#like i just want to fuckin help people and i get such a visceral reaction to that shit but it's WIRED that way thats what they WANT

[coyotejone-s]

me when i say i'll get better about avoiding participating in callout culture and then i don't 🤪

[sharonisthebettercarter]

comics inspired butchlander ideas<3

so.

guess who got inspired~<3 after readin' that loveable trainwreck known as the boys~<3<3<3

it's the original verse that started all the bullshit and definitely worth the read and messages being discussed and it's definitely not any worse or even as bad as the show is 'edge'wise (def got surpassed there!). plus it really does feel like its own secret playbook/au for the show with some unique insight on the characters and story lmao<3 may also do a bit of concept breakdown idk

heads up! long long post ahead butt~ i'll split this into segments with some bold and <3<3<3 highlighting each idea<3

butt~ full disclosure~<3...

they abso-fuckin'-lutely~ confirm billy butcher as the biggest fuckin' bottom of the entire series<3<3<3 the bratty bossy baby type (with a soft boi side~!) who even is THE GUY who confirms homelander's canonically huge dong~<3! and even just spiritually, I CANNOT<3<3<3 (if i don't fuckin' count the lovely show boi un-fuckin'-ironically calling himself an alpha male and how gotdamn CUTE that motherfucker who plays him is. FUCKING MAN PUPPY with them big ass wide pretty eyes and adorable nose and perfect second trimester belly when he gains just a little bit of chub<3<3<3)

i don't much imagine the actors/actresses *directly* anyhow when i write/read (kinda some features i may like do stay, but i do LOVE to play with them sometimes, some comic features generally tend to stick (namely muscle cause i need it), and moar often am picturing some kind of 3d/actor/comic amalgamation in wolf among us (game) style cause i'm weird i guess) who knows, maybe i might pick up a pen and actually draw what's in my head for once even tho its been goddamn years--

and boi oh fuckin' boi did these things gimme some fantastic au ideas, combined and separate cause why the fuck not~<3 we can always do BOTH (as i normally do anyway lol) ;))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))

anywho~<3

visceral reactions to being bad for homie<3<3<3

listen.

so this shit was an INSTANT creative boner for me y'all that i CANNOT for the life of me figure out why people wouldn't wanna further explore this! like holy fuck, i know how much bad~<3 homie is dearly loved, but what about fix-its and GOOD~<3 homie (no i do not mean superman but we're gonna dive a bit into that lore), or. OR. get this... homie who is good but for the WRONG reasons~<3<3<3 ;)))))))))))))))))))

like~ wanting to genuinely be the best fucking hero out of 'vindictive personal glory and pettiness'~<3<3<3 or simply because he literally 'cannot be bad' without reacting!<3<3<3

for a breakdown, in the comics, homie is gaslit into oblivion into thinking he is and then being bad (sort of an 'i think, therefore i am' evolving into 'i can, therefore i must' complex) and there's pretty much a build up to reveal he was never actually the 'villain' he was painted as from the start. (spoiler alert, butcher is much fucking worse) part of that includes him having visceral reactions to doing truly evil things he full well knows are legit evil

whether a mental breakdown, some mirror~ talk, or even him actually throwing up, the boi legit had a bodily *rejection* to evil and i just...

i couldn't help thinkin', well what if he *knew* it wasn't him because of this reaction, and he couldn't be gaslit... opens up a new can o worms, don't it~<3

just imagine the chaos to be had with this poor boi having to lose his goddamn lunch everytime he either does a bad mission for vought or is just fuckin' mean or lies to someone<3 it'd be fucking GLORIOUS<3!

imagine~<3 butcher getting 'infected' with homelander's peculiar 'affliction' thinking he's caught that 'raging case a vagina' only for it to turn out to be a 'raging case a morning sickness' for poor billy boo~<3<3<3

but beyond that, there are a couple lines that play in my head for his interactions with butcher and how he could take being accused given his... well, alibi lmao! things like~

"why don't you like me? everyone likes me."

"no, i think i'll just... continue to do the right thing. i love how much it grates you when people have a legitimate reason to adore me and especially when they cheer for me."

and my personal favorite~<3

"i'm the real hero. die mad about it."

because who doesn't love a sassy fine boi~<3<3<3!!

anywho~, this actually leads into the next bit which was actually an idea i had learning about the comics even before reading them. i have seen it played with somewhat?? though not really quite like this or in this capacity. BUTT~<3

detective husbands<3<3<3

or not quite there but getting there lol. this one definitely requires a key plot point from the comic in which homie was framed for what happened to becky (and others), but can still be combined with show elements or relate back to the show. the difference being that he is fully aware that he didn't do it and wants to find out, even help butcher know, who done it...

clone games are of course an option there, but i'm actually surprised that no one's thought about using doppleganger as the rapist. we know he can morph into anyone and is already an undercover rapist for vought's blackmailing, it's really not all that far fetched to consider he might end up taking certain 'looks' for joy rides and doing awful things to scared people. i for one think doppleganger is actually a great character for exploration and story twists, butt i digress

basically, this idea hinges on homelander *not* being the true culprit and offering to help~<3 it can also absolutely be combined with the last one<3<3 and even moar~<3<3<3

but mostly, i do love me that delectable idea of these two motherfuckers working together to figure out the truth~<3 and homie being the BEST worst soldier that butcher could ever possibly ask for. technically, homie can still be a huge dumpster fire for this as long as he didn't commit *this* specific crime, even different levels of trash fire, or clean as a whistle~<3

maybe with a dropped quote from marcus aurelius~<3 to help things along--"punish only he who has committed the crime."

so long as butcher finds him useful (OH--), homie's pretty much a shoo-in for the group shenanigans, he could be another vas but stronger~<3<3<3

aaaaaand~ since i mentioned it

clone games and shadow homie<3<3<3

clones are an obvious oldie, but a goodie i think. i also think they give lots of different people mixed feelings. it can for sure feel corny and overplayed (especially in the comics genre which lmao, let's be honest is a fuckin' cornfest in general), but can also be pretty cool and interesting, even thought provoking when done well.

side note~ i do think it was done well in the comic, if you go in knowing what to expect (and i honestly expected worse), you see the signs and build up even from very early in the comics. (also billy wut the fuck you stupid stupid entrapping clone accomplice cunt, how the fuck could you not be the slightest bit suspicious when a mountain of clearly very STAGED photos falls into your lap?? oh that's right motherfucker, ya don't actually care whether people are guilty or not as long as they're supes--)

but the abruptness in the way it changes the dynamic and understanding in what's actually occurred can give whiplash. it makes you realize just how tragic homelander's situation really is and then fully robs you of any enjoyment of his death because it is just that fucked up. start to end, you realize he never had a life of his own... and that's... that fuckin' hits. HARD.

in addition to unveiling that the story has been following its biggest villain the whole time, the themes are flipped entirely on its head, suddenly the *people* who were villainized and getting taken down are the ones who need saving and ooooooh... it fuckin' hurts, but it is VERY well done. especially when you realize that the story LAID THIS OUT from the very beginning~!

ugh, enough of that concept breakdown lmao.

basically clones are gonna be hit or miss for lots a folks, tho i do think it stems more from misunderstanding/bad stories and post hoc association, granted it can be an easy concept to fuck up (but also make flourish)

butt~ what about fanfic~<3?

OH. i see the opportunity~<3 and i am once again so disappoint no one else is gettin' creative! obviously, this one does hinge a bit more on the comic, but it can connect~<3 (can't do both~?;)))))))

the clone is.... well, there's a small part of me (micro~) that i must admit does feel kinda bad for him. in the same way i feel bad for the joker. in which this motherfucker is literally, legitimately, completely fucking insane?? and it's well... it's *difficult* to plainly judge a very broken mind as you would a 'normie'. (stiiiiiiil fuckin' hate 'em)

and in a way, i get it. to be *made* for one fucking purpose and then denied fulfilling it puts a mind in a fucked up place. he actually sorta mirrored homelander. both created for purpose, but while one was expected to meet a standard he was *not* prepared for, the other *was* prepared for his standard, and then denied the chance to meet it.

and there's a lot that can be explored there just between homie and the clone. especially if the clone *tells* him early on. ;) twin bros is also technically an option which i'll get to with shadowlander~<3 (which is not *quite* a twin)

butt. when it comes to clones, something that does often get explored is rapid deterioration of them or them coming out 'wrong' from damaged DNA. there's a whole somethin' there to be explored with an OG homie and a deteriorating clone or possibly more than one clone, cause why not? in the comics, his clone was an 'upgrade', but what if he hadn't been? better yet, what if they failed multiple times? what if the mental breakdown and subsequent framing of homie was the result of the physical and mental deterioration?

the deterioration itself could have even been a contingency plan to their original contingency plan (which honestly, TOTAL amateur move not to have one... BATMAN would have thought of one!) and these themes could be explored to bittersweet effect or even just sweet if the clone *does* tell him, and they work things out/team up against vought<3

combine the two (deterioration/team up) for a super tragic bittersweet feel that could even revolve around homie saving/failing his clone/brother/only friend... </3

OUCH.

moving on~ multiple clones because they all deteriorate rapidly. now THIS is a fuckin' fire starter... especially if the REAL homie is the one to never see the light of day, specifically because they *can't* make the contingency plan.

and here's where it gets REAL fun~<3 in this case, OG homie never sees light of day. one of the clones does commit the crime since they're all crazy *almost*, but the clones themselves keep dying, and public sometimes trashfire homie is a new clone every time and has many many many many doomsday arcs that he seemingly *recovers* from every time (new clone, who dis?... LMAO PERFECT. title right there!), vought changes things up.

public homie is the clones, he is always the clones. og homie (johnny boi~<3) becomes their contingency (assassin~) when needed since he is the only perfect one and he is very *very* well trained (as a weapon). (this can also super play into homie's anxiety for why they kept him behind the scenes too, noir can be show noir~<3, bit of role reversal actually)

kicker being when billy either *sees* og homie killing one of the clones, or has one of the deteriorating clones *literally* die and deteriorate/dissolve on top/in front of him as it's trying to kill him. it could even be one of the saner/good clones (or one that discovers homie) who finds and sends the pictures (of another clone, comic) to try get the boys to freee the real homie and stop vought

because i LOVE the idea of big dumb animal completely unused to human interaction homie coming under billy's wing, and billy definitely DEFINITELY abusing his trust and planning to use him as a weapon before~<3 well... let's just say that homie's story, general innocence (here), and need for comfort could do *things* to billy's cold dead heart<3

that one can also be combined with visceral reactions. and this homie would likely have never been with another person~<3 (what a cutie~!)

the a/b/o wrench could def be thrown in there in a special way too (thrown in like normal every other time~<3 the world def needs more omega butcher<3<3<3) but for the clones, they're all made betas/ pseudo or normal alphas while homie...

is a very rare type of prime (mmmmhmmm~<3 lol) or true alpha deemed too dangerous for society (bullshit of course, but omegas would likely be very common in this world and run things, alphas like homie would be killed at birth ordinarily, and the clones deteriorating could be explained by the tampered dna to make them 'normal'.)

i do also adore the idea that only a prime/true alpha can get a male omega pregnant for this kinda world setting~<3 (or even that they can get other normal *alphas* pregnant/bitch them) and that of course is an idea that can be used for any canon/au, show or comic.

how crazy would it be for billy to discover homie is an actual alpha and then use it against him to destroy his rep/turn people against him? it would be very on point, and could also result in an arranged bonding situation to *tame the dangerous alpha* with a *calm and rational omega*, guess who i have in mind~<3<3<3 ;)))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))

of course, homie's super sperm is still always an option because i love mpreg and bitching~<3<3<3

back to the topic. shadowlander/twins. twins are pretty self explanitory and of course, ideas can be combined. basically there were two and one got treated way way different. one or both finding out could either cause hella resentment, or these bois teaming up~<3<3<3

shadow homie... is a bit more complicated? and sparked from wanting the 'clone' framing situation AND show noir~<3 in which homie has a power he has no clue about because he has a literal dark side that can separate from his body. likely a manifestation that protected him when he was young (i love those imaginary friend type powers<3) that grew to be something... moar (and terrifying)

this kinda goes similar to the concept of mirrorlander and homie having DID, but a little different and more accurate to what's actually going on (on the show based on interview, and a little more respectful i do hope. DID is commonly used in explorations of duality and 'evil dangerous dark side' but it doesn't quite... help with common misconceptions about the disorder. just my two cents, if i were gonna explore this, i'd wanna flip it with a good personality that legit cockblocks homie every time he tries to do bad and is fighting for control/is the one causing visceral reactions to evil~<3)

but back to shadowhomie. basically, when homie was little, his literal powers created this demon to protect him. BUTT, as homie grew to no longer need him, he was caged up. and locked away. and forgotten. never a good combo and bound to cause issue~<3

so what happens? well, he has a 'clone' as this thing... developed. but he doesn't know it. shadow lander would likely hold everything dark about homie, in essence a literal manifestation of what his trauma created in him being *expelled* from his body and if not protecting him... well...

this kinda thing could also fuck around with homie's powers and make them act up a bit weirdly, maybe split what power he does or doesn't have/make them inconsistent, shadowlander splitting from him and not being with him could also be an explanation for homie's visceral reactions~<3 (full circle~<3)

but with this scenario, homie's not the culprit, but also... he is the culprit. but also not. yesn't.

i've always loved exploration in duality, and i like the idea of that side being able to fully separate, because it makes for great complexities and creative freedom. including giving homie his own doomsday arc~! (if you are unfamiliar with superman lore, i basically mean homie will end up fighting his dark side and ''''''dying''''''<3)

and that battle could be spectacular on its own when you consider that as a 'part' of homie, shadowlander could end up 'linked' to him. one gets hurt, the other does too. which always makes for... interesting fights. or since homie is the OG, it only works one way in which shadow homie gets hurt, but he wont, but maybe shadow homie is stronger overall to counterbalance it.

end result would be a struggle to 'reabsorb'/'kill' shadow homie, and to tie it back into the doomsday arc, billy could end up super fucking sad and depressed post '''''death''''' battle after a whole ass journey realizing 'oh shit, homie's *not* the bad guy' and also 'oh shit, i think i fell in love with him when i tripped, fell, and landed on his dick'... perhaps unknowingly with a little one on the way~<3<3<3 ;)))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))

twin works in place of shadowlander like the original clone too.

last thing i'll say is that i'm actually surprised they haven't used the clone option in the show given they have antony starr as homelander (*coughs in outrageous fortune* lmao). he's a guy who coulda pulled it off with flying colors and it honestly has me wondering if they may have a plan for a clone being made/used for the finale but a bit differently

MOVING ON~<3!

assassin homie and the boi who LEARNS<3<3<3

assassin homie is a fun one~<3

let's start with the 'boi who LEARNS'<3 what does that even mean? well, basically it means homie discovers he was gaslit and framed before shit hits the fan, and that he has a clone as a contingency plan... so what does he do~?

welp, couple options there between straight up murder/assassination~, getting people fired or getting them to resign, he basically takes out every single last person who *can* give the order for the clone to destroy him--

so that there's no one left who *can* give the order...

the result?

well, in someone as fucking unstable as the clone, this could cause a self destruct, he would implode/explode/everything inbetween. but ultimately be likely to destroy himself faced with a situation where he can never meet the objective he was made to meet. it's almost cruel, but it's basically a checkmate from homelander where he personally dismantles vought and gets the clone to destroy itself with minimal effort.

oooh~<3 scary and exhilarating<3<3<3

couple paths from there, either homie fucks off to be alone, total supe anarchy chaos without vought and he's around, or he takes full control of what's left of vought and OOOOHHHH~<3 OPTIONS~<3!

butt~ the fact of the matter would definitely fuck billy's (comic) plans to oblivion since... well, the boys could just go to homelander to stop him<3<3<3 if billy is stupid enough to actually try to follow through that is<3 or leave billy in a... peculiar spot.

he'd probably be there expecting a big final fight with homelander, and instead he'd get the clone destroying itself, homie was actually not guilty the whole time, and he doesn't even lift a finger to get the job done that billy had been trying to do for over a fucking decade.

