#//morris talks weird

[spectrumspace]

continuing the tradition of illustrating tumblr posts

[bread-wizards]

The Crown Keeper and Fearne&Orym reunion is going to be very interesting because you have Fearne, who hesitated to take the shard because of the impact seeing dark!Fearne had on her, possibly seeing Opal again.. like this. She gets a front row seat to one of her very good friends heading down that path of corruption that she herself was scared of.

Then you have the Crown Keepers just seeing the toll these last few months have had on Orym and Fearne. I wonder if there would be any guilt from Dorian, knowing he left and came back to such a drastic change.

That Orym did get the answers he was looking for and he is crumbling under the weight of them. That Fearne has had to experience so much more loss and anger in these last few months than she had in over 100 years and she still doesn't know what to do with some of these feelings.

[mirchloe]

i never post scrapped parts separately, but this 17 page dion pov segment was the bane of my existence for the entire month, and i don't want to let it go to waste, so here it is, entirely unedited. i think as you'll read, compared to what happens in the last chapter, it brings everything to a grinding halt, like a game of catch up to bring the other characters up to speed for the readers. it's very "here they are! here's what they were doing right up to that specific moment where raz is just about ready to take on the big bad! here are their very specific mentalities! they sure just keep TALKING! and LOOKING!" it felt so repetitive and dialogue-heavy that when i kept re-reading the past chapters, this scrapped chapter felt like walking into a wall and having to climb it to get back to the actual plot relevant stuff.

there are definitely things i would liked to save, but scaling down these conversations, making them more concise, it would really fit the story better.

When Dion learned what happened to Raz, if he wasn’t so shocked, then he could have collapsed on the spot.

As soon as his mother cried out over the phone, jolting Dion out of his daily stretches, he rushed to her side. His younger siblings followed, each in different stages of concern, only for their mutual distress to heighten when Donatella sank to her knees. The phone had slipped out of her hands, the springy cord causing it to dangle and swing. Their father grasped it, quickly raising it to his ear and addressing the other side with the proper poise of a hardened ringmaster. While Frazie tended to Donatella, who whispered in a hushed, yet shrill voice, Dion observed his father with wide eyes and clenched fists.

Augustus’ panicked voice killed any semblance of calm. “What? What do you m-? How could this have happened? Yes, yes, I - did you say imprisoned? Why would anyone-?”

But when Augustus floundered, cupping his mouth with tense fingers, it was like when his memories flooded in from the locked parts of his mind. All of a sudden, Augustus lost strength in his legs. He collapsed to the ground, struggling to hold onto the phone. He struggled to speak, frantically demanding answers that the other person could not provide. There was nothing Dion could do as a bystander to his father’s suffering, just as he had felt throughout his life. He was only able to offer comfort when the Aquatos linked their arms around him and each other before braving the storm as a family.

This was different, and yet, all the same. Augustus had been lost for words before, but now, as he failed to string together a sentence, he was like a weathered, battered mirror on the verge of cracking. He was deathly pale, as if multiple needles had punctured his veins and drained him of blood. Hobbling to his feet, he held the wall, his hand placed between strung-up, framed photographs of their family. His thumb caressed Raz’s face, his cherub cheeks, and Dion had almost forgotten he was so small as a toddler.

“Dad, what’s going on?” he remembered asking over the sound of Donatella’s cries..

Augustus shook his head. His face was wrinkled. He seemed to have aged in minutes.

“It’s your brother. It’s Razputin. He’s hurt.”

Dion may as well have taken a punch to the gut. He whipped his head to Donatella, finding her balling her hands into tense fists. She rose from her knees, Frazie and MIrtala holding her for support. Lost for words, he looked among his family, searching for answers only two of them could give.

“‘Hurt?’ How?” Queepie wondered, fidgeting with his collar. “I thought Raz was one of their top agents. How’d he get hurt?

“Pootie was tricked,” Donatella snapped, full of venom. “He’s trapped in another boy’s mind. His-his coworker or whatever! She said they can’t find a way to free him!”

Dion had no fathomable idea what that implied. Frazie, however, stiffened. She was the one demanding to know who had done it.

“Frazie, what does that mean? Trapped in someone’s mind?” Dion tried to breach through the chaos, but Frazie was unwavering, reiterating her question. He once again looked to their father, who brought the phone to his ear, and shouted, “Dad, hey, tell me! What does Mom mean that they can’t free him? Who did this to Raz? What the hell is going on?”

“It’s because of a contraption that I hardly understand myself, but it’s an intern behind Razputin’s entrapment. He’s someone your brother has had many problems with over the years.” 

Augustus’ grave voice lowered. Donatella snatched the phone from him, barking over the gentle, hardly soothing voice of Agent Vodello struggling to get a single word out. He briefly looked at Mirtala, before uttering a heavy-hearted sigh. 

“You know him. It’s a boy named Bobby Zilch.”

Mirtala’s irises dilated. Twin, dark circles enveloped their cerulean shade. She clasped her hands, shaking her head, her jaw twitching. Dion shrank to her side and rubbed her back before her tears could fall. He held her close and listened to her emit a whine like a monotonous siren, her pitch warbling, and he gnawed on the insides of his cheeks.

Again, there was nothing he could do. Providing meager comfort was drudgery when he was utterly helpless. Throughout the ride to the Motherlobe, he stewed and broiled with contempt, holding the shivering, weeping Mirtala to his chest.

For anyone to single out his little brother, they must have wracked with jealousy. Dion knew Raz was talented, progressing with his powers at lightning speed. He was more of a Psychonaut than an acrobat in recent days, but as Dion recalled, he had tried teaching Raz to hide his psychic abilities, repeating verbatim their father’s instructions. When he thought they were cursed to drown, as Dion stared out the window, Queepie resting in Frazie’s lap, he bit his nails into his palms for every sorrowful look Raz gave him after a harsh admonishment.

And then, witnessing Raz in such disarray, slumped against an overgrown apparatus, his malice dissipated. Raz was entirely expressionless, blankly gazing at nothing through half-lidded eyes. How their mother threw herself at his knees, screaming for him to wake up, Dion only heard static.

It was brief, however, as Dion caught sight of the real monster. The one who forced Raz into such a servile position was seated on the opposite side of the Brain Tumbler. His world was slathered in hues of blood red, and Dion’s one regret, in that moment, was letting Frazie get a charging head start.

It took the combined efforts of Oleander and Helmut to maintain the physical distance between the Aquatos and Bobby. Hollis had, somehow, managed to persuade them to remain calm. Then, he watched his mother sink once again to Raz’s knees, bawling against his shins while the Second Head tried consoling her. As explained, there was nothing they could do yet. They couldn’t discern why Raz was trapped when they already removed those peculiar locks. Otto theorized why, but Dion hadn’t heard a word over his mother’s sobering howling.

Hours passed. The tenuous peace eventually shattered. He couldn’t remember what he had snapped at the other agents scattered across the lab. All he remembered was Gisu on the floor, her cheek bruised from Frazie’s elbow swatting her when she teleported in with more devices. Somewhere in the chaos, Helmut was tossed by Queepie, and they, too, were tossed out of Sasha’s lab, letting more and more time pass. It was true chaos, now blanketed in a dense silence.

Someone’s stomach growled and shattered the stillness. It might have been his own. Dion thought his last meal was yesterday’s breakfast. Lili, with dark rings under her eyes, had been nice enough to bring them sandwiches covered in shrinkwrap, but he couldn’t stomach a crumb.

Now that he had returned to reality, acknowledging where he stood, he also couldn’t stomach the intern currently yapping his ear off.

She was about Raz’s height, give or take an inch. Dressed in jeans and a graphic T-shirt, her hair pulled back in tight buns, she somehow looked professional for a teenage intern. When she waltzed over, Mirtala said her name was Phoebe. He didn’t know when she weaseled her way over to them in a wing that was supposedly blocked off with clearance allowed for only particular agents.

Then, much to Dion’s mutual bewilderment shared with his family, Phoebe supplied them with a chance at therapy.

“...and so, that’s what I’m offering because I know how long you guys have been here, and I, well, I heard you weren’t treated the best. Word gets out fast in the Motherlobe,” she explained, folding her hands in front of her waist. She smiled, teeth pearly white and braced. “Any takers? I really do want to help as best as I can, so while they help Raz, I can help you.”

Dion thought Raz was long-winded, but she took the cake. Sweeping his fingers through his greasy hair, grimacing at the faint film on his palm, he said, “Listen, I don’t want to chew you out, but we’re not in the mood. It’s a nice gesture, I guess. Thanks, but no thanks.”

Phoebe frowned, the answer clearly going against her expectations. She surveyed the Aquatos, and Dion had enough of being watched. Pushing off the wall, spotting that Oleander and Milla had absconded from their duties of observing the Aquatos, he raised his hands. He took a stand in front of his family, Augustus and Nona still with Raz. While Donatella remained on her bottom by a window, Queepie and Mirtala murmuring to her, he was glad Frazie joined him shoulder-to-shoulder in protecting their withdrawn, haggard mother. Phoebe stepped back. She seemed to register her advances were unwanted. “Sorry. Maybe that was impetuous of me. Bad timing, too. I know this is a dire situation, and Bobby totally deserves your anger, so if you want to discuss anything with me, or just want to vent, I’m here for you guys. Raz is my friend, too, and I also-” She peeked around Frazie. “-wanted to make sure you’re doing okay, Tala. How are you? We haven’t had a chance to talk since I graduated from Whispering Rock.”

Dion looked at Mirtala, but she wasn’t returning Phoebe’s smile. She stood with Donatella, her flushed face pinching. As Donatella wiped her eyes for what must have been the thousandth, her deep violet mascara staining her cheeks, Mirtala stated, “We aren’t as close as you think, Phoebe.”

She balked. Behind her, Dion saw her two friends waiting in the wing appearing equally mystified. There was an assortment of other interns, too, but they were merely faces in the crowd. Phoebe struggled to respond, but Donatella thrust out her hand. Queepie quickly grabbed it, helping her stand while Mirtala steadied Donatella’s waist.

“Please, just go,” she ordered, and she pointed, though there was no strength in her posture. “This is a family matter. It doesn’t involve you. I won’t give you brownie points for coming over and lecturing us. Take your gaggle of onlookers, and leave us alone.”

“Oh! Um, that’s not at all what I wanted to do. ‘Lecturing?’ Wait, really, I’m not trying to talk down to you guys.” Phoebe folded her arms, a myriad of reactions flooding through her as Donatella leered. “I, uh, look, I’m sorry, Mrs. Aquato, but I’m not trying to get your bad side. Bobby’s the one-”

“Whoa, whoa, Phoebe, area’s off limits. I’m gonna need you to skedaddle.”

Lizzie’s voice echoed as she sauntered from the lab, followed by her assortment of fellow agents. She patted Phoebe’s back, coaxing her to leave. Phoebe rubbed her arm, clearly dissatisfied with the responses she received.

“You guys know the drill. Up and out.” Morris clapped his hands sharply. “Come on. Let’s go. Quentin, Elka, the rest of you, I don’t need to tell you twice.”

Norma set her index finger on the bridge of her glasses, peering at Phoebe. “I understand what you’re doing, but this isn’t the time. You think you’re helping by offering to hear them out, and that’s not what they need. What they require is a definite solution to end this problem.”

