#Was just feelin' the vibe y'know

[thepatchycat]

A conversation in passing

[chocolatewoosh]

Been incredibly stressed and burnt out by work for the past While, feeling Not Great in general, incredibly bummed about not being able to draw as of late, slowly starting to come back to normalcy after reaching a breaking point and then I promptly got blasted by receiving the Worst news a few days ago! :') Really goin' through it fellas

[quietly-sweetly-yearning]

you make me want to be better. healthier. happier

[dcvilgrams]

❝I'm Not Human❞

featuring: Barbatos & my m!MC (Xhura Kusumoto) [he/him] written by: @houselamentation & myself rating: general (w/ language)

notes: i was initially going to convert this into an actual story-prose format but some of the nuances got a little lost along the way so i've decided to keep it as it is for the sake of the quality this is an excerpt from The Disaster Duo Chronicles' Second Arc: Our Endless Summer & details the events of when Barbatos revealed to Xhura that their pact allowed Xhura to turn himself into a demon [summarized here]

Xhura is written by me obviously; & Barbatos is fantastically written by Lia

BARBATOS

"Xhura, Xhura." Barbatos hates when force is necessary but has to pull Xhura's hands away from his hair— as gently as possible but quickly too, before more damage can be done. He holds on to both of them longer than necessary and implores him to listen, to understand,

"Sit down, please. I promised I would help you adapt. I promised that it would be possible for you to thrive in this world. I mean that."

—

XHURA

Xhura stumbles and falls back into his seat because he doesn’t know what else to do. Because Barbatos’ voice is as soothing as always and grounds him like nothing else but…

“You… you said…”

He said it…

“You said I’m not… it’s not all in my head…?”

Because that’s been his biggest worry. All the things they told him in the Human Realm were coming true. He was losing it. It was all in his head. He was being entertained to be made complacent.

Say it again.

“I’m not human.”

—

BARBATOS

"You are not human," Barbatos confirms. Xhura has drawn that conclusion on his own. It's possible he only needs a little more prompting and comfort every step of the way in order to piece the rest together. It is worth a try. Barbatos will help regardless.

He returns to his own seat and refills their teacups. "It is not in your head, Xhura. You were born a human and until very recently, you were a human." He pauses, not to make Xhura worry but to recognize that everything will change as soon as his next point is realized.

"In much the same way that Lucifer was once an angel."

—

XHURA

Much in the same way…

Xhura sniffles, but feels the words rip themselves from his throat as unbidden as they were the night he spoke them.

”’They faded from brilliant white to obsidian the whole time you…’”

The whole time he…

When he…

When they all…

”’What did it feel like… to…’”

“I fell.” That’s not possible. “How did I… I’m not… but I…” Frightened, confused eyes flicker up to Barbatos’ emerald gaze.

“How. Please tell me how.”

—

BARBATOS

Nodding graciously, Barbatos tries to put a previously unimaginable concept into the right words. "Don't think of it exactly like Lucifer's fall," he advises. "He was cast out, banished from the Celestial Realm. You— essentially, Xhura, you banished yourself, or tried to. You don't belong to the Human Realm anymore— you wanted, you needed to be a part of this one so badly you…"

He shakes his head. There is no making sense of this, only deciding what to do next. "You should not be able to but you are making it happen. It may be due to a part of my power I did not intend to give you and there is also the fact that a human needs a soul and some certainty in the life they lead."

All of this on top of the fact Xhura is still learning to control his access to Barbatos' power, to cope with what is left of his soul… it is not an enviable time in the former-human's life. But beginning to accept and understand it remains the first and most important step.

—

XHURA

“I’m manifesting… unimaginable demonic bullshit on myself. I’m literally faking it until I make it.”

To put it in as eloquent simple terms as possible. Maybe it’s their shared bond but he gets what Barbatos is saying even though he’s really not saying all that much. He just… gets it.

“…The angel blood Ayla and I share. Our connection to Lilith. Whatever part of me… that was… chose to… do what my brothers did?”

My brothers. It’s his first time saying it aloud to someone not in the family. Yet he doesn’t do it as a conscious thought, nor does he consider changing his phrasing. It’s right.

It really is.

—

BARBATOS

In the [equally tense] kitchen, Barbatos nods. He still hopes Xhura can find this truth mostly on his own, supported but not led to anything before he's ready for it but that point deserves acknowledgment.

"Lucifer and the others fell when they realized what they were willing to sacrifice for Lilith's safety and autonomy, perhaps that they would all do the same for each other. And you fell when you accepted the truth of what was most important to you— the home, the love, and life you wanted, and what you'd be willing to give up to achieve and keep it."

—

XHURA

Now that he’s sort of not really calming down from his panic, Xhura reaches for his hip for comfort. Can’t help the way he thinks what if I could give him a similar mark, my version of a pact…

“So what happens now? Or going forward? Any of it?”

—

BARBATOS

"Going forward…" Barbatos nods to himself and then to indicate Xhura's teacup. It should still be warm enough and the relaxing properties certainly won't hurt him now.

"I can tell you now that I am seeing you and your future more clearly than I was earlier. My part in helping you is still in teaching you more about the power and how to use it— it bears repeating that you are accessing more of it than I ever believed possible —and keeping your knowledge in check.

“We can continue regular checkups once you're back in school to make sure the horns are not hurting you and to see how you are adapting emotionally. It's been a long day for you Xhura. My offer for tea is good for tomorrow as well but I suggest you get some sleep in the meantime."

—

XHURA

Xhura holds up a finger. “Pardon my French… but can we back the fuck up a few steps?” He says it comically, almost cheerily.

“Why would the horns hurt me? They’re clips.”

—

BARBATOS

"I see." Barbatos does not retract statements even when they are misunderstood or shared a bit too early. If the fallen-human is feeling any sensations of attachment where the clips are placed, he is not ready to accept or admit it.

This time, at least, it is simple enough to validate Xhura's concern. "Prolonged exposure. If you're wearing them in the same place daily, it'll take getting used to and there might be a little pain." Maybe he'll explain the truth later.

[stevebabey]

RUBY!!! Hii!! Congratulations on the follower milestone!! I am going to say this again AND AGAIN AND AGAIN but you're one of the most amazing and talented people I have ever come across on this hellsite and I think you deserve this AND SO MUCH MORE!!

Now I have heard great things about Family Video and a certain himbo employee so can I pretty please request no. 9 from list 3 ❤️‍🔥

Sending you so so so much love!!!!

- @etherealforever234 <33

HI!!!! firstly, u like seriously flatter me 🥹🥹 i am feelin GOOEY u actually make writing things like this so easy!!! cos i want 2 write for u and its all luv!!! i'm sorry it's mayhaps a little later than you expected but alas, i think u will still enjoy MWAH LOVE U @etherealforever234 1.4k nd whoops r kinda gives loser vibes in this (loser gf anyone? luveline has like coined that phrase hehe)

You’re expecting him to be gone by eight. Nine at the latest.

The clock on the wall ticks closer to to 10pm and you unwillingly keep tabs on it, driven by your restless anxiety. You should be watching the show on the grainy television screen ahead of you, really. Especially after you jokingly bickered with Steve over the film choice for so long and he finally gave in and fed your pick into the VCR.

But you’re not focused on that either. If your eyes aren’t darting to check the clock, all your focus is zeroed in on the feeling of Steve’s thigh pressed against your own.

It might as well be searing a scorch mark into your skin; you’re sure the feeling might be imprinted in your memory forever. His warmth seeps into you. Somehow, it feels like he’s both defrosting hidden worries within you and setting you aflame. Hopes rise and yet, with them come a dozen other new worries.

Despite his closeness, still, you really were expecting him to be gone by eight. Why is he still here? It’s a little uncomfortable to admit it to yourself but you know the confusion stems from the fact people don’t tend to stick around with you.

Steve seems to be an exception.

You check the clock again and try not to think too hard about how nice his closeness is. How you’re already missing it when he hasn’t even left yet. The hand on the clock shudders with every second it ticks around the clock-face. Steve sees your motion, his eyes silently checking in on you, and a frown crinkles his brow at your distracted state.

“Everything alright?” He asks, voice a bit raspy from under use.

You startle just a bit, head whipping towards him beside him. He’s watching you close, amber eyes sincere and expression open. Surprise sprouts within your chest; he must have noticed your fidgeting attention.

“What? Yeah, yes, everything’s fine.” You assure him with a nod, maybe a bit too eager. “Everything alright with you?” You ask nervously, just to check.

Steve laughs a bit at that. He presses his knee against yours purposefully, a gentle knock. Pairs it with a sweet smile.

“Yep,” He smiles, pink lips not at all distracting you in the least. Your gaze darts to the moles on his neck and back to his face as he continues. “You just keep checking the clock. Want to make sure I‘m not... y'know, overstaying my welcome.”

His words dip at the end, clipped by a tone of worry as he turns back to face the screen ahead a bit, pretending to re-tune in. Steve’s been working on toning it down, trying not to be too intense too quickly. Both in the interest of protecting his heart and trying not to scare you off.

But shit, you’re lovely. Steve’s not entirely sure he’s got a choice in this; his heart feels like it might crawl its way out of his chest just to be nearer to you. It’s particularly insatiable when you’re this close. Thigh to thigh. He can smell your perfume and he’s fairly certain it’s put him in some lovesick state of delirium.

Still, he can read people. Your insistence on checking the clock implies you want him to leave and yet, he can hear the tiny hitch of your breath when he leans closer. Confusion muddles together in his brain.

From the way surprise flickers across your features, you don’t actually want him to go. Some part of him sighs in relief before you even open your mouth to reassure him.

“What? No! No, no way.” The words come out a bit squeakier than you want. You curse yourself for somehow letting him believe you want him gone when it’s quite the opposite you want.

Steve nods, his face earnest enough to tell you he believes you. He shifts on the couch, turning back to face you and inadvertently leans in closer. Swirls of his cologne rush your senses. You hate how your brain tries to commit it to memory in an instant. Fuck, he’s pretty.

“So,” Steve starts, licking his lips in a nervous motion. He gestures with his hand, “The clock?”

