#i love being a year older lookit me go

[conivolos]

its my birthday!! yippee!!

[mankai-style]

I “finished”(read: reached the main goal of) Fashion Dreamer last night, so here are my thoughts on the game so far:

Other’s frequent comments + my thoughts on them

“It’s too short!”

My first issue with this comment is that this game doesn’t have an end, it’s a social game, plus there are still so many things to discover and unlock once you finish reaching 10k followers. Second, this game’s target demographic is children, despite most of the player base being adults. That’s something a lot of people tend to forget while playing. Third, and I know it’s not fair to compare this with past Style Savvy games, the older Style Savvy games are short, too!! I recently played Fashion Forward and beat the story mode(while playing sporadically) in a week, and the past games are even shorter. The only exception here is 4, but that’s after years and years of refining the story and tying it in with idol culture. Since this is a new franchise with a new concept, I think it deserves just a little slack.

“The credits are long and unskippable!”

I really hope I don’t sound rude by saying this but have you played any game ever.

“It requires a lot of grinding!”

I agree, though I’ve never had an issue with that, since I’m STILL struggling to find the colors in older Style Savvy games, and the grinding/unlocking system gives me(at least) something to do in single-player mode.

My thoughts: Cons

It’s buggy

That said, again, I’m cutting it some slack since it’s only been two days since the U.S. release, and I expect at least the drift bug to be fixed in the future. Even still, I’m a little disappointed in that.

The dressing up interface

I wish you could zoom in, and the sorting options aren’t awful, per se, I like that you can sort by brand, type, and recently acquired, but I wish you could sort by color and style type, especially because of my next comment…

The clothes can feel a little same-y

Don’t get me wrong, they look amazing!!! They’re all very sleek and refined, but, since they’re mostly based on modern Japanese fashion, there is an excess of things like long coats and berets. That, and since there are so few patterns to work with, some styles are hard to differentiate, like casual and sporty. Also, I think that the style is determined by color and pattern, which can make it hard to make something like a bittersweet lolita coord, for example.

Lagging in online mode

I don’t know if this is a problem with my internet or the game, but I have a lot of trouble receiving lookits for my male muse, Sakuya. Last night, my friend and I were exchanging some, and I waited for an hour and I still didn’t get it. That, and it’s hard to dress up and create items because of said lag, to the point where I just go into single-player mode to do so.

The environments

Do NOT get me wrong, the environments are stunning, and I love them a lot, even if they’re a little small. My only complaint is that I wish they had more kinetic energy and movement, as well as changing periodically. For example, it would be cool if the angel and devil wings in Cocoon Fun flapped a little, or if the handles in the train in Act swayed to simulate movement. Or what if the bell in Love rang every few minutes? If the virtual trees in Hope swayed in the breeze and changed colors based on the seasons? What if the billboards changed too, or were animated? If a vehicle whizzed by on the road once in a while? I have too many ideas. Marvelous and SynSophia please hire me.

My thoughts: Pros

The unparalleled serotonin that is online play

I feel like there’s enough said. It’s so fun. The feeling of when my friend dms me and is like “hey I wanna make a lookit for your guy send me a request” is so everything, and the lookits people make for Lucille are adorable. I love it here.

THE PHOTOS!!!!

OH MY GOD THE PHOTOS. I already do this a lot in Style Savvy, and Fashion Dreamer blew me away with it. The stickers/puricura are probably my favorite, along with the drone camera. It makes it really easy to get nice pictures of your looks, and both the photo egg and Eve provide awesome backgrounds.

The designs and trending execution

I didn’t know how to word it dknfnjs, but it’s all done very well! Everyone’s items feel unique, and I like that you can show the item on your muse as you’re designing it, it’s helped a lot with making outfits. As for the trend execution, I think it’s smart to let you put your items up where everybody can see it, and it makes it a lot easier to get likes. I just- man. It’s so good.

The npcs!

Arguably one of my favorite parts of the game. They’re all so silly and unique, and I like the almost children’s show-sounding names. That, and I like that they still have requests of what they want as opposed to just letting you roam free. Plus, the affection/ranking system is a nice thing to have, it makes me feel a little more connected to them, and I already have favorites and least favorites.

The boyssssss

I feel like most players have at least one male/type b muse, and it just goes to show that there really was a demand for men in these kinds of games. It also makes creating my favorite male characters a lot easier, too!

I feel like I’m missing more, but these were my biggest highlights!!

Overall thoughts/closing

Though the game has its flaws, I think Fashion Dreamer is a really good experience if you like dressup games and enjoy putting people in cute outfits. I enjoy it, and will definitely be playing for the next little while, if only to read and unlock more stuff from the npcs sjdbfnfj. Thanks for reading!!!

[oonajaeadira]

Do you think any of the Pedro boys care about stretch marks? I have some and sometimes I get really self-conscious about them, especially on my inner thighs. 😓

TBH, I don't think most men care about stretchmarks. I don't have any, but I certainly have my own flaws and all the dudes I've been with dgaf about any of them. I'm the only one who's ever had a problem with any of my less-than-perfections.

Here's the thing.

You show a man your body, and what he doesn't want YOU to know is that his brain is on a constant loop of omgomgomgomgnakedladyformenakedladyformeomgomgomg. I've heard the joke that every time a dude has sex his brain is like "i can't believe I'm having SEX! with a GIRL!" and I've asked dudes about this and they're pretty much like, yup, that's what it's like. Even my SO. After 11.5 years and several dress sizes.

I guarantee you that you give any dude the supreme privilege to get close to you and he will have one of three reactions to your stretchmarks:

Most likely: don't care, they're part of you.

Less likely: registers them, sees you as less than perfect, and moves on without saying a word or giving it a second thought, maybe even relief because he's not perfect either.

Least likely: has issues with them and says something.

That "least likely" guy? Terrible human. Walk away. These are the buttc*nts that think the world owes them a dream that doesn't exist. You can't break through to this person. They have growing to do that will only happen after they've been rejected several times for being rejecty. Don't let anything they say hurt you. They're not worthy or your or anyone's time. (And this is coming from me, the person who thinks everyone's somewhat redeemable and deserving of compassion, so, that is to say these dudes are rare.)

The "less likely" dude? Remember this--the first judgmental thought that comes through anyone's brain is the brainwashing that society has taught them. We all do it. The second, corrected thought is who they really are. If they see your stretchmarks and note them as an imperfection, that's because big marketing and Hollywood have sold them a lie. If they say nothing and move on, it's because your feelings are the most important thing and they know deep down that nobody is perfect. And deep down they know that neither are they and they'd be hurt if you judged them for their flaws too. I guarantee you that dudes have 50% less thickness to their skin when it comes to appearances. Guaranteed. That's just chemical make up. If they care about you, they care about all of you and they will do whatever they can to make you feel good/attracted/loved.

But you're most likely to find, well, Mr. "Most Likely."

I mean, think about any person you've ever been attracted to. If you found out they had stretchmarks on the insides of their thighs, or vitiligo or cellulite or uneven genitals...would you like them any less? I mean, lookit Pedro. Boy's said it himself, if he could tell his younger self something it would be "don't eat pasta. after 9pm. every night." (or was it 11? doesn't matter.) He knows he's put on weight and now that he's older it's harder to take it off and he can't just eat like a teenager anymore. (I mean, I say go for it, P. Give me something to hold on to.) But I'd be surprised if that man at 47 doesn't have cellulite or stretchmarks somewhere on his brown body. And I wouldn't kick him out of bed.

Would you?

I wouldn't kick Dieter or Javi out of bed for their stretchmarks or Pero or Din for their scars or or Ezra for being a tripod...

And I don't think they'd give one hell about yours.

Any of them.

<3

Nobody is perfect. And therefore, everyone is.

[lestatslestits]

Um you like Animaniacs.... What is/are some of your favorite moment(s)?

Oh boy! Great question. Potentially absurdly long answer.

As far as the Warners go, I LOVE when they get really good sibling interactions, and also basically any time they get to have nice or just really funny interactions with the humans in their lives.

This bit in “Hercules Unwound” when Dot is having an off day and Yakko offers to skip the cartoon because she’s not feeling it. They’ve already skipped a cartoon earlier in the episode as well. It’s cute to see Yakko and Wakko caring more about their sister than teaching a lesson to their “special friend.”

This very important sequence from Wakko’s Wish, AKA the cutest Yakko and Dot scene. Literally one of my favorite moments in anything ever. This movie is the thesis statement for like…..85% of angsty Yakko content, at least until the reboot.

Dot messing up her name in Cutie and the Beast, and Yakko and Wakko being little shits about it (bonus: Dot swearing like a sailor). It makes me laugh every time. Also hearing Yakko referred to as “Mr. United States Canada Mexico Panama” never gets old.

The “I’m Mad” theatrical short has it all. Peak Warner sib moments and the best Dad!Scratchansniff content. The Warners are from the late 20s/early 30s. They are OLDER than the Looney Tunes, if you look at their canonical creation dates. Seeing them getting to actually act like kids makes me feel emotions. Also Rob Paulsen is voicing HALF of the characters in this very chaotic song.

The entirety of Meatballs or Consequences, but especially this section. It’s so cute watching Yakko and Dot ask to stay with Wakko, and “are we dead, or is this Ohio” makes me laugh every time. And Jess Harnell is both Wakko and Death! I love hearing his different accents.

This scene from “Fear and Laughter in Burbank,” the OTHER angsty Yakko thesis statement. Do you wanna see an animated character have an on-screen panic attack and then almost have his soul eaten? This is the bit for you. I would LOVE to hear Rob Paulsen’s perspective of this moment, because it’s…a lot, given some of his real life circumstances at the time. Also here there be scary clowns, so if you don’t like clowns, skip this one.

“Yakko’s Big Idea” from the segment of the same name. I’m SO normal about this scene where Yakko is inventing the perfect world for him and his sibs to play in.

Drive Insane, especially the bit from around 0:30 to 1:15 seconds in this video. The Warners tormenting Scratchy by making people think he’s their dad is never NOT funny to me.

“It’s New Year’s Eve” from Hooray for North Hollywood Part 2. It’s so cute seeing them have a good time and be accepted by everyone, and it’s cute to see them celebrating Mr. Plotz. Just don’t think about how this fits into the last few episodes. Don’t. Look at Yakko giving Dot a lil kiss on the cheek instead.

Non Warner Segments:

Les Miseranimals is THE iconic Rita and Runt segment. It’s so good. This isn’t the whole thing, but I definitely recommend going and watching it all.

You could blindfold yourself and stick a pin in a list of Pinky and the Brain episodes and be almost guaranteed to get a great one, but Bubba Bo Bob Brain is one of the absolute best.

The first 30 seconds of this video includes probably my favorite Pinky and the Brain exchange of all time, from Wakko’s Wish

Honorable Mentions:

West Side Pigeons (Goodfeathers)

De-Zanitized (The Warners, and I’m only not including it because I could talk about it for about an hour)

Smitten With Kittens (Rita and Runt)

One Flew Over the Cuckoo Clock (Slappy Squirrel, and I’m not sure it’s one of my favorites so much as it makes me want to study Tom Ruegger like a bug because what the hell)

Literally every Chicken Boo segment, I’m not singling any of them out because every Chicken Boo segment is funny to me.

Lookit the Fuzzy Heads (The Warners and Buttons and Mindy, as well as a Tiny Toons Adventures crossover, shhhhh no one tell anyone that I enjoyed an Elmyra segment)

This is embarrassingly long, and I probably still forgot some. Everyone please watch this cartoon.

[thefactsofthematter]

🥺can you write a sprace piece with spot taking care of race? 👉👈

yessir!!!! a little bit of hurt/comfort, taking care of each other after a fight 🥺

1.4k; sprace, canon era; warning for a (non-fatal) knife wound and various other minor injuries

- 

"Stop, I can— I can do it myself, Spot. Okay? I don't need your help."

Race is stubbornly trying to pull off his own undershirt, as they sit in Spot's room, following a bit of a rumble with some boys from another borough. He can't move his left arm too well right now, so he's trying to wiggle out of the shirt one-handed, and the fabric keeps catching on the rather large cut on his abdomen.

"One of those Woodside boys caught you with a knife, Racer." Spot reaches out to try and help. "Just let me—"

"No!" Race squirms away. "I can do it! Worry about cleaning up your own busted lip, how bout."

Race is so goddamn prideful. He always has been. He doesn't want help from anyone, and he hates for it to even seem like he can't do anything and everything for himself.

The boys they fought with today were taunting him— they'd called him Spot's "lap dog," and acted as if he couldn't hold his own without Spot backing him up. They'd joked about Race being a suck-up to the king of Brooklyn and not being loyal to any one borough... it was fucked up and mean, and Spot and Race soaked the guys together. However, despite winning the fight, it was inevitable to come away with some injuries of their own.

"You throw your shoulder out?" Spot asks, deciding to let Race have his moment for now. "I'm gonna have one sucker of a black eye. I can feel it."

Race shrugs with one shoulder, a dead giveaway that the other one is hurting too to move.

"It'll be sore for a minute. Not that bad, though." He finally manages to pull his shirt most of the way off, but it gets stuck on his head, since he can't really lift his left arm to pull it all the way. "Damn it."

Spot laughs quietly, but it dies in his throat when he gets an eyeful of the huge gash right next to Race's belly button. That's a nasty cut.

"I know you can do it yourself, but ain't it easier if I just give you a hand?" he sighs. A glare from Race, through the threadbare fabric of his shirt, but no actual objection. "Please let me help you, Racer."

He scoots over across the floor to help whether it's wanted or not. Rather than protest, Race just leans forward to let Spot pull the bloody undershirt off, wincing as his sore shoulder is jostled a little.

"There you go," Spot continues, being as gentle as humanly possible with every touch. He tosses the shirt aside. "Now, can have a look at that cut? I think you're done bleeding... let me clean it up for you."

Race reaches down to prod at the wound, and his face screws up in pain when he pokes it a little too hard, but he immediately schools his expression back into something indifferent and neutral.

"Doesn't seem that bad," he mumbles. "I can do it myself."

Spot catches Race's hand in his own, almost by instinct.

"You're gonna make yourself bleed out if you keep poking it like that! Lookit— you nearly opened it right back up." He gives Race what he hopes is an earnest and caring look... though he's never been good with emotions. "Just relax, okay? I know you can do it, but I wanna help you anyways. What kinda boyfriend would I be if I just sat here doin' nothing when you're a bloody mess?"

Race bites down on his inner lip and drops his eyes to their connected hands. They don't use that boyfriend word very often... it feels bigger and grander than what they are. They're just a couple of boys who like each other a lot— they don't typically put a label on it.

"Just be careful," Race sighs. "Don't get too handsy with me."

