#i feel so bad for being ia lately (◞‸◟)

[yuukimiyas]

sobs i was out way longer than i wanted to be today ૮₍ ˃̵͈᷄ . ฅ ₎ა my bestie & i saw fireworks w friends which was fun!! but leaving the place was literal hell omg i’m just now getting home so late bc it took so long ₍ᐢ ›̥̥̥ ༝ ‹̥̥̥ ᐢ₎

[olderthannetfic]

I have conflicted feelings about the whole "copeganda" thing. On the one hand of course police procedurals have problems, portray cops of the good guys, etc. show rule breaking to get the "bad guy" as valid. i do see the problem there.

But on the other hand it feels like anti logic to say "you enjoyed x tv show so clearly you condone real world atrocities, you horrible person." And then you see people claiming that sam vimes or ACD Sherlock holmes are copeganda. or that fans watching a show where their fav actor plays a police officer are clearly racist. Or that all little kids who like paw patrol are somehow suspect or corrupted. And I worry we've lost the plot to another x media / depicting x is unredeemable crusade rather than trying to be mindful of the biases and messages in media.

Idk. Thoughts?

--

Copaganda is dangerous because it's a staple of CBS prime time et al. It tends to do things like make Internal Affairs evil in all cases. Even when you get the rare IA character who was arguably good for like 6 seasons or something, they'll still go evil for drama late in a show's run. (CSI: Miami, I'm looking at you.)

This is media with a massive reach that almost always reinforces a host of already extremely common social values, so it's going to be extra impactful relative to something like House of the Dragon incest.

We had some discussion here in the past about the measurable real world effect of B99 on people's opinions of the real NYPD. I'm much more willing to entertain people's fears about media when there are measurable effects and the audience size is large. I don't think we should ban cop shows, but there's a reason I like Miami Vice so much: it's noir, so everyone is horrible, including the authorities. While it was still extremely establishment-y, it managed to question the system a lot more than most of these simply by virtue of being a much darker show.

Mystery genre of various types isn't going away. It's a genre that really is copeganda: It's about social order being restored and making the world make sense.

We can be aware of some of the more insidious messages and push back against them though. It's like the torture thing: a lot of media wants to argue about whether the ends justify the means, but that whole complex philosophical can of worms is irrelevant since torture doesn't produce useful results in the first place.

Copaganda tends to not only make cops seem cool but portray villains stereotypically, demonize the important work of investigating cops themselves, justify police brutality, etc. There are a lot of specific problems that do not have to exist in media about cops solving mysteries. These are choices that mainstream US tv is making.

--

One thing I will say though... Mystery as a genre, including the worst of US cop shows, has often been far ahead of sff in diversity and even exploring contentious social topics. Geeks tend to think sff is so ahead of its time, but it's often pretty stick-in-the-mud compared to crime stuff. (Cue all the individual examples where it's the opposite way. Haha.)

[lewkwoodnco]

the tortured poets department - george karim x reader

George stiffened and shut his eyes regretfully as if he couldn’t bear to see that look on her face. A faint flush started creeping up his throat, peeking out from behind his starchy collar. “Don’t,” he whispered.

“Tell me,” she pressed, taking yet another step closer until their noses were barely an inch apart, “who else is going to know me? Truly know me?”

He let go of the breath he was holding and it fluttered across her cheek like the ghost of a kiss. They were venturing into intolerably intimate territory, and she could feel her pulse racing under the distracted brush of his thumb on her wrist.

a/n - HHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH thats it thats the a/n also happy birthday to ali hadji-hesmati ia m NOT late shut up

tropes/warnings - slight nsfw towards the end (idk tho??), angst (what else is new lmao), tw slight mention of suicide, ft locklyle wedding (a bit) happy ending tho, i am very sick wrote this entirely on my phone and cannot be held accountable for any of this

word count - 3.7k!

TAGLIST | MASTERLIST

Who uses typewriters anyway?

That was what she had mouthed at her friend from across the Fittes office. They were brand new hires; scribes assigned to different researchers under an apprenticeship programme. Things were off to a rougher start than she had expected. From what she could see, her friend had been assigned to a perfectly normal-looking researcher who, now that introductions were complete, was explaining his filing system to her.

On the other hand, the first thing her oddly intense researcher had asked was if she knew how to use a typewriter. She had laughed, thinking it was a joke, before very quickly realising that he was being perfectly serious. He started explaining how the contraption worked far too quickly for her to catch anything, and she had taken the chance to shoot her friend a look.

“L/N?”

She whipped her head back around, immediately apologetic. “Sorry. I think I get how it works now.” Really, it was just bad luck that she had gotten the short end of the stick.

The next thing she learnt, over many months, was how to pick up on and decrypt George’s nonverbal cues. Namely, knowing what his every sigh, muttering or frown meant. While it had felt frustrating similar to banging her head against a wall in the beginning, he started to grow on her. Learning how George Karim ticked was like figuring out an intriguing puzzle all on her own. Besides, he wasn’t unkind. He could be understanding, so long as he had the patience for it on that particular day.

But there were times when she decided that no, he wasn’t all that compassionate of a coworker. Particularly on nights when he’d have her write up chapters worth of research summarised from his scrawled notes. And woe betide her should she make one too many mistakes.

Who the hell uses typewriters anyway?

"Do you ever think about leaving Fittes?"

Her typing stopped abruptly, her flickering train of thought completely demolished by George's appalling suggestion. They were sitting at their adjacent desks at the Fittes office, her typing up the previous night's case report while George twiddled his thumbs and fiddled with a pen in increasingly creative ways.

"Leave? And go where?"

She followed the line of his hateful stare towards one of the thick metal doors along the corridor which led to a more restricted part of the offices. Like most others, she felt no pressing inclination to snoop around and stumble upon information she would rather not find. But for someone like George, she could practically see how it gnawed at him - libraries of secrets just begging to be known.

Her gaze flitted anxiously between his face and the door. It was both a frightening and thrilling thing when George decided to put his mind to something, using his brain at its full capacity in some sincerely earnest hunt for knowledge. It was also the thing that was going to get him killed sooner or later, mesmerising as he was. It. Mesmerising as it was.

"Start our own agency. Play by our rules."

She laughed nervously, too artificial even for her own ears as she wrung her stiff hands. George's voice had a distant quality to it that told her he was on the way to making some very bad decisions if she didn't step in soon. "Oh, George, you say the…the darnedest things. You're no Tom Rotwell, you know."

"You're not Marissa Fittes yourself, either."

"Rude."

His gaze flickered to her at that, the barest hint of a smile ghosting his lips as the tension in his shoulders dissolved. She visibly relaxed as well, satisfied that it would be a decent while before he once again latched onto this bizarre notion.

Which was why his abrupt switch in employment to some small, crumbling agency had left her more than shell-shocked. Coming into work on a normal, gloomy Monday and seeing George's desk cleared out and painfully sterile of the ideas and theories he buzzed with left her feeling lost at sea in the worst way. And he didn't bother to reach out to her either - not a call, not a letter, not a visit.

That is, not a visit until he turned up at her door in the middle of the night, pale as the Visitors that skulked outside her door.

"Sorry.”

For one stupidly miraculous moment, she thought he might be apologising for a month’s worth of grey days and sleepless nights.

“I know it’s late, but I think I left my typewriter here."

She felt stupidly disappointed.

"You're making a mess of my - what are you doing?"

George had located his otherwise untouched typewriter positioned at one corner of her dining table and was now furiously typing away, a sickly, pallid sheen to his forehead.

"Don't worry, I'll be qui -"

"Karim."

His typing faltered, and for once he had the decency to look marginally embarrassed.

“Sit down. Start from the beginning.”

So he did. He told her everything about some Type Two case at 62 Sheen Road, short of coming out and saying that he had put his associates' lives in danger, but she could hear it in his voice. It was an almost welcome return to the old days of picking out the relevant parts while his mind ran ahead at the speed of light; so much to think and agonise over. When his voice finally started to run thin, she fetched him a cup of tea, taking a moment to process it all.

"Okay, so, if I have this right, none of this is your fault. No - don't argue with me. Drink your tea. You told him to wait, that you needed more time.“

He mumbled something incoherent as he pulled off his glasses, dragging a hand across his eyes, looking far too young and worn. He glanced up to meet her gaze, the look on his face as much of a wreck as the rest of him. He looked down again, staring at his hands splayed on her dining table. George never was one for letting his feelings show, let alone hysterics, and it rubbed at something raw to see him spiralling this badly.

“They’d be better off with a researcher who could actually do his job.”

She suppressed the overwhelming urge to roll her eyes.

“Oh, please, this has nothing to do with being altruistic. This is just you trying to punish yourself over something that isn’t even your fault.”

He showed no sign of having heard her. She sighed and slid into the seat next to his, her fingers nearly brushing his.

“Look - what's done is done. Possibly the worst thing you could do now is leave them in the lurch like this. Of course, it's not going to be smooth sailing throughout, but you made a commitment, so for the love of God keep your head up and stick it through.” She reached out to loosely cover his wrist. “Okay?”

George stayed silent but glanced up at her. Okay. She pulled her hand away. He finished the last of his tea and stood.

“I should get going, I suppose.”

She looked out the window, eyeing the eerie green glow of the ghost lamps critically. “It’s a bit late, don’t you think? Not very safe.”

“I have my rapier on me.”

The corners of her mouth tightened.