Shit. You’ve accidentally cornered yourself. You can either let Steve stew, not quite believing that he isn’t just imposing on you and your time, or tell the truth. It somehow feels even more pathetic now than ever.

“I just,” You start, tearing your eyes off his face. Your throat grows a bit thicker and your fingers find a thread on your pants to toy with. “I’m... surprised you’re still here. That you want to be here. And, y’know, spend time with me. Still.”

It doesn’t feel any greater to say aloud. Eyes fixed in your lap, teeth worrying your bottom lip, you miss the way Steve’s eyes widen. Some wave of hurt curdles up inside him, sour and sore, because fuck, you’re waiting for him to leave? Not because you want him to but you’re expecting it?

Screw trying to tone himself down. Steve knows his heart is on his sleeve and he’ll be damned if the one time he tries to shelter it, it backfires. The words come out easy, without a lick of a lie in them.

“I want to spend all my time with you.” He says sincerely, another press of his leg against yours to drive the message home. He means it completely.

That has your head tugging up. Steve’s heart gives a painful little twist at the utter surprise on your face.

“You do?” You ask.

He pushes on, ignoring the urge to ask who made you feel like such a burden and whether he could throttle them. “I like you. I mean, yeah, of course, I wanna spend time with you.” 

He says it so flippantly, casualness dousing every word, like it was a thought he’d thought a thousand times. Heat flames in your chest, brilliantly warm, and curls up to your face. You let out a breath, a little shuddering quiet laugh of disbelief.

“Oh.” You say. The smile curling at the edges of your mouth is impossible to fight. It’s a full blown grin by the time you meet his eyes again and shuffling closer feels like an instinct you can’t ignore.

“Me too.” You admit, nerves still piling in your chest but damn, if the elation of hearing those words doesn’t beat them by a mile. “I mean, I like you too. As well.”

Steve rumbles out another chuckle but you can see how delight dances across his face. His shoulders sit a little lower, grin a little more confident all of a sudden. His knee nudges yours again, for what must be the umpteenth time this night. Forget scorching, he’s burning into your side — the touch unbearable in the best way now you know he wants you. Wants you like you want him.

“Sounds like we’re in the same boat, you and I.” He says simply, wiggling his arm out from where it’s sandwiched between the two of you. He pulls it up to his face with a clenched fist, covering a yawn, and it takes about another second for it to click — when he stretches the arm up, above your heads, and lets it settle down around your shoulder.

God, that’s a move. You’re nearly ashamed of how well it works on you, considering your stomach twists up gleefully. He’s flirting with you.

“Sounds like it.” You breathe out, voice escaping you a bit at how much closer the two of you are now his arm is around you. Steve’s breath fans across your face, his eyes locked onto your face. They roam your face, drinking in the details, paying particular attention to your mouth.

You lick your lips without meaning to and decide you can’t wait til another evening together, hours away, to know what his lips feel like. Steve will not be the only brave one tonight.

Leaning in, you give a moment's pause, to let him give you a sign to back off. To see if the universe will pull the rug out from underneath you, for this to be some cruel joke.

Steve nods, the tiniest motion. This close, you can see the smallest quiver of his lips. You do your best to kiss it away, trying your hardest to contain your smile with your lips against his. From the way Steve smiles into the kiss, you’re sure he doesn’t mind.

[cookinguptales]

feelin kind of demoralized today, just gotta make a vent post

So... my actual job is related to the traditional & self-publishing industry. I spend a lot of time with published authors, trad, self, small press, etc. and I know the ins and outs of things pretty well.

I have also written since I was pretty young and, not to be an asshole, but I know that I'm fairly good at it. People usually like my stuff. I've won writing contests. But at the same time I know I just absolutely do not have the temperament for the industry, so I've never tried any kind of professional publishing for my work.

Some of it is that I truly do believe that monetizing all your hobbies is not a great idea, especially if you struggle with your mental health like I do. If you monetize all your hobbies, suddenly you have a lot of jobs and very few hobbies that you can actually use to unwind. Writing is really, really important to me, and I couldn't bear if it became a permanent source of stress like it is for some writers I know.

I know several authors who love writing, like love writing, but when your writing is connected to whether you have food on the table... it becomes easy to become very, very stressed with writing. Especially when dealing with the editing process, corporate bureaucracy, a nitpicky audience, corporate obligations, self-advocacy, self-advertising, etc. It can be a lot of work to make your hobby into your job, and that work can make something you loved turn into something that's weighing you down.

And being very real with you, I know my own temperament and I know the publishing industry would probably kill me. I'm not as much of a small, nervous dog as I was when I was young, but I still deal poorly with rejection and get demoralized easily. I'm very, very bad at advertising, especially self-advertising, and I'm pretty absent-minded. I love the writing part, but when you're writing for a living, the writing part is only a small fraction of what you need to do.

I don't have enough patience for editing and I get frustrated when things are going slowly and god, the advertising. It used to be that one of the biggest benefits of trad pubbing was that they'd at least do the advertising for you, but even big-name authors are having to pretty much do it themselves these days. And some people are really good at selling themselves and their work! But uh. I'm... not one of them. It is certainly not a skill that I possess. lmao

So... I recognize my weaknesses and I act accordingly. But at the same time, I do really love writing. And I do really want people to read my writing. Some of the stories I've written are so dear to me, but just getting people to read them feels nearly impossible.

This one, though... idk, AITNISTS feels different. It does feel more "important", somehow. I can't quite put it into words. It feels like I've put more of myself onto the page and like, for once, I've written something that feels really whole. And I want people to read it so badly. But I'm so ill-equipped for it!

I've tried to keep the main story as accessible as physically possible while still introducing something like Patreon to maintain... idk, an air of legitimacy? It's something that a lot of art has found success with in recent years, that kind of split model. Offering most of it for free to facilitate a relationship with fans but still being like "yeah, but this work has value and if you want all of it, you'll need to pay a few dollars."

And honestly, I've had a lot of success! AITNISTS is not pulling in the kind of numbers that my fanworks do, but it's doing far better than my other original work has. The people who've read it really seem to like it and are feeling the things that I want them to feel. But every time I post a chapter to absolute crickets I do have A Small Crisis lmao.

Y'know, the "maybe actually this story is terrible" and "maybe actually I'm not good enough" and "who am I kidding actually" kind of vibe. I know that you never really know what people on the other side of the screen are doing and thinking, but it's still so nerve-wracking.

I've had... let's just say many moments where I've considered just calling the whole thing off, dumping the rest of the story on the internet, and pretending I never started any of it.

(s/o to my friends who left very nice comments on my draft that I return to often when I'm feeling like I should just delete the whole thing.)

And I've had a lot of other moments like "god, no one is even READING the blogs, even the people who are paying for them, so why am I wasting everybody's time with all this?"

It's almost like... absent the presence of everyone else, I love this story. I love writing this story. I love writing the blog posts that supplement this story. But once you start posting all that and everyone just kind of stares at you in silence, you start to second-guess the value of all those things you loved. It's very hard to silence the voice in your head that's telling you that you're just annoying people and wasting their time.

It... has been both validating and frustrating to know that I was right about how I'd handle publishing, even if I'm doing a much more chill version of it rn.

But every so often I do get a comment or a message or a Patron and I'm like oh!!! they are reading it! they do like it! this person is getting a lot of value out of the blog posts!

And that fixes the problem until like. The next time no one says anything to me or reads what I write for two weeks lmao.

(And no, I am not ignorant to the fact that a lot of these self-recriminating meltdowns happen in tune with my hormonal cycle. I've had PMDD for many years and I know when it's affecting me. But I think it's probably a combination of real and imagined frustrations rn.)

It's frustrating because I'm a fairly logical person, but also just a deeply anxious one. lmao. So I can keep patiently telling myself all the things I know are true. Y'know, that the publishing industry and whether people find your work at all is based partially on persistence and regularity but if we're being real with each other, mostly luck. One person with a large following reading your work, loving it, and telling a bunch of people is generally the difference between your work becoming popular or falling into obscurity.

I keep telling myself that I'm getting quite a few hits (I'm averaging 100-200 hits per chapter now??) so someone must be reading it. And if I get zero feedback on a chapter, that doesn't actually mean that it's bad. Sometimes people don't have time to read it or don't have much to say or have stuff going on in their own lives.

Like... just because people told me they were excited about this story and told me they wanted to read it, that doesn't mean they are. That's just the way life works, unfortunately, and I've certainly experienced that in fandom, too. It's not like every person who told me they wanted to read it got a glimpse of the finished project and ran for the hills even if that's kind of how it feels sometimes. There's no such thing as a guaranteed audience, and just because someone reads all your other work, that doesn't mean they read this one!

(Dear self, they don't secretly hate you!)

I also keep telling myself that I love this story and a few of my friends whose opinions I value love this story. That's definitely not nothing. But I just very intrinsically find it difficult to find value in my own work -- which I know is a me problem -- and even though I know you're supposed to write for yourself, I just... god, I desperately want people to read this one. I want people to love these characters. Sharing this one with people does feel like sharing part of myself.

More than that, though... I feel like, while kind of niche, I still feel like this story is probably my best opportunity to find readers at all. Greek mythology retellings are pretty popular and are fandom adjacent, so that makes for an easy segue from my fandom persona to an original one. It's m/m, which makes it infinitely more marketable than my f/f, whether I like that or not. It's romance, which has a huge and very dedicated audience.

So I'll admit that a part of me is like "god, if I can't get people to read this then what hope do I have to get people to read the f/f witchy familiar shelter book? If I can't get people to read this, then what about the Medusa story? What about all the other stories that I want to tell that are even less marketable? Should I just give up on everything now?"

When I talk about marketability, i's not even about the money. Obviously the money is nice -- I'm a disabled woman trying to make accessibility renovations to my house and travel as much as possible in the limited time that my body will still let me, of course the money is nice -- but it's more that people read marketable stories. If I can't even get people to read them, how will I get people to connect with them?