Spot rolls his eyes.

"Very funny. You wanna lie down? Might be more comfy that way." He reaches for the ruined shirt they just pulled off. "I'm gonna use this for a rag, I'll go wet it in the washbasin. Don't go nowhere."

He pushes himself onto his feet as Race tries to make himself comfortable on the floor. Spot's got his own little room in the attic of his lodging house, but the nearest bathroom is down on the next floor.

He's back in a flash, to find Race laying there with his good arm draped over his eyes in a ridiculously dramatic fashion. Typical.

"Hanging in there, tough guy?" he asks with a giggle.

"Ain't dead yet," Race replies. "He barely scraped me, anyhow."

"Right..." Spot chuckles, as he sits down on the floor next to Race. "Just hardly grazed you."

Spot is as careful as possible, but Race still hisses in pain as soon as the rag makes contact. He keeps his arm draped over his face— probably to avoid looking down.

It's not as bad as Spot had expected. Once most of the blood is wiped away, it's not a particularly deep cut. It might leave a cool scar, and it'll be uncomfortable for at least a few days, but that'll likely be the extent of the damage.

"You almost done?" Race grumbles, after a while. "I think you're just takin' your sweet time so you can get an eyeful of me, you animal."

It would be a lie for Spot to say he hadn't spent a moment or two marvelling over how Race's pale torso seems to stretch on for miles... but he'll vehemently deny it anyways.

"I'm here helping you, outta the goodness of my heart! What kinda man do you take me for?"

"Oh, you're a man now, huh?" Race finally moves his arm, just to give Spot a look. "Turned sixteen and now you think you're all grown up?"

"Oh, hush," Spot groans. He's not even a full year older than Race, but he still constantly gets teased for being old. He finishes patching Race up, still being as delicate as he can. "There you go. All good." He pauses. "Wanna stay the night?"

Race's eyes close as he lets out a deep sigh. What a day they've had.

"Yeah," he says, after a moment. He almost sounds as if he's trying to rationalize the decision to himself. "It's late. I'm tired. Your bed's comfier than mine, too."

It's not like Spot would let him leave anyways— it's already dark, and the weather's been getting cool lately. It's a long walk home, and the shortcut goes through some not-so-safe areas. Spot would like to keep Race safely tucked into his bed tonight, thank you very much.

"Alright, then," Spot says, and then he scoops his arms underneath Race's thin frame and picks him up. He might be tall, but Race is ridiculously light— he's got a quick metabolism, a small appetite, and an insistence on making sure younger kids get fed before he does. "Let's get you to bed now."

Spot has tried this maneuver before— Race always screeches and protests and flails his legs until Spot puts him back down. Tonight, though, in some miraculous turn of events, he just laughs softly and puts his good arm around Spot's shoulders to help balance himself.

"I can walk just fine, you know," Race says, though there's no hint of actual annoyance behind it— just a fondness that he expresses through teasing quips. "This is ridiculous."

"It sure is," Spot agrees, before carefully laying Race down on his bed. "You need anything? A cup of water? An extra blanket? I think I could find one if you wanted it."

Race just stares up at him with an expression that's almost... soft. He's exhausted, and his messed-up shoulder and the cut on his abdomen must be aching horribly, but he just smiles a little at Spot, like he's perfectly content to be here.

"I don't need nothin' more but you," he finally says, decisive and final. "Get your ass in bed."

And so Spot does. He's so, so careful to not bump or move Race in a way that might hurt him, but he climbs into the little bed and then kisses him long and hard.

"I love you," he whispers once he pulls away, and Race snorts, amused.

"Sap," Race teases, but then after a moment, his voice goes all gentle and he adds, "I love you more."

And while the two of them may have been screwed out of a lot of good things in life— parents, an education, a normal childhood— at least they have this love. Sometimes, Spot feels as if this really is all he needs.

[coffeebeannate]

Nate Watches Things: A Saga

Or in this case, one thing. One thing that was far too long of a thing, but such a bizarre venture that I felt rather compelled to put an actual review of said thing together.

Why? Because I can and because others HAVE to experience this..this journey. A nice lil journey called Die Pfeiler der Macht/ A Dangerous Fortune. And I watched it solely because Luca looks cute in Victorian clothes, and I was intrigued by the gifs.

Curiosity has always been such a great human motivator, eh?

And..guys. I just. I don’t know what the 3-4 hours (it’s two movies, and I took a couple days to watch it) WERE, exactly, but they were..a thing? I know that it’s based on a book by Ken Follett and that this production is German. Despite being based in England. 

Oh, and Luca’s character Mickey Miranda, is uh, Spanish. Make of that what you will.

So the summary is this:

A shocking secret behind a young boys death leads to three generations of treachery in this breathtaking saga of love, power and revenge, set amid the wealth and decadence of Victorian England.

And no it does not do this thing justice whatsoever.

Review under the cut. It’s too long *again, two movies here*, and I took far too many screencaps of this absolute wtfery, and uh, it’s probably better suited for a real-time live blog but nah. You can have this instead.

Some images under the cut are NSFW because nefarious boning is a key point in this..thing.

SPOILERS. So many spoilers. This thing is a spoiler fest. The caps have a very obvious Luca bias, I know why we’re here everyone. Hehe. There’s also some triggering stuff in this thing, so be warned there too.

BEHOLD:

So, a point I want to make is that the costuming in this movie is LEGIT. If absolutely nothing else works? Note that the costuming absolutely does.

The opening credits are very nice, Luca’s very pretty, this cap serves purely to showcase that because I’m a very serious man doing a very serious review.

Pretty.

So the beginning is..confusing. We have a girl, Maisie Robinson. (Around 10-13 here?) Her father is very poor and it’s her and her two siblings. He works for a man who is part of our main characters, the Pilasters?  and they run this bank. The head of the bank commits suicide, since they’re having financial troubles and he cannot repay his workers. He pens a note to his young son *under 12 at this point*, Hugh. 

Hugh never finds out about this letter, but anyway. At the moment, it’s 1866. Maisie’s father was one of those employees. Destitute, he leaves Maisie to..raise her siblings, and goes to America.

We never hear from this man again.

Hugh goes to live with his aunt (Augusta/Augustina?), uncle Joseph, and cousins, Edward and Clara.

THEN IT’S 1877 (we jump ten years)

Maisie’s two siblings have died, and she has a daughter, Rachel now. Who is also dying. This movie is very keen on people dying. I’d also like to point out that there is like, endless plots all happening alongside one another, and it took me until mid-way into part two to even really grasp what the main plot is.

The movie has a LOT of bank talk as well. I cannot express this earnestly enough, there is SO MUCH bank chatter. SO MUCH. This thing does not have to be as long as it is but again, bank stuff.

Anyway, the one plot is that Maisie is from the poor area, she’s had a horrible life and has struggled from day one. She’s in a constant battle with Hugh, and they argue a lot. A lot. (They like each other, they met as kids, but they’re from very different worlds. Hugh has money, she doesn’t, but Hugh has suffered as well and basically it’s your normal class struggle social commentary thing).

Maisie and Hugh in 1866, as kids, after Maisie’s father left for America. This is the funeral for Hugh’s father. So that’s the theme I mean.

Anywho.

Back in 1877, this is Samuel *left*, Joseph *middle* and Edward. The Pilaster’s get marched into work like they’re freaking army Captain’s and not just rich ass bankers. Imagine saluting your CEO. At work. Outside of the military. WHERE IS THIS A THING? Maybe this was a thing in Victorian England I have no clue I’ve certainly never come across it in my studies. Ffs.

Anyway.

So while all this is going on, there’s this man that wants to marry Maisie. 

And his name is,

(That’s Rachel, Maisie’s daughter). Anyway, Solly here loves Maisie and wants to marry her. But Maisie loves Hugh, and neither of them realize this yet. Solly is a himbo and we mostly like him, but stay tuned because that doesn’t stick. Sorta. Depends on how-

Nevermind I’ll just keep going.

ANYWAY, more plot.

Here’s Edward again, doing drugs, being gay, and overall..useless. Edward is..Edward is kind of like a person who would make an interesting wall decoration. Fun enough to look at, but utterly freaking hopeless, and useless, and so dumb. Just so dumb. This character is given the substance of ash fault. Kinda like, only vaguely solid enough to be entertaining. Kinda.

I don’t know guys, BUT LOOK!

It’s his good old pal Mickey! And he’s slapped Edward awake out of his drug coma (okay he grabs his face and shakes him rather than slapping but given how much slapping happens in the rest of this movie I think I can be forgiven) and he has PLOTS.

Mostly it’s his dads plot, but it’s a plot. A very devious scheme and he needs our favourite wallpapers assistance!

(Sorry Edward, but it’s true)

So keeping in mind that the ‘theme’ of this movie is bone-and-soul crushing sadness paired with periods of intense chaos and insanity that  you never see coming, our plots continue to thicken.

What Mickey means here, is that Edward’s family denied Mickey’s father what he wanted *weapons deal*, and beat the crap out of Mickey in a carriage. But that’s fine that’s fine Mickey is not deterred! BECAUSE.

*sigh*

So.

OK.

This scene.

Remember what I said about how this movie goes from being incredibly boring to so off the walls bonkers without actually WARNING YOU that it is going to do this? Yeah.

Edward, you see, really does not ‘do’ women. He’s gay. He’s extremely gay. Edward’s mother wants him to marry Florence Stalworthy for idk rich people reasons.

So..Mickey. Uh. Mickey’s solution is..this.

What is this, you ask??

Fuck if I know.

Anyway, no, uhm. This is a brothel. So (not) pictured here (I can’t post the scene on tumblr guys we have a ban) is Edward on a couch across from mask-and-feathers MIckey and this tied down woman, with another woman who is not tied down. And this is Mickey..showing Edward..how to.have sex with women. Apparently. Sort of. His lesson falls very flat. It is not a good scene, Mickey’s ‘instructions’ get increasingly louder, and he at one point makes this noise that sounds like a Joker laugh.

It is...it’s something.

(Also note there’s some extremely uncomfortable, misogynistic name-calling on Mickey’s part here..so yeah).

Oh, and it doesn’t convince Edward. At all. IMAGINE.

Around all this time, the Hugh/Maisie/Solly plot is also ongoing. And that also encompasses bar fighting (bare knuckles boxing and wrestling I think? And gambling)

Hugh has gambling debt we’ll get back to this. (He’s also obsessed with getting Russian bonds into the bank, again, the banking plot losses me a LOT)

So meanwhile, Mickey meets up with Edward’s mother.

But why Edward’s mother, you ask??

Well. *sigh*. Something I didn’t mention earlier is that Mickey likes Ed’s mum. A lot. A lot a lot. Mickey wants to take that woman to town and then some, is a very basic way of me putting it and-

Fuck it. Mickey wants to bang Ed’s mum. BADLY.

(She’s not opposed either, at all)

So their little scheme here is that Ed’s mum wants Ed to take control of the bank, but with the father-in-law alive, that’s not going to happen. So they’re plotting to take down the next person in charge who would succeed said father in law, (Samuel) who is in a relationship with the secretary mentioned above, Michael.

Yes, another GODDAMNED PLOT.

(Samuel is fairly unpleasant like all of these people, so I don’t feel that bad for him. He also kinda treats Michael like garbage, and is called out for this by Joseph later in the movie)

So the scheme here is to get rid of the father-in-law, and get Ed married. Cake walk!

(Also, while ALL THIS is going on, Mickey’s got his own mini-plot about doing these things for his father, the weapons and stuff but we don’t actually find out about the main goal of that whole thing till the end, you’ll see)

Oh, and since we’ve not had a good dose of ‘WHAT THE FUCK’ lately, Solly proposes to Maisie with an honest-to-god Alice in Wonderland party.

Yeah.

Meet the Mad Hatter! He’s a guide, he says nothing. Other people are in costume too, but you know-I have enough caps as it is.

So anyway, Maisie and Solly get engaged, Maisie and Hugh meet up at some point and bang instead. 

And while that’s happening, Edward is convinced by Mickey to marry Florence.

So he does.

Lookit this shit faced smug ass grin.

(Also ahead is Samuel again, and Hugh)

BUT THEN the bank finds out about Hugh’s gambling debts. So he leaves. Taking his cousin Clara (Edward’s teenage sister-at her insistence) to the USA. And just like Maisie’s dad, another man abandons her for the States.

So the father in law is still alive, so! 

It’s murder time.

Perfect wedding time event yeah?

So Mickey murders the father-in-law. (He jumps on him, suffocates him with a pillow, gets caught by Augusta and then they do this..weird ‘tensely make the bed thing’)

Murdered.

And then, exactly five seconds or so later..

Nothing like some murder pre-boning with the dead guy two feet away amiright?

Anyway at this point I was just:

And yelling at my ceiling. Not pictured.

I was a Hannibal fan and I STILL went !?!?!?

END PART ONE.

Part two starts out in 1912, and then cuts back to 1882. So in this messy timeline, note it has been six years since part one. And Hugh is married now to Nora, an American singer, and Clara is older and pregnant. (Father is never determined, but he’s a married man and that’s why Clara didn’t stay)

SO the three of them are returning home. Maisie and Solly have a son, David, and Maisie is depressed and distant, so Solly is the one who spends all the time with David. He’s shown as a legit good dad and it’s quite cute watching them.

(The kids Hugh’s, btw, he and Maisie both know this, Hugh does not, it’s revealed dramatically later but we still have so many plots)

Edward and Florence are childless. Edward doesn’t sleep with her. Everyone knows this.

(At this point I kept asking myself when this would end, I cannot stress how LONG this thing feels at times)

So Hugh and Nora meet up with Maisie and Solly, and they chat and there’s more love plots, more bank plots and a masquerade party where at some point Maisie thinks a little girl at the party is Rachel (who died in the end of part one, sorry!) and there’s a fire and Maisie and Hugh make out and Nora and Solly are both upset and it’s a whole thing.

Samuel now does something of a side business that’s unspecified with Michael, and pregnant Clara is being persued by the only man who might be a good match for her (she’s not keen on getting married. But he’s also..really old.) PLOTS.

And Mickey and Augusta are..still a thing. And Edward being chlidless is becoming an issue. So what is the solution dear friends??

*BANGS HEAD INTO A WALL*

Why the fuck not.

Absolutely flawless! Eddie will NEVER notice.

SO with this plan in motion, Mickey sets out to seduce Florence, Eddie’s neglected wife. He starts in a church, and I have to admit, this one line he gives is quite funny.

“I don’t go to church.”

Cannot begin to imagine why.

Also, around this time is when we get the infamous scene about how he fcked the wives of the three men and then made the guys suck his dick one by one. I didn’t cap that since it’s in gif form, but yeah.