Dion’s knuckles ached. He hadn’t realized how intensely he had been clenching his fists. He shifted his gaze toward the lab, knowing nothing of substance was occurring. Until the obvious happened, then the Aquatos would never feel secure, and for Dion, he sensed he wouldn’t be well until he heard that annoying, endearing, high-pitched chuckle.

Phoebe tried again. “But Agent Natividad-”

She lifted her head, pointing with her chin. “They’re clearly not in the mood. Leave it to us, Phoebe, and go with the interns. There should be some scavenger hunt items for you to locate somewhere around the Motherlobe, so I suggest you hop to it.”

Phoebe bit her lip. She sagged under her mentor’s firm derailment. She tried to meet Mirtala’s eyes, but Mirtala ducked her chin to her chest. Frazie reached back and gripped her shoulder, scowling at Phoebe, who had taken on a true visage of dejection. The brunt of their anger was given to her full force, and briefly, just briefly, Dion pitied her.

Relenting, Phoebe nodded. She opened her mouth, but seemed to think better of it. Instead of an excuse, she mustered an apology. She retreated to the other interns, giving a parting glare toward Sasha’s lab. They walked off, escorted by older agents, who finally realized the commotion and ordered them to stay away.

Donatella accepted the box of tissues offered by Sam. She thanked her in a thick, tight voice before blowing her nose. She rasped for breath, taking another tissue for good measure. As she cleaned herself for what might have been the tenth time, she said she needed a minute and dragged herself to the window. It overlooked parts of the Quarry, but Dion couldn’t find any beauty in the glistening, clear waters. They may as well have been bubbling and polluted.

No one spoke. Glances were given, not words. Dion locked eyes with Gisu, and still, he couldn’t grasp what needed to be said. Gisu, along with the rest of the agents, were just as withdrawn. Nobody had slept, evidenced by the shared dark circles under their eyes. If they had eaten, the amount of food was in small, unfulfilling quantities, such as Lili’s unwrapped, untouched sandwiches.Lili 

Frazie drew in a sharp, sudden breath and flatly remarked, “Sorry I walloped you, Gisu.”

She blinked, taken aback. “Huh? Oh, uh, yeah, no problem. You didn’t know I’d teleport to that spot. I’m lucky your elbow didn’t materialize through my skull.”

Dion pulled a face, but stopped himself from replying when he noticed Queepie fidgeting with his sleeve. He asked him what was wrong.

Queepie turned his attention to Morris. “Is, uh, Mr. Fullbear still mad I threw him?” He chuckled, leaning forward in his chair. He reached over and ruffled Queepie’s hair, parted on the side. “The big guy’s tougher than you give him credit for, man. He was frozen for twenty years, so you’d think his muscles would’ve atrophied, but nope. He’s built like a brick shithouse.”

Donatella immediately glowered at him for the language in front of her ten-year-old. Morris pretended not to notice, eyes flitting across each sibling before sharing a quick grin with Queepie.

“Physical therapy has kept him strong,” Adam piped up, fingers typically steepled. “Not to mention the ice kept him perfectly preserved. His husband once told me he’s jealous that his bones aren’t clicking as much as his.”

“He even has better posture than Norma,” Sam added, earning a scoff of surprise from her intended, or unintended, target.

“Hey, my back is - oh, I’m not getting into a tit for tat with you. It’s already too tiring.”

“Even if she’s right?” Lizzle drawled, elbowing her sister, and earning a quiet titter of giggles from Mirtala. She grinned a lopsided smile. “Hey, finally, I got a laugh out of you. Being morose doesn’t suit you.”

Dion couldn’t bring the corners of his lips to rise. As sweet as it was to hear her soft laughter, it was not enough to bandage their wounds. He looked at Donatella, finding she was already departing from the group. She swayed toward the nearest window, and although his back was turned, he sensed she was not observing the surrounding foliage or crystal clear water.

Frazie huffed out a breath like a frustrated horse. She cupped her knitted brows, her expression twisting. She opened her mouth, and said nothing. Then, she rolled her head back and slackened her arms, asking the obvious.

“I think enough time has passed, so does…does anyone know why this happened? Any fathomable reason?”

As she tossed out her hands, the agents weren’t responding. Sam looked at the others, and Morris crossed his arms. Gisu fidgeted with the strap of her new, leather bag. She sent a glance toward Norma, who maintained eye contact with Frazie.

At Lizzie’s nod, Adam sighed. He lowered his shoulders. Dion heard his joints grind.

“When we saw Raz last, Bobby lashed out at him. Sure, Raz goaded him, but that’s not enough. There’s been a history of provocation, more so on Bobby’s side, and this was a meticulously planned attack on Raz. The PSI locks jamming the Brain Tumbler, for example, were ones Bobby had been seemingly working on for some time.”

Gisu added, “With how many Bobby wedged in the Brain Tumbler, it would take at least a few weeks for someone without technical knowledge to create. Otto said they were cheap or something, but that just goes to show how far Bobby was willing to go. He must’ve been feeling-”

“That asshole has been planning this for a while, right? I don’t need to hear anything else.” Dion scoffed, gripping his elbows, and Gisu frowned, as if she was biting her tongue. “He’s always had it out for Raz. Day one in that camp? Raz told me that guy fired at him from a tank. A tank! Ever since then, he’s been jealous and spiteful, all because Raz was better than him. A bastard with a violent streak like that never should’ve been allowed in the Psychonauts.”

He punctuated his frustration by slamming his fist into his open palm. He didn’t want to hear any further reasoning. It didn’t matter. Raz was still a prisoner in Bobby’s mind, facing unknown tribulations while his family stood on the outskirts.

This time, they weren’t permitted to help. They couldn’t rush into action. Like bit players, they were watching the show with the curtain veiled over the stage. As he was sure his brother’s body was becoming colder and paler, Dion didn’t want to consider anything beneficial for Bobby. Whatever he felt, whatever he endured, it was secondary to the suffering he must have been enforcing upon Raz.

Frazie glanced at Dion, sucking in a breath, then huffing it out, deciding it was worth saying. “I don’t know about that last part, Dion.” “What do you mean? What’s wrong with what I said?” Dion felt their mother’s eyes boring through him, as if compelling him to question them in her stead. “This guy attacked Raz! Trapped him in his mind! He’s definitely brutalized him! How else am I supposed to interpret it, huh?”

Adam’s voice was clipped. “The Psychonauts don’t abandon their own. This obviously wasn’t a standalone act of violence.”

“I don’t want to hear anything excusing that asshole! He hurt Raz! End of story!”

“Earlier, when you said-” Lizzie peered at Mirtala, who waited with wide, dull eyes, and Dion snorted as he was ignored. “-Bobby looked like he was crying, it had us all wondering. Things that were missed that led up to him, well, cracking.”

Sam stroked her arm, unblinking as she spoke in an uncharacteristically somber tone. “Kind of like how a dam breaks.”

As Queepie gasped, and Mirtala covered her mouth, Donatella whipped her head over her shoulder. Dion didn’t need to stare at her. He knew shock was scorching her face a brilliant scarlet. Every bit of reddened rage colored his cheeks, as well. Dion’s insides twisted, his own emotions in turmoil. He raised a slow, accusatory finger at Sam’s face, hunching forward as he snarled through gritted teeth.

“You better not mean what I think you’re implying. Nona’s circumstances were different and way more excruciating. You keep her name out of your mouth.” 

Sam didn’t flinch. None of them did.

Dion felt like a cauldron boiling over with toxic carbonation. If what she implied was true, then they had the nerve to compare Nona, who had been a corrupt gzar’s political pawn, to a manipulative fraud like Bobby Zilch. She had been berated and barraged with tragedy. What could have even been comparable? Failing an obstacle course in summer camp while Raz strived? Being unable to learn a psychic skill with the same aptitude as Raz? Hiding behind a tree and glaring at their family when they visited the Motherlobe? It was ridiculous, a cruel joke to believe their weight was equal. Dion shook with such palpable rage that he had half a mind to storm into the lab and smash his tired fist through that contraption, if it meant rescuing his brother from a devil in disguise.

“Dion,” Frazie snapped, gripping her head once more, “drop it. Just drop it.”

He pivoted to Frazie, incredulous. “Nona is nothing like the guy who singled out Raz. Are you defending him now?”

“Ugh! I’m not. I wouldn’t. The Psychonauts-” Frazie filled her chest with air and exhaled with pained exertion. “The Psychonauts helped Nona when our world turned upside down, all right? When that happened, they protected her.” She held up her hands. “Adam’s right. It’s not like them to abandon anyone in need. That’s all I’m saying.”

“Oh, yeah? You’re leaving a lot out and-”

“Look, just let us finish. We’ve been going over this diligently with the senior agents, and we want you to hear us out,” Norma insisted, and she lightly patted Gisu’s shoulder, prompting her to continue before Dion could shout.

“Trapping Raz, Bobby definitely intended to hurt him. No other facts point otherwise, but when Lizzie told us Tala’s observation, we started wondering if this really was a cry for help. Heck, Oleander even phoned home and learned Bobby was-”

“You’re joking! None of this was a cry for help! Raz was deceived! So were the rest of you!” Dion barked. He couldn’t believe they had spent a few summers of youthful bliss together. For her to so much as consider a plight of decency for the unforgivable whelp who had harmed Raz, he wanted to scrub his mouth out with soap.

“Or whatever Bobby originally wanted was turned into something else between them,” Sam stressed. “Y’know, becoming a cry for help. They haven’t made any messed up noises in a few hours, right?”

“No! Not right! What the hell is wrong you guys? You’re making up excuses.”

“Not like we’ll know what’s actually happening until they emerge,” Morris retorted, drumming his fingers on the fortified armrests of his new chair. “So, at this point, with how long this has gone on, the Psychonauts are willing to give Bobby the benefit of the doubt. We want to hear what Raz says before any hasty decisions are made, too. That’s coming from the Grand Head himself.”

Dion shook his head. They may as well have promoted Bobby as a Psychonaut for his daring little scheme. It was like they were looking the other way, pretending not to see Raz. They could say how much they cared for Raz, how much they wanted to see him back on his feet, all while espousing platitudes for his kidnapper. It was a low bar for the Psychonauts, declaring Bobby would face consequences, and they couldn’t cross that nanoscopic threshold.

“We won’t know the whole truth until they’re freed, and we’ll go from there. That’s what Hollis and Truman have decided with the other agents,” Norma concluded, and she clutched her wrist, meeting Frazie’s narrowed gaze. “With how quiet things have been, and no visible, physical reactions have been happening for the past few hours, it’s a possibility things are calmer between them in Bobby’s mind.”

Dion chewed on the inside of his cheek. His family was stuck outside, left to take their statements at face value. The lab was right there, but it was like they had to traverse across a moat to reach the castle. They had some nerve deciding on what to do without consulting his family.

Regardless, he watched Mirtala approach. She wrung her hands, rolling her wrists. His stomach flipped at her agonizingly hopeful voice, like tittering birdsong from a weary, groggy sparrow.

“You mean, they could be working it out? And maybe-maybe things will be okay?” 