I've made enough through Patreon to buy a couple books about Minoan Crete, which is gratifying, and used the rest to do a little bit of hesitant advertising in the hopes that more people will read this thing, but like. I am not good at making my own projects interesting lmao. And writing is a much harder sell than visual arts on social media these days. People do not wanna go to that secondary location lmao. Plus, attention spans are... not what they used to be, I say as someone who has written online and worked in the publishing industry for decades. It's definitely more difficult than it used to be to get people to want to read things that are longer than a paragraph or two. Every author I know is trying to find ways around that, but the fact remains. lmao

But I digress. To get back on topic... like, I know that seeing success in these things takes persistence and luck. Trying to get people to look at your art is always a gamble, and brother, I fucking hate gambling. Uncertainty makes me incredibly stressed out, and I guess I'm just feeling... uncertain. And kind of demoralized. Really kind of wondering what I'm even doing here and if I should just be putting all this effort into a different hobby or at least the work I actually get paid for.

But I guess all I can do is keep going. That's the persistence part.

Maybe I'll go write that blog post about Ancient Greek music... Maybe that will make me feel better. ;o;

It won't, but wallowing won't help me, either, so. I'm gonna eat a bagel and write a blog post. Come at me, Delphic Hymns. lmao.

[maliciousmalfeasance]

If I typed a live review of my spotify discover would you read it? Too late- (Indie-rock/pop, punk, ???, mid-west emo, math-rock,etc Be warned I am a hater about some petty shit lmao)

Carousel- CJ the X 

This song is beautifully produced, the melody of “everything will be alright” sounding just slightly off kilter and perfectly fits the teetering vibes of the song. I love the carnival vibe- lyrics flow so effortlessly. The RUNS BRO. Really perfect window into a probably fucked up breakdown. Hope things got better CJ <3 “I don’t blame anybody but me/ You’re too kind, I am a disease!” oof.

A big brown dog named bagel- Nep

“I kind of wanted to bite-” I love the incorporation of bossa grooves into this indie rock, gay as hell love song. “I feel like we’re gonna marry way too quickly” This feeling. Really cute. Vocals are so sweet- you just kind of want to scoop the vocalist up and hug her. 

PINEAPPLE UPSIDE DOWN - QUEEF JERKY, ethan is online

The best of the worst or the worst of the best? The beat switch up had me actually grooving- good shit. "Go to the zoo and see some fish."

Spirit Week- happy trendy

So cozy, comfy, fuzzy. Whenever I hear fuzzy vocals it feels like my ears are being hugged idk why. Sad but in a kind of melancholy optimist way? If that makes sense. Chords got a little tired by the end but I forgive all sins for fuzzzzzzzz

Glow- Alice Phoebe lou 

Aussie vocals perhaps? "When you were dreaming, I looked in. I saw everything." What a sweet, dizzy tune. Sounds like getting drunk in a carpeted room that looks like it’s from the 70s. “I’m a lover, just never knew how” Relatable. Vocalist has this really nice vibrato that reminds me of judy garland or ella fitzgerald, such a nice warm tone. Lots of hug songs in here. I’m a lover of this one. C:

Wasteland- wooded fang

Surf rock type of vibe? Feels like something I’d listen to as the sun sets on a long car trip- about to have a delirious few hours outside of time. I cannot fathom my man’s lyrics but he’s got such a relaxed delivery it’s real fun. Good vibe. "dododododododododo"

Feelin down- primrose

Drum good. Fr the production/recording on these drums is so nice. I feel like im sitting in the drummers lap but in a comfy way- like the rest of the song is absolutely great also but man.. I appreciate the work that went into getting these drums so nice. Also love the moments where the band stops. Love a stop. Satisfying. Ngl the vocals are nice but I wish he’d put a lil more OOmf in it y’know? Just like SEND IT.

 I Fade Away- Tulips Ballad, M.E, CAT DAD

The high vocals really made this for me, just came in and I was like aaah yeah. Then together?? Lovely. Such nice harmonies. Only wish there was a little less repetition but Idk that might just be me listening too hard rn lmao. I like the more subtle production bits but like, the main guitar loop doesn’t have much movement and it left me a lil like… what if you did more? Bass good. I like the piano but what if.. different chord?

Grade A- Spill Tab, JAWNY

I… might be getting fatigued from listening to all this stuff but these chords at the end feel like the same as the last song bro I’m a lil disappointed. It’s just so quick and so… clean? In a bad way? Lmao I think it feels overproduced to me. So many production decisions that don’t feel like they serve the song and only a couple that really feel earned. (cheated and gave it a second listen because I felt kind of bad about having mostly negative comments. Both the vocalists are great and the quality of production is real nice, I just think the producer needed to pull back a bit and let the vocalists do their thing, y'know?)

Only At Your Convenience- Graham Kartna

Big Jack Stauber energy.. Perhaps… too much Jack Stauber energy? I can’t tell if this was a deliberate attempt to emulate the style as an experiment or not. The drowned chords, the vocals that jump down suddenly, all the little cartoon samples. OK I had a look and he’s def got a voice and a sound this song just happens to REALLY sound like it’s going for a Jack Stauber vibe, most of his other stuff is similarly drowned and sample heavy but like… distinct enough that I wouldn’t think to associate the two- it’s literally just this song so he is forgiven in my eyes. Peace and love on planet earth. Honestly I’d forgive him emulating Jack really hard too I mean fuck it man do what satisfies ya. (gave this a second listen and idk why I thought it was so close actually this is good and fine.)

easy - waveform*

Oh! I’ve def heard this one before, love the big warm acoustic guitar+sad vocal. Gay and cute. “I’m on the stairs in a beautiful gown, and you look so stupid your teeth on the ground.” Love the imagery in these lyrics. 

Diane- Dad feels, Yelle 

Holy fuck I hate this man. I haven’t listened to the song yet I’m just like- before I make any comment you have to know I’m severely biased against him lmao He sucks he makes me incredibly uncomfortable to watch. ANYWAY presses play hm. Ok. wow. BAD. First song of his I’ve ever listened to and holy fuck. Worse than I thought. Nothing to like about this. It's so low effort. I’m just trying desperately to tune this trash out while I wait for the next song. Holy fuck. OH THANK GOD

Kill your radio- Heartsrevolution

Cute! Feels like something that would play in a scene while a stereotypical girly character beats the shit out of someone. Is that insane? Idk man. maybe I’m just thinking about violence because of dad. It’s fuzzy. The guitars and vocals got that sweet high fuzz on them. This toes the line for me of being like slightly over produced also but I think it’s just my taste. 

Becky- Be Your Own Pet

I’ve heard this one too! It’s just such an edgy teenage hatred song. Just real petty and fun to yell along to. Love the story and the little moments where the band all yells BECKY AAAAA. Good shit. 

Dark matter- Little Big League 

Oh such a sweet sleepy vocal with nostalgic guitars. Love the way the main vocal kind of leans around the notes, feels so effortless. The slight edge in the tone is used so sparingly but so well, such a cool voice. Oh man!! Sorry band you’re great too I just love these vocals!!! I want more growls but I’m feral for growls- the way that tone is used so sparingly to great effect is lovely. 

Better Go- Mel blum 

Familiar with this one too. Just a really catchy, chill tune. Love the stops and little rhythm guitar moments. “Guess I ain’t using my body anyway.” Yeah. Solid tune fr. Love the floaty vibe of the vocals.

Random Firl -Late Of The Pier

Glanced at the band bio and apparently the band formed when they were 16/17 which is cute. They haven’t released anything in a long while but I wanna believe they’re all still friends. Feels like a song I’d have played on repeat in 2015 when I was in a Smallpools phase. The vocal harmonies are very sweet, such a nice wall of sound. Left me wanting more!! AA

You Make me smile- Mamalarky

This squishy bass is fun. Another soft, floaty voice- I guess Spotify is recommending all of these because I listened to so much Stella Donnelly last year. Really like the structure of this song, the way that the synths swell and fall again to make room for the guitar and piano… Just really cool vibes. Love that blending of synth and ‘real’ instrument. Yeah. Just kind of vibing here. Adding this one to my likes for sure. I feel like what sets this apart from some of the others is that the instrumentation is interesting and thick without drowning or outshining the vocals which is hard as heck to do right!!

IDC- carpetgarden 

First few lines are like. Damn. Yeah. Lyrics are heavy but in a fuck this kind of way. Their vocals are so sweet and yet kind of bored sounding? Genuinely really like the vibes. There’s a great energy to the guitars that makes you wanna dance around, real sad but happy at the same time. Kind of song I’d listen to while on the way somewhere to get myself in a good mood lmao. “Worms in my brain and my eyes are full of daisies, My body’s melting and it feels a-fuckin’-mazing” 

Wicca Kids- Pacific Purgatory

This song is underwater! Pull it out!! AAA! Fr tho it’s so muffled it feels like I’m listening through a wall. Kind of a vibe? I do kind of want it a little less muddy tho. I really like the vocals- feels like they’re hiding I wanna drag them out to the front of the mix. This is prob intentional. It is nice, I’m just making grabby hands at all the high frequencies rn. Baby come back. 

Vampire- Lupin

The shades in that title and song name. Chefs kiss. These vocals are great, confident and straight shooting. They cut through really well. Oh no wonder I like this, he’s the vocalist from hippo campus. Solid song. Not super my current taste but it’s definitely hitting every ball it’s trying to hit… if you get me. Knows what it’s about. 

You’re Terrific - LoudFoxCult 

I love the way the two vocals play off each other. This came out in 2018, real cute highschool indie rock vibe and yet- like way better than you’d expect from a highschool indie band so like.. Yeah. Terrific, even.

Scott Pilgrim- Plumtree

Omg I love Plumtree. Punk girls from the 90s kickin ass. I love this band. This is a great song, I like In The Sink better tho. The main lick is super catchy though I can see why this is their most listened to.  “I’ve liked you for a thousand years” Repeated over and over and over because yeah dude I’ve liked you FOREVER. 