Hugh and Solly and Nora and Maisie are still having their love issues. And there is still bank stuff as all this is going down.

But while on his Florence quest, we see Mickey beat up a guy who was abusing a small boy, and Florence see’s him do this as well and:

He looks so baffled. 

‘Me? GOOD? I really don’t think so.”

She’s also holding a baby, and he gives the infant this face:

“Eugh, what is that?”

He also finds her in church again at some point and comes alongside her like this:

”Sup? Whatcha prayin’ about?”

Anyway, while doing all this, he’s still having some issues. He needs Eddie’s signature for a bank transfer (for his father, his father’s plot is STILL a THING) and so it is time to seduce someone ELSE. This time it’s Edward. This won’t be hard. Edward wants him so bad you could probably see it from fucking space.

Mickey is well aware of this.(I don’t think it’s one sided either, he looks at Edward all wide eyed half the time, but he’s so manipulative it’s hard to judge).

Actually me right now tbh.

So that’s this followed by the infamous gif set.

Edward takes him up on it.

‘Come along my dear there’s nefarious boning to be done’.

Absolutely vital screencap below (which is the most we get anyway and I didn’t cap the line about the freaking signature because fuck plots over nice images okay)

Vital

Anyway Edward gives him the bloody signature. And then Mickey goes along to talk to Augusta. But at this point Mickey is very much beginning to unravel. His goal seems to be more centralized to finishing whatever long ass convoluted job his father has been making him do for the last six years (possibly more tbh) and he’s sort of done with everything.

And Edward see’s this exchange. Le. Oof.

SO! IN BETWEEN ALL THIS. There’s some party where there’s drama and then basically Nora..willing gives up Hugh so he can be with Maisie and Solly just..I don’t even know, single dad for life and all. Edward knows that his family has basically been doing shit all around him, and Mickey STILL seduces Florence. He has her meet him outside that night at two am and they get together, but when he’s with her he kinda has these doubts but she wants him anyway so they bang.

Yeesh.

AFTER that there’s Edward again, because Edward knows shit is up, Mickey goes to a room to grab a bag and see’s Edward there. He tells Edward goodbye, but Edward pulls a gun. Mickey just...drops the bag, tells him to shoot. Edward doesn’t, instead he turns the gun on himself and then Mickey shoots himself in a chair.

Yeah.

DEATH! SADNESS! REMEMBER-THIS MOVIE LOVES DEAD PEOPLE~!

At some point in all this, Augusta goes to her daughter, Clara, apologies for being an absolutely evil mother for her entire life and then the movie sort of begins to wrap up.

Maisie and David were going to leave for the States together, but David wants to stay with Solly, who well DID raise him despite him being Hugh’s kid. So Maisie and Hugh are alone and David lives with Solly and the Pilaster bank has discovered the ACTUAL FREAKING PLOT OF MICKEY’S DAD AND THE ENTIRE BACKGROUND THING. Which was this:

THIS DIDN’T NEED TO BE ALMOST FOUR HOURS, GERMANY.

SO Hugh lets the mob inside. We don’t see what happens after that, but Augusta comes in to tell Joseph Edward shot himself.

Lots of sadness.

So the movie ends in 1912, with David and Hugh meeting up. David never saw Maisie again *she’s deceased now, as is Solly.* they talk, there is some moral lesson or something about love. The goddamned end.

OOF.

SO overall?

I don’t know.

It’s a movie. It has a script and plot and..it was put on screen? The costumes are legitimately amazing. They might be the best thing about this thing. But it REALLY feels like Ken really wanted to make a movie about banking, noticed that’d be boring and tried to make it spicy.

It’s so bizarre. So depressing. So many people are horrible. So many bad things happen. So much slapping, so much weirdness. There’s nothing happy in this thing. Not one. The so called ‘good’-ish ending falls flat amongst a sea of depression and I re-iterate, IT DOES NOT HAVE TO BE SO LONG.

I distinctly recall lots of clock watching at times, wondering how I could POSSIBLY have more to go. It then goes so completely off the rails that you just don’t know what is happening and it’s just WEIRD.

At times that weirdness makes it fun, but overall it’s really not great. I probably would never rewatch it, and I can say that it’s an uh, experience in movie-watching.

A good one? I don’t know. But an experience, none the less.

[mrsrcbinscn]

[Past] Franny Sor’s 1 hour set at a bar in Downtown Nashville, February 24, 1999

hi i’m in my feelings so have this silly hc piece. It’s a mix of a oneshot and just a list really.

I hc this is the gig that Franny met Cornelius at, but I left all the other details about him vague ^_^

cover versions of the songs are linked for general vibe

so anyway someone come write my cornelius lmao<3

The 9 PM time slot at The Whiskey Hive on Broadway was a coveted one, a surefire moneymaker. Franny, wonderin’ how in the hell she was ever going to pay for her next semester, let alone her next three years at Belmont, jumped at the opportunity to take it when the original singer cancelled at 4:30. Lucky thing she lived on campus and could easily make it in time -- even with guitar and banjo in tow.

Pete the talent manager always called Franny first or nearly-first when he had an open slot. She didn’t usually get the best time slots. She was barely nineteen, new in town, not like these other people who have been songwriting in Nashville for over a decade, and there was a sense of seniority in these circles. Franny could tell Pete was giving her a chance to earn her way into the 8-10 PM time slots and there was no way in hell she way blowing it.

That of course meant there was only one song from her repertoire she could possibly open with...Poor, Poor, Pitiful Me by Linda Ronstadt of course! If Franny ever needed an ‘impress a crowd free’ song, she only needed to whip Linda Ronstadt out of her back pocket. It also didn’t hurt that Terri Clark had recently brought the song back to the attention of country music fans with her cover of it.

“Let’s give a big Whiskey Hive welcome to little miss Franny Sor, a freshman here at Belmont University, all the way from Payne Lake, Georgia!” Pete said into his microphone before turning it off and nodding to Franny to begin.

The crowd applauded between eating and drinking their beers and cocktails, and Franny idly played a few chords to get some background noise goin’ as she introduced herself.

“Hey y’all! Like Pete said, I’m Franny Sor, I live here in Nashville and I’m a music studies student and songwriter. We’re gonna start tonight with a little Linda Ronstadt.”

The crowd, mostly the thirty-five-and-older folks, applauded, and Franny began her acoustic rendition of Poor, Poor, Pitiful Me.

“Thank y’all so much! Now, if there’s anything you want to hear at any point in the next hour, just let me know, I love requests. And if you like what you hear, feel free to drop some change in the tip buckets, it helps keep me here in Nashville, put gas in my car, buy my cat wet food. You know, the essentials.”

She went right into Roseanne Cash’s Seven Year Ache, trying not to notice the young man at the bar, probably about three or four years older than her, who met her eye a few times and seemed to be fishin’ for his wallet. 

A few folks dropped some tips in the bucker, including the handsome young man alone at the bar.

“Thank you, thank you! And where are you from, sir?” Franny asked, figuring now was a good opportunity for crowd engagement. 

The man startled, clearly not one comfortable with being put on the spot, but answered her with a nervous smile.

“Ohhh, I’ve always wanted to go there. Cool accent! What brings you to Nashville? What’s your name?”

“I’m living here for work right now. Uh, Cornelius.”

“What kinda music do you like, Cornelius? I can play anythin’. Rock, pop, country, bluegrass.”

He blinked, almost as if he forgot what music was, let alone what he liked. After a beat, he stuttered out, “Um- a- an-an original?”

Good Lord, the squeak that came out of Franny’s mouth. “That’s the first time anybody’s ever requested an original! I’m very excited about this song I just wrote. To keep a very long story offensively short, my mother came to the United States in 1979 as a refugee from Cambodia. She was separated from her entire family during the conflict there, and didn’t even know that my grandmother was still alive until I was nine. I wrote this song over Christmas break, when my grandmother visited from Cambodia and my brothers and I got to meet her. This song is to my mother, from my grandmother’s perspective.  I promise I’ll play a fun song after this one.”

That at least got some laughter from the audience.

She set her guitar down, picked up her banjo, and played Oh, Sophia, a song she wrote.

“I promise y’all, if I ever write a happy little love song, y’all will be the first to know,” Franny joked as she switched out her banjo for her guitar again. “It’s just that ain’t no guy I’ve gone with has been love song material. Hey, Cornelius, if you know any guys worth writin’ a love song about, you call me, eh?” 

Franny hopped up on her tippy toes to look out at a table where a family with a cute little girl was sitting. “What about y’all, with the little girl in pigtails? Where’re you from?”

“San Francisco! Exciting! What brings you to Nashville?”

“Vacation!”

“You came to the right place, I love this little city. What kind of music do you wanna hear?”

“Know any Roger Miller?” Asked the husband.

Franny giggled, then smirked. “Of course I do! Roger Miller’s some of my favorite songwriting in country music. Do you like Kansas City Star?”

She reached down into her guitar case and brandished a tambourine, which she promptly put her foot through on the floor to use to keep time as she played her cover of Kansas City Star.

Franny did her very, very, damned best not to make eye contact with Cornelius with the accent again, but she couldn’t help it. He was the only person in the place lookin’ at her like she wasn’t just background noise.

"Is anybody else here from Georgia tonight? Or just me. Anybody from Georgia?”

A bachelorette party toward the back WOOOOOO’d and Franny immediately regretted asking.

“For real? Where at?”

“Marietta!”

“Y’all like Reba?” More WOOOOOOs from the girls. 

Franny gently slid her tambourine to the side with her foot and got ready to bang out The Night The Lights Went Out in Georgia. If she could get the energy in the room nice and up with Reba, then she could probably play the song she’d been dying to play all hour.

Her eyes kept darting toward Cornelius at the bar, still sipping the same beer he’d started the hour with. At least he ordered food too. Bartender probably wouldn’t be too pissed as long as he tipped good. Judging by the twenty he dropped in Franny’s tip bucket, he should.

It wasn’t just the fact she made good money off of him -- he was just. Listening to her. People didn’t do that here, not really.

As she finished, the crowd applauded for the performance she gave on that song. Turns out going for a tough song pays off...if you got the skills to back it up.

“This is one of my favorite songs, and I don’t get to play it often. Ain’t really country, but I really want to play it. Is that all right with y’all?” Franny asked the crowd, who, on account of being thoroughly entertained at this point, cheered.

She set her banjo down and picked her guitar back up, and picked out the first few notes of Angel of The Morning.

It was a risk, but the bar seemed to like her well enough to go for it. Was it a great bar song? Eh, no. But did Franny believe her vocal performance could make up for that? For sure. 

And lookit that, a gentleman at a table in the middle stood out of his seat to applaud her! Ha!

“Y’all wanna hear a girl do Hank Williams?” Franny joked, and at the applause and whoops, she said, “Gimme a song, any Hank song, c’mon!”

“Lovesick Blues!”

“You wanna hear Lovesick Blues? And where are you from?”

“Calgary!”

“Canada! Well, welcome to Nashville. Here’s Lovesick Blues for ya, Canada.”

Country fans always did find it impressive when she could country yodel into a Hank song.

As she considered what exactly to whip out next, someone shouted, “Tammy Wynette!” and Franny zeroed in on that request. 

“Which song?”

“Stand By Your Man!”

“Alright folks, heeeere’s Stand By Your Man by the legend herself.”

Franny personally didn’t adore the song -- she thought it gave men’s shitty behavior a pass. But it was a classic, and to make it in music, you gotta know the classics.

“Does anybody here like Alanis Morisette? I know, I know, it’s not country...I told y’all! I like everything. I’m a teenage girl in 1999, of course Alanis Morisette speaks to my soul.”

She very pointedly was not looking at cute-Cornelius-at-the-bar as she sang Head Over Feet, lest she catch nerves and butterflies. Even as she noticed him get up out of the corner of her eye and drop another bank note into the tip bucket.

“What do y’all wanna hear for the grand finale? Old country, new country, pop, rock...? What about you, Mr. Cornelius-from-[redacted]?”

“New country! I, uh, actually could use some educating on it. About it. Country.”

Franny smiled and readied her fingers on the right frets for the first chord. “Great! We’ll wrap up our time together with some Mark Chestnutt.”

It’s A Little Too Late was a goddamn blast to play, so why not?

Franny hopped off the stage and sped through counting her tips, in hopes of catching Cornelius before he left to chat him up more. What? He was cute, had a cool accent, and tipped her well. May as well say hello...

[ask-beacons-finest]

Tarra, nervously speaking up, standing in a moonlit hall of the Schnee manor: I-I don't think we should be out by ourselves...

Basil, spinning around, in tandem with Clove: Shhh!

Basil: You're gonna get us caught!

Clove: We're just exploring. Don't be a wuss!

Basil, poiting over to a large and ornately carved wooden door: Ooooo! Lookit that! I wonder what's behind there!

Clove, excitedly: Maybe treasure!

Basil, slinking down, crawling towards it: Maybe food...

Tarra, glancing around anxiously, her hands fiddling with eachother: Mmmm...definitely trouble.

Clove, grabbing onto Tarra's wrist, dragging her along: C'mon! Let's go look!

Basil, standing at the door, checking the handle to see it's locked: Hrmmm...

Clove, catching up to him with Tarra in tow: What's wrong?

Basil, holding up a hand, a claw on his pointer finger extending as he sticks it into the keyhole: It's locked...

Clove, amazed: Ahhh!!! Where'd you learn how to do that!?

Basil, his tongue stuck out in concentration: Remember when were locked out of the house? Mom did this and it worked. I watched her, I think I can do it.

Tarra, bouncing a bit back and forth, whining: We're gonna get in so much trouble...

Basil, just pointlessly jangling his claw in the keyhole, perking upright in surprise at the sound of a click: Wha-? Oh!!! Oh it worked! I can't believe it worked!

Clove, with a big grin, her tail lashing back and forth in excitement: Amazing!!! Not bad little brother.

Basil, reaching for the handle, defensively spitting at Clove: You're only a few seconds ol-!

Basil, turning to stare at the handle as it turns, the door opening to reveal a young woman in a maid uniform staring down at the children: ...uh oh.

Clove, through gritted teeth: Busted...

Tarra, already with tears in her eyes, her voice a squeaky mess: We're in so much trouble.

Pollination!Maid, standing in the dark doorway in complete silence, staring down at the children: ...

Pollination!Maid: Why are there three pairs of eyes staring at me from the void...

Pollination!Maid, reaching over and flipping a lightswitch in the room, then taking a deep sigh of relief: Oh, thank the gods...they're just children.

Clove, glancing from Basil to Tarra, then back up to the maid: Who're you?

Pollination!Maid, bows her head in greeting, speaking with a smile: Hello, my name is Marion Rivers, I've been employed by the Schnee Manor for the past two years. You all must be the young triplets of Lady Weiss?