“I’d feel better if you left in the morning.”

And so they ended up in her living room, him sitting on the floor and her sitting on the couch, dragging her fingers through his soft curls. They talked about everything and nothing, like the recent layoffs at Rotwell’s and what George’s new associates were like. He made them sound marvellous. It was obvious why he’d leave Fittes. Why he’d leave her.

“The three of us…we live at 35 Portland Row.”

“Mhm.”

“And there’s this doughnut shop down the street from there.”

She lightly scraped his scalp teasingly.

“So that’s why you left.”

She could feel him smile despite himself.

“We should go, someday. You’d love it.”

A vision trickled into her imagination - she and George standing at the end of some empty cobblestoned road with soft, pillowy doughnuts dripping sugar down their knuckles, sprinkles melting into their fingerprints. It’s evening, and the sun is almost painfully intense, beating down a lovely glow over the scene. She’s distantly aware of the impending danger of the rapidly approaching nighttime, but for now, George is standing in front of her in a soft shirt, the edges of his face kind and blunt, the almost permanent furrow of his brow melted away in the liquid sun, reaching out to swipe a thumb at the corner of her mouth -

“Get some rest.” Her voice was thick with a longing for such golden yet treacherously illusory days. George leaned back, resting his head on the couch with half-lidded eyes, his breathing evening out as he drifted off. She gently slipped her fingers out of his hair. She gently pulled his glasses off but before she could put them someplace safe, she was out like a light herself.

She had a fitful sleep and blearily woke up a few hours later, George’s head an oddly comforting weight against her knee. She groggily pulled herself up and tossed a blanket at the figure slumped against her couch before fetching a glass of water and some paracetamol.

Shortly after, George lurched awake like he was sweating out a fever, heart thudding and eyes restless. He groaned, no doubt wincing at the pounding behind his eyes. He caught sight of the water and medicine placed next to him but looked away after a moment of consideration. She raised her eyebrows pointedly, knowing only too well the kind of hell his overactive mind was capable of putting him through.

“How’s your head?”

She hadn’t meant to sound that sarcastic, but it was enough for him to get the hint. He relented, taking a sip of water and then one of the pills just for good measure.

"Good. Now go home and get some proper rest, you moron."

She watched him stumble down the road till he turned the corner, trying to hide how shaken she was by his panic. She sighed wearily. Only a month at Lockwood & Co. and already he would be a desperate wreck without them. She turned back inside, trying to ignore how empty her dining table looked without his typewriter and how vacant she felt without that flimsy excuse for him to see her again.

Years passed. She and George somewhat kept in touch, but it had still been extremely startling when Lockwood & Co. reached out to her with plans to expose her employer, Marissa Fittes. Amongst the tragedy of Portland Row being reduced to rubble, Kipps nearly dying and the Skull almost moving on, unemployment was the least of her concerns.

Still, it wasn’t all sad once Lucy had proposed to Lockwood after one too many failed attempts by the latter party. They had planned a relatively intimate affair, only inviting some old friends of the ex-Fittes employees of the group.  

They held it at an inexpensive banquet hall just a few minutes away from Portland Row. Lucy looked gorgeous and glowing with happiness under the gentle warm lighting, and Lockwood looked dashing in a suit not much more formal than his regular one. He spent the majority of the reception denying that he had teared up at the first glimpse of Lucy at the end of the aisle, insisting that his best man was a pathological liar.

After the main event, the guests milled around, having drinks, and occasionally congratulating the happy couple. As expected, Lockwood became very drunk very quickly, enough to pull out some terribly nonsensical yet oddly stirring comment.

“Here’s to the first day of the rest of our lives.”

She glanced across at George. He met her eye. They immediately looked away. She could have sworn she felt a hitch of some breath between them. She felt the prickle of tears behind her eyes. Lucy was desperately trying to shut up an overly emotional and hence overly talkative Lockwood who looked ready to launch into a speech no one asked for.

“That’s enough now, or we’ll have Kipps bawling all through dinner.”

It wasn’t exactly a sit-down dinner, though there was appropriate seating. Half of the guests were eating and the other half were having fun with some party games. She was watching Holly struggle at Twister when she felt someone slide into the seat next to hers - namely, the best man, George.

“Hey.”

She grinned, flushed from the champagne she had been sipping all evening. “Hey.”

“Having fun?”

“Lots.”

He couldn’t help but return her smile, looking a little tipsy himself. “I can tell.”

They ate in silence for a while, only the tinny sound of the radio’s strain and cheers from the party games filling the space between them.

“I think I missed you at the bouquet toss earlier.”

She nearly swallowed her spoon. He had noticed? He noticed her? She didn't know how to tell him that she couldn't see herself marrying anyone that wasn't him. How could she wake up every day knowing her better half was somewhere out there miles away, wondering if he wished for someone as moron-shaped as her?

“Oh, well, that’s not really my thing. More of a bridesmaid than a bride.”

She resumed eating, presuming that line of conversation to be over until she noticed he was still looking at her strangely, his cutlery stationary in his hands. Her chewing slowed in an attempt at dignity.

“…what?”

He lifted her right hand off her knife, making her heart thud dangerously. Wordlessly, he pulled off the sapphire ring on her middle finger and oh-so-delicately slid it onto her ring finger instead.

“I think you’d make a wonderful bride.”

She stared at the ring, speechless. It wasn’t a proposal, but it wasn’t nothing either. Maybe…maybe this was a second chance at something. Maybe he wouldn’t screw this up this time.

He almost reluctantly relinquished his grip on her hand. She didn’t dare meet his eye. Even his voice, quiet yet slightly rough, felt unbearable to hear.

“Were you mad? When I left without telling you?”

She had waited months to hear those words.

“I wished you'd talked to me about it first. Just...just to make sure your head was screwed on straight.”

He nodded, and they returned to their food, the silence a lot less giddily amicable now.

“So, would you have - “

“Absolutely not. God, no. I would have told you to stay ten feet away from Anthony Lockwood at all times.”

They looked over to where Lucy was helping Lockwood sit down, having unfortunately thrown his back out at Limbo. She winced. “He’s such a wild card.”

“I suppose I am too.”

She turned, curious, and he looked as though he regretted letting that slip out. Her voice dropped, taking on a softer edge.

“Not to me. Not when it’s you.”

He stared at her like there was something bloodied and hungry behind his eyes. She felt this twinge of something in her chest. Oh, how could she bear this? How could she bear him?

Sometimes, part of her wished she were a book - one completely enthralling and riveting, chock-full of secrets eager to slip out and lose themselves in thin air. Perhaps that was just a manifestation of her paralysing desire to be known and to be known by him.

“I should go,” George was saying as he finished up the last of his food. He stood, wiping his mouth, wandering off to find his coat. Maybe it was the liquor or the unfamiliar buzz of hope in the air tonight, but there was some odd tone of finality to his voice. She watched him leave, chewing her food thoughtfully, not feeling very hungry anymore.

As the minutes trickled by, it began to feel exhausting to be surrounded by so many happy couples, happy people, all that revolting joy and merriment. Only a short while after George had left, she located her own coat and weeded Lucy out of a throng of people doing the Macarena.

“I think I might head out now. Congratulations once again, Luce.”

“You too? Aww, thanks. Have you decided about the job offer from Madison?”

“I haven’t written back yet, but I think I’m going to turn them down. I was thinking about talking to Lockwood someday to see if he could take on one more employee. Plus, Madison’s a bit far out, and I’m pretty comfortable where I am.”

“Good. George might have just offed himself if it weren’t for his course at Edinburgh. I mean,” Lucy tripped over her words over the stunned look on her face, “I’m sure he was just kidding.”

“Hang on. Edinburgh?”

“Yeah. For his supervisor training. Did he not tell you? I thought for sure he…”

Lucy’s words muffled into oblivion and bled into some horrible ringing sound. Her mouth felt painfully dry. No. This couldn’t be happening.

“…he wanted to wait till after the wedding to tell Lockwood. Didn’t want to put a damper on things. Don’t get me wrong - I’m just as cut up about it, but…” They looked over to where Lockwood was watching the limbo game from afar with a forlorn expression. “…you know Lockwood.”

“What the hell, George.”

He jumped, freezing with his hand buried deep in his pocket, tediously hunting for his keys. She had managed to catch him at the front porch of Portland Row, looking especially guilty under the tepid glow of the ghost lamps.

“You’re training to become a supervisor?”

His face briefly twisted in annoyance. The audacity. “I told Lucy in confidence -“

“When were you going to tell me, Karim? Or were you just going to let me find out all on my own, like last time?” She wanted to laugh cruelly. There was nothing merciful about this knife in her chest. “I mean, why do this? Why lead me on and make me feel things and give me hope?”

“When have I ever led you on?”

“Then what was all that with my ring? Huh?” Tears sprang to her eyes once again, hot and shameful, stinging like a caustic disinfectant to an open wound. She felt so, so stupid.

“You said you didn’t care.”

“I did care!” she snapped. “Of course I fucking cared. I don’t think I could have stopped myself from caring, not when I know you like the back of my hand.”

“But you don’t care. No - tomorrow you’re going to board a train and move out of my reach and meet someone new to soothe the turmoil in your head and you won’t feel my heart bleeding for you. And if you’re very, very lucky, you might find some semblance of happiness -“

“I weigh you down!” The tirade died at her lips. Fury lined every shadow, every crevice of George’s face. He spat his words out with such venom, utter distaste. “I weigh you down…like a child. You pick me up when I fall down and kiss it better because that’s the kind of person you are. I can’t sentence you to a lifetime of running around trying to save me. I won’t do it. I’ll find someone else.”