WasteUrTime- Kevin Walkman

Bassline hits. Licking my fingers baby this shit tastes GOOOOOD am I going insane? Idk man this song just has a really satisfying groove going, vocalist has a great laidback tone. Feels perfect for the vibe of the lyrics. Horny songs gotta have a goood bass line and y’know. This one did it. 

brittle (wake up)- Meltycannon

I know this band but can't place them. Really love the grunge/hiphop vibes??

When You Are Not Around- The Band Ice Cream

Breakup song if ever I heard one, “I like you more, when you are not around.” Angry and mean in a satisfying way, feels like a diary entry I wrote about an ex. Just like- raw and unfair amounts of bitterness, you know? Kind of shit you’d never actually say. Well idk maybe you would. I’m only mean in my diary tho. Mostly. Cough. “I don’t fucking care if it hurts you” 

How Could You Ever Think I Hated You?- Cloning

HAHA opposite vibes completely and holy shit a band from perth!!! The aussie accent feels so comfy to me in music mwa. Feels lik the accent is almost going american in parts- maybe that’s just the Perth accent tho idk any perthians. Jumpscared by the stop in the middle of the song lmao i was like NOO. Guitars are lovely, feels like a real lived-in sound. Love the vibe

Meet me in Montauk- Retirement Party

“Had a head so big it sank into the ground.” The noodles in the guitar always make my heart happy- very midwest emo. Just a very cozy angsty song. This is the type of music that turns my brain to like nostalgic goo. “I’m not sure if i don’t believe in a God or if he doesn’t believe in me” - something my 11 year old self would cry about fr. I love how raw and unornamented the vocals are- it’s a mark of the genre for sure but it just makes the lyrics hit even harder. 

I Dropped Out- And The Kids

Feels like I’ve heard this one a thousand times and yet it’s not in my likes. The vocals are swimmin' in reverb and they’re just- asufghdsuigifih I Love The Dreamy-ness. The “I went to graduation" line coming back with altered timing/tone always hits so good idk it’s such a simple thing but with the force of the band crescendo behind it- it’s like. Fuck yeah, you did!

Been thinking- Fishing In japan

SO laid back, these lyrics flow so naturally- the vocals sound half asleep in the best way. Solid band. Nothing really stands out to me more than the silly sleepy vocals which are a very good vibe, kind of wish the guitars were played a little less straight to emphasise the drag of the vocals. It’d be different song. Better? Maybe? But this song is nice too. 

And that’s all wowweeeee

[whitherwordswither]

Logs from the Starfields, VII

Captain's Log #0.07:

Alright. Took a few off hours to recollect myself. Feelin' a little better. But… ya'll. I'm still so out of sorts from muckin' 'round on Neon. Maybe it was all the shit in the air?

I ended up back at that medical station that the doc in Neon had sent me to for supplies. Met the head lady of the place. She had some need of tissue samples from organic organisms and I just happened to have some from a recent jaunt on the surface of some planet where they were a might too friendly with their chompy parts. Another staff member gave me a data slate, said they usually deliver these to other med facilities to keep doctors abroad appraised of their work there. Looks like I was headin' back to Neon. Ugh.

I keep myself straight. In and out. I hit up the doc and pause. He's got a way to remove the alien DNA from my system. Treatment runs about 10k creds. I've saved up quite a bit, still ain't found my one-true-love ship, y'know? So, fuck it. I just ain't been feelin' right and the creds will be going to someone who could definitely put 'em to use. So I get the doc to fix me up. Does wonders for my body, but my head's still foggy like. Ah, well. Can't be right as rain all the time. I head off…

After a bit of meandering I found myself over at the Stroud-Eklund shipyard. Figure I'd check out Walter's babies. Employees are nice. Facility is pretty spiff. But. God damn, Walt. Your ships are block-ass-ugly. Who is your designer? It's like ya hired a kid who only knows how to draw boxes. Ya heard of the shape r o u n d? No? Didn't think so. I don't vibe with any of the vessels they have to offer so I chuckle to myself, shake my head and leave. I've got a side contract to take out another lawless trash goblin, anyway. So I skip over to whatever out of the way system they're haunting and erase them from the whiteboard of existence. Two of his buddies pop out from behind a smattering of asteroids and jump on me. I take one out, the small quicker little shit.

The other is in this nice sized Coyote. I manage to disable their engines and dock. Spacious ship. Anyway, I mosey on in and start blastin'. [Insert finger-gun.GIF and pew-pew-noises.wav here.] … The cargo hold on this thing is leagues deeper than the Frontier. Separate personal Captain's Locker. Shit. Everything about this bucket is bounds better than what I got. Her size is good. Her guns are great. I think… I think she might be the one. What kind of universe-may-actually-love-me turn of events is this? Did ya hear me pinin' for love, goddess?

I plop my chunk ass in the pilot seat. Ah, hell. That seals it. She's comfy too. I undock from the Frontier, then send it a series of codes to activate autopilot and tell it to head back to New Atlantis. I land on a nearby moon because I'm feelin' giddy and want to hop about in a light atmosphere for a bit. Wee-hee! …Ahem. Not a lot to survey. Four mineral resources. But there is an abandoned weapons depot in the distance! Then a familiar shoooom cuts through the atmo. I see a ship dropping down from orbit ahead. Looks pirate-y. I jog over to say hi!

Pirates alright. They immediately start hollerin' and firin' at me. I give 'em the one-finger salute as I scurry on up in to their ship and gift their pilot with a shotgun send off. Then I pause, staring at the pilot seat. Can I…? Should I…? I hop in to the seat. Not as comfy as my new girl. I get up and run back outside to tell the pirates the good news. I'll be taking their ship. They aren't happy, but they can't really complain when they're dead. Abandoned facility forgotten, I blast off. Two ships in one go? I really am in the zone today. I plot a course for New Atlantis and get my two new vessels registered. Then I sell the dinky one and take a good long look at the Coyote. She'll sell for a good amount. That'd put me a little closer to this 446k behemoth of a ship I saw over in Akila. However…

A tomb of credits later and I've got the Coyote re-painted and revived. Went with a personal deep orange/black color scheme. I don't know what it is 'bout them two colors, but they look great on a ship. And they fit 'er well. Say hello to the Tiny Pixel, everyone. Constellation won't let me yet sell off the Frontier. Guess we need it for some upcoming missions or somethin'. But, hey. I'm fine lettin' it sit in the hold.

Me and Tiny Pixel got a new fire burnin' in us. And I feel like playin' a bit of Pirate-Roulette. Maybe we'll see how many ships we can jack off these spacer asshats. Or maybe I'll take it easy, spend some time on ground surveyin' some rocks. I can do whatever I want, really.

Lets fly.

End log.

[mishkakagehishka]

Anyway. He sounds so sad here🥺 !mode really tried to guilt-trip you into not idling, huh

[venr0sthesqueakquel]

@ all my mutuals: i'm not using they/them as alt pronouns anymore

[artnerd1123]

trying to float doesn’t really work it just leaves you sitting there tugging strings with a rusty fork. 

((x))

[jadeee]

Hi, can i confess and request something here?.

I'm fond of our babyface Gambino here and can't find any contents related to him. Art, fanfic, anything, in fact, there's None, zero. So.. can we appreciate our most loyal guy by making a little.. fic about him?. Maybe from you? Or have you seen someone made anything related to chris?. I love your vendetta series btw 🙂 thanks for making them and shared it with us🙂 i'm glad you did it!

aww tysm 💕 i'm glad i shared vendetta too! i haven't seen any chris gambino content actually so here's a little headcanon 😌

p.s.: i hope a headcanon is okay bc i couldn't come up with an idea for a fanfic

His hat prob came from someone in his childhood, most likely a brother figure. I feel like Chris gives off only child vibes... anyway, an older neighborhood kid gave him the hat he wears now as an adult.

Speaking of vibes, he reminds me of Joe Pesci. They're both so goofy and kinda off the cuff, sometimes you don't know what they're gonna do. I mean, Chris showed up to Nicky's tatw launch party drunk and started a fight 👀 he has a short temper but he's working on it.

Took notes from Nicky on how to run the mob family but is nothing like him: he doesn't smoke {tried it once but actually hates it} and he's not as menacing. He is like Nicky in the sense that he shares his wealth, def donates to ppl and places that need it the most.

Y'know how Nicky has that glare? Chris hasn't perfected that yet, he does practice in the mirror though. Rather than glaring at ppl to intimidate them he prob says "You feelin' lucky? Do it, I dare ya." While staring at his opponent.

Very much a kid at heart. He def looks out for the kids in the neighborhood. I could see him playing games with them too like catch with a baseball or hopscotch. He'd prob play dolls with them too if they wanted, he doesn't care.

Def tries to dress the part as a mob boss but isn't a huge fan of wearing fancy clothes all the time. Most times you'll see him in a three piece suit and probably the same one lol. He hates wearing the jacket but that's one thing that Nicky kinda drilled into him that he has to "look the part". His color palette is def grays and blues.

Sometimes he'll go out of his comfort zone and wear brown, maroon, or white {not too often though bc it's a bloody business}. He doesn't like to wear black bc it makes him think of funerals.

Will only take off his hat at an extravagant event or when he's home. He has manners so he takes his hat off whenever he goes inside buildings or houses, that sort of thing.

I know everyone uses guns but Chris loves a good fist fight. Especially if his opponent manages to hit him. He prob got into a lot of scraps as a kid and dabbled in boxing as a teenager before getting into the business. Most ppl in the mob started in their teen years by running errands but he was prob used as the brawn sometimes as he got older. He seems like a little guy but he throws a hell of a punch.

Not as suave as Nicky, def doesn't have a lot of experience. It's not that he doesn't want a love life or relationship, he's still figuring it out. I think he's just worried about putting his s/o in danger bc of his work and he couldn't live with that. He's prob had a couple of flings though.

[artificialqueens]

Maybe You're My Enemy (Diamond Chaney) - Ortega

a/n: hey, hi, hello! welcome to the first canon compliant thing i have written since 2017, i am *~ petrified! ~* . i had to write something to fix these two though after the events of episode 8 because i just love them dearly (and the fact in the subsequent episode Lawrence just dropped in the fact they’d shared a bed didn’t help this at all). thank you so much to @purecamp for reading it over and reassuring me it’s not a heap of shit (so if it turns out that it is then just blame her xo). also the song it’s set to is enemy by Charli XCX in case u want to get the immersive vibes!

fic summary: On one side of Scotland, Lawrence disappears from social media. On the other, Ellie reflects.