Basil, being the first to speak up after a second: ...what?

Marion, with a small chuckle: I'm a maid, I work here.

Clove, nearly shouting: MUTTER HAS MAIDS!?

Basil, excitedly pointing into the room: What's in there!?

Tarra, still in tears, through sniffles: Are w-we in trouble?

Marion, clearing her throat, answering them in turn: Technically we're employed by the estate, not your Mutter specifically. It's the Manor's study, the Master Lady of the House's, actually. And that is unfortunately not my decision little one, that belongs to your mothers and only them.

Basil, his eyes lighting up: Can we go in there!! We're not allowed to go into the study at home, can we go in this one!

Marion, awkwardly slipping out and closing the door after shutting the light back off, locking the door with a key: I umm...I think it would be best if you didn't, young Master Basil. I think it would be best if you all hurried back to your rooms, it's very late.

Tarra, quietly: I agree...

Clove: But I wanna explore!

Basil: And I'm hungry!

Marion, thinking for a moment, then sighs: Very well, it's better that you'd all be chaperoned at the very least. Please, follow me.

~~~~~

Basil, sitting up on a counter in the large kitchen of the manor, eating a sandwich: Oooooh! This is really really good!

Marion, with a smile, spreading peanut butter on another piece of bread while Clove waits patiently: I'm glad you enjoy it, young Master Basil, everything is homemade.

Clove, in awe: Even the peanut butter?

Marion, nodding: Yes, everything. Bread, jam, peanut butter. All of it. How are you enjoying yours young Lady Tarra?

Tarra, quietly sitting on the counter next to Basil, nibbling on the sandwich: It's...tasty. I really like it.

Marion, her face brightening up: That's wonderful to hear.

Clove, happily taking her sandwich and hopping up onto the counter next to Basil, as Marion steps back and leans against another counter in front of them: Thank you Miss Marion!

Marion, with a smile: No need to thank me, young Lady Clove, I'm only sorry that your first meals in Atlas are so simple.

Basil, already nearly done with his sandwich: Are you kidding!? This is so good I want it for breakfast!

Marion, laughing: Well, I'm sure that can be arranged for you! I'll even be more than happy to make them myself.

Tarra, still quiet, looking down at her sandwich, mumbling: I like your hair...

Marion, tilting her head: Hmm? What was that?

Tarra, speaking up a little louder: I like your hair...it's pretty.

Marion, paused for a moment, then smiles and lets out a small laugh, taking her long brown ponytail over her shoulder and strokes it: Ah, thank you so so much. That's very sweet of you. I've thought about cutting it, but my little one loves it so much I couldnt stand to. She reminds me of you too, Tarra, I think it's the cute little ears.

Clove, curious as Tarra turns into a flustered mess and covers her ears: You're a mom?

Marion, shaking her head, a bit embarrassed: Ah! No no no. Well...I suppose sort of? I have a little sister, sort of...I took her in a few years ago, the poor child was without a home and family and I...well, I know how that feels. She's the reason I got this job here in the Manor, it pays well enough to take care of us both. She's probably only slightly older than you all.

Basil, with a last big bite of sandwich in his mouth: Sounds like a mom to me.

Marion: Hmph...yeah, I suppose it does. But! It's truly getting late, please, let me bring you all back to your rooms.

Clove, still eating: But our sandwiches!

Marion: You can bring them with you.

Basil: But I want another!

Marion, sighing, though still with a gentle smile on her face: I will make you each one more. One more. Then it's bed time.

Basil: Yes!

Clove: Deal!

Tarra, nodding: ...

[camelliacats]

until the ride ends & even after that (parts 191-200/200)

Drabbles spanning the lives and love of Victoire Weasley and Neville Longbottom.

Chapters 191-200: [FFN] [AO3] | ← | start from the beginning

Pairings/Characters: Victoire Weasley/Neville Longbottom, Ernie Macmillan/Hannah Abbott, Bill Weasley, Hermione Granger–Weasley/Ron Weasley, Rita Skeeter, Louis Weasley, Dominique Weasley, Frank Longbottom/Alice Longbottom, Augusta Longbottom, Harry Potter, & OCs

Rating: K+

Words: ~1,560 collectively

Additional info: romance, cross gen, family, angst, fluff, Maydayverse, Next Gen era, 3rd person POV

Summary: No matter what, they would be together. They were always going to be together. *200 short, non-linear drabbles for Victoire and Neville, on love, life, and looking behind them before they look down the road.* [Potter–Weasley family fluff, Longbottom family fluff, and Neville- and Victoire-appreciation.]

*191—Never*

                 There were a lot of things Ernest Macmillan had told Hannah Abbott over the years.

               For instance, he'd always liked her hair in pigtails. It was the truth. Hannah and pigtails—it was the epitome of innocence to him, and he'd enjoyed that growing up. Also, he'd told her that she was a better cook than florist, which was a bit of an involuntary insult, what with being Hufflepuffs and all. He'd also once told her that he liked her—seventh year, May third, long after the dead had been counted and the injured had been healed.

               And she'd said she'd fallen for Neville.

               It was a few years before Ernie told her anything else. He had to be the good friend on the sidelines who had to watch her marry and have her heart broken and turn bitter.

               But when Neville decided to move on and love again, so did Hannah, miraculously. And there Ernie was, ready to tell her that he'd always loved her and always would. He'd just never tell her how thankful he was for Victoire coming along to complete Neville's life so that Ernie could show Hannah that he was meant to complete hers.

*192—Army*

                 "You're not going to believe who's here," Bill fumed to Ron and Hermione, who'd arrived a few minutes before the wedding.

               "Who?" Hermione asked.

               "Rita Skeeter."

               Hermione's eyes widened before her glare turned more venomous than Bill's. "Say no more. I'll be right back. Hold this," she said to Ron, dropping her purse into her surprised husband's hands. She stomped off the property and did a perimeter search, and it didn't take long to spot the witch who gossiped more than Lavender Finnigan did. "Hello, Rita," Hermione said coolly, gripping the reporter's shoulder tightly before she could become a beetle.

               "Why, Mrs. Granger–Weasley!" Rita faked a smile. "Care to comment about your niece's scandalous romance and wedding?"

               Hermione smiled back. "Not unless you'd like me to come after you with an army of exterminators. Or would you just like to be sealed up in a glass jar again?"

*193—Shoot*

                 "Ah, Madge—lookit him. Over there!" a blond woman said to her raven-haired friend.

               "Wha… Oh—! That's a piece of eye candy if I ever saw one," the second woman remarked. Victoire overheard her; they were so loud, it couldn't be helped.

               "Think I should try going for it, Madge?" Blondie asked her friend. She tugged on her shirt to give just about anyone an eyeful. "I mean, he's got that scholarly vibe about him, and you know I've always been fond of academics." She said the last word with a wink.

               Victoire growled—not quite in disgust. But she was tired of watching these two older Muggle women ogle Neville in the security mirror of her favorite department store. It was bad enough that they'd ruined the rare outing. Now one thought she could ignore Victoire and sink her claws into Victoire's man?!

               The witch shot them each a venomous glare and ushered Neville out before he had a chance to learn that Victoire could get jealous.

*194—People*

                 It was just another evening spent lounging in bed, with both of them too tired to do anything. They were completely on their backs as they stared at the ceiling. Her head was on his pillow; his head was using her stomach as a pillow.

               "Say, Nev…," Victoire intoned quietly. "I think this is enough, for me."

               "What do you mean?"

               She stroked his jawline softly and smiled when she sensed he closed his eyes. "All this. You, me, our home."

               There was a pause, and he frowned and held her hand on his cheek. He turned his head and kissed her palm. "Are we not 'family' people? 'Marriage' people?"

               Victoire craned her neck to see his beautiful brown eyes, and she knew her answer as she settled on them and her heart swelled. "I think it's fine just being 'in love' people, with no demands of us whatsoever."

               He smiled, and she knew his heart fluttered, too. "All right, then."

*195—Cut*

                 Neville came inside from tending the garden and blew his fringe out of his face. When that didn't do much, he brushed it away—and cringed. He now had a streak of dirt going across his forehead because he hadn't taken off his gloves first. Neville groaned. "Hey, Vic?" he called.

               She came into the kitchen to grab a drink but stopped when she saw him covered in dirt. "Oh, my…! Look at you! Neville, you're going to get dirt everywhere!"

               "The troubles with loving a gardener," he said with a quick half-smile. "I was wondering: Could you trim my hair for me? It's getting in the way, but I've never trimmed it myself. Tended to have my grandmother do it, but I know she went to Scotland to visit friends before summer's end."

               Victoire blinked. "You really want me…? You never asked before."

               "Well, you've been living here for a little while now, so I felt comfortable…" He blushed. "So will you or won't you?"

               She shrugged. "Sure. I always wanted to cut my or my siblings' hair, but Mum always said no. Might as well learn now, yeah?"

*196—Way*

                 She had never pictured herself the type to want this. But here they were, anyway.

               At her left was Louis. Good Merlin, he had grown up to look so much like their father, albeit with different coloring. In late mid-age, his laugh had come to sound like his, too.

               Beside her on the right was Dominique. Where their mother had been a queen, Dominique had been some kind of gentle lady-in-waiting with her quiet beauty. Still, raising a family and teaching proved that she had the Delacour backbone.

               And then there was she. Victoire. In the middle of their stroll through the park near Louis and Hugo's home, talking about recent news. It was just like when they were young, with her in the middle talking with them. They laughed as some piece of information flew over her head, but she didn't mind it.

               Regardless of love and life, the three of them had grown and yet remained the same. And Victoire loved that they had never lost their way.

*197—Tight*

                 "Hey, can you… Can you hold on a moment?"

               "Sure, sure. Sorry, were my kisses a little slobbery?"

               "Ha! Merlin, no. No, it's just…"

               "Are you sure you're all right? Comfortable and all that?"

               "Yes, yes, I am…"

               "Then what, Vic, luv?"

               "My chest—it's just a little tight. … What?"

               "…me, too. I'm glad I'm not the only nervous one, heh."

               "I don't think it has anything to do with being nervous, Neville."

               "No?"

               "No. It's our motivation for tonight. I think…we've never been so in love before now. … So, I'm all yours."

*198—Know*

                 "She's bloody gorgeous, isn't she?" Frank remarked as they watched over Neville.

               "Frank!" Alice scolded. "Hannah's also very pretty."

               Augusta snorted. "Yes, but the boy was never as happy with her as he is with Victoire." She crossed her arms in front of her chest. "I think this was meant to be."

               The trio continued to watch Neville and Victoire fret over their daughters as the hours, days, weeks, months, and years passed. It seemed that Augusta's opinion was, indeed, fact.

               "I knew he'd be all right without us, somehow," Frank said gently.

               "He was raised well," Alice added, with an appreciative nod to her mother-in-law that made Augusta redden a bit in embarrassment.

               "He's a Longbottom, of course," Augusta stated, as if blood had ever had anything to do with it.

*199—Final*

                 He'd asked Harry once, what it was like to go. "Dunno, really," Harry had said. Then the Boy-Who-Won had frowned. "It was…lonely. I had my parents, Sirius, and Remus with me, here," he'd said, pointing to his heart, "but it was still lonely."

               Neville wondered now why Harry had said that. Part of it made sense to him.

               Frédérique and Colin and their grown children were at one side of his bed, all crying.

               Marguerite and Herschel and their grown children were at the foot of his bed, all crying.

               Frankie and Jacqueline and their grown children were at his other side, all crying. Frankie was even half on the bed with him, holding on to Neville for dear life.

               Neville understood Harry now. It was lonely, because you knew you'd be leaving others behind.

               But death, he decided, was life's final gift, because he would see his beloved again.

*200—Fate*

                 Post-battle, Neville was determined to find Luna and to tell her his feelings. But he really needed a power nap, since adrenaline was no longer keeping him going.

               Receding into the emptied Gryffindor common room, the lion stretched out on the couch, not caring that he was dirty and caked with blood in some places. The moment he shut his eyes, sleep took him.

               For a while, it was a dreamless sleep. But then Neville saw a willowy girl with strawberry–blond waves in his mind's eye. She faced him with the prettiest blue eyes he'd ever seen.

               "You better wait for me," she told him. And he got the feeling there was a wealth of love behind her words, so much so that he never confessed to Luna, and he held out even through a failed marriage for her…

               He waited for her, and she came.

Remarks for—

Ch­197: Well, this was the actual last drabble I wrote, because #198, #199, and #200 came earlier than this. But I think it a fitting end, because you can read into this scene as much as you want since I kind of avoided the topic *cough, of makin' babehs, cough* to keep my K-plus rating. But I like to think of this chapter as a reward for those who've stuck this collection out to the end.

Ch199: One more drabble to go… Thank you all so much, everyone. *VAWL/NAL forever*

Ch200: This was actually the 3rd or 4th drabble I'd written for this collection, because I knew how special I had to make the last chapter… A little nod to the movies, a little nod to canon, and a nod to how Fate doesn't need to be such a b*tch sometimes…

When it came to writing this collection, though, I toughened it out, determined to complete such a large and ongoing project, finishing it before posting any of it, which I'd never done before. And, in doing so, it gave me courage, because I learned that I could write something like this, not to mention that I actually learned a few things—good and bad—about myself in writing these two so much, especially when writing Victoire. I strongly urge anyone and everyone to write their favorite characters or ships like this, because you'll be surprised. I know I was.

Hope you loved them all, and love Vicnev even more.

Thanks for reading, and feel free to leave an anon/unsigned review via the FFN link or comment via the AO3 link at the top of the post, especially if you enjoyed this!

~mew

