#man is literally like big brain serial killer

[sleep-is-not-a-requirement]

…not hannibal loving will so much that he goes to prison over it

[thisapplepielife]

Written for @steddie-week.

Reach Out and Touch Someone

Day #7 - Prompt: Free Space | Word Count: 1500 | Rating: T | CW: Language, Alcohol | POV: Steve | Tags: AU, Wrong Number, Right Person Trope, Bisexual Steve Harrington, Meet-Cute

Steve dials the number messily scrawled on the scrap of paper. He’s nervous. He’s always nervous when he has to stick his neck out and make a move on a girl these days. 

Yeah, he did the first bit of legwork and got her number out at the bar last night. But he's fumbled the ball and failed enough times, Robin's loving, but accurate, "you suck" burned in his brain, that he's always leery to try again. He should be used to it by now, but it’s still uncomfortable and awkward, every goddamn time. If his friends weren't all fretting about his emotional well-being from being so terminally alone, he wouldn’t put forth half the effort anymore. 

He has Robin. He has his cat. He's happy. 

It rings three times before he hears it connect, “Hello?”

It’s a man’s voice, and he hesitates for just a moment, “I’m looking for, uh, Lyla?”

“Sorry, man. Wrong number.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I must have misdialed,” Steve says, a different kind of embarrassment. But this is one he can handle easier, for sure. So he pushed the wrong button somewhere along the way. His eyesight isn't the best thing he's got going for him.

“No worries, man,” the other guy laughs, seemingly carefree about being bothered.

They each disconnect and then Steve reads, and re-reads, the number before dialing again. More carefully this time.

It rings only once before it’s connected.

“Still me, dude,” the familiar voice relays, still light and friendly.

“Wow. I’m so sorry. Clearly, I was given a fake number. That's embarrassing,” Steve laughs, because this is more embarrassing than misdialing. He's uncomfortable and mortified to admit that this girl just didn't want him to call her. Even if he's only admitting it to a stranger.

She should have just told him no. He hates that she didn't, for her sake, too.

“Shitty move,” the other guy answers.

“Yeah, well. I'm sorry I bothered you. Again. I promise to cross-check any future numbers against yours before dialing, just in case.”

The guy laughs, "Well, now. Don't go to any trouble for my sake. Honestly,” and he doesn't sound put-out at all, “don’t worry about it. She clearly didn’t have the balls to just, be, like, honest. That sucks.”

Steve laughs, maybe if she'd had balls this wouldn't have happened at all. Most men feel more comfortable just saying no, he thinks, which is sad but true. He swings both ways, and maybe he should take this as a sign to lean the other way for a while. See if that works out any better for him. 

It probably won't, but he could try.

“There goes my big weekend plans,” Steve teases, uncertain why he does it, even as the words tumble out of his mouth. He needs to hang up the phone and let this guy get back to his own life.

“Dude. That's a problem I can solve. I’m gigging tonight. You have to come. Let me entertain you.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“Whatever. I want to. Just show up. It’ll be a great story, will it not?”

It would be a great story. One he could even tell Robin to convince her he’s living a little, “I don’t even know your name. What if you’re a serial killer or something?”

“Yep, that’s me. Vicious killer,” the guy laughs, “I’m Eddie, man. And I’m a fucking ball to be around. You’ll want to take me up on this awesome offer. We’ll all be down at Hellfire Club around eight. Show up. If you think we’re murderous, you don’t have to follow us to any secondary, secluded locations.”

Hellfire Club is literally two blocks from Steve’s apartment. He's been past it countless times, but never inside. It's always dark. Like it's not even open, making him unsure about what kind of bar it is, it's so nondescript from the outside. Not to mention the name is a little intimidating. He'd half-convinced himself it's a BDSM club. 

But, now that he's been invited, he could just walk down and see what’s the what, “How will I know which guy you are?”

Eddie laughs, “You’ll know. Trust me.”

Steve has a hard time trusting anyone new these days, but Eddie seems friendly enough. 

Steve realizes he must have been quiet for too long, because Eddie starts talking again.

“I’ll have on a badass battle vest. Look for that. You'll see me. It's impossible not to. I promise.”

“Okay,” Steve agrees, even if he’s not sure what a battle vest even is.

“Now, are you going to tell me your name, or will that just be a surprise?” Eddie asks.

Steve laughs, “Steve. I’m Steve.”

“Well, I’ll see you later, Steve.”

Steve stands in front of his closet for far too long, trying to find something to wear that doesn’t look too nerdy. He assumes Eddie's cool. He sounded cool, and Steve may have been cool in high school, but these days he just keeps his head down and goes through life, content to be fairly unnoticed. He finally settles on a black t-shirt. Basic, classic. Timeless.

Boring. 

But that's a risk he's willing to take.

He walks down the street slowly and arrives around eight-thirty. The windows are still all blacked out, tinted to the point he can't see anything inside. There's just the neon sign with the Hellfire Club over the door.

When he pulls open the door, he's in a hallway that's painted all black, with a bouncer at the end, stationed at a door. Steve kind of wants to turn around, flee, but he doesn't. He's already here. He might as well at least see. Robin will kill him if he chickens out.

He gives his ID to the bouncer, and is directed down a staircase. He really hopes this isn't a sex club. 

It's not.

And as soon as he crosses the threshold into the bar, yes, he knows Eddie instantly. He’s gotta be the one on the bar, pouring shots directly into various mouths. Steve knows he could turn around right now and this adventure could end. But watching Eddie laughing and prancing up and down the bar with flourish, clearly having fun, makes Steve want to go up and meet this guy.

Steve takes an open seat at the end of the bar, kind of out of the way, and just watches Eddie work the crowd.

The bar is blaring It's Raining Men and Eddie is playing up the song, big time. He's not a stripper, at least Steve doesn't think he is, but he's working the crowd for tips, absolutely. He keeps handing them down to a curly-headed guy, who keeps stuffing them into an overflowing jar.

Steve's pretty sure this is a gay club, or at least queer friendly. Maybe he has found a place for himself, something that's been right here under his nose, all this time.

When Eddie finally jumps down off the bar, Steve watches him work the rest of the room.

The other guy comes over and takes Steve's order, and he doesn't quite have the same flourish, but he's efficient and confident with a bottle and jigger.

"Name for the tab?" he asks, shaking the drink Steve had picked from the list.

"Steve," Steve says, and the guy looks up and meets his eyes.

Surely not. This doesn't feel like this is Eddie. He is wearing a vest, a red plaid one, but the other guy also has a denim vest on, full of patches.

"Eddie?" Steve questions, needing to make sure.

"Gareth," the guy says, "that's Eddie," he clarifies, pointing at the one Steve had correctly clocked as Eddie to begin with. "You're his wrong number guy, right?"

Steve nods. He supposes that's what he is, "Yeah. That's me. Loser in love."

Gareth laughs, and it makes Steve smile.

"That's our specialty here, you'll feel right at home," Gareth teases.

"Glad to hear it."

"I'll tell him you're here," Gareth assures, "he wasn't sure you'd come."

"That makes two of us," Steve admits, and Gareth smiles as he finishes shaking Steve's drink, putting it down in front of him.

"On the house. First-timers to Hellfire drink free," Gareth says, and then he's walking away. 

Steve's eyes follow Gareth across the bar, watching as he taps Eddie on the shoulder, leaning close to his ear, pointing right at Steve.

Eddie looks, meets his eyes, and Steve raises his hand, giving him a small, little wiggle of his fingers.

A huge smile spreads across Eddie's face as he bounds in Steve's direction.

Eddie's quickly right in his personal space, squeezing both of Steve's shoulders, greeting him with a smile, "Welcome to Hellfire."

Steve smiles, liking the feeling of Eddie's hands bleeding through his t-shirt, warming him.

Eddie lets go, and Steve misses the feeling already, but Eddie stays. Sliding onto the stool next to Steve, "I'm glad you came."

And Steve's completely honest as he answers, "Me too."

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @steddie-week and follow along with the fun!

Notes: If you're too young to remember it, reach out and touch someone was the slogan/jingle for Bell System telephone company back in the day. So, that's where the title comes from, as a play on the wrong number phone call trope.

[neiptune]

aot boys x guilty pleasures

a/n: this is me being self indulgent and having a lil fun so forgive the shitposting but also feedback is always appreciated mwah

eren loves the shit out of nature documentaries you'll leave him alone one saturday night and you'll come back to find him sprawled on the couch watching life of mammals or some shit on netflix lmao you'd be on a date and he'd get suddenly excited enough to hit you with random facts like “btw did you know that the average blood pressure of a giraffe is around 300/190?” he'd literally barge in rooms with a “babe omg hummingbirds are like the only birds that can fly backwards” and you'd just be sitting on the toilet with a very unimpressed look but he's cute 12/10 would make a good park ranger or whatever

armin is lowkey obsessed with youtubers like he legitimaly sits down and watches hours on end of unboxing/reaction videos or travel vlogs jfc and it's always the dumb stuff ya know like person x unboxing the same phone in 10 different colors or person y reacting to drake's new single and THAT controversial lyric. it's exhausting really he'd be in bed at 3am still going through chrissy's 27 min travel vlog about some bali vacation gone wrong and don't even get me started on drama and internal feuds or breakups oh my god he has a whole playlist of breaking my silence videos on youtube to keep track of who's said what so he can pick the best side

you've introduced jean to the world of fandoms and fanfiction and at first he was all like nah that's too weird but now he has his own ao3 account and eats the weirdest most hilarious shit up, will also use acquired terms in the wrongest way like you'd be watching bridgerton together and he'd suddenly nod to himself with a OOOO TRIGGER WARNING THEY BOUT TO FUCK lmao he's obsessed tbh his twitter is filled with commentary on random chapters he's screenshot and that I WILL GO DOWN WITH THIS SHIP titanic gif posted over and over again like no honey you will not we've moved past that 10 years ago

oh god connie is such a chronic playlist creator he'd have one for EVERYTHING and he genuinely spends hours selecting the perfect most appropriate songs and titles for each one, you best believe before you first started dating he's made one for you called “i like you idgaf about your boyfriend” which came with a weird ass mix of sweet stuff like just the way you are by bruno mars and cash shit by megan thee stallion lmaooo he's so random he thinks he's good at it too and you don't have the heart to tell him that “get down dirty bedroom sexy lapdance music” ain't a good title. it's kinda attractive that he's not a music snob tho like he'd be blasting country music classics while cooking, rap mixtapes when he's taking a shower or full on broadway showtunes when driving, he also has a cute voice that cracks on higher notes but it secretly turns you on how deep in the moment he is while screaming to defying gravity in the car