"that's gotta sting..."

it also deals with a moar dangerous~<3 homie that actually uses that big brain and high iq of his<3<3<3

but with the options it does leave, there are certainly windows for... futures<3 lmao, brighter or darker actually.

something like this could make billy totally lose his drive and obsession even if homelander goes full tyrant on vought scraps because not only was he wrong, he didn't even manage to get the revenge he wanted. everything he claimed was for becky/becca (while knowing she would hate it) was pretty much for nothing in the end.

homelander could either make himself a 'villain' for billy just to snap him out of it, or even (while tyranting) implement changes that are good/more strict for vought superheros and come to check on billy.

things could even be unbearably NORMAL and they fall in love like the world's most boring average couple ever since its all over<3<3<3 (love me some vanilla shit and marshmallow billy boo<3 his canon submissiveness for people he loves his adorable<3<3<3)

it works similarly in reverse too, where homie fucks off and tells the world to fuck off since he's lost hope after that bullshit, and billy (begrudgingly) has to finally, FINALLY fucking swallow his pride and convince homie to come help them clean up/chaos is happening/major threats on the horizon they need homie for~<3<3<3

and homie OF COURSE<3 being stubborn<3 as billy tries to make him see reason that the world is worth protecting... maybe inadvertently doing so when they start banging and homelander gets billy boo up the duff~<3<3<3

but going back to assassin~<3 homie. i kinda like the idea of him apprehending and intercepting the supes the boys go after, even doing the jobs more efficiently than they could depending on scenario of course. 'making the boys obsolete' homie is another creative boner of mine and he is gorgeous~<3<3<3

but of course. not the only method. there's also the one who goes after billy~<3

of course, he'd need to get stopped and put on some kind of truce with him for butchlander, but then it can absolutely go back to him making the boys 'obsolete' to get rid of them<3 love me some dangerous predator homie<3<3<3

fact is, the boys has the 'hunted' taking aim at the 'hunter', classic trope, but it makes for some magical cat and mouse games~<3 assassin homie dials up his danger and discretion up to 1100 for sure. and there is A LOT that can be done with that<3<3<3

hate fucking<3<3<3

pretty self explanitory~<3

mostly, i just wanna drop that billy loving hate fucking is canon BOTH ways~<3<3<3 (gotta LOVE maeve taking control and his lazy lover ways~, can only IMAGINE what *show* raynor did to him<3<3<3) as is his submissive sweet bean marshmallow fluffy boi bottom tendencies when he falls in love like literally admits to becky being the first woman on top in the comic HE'S JUST SO FUCKING ADORABLE I--<3<3<3

butt. the boi is also super self destructive by habit for sure. he purposely, consistently, deliberately, bites off WAY fucking moar than he can chew for the explicit purpose of getting his ass handed to him. (literally how he meets becky. is his obvious death wish fucking showing yet)

and with a guy like homie?? he'd definitely *want* it to hurt hella bad and would definitely~ push for fighting turned into fucking... and getting overpowered each time<3

can of course be combined with other ideas~<3

the mud people/supe dilemma and compound V<3<3<3

this is just another canon dropping for both continuities. while not impossible for supes to sleep with humans... it IS portrayed as... *difficult*.

in the comics, it's more specific, but both the show and comic actually give examples of strength disparity being an issue and normal humans getting hurt. mm mentions what happens to the sex workers at herogasm, and that poor writer guy gets his dick snapped off.

the comics take it another step and show us people can and often do use drugs cut with V in order to be able to keep up, so to speak. (the only real thing to mention about v is that it comes in many more different forms in the comic that def could be explored<3)

but going back to the supe/human thing, i would wager that it (obviously) varies for supes for how *difficult* it is to maintain control when with humans. homelander obviously would be the top of that list.

and listen. y'all. i could not be fucking paid to miss an opportunity for the super dick. with great fucking *power* comes great *fucking* power LEMME TELL YA<3<3<3

if i have a chance to write about super dick, i won't miss it BECAUSE~<3

no refractory period~<3

super fucking stamina~<3<3<3

fingers, tongue, and dick can be VIBRATED with superspeed~<3<3<3<3<3<3

this motherfucker is the PERFECT<3 service top.

combined with that diamond shatting flesh destroying clencher atrocity out the back and i--.

ice princess, but worse.

lmao. the superman archetype ALWAYS tops. he just does. he needs to for the sake of his partner. it is a fact of life or you're doin' it wrong cause you have just missed the greatest golden opportunity for one HELL~<3<3<3 of a GOTDAMN GOOD fuckin' time that CANNOT be beat.

legit.

what a terrible tragedy and great disservice to miss out on this, i just... i couldn't. i would literally die. literally.

anywho~<3

"i quit" and early retirement<3<3<3

kinda self explanatory<3 again comes back to comics with them pics but can just deal with billy accusing homie however, whenever. tho the premise once again does come back to he *didn't* do it.

basically, the second the accussation comes out? homie... quits.

for an actual good reason too, or at least an attempt at good. (can just be homie being petty and hurt, works best if his record is spotless otherwise i think but also good if he's being extra extra petulant) but the good reason is him thinking he's lost time and hurt people, and not wanting to hurt anyone else/get to the bottom of things on his own if he doesn't think it was him for whatever reason.

as always lmao, can be tied back to others such as the visceral reactions, or idk, maybe the motherfucker actually has a hobby this time. it goes back to billy having to convince him to help instead<3<3<3

definitely love the world ending option here, maybe yellowstone is about to erupt or something and only homelander can stop it. i have an idea there that i will go into another time just to not add anymore tangents here. same goes for secret identity~<3 since that's more general<3

butt~<3

the other part of this is a homie who quit a long long time ago as soon as the first accusations (from others, not billy) started rolling in and fucked off to live a quiet life. it does tie in back to the clone shenanigans, multiple bad ones or one is fine. but this OG homie is an overpowered beast and--gentle giant<3.

basically, he's calm cause he has his 'girls' (milking animals lmao), a small farm, cabin by a lake, and is living a solitary life in peace as a mountain man (also inspired by starr's obsession with being a mountain man lmao). and maybe he's got hobbies, idk

however... billy, while going after the clone gets badly injured. that's where this mofo steps in. he could handle it then and there or the conflict is saved for later and he just helps billy, but either way, he takes billy back to his cabin and nurses him back to health. existensial crisis ensues~<3

possible fighting with billy demanding he handle the fucking clone if he hasn't and homie just being a... passive neutral bug. do love me the doc manhattan approach<3<3<3

there's something about rebuilding a lost hope superman/super powerful character that just makes me so happy<3

the real homie can also do other things like run a goddamn candy store or somethin, and the secret identity aspect can also def be used, maybe they're neighbors<3

maybe billy's been secretly getting railed by the retired asshole the whole goddamn time~<3<3<3

billy's final evil plan works?? and the "crossed" option<3<3<3

kinda. this one hinges back to comics (obviously, all these prompts are comic inspired lmao) with billy's worst idea ever actually succeeding, sorta, whether he skips to the finish line out of desperation or any of the above reasons or other keep homie alive, he succeeds in changing the landscape of the world.

and it backfires~<3

(tho if ya wanna go real depressing, he could actually succeed and they die in each others arms, do have to throw that one out)

butt anywho~<3 backfiring.

it can either kill all the normal humans, leaving only supes, or change a bunch of humans, kill some, and leave only supes.

it can also cause a legit zombie apocalypse. cause knowing billy... let's just be honest, it would. it absolutely would. and the zombies would function exactly like those in 'crossed' (another work by ennis i am hella interested in but fuck me they are expensive), congrats billy, you fucked the world!

in the 'crossed' crossover (lmao), supes could be immune and billy inadvertently makes homie the last best hope for human survival... and he can be a remarkably shitty one or he can actually be great or gradually learn~<3 but personally, it does seem poetic that billy would inadvertently create billions of what he was allegedly trying to destroy. that is monstrous humans with no humanity.

in a regular dystopia where people just died a lot, classic tropes from a/b/o come into play (arranged mating/population boost/control for butchlander anyone~?) and maybe even homelander being the only one who knows what billy did/tried to do and hiding the now most wanted man on earth (or maybe they do know and billy being an omega is the only thing that saves his life)

as always ideas can be combined goddammit fuck me i am tired this thing took me DAYS and if there is anything i've forgotten or want to add?

i will just make a goddamn part two (do plan for some show inspired ones too~!) or combine it with another set a prompts cause

holy fuck--

[ambulancevsambulance]

Okay tagged by @cchapsticck and school and work have been kicking my ass but I still have stuff, and damn it, things are going to get done eventually.

right | 

  He was allowed to hold this grudge, to feel this way. Harrington was an X, had him Number 6 on the list, would have killed him without a second thought and a grin on his face before he got de-bleached, and why did everyone want him to just let that go? Just cause he seemed normal? Like some nice fuckin’ normal guy who shrugged his shoulders when people spit at him and helped people. Like he hadn’t been at the right hand of BL/Ind. There was a piece of Eddie knew that he was reacting to this in a way that was irrational, for way more reasons than had to do with Harrington’s old profession (and more to do with the way he laughed at a joke, the wide grin on his face), but he didn’t have to acknowledge that to anyone. Least of all himself.

reason |

Eddie placed his hand over Steve’s mouth, and he was warm, so warm, and his entire body was trembling, a visceral reaction to feeling another human after two months. That was it, the only reason. Get it together, Eddie. Think, think, stop laughing like you’re mad (but you are, you are).

break |

Steve might have been off at college, but it was spring break, which meant he was still on driving duty for the kids. Or well, he didn’t have to be, but he wanted to be. As much as he bitched about it to their faces, he missed them when he was off at school. There was something soothing about having a car full of rowdy dipshits as he drove down the backroads of Hawkins.

done |

His eyes were searching Pony’s, as if he were expecting an answer in the negative, as if Pony didn’t know what he was doing. And–yes he might not have done this before, but it felt like all roads had been leading here. Only difference was that it wasn’t the dead end he thought it would be. Pony wanted to go full speed, blasting down the track to see where it led.

lost

It was good when Steve showed up; kept him from getting lost in his own damn thoughts at least. Eddie knew he was actively putting his foot in his mouth from nervousness, but it seemed to be a mutual issue between the two of them. (If he had been told before all this that King Steve would trip over his words around Eddie, oh that would have been a fucking top tier joke.) It was good to hear that those Reganinite Fascists Fucks did something right by Wayne and gave him a house. The idea of Wayne though, getting a damn house, a real house out of the trailer park, because their home was destroyed by the gaping hell he was currently trapped in? It sat in his gut, festering. Fucking Munson luck, really. Would be funny if it wasn’t so damn sad.

I'm absolutely shit at tagging anyone, so I'm...not

[mimik-u]

“Homeworld Bound” Thoughts:

I wasn’t going to watch this one today, but then I realized that I really missed the Diamonds and wanted to consume novel content, so!

OOH, good on the show for taking us directly to the aftermath of “Fragments” instead of putting space between the episodes. That’s just... a really good choice narrative wise.

Garnet, Amethyst, and Pearl’s expressions are so distressing here. He’s been gone for three days; they must’ve been so worried.

Jasper steps aside to reveal an absolutely ruined Steven.

He just technically killed a gem and then resurrected her. How intensely will that forever lie on his psyche? Oh my g od

NO, NOT JASPER PASSIVELY MAKING THE DIAMOND SIGN IN THE BACKGROUND AUGH

“You can’t just disappear for days without telling us!”

Steven silent walking up to the Observatory as the Gems continue to freak the fuck out is harrowing. And Dee Dee Magno Hall is killing it with her voice acting here. The simultaneous fear and anger and horror in her voice. Oh my g d

“You guys... I love you, but you can’t help me anymore. I’ve been avoiding the only people in the entire universe who can.” 🥺 This is sad, but I’m also, like, problematic grandmas time!!!!!

“Find something better to do with your life.” God, Jasper’s look of disbelief and sadness here. I didn’t really delve into this during my “Fragments” watch because I was just roridoodwrjfkrkeke reeling, but her reaction to being accidentally shattered is psychologically devastating???? I’d wager that she simultaneously respects the fact that she’s been subjugated by a being more powerful than her, that she’s grateful to Steven for being both subjugator and savior, and likely, she’s conflating this new loyalty with her former loyalty for Pink. This is a really complex psyche (a tragic one most of all).

Garnet: “Steven, remember, we’ll always be your family.” I’m so fucki n emo

AWHWHWH, HOMEWORLD IS SO BRIGHT AND COLORFUL NOW!!!

YO!! Homeworld has a democracy now!! The Zircons!!!!!!!

THE WALL GEM IS MOVING??????? KWOEOEIDJDKSJS

Can u imagine being a wall cursed with sentience. that is so funny on so many levels

But it’s also really interesting, too. If the Wall Gem is a gem in the way say Topazes are gems, which, judging by her mobility, she is—then her explicit purpose in Era 1-2, as molded by presumably Yellow, was to b a wall omg. (Or, arguably, I think it can be argued that the inanimate object Gems, like Comby, were probably accidental sentient creations, made in relationship to their proximity to the Diamonds during their various secretion rituals!!)

Anyway, I love thinking about Homeworld worldbuilding. It’s fascinating.

SQUARE PERIDOT

SPIIIIIINELLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL!

Her heart eyes!! She looks so happy!

Steven, angry af: “Spinel, what is wrong with you?” / Spinel: Oh, you know—the usual.” KEKDSKDK

Also, Steven really wanted to say fuck there. NEKDDKKSSKKS

“I was such a wreck then, but I am so much better now.” We stan character growth 😭😭

One thing I have loved the Crewniverse so much for doing is never taking away the physical signs of gems’ mental distress, even after they’ve gotten better: Blue’s eye bags, Volleyball’s eye, Spinel’s running mascara. That is so important.

YELLOW SITTING AT HER LIL VANITY!!

IT’S LIGHT INSIDE HER ROOM! THERE R FLOWERS! THRIVE, QUEEN, THRIVE.

YELLOW REVERSING HER GEM EXPERIMENTS OH MY G D

FUCKING QUEEN!!!!!!

(I’m sorry in advance. The rest of the live blog is just going to be screaming about the Diamonds.)

“I can permanently alter any physical form!” She’s so proud of herself. 😭😭😭 I fuckin’ love her.

Yellow laying down on the ground like that is SENDING ME SKSKSJSJ.

Ugh, and her being such a good mom to Spinel. I’m cry in f

“If anything’s out of proportion, it’s your temper. You can be big if you want to, or you can be small if you want to, but if you’re going to be upset no matter what, then this problem isn’t physical—it’s emotional. Go see Blue.”

I really like her advice here because it’s advice that comments so clearly on her own character arc. At her lowest, she was quick to anger, aggressive, and temperamental, which she diagnoses in Steven here. Additionally, she was the Diamond who was concerned largely with physical actions. She coped by maintaining the Empire through conquering planets and maintaining the minutiae of leadership; she thought the only way to receive justice for Pink was through the physical act of destruction. And in doing so, she pushed her own emotions deep, deep down until they manifested in anger, aggressiveness, and temperamental outbursts. This hurt the people she cared about, and it hurt herself most of all.

Also, “Go see Blue. That is her department.” Ejdoiddjdjjsjdjdks, “go see ur other grandma.”

BLUE FLOATING ON A CLOUD!!!!!

“Your powers have been causing you dramatic mood swings? That seems awfully troubling Steven.” God I love her

“You don’t seem troubled.” This is a really interesting line because it comments on how Blue’s emotions, especially her negatively charged ones, used to be so visible all over her; indeed, she both wittingly and actively used to project them on other Gems, forcing them to feel her suffering, too.

OH, SHE GOES ON TO SAY THE EXACT SAME THING EOEODODISSJJS. LISTEN, I REALLY VIBE WITH BLUE.

“Back before you came into my life, Steven, I wanted every one to feel the pain I felt. I realized I must make up for my awful behavior by bringing joy to others.”

Another thing I’ve appreciated about the writing in this episode: So far, both Blue and Yellow have used the adjective awful to describe their former actions. It’s the self-awareness and the refusal to try to excuse themselves that powerfully shows how much they’ve grown. And it’s their continuous endeavors to keep moving forward, to help the Gems that they’ve hurt, that indicates that they’re willing to constantly keep growing and atoning.

NFOFOFDKSSKSKSK, THESE CLOUDS ARE JUST HER VAPORIZED TEARS HELP.

Sick vape clouds, Blue

I’VE HEARD THE SONG BEFORE, BUT EVERY TIME SHE SINGS, I LOSE MY SHI T

LISA HANNNNIGAAAAAAAN

This is such a pretty line: “Cold palace walls, and endless empty halls, haunted by echoes of laughter.”

BLUE ASCENDING THROUGH THE CLOUDS AUSHAHHSHD

BLUE MAKING HEART CLOUDS FOR SPINEL!!

BLUE CALLING SPINEL N STEVEN HER LITTLE REASONS WHY.

“I’LL NEVER MAKE YOU CRY.” This line is particularly lovely because I think it plays well with Steven’s line to her in “CYM:” “How many times did you make her cry?”

BDJDJDJSJDJ, BLUE LAYING ON HER CLOUD LIKE YELLOW LAID ON THE FLOOR.

The way she sings the last “loving you.” 😭😭😭😭 I’m gonna weep. I love her so fucking much.

“I found happiness. If that's not something you think you deserve, then I suspect this is an issue of self worth. I suggest you go to White for assistance with such matters.” 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 And like Yellow did, Blue gets to the heart of her arc cleanly.

Before Steven and before her own emotional reckoning, she didn’t think it was her place to be happy: “I know my purpose isn’t to be happy.” But in learning to love others, Blue has found true, inner happiness, which she literally shares with others. Wow.

And I think there’s something powerful in her distinction between true happiness and self-worth. You can’t find one without espousing the other.

White’s room is so pretty. 🥺

THE FLASHING STROBE LIGJTS DDNJDFJDJDNF.

SPINEL WHITE DIAMOND?!/!:$;8;83&:&:

SHE FUCKING LETS OTHER GEMS CONTROL HE R HELP.

SPINEL MAKING WHITE TAP DANCE FICODODOFODJDNDJSJDJDJJDDJDJ

Steven’s horrified expression omg

“I’m scared I’m gonna hurt people; I guess I already have.” God.

And that’s another thing that this episode has called to mind. Blue, Yellow, and White alike once used their insane powers to hurt other Gems and to hurt themselves, and here, throughout this series, we see Steven discovering that same capacity for destruction and self-destruction. Along with the systematic oppressions they facilitated, a big part of the Diamonds’ modus operandi was that their powers were directly correlated to their mental states and their various inabilities to confront their own selves and effect inner change. The corrective wasn’t necessarily Steven; the corrective was him helping them to do that initial act of introspection and looking inwards. And so, too, will Steven have to do the same by the end of this series. But I presume that his family, all the people and gems who have loved and cared for him, will in effect be his Steven, just as he has always been for them.

“Half a Diamond, half a creature of Earth—in all the universe there's no one else that could know what you’re going through, so maybe it's time you talked to yourself.” This is so viscerally sad. White hits the nail on the head here. Steven’s human friends/family and his gem family and even the Diamonds, who come the closest to matching his own strength, can never fully understand him. It’s the tension that underscores a lot, if not the entire show.

White briefly touches Steven with her nail, and you can viscerally see the trauma on his face; he hasn’t forgotten her act above all, wrenching his gem out, nearly killing him.

“I’m... I’m a Diamond.” Steven, in looking at White Diamond, realizes that she’s a mirror of himself. Holy fucking shit

“I don’t want to be you! I don’t want to be anything like you!” HOLY FUCKING SHIT

“Don’t hurt me! She can’t hurt me! I’m controlling her...” And here, Steven doesn’t light upon the essential thing... in making White punch the wall, nearly knocking a huge rock into him, he’s the one hurting himself.

This show, oh my g o d

“She’s the one who should be afraid.” STEVEN?!!!!????!??!

“No, stop it! I don’t like this!” / “Please, you’re scaring me.” OH MY GO D

HE FUCKING MADE HER SLAM HER GEM AGAINST A PILLAR HOLY HE LL

“What... what was that?” Christine’s delivery here. Holy shit. 😭😭 And both of them are surrounded in the carnage of Steven’s wrath. Holy fucking shit.

This act is fundamentally different than him accidentally shattering Jasper in “Fragments”; this was an intentional attempt to hurt White, to crack her, to break her. Holy fucking shit

Spinel, Blue, and Yellow waiting for Steven outside of White’s door has my heart a little and a lot tender 🥺🥺🥺🥺

SPINEL SINGING I CAN MAKE A CHANGE SO DRAMATICALLY DJDIDJDJDJDJD. (But yeah, lmao, this will absolutely be the conclusion of Steven’s arc at the end of Future.)

“Steven! Let us help you, Steven!” The Diamonds are so concerned (mirroring the Gems back at home, too). 😭😭

He leaves a flip flop behind like Cinderella lmao

“Steven, let us help you!” / “We’re your family!” 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

And just as he implored the CGs, he tells the Diamonds not to follow him either.

Steven is completely and utterly alone.

Not by necessity.

But God, by choice.

Okay, this is my new favorite Future episode.

[there-must-be-a-lock]

wings & the way down - part 4

Spencer Reid x Derek Morgan

Word Count: ~1870 this chapter

Warnings: None? 

A/N: A wild subplot appears! Gang’s mostly here, so we get to the fun stuff soon. Nobody’s reading this on tumblr, really, but I still feel the need to apologize for the delay! 

Catch up here. 