Norma managed a smile that twitched a little more than probably intended. “That’s my, well, our hopeful conjecture. Trust me when I say we’ve been debating this for some time amongst ourselves and our superiors.”

Queepie itched through his scalp, his hair just as flat and matted as Dion’s. The embodiment of discomfort, he mumbled, “I mean, I won’t believe anything until I hear it from Raz. He better wake up soon.”

“I’m-I’m sure he will,” Mirtala said, spinning to his side. “I bet Boo, uh, Bobby will, too, and they can tell us what happened.”

Yeah, if I don’t get to that guy’s scrawny neck first.

Dion let those words fester in his mind. No matter the carefully curated statements, he wasn’t interested in comprehending their rationale. If he was in a better mood, then he might have admitted they made observations with merit. He hadn’t heard a single, dismal groan echoing from Raz in some time. For that, he guessed he was grateful the situation had seemingly calmed.

In the end, the one who mattered was Raz. He was still suffering in an unknowable mind with a person who loathed him beyond petty, childish rivalry. Whatever Bobby had endured, or supposedly endured, was nothing compared to the horrors he must have been enacting upon Raz.

One glance at his sister affirmed his trepidation. Frazie’s gaze teetered toward the lab. Norma uttered her name, and she stiffened. The attention was clearly unwanted, a burden on her tense back. She looked down, spotting Queepie, Mirtala, but Raz was not with them. There should have been five high-flying, death-defying Aquato siblings, not four.

She withered. A tree without roots was destined to falter.

“I get it. That guy hates Raz. Whenever Raz visited, sometimes, he mentioned a problem he had with that asshole. I swear, I’d see him lurking in the Questionable Area when me and Raz were catching up on our acrobatics.” Dion heard her jaw click. “But even if you guys say all that, say there’s a method to his madness, to trick Raz while he’s vulnerable, and trap him in his mind? I still can’t figure it out. What did Raz do that was so bad? No, actually, why Raz? Why hurt Raz at all?”

Her voice cracked. She tossed out her hands. But no one could provide proof. Explanations were paltry, a means to delineate the facts when the obvious inference rang loud and true. Dion gripped his elbows, squeezed his eyes shut, and saw Raz’s limp, bloodless body slumped against the Brain Tumbler.

Raz was imprisoned in Bobby’s mind. Nothing else mattered. No matter what was happening or had occurred, it didn’t smooth over the real truth like an eroded stone at the bottom of the sea. Until Raz was safe and free from Bobby’s clutches, Dion couldn’t rest, even as his head throbbed and heart rattled between his ribs.

He heard Donatella sniff. Her footsteps dwindled. She must have returned to the window.

Norma peered at her fellow agents. They wore their sympathetic masks, lips turned downward, slight mist glazing a few eyes. She seemed to speak for all of them. “There’s no justification. There’s only what we can do to understand when they’re out.”

“You should have just said the first part.”

When his mother interrupted, it hit Dion very, very suddenly that she had been far too quiet. Even her footsteps were pittering.

Everyone faced her. Mirtala’s silver bells chiming out of tune when she jerked her head. Donatella hunkered forward with her clenched fist on the rounded window. She slowly shook her head, leering at the dull carpet and potted ferns. If she had psychic powers, then Dion believed she would have set the entire Motherlobe ablaze in a swarm of uncontrollable flames.

Lizzie tempted her fury. “Uh, what do you mean? We-”

“You heard me!” she spat, flinging out her fist, each finger extending like whips. “Pootie is innocent. Pootie has done nothing wrong, and-and as soon as he emerges, I’m taking him out of the Psychonauts! He is coming home!” “Mom!” Frazie blurted, eyes shooting wide open. “You can’t just-”

“Don’t Mom me, Frazie. After today, after all this, you’re just as shocked as I am. You asked why someone would do this to Raz? Wel, such a situation never should have happened. If he stayed with us-”

“I understand you’re upset,” Norma hastily interjected, “but that’s not your decision. Raz is-”

Donatella huffed, breathing so hard that Dion thought her lungs would give out., Her mascara stains worsened as a glossy sheen of sweat dampened her face. It seemed she no longer cared about her once graceful appearance, nothing more than a caricature of maternal sorrow.

“I’ve had enough listening to the six of you. You don’t know what you’re talking about, and you say you’re Raz’s friends?” She snapped her attention to Mirtala, who squeaked, and Dion winced. “And you say that monster was crying, Tala? So what? He attacked your brother! Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten those nights when you’d come to me telling a story about how he insulted or berated you, too.”

Mirtala shifted. She couldn’t meet Donatella in the middle. Dion kept his hands to himself.

“It’s a possible sign of guilt,” Norma snapped, swiftly regaining her composure. “Since this has gone for so long, it’s more likely than not Bobby’s dealing with some heavy regrets about the entire situation. ”

“And don’t forget Raz is a Psychonaut. There’s a chance he’s handling this,” Lizzie added, standing shoulder to shoulder with her sister. “Yeah, this sucks. Totally, completely blows. No one is saying this isn’t hell on Earth for everyone, but even so, you can’t make the choice to take Raz away from something he loves doing.”

“‘Loves doing?’ Oh, you’re telling me he loves being sequestered in that monster’s mind?” “Not at all what I said, and you know it, lady.”

Adam shot Lizzie a look, their mutual frustration palpable. “What Lizzie means to say is-”

“I don’t give a rat’s ass what any of you say. I don’t give a rat’s ass for what that monster could say.” Donatella flung her finger toward the lab, her tone strident, so potent that every window in the Motherlobe could have shattered from her sonic decibels. “What could he possibly say other than a cheap sorry? He still made the decision to hurt my son! I want my son home! None of you could protect him! None of you! I couldn’t! I-!”

She choked. As if something was lodged in throat, she hacked and hobbled. Fresh sobs wracked her entire body. She was far frailer than Dion had ever seen, a porcelain doll with gilded, widening cracks. She may as well have shattered. No gold would cement her together again as Donatella cried. Through the black tears dripping between her fingers, staining the carpet in inky droplets, she raked her fingers through her unkempt hair splayed in lank strands over her shoulders.

Queepie rushed to her. He wrapped his arms around her waist. Mirtala was quick to join, a stumble in her step. Donatella scooped them up like she would lose them, too, as if an invisible force would rip them from her iron grip.

Frazie dragged a finger along her damp eyelids. She looked at the agents, commiserating. Norma reached her first, one hand to her bicep, saying nothing. Dion wasn’t sure what could have been sound as the anguished howls of a broken mother rolled throughout the dismal, quiet Motherlobe.

Dion tipped his chin to his chest. He could barely suck in air through his gritted teeth. He grinded on them so hard that they may as well have turned to chalk.

“Yes, that’s what I’ve decided. He’s coming home. My baby is coming home with us. He’s going to stay with his family. He’s been away long enough. I can’t trust you people to keep him safe.”

Donatella wheezed her desires through chattering teeth. She glared over her youngest children toward the lab, and Dion heard the soft clicking of approaching heels, tempered by quickening footsteps of rainboots. 

“And I know I certainly can’t trust him with the likes of you.”

The visage of the Lesser Head of the Psychonauts did not change. She stood with her arms behind her back, looking down on Donatella with an unreadable expression. Lili bristled, glancing between them, before settling on crossing her arms when Hollis stepped toward Donatella. “Mrs. Aquato,” she said with undeserved evenness, “can we speak privately?” “This is private enough,” Donatella hissed, relinquishing her grip on Queepie and Mirtala to gesture. “Now that those weaselly interns are gone, no one else is in this corridor. If you want to preach to me, too, do it in front of everyone.”

She did not waver. She simply extended her arm. “Just down the hall. Please. I want to talk to you alone.”

Donatella shook. She glared out the window, only to scoff when she seemed to have spotted Hollis’ reflection. When Hollis reached into her pocket and retrieved a small packet of tissues, Donatella scrubbed her eyes with her dried, blackened knuckles.

As Donatella continued refusing her, Dion was surprised when Hollis turned to him. He wasn’t psychic. He thought she would have deferred to Frazie, who had undergone her tutelage. Frazie might not have been a Psychonaut, and yet, she still had an in that Dion lacked. She did not reach physically, as Dion took a solitary step away, and as if sensing his apprehension, Hollis addressed him from where she stood.

“I’m sorry. I failed,” she murmured, and Dion saw the rings under her eyes, somehow even darker than the ones under his. Her exhaustion bled into her slow words. “Plain and simple, I failed both Raz and Bobby. If you want to discuss missed signs, I should’ve realized everything much sooner. I shouldn’t have berated Raz for his obvious distrust. I shouldn’t have been quick to believe Bobby’s tears. Whatever is happening in Bobby’s mind, whatever Raz is going through, it’s on me. The Psychonauts take full responsibility.”

“Agent Forsythe-” Norma began, but Hollis raised his hand.

“An apology means nothing without action,” she said, and she looked to Donatella, who continued leering out the window, “which is why I’ll hope you’ll grant me the courtesy-” “Courtesy,” Donatella snarled.

“-to talk in private. Away from this very upsetting place. Even if it’s just right over there.”

“You must have lost your brain somewhere. Is it rolling around in one of those little capsules? If you think I’ll spend a second with you, you’re madder than a hatter.”

Dion dug his fingernails into his hips. Tension eased in his shoulders, so much so that they cracked as they lowered. With the discussion coming to a dead halt, he heard the blood pulsing between his ears. A rhythmic, monotonous flow almost dizzied him, and his damp eyes fluttered to stay afloat. He searched among the group, his austere mother leering down at the Second Head, who no longer wore her pride on her expansive shoulder pads.

Lili bared her teeth, ready to speak, but Hollis cupped her shoulder. She shook her head, dispelling the foaming fury that must have been rising in her throat. Donatella peered at her, one eyebrow neatly arched, and Dion assumed she was surprised Lili would seemingly muster an attempt to defend Hollis.

Left with his thoughts, Dion clutched his dry, cracked elbows. Without a word bouncing among them, he directed his gaze toward the lab, as he had done countless times. He knew what was happening, and no progress was being made in any meaningful manner. Patience was never his virtue. He had been still and stiff and silent long enough.

But he kept looking at Hollis. He presumed her to be a powerful leader. She was responsible for the Psychonauts under her care. Interns, agents, retirees, it didn’t matter. With how long she had known and trained Raz, the Motherlobe like a second home whenever Raz wasn’t traveling with his family, Hollis had garnered a tight-knit relationship with his little brother. Dion remembered how proud Raz was whenever he could state Hollis had trusted him with a mission, or took the time to further his training in private. Around the campfire, Raz rarely had a negative word about Hollis, even if their mother grumbled.

He glanced at the other agents. They were Raz’s friends, partners who had helped him face down his familial foe. Without them, the circumstances might have been different. In the years Raz spent with them, he, too, had dozens of tales to tell about them. Missions, pranks, movie nights, it was as if they had scooped Raz into their arms, carting him off like their own little brother. In the time he was apart from Raz, and Raz came home revealing something new he had learned from one of them, the joy on his face was undeniable. Stars practically twinkled in  his eyes, and Dion had to admit the plethora of twisting emotions, seeing Raz grow and learn sometimes without him, jabbed at his sides.