levi gets a weird kick out of serial killer documentaries or real footage of their interviews/trials, also listens to A LOT of true crime podcasts and TAKES NOTES about the most interesting cases to check if he'd be able to solve the unsolved ones and he'd always test you as well? you'd be reading a book in bed and he'd plop next to you with a dead serious look on his face asking shit like “would you help some random guy with a cast on his arm carry his bags?” 🤨 out of the blue like ?????? baby that's kinda weird can you not but it's really just him trying to flex his big big brain thank fuck he's not an actual cop he'd be insufferable (and way less hot)

to absolutely no one's surprise reiner's guilty pleasure has to do with you, the man's all about you (and hockey), you've asked him to take a bath with you once and now not a single motherfucking week goes by without him looking at you big big puppy eyes asking “bath???” most evenings after work. it doesn't even have to lead to anything he's just content basking in warm water and bubbles with you in his lap, he gets to massage shampoo into your scalp if you want to wash your hair and is now a pro at creating the perfect atmosphere with oils and dimmed lights and omg don't even get me started on candles, he's memorized your favorite scents and now also has his own preferences, catch him walking around a yankee candle store at least twice a month, girls working there ask this big scary grumpy guy if he needs help and he'd reply with the softest most polite & specific hi hello yes actually i need to stock up on sparkling cinnamon and snow globe wonderland tyvm

porco 100% checks his naked self out in the mirror lmaooo i know this shouldn't count as something people wouldn't believe he'd do but it's kinda a guilty pleasure i guess??? he finds putting clothes on a lil depressing and knows he's hot. sometimes you'd catch him doing that after showering and the man would be so fucking thirsty for compliments cause what is he supposed to do with muscles and abs and prominent biceps if you won't drool over them a little? he's annoying & also gets soooo whiny if you don't indulge him like :( do you not think your dashing boyfriend is cute :( while flexing, also always tries to convince you to take your clothes off as well for ���inspection purposes” to which you simply flick his forehead lol whether you end up pressed against that very mirror 10 minutes later it's between you and him xoxo

[ungodly-amounts-of-godly-trauma]

wotw round 1

propaganda under the cut!

will graham:

OMG where do I even start??? A lot of the fandom (not the whole fandom, but a lot of them) are obsessed with Will Graham being traumatized helpless baby boy sub and it's just like… Hello? Did you watch the same show as me?

"Oh no he got his brain caught on fire with encephalitis he needs his big strong psychiatrist Hannibal to take care of him and spoon feed him and protect him from the world"

"Oh he's in love with his friend Alana but she just sees him as a friend and a psychiatric project I just need to wrap him in a blanket and cuddle him and protect him from all these people who hurt him"

Like the list goes on and on but guys, come on. Will Graham lives by himself with his 7 dogs and takes care of all of them. He's an FBI agent. HE'S LITERALLY KILLED PEOPLE BOTH WITH HIS BARE HANDS AND WITH WEAPONS. THIS MAN IS A SCRUFFY OUTDOORSMAN WHO'S LIKE 6'0" AND MAYBE NOT BUILT BUT DEFINITELY NOT SCRAWNY AND IN NEED OF PROTECTING. I think a lot of people get caught up in the fact that Will Graham is played by Hugh Dancy and he was very much a "pretty boy" character in a lot of stuff before he played Will Graham and this is also exacerbated by Hannibal being played by Mads Mikkelsen who is "slightly taller rugged silver fox European man who is going to fix my daddy issues" and since Will and Hannibal are the main couple a lot of people are like "well they can't both be big tough top guys so obviously it's the guy who's slightly bigger and buffer and older"

Will Graham is a 38 year old FBI criminal profiler who has killed dangerous people with his bare hands, went to prison for some time, masterfully manipulated others, also hunts and fishes, and he's like very good at reading people and their motivations. Incredibly smart everyday man.

Sweet JESUS sometimes the fandom makes him out to be more of a helpless puppy than he really is. Granted, even if he has his moments of mental vulnerability, it's never treated as weak by the show. He's managed to persist through some of the hardest situations. AND LIKE I GET IT, HE'S REALLY PRETTY WHEN HE'S IN PAIN AND SUFFERING BUT HE'S NOT!!! A BABY!!! Anyway I've seen a lot of fandom takes where he's been twinkified to high hell or portrayed as helpless/submissive and often it entirely diminishes that he's a grown fucking person (who has KILLED AND WILL DO IT AGAIN).

had encephalitis in s1 so everyone calls him sweaty & got framed for murder so when he actually murders people people say it’s not his fault and that he was manipulated into doing so (how do you manipulate someone into putting down a shotgun and beating someone to death with their bare hands when you’re not even there? fuck if i know. also, the manipulator in question (hannibal, his sort of therapist) actively stopped him from killing someone). “someone help will graham” is an actual tag on ao3. people treat him like a child. he is a serial killer and people act like he can’t even feed himself. it’s terrible. will graham is a liar, a murderer, a cannibal, a manipulator, and i love him for it

jason "jd" dean:

shoutout to my lovely friend who knows who they are who talk abt how jd does no wrong and hes so slay when like. he does slay. he did slay. he slayed three whole people. and tried to slay a school. like, jd does a lot of wrong. all he does is wrong. and sometimes the fandom acts like everything he does is super chill and fine and sane, and ignores what he did altogether. like yea christian slater was fit in the movie. yk whats not fit? homocide

hes also treated like an innocent lil baby who can do nothing for himself but im watching the movie rn and he just bashed veronicas head off of an emergency fire hose, and shes apparently the love of his life

[weebsinstash]

Not gonna lie if I were the reader after they got replaced by YouTwo I would be a neurotic mess lmao. I already mental issues but I can't imagine going through their trauma on top of everything. I would definitely be scratching myself again out of sheer stress and anxiety about whether or not everybody will replace me again. My arms would look horrible. Oh boy imagine everybody's reaction to realizing they've messed up this badly and absolutely ruined the reader

Other people: fun ways we can write! Coffee shop au! Red string of fate! Hanahaki! Enemies to lovers!

me: what if I sat and tried to seriously and realistically contemplate the ramifications of a severely traumatic experience and the following neurotic habits that arise from the spiral down

Reader gets back to Spider Society, either glitching back in or "being rescued" whatever, and, you're just doing shit like digging food out of the trash "you'd never guess what kinds of perfectly good stuff people throw away, and it saves time to not have to wait for anything to be prepped! Never know when you'll vanish in the middle of a meal or that one serial killer will pop out at you again!! Ahaha!

Someone comes to check on you and you deadass have a fucking, tripwire web trap all around you, you're not even sleeping in a bed you're in your own webbing (because we rock organic webbing here because it fucks) so the second anything like, opens the door of your apartment or comes near you, you're instantly aware. Peter B comes in "heeeey, just wanna check in, make sure you're doing ok--" and there's fucking web wires rattling cans as he opens the front door and suddenly you're wide awake with an actual fucking knife or some kind of equally brutal survivalist weapon and it takes you a few seconds to fully snap out of it and let him calm you down and he has to tell Miguel You Are In Fact Not Doing Ok

You've got real "scaring all your loved ones and everyone around you" energy during those times you're just like going through some manic shit, opening your mouth and going on a sudden 'epiphany' like "i know what would help!! I'm gonna start cutting my face in really visible prominent places and that way you guys will know by the scar who I am :) and when it heals I'll cut myself again :) and again :) maybe I should just cut off a finger, how many of me do you think are missing fingers? Or maybe I could give myself a cool scar!!" And it's just like. What the fuck do they even say to that. A lot of them just genuinely could cry over this, seeing what this did to you. You sound genuinely cheerful at the realization and give no mind to how casually you just suggested self harm out of paranoia and self preservation.

You're just having like hard-core eating disorder issues going from overeating to undereating, binging because you're suffer9ng trauma from starving and then starving yourself "no its fasting, I'm FASTING to save food and money and resources, ok, I can only fit so much in my backpack and--"

You have this backpack from your multiversal glitching travels and keeping it with you basically 24/7 even when you go to the bathroom becomes a comfort habit, because, "never know when your camp has been found by the runners and you've gotta make a break for it" or some other cryptic memory you babble at them like you're discussing coffee when it could be one of the most vile horrifying things they've ever heard

I think the most interesting but tricky thing I've thought of is, what if Reader's trauma-humor coping mechanism gets dialed up to 11 and you can basically never turn it off because, your brain is protecting yourself. It's like you're Doing A Bit but literally all the time like some traumatized method actor and you're just, they're never sure if you're actually telling the truth or actually recounting things you experienced after a while

"Oh man the last time I ate a meal this big was when I finally stopped glitching and I had to break into someone's house and rob them for food! Just call me Santa Claus! But this Earth had suffered a nuclear fallout so all they had was like, DRY CRACKERS and, a lotta canned stuff, icky, and, I was in the middle of trying to pry a tin of lil cocktail weenies open with my teeth when the irradiated house centipedes smelled my blood, just imagine like a normal centipede but, like, the size of a Shetland pony, hey, friendship really IS magic right, and me and these centipedes got SO close, so anyways they smelled my blood, right, and it made them hungry, and--" and here you got like The Entire Squad speechless, Hobies just over here like "fuck, I don't even know what to say to that, you want some ketamine bruv" and yall just hit em with "nah last time I tried ketamine I had a fever dream of being replaced by an evil clone and I was shunned by all my close friends who i thought of like family. Oh wait, that was you guys! That's awkward!"

[ravetillyoucry]

PUPARIA

Chapter 5 - Kute

prev - chapter 1

God, what the fuck did he drink last night. Hosah's head throbbed as he strained open his eyes. Laying there for a second, hand covering his face to block the light coming in from the un-closed curtains, the still very much tiny man recalled having the ridiculous dream last night. I mean, why would he ever ask Teddy to stay the night, that was so unbelievably unlike him, he didn't think his brain could even make that sort of shit up. Turning to his side, Hosah rubbed his eyes open completely in preparation for the day.

Definitely not a dream.

The shifter had to hold down a scream when his assistant had rolled to his side, the two now facing eachother. Both of them were still fully dressed, shoes and all. Embarrassingly, the only thing on Hosah's mind was what did they do last night.

