#2 point 2 k

[leah-sz]

every week i face the consequences of letting this fucking tale seduce me

[haaam-guuuurl]

So, I'll admit that I have had a lot of feelings about K and Evan. From being weirded out about K's obsession in the beginning of the season, to being really into how their relationship developed because Brennan and Erika addressed it and both characters evolved a lot, to really loving them as a couple yet understanding they probably wouldn't last, to being afraid of what would happen in s2 because it might not make sense for them to be together but I still really like them together. But I should not have worried. This is Brennan and Erika we're talking about. They always slay any dynamic, be it a couple or enemies or mother and daughter - and exes who are still friends but it's still awkward but they still want to look out for each other, often to disastrous results? Freaking gold!! Just these two episodes have been so good, I can't wait to see where this season goes next!

[petit-papillion]

The only ones without penalty points are Charles, Alex, Pierre, Oscar, and Lando.

[tartagliatum]

something so special about the pet name big guy. like yeah,, big boy with an even bigger appetite. the trashcan of his friends, the bottomless pit who seems to be able to eat for a family of five and then ask what's for dessert - but even he sometimes manages to overeat and needs a belly rub. probably a little embarrassed about it bc he's been warned this will happen with the large amounts he regularly eats. hell yeah i love me a big guy <333

[heatherchasesyou]

Every time I'm sad i go and sketch super sad James, it's hella therapeutic n makes me feel way better, love this dude to death 😖💕

[gingisnap]

lol guess fergus is dead

[awfullyqueerwriter]

Okay. I was rewatching the episode 5 today, and... I noticed this. Now, my ability to read cursive is a little shaky, so correct me if I'm wrong, but it looks like, right in the middle of the page, it says 'alice, they'll come for you are k[...] next [...] lestat as a d[deathtrap? Damage?] claudia'. Now, someone else could probably read this, but I'm dyslexic and stupid (not related), and so I just kinda can't. But... this definatly suggests a closer relationship between Daniel and Alice and K[...] then is normally suggested.

Don't get me wrong, I do love 'armand is alice' stuff. But... he clearly thinks he can contact her. Which, I don't know. But I haven't seen anyone else post this.

[hum--hallelujah]

like a sledgehammer to a disco ball - 3.9k words, Fun Ghoul angst and protective Kobra Kid

Kobra jerks awake at the first creak of the floor. The only person who has any right to be in his room at night knows better than to step where the floor creaks. Instinct takes over and he's holding his blaster at body height by the time his brain and eyes are awake enough to see through the dark.

"It's me, it's me, it's me," Ghoul stammers, holding his hands defensively in the air. Only, it sounds more like "'smee," because of the way Ghoul is slurring. And he's bleeding.

Kobra drops the blaster as soon as he realizes that the dark smear across Ghoul's face is blood. "What the hell, man," he hisses, groping in the dark for a light with one hand and trying to pat Ghoul down to make sure he's not like, actively dying, with the other. He could be blackout drunk or he could have gone out alone like he does sometimes and any number of things could have happened. The cold metal of an old flashlight meets his fingers and he flicks it on, shining the dim light over Ghoul.

"I did something stupid," Ghoul says. Only, it comes out as "Uh did su'hn stooid," wavering slightly, because the entire right side of Ghoul's face, from the corner of his mouth to his cheekbone, is sliced open. There's a horrific flap of flesh hanging loose that's supposed to be connected to the rest of his face. That's where the blood staining his face and clothes and hands is coming from, and why when he speaks, it sounds wrong.

"Holy shit," Kobra whispers, feeling cold Zone night air sting his eyes because they're open so wide. "Okay. Okay, what happened?" He holds Ghoul carefully by one arm, feels the way he's shaking. He's always shaking, except when he's got his hands in a bomb. This is worse than normal though. This is so much worse than anything Kobra's ever seen.

Ghoul shrugs, waves his hands vaguely and wildly. Kobra hisses a sharp breath through his teeth, frantically runs a hand through his hair. "Okay," He says again. "I'm gonna get-" He needs Jet, de facto medic, he needs Party, needs his brother-

"No," Ghoul says sharply, and that at least is completely clear. His eyes are wild from what Kobra can see in the dark. If human eyes could glow, his would. He grips Kobra's arms. "Please don't," he mumbles around the gruesome injury. His voice is high and frantic, and it has to hurt to talk. "Just you."

Kobra freezes. There's a slowly building feeling of dread, growing stronger by the moment. He pulls Ghoul off him, holds him by the wrists. "Okay. Just me," he promises, and feels sick about it. "Just me."