***

They say, “Keep your friends close”

But you’re closer, I love when you’re here

I’m so far away sometimes, I’m distant, yeah

The sky is grey. The clouds are grey. The stagnant water of the quay is grey, and so’s the metal rail that Ellie’s holding on to as he narrows his eyes, tries to stop the wind from hitting them and making him tear up.

As if the wind would be the only reason.

He brings his gaze into focus on the HMS Unicorn, sat in the water in front of him like some massive whale that’s been planted in a bathtub. It’s a fucking ugly ship; a glorified tugboat on steroids with a big bowsprit sticking out at the front all out of place, but he likes the little bust of the once-white unicorn that sticks out from under it. Ellie remembers getting brought here for a school trip in Primary 3, pointing to the unicorn all excited and getting laughed at by the boys in his class that he knew were going to grow up to be the ones that gave the teachers lip and got suspended in high school.

He remembers that Bryce made up the fact that one of the boys had “said the f word” in the gift shop later that day, just so Ellie could have the satisfaction of watching them get screamed at by their teacher. Ellie still fucking loves him for that.

Ellie thinks the unicorn is out of place in all this grey. He remembers the time he did his unicorn mix when he opened for Willam, how nervous he’d been and messaging Lawrence about it and getting a “this you coming out to me as a furry?” in return which made him laugh and forget why he’d even been nervous in the first place. He can’t help the smile the memory brings to his face even if he wants to.

And he wants to.

Lawrence always could make him smile, get a laugh from him even when he didn’t feel like it. He remembers with a blow to his heart what Lawrence had said on the show- “you’re not terribly funny? Like you don’t have…zinger-y punchlines?” - and how Tia had laughed and Ellie had wanted so much to bite back but didn’t.

Because he always could draw a laugh out of Lawrence. Granted he was usually laughing at him rather than with him, but Ellie could still put a smile on his face by acting dumb, saying things that Lawrence would subsequently repeat in a screech of disbelief that would always make Ellie laugh harder anyway. He’d always self-impose ridiculous dares on himself in front of him: in Hive, “here, what if I did the entire shot rainbow?”, in Nandos, “d’you think I could do the wing roulette by myself?”, in Glasgow on the Subway on the way to a gig, “dare me to get off at Ibrox and I’ll go to the Louden Tavern dressed like this?”. Ellie had been used to being the class clown for Lawrence, the jester for the queen.

Or maybe just a fool.

Ellie’s always hated the colour grey.

You might help me, intimacy

I’ll admit, I’m scared

Maybe, maybe you can reach me, yeah

His surroundings turn to silver as he shoves his hands in his pockets, heads towards the V&A museum that’s still glinting despite the lack of sunlight. He’s stopped by two teenage girls that are polite and shy and squeaky-voiced as they ask for a photo- he supposes that’s what he gets when he goes out wearing the pink and purple fur coat with the hearts on it. Ellie forces a smile and thanks them for supporting him and they tell him he’s their favourite in return.

After they walk away he thinks they must have been lying, but then he feels the frown etch itself onto his face as he shakes his head. The self-doubt is a hangover from filming that he needs to shake off.

He squints at the museum as he walks past, fleetingly thinks about going in and looking at some of the old fashion to cheer him up. A’whora’s promised to go with him when he’s eventually allowed to come up to visit, and Ellie snorts at the idea of the fashion queen of the London scene in Dundee. The thought of A’whora’s reaction to the Wellgate shopping centre- the Credit Union, the B&M, the Jobcentre Plus- puts the first smile on his face he’s had in days.

Lawrence had gone round the museum with him too, when Ellie had dropped him off at the train station the day after a gig and they’d been killing time. It had been weird to just dick about like that together the first few times. Weird the fact there was no makeup, glue and wigs, no alcohol or gay anthems to yell over. Just two boys walking around a museum together. Like a date.

Ellie makes a face before he even realises. Not this.

The first time they did all of it together was weird. Just like everything Lawrence had written. Nandos, cinema, staying at his. That last one especially. Ellie can still remember the way he’d stared up at the bumpy ceiling from his position on Lawrence’s couch in the pitch dark, street lamps from outside casting shadows through the blinds. The room was too cold and the blanket was too small and he hadn’t slept a wink but he’d still do it all over again.

The first time they’d both lain on Lawrence’s bed the morning after the night before, cracking up at Scottish You Laugh You Lose compilations on Youtube and Ellie being unable to help the tears that streamed down his face at Lawrence imitating “big shoe, big shoeeee!”. The way they’d been close and the way their arms had touched and the way Ellie had felt ridiculous for the way his heart was hammering. Just a friend.

The first time they’d found each other under the dark lights of CCs when they’d both been through in Edinburgh to support Alice by chance. The way Ellie’s heart had lit up like a firework when he saw him. The way they’d laced their fingers together without even having to ask permission first, the way everything just seemed to be as simple as tequila rose shots and pink lights and leaning against the wall as they smoked outside.

The way everything else had just happened so easily.

Ellie squeezes his eyes shut before he can realise what he’s doing. The memories have forced their way in, kicked down a door in his head that he’d been sure he’d bolted shut.

He needs to change the locks.

Maybe you’re my enemy

Now I’ve finally let you come a little close to me,

Maybe you’re my enemy

You’re the only one who knows the way I’m really feelin’

Ellie is in the same Stitch onesie he’s been shrugging on since the last episode aired. It stinks. He’s joked to A'whora that he can probably smell him through the phone, and A'whora’s asked if he just sweats out Mango Loco Monster. Ellie makes some joke about wringing out his clothes into a pint glass if he did, which makes A'whora retch on camera.

He’s glad they made up at least. They didn’t have too much of a choice, to be fair. Apart from the way they get on so well, their bond and their friendship, A'whora’s the only other one who knows what it’s like to be in Ellie’s situation.

Except A'whora never stabbed Tayce in the back.

“You should talk to him,” A'whora insists, bringing the whole sorry situation up in a pause where Ellie must have looked as if he was about to make a vodka bleach mixer.

Ellie looks pointedly back at him through the screen. “I’ve been telling you to talk to Tayce for months.”

He watches A'whora pull an awkward face and he’s satisfied he’s hit a nerve. “That’s different though. You and Lawrence don’t live together.”

“Yeah. Least I wasn’t stupid enough to move in with someone I fancied, how’s that going for you?”

A'whora splutters a laugh that doesn’t quite meet his eyes. Ellie feels guilty all over again. He feels like that’s his default these days. “Sorry, chick, I shouldn’t have-”

“No, I mean. It’s fine. Just have to act as if I’m not in love with the bitch every time I’m around her, it’s not hard,” A'whora deadpans.

Ellie frowns. “You know Tayce feels the same. Everyone knows it.”

“No I don’t,” A'whora says instantly back to him, shaking his head and dissolving momentarily into pixels. “Besides, even if she did, like…it’s easier if she didn’t, y'know? All this…publicity, every move getting analysed. It’s easier to just…not.”

Ellie narrows his eyes. “You’re doing a smashing job making the case for me and Lawrence.”

“You know what I mean! You don’t get people asking where Lawrence is in every live you do. You don’t get people going through the show fucking…frame by frame and then editing every time you breathe around each other together and setting it to a bloody Little Mix song.”

Ellie bursts out laughing and starts singing Black Magic down the phone to him, which makes A'whora look pointedly at him before clearly being unable to hold it for long and instead laughing with him.

Both their laughter dies down and Ellie watches as A'whora smiles sadly, sincerely. “He’s worth the risk, Els.”

“Oh my God, prison. Who the fuck are you, Nicholas Sparks?”

The reference flies over A'whora's head and Ellie starts explaining the plot of the A Walk to Remember, steering the conversation out of the waters it had become marooned in, the captain of his very own HMS Unicorn.

He feels more like he’s aboard the Titanic with every message that goes unread.

Now it’s really clear to me

You could do a little damage, you could cut me deeper

“It didn’t get you a badge though, was it worth it?”

Ellie’s asked himself that every day since the episode aired. Since he made the decision, pretty much. Financially? Yes it was. It’s pretty well-known at this point in the grand scheme of Drag Race that with each week you’re on the likelihood of securing more bookings is increased, and now with his slot at Drag Fest he feels as if he’s hit the jackpot.

Everything else? Not so much.

Ellie still feels his stomach drop if he thinks enough about that untucked, which he does all the time. Too much, in fact. The aggression in Lawrence’s voice which Ellie knew all too well was a manifestation of hurt on so many levels. The way Lawrence chose the conflict that Ellie wished he could have avoided. The way Lawrence left his feelings bare while Ellie couldn’t trust himself to do the same in case he said something he might regret.

The fact Lawrence had thought Ellie had set him up to fail was maybe what hurt the most, though. Ellie had wanted to ask him how he thought he’d be able to do that after everything they’d been through together. He’d tried to tell him he didn’t think it was possible for him to fail at something he shines at. He’d wanted to grab Lawrence’s pink fucking headpiece and bash him over the head with it until he realised that he’s Lawrence fucking Chaney, he is the Scottish drag queen. Lawrence is the one who will say something at a gig one week and it’ll be common drag parlance across the country by the next. Lawrence is the one getting booked by the BBC Social to make educational videos. Lawrence is the one on posters across Glasgow, for fuck’s sake.

Ellie might not have been thinking about the worst case scenario in that moment, but only because he genuinely didn’t think there could be one.

After all, he’d had his opportunity to sabotage Lawrence. Ellie remembers the first day when the producers had wanted to set up the Scottish queen rivalry, asked for something shady they could use as a soundbite. The way he’d sought out Lawrence on a smoke break and told him about the situation and reassured him that he hadn’t given them anything, and the way Lawrence had just smiled back at him, softly and genuinely, and told Ellie he’d done the same. The way they’d minutely linked pinkies together before breaking them and walking back inside as if they’d barely shared so much as a glance, neither of them wanting to draw any suspicion their way.