"Good morning. I was wondering when you'd wake up." Teddy sat up, leant looming over the tiny form sprawled out on the bed.

Hosah could barely gather his words; "I- We, what happened last night?" the surprise left him out of breath.

The giant looked confused for a second before turning to laughter, "Oh, god, nothing. You fell straight asleep right after asking me to stay."

Eugh. Embarrassing. So embarrassing in fact, he'd almost forgotten entirely about the previous day.

"God, we've got fifteen dead bodies to chase up. I swear these serial killers are doing it on purpose just to make my life miserable." the tiny man took a break to rub the sleep from his drowsy doe eyes, "I mean, fifteen is way too much. It's not classy, it's overkill.. Literally." Hosah wasn't so used to talking right after waking up it seemed, as his usually internal stream of thoughts came pouring out of his mouth at an uncontrollable pace.

"Mm. Are you.. Okay, by the way?" Ah, how sweet, Teddy remembered his little accidental breakdown.

"Oh, god yeah. No, I'm okay. It's just, I don't know. You wouldn't get it, but shifters, we stick together, you know? That's like seeing my brothers and sisters dead in front of me. Those are my brothers and sisters." Hosah's eyes drifted off onto his feet, which were still in his boots, "If we don't look out for each other, who will?"

His assistant layed back down beside him, face in his folded arms at eye level with the shrunken man, he had that same, stupid soft expression he always pulled whenever Hosah said anything particularly nice. "That's- Ah, that's very beautiful. I didn't realise you were so sentimental."

The detective had never really thought of himself in such a way. "Psh, tell me about it, you know what Jeanne said to me yesterday? I've got a little body and a big bleeding heart. Come on. That's cheesy. That's gross. I don't wanna think about that, I don't wanna imagine that visual." He fell back, now facing the ceiling, which was so unimaginably far away when he was like this.

"Aw, no that's cute. I hadn't seen that side of you before. Big feelings, little guy." Teddy instantly regretted his words as soon as they came out of his mouth.

"Stop. I'll throw up, seriously." neither of the two wanted to push the statement further. Besides, it was time to think about heading into the office. "What time is it?"

Hosah's room was unimaginably bare, a futon on the floor, a window with curtains, and a pair of bedside tables. This wasn't including his dresser of shrunken clothes or the clutter of painting materials that sat in the corner, but that was the gist of it. He'd been meaning to do some furniture shopping for what, five years now?

As there was no clock to turn to, Teddy leant over to check his phone.

"Seven thirty, just about." That was a relief. At least now, he'd be able to get his morning bath, he was sure he reeked of dead body after yesterday.

The tiny detective stood to his full height, barely able to keep balance on the spongy mattress, "You can use the shower if you want. I'm gonna take a bath."

The visual Teddy pictured in his head made his face subconsciously curl up into a smile. It seemed that their life really had turned into the tropes you'd find in your average, cheesy romance drama. At least with a little help, running the bath would be a much easier process.

Over the years of independence, Hosah had thought a lot about assisted living. Moving into one of those residential houses where he could be looked after, it seemed like the dream end goal for any shifter with no prospects of falling in-love. He'd decided to put the idea on the back-burner until he was in his mid thirties, he had all the time in the world to get around and find someone to love and look after him.

As he sat in the wooden bowl, half his body submerged under water, Hosah continued to ponder about his life thus far- although it was awkward to ignore the fact his assistant was sitting on the closed toilet seat to the back on him. It were times like these, when he'd seen lives be cut so short, that he thought a lot about his parents. When they were his age, Hosah was already five years old, and his brother would've been seven. He lowered himself deeper into the bath, wondering what exactly he'd achieved in the five years spent out all on his own in the big city.

Sometimes, Hosah thought it was too late for him. He'd spent so much of his twenties either hunched over a desk or barely tall enough to get around his apartment. Years of looking over missing person after missing person's cases made him wish it to have been him instead. These people had goals, prospects, promising futures, they were going to ivy league schools, they had babies on the way, they had an important job to fulfil, all things Hosah thought to be worth living for. It wasn't right to think in such a way, especially when it was down to him to bring these people justice, but it was getting increasingly hard not to with age.

Honestly, he wasn't sure if getting worked up over this- or the fact Teddy stayed the night upon his own request, was really all that worth it. There were bigger things to be worrying about, like, maybe the literal serial killer his team had stumbled upon.

"You're gonna prune up if you stay in there any longer, you know." The voice scared the shit out of him, but it was just Teddy, sitting with his feet up on the seat, patterned socks on display.

He was right, Hosah had been sitting and soaking for a while by now. Waiting until his assistant had turned to face the wall, the shifter quickly stumbled out and covered himself up. He'd embarrassed himself enough by now, flashing Teddy would be the final straw.

When the giant turned back around, the shift in his expression said all it needed to. That stupid tilt of his eyebrows, the way that everyone seemed to look at Hosah when they'd see just how terrible his condition had gotten.

"I know it's a Tuesday and all," Teddy's eyes adverted towards the ground, "But, we should hang out tonight. Get dinner or something. Do you like the movies? 'd only have to pay for one ticket."

Eh. Whatever. It wasn't like Hosah had anything productive to do once he got home. "Uh, sure, yeah sounds good. Just take whatever you need from my wallet before we leave." although it was nice to get a break from paying for his food the last week, Hosah had begun to feel increasingly bad about not paying his way. Hosah had actually been feeling bad about most things lately.

"No- no need, we share anyway, and it's not like, a fifty fifty split," Teddy's pitiful laugh as he said it was all that needed to be heard. The shifter knew he'd get nowhere by trying to argue.

Hosah was aware of how difficult it was to dance around the topic of his shifting, especially when he was, well, shifted, but it was still a bummer to hear the stark differences between him and Teddy be so loudly pointed out, even when not being addressed directly. Whenever something even slightly in reference to himself and his obvious lack of height came up, a feeling similar to that of being pelted with rocks came over him. Any sort of pleasant mood would be instantly squashed under the landslide of self awareness.

He wouldn't really peg himself as all that insecure of a person, but it were times like these when Hosah wished to have not been born this way. He wanted to argue about who payed the bill, and have it be a fair argument at that. The saying about not being able to 'have your cake and eat it too' always flew over his head when he was younger, but Hosah seemed to be applying it to his own life more than he'd like to admit.

Returning to the bedroom, draped in a towel that extended from his shoulders all the way down to his feet, the tiny detective now had the responsibility of getting ready to leave for work once more. The daily grind had gotten extremely, painfully repetitive by now, after five years of constantly being at it, rarely ever even getting weekends off, even the thought of having to wake up, get ready, take the tube, walk to the office, et cetera, had begun to wear Hosah down. He felt like a balding tire, one harsh turn away from skidding, crashing, and bursting into flames.

It barely took him half a second to decide what to wear. Despite being freshly cleaned, Hosah still looked pretty emaciated. If he could go back ten years, but remain in his current physical condition, they'd call him 'heroin chic'. The shifter laughed to himself at that thought, buttoning up the same old plain shirt he'd had for years by now. To be honest, his look would be totally in fashion if 'Victorian era chimney sweep' was a current trend. Hosah's Mom always told him that laughing at, seemingly, nothing was a sign of insanity, but he found his own thoughts too amusing to keep a straight face.

Using the little mirror in the jewellery box, the doll-sized man made an attempt to fix his hair and got a good look at his face. Seems he slept better than he thought, as his eye-bags were uncharacteristically small and light, although the prominent fat under his eye gave the illusion of having them either way. This was actually a feature Hosah had always liked about himself, mainly because he was told by the Korean side of his family about how it was a desired trait back home, if you could call a place you'd never even been home.

Looking at himself in the mirror, the shifter's thoughts lingered on Teddy once again. He thought about earlier in the morning, seeing his face so up close, the assistant's cheek pressed against the mattress, able to feel his breath brush over himself, feel his voice send vibrations to his core. Before he'd realised it, Hosah's face was flushing red again, just as it was when he first realised he wasn't alone in his room. His hand brushed over the surface of his own face, imagining what it'd be like to have Teddy's moles, or his straight nose, or his shaped jaw, or even his singular crooked fang that stuck out as he smiled.

Maybe Teddy wasn't the weird one of the two after-all, as the realisation of what exactly the shrunken blond was thinking about hit him like a ton of bricks. He needed to stop, he was being weird, what if Teddy was actually just like Edward from Twilight as he'd initially suspected and was reading his mind right now. All of these aspects forced his brain to quiet down for at least a second, giving him the time to take in his surroundings, and take them in he did.

The taller of the two could not startle Hosah this time around with his spontaneous appearance, as the shifter turned on his heels to face the approaching giant before he'd even got the chance to make himself known by his own hand.

Hosah craned his neck up, staring into the incomprehensible abyss that was six foot above him. Teddy had to be at least 6'3, probably an inch or two more if he was being honest. The shifter barely just reached ankle height, leaving way for the perfect opportunity to pull the good old 'tug on trouser leg and demand to be lifted up' trick. Just being reminded of such an action gave Hosah a blast of nostalgia, as he recalled doing the same thing to his Dad when he was a kid.

Without Teddy having realised he'd been noticed, the detective took half a dozen quick leaps forward before grabbing onto the fabric and pulling with all the upper body strength he had, "Come on, let's go,"

-~-

Having a new person around the office seemed to be doing some good for Hosah. Being assisted without feeling as though he should just find a way to do said things himself was refreshing, but old habits were hard to break, as he still found himself making attempts at tasks that, for him, would be extremely difficult to pull off, but for Teddy, would take barely the movement of his non-dominant hand. In some ways, it pissed Hosah off, making him wonder if the rookie had any cocky thoughts as he helped with ease, but it also proved to be extremely useful in speeding up just about everything he had to get done at the same time.

Maybe constantly isolating himself and refusing any aid was actually bad for his mental and physical health after all.

Ehhh, probably not.

The two actually made quite the good team, as in just two hours, they'd managed to get a missing person's family out to the office, back where all the evidence was being held. Now all that had to be done was to wait and see if they could confirm or deny the identity of body number seven.