2017 note (regarding ch200): P much everything I said 4/5 yrs ago still rings true today. Coming up with the prompts, figuring out the timeline of events and how they fit in with the Maydayverse (mostly Jamestin) fics I'd written until that point, reinventing all the ways I could write one of my most favorite OTPs… It rly was a journey, and it's something of which I'm still proud, and I have no doubts I will always be proud of until the ride ends & even after that.

And if you want to support until the ride ends, please swing by its FFN and AO3 versions and consider liking and reblogging these posts on my HariPo fic tumblr! Share your love for this fic! X3

[bgn846]

Wonder Boy FFXV Younger Clarus, Regis, and Cor

“Will you stop doing that!” Regis hissed under his breath as they walked down the corridor.

“Doing what?” Clarus asked looking behind them once more.

“Turning to look at nothing, that’s what!”

“I’m telling you he’s following me,” Clarus spit out as he resumed his pace.

“Gods, we are back to that again,” Regis groaned. “You are seeing things, you should get your eyes’ checked, old man.”

“I’m only five years older than you, so I don’t think my eyes are the issue,” Clarus grumbled as he watched Regis wave him off with a frown. Clearly the prince wasn’t interested in his plight. He was being followed, he was sure of it. “You’ll see him one of these days and then you’ll have to admit I’m not crazy.”

“Lookit, Clarus,” Regis exclaimed, throwing his hands up in frustration, “Cor the wonder boy is not following you.”

“Yes, he is.”

Regis shouted something rude at his comment and resumed walked to their next meeting.

Turning one last time Clarus was sure he’d spotted the shadow of something moving.  Torn between wanting to check, and keeping up with his charge, Clarus decided he’d rather not get yelled at by the king for abandoning his son.  Sighing in defeat he spun on his heel and ran to catch Regis.

Despite Regis’ disinterest in the matter he decided to kill the time during the next meeting by texting him unhelpful questions.  The first message had come through as they sat around the large meeting room table being ignored. They were the two youngest members in attendance, and the council never liked hearing what their teenage prince had to say. The king had been arguing with a council member for ten minutes straight, and Regis, it seemed, thought this was the perfect cover to zone out.

Reggie 3:43pm: How do you know it’s Cor?

 Clarus 3:45pm:   I saw his little beret once.

Clarus knew he’d read the message when Regis’ barely contained snort sounded nearby. Sighing at the foolishness of it all he waited to see what the prince would say this time.

Reggie 3:50pm: The crownsguard issued beret that all cadets wear? Sure that really nails down who it was -_-

Astrals, Regis was a jerk sometimes.  Rolling his eyes Clarus typed out a response.

Clarus 3:53pm: The beret I saw was on a short person. Cor is short, he’s still practically a baby.  That is how I know!

“Is everything in order?” King Mors asked pointedly, startling Clarus.  

Curse his prince! Clarus looked up to see the king glaring at him.   Damn, that question was meant for him.  Thinking fast he nodded and managed to speak without turning beat red. “Yes majesty, I was checking on a security issue. All is well.”

“Very well, let us continue.”

Clarus pocketed his phone for the remainder of the meeting.  The next time he trained with Regis he wouldn’t go easy.

--

Regis still didn’t believe that Cor was following him, but Clarus had proof now.  He’d actually seen his face twice already.  The skittish kid had locked eyes with him only to bolt a second later.  This odd behavior had been going on for nearly two weeks now and Clarus was at his wits end. He could never catch Cor, and when he went to talk with him during training the young cadet would always find a way to slip out unnoticed.    

How someone so young could be that difficult to track was a mystery. Cor was barely thirteen and had just joined the guard.  That process alone had caused controversy.  Apparently, Cor had refused to leave the signup office until he’d been admitted. The king himself had to come and talk to the youth before he was willing to go home that day.  

However, Mors must have seen something special in the kid because when Cor came back the following day to again, demand entry into the crownsguard he was allowed.  It helped that he’d dragged his mother with him the second time.  She’d signed all the needed paperwork at the insistence of her own son.  Cor was determined, that much Clarus knew.   Aside from that, the kid was an enigma.

Even the reasoning for following him was unknown.  Clarus was not about to get outsmarted by a kid. He could stage an ambush of his own.

This was how Clarus found himself, sitting in wait, behind an enormous potted plant in the corridor.  He knew Cor had to come this way when he left training.  This time he’d be the one stalking his prey!   True to any plan, nothing went his way.  Not five minutes after stationing himself in his appointed spot, did Regis show up.

“Why in the name of the astrals are you hiding behind a pot?” Regis asked with a smirk.

“Waiting for Cor, why?”

Regis sighed loudly and rolled his eyes, “You are such a dork.  You seriously think jumping out from behind a pot will give you the upper hand?”

“I tried to talk to him before and it never works.  So I’m switching my tactics.”

“By jumping ou--.”

“Yes! Shut up!  I know it’s dumb!” he hissed. “Are you going to stand there and blow my cover or are you going to help?” The prince acted all high and mighty but he did love a good game.  Clarus watched Regis feign annoyance at the whole situation, before quickly ducking down next to him. “Good now be quiet and keep an eye out for him.”

They didn’t have to wait long before the training room doors opened and cadets began piling out.  Today was an instruction day so Clarus knew none of the trainees would go to the locker room, there was no need.  Watching as the men and women filtered past Clarus couldn’t find Cor.  Had that little stinker managed to slip away again?!

Grumbling in irritation Clarus made to stand up, “Come on I give up, I guess I’ll have a shadow tracking me for the rest of my life.”

“Is that such a bad thing?” Regis questioned with a thoughtful expression.

“Well I’d be nice to talk to the kid, otherwise, the relationship is a little one-sided.”

“So now you want to get to know him better?” teased Regis.

“From what I’ve heard he’s a very promising student.  Nothing wrong with surrounding yourself with good people Regis.”

“True, true, I could always ask dad to set up a meeting for you.  I don’t think Cor could refu--.”

“Don’t do that!” a voice from behind them blurted. “I don’t wanna make the king mad at me.”

Clarus flinched, but not before Regis yelped like a little girl.   Six, he’d be teasing him about that later. Turning quickly they spotted an alert, slightly nervous-looking young man staring at them.  Cor Leonis had managed to avoid being seen and snuck up on him instead.   Maybe Mors wasn’t nuts for letting the thirteen-year-old enroll.

“Any reason you’re trying to scare me half to death?” Clarus uttered in disbelief. “I’m old kid cut me some slack.”

“You’re only twenty-three, that’s not too old,” Cor replied with a pout.

“Gee, thanks kid,” Clarus deadpanned.

“He’s old don’t let anyone tell you anything different,” Regis quipped.

“You’re only eighteen, he could call you a kid if he wanted, just like me,” Cor replied in a flash.

“Excuse me, I’m not a kid.”

“Your dad says otherwise,” Cor shot back with a knowing look.

“Enough about me!” Regis snapped. “Why are you tormenting my shield?”

This time Cor clammed up and ducked his head.

“What, no more smart things to say?”

“Highness, be nice,” Clarus sighed. “Come on I won’t be mad, why were you following me?”

Cor shrugged but still didn’t lookup.

“He’s clearly tongue-tied let's go before he finds it again,” Regis suggested as he stepped out into the hallway and straightened his vest.

“Hey! I’m not tongue-tied. I just don’t know how to ask my question,” Cor added, looking up to glare at Regis.  

“Isn’t that the meaning of tongue-tied?”

“Shut up, you’re mean.”

Clarus had no success in suppressing his laughter at the exchange.   Cor was putting Regis through his paces and it was amusing the watch. “I don’t care how you word it, but go ahead and try asking me your question,” he interrupted in hopes Cor would speak his mind.

Cor took a deep breath and leveled a look at Regis that rivaled the most beleaguered of mothers. Finally, after a few seconds, he turned to Clarus. “I wanted to know who trained you.”

“You mean to fight?” Clarus waited for a second as Cor nodded in acknowledgment. “My father trains with me along with a few other glaives. Why?”

“Can I train with you too?”

Oh, that wasn’t what Clarus had been expecting. “Uh – don’t you have trainers already?”

“Yes, but I want to train with you. You’re the shield to the future king.  If I’m to be the best then I need to train with the best.”

Any previous feelings of doubt regarding Cor’s character melted away in that instant. The kid wanted to train with him because he was the best. How could Clarus turn down a request like that? “It won’t be easy; I get tired and worn-out too.”

“I’m committed you won’t find me lacking!” Cor exclaimed.

“Hear that Regis, the kid here wants to train with me, unlike a certain prince I know.”

“Shut up, not everyone is made to be a fighter. I’m more of a thinker.”

“Is that what you do during the meetings you go to? Think?” Cor questioned.  “Cause your dad describes it differently; he said something about you needing to take your head out of--.”

“Enough!” Regis shouted. “How do you even know all of this? Do you hang out with my dad often?”

“Yeah, he’s overseeing my progress in the crownsguard program and comes to check on me. We talk about funny things. Actually, you come up pretty often.” Cor added with a smug look.

Regis merely shook his head and started walking away grumbling about disrespect.  Clarus knew that Mors was a strict father, but he also knew he loved his son.  The king wanted Regis to become a great leader one day.  Smiling at the sight of his prince sulking away Clarus looked over to Cor once more. “So you only wanted to train with me? That’s the only reason you were trailing me?”

“Yeah, I mean it’d be cool if we could be friends too.”

Chuckling at the thought of little Cor Leonis driving Regis nuts at every turn was too good to be true.  The prince needed to be put through his paces every once and a while, maybe this little kid had a bright future after all. 

AO3 link

[secondgenerationnerd]

Not Her Too

You know what we need? The Joker fucking up. Enjoy!!

----

           People assume a lot about Dahlia when they see her. Mainly because she can’t see them. How sad, they sigh. How pitiful, they whisper. What bullshit, she thinks.

“Gracie, I don’t know if you’re smart or stupid,” Dahlia laughs into her phone, unlocking the front door. The groceries rustle in the paper bag,

“Whatever,” Her cousin snorts, “My Dads say I’m brilliant.”

Between clicks of her tongue, listening to the way they bounce around the tiny apartment, Dahlia teases, “Those are two different versions of a similar lie.”

“Fuck you, Todd.”

“No thanks.” She sets the bag on the counter. “Any word from Tio Tim?”

“Yeah, Dad said everything went great. They’re over at Uncle Dickie’s place being weirdos.”

“What does that say about us then?”

“Well, with my other Dad and Aunt Cassie, I stand something of a chance. You on the other hand—”

“Remain as the prettier of us.” Laughing with her cousin, Dahlia shakes her head. “Alright, I’ll call you later.”

“Sounds like a plan. Love you, Dahli.”

“Love you too, Gracie.”

Setting her phone in the charging dock, Dahlia starts putting the food away. Papa hasn’t changed the lay out since they moved in. Makes it easier for her. Sure fingers run over boxes, can, and jars, running down a list in her head of what to make. Wonders if she should try to call her father to see if he wants--

A creak from the front area makes her slow for a moment. A insane heartbeat that she’s never heard before. Pretending everything’s okay, shrugging it off, she continues walking around the kitchen. Before she can reach the emergency button in the knife drawer, every muscle in her body tightens painfully, electricity pulsing through it. She can’t even scream. Dahlia collapses on the ground.

“Well, well, well.” She knows that cackle. Heard it in recordings for years. A gloved hand grabs her face, “Look at what I found.”

--

“Fuck you, Drake!” Jason laughs at his younger brother.

“I’m just saying you could do worse than—”

           “I am just happy with how my life is.” Jason assures him. “I’ve got a home. I’ve got you dumbasses for family. I’ve got my Llama. I don’t need much else.”

           Before one of his brothers can say something back, Dick’s phone buzzes. He reads it with a frown. Tim chuckles into his coffee mug, “Uh-oh, in trouble with the Missus.”

           “Babs is saying we need to turn on the tv.” He reaches for the remote.

           “What channel?”

           “Any.”

           The screen flickers to life and their hearts stop at that fucking high pitched cackle from the screen. Joker’s ghostly white face and bloody lips take up the entire screen. Soft groans from the background sound so, so familiar.

           “Hello to all just joining us.” The psychotic clown “I’m not typically one to redo performances, but this one was just too tempting.”

           He moves back from the camera. Curled on the ground, hands bound behind her, a teenaged girl groans. The soft brown curls cover her face until Joker slams his foot into her stomach. Clouded gray eyes widen as she gasps and Jason’s on his feet.

           No.

           Not her.

           Not her too.

           “Now, now.” Joker tuts, “You really need to help me here, kid.”

           “Go to hell.” Dahlia spats. Joker yanks her up with a fist in her hair, not even blinking as she spits blood at him.

           “That’s just rude.” He smashes her face into the concrete. “You remind me of your dad. He was just like this. Wonder if he remembers this.”

           Joker disappears from the screen. Coughing, Dahlia manages to sit up. Bruises cover her face and neck, blood dripping from her nose. Metal scraping along the ground makes Jason’s heart stop. More so the words that Joker says, “You and I are going to settle a debate your dad and I couldn’t. Which feels better: A or B.”

           As Joker brings the crow bar down, Dick turns the TV off.

           “Turn it back on.” Jason growls.

           The first Robin crosses his arms, “No.”

           “I said, turn. It. Back. ON!”

           “No.”

           “THAT’S MY DAUGHTER—”

           “So, do you want to keep wasting our time arguing or do you want save her?” The question cuts through his anger instantly, along with his brothers’ clenched jaws. Jason blinks until he continues, “Babs has already traced the signal. We leave now, we can be there in less than ten minutes.”

           “…He’s hurting my little girl.”

           “We know, Jason.” Tim pulls their spare uniforms from the cupboard.

           “I’m going to—"

           “Todd.” Damian’s even tone does little to hide the anger in his jade eyes. “Do you think any of us aren’t thinking about the same thing?”

           His brothers each give him the same look.

They’ve got his back.

More than that, they’re on his side.

--

           Sour breath burns her nostrils. Every tiny movement makes her want to cry. Another sharp blow from the crowbar hits her shoulder. “Now, now. We aren’t done yet.”

           “Fuck. You.” Dahlia coughs, leaving a metallic taste in her mouth. Another blow to her unbound legs.

           “Now, I would have though you’d be nicer by now.” Joker tuts. She mumbles into the concrete. Yanking her up by her hair, the pyscho tuts, “What was that?”

           “My Papa is going to kill you, puta.” She lunges forward, sinking her teeth into his nose. His yell of pain makes her bite harder, until he hits her again. His retreating footsteps give her her chance.