And he could’ve been harsher in that untucked if he’d wanted. Could’ve said how for someone that was meant to care so much about friendship and sisterhood, Lawrence had been doing a great job shitting on him from a great height about his lack of challenge wins and his run on the show.  

But he didn’t, because…well. He knows why.

Because the knowledge that he’d hurt Lawrence and lost his trust had done more damage than any joke Lawrence made at his expense could ever do.

Ellie goes live on the Tuesday afternoon. A comment on the chat reads, “are u A’whora and Lawrence still friends???”

“Yeah, me and A’whora are still friends!” Ellie bats the comment away with a fake smile.

He’ll blame his lack of comprehension skills if he’s asked about it.

I feel guilty, I feel nervous, I feel certain now

Maybe, maybe you can reach me

He doesn’t know what possesses him to do it.

Maybe it’s when he wakes up on Friday and Lawrence’s Twitter isn’t loading. Maybe it’s when he reads the other Scottish girls condemning the fans, the word fatphobia leaping out, grabbing Ellie’s heart and wrenching it tight.

Surely not this?

Ellie searches Twitter and what he finds makes him feel ill. He doesn’t know what he had expected- he’d known the frantic tweet urging the fans to be kind that he’d typed out before he went to sleep hadn’t exactly been going to create world peace overnight- but he hadn’t expected any of this. Everyone loves Lawrence, surely.

Although perhaps he’s just talking from experience.

Maybe it’s when he shoots Lawrence a message that goes unopened. In all honesty Ellie doesn’t blame him. A flimsy sentiment about hoping he’s okay that clocks in at under 250 characters isn’t going to cut it, and he’s grateful when Bimini, with all their empathy and ability to read a situation as clear as day, texts him and tells him that Lawrence has replied to them and he’s…well, he’s managing.

Maybe it’s when Ellie goes live with A’whora and he manages to mention Lawrence entirely too many times. A cry for attention or an old habit that’s dying hard? He can’t tell. Perhaps it’s both.

It’s definitely got something to do with the Facebook post.

Whatever it is, Ellie finds himself stuffing any old random items of clothing in a backpack and hoping it makes an outfit, shoving the spare key into the soil of the plant pot outside his front door and texting Anne to tell her where it is in case…fuck knows, the flat goes on fire while he’s away or something. He looks up the train times as he’s on his way to the station; a terrible decision, really, as when he’s still fifteen minutes away he discovers there’s one in ten. Somehow he manages to make it to the station with just a minute to spare and his heart lifts to find that the ticket barriers are open, so he dashes through them and hurtles onto the train that’s waiting at the platform. He catches his breath as he slumps into a table seat, having to take his mask off for a couple of seconds just so he can breathe properly. The way his heart is going at the rate the train’s about to isn’t helping.

The chimes of the train announcement cut through his attempts at slowing his heart down, and the little robotic woman’s voice confirms that his ridiculous, spur-of-the-moment decision is actually happening.

“This is Dundee. This train is for Glasgow Queen Street.”

Because this is all so last minute, but he needs to see Lawrence. He’s apologised probably ten times by now but he knows he needs to make it eleven. He knows (he hopes) that Lawrence needs that eleventh time too. He knows that Lawrence needs Ellie’s persistence, knows that it’s all just an attempt at self-preservation. Lawrence’s attempts at shutting Ellie out are just inviting him to bring a battering ram. At least, he hopes. But like A’whora had said…he’s worth the risk.

The train starts moving, and even if he wanted to back out now he couldn’t.

So cold at the surface, I’m scared of nothin’

Underneath, I’m nervous

Can you reach me?  

Ellie waits for the subway at Buchanan Street and his glazed-over eyes focus on a massive poster of Lawrence on the platform opposite. He briefly considers throwing himself under the next train.

The journey down had passed somehow in the blink of an eye and also agonisingly slowly. Too much time to sit and stare out of the window but not enough time to figure out what he’s going to say. He still doesn’t know. He’d said it all those months ago, he’s said it through texts and DMs. This time feels different, though. This time is different. This time there’s no cameras or runners or pink tables, or distance between them or tension at the fact nothing had aired yet.

It’s going to be the pair of them and Lawrence’s flat. Just like it’s been so many times before.

Ellie thinks he’ll probably just open his mouth, say whatever gets there first and hope it hits the right notes; a terrible decision arrived upon as a result of the lack of any other option. His mind is a messed up ball of television static, a knotted yarn of white noise that he can’t find the end of. He feels as if it’s made of the noise the train makes as it screams into the station, metal on metal and the low whoosh of the wind through the tunnel and the rickety shaking of the doors as they slide open and people stream off.

He picks up his bag and sinks down into the horrifically patterned upholstery of the seats, settling himself in for the journey. The little metal tin can of a train doesn’t take long to fire through the seven stops before Govan and with each one that passes Ellie can feel his nerves spiking and his mouth growing dry.

What if Lawrence isn’t even in? What if it’s all got too much and he’s gone back to Helensburgh for the foreseeable? Ellie could get a train up there, he supposes; he’s already on this side of the country, although he doesn’t know if Lawrence would appreciate the gesture or call the police on him.

Ellie concludes it would be worth it anyway.

He emerges from the Subway and the grey seems to hit him all over again, seeping into his clothes and forcing him to fight through the sadness that hits him like a wave. There’s a little beam of sunshine fighting to escape the clouds though, and Ellie hopes it’s some form of pathetic fallacy. Or whatever that one about the weather matching your feelings was. Fucked if he ever paid attention in Nat 5 English.

The streets of red brick tenements feel like pens of hostility as he passes windows that serve as frames for Union Jacks and Red Hand of Ulster flags. Even being raised in a Christian household doesn’t equip him to identify with this form of religion; where the disciples are football players and the gods are flags and the hymns are about killing Catholics. Ellie has always worried about Lawrence living here, told him as much, but he’s always been met with a bark of a laugh back and some comment about how he’s only saying that because he’s lived such a sheltered little life in Dundee and wouldn’t last five minutes trying to inhabit Glasgow and all its cheerful sectarianism. Lawrence has always had a very blythe attitude to the whole thing, and Ellie remembers when he’d held his hand on the way back from the Subway in full drag after a gig like it was nothing, the way some dick in an orange and blue scarf had shouted at them from across the street and Lawrence had just yelled back with an “awrite, babes?” as if he had a death wish.

Which is what makes this whole thing so grim. The Lawrence who drunkenly and sarcastically greets bigots at three in the morning from across the street doesn’t marry up with the Lawrence that’s holed up in his flat in the face of negativity. Ellie supposes that one homophobic Rangers fan is one homophobic Rangers fan, but Twitter can seem like the whole world’s population, and if Lawrence thinks the world hates him just because he’s reacted to something that was Ellie’s fault…

He feels his gut wrench.

Ellie turns into Lawrence’s street and feels ill. He could always go home. Turn and walk back to the Subway, train back to Queen Street, back to Dundee, back to the flat. Like nothing had ever happened. Like he hadn’t even consciously made the decision, like it was all a dream.

He sleepwalks to Lawrence’s close door anyway, just like he knew he would.

His hand shakes as he presses the buzzer too hard, and the panic rises in his throat as the seconds pass agonisingly slowly. When there’s a crackle from the intercom, he freezes in fear.

“Hello?”

It’s Kiko’s voice. Of course his flatmate had to be the one to answer, drag out the humiliation of the whole thing. Ellie can hear the shake to his voice as he replies.

“Hey, it’s Ellie.”

“…Ellie?”

He chooses to ignore the disbelief, acts as if it’s normal for him to have travelled across the country to turn up on Lawrence’s doorstep in the middle of a pandemic when there’s a travel ban in place. He’s considering this essential travel anyway.

“Is Lawrence in at all?”

Kiko, for her part, seems to pick up on the way the whole visit is masquerading as routine. In the split second before she replies, Ellie finds himself holding his breath. He steels himself, prepares for a “no, he’s actually…”, to send him back to Dundee like a crumpled sheet of paper tossed into a bin.

So Ellie feels like his throat’s going to close up when Kiko replies down the intercom. “Yeah, two secs. I’ll buzz you up.”

The dread settles in his gut like a weight as the buzzer rings out into the street, harsh and loud and doing nothing for Ellie’s derailed train of thought. He pushes on the door, takes his first step into the close and the echo seems to hit him deep in his chest. He finds himself wishing Lawrence lives four up but he’s only on the first floor, and as Ellie puts his foot on the first step of the staircase he keeps his eyes trained on the stairs because he knows the moment he looks up he’s going to see somebody standing there holding the door open and even though he’s had hours to prepare himself, weeks even, he’s not ready for that in the slightest.

And when he finally brings his gaze onto the front door with four steps to go, he’s not ready for the way the sight of Lawrence almost knocks him straight back down again. He’s slumped against the doorframe and has very clearly not slept- since when, Ellie couldn’t guess. A black hoodie is swamping him and a pair of navy sweatpants are doing the same, making him seem smaller than he already is. The sight of his hair up in that tiny bun hurts Ellie’s heart because it makes him want to smile, reminds him of the Lawrence he’d dick about in the workroom and the smoking area and the hotel corridors with before it all went so wrong. His arms are folded and he’s looking at the tiles on the landing floor until Ellie reaches the doorway, shifts awkwardly.

“Hi.”

Lawrence doesn’t quite meet his eyes. It’s a minute detail that hurts Ellie more than he would have expected. He doesn’t reply for a second, then seems to relent. “Hey.”

Another pause. The atmosphere makes Ellie wish he’d worn a thicker jacket.

“You’re not meant to be here, you know. Wee Nicky’s probably had snipers trained on you since you got off the train,” Lawrence says, delivering the quip with a bitter, barbed edge that makes Ellie think it’s less of a joke and more wishful thinking.

“Wouldn’t be any less than I deserve, I’m sure,” Ellie smiles sadly, unable to make it meet his eyes. Lawrence’s expression remains unimpressed.