A burden. He looked through her eyes and all he saw was a shrivelled excuse of a companion, dragging her into his depths of despair. She’d be lying if she said she never felt suffocated by his baggage. But there were some burdens you didn’t mind shouldering, not when you loved them so tenderly.

After all, who was going to unravel his every pause, stutter, sigh, and ache as she did?

“But who else is going to decode you like I do?”

George stiffened and shut his eyes regretfully as if he couldn’t bear to see that look on her face. A faint flush started creeping up his throat, peeking out from behind his starchy collar. “Don’t,” he whispered.

“Tell me,” she pressed, taking yet another step closer until their noses were barely an inch apart, “who else is going to know me? Truly know me?”

He let go of the breath he was holding and it fluttered across her cheek like the ghost of a kiss. They were venturing into intolerably intimate territory, and she could feel her pulse racing under the distracted brush of his thumb on her wrist.

There was a brooding, resigned look in his eye as if whatever he had been running from had finally caught up to him. He bowed his head and their foreheads touched. Her arms nervously reached around his neck, his hands on her waist steadying her as if to keep their balance on whatever strand of peace the moment had proffered them.

Her lips hovered over his shoulder, clavicle and jaw. She felt him reflexively tighten and loosen his grip, restless fingers fiddling with the folds of her dress and how they wrapped around her body. She brushed against the shell of his ear and felt a shiver run up his spine.

“Who else is going to hold you…like me?”

He turned a fraction and she briefly registered the lack of hesitation in his dark eyes before he finally closed the last of the gap between them. He pressed his lips to hers, soft yet intentional. He tasted like champagne and smoke and promises long-forgotten yet unbroken. It was a dizzying sort of relief to feel that years-old desperate want coiled inside finally melt through arms and fingertips buzzing with curiosity.

After that first touch, it felt as though they couldn’t get close enough, let alone pull themselves apart and have the brisk evening air rush in and nip at sensitive skin. She heard the doorknob rattle as George fumbled with it. After a short struggle, they stumbled into a nearly pitch-dark Portland Row, urgently shucking off each other’s coats and scarves. Her mind was running a mile a minute, her scalp tingling with electricity; white noise over the scrape of his teeth against her skittering pulse.

Her thoughts fragmented. At Fittes. In his room. In her apartment. His typewriter sitting glossy, polished, untouched, maddening -

George Karim was the most affected prick she had the misfortune of knowing. It was bad, bad luck that she was so irrevocably tied to him.

TAGLIST: @cielooci @mohinithoughts @neewtmas @snoopyluver20 @ell0ra-br3kk3r @ahead-fullofdreams @elenianag080 @avdiobliss @mischivana @mitskiswift99

[kaiyunsim]

HEARTS IN THE MARGINS — chapter 12 : og bf

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written section : (wc : ~450) not proof read :>

Jake shows up at the usual meetup spot, the library, this time a half-hour early. He feels bad for having you come over on such short notice so he decides to pick something up on his way there. The place he stopped by was a coffee shop that you mentioned that you liked, he took a mental note of it and hoped it would make up for the mini emergency that he had.

fifteen minutes pass, normally you would be there. he doesn’t think much about it though because it’s still early. eventually it reaches the time you agreed to meet up and he looks around for you, still nowhere to be seen. he starts to check his messages if you said anything. empty. he decides to text again, thinking you probably just missed his previous message.

hi y/n erm you’re coming right

he texts, of course not expecting a response right away so he puts his phone down. he starts to scan his surroundings checking if you are around. he kills some time by preparing the area and setting up his supplies and books.

eventually fifteen minutes pass, he just makes up another excuse, ‘maybe they’re bus is late’ ‘maybe they had to do something’ ‘maybe they forgot’ he rambles on and on in his own thoughts wondering why you aren’t there yet. he checks his messages again, all of them left on delivered.

are they ignoring me?

jake thinks to himself. after waiting another fifteen minutes, for a total of thirty minutes later than the scheduled meetup, jake finally packs up and starts to leave. at this point his gift that he got you was cold and ruined already.

jake leaves and drives off to the last place he last knew you were, heeseung’s place. once there he knocks. heeseung opens the door and greets jake with a confused face.

”why are you here? i didn’t know were having a game session today…” heeseung rambles,

”no i’m not here to play,” jake scoffs, slightly annoyed by the comment from heeseung, “is y/n here?”

”oh you know them? they left just a bit ago”

”really? which bus did they take?” jake asks, knowing you don’t have a car and just use public transit.

”oh they didn’t take a bus, their friend picked them up.”

jake sighs in defeat, not knowing of any more places to check or find y/n.

“why don’t you try asking hoon? they’re friends,” heeseung comments, trying to help jake out. it sucks to see him like this so heeseung wanted to do whatever he could to help.

jake nods before waving goodbye and hopping into his car, driving back to his dorm, leaving him thinking about what to do next.

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a/n : sorry everyone been busy doing school :(( BUT i have a long weekend so maybe oneshots?? i didn’t really like how this turned out but i have some ideas for future chapters. plus i had to get something out i feel bad for being so ia so it def feels a bit rushed. (please request things so i get out of this writing block for hearts in the margins)

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taglist ! : (OPEN !) comment or send an ask to be added !

@onlyhyunjin @starchasing-cryptid @bubblztaro @kanattac @nootnootpinguuu @gnusihcom @kkurbys @w0uldyoukissme @ilovejungwonandhaechan @pshwrldd @minoouz @winuvs @zhaegon @danielleism

[deadbydangit]

Can you do one of The Doctor, The Clown and The Knight comforting you through an anxiety attack? Been struggling with PTSD a lot lately

I'm so sorry to hear that. I've been going through some lately as well. I hope this helps. Please enjoy.

Comforting a Reader who is having a panic attack: Clown, Doctor, Knight

Clown

At first he'll be a little annoyed.

"What are you belly aching about?"

"What? You aren't dying.*

He doesn't really understand the concept of a panic attack.

The whole concept of mental health is something that's foreign to him.

The way he grew up it was something that was never discussed.

Even though it was something that really should have been.

So you'll have to explain what is happening and why.

He'll still be a little confused, but he'll listen.

He isn't too great at calming people down.

He's the one who spreads the fear, not lessens it.

But, Kenneth is a clown!

Sort of.

Well, not a good one, but he tries.

And laughter is the best medicine, right?

So, he'll pull out his bag of tricks to make you laugh.

He isn't funny.

His balloon animals suck.

And all of his magic tricks involved severed fingers.

Not exactly great things for calming down a panic attack.

You'll have to teach him the things that work for you.

Because despite his rough exterior, he really hates seeing you like that.

And, not being able to do anything for you, it hurts him even more.

So, give the guy a break. He's really trying his best.

And it's only something he would do for you.

Doctor

Herman is very observant.

He knows instantly when you're acting differently.

He may be a quack, but he's a brilliant man.

Not only does he know a lot about the human body, he knows a lot about the human mind.

So, yes, he knows exactly what's going on.

He'll rattle off the exact scientific and psychological reason for a panic attack.

While you're in the middle of one.

That isn't helping.

But he's not too great at caring for others.

Sure, he might know some techniques to help with a panic attack.

But he's never helped someone through their panic attacks before.

He's another one you'll have to sit down and explain how to help.

However, as stated before, Herman is a smart man.

He learns things quickly.

Everything you tell him he'll take down detailed notes.

He wants to know what makes you tick. What makes you anxious.

All of this so he knows what to avoid in the future. And what to do if this should arise again.

He'll set up an entire room full of comfort objects for you while you're having a panic attack.

And he'll be there the entire time.

If you want him gone, he'll respect that.

But he does have hidden cameras in that room to monitor you.

It's for your safety. Nothing weird about it.

He's usually in the business of harming others.

Only for you will he be caring.

Knight

Out of all three, Tarhos ia arguably the worst.

That isn't to say that he doesn't love you.

He truly does.

He too has dealt with immense trauma.

However, he's dealt with it differently.

So he doesn't understand why you're panicking over something.

At first, he might even tell you to knock it off.

"Why are you acting like a pathetic child?"

It's going to take several other people to knock some sense into him.

He doesn't really understand that not everyone deals with things like he does.

With swords and violence.

Some people prefer to talk about their feelings.

Tarhos is not one of them.

However, only for you, he'd be willing to learn.

He's also really bad about comforting others.

If you're feeling really bad, he might pat your head.

Maybe even give you a small hug.

But that's probably all you're going to get for now.

He is, however, very good at listening.

Occasionally, he'll give decent advice.

It really depends on the subject.

"So there is a person causing your anguish? I see. I will help you get rid of the nuisance. They will no longer cause you issues."

Most of the time, the solutions to his problems include violence.

It's going to take him some time to warm up to the whole affection and comforting thing.

But, he wouldn't do it for anyone else. Only you, because you mean that much to him.

[what-have-i-unleashed]

you stop me at the door

belated gift for @peach-flavored-cyanide im so sorry im late but the 4k words were fighting me for my life 😭😭😭

loveverse setting, so beware of toxic relationships!! lv polymurderous save me..... save me lv polymurderous.....

H is sick.