But they cared about Raz. Despite Dion’s own uncertainties, it was more than obvious they treasured him. He was the world’s youngest Psychonaut, along with being their trusted colleague and friend.

They wouldn’t have worked so tirelessly to free Raz if they were dismissive. And as Dion watched Hollis swipe a tissue to quickly brush at her eyes, he thought his legs would give out.

If she was experiencing identical anguish as the Aquatos, acknowledging the deep-seated grief stewing within Dion, then he blurted a command that the Dion of yesterday never would have considered.

“Mom, I think you should take her up on this.”

Donatella stared at him like he had split his head open, and blood gushed down his face. Even his siblings gawked. It didn’t take a psychic to perceive the look of complete incredulity crossing Queepie’s countenance to realize he was thinking, Who replaced Dion with a look-a-like?

“It-it might be better if you do,” he hastily added, “because, uh, because it’ll clear the air.”

She swallowed hard. She regarded Dion like a stranger. “I thought you would’ve been on my side.”

His blood froze over. Ice in his veins, Dion couldn’t break from her softened, surprised stare. He may as well have told his mother she was wrong.

But Frazie took to his side. She didn’t gaze at Dion. Rather, her tone took on their shared strength. 

“Mom, it’d be better if you talked to Hollis one-on-one.”

Donatella hesitated. She held her breath. Although Hollis offered her another tissue, she remained as stationary as a rusted, marble statue on a paltry foundation. She kept her hands to her chest, and clear tears slithered down her marred cheeks.

Dion’s heart hammered. It ricocheted between his ribs, threatening to break every single one. Tensing his knees, he ordered himself to remain upright. He couldn’t turn to Frazie, but no psychic connection was needed to affirm where they stood.

Their mother huffed. She cradled her head. And a semblance of peace returned.

“Oh, fine, fine. I know when you two are united, there’s no point in arguing.” 

She stomped down the hall, her brisk pace prompting Hollis to follow. Without a parting word or a promise of when she would return, Donatella vanished around the rounded corner, Hollis in tow.

Dion dropped his head. His entire body slumped forward. Frazie’s hold on his collar prevented him from falling over outright. Hearing her snicker, he snorted at whatever amusement she derived from his exhaustion.

Before he could remark on anything, Lili snatched the shrinkwrapped sandwiches left in a heap on the floor. “You guys seriously didn’t eat the food I brought? They definitely aren’t as fresh now,” she grumbled, telekinetically shoving them in each Aquato’s hand. “Come on, eat them. I know you guys haven’t had anything.”

“Don’t need to tell me twice,” Queepie muttered, tearing his open with Mirtala. “Ew. There’s some weird sauce in here.”

“It’s called aioli.”

“That does not look like aioli. It’s too green.”

“Then, some relish got in it! Sheesh, Queepie, it’s a club sandwich.”

Sticking his tongue out at Lili, Queepie gasped when Mirtala lightly kicked his shin. He looked ready to kick her back when Dion eyed him. He scoffed and shoved the sandwich into his mouth, ignoring Mirtala’s perfectly innocent air.

“Think those two are gonna be okay?’ Gisu wondered as Dion fiddled with his shrinkwrap.

“Well, they haven’t shouted in thirty seconds. I’d say things are going better than we hoped,” Lizzie sneered.

Norma checked her watch. “Almost a minute, now. Still no screaming.”

Dion scoffed through his first bite, only for his eyes to widen. The taste of dry turkey, watery tomatoes, and excessive mayonnaise was like fine dining from a master chef. Foregoing any food made an average sandwich a meal fit for a king. But while Frazie grinned, Dion simply turned his head, trying to eat as casually as possible.

Lili cracked her jaw, reminiscent of Lizzie. She peered at the agents, saying nothing verbally, but he could tell telepathy was in play. He had seen Raz concentrating when they were in their beds, gazing at nothing in particular, while being immersed in a conversation with someone far away. She wore the same look, along with the other agents, but what she suggested had him struggling to swallow the next bite.

“Maybe…we should get out of here, too.” “Wh-? Just leave?” He swatted at his chest and gulped hard. “What if something happens?”

“My dad will tell me, and I’ll tell you. He promised if there were any updates, I’d be the first to know.”

“Yeah? Can we tru-?” He stopped himself, dismissing the budding accusation. If the Grand Head was anything like his subordinate, then Dion supposed he deserved the same respect. “Uh, forget it  Forget I said anything.”

Lili stretched, lacing her fingers above her head and standing on her tiptoes. Dion had seen Raz elongate his spine in the same way. Although a common gesture, he couldn’t help but wonder if Lili had picked up that trait from Raz.

When her back popped, she sighed and crossed her arms. “I get it. Sitting and waiting, it’s really hard, especially when there’s nothing you can do-” Her gaze swept across the munching Aquatos. “-except take care of ourselves.”

Adam ruffled her hair, and she quickly brushed aside his hand. “You phrased it perfectly, Lili. Better than I could.”

“Can we go?” Mirtala asked abruptly to her older siblings. It was unlike her to ask for permission, in most cases. She was the kind of girl who tended to move to her own rhythm.

Queepie didn’t need permission to do anything. It was a trait Dion found more than irritable when he ran off from chores. He was already with the agents, as if expecting Dion and Frazie would comply.

Frazie stared at Lili, their thoughts uniquely private. Then, an almost resigned air, she said, “Some fresh air might be good. It’ll be better to leave Mom alone while she’s with Hollis, too.”

Dion said nothing. He showed his palms and walked in the rear. Frazie joined him, shoulder to shoulder. Watching Queepie speak with Morris, and Mirtala clinging to Lili while Sam tried prying her off, Dion supposed they were the outliers. They hadn’t technically agreed; they were following the group. If Dion was a gambling man, then he would have put all of his chips in by insisting Frazie, like himself, would have rather stayed with Raz.

But she grinned at him, flanked by Norma. “Holding up?” “Hardly,” he said, taking comfort in how Gisu slipped into his shadow. “I bet if we leave, something’s gonna happen.” “Come on, Dion. We’ve waited for over a day. What could possibly happen when we’re gone?”

And although Frazie flashed him a lopsided smile, Dion smothered his trepidation, clinging to the hopeful strand that a peaceful resolution would ensue, even if he still wanted nothing more than to punch Bobby Zilch’s lights out.

[a-blue-mask]

A man invites you to his castle to talk about business, but then he keeps postponing your leave, until you realise he intends on keeping you there. You'd have your own bedroom, a big castle to walk around (except for a few rooms), food and someone who is genuinely interested in talking with you.

Yeah there are some occasional murders in there because things can't be perfect of course. But you're safe as long as you listen to the man's advice.

Are you taking the deal?

If you are, congratulations!

You wouldn't be a very good Jonathan Harker according to the character in the book, but the count would probably like you better!

...no but seriously am I the only one who would accept?

[beeapocalypse]

margit images

[babyleostuff]

[ 💿 ] . . .TAPE 7

함께라서 웃을 수 있고 / 너라서 울 수도 있어 / 그렇게라도 못할 게 어딨어 / 언제 어디에 있어도 / 함께하지 못해도 우린 늘 그렇듯 / 웃음꽃 피워요 / 그대 미소에 봄이 돼줄게요

☁️ "smile flower" by seventeen

being loved by lee jihoon means being safe. he may not be a person who speaks loudly about his love or shows it through physical affection, but despite the lack of these things, you know that you will always be safe with him. he always covers the corners of sharp places so you don't bump into them and get hurt, he always walks on the outside of the sidewalk, he always has a change of shoes with him when you're wearing high heels, he carries your bag when it's heavy so you don't strain your shoulder. it doesn't even need to be mentioned that when you're at a party where there are a lot of people, jihoon always has his arm around your waist, and if he sees someone bothering you, he quickly shoos the uninvited stranger away with a not-so-nice expression on his face. the best part of it all? doing all of those things are so natural for him that most of the time he doesn't even realise he's doing them.

being loved by lee jihoon means you will always have someone to hug. jihoon has his limits when it comes to physical touch and he's not afraid to talk about them and openly admit when he feels uncomfortable with it. while as for you - there are no limits for you (you can say that this is one of your partner privileges). of course, he sometimes needs space from you when he's overwhelmed, but that's completely normal. however, you know that you can always, always hold his hand, hug him, wrap your hand around his bicep, or lean your head against his shoulder. in that aspect, he's like your anchor - when you feel overwhelmed, sad, or when your anxiety is bothering you, you know that you can always turn to jihoon. it's kind of a mystery to him how just his touch can calm you down, but if that's the way it is, he's more than willing to be there to hold you when you need it.

being loved by lee jihoon means being his muse. yes, this might be cheesy but it's true - you inspire him like no one else. there is something about you that no one else in the world has, and jihoon will be forever grateful that you are with him despite his demanding job, when sometimes you don't see each other for months and you only see each other through facetime. the way you support him, through thick and thin, the fact that your dates most often involve you sitting in his studio, the fact that sometimes you have to put up with his moods due to work - he will never be able to repay you for it. that's why you inspire him to create new music and lyrics, because in his mind this is the only way he could be able to express at least a hint of how grateful he is for having you in his life.

being loved by lee jihoon feels like a quiet night when everyone is fast asleep, like a goodnight kiss, like two hands holding each other with no intentions of letting go, like the waves hitting the shore, like the gentle voice of your lover singing you to sleep.

“i like myself better when i'm with you.”  - mitch albom, tuesdays with morrie

taglist (if you want to be added, check my masterlist): @jeonghansshitester @weird-bookworm @sea-moon-star @hanniehaee @wonwooz1 @byprettymar @edgaralienpoe @staranghae @itza-meee @eightlightstar @immabecreepin @whatsgyud @hyneyedfiz @honestlydopetree @vicehectic @dkswife @uniq-tastic @marisblogg @aaniag @daegutowns @carlesscat-thinklogic23 @embrace-themagic @ohmyhuenings @nidda13 @hrts4hanniehae @k-drama-adict @isabellah29 @f4iryjjosh @bangantokchy @mrswonwooo @bangtancultsposts @lllucere @athanasiasakura @onlyyjeonghan @haecien @caramyisabitchforsvtandbts @hannahhbahng @valgracia @ohmygodwhyareallusernamestaken @mirxzii @hhusbuds @wonranghaeee @rosiesauriostuff @gyuguys @tomodachiii @veryfabday @lilmochiandsuga @asasilentreader @mrsnervous @bewoyewo @sharonxdevi @wondipity @gyuguys @raginghellfire @treehouse-mouse @waldau @wonootnoot @hellodefthings @dokyeomkyeom @sourkimchi @bbysnw @hoichi02 @aaa-sia @haneulparadx @minvrsev @zozojella @wonootnoot @kimingyuslover @wntrei

[rucksackmentality]

List of the truths shared in Nana Morri's Honesty trial (C3E79):

Imogen: I am genuinely scared to meet my mom again.

Laudna: Deep down inside, both Delilah and I want the shard...Fearne should have it, but I don't know anymore what's my opinion or desires or feelings, or hers.

Imogen: I love Laudna deeply but I'm disgusted at the thought of Delilah looking at us all the time.

Orym: I'm super lonely all the time, especially at night. It doesn’t matter if I'm bunking with one of you guys.