Monday, January 6 - Derek

As far as first days go, it could be a lot worse. It’s still fucking exhausting. 

They send the class president to meet him in the office, in the morning — blonde-haired and blue-eyed, straight out of a Colgate ad as she shakes his hand and introduces herself as “Jennifer, but my friends call me JJ.” 

Derek doesn’t fully trust girls like that, the ones who are so traditionally pretty they think they don’t have to be nice, but she’s cool enough as she shows him to his first class and gives him a brief tour, pointing out where he’ll want to go for his next class. He’s already feeling a little lost. 

People keep looking at him, and he wonders what they’re seeing. 

JJ seems to know everybody; she greets almost everyone by name as they walk, introducing Derek in passing. Most of the kids smile right back. It makes Derek reconsider his initial assessment of her; mean girls don’t usually get that sort of genuine warmth aimed in their direction. 

She invites him to eat lunch with her and her friends, but he has a meeting with Principal Strauss during lunch to talk about the student handbook, how he’s adjusting, and all the other fun shit. 

“No worries, standing invitation,” JJ tells him. 

“Tomorrow, then. It’s a date,” he replies, flashing his most charming grin. 

She smiles at that — not the flirtatious expression Derek expected, more like she’s laughing at a private joke — before waving and heading off to her own class.

The history teacher, Ms. Lewis, asks him to stand and introduce himself to the class, and to “Tell us something about yourself,” which… yeah, he saw that one coming, and he practiced it in front of the mirror last night. 

“Derek Morgan.” Not-too-bright smile; just casual enough to be cool, not cocky. “I just moved from Chicago. Psyched about the Vegas weather, not so much about the pizza.” 

He has to do the same thing at the start of every class. He’s going to be repeating it in his sleep, at this rate, and the more he says it, the more disingenuous it feels, trying to boil his identity down to one neat sentence. 

The English teacher, Blake, also asks him to say his favorite book, and Derek hesitates slightly. His instinct is to lie, say something cool and not quite as nerdy, but he catches himself and tells the truth instead. Nobody seems to care except the girl sitting next to him — dark hair, darker eyeliner — who raises a skeptical brow, like she doesn’t believe it. 

At the end of class, though, Blake pairs him with Eyeliner Girl for a project, and she gives him a begrudging smile before introducing herself: “Emily. Glad I’m not the new kid any more.” 

She scrawls her name and number on a piece of paper and slaps it down on the desk in front of him, saying something about meeting up later in the week, as she starts to pack up her stuff. Derek notices an enamel pin of a pansexual pride flag on her bag — between a Joy Division patch and a pin that says “Death Before Decaf” — but before he can figure out whether he wants to comment on that, she’s on her way out the door. 

Most of the day is just a blur of new faces and names and trying to remember where the fuck he’s going. Strauss is brusque but sharp. The place is huge, but there seem to be a lot of girls eager to show him around. People have been friendly enough; the whispers he hears are curious, instead of vicious. 

Derek feels a little bit like he’s got a spotlight on him every time he walks through the halls. At least here it’s a spotlight and not a bullseye. 

He wasn’t nervous for any of his classes, or anything, but he’s definitely nervous before practice. He’s not sure whether Coach Rossi told the team anything about why he ended up transferring mid-year. 

He’s braced for some hostility when he introduces himself to the team captain. “Hey, man, I know this has got to be weird, but—”

“Hey, apparently you can help us win some games,” the guy says, with a disarming smile. “Foyet. Glad to have you.” Derek breathes a little easier as they shake hands. 

Coach Rossi, meanwhile, isn’t like any high school coach Derek’s ever met. They’re usually big and loud and kinda aggro, but Rossi’s quieter, deadpan, well-dressed. He’s got this unimpressed expression, like he has seen some shit in his day and is not going to be bothered by any amount of macho teenage posturing. 

It feels good to be back on the court. The team’s not stellar, but fuck, it’s better than what he left behind, any day of the week. Derek’s in his element, here, and after a day of uncertainty, it’s nice to know he can still do this. By the end of practice, he seems to have won over most of the guys who seemed a little frosty at first, and that’s really fucking nice too. 

He hangs back for a minute to talk to Rossi, afterward, to thank him and just touch base. Then there’s talk of uniforms and making sure he has a locker, before the next practice, and by the time he gets showered, the rest of the team is gone.

He doesn’t mind walking back to the main building on his own. It feels like he’s been smiling and shaking hands and working so damn hard to make a decent first impression that he hasn’t been able to properly breathe all day. 

The school is mostly deserted, at this point — there are a few teachers still working at their desks, a couple students packing up. He gets a little bit turned around trying to find his locker again, wandering into an out-of-the-way section of classrooms near the auditorium before hitting a dead end. He retraces his steps and takes the right turn this time. 

Then he hears an argument around the corner, unmistakable in the relative quiet. He winces, wondering if he should announce his presence somehow, but it doesn’t sound like the kind of thing he wants to interrupt. 

“Look, I’m sorry,” a female voice is saying. “But every time I think about it… it’s terrifying. It’s easier for you, you’ve never—”

“You think this is easy?” another girl snarls. “Fuck that and fuck you. I told you, I’m not doing this. No fuckin’ way.” 

With that, heavy footsteps stomp away, echoing down the hall. 

Derek pauses for a moment, listening, but there’s no more sound; he waits a few seconds anyway before turning the corner, where one of the girls is still standing silently. 

When she whirls, startled by the sound of his footsteps, he realizes it’s JJ. 

It just takes her a blink to pull herself together at the sight of him; if he didn’t see the tears streaking down her cheeks, he’d almost believe it when she aims one of those Colgate-ad smiles in his direction. 

“You okay?” he asks hesitantly. JJ nods vigorously. 

“Totally! I think it’s allergies or something,” she insists. Right.  

“Think I’m a little turned around. How do I get out to the senior lot?” he asks her. 

“I’m heading that way, I’ll show you,” she says. As they start to walk, Derek can see her, out of the corner of his eye, wiping away tears discreetly. “How was your first day?” 

“Not bad, can’t complain,” he says, shrugging. “Pretty weird being the new kid, but… what are you gonna do, right?” 

JJ hesitates before saying, “Must be nice. Getting a fresh start, no expectations.” 

That’s not the usual line. Most people say it must be difficult, having to start over where nobody knows him; most people ask if he misses home, and they don’t consider what he’s trying to get away from. 

He doesn’t ask JJ what she wants to get away from — instead he says, “That’s what my momma keeps saying: I can be whoever I want to be.” 

“So who do you want to be, Derek Morgan?” 

“Just want to be myself,” he says, and she looks up at him with a small, sardonic smile. 

“You make it sound so easy,” she mutters. 

He laughs. “Yeah, fair enough.” 

This time, her smile seems more genuine. JJ points him in the right direction and then ducks into the women’s bathroom, with a wave and a reminder that she’ll see him for lunch. 

Derek heads toward the front door. He’s fishing around in his bag as he walks, looking for the keys to his uncle’s truck, when he walks right into somebody rushing out of the men’s bathroom. 

“Fuck, sorry, are you —” He stops dead, still with an arm out to help steady the other person, because the other person is Spencer. 

Spencer, who looks just as surprised as Derek feels. They lock eyes for a second, and Derek’s insides go on an entire fucking roller-coaster ride in one frozen moment. 

“I thought you were in college,” Derek blurts out, half-laughing, but Spencer doesn’t look even a little bit happy to see him. He’s gone pale. 

“What? No, still in fucking high school, last I checked.” His voice is bitter, and it cracks on the words. “I just take college classes sometimes.” 

“Oh.” 

“I thought you were visiting,” Spencer says, pushing his hair out of his face like he wants to be pulling it instead. 

“I am,” Derek says, stomach sinking when he realizes Spencer still isn’t smiling. “For another six months.”

Spencer’s mouth drops open, and Derek has a visceral flash of sensory memory: those pretty pink lips brushing his cheek. 

Spencer scowls. “So you’re — you go here. Fantastic.”  

Derek’s too tired to pretend the venom in Spencer’s tone doesn’t hurt. 

He snaps, “Did I do something wrong here, or did you just wake up on the bitchy side of the bed?” 

Maybe not his most mature reaction, but. It’s been a long fucking day.  

Spencer digs the heels of his hands into his eyes, for a second, and Derek can see the tension in his fingers. Then he exhales and it’s like all that twitchy furious energy drains out of him at once. He just looks exhausted. 

His voice is low and croaky as he says, “I liked that you didn’t see me the same way as everybody else does.” 

“So, what, you think that’s gonna change just cause we go to the same school now? What kinda asshole do you think I am?” 

“The kind who wears a varsity jacket,” Spencer mumbles. His eyes are huge and hurt and soft, and Derek recoils slightly. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” 

Spencer shakes his head. “Never mind. Just — trust me, okay? You’re better off pretending you don’t know me.” 

“I want to know you, though,” Derek says quietly. 

Spencer’s phone is vibrating. He looks down at it and then gives Derek one more sad little half-smile as he starts to walk away. 

“If you still feel that way by the end of the week, give me a call,” he says over his shoulder, already pushing the front door open. “But you won’t.” Before Derek can respond, he’s flipping the phone open and saying, “Hey, Mom. I’m on my way.” 

When Derek collects himself and follows him out, Spencer’s already gone. 

.

.

.

[ryosei-hime]

Date Night

Continuation of Personal Space. Husk spends the day getting ready for his date with Angel and the rest of the night being a mess. Can also be found over on AO3.

Husk groaned as he rolled off the sofa in the foyer, bottles clattering as he disturbed them. He dragged a paw down his face before a huge yawn escaped. A sound of agony followed as he stretched his back, every vertebrae popping and shifting. That damn thing was not meant for sleeping on. A feather floated down to the floor and he followed it’s trajectory back to the sofa to find more littering the cushions. Oh, great, molting. That’s what he needed.

He checked his phone for the time and saw a message from Angel. It was a picture of him splayed out on the sofa with his mouth open, a bottle clutched in one hand, and a leg over the back. He’d captioned it “Sleeping Beauty” followed by one of those winking kissy faces. 

Husk rolled his eyes as he picked himself up off the ground. If he found that damn thing on his social media, he’d kill him. Nobody had any damn privacy anymore. He texted back a threat and searched around his empties for any remnants - hair of the dog and all - until a static-filled voice interrupted him.

“Good afternoon, Husker.”

“Yeah, what’d you want?” 

“Simply passing through, my friend.”

Husk’s lip curled. Every time Alastor called him friend it caused a visceral reaction. Fuckin asshole. He’d rather the fucker just treat their relationship as it was instead of trying to paint a polite picture. You could put lipstick on a pig but it was still a fuckin pig. 

“But good luck on your little date tonight.”

Alastor’s smile turned sharper and his eyes more sinister. God dammit, Angel. Couldn’t he keep his fuckin mouth shut? Husk just gave Alastor the finger as he moved on with his day. He checked to make sure Angel hadn’t blabbed about this anywhere else. But it must have just been good old fashioned word of mouth.

Actually, he’d barely posted at all today which was weird for Angel. Probably knew he couldn’t keep his mouth shut if he did. Husk sighed and dragged himself to his room. He had a few hours to get himself together enough for this. Plenty of time to go over everything that would go wrong in minute detail.

It was Nifty who helped him get ready. Of course, she knew, too. Whole damn hotel knew. She insisted on helping him get dressed up in an old suit and tie. He didn’t see the need to bother. Wasn’t like he wore clothes regularly and they wouldn’t be on him long.

But it made Nifty happy to get him ready, giving him advice so fast he couldn’t take half of it in even if he’d wanted to. He smiled at her as she fixed his tie and stood back with her hands on her hips.

“You look great! Angel’s gonna love it. I’m so excited for you!” 

“At least someone is,” Husk muttered, resisting the urge to loosen the tie a bit. 

“Aren’t you excited?” 

“Ah, I’m no good at this stuff. You know that.” 

“Don’t worry! Just let Angel help you. He’s great at it.” She started dusting Husk’s own fur off his suit as it shed, her efforts only making it worse. “And he really likes you!”

“Yeah, I know,” Husk replied. “Thanks Nifty.”

Nifty gave him a big hug and he returned it gently. Her slight frame made him extra careful with her. 

“I have to get back to cleaning, but I hope you enjoy your date!” 

“Yeah. I’ll try.” 

He raised a hand in a slight wave as she hurried off. He decided to spend the rest of the day waiting for Angel at the bar. That turned out to be a mistake. Everyone had something to say. They wished him luck. They cooed and sighed like it was some big fuckin show. Their words were supportive but somehow they only made Husk more nervous, maybe even a little bitter. This shit seemed so easy for everyone else. 

It had been easy for him once, too.

Eventually the foyer emptied out as it got late. Husk knew Angel would be returning for him any minute. He finally had to loosen the tie around his neck and decided to fix himself a drink to calm his nerves, but just as he reached under the bar, the doors opened. 

His wings lifted slightly as Angel made his entrance. Husk wasn’t the only one who’d gotten dressed up. Angel’d gotten his hair done or some kind of extensions or something. Fuck if Husk knew. He wore a strapless pink number, the skirt covered with some kinda fake flower and vine decorations. Looked like it was supposed to be a train, but he was too tall for it to do much but brush the floor as he approached. Husk actually thought he looked beautiful all dolled up like that. Maybe he should tell him. Instead, what came out of his mouth was: 

“What’re we going to the fuckin prom?” 

“I dunno. Will you be doin’ my taxes when we’re done?” Angel shot back with a grin. 

He reached across the bar and fixed his tie. Dammit, he’d choke to death before he got through this night. Angel didn’t release his tie right away. He used it to pull him closer for a quick kiss. 

“Ready?”

No.

“Yeah, sure.” 

Husk came out from behind the bar and let Angel take his arm. He had no idea where they were going, but he just let Angel take the lead. Like Nifty had said, he was good at this. When they arrived at their destination, Husk was a little grateful she’d insisted on dressing him up. Angel had chosen some high end, classy joint. 

They got a lot of stares on the way to their table. He knew Angel was the center of attention wherever he went, but he didn’t like being caught in the crossfire of all those lustful gazes. A growl sounded low in his chest before he could stop it, his teeth bared. The stares become a little less overt.

Angel put a hand on his shoulder.

“Don’t scare my fans, Husk. I’m used to it.”

“Well, I’m not. People need to mind their own fuckin business.”

Without thinking about it, Husk pulled a chair out for Angel. At least he remembered something from the old days.

“Whatta gentleman,” Angel joked, batting his lashes at him as he sat. 

Husk gave his chair a rough shove up to the table, taking his own with a grumble. When he looked up, Angel had his chin on his hands, fingers laced to make a cradle, staring at him with such a soft look it took Husk’s breath away. He made himself busy with the menu. As the waiter approached, Angel sat up suddenly.

“Oh, I forgot. This place is Italian. Like Italian Italian. But I can order for ya, if ya want.” 

Angel looked quite proud of himself and Husk hated to burst his bubble. 

“I got it.”

He gave the waiter his order in perfect Italian and looked back to Angel as the waiter turned to him. Angel stared at him in shock for a moment before stumbling through his own order. He waited until the waiter had disappeared before going off.

“You know Italian? Holy shit, Husk! I been dirty talkin ya all this time at the bar and you knew?!”

Husk hid his smirk behind his menu, trying not to laugh. Angel pushed it away and stared him down, motioning with two fingers between them.

“You look at me, look at me!” 

Husk looked up, still grinning. Angel’s face had gone stern, and he held his gaze for a moment before simply uttering,

“You bastard.” 

Husk let himself laugh a little and teased him. 

“You get real creative when you’re drunk, you know that?”  

Angel just smirked and crossed his second set of arms while another hand brought a glass of wine up to his cheek.

“Well, I guess you know what you got to look forward to then, donchya?”

The conversation during dinner remained light-hearted and Angel kept reaching out for Husk’s paw, making eyes at him. He avoided making direct eye contact, insides churning every time Angel tried. Once their plates were taken away, Angel stood and held a hand out to him.

“Can I get a dance before we go?” 

Husk felt a little more confident as he put a paw in his hand. Dancing was something he knew he could do at least. He smiled back at him.

“Sure.” 

He let Angel draw him out onto the dance floor and pull him into a waltzing position. His extra hands found a place to rest on Husk’s hips as they began to move. Angel took the lead, but Husk had expected as much with the height difference. He wouldn’t let Angel know, but he was surprised he knew how to waltz. It seemed a bit old-fashioned for him. Or at least for how he tended to present himself. It was easy to forget he was from an older era than he was.

“Thank you.”

Husk looked up and felt all the air rush out of his lungs again. Angel gazed down at him with such a genuine look of gratitude. If he didn’t stop stealing his breath, he’d never make it through this night.

“A bet’s a bet,” he repeated.

“You didn’t have to go on a date with me, but ya did. I really appreciate that. It’s nice.” 

Husk closed their stance and pressed his forehead against Angel’s shoulder in response. Angel’s secondary arms held him close, his other hands sliding softly over his shoulders and down his arms. Husk turned his face in towards Angel’s neck instinctually. Everything felt so warm and comforting in this moment. Husk had to say something to break the spell before he started purring and embarrassed himself.

“You’re payin’ right? Cause I can’t afford this shit on my salary.”

“Don’t worry. I gotchya, babe,” Angel replied. “The least I can do is buy ya dinner first.”

Husk pulled back and a hand found his cheek as Angel leaned down to kiss him softly. Then again, a bit harder, staring at him through half-lidded eyes. Husk had to close his, but his paws slid up Angel’s back to grip his shoulders as he reciprocated. Angel broke the kiss and lowered his lips to Husk’s ear, brushing over the hairs at the tip for a moment, sending a thrill through his whole body. 

“Let’s get outta here.”

Husk just nodded his agreement as Angel moved towards the table to pay, his hand sliding off Husk’s shoulder as he went. Husk loosened his tie as he focused on breathing. Fuck. This was happening. Shit. Fuck. As he panicked, a feather slowly floated to the floor then another. Oh, fan-fucking-tastic! This shit!

He stepped on the feathers to hide them as Angel returned, trying to keep a neutral expression. He probably wouldn’t have noticed the feathers anyways. He had his eyes locked onto Husk’s as he reached for his arm again. A devious light there had chased away the tenderness that had been prevalent the rest of the night, letting Husk know Angel’d fully shifted gears. 

Thankfully when they returned to the hotel it wasn’t to some kind of fuckin fanfare. He’d half expected some kind of congratulatory party, the way people acted around here. But the foyer was as empty as it usually was this time of night. Just the two of them as it so often was. Angel stopped by the bar and released his arm. 

“Okay, gimme ten to slip into somethin more comfortable,” Angel said with a joking tone. “Then meet me in my room.” 