Ghoul noticeably relaxes, though he's still trembling head to toe, and lets Kobra drag him across the diner in near-silence aside from the occasional seemingly involuntary whimper on Ghoul's part, into the single-stall bathroom with a barely working lightbulb. Somehow, they make it past the front room where Party sleeps without waking him, much as Kobra wants to let his brother take care of this. He's practically trembling at how badly he wants Pois right now.

There's a medical kit in the cabinet that Kobra pulls out immediately. He knows how to handle this, physically speaking. It's whatever else, the shit he doesn't know and is scared to find out, like how this freaking happened, that makes him nervous. Ghoul stands in the flickering light like he doesn't know what to do.

"Sit the fuck down," Kobra snaps nervously, gesturing to the toilet lid. Ghoul does. Kobra pulls a dubiously clean rag from the cabinet and eyes it. It scares him to see Ghoul like this. Usually if he's scared, he fights. He hisses and spits and claws at whoever comes near him. More often than not, that's Kobra. But this, the wide-eyed jittering, is a whole other animal.

"This whole thing is gonna suck," he says stiffly. Ghoul nods. With a little more light, Kobra can see the thick, shiny blood streaming from the wound through his cheek. It isn't enough that Kobra's afraid Ghoul will bleed out, but the cut is so long and clear through and absolutely grotesque. He crouches down in front of where Ghoul is sitting, sideways on the toilet, and he can't tell if Ghoul is looking at him or through him, almost as if he's the ghost.

In a quick motion that startles both of them, probably, Kobra grabs the back of Ghoul's head with one hand and presses the rag to the seeping wound with the other. Ghoul's eyes go even wider and even greener, and what starts out as a shout of pain from him turns into a choked keening sound. Hearing it feels like being stabbed.

"What happened?" Asks Kobra again, when he's convinced that the bleeding has slowed enough to try and actually deal with this thing. He twists the handle on the faucet on and off, on and off, enough times that the ancient water pump starts up and clean water gurgles into the sink. He cleans the rag that way, then wets it and wrings it out before shutting the water off.

Ghoul's shoulders rise and fall in short, panicky breaths. "I'm sorry," he says. "I'm sorry. I'm- I didn't think, it was stupid, I'm sorry," he continues babbling like that before going silent again aside from the sharp sounds of his breathing.

In a testament to Kobra's selfishness, his biggest worry is that Ghoul took his motorbike out for a spin and crashed it. He can't think of what could have caused something like this. He has visions of his bike sliding out on a turn, crumbled metal and Ghoul's body flying through the air. But if that had happened he'd be hurt other than this. If that had happened he might be dead.

"Yo," he says quietly. "Chill. Just tell me what happened." He presses the now-damp rag to Ghoul's face, trying to ignore just how grotesque the wound really is. Maybe because it's fresh, maybe because of the fear, but somehow it's worse than the space where Jet's other eye used to be. Kobra never wanted to see an injury of that level on another person again in his life, let alone someone he cares about.

Ghoul flinches away, but Kobra shoots him a look and it must process somehow, because he stills and lets Kobra clean the already drying blood away from the edges of the wound with barely a whine. "It was stupid," he repeats, his voice shaking as much as it's slurring. "I don't know why I did it, Kid."

Something about the way he says that, voice small and wavering, sends a chill down Kobra's throat. Sudden understanding dawns on him. The blood on Ghoul's hands. He's not injured anywhere else. "You did that to yourself?" Kobra asks hoarsely.

Ghoul's eyes snap onto his and the rest of the color drains from his face. Kobra thinks he's going to pass out for a second, but he doesn't. He pulls as far away as he can, scrabbling awkwardly against the cold tiles and porcelain of the bathroom. "I don't know what I though, I was stupid, I don't- Kobra," he whines, with enough animalistic despair that Kobra wants suddenly to burst into tears, if he weren't so utterly stunned.

"Ghoul, calm down, I've gotta stitch it still," he says on autopilot. "Cool your engine, man."

Maybe it's the practicality of the thing that makes Ghoul momentarily stop panicking. "I'm sorry," he says again, tears welling in his eyes that he then blinks away half-frantically. Kobra's never heard him apologize for anything before tonight. He never wants to hear it again.

"It's okay, man. I've got you." He replies. If his own voice is shaking now, too, no the hell it isn't. "Come on, you have to let me..." he trails off, eyes wide. "Ghoul, why..." Then he shakes his head. He can't think about that now. He needs to disinfect the wound and stitch it up. And it's going to hurt Ghoul really, really badly.