Neither Hosah or Teddy were all that involved in these kinds of processes, honestly, their jobs were quite minor in the bulk of it all. Look for patterns in the cases, things that could link back to anything recent, or even anything that had occurred years ago, just dwindle down the possibilities of a culprit into a manageable size, that was just about it. At least, that was it on big cases such as this one. Usually, Hosah's job would be to go out to a much less severe and complex scene, usually a domestic case that had ended in a dangerous situation, and act as a mediator sort of figure, one that would provide a sense of security and trust, one that would be able to get a straight story out of someone, especially another shifter.

Being a shifter did actually have quite a few perks in those regards. A lot of people find the tiny folk to be very cute and endearing, the amount of late night talk hosts that would hang around on a random celebrity's shoulder for an interview was incomprehensible. You might think 2% of the population was an extremely small number of individuals, but it also meant there were just about 136,000,000 shifters currently living globally in the year 2009, which seemed like a lot more when put in that way.

There was just something so undeniably sweet about a person no taller than about four or five inches that the non-shifter population seemed to love, which made Hosah's job undeniably more painful that it had to be. He never minded speaking to other shifters, in fact, he'd much preferred his title of victim advocate over looking at pictures of dead bodies, it was just the giants that gave him a sickly feeling in his stomach.

More specifically, the giants on the police force. Cross communication wasn't typically the role Hosah would have to take, but on the rare occasion it was, he'd leave the station with a large chunk of his will to live having being chipped off over the course of the entire process. He felt as though he had to prove himself every time he spoke to a different officer, the shifter didn't understand what gave them the right to think so highly of themselves when they weren't even doing the hard work. Hosah felt the way they looked at him, especially in his shrunken state, like he was nothing but an object kept around to be a piece of entertainment. Psh. Whatever.

The small, disheveled man pulled at his hair to snap out of his thoughts, feeling his body get progressively more tense the more he remembered things that had pissed him off in the past.

An opening and closing of the door grabbed Hosah's attention. It was Teddy, except he had a particularly sad look on his face, one the detective had never seen before.

"Yeah, you can go ahead and put the missing persons report in number seven's file. That's him." Teddy didn't even look at the shrunken figure on his desk, he just took a seat on his chair and slumped down a little, causing it to spin to the left, facing away from the table entirely.

It took a few moments of sorrowful sighs before the assistant noticed Hosah's increasing struggles to do as he'd asked, letting out a quiet 'Right, sorry' as Teddy rushed to take over from the activity.

This field of work sucked. No matter how depressed, pessimistic or nihilistic it made him, Hosah still felt some kind of obligation to stay. Whether that be his underlying messiah complex, or the weight of his and Jules' shared history, it kept him at this desk, looking over files, and overall becoming the worst version of himself he could possibly be.

He'd never actually seen Teddy look so sad, which made sense, they'd only been working together for the past week, but it was still concerning either way. Hosah had just assumed his assistant was much better than him at the 'keep work and feelings separate' thing, but clearly they had another thing in common.

Augh. The silence was killing him. Trying not to raise any suspicions about the fact that, despite acting like he didn’t, Hosah was fond of his assistant, the tiny detective shifted his position until he sat, kneeled next to Teddy’s resting knuckles against the desk.

“So.. You okay?” Ehhh, that’ll do. Hosah had never been all that good with using words and addressing feelings.

The unsuspected close contact surprised his assistant a little as his chair wheeled back toward the table, “Me? Yeah, of course, yeah. Do I not seem okay?”

“..No, not really. You look sad.”

Teddy laughed, his eyebrows still tilted down, “Ahh, well,” he paused for a moment, taking a breath in and twirling his hands by his face, as if that meant anything, “This stuff just happens. I thought I’d be more thick skinned by now.”

Hosah knew all too well about this subject. “Ugh, tell me about it.” the tiny man shifted his position, his side leant against the giant, resting fist.

“I definitely thought, after the lesson my grandparents taught me about becoming too emotionally involved in work, I wouldn’t end up like this,” Even though he was smiling, it was obvious that Teddy wasn’t all that happy talking about it.

Hosah’s curiosity got the best of him, inquiring further with a little ‘Mm?’.

“Well, it’s a funny story actually,” From the way Teddy had mentioned it previously, the shifter could tell it was not in fact going to be a funny story. “I was like, maybe eleven, spending the summer at my grandparent’s farm, and it was really boring down there. Once I’d finished my work for the day, there was nothing to do except read or wander around, even the closest village was like, a three mile bike ride away.”

Teddy paused to run a hand through his hair, spinning on his chair so that him and the shifter weren’t face to face. “Anyway, I ended up spending a lot of time just hanging out with the animals, and this one hen was super attached to me, followed me around where she could, sat on my lap, like a real pet, you know? Well, since she was a hen and all, I didn’t think there’d be any consequence to it, I mean, we needed the eggs right? But my grandma was really annoyed, she took me out back to the shed where.. You know. I- You can probably guess what happened , after..”

“Oh, oh shit. What? That’s horrible. What the fuck.” Hosah could barely get his words out. Damn, and he thought he had some pretty brutal childhood stories.

His assistant had that same bittersweet look on his face. “After that, I thought I was hard as nails, but I guess not so much. Ah, c’est la vie, right?”

“Hmm, I guess,” what a nonchalant take. As he watched Teddy swivel back around on his seat to face him again, the shrunken detective decided not to question him further on the story. “You never told me what happened, with the family of that missing person. That’s body seven?” Hosah could infer exactly what happened, but decided to change the subject anyway.

“Right, yeah. That’s him. I don’t know. Having seen the body itself, I thought I’d take it all a lot better but.. Speaking to his parents, watching them learn their kid is really seriously dead. It just breaks my heart, you know? If I was in their position, I don’t know if I’d ever recover.”

If he could’ve, the tiny man sat beside Teddy’s hand would’ve held it in his own. “Mm. That’s how I feel towards just about every case I’ve ever worked on. Hah, we’re really not tough enough for this job, huh?”

And tough enough they weren’t. It felt as though the two detectives left on the office floor had just encountered some supernatural activity, as Hosah swore he felt the temperature drop by a few degrees in a split second. It was Jules, the head of the entire agency. The shifter didn’t know whether to give her the cold shoulder, or to thank her, regarding the situation she’d put both him and Teddy in not so long ago.

God, she may be terrifying, but she’s drop dead gorgeous. He’d always thought Jules had the looks, the height, and the body to go into runway modelling, but it seemed she preferred to surround herself with death’s imminent presence, and a few guys she can psychologically torture. It always perplexed the shifter, how someone so evil could look so angelic.

“What are you two still doing here? You could’ve gone home an hour ago, you know that right? Is he forcing you to stay back late with him, Edward?” Jules took a seat on the desk at which the two detectives sat both at and on.

No matter how much she pissed him off, Hosah always fell back on the ‘but she’s so beautiful though’ excuse. Despite the fact her jaw and cheekbones were as sharp as ever, her features were all still so soft, as her eyelashes and eyebrows were the same almost white blonde colour as her long, slicked back hair. He had no idea how anyone could make a pencil skirt and ill-fitting blouse look so high fashion, but Jules just had that kind of look to her.

“No, no, just got busy with chasing up missing persons reports. We got one, number seven isss..” Teddy’s hands were shaking a little as he grabbed the file from Hosah’s side, where the giant’s hand once rested. “Here, Charlie Laurent. Reported three months ago today.”

Her hand wrapped around the rookie’s wrist as she tilted the file toward herself, “Hmm, oh, right. Alice told me he’s guessing the bodies were ordered in a particular way, by when they’d been killed, based on decomposition stages. Still waiting on all the autopsies to get back to us to confirm that theory though.”

Alice was Jeanne’s last name, honestly, most people around the agency referred to him as such, sometimes Hosah felt like the only person who actually knew his first name.

Just as quickly as she came, the slender woman hopped up off the desk, giving Teddy a ruffle of the hair on her way out. How she could do that in heels, no one knew.

Once the coast was clear, the assistant leant in, “God, I’m shaking.” Teddy whispered as if he didn’t want her to hear him, despite the fact she had long left the room. She always did this kind of thing, start a conversation, then leave whenever she got sick of talking. There was really no rhyme or reason to her behaviour, that’s just the type of person she was. The type of person that made no sense at all, which is what made her so enticing and so scary at the same time. Unpredictable, that’s what she was.

“She’s not really all that scary. Then again, I’ve known her for like, ten years by now.” The tiny man shrugged, standing up preparing to leave himself. “Anyway. That doesn’t matter. What’s on at the theatres tonight?”

[ask-crow-aus]

WELCOME TO OUR BLOG!!

System, the ringleader. A malware installed into a robot, the youngest out of the ‘originals’ yet still the parent. Crashes when an emotion is too strong or when caught off guard/surprised. Crashes often leave them feeling less. They/them

“Creator”. The tired one that’s obsessed with guns. Short, but packs a punch. A shadow-like fog clings to their body, and is toxic to inhale. Oddly enough it’s very soothing to touch… assuming they let you get that close without a bullet in your brain. They/he/it

Lichen. The shapeshifter who is married to Neo and spends far too much time partying. Always up for a good time. Open relationship. He/she/they/it

Neo. Married to Lichen. Open relationship. Serial killer. Kidnaps people and experiments on them, and makes robots. Aloof and cruel until you get to know him. He/they

Cam. One of Neo’s robots, in charge of repairing the others. Made System’s body and put in an antivirus software just to piss System off.. System has since deleted the software. Cam also has… other functions. There’s a reason he was made good looking, if you know what I mean. He/him

Leon. The newest addition to the family, and by far the most hated. The scepter he carries is made of plastic and doesn’t do anything. Cam made him out of spare parts and he’s an attention seeking little bastard. He/him

Armored. The only different looking Crow AU. Unlike the others, he’s a big scary pushover, and has a special soft spot for animals. This man has 17 pet tree frogs and he’s made them all tiny hats. His armor is a part of him, literally fused to his skin, and made from volcanic rock. He will sit out in the middle of storms just to cool off. He’s been struck by lightning so many times- he/him.

Canon! Crow/Streamer! Crow

Side job as a streamer, otherwise just here for the drama. He/him

DNI if you: dislike swearing, are a pr0-shipper, a lgbt phobe, a racist, sexist, or any of the sort.

Things the actual creator enjoys: dark humor, my friends (irl and online), role playing, chocolate, black tea, sour candy, books, sketching, flirting platonically

Things that make the actual creator uncomfy: pushy flirting, awkward situations (makes the anxiety flare), children under 10 years old (I don’t know how to talk to young kids and they scare me), asking for face reveals, voice reveals, etc.