He made a show of walking away, swinging his hips and looking back at Husk over his shoulder before disappearing down the corridor. Husk just stood there calmly until he was out of sight. Once alone, he threw himself abruptly over the bar, gasping in air like a drowning man. He sent bottles clattering to the floor as he fished around for a drink. He leaned back against the bar and sank to the ground as he chugged whatever booze he’d managed to grab. The chugging became less frantic after a moment and he started to breathe again. Thank fucking god for alcohol. 

“You did this to yourself, asshole,” he muttered under his breath. 

He watched the clock as it ticked away the seconds he had to get himself together. He finally did away with his tie entirely and ran a paw over his head. Okay, this wasn’t such a big deal. God, it wasn’t like he didn’t find Angel attractive. And this would make him happy. 

All of Husk’s limbs went limp and his head banged back against the bar. Dammit, he wanted him to be happy. How had he let this happen? He sighed and let the empty bottle roll out of his grasp before picking himself up off the floor. 

He trudged down the hall to Angel’s room, leaving a sparse trail of feathers in his wake, and gave a light rap on the door before pushing it open. The lights were low and tinged pink from the scarves draped over the shades. Angel had tossed rose petals around the room wildly. He followed their general trail over to the bed where Angel was, of course, poised seductively. 

He’d changed out of the prom dress and into lacy black lingerie, makeup entirely redone to match. How the fuck did he do that so fast? Angel shifted forward and pushed himself off the bed, sauntering over to him the way he approached a pole at a show. He brushed the back of a hand against his cheek as he circled around behind him. All three sets of arms snaked around him, hands working at buttons and sliding under his shirt.

Husk froze as his clothes just fell around him, only brought back to motion by the shiver that went down his spine when Angel pressed soft kisses against the back of his neck. Damn, he was good. His paws rose to find the closest pair of Angel’s hands and slid over them. Angel nuzzled his face into the crook of his neck before finding his ear. 

“I’ve been waiting for this.” 

Husk turned in his arms and tried to think of something to say. All he could think of was how long it had been and how badly he was about to fuck up. He started backing away slowly, but Angel followed. 

He felt his knees buckle as he backed up into the bedframe. He fell back onto the bed and Angel leaned over him, using a pair of arms to hold himself up while the other two ran down his chest. Husk’s throat felt like it had closed up and he gasped for air. 

“W-wait.” 

[lollytea]

scrooge?

sexuality headcanon:

he’s bi! i know ive been saying that a lot but. i see a lot of characters as bi. sue me

otp:

goldie stole his heart and his wallet and thats that on that

brotp:

him and beakley are so fuckin good folks!! she seems to be one of his oldest friends and knows him better than anybody. and the way she never tolerates his bullshit or lets him treat her badly and has no issues with calling him a fuckin moron is great. but she still so loyal to him and helps out whenever he needs it. scrooge really does need somebody as levelheaded as beakley to keep him grounded. he’d be dead without her 

notp:

i dunno i dont have one?? at least ive never seen a scrooge ship thats given me a visceral reaction. yet. hes old, let him just do whatever with whoever he wants. as long as its not weird. even ones i dont ship like scromgold are just so fucking hysterical as a concept that i cant even hate them

first headcanon that pops into my head:

scrooge absolutely 100% prefers the company of children to adults. kids are fun, creative, adventurous and full of trouble and something he’s learned in all his years alive, is that those are traits which adults will attempt to suck out of you. The excitement tends to dull from his life when he doesnt have kids around to inspire him

one way in which I relate to this character:

i too get really mad when people get scotland and ireland mixed up 

thing that gives me second hand embarrassment about this character:

remember when this man had an emotional breakdown at chuck e cheese

cinnamon roll or problematic fave?

problematic. money grabbin bitch 

[primedspecimen]

💠 ( i'm curious about junkrat's mental state, since i seem to recall him hearing voices. do you have a specific set of diagnosis in mind for him?)

💠 Is there a Headcanon about my muse you want to know more about? Ask away!

So technically speaking, he’d more typically only have one overarching diagnosis and the rest would be considered symptoms (though there is a thing called comorbidity, more often than not, everything else besides the ‘main’ disorder is considered symptoms). But I like to express with multiple separate ones to get a better overall view of his mental state and instabilities!

So to start!

ADHD - Rat has ADHD. He suffers from almost an equal amount of inattentiveness and hyperactivity. While it’s not completely absent, he doesn’t suffer as bad with rejection sensitive dysphoria. He used to be a lot worse, which partly manifested as his scrappy tendencies. Now he’s really only sensitive when it comes to people he likes or at least considers an acquaintance in a positive light.

Schizophrenia - So not only does radiation sometimes bring on symptoms of psychosis or even dredge up the symptoms of someone who actually has the disorder but it hasn’t really come to light yet, but Schizophrenia runs in his family. His father actively suffered from it and his mother was a carrier. Being exposed to radiation at a young age didn’t help, and spurred it on sooner than it might have otherwise taken. Thankfully, it usually only comes on when he’s super stressed, though it’s been known to happen when he’s not. Stress psychotic episodes are much worse than the occasional whispering and shadows. His hallucinations are primarily auditory. He doesn’t often suffer from delusions of grandeur, but he does often fall into paranoia spirals. It’s incredibly rare that they reach the point where Hog isn’t trusted but it has happened.

SPD - Sensory processing disorder, specifically the Sensory Modulation subtype! This one’s more in the realm of physicality, but it’s worth mentioning. There are three categories that can be a thing in one person: Sensory Over-Responsivity, Sensory Under-Responsivity, and Sensory Craving. Over-responsivity means that sometimes, certain tactile sensations or textures will cause an incredibly visceral response, be it good or bad. If he likes the sensation, he’ll feel it real intense and just. Enjoy it. If he doesn’t, you’ll fuckin’ know. He’ll definitely react super noticeably. One of the things he really enjoys is petting Sushi, as his fur texture is super pleasant for him. Under-responsivity means that sometimes, tactile sensations or textures will hardly be felt at all. While it isn’t the whole reason for it, it’s part of the reason his pain tolerance is so high. It’s like some people I’ve known that will like burn their fucking arms or gash open their finger and not even notice it until they see it with their eyeballs (starin’ at my current and last partners, gdi). Sensory craving is pretty self explanatory, but I’ll explain anyway. This means he has an almost insatiable need for sensory input. He’ll bump things, touch them, move constantly, and it can cause like hyper affection. More stimuli doesn’t sate the craving. Along with being touch starved, it’s why he is almost always touching Hog in some capacity.I’m not sure how well I’ve explained them, so here’s a link that has them written out a bit better.

Tonic Clonic/Grand mal - This is, again, not really a mental condition, but due to the radiation, he can be prone to having tonic clonic/grand mal seizures when under extreme duress.

Dissociation - He sometimes dissociates to the point where he isn’t sure he’s real. Chazz once described one of his own dissociative stints as if he was doing everything through a VR helmet. This is true for Rat. It happens a lot when he has no outlet for his energy and stunted emotional responses.

PTSD - While he hasn’t really seen war, he’s been through a lot. Some serious bullying throughout his childhood, being the one to find his mother dead in her bed, enforcers beating the fuck out of him for his taxes or to reveal anything at all about the treasure he found, surviving entirely on his own for two years before meeting Hog, dodging bounty hunters and Junkers and other gangs, nearly starving to death… hell, the loss of his leg can be super fucky. Grounding him can be difficult sometimes, as from time to time when he’s brought out of any flashbacks, a small bout of psychosis follows and he hallucinates hardcore. It usually only lasts a few moments, though. Sometimes he gets the nightmares and, less frequently, night terrors. Sometimes they’re straight up flashbacks and other times they’re distorted and abstract, but the feelings line up. Often, he dissociates. His most frequent and noticeable sign is mood changes and his visceral reactions to reminders of the events. Hell, even if he doesn’t consciously remember them, something in him does. He can be a handful if he’s having an ‘episode’.

I feel like I’m forgetting some so I might have to revisit this one, but from the top of my head, here it is!

[thegoblinbee]

I’ve always had extreme visceral reactions to music – tears, goosebumps, hairs standing on end, bursts of euphoria up and down my spine, that whole vibe. And I’ve always wanted to write about music, but I’ve read so much garbage-ass writing about music that I’ve long been scared off trying only to end up adding to the muck.

I’ve long been scared off of trying most things, honestly – perhaps the number two reason why I don’t get it when people continuously call me brave, second only to my bone-deep fear of abso-fucking-lutely everything. Yes, I somehow make the fear of trying into a separate thing from fear of everything in general, as I have truly mastered the art of crippling anxiety, thank you, thank you.

Plus I always feel like I ruin songs for people by talking about them with such fanaticism (nevermind my frequently frustrating flair for melodrama) – can’t help but be let down to some degree if not completely, right?

But oh well. I’ve decided to try, clumsily. I don’t know what I am doing, but I am try. I am try, internet, and that is the best I can do.

Nevermind where I’ve decided to start, I mean Jesus. Not just Kanye but recent Kanye at that. Poets, in my experience anyway, tend to hate Kanye West. These days, everyone with a soul seems to hate Kanye West, actually. The bipolar in me feels for him when he goes off the rails though, first of all, but secondly, and most importantly, I fell in love with his work way back when Through the Wire happened (two-thousand-fuckin-four y’all), and am devoted in the way one becomes when they go on a 15 year journey with an artist, one who frequently disappoints, one whose flaws have always stung (equating strippers with murderers on Jesus Walks, let’s say), one who has become a shining example of my ability, willingness and, at times, eagerness even, to separate art from artist.

(I have so much to say about art v. artist / appreciating art made by deeply flawed creatures, even be they madmen or monsters, some day, says she who is neck-deep in Henry Miller as we speak.)

So all that is just my introductory caveat. I never claimed to have mastered brevity. If anything I’ve claimed to fail at it in an epic way, having gotten worse as time has worn ceaselessly on. But whatever. What the fuck ever.

Okay. So. I actually have to begin with yet another caveat: The nearly insurmountably awful thing about this song is his lyrics – especially the very first two goddamn lines of the very first verse, speaking of being unpopular with poets, nevermind people who just think it’s above and beyond gross to claim credit for Taylor Swift’s career while simultaneously talking about fucking her even though he’s married with kids and she was a teenager when he first descended on her life. Making me defend Taylor Swift is egregious at best. For that alone, I could just kick him right in the cock. So, the best way to hear the forest through the trees is to act like his lyrics are in a language you don’t understand. If you can do that, you might actually be able to take this journey with me. Might. But if you can’t? Best not to even bother.

But before he gets around to making me hate him, Rihanna’s naked voice descends heavily, heavenly, to pool at the small of my back like a silken comeshot, a sound raw as fresh meat and divine as the kill, delivering me with a bounce down into Swizz Beatz’ wild WOOOO, that decadent, ecstatic beat, that burst of sound that comes on like cocaine used to when I’d spend all night shooting it (blowing through his life savings, ripping our lives apart, destroying my veins such that it’ll always hurt, always take a hundred tries as I sit there thinking, “I could do this shit in thirty seconds with sheer force of will, Jesus Christ,” though I say nothing), great, grand boot-kicks to the chest like BAM BAM BAM.

(But it also honeys up like heroin did, softly reverberating, simmering, delivering me into the first verse (that is, don’t forget, in a language we don’t understand) on a velvet pillow, its fingers in my hair like Sunday morning.)

Then, two verses in, she’s back, breaking my heart, turning the single word “did” into an entire universe, sends sweet shivers up my spine, often brings tears to my eyes. Just that – just one fucking word. In the verse that follows, there’s this moment where all but the driving drumbeat drops out and he holds me in rapture with the way he pauses there (at 1:33, to be specific), gearing up to toss me into the real sorcery, that heartfucking moment when Rihanna hands me off to Sister Nancy, those bom bom bom beela bom bom ay ay ay ay ay ays laying me down in a field of feathers, makes my hips dance unbidden like a luxuriant fuck at two in the morning every time, sends me reeling.

And even despite not caring much one way or the other for someone playing hype-man in a song, Swizz Beatz draws me in so much deeper with his hearty GODDAMNs, his spooky, feral WOOOOs fingering their way all along and deep inside me, thrumming there, calling, calling.

Then, as if all that weren’t enough to flay and lay me down, it closes with Nina Simone, her glorious, throaty spell casting a heartbroken pall over the whole affair, killing me in her own special way with that same single word then dropping out with a slight echo so abruptly that the whole affair leaves me feeling a little disoriented, a little lost, even as I listen to it on a loop for hours at a time.

I find its structure alone to be masterful, its own sort of genius; complex and layered, heralding the unexpected structural shifts used to expert effect in, say, Travis Scott’s Sicko Mode, lifting you up then laying you down to tangle inextricably: Lovemaking and soft and sweet and hard and hungry kisses and a hot fuck up against the wall all in rapid succession without so much as a second to catch your breath; a revelation.

A while back he and I, the one my heart will forever break for, discussed Kanye for a bit – the way his production skills have been, as time wears on, outmatched, at times even displaced, by his skill for curating art and artist, that genius gift for construction shining through in the way he can use seven (fuckin seven!) different producers on one song yet deliver a final product that is fully cohesive despite the ways it splinters, a song that takes you on a very real journey, stitching together disparate parts in a way that haunts as it worms into the ear.

But I mean, maybe that’s just me.

Up next: Mask by Bauhaus.

[turntabletokyo-blog]

Make Love Not War: Chapter 1

(Note: I don’t have an AO3 account right now, so I’ll just be posting my fics on here and then posting them back on there later, feel free to leave any comments!) Summary: Steve has been missing for two months after El closed the gate and the Snow Ball took place. While the rest of the town copes, Billy continues to convince himself that he doesn’t give a shit. ______________________________________________________________

It's been two months since Steve had gone missing, posters rested on telephone polls and outside of school walls, questioning where he might have went. His disappearance was grim, but in reality, life in Hawkins continued on as it usually did. The only peoples lives who had fallen to less than simply default were the ones who cared about him, and this honestly showed who that was. Because despite the masses of people who kissed Steve's ass while he was present and high on the high-school food chain. They did so to gain cred or impress him, or impress other people, or maybe just to impress themselves. Despite all that, most of those people couldn't try less to find out what had happened to him.

Though, the people who were really involved with him of course have been struggling and brainstorming and grieving this entire time. Nancy, the children, the parents of said children, Jonathan, Hopper. But each of those people knew what it really meant when someone went missing in Hawkins, Indiana. So that glum heavy feeling in Hawkins rested upon their shoulders entirely, and so did the responsibility to do something about it.

Billy didn't care, or, at least that's what he convinced himself, every time he saw the aforementioned Kings stupid face plastered outside the school he took it upon himself to tear it down in disgust. As far as he told himself, he didn't know what had happened to Steve and he didn't care. This mulleted asshole continued on his days as if nothing had happened. Going on sleazy dates which consisted only of cigarettes, car speakers and booze breath smooches in the front seats of his Camaro. 

He also continues to lay in his room and spin thrash metal records while disguising any thoughts he has in a hazy cloud of smoke. He had hardened himself long ago, become cold and callous, and been doing it for long enough to avoid any feelings of care for a boy he knew he fully despised.

________________________________________________________________

After sucking in a heavy puff of smoke on an overcast, mid-Monday. He decided to step out his room. Maybe go pump some iron downstairs, or watch whatever crappy flick is on TV. Though, once outside, it was hard to avoid hearing the low yet frantic voice of his step-sister yelling into what he could only assume was the walkie talkie he'd seen her holding previously. 

"No Dustin! Who knows where he could be or how we're going to get there. I say we just follow Mike's game plan and leave tomorrow night. We need to get this over with.

"Game plan? Billy was as thick as a world almanac so his first attempt at understanding was entirely unsuccessful. 

"I know Lucas.. I miss him too. And if no one else is going to bother helping to find him then we just HAVE TO do it ourselves."

Oh my god. Billy couldn't help it, actually he wasn't quite sure why he did this. It was honestly just a visceral reaction for him to slam the door open with his foot. Something he hadn't done in a long while. 

Max, jumped at the sound, eyes wide but hand still tightly wrapped around the walkie. After her initial moment of shock she narrowed her eyes in confusion and contempt almost giving Billy a "what the fuck do you want" look. This girl has known for months now that she has absolutely no reason to fear him, and he knew that as well. So why did he take the liberty to kick the door open? What was he hoping to accomplish? And what he had wondered: why had that conversation even caused him to care. 

But, Billy was nothing if not confident, so he continued on as he had originally intended. "Game plan? Let me get this straight little red riding “good”. Are you trying to find the shit lord who disappeared?"

Max stood up, she instinctually was holding down the microphone of the walkie, but the kids knew to keep their mouths shut on the other ends. "Shit lord?" She spat out with a surprised smirk. "Are you serious, Billy?" 

Max and Billy hadn't spoken as fully as this ever since she pulled her stunt, everything after then had been angry huffs and threatening eye contact. She carried on, "He's been gone for two months. Don't treat this like it means nothing, I don’t care that you liked fighting him in basketball practice." She wrung out that last sentence in a mocking tone. "Don't be an idiot." 

A small "Oooh" echoed through the walkie from the silly hat sporting boy.

Billy's face turned rage red and a few veins threatened to pop out his neck as he had to hold back from reacting to this kind of behavior. Previously, he may have stepped forward and toward her, responding, "What did you just say to me you little shit?" and grabbing her walkie from her hand only to crack it under the weight of his favorite pair of boots, but he knew better than that now. He ignored the kid on the other line and used his rage to continue his interrogation through and through. "You're really going to go looking for someone who's been kidnapped? In Hawkins? Do you guys think you're the fucking Scooby Gang? If he could have been found at this point then police would have done it." He snapped out. Knowing the weight of his words, but taking in his typical sadistic pleasure of them as well. 

Yet, for some reason, the harsh past-tense he used, as if Steve was long gone... maybe gnawed at him a bit? Causing a slight sting around his... chest region. No, he just understood it (or rather, convinced himself) that that was purely his hatred for Steve shining through.

Now, Max knew Billy knew absolutely zilch about the upside-down. And she wasn't going to go telling her deranged socio-brother about another dimension hoping he would be completely understanding. The thought of him listening, placing his hand on his chin like a well-trained psychiatrist and attempting to understand and empathize with her story is almost more insane than she thought Lucas to be when he first told her.

Saddened by his words, and giving up on Billy at this moment, she looked down, letting the walkie lay limp by her side and dangle along with her thoughts.

"We know that. But... look you wouldn't understand." 

Billy crossed his arms, finally having calmed down. "Why? Oh!" He said mockingly, "Is it because I'm an idiot?" 