He reaches behind him, grabs at the bottle of alcohol. This stuff is rare out in the Zones. They try to use it as little as possible. Only in emergencies. This is enough of an emergency, though. This is a fucking crisis.

He pours the bare minimum of the alcohol onto another piece of cloth, feels the cold soak in. Ghoul watches every move with jerking, stilted intensity. Kobra looks up at him from where he's now kneeling on the cold tile. He puts a hand behind Ghoul's head again. "This is going to hurt," he warns. They've nearly gouged each other's eyes out before, yet suddenly Kobra feels like he's going to be sick at the thought of causing Ghoul any more pain. Ghoul shuts his eyes in preparation.

Ghoul still nearly screams when Kobra dabs the alcohol over his wound. Kobra can see it in the way he holds his breath, the spring-tight tension in Ghoul's entire body. The only noise he makes is a quiet, drawn out whine, though. When a tear streaks down his cheekbone, Kobra catches it before a drop of salt can enter the wound.

"'Kay," he says in a ragged whisper. "That's done. Now I have to-" he gestures like he's sewing. Ghoul's eyes pop open to see what he's saying and he visibly forces himself to breathe again.

"'Kay," Ghoul says back in an equally torn up voice.

It only takes Kobra three tries to thread a needle. Medical supplies of any type are hard to come by, a whole new kind of commodity, but this stash has been here for as long as he can remember, just in case. Blaster burns, the most common injuries amongst 'Joys, come pre-cauterized. He's rarely had to sew sutures before.

Ghoul flinches back when the tip of the needle first touches the edge of his torn skin, and Kobra pauses. "Hold still," he grumbles, more out of familiar sniping than any real frustration at this point. He keeps his hand in Ghoul's hair the entire time he sews.

The feeling of a needle piercing flesh is horrible. The fact that it's his friend, someone he'd give his life for before seeing them hurt, is even worse. Kobra wants to fucking throatpunch whoever did this to Ghoul, or better, do the same thing to them, before he remembers with a sinking feeling in his stomach that Ghoul did this to himself.

He ties off the suture just barely keeping his hands from shaking. He doesn't know how Ghoul does this with bombs. Ghoul flinches again, violently, when Kobra cuts the excess line, and Kobra has to jerk back to keep from catching a flailing, uncoordinated fist in the face.

"Hey," he snaps. "Ghoul!"

Ghoul slips off the toilet lid and onto the floor almost as if he intended it but halfway as an accident and immediately curls in on himself. He pulls his knees to his chest and curls his arms around his head and Kobra can hear him hyperventilating. Kobra fucking freezes. He's used to fighting and wrestling and knee-jerk reactions that wind up with someone sporting a black eye. He is terrified right now. And there's still Ghoul's blood on his hands, too.

"Ghoul..." He cautiously reaches out, puts a hand on Ghoul's leg. Ghoul twitches, lets out a hiccupy sound that takes a moment to register in Kobra's mind as a sob. Ghoul, chaos loving, cackling Ghoul, is crying. And not just a single tear, now, his whole body is shuddering with the force of how hard he's crying. Kobra's heart is pounding with how hard he does not know what's happening, but he grips Ghoul's arm and lightly shakes him. "Hey, I'm still here, man."

Ghoul makes that keening whine again and Kobra thinks at first that he's going to pull away at best, or throw a real punch at worst. They fight enough, for any and no reason at all, that he expects it now. That's their normal. This isn't.

Ghoul scrambles to his knees, his hands finding the front of Kobra's shirt. This restroom is small, they're already in close quarters. But maybe unintentionally, maybe just scrabbling for a little purchase on anything, Ghoul winds up grabbing onto Kobra. And Kobra has always had a hard time letting anything go.

Ghoul's forehead crashes into his shoulder and Kobra instinctively puts his hands up, grabs back onto Ghoul in return. Ghoul's usual shaking is familiar to him, but the repressed wracking sobs aren't. Kobra clutches desperately around Ghoul's back, like he could hold together what he's just sewn up, like if he keeps Ghoul close enough he can't shake into pieces. No one should be able to break Ghoul. Not even Ghoul himself.

The edges of the cabinet dig into Kobra's back, but he ignores it. Ghoul is folding in on himself, making himself as small as he can against Kobra, and Kobra doesn't fucking know what to do. He's never seen Ghoul cry like this. He's never seen anyone cry like this.

"It hurts," cries Ghoul suddenly.

"I know," Kobra says, before he realizes that crying like this is probably making everything worse, that he'd worried about salt in the wound a minute before for this exact reason. He can't imagine the pain Ghoul is probably in.