[jovies]

i had a big brain moment on the way to work

by which i mean i'm once again going to dx one of my comfort characters as having bpd traits

Spike aka William the Bloody (BtVS)

He's messy, he's passionate, he's malleable! He was a shy, rejection-sensitive poet until he became an overly charismatic, rejection-sensitive killer! He thinks love is everything and gives his many lives meaning! But sometimes that love is not love, it's passionate infatuation and involves repeated unwanted pursuit behaviors (aka stalking). His alliances, stances, loyalties, feelings can often change quickly on a dime! He literally took a coat from someone else and made it his whole look and personal signature style (bpd mirroring behavior to an extreme). He was enmeshed with Dru, hot and cold (mostly cold - abusively so) with Harmony, wanted to be enmeshed with Buffy, did get enmeshed with Buffy through an unstable, destructive relationship. He can be myopically focused only on his own needs (granted he IS a vampire) and fail to see others' unless the situation doesn't involve him, then he can see it more clearly than they can (lovers walk). He has weird chemistry with almost EVERYONE (Xander, Angel) because of his superficial charisma!

He splits (quickly vacillating between adoration/idealization and hatred/devaluation) on Buffy in a big way. She's the ideal women, she's the 'bitch' who won't let him take a stationary 'walk' outside her house every night (ie watching/stalking her), she has 'stupid hair', etc. He does this to Dru as well in "Crush" and Harmony on a regular basis (she's his 'baby', she's an 'idiot', she's adorable, she's his punching bag, etc.)

But most notably: he slides into a LOT of different roles in the show. He's villain, lover, hated ally to buffy in s2, annoyance and philosopher in s3, partly neutralized enemy and thanksgiving dinner 'guest' in s4, stalker and sometimes ally in s5, abuser AND abused in s6, serial killer AND redemptive sacrifice in s7 - then ghost turned ally/comedic sidekick turned final battle warrior in Angel S5. Yes, most of this is due to the writers trying to find ways to use James' appeal as an actor throughout the seasons without having to kill off the character, and reportedly it was difficult to integrate him into the plot in a way that felt organic starting in S4. But the end result of this, factoring in James' chameleon-like and committed performances, is that Spike is a LOT of things and slides into these roles with ease even if they don't fully 'fit' him in a way that feels essential to who he is. That's malleability - that's something people with BPD traits can exhibit and even struggle with. Lack of cohesive sense of self -> trying out different roles based on whomever you are drawn to or idealizing -> altering behavior patterns, style, mode of personal expression, etc.

But most convincingly, his entire identity is based on the strength of his emotions and attachments. They take him down so many paths and change him fundamentally as a person. First Dru then Buffy, from being seduced into becoming a great evil to ultimate sacrifice for love and the forces of good. His entire philosophy of life is that it's driven by romantic passion:

“You're not friends. You'll never be friends. You'll be in love 'til it kills you both. You'll fight, and you'll shag, and you'll hate each other until it makes you quiver, but you'll never be friends. Love isn't brains, children, it's blood - blood screaming inside you to work its will. I may be love's bitch, but at least I'm man enough to admit it.”

Listen when I was 14 I was like "huh the excess grandiosity and passionate yet unstable affect and behavior are a vibe here"

And 20 years later I am aggressively tackling my own bpd traits through all the therapy. But was Spike an early awakening of the fact that my emotions run deeper than I'd like? Maybe, maybe not. Still an interesting question.

NOTE: This is just a headcanon/fan analysis using a framework familiar to me. I am NOT seeking to babygirlify or absolve any of his terrible behaviors. I think much of the show is resonant with viewers because many of the characters have a dark arc at some point. Willow is for the perfectionists who hurt themselves and others in their pursuit of avoiding painfully imperfect situations and their own errors. Xander has hero moments but also deep insecurity from his family trauma and a toxic possessiveness of women. Buffy shoulders the weight of the world but finds it hard to express things that torment her internally with those whom she loves. Angelus is the PERFECT metaphor for the cruelty of a first boyfriend who grows cold and abusive after physical intimacy. The show takes us to VERY dark places - and ultimately that is what I take from it, not one relationship, season, or storyline.

[littlexscarletxwitch]

hi there! really love your work especially for florence! 😍

I guess this is kind of an AU, I’m a real simp when it comes to flo singing or anything music related. would it be possible if you could do a scenario where flo works as a singer/performer at a live music bar/pub, has been friends and eventually head over heels with R but has been stuck in a toxic relationship with s/o and flo has been discreetly convincing R that there’s someone (flo obviously HEHE) out there who would treat R better, so flo decides to write a song and invites R to come watch flo perform, as the song is dedicated to R, although R has a dilemma of fixing things with the toxic s/o, or watch flo perform instead …

GAHHH it’d be great if this ends with a big fluff! the song can be anything, could be the actual songs she made or just a song recommendation that would fit the situation. I hope you can continue with the rest of the details cuz i know for sure I’ll enjoy reading it nonetheless! 🧡🙏🏻

── ༊*·˚⋆ 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝘀𝘁𝘂𝗽𝗶𝗱 𝗯𝗶𝘁𝗰𝗵

paring: au!florence pugh x gn!reader

tag(s): fluff, hurt/comfort, r deserving better, toxic relationship, flo super in love with r, proofread but let me know about any mistake

warning(s): mentions of consuming alcohol, mentions of domestic violence (nothing explicit tho), gaslight, abusive boyfriend, gaslight, mentions of psychological abuse, language, grammatical error, (tell me if I missed anything)

word count: 6k

note: when I first read this request I went crazy. I was like this, this is *chef's kiss* c'est magnifique. I had so many ideas for this fic and wanted it to be perfect. I also wanted it to be long, hence the 6k words. I really loved writing this. I had so many options for the song, it literally wasn't until last minute that I decided to go with that one. I really hope you like this just as much as I do, nonnie. I'm not a native english speaker, so please let me know about any sort of mistake. Hope you enjoy! <3

requests are open! + check my rules here <3

His words were venom, piercing your ears and hammering in your brain. 

Tears were forming in the corner of your eyes, but you didn’t dare to shed them, not in front of him. You weren’t going to give him that satisfaction over and over again. He didn’t deserve it. 

But it hadn’t always been like that —he hadn’t always been like that. As he kept on his lecture towards you about breaking that glass, your mind drift off to the day you met him. 

The moment you met him you felt like he was your other half. You thought he was everything you ever wanted, desired and needed. There was something about him that made you feel at ease around him, as if you had known him your entire life. But the truth was you didn’t know him at all. 

That day when the two of you crossed paths, he showed you the version of himself that he wanted you to see. He appeared to be a gentleman, always so caring and giving you everything you yearn for. And you fell for him, for his lies. You couldn’t see who he really was. 

You remembered that day, you ran to find her —Florence. A big smile was plastered on your face, and it was all because of him. You told her about this man you met waiting for your coffee, you told her that you felt he was the one. She called you crazy for feeling that way about a stranger, and warned you that for all the two of you knew, he could be a serial killer. But you were too naive to listen to her, trusting your heart and not your gut, and just let yourself open up to the possibility that he could be the one person you had been looking for your whole life. The one person you had been reading all those stories about, the one person the main character fell for, the one person to fulfil you. And now he was the one person you feared. 

You didn’t know how the two of you got to this point. It all changed without you even noticing it. His caring caress became careless and turned into firmed grips, leaving blue marks on your skin. His light touch turned into slaps. His sweet kisses became poisonous. His loving eyes are now gone and loveless. He was not even a shadow of the person you had met. It was as if you had imagined him, a reflection of what your heart wished for and your brain was too kind and let you fall for him. 

The loud sound of the door closing made you jump, bringing you back to reality. You thanked it was over, at least for now. You were thankful that he only hit you with words. You noticed his car keys were gone, you figured he would be on his way to his favourite bar. The place he frequented everytime he would snap at you. The thought of it made you sick, as if he was the one suffering and he had to drown all his pain and sorrow by intoxicating himself, while you had to stay here, figuring out how to pick yourself up.

You stayed there, sat on the couch, reliving the last few seconds on your mind. Flashes of him screaming at you, anger all over his face, all because of a stupid fucking glass. You wanted to cry and scream all your pain away. But it wasn't going to help you at all. 

You didn’t know how to get out of this, this whole fucking mess that you now got to called life, —your life. So you decided to go to the only place where you would feel safe, warm and at home. You took a look at the clock hanging on the wall. It was now 9PM, she was just getting started. If you were to leave now, you’ll be there for at least her second song. 

You quickly grabbed a hoodie, put on your converse and walked out the door. You needed to go to her, you needed her to feel safe, to tell you that everything was going to be okay, you needed her to put you back together, like she always did. 

The bar where Florence worked was only a block away from your apartment. And as you predicted you got there when she started to announce her next song. The loud noise of chattering filled your ears as soon as you entered the place. But soon died down as she made herself heard. 

“Okay, this next one is called ‘Sweet Caroline’,” the cheering of the people cut her off, which made her chuckle. “Alright, looks like you guys know that one, so please sing along with us.” 

You took a look at her, she moved so confidently on the small stage. A smile found its way into her lips. She was a natural, she was born for this. They all loved her. 

A familiar chime began to play on the guitar, soon followed by Florence’s angelic voice. Although it was a more rock version of the original song, you found comfort in her voice. Soon everyone began to cheer her, and started singing along with her. But all you could focus on was her voice. You noticed the crowd clapping their hands to the beat of the drums. And then everyone lost their minds by the time of the chorus. Screaming, clapping, cheering. 

You looked around yourself, taking in the atmosphere. Everyone seemed to be having the time of their life, moving their bodies to the beat of the song. You believed most of them were drunk already, or maybe getting there, but every single one of them had a big smile on their face. 

You envied them. You wanted to enjoy yourself along with them, get lost in the moment and just dance to Florence's voice. But you couldn't since the last few minutes of your life still were at the back of your mind. Lurking and waiting patiently for you to break once again. But then Florence’s eyes found yours in the sea of people. Her smile grew wider at the sight of you. Your lips formed into a small smile, trying not to worry her right now. You couldnt mess this up for her. She told you once that when she was up there, it was as if she was on the top of the world. So who were you to take that away from her?

But you couldn’t fool her. She knew something was wrong with you the second her eyes landed on your frame. Your fake smile could fool anyone, sometimes even her. But your eyes could never. She could see the pain in them. Something had happened to you. 