It started small – a delayed response here, a squinted look there, a clumsy misstep in-between. At first, he insisted it was nothing to worry about, only a fever. By day three, however, the skeleton can’t even lift up his head, wrapped around in blankets as he stays immobile. Ki and Mur can only watch from the doorway, the former’s face blanking and the latter’s mouth thinning into a line.

Ia doesn’t like it when they’re fragile.

She’s next to the bed, hand hovering over H’s forehead, expression unreadable in the deceptively calm shadows spreading across the room. After an agonizingly long silence, she speaks, voice soft.

“It seems I’ll be gone for a while. There are things I need to find, medicines first and foremost.”

Mur doesn’t react, while Ki only gives a perfunctory nod.

“You two will take care of the house,” Ia continues, not looking at the duo at the door. “Clean. Cook. Keep everything in order. I expect everything to be the same once I return.” Their voice echoes, not just in the small box of a room. They lean down, wiping a handkerchief over H’s sweating forehead. “You’ll be better soon. I promise.”

And then, with a flickering of the overhead lights, Ia is gone. The silence they leave behind rings.

-----

Mur startles awake to the sound of knocking on his door.

“wakey-wakey, sunshine,” Ki calls, voice bright and sing-song, muffled through the wood. “we have chores to do today, remember?”

Mur mentally groans as he rolls on his other side, curling into himself. Blearily, he opens his eyes – the sun hasn’t even shone through the cracks of his blinds just yet. Letting out another annoyed huff as another set of knocks ring, he pulls the blanket over his head, as if it can drown out the chirps.

“come on, do you want to clean the kitchen or the bathroom? if you don’t say anything, i’ll pick one out for you.”

Mur doesn’t move or respond. Another knock comes, followed by a soft creak of the door opening. Mur can feel Ki leaning against the foot of his bed, and he resists the urge to kick at Ki as the blanket over him is tugged incessantly. He just wants to stay in bed and not think about the dreaded day ahead, which has become just another day in this house.

“don’t make me assign you chores,” Ki says, with a mock whine in his voice. “you know how i hate being the bad guy.”

Mur doesn’t give the other skeleton anything, not even a perfunctory glare. The message is loud and clear. He drags himself up, finding Ki’s empty sockets unerringly locked on him. Slowly, he starts dressing himself, trying to ignore the other person in the room. It’s not like Ki can see him, and it’s not like they haven’t been unfamiliar with each other. But still, he turns his back on Ki as he clasps his mask on the lower half of his face – he can never get used to having another person so acutely aware of his weaknesses, no matter if they see it or not.

Ki tilts his head once Mur is done, then claps his hand once. “well then, let’s start with breakfast, shall we?”

The kitchen is warm when Ki drags Mur down the stairs. Ki moves between the stove and the counter, hands tracing the edges, humming an upbeat tune under his breath. Mur follows closely behind, carefully looking at all the equipment that he hasn’t talked in a while. He isn’t usually the one doing the cooking in the house, and he isn’t sure if his skills are still passable in the kitchen. He pulls open the fridge to inspect their meager options for today, while Ki leans against a counter nearby, humming something tuneless.

“been a while since you cooked. don’t worry – i’ll be you’re your humble assistant today.”

Mur makes a scoffing sound in his throat, tossing something onto the counter. As if he would trust Ki around the kitchen. He types something on his device.

“go clean the table.”

“fine, fine.” Ki pouts, raising his hands up in a surrendering pose. “no knives needed, i know. but if you need any…” He smirks, sauntering away from the kitchen area to the dining table. Mur gives an unimpressed glare at his back, though he knows Ki wouldn’t see it.

Together, they move around the space, ready for their day ahead. Ki sets the table while Mur cracks some eggs in the pan. They don’t speak, but it doesn’t feel like silence, not with Ki humming in the background and the sizzling sounds filling the kitchen. Somehow, it doesn’t feel that much different from other days, despite the absence of two other regulars in the house.

This, too, is just routine.

-----

Laundry comes afterwards.

They haul the beddings from the washing machine to the backyard. There are blankets, sheets, pillowcases – all from H’s nausea fits the day before. It is sunny outside, but the air is still cool from the nightly spring breeze. Both skeletons wear their only fur-lined jackets as they step out. The clothesline is strung tight across the yard, shadowed by the two trees it is tied to.

Ki pulls out a bundle of blankets, unfolding them in his hands. Mur helps by shaking and puffing them out, holding one corner and clipping it to the line with practiced ease. He doesn’t hear Ki coming close to his space until he feels something tugging at his shoulder.

A thread.

It pulls taut.

He freezes, slowly turning his head around.

Ki is right behind him, one hand hovering near his shoulder. It lingers for too long. Neither of them moves. The sheets billowing lightly in the wind, brushing against Mur’s jacket as he stands there stupefied, his fingers twitching but otherwise not clawing into the fabric he’s holding.

don’t look don’t look at it there’s no tear it’s fine the jacket’s fine-

Then, Ki chuckles softly.

“you have a bug on your jacket.”

Mur doesn’t dare breath. His grip on the blankets in his arms tightens. The jacket feels lighter suddenly, but his arm feels like lead – as if it was falling apart, the tear echoing in his skull. Or is it? He doesn’t know. He doesn’t want to know. Just the idea of it- The phantom loss- But it might be real-

stop panicking it’s fine it’s fine you’re so pathetic right now don’t cry-

Ki doesn’t say anything else. He just grabs another sheet from the basket and moves away from him.

-----

More laundry. Bathroom cleaning. Living room sweeping. By midday, most of the chores are done. The house is cleaner and quieter than before. It doesn’t make it more livable though.

Mur sets the ingredients for lunch on the counter. Dutifully, Ki washes the vegetables and plucks out the spices. His movements are slow but not clumsy. Mur takes out a chopping board and starts slicing.

The rhythm is soothing in a way. Chop, drop, stir, set the heat. Ki is next to him, his presence silent but his voice not. Every now and then, he bumps elbows with Mur as he navigates in the kitchen, just gently. They don’t talk. They don’t need to, their bodies dancing alongside each other in a familiar dance, years of familiarity having etched into both of them. Mur stands at the stove, waiting for the soup to finish as he stirs the pot. Ki hovers over his shoulders as if looking at what he’s doing. The heat from the other’s SOUL burns, but Mur is used to it – might crave it even, no matter how many times he doesn’t want to think so.

(“you’re always cold, aren’t you?”

A small huff of laugh. An ember in the dark of night. Something to hold on.)

When lunch is ready, they sit across each other. Two bowls on the table. A third one set aside, covered, steam rising faintly from under the lid. It is somewhat strange, having the dining table with only two people present. Mur can’t help stiffening his shoulders as he feels Ki patiently wait for him from across the table. With hesitant hands, he unclasps his mask, and the wave of anxiety rises up to him again. Slowly, he puts the mask down next to him with an audible thump. Ki, enigmatic bastard as ever, tilts his head, a measured smile gracing his face, before picking up his own spoon.

They eat in relative silence, which is an odd scene. Usually, Ia is the one prompting conversations during meals, what’s with them being the only times all of them have to get together in one place. It’s just small talk, discussing the weather and news and asking what they are up to lately, as if none of them were stuck living in the same house all the time. Now, the quiet atmosphere is unusual, but not wholly uncomfortable.

(He can almost prefer this to the regular scene.)

When they finish their respective portions, Ki leans back in his seat, a self-satisfied smile on his face. Mur stands up to collect the dishes, but then Ki speaks.

“no, no, i’ll handle the dishes here. you should bring the soldier his rations.”

Mur tilts his head, fully knowing that Ki cannot see him. But they’re too familiar with each other now – Ki’s smile widens as if knowing what Mur is doing, and maybe he does.

“he’d be wondering why it’s not you.” The empty-eyed skeleton gestures at the third bowl on the table. “besides, he likes your cooking better anyway.”

Mur stands there for a moment before giving a curt nod. He picks up the bowl and places it on a tray. Without a word, he walks towards the hallway, faintly hearing Ki turning the water in the sink.  He moves up the stairs, careful not the drop the tray. The walk isn’t long, but it feels like centuries as he nears his destination.

-----

H’s room is dim, curtains drawn tight to keep the light from seeping in. The air is thick with something old and heady. Mur slips in quietly, balancing the tray with both hands as he nudged the door open with his elbow. The bowl of soup steams faintly. A cup of water is placed besides it. He sets it down on the nightstand and pulls the chair close.

H stirs. His eyes open, sluggish but awake enough to track Mur’s movements.

"is it morning already?" he mutters, voice rough and dry. “what do you have for me?”

Mur doesn’t say anything. He picks up the spoon, gives it a gentle stir in the bowl, then lifts it toward H’s mouth.

After a beat, H accepts it gingerly, slurping and chewing slowly. He swallows and exhales. "who’s the chef today? this one might actually be food."

Mur snorts silently, then offers another spoonful.

They fall into an easy rhythm. Spoon, chew, swallow, breathe. H eats more than he has in days, which isn’t saying much. Mur watches him closely, looking for any sign of discomfort or weakness. The silence stretches between them.

"you’re quiet today," H says eventually. Then, after a pause, he adds, "more than usual."

Murder doesn’t respond. His thoughts are louder – more turbulent – than anything he could write down.

After a long moment, H fills the void again. “taking care of me… don’t you have better things to do?”

Mur shakes his head, his fingers lightly trembling as the storm in his mind only grows and grows.