Max similarly crossed her arms, then caught herself mirroring Billy's actions and uncrossed them quickly."No. You wouldn't understand because... It's what he would've done for us, and we have no frickin' clue where he could be." Anger slowly welled up in her eyes, lips pursing, but she held it together and pushed everything out in the form of a yelling cry instead: "He could be kidnapped, or held hostage, or in frickin' China! or maybe he's a car salesman now! And he just forgot to tell us," She bit her lip "Or maybe he's... dead" (a small gasp fell from the walkie, surprisingly she was still holding the button.) Mad Max interrupted herself with a brief pause and then recollected. "He could be ANYTHING! And we're not going to just leave it, so I swear to god." She took a step forward, balling her fist and looking straight into eyes, unafraid. "If you try and stop us." She dropped her eyelids after this statement, eyes darkening, as if to express "we won't hesitate." 

Despite the size difference, Max actually managed to pull out a subtle, drugged and unhappy memory from Billy’s mind so he moved back a step and held up his hands in a white flag position, almost shocked. "Go ahead. I'm not gonna' fuckin' stop you, but, just know." He leaned forward, continuing this dance of aggressor vs. aggressor. "He probably is dead". 

Max's eyed widened fists pulled in tighter, inhaling quickly through her nose in shock. But she was shocked at the words, not that Billy said them. So she backed down, and sped back to her bed after realizing the tantrum wouldn't be worth it. Through sheer wisdom, she realized that her anger would be better directed toward trying to find her friend.

Billy backed off, but after pacing toward his room, slamming the door shut behind him and igniting another cigarette between his fingers as quick as possible, those last words which escaped his lips swirled around the back of his mind. He desperately attempted to avoid them. He felt that glum heavy feeling weigh down on him too. 

[ravenvsfox]

Can you do Jeaneil or Mattneil bc my heart does not have enough rare pair content to go on? Please?

you poor deprived kiddo let me give u some mattneil to keep u warm

SEND ME A SHIP AND I’LL TELL YOU…

who is more likely to hurt the other?

ok here’s the scoop: matt doesn’t know how to hurt someone :/ he was born that way :/ it’s medically proven :// 

Neil on the other hand......... like he doesn’t take care of himself and he doesn’t understand social cues and like. it hurts matt’s heart. he just wants neil whole and happy and neil makes rash decisions and lies/doesn’t let matt in at first and that cuts pretty deep

who is emotionally stronger?

mmmmm hard to say bc they’re both p resilient from the shit they’ve been through but matt’s shit just happens to be more manageable?? like if you put matt in neil’s headspace idk if he could do it. but like in the series, matt is an emotional pillar of strength, neil’s safe harbour etc, he’s fought rlly hard to get the peace of mind that he has 

who is physically stronger?

dude matt could benchpress two neil’s stacked on top of each other....... he can and will carry neil home on his back..... he’s like 7 feet tall

who is more likely to break a bone? 

neeeeeil as always my accident prone kiddaroo. Matt has a bit of trouble organizing his long fuckin limbs sometimes but his centre of balance is good. plus he doesn’t have those pesky yakuza members on his ass

who knows best what to say to upset the other? 

r u srs matt would never in his life purposefully upset neil where would he even start he’d be like ‘uh. neil.. you. uhh-- what is that? ur natural hair colour?? like something that beautiful could occur in nature am i... am i right’

meanwhile neil is an emotionally unstable drama queen who canonically distances himself and flings insults to keep people safe so like. yeah he might dick things up bc he’s in the habit of alienation & doing things alone

who is most likely to apologize first after an argument? 

matt would bc he doesn’t like conflict and he’s very very gentle with neil. he understands neil’s past (and quite frankly doesn’t give a shit about where neil’s from or the laws he’s broken) and he understands that things go south for a reason. neil has bad days that are. rlly bad. and matt’s not perfect but like. he’ll make space for neil to come home to. he’ll make sure the first thing neil hears is sorry and i love you and we’re better than this 

who treats who’s wounds more often? 

please.. who do u think....... 

remember when matt went completely blood-drained pale & furious when neil got hurt? remember when he punched kevin in his face for letting anyone touch neil?? if u don’t think he’d try to hold neil together at the seams idk what to tell you

who is in constant need of comfort? 

neil has nightmares and a multitude of triggers and matt spends a lot of time trying to stand between neil and the rest of the world, just in case. neil tries pretty hard to ignore the bad memories under his skin, but they poke out like splinters and matt happens to be really good with tweezers

who gets more jealous? 

like I think it might actually be neil?? in a weird, nebulous, unidentifiable by even himself kind of way. Matt means so much to him, like. he’s the first person who looked at him and didn’t even try to look away, just accepted him into his family w/o blinking. neil still doesn’t understand romance, and he doesn’t ever think that matt would like ‘cheat’ on him or w/e. but he knows the wriggly feeling when matt can’t be around for whatever reason. he’s jealous of people who have matt’s time and attention tbh bc it feels so amazing when HE has itbut also if a person tries to touch neil matt will be very >:(

who’s most likely to walk out on the other? 

no

who will propose? 

ohohohooo it’s SO matt

he’s always wanted to lock that down tbh he’s the kind of guy that sees you, loves you, plans a life w you in his head every time you laugh

5 years down the line he proposes and neil is like ‘i guess ya w/e anyway when r u gonna transfer to my team i wanna play exy w you’ and matt cries

who has the most difficult parents?

😒 

who initiates hand-holding when they’re out in public? 

matt what a sweetie I bet he tries to hold hands w neil when they’re jogging like... hun that ain’t gonna work but I appreciate the gesture

neil is so blown away by casual intimacy he ends up staring at their linked fingers the whole time they’re walking anywhere and almost running into shit

who comes up for the other all the time? 

matt talks about neil 24/7 soooo

who hogs the blankets? 

here’s the thing,, neil doesn’t even have the opportunity to hog the blankets before matt’s in there tucking him in and holding him close and giving him foot massages and shit

like if neil has an excess of anything it’s bc matt gave it to him

who gets more sad? 

this question is so weird for tfc bc like they all are yo this is a book about mistreated young adults so

like yeah neil struggles more with being okay with his reflection and the way his skin is all fraying and ripped like old fabric at the tender age of 19 and the twisty feeling of having been viscerally relieved by his father’s death and the years of trauma under his belt from a litany of abusers 

but matt has a drug problem that sent his life all over the place like shotgun fire and a parent that didn’t know how to be a parent, and friends that died young and got hurt and taken away and that can be really fucking sad too

who is better at cheering the other up? 

matt can flash a smile and put in a movie and calmly list every single thing that looks bright about neil’s future and it’s amazing how much that helps?? neil cheers matt up by being utterly oblivious about how to cheer him up though. awkward shoulder pats and inappropriately timed kisses and matt’s like :))) thanks u loser

who’s the one that playfully slaps the other all the time after they make silly jokes?

it’s not so much that neil makes silly jokes, but he does say wildly inappropriate things/roasts anyone w a pulse and matt’s reactions are either A) thrilled, laughing, go get ‘em babe B) ‘holy... shit.... can he say that?? can u say that babe?’ C) (gentle slap) ‘can u.. calm down damn’

who is more streetwise?

uhhh neil from the. you know. street. but matt can definitely handle himself, and he spent some time in underground party scenes and trying to like live when his dad was preoccupied so he knows his way around bits and pieces of the real world (andrew would disagree)

who is more wise?

i get the feeling that neil is lowkey smarter than most ppl know?? (distractingly 80% of the shit that comes out of his mouth is exy jargon or insults) he’s capable enough to keep his head down, do some calculations, and survive

matt is smart, and he thrives socially, but he can be a little tiny bit naive sometimes

who’s the shyest? 

like I guess neil bc his true colours are buried under 8 feet of fabrication, and matt’s an upfront lovely guy

who boasts about the other more? 

look. matt loves neil so much. he tells the story of his rising from the ashes of his former life and becoming an exy star like it’s the plot of his favourite movie. he tells everyone about neil being scouted. he tells everyone when he says yes to his proposal. like he’s in line at sobey’s telling the cashier about neil’s talent and his pretty eyes

who sits on who’s lap?

again like.... logistically it’s gotta be neil, and also emotionally it’s gotta be neil

he deserves some lap sitting tbh

[crtranscript]

Talks Machina: After Dark - March 7, 2017

Transcribed by Critter Ryan McClure (@IHaveThatPower) and edited by @CRTranscript!

[The camera starts focused on the big Trinket statue, with Marisha, Travis, and Gil trying to pick its nose.]

MARISHA: Twinket!

MATT: Yay, Twinket!

BRIAN: Twinket!

TRAVIS: Yeah!

MARISHA: Twinket!

BRIAN: He’s shielding his eyes from a blacklight.

[Back to focusing on the group.]

MATT: For the record, you ever heard the sound a grizzly bear makes?

TRAVIS: No.

MATT: Fuckin’ weird.

TRAVIS: [guffaws]

MATT: You think grizzly bear, you hear the sounds they make in movies, and there’s like one or two good, like, audio clips of grizzly bears and most of them are like [makes grizzly bear sounds that sound ridiculous] and you’re like, “...what?! Really?!”

TRAVIS: Yeah, yeah, I gotta drop the bass on that thing.

MATT: Yeah, man.

TRAVIS: [imitates the noises Matt made]

MATT: That’s nature fuckin’ with you. Anyway. Sorry. It’s your show. Hi.

BRIAN: They had the guy who did, uh, they had the guy who did Chunk do the--

[all laughing]

TRAVIS: [imitating Sloth from Goonies] Heyyyy youu guyyyys!

ASHLEY: [imitating Sloth from Goonies] Hey you guyyyyys!

BRIAN: Well, Ashley’s here.

[all greeting Ashley with excitement]

ASHLEY: Hello!

BRIAN: She’s sharing the chair with me.

MATT: You’re a cute couple.

MARISHA: I love it.

BRIAN: How are you?

ASHLEY: [through laughter] I’m great, how are you?

[all laughing]

TRAVIS: Y’all look like you’re on a carnival ride for kids.

[all laughing]

MATT: And she wants her friend to give her an out right now so bad.

BRIAN: Put your hands up. [imitates throwing hands in the air as if on a roller coaster]

[all making “Wee!” noises]

BRIAN: Um. Okay. Question for all, but especially Matt.

MATT: Oh god.

TRAVIS: So, just Matt.

BRIAN: What has been the best/worst... [Ashley starts giggling, then he starts singing to Ashley] Sometimes when we touch…

ASHLEY: Noooo.

BRIAN: ...she screams “No.”

ASHLEY: [mock protesting] Don’t do it!

BRIAN: What has been the best/worst or most unusual or most hilarious or most foul thing shouted just before the stream starts?

[all going “Ohhhhh!”]

TRAVIS: Great fuckin’ question.

BRIAN: Liam is very good.

MATT: Liam is very good.

BRIAN: Sam is very good.

MATT: Everyone else has caught onto it, which is really frustrating. What about, what are your guys’ answers?

TRAVIS: I usually say, like, kitty nipples or like, uh, skittle farts, or chuckle nut, chuckle balls. It’s an inspiration thing, it has to strike you at the right time.

MARISHA: There’s been, like, weird ones, normally based off of the beasts we’re about to fight, like tentacle taint or, yeah, y’know.

TRAVIS: I went with “grape nuts” one time.

MARISHA: [continuing] Yeah, illithid scrote… [talking with Gil in the background]

BRIAN: Grape nuts?!

TRAVIS: Grape nuts! Yeah, grape nuts I think actually got Mercer pretty good, ‘cause... fuckin’ ...grape nuts.

BRIAN: Grape nuts.

MATT: Yeah, grape nuts. The one that got me once--it got me because I could see it too viscerally in my head was like, dangly wrinkled goblin grundle?

[all laughing]

MATT: And my imagination went way too visceral and legitimate in my mind and I went “Hohh... welcome to Critical Role?” Like, I’m sure whatever episode it was…

TRAVIS: Your entire [inaudible] right in front of you.

MATT: Yeah, no, no, you can see like my whole body tense up as I’m like, “Mmm, I’m rejecting that image!”

TRAVIS: Rejecting! [chuckling]

BRIAN: If the stream comes on and Matt does one of these... [imitates Matt tilting his head in reaction to the off-screen taunting]

TRAVIS: Yeah!

ASHLEY: Yeah!

MATT: Yep.

BRIAN: ...they got him.

MATT: Yep.

TRAVIS: It was a good one.

ASHLEY: It was a good one.

BRIAN: Uh, Travis.

TRAVIS: Yep.

BRIAN: Between Umbracyl... Oom-brussle?

TRAVIS: Oom-brussle!

ASHLEY: Oooom-bruh-seal.

MATT: Oom-bruh-seal!

TRAVIS: Ooooom-bruh-SEAL!

BRIAN: ...and the kraken and any other I’m forgetting…

TRAVIS: Crack-EN.

BRIAN: ...is Grog going to develop a hatred, or worse a fear, of small, enclosed, warm places?

[all going “ohhhhh” and laughing]

TRAVIS: You know, Grog hand a fondness for those small, enclosed, warm places…

MATT: Actually, you weren’t swallowed by Umbracyl, you were swallowed by the Fey croc, the Feymire crocodile.

TRAVIS: That’s right, yeah, in the live show.

MATT: In the Feywild. Yeah.

MARISHA: Oh, that’s right.

TRAVIS: Yeah, I got chomped, I got chomped for sure. No fear. Grog’s got no fear because you’d have to have an intelligence to recognize the peril of your surroundings to develop a fear. I usually get swallowed and I’m like, “This is nice!”

MATT: So what you’re saying is your DeviantArt is filled with vore art now. Is that what’s going on?

[all making grossed-out sounds]

TRAVIS: Pretty much.

MATT: Good, great. Sorry, the internets ruined me a long time ago.

TRAVIS: Yeah, I can tell.

BRIAN: Ozzy Stern... wants to know.

MATT: Yes?

TRAVIS: Good pause.

BRIAN: Matt and the crew...

TRAVIS: Asshole.

BRIAN: ‘Cause you don’t know what the hell I’m talking about.

TRAVIS: Ozzy Stern [looks at watch and pauses dramatically] wants to know.

[all laughing]

BRIAN: Has the dragon vodka been drunk after the death of the Conclave and what did it taste like?

MARISHA: Wait, have we opened that yet?

MATT: The dragon vodka, we did. We had the dragon vodka and then we had the Arkenstone wine.

MARISHA: The wine, right.

MATT: Yeah.

TRAVIS: The wine was incredible.

MATT: It [the vodka] was harsh.

MARISHA: The wine was so good.

MATT: I’m a vodka fan myself, as far as like drinks go like vodka and rum are the two of my choice and the vodka was really, really good.

BRIAN: I like, uh… vodka, too. I’m sorry, Travis.

TRAVIS: I know. I’m waiting.

MATT: God dammit.

BRIAN: Hey guys.

MATT: The dragon vodka was really cool. For those who didn’t know, it was a gift from a critter that sent this amazing bottle of vodka that had like gold flakes in it and it had like a glass dragon inside the bottle.

ASHLEY: Whoa.

MATT: It was absurd!

MARISHA: The gold flakes.

MATT: So thank you again!

MARISHA: I loved that on the back it said that it was like artisan infused with premium 24 carat gold flakes and I was like, “Baaaack the fuck out.”

TRAVIS: Artisan.

MATT: I was hoping that it was infused with actual artisans.

MARISHA: Yeah!

MATT: They just like distilled it from their bodies.

TRAVIS: That’d be better.

MATT: Yeah.

BRIAN: I can get you some of that.

MATT: Of course you--you can, Brian.

BRIAN: I know a guy. Goes by the name @GilTheVlogsmith. Travis, I have a question... we hope this is for you.

TRAVIS: Yeah, oh shit.

BRIAN: What would Grog do with a 20 Intelligence for 24 hours?

TRAVIS: I have no idea. I don’t know.

BRIAN: You have to have fantasized about it.

TRAVIS: Nope.

BRIAN: Asleep in your---

TRAVIS: No, that would take forethought and like planning and I don’t do either of those things with my character. I have no idea. I don’t know. I don’t know. I’m not sure. It’d depend on my mood that day. He could either be like a very benign, very helpful individual, right? He might try and, like, I don’t know. Build a better rocketship.

MARISHA: Better rocketship?

TRAVIS: Yeah. I want to visit that moon!

GIL: Grog with like a snifter. [in a high-class voice] “Oh yes, of course, why don’t you…”

BRIAN: He becomes all pretentious!

MATT: “I am the Grand Poobah of Thisnthat, yes.”

TRAVIS: I would probably try to go into Percy’s workshop and build something.

BRIAN: Yeah, but then they would find you in like Percy’s house, though, several hours later after having 20 Intelligence and you would be like “Come to the piano and hear an original composition.”

[all laughing]

MATT: And then this slow zoom on Percival as he starts crying listening to it.

[all laughing]

TRAVIS: That’s true!

ASHLEY: Make it happen!

BRIAN: Hey Ashley.

MATT: Grogless Strongjawess.

ASHLEY: Yeah!

MARISHA: Ashley!

ASHLEY: That’s me!

MARISHA: Hi!

BRIAN: This question is from Adonis.

ASHLEY: Oh!

BRIAN: Do you and Matt ever do one-on-ones... to figure out--

[all laughing]

ASHLEY: All the time.

BRIAN: Now be very careful about how you answer this.

MATT: Not here, Ashley.

BRIAN: Do you and Matt--wait, one-on-ones like on The Bachelor where they get a one-on-one date?

ASHLEY: A one-on-one date.

MATT: Yeah.

BRIAN: Do you guys ever do that? One-on-one dates where Pike is, uh, where you figure out what Pike is doing whenever she’s away?

MATT: I would if she wasn’t all the time on Blindspot.

BRIAN: I know.

MATT: I know. She’s busy being a TV star. And we discuss it--

ASHLEY: I wish we could.

MATT: We discuss it when you come back.

ASHLEY: Yeah.

MATT: We’ll talk about what you’ve been up to and how to tie it back into the story, but y’know, schedules are a pain in the butt.

ASHLEY: Yeah. I think when we had our home games I remember sometimes when I would miss, we did a coup--well, we did one--

MATT: Yeah, we did a one-on-one once, then we did one with you and Liam.

TRAVIS: That’s right, it was just the two of you guys.

ASHLEY: Yes.

MATT: Yeah.

ASHLEY: And then...

TRAVIS: And it was, like, brutal, right? Yeah.

ASHLEY: It was intense.

MATT: Yeah, you guys had to fight a chimaera.

ASHLEY: ‘Cause you don’t have as many people to go around to think about what you’re going to do, you’re just always like “Uh, okay, I’ll do this, I’ll do this.” And then we also did one, Sam, Liam, and I.

MATT: Yeah.

ASHLEY: But that was sort of learning... after Pathfinder when we switched over to see…?

MATT: We hadn’t switched over yet, that was still in Pathfinder. That was towards the end of the pre-stream era.

ASHLEY: Okay, yeah. So--

MATT: ‘Cause the rest of the party had fallen beneath Emon--

TRAVIS: And you were catching up.

ASHLEY: Yes, we were catching up.