“So why are you here, then,” he not so much as demands an answer but disinterestedly inquires. Ellie bites his bottom lip before he replies, as if he’s forcing himself to make sure his words are perfect.

“I just came down because…well, I wanted to see how you were. I know the past week must have been shit for you.”

Lawrence raises his eyebrows, his eyes growing wide as if to really drive home to Ellie how much of an understatement he already knows he’s made. “Yeah.”

Ellie sighs, wanting desperately to get the next part right. “And I felt like I needed to say I’m sorry. Y’know, in front of you.”

“You said sorry back when we filmed. We’re over it, it’s fine,” Lawrence says flatly, conveying that everything is not fine.

“It’s not fine, though. I wouldn’t have come down if it was fine. Things haven’t been fine since that day, and like…I miss you, Lawrence, I don’t want to lose you as a friend, or as a sister, or as…” Ellie stumbles, looking to the floor as he tries to articulate the other facet of their relationship. “…whatever else we are. Whatever else we were. I’m sorry for fucking everything up.”

There’s a silence in which the pair of them freeze and hold their breath. Time could very well be standing still for all Ellie knows. He immediately regrets bringing up all of…that. He should’ve kept it to friendship, shouldn’t have added anything on. Before he can overthink any more or begin to backtrack, a small sigh from Lawrence makes him look up.

“I thought you hated me,” he says. His voice is small and the words are unexpected. There’s so much Ellie could say in response. He settles on a joke.

“No, I think you’re a cunt. There’s a difference,” Ellie smiles tightly, the joke tentative. The snort it gets from Lawrence makes his smile grow without him being able to help it. “Was that a good one? Thought I was the unfunniest person on the planet?”

“We weren’t talking about your Bake Off improv,” Lawrence raises his eyebrows as he smirks, and Ellie fakes a wounded laugh.

“Shady cow.”

“I’m sorry,” Lawrence says out of nowhere, his smile gone all of a sudden.

Ellie tries to drag the joke out a little longer, hold onto the sparks they’ve just created. “Nah, it was shit, you’re right.”

“No, Ellie…” Lawrence shakes his head, worrying his lip between his teeth a little. “I am sorry.”

Ellie feels the panic wash over him when he clocks the glisten in his eyes. “It’s fine, girl.”

“It’s not fine. I was a dick to you so many times, no fuckin’ wonder I thought you’d set me up. I would too if I had somebody talking down to me like I did to you,” Lawrence says gravely. His gaze is fixed on his floor and just as Ellie is about to speak he catches sight of two tears that fall onto the red carpet, the darkness akin to blood. His horror grows as Lawrence finally snaps his head up, tears shining in his eyes as he sighs helplessly in a shaky voice. “You’re amazing, Ellie, you’re such a talent, and…fuck, I missed you.”

His words mean more to him that Ellie had expected them to. He doesn’t want to let that show, though, because that’s too much, that means too much for the situation just now and he can deal with that realisation at a later date. For now, Ellie points at him in mock-accusation. “Hey listen, I’m the one that got the train down to come and make a big speech to you and say sorry. Buy your own damn train ticket for that.”

Lawrence’s voice is thick with tears as he lets out a short laugh. “Sorry.”

“Wee bitch. Always have to make everything about you,” Ellie rolls his eyes, getting another teary laugh out of Lawrence and raising his hopes that maybe they’ll be okay.

And then the banks break and Lawrence makes a little choked-up noise, a sob that’s not fully a sob. His eyes meet Ellie’s and they’re full of so much sadness and regret that just looking at them creates a crack in Ellie’s heart, one that matches the crack in Lawrence’s voice as he speaks again.

“This has all been shit to do without you.”

Ellie doesn’t think before opening his arms out, shaking his head affectionately. “Don’t be silly. C’mere.”

When Lawrence immediately opens out his own and they meet each other in the middle and hug tightly, Ellie feels like a balloon that’s been let go and is floating up to the sky.

The clouds aren’t grey.

The way they’re holding each other brings back too many memories. Seeing each other at gigs and feeling butterflies take hold of his stomach. Coming off stage after a number and conveying his pride in him without even having to say a word. Saying goodbye at train stations with disappointment lodging itself in his heart. All the nostalgia makes Ellie want to cry, but he can’t start now. Instead, he breaths a shaky sigh, shakes his head before he speaks.

“You’ve always had me, okay? You’ve always got me. We’ve said sorry now, that’s the end of it. Periodt,” Ellie murmurs against his shoulder, adding on his trademark at the end. The laugh he gets muffled against his chest in return makes him feel lighter.

“I’ve not showered. I definitely stink. You don’t have to keep hugging me, you know.”

“You don’t. I want to,” Ellie says back. He means it.

It’s Lawrence that slides out of the hug first but he’s still standing close as he quickly wipes away his tears, looks Ellie up and down with a smirk on his face. “So where’s your Travelodge, hen?”

Ellie’s sheepish when he makes eye contact with him again, shrugs one strap of the rucksack off before replying. “You know damn well I’ve not booked anywhere.”

“Fuckin’ hell. Right, come on,” Lawrence shakes his head affectionately, stepping back into his hallway and letting Ellie finally cross the threshold to drop his bag like an anchor in the flat. It’s the physical manifestation of the burden finally being lifted off of him, the guilt and the regret melting away in favour of the flutter of his heart and a few small sparks that he wants to put in resin. “I get to choose the film later as reparations. Don’t trust you since you made us watch Cat In The Hat.”

Ellie gives a shocked gasp, genuinely offended. “It’s good!”

“Is it fuck. In fact, just for that I’m going to make you sit through something sci-fi and geeky and you’re gonna hate it,” Lawrence smiles with genuine glee, and Ellie can’t even bring himself to be mad about it. As the pair of them walk through to the living room, Lawrence jumps onto the sofa and fixes Ellie with a look that is clearly meant to be serious but that simultaneously Lawrence can’t commit to and Ellie can’t believe. “You’re sleeping here tonight, by the way.”

Ellie raises his eyebrows as he fakes his agreement, going along with the charade Lawrence is beginning. They both know they’ll end up curled up together on the sofa with neither of them having an explanation for how it’s happened, but at the same time knowing they don’t have to explain themselves. They know that Ellie will end up falling asleep slumped against Lawrence and that he’ll have to gently shake him awake, that he’ll wordlessly offer Ellie a hand to drag him off the couch with and that they’ll go through to Lawrence’s room like always. They know that they’ll wake up tangled together like the sheets and that Ellie will be there for him, that he’ll help Lawrence piece himself back together and they’ll go back to the start. Well, maybe not the start. Perhaps somewhere better.

Ellie keeps his friends close, but Lawrence is something a little bit more. Something a little bit closer.

Baby, you’re my enemy.

[they-callme-ami]

Double Dutch. (aka the drunk! Elijah, Aurora, black!MC and Tobias fic)

Note: This story uses lots of AAVE (African American Vernacular English) and is mostly intended for a black audience--you can still read for funsies or whatever, but I better not hear some shit about it not being inclusive or using 'improper grammar'.

Tags: @what-do-you-mean-theyre-evil @tyrils-star @melaninnntae @indescribablybre @prism-goddess

It started innocently enough: you were helping Aurora wrap her hair, pinning it up and tying the scarf around it.  Elijah rolled into the living room in his pajamas. You three were the only ones at home since you three had worked later than Jackie, Bryce and Sienna and didn’t feel like going out that night.  But y’all weren’t opposed to chillin and talkin’ shit. 

It had been a long ass day. Ethan was getting on every damn nerve you had, either talking about his mom and their strained relationship or bugging you about your cases. The man just did not leave you alone, and normally it was cool--but today he needed to back the fuck up and stop talkin shit about Tobias. It was gettin old. Not only that, but you had your own intern to deal with--which is what you were going on about now.

“I’m telling you Elijah--I love Esme but that girl is too fuckin much!  She always stay talkin back to the other attendings, nearly started a fight with another intern, and even when she asks for my advice she don’t listen! Thinkin she know everything….fuckin stubborn headass..” You sigh while twisting your hair.  

“Uh-huh. Sounds like a familiar head-ass doctor I know.  You were on trial last year, stoopid!  I know your ass not talkin bout Esme.  She’s a breeze compared to Sothy… he barely knows how to do anythin--it's a damn miracle he graduated y’know.”

“And who’s fault is that Elijah--oh, excuse me, Oracle.”  Aurora smirked and laughed as Elijah could only sit there, ultimately taking the L.

As y’all were about to go in on each other, there was a knock at the door.

“Oh! Finally, must be the package I ordered.  I hope y’all are ready to see me strut the halls in my new---”  You open the door, only to see Tobias there in some sweats with some take out food and a paper bag.

“Not a package, but I’d love to see what you plan on struttin in.”  He teased and smirked.

“SHIT---Uh---why are you here so late---”  You had your bonnet on and a big ass t-shirt with some stains on it and some basketball shorts.  It was the first time he'd seen you so casual.

"Easy there firecracker, I didn't expect you to look--what are the kids saying--'beat and snatched' 24/7." He pecked your lips and walked in. 

“I invited him Y/N. Tobias, don't ever try and say that shit again and bring me my wings.”  Aurora smiled and laughed, seeming to not be phased by her boss seeing her in a scarf and acne cream dotting her face.  Was she just so tired from work she didn’t care?  Who were you kidding, this girl was a complete trip after a long day and was just sayin ‘fuck it’.

“Elijah, I got Tobias to grab you some of that shrimp scampi from that place downtown, and Y/N--he got you your favorite cause I told him and you his new boo thing.”  Aurora smirked with a wing in hand, and Elijah playfully gagged while Tobias handed out takeout containers and handed yours over. Yup, it was your favorite dish from your favorite place.  

“Now--I was invited for 3 reasons: A.) I have a car so I could do the food run and get y’all spoiled asses some good food.  B.)  I live 5 blocks away from the liquor store so--” He held up a bottle from the bag he had--Hennessy, cause of course he’d get the most stereotypical dr--”And C.) I had to pull a double shift so I’m tired and nice enough to share some college Ramsey stories with y’all.”