Ia’s gone. Gone. That hasn’t happened in what feels like forever. When was the last time? Months? Years? He never leaves the house. Never leaves them alone. But now? There’s no watching shadow. No low voice echoing through the walls. No prickle of magic on the back of one’s neck.

The door’s still there. Unlocked. Unguarded.

You could leave.

The thought arrives like a tsunami. Ferocious. Unexpected.

Take them. Go.

Another spoonful, another swallow. Mur wipes the corner of H’s mouth with the edge of a napkin. He watches the sick man’s eye droop half-lidded again, exhaustion clear in his body.

Run away, little rabbit. Run.

He pictures it before he can stop himself: the three of them, living somewhere far away from all of this. A rundown house in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by trees and cicadas all night. No shadows. No watchful eyes. Just the sky and the dirt and the sound of Ki humming, bundled in layers, listening to whatever on his music player. H on the porch, grilling something delicious while fanning the smoke away from his eye. Mur sitting on the staircases, watching both of them, finally still.

It’s shameful, how often this fantasy returns.

(Even more shameful is the house on the tropical island – fragments of another broken dream, another broken promise. There is something traitorous about it, something mournful – the dream continues, pieces replaced haphazardly without much input from his own logic. The smoke, the red, the warmth – all replaced like a ship from that one tale.

Red. They’re all red, aren’t they? So easily switched in and out. Is that how interchangeable they all are? Just puzzle pieces to be forced into places. Mur feels disquieted with himself, with his thoughts, with his feelings.)

He’s never told them. He never will.

Because it’s not real. It’s not possible.

Not with Ki. Not with how deep he’s sunk into Ia’s tendrils. Mur doesn’t even know if he could trust him long enough to hold open a door without being crushed by it afterwards.

He thinks of H, of the reluctant, sporadic kindness – the acts that have to be squeezed out of him, the gestures that don’t guarantee safety exactly, only a temporary refuge from this hellhole.

He thinks of Ki, of the wide perma-smile – the one that masks everything, the one that never quite echoes in his fake cheerful voice.

The risk feels like a knife twisting under his ribs.

You cannot really trust anyone.

Mur presses a damp, cool cloth to H’s forehead. The bedbound skeleton flinches but doesn’t move away.

“you smell like soap,” H mumbles, his voice thinning. “you cleaned the house, or just paced out your nerves again?”

Mur shrugs, holding the cloth steady as he wipes down H’s scorching heat. H’s hand reaches out, shaky, fingers brushing the other’s wrist. A thank you. Or something like it. He couldn’t tell, despite how long they have been together. How strange.

Mur brushes a knuckle gently over the edge of H’s blanket, watching his chest rise and fall as the sick monster falls asleep. He looks so frail, so breakable. They all are really.

Then he slips out as quietly as he came in, the voices still murmuring behind his ribs.

-----

Dinner can’t come quickly enough.

Ki is humming again, waiting for Mur to spoon out the portions into mismatched bowls. One for him, one for Ki, and one for H. It’s just some simple porridge tonight, a warm, easy meal for H to swallow in his debilitated state. Mur feels Ki hovering near him, the body heat unmistakable in the evening chill. Ki takes a bowl from him with a grin and a casual brush of fingers against his knuckle.

“i’ll deliver it to the prince this time,” Ki says, smiling wide. “you should clean the mess.” He gestures vaguely towards the direction of the pile of dirty pans on the stove. “don’t want him to think we’re slackers.”

Mur pauses, a half-thought-out plan rapidly running through his mind.

This is the opportunity he needs.

So, he waits.

Waits until Ki’s voice echoes on his way upstairs, his soft and off-key singing filling the silence of the house. Waits until the hum of hot water and clanking dishes masks the shift of his feet on the creaking floorboards. Waits until he distinctly hears the sound of a door opening then closing, Ki’s cheery voice disappearing into the space behind it.

Then, he moves.

Quietly. Quickly. Through the spaces he’s familiar with. The cabinets in the kitchen hold some dry rations, flints, and matches. The cupboard in the living room has a first aid kit that he swipes quickly. The closet near the staircase hides away an old satchel with some gold coins and fake IDs they used to use to go to certain places. Near the hearth, under a particular loose floorboard, lie a Swiss knife and a couple of phone contacts and expired train tickets – stuff he hid months, or years, ago, when he first started thinking about maybe’s.

(Memorabilia of a lost time, a lost opportunity, a lost promise.)

His hands shake, and he’s unsure if it’s from fear or anticipation. He cannot stop now. Not when the taste of escape is so tantalizing on his bitten tongue.

-----

Midnight comes.

Mur lies in bed, eyes wide open, listening to the house breathing its quiet. Slowly, he pushes the blankets off himself and sits up. The old wooden floorboards creak, and he winces, pausing, waiting. When no sound comes, he reaches under the bed, where the packed backpack is.

His feet touch the floor soundlessly as he yanks the bag up. Quickly, he dons his jacket and slides the door open, just a tiny crack. The hallway stretches ahead of him, long and cold. There’s no light but the source of his magic eyelights.

Carefully, he creeps along the hallway – not too fast, not too slow. He doesn’t glance at Ki’s room as he passes it, though he feels the urge tug at him like gravity. Maybe Ki’s eyes are already on his back. Maybe he already knows. But no footsteps follow him, so he continues to trek.

He arrives at H’s door and pauses. Hand against the frame. Fingers hovering over the knob. Listening. Inside there’s only the unsteady rise and fall of a ragged breath.

The door opens under his hand.

He sees H stir and curl further into his bundle of blankets. He must have been sleeping, and Mur almost feels bad for waking him up. He closes the door behind him with an audible click. H’s pale face glows faint in the moonlight through the curtains. One arm is folded across his chest, and the other twitches slightly when Mur comes closer.

Mur doesn’t say anything – it’s not like he can. He crouches beside the bed. Horror looks at him blearily, and blinks. He doesn’t try to sit up. Mur holds one of his hands, absentmindedly tracing the rough fingers. The silence envelops them before H speaks up.

“what are you doing at this time?” His voice is soft, somewhat short-winded. The fever is not doing him any good. Mur has a feeling where this conversation will go, but he can’t just not try.

He points at himself. Then at the door. Then at H. A question. An invitation.

H looks at him. His expression doesn’t shift, or maybe it’s just the darkness that hides it away. “… you’re really stupid,” he says at last. “you know that right?”

Mur would chuckle at that if he could. Instead, he just stares, the bags under his eyes crinkled into an ironic smile.

H shakes his head, the movement slow and tired. “they’ll find you. you’ll never be far enough. you’ll never outrun them.”

Mur taps his fingers against H’s knuckle, once, twice, then three times. The rhythm is hypnotic, soothing to his brain. He doesn’t refute H’s statement, just hanging his head low, sensing the gaze on the back of his neck.

Then, a softer yet more crushing reply follows. “i can’t go with you.”

Mur stays kneeling by the bed. He doesn't flinch, doesn’t move, doesn’t breathe. The silence is too big for the room. H’s fingers brush his shaky hand. They’re warm, clammy.

“i’m sorry,” he says, even though it doesn’t sound like an apology.

Mur squeezes his eyes shut.

And for a second, he’s there in the dream. Where there’s a little house, with chickens running around all day. Where they all share the household chores, bickering over who gets to do what. Where Mur will fall asleep in some unconventional place, lulled by the seaside winds and cicada calls.

But then he opens his eyes.

It’s still this dark room. It’s still this house – too big, too small, too quiet, too loud. Never right.

He stays stuck on the floor. If he leaves, he’ll have to abandon them. What does it say about him, someone who has never claimed to love?

(Never. Never again.

He’ll never love again.)

Shakily, he clasps H’s hand in both of his own and brings it to his forehead, like a silent apology – a wordless prayer from the before-times, a habit he cannot seem to break. H doesn’t say anything, the air of regret and reverence blanketing over them.

Eventually, Mur stands up. H watches him leave without a word.

There is nothing more to say.

-----

Mur creeps softly down the hallway, bag slung low on his shoulder. The air is cold even through his jacket. The darkness is almost reassuring, as if the house didn’t realize a piece of it is missing just yet.

He reaches for the lock.

“late walk?”

A voice echoes from the side.

Mur freezes.

Ki sits on the bench by the shoe rack, legs drawn up as he rests his cheek on his knees. He doesn’t turn towards Mur – his eyes can’t follow, but he doesn’t need to see. The eye sockets are dripping black again, staining the already cracked bones. Ki never needs eyes to know what happens, as if the house told him – as if he had become part of it. As if he could sense the air shifted the moment Mur stepped out of bed.

But Ki doesn’t move to stop him. Instead, he just hums.

“you could’ve waited until morning. little rude to sneak off without saying anything.”

There is no accusatory tone in his voice. But Mur doesn’t dare move.

Ki yawns. “i mean, i’m not judging. it’s just a bit cold, is all. not a very nice time to go on a walk.” He shrugs. “but you know what they say: fresh air is good for you.”

Mur turns slightly. Enough to half-face the other skeleton.

Ki smiles to no one. “just… if you go, remember the second fence post leans right. you’ll trip if you’re not careful.” After a beat, he continues, his smile wobbling imperceptibly at the corner. “and, remember to bring back the detergent. we’re running low by the way.”

Mur’s grip on the door handle eases. Just a little.

Ki stands up slowly, stretching his arms with a quiet groan. “mm... anyway, i’m heading to the kitchen. figured i’ll make some tea. If you want some when you get back, just say so.”