MATT: --in the Crystalfen Caverns. Yeah.

ASHLEY: So that was basically the only times we’ve gotten to do... it was more like a two-on-one date.

MATT: Yeah.

TRAVIS: Even more exciting.

[Matt laughs]

ASHLEY: And neither of us went home.

BRIAN: Everybody got a rose.

ASHLEY: Yes, even more exciting.

MATT: Everybody got arosed.

TRAVIS: One more Bachelor reference…

BRIAN: Everybody got arosed!

ASHLEY: Oh shit!

BRIAN: Stay turnt! About to get arosed!

[all laughing]

BRIAN: Do you know where that’s from?

ASHLEY: That’s the best.

BRIAN: I’ll tell you later. Ashley.

ASHLEY: Yeah.

BRIAN: Johnny Bane 0415 wants to know--

ASHLEY: Okay. Hey Johnny.

BRIAN: How would Pike take the news of the party leaving Grog behind if he had been swallowed and dead in the kraken?

ASHLEY: I don’t even wanna--

TRAVIS: Clammed up.

ASHLEY: That would’ve been a bad... that would’ve been a bad idea.

MARISHA: Yeah. “Where’s Grog?”

ASHLEY & MARISHA: “Wellllllll…”

BRIAN: Yeah.

ASHLEY: I think she would’ve pulled a Scanlan.

MATT: He died as he lived…

TRAVIS: Oh yeah?

MARISHA: Really?

MATT: ...inside a giant fish?

ASHLEY: I think Pike would’ve pulled Scanlan--

GIL: In tight spaces?

MARISHA: And been like “peace”?

ASHLEY: And then just go like live under the sea until she found him.

TRAVIS: [singing] Under da Sea.

ASHLEY: And then like save his body ‘til she levels up, keeps his body in a bag of colding until she levels up and gets True Resurrection, even if it’s like hundreds of years, and then she would’ve resurrected him.

TRAVIS: [cute speak] Oh that’s the sweetest, most wonderful answer evah!

ASHLEY: Oh Grog!

TRAVIS: I love it! Pikey poo! [normal voice] That kraken is so lucky that they didn’t leave me behind. That’d be one dead tuna shell, man.

MARISHA: Oh my god, that would’ve been nuts!

ASHLEY: So drivel.

MARISHA: ‘Cause then you would’ve gone back and you would have either tried to get Grog out and died or like killed the kraken and still doomed my people!

TRAVIS: Yep.

ASHLEY: Wait, so if the kraken gets killed…

TRAVIS: Uh huh…

ASHLEY: That... your people... the kraken can’t be killed.

MATT: The logistics of it are that these krakens that exist on the water elemental plane, one of their waste products is these lodestones. These, like, concentrated magic, kinda similar to the whitestone--

TRAVIS: They poop pearls.

MATT: Yeah, kind of. Like, magnetic pearls. And they’re utilized to both maintain a very tight closure around the rift into the water elemental plane beneath Vesrah and they also maintain the capability of the temple and the reef to keep the city up. If those were, as they wane over time from power, the rift begins to open and the reef begins to sink and it all begins to condense inward, which would sink the entire city, which would open the rift and allow the kraken or other such creatures to begin to then spill out into the prime material plane.

TRAVIS: Meh, semantics.

MATT: So it’s--

BRIAN: Sounds fine.

MARISHA: No big.

MATT: Yeah. It’s an ecological circle.

ASHLEY: Okay.

MATT: They rely on the circle. They rely on the kraken, but they must keep it outside of the rift, but they cannot kill it, but they have to be careful of it, and they lose waverunners all the time to it. They only have to go back once every like four or five years to try it. And, to be perfectly honest, if you guys had probably, things had gotten really bad and you shouted back into the portal like “We need help!” they probably would’ve sent people to come help.

GIL: Oh shit, really?

MARISHA: Really?

MATT: Yeah.

MARISHA: Oh.

BRIAN: Oh lord have Mercer, don’t tell them that after the fact!

MARISHA: I know!

MATT: It’s so much fun to tell after the fact, though!

BRIAN: Marisha, Marisha.

MARISHA: Yeah. Yes. Brian. Foster.

BRIAN: Blue Chibi wants to know…

MARISHA: Blue Chibi?

BRIAN: How does it feel to not be a part of the “I died” Club?

TRAVIS: [doing a voice] Blue chibi!

BRIAN: Do you feel left out and do you want to join?

MARISHA: No. It feels wonderful. It feels like privilege. It’s nice.

MATT: You’re the only one.

MARISHA: I am the only one.

TRAVIS: We can totally fix that.

MATT: I have to try twice as hard to kill you now.

ASHLEY: Wait, you’re the only one that has--

TRAVIS: Hasn’t died.

MARISHA: I haven’t died.

TRAVIS: I think--

BRIAN: I promise I will never die.

TRAVIS: --we gotta complete the circle, right? We should just kill her the second--

MARISHA: Suicide pact?

ASHLEY: Oh my god, you’re right!

MATT: And there’s a reason for that. [mockingly] Because she’s my fiancee and I give her special treatment.

[all laughing]

BRIAN: Oh yeah, we all know about that.

MARISHA: Don’t even say that in jest, ‘cause they’ll--no.

MATT: They’ve been shouting that shit from the beginning and the know that’s not true.

BRIAN: No, everybody knows that’s not true because go back and watch the moment she fell in the lava and you will see--

MARISHA: That’s true. That’s true.

BRIAN: --Matt trying not to--

MATT: No, no, we’ve had conversations about alternate characters if that were to happen. Trust me, trust me, if I was giving her special treatment… I wouldn’t be sleeping on the couch as often.

[Travis laughing]

BRIAN: Nobody’s invincible.

MARISHA: Don’t say that either! They think that too!

[all laughing]

BRIAN: That’s true! That’s true.

MARISHA: They think all of these things!

MATT: No, you’re right, you’re right. That doesn’t happen.

TRAVIS: They all think that Laura and I are half the time on the couch. And we never are.

MARISHA: Same here.

MATT: We enjoy their narrative, it’s fine.

MARISHA: You’re like “...no.” We drive home and we’re like “Have you heard this new song?”

TRAVIS: We’re eating Taco Bell on the way home.

MATT: Yeah, that’s basically us, too!

MARISHA: There’s always Taco Bell!

MATT: Always Taco Bell ‘cause that’s what’s up.

MARISHA: It’s the best.

TRAVIS: Only thing that’s open.

ASHLEY: So good, man.

MARISHA: Kind of food. Not food.

MATT: Loosely food.

BRIAN: Travis, Pale Archer--

TRAVIS: Sup, Art.

BRIAN: You seemed extremely calm for only having eight hit points at the end. What was going through your mind? Was it “This is a beast--” Nope! Was it a “This beast is the strongest thing ever so I’m okay if it kills me” kind of thing?

TRAVIS: Mm.

[long pause]

TRAVIS: Is there more to that question?

BRIAN: Because I put my thumb out? I was counting how many times it took me to aks [sic] it correctly.

[all laughing]

BRIAN: That’s why I do that. I go “Here we go, I get five of these before I have to move on to another question.”

TRAVIS: It threw me! Uh... I’m just a stone-cold motherfucker, y’know? Nothing shakes me. No.

ASHLEY: Stone Cold!

TRAVIS: I know. When I got to the door--

BRIAN: You sounded very tough. You sound like a great hype man.

TRAVIS: [imitating Ashley] “Stone Cold!”

ASHLEY: Stone Cold!

TRAVIS: When Percy cast Friends, there was a little wrinkle in my visage ‘cause I was like, “Oh, I was ready to go, ‘cause I got--Daddy got almost single digits in hit points. I’m gonna go get him--”

BRIAN: You call yourself Daddy?

TRAVIS: Yeah, yeah.

[all laughing]

TRAVIS: Yeah, “Daddy--Daddy gotta go get--”

BRIAN: I’m just making sure talking about you still.

TRAVIS: Yeah.

MATT: To be fair, that's his character background.

TRAVIS: “Daddy gotta go get Tary.” And then I got back and Mercer’s like “You get almost to the portal,” and I’m like just sitting there with this asshole going like “...cool!” Taliesin goes, “Well, I come and get them,” and Matt’s like, “You can get Tary,” and I was like “...sure! This’ll be fuckin’ great!” [slurping noises] “There we go, we’re back in here again.” And if I didn't manage to puke myself out, that was, that was bruschetta.

MATT: Yeah. Which is why I tweeted the picture of the saving throw.

MARISHA: Bruschetta.

MATT: ‘Cause it wa like, you need-- if it’d rolled a ten or higher, you’d’ve been stuck in there. I rolled an ine and I’m like “No one’s gonna fuckin’ believe this.”

TRAVIS: Yeah!

MATT: I have to tweet out rolls now ‘cause people are like “Oh, there’s no fuckin’ way!” And I post it and like “See?” and they go “...there’s no fuckin way!” and I’m like “Alright, whatever.”

TRAVIS: And plus it’s also once one person’s dead, it’s easier--I feel like it’s easier to join the dead--like, the list of dead people. If you’re the first one you’re like “I don’t wanna be the first!” but if Vax is already dead I’m like, “Hey! Dead homies!”

BRIAN: Dead homies!

MARISHA: We’ve never had to go through like a ritual resurrection process with you. It’s just always been a quick Revivify.

TRAVIS: Right.

MARISHA: Right? We’ve gotten you in time.

TRAVIS: Mm-hmm.

MATT: Yeah.

TRAVIS: Yep.

MARISHA: Are we the only ones though that haven’t gone through rituals?

TRAVIS: Yeah.

GIL: With the um, what was that, the sword, Craven Edge.

BRIAN: Craven Edge, yeah.

GIL: Wasn’t that still a--

MATT: We did a very quick ritual.

TRAVIS: Oh it was a ritual, yeah.

MATT: I was still figuring out the rules for the time. I was learning how to adjust the resurrection process.

MARISHA: Oh, that’s right. That’s right.

TRAVIS: ‘Cause we did it right then and there outside of the cave.

MATT: I hadn’t considered Revivify and the process at that point, so I was trying something out.

TRAVIS: Right.

MARISHA: Right.

MATT: I’ve since honed it.

TRAVIS: Now it’s just you. You just have to die.

BRIAN: Thank god.

MARISHA: Last man standing!

TRAVIS: Flatliner.

MARISHA: What’s up!

BRIAN: Flatliner.

MARISHA: Flatliner.

TRAVIS: You’re the only one has to take the journey.

MATT: It’s true.

TRAVIS: How do you want to go?

MARISHA: How do I want to go?

TRAVIS: Poison?

BRIAN: How do you want to die this?

TRAVIS: Bludgeoning? [in an accent] How do you want to die dis?

BRIAN: How d’ye der de der dis.

MARISHA: I don’t know, like I said, being eaten by a kraken would’ve been epic.

TRAVIS: Yep. And permanent.

MARISHA: My biggest fear was that I was gonna trip and faceplant in lava. And then that happened. So as long as it’s not embarrassing--

GIL: Bucket list.

MARISHA: Yeah!

MATT: Valid point.

TRAVIS: That was the best description

MARISHA: ‘cause nothing’s worse than dying from something completely unrelated to the circumstances that are actually going on.

MATT: Well, it’s like can you imagine the actual funeral? “We will remember her as a wonderful lively friend who gave her life... uh... well she lost her life… she was fuckin’ clumsy. It really sucked. We’re sorry.”

MARISHA: She could control weather, but--

TRAVIS: Fell face-first.

MARISHA: --those slippy embankments. Gotta be careful of those!

MATT: Perhaps we should’ve bought her shoes with better tread!

GIL: Boat shoes?

MARISHA: Boat shoes! “Had those boat shoes come sooner--”

MATT: Been there this whole time!

BRIAN: Keyleth died doing what she loved: a series of errors.

[all laughing]

TRAVIS: Amazing.

MARISHA: Fucking failing.

BRIAN: Hey Ashley.

ASHLEY: Oh god. Yeah?

BRIAN: Undercover Goth…

ASHLEY: Yes?

TRAVIS: Is that Taliesin?

MARISHA: That’s his protege.

ASHLEY: He’s not undercover.

TRAVIS: No, he’s not undercover, you’re right.

BRIAN: I think it’s undercover, then out-there-in-the-open, then executive--he’s sort of the--

TRAVIS: Executive Goth, yeah.

MARISHA: He’s like the goth mafia.

BRIAN: He’s like the guy over there petting the cat, y’know? He’s the evil executive.

MATT: Yeah, like there’s fuckin “weird travestite” and then there’s “executive transvestite.”

BRIAN: Yeah. Eddie Izzard. Correct. That’s the correct pronunciation. Ashley! Undercover Goth--

ASHLEY: Mm-hmm?

BRIAN: I just watched four--fuuh--I just watched--

[?Denise? laughing off-screen]

BRIAN: --Force Grey this weekend, where you also played a cleric. Would you ever play a--don’t read--I’m reading it to you!

ASHLEY: I’m sorry, I’m sorry! It’s in front of me so it’s hard not to read it!

BRIAN: Would you ever play a different class or do you love clerics so much? Also, you’re very beautiful up close.

ASHLEY: Thank you! So much.

MARISHA: Awww.

TRAVIS: Gross.

BRIAN: Never really get this close.

[all laughing]

GIL: Just Skype.

BRIAN: We sleep like Dick Van Dyke in that show, y’know?

TRAVIS: Two different beds? I Love Lucy?

BRIAN: There’s one for all you youngsters, though. Anyway. Clerics?

TRAVIS: [laughing] Dick Van Dyke.

ASHLEY: We had, for Force Grey, we had kind of, I was thinking maybe I was gonna play something different, but I think when we had all talked about it, they were like “Just play a cleric,” because there wasn’t one in the group yet?

MATT: Yeah.

ASHLEY: I can’t remember.

MATT: The folks at Wizard were like “Hey! She plays a cleric really well. We need somebody who knows what they’re doing. Can she play a cleric again?” Was kind of what it came down to.

ASHLEY: Yes.

MATT: Because a lot of the players hadn’t played the game before.

ASHLEY: And I was actually okay with it because I still sometimes feel very inexperienced in this game, so I think I wanted, since that was gonna be something that was gonna be recorded, well it’s something that I kind of already know how to do. And I think with that group, I had the most experience, I was like “Uh oh.”

MATT: Yep!

ASHLEY: But it was great. I mean, you can play it even if you don’t have experience, it’s awesome. But I would like to play something else. I have been prepping another character.

MATT: Next campaign.

TRAVIS: You have?

ASHLEY: For our next campaign, yeah, so I’ve been thinking about... I have a name. I have... some things figured out. Um, and I’m excited. I don’t--I’m not putting it out there.

MARISHA: No, you can’t.

MATT: Keep it under wraps.

MARISHA: None of us have.

BRIAN: Don’t put it out there now.

ASHLEY: Pike is gonna be old and gray and, y’know, die in her sleep.

TRAVIS: I have no idea.

GIL: Pike the Second is what it is.

ASHLEY: It’s Pike the Second. Real original. But yes, I would like to play another class.

BRIAN: I’ll let Undercover Goth know.

TRAVIS: I’m gonna play a Paladin named Greg.

MARISHA: Yo, Greg.

GIL: Grog’s cousin?

TRAVIS: Yep.

MARISHA: Yeah!

BRIAN: Here we go. Last question. [long pause] Hold on, where’d it go.

[all laughing]

BRIAN: Ashley, Marisha, Travis, Gil: a Wish spell goes awry and the world turns into a Super genre RPG. What are your characters’ superhero names?

MARISHA: In real life?

BRIAN: In real life.

TRAVIS: Arse Queef.

BRIAN: The world turns into a Super genre RPG.

GIL: The Void.

BRIAN: The Void! Gil the Voidsmith!

MARISHA: I have to go with Calamity Ray.

TRAVIS: Oh, that’s good.

BRIAN: Calamity Ray.

ASHLEY: Oh, god, that’s good. Okay, so we’re doing our own names.

MARISHA: Yeah. Playa name.

TRAVIS: Oh sit.

BRIAN: Tarvis?

TRAVIS: I’ll take my Xbox user gamertag.

BRIAN & TRAVIS: Meaty Albatross.

BRIAN: It means Willingham.

TRAVIS: Yep. I didn’t pick it for any fuckin’ reason other than that it was a suggestion and it looked stupid as hell.

ASHLEY: Oh, it was a suggestion?!

BRIAN: It was a suggestion! At a con or something, wasn’t it?

TRAVIS: No, like a previous username of mine, they were like you can’t, you can’t have that name.

BRIAN: Oh! ‘Cause that one was inapp-- yeah, that one was.

TRAVIS: It was a no-no. So they sent me like three suggestions--

MATT: What was your previous name?

TRAVIS: So my last name is Willingham and in my--in a drunken night of stupor I came up with “Raped Bacon.”

MATT: Oh wow!

GIL: Oh my god.

TRAVIS: Instead of, like, “Willing Ham.”

MARISHA: “Willing Ham!”

TRAVIS: But it was great, because--

BRIAN: I did not think he was going to say that!

MARISHA: Holy shit.

GIL: Holy shit.

TRAVIS: So they came up with like Velvet Octopus 83, something else, and then Meaty Albatross.

ASHLEY: [laughing] Velvet Octopus.

MATT: Meaty Albatross was the--

TRAVIS: That one. That one. It’s so stupid.

MATT: Meaty Albatross is a pretty great name in general. Good band name. Good app name.

TRAVIS: Yeah, it is. It’s good.

MATT: New on iOS, Meaty Albatross.

TRAVIS: Yeah. And my superhero character will obviously have to have wings or something. And meat.

MATT: Very thick wings.

TRAVIS: Lot of, just--

MATT: Wings fuckin’ ripped.

TRAVIS: Giant ripped-out wings, but I’m like Ichabod Crane.

MARISHA: Instead of feathers, it’s just like bacon.

TRAVIS: Yeah!

MATT: Ashley, what’s yours?

MARISHA: So you’re saying in the future you want to be the pig that flies?

TRAVIS: I’m okay with that.

MARISHA: That’s pretty great.

TRAVIS: It works.

BRIAN: The Void, Calamity Ray, Meaty Albatross…

ASHLEY: Gosh, I’m not good at thinking of these types of things!

BRIAN: Yes you are, you just need time. And we’ve got it, baby. Just kidding, we’re out of time.

MARISHA: Just kidding, we’re out of time!

[all laughing]

BRIAN: Max is over there like [makes wrap it up motion]. [To Matt] Do you have one?

MATT: I wasn’t asked the question.

ASHLEY: Yeah, you were.

MATT: I specifically wasn’t.

ASHLEY: You were not, but what would yours be?

MATT: Doesn’t matter, I wasn’t asked the question. That’s all we have for tonight folks.

MARISHA: Ohhh!

TRAVIS: Beautiful.

