ask when they would be. But he can't get himself to. Tim thinks he's probably about to be dumped and not in a hurry to rush it. The weather reflects his mood and allows his precious mind to overthink everything, just the way it likes to.
This is his fault, if you think about it. He pushed Dick into dating, could have waited for it to come up naturally but was too eager. Asking right after asking Dick to take his virginity was unfair of him. So it's not terribly surprising that Dick's been too busy to visit or ask him to come over. He has his own life and responsibilities, too. And who knows what he was getting up to as Nightwing. Tim had never doubted Dick, but Nightwing readily admitted he didn't do exclusivity. They aren't actually different people. So was Dick trying to tell him something in the midst of Tim being a playful dork?
There's plenty of time to think while he waited, leaned against the brick. And that's dangerous in itself. ]
[ mother nature has not been on his side. she has been angry at him and at the city, possibly for all the literal and figurative garbage theyβve been leaving in her gutters. thereβs been a surge in crime across the city, a number of dead current and former gang members in just the last few weeks. there have been shifts in the already corrupt police department, not to mention whispers of trouble in the ranks of Angel Marin, a disturbing rumour Dick has been obsessed with.
all this runs through his head over and over as he races down the side streets of the city, avoiding the traffic cluttered in its arterials, even at this time of night. the rain pelts relentlessly against his visor, and a sheet of it clouds his visibility in the already blurry neons of the night. his new riding jacket is soaked (he left his old one with Tim) but thankfully, it still keeps the bite of the wind off his skin. he slows down a little. after the gash in his side that heβs barely healed from, the last thing he wants is to get into an accident, especially when heβs so close to home. so close to a shower, to food, and hopefully, a text or two to Tim.
he thoughts drift away from his cases and toward his boyfriend. it forms a different kind of knot in his gut. a warm one, but a heavy one, a kind of guilt that increasingly tangles itself and wedges under his ribs whenever he thinks about Gotham and Tim. itβs been too long. even he knows that. their last little date in costume had been rushed, and though heβd kissed Tim, and took him flying, and laughed alongside those adorable antics Tim used to keep him on a cliffβs edge guessing what would happen next, it had been too short. heβd had to hastily return home with nothing more than a lingering kiss and a promise to see you soon.
the familiar streetscape of his neighbourhood races past him, and on his path to the back of the building for parking, he almost missed the figure standing beneath the awning, leaned up against the brick and cast dramatically in shadow. when the image finally registers in his mind, Dick comes to a skidding stop and plants a foot down to turn the bike around. he pulls to a stop in a spot in front of the building and squints into the rain.
Tim?
the engine quiets beneath him with turn of a key, and Dick is swinging a leg off the bike to climb off it, though the motion is a little more stuttered as usual, his hand needing to reach out to his seat to support himself. he pulls off the helmet and crosses the sidewalk toward Tim. yes, of course heβs happy to see Tim, but the surprise visit pulls at the deep-seated paranoia in his mind.
he steps up to Tim and his concerned gaze traces up and down Timβs body. why does Tim look so defeated? so sad? his dark hair dripping, his lashes sticking together, the thin fabric of the t-shirt clinging to his shoulders while his body practically quakes apart with the cold? ]
What are you doing here?
[ did he miss a call? a text? there's alarm in his voice. ]
How long have you been standing here?
all this runs through his head over and over as he races down the side streets of the city, avoiding the traffic cluttered in its arterials, even at this time of night. the rain pelts relentlessly against his visor, and a sheet of it clouds his visibility in the already blurry neons of the night. his new riding jacket is soaked (he left his old one with Tim) but thankfully, it still keeps the bite of the wind off his skin. he slows down a little. after the gash in his side that heβs barely healed from, the last thing he wants is to get into an accident, especially when heβs so close to home. so close to a shower, to food, and hopefully, a text or two to Tim.
he thoughts drift away from his cases and toward his boyfriend. it forms a different kind of knot in his gut. a warm one, but a heavy one, a kind of guilt that increasingly tangles itself and wedges under his ribs whenever he thinks about Gotham and Tim. itβs been too long. even he knows that. their last little date in costume had been rushed, and though heβd kissed Tim, and took him flying, and laughed alongside those adorable antics Tim used to keep him on a cliffβs edge guessing what would happen next, it had been too short. heβd had to hastily return home with nothing more than a lingering kiss and a promise to see you soon.
the familiar streetscape of his neighbourhood races past him, and on his path to the back of the building for parking, he almost missed the figure standing beneath the awning, leaned up against the brick and cast dramatically in shadow. when the image finally registers in his mind, Dick comes to a skidding stop and plants a foot down to turn the bike around. he pulls to a stop in a spot in front of the building and squints into the rain.