He walks past Mur, his shoulder brushing lightly against the other’s as he disappears into the kitchen.

No resistance. No force.

Just that unbearable familiarity. That ghost of warmth.

Mur doesn’t answer. He just stands there, staring at Ki’s back, the door forgotten.

One beat. Then two. Then three.

His hand lowers from the handle. He shakes off his boots and puts them back on the shoe rack.

The door stays closed behind him.

-----

Mur is already awake when the front door creaks open at the crack of dawn.

He’s sitting on the couch, his jacket in his lap. His bag is gone. So are the matches, the maps, the little notes he scrawled for himself in the dark.

“I’m home.”

Mur doesn’t look up.

Footsteps approach, then stop just behind the couch.

“I brought back what Horror needs.” The voice is warm. “He’ll be fine soon.”

Mur nods once, the motion small, almost mechanical.

Ia moves to the kitchen. Ki appears a moment later, like a dog greeting its master, soft-footed and cheery-voiced, like nothing happened. He reaches out and clasps Mur’s shoulder with a brief and familiar squeeze.

“you did good,” he murmurs, like he means it.

Mur says nothing. He just stares ahead.

There is nothing more to say.

[tiggymalvern]

Cagney and Lacey

After I read Sharon Gless' autobiography, I got curious, because obviously she talked a lot about the show. I did see some of it when it aired but I was a kid, and also I never saw it consistently. Gless was reluctant to take the role when she was offered it, because she was the third actor to play Cagney. Loretta Swit played her in the initial film, but her commitment to M.A.S.H. excluded her from the follow up series. Meg Foster got the role for season one, but that season was canned after only six eps when the network decided it wasn't working. So it was offered to Gless, who initially turned it down. She was shooting a film with Michael Douglas, who was becoming quite the hot property, and she thought her film career was about to take off. It was actually Douglas who convinced her to take the role, pointing out that playing a cop on TV had been very good indeed for his career 😁 (That film Gless shot with Michael Douglas sank without a trace...)

I watched the abortive first season with Meg Foster, and you can see why it wasn't happening. Foster wasn't bad, but she wasn't great, and she didn't have the range. She couldn't play angry. You just never believed her when she yelled - her voice wasn't carrying that conviction. The difference when Gless took over for season two was immediate.

Season two was... fine. But it was very much episodic TV of its era. There was a bit of continuity, but not much, and when it was missing, you really noticed it. There was one ep, for instance, when information was leaking from the department, and Cagney and Lacey were bullied into spying on their fellow cops and reporting to IA. When the other detectives found out, they started getting the rats in their desk treatment. At the end of the ep, the leak is found, but the titular pair were still being ostracised, and the closing line was Cagney saying that things weren't going to be normal again for a long time. But of course, the very next ep, things were normal and it was like it never happened.

After that I jumped ahead to season five, and now it was getting to be genuinely good. The continuity was there, actual arc plots and mini arcs running through the season. Things that happened in early eps were mentioned again half a season later. Events had consequences. Now it was the Cagney and Lacey that got all the acclaim, and you could see why it was really groundbreaking TV, and for more than being just the first series to have two female leads. (You have to feel for poor Meg Foster, though - you film a show that gets canned for being crap, then it comes back to critical acclaim and gets Emmy nominations for both its leads every year it runs, when literally the only two things that changed were a different actor taking your part and a jazzy new opening theme tune. Ouch.)

One of the saddest things about watching Cagney and Lacey was how little has changed in forty years. There are episodes about racism, about the awful way immigrants are treated and made into scapegoats, about misogyny and sexual assault, about the fight for reproductive rights and the hideous people who attack women going into clinics, and damn. It's still the same old shit going on. People don't learn anything 😭

One of the crazy things about watching Cagney and Lacey at the same time as the final season of Cobra Kai was seeing Martin Kove in both, forty years apart. Holy hell, he is in amazing shape for a guy in his late 70s. I would have thought he was a decade younger…

[honeygrandpa]

tw warning: family death and animal injury

this has probably been the worst week of my life. on sunday my uncle had a heart attack on his way home from a trip so i drive from ga to tn to pick up his wife and then 10.5 hours to ia to get her to the hospital before he passed and we didn’t make it time. then i drive her back to tn and stayed with her because she couldn’t take care of herself and she wouldn’t eat (she’s diabetic so this was a real problem) and she didn’t know how to pay her bills or how to live without him. i got back to ga yesterday and then today, my dogs were outside on the chain and 2 neighbor dogs came into our yard off leash. 1 of my dogs attacked 1 of the neighbor dogs and that dog has to have an emergency procedure in the morning to drain the wound. i know legally it wasn’t my fault but i feel so so awful and i don’t know what to do. i don’t have the money to pay her vet bills. with all of the travel with my uncle, im already have debt on my credit card that i can’t pay off. and i have to drive to ia again next week for the funeral and pay for boarding for my dogs. i paid $1000 to a trainer who says they specialized in aggressive dogs last year and she basically told me to not bring them around other dogs. my dogs are rescues and they used to be ok around other dogs but my brother’s dog bites people and made them really nervous and ever since 1 of my dogs bit his dog to keep him away from me, they’ve both struggled with dog aggression. they like little dogs and calm dogs but get really bad around bigger energetic dogs. everything is awful and i really really don’t know what to do. im also struggling to finish my master’s degree and already am taking an incomplete for my culminating project so i have more time to finish writing. i am struggling to get everything done and apply to jobs so i might end up being too late to get a teaching job before the school year starts and i turned 26 this month so i wont have health insurance and i wont be able to see my therapist even though my panic attacks have been worse than usual this year and ive had really awful ones where i cant stop throwing up a few times this year when i used to have the really bad ones once every few years. im overwhelmed, i cant afford to move out of my moms house even though she doesn’t want me here, and im never going to see my favorite uncle again. i cant even afford to take care of these dogs but ive been trying for like 3 years now because they needed a home after being abused and neglected by their previous owner. they’re also the only thing i have in my life that make me feel happy most days. like lucky is currently in my lap, licking my tears. i don’t even want to consider it but should i give them up? i probably wouldn’t make it without them but i really don’t know what to do. should i try to pay for the neighbor dog’s vet bills with my credit card?? the neighbor told me that she doesn’t hold me responsible and that she’ll keep her dogs on leashes going forward but she said this while sobbing with her hands covered in her dog’s blood. i don’t think this week could get worse honestly. ive never cried so much in one week

[doordaash]

HI GUYS! sorry i’ve been super ia over on here ~ i’ve been posting over on twt still, but even over there it’s been a bit hard between personal matters & mental / physical health issues

that being said ~ i’m back :) and ill try to keep up with posting some lil threads for yall over here hehhe

~

as mu qing limps towards the golden palace, blood trails behind him in splattered patches on the stones. his panting comes out softly, growing loud only when he grips his arm, hoping to stop the blood - even just a little bit.

it was late & the heavens were empty, save for a few scurrying civil gods trying to make deadlines, though they failed to notice the injured god.

he must have been out of his mind, as he was truly not being able to pinpoint an actual reason as to why he would come to this palace, rather than travel the bit of distance to his own

he could hear the jests from his rival now, laughing at his pain & stupidity for getting as hurt as he had.

it was an accident - to be fair, as he had never expected the bandits to have poisonous arrows

1 arrow? that was fine, he could handle 1 arrow….. 2 arrows? 2 was unideal but…

6??

the first 4 thankfully only nicked him, leaving small scratches that felt like they were on fire due to the poison.

the 5th got him in the thigh from behind. a bandit whom had been hiding in a tree, simply waiting for him to turn his back. the 6th is the one that got him clean through the upper arm

he had stupidly ripped the arrows from his body out of anger, despite knowing better, which only pulled the poison through his body once more - causing the effects to speed up

he nearly tripped when pain shot through his leg when he accidentally put too much pressure on it.

perhaps it was the company that he craved?

he kept his deputies busy with their duties & training - so he knew if he stayed at his palace he would be tending to his wounds alone…..he refused to go to the medical gods, as he wasn’t on good terms with them…

despite his history with the archer, they had been through thick & thin together. though they fought often, they would never let the other die. it was a mutual respect & ….care(?) for the other. they had both saved eachother on multiple occasions, tending to the others wounds when needed.

he tried to convince himself that this was the sole reason he limped up to feng xins golden gates, but a little part of his brain knew that was only a minuscule part of the reason why

the guards that stood at the door looked at him shocked, surveying his wounds with wide eyes before looking to eachother in questioning, silently communicating with eachother

mu qing nearly sighed when one nodded, & the other lifted his fingers to his temple.

he was unsure how much time had passed, he & the guards didn’t speak - only waited for the general of the palace to appear

one did reach out to him when he stumbled briefly, but he held out his hand to stop the deputy from trying to help him, he was fine.

soon enough, the loud but familiar stomping of a certain archer could be heard, and within seconds the palace doors slammed open, the deputies shooed away to deal with other duties

feng xin stared down at him from the step, confusion & shock marring his features. suddenly mu qing felt more vulnerable than he had in a very long time, and felt tears prick behind his eyes.