           A door slams open in front of her. She barrels forward into one of the henchmen. Tio Dick wouldn’t be impressed with her landing, but she’s thinking more about not dying. As she stumbles away, Dahlia brings her hands up then down to break the zipties digging into her skin. She uses the echo along the walls to figure out where Joker and his henchmen are. Her head starts spinning the more she tries to breathe.

Don’t pass out. If you do, you die. Dahlia repeats that to herself, listening to the henchmens’ yells as they search for her. Hiding behind what feels like wooden crates in a corner, she covers her mouth. Every breath feels like a stab, forcing her to fight back tears.

She’s going to die here. She’s going to die here. Maybe she’ll get lucky and come back. Like Tio Damian and Li-Li. Like Papa. Papa… He’s going to

           “Get back!” A henchman yells in pain.

           “Where is she?!” Dahlia looks up. Tio Dami?

           “Dahlia! We’re here!” Tio Dickie shouts, voice bouncing off the metal walls.

           “Dahlia! ¡¿Dónde estás?! ¡Estoy aquí! ¡Estoy aquí!”

           “Papá?” Dahlia whispers.

           “LLAMA!”

           Whimpering and holding her side, Dahlia pulls herself up. She leans against the wall as she limps towards the noise. “Papa...Papa…”

           “Ooo, lookit what the bat dragged in!” Joker cackles. Her father roars and she hears the familiar sound of fists against flesh. Forcing herself to take the next step, she focuses on the sound of her father’s hits. The way his voice cracks with the next yell.

           “WHERE IS SHE?”

           “Who?” Joker cackles, “Oh! The sightless bird? Ya know, I think she was around here somewhere—"

           “Papa…” She mumbles, mouth painfully dry. “Papa…”

           A body slams against metal walls, Papa snarling, “If you don’t tell me where the hell she is—”

           “Hood!” Tio Dickie. They’re here. They’re here for her. “Hood!”

           “WHA—" She can hear his breath catch. Another step, Dahlia, almost there. There’s a loud thud and pained laugh from Joker. Heavy footsteps run towards her. “LLAMA!”

           “Papa…Papa…” She reaches out for him, stumbling over her feet.

--

           As Dahlia stumbles, he lunges forward. Her whimper of pain as he eases her to the ground makes his teeth grit. Dark bruises blossom up her collar bone. Every breath she takes cracks. The fucker.

           “Dahlia?” He murmurs, pushing her hair from her face. Dahlia’s head falls against his chest, eyes drooping shut, “Llama. I’m here. I’ve got you…”

           “Papa…” She whimpers, “Hi, Papa…”

           “Ohhhhh, seems the little bird isn’t feeling too good.” Joker cackles. Damian presses his katana into Joker’s throat, drawing blood.

           “Redhood, she needs to go to the hospital.” Nightwing says. Jason fixes his gaze on the pyscho clown. His older brother grips his shoulder, “He’s not getting away with this. Not this time.”

           “We’ve got him.” Tim’s Red Robin voice used to piss him off. Now, Jason can hear the fire in his little brother’s voice. Hears the promise in it. Nodding, he lifts her up, like when she was little bitty.

           “Hold on, Dahli. You’re going to be okay. I promise. I promise.”

--

           He’s not sure how long it’s been. Time doesn’t pass normally here. He knows the nurses have changed shifts 8 times. Knows his brothers have called for updates three times. Knows the doctor has come by twice, taken her for tests too many times to count. The only thing keeping him sane is each beep of her heart monitor.

“‘People observe the colors of a day only at its beginnings and ends,’” The Book Thief isn’t his favorite book, but it’s the last one she had been reading. “‘but to me it's quite clear that a day merges through a multitude of shades and intonations with each passing moment. A single hour can consist of thousands of different colors--'”

Dahlia’s cloudy eyes fly open, hands reaching out in front of her, “Papa! Papa!”

The book drops from his grasp. He brings her hands to his face. Since he adopted her, touching someone’s face has always calmed her. Even with the scars and oddities of their family, their faces calm her. Frantic hands feel his face until she starts crying.  

“Estoy aquí, niña. Estoy aquí, te tengo,” Jason holds her close, kissing his daughter’s curls over and over, “Estás a salvo, Dahlia. Estás seguro.”

For a few minutes, Dahlia can’t speak as the cries wrack her body. He doesn’t know what to say. Doesn’t know what she needs to hear. So, he holds her. Holds her and holds her and holds her tighter with each fresh cry—a terrible mix of pain and sorrow and fear.

“I-I’m s-s—”

“No. Dahli, no.” He lifts her hand back to his face, holding it there. “You don’t apologize for jack shit. Not for a damn thing.”

“I tr-tried-tried to st-stay bra-ave.” She hiccups, nails dig into his arm. “I-I tried.”

“I know. I know.” He hugs her tighter. “You’re alive. You’re alive, Dahli, that’s all I care about.”

The teenager cries in her father’s arms for hours.

And he doesn’t let go until she’s ready.

--

           It’s been two weeks. Dahlia had finally been released from the hospital with many follow up appointments with a new therapist. Her family had visited every day, Grace asking what the other guy looked like. Alfred sent her favorite desert. Her aunts made Papa go home for a day to shower and eat. Aside from that day, which Dahlia had to force him to agree to, Jason hadn’t left her side. All their visits remind her why she’s lucky to be apart of their family. Remind her why she wants to go home. Jason had offered to find them a new place, but Dahlia shot him down. She grew up in that apartment. Joker doesn’t get to take it from her.

She had just one stop she wanted to make first.

The electronic beeps and creak of the security door make her straighten up. Even his sour breath and cackle can’t phase her. He’s seen the bruises.

           Good.

           “Well, look what the bat dragged in.” Joker cackles.

           “Wow, thought the infamous Joker would be more original.” She raises an eyebrow. “Whole world of blind jokes and you go with ‘look.’”

           “See someone got their daddy’s bite.” The metal legs of his chair creak as he leans back. “Where’s he at? Thought all the Boy Blunders would have their kids under lock and key.”

           Leaning forward, Dahlia removes her sunglasses. Grace told her once that her cloudy, unfocused gray eyes unnerve people in the best way. More creaks in his chair as Joker adjusts himself.

           “I was nine when Papa told me what you did. Younger than that when I heard his nightmares, but nine was when I learned about the monster in my father’s head.” Dahlia keeps her voice even. “Growing up, I heard all the stories and rumors about you. Heard all the things you’ve done—to strangers, to your enemies, to my family. I heard all the horrible things you did--”

           “Nice story, but get to the point, sugar.”

           “My point is that every story about you makes you out to be a monster. Which is a fucking lie.”

           “That so?”

           “It is. You are a psychopath sure, but you rely on fear to keep your power. That’s how you keep your hold over people.” Dahlia smiles softly. “That ends now.”

           His laugh, the one that’s haunted her family for decades, deoesn’y even make her flinch. “And they say bats have no sense of humor! Oh, you’re killing me—"

           “No, but my papa will.”

           “Your family doesn’t kill—”

           “See, you’re right to a point. But you messed up when you hurt me—”

           “Always take the weakest—”

           “I’m not weak.” Her even voice breaks, years of her family building her up spilling through. “You messed up by thinking that. Signed your own death certificate.”

           “I’m so sc—”

           Dahlia cuts his sarcasm short with a wave of her hand, “You’re going to rot here. For years and years and years. You will rot and die here. If you ever step foot out of thise building, you will die. Papa will make sure of it.”

           Metal creaks as he leans forward. “Bold talk for a blind girl, sugar.”

           She leans forward, “I don’t need my eyes to see through your bullshit.”

           Clicking her tongue, she walks to the door. The Clown scoffs, “Really? That’s it?”

           Dahlia doesn’t answer.

           “Hey! I know you hear me! Hear me better than anyone else!”

           The door opens and a guard’s gentle hand wraps around her forearm.

           “I’ll see you on the other side, sugar! Just you wait!”

--

           His leg bounces as he waits for her. Jason still can’t understand why she needs to see him. Looking up as the door opens, Jason sees Dahlia thank the guard. The bruises along her arms, face and chest make his heart ache. But she wears them with pride.

           “Papa?” Dahlia clicks her tongue, walking towards him. Jason opens his arms for her. She walks into them without hesitation. The shuttering gasp she gives has him hold her tighter.

           “You get what you need, Nina?”

           She nods, gripping his jacket tighter, sniffling, “Thank you, Papa. Thank you for letting me do this.”

           “Dahlia Noelle Todd, no one lets you do anything. You do what you want and always have.” Jason chuckles, kissing her temple, “I’m proud of you. You know that? No one could have done what you just did. Estoy tan, tan orgulloso de ti, mija.”

           “Te amo, Papa.”

           “Te amo tambien.” Jason holds her face in his hands. Where did that scrappy two-year-old go? The one who babbled to a stranger about her missing toy, who ran to his arms when he’d get home, who’d sit on the counter while he’d make dinner. When did this young woman take her place? Jason just smiles, “You ready to go home, Llama?”

           “Depends.” Dahlia takes his arm as they walk down the hall, pulling her sunglasses down, “Is Grace going to be there?”

           “Pretty sure she and Asha have a whole party planned for you.”

           “Can’t wait to see this dumpster fire.”

           Jason chuckles, “That’s my girl.”

[courage-a-word-of-justice]

Maou-jou 9 - 12 (FINAL) | Idolish7 s2 10 - 15 (FINAL) | SLS 2

I’ve been holding off new seasonals because of other things, but after I post this I’ll have enough time to get around to them. That’s why I can’t guarantee winter 2021 seasonal tags on this post...maybe the next one will have them...

Maou-jou 9

…it seems shopping channels even are the same in the demon world.

Now even the demons have quests! (The frame is different to the princess’s, though.)

Oh! The quest failed.

Neo Alraune: in flower language, “the 2nd coming of happiness”. The worry from a little while ago was, “I’m worried about my brother.” The worry from recently: “I didn’t think about being happy that the princess didn’t kill my brother.”

The penguin demons are pretty cute!

Don’t you know how parents forbid children from sleeping until they finish all their homework? Must be something like that.

Yoku ganbarimashita! – Syalis worked hard!

LOL, mental age: 3. Poseidon likes cute things…I can’t read a lot of this…the hardsubs cover the JPN text.

They…both succeeded! (…LOL?)

Maou-jou 10

Owarinocity = Endopolis. It’s a good equivalent, if I do say so myself.

…oh yeah. What happened to Alraune? Update: There she is!

Also, that blonde guy in the infomercials doesn’t look too bad…*makes chef’s kiss gesture with one hand* Nice.

I wonder, was Twilight once human…?

LOL, there’s a goat symbol on the cleric’s pyjamas. Also “first time”, LOL.

I think they were playing shiritori at one point.

Hanamaru saikou yoku dekimashita!

Maou-jou 11

…How does one “sleep cheerfully”, anyway?

I think I saw Twilight drop something…some kind of paper…

Aw, Twilight blushing is kinda cute!

LOL, 70s shoujo style. Also, “It cannot be!”

Whoa, she cancelled it?!

I read up on this series on TV Tropes…and apparently the Demon King captured the Princess in her sleep.

Kagemusha? Like a ninja or something?

Apparently the Demon Cleric is much older than he looks.

Ooh! Hypnos is back!

A-whatsit really is abysmal levels of stupid!!! (LOL)

Maou-jou 12 (FINAL)

Who’s that one tiny guy occupying one of the Ten Kings’ seats?

*watching after Christmas, about a week after the anime finished* This is not seasonally appropriate!

…*thinks for a second, then spits* That’s the 2nd Nemu in the fall 2020 season!!!

Ooh, the head paladin doesn’t look that bad, either.

“…is it good to be…”

“…has seized the princess!”

“…that demon king is rather cute.” – See? Someone agrees with me.

Anyways, that was a fun series. See you soon!

Idolish7 s2 10

…Back at it after so long…(I can’t help it though – Crunchyroll, per month, is about double the local Funimation sublicensor’s fees, and for much less content that’s worth my money to boot!)

I’ve always thought Momo was like Sasara (HypMic), so seeing him anguished hurts me in the kokoro too…

I know Banri was involved with Re:vale somehow…this must be it.

…Male idols are also popular among men? Is this why there are 8 (!!!) idol anime in winter 2021 alone…? (Also, that’s why HypMic became popular? Multidemographic appeal crossed over with obvious merchandising opportunities?)

It’s kind of scary how Momo stepped the formality towards Yuki like that (to -san).

I guess in his heart Momo still reveres Yuki, some way or another.

The rakugo curtain really sold the moment that they (current Re:vale) were acting like an old married couple.

Yay! Silver Sky is such a cool song! Of course I recognised the intro when it came on.

…I see. The elder Kujo is entrusting his dream to Tenn, so that’s why he banned Aya from seeing Tamaki. However, it’s hard to know what to feel when Aya speaks in the vaguest terms possible.

I think that was a special ending for only this episode. I don’t know what its name is, but I guess I might recognise it on Spotify one day.

Idolish7 s2 11

LOL, Nagi’s reaction.

Considering the ‘rona is getting worse outside our very windows as we speak (type?), I think it’s correct to be concerned about your future right now.

Looking at these narrow streets reminds me of going to eat hotpot at the end of my Japan trip…only Japanese streets look like that, I think. Hong Kong’s streets are more crowded than that and America likes their suburbia.

Of course, when you say hajimemashite (nice to meet you), someone’s gotta say it back, hence the reply.

Considering there are people all over the world watching the Idolish7 anime, I would say you are telling the world about I7, Riku.

Oh! Restart Pointer! There was an MV for that one…I think it was around the time Idolish7’s MVs started getting better.

So this is the context around the new outfits! Cool!

There have been way too many puns about “idol” being…y’know, “ai (love) doll” and stuff like that…

I have one Twitter person who I follow (DejiNyucu, part of the creative team for Autumn’s Journey) because I don’t get much I7 content and they keep mentioning this “Haruki” person…and suddenly a “Haruki the Betrayer” showed up in the graffiti…they might be the same person, I think. Not Deji, but Haruki. Update: Sakura Haruki, perhaps…?

Sougo’s such a bad liar…

Sometimes, the best way to deal with things is to be direct…(I’m not very good at that, I naturally talk in a very roundabout sort of way.)

Sougo with long hair like Yuki would be really pretty… (<- has an obvious thing for guys with long hair)

Idolish7 s2 12

Nagi’s stupid accent is generally what he’s best remembered for (for me), so seeing him speak normally, and do a press conference on top of that, is…impressive.

A kabedon on top of all this! Whoa!

Shibuya 109 parody…? (I’ve seen that once or twice – parodying that means people know their stuff about Shibuya.)

I think the “it’s overflowing!” is referring to the hype in the “room”.

…this dejected Momo is worrying…(well, he is worrying and I am worrying about him.)

Oh, I see. The person responsible typed the letter so that they couldn’t be traced back. Kind of like those old movies where the culprit would cut letters out of newspapers to make threat mail, but…with even less traces than that, because cutting letters out leaves evidence.

…wow, it took a while for this ep. to have an intro…

…LOL, I just spotted Kenjiro Tsuda cited as the “fake Zero”, meaning the real one might never show up this season.