Tim?
the engine quiets beneath him with turn of a key, and Dick is swinging a leg off the bike to climb off it, though the motion is a little more stuttered as usual, his hand needing to reach out to his seat to support himself. he pulls off the helmet and crosses the sidewalk toward Tim. yes, of course heβs happy to see Tim, but the surprise visit pulls at the deep-seated paranoia in his mind.
he steps up to Tim and his concerned gaze traces up and down Timβs body. why does Tim look so defeated? so sad? his dark hair dripping, his lashes sticking together, the thin fabric of the t-shirt clinging to his shoulders while his body practically quakes apart with the cold? ]
What are you doing here?
[ did he miss a call? a text? there's alarm in his voice. ]
How long have you been standing here?
It's a couple minutes past 5 when Wren steps out of the library, old and slightly too big leather jacket on over a layer of flannel to keep out the chill, messenger bag slung over their shoulder. It was one of the good things about being so used to Jason just sometimes deciding to come get them, they habitually packed up for work with the ease of going home on his bike in mind if need be. Not that this wasn't still weird for other reasons, the whole 'being friendly with a cop' thing. They weren't quite sure how to feel about that and decided they would settle on something later. It was hardly a currently dire circumstance. While they looked out for Detective Richard they were ready to take the book out of their bag for a wait.
Detective Richard was running a little late. At five minutes past five, he rushed to scramble together the files strewn across his temporary desk in the GCPD. He was here investigating a trail of weapons originating in Gotham and ending up with the SFPD, and who else would they send than the Gotham native?
Unfortunately, Wren would not know that Dick Grayson had a terrible habit of getting so wrapped up in his work that he lost track of time. He was never super late, but he was chronically a little late.
Thankfully, he shaved minutes off the drive by riding way too fast and weaving through the familiar streets of the city. He pulled up to the library in a black leather jacket and his helmet, dark, worn jeans stopping just above his heavy boots. The bike continued to purr as he flipped up the visor and gave Wren a once over, followed by an apologetic tip of his head.
βSorry to interrupt,β he said, a hand lifting in a wave. βYou didnβt get far into your book, did you?β
Unfortunately, Wren would not know that Dick Grayson had a terrible habit of getting so wrapped up in his work that he lost track of time. He was never super late, but he was chronically a little late.
Thankfully, he shaved minutes off the drive by riding way too fast and weaving through the familiar streets of the city. He pulled up to the library in a black leather jacket and his helmet, dark, worn jeans stopping just above his heavy boots. The bike continued to purr as he flipped up the visor and gave Wren a once over, followed by an apologetic tip of his head.
βSorry to interrupt,β he said, a hand lifting in a wave. βYou didnβt get far into your book, did you?β
[ it takes her a second to process what he's saying, mostly because... yes, she'd like that very much, but: ]
Are you sure? I know how much your privacy means to you. I can make it so the spotlight won't be on us for too long, but it might still be a lot for a while.
And before you ask, going public or staying private would make me happy as long as I still get to be with you exclusively.
What would make you happier?
Are you sure? I know how much your privacy means to you. I can make it so the spotlight won't be on us for too long, but it might still be a lot for a while.
And before you ask, going public or staying private would make me happy as long as I still get to be with you exclusively.
What would make you happier?
[ the shitty thing about tunnels is that no matter how good the receptors, they still are able to cut out signal. the last bit of information he's left with is that there are hidden tunnels. the problem is with the hidden part.
it takes him a good while to figure out which boards could be removed, takes a good bit of tackling to get through to the tunnels and out the other side.
as soon as the signal is stable again, he switches to voice, his own laced with laboured breathing. ]
Hey. Not dead yet. Were you worried?
it takes him a good while to figure out which boards could be removed, takes a good bit of tackling to get through to the tunnels and out the other side.
as soon as the signal is stable again, he switches to voice, his own laced with laboured breathing. ]
Hey. Not dead yet. Were you worried?
[ For all that the Shrike keeps the company of the Bad Boy and Bad Girl of Supergroup -- they are kind of a tool. They're enough of a hardass about the rules and their own moral code they could make B look like a rebel sometimes. Then again, plenty of people only know the first one, the one who very publicly disgraced himself and his team by murdering five people before falling off the map. 'Villains', sure, but people. So maybe that's why the Shrike is such a stickler. They do in fact have something to prove.
The point is, they don't even swear. So. It's probably saying how worried they were when the first response is- ]
Dick!