Soon enough the song ended, loud cheerings and clappings filled the room. 

“I just want to thank everyone here for being an amazing public,” people whooing at her words. “Please give it up for Josie, the owner, but I think you already know her,” people now were cheering for Josie. “Us being up here wouldn’t be possible without her, so, thank you Jo. Um, we are going to take a break now, but we’ll be back real quick, I promise. Enjoy your beers. Thank you.” 

Florence quickly made her way off of the stage and tried to find you. You weren’t hard to find. She knew exactly where you were waiting for her. Sitting on a bar stool, a glass in your hands which she hoped was just coke, patiently waiting for her. She slowly approached towards you, placing her hand on your back so you would know she was now beside you. Ready to help you in any way she could. 

“Y/n?” she softly asked you, almost whispering. But you could hear her no matter the loud noise around you. You would always find a way to listen to her calming voice. 

“Hey, you!” you faked a smile. “You were absolutely brilliant up there, I loved every second.”

“Just talk to me, Y/n. I can see you’re hurting. Tell me what he did this time,” it didn’t surprise you that she already knew something had happened between you and him. 

Even though she didn’t say his name, just the mention of him brought back the memories of what had happened earlier. Your eyes got watery while your mind took you back to that scene. You closed your eyes for a moment, trying to not spill your tears, and all you could see was his angry face, shouting at you. 

“I, um, I broke a glass, it was my fault, I–,” your own sobs cut you off. 

Florence cursed under her breath.

“Oh, baby. It’s not your fault. It could never be your fault,” she hugged you. Breathing in her perfume calmed you down. “He's an asswhole,” she grabbed your face, making you look at her. “You hear me? He doesn’t deserve you, okay? You’re too good for him. You should dumb his ass tonight.”

“Flo, I don’t know–.”

“I swear I’m going to kill him, I swear, Y/n. Please, don’t go back there,” her fingertips were tracing circles in your cheeks, heat slowly creeping over your face. “ Stay at my place, yes? You can stay as long as you need to. Hell, you could stay forever for all I care,” she joked, but she actually meant what she said.  “Just don’t go back to him.” 

You noticed tears forming in the corner of her eyes. Guilt washing over you, because you caused them.

“I can’t leave him, Flo. He is everything I’ve ever known. Who would want someone as broken as me?” 

I would. I always have. Florence thought, but she couldn't find her voice to tell you. 

Instead she said, “You, Y/n, are the most kind, caring, selfless, loving person I’ve ever had the pleasure to meet. Anyone would be lucky to be right by your side. Damn it, Y/n. You have no idea how special you are. I wish you could see yourself through my eyes, and then you’ll understand how fucking remarkable you are.”

You couldn't hold the tears any longer. 

“Oh, no, don’t cry,” but it was too late. Tears were running down your cheeks. She gently wiped them out with her fingertips, but you couldn’t stop them from keeping on falling. “He doesn’t deserve your tears, baby.”

You noticed Florence’s lips on your forehead, leaving small kisses there. She then moved further down to your left cheek, kissing your tears away. Lastly, she left a kiss in the corner of your lips. Which made your stomach and skin burn. You instantly move your head her way, as if trying to find her lips. But she had already pulled back. 

You didn’t know why you did that, why you felt the need to feel her lips against yours, or why you were already missing her lips on your skin. But it was now long forgotten. It was just your body reacting to touch, you told yourself. But it felt good that it was her touch. 

“Stay with me, yes? At least for tonight, until we figured out what to do, okay?”

She made it sound so easy, and you wanted to believe it could be that easy. So you agreed. Tom would probably get mad at you for coming home late, or coming the next morning. But you were done thinking about him for the rest of the day. As Florence said, you two could figure something out later. 

Florence stayed with you as long as she could. She spent her entire break hugging you, kissing you, and telling you sweet words. She was afraid that you would break down once again if she left you. But she had to do her job, the public, her band and Josie were counting on her. Much to her dismay, she left you, leaving kisses all over your face, promising she would be right back. 

Before she got on stage, she went to Josie and asked her to keep an eye on you. Josie, ever being the kind woman she was, didn't have any kind of problem with it. She actually liked you, so she didn’t mind one bit spending time with you. 

You didn’t want Florence to leave. Your heart shrunk the moment you watched her walking away from you. You already missed her and she was only a few feet away from you. Anxiety was creeping over you, your right leg bouncing and your nails picking at your fingers. You needed her soothing touch, her soft warm skin against yours, her lips kissing all your worries away. You felt the noise in the small room getting louder and louder, coming through your ears and pounding your brain. You watched as Josie got closer to you telling you something, probably just saying ‘hello’, but you couldn’t make out her words. It was all becoming too much. And all of a sudden it stopped. 

“Alright, we’re back,” Florence spoke loudly through the microphone. 

Your brain caught on her voice immediately, as if she was the only person in the room, maybe even in the whole universe. 

People shouted as soon as they heard her voice. It seemed like they needed to hear her voice as badly as you did. But you knew you were the only one that felt that way. 

“I’m glad all of you chose to stay a bit longer,” even though you could see in her eyes that she was thinking about you, she was shining, even brighter than the sun. “So, we have a few songs left for you. I hope you enjoyed yourselves tonight, and without further ado: hit it, Jake!” She called out for the drummer to start the little countdown. 

Once again the sound of the guitar filled your ears, quickly followed by the drums and finally Florence’s ethereal voice. As soon as she began singing you found yourself getting lost in her —her voice. There was something so comforting about it that it made you feel at home, safe and loved. You almost thought you had forgotten how that felt, but Florence was right there to remind you. 

Soon enough, you felt your anxiety fading away the more you listened to her. It almost felt like she was just signing to you, and only you. And when her eyes found yours, you finally felt at ease. Or at least that's what you wanted to think. You felt your heart picking up its pace when she sent a wink your way, a grin forming on her lips which made your stomach flip. 

Suddenly a voice pulled you out from your thoughts. This time hearing her clearly. 

“She’s good, isn’t she?” Josie said, while refilling your glass of coke. 

You took one more look at Florence before replying, she was jumping around on the stage. You smiled at that scene. Her happiness was yours. 

“She’s outstanding,” you corrected her, forcing yourself to stop looking at Florence. 

“You know, she talks about you all the time.”

“Does she?” the thought of Florence talking about you to Josie made you blushed. 

“All the time,” she emphasised. “Doesn’t matter if it’s about how breathtaking you are, or how adorable you look in certain clothes, or when she mumbles nonstop about how important you are to her, she always finds a way to talk about you. Even if it’s just to talk shit about that asswhole you called boyfriend.”

Her words took you by surprise, but then again Florence was your best friend, of course she would talk so fondly about you. Then you realised what Josie had said about Tom.

“Yeah, I’m trying to figure out how to handle that part.”

“There’s no handling him, Y/n. You just need to leave his stupidass, simple as that.”

“It’s not that simple, Jo. What if he gets mad about it? What if he…?” you trailed off, not wanting to put that thought out in the world. You glanced at Florence, as if making sure she was alright. 

“He’s not going to mess with her, he knows better than that. He just goes after you because you let him, honey. I’m not trying to sound mean here, I’m just trying to help you out. So, my advice to you is that you leave him, send someone to pick up your stuff and never see that motherfucker ever again.”

“I–.”

“It’s okay, hon, you don’t have to say anything,” Josie cut you off, afraid she got carried away by her emotions. “I understand you, I once was in a position like yours. And I understand how complicated it all is. I just needed you to hear it from someone who went through something similar,” she caressed your cheek, as if both trying to comfort you and herself. “Just take care of yourself, okay? Promise me you will,” you could only nod at her, a lump formed in your throat unabling you to speak up. 

You watched as she went to attend her customers, her words echoing in your brain. You were so engulfed by Josie’s words that you didn’t notice that Florence was now saying goodbye to the crowd. 

“Thank you, everyone for this amazing night. We’re Florence and The Pixies. Goodnight!” As soon as Florence said goodbye, people screamed and cheered one last time for her and the band. 

Once Florence got off the stage, she went looking for you. 

“Hey,” you noticed a thin layer of sweat was covering her body, her short blonde hair was a mess. She still looked stunning. “Let me get my things and will be on our way, okay?”

You only nodded at her, watching her back as she went on to gather her things. Minutes later you watch as she said goodbye to Jake, Karen and Camilla, her band members, and made her way back to you. 

“Let’s get you home,” she said, wrapping her arm around your shoulders. 

You leaned into her touch, seeking warmth and safety.  

“Goodnight, Jo,” the both of you said at the same time, chuckling at the exact same choice of words. 

“Have fun, sweeties,” Josie sent a wink your way, to which you playfully rolled your eyes.  

The moment the two of you got to her car, she quickly  made her way to your door and opened up for you. 

“Why thank you, kind lady,” you joked while taking your seat. 

“My pleasure, my dear,” she said before closing the door. 

You watched as she opened the door to the backseats and tossed her bag inside. Closed the door and made her way to the driver's side. 

She started the car, fastened her seatbelt, looked over at you to make sure you had yours fastened as well, and then she drove the car out of the parking lot. 

“Hey, you wanna grab some food?”

“Yeah, sure. I can call that Italian restaurant you like and we can pick it up.”

“Oh, yeah. Um, I want the one that is like rice, but that’s not what they called it.”

“Risotto?” you held your laugh. 

“Yeah, that one.”

You called the restaurant while Florence drove the two of you there. They told you it would be ready to pick up in twenty minutes, but you two were only five minutes away from the restaurant. 

Once you got to the restaurant parking lot, Florence turned off the car while the two of you waited. Florence thought this would be the right moment to tell you about her exciting news. 

“You know, I, um, I’m signing a new song tomorrow night.”

“Oh, really?” you raised your eyebrows. 

“Yeah. Actually, I wrote it.”

“You did? Why didn’t you tell me?” you playfully smacked her arm. 

“I wanted you to listen to it once it was finished. And it’s finished now. I would love for you to hear it tomorrow night.”

“Hell, yeah. I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” you smiled at her, she felt her cheeks burn at the sight of you. “What is it about?”

“Well, you’ll have to hear it,” she shrugged.

“Oh, come on! Is it about an ex? Is it about Morgan? God, I hated Morgan,” you felt your throat burning at that thought. 

“It’s not about Morgan,” Florence said with a playful tone, her words easing up the burning. 