"It didn't hurt at first," Ghoul mumbles, then chokes on a sob. "It didn't hurt when I started. And then it did."

Kobra wants to ask again, why? But he won't get anything intelligible. There's a part of him that doesn't want to know. He's terrified of knowing the truth. Instead, he threads his fingers through Ghoul's hair again and just repeats, "I know. I know."

A few minutes pass in speedy, spiraling silence. The only sound between them is their shared too-fast breathing.

"I can't," stammers Ghoul finally, after his cries have tapered out into raspy gasps. "I can't turn it on or off."

"Huh?" Is all Kobra can think to say. "Ghoul, you're not making sense, nothing about this makes sense," he snips, too quick and too tense. He's so beyond his depth. He wants Jet or Party to come help but he can't have it his way because he promised. He promised Ghoul. He wants to hit something. A wall, just to feel the impact. To imagine he's hitting whatever it is that hurt his friend so badly he hurt himself.

Ghoul sniffs. All Kobra can see of him is the top of his head and the cheek with the stitches. The wound is swollen and red and is going to leave a horrific scar. Kobra clenches his fist tighter behind Ghoul's back. "When I'm having fun or not," Ghoul says. "I can't. I am or I'm not. But."

"But what?" For fuck's sake, Kobra just wants to understand. He can read Ghoul like a book from cover to cover most times, and it scares him that he's so lost right now.

"It isn't good enough," he mumbles. "It's... It's in my fuckin' name, Kid, if I can't live up to that what am I?"

Kobra stares, wide-eyed, at the wall across from him. Something clicks. The clean cut through Ghoul's face, clearly from a recently sharpened knife, clearly intentional, reached from the corner of his lips almost to his ear. "Oh fuck no," he whispers. "Hell no. What the fuck. You're not-" He feels himself shaking suddenly, with restrained searing hot anger. Ghoul cut his head open, mutilated himself, to make himself permanently grin. "You're not fucking beholden to your fucking name," Kobra says. He never swears this much, only in his own mind. He's running out of words. "Fuck," he says, with feeling.

Ghoul shudders again. "I'm fuckin insane, aren't I?" He asks with sudden clarity.

It's exactly what Kobra had been thinking, for once completely unable to figure out Ghoul's mind, but he can't just say that. He can't just say that he's terrified because nothing makes sense and he's never going to freaking leave Ghoul alone again because this is all completely unhinged on so many levels that he can't even begin to sort through it. He can't say anything. He hopes Ghoul is sane enough to understand that, at least.

He just holds his friend tighter. He wants his brother more than anything right now, wants Party to come and take this weight out of his hands, but a part of him knows that even if he did, he wouldn't be able to let go of Ghoul. Why didn't Ghoul want anyone else but him? Why, after pretty much imprinting on Party like a feral kitten when they'd first met, to the point that sometimes Kobra thinks bitterly than Ghoul might know Party better than his own brother does, did he come to him? Why did he do any of this?

If a few tears of his own drip down Kobra's nose and land in Ghoul's tangled hair, no the hell they don't. He's never seen anyone go to pieces like this and he's struck dumb at the fact that it's literal. Very, very literally, Ghoul has gone to pieces. Taken a knife, that's probably still lying on the floor of his abandoned-office bedroom, and cut a line through his own cheek just so others might see a smile there.

There's crazy in his veins. Acid, maybe. And Kobra's always known that even if Party recognized it first. Watching your whole family die, failing to save your baby sibling, doesn't leave a person without any scars. Only, now, the scar is far too visible. Kobra's always known that Ghoul is more wild than any of them. Feral, unpredictable. He was raised by a pair of Killjoys who named themselves Hoot and Holler, and the thing is, a ghoul is just a ghost, and ghosts wail too. He should have known.

"I should've known," he says out loud, the first words in a while. He knows Ghoul so well. Better than he knows himself. He should have known something was wrong. He should never have left him alone. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry." He can't even blink. He stares hard at the opposite wall and tries not to scream.

Ghoul shakes his head against Kobra's shoulder and winces. "Nuh-uh," he mumbles. "I'm crazy, man. I'm insane." The fuzzy way it sounds around the stitches and the swelling just seems like proof. Just last night Ghoul's cheek was smooth and soft as he grinned across a table in triumph after winning a card game. How is it that that was just a few hours ago? He shudders again. "I'm scared," he says more quietly.

"Me too," Kobra says. As soon as the sun comes up he thinks he's going to storm out into the desert and find something, anything to beat up. Even a freakin cactus would do at this point. He doesn't know how he's going to explain this to Pois or Jet but he knows that much. He's gonna shake so hard he blows up, like a can of soda, unless he hits something. "I fucking hate you," he snaps suddenly.