FCG: Sometimes I pity some of you because you have beating hearts and opportunities and you don’t do enough with them...Chetney, you have so much love to give and it doesn't seem like you're interested in anything other than wood! There's people out there who you could love and experiences you could share with someone else, but all you care about is wood!

Orym: I've always kind of laughed it off but I guess I do kind of wonder if Chetney is my dad.

Ashton: I am the reason that the Jiana Hexum robbery went fucking wrong, and the reason why I got thrown out of a fucking window.

Fearne: I feel like we’re very ill-equipped for this job and we're going to fail at saving the world. (Laudna: Honestly that's probably true, I'm right there with you.)

Chetney: While wood may be the superior material to metal, I do fear that, with the dwindling interest in it, that children will find my toys - and thereby myself - obsolete every year I grow older.

FCG: I think it's something buried deep down in my circuitry, but every time I hurt or kill something - it feels really good. It makes me sort of relax a little bit and some of my stress goes away.

Imogen: I know we're supposed to save the gods, but I've tried talking to them my whole life and none of them would ever respond. I think I'm tainted. I dont know if I want to save gods that don't love me.

Laudna: You know we could rip-cord out of [saving the world] at any moment...right? And sometimes I fantasize about it all the time.

Fearne: I sometimes do stuff to you guys while you're sleeping - not weird stuff, I just like to look at you closely...and maybe like, twiddle your hair or braid it. Nothing bad!

Ashton: Whenever it starts to get quiet, I start worrying that one of us - most of us - are going to end up killing another one of us accidentally...I have panicked thinking about when one you kills another one of us.

Orym: I have all the faith in the world in you guys...and I have also spent time thinking of how to neutralize each of you.

FCG: I kinda worry that I put all my eggs in the Changebringer basket and she might betray us all. I had a really weird conversation with her and I think she's just out for herself and she might not really care about me - but what if she does? And I'm saying horrible things?

Imogen: Fearne, I was really disappointed in you for running away from your power. You should take the shard!

Orym: I really miss Dorian, and sometimes I think that's okay, and sometimes I think it isn't.

Ashton: I feel fucking worse that I just fucked up Fearne's life way more than mine and I should've died instead of that happening.

Chetney: I grew up in the Bramblewood outside of Westruun, and when I was a kid, I came back from learning how to make toys and found that my whole family had left. All they left behind were toys. They ran when Errevon the Rimelord was running across the plains, and so I'm kind of afraid of dragons. And I had five siblings - Alabaster, Pepper, Sugarplum, Hermey, and Chad - and I was so mad that they left I never looked for any of them, and now I'm pretty sure they're dead. So I think any family I have is just gonna look for a reason to leave me. That's why I don't get attached to anybody.

[quinn-of-aebradore]

Because I am who I am (very obsessed with flower language), my friends sent this to me and I simply must talk about it;

Of course, I know these definitely weren’t chosen with floral language in mind, but they’re fun choices and accidental symbolism is even more fun XD so!

Edelweiss: devotion & courage, nobility, daring

Borage: courage/bravery, bluntness/abruptness/rudeness

Bird’s foot trefoil: revenge/retribution, recantation

Cherry Blossom: education, deception, kindness, feminine beauty, faith, intelligence, love

Magnolia: nobility, love of nature, perseverance, determination, dignity, beauty, magnificence, peerless and proud, sweetness, natural

Gardenia: refinement, purity, sweet love, "you're lovely", secret love, joy, good luck, ecstasy, emotional support, peace

Wisteria: regret, welcome, love, poetry, protection, youth, "let's be friends,

There's a lot going on here, so I'll break down my thoughts in order below a cut.

Edelweiss is a rather short list and largely fitting for Fearne, in my opinion! Devotion plays very well into what others have discussed as the Hells being hers in a very fey way. They are her people and in fey terms of ownership, that makes them belong to her. Devotion fits within that quite well. Nobility suits in terms of her being the adopted granddaughter of an archfey, as well as her Titan connection. And Fearne is certainly not lacking in courage and daring, not in the slightest.

Borage is an even more well-suited pick. As I just said, courage is something Fearne definitely shows and even more than that, she is blunt and abrupt and maybe a touch rude, and we love her for it.

Bird's foot trefoil is an interesting one! It's not present in all of my sources and as such it has a much shorter list of meanings. I don't see Fearne are particularly vengeful, though tied to that fey ownership and devotion from before I can see it. Recantation is a weird one and I think may be more tied to what its use was in Victorian flower language may have been; taking back a sentiment previously expressed, whereas the rest of these are sentiments.

Cherry blossom has a lot more to work with. Education and intelligence can sort of be paired together and also largely set aside, given Fearne's 9 INT. She doesn't have proficiency in Deception, but she certainly loves to lie, so that meaning fits. Feminine beauty certainly works as well. And kindness, faith, and love can all be wrapped up with her bond with the rest of the Hells.

Magnolia has the most meanings to look at. Nobility comes back here, which already works because of Morri. Love of nature, she's a druid, it works, same for natural. Perseverance is specific to swamp magnolias in the older sources it appears in, which is rather fitting considering Ligament Manor is located within a fey swamp and beyond that just for how the Hells keep on going, one fucking thing after another. The same goes for determination. Dignity maybe not as much, said with full affection. Beauty, magnificence, and "peerless and proud" all work for sure, in the same and similar ways as feminine beauty does. Sweetness is a similar case, working well with kindness, faith, and love from before.

Gardenia! There's a few here that don't quite work, I think. Purity is a no, Fearne is too fey and free with her affection for people for secret love, I think refinement is a similar case as to dignity for not fitting, and peace conflicts with how chaotic a person Fearne is. We already have sweetness, so sweet love works. "You're lovely" goes hand-in-hand with our other beauty meanings. Joy and ecstasy pair well and fit well within Fearne's chaos, I think. Good luck and emotional support are interesting ones and while I don't think they're entirely wrong, I wouldn't call them perfect fits either.

And finally, wisteria! Regret is interesting, as Fearne has said she's begun to feel guilt from time-to-time while traveling on the Material Plane and the feelings are adjacent. Love, protection, and "let's be friends" all fit within that same collection of meanings for Fearne and the Hells. Youth is very interesting, given Fearne being pulled out of the normal flow of time by Morri and as such remaining young while a century went by. Welcome is another that's not a great fit but neither is a poor one, in my opinion. Poetry is the only one I wouldn't really give her.

All in all, Victorian flower language has a lot going on, especially for certain flowers but the ones Fearne wears largely suit her quite well! A very happy accident. This was very fun to breakdown, if you read of all of this thank you and I hope you found it neat!

Also, for fun, which of these are poisonous? Borage, bird's foot trefoil, some cherry blossoms, gardenias, and wisteria. So most of them, meaning Fearne's whole "all the plants I wear are poisonous" thing from EXU still fits!

Sources: allflorist's flower meanings list, wikipedia's list of plants with symbolism, The Language of Flowers: An Alphabet of Floral Emblems, Language of Flowers by Kate Greenaway, The Complete Language of Flowers: A Definitive & Illustrated History by S. Theresa Dietz, Floriography: An Illustrated Guide to the Victorian Language of Flowers by Jessica Roux

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Bowen McCurdy and Jordan Morris’s “Youth Group”

NEXT SATURDAY (July 20), I'm appearing in CHICAGO at Exile in Bookville.

Youth Group is Bowen McCurdy and Jordan Morris's new and delightful graphic novel from Firstsecond. It's a charming tale of 1990s ennui, cringe Sunday School – and demon hunting.

https://us.macmillan.com/books/9781250789235/youthgroup

Kay is a bitter, cynical teenager who's doing her best to help her mother cope with an ugly divorce that has seen her dad check out on his former family. Mom is going back to church, and she talks Kay into coming along with her to attend the church youth group.

This is set in the 1990s, and the word "cringe" hasn't yet entered our lexicon as an adjective, but boy is the youth group cringe. The pastor is a guitar-strumming bearded dad who demonstrates how down he is with the kids by singing top 40 songs rewritten with evangelical lyrics (think Weird Al meets the 700 Club). Kay gamely struggles through a session and even makes a friend or two, and agrees to keep attending in deference to her mother's pleas.

But this is no ordinary youth group. Kay's ultra-boring suburban hometown is actually infested with demons who routinely possess the townspeople, and that baseline of demonic activity has suddenly gone critical, with a new wave of possessions. Suddenly, the possessed are everywhere ��� even Kay's shitty dad ends up with a demon inside of him.

That's when Kay discovers that the youth group and its corny pastor are also demon hunters par excellence. Their rec-rooms sport secret cubbies filled with holy weapons, and the words of exorcism come as readily to them as any embarrassing rewritten devotional pop song. Kay's discovery of this secret world convinces her that youth group isn't so bad after all, and soon she is initiated into its mysteries, including the existence of rival demon-hunting kids from the local synagogue, Catholic church, and Wiccan coven.

As the nature of the new demonic incursion becomes clearer, it falls on Kay and her pals to overcome these sectarian divisions over the protests of their guitar-strumming, magic-wielding leader. That takes on a special urgency when Kay learns why the demons are interested in her, personally, and a handful of other kids in town who all share a secret trait.

I confess that as someone who lived through the 1990s as a young man, there is something disorienting about experiencing the decade of my young adulthood through the kind of retro lens I associate with the 1950s or 1960s. But while the experience is disorienting, it's not unpleasant. McCurdy's artwork and Morris's snappy dialog conjure up that bygone decade in a way that is simultaneously affectionate and critical, exposing the hollowness of its performative ennui and the brave face that performance represented even as the world was being swept up in corporate gigantism.

McCurdy and Morris are really onto something here, implicitly asking us why the 1990s gave us Buffy and Sabrina (and The Coven, etc etc) – what was it about that decade in which Reaganomics and globalism consolidated the gains of the 1980s, where the climate emergency took on its undeniable urgency, where media monopolies mastered the art of commodifying counterculture faster than it could mutate into new forms?

Morris's writing really shines here. If you enjoyed Bubble, his earlier outing based on the post-apocalyptic comedy podcast of the same name, you will love this one:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/08/21/podcasting-as-a-visual-medium/#huntr

Morris is also half of Jordan, Jesse Go!, the long-running podcast where he and Jesse Thorn do a weekly ha-ha-only-serious goofball schtick that never fails to smuggle in really clever and insightful ideas amidst the poop jokes.

https://maximumfun.org/podcasts/jordan-jesse-go/

John Hodgman calls nostalgia a "toxic impulse." Church Group deftly avoids nostalgia's trap, managing to be a period piece without falling prey to the Happy Days pathology of ignoring the many flaws and problems of its era. And of course, it's a hoot and a blast.

Support me this summer on the Clarion Write-A-Thon and help raise money for the Clarion Science Fiction and Fantasy Writers' Workshop!

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/06/16/blight/#the-dream-of-the-nineties

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

Hi there!

If you still take stardew valley requests please write hurt/comfort with Shane and (gn) reader about Shane getting progressively more worried about the farmer each time they go mining because of all the injuries they get there to the point where one day he snaps and breaks down in front of the farmer. It would be nice if you could show shane slowly loosing his mind each day but that would probably make the fic longer so no pressure. just pls make sure theres comfort after the hurt, bad endings make me sad :(

Thank you in advance, and even if you choose not to write this i hope you still have a lovely day.