“Then tell me, please,” but she wasn’t going to give you an answer. “What could it be about?” you thought at loud. You gasped in realisation, “is it about me?” 

Florence was biting her bottom lip, trying to hold her smile but failing miserably. 

“Maybe…” she trailed off. 

Your eyes winded at her answer, your heart skipped a beat, your cheeks were now red. You couldn’t believe she wrote a song about you. 

[...]

You were now laying in Florence’s bed. You two were so tired that after having dinner the two of you just went to bed. 

Florence thought you were already asleep, your breathing was so calmed and slowly. She gently caressed your cheek, afraid that you’ll wake up by her touch. In the dim light she could see your soft lips, slightly parted. She stared at them more than she usually would, trailing their shape with her eyes. You were so close to her that if she were to move, her lips would brush yours. Florence’s heart beating faster at the thought. 

She wasn’t properly thinking, she couldn’t when you were that close to her. Your intoxicating perfume made her mind fuzzy. Or so she told herself, that she wasn’t thinking, that she was only reacting —reacting to you, your body, your lips, your scent. And so she leaned closer to you, and left a sweet kiss in the corner of your lips. 

The light kiss would have probably gone unnoticed by you if it was from a different person. But it was hers, and, even though you were half asleep, your body reacted to her as it would always do. Your eyes immediately opened when you felt her lips on your skin. 

“I’m sorry, I thought you were asleep,” she whispered. She was sorry for waking you up, but not for kissing you. 

“It’s okay,” you whispered back. 

Her eyes seemed to be a darker shade of green in the poor light, almost as if they were filled with lust. Your eyes trailed down her nose, and then her lips. The lips that you had just made contact with. You realised you were staring at them, so you quickly looked up to find her eyes. 

“Y/n…” Florence trailed off. You noticed her voice got lower, making your stomach flipped. 

You unconsciously licked your lips before speaking. 

“Yes?”

You noticed she swallowed a lump that had formed in her throat. 

“I want to, um,” she looked at your lips once, as if you would understand just by the simple action. You understood perfectly. “But I don’t want to fucked things up between us.”

“It’s okay, Flossie,” you moved closer to her, your nose brushing hers, waiting for her to finally take you out of your misery. 

You were both breathing heavily, the air felt thick, and you felt this sort of electricity running through your whole body. 

You gasped as you watched her leaning closer and a soft moan escaped from your mouth the moment you felt her lips against yours. She tasted so sweet. Her lips felt foreign but also familiar. It felt as if you were only made to kiss her lips, and her lips only. Your heart picked up its pace. Your hand went to find her short hair, gently pulling it, earning a whimper out of her. She bit your bottom lip making you groan. She moved her lips away from yours to leave a trail of kisses and bites down your neck, marking you as hers. 

“That’s going to leave a mark.”

“That’s why I did it,” even though you couldn’t see her face, you could feel the grin in her words. 

You grabbed her by her chin, forcing her lips back to yours. Now that you had tasted them you couldn’t get enough of them. Your lips kissed and bit hers. Both of your tongues were dancing with each other. The quiet room was now filled with soft moans and whimpers coming out from the both of you. 

You pressed her chest closer to yours, wanting to feel every inch of her body. You soon realised that your skin was on fire, your mind was clouded by thoughts of her, and although you wanted to take things further, you knew it wasn’t the right time. Not with Tom still in the picture, you would have to handle that situation and then, maybe, you could put your shit together to be what she needed. 

Much to your dismay you pulled back from her, resting your forehead on hers. 

“I, um,” you struggled to find the words, it was as if your brain had gotten drunk on her. “I need to take care of Tom first, okay?” Florence's heart ached at the mention of him. “I promise I will cut him off and then we can talk about this, about us, yes? Maybe after I listen to that wonderful song of yours, okay?”

You watched as stars formed in her eyes, her lips flashing you an upside down smile. 

“Okay, I can do that,” she whispered, almost like she couldn't believe it was actually happening. 

You put your arm around her shoulders, letting her rest her hand on your chest. Florence could feel your heartbeat, beating as fast as hers. Her arms wrapped around your waist, she didn’t want to let go of you. She breathed in your scent and found comfort in it. 

You left a light kiss on her forehead, before finally closing your eyes with a smile on your face, and let exhaustion take over you. That night, you peacefully slept, wrapped in Florence’s arms. Knowing that you were safed, loved and at home. But most importantly, you were with her. And that was all you needed for your heart and mind to be at ease. Even though things would get messy the next day.

[...]

You spent almost the entire day at Florence’s. You told yourself that you only wanted to be with her, and it was true, but it was also an excuse to not face Tom. You watched as your phone lit up once again, his name covering the screen. But you ignore the call, same as the other 20 times he had called before. It was stupid to do that, it would only get him angrier. But as Josie told you, he wouldn’t dare to come near Florence, he would only mess with you. 

You were scared how he would react to you breaking up with him. Although you wanted to live in the present with Florence, all your mind could think of was all the things he would say or do to convince you to stay with him. 

You wanted to believe that you wouldn’t fall for lies again, but you weren’t that strong. So you could only hope that things would go well. 

By nightfall, you asked Florence to drive you home. She insisted that she wanted to stay with you, in case you needed her. But you reassured her that you would be okay, besides she already had to be at Josie’s, getting ready for her show. 

Before getting out of the car, you pecked her lips and promised her you would be there to hear her song. Your heart shrunk as you watched her driving away. You more than anything wanted that to be the truth, that you’d be in time for her song, —your song. You only hoped Tom didn’t make things harder for you.

You took the stairs and in no time, you reached the second floor. You headed to yours and Tom’s apartment door, you took a big breath and opened up the door. That was it, no backing down now. 

The smell of alcohol filled your nose as soon as you walked in, the tv was on, there were pizza left overs on the tea table, and Tom was passed out on the couch. You let out the breath you had been holding when your eyes landed on his unconscious body, maybe the universe was on your side this time. You took this as a sign to gather your stuff and leave him, you decided to pack some clothes and some hygiene products and leave the rest. It didn’t matter to you anyways.

You carefully made your way to yours and Tom’s shared bedroom, even though it had been a long time since the two of you last shared that bed. You grabbed the biggest bag you could find and started to toss everything you could inside. You were almost done when you heard steps coming from the kitchen. Your heart, that had calmed down once you saw Tom pass out, was now beating twenty times faster. 

Slowly you headed to the front door, you saw Tom looking for a beer in the fridge. You thought that maybe you could leave unnoticed, as if you were never there in the first place. But your brain caught on it too late, and Tom was now facing you. 

“Y/n?” his voice was raspy, you weren’t sure if it was because of the alcohol or because he had just woken up. “Where have you been? I’ve been calling you nonstop,” he sounded as if he had been worried sick, he reminded you of the Tom you first met. 

But your heart and mind knew better than that. They now knew that all he did was lie, that he didn’t mean any kind word coming out of his mouth, that he only spoke venom, and you were done with it, this time for good. You had already given him a second chance, and a third, and a fourth, and so many more that you lost count. This was it. 

“I’m leaving, Tom,” you whispered but loud enough for him to hear. 

You felt your hands shaking, a lump in your throat. 

“You can’t leave, Y/n. You won’t.”

“I have to,” tears were starting to form in your eyes, but you weren’t going to shed them. 

“You won’t leave, Y/n. You hear me? You are nothing without me,” he slammed the beer against the floor, you jumped at the sound of glass shattering. 

Tom noticed it, and it made him change his approach. 

“Y/n, baby, come on, It’s me.” 

“No,” you shook your head wanting all of it to be over. 

“Jesus Chrit, come on, Y/n. Just put the bag down. We can talk about this, come on, baby,” he slowly stepped closer to you, but you backed down, hitting your back to the door. “It's because of her, isn’t it?” he spat. “I knew that bitch would cause trouble. Don’t you see? She’s trying to break us apart. Just take a breath okay? Come sit with me, yes? It’s you and me, come on. It’s just us. I love you, Y/n. I really do. Let’s just talk about this.”

A part of you wanted to believe him, wanted to believe he could be better, that he could be the man you fell for. But he wasn’t there anymore, and neither was the person you once were. 

You looked at the clock, it was almost 9PM, time for her show. 

Memories of her came rushing through your mind. Her gentle touch, her soft lips against yours, her fingertips tracing circles on your skin, her teeth leaving marks on your neck, her loving eyes, her sweet moans. And then you realised, that was what love was all about. And Tom was far away from that. 

“You don’t love me, Tom,” you finally found your voice. “Maybe in that sick brain of yours you really think this is love. But it’s not. And you know what,” you reached for the door handle, “I pity you. Because you’ll never know what love is,” you quickly walked outside. 

“Y/n, I swear to God–,” but the shut door didn’t let you listen to him. 

Given that Florence’s show was about to start, you ran downstairs and made your way to the bar. You couldn't miss this, you didn’t want to. You ran as fast as your legs could carry you and hoped you would be there on time. 

“Alright, we are Florence and The Pixies,” you heard once you walked in, relief washing over you as she was just getting started. 

You were a panting mess and your legs felt like they were going to give up any second, but you couldn’t let that happen. 

“I, um, I wrote this song,” you pushed yourself through the crowd getting closer to the stage, —to her. “It’s a really special song, I wrote it for someone I really love,” her eyes finally found yours, finding comfort in them and letting out the breath she didn’t realise she was holding. “I hope you like it, it’s called: ‘You Stupid Bitch” she said looking right at you, a grin plastered on her face. 

Your eyes winded at the title of the song, she chuckled at your reaction and sent a wink your way, your cheeks went red immediately. 

The sound of the drums and guitar filled your ears, soon followed by the bass, and then Florence’s voice. 

“You let the wrong people love you.” 

Your mind instantly thought of Tom.

“But you don't see that, do you?”

 It was true, you had only realised a few seconds ago that what Tom felt for you wasn't love. 

“When you cry and need my comfort. I drop everything to come over.”

All those times you went to her, seeking warmth and safety that she could only offer. 

“Don't bite your lip or grit your teeth. Just count to ten and try to breathe. You stupid bitch, can't you see? The perfect one for you is me.”

Your eyes were now glossy, knowing that she was right. You mentally cursed yourself for not realising her feelings towards you sooner.

“You don't know what you deserve. And that's why you end up hurt.”

Your mind went back to that night when you asked Florence who would want someone as broken as you. 