Ghoul starts to flinch away, but Kobra doesn't let him. In fact, he curls tighter around him without even knowing why. "What the hell," Ghoul rasps.

Kobra hisses through his teeth. Speaking of living up to names. He fucking hates anyone who hurts his friends. But he can't say it. Hard as he tries, in the one moment of clarity about his own mind that he has, he can't speak.

"I fucking hate me, too," Ghoul says finally. The single dusty lightbulb above them flickers. If it goes out, they'll be in total darkness. Kobra thinks one or both of them might have a wicked eyeshine by now. The desert makes you wild. For some people, they're born that way.

"I think you're my best friend," Kobra finally manages to whisper. It isn't exactly what he was going for. It's not something he would ever say if he had thought of it before it popped out of his mouth. But Ghoul gets the point. Of course he does. Ghoul always gets his sharp edges, snakebite teeth and misspoken definitions and all.

"I think you're mine," Ghoul says back. "I'm-"

Kobra smacks the back of his head, like this is in any way normal, like they aren't collapsed on a dim bathroom floor in the middle of the night or the early hours of the morning and like one of them isn't mutilated for life by his own hand. Like this isn't the worst thing they've ever gone through together. "If you say you're sorry again, I'll cut you myself."

It's rough, and it's torn up and pained and choked, but Ghoul laughs. Just a short bark of laughter, hardly like the dry, rasping cackle that Kobra knows so well. It sounds like agony but it also sounds like the sun coming up. Kobra makes a noise in the back of his throat, more whine than laugh, but he's so close to blowing up that it's as good as it gets. He wants to freaking die if that would keep Ghoul in one piece.

Ghoul shifts in Kobra's arms and pulls away just far enough to look him in the eye. He clumsily wipes at the tears and snot all over his face and Kobra has to snap a hand out to catch his wrist before he unthinkingly swipes at the fresh wound and stitches. "Kobra," Ghoul says, shivering in the dark. The sun won't take long to come up once it starts but until it does, the Zones are freezing. "Kobra."

"Yeah, man, I'm still right here." Kobra forces himself to look Ghoul in the eyes and not the stitches. The wound takes up so much of his face. It's all Kobra can see when he looks at Ghoul, his best friend's mutilated mouth, sliced open by his own hand. Kobra flinches just imagining it. He focuses instead on Ghoul's green eyes, boring holes into his head with the desperate pleading in them. "I'm still right here," Kobra repeats, quieter. Reminding himself, too.

Ghoul doesn't blink. Kobra doesn't blink. Their eyes reflect the dim light back at each other. This is what wild animals must feel for each other. Terror. Uncertainty. Just themselves, each other, and whatever comes. Ghoul licks his lips, tongue flicking briefly, visibly, to the corner of his mouth that he cut open. "Don't let me-" Ghoul starts and then falters. "You gotta make sure," he says. "Don't let me- do stupid shit like this, don't let me go crazy again, Kobra, please."

Kobra stares back at him, matching Ghoul's trembling desperation. He's known Ghoul since the day their crew found him, shell shocked between the shelves of an empty gas station with the bodies of his parents and previous crew around him. Perpetually shaking hands and feral bared teeth, animal eyeshine. No one can match Ghoul for determination, and no one knows Kobra as well as he does. Even if Ghoul does know his brother better than him, the same is true in reverse.

Kobra Kid has a hard fucking time ever letting go of anything once he's got it. Fun Ghoul holds on too loosely. They're both terrified. What a pair they make. But when Kobra Kid makes a promise, he means it. He grabs the ends of Ghoul's hair and pulls, not too hard, but hard enough. That's their normal. Play fighting and hair pulling, and they both know it's a kind of language for when they can't speak. "Okay," he says, and because it's a promise, he repeats it. "Okay."

[themistymountainscold]

izzy hands will offically break me.

[krynutsreal]

Mondo wants to be the "He asked for no pickles" one in the relationship so bad but we all know that he's the one who's too anxious to talk to the employee that got his order wrong because he knows he'll shout out of nervous habit, meanwhile Taka is A Dick about that sort of thing and likes to make it everyone's problem

they forgot takas fries too he's pissed

[bigcats-birds-and-books]

Books of 2024: July Wrap-Up.