There’s something really stupid and infectious about these managers’ enthusiasm for drinking energy drinks. It puts a goofy smile on my face.

Is Musubi Tsumugi’s mother…? Update: Yes, she is.

…Wait, so the Chiba Shizuo guy is actually important?!

Idolish7 s2 13

Whenever someone says “by the way”, it means they’re changing the subject. I hate to state to obvious, but Sougo is clearly deflecting the topic of conversation from being about him.

I wonder if this guy (Haw9) is the actual Zero graffiti vandal…?

Hmph, I didn’t realise Tenn doesn’t refer to Kujo-san as his father, but…like that (“Kujo-san”) instead.

Oh hey! These are shots from Vibrato!

Most dramas can be solved with the power of Good Communication. That includes this one.

I feel like “he has a dark side” describes both Tenn and Kujo-san.

“Everyone, remember to wash your hands and gargle thoroughly.” – This is always a good thing to remember in the time of ‘rona. Reminds me of Jakurai’s line in ARB (<- this game started just after the ‘rona came down).

What did Sougo go to uni for (what specialisation)?

Idolish7 s2 14

I just realised Banri calls Momo -kun. Hmm…

Denki = electricity, LOL.

I feel like Tenn is basically Ramuda, give or take actual pink hair…guys in musical groups with pre-existing angst that they become the “centre” of. The fact Fling Posse have Saito Soma and so do Trigger strengthens the connection.

I would watch the heck out of a musical like that! Make it come true, Idolish7! (Also, today is I7 day! I’m not much of an I7 fan outside the anime, but…that’s cool!)

That shot of them jumping! I remember seeing it on the official site before!

Idolish7 s2 15 (FINAL)

There you go! I was wondering where Banri’s injury was – that was the only bit that didn’t add up for him to be Yuki’s old partner.

Hmm…Momo is 4 years younger than Yuki but 2 years younger than Banri…

This episode has a real concert vibe to it, to the point where I got startled by how loud the yell was at one point. (Even if it is mostly stills.)

LOL, lookit Okazaki!

Apparently, if you’re a hako oshi, you like all the members of a group. Someone with a green light and a pink light likes both members of Re:vale.

LOL, Usagi for Asahi beer.

…I forgot Nagi is 19.

…Ooh, I think that’s the kid from ZOOL. No wonder they needed a season 3!

That’s all. See you next time!

SLS 2

“fine and upstanding person” – That’s…hard to believe, Hayato.

I wonder how many bois Toboso designed for SLS…?

…The episode title is actually “Blank”. Not “Break”.

One of the guys’ shirts says moteki on it. That’s a period in one’s life where one enjoys more romantic attention than usual, literally “popularity season”.

The subs missed an I, so initially I knew Kiriyama’s name as “Kiryama”.

There are meant to be 2 wings, right…?

“He who controls information controls everything, right?” – For once, I’m surprised Hayato is right (and not just in that smug way of his).

“…I’m being treated like a manager.” – But Hayato is a manager! (In a sense.)

The plait guy jumps to nicknames really fast…also, why do I get the feeling Maeshima will lose the key?

I hate to say this Maeshima, but I side with your childhood friend (Kiriyama) here. As much as the anime wants me to back you, I’m watching for everyone else at this point.

That blocky building looks pretty cool. I think Zel (Archi-Anime) would like it.

Sasugai’s setup looks pretty cool, including his chair.

…hmm, Maeshima’s like me in a sense. I learn best by copying others, but memory is my best asset. If I don’t regularly train the fundamentals, I suck at everything. That said, I don’t have an eidetic memory. Also, I didn’t quite figure out Ken = Ken(sei Maeshima) until I watched long enough to connect the dots.

LOL, Derry’s. (<- reminded of a word for “butt” <- derriere)

Well, the guy’s (Souta…?) shirt does say moteki…

Kiriyama kinda looks like Jyuto (HypMic), come to think of it…Right down to his angry streak (although Jyuto has a reputation to keep as a “cool dude”, while Kiriyama is more of a Manza (Boueibu HK) and he’s more angry than he looks).

…This ED is nothing special.

…Hmm? Is that a small Terauchi and Maeshima…?

I think I’m sold for now, but I’m rooting for the other team, not Maeshima’s…not yet, anyways.

[crowsent]

the man hasnt even started the stream yet and his chat is spammin “technolate” truly the best and most supportive fans

amazing

=

i have to make my own fences like a loser

=

“tommy is this your credit card? let me read the numbers aloud tommy”

=

“they keep dying on my thorns”

then fucking remove your armour mr technoblade??????????? you have the option to remove your armour

i know you have trust issues and that the last time you removed your armour tommy tried to kill you but like

you can remove your armour, find someplace else for your zombie villagers to be in, and then put the armour back on

you have options mr blade

you can make unenchanted armour for the purposes of moving your damn zomvillagers out the way if you really dont wanna be armourless

you have the materials

you have the opportunities

fucking seize them

=

mr blade: “my sleep schedule is terrible”

my dumb ass, waking up at 10pm on a monday after falling asleep on a 6am the same monday, after not sleeping for 2 days on sunday and saturday: “damn right your sleep schedule is terrible”

i have good self-awareness

=

mr blade: “im not stalling”

proceeds to stall:

• “happy new year! i forgot that happened”

• reads donations

• begins to try and cure his zombie villagers

• makes fun of skeppys “clickbait” title (it is clickbait by the way. the video is not structured like an actual manhunt vid. totally not a technosimp but techno was a fantastic hunter in the skeppy v techno manhunt. yep. techno was v fair about the entire thing go watch it if you havent hes great and skeppy was also there /lh)

• talks about chess

• talks about the Gifted Child™ Syndrome without ever saying the words Gifted Child™ Syndrome

• DONT DISRESPECT CHESS

(hes a fucking athena kid. im fucking TELLING YALL HES AN ATHENA KID and if i have to fucking write a goddamn academically cited paper to prove it with actual fucking receipts i goddamn will)

• even when tommy came on stream, techno immediately proceeded to discuss the Kings Fianchetto opening

• “i dont know what kind of science textbooks youve been reading, but youve spent too much money on them. those are trash. those are TRASH”

exactly mr blade. exactly. see? athena kid. hes smart. he went to college. he knows the score. mmmhmmm. yup. checks out mr. blade

• types “You’re talking sounds” -tommyinnit (genius)

• into the mc chat

• “Tommy, you’re talking words, but the only universal language: is sounds”

IF SBI NON CANON WHY THE FUCK DOES THIS READ AS AN OLDER BRO MAKING FUN OF HIS YOUNGER BRO EXPLAIN MR BLADE

Techno fucking lists out languages that do not have sounds like: sign language, written language, braille

and then fucking thomathy “tommyinnit” minecraft hits us with “and russian”

YOU HEARD IT HERE FIRST FOLKS

RUSSIAN IS A CATEGORY OF NON-SOUND LANGUAGE

=

and for a good few minutes, mr blade and associate tommyinnit talk about crimes and the fbi and using it to farm views. big brain moved here today

(and then tommys alexa turned blue when he said fbi and then they both freaked out it was great)

=

new york-ian

=

mr blade and tommyinnit just IMMEDIATELY trying to pander to new yorkers once they realise the population size. they out here fucking complimenting the statue of liberty (even tho its in new jersey), the empire state building, the bronx, queens, fucking SPIDERMAN

if they arent brothers

why they have this energy

=

prime to tommyinnit

sub to technoblade

yall

my heart

i love these two terrorists so much

(for legal reasons, i am obligated to say that they are video game terrorists please and thank you)

=

tommy, about music he wanna sing: its from nintendo

mr blade: nintendo copyrights EVERYTHING tommy they got like SUPER COPYRIGHT

tommy: well, technoblade, every last one of my videos uses nintendo music

mr blade: DUDE YOURE GOING TO DIE. nintendo will KILL you

=

“new york is not canon in the dream smp universe”

mr technoblade over here just fucking ruining every new yorkers day huh

yall hear that? new york is non canon

=

you want cock to join the revolution

=

tommy out here trying to be intimidating but hes stuttering, knocking himself off of things...

its great

its great

i love their dynamic

=

im spawning the wither, somebody get me my sword

techno “one-liner” blade ladies and gentlemen

=

techno using the wither to vandalise lmanberg is very poggers of him

amazing mr blade

=

tommy is such a delight in this stream

“i dont know this man”

“why would you bring this near me im WEAK im FRAIL im LIKE AN OLD LADY”

thank you mr innit

=

if i had gotten this stream live yall bet your asses i would be chanting “blood for the blood god” with chat

chat is BLOODTHIRSTY

chat is feral

chat is amazing

thank you chat for being the chaotic fucking bastards yall always are

=

“lookit muh muscles. BITCH”

tommy

i love him

=

so last stream, techno and tommy waterboarded a hostage who died by a spider immediately after he was released

THIS stream, techno and tommy waterboard an orphan fox until he cries

good times

=

fundy drowned

ha

canon?

=

wait

i just remembered

FUNDY GOT DROWNED BY HIS UNCLES

TOMMY AND TECHNO ARE FUNDYS UNCLES BRUHHHHHHH

these two fuckers legit said “what if i waterboard my nephew to the point where he drowns”

=

i find it really funny that techno is the one fanon portrays to be this remorseless out of control entity when the entire time during the fundy waterboard torture, techno is the one holding tommy back and saying that hes going to far

and last time, techno is the one chiding philza when philza just casually murders and slaughters his way around the map

bruh

techno has more of a moral compass than fandom gives him credit for

where is my "techno is actually the moral compass of the sbi” fanfic

=

the only dirt we have on dream is his dirt shack amiright? eyyyy hes homeless

techno

techno

so funny

=

“useless, annoying, loud, british. you know. the worst combination” techno says

then he fucking makes tommy weapons, gives tommy the helmet, makes tommy weapons and tools and armour...

yeah. 

=

“i will not rest until that entire country has been completely obliterated for what it did to me and phil, tommy”

ME AND PHIL

ME AND PHIL

technoooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

bruhhhh

mr blade please

=

LMANBURG IS MY UNFINISHED SYMPHONY

tommy what the fuck

what the fuck

tommy

tommy

what wait tahgjkjxbglsjbnouafsfv

WAT

=

“you could actually be, dare i say it, a friend” TECHNO

TECHNOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

BRUHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

=

“technoblade ill join you”

ANTARCTIC ANARCHIST COMMUNE POG

YES BITCH

YES BITCH

SBI

SBI

SBI

SBI

SBI

=

“this bodes poorly for the eventual sbi meetup”

shut up

shut the fuck up

i cant handle this

i can handle the dream sapnap meetup conspiracy

but i CANNOT handle the sbi meetup conspiracy

techno please shut up

i cant

dont do me dirty like this man

=

you know how tommy keeps saying that hes weak and shit but like

he fought in wars

he has fucking armour, weapons, potions, gapples

he can hold his own in a fight

do

do you think tommy keeps calling himself weak bc DREAM calls him weak? like. his self-confidence and belief in his abilities is just eroded by dream so tommy thinks hes weak even if he isnt?

=

“we have sand at home”

at home

at home

at HOME

bruhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

techno literally out here singlehandedly giving me serotonin

=

beak on

=

bless you

=

one of us

one of us

one of us

one of us

one of us

one of us

[writingforjoy]

Raven Springs Academy Chapter 22: The Party

Homecoming week has finally come to an end, but now I’m bored outta my mind with nothing to do. Mama and Papí are at work and Evan’s at abuela’s. ...maybe Dallas would want to hang out with me for once, it’s been a while since she has. “Daaalllaaaaas~” I song her name loudly as I rolled out of bed and slipped on my houseshoes. Lately she’s always hanging out with her other friends or some mysterious boyfriend of hers. A sick feeling came over me as I remembered the discussion about Ash and Dallas with Lil and KJ earlier. It can’t be Ash though, I asked him if there was anything going on between him and Dallas, and he said no and I believe him! He doesn’t act interested in her, at least not like he does with me. We’ve kissed twice already, so he gotta be more interested in me...at least I hope so anyways. I could hear her music playing outside her door and it got louder as I opened it and walked inside. Dallas was sitting at her makeup dresser, her table lamp made her sequin top sparkle like crazy. “Oh wooow, lookit yooou, all dressed up with supposedly nowhere to go.”

She looked at me from her mirror all surprised. “You’re still here?! I thought you were going over Lillith’s?”

“Nah, I didn’t wanna intrude in their family night. Think her moms are supposed to be there. Soo,” I grabbed her computer chair and pushed it next to her as I sat down. “Whatcha doooin’?”

“As you can see,” she waved her free hand up and down beside her, “I’m getting ready for a party.”

I didn’t know there was a party tonight...I should go, it’ll be fun. “I wanna go to the party!” If she’s going, then he gotta be there too.

She sighed as she closed her left eye and started applying an electric blue eyeliner to match the right. “Well, when you have more popular friends and a boyfriend, you’ll get invited to a lot of things too.”

So she does have a boyfriend! Papí and Daddy always said that girls only wore makeup if guys are involved. I didn’t think they were actually serious! Would Ash finally ask me out if I started wearing makeup? ...oh my God what if it’s for him?! “I wanna boyfr-!”

“Anna I swear to God if I mess up I’ll stab you with this eyeliner.”

I waited until she finished applying the eyeliner and started putting on lipstick. “I want a boyfriend.” She ignored me and put on a pair of her ‘lucky’ diamond earrings. “Big Sister, help me get a boyfriend now.” I pleaded in Spanish. She opened her drawer and pulled out a bottle of blue liquid. “What’s that?”

She pushed me away before spraying herself with the bottle. “None of your business, and no, I won’t help get a boyfriend. You’re not mature enough and Uncle Mae wouldn’t be happy about it.”

“Pfft, I am too mature enough.” I muttered crossing my arms. “You never wanna hang out with me anyway.” Guess I should take matters into my own hands. Some basic makeup stuff should do it. I looked around and reached for one of Dallas’ lip glosses. Easy peasy.

Dallas smacked my hand and moved her lip glosses away from me. “What do you think you’re doing, Anna?!”

“I’m wanna put makeup on like you!” I huffed. “You practically wear it all the time!”

“Because I’m more grown than you.” She hissed.

“How? You’re 17, just a year older than me! If being 16 or older makes you grown then I am too dammit!”

“Anna, you brat,” she turned my chair around and shoved me towards the door. “Get out!”

She’s not telling me something, she has to be going to the party with Ash, he has to be her secret boyfriend! “No, it’s not fair!” I jumped up from the chair and glared at her, and her red eyes glared back. She was pissed off, but not as much as me. “Papi said that neither of us could wear makeup or have boyfriends until we’re 18, but look at you. You get to wear all this makeup and go out with your boyfriend, but I don’t! I wanna wear makeup! I want my own boyfriend! I’m just as mature as you are!”

“So, you think you’re all grown up and mature now?” She asked . Dallas rose out of her seat and began shifting. Her dark skin turned brighter to match my own, and her braided hair changed to a textured cut with a fringe. Then her irises turned from a raging red to a cold, sterling grey. She was turning into him.

She took a step towards me in the new form and I stepped back. “Dallas stop it.” My voice trembled at the end and my heart started pounding when she took another step. “Dallas, I mean it stop!” That’s not him.