[ Yes. They were worried. Worried enough that they're on their way in after him, so there's the sound of movement over their own comms. ]
The point is, they don't even swear. So. It's probably saying how worried they were when the first response is- ]
Dick!
[ Yes. They were worried. Worried enough that they're on their way in after him, so there's the sound of movement over their own comms. ]
Well aren't you fancy. I can't juggle them but I know a couple of knife tricks from my days in the service.
Is that your not so subtle way of asking for help?
Is that your not so subtle way of asking for help?
(( ...contd.))
If he said thatβ
[ the words weave between Tim's, before Dick catches himself talking over Tim and sighs. ]
Because he doesn't need to know. He's gonna find a way to use it against us.
[ he cuts himself off. ]
The less he knows the better.
Oh.
[ Well, now Tim feels a little bit like an idiot for misunderstanding.
Still, he a curious little bird. The relationship he's had with Bruce is pretty different than Dick's. ]
Has he done that before? Used it against you?
[ Well, now Tim feels a little bit like an idiot for misunderstanding.
Still, he a curious little bird. The relationship he's had with Bruce is pretty different than Dick's. ]
Has he done that before? Used it against you?
(( ...contd.))
[ heβs gotta be imagining it, or maybe thatβs just how Wren looks when theyβre drunk, those eyes turned toward him and filled with a kind of longing.must be the ex.
he snorts a half amused laugh and shakes his head once. ]
Well, I wasnβt going to let you sit there waiting for the night bus.
[ it was all for practical reasons, yes.
with that, he slips out the car and eyes Wren warily when they seem a little unsteady on their feet. in any other situation, he might have offered a steadying hand or arm, but the situation already feels borderline improper, with Wren being inebriated and him offering to bring them home, so he doesn't. they head together to the elevator, where Dick says nothing about the way he casually scans his retina to get access to the penthouse suite. he also says nothing when the elevator opens up to a sleek private lobby.
he does, however, frown as soon as they step out, eyes narrowing with suspicion as his alert gaze darts back to Wren then to the door again. a hand comes to protectively push them behind him as he tucks against the wall. the tiny light on his door indicates the security system had been disarmed. he holds a finger up to his lips and lifts his brows to get confirmation that Wren understands.
there are only a handful of people he can think of who would be able to disarm his system without detection, but still, he's never too cautious. ]
[ The retna scan goes unnoticed. The drink - Vivienne always goes for the hard stuff that actually affects Wren to drown out her own demons- dulls what they would have otherwise noticed, distracted by the motion of the elevator and the need to will themself to not account for it. It's why they're a bad swimmer - whatever is inside them that controlls flight gets confused when gravity doesn't respond the way they expect it to.
But even that's not quite enough to drown out the way Dick's attitude suddenly changes, going from friendly casual to trying at subtle protective. None of their own danger senses are going off, and they know better than to strain those to try and 'listen'.]
W-
[ They don't even finish the 'what' before Dick motions for silence and they fall silent with too much practiced ease for someone who isnt as steady on their feet as they are, expression questioning but not belligerently fighting Dick about this. ]
But even that's not quite enough to drown out the way Dick's attitude suddenly changes, going from friendly casual to trying at subtle protective. None of their own danger senses are going off, and they know better than to strain those to try and 'listen'.]
W-
[ They don't even finish the 'what' before Dick motions for silence and they fall silent with too much practiced ease for someone who isnt as steady on their feet as they are, expression questioning but not belligerently fighting Dick about this. ]
It's hard to be original when most of these criminals can't even think their way out of a wet paper bag.
[Unlike him. He is both a genius AND original!]
And yes, you owe me one.
But we can talk about that later, back to cake.
What is your favourite flavour?
[Unlike him. He is both a genius AND original!]
And yes, you owe me one.
But we can talk about that later, back to cake.
What is your favourite flavour?
[ there's an earnestness to dick that bruce was wary to trust at first but the more they talk the more he's certain it's genuine. it's why bruce takes a moment to think about how to describe the parallels without offending him. a tact his older self has long forgotten in exchange for buying efficiency at the cost of etiquette. ]
People who find it easier to be themselves behind a mask or a mission. There's an honesty in fighting but talking to people...It requires we hide some of what we are.
So yes. Maybe it's more natural to brawl in an alley than bake a cake, but I like that you gave me the option to try something that might be considered normal all the same.
People who find it easier to be themselves behind a mask or a mission. There's an honesty in fighting but talking to people...It requires we hide some of what we are.
So yes. Maybe it's more natural to brawl in an alley than bake a cake, but I like that you gave me the option to try something that might be considered normal all the same.
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