This month, I picked my knitting back up with a vengeance, started a Three Sentences Writing Challenge, AND participated in several work-adjacent Social Events (who am I, even), On Top Of accidentally nerfing myself with several brick-like books, so! This little stack isn't half bad. Photos and/or reviews linked below:

ORDINARY MONSTERS - ★★ This was a miss for me, y'all, AND it was a brick, so it took a hot minute to read. I wanted it to be better than it was, but it rambled and wandered Too Much (which, coming from me, you KNOW is bad). Salty also-rambly 1.5k review linked.

IF FOUND, RETURN TO HELL - ★★★½ Way cuter than I was expecting!! I had a good time with the second person. Hugely relatable (which. wild. all things considered.).

THE HAUNTING OF HILL HOUSE - ★★★½ Funnier than anticipated, and very readable for something out of the '50s! I see why it's a cornerstone of the (sub)genre. Glad I have a copy on hand now.

THE ACTOR AND THE TARGET - ★★★★★ This Rewired My Brain. It took me three (3) weeks to get through. It was so good. If you're a writer, definitely check this out, 10/10 recommend.

WHEN AMONG CROWS - ★★★½ I checked this out from the library because hardback novellas are Expensive if you're not sure you vibe with the author's style, but I had a good time! Witcher fans should descend on this, I think.

ALWAYS COMING HOME - 76*/618 pages read; will report back later. I asked the People about this one, and the People have Spoken (read: this won my What Do I Read Next Poll), but I may or may not have miscalcuated how many brain cells I have available lately between work and writing, so I may or may not be cutting this with library books. I'll finish it. Eventually. (*asterisk because she keeps referencing Other Pages In Line, and every time she does I jump ahead to read those pages instead and then come back to where I was. I'm dual wielding bookmarks through this tome, it's an Experience™ so far!)

Under the Cut: A Note About ~*★Stars★*~

Historically, I have been Very Bad™ about assigning things Star Ratings, because it's so Vibes Heavy for me and therefore Contingent Upon my Whims. I am refining this as I figure out my wrap up posts (epiphany of this month: I don't like that stars are Odd, because that makes three the midpoint and things are rarely so truly mid for me)(I have hacked my way around this with a ½). Here is, generally, how I conceptualize stars:

★ - This was Bad. I would actively recommend that you do NOT read this one, no redeeming qualities whatsoever, not worth the slog. Save Yourself, It's Too Late For Me. Book goes in the garbage (donate bin).

★★ - This was Not Good. I would not recommend it, but it wasn't a total waste or wash--something in here held my interest/kept my attention/sparked some joy. I will not be rereading this ever. Save Yourself (Or Join Me In Suffering, That Seems Like A Cool Bonding Activity).

★★★ - This was Good/Fine/Okay/Meh. I don't care about this enough to recommend it one way or another. Perfectly serviceable book, held my interest, I probably enjoyed myself (or at least didn't actively loathe the reading). I don't have especially strong feelings. You probably don't need to save yourself from this one--if it sounds like your jam, give it a shot! Just didn't resonate with me particularly powerfully. I probably won't reread this unless I'm after something in particular.

★★★½ - I liked this! I'll probably recommend it if I know it matches someone's vibes or specific requests, but I didn't commit to a star rating on Goodreads. More likely to reread, but not guaranteed.

★★★★ - I really enjoyed this!! I would recommend it (sometimes with caveats about content warnings or such--I tend to like weird fucked up funny shit, and I don't have many hard readerly NO's). Not a perfect book for me by any means, but Very Good. This is something I would reread! Join me!!

★★★★★ - I LOVED THE SHIT OUT OF THIS, IT REWIRED MY BRAIN, WILL RECOMMEND TO ANYONE AND EVERYONE AT THE SLIGHTEST PROVOCATION (content warning caveats still apply--see 4-star disclaimer). Excellent book, I'll reread it regularly, I'll buy copies for all my friends, I'll try to convince all of Booklr to read it, PLEASE join me!!

[ripplefields]

I STILL HEART THEM SO BAD . DESIGNS ARE @the-cactus-taco 's . MY FAVORITE GUYS !!!!!!!!!!!!!

[petit-papillion]

The cuteness level of this video is rivaling his brother Leo's content.