“Oh? You mean to tell me you’re still afraid of me, Doll?” Her voice had changed to his, making the appearance more real than I’d like. “What happened between us was so long ago.”

“Dallas, please! Don’t come any closer!” My back pressed against her door and my hand fumbled around looking for the doorknob. “You know I don’t like this!” He’s not here, this isn’t real. Dallas is tryna scare me is all.

“But haven’t you missed me puppet?” He asked coldly. “It’s been years since we last saw each other, and I’ve been dying to hold you again.”

The shadows around the room seemed to be moving around as he came closer, then the tendrils snaked their way from him and slowly made their way to me. “DAEMON STOP, STOP IT!”

“But a moment ago you were shouting about how mature you are, now look at you. Quivering in fear at the site of someone who’s not even here.” She turned back into herself and stood in front of me. “If you were actually mature, you would’ve gotten over whatever happened between you and him and moved on! And you definitely wouldn’t be in my room acting like a damn child! Now get out and start acting your age, Annabelle!”

My hand finally found the doorknob and I snatched her door open and stormed out of her room. Back in my own room, I slammed my door and leaned against it. I hate this, why am I still afraid of him?! Sparks started flying out of my hands and hair, and I slumped to the floor, pulled my knees to my chest and rocked myself. He’s gone, far far away from me. I’m safe from him. I held myself tighter as the sparks became frequent and vibrant. I’m not a child, I’m as mature as she is, I know it! I know she’s going to that party with Ash, I know something’s up between them! I just need proof! But how? How can I prove it?! I screamed into my lap as I released a wave of electricity, knocking all the power out. ...why am I doing this, acting like this? ...am I in love with Ash?

@orchidalienscribbler @rhikasa @alexprompts

[pwnyta]

Nobody ASKED for any of my shitty Pokemon character doodles... BUT IM IN A MOOD.

SO yall have to deal with it.

This is under a read more so dont come at me about it being annoyingly long. Blame Dumblr. Theres a SHIT TON OF DOODLES UNDER THE CUT.

First off I wanted to give Holly a whole classroom of friends... it wasnt GONNA be an all girls school... but I kept crankin of little girly Mons....

I dont actually have a shiny Darumaka or Eevee... but theyre two of my favorite shinies...

I drew these four after so theyre a bit different in style. Shiny Swirlex has the same excuse as the other two shinies... I just love the shiny colors

They also needed a teacher so I repurposed one of my older characters because I thought itd be funny to have a swan teacher... cuz swans are so scary but they care for their babies well.

Darla and Delilah can be bothered with threats because theyre safe with Mr Shandra.

Mikhail only takes classes that are small enough to fit under his wingspan so he can keep them all safe. And Eva and Tiffany learn from the best and just get pissed off like their teacher.

((Hes more bark than bite though... hes not a great fighter and a double weakness to Electric? Garbo. But he puts up a convincing enough front.))

And because he was a swan I gave him a life mate. The only other being that gets any softness from him.

He was an ex pirate.

Mikhail has no interest in criminals!!! So the captain gave up the pirate life and married a very short tempered bird and gained a lot of weight...because I wanted him chubby.

---

‘’Spider’’, Esi, and dear ol Dad. Despite Reds best efforts to keep Esi out of Osborns hands he still ended up an immensely shady bastard but at least hes not as broken as ‘’Spider’’.

I didnt finish their moms because I couldnt settle on a design for Spiders mum....

Now Spider works for Caedere his beloved boss who would never ever lie to him ever. (Hint: Spiders nature is ‘naive’)

---

I tried revamping Ray and Hebanon...  but Ray still gay as hell for his boy.

I bullied Sparky a little. He’ll probably be fine even if Rays got a Mega evo. Its the name of the game Ray... hes supposed to knock his opponent out... you cant get pissed when ever Hebanon gets fucked up in battle.

---

Did I post these? Am I ever gonna finish these character sheets? No. And look I forgot the most pressing detail of Zippos and thats his fuckin Arbok mark on his back. IM A FOOL.

Kreetan and his mum and dad.

So many little comic things I’ll never finish because theres too many and instead of just stopping and finishing something I keep adding to my unfinished doodles instead. This is why I dont take requests or anything.

I time where Leif and Cyndy actually grow up?

THEY ALL HAVE CAT EARS.

Zippo is curious.

.....AS A CAT.

Polly is here too!! And shes ready to punch someone RIGHT IN THE NOODLE.

I also thought itd be nice to draw out some other Chars of Zippo and Crizs generation.

Theyre.. as you may have guessed are not finished yet.

Clem is a timid lad, Mira... not so much. Very brave

Addy is a modest princess type

Jubilee is a sassy lass.

And Criz. A sweet bashful boy whos never done anything wrong and certainly will not die because no one would be cruel enough to let that happen.

((EYES EMOJI))

Babby Clem, Addy, and Jubilee.

WHO’RE THESE ASSHOLES?!

---

Updated Mistletoe. One spooky righteous(in his own mind) lad.

She only looks stoic to start... but shes quite the weirdo.

She just got here and shes ready to go home. What a mood.

Now for some less polished individuals....

Meh meh meh lookit me IM OMI. Im gonna put three of the exact same Pokemon in the same group so Pwnyta has to suffer tryna come up with different designs.

...But I do like them. I imagine that they remain Ekans because they wont need the mark of their tribe so no one will no where they come from. So spooky.

I was torn between the codename ‘Sundown‘ and ‘Daybreak‘ for Crobat.

By day hes a wholesome trustworthy priest... by night he tortures people for a shady shady bug man. He’ll determine if youre truly innocent.

Doc has to deal with all these fuckin weirdos... he just wants to be a doctor... BUT AT WHAT COST DOC?!

This is a sequel to the doodle comic I was makin in a previous post... Kop and Doc develop an interesting friendship (In Kops mind. Its more a ‘stalker with a crush’ situation) But hey if Kops not being paid then hes got no reason to hurt Doc.

...Docs a fun character to bully because hes so smarmy and small.

---

AND NOW FOR SOME SCIENCE BITCHES.

A man of few words and an intense curiosity with mortal beings and his own existence.

A spooky lad who doesnt quite mean to torment his subordinates... its just his Pressure.

Id imagine his form changes are a bit like Iron Man in IW when hes fighting Thanos.

I drew some more science bitches...

Some casual clothes for the original three stooges.

Shes deaf Franz! She cant hear you.

Ya know IDK if itd be ‘canon‘ that they all met as kids... I just thought itd be cute. Little psychic babies all doofin off together... the most troublesome one being asleep 90% of the time due to being an Abra.... and narcoleptic. Abra sleep so much naturally... Geller sleeps even MORE... thats why hes so incredibly smart even for an Alakazam.

I had a whole little redo sketch comic idea of Mewtwo breakin loose and fuckin shit up.... (its never been finished)

Franz tries to put him to sleep. (it doesnt work. He needs Emanuel and Nola to save him and he gets his arm broken for bein such a cheeky lad.)

Mewtwo doesnt have too much of a problem with Geller due to his soft spot for kids and pure desire for knowledge... but if hes gonna protect the other assholes then PERISH.

Dont worry though big boss Deo wont let his subordinates die let alone the second smartest after him... and saves them all pretty easy. A sharp tentacle arm through the chest will stop even Mewtwo.

Some booboos happen tho...

But hes fine eventually and finds his ex wife home watchin the kids.

Shes promptly expelled.

Geller also goes back for Dilla and steals him. Lifes too short not to adopt an ancient fossil baby.

Emanuel isnt delighted... but he doesnt have the heart to call the authorities on a man who risked his life to save him.

Fossil Mons come in two types-- Resurrected fossils which have the skin color of the primary coloring of their Pokemon form so they can be solid black or blue or red or w/e... Ancestors of ancient Pokemon have normal skin tones.

And another comic sketch idea... where Geller and Roswell are gifted with some fancy new Mega stones... Ros? Not too keen on the idea hes seen what can happen to a bitch when they Mega Evo... he aint got time for that. Geller goes HARD for SCIENCE.

Ros: Geller I know your a spoon guy but stick a fork in that bastard cuz hes done. COOKED. If he thinks im riskin my ass for his bullshit. Lets go tell him off together (im scared to go without you...)

Geller: We experiment on living things all the time for the sake of scientific progress.... are we really too good to be subject to our own studies?

Ros: YES. ABSOLUTELY.

After seeing Geller use his without hesitation, putting his body through a world of hurt for the sake of SCIENCE!!! Ros couldnt pussy out on his boy...

His Mega is just FABULOUS and now he loves it.

--

I was also makin a team with the Pokemon that have the highest stats (non Legends/Psudos/Megas) but I got bored after Blissey. She has a Togekiss wife I didnt finish either... Oh well.

Shes a bold lass and prefers double battles with her support wife. She doesnt like using dangerous moves as its in her nature as a Blissey to heal.

---

(I forgot his whiskers... OH WELL)

I wanted to give Flaminio some people who missed him after he got spirited away by his Ghosts.

After he disappeared people looked for him but he was never found and years and years went by and people stopped looking. Even Clove and Ceto had to move on.

Koban is a loyal bitch though and he never let it go. He still wants his friend back. Hes an old boy now... so old people probably call him ‘Nekomata‘ and wonder when his tail is gonna split.

[honkhonkrichard]

Pairing: Stozier AU Setting: Skipping class to go record shopping

OKAY SO THIS HAS BEEN SITTING IN MY INBOX FOR A MILLON YEARS BUT I DID WRITE IT I WAS JUST REALLY UNHAPPY WITH IT FOR  AHWILE BUT I DESPERATELY WANT TO CLEAR OUT MY INBOX SO HERE U GO LOVE I HOPE YOU LIKE IT MWAH

-

Richie needed more vinyls. Well, “needed” was a strong word. Stan knew Richie probably had around 30 vinyls stocked up in his room, mostly of the same genre but at least 3 of them were country music.  

Stan also knew that he couldn’t do it after school. Richie was busy nowadays, busier than he ever had been. He finally landed a job at the comedy/music joint “Chuck’s FunHaus” which meant he spent most of his free time in his cluttered bedroom scribbling lyrics and jokes while strumming lightly on his guitar.

With the distinct lack of free time, Richie and Stan thought it only fair, or at least maybe logical, that he made free time through skipping class.

Charlie, brother to Chuck and one of Richie’s favourite people, ran “The Vine Shop’”, a music shop near where Richie worked, gave Richie and Stan a side eye glance as they walked in during class time.  

Stanley ran his fingers across the rows of vinyls. He never really cared too much for music, he favoured showtunes instead. But there was a lingering happiness in spending time with Richie, watching the studious look in the older boy’s eyes as he looked through all the discs. Something about being alone with Richie like this made Stan’s heart flutter.

“Lookit.” Richie mumbled, picking up a vinyl and passing it to Stan. “This is watch you need.”

Stan took it from him and broke into a smile. It was a March of the Falsettos vinyl. The one Stan didn’t have. He traced his finger over the image until he felt the heat of Richie’s body against his; the closeness, and the musk of Richie’s cologne made Stan feel hot.

“I brought my wallet.” Richie told Stan, his sly fingers taking the disc from him. He flipped it around, quickly looking the whole thing over. “You owe me $17.99”   

“I-I can pay for it-” Stan mumbled, cursing himself for stuttering as he gently reached out to grab it back from Richie. Stan was taller than Richie by a few inches, and had been for a while, but his arms were shorter. Richie was one lanky son of a bitch. His whole body seemed to be out of proportion: his hands were big, his legs and neck were long, his eyes looked too big behind his glasses. With all the Big Dick jokes he made, Stan expected his-

Stan stopped his line of thinking right there. There was no way he was going to pop one right here in the record shop.

It was then that he realized he was standing in the middle of the record shop, probably look a bit lost.

“Stantoni?” Richie’s voice was from across the room. “You good?”

Stan, who was not nearly as good as he wished he was, nodded quickly, and walked up to Richie, who was taking out an album by AC/DC.

“I can pay for it.” he said again, more stable this time.

Richie looked up at him, big green eyes blinking with confusion and a bit of anarchy behind him. “No.” He said simply. And fuck, Stan really couldn’t say no to Richie.

Richie skipped over to the cash and made banter with his boss’ brother. They talked like relatives.

Richie always looks so happy here. Stan never passed up the opportunity to come to the record shop with Richie. He loved seeing how Richie’s face lit up when they brought in new vinyl players, or watch his fingers flip through all the rows with expertise. Or watching him bounce on his heels as he walked around.

Fuck Stan loved Richie so much it was disgusting. He’d hate both himself and Richie if he was literally anyone else.

He followed Richie out of the store, and watched as his best friend bounced to the car, singing an AC/DC song to himself.

“Fuck, I don’t wanna go back to school.” Richie sighed, climbing into the passenger’s seat of the car. No one drove Stanley’s car. No one. Richie was no exception. “Let’s go to the quarry and make out.”  

Stan knew it was a joke. Not only would Richie never suck face in public, he’d never do it with Stan. People were always throwing jokes around about how they were joined at the hip and probably secretly married but-

“Yeah, okay.” Stan muttered. Sounding a bit more sour than he had meant to.

“Nah, Fuck Stan.” Richie said. “Let’s go make out by~…”

Richie stopped and hummed for few seconds before snapping and pointing up. “The barrens. No one goes there.”

“I don’t know what’s more concerning; you wanna make out with me or you want to make out outside of all places.”

Richie shrugged.

“So,” Stan concluded, starting to pull out of the parking lot. “Barrens?”

Richie nodded. “Barrens.”

Stanley must’ve spent 20 minutes steadily parking the car in the barrens. When he finally turned the car off, he huffed and relaxed into his seat. Richie got out of the car. Stan sighed and followed.

Richie leaned against the hood of the car and took a deep breath in. “Y’know for all the shit said about the outdoors.” He looked over to Stan with a dazed grin. “It’s kinda nice.”

“Kinda nice?” Stan asked, not settling in one spot. Stan loved being outside. Especially by the woods. “Try gorgeous.”

“My mistake.” Richie’s voice was heard from behind Stan, and he could hear the grin on the older’s face.

Stan felt a hand grip his wrist, as he looked down to it, Richie pulled Stan closer. “Now for the main event.” he whispered, turning Stan to face him and cupping Stan’s face in his hands.

“W-” Stan blinked, holding Richie’s hands. “What?”

“Makin’ out in the Barrens, remember? That’s what we came here to do.” Richie told him.

“You weren’t serious.” This was a prank. This was a prank. This was a prank.

“Says who?” Richie brought their faces closer together. Stan could feel Richie’s breath. This was a prank. This was a prank. This was a prank-

Stan couldn’t do anything more than let out a low whine.

Richie looked at Stan’s eyes, a glint of mischief there combined with a haze of want.

Stan pressed their lips together.

-

Send me an inbox if you wanna be on my perma-tag list but for now it’s just @snowy-dinosaur lmao