“i’m…I’m sorry…..i know this is improper of m-me, let alone quite rude of me to just…s-show up…but..but i just…”

he squeezed his eye shut, feeling the tears build more and more against his will. he will not cry. no! nope! not again! he already cried enough around feng xin after mount tonglu! showing up here in general was embarrassing enough

opening his eyes once more to meet feng xins, as he was determined to not show weakness, caused a wave of dizziness to wash over him. this caused him to stumble forward when his bad leg didn’t support him the way he wanted it to.

he expected to meet cold steps, but instead once again - feng xin caught him. his warm arms wrapping around mu qing like a safety net.

this was what mu qing wanted. he wanted the safety that was feng xin & his embrace.

borrowing his face into feng xins shoulder to hide his blush, he breathed in deep before muttering “i…i didn’t know where else to go…”

“mu qing….” feng xin stroked up & down mu qings back in a comforting fashion, before steadying him, pushing him back up so they were face to face, yet feng xins eyes didn’t meet his.

instead, mu qing watched as feng xins eyes glared over his body, taking in each injury & each tear in his robes, before lifting them to meet mu qings at last

there was an unexpected rage in them, yet mu qing somehow knew it wasn’t directed towards him for once

“who did this to you?!”

[prettyboykatsuki-moved]

hi my lovely fang!! ramadan kareem! also happy belated isagi day!! loll i’m tipsy doing my skincare and watching formula 1 + premier league football (<-being delusional abt my teams winning. i’m no better than a m*n) but my mind ran on you so i said lemme go blab in your askbox <33

not day drinking or anything dw. just came back in from a bday dinner and then we ended up at a nightclub ?? for some reason ?? the music was really good and it felt good to be out with friends. idk, the old me wouldnt have even entertained the idea of going out so i hope ur proud of me for socializing even when i got drained like an hour into the whole thing.

hope the spring's been good to you so far. (i for one am salty since this weather still feels treacherously winterlike to me.) and remember to pace yourself for school.

life has been so interesting lately: moved out of a toxic household and decided to establish boundaries with family (got villainised for it), trying to learn an instrument as a hobby, became a deku fan (‼️♥️☹️‼️) and an arthur morgan enthusiast (⁉️), my kitchen sink randomly flooded and my landlord was an ass abt it, finally watched howl’s moving castle,

always always still thinking of oliver tho. atp i mentally chant his name like my own personal litany against going apeshit in law school. i think u were talking abt songs that remind u of him and i would like to add for ur consideration: that tyler song w/ pharell? called “ifhy”. also DONT LAUGH but i cannot hear anything off the wiped out album without some association to him. some russ songs too. idk what it is abt that bastard but i enjoy putting him in mental aus he has no business being in: like we both know he’d be a regency AU scoundrel or like a rake or smth and yet i’ll be on the subway crafting it in my mind palace LMAO

back in the day i used to depression-watch the encore westerns channel so those scruffy ruffians u have been read dead posting abt are making my ears perk up a little (a lot).

if i was actually writing you as a legit penpal i would decorate your letter and use different coloured ink and stickers and send u a polaroid and stuff. i am so fond of you like whoa. hugging and squeezing and pulling you 🫂🫂🫂🫂 like taffy!! have a great day and an even greater eid !!

-resident oliver gremlin xoxo

RAMADAN KAREEM EVEN THO I AM ANSWERING POST EID AS SOME KIND OF FOUL BEAST!!!! and happy belated isagi day to u twin i hope it was wonderful

i actually heard alot about the f1 stuff from beloved mutuals posting and general internet circulation!!! lots of . stuff going on in that place from what i can tell . i hope ur special sports guys won i love u !!

also glad ur not drinking too much. a birthday dinner and nightclub feel like a random combo sdjhsdkfj but sometimes u just dont want the night to end so i really get it. im not a club girl either it is so overstimulation for me in a way i have a hard time with so im SO proud of you

i feel u abt spring it is so midwest core how cold it fawking is rn fdkjkhdjfkg. but its fine we ball

ALSO SO PROUD OF U!!!!! setting boundaries w fam is sooo dogshit but u did right by yourself and thats all that matters. iA it becomes easier. also instrument, deku fan, and arthur....... ohhh anon it has been a busy and fun life i see.

I MISS OLIVER SOOO FREAKING MUCH IM HAPPY U BRING HIM UP. i agree ifhy by tyler suits him so much im going to throw my guts up fkgjdffgklsd. also no he is very russ song actually.... best on earth ft him and bia.... i will eat glass. im glad his horrible and annoying ass can support the bad beautiful shorty u are thru law school... the most he is capable of im afraid. ALSO WAIT REGENCY AU KIND OF EATS...... WILL BE SIMMERING ON THAT ..... i think him being a sleazy powerful noble who's been enaged a billion times and broken up with even more chasing u a mean noble girl who hates him ohhh .. ohhhhh

ALSO IM GLAD U LIKE MY RDR POSTING. i am. completely out of my mind about them forreal its actually notfunny anymore JKFDJLKS. but thats alright.

I WOULD LOVE GLITTER PEN. mine would have so many stickers. SO FOND OF U TOO ANON... WE ARE KISSING AND HOLDING HANDS... EID MUBARAK AND MANY BLESSINGS

[welcometomy20s]

May 2, 2023

#775 - p.h. (SEVENTHLINKS) [Flower]

Achievement Date: 23-04-01, Upload Date: 20-05-29

One of the little hits of the COVID year part 1, the idea of drug fueled addiction feels quite close at the time and the distorted flower voice is quite distinctive. Two-person group which kind of had a fallout, and therefore only left this song, apparently. Huh.

#776 - Dependent Fritters (Denpol-P) [Hatsune Miku]

Achievement Date: 23-04-01, Upload Date: 14-07-09

Very different from his more modern songs, this song has that 70’s grease, especially with that whack effect on the intro, and there is a lot more effect on this song. And even the lyrics are your typical kind-of seduction song, which is an interesting turn.

#777 - Mikazuki Step (r-906) [Hatsune Miku]

Achievement Date: 23-04-01, Upload Date: 20-03-26

r-906 follows Iyowa as the new and rising VOCALOID producer. This is their first real hit, at least this is when I first encountered them. Apparently the song got popular in late ‘22, so it needed to have a second bump to get here. I think this is more conventional of r-906’s work, which oddly surprises me, considering their later output.

#778 - Capriccio Farce (MothyP) [MEIKO, KAITO, Miku, Rin, Len, Luka, Gakupo, GUMI]

Achievement Date: 23-04-07, Upload Date: 11-10-29

Kind of the big season finale of the Evilicious series, with 8 VOCALOIDS, much akin to Hitoshizu x Yama songs. It really does sound like an ED to late 90’s serial anime. Only miff I have is that the tuning is bad enough that the words kind of get eaten sometimes. 

#779 - SHANTI (wotaku) [KAITO]

Achievement Data: 23-04-09, Upload Date: 21-09-17

The latest KAITO song uploaded on this list since… Doctor=Funk Beat? wotaku’s unique tuning really sells what is otherwise an awkward VOCALOID. An intrigue premise and the arresting visual and what might be one of the best examples of wotaku’s signature sonic palette. 

#780 - Anonymous M (PinocchioP) [Hatsune Miku, ARuFa]

Achievement Data: 23-04-18, Upload Date: 23-02-17

An expansion of the interview being turned into a song by one of the great masters featuring a friend and major YouTuber in his own right. Probably PinocchioP’s more cynical song that’s directly about Hatsune Miku… Compare to a song that would be coming up from CosMo soon. Very stylized, very 2020’s PinocchioP.

#781 - Love Song (LamazeP) [Hatsune Miku]

Achievement Data: 23-04-23, Upload Date: 13-10-31

It is an absolute travesty that LamazeP has only three songs on this list considering his influence (4 if you include Ochame Kinou), but this is a fine inclusion. LamazeP is known for his shitpost songs, but I like his genuinely sweet songs like this better. 

#782 - GETCHA! (Giga, KIRA) [Hatsune Miku, GUMI]

Achievement Data: 23-04-27, Upload Date: 20-09-04

Big collision of western and eastern greats, only to be shadowed by two VTubers. Well, the original certainly lives up to that cover. Seriously, it really is one of best Giga/KIRA songs out there with expert tuning and K-Pop style that really pops out, and the GirlBoss lyrics are nicely welcomed, and the distinctive art… that’s good too.

#783, R-4 - Kiritan Wants to Battle Online Endlessly (GYARI) [Kiritan, Yukari, Akari]

Achievement Data: 23-04-28, Upload Date: 19-12-19

Kiritan has been a favorite lately, but this is an early version made by the VOICEROID and VTuber group head GYARI in… I think this is the final series on this list, making VOICEROID Singing series one of the few series where all the songs are in this list. GYARI nicely uses the drawling and flat voice of Kiritan to demonstrate the life and times of gamer’s playthrough of a popular game…

#784 - Superhero (Guiano) [IA]

Achievement Data: 23-04-29, Upload Date: 18-04-14

Another song in YouTube Top 100 finally popping onto this list. It’s also been a long time since an IA song got on this list, last one of Surges? Yeah… Certainly has that Orangestar summer IA feeling, which I think is the ‘correct’ way of using IA. 