So there you were, sipping on your glass and laughing as Tobias was explaining how Ethan thought that ‘double dutch’ was some kind of dessert or innuendo for a threesome with exchange students.

“Wait wait---no no you gotta be kiddin me.  Fuckin 4.0 Med school GPA Ramsey--future head of Edenbrooks Diagnostics Team--thought double dutch was some kinda play on words?  I have to laugh…” Elinah snorts. You couldn’t help but burst into whoops and hollars, laughing and even Aurora couldn’t hide the smile on her face after she almost choked on her drink.

“Uh-huh.  Even after I told him what it was, he insisted that he had to see ‘it’.  I took him to my old neighborhood, and watched four 9 year old girls school him while he nearly fell flat on his face!”  Tobias laughed and smiled as he recalled the memory.  “For someone so fuckin smart--I swear to god he’s a dumbass.  Arrogant too, he never wanted to jump rope at the gym anymore.”

Something inside you flipped on.  You took a sip of Henny and smirked.  

“Well, I knew he had the fuckin long-ass neck of a giraffe, but clearly them legs ain’t doin him a favor either.”  Tobias nearly spat his drink and crumbled on the floor into laughter, Elijah slamming his hand on the table and laughing with him.  It was taking all of Aurora’s willpower to not laugh and act a fool.  “I mean, I know he ain’t got any rhythm either!  Mothafucka was clappin OFFBEAT during Donahue’s karaoke night, but I’m supposed to trust him to count how many heartbeats a patient has.”  You joke again, and Elijah was holding his sides.

“Fuck---he---Y/N shut the hell up!”  Tobias laughed and playfully pushed your shoulder.  “Pass me the damn bottle….y’all lemme tell you somethin worse than that--his cooking.  The man can’t stay on beat let alone beat a fuckin egg.  Y/N--tell ‘em bout the chicken.”

“He---He invited me home after work or somethin--and he wanted me to help him with this recipe he saw for chicken.  Y’all, it was the BLANDEST ass recipe I ever saw in my life.  I was terrified to eat whatever the fuck he was makin, it was so bad his dad even helped out and said how it needed some proper seasoning.  I had never seen an old man so disappointed in such an empty spice cabinet.  I had to leave.”  You snicker as you retell the story.  “Even worse?  He tried to bring me some leftovers afterwards and by god was that mothafucka dry as HELL---y’know what, lemme calm down cause I am not about to yell over some bland ass chicken.”  You chugged down the Henny and grabbed the bottle to pour another glass.

“Y’know….for someone who seemed real eager to stuff a chicken, he cannot seem to tell he got a stick stuffed far up his ass.  No wonder he walks around like an emotionally constipated man-baby.”  Aurora said with a straight face as she chugged her own drink.  You turned away, laughing and doing a spit take as Tobias slammed his fist on the table, snorting while Elijah simply was in awe at Aurora’s words. 

 “My first week there, I was assigned to Y/N and cause my auntie was makin me give her full on oral essays of every case I had, I missed out on one of ours and nearly let a patient die.  Now---his ass knows this.  He knows exactly who the fuck I am and who the fuck my aunt is.  And what did he do?  Chewed me out without a second thought.  I was *this* close to curb stomping his ass I swear--He even called Y/N amature after saving someone’s life because it ‘was sloppy’ and ‘wasn’t professional enough’.  And another thing--” 

You watched Aurora stand up, Henny in her hand, and just goin off on Ethan.  She was tearing into him, from him being able to get off the hook for punching Declan, verbally avicerating innocent interns, being all high and mighty--man, she hated his ass.  Elijah was just eating his scampi, vibing and Tobias was smiling like a proud parent, eating his burger. 

 “He gon have the nerve--the audacity--the CAUCASITY to assume that I’M trippin because I told him about Landry being all rude and dismissive of one of his black-female patients.  He nearly put ME on probation for helping deliver the baby properly when Landry prescribed her the wrong treatment for something cause neither of them will ever fuckin LISTEN and--”  You could not have been any more impressed.  You were just soaking it all in.  She finally sat back down and ate some of her wings.

Tobias sighs and grins.  “Damn. Elijah, you been real quiet...you wanna add your two cents?” he asks while Tobias took a big gulp and sat the glass back down.  He took a deep breath.

“No, no….I just want his long-neck-headass, mommy-didn’t-love-me-so-I’m-a-lil-bitch-headass, grudge-holding-grown-ass-man-headass, lemme-insult-my-interns-headass, pompous, privileged, irritating, high and oh so fuckin’ mighty ass to humble himself and learn to get his head and the stick he got outta his ass.  It ain’t cute to just bash everyone around you cause yo ass is feelin like Hamilton, ‘smartest in the room’ mofo.”  He said, all very calmly while finishing his drink.   You, Tobias and Aurora just exchanged a look….and broke out into a fit of laughs and smiling. 

A few drinks later and a hella amount of roasts later, you were cuddled up with Tobias while Elijah laid out on Aurora's lap. 

"Damn…..we really been up for hours now. Jackie and Sienna still out…" Elijah piped up and checked his phone. "They're at Bryce's place, having a 'girls night' with Keiki and sleepin over…..ooooo, Tobias should sleep over too!" He showed y'all a photo Sienna sent. 

"Uh-huh, you should! We can watch movies and... oh Elijah your hair is sooooo soft." Aurora smiled and was playfully twisting it. Seems like the drinks were finally hitting.  Tobias could tell too.

He managed to help Elijah back in his wheelchair and followed his directions to his room.  He came back out to you helping Aurora to her room.

"Byyyye boss. See ya at work! If you do stay over, y'all better be quiet while he rearrange them guts!" She poked you laughing as you rolled your eyes and got her in bed.  You walked back out, feeling tipsy yourself and plopped on the couch...with Tobias.

"Y'know….your friends definitely know how to go all in on a roast session. I found out shit about Ethan I didn't know till now."

"Mhmmmm….Henny is….is a miracle worker…" you slurred and laughed, laying up on him. "And yoooooouuu….are a fine-ass pillow." 

Before you succumbed to the exhaustion and hennessy, you felt Tobias's lips peck your cheek gently and his arms hold you tight against him.

The next day at work, you were taking your break and went outside to the courtyard...much to your surprise you found a few children--presumabley patients-- playing double dutch with some jump rope.

"Apples, peaches, pears, and plums

Tell me when your birthday comes! 1! 2! 3! 4!"

They were counting along as you hopped inside the rope, showing off a bit and laughing. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Ethan walking towards the building.

"Hey, Ethan, wanna join? It may not be a dessert or two dutch girls--but it'll be fun!" You called out and teased while working the ropes. You could see his face turn red from where you were, and him muttering softly about Tobias. You couldn't help but laugh as you kept skipping and hopping away.

[wildcatofgreen]

Is there an order to what you answer first?

Mun Questions

Is there an order to what you answer first?

((kind of but not really!

((i try to do bottom to top--first in first out--but as it stands sometimes the muse leans more heavily to other things ((like im realizing that the muse is leaning heavily to this depressed binch and its making it hard to actually write for past threads where she isnt depressed ((i genuinely did not expect that! which means that some threads i REALLY LIKE--the lilac/carol one--are on this kind of pause? until carol gets her shit together? ((like i can definitely still write for those threads--i was GOING to at work today ((but then the depression cat took me by my collar and said "there is no way im pretending to be happy for your past threads, girl. i MUST be sad or else there will be consequences" ((it's weird! its really weird!

((plus, lets be honest ((sometimes there's threads that there's just less muse for. and i hate that i get that way but i cant help it ((id like to be able to do every thread with 100% muse all the time but sometimes i look at something and go "wow i dont wanna do this"

((case and point: twitter

((no shade to twitter, none at all. but with everything that's happening there, and just a combination of me not feelin' it for some of those threads over there, and with how many followers i have over there [it is like 127 followers right now and i grew really quickly on that platform and it totally freaked and stressed me out aaaaaaa], it all just kinda combines into this really bad souffle that im sure tastes like dog shit [delta sierra, heheh] ((and there's threads i enjoy over there! but a lot of it feels like... obligation? like i kind of have to reply to those threads. people are waiting on me. i dont like feeling like that its super anxiety inducing and it makes rping Not Fun

((plus i am SCREAMING about everything that's happening over here with all this plot and interactions and yada yada yada ((there's a STORY over here happening on tumblr when its just kinda

((random interactions on twitter.

((i like continuity! i like it when i can flex my muscles and reference other, random things that happened. id LIKE to bring up that carol's met a sonic before on twitter to another sonic, but that's like

((not how it rolls, i guess? at least, from the vibes i saw over there ((otherwise id wanna play carol there exactly how i play carol here, just without loaded lore. make brand NEW lore, for this NEW continuity. maybe scratch that dragon tea itch i so obviously have

((but its kinda not how it goes. and im not about to revolutionize, y'know?

((thatbeingsaidifyouresomehowsomeonewhofollowedmeontwitterandcameheretoreadallofthisiamsosorrybutitsjusthowifeel

((tl;dr: i did, but now i dont. i kinda just let the muse guide me and gravitate towards threads whichever which way it takes me. and then after the muse is done, id probably wanna go bottom to top--first in first out. it's only fair, right?))

[wooahaes]

heyo daisy dont feel bad/pressured abt updating uts, your health and well-being are way more important than posting !! hope the rest of your weekend goes better <3

aaa thank u :( like... i know my health/well-being (+ my schoolwork, tbh) is more important than sitting around n writing fanfic. i think ive just been feelin a lil useless lately too so its all just piling up into one mushy pile of 'bleh' feelings that are finally too high to ignore, if that makes sense?

i might kick back after i write this essay due tomorrow and just... idk, vibe. maybe ill write if i genuinely feel like it, maybe i wont.

at least im like... doing some self care shit ive been putting off. cleaning my room a bit, washing my bedding, taking a bath bc my hair is gross rn and its been a few days but depression y'know?

honestly i might post two things (three, but the thirds just the masterlist for it) i wrote a while back. pretty much all my series are sort of "im posting as i feel" (which should just be both UtS and this other one if im feeling it) right now.