I'm always down for Shane angst <3

In my main file I fear he's like this bc I'm constantly coming back from the dangerous mines/skull caverns on like 1 hp at 1:50 am

......

(Spring, Year 1)

"Hi, Shane!"

"God, what do you want now?"

"Nothing. I'm off to the mines." You grinned at the rugged man in front of you, holding up your pickaxe. "I'm shooting for level 120 this time, and hopefully I can pick up more gems along the way."

Shane raised a brow. "...and I care because?"

"You don't have to. Just thought I'd let you know."

'What? Like you think I'll go looking for you if you pass out? Forget it. Whatever happens is your own damn fault."

"I know the risks, but thank you." You politely answered, ignoring his blunt rudeness before checking the monster slayer guide. "The Adventurer's Guild wants me to slay a ton of bats...only 200 more to go."

""Adventurer's Guild?" Sounds stupid and childish." He grumbled, taking a swig of joja cola in his grasp. He was already running late to work, and he didn't want to get yelled at by Morris.

And he certainly didn't want you, the new farmer who made it their mission to annoy the shit out of him everyday, being the reason.

"Well it's neither of those things. It's actually thrilling." You chuckled, before digging an emerald out of your pocket. "I meant to sell this yesterday, but you can have it."

"...the hell? What am I supposed to do with this?" His brows furrowed at the green mineral you shoved into his hand.

"Keep it..for good luck, I guess?" You shrugged. "You can put it in your pocket and forget about it if you want. I just wanted to give you something nice. Plus, not to be weird, but...it kinda reminded me of your eye color."

Normally, any other villager would've been thrilled that you wanted to befriend them with gifts that reminded you of them.....

Yet Shane just stared at you as though you've confessed to stalking him.

"If you wanna give me something that's actually "nice", buy me a beer at the saloon next time." He sneered, brushing past you and continuing towards JojaMart, while you headed north of town, already knowing what you're gonna do tonight.

When you looked over your shoulder, you could see him pocket the emerald rather than throw it away despite him passing by several trash cans.

And you smiled.

.

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(Present Day)

"Awh, you still held onto that emerald even after all this time?"

"Yeah, so what? It was the first gift anyone's really given me.." Shane confessed, heat rising to his cheeks as he held the mineral between his fingers. "I never believed in all that crap about crystals and "energy" that Emily talks about. But..I just like keeping this one around. It's like...erm..."

"A testament to the start of our friendship and eventual marriage?" You cheekily grinned as you polished your weapon, before looking to your husband.

He nodded. "Exactly what I was gonna say."

"I know you so well." Chuckling, you walked over to kiss him on the cheek. "I'm gonna head to the mines, okay? Welwick says the spirits will shower everyone in good luck. I wanna see if the fabled prismatic shards really do exist."

Almost immediately, Shane froze..and he found himself wanting to desperately say "no" and convince you to stay on the farmhouse.

But he didn't know why.

From the moment he met you, he knew you sought adventure and profits in the mines, fighting all sorts of monsters for the Adventurer's Guild. He's seen skeletons, mummies, and golems caged up at Spirits' Eve festivals, but never the wild ones below the surface who attacked you relentlessly.

Yet you never let the constant dangers deter you from exploring.

Mining was exhausting work, yet rewarding every time you cracked a stone open to find a diamond or discovered a treasure chest. With the materials you've gathered, you were able to craft some rings to wear, enchanted with powers to help make your excursions easier and safer.

Despite being well-prepared, though, Shane did have his concerns...especially as once you came home after clashing with skeletons, a scar on your head from a flying femur bone that still hasn't fully healed.

You only went to Harvey to get it checked out after your husband--who was your boyfriend at the time--insisted on it.

Even before that, he'd see you around town, bearing a new bug bite, scratch, burn, bruise, or bandaid on your body.

It never worried him before, but after that skeleton incident, he finally understood that those monsters were real and you were seriously getting yourself hurt.

He'd go to the mines with you if not for his fears that he'll only make things worse. There's a good chance he'll slow you down and find himself getting swarmed by slimes, bats, bugs, and whatever the hell else was there....and he wasn't exactly the most fit to swing a sword or pickaxe.

Simple walks made him tired.

What good would he do?

"Shane? What's wrong?"

Blinking, he snapped out his thoughts and saw your concerned face. "Nothing, sweetheart." He dismissed, giving you a little smile. "Just be careful out there, alright? I'll take care of things here."

"Thank you, baby." Smiling back, you gave him a kiss before heading out the door with your backpack and tools. "Off to the bottom of the mines I go!"

Shane tensed.

"Wait-"

As quickly as the door opened, it slammed shut, and he was left by himself in the cabin.

It was an uncomfortable silence.

'Maybe I should've tagged along.....buh, what am I saying? They'll be fine. They do this all the time. Stop getting so worked up, idiot..' Clearing his mind yet again, he went off to check things around the farm for you, deciding to watch TV later on.

There was gonna be another Tunneler's game tonight, so at least he had that to look forward to.

Nothing like that, some good food in the fridge, and this cozy cabin he got to call home...

And it was all because of you.

If you could build everything here and still having the energy to go mining and fight monsters, why should he worry?

.

.

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1:20 AM

After a productive day, Shane managed to fall asleep early for once.

Only be woken up by the creak of the bedroom door.

Light almost immediately flooded his vision, stirring him from his slumber as he grumbled and tried to shield his eyes, wondering what time it was.

"Fuck..morning already-?"

"No, honey..it's...just me. Sorry.."

He blinked, sitting up to see that it was only you coming into the room, removing your rings. One of them served as your light source, yet it didn't hide the numerous scratched and bruises that littered your skin.

And they were all fresh.

"Babe, wha...are you okay?" Shane was now fully awake, watching as you peeled off your jacket and trousers, tossing them into the corner of the room before dragging yourself into bed.

Only then could he see your injuries up close and personal, and his heart began racing. "What happened? You look like hell."

"I'm fine, Shane. I just..need to sleep it off.."

"B-But...there's blood everywhere.." He mumbled, his eyes going to the clothes in the corner. "I can call Harvey-"

"No..don't. I already patched myself up. I'll be fine in the morning..I just wanna be here with you." Smiling weakly, you kissed him, before putting the prismatic shard into his hand. "Look. It exists...haha...it's so pretty, right? It's yours."

He didn't know what to say, staring dumbfounded at the mineral.

What hell did you go through to get this?

And as much as he loved it..why get it for him?

Why risk your life?

But when he looked back to question you further, you were already passed out beside him, looking peaceful despite the wounds on your body.

Eventually, he slid the prismatic shard under his pillow and laid back down, only to hesitate in wrapping his arm around you.

All he could do was gaze at your exhausted face..and the dried blood under your nose.

Least to say, he had trouble falling back to sleep.

..........

Ever since that night, Shane's grown increasingly worried over your safety during your mining trips. And it began to affect his usual routine around the farm.

In fact, calling it "worry" at this point would be a heavy understatement..

It became straight-up paranoia.

Whether you headed off to the mines or Skull Caverns early because of an "extra lucky day" or simply because you needed a specific resource, you'd always come back home the same way:

At later hours, with more injuries and bandages than last time, constantly on the verge of passing out and barely able to hold a conversation with him.

Of course, you'd have breakfast with him, and you'd never leave the farmhouse without giving him a kiss...but it did nothing to ease his mind, as he'd constantly see your wounds and dread whatever horror stories you were about to tell him.

Even though you're perfectly nonchalant as you talk about a serpent who tried wrapping itself around you and squeeze every last breath out of your body, it made Shane feel utterly sick to his stomach.

How could you be so calm after so many brushes with death?

He didn't understand.

On the surface, he seemed fine with you leaving. But when you did, he'd find himself turning to beer to calm his nerves..although most days he was able to resist the urge and occupy himself with farming tasks or video games.

Despite this, he hasn't outright told you anything. He knew mining was your passion and thought you'd chastise him for "worrying over nothing".

So he kept it to himself, thinking his anxiety was being stupid.

Then the final straw came the evening when he got a call from Harvey's clinic around 5PM.

One that he hoped to never hear:

You passed out, and were currently being treated for serious injuries.

He bolted out the cabin, all the way to the town square and damn near broke the door down. There, Harvey, Linus, and Marlon were at your bedside, the latter two having brought you in after seeing you fall unconscious in from of the elevator, covered in blood and shrapnel.

Fortunately, you were expected to make a full recovery with just stitches and some IV fluids to rehydrate your body...but you still owed Shane one hell of an explanation.

This time around, you landed in an "infested" area of the 100s, trying to use a bomb to kill off most of the monsters.

Only to trip over a stupid lava crab and drop the bomb after you just ignited it, damn near losing your leg trying to kick it away from you in time.

And by the grace of Yoba, you were able to limp your way back to the ladder, return to floor zero, where Linus so-happened to be passing by the mine entrance.

You gave the poor old man quite a fright, as he didn't know how much blood on you was from the monsters...or you.

In the end, the bomb left shrapnel in your flesh, searing your clothing and requiring stitches to ensure you didn't bleed out. You appreciated Harvey for his quick work and for Linus and Marlon for taking you to him.

However nobody in that clinic was more terrified over your condition than Shane, who was in disbelief that you were able to stand and walk back home with him after getting discharged.

He wouldn't talk to you, although his hands shook as he helped you into bed, still sleeping beside you like he did every night before this.

But this time...he had the worst nightmare possible.

He was down in the mines with you, except he felt stuck and couldn't do anything to warn you or save you from the impending danger.

It was like he was spectating a game, instead forced to watch as the bats and monsters made of shadows descended upon you with their teeth bared and claws out, tearing into your body. You had yelled for him to save you, to stop being useless, damning him for not stopping you from leaving...yet their horrible noises drowned out any further shouts.

Then you were gone.

You were gone and he failed you.

And it was all his fault.

It made him joltbwide awake at 3 AM, and he felt like his heart was about to burst from his chest. His mind kept going to you, constantly checking to make sure you're still breathing, unable to fall back to sleep for a while.

When he did, he was in tears.

..........

"No."

"Shane, I know last night was bad. But I'm not-"

"You're not going to the mines today. I mean it."

Dumbfounded, you gazed at Shane, who was physically blocking you from leaving the cabin. A scowl was written all over his face.

You sighed and rubbed the side of your head. "It's only the first few levels, honey. Willy needed bug meat for-"

"Right. The "first few" you say, and then I'll get a call from Harvey at 2 AM about you needing emergency surgery again." He gritted his teeth, tears coming to his eyes. "Whatever he or anyone in this damn town needs in those mines can wait. Why can't you just stay?!"

"I don't understand.." Your eyebrows furrowed. "You never cared before if I went there. What changed?"

"What changed....? What changed is that I've been having a lot more of sleepless nights lately! I can barely eat or do anything except worry and worry about you. And it's because...because..." He trailed off.

"Because what?"

"......."

You sighed. "Shane, if you're not gonna tell me what's wrong, then I don't see why-"

"Because you've been scaring me to death okay?!" His hands now gripping your shoulders as he stared at you. "You think you're invincible, but you aren't. What don't you get?! How badly are you gonna let those things hurt you?! Or be the reason YOU DROP DEAD AND DON'T COME HOME?!!" He screamed.