[mothbaaalls]

in 2022 i posted a wishlist of songs i wanted in pjsk and my ideas for covers, so i thought i'd revisit it and see how many ended up actually being in the game ^w^ (under the cut bc theres a lot)

kz livetune (original vocals: miku) - last night, good night (cover with kanade and mafuyu) || not in the game :(

lia (original vocals: lia) - tori no uta (cover with kohane, nene, or kanade) || not in the game but it's not a vocaloid original, i've just always wanted it sooo bad. now that it's removed from endori (or bandori entirely?? idk what's going on on jp server) i have nowhere to play my beloved song

orangestar (original vocals: ia) - earphones and a chorus of cicadas (cover by leo/need) || not in game bc of course ghosties can't have anything nice (/silly)

9mm parabellum bullet (original vocals: ia rocks) - setsuna drive (cover with either shiho or vbs) || not in game :(((

hachi (original vocal: gumi) - donut hole (cover with n25 or wxs) || in game but no cover :( also apparently it got updated in 2024 which i didn't know?? waow

hachi (original vocal: gumi and miku) - matryoshka (covered by l/n or vbs) || in game with no cover :( it got added like 9months after i made the original post!

iroha(sasaki) (original vocal: rin) - meltdown (mizuki cover) || in game no cover :( we could have had it allll with n25 cover

neru (original vocal: rin) - tokyo teddy bear (ena cover) || in game, covered by leo/need! i was sooo wrong but can you imagine a world where it was mizuena cover??

niki (original vocal: lily) - -ERROR (covered by n25, vbs, or mmj) || i really cast a wide net with that one huh... it's not in the game tho :(

niki (original vocals: lily) - WAVE (covered by vbs) || IM LOOKING ON THE WIKI RN AND I WAS FUCKING RIGHT. (IT WAS ADDED IN LATE 2024 TO JP) APOLLO GIVE ME YOUR GODDAMN DODGEBALL IT'S MINE NOW

niki (original vocal: lily) - JITTER DOLL (nene-focused wxs cover) || not in game... ohhh that's really sad... i want it so bad... IT WOULD BE SO FUN SEGA PLEASE

yasuhiro (original vocal: ia rocks) - wailing vampire || i didn't have a guess for who could cover it but it would have been a really fun wxs cover. unfortunately it's not in the game at all and might never be :(

jin (original vocals: ia) - inner arts (covered by mmj) || i've since learned that this was a promo song for an ia-focused pjdiva competitor for the psp (ia vt colorful) so it will probably never be in game but it's a really nice song and i like it very much :)

jin (original vocals: ia) - imagination forest (nene-focused wxs cover) || not in game??? which is wild bc i was so sure it was. i really can't believe it omg i thought for sure they'd add it by now

mothy/akunoP (original vocals: miku and haku) - maiden of the tree ~millennium wiegenleid~ (saki and ichika focused l/n cover) || shoutout to the song that taught me the word wiegenleid... unfortunately i think this one is really unlikely plus it's not the kind of thing that usually gets covered so it'd just be the original version in the game if anything

jimmythumbP (original vocals: miku, luka, and samune zimi) - reboot (l/n cover) || OH I WAS FEELING EVIL WHEN I WROTE THIS HUH. fortunately for all of our hearts this one isn't even in the game, and certainly not covered by l/n (but oh my god it'd be so good. the mv completely rearranged my brain when i was younger)

hachi (original vocals: miku) - sand planet || i didn't specify a cover for this one but i was RIGHT because it's in the game as of 2022 on jp and 2023 on en :) (i think it had already been added on jp when i made the original post but i deliberately kept myself in the dark abt what was going on on jp, just for fun)

utataP (original vocals: yukari) - there's supposed to be a cheat code for happiness || i didn't specify a cover for this one i just thought the chart would be really fun... alas, it's not in game and it's pretty unlikely that it would be imo. i would be sooo happy if you proved me wrong colopale... colopale please...

teamOS (original vocals: miku, luka, rin, len, kaito, meiko) - party x party (wxs cover) || PLEASE THIS WOULD BE SO FUNNN it was made for a niconico party so it's not unlikely that they could use it... please...

[lqfiles]

I DID GET MIKU IN FORTNITE 🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏 she’s so cute agh i love it i got the miku miku beam emote and i use that shit on gojo more than her tho

i’ve actually been so horrible i started my semester today which isn’t even that bad im just insanely anxious at the moment and for the next four years perhaps take a wild guys why 😛😛 BUT other than that… im existing.. i feel the kpop drought slowly getting better… saw a vid of haechan on my fyp for the first time in months… i feel seen…

HOW HAVE U BEEEEN I MISSED U SHAWTY GOONZILLA (hope you’ve seen that godzilla is also in fortnite rn)

—🪼

YESSGAWDDD if i had fortnite i would’ve invested in that no matter what like yes pls give me the awesome singing vocaloid character (i think she is from vocaloid..?) AND SHDKSBWKWHWJ why am i not surprised that you’re using it on gojo.. this the biggest gojo enthusiast out there smh 🤦🏽‍♀️ i lowk need to tap into the fortnite hype like last time i played it i was hiding in the bushes 90% of the time but it was LIT!!

MY POOR BABY I MUST SAFE YOU FROM THE SHACKLES OF EDUCATION. we should flee to a peaceful island and just live life and not gaf about anything else. i’m gonna take a wild guess and say it it’s because.. of your subjects AND the new environment 🥺 once again WE SHOULD JUST RUN AWAY….

ALSO HSKDBSKWJWJ sis we really did go through the same stuff like the kpop drought was partially why i was IA i was too busy being a football fan but the kpop gods called me back in the form of nct wish… BUT LMAOOO first haechan sighting in months omg that moment must’ve been good for you i know you was geeked for a second, never forget your roots sister. we bleed green 💚.

I MISSED U MOOOOREEE urgh life has been so overwhelming lately icl like i’ve got too much on my plate such as applying for unis, doing my college work, irl issues and some other stupid stuff like ferk i i was lowk not even gonna update today but i was like.. i GOT to… but i’m okay now i ate nice ice cream today :3 HSKDSHSJSHWJ DIDNT THE GODZILLA SKIN COME W MIKU ??? they’re running out of concepts bruh…

ANYWAYS TAKE CARE I LOVE YOU I HOPE YOU HAVE BEEN GOOD i hope the school year will go well for you and you won’t feel stressed ever mwuah 🥹🫂❤️

[ssaahthings]

hello c:

i feel kinda bad for being so ia the last couple weeks, i was away at a friend's place over new years and then when i got home i had to go back to work, so i haven't had much time to be active on tumblr in the way i wished to, but i have some wips that are almost ready and some belated christmas things :,) i hope is okay to post late. i have some valentine's day ideas that i'm planning earlier so they'll be ready to post on time 2024 is my year of working on my atrocious time management/managing the time blindness that comes with my adhd/executive dysfunction so cheers to that ig, i hope everyone is having a good year so far hugs

[fadingstarryskies]

twww long 3d rant lmao

I JUSSS WANNA BE TH11N IN LIKE A MONTH BUT I DIDNT HAVE SELF CONTROL AND I CONTINUE EATING A NORMAL AMNT OF CALS TRYING TO Notttt Ahagshshshsh i want the CUTE FALL AESTHETIC AND I CANT!!

but also i dont want to buy that many new clothes but oversized sweaters r cute atleast uuuu

also!!! ppl saying that im sk1nny now but. im not. im less than 10lbs less than overweight for my sex/height? being bought an xs dress as a gift is so nice tho the dresses they used to get me were usually oversized like just to be safe also and i was like i cant even wear this without belts.

but yeah. my body makes no sense and i just need to eat smaller portions also for my own mental health like one larger meal that can end up a binge midday or later in the day is just ANNOYING and makrs me SO erratic.

I just feel like sometimes i eat smaller portions and then end up having a larger meal later anyway so id rather fadt long as possible but eating more food late at night genuinely makes me feel bad regardless of whether it was before the relapse or not... but i cant tell if its just 3d thoughts or not.. ugHHH

anyway i love love love reading 3d books even tho lot of them are abt or end in recovery. just the way thoughts are is just pleasing to me because i cant actually rationalize or talk about mybown thoughts in another way and sometimes tumblr is too obvious or visual or has other things on it and i took a break for a while but still read books

stuff ive read sofar:

winterg1rls (ofc)

binary star (written in very interesting way, unclear ending which i like)

faerie (this had an unrealistic hospital description but she was south asian!!)

believar<>ic (this was someone that just went thru one hospital stay by choice and fully pushed herself to recover which was cool compared to the other books)

wasted: a memoir of anor<>ia and b<>im<> (i think this is one of the best written)

thin by grace bowman

the girls at 17 swann st (I just began this so idk tbh)

sorry for weird censoring im scared of getting t w0rded before i make/ensure an alt exists

[zerobaselove]

hi saturn !! the concert was amazing and i love thr boys's debut so much !! all the songs are amazing and i am so proud of all of them as well!!

there has been too much content these days, i cant catch up with everything without not being chronically online and the fear on missing out on everything else... (i kinda need to work on this as well)

how did you like their album? what ia your favorite song? mine hands down would be 'and i' and 'always'!

i saw you started a new work/job training thing, i hope it all goes well and i hope you get lots of rest! it is summer right now, make sure you stay hydrated and drink lots of water as well!

-🦝

IM SO SORRY THIS IS SO LATE!!! i have been so exhausted lately BUT IM HERE and ive missed u anon !!

i get you so bad i feel like ive been missing out on so much and it like stresses me out ?? i gotta get a grip or smth

I LOVEDDDDD THE ALBUM all the songs are so fun but I am especially a back to zerobase enjoyer personally

you are the absolute sweetest btw :(( i hope youve been taking care of yourself too <333 and i hope you're still kicking around on tumblr bc i miss hearing from you!!