🎥 Haas F1 Team

[safyresky]

Scrimbly Jacqueline 40/50: Mel and Jacqueline commit a felony; are caught and apprehended by the mutually agreed upon "hottest magibean alive"

🫧🌊💙❄️☃️

"Closed as well?" "So it would seem." "Damn! What is UP with that?! Why is every apothecary specializing in poisonous ingredients CLOSED?!?! Don't they know we have a guy to kill and also maybe even a whole ass cult, too?" "Apparently they didn't get the memo." "Oh! What about that one you and Lucy frequent?" "Beg pardon?" "You know! The apothecary with that lady you like—" "NO! Absolutely NOT. We will not be going there. God. Every time I go in there I leave absolutely mortified, and that's assuming I don't faint again." Jacqueline snorted, a hand quickly coming up and covering her mouth as Mel whipped around and glared, thunder rumbling in the distance. "Sorry, sorry! I just...AGAIN?!" "Well at least I am AWARE enough of my crush to faint about it." Jacqueline's shoulders fell as she hissed through clenched teeth. "Ouch. You cut deep, Mel. You cut real deep. It's cool though! I get it. Getting you to Lizzy to use your charm and good looks to score us some men-who-write-their-sevens-weird-ending poisons and then some is not plan A or B." "Or C or D and perhaps not even Z. Really? That was your plan?!" Jacqueline shrugged. "It was like, last ditch plan. I mean, the alternative is to wait but the longer we wait, the longer weird sevens guy is hitting up Luce and that simply won't do." "Absolutely not at all. God. Have you seen them? How he writes his sevens?" "YES! Jack showed me. It's so freaking WEIRD!" "Right? We simply cannot let this go on, I'm afraid. Hmm." Mel tapped her chin. "What to do, what to do..." "Okay. I've got one more idea," Jacqueline said, watching as Mel paced back and forth in a small circle, her skirt dripping a bit. Her brow was furrowed; she tapped her chin as she paced. "But I think you will like it even less." Mel stopped pacing. "Oh?" "Let's go see Chimera." Mel blanched. "Oh dear god. You want to go do what?!" "See Chimera! I mean, look, Mel. She's the poisons guy, right? You wanna get rid of someone, she's your go to." "You want me to go to someone objectively hotter than any other aforementioned apothecary to get the things we need to take care of this creep?" "She is pretty damn hot. I'd say like, top hottest magibeans for sure." "And what, you want to go and just knock on her door? Stop in for tea, a chat, and leave with a goodie bag of potions and poisons?" "Yes?" "No. Nope! Not at all. There is no way I'd survive that." "Well. You got me there. She is pretty terrifying. May actually kill us. Hmm. Okay, okay. Hear me out." "Oh, absolutely! Agreed." "Not what I meant but yeah, you're so right." "See? I'm already flubbing it up!" "Flubbing?" "Jacqueline!" "Sorry! Sorry. That's just a really fun word! I'm gonna steal that one. Flubbing. RIGHT! OKAY! Focusing." She took a deep breath in and squished her cheeks, taking a moment to compose herself. "Hear me out, Mel. What if we just...break and enter?" Mel looked visibly relieved. "Yes, yes. That I can do. I'll go fetch my harpoon and—" "Oh, no need! I think we can handle it sans harpoons." Winking, Jacqueline raised a glowing hand, wiggling her fingers. A conniving little smile spread across Mel's face as she lifted her own glowing hand in agreement, the pair of magibeans cackling into the night as they poofed, disappearing on the spot.

🌸🧪❤️

Moments later, the pair of them stepped right over the walls with a snowy and watery assist. They landed on what looked to be plant free ground, the water pooling back into Mel's skirt as Jacqueline waved the snow onto hers, freezing it in place with a very brief clenched fist. Grinning, the pair high fived one another, sticking close as they wandered down the path. The deadly plants were gorgeous. Some of them stretched high above the pair, towering over the leafy poisonous plants. Poison ivy and oak twirled together, stinging nettle abound. The paths and gardens stretched on, beautiful deadly flowers dotting the greenery with blues and yellows and reds, some plants growing fruits and berry looking things that were, quite obviously, very poisonous. "Whoa." "Watch the nettle, Jacqueline." Jacqueline stepped back, keeping even closer to Mel. "Right, right. That's one of the little stingy bitches." "Quite stingy, actually. Now, let's see. Where did I put that list..." Mel patted herself up and down, reaching into her watery sleeves and letting out a little "A-ha!" as she pulled a slightly damp rolled up list out of the left one, unfurling it quickly with a deft flick of her wrist. "Right. Here's what we need to—" Mel looked up, finding herself face first in icicles and crunchy hair. "Jacqueline! A little warning next time you come to a dead stop—" "Uh..." Poking around Jacqueline's shoulder, Mel blanched. In front of them stood Chimera herself. She looked down at them (Blimey, she's tall, Mel thought), arms crossed, her face unamused. An ear twitched. Behind her, her snake tail poked around her, looking at the two of them in what may have been a perplexed way, or an annoyed way. "Dear lord. She's even hotter in person." "Mel!" "...I said that out loud, didn't I?" "You sure did." Jacqueline cleared her throat. "Hi! Chimera! Uh...fancy seeing you here?" She winced, scratching the back of her head. "Right. Well. I mean, it is your garden so..." She raised an eyebrow, hands moving to her hips. "Well, since Mel's being honest," (Mel herself colouring behind her snowy friend), "I may as well too." And, taking a very long, very deep breath in, Jacqueline launched full speed into the most rambling explanation possible. "So basically Mel and I need to kill a guy. He's been bothering Luce and he writes his sevens weird and she told us to not kill him but he writes his sevens weird, not to mention he's like, a HUGE creep. HUGE! Lucy was all "don't kill him he's just being nice" but Mel and I disagree. So we went hey, what about secret murder! Not as obvious murder? Lucy doesn't need to know, and BOOM! POISON! So off we fucked, but all the local places that have the poisonous shit we need were closed, so I suggested we come see you, but both Mel and I are super intimidated because you're like, one of the hottest magibeans we know of, so we thought it'd be easier to break in? To your garden? Of poisons?" "Is that so?" Mel and Jacqueline (the former still hiding behind the latter) shared a look between each other. A mutual shrug. Jacqueline turned back to Chimera. "Yeah, that about sums it up. He's really very creepy." "A grade-A creep," Mel added. "Who writes his sevens weird." "And basically STALKED the woman!" "So now we need to kill him." Chimera tilted her head. She let the two woman sweat for a bit before grinning. "You had me at kill a guy."