Your own eyes widened, stunned by his words..and eventually you saw the realization flash across his face as he blurted out his true feelings.

The ones he tried to hide from you, yet consumed him for hours upon hours whenever you left for the mines.

It made your heart plummet.

His breath hitched, and you then saw the tears beginning to fall from his greenish eyes.

"Shane..."

"[Y/n], you saved me from throwing my life away. And...i-it's like you're throwing away yours for no reason!" He sobbed. "Night after night, I have nightmares of seeing your limp body..a-and....and I can't save you. I can't do anything except scream and beg them to stop hurting you! But they never listen! A-And...I just...I-I don't wanna lose you. I can't lose you..."

He looked totally shattered, making you finally realize how serious this was.

Your guilt right now was immensurable, watching the man you loved fall apart right in front of you.

And it was your fault.

"Sweetheart, I'm so sorry..." You pulled him into a tight hug, and he completely broke down in your arms. His quiet crying became muffled by your shoulder. "I..I had no idea you were feeling that way. Why didn't you tell me about the nightmares sooner?"

"You would've thought..th-they were stupid. Or that I sound "needy" or controlling.." He sniffled. "I-I know I can't stop you from going, but...I just..a-after what happened to you last night, I...I.."

"Oh, honey..that was my dumb mistake. The monsters had nothing to do with my injuries." Rubbing his back, you gently kissed his head. "I was tired and got clumsy with a stupid bomb..but I promise it won't happen again. You're right. I'm not invincible. I need that reality check sometimes."

He didn't say anything, instead holding onto you tighter.

You never realized how badly your mining trips and injuries were affecting him...affecting this very relationship.

The Shane you met back in Year 1 could care less if you dropped dead. He outright said he'd never go looking for you and that whatever happened was your own fault.

But the Shane you knew now was crying in your arms over the mere thought that one day you'll go into the mines and never come out, holding it all in until he couldn't anymore.

You've really helped him open up to you, but now you were tearing him apart inside and never really knew it until this point.

"W-Will you just..stay here today, please?" He finally spoke, not caring about how needy or pathetic that sounded.

"...I will." You answered. "I'll take a break from mining for a good while."

"....you would do that for me?"

"Of course. I'd do anything for you, Shane. Hell..I'd give that up altogether if you wanted me to."

You felt him shake his head, and you chuckled, squeezing him tightly. "I'm only kidding, but I promise. No more mining this week."

Shane raised his head up, looking to make sure you were serious. And he saw nothing but sincerity in your expression.

You sighed softly and cupped the sides of his wet face, seeing the torrent of anxiety and frustration raging like an ocean current in his eyes. "You must've felt so lonely and terrified, baby..I'm sorry. I won't make you feel that way ever again."

He sniffled again as you brushed away his tears, before taking ahold of your wrist to kiss your palm...where your first scar from a rock crab came from.

How badly did he wanna kiss away every scar those bastards left on you until none remained.

Some faded with time and care, but others were more permanent--testaments to your survival down in the mines..as well as your several brushes with death.

Heat rose to your cheeks, watching him become so affectionate and gentle with you, even though he knows you're not made of glass whatsoever.

Eventually, his tears ceased as you both decided to go lay down on the bed together, with Shane cuddling up to you and resting his head on your chest. All he could hear was your strong heartbeat drowning out the noise in his mind.

It was still kicking, like you.

"Thank you..god, that was exhausting.." He mumbled. "I'm sor-"

"You don't have to be sorry for being honest with me." You reassured, petting his hair. "I just..wish I picked up the signs sooner."

"INah, I should've been clearer...and maybe that would spare myself this headache I got now.."

"Hmm..how about we sleep in until you feel better? Then we can check on the chickens."

Feeling him nod and wrap his arms around you, you took that as a "yes" and chuckled softly, knowing you weren't gonna leave this spot anytime soon.

But that's okay.

There's no other place you'd rather be. Not even the mines.

[irisinluv]

Yandere Stardew Valley- Sebastian

I've been playing some Yandere Stardew mods recently. While I love them..... I feel like they do my husband (Sebastian) wrong. The citizens of Pelican Town are telling me that they can't hang out with me because Sebstian threatened them. That they've noticed some weird behavior. That he's physically violent. I disagree with all of these for Sebby.

He's our hot programmer boyfriend who lives in his basement bedroom, and only emerges to enjoy a smoke break, or to go see his friends. Now, while again, I do enjoy playing the mods...... I think his cannon behavior sets him up to be the perfect chronically online yandere. Pelican Town isn't exactly the most connected (6 out of the 11 rivals have access to a computer), but there's still potential. Obviously they're gonners if they have a computer. Sam finds himself doxed after making a comment about the gifts you gave him this week, and poor Haley's socials are blowing up with hate comments- from her personal insta to her photography blog.

But what about the other 5? The ones who are more disconnected? Well. It's easy enough to get Shane fired from joja. A little email to Morris from "HQ" saying he either fires Shane or his own pay gets docked..... well. Suddenly, everyone's favorite alcoholic doesn't even have a job anymore. Elliott suddenly has all these taxes he hasn't paid on his little shack..... beachfront properties cost a lot, you know. The parents stop letting Penny watch their kids after some..... explicit photos get leaked. It doesn't matter that they're edited. These people don't know about Photoshop. All they know is apparently Penny's making ends meet to support her mother..... and there's a new favorite subject to gossip on between all the older women. The other rivals are equally taken care of. All you need to focus on now is how Sebastian is the only reliable option in the whole damn town.

And he knows you so well, doesn't he? You, who lived away from it all until now. You, who WAS connected to the internet. Who had their entire life detailed through Facebook updates and Instagram posts. Honestly, Sebastian thinks that maybe he DOESN'T need to leave Pelican town... looking at the life you lived before coming to the valley, he thinks its much easier to keep you safe when he can control everything that goes on. There were too many factors to your old life. Too many parties to go to, coworkers to talk to, ex-boyfriends/girlfriends worry about. No. Sebastian thinks that city life isn't fit for the two of you to start you life together.

While he enjoyed seeing the trip down memory lane of who you were before becoming the farmer, and learning more about your likes and dislikes, he much prefers this version of you. The version of you who he found bouncing on their toes outside his door, excitedly shoving a frozen tear at him. Who eventually became the only person he was genuinely excited to have come barging into his room unannounced. And the thought of moving into the farm with you was all together far too tempting. He can picture it already. He'd set up a little area to work on his bike, he'd help out around the farm for you (he saw your hands covered in scrapes and splinters one day, and you sheepishly told him your fences had started wearing down.... but fixing a fence was another first for you. So you ended up scraping yourself up a bit on the old wood. Now, Sebastain, who, while he doesn't enjoy it, grew up with a carpenter mother..... well. He's going to make sure you never have that many splinters again.) Oh and he can already imagine it. The two of you, far away from the rest of the town, from prying eyes, no one to hear what you two would get up to as he helped you relax after a long day of working the feilds.....

This fantasy would sustain him until you eventually asked him to marry you. I don't think he would rush anything. To you, and the rest of the citizens, he was just normal Sebastian. Showing up for band practice, playing pool at the bar (although he seemed to play much better when a certain farmer came to watch). He just realized that the best way to control all the factors in town would be to remain anonymous. Avoid suspicion. After all. In a small town like that, it would be all too easy to turn against him if he decided to publicly threaten someone. And how would you react if you came to drop off some fresh sashimi to your boyfriend, only to find him being dragged out of his house by Clint, with Marlon standing nearby, ready to ship him off to face justice in the adventurers guild? No. That wouldn't do. He can't add any more stress to you like that. He'd remain the puppeteer, pulling the strings of the valley.

This isn't to say Sebastian never stalks you in person or anything like that. He can't help himself. He's a night owl. He knows the villagers schedules, has since before you even came to town. So, he knows he can get away with digging in the trash to find the straw you threw away at the bar. And if someone does hear him.... well. Linus is going to be everyone's first thought. He does, however, start adopting a stricter routine as far as monitoring your house after you mention how you sell your produce.

Sebastian was rightfully horrified when you explained that Mayor Lewis comes by your farm at night to collect anything you wish to sell. How it's such a relief to be able to just chuck things in the the bin as you're rushing to bed at 1:50 in the morning, only to get up first thing and start your day again, and not have to worry about lugging all your goods to the store. Sebastian won't criticize you for the lack of sleep..... no. That's not what's worrying. What's worrying is that this old man who has a gold statue of himself and who gets it on in the bushes with his secret girlfriend (of course Sebastian knows about that) is showing up to your house sometime after 2 am. His mind flashes back to his fantasy of the two of you, completely alone on the farm.... and then is mortified as this fantasy morphs into a nightmare where he looks up from bed with you, and sees Lewis' wrinkled face peering through the window. Yea. No. Sebastain installs some hidden cameras to make sure Lewis doesn't get up to anything funny while you're defenseless, asleep, alone..... ok he might need to get a new mayor elected. The old man might just have to go. Perhaps to a home outside the town. Regardless, he makes sure Lewis stops coming by as frequently. Frustratingly, he isn't able to completely stop it, but that'll be an easy fix once the two of you are married. He'll act surprised, "wow Lewis, that's so kind of you to help out the farmer all this time. But hey, don't worry, I'll take over. I'm up late anyways, and it's the least I can do!" But Sebastian still wakes up in a cold sweat and frantically rushes to check the cameras, making sure you're OK. That Lewis really is just checking the shipping bin.

Once y'all get married, he shows a bit more of that possessive side to you. But you chalk it up to just bedroom spicy time, and honestly find his hand tightening on your waist as Elliot asks you to read his latest poem hot.

Just. Yandere Sebastian brain rot.

[nohoperadio]

This is going to be the second in what is apparently an extremely slowly progressing series of posts in which I talk about a hyperspecific songwriting trope that I'm fond of. Today's trope is songs where the singer sings someone else's song in their own song. To qualify for this it's not enough to just quote a line from a different song, I want at least an entire verse to be borrowed for it to count.

I feel like there must be tons of good examples of this but I can only think of four off the top of my head, and bizarrely enough two of them are borrowing from the exact same song, which is "Ana Ng" by They Might Be Giants. And not even the same part of that song! "The Peculiar Case of the Human Song Generators" by the Paranoid Style is basically Elizabeth Nelson excitedly infodumping about TMBG for two minutes, and about 1:30 in she cuts off to sing the first verse of "Ana Ng". Then Car Seat Headrest borrow the chorus for part of "Cute Thing" (about 3:50) with a couple words changed, contextualized in the preceding few seconds with a cute weird adolescent memory. This is a somewhat less pure example because it doesn't borrow from the other song musically at all, just the words.

"Kiss Your Lips" by Allo Darlin is a relatively literal example, Elizabeth Morris sings about singing along to her "favourite Weezer song" with her love (1:10) and then demonstrates by singing the chorus to "El Scorcho", with I guess the rest of the band(?) joining in. Possibly this is evidence she is dating her whole band I'm not really sure.

And finally, in my ignorance I had no idea the last verse of "Cold Milk Bottle" (1:15) by the Mountain Goats is taken from the jazz standard "Mean to Me" until I'd already been listening to it for years! Weird feeling! Although John D seems to have misheard "you shouldn't, for can't you see" as "you shouldn't forget, you see". Or possibly changed it on purpose but I bet he misheard it!!