BRIAN: Toss to the next thing. What’s after us?

MATT: Uh.

ASHLEY: Oh, do it!

BRIAN: Nine PM.

MATT: Why is this my question?!

BRIAN: You just, you took over the show and decided to toss--end the show. You said that’s all the time we have. Tell them what’s next.

MARISHA: So now you have to.

ASHLEY: Do it! Do it!

BRIAN: Tell them what’s next. It’s right there.

MATT: Okay. [bewildered voice] Hey guys. Thanks so much for watching--

BRIAN: [responding to someone off screen] What? No, but it’s, we’re telling them to go back to Twitch. Give me that.

MATT: NO! IT’S MY SHOW! [bewildered voice again] Go back to Twitch and then at 9pm, there’ll be AXYB coming up at 9pm on Twitch after this show. Thank you for watching. [starts chewing on the card]

TRAVIS: I don’t know.

MARISHA: That was so good.

TRAVIS: That was rough.

MARISHA: Good at worldbuilding.

ASHLEY: Like a little kid.

MARISHA: You know what?

MARISHA: You’re good at worldbuilding.

GIL: What are words?

ASHLEY: What do I mean in these words?

TRAVIS: Just keep growing your hair.

BRIAN: Still better than the first episode of this show.

MATT: Oh yeah, well.

BRIAN: That’s all the time we have for tonight folks. What should we do? Should we read a bedtime story?

ASHLEY: Yeah!

BRIAN: Should we stay here? Should we go?

TRAVIS: There once was a mouse. He died.

ASHLEY: We could go.

BRIAN: Well guys. Guess this is a perfect time to announce...AXYB is back. Go over to Twitch and watch them now. We love you. Good night!

[all cheering]

[bonesandpoemsandflowers]

I feel like the new Jidenna single is a step backwards, but it’s catchy as fuck and I’ve had it stuck in my head for two days, so I’m going to blog about it because there is no one in my meat space life who is gonna listen to my vague hip hop related angst.

There’s something fiercely aristocratic about Jidenna’s earlier work. There’s something kind of street, but there’s a lot of pride, and some of that pride is that his father is a very intelligent and political man--an Ivy Legue academic, and an actual chief in Nigeria. There is a sense of legacy, which is really self evident when you consider that previous singles include Chief Don’t Run and Long Live the Chief.

Jidenna’s praise poetry in both of those songs is perfectly hip hop apropos, but it’s also, like--he’s trash talking Harvard, because he got in but chose to attend Stanford. The songs themselves are clever and Jidenna seems very aware of his intelligence, and that’s what’s so fun. The cocky attitude seems foremost about the intelligence and the chosen gentleman/aristocratic bearing, though the hella fresh wardrobe obviously helps. Both those songs are also politically aware. Woke, you could say.

Classy. Ambitious. 

Chief Don’t Run

They say a prophet never honored in his homeland That's fine, I'd rather have my own land Gotta plan for a hundred Roman numerals

Long Life the Chief:

You can either lead, follow or get out the way Make a fuckin' move it would make my fuckin' day Got a 100 year plan you jus' think about today Always been about time more than been about pay

And again, Chief Don’t Run, which is easily my favorite Jidenna song:

I ain't even said a word, but my suit bespoke I got a new agenda that gotta carry through When your father's enemies are tryna bury you And the royal families are tryna marry you

Ambitious. Fly as fuck. Classy. Unusual. AMBITIOUS.

And then we have “The Let Out,” which is about fucking girls after the club closes.

Look, I don’t party like I used to, but I did used to party until last call, and even when I go dancing and leave early, I totally get a holla or three in the liminal space in front of the club that isn;t quite the club.

And I’ve always thought that tactic was so pathetic.

Look, babies. When you’re young, like really young, the idea of a one night stand is exciting. You’re on the prowl, you find a hot stranger, you’re super into them, they’re super into you, you party alll niiight and then the afterparty under the sheets goes on until morning.

In reality? The hook ups after last call that I have seen have all been desperate, truly last minute, i-guess-i-can’t-do-better, but-i-HAVE-to-hook-up-with-SOMEONE, someone = ANYONE shit.

I want to believe in passion, my friends. But that’s not where passion lives. That’s were desperation lives.

I’m sure there are beautiful searing smoking hot exceptions. 

But for me? I’ve never felt anything but gentle exasperation (at best) at the last minute scoop up approach. Each time I dare use the word “disgust” to describe my very real visceral reaction to especially insistent men in real life, some man on the internet will show up to tell me that I am Wrong and Should Reconsider, so I’m not gonna say that, okay?

So ANYWAY.

I think I’m probably just disappointed in a lady boner kind of way, which is why I have no desire to get into legit Discourse(tm) about this.

Also, did I mention it is catchy as FUCK? Like if anyone else had done this I would be like, cool! Moody tramp anthem! Hell yeah! Let’s live vicariously!

But Jidenna? Nooo whyyyy. 

However. however.

Now you looking at a man that's on a mission Blind-sided cuz your man don't go no vision

The throatier, scratchier vocals? fantastic. the general moody vibe? hard yes, also.

And I suspect this track is gonna blow the fuck up, and look. If something looks like an artistic step backwards, but is a great leap forward in terms of audience reached and also profit, can you really consider it a step backwards? Honestly: I don’t. Even if I’m pouty about it.

Smart move, my man. Smart move. I’m still gonna listen to all the new shit, and I hope a lot of other people do, too.

[stillthewordgirl]

Fic: Triangles (Ch. 1)

After the Oculus exploded, the spark that is Leonard Snart was sent hurtling through time and space. His latest destination: The waters of the Bermuda Triangle in 1939. And a luxury liner called the Queen Anne...<br /> (A sort-of crossover between Legends of Tomorrow and The X-Files episode "Triangle." Mostly Snart POV.)

My first major fandom, back in the day, was for "The X-Files." And one of my favorite episodes is the sixth-season episode "Triangle."

And a while back, not too long after the "Legends of Tomorrow" episode "Destiny," I thought: "What if..."

This may be a bit odd, but it was a real labor of love. Many thanks to @larielromeniel and @pir8grl for looking it over from different angles. I really appreciate it.

I hope this is something both Legends and X-Files fans can enjoy, although I'll tell you going in that it's mostly Legends (and time-hopping Snart POV). Note: "Triangle" and "The X-Files" are on U.S. Netflix, if you're so inclined. I tried to put lots of Easter eggs in while still making sure it made sense if you've never seen the show or the episode.)

Can also be read here at AO3 or here at FF.net.

xxxxxxxxxx

"There are no strings on me."

But there are. The ones he's tied himself. The ones other people have tied to him. Lisa. Mick. Sara. Even the other members of this godforsaken team. He cares. He hates it sometimes, but he cares.

And when the Oculus blows, sending the spark that is Leonard Snart hurtling through time and space, those strings remain.

Something takes advantage of them.

He's not sure how long he's been in the water before someone on the luxury liner—the Queen Anne--sees him. Long enough to be chilled clear through and exhausted, though not so exhausted he can't grab on when the life preserver, its white shape clear in the darkness, spins through the night to land a few feet away.

"Oi! Grab hold, mate!"

He does. He winds his arms around the white shape and holds on for dear life. It's unnerving as hell when it, and he, start to rise into the air, as well as dizzying, and he closes his eyes for a moment, trying to settle his stomach.

He has no idea where he is now. When he is now. Who he's going to see, or how he's going to see them.

It's not the first time. He's not even sure how many times it's been, how many times he's landed in. How many times he's seen her, in so many different incarnations. Sometimes the others too, but always…her.

"Hang on, mate!" With a lurch, he and the life preserver crash into and over the ship's railing, and he tumbles onto the deck and immediately scrambles to hands and knees, pausing for a second as the scene reels around him.

"Oi, give it a second there, man." The speaker moves closer. "Huh. That's not a uniform. Name?"

Slowly, things stop spinning. "Michael," he says, grasping for a name. "Michael…Lance."

"Well, there, Mikey, how the 'ell you get out here?" The first rescuer prods him with a toe, and the rescued man—one Leonard Snart—peers up at him, noting the uniform, and the British accent, and the suspicion.

"I don't remember," he says shortly. Pretending amnesia, he's found, is usually better in these cases than trying to make up details when he doesn't have a clear idea when or where he is. "Just my name. I don't remember."

"Huh." A considering silence. The second sailor, silent until now, moves up on his other side.

"Fellows on the other side pulled a bloke out too," he comments. "All the Jerries goin' swimming tonight?

"Pretty sure this 'un's not a Jerry. My sister has a friend…that's an American accent, that is."

"A Yank? But what's he doin' here?"

"That's something fer the captain, I think."

The door to the captain's quarters is closed and locked. From inside, though, comes the familiar sound of a beating being administered. The two sailors look at each other, then at Leonard.

He ignores them, making note of the name on the door plaque. Y. Harburg. Unfamiliar. He half-expected it to be…

"First Mate Hunter!"

And there it is. He turns as the sailors straighten, sighing a little as he sees the bearded face of the Time Master eyeing him from above the neat uniform.

"Hey, Rip," he says with resignation. "Don't suppose you remember me?"

The man's eyes widen at the name, then narrow. One of the sailors snickers, then straightens again as the red-haired man glares at him.

"Report!" Rip's doppelganger barks at him, still watching Snart.

"Yes, sir! We found this 'un off starboard, just floatin'. American. Says he doesn't remember how he got there. And we heard they found another 'un, so we thought…"

The indistinct sound of a raised voice from within the captain's quarters. All four men look at the door. Then the sailors look at each other again. Rip…First Mate Hunter…looks back at Leonard, frowning.

"American," he says thoughtfully, his accent stronger than the crook had remembered. "No friend of the Nazis? Even if your country stays neutral…so far?"

Ah ha. Well, at least that helps pin the timeframe down. He can't resist. "I hate those guys," he quips, shaking his head when the quote doesn't get a reaction. "And where's Raymond when you need him?"

Hunter frowns. "Raymond? Palmer? How do you…?" But he bites the words off with a shake of his head. "Bloody hell. As if we needed more complications." He looks at the sailors. "Back to your posts, boys. I'll take this one. And take care...there's trouble afoot."

The men look all too willing to leave. Rip watches them go, then looks back at Leonard.

"If you're part of this," he says in a low voice, "keep your head down, man. Too many players on the field. Might be a good thing, though, to have a hidden card, so..."

As another man approaches, Hunter jerks his chin at the shadows and Leonard doesn't hesitate, fading into them with alacrity.

What do you know...Hunter actually has some sense here...He frowns, shivering a little in his sodden clothing. Though it'd be nice to know what "this" is...

The two men have a quick, whispered conference, and Hunter steps back, waving the other man toward the captain's door and, with another glance toward Leonard, heads purposefully down the hallway in the opposite direction.

The other man approaches the captain's door, though, and the man in the shadows moves closer to listen as he knocks, opens it and goes through.

"Excuse me, captain," he hears. "Sir, the Germans, sir. They've taken control of the bridge. Steering a course for their homeland."

Shit.

"Not on the watch of captain Yip Harburg, they're not. Lock the prisoner up in here."

Leonard takes another step backward. "Yip Harburg?" he mutters to himself. "Seriously? Makes 'Rip Hunter' sound good."

So great is his indignation over that ridiculous name…and his concern over making sure neither the captain nor the mob of sailors exiting the room see him…that he nearly misses the cheerful male voice still coming from inside the room.

"It's OK! The war's over," it calls. "Let them take you to Germany. They make nice cars!"

But the door closes, cutting the other man off, and Leonard turns away, although he can't help wondering, briefly, if the cheerful man is just mad—or if he could possibly have some sort of reason to assure the captain that the war—World War II, clearly, in its earlier days given the captain and the Rip doppelganger's words-is over.

Another time-lost wanderer? He shrugs uncomfortably. He's not looking for a team-up. All he wants is to find…

But there's another man approaching now, a young man in a uniform that years of reading and documentaries give him an immediate visceral and negative reaction to.

Nazi.

"Hallo? Sind Sie da drinnen?" the newcomer calls as he rattles the door. "Hallo? Ist da jemand?"

Leonard's just trying to decide if the prospect of clean, warm clothing is enough to overcome that visceral reaction when the man actually pulls out a key and unlocks the door, slipping into the dark room.

Moments later, the clear sounds of a fight emerge, over the sound of...music? Impossible to tell who's winning, the Nazi or the man who'd been locked in, but in another moment or two, all is silence. Someone's down.

Leonard hesitates...and then against his better judgment, he goes to check things out

Another man, brown haired and maybe a trifle younger than him, pauses in the middle of taking a jacket off the unconscious man on the floor—the Nazi. The victor, evidently smarter and tougher than he looks or sounds, gives him a thorough once-over.

And Leonard knows that look. Fed. Fuckin' fantastic.

"Hey!" the Fed blurts out. "You're not from here either, are you? Or…" A glance around him. "…uh. Here. 1939."

The crook blinks at him. "No," he fires back, the word startled out of him. "I'm not." Then, muttered, "Damn it." He turns aside and starts casting about the room for a change of clothes, just something dry and not so distinctly out of time.

The next room in the suite seems to be actual quarters. And... ahha... a closet that mostly includes uniforms, but at the back a rather nice tux. He grabs it, turning away to come face to face with the eager Fed once more.

"Are you from 1998 too?" the man asks hopefully, sticking his hand out. "Fox Mulder, Federal Bureau of Investigation. Anyone going to be looking for you? Because this is incredible and all, but I'd like to get home, and the only people who know I was sort of snooping around in the Bermuda Triangle... well, I don't know if anyone's going to listen to them..."

Fox? What is it with the names here? The enthusiasm reminds him of Raymond. And damned if he'd forgotten just how exhausting that can be.

"Bit later than that, actually," he says tersely, taking a step back and shutting the door in the man's face. "And no, probably not."

Captain Yip is tall, which is good, but the tux is just a bit too big. A belt helps. He regards his leather jacket with a sigh, but reluctantly drops it on the floor. It's almost certainly going to be back in the next place he lands, anyway. It's always been back before.

Time after time after time.

Yorktown 1781. Andersonville 1864. London 1940. Central City 1957. Nickel City 1977. Gotham 1989. Tōhoku 2011.

He drops in. He finds the familiar faces, caught up in the events of their time. He saves them. He moves on. He never gets more.

They never know who he is, and he wonders, at this point, if he's just superimposing the faces of the familiar, the... the cared for... over those of random strangers in need. There's always a Sara. There's often a Mick. Sometimes a Ray, a Stein, a Jax, even a Rip or Kendra. Twice, a Lisa, and once, memorably, a Barry Allen.

Punishment for his sins? Who knows. But he'd tried to resist once, and it'd only lasted as long as the first strangled scream of a Sara doppelganger as the water closed over her head...

He takes a deep breath and opens the door.

The Fed—Mulder-has taken the time to change into the Nazi uniform, but he straightens, turning the hat in his hands, when Leonard opens the door. And he's apparently completely ready to resume the conversation.

"Later?" he says. "Like, the future? You're from the future? When? Because do I have some questions I'd like to ask you..."

"Not happening," Leonard informs him, heading for the door again. "Could fuck the timeline. You understand."

"Yeah, but..."

"Leave it, Fox." Reaching the door, he pauses and nods toward the hall. "Go on. You stay with me, all they're going to do is figure out something's weird faster than they would already. And there's nothing I can do to help you."

The other man gives him a wounded look, clearly disinclined to let go of this particular bone. But at Leonard's continued glare, he eventually shrugs and steps out into the hallway, walking quickly to the left while tugging the hat onto his head.

There's one nuisance out of the way. Leonard sighs, then prepares to head in the other direction... until he hears the voices.

"He, hast du was gefunden?" the first one calls, coming from his left. "Bleib doch stehen! Hörst du nicht?"

The Fed keeps walking, then breaks into a jog. The voices gain urgency and their owners pick up the pace, running past him in pursuit of the other man. Leonard steps out into the hallway himself, turning to the right and walking briskly away. No one notices him, but the pursuit in the other direction grows louder.

"Umdrehen! Hast du was gefunden? Warten Sie Mal!" Anger, now. "Halt, stehen bleiben! Warten Sie! Maenner, kommt rueber! Wo kann er deen sein."

Nazis...

His steps slow. And he stops.

The other man had been a nuisance. A distraction from what he's probably here to accomplish, the people he's meant to find. But...

Nazis...

"Halt!" The yelling continues. "Mach Schnell! Da rechts! Da rechts! Da rechts!"

I can't believe I'm doing this.

Leonard sighs, turns in his tracks and starts following the Fed and the Nazis, tracking them down the hall, keeping just enough distance for plausible deniability. As if that will matter.

Hallway after hallway, zigging, zagging, and he picks up the pace as the noises get farther ahead of him. He makes a sudden turn, ducks through a curtain…and then, the hallway has widened into a room, a big one, and he slows to a stop to take in the ballroom, full of people and music and, somewhere, annoyingly enthusiastic Feds who are oddly unfazed by the notion of time travel….and persistent Nazis.

He changes his pace to a casual amble as he moves through the crowd, glad for the tux that is such effective camouflage here. And as he moves, he casts about not only for the Fed and his pursuers, but anyone he recognizes, Mick, Raymond, Kendra...

Sara.

She's standing off to the side, on the side of the room away from the stage, apparently solitary and wearing a shimmering ice-blue dress with a considerable amount of cleavage and a white, feathery-looking stole over the top of it. Her blond hair is swept up, and her eyes are cold as she watches the ballroom, especially...

He'd like to keep watching her; hell, he'd like to stare at her forever, but he turns, tracking her gaze.

And there's Stein, the older man in a tux of his own, standing by the wall and nodding his head a little in time to the music. Jax, also in a tux and looking a bit out of place, is standing just behind him, frowning, and on the other side... there's Raymond, craning to see over the crowd to what's going on near the stage.

"Hier ist der mann, den sie vollen!"

The Fed had apparently dodged the Nazis... but instead of keeping his head down, he's been bothering a redheaded woman — and he's been noticed. The main singer points down at him imperiously, and the Germans converge. One fires a gun into the air, and a few women shriek.

Of all the stupid… Leonard glances back at Sara, who's still watching the others. (Raymond has moved to stand between the other two and the hubbub, almost shielding them. And isn't that interesting.)

Oh, he knows that expression of chilly focus. This is a Sara who is pointed at a target. Is this woman part of the League? That's not a bet he'll take. But which one of them is the target, and why, he has no idea.

The Nazis have the Fed—Mulder—and they're dragging him from the room. But the man's still struggling, still yelling, more nerve than sense.

"You're all big men now, but wait until you get into Russia!" he yells as they pull him from the room. "Hope you fellas like the cold!"

That even sounds like something Raymond would say.

He needs time to think. He needs a few minutes. He needs...

The band starts playing "Jeepers Creepers" again, and unbelievably, many of the people in the ballroom resume dancing.