🫧🌊💙❄️☃️

So @lmelodie gave me this idea a HOT MINUTE ago and it ah, it has spiralled. It's one of three, y'all. This one was from LAST WEEK but between a visit home and the World's Slowest Cold, I wasn't able to post it proper until TODAY lmao.

I have also stolen @kscribbs's little guy ONCE AGAIN and she'll be hanging around for this lil trio of scrimbles once more, lol.

AND AS A BIG HUGE DISCLAIMER RE: THE LITTLE SMILEY SNIPPET: I HAVE 100% FUDGED WITH EVENTS OF MILLER'S LAW TO MAKE THIS SCENARIO WORK, AND I AM SURE BOTH MEL AND MERA MAY BE SLIGHTLY OOC, SO MY APOLOGIES FOR THAT. I HAD A LOT OF FUN WITH THIS, THOUGH, AND I HOPE YOU ALL DO/DID TOO. I AM HAVING A LOT OF FUN WITH THIS, TBH!

I just never considered the potential of these three? Hanging out? And then I did and. Well. Here we are!

Chimera was so fun to draw! I was staring at the sketch in awe after I finished it like "woah. I did pretty ok!"

I think she actually has stripes now? But I was using lmel's GORGEOUS art of the woman and neglected to cross check the recent Chimera post until AFTER the ink had dried so. SPOTS FOR NOW I SUPPOSE!

Anyway, enjoy! Stay healthy. Wash your hands, etc etc. It's like a bonafide swamp of sicknesses out there right now and I do NOT wish the World's Slowest Cold on ANYONE. It sucks. I thought I was better Monday, went to work Tuesday, came home and absolutely DIED. Been home since. Fingers crossed tomorrow is a healthy day! We're coming up on Turkey Day Weekend in Canada and I'd like to go see my family and drown myself in mashed potatoes without fucked up tastebuds 😎😎😎

[cult-of-the-eye]

Jonathan Sims is absolutely a bites nails and the skin around his nails, while Martin Blackwood is a bites the skin around his nails kinda guy.

[junewild]

nil is so interesting to me as a character.

on the one hand, obv i believe it’s unacceptable to declare any group of humans as inherently disposable & especially to set yourself up as judge, jury, and executioner for them. he’s open about the fact that he’s not a good person, & he admits that he chooses bandits because he sees them as subhuman & therefore can avoid any consequences he might experience from hunting them.

on the other, he also says he confessed to his war crimes & accepted the punishment without balking, which isn’t what you’d expect from a sociopath who targets bandits because society won’t care. so. is he better or worse than eg serial killers who target prostitutes because they’re seen as disposal by society? is he actually making the world a better place? & does it matter?

& no matter which side of the “it’s for the ultimate good” vs “it’s a bad attitude” of the argument you come down on, the way he calls out aloy for her self-appointed duty as protector of the weak is fascinating. “i’ll keep your secret—that, deep inside, it feels good to kill someone” (paraphrased).

it almost feels like a little nod to the player. “oh? are you feeling satisfied in your ability to land headshots and nail silent takedowns? have we successfully gamified killing? what is an acceptable casualty, & why are you the one who gets to decide that?”