---

I don't know why my little list has involved three Johns and two Elizabeths, that's weird right. Anyway please write in if you know some more.

[mushroomnoodles]

Can we have an actualization on Spicywizardbetty Simon? like my man was ABOUT TO POP but he was just suspecting? was he waiting for Morri to kick to notice or what? Also, I think Betty kut think something is going on and prefers not to tell cuz you can't just ignore that bowling ball belly lol

tw/cw for sfw and non kink mpreg

some notes (this is not being passive aggressive, i reread this and worried it came across that way so sorry if it feels that way)

in simon's defense, his pregnancy is advancing in spurts that are more frequent (but subtle) than vanilla or normal wizardbetty simon's. he's been in bed a lot, eating a lot, not feeling great, and up until the last few growth spurts he assumed he was just gaining weight (although he did notice the abnormality of how his stomach felt)

also, logically, how could he be pregnant? he hasn't had sex (or anything remotely like it) for over a thousand years, he's old and well out of his fertility window. he was actually feeling movement- somewhat frequently too, but he told himself it was probably his upset stomach, since he's been feeling bloated and experiencing nausea for the past four months.

it's been about six months since he had the weird meetup with GOLBetty and got dropped in spicy wizardbetty's universe, and he's more focused on trying to help betty than whatever is going on with his body, since she's clearly insane. but she yells at him whenever he gets out of bed so he's been mostly trying to talk to her (and pondering how to help her, what to say) when she brings him food or checks on him. he's trying to get her to talk more.

the other thing he does in his spare time is read, betty brings him books. anyways, the last spurt has him definitely convinced he has a tumor of some sort.

also, yeah, betty's noticed the bump.

her protective instincts have gone through the roof and she's grown even more obsessed with keeping him safe, so when she isn't checking on him or making him food she's out and about, "defending her territory".

he feels different to her, but simon doesn't look or feel like he used to even before he came back (she thinks, anyways). she has a bit of trouble with physical continuity, especially with her wizard eyes. everyone looks a little weird to her. plus, he's usually under a blanket so he doesn't look quite as big as he is to her, but she's definitely made a comment on him enjoying her food. she hasn't seen the most recent advancement, where he like, definitely looks pregnant.

until he scampers out to see her in a tizzy immediately after he wakes up looking like he does.

brother needs a hospital

[mentos-or-mentoes]

Dead by Daylight killers with a reader that throws sausages when threatened.

(first of all don't ask. Second of all i can't sleep with this shit just floating around in my head).

Wesker, The Oni, The Doctor and Ghostface.

Ghostface

He was chasing what he thought to be just another survivor.

He almost caught you when you did something, unexpected to say the least.

To say that he was surprised when he got a glizzie straight to the face is an understatement.

He was pure confusion in that moment.

Like first of all: How the fuck, did you get a hotdog into the entities realm? Second of all: Why the fuck did you throw it at him?

He keeps chasing you after a second or 2 of him just standing there, processing a hotdog being thrown straight to the face.

He's definetly keeping the hotdog for a stupid selfie when he catches you.

He starts hanging around you just because he wants to scare the shit out of you to see if you'll do it again.

The Doctor

He's pretty good at predicting what survivors will and won't do.

Untill they have a hotdog apparently.

He was amused, when you threw a hotdog at his face.

What else would you do when desperate? That kept being on his mind for the rest of the trial.

You're 2x more likely to get kidnapped by him when not in a trial because of having a hotdog at your disposal.

Might fry the hotdog infront of you with his electricity, before frying you with his electricity, that is.

If he spares you then he'll talk to you to learn more and then well you might become friends

Doesn't mean he'll go easy on you in trials though.

The Oni

Kazan does NOT take disrespect lightly.

So to say you basically became a walking corpse the second you threw a sausage at him mid chase is an understatement.

Like really. In the face of the most brutal samurai in all of history. Your first reaction is to throw a sausage at him.

to say you got morried even if he didn't have permission would be very honest.

Because he will not care if any others die, as long and the sausage throwing survivor dies that trial, he's happy.

No matter how close you are or will likely ever become, Kazan will not be forgiving you.

Wesker

Mans feels DISRESPECTED but also amused.

Like its amusing how dumb of an attempt your ''distraction'' was as well as how badly it failed.

But SERIOUSLY, why the fuck did you disrespect this man so hard, by knocking his glasses off with a god damn glizzie.

Most people atleast punch him and then die but noooooo you did at long range.

After the trial he does start wondering just how you even got the sausage in the first place.

Will likely ask you later on.

Requests are open if you want to request a weird headcanon or fic like this or anything normal

[mr-erster-carona]

INTRO

HI! I'm Race!

I'm a teenager don't be weird folks!!!

I'm 17!

From Lower Manhattan!

Dating Albert Dasilva! @youll-steal-anudda

Little brother to @go-west-young-man

Sells in Brooklyn at the Sheepshead Races!

Second in command of Manhattan!

I do smoke so sorry!

I am a dancer!

In a very one sided love triangle with Spot and Albert (send help I think he might kill Albert)

Send me asks! I'd love to chat an' goof off with you guys!!!!

I will be running this account like a MODERN rp account, but I am actually a Racetrack fictive in a DID system!

I won't talk about system stuff here but I wanted to clarify I am ACTUALLY a Race and not just some dude so. anything I say is actually a verified Racetrack fact™️ and you can ask me about anything newsies related! ALL OTHER ACCOUNTS OWNED BY ME DO NOT MENTION OUR DID SYSTEM BUT THEY'RE ALL OWNED BY ME

CURRENTLY RUN BY A MODERN RACE FICTIVE!

ASSOCIATED NEWSIE RP ACCOUNTS:

@most-auspicious-manner - DAVEY (owned by me)

@go-west-young-man - JACK (owned by me)

@youll-steal-anudda - ALBERT

@pastramie-n-rye - HENRY

@table-the-palaver - LES (owned by me)

@slingshot-man - FINCH

@where-for-art-thou - ROMEO

@king-a-brooklyn - SPOT

@a-smilethatspreadslikebutt3r - CRUTCHIE

@one-for-all-and-all-for-one - ELMER

@last-in-line-for-the-tub-tonight - BUTTONS

@sos-the-bronx - SMALLS

@stillgot-myshirt-on - TOMMY BOY

@mo-delancey - MORRIS

@hey-look-its-bathtime-at-the-zoo - SPECS

@you-already-live-on-the-street - JOJO

@kathrineppulitzer - KATHRINE (Katherine? I'm dyslexic idk!)

MODERN RP ACCOUNTS FEEL FREE TO CLAIM ME AS YOUR RACE I'D BE HONORED

NEWSIES WE'RE LOOKING FOR;

BROOKLYN NEWSIES PLEASE

Any other newsie not listed above IM BAD NAMES

Preferably don't introduce OC's!!! Causes conflict with pre-existing lore

THERE ARE PRE-ESTABLISHED PARTNER PAIRS BETWEEN THE ACCOUNTS AND OTHER NEWSIES, CHECK WITH RACE BEFORE TRYING TO ESTABLISH A SHIP DYNAMIC BETWEEN NEWSIES WITH OR WITHOUT ACCOUNTS

DM FROM YOUR MAIN AND ASK TO JOIN WE'LL EXPLAIN CURRENT LORE AND INTRO SYSTEMS !!!

DO NOT JOIN WITHOUT CONTACTING ME FIRST!!! YOU WILL PROBABLY JUST BE IGNORED AND NOT ADDED TO THE LIST!!!

ANYWAYS LETS GOOOOOOO

[ludinusdaleth]

bouncing off of this wonderful post mentioning how zathuda expects to be the main character because he would be in many current stories, as well as my own thoughts about fearne & her family ive had for a while: i think it is interesting how fearne is representative of the different ways folk portray fae in modern media.

first off, id like to note how many fae in cr feel like they are an homage to fae stories embedded in our cultural consciousness. for example, artagan was most definitely based off of jareth in labyrinth, and his moniker of the traveler may be an homage to the fable of the satyr & the traveller. so, what is fearne?

one of the first 4-sided dives featured ashley & matt discussing how they based fearne's story off of a guillermo del toro flick - and this definitely clicked to me. morrigan, ira, & all her bizarre animal friends at morri's mansion would fit so easily into a del toro film you wouldn't even blink at them. in del toro's work (namely pan's labyrinth & hellboy 2: the golden army) faeries are fundamentally strange, offputting, & wonderfully weird. they are goblins with wagons as legs, and trolls with talking tumors, and terrifyingly skinny entities with eyes in their hands that eat children. you can practically see doug jones in an intricate suit & makeup to play ira like he did the pale man or the faun (i swear matt's hand usage as ira is an homage to jones's iconic hands in costume), see the puppet of morrigan that weighs over a ton controlled by five folk at once. del toro's work as well as matt & ashley's plays into a fae that is more complicated than a human imagines at face value, something you must work to imagine & understand (& create). something playful, integrally bound to oaths, ancient, mischievous. it is happy & natural to be gross & incomprehensible and that is part of what makes these films (as well as other bizarre puppeteered dreamscapes like the dark crystal, labyrinth) almost comforting even when sad. pan's labyrinth also features a young girl as a protagonist, ofelia, who sees these creatures as respite & destiny, who is a fae princess amidst mortal war. fearne couldn't be more ofelia if she tried. (side note - god does the scene of the pale man eating the pixies in front of ofelia feel like fearne learning what lud does to her people. someone even made a meme of it.)

on the other hand, zathuda & birdie's story is obviously based on a fae romance novel that populates shelves today - sarah j maas's or holly black's work comes to mind. zathuda is (or was - he seems a ghost of it) clearly a looker, a fierce & sexy hunter, a handsome & strong unseelie royal who somehow takes in & courts a random nobody girl, birdie. but cr notably frames the love story narrative as a classist manipulation, that leaves birdie running for the rest of her life, falling for a weirdo nobody like her over zathuda, and leaves fearne without parents that would show her this incredibly popular kind of romance as an answer. she cannot fall back on a family of kisses drawing blood, of hunter & hunted as a beautiful meet-cute, of a throne & power. she can only fall back on the strange, the grotesque, the raw. they are ugly compared to a promise of a masquerade ball or leading a wild hunt, what folk expect of fae in a barnes & noble book haul - but they promise a safety in the outcast. because a guillermo del toro film will always fundamentally be about the human condition. "monsters are the patron saints of our blissful imperfections." every monster in his stories is a person as much as you or me is.

fearne was born of a fae romance novel but raised in a puppeteer-and-vfx fairytale film. she holds not only exandria's fate in her hands, but the feywild's, too. fae see themselves as higher beings while squabbling in courts as much as mortals do. they refuse to accept their chaos and try to maintain order & royalty with courts and bloodlines against each other. try to keep fae out of exandria because they cant know they are alike to their mortal counterparts. they cant be wild like a party of puppets at the end of labyrinth dancing with the human girl sarah. they wish to be as mysterious as if they lived in a ya dystopia. and it is clearly leaving them worse. fearne is the literal unity of all the ways fae are potrayed in a modern landscape. what will that mean for her and her home in the end?