He needs an excuse to do what he'd wanted to do anyway.

He strolls over to her, and she obviously marks his approach but doesn't even look at him until he's right in front of her. And then he holds out a hand.

"May I have this dance?"

xxxxxxx

This will be three chapters and a short epilogue. It's complete and I'll have it all posted within the week.

[cloudbattrolls]

You Run In My Veins

Thrixe Varzim || Derevnya || One Sweep Ago

The wind blows your hair forward, trying to untangle your braid as you run from her.

She’s slower than before, as you hear her distant cursing and wheezing. An injury? Sickness? 

A bullet clips your fin, burning and sizzling your flesh with a flare of pain high even for you.

Not as weak as she wants you to think, then.

You run ahead a bit, then peek back. You can’t lose her, it’d defeat the whole -

“Hullo, corpse meat.”

Her bronze eyes narrow with hatred and glee as she grins, shoving her gun at your throat, right under your chin. How did she...?

However she tricked you, you see why she sounds that way; she’s aged in a matter of perigees. Gray runs through her hair, and her face is lined like someone twenty sweeps older. Still, her voice sounds the same, only laden with resentment instead of the dry drawl from perigees back.

The gun pulses beneath your chin. For the first time in sweeps, a shiver of fear runs through you. 

“Do you know this place?”

She blinks before her eyes harden into suspicion.

“What’s it matter? You’re gonna die here, and I’m gonna go sell your carcass to the highest damn bidder.”

You gesture to the mural you let her capture you in front of. Though worn by the elements and time, its vibrant colors depict a circle of researchers, a troll shifting into a beast...and spiraling symbols very similar to the ones on the gun, glowing and, if one watches, slowly shifting across its metal with a life of their own.

“I borrowed your gun to bargain for information about myself - ”

“You bleedin’ stole it, ya rascal!”

“ - and it got back to you the next night!”

She frowns, biting her lip, and you try and regroup.

“Those symbols are horrorterror marks. Wards and banes against the likes of me.”

She hisses, leaning in, pinning you against the wall with her gun despite her height, despite the winces she tries to hide when she moves too quickly.

“So I’m gonna ask you again, mister fish: give me one good reason why I shouldn’t blow your goddamn brains out.”

“Because I’m going to help you.” You reply softly. “A horrorterror did this to you, right?”

She sniffs, apparently unimpressed by your deduction.

“That’s my bleedin’ point. You’re a menace and a plague and all y’all should be six feet under, especially ‘cause one of you bastards ate my fucking life. I don’t s’pect you can undo that little party trick, mister fish; you’d have done it already, or else you think lyin’ will get you out of this.”

Respect mixed with frustration bounces around in you, the gun to your chin is starting to ache.

“Would you like a free shot on me, miss Izzanu? Before I show you something important.”

The splattering of your insides as you stumble backwards onto the mural itself is enough of an answer.

“Damn, that feels good.” she mutters, grinning, blowing smoke off the barrel. 

Such a different pain than you’re used to. It pierces the core of you, seeks to root out the festering corruption in your troll flesh. It weakens your body, and Gl’bgolyb’s mark, enough to let you sink into the song that wants to lure you in...

You wrest control of the Siren’s melody as your violet blood drips down the mural, your fingers pressing into the wet stone.

Poor lesser child, seeking to fuel your own weak notes, thinking yourself isolated thanks to the mark of the Mother? You try to ally with this Gunsmith whelp? Best to forget her. She’ll give you a most inglorious end.

Your wretched ancestor’s voice oozes into yours, creeping, searching for weakness with her cold probes. 

“Show me happened all those sweeps ago.”

A troll like Sochet, hammering away with their tools. A Varzim, dead on the ground, savaged and bleeding. A yellowblood woman with a fierce look of concentration. Blurred images of trolls writing the other memories down, remembering, preparing for a night when she woke up.

She may be a horror, but she can’t help her own rage, her own memories showing you the truth.

You sing it into Sochet’s mind.

The gun clatters to the stones as she holds her head. 

“Fuckin’- stop! Stop it! I don’t wanna see!”

She screams and you cut your song short, fins pinned back in a strange feeling, what is it? You hobble over to the girl who shot you, now curled up on the dirty stones of the alley, eyes shut as she gasps for breath.

You hesitate. You can’t touch her - flesh is...wrong. It’s wrong to touch.

She’d hardly want you to anyway. 

So you call for help.

--

Natasi looks at you with their usual mild curiosity as Sochet snores on a couch in your new, cheaply rented hotel room. You’re on the floor in front of the recuperacoon, while Natasi reclines in the only chair. The receptionist gave the three of you a look that clearly said ‘whatever you do with that bronze, don’t get blood on the furniture’.

The hunter might be happier if you actually were going to cull her.

“Was that the first time you tried it?”

Natasi’s tone is as even as ever, but you feel a coil of unease. Of...guilt. You thought you’d long grown past that. It’s a useless feeling.

“Yes.” You say, determined to keep any unnecessary turmoil out of your words. “It was the most direct method I had to prove I was telling the truth.”

You had no idea it would cause such a reaction. You’re still not sure why. In the flickering images you saw, some were less pleasant than others, but none were what most trolls would call viscerally disturbing.

“Very chaotic.” They say with approval, as your lips flatten in an unamused line. 

Sochet gives one very loud snore and rolls over on her back, chubby figure and long messy gray and black hair splayed, practically half falling off the couch. You wonder how she hasn’t woken up, even with the sopor patch you put on her.

“Wake her for me, please.”

Natasi hums some notes that make your neck prickle and Sochet jerks awake, expression confused, stunned, and then flat out disgusted.

“Oi! You grubnappin’ me? I’m not gonna be a part of your cult or blood ritual or nothin.’”

She scrabbles for her gun, but it’s in the room’s safe.

“No, miss Izzanu. I -”

A shoe hits you in the face.

“I’m not gonna go easy! Not after that fuckin’ drinker and that thrice-bedamned creepy fucker what ate my soul!”

“Please calm down.” You say, wiping off the dirt it smeared on your face with a hand. “I’m not going to hurt you. Nor is Natasi. 

She makes a snort so loud it must hurt her throat, but at least she crosses her arms and leans back against the couch. 

“S’pose there’s nothing I can do if you’re gonna, so shoot, try to explain this cockamamie pile of hoofbeast shit to me if that’s what you’re really on about.”

You suppose you can’t fault her for calling it that.

You go through what you know of the Siren, where you’ve traveled to learn how to defeat her, what you’ve seen. You’ve never told anyone all of it, even Natasi, not that you need to; they often just seem to know. You don’t tell most people things about you. It’s none of their business, and benefits no one.

Sochet has a keen look through it all that you don’t usually see from lowbloods; their eyes tend to be aware and cautious, usually far more so than anyone cold, but most of their gazes never want to linger on your face. Sochet looks like she wants to peel you back with her own claws, words and flesh alike, to see if you’re lying or not.

“So that’s why I saw some older type of me dyin’ in those headaches you gave me.” She finally says, and you frown in confusion. You saw nothing like that.

“Can you describe that for me?”

She snorts, popping a granola bar out of her bag and beginning to chew on it noisily. 

“Why the hell should I? Make myself miserable just for you, Mr. Fish? Plus, if you dunno what you shoved in my thinkpan, I sure as hell ain’t tellin’ you. That’s my business.”

You grit your teeth behind closed lips, trying not to let your frustration show.  Any scrap of information could be vital.

Natasi speaks, and your head swivels toward them as they sit in the chair with hands folded on their lap.

“The Siren’s song normally tries to attract Thrixe with promises and soothing words. When he angered her by trying to use it for his own means, she lashed out, and so miss Izzanu heard not what would appeal to her, but what would harm her. This clearly included events such as witnessing the death of her ancestor, the Gunsmith.”

You feel strangely at a loss. Many trolls die violently; you’ve culled plenty and seen enough culled from pupahood. You’d easily cull another Varzim if you had to, horrorterror or not. Sharing blood never had meaning for you before, and certainly not now. 

“I see.” You settle on saying, cuing the bronze to roll her eyes.

You look into those eyes, judgmental as her ears stay slightly pinned back and her mouth is continually tugged downward, disgust and fear - however she tries to hide it - intermingling.

“I’m sorry, miss Izzanu.” You say. “I didn’t realize you would experience that. It won’t happen again.”

“Yeah, right. You’ll break that soon as it’s convenient for ya.”

You open your mouth, but Sochet points at you, jabbing the air as she speaks between loud bites of the bar, crumbs scattering on the floor.

“You’re just like your kinfolk down there, luring me down when I was just a sprog. None of us ain’t people to the likes of you and her. You think you’re different cos you know more or you can do freaky shit or whatever the hell. I’m here cos you need me and my bloody gun, not cos you’re sorry. So don’t fuckin’ bother puttin’ on airs when we both know what the score is. Let’s just get this shit done an’ over with so I never got to see your sorry face again.”

You blink rapidly. 

“You know the Siren?”

“Didn’t call her such, but I heard her in my pupa nights with my psi. She nearly got me, an’ if it weren’t for that yellow lady, she prob’ly would’ve.”

For a moment her defensiveness wavers, and she shudders, gaze vacant and mournful as she seems to remember...things.

You were raised to discard guilt. There’s no time for it during fights, or after; it slows a troll down, makes them less effective. If there is guilt, it is because of a lack of training, or a lack of certainty, and both will surely a kill a troll in your profession sooner or later.

“There is chaos in him now.” Natasi says, peering at you with those otherworldly eyes, blue slits on iridescent black. “The sharp notes of conflict where there was a steady tone. Very good.”

“Okay, what the fuck are you, because he didn’t explain that in the goddamn slightest, and I can feel somethin’ off’a you but blowed if I know what it is. I know what terror feels like now, and you ain’t quite that.”

“I am a srandis, an otherworldly being made of sound - “

“Never fuckin’ mind.” She says with a groan, slouching down on the couch. “Noise monster, got it. So you want me to cull her? ‘Cos my gun is the only thing that can put her down? I do that and you fix me?”

“We’d like your assistance to kill the Siren, but we won’t force you. Regardless, if I can restore you to your previous state, I will. I believe it is possible once she is defeated, I can harness her power again before she dies.”

Any chance to undo the touch of a horrorterror must be taken, even if you know the actual chance of achieving it is slight. They are a disease unto not only trollkind, but the world.

“How? You ain’t even got the monster what did this to me, to squeeze it til it puts my sweeps back in me. How’m I supposed to believe you can kill your kin? She’s a proper terror, not some squirt like you.”

“She is only an extension of Growth.” Natasi murmurs. “Her bane would be Stasis. If we destroyed her fully, she couldn’t regenerate. Or if her host body was taken from her. She needs a vessel.”

Sochet looks disgusted, her ears pinned. “You mean she’s got some troll down there she sunk her tentacles into? And wait a god damn minute, how can I be sure she wouldn’t try to snag me again? I need protection.”

Sochet has an excellent point. You pause for a moment that stretches into a much longer one as she rolls her eyes.

“Not hearin’ anything useful.”

Natasi raises a hand, a strangely troll-like gesture were it not for the stiffness of it, the too-smooth movement.

“You mentioned a yellow lady. Who is that? Can she help?”

Sochet immediately looks sheepish, such a different expression that it surprises you for a moment, fins fluttering.

“I dunno.” She mumbles. “That were sweeps ago, and they might not even know my face no more.”

She twists some of her graying hair, her wrinkled face downcast, and you feel...oddly soft, strangely vulnerable, in a way you find difficult to fathom.

“We have to try.” You say, unsure why you drop your voice, lean in slightly to meet her deep brown eyes. What good does it do?

She gives you a look, but grimaces and takes a deep breath in and out.

“I’ll go ask ‘round. Not sure where they are these nights. You freaks stay put.”

You want to insist you come, to guard her, but she walks away. You feel...strangely irritated, and lost. She could obviously use protection and yet she didn’t let you get a word in.

Natasi hums a few notes.

A longer reprise of them plays in your head.

Why struggle so, my descendant? Why worry for her? You could be a part of our progenitor with me. You could shed all the cares of flesh. We all return to Growth in the end.

She shows you visions you doubt are lies before her song slips away again; Varzims succumbing to their monstrous natures, either because of her song, or on their own. She shows you the handful who escaped...and how few they are.

What kind of existence waits for you, knowing you’re always a risk to trollkind, something the Empire will have to put down? Knowing that Sochet is probably right? 

No. Whatever the future holds, you won’t succumb to horrorterror urges. You’re better than your ancestor. If you die it doesn’t even matter, as long as you take her with you. 

But living and fixing what happened to Sochet, repairing the damage she did, would be better. That’ll be a good life. You were always meant to guard others.

As long as you do that, you’ll never have to worry. 

[onewhoturns]

*sigh* I have to keep reminding myself not to be That Kid. I mean, I loved a few musicals back in high school (I was that rare kid in all the plays and musicals who wasn’t actually in a theater class, just chorus), but I also remember - even then - feeling so out of my depth with the sheer number of musicals out there, and feeling frustrated and left out because I just didn’t have the energy, the focus, the time to look all of them up. This is why I am always wary of the whole Broadway Fandom thing. Things move too fast for me to keep up, with new shows popping up constantly (not to mention a seemingly endless pool of older shows) and not enough time/energy/focus -- essentially not enough of me -- to learn them.

Story time! [Apologies, I’ve lately taken to treating this blog as... more of a blog? Like not just for reblogs, but for action journal-style entries about my life? Feel free to bail, this is mostly self-reflection.]

As previously stated, I was a theater kid in high school. I loved being on stage, I loved the community built up around a show, but I wasn’t a real theater kid, cause I wasn’t in the every day classes. You’d think this wouldn’t be a big deal. But, y’know-- high school. Luckily I had chorus, and I was exceptionally active in that. But my schedule didn’t allow me to take the academic classes and arts classes I wanted to take, so I chose fashion design over theater and I was super happy with that decision.

And then came the Big Dramatic Huge Deal For Depressed Me at the end of my senior year when I had my final showcase for fashion design which involved managing a team of assistants to create x number of outfits for a final fashion show. This was going to be around the same time as the last show of the year. I’d gone 7/7 being in every mainstage show in high school (two a year, the first three and a half years of high school), I felt super close to all my theater friends, but there was no possible way I’d be able to do both things, and I’d already applied to school for fashion design, and this was a class, I couldn’t just blow it off, it was a big deal and it would be a showcase in front of an audience of peers and family and friends and teachers etc. So I missed out on the last show. And let me tell you, I didn’t realize how much I would miss it.

Not the process of being in a show - I was way too busy, and way too ADHD to have the presence of mind to think about it while I was trying to get my showcase work done - but the,.. maybe the community? I don’t remember feeling any kind of loneliness before the show happened, though my memory (as previously stated) is crap. I just remember attending the show - alone - and having a great time and cheering people on, but being seated in the audience with empty chairs on either side (that one slow sunday matinee, I think? did we have those? or maybe I’m just misremembering, like I said, my memory is crap; maybe I wasn’t actually alone, I just didn’t know who I was seated beside). And I remember afterward, greeting my friends in the hall where everyone was doing the standard congratulations and just having these people who’d I’d thought I’d been so close to basically ignore me. It was... pretty awful.

And yeah, okay, it was high school, I was a moody teen, etc. etc. but even thinking about it still makes me really emotional. There was this visceral overwhelming feeling of loneliness and maybe betrayal and some element of crisis, disconnectedness (not helped by the fact that minor friendship dramatics in middle school started my whole depression thing), and -- oh, also, that person who I mentioned before, the one who threatened to kill himself? He was a techie. He worked the show. I may have possibly felt a little uncomfortable hanging around too long in case I’d run into him, may have felt alienated from the group when my friends took his side in a disagreement no one knew we were having (not even him, probably). And I’m fairly sure my memory is correct that that sparked one of the worst breakdowns of my high school career. I don’t think it was one of the Active ones (pretty sure it wasn’t that time I overdosed on otc pain meds or the time I briefly thought of hanging myself), but it was definitely a ‘wrap myself in a comforter and listen to Blue October and bawl my eyes out because no one cares about me’ kind of breakdown.

The more I think about it, and how awful it felt, the more impressed I am that the next year (or the year after?) I decided to go to another show. Of course, this was after I dropped out of college. And I brought friends for support (and y’know what, that was a good choice. I needed people there to talk to, people who I knew, so I wasn’t going alone). And the more I think of it the more I realize that, fuck -- props to me for being okay being alone, with the sheer amount of stress, anxiety, depression I’ve had centering around friendships and my inability to maintain lasting ones. Good on me for spending two years attending Capitol Fringe completely alone, attending show upon show alone, having the courage to put myself out there and try to make friendly acquaintances in an environment where everyone had their groups or duos or whatever. Like, I may be lonely but fuck if I’m gonna let myself come across as that creep in the corner of the tent bar. Sure, maybe I’ll keep my resting bitch face walking the streets of DC, but on fringe fest grounds I was giving out stickers and being really goddamn sociable. Good for me. Fight self-consciousness with aggressive sociability.

Anyway...

Yeah this... this got way off the rails.

My point is that I’m doing that thing where I’m getting into a thing (Hadestown) and I have these opposing sides in me because 1) I really really like this music - this show - but 2) I am really fucking intimidated by these teenage Broadway aficionados who know all this shit about casts and are name dropping all these shows I’ve only heard of (or never heard of) and fuck there are so many and it’s so overwhelming and fuck I forgot how much DRAMA is in drama, shit, y’all are vicious about people deserving one thing or another, like please lets just enjoy things for the sake of enjoying things, so 3) the more I try to explore this the more I keep running into posts that are somehow stirring up all this anxiety in me over ridiculously stupid things (yes, musicals are stupid. the concept of music, theater, and musical theater is not -- the idea that music/theater/musical theater can have such a profound impact on people is most definitely not stupid. but each individual musical, to me, a person who has not heard nor seen nor been involved in most of these shows, is a stupid thing to fix on as an annoyance. my point is not that musicals are stupid but that my own reaction to them is occasionally nonsensical. or something. idk, I’m rambling. whatever.)

I dunno. This ended up getting muddled. I’m just frustrated, is the point. That this thing that I enjoy has become tainted by this shitty experience from way back when and the intimidation I feel around an environment I used to consider my home.

Also I’m sorry if I post over enthusiastically about a musical. Please do not mistake me for a member of the broadway fandom. Please do not engage with me as a member of the broadway fandom cause I’ll be way out of my depth, overwhelmed, and - depending on my state of mind - will either be a) happy go lucky and clueless, shrug, and say ‘sounds cool’ or b) get immediately overwhelmed and have fuckin flashbacks to this shit from high school. Please don’t recommend things to me because I just can’t process things that quickly and there’s just too much out there.

And jesus fuck, for a person who considered their high school years pretty good they sure fucked me up over stupid things, eh?