“But you never listen. Take my advice as criticism. Then make the worst decisions.”

Florence warned you about Tom, what you didn’t listen.

“Don't bite your lip or grit your teeth. Just count to ten and try to breathe. You stupid bitch, can't you see? The perfect one for you is me,” her eyes never left yours, you could see the love she felt for you in them.

She jumped off the stage and moved towards you. 

“You stupid bitch, can't you see? The perfect one for you is me,” she finished her song.

She was now just an inch away from you. 

You bit your bottom lip, trying both to hold your tears and your smile. You couldn’t believe all that she had been holding back. 

“Message received,” you joked. 

“I, um, I–” she tried to say but your lips got her off. 

She didn’t feel foreign this time, she felt good, familiar, right. You were lost in her lips but you still could hear the crowd cheering for the both of you. Which made you smile into the kiss. Much to your dismay, you pulled back from her, not wanting to share more of that special moment with all the half drunk people around you. 

“What about–?

“It’s over.”

“Really?” Florence couldn't hold her smile nor she wanted to.

“Just you and me now,” you rested your forehead against hers. 

“I, I love you, Y/n,” you heard Josie cheering but you weren’t really listening to her words. The only thing on your mind was Florence. 

“I love you more,” you said, and this time it felt real, you felt complete. 

You finally had what you had always been looking for.

Likes, comments and reblogs are appreciated! <3

-M

[uwu-scraptrappy]

*thinks about my blorbos so hard I explode* I'm unable to recover from the snitch brothers post with adam michael and diego so I have a new saw au idea

It's one of those coming of age teen high school movies except the three of them are the main characters and the Big Plot is that they're all desperately trying to avoid people that are trying to hire them to spy on people but they're accidentally roping themselves into something so ridiculously complicated that everyone involved has no idea what's what. The Big Idea? People are trying to prove john kramer (who is lawrence and Mark and amanda and logan's adoptive dad) is a serial killer

Tapp giving Adam money to go spy on Lawrence? Uh oh, he hates that guy and won't go anywhere near him!!(He's secretly dating Lawrence)

Matthews trying to get Michael to go spy on this group of kids? Sorry, man, he's got a date!! (He doesn't)

Cecelia trying to rope Diego into her schemes? Can't, he's taking his driver's test!! (Couldn't drive if his life depended on it)

So then it becomes a plot to 1) Hide Adam and Larry's secret relationship from Tapp 2) Somehow get Michael a date 3) Get Diego his driver's license!!!!

B plot 1) Adam goes through so many convoluted plots to get Tapp off Larry's back, including locking himself and his bf in a bathroom, pretending to poison himself with a cigarette, making up a story about Lawrence's secret girlfriend (Zepp, somehow, gets involved)

B plot 2) Michael goes through a list of every person he knows in the school to try and find one person that a) Doesn't know Eric b) will not accidentally date him for real, and eventually settles on unnamed janitor (someone had the galaxy brained take to name him Issac so that's what I'm going with) so Michael asks him out and, spoiler alert, they end up genuinely liking each other

B plot 3) A series of Diego diligently studying every textbook on driving that exists, but no textbook can save him from the real hurdle: anxiety behind the wheel. He just can't do it. Climax of this B plot comes when the three get into some hijinks that require them to quickly speed off in a car, and Diego... Does it. Flawlessly. (Ends up passing out at the realization that he drove a moving vehicle)

A plot gets resolved when John rigs a Billy puppet to tricycle in detailed plans for all the scary things he makes (it's literally just a silly exercise in what he can make. Also all the traps do in fact work but the way they do irl) idk I'm eepy

Anyways Lionsgate give me 3 billion dollars to make this movie

[bakedbakermom]

Stained

Epilogue: Sagacious // start at the beginning

tagging @today-in-fic @ao3feed-msr

sagacious adjective 1. keenly perceptive 2. farsighted; wise -- Saying goodbye to Sunnydale

The hospital cleared Scully for release the next day, every test and scan having come back with no indication of anything being wrong to begin with, let alone any reason to keep her longer; she doubted a test existed that could explain what had happened to her, to them, in this quiet coastal town with monsters and miracles creeping beneath the streets. Who could read the secrets of her heart, written in pure light, on a blood slide? Who could look at an image of her brain on a CT and decode the line she had walked between life and death, or explain how she’d found her way back?

She was brushing her hair in the small metal mirror above the bathroom sink when a voice behind her made her jump. “Looking delectable as always, Red.”

Scully whirled, heart in her throat, adjusting her grip on the brush in case she needed to throw it or use it as a bludgeon. Spike leaned against the door jamb, the perfectly posed picture of nonchalance in a scarlet shirt and his signature leather coat. A lit cigarette dangled from his lips in clear violation of the “no smoking” sign behind him.

She rolled her eyes at him, glancing from him to the mirror and back again. “It’s rude to sneak up on people, Spike, especially if you don’t have a reflection. That’s just cheating.”

“No harm intended, love, I just love to see your cheeks get all pink when you’re startled.”

She squeezed past him through the door and dropped her brush into her open suitcase, which Mulder had brought from the motel; their flight was in just a few hours, and half her mind was buzzing, trying to figure out what she could possibly write in her report to Skinner that would even begin to explain the events of the last week. A vampiric serial killer who committed a series of violent murders every decade on the anniversary of her own gruesome death; Mulder transformed into a vampire and nearly draining her before his soul was restored by a group of college kids; Scully sacrificing her own life to save him, not knowing it was her willingness to die for him that was the secret to the spell, rather than her actual death. Giles had finally translated the last of Vroomen’s journals, revealing that the disgraced Watcher’s wife had also survived the ritual; but he postulated that had either of them known they would live, the spell wouldn’t have succeeded. “The key was believing your death was the only way to save him, and giving up your life willingly,” he had explained.

Scully shook her head, marveling—not for the first time—at the strange intricacies of the magical world that had been lurking just out of sight this whole time. She turned to Spike with a lifted eyebrow. “How did you get in here, anyway?” She nodded meaningfully at the window, the pale threads of morning light filtering through the blinds. “Isn’t it past your bedtime?”

“Underground tunnels. Sunnydale’s chock full of them, a big dark maze under the whole town. Makes it easy for the sun-averse of the population to get about during the daylight.”

“Seriously? That makes no sense, at least from a city-planning point of view.”

“It does if you consider that the town was built by a quasi-immortal madman literally hellbent on becoming a giant snake.”

Scully squeezed her eyes shut and rubbed at her temples. She really needed to get out of this town. “Of course. Completely reasonable, in that case.”

“Anyway, I just popped in to say goodbye to you and Spooky before you went galavanting off to your real lives again.” He glanced around the little room. “Where is our man, anyway? Still in night shift mode or something?”

She shook her head. “He’s out getting coffee that didn’t come from a vending machine. We spend too much time in hospitals to keep torturing ourselves like that.”

“I’ve got this theory that they make it crappy on purpose; it burns a hole in your stomach, keeps you coming back.”

“Now that’s a conspiracy theory I’d believe.”

Spike cleared his throat, suddenly looking uncharacteristically serious. “It really is amazing, what you did for him. Not many people in this world lucky enough to have someone willing to step under the knife for ‘em. I hope he knows just what he’s got.”

“Oh I do.” Mulder entered the room, a cup of coffee in either hand—not a drop of blood or creepy, self-cannibalizing pig logo to be found. He pressed a chaste kiss to Scully’s cheek as he handed her her cup, then turned to exchange a complicated handshake with Spike. She grinned as she sipped her coffee. He’s got a secret handshake with a vampire. Skinner would faint.

The handshake ended with one of those back-thumping man-hugs, then Spike took Scully’s hand and touched it to his lips. He stared pointedly at Mulder. “You take good care of this one. I mean it; you hurt her and I’ll pull your entrails out through your nose and string ‘em up like Christmas lights around my crypt.”

Scully wrinkled her nose at the graphic imagery, but Mulder only laughed. “If I hurt her,” he answered, clapping the vampire on the back, “I’d deserve it. Take care of yourself, Spike.”

“First and always,” he replied. Spike moved to the door, then stopped for a moment, hand on the frame, considering. He turned back to them, something soft and contemplative in his eyes. “You know, there’s one thing that’s nagging on me. Dana here made a little joke about immortality the other night, got me thinking: if she’s gonna live forever, and now she’s given you some sort of… metaphysical life-force transfusion, what’s that mean for your eternity, Mulder?”

He twitched his brows, then vanished down the hall in a flap of leather.

They stood frozen, staring after him, for a long moment. Scully thought of the prayer votives she had lit, of the taper passing the fire from one candle to another, doubling the flame rather than extinguishing it.

…the flame kindles life… to share it… no greater gift…

Finally Mulder said, “I think he’s got a little crush on you.”

She ran a hand along his jaw until he met her eyes, then pushed up on her toes to brush her lips over his. “Too bad my heart belongs to someone else.”

Couldn't let this end without a little more Scully and Spike :) Thank you thank you thank you for taking this journey with me. Thank you for reading, for your kudos and comments, for your reblogs on tumblr. IT means everything to me. I hope you laughed, cried, laughed so hard you cried. This fic was a blast to write (most of the time) and it was great for me, personally, to see how I've grown as a writer between my first attempt 20+ years ago and now. Comments will be printed, laminated, and placed lovingly in a scrapbook to be read over and over again.

[show-us-kaidenshenandoah]

i think we need to switch up "hear me out" cakes to be multiple cakes

and your friends' reaction decides where your pick goes. like. they do "the council has decided to hear you out" type shit, y'know?? like. not on degrees of "we agree/disagree" but on the "this is a Hear Me Out/that is a Chronically Online take/that is a You Are Not Alone pick", you feel me?? i can say more

(also heads up: all my examples here are male. bc im building off what ive seen on people's cakes and most of "the spectrum" is men; bc a LOT of people's female hear-me-outs are just "a woman who is mid 30s or older" (who may be a lil kooky, like Eda Clawthorne from "Owl House") or be a female monster-fuckery example (like the female xenomorph from "Alien"). i've never seen an in-between in one of these cakes. the only one iiiii could think of was when 10 year-old me thought itd be cute to hold hands with (in a sapphic puppy-love way) or kiss the cheek of Eliza Thornberry from "The Wild Thornberries", but even then, i dont think Eliza is that weird for me to have crushed on as a kid??? anyway. if a wlw or "im not a girl but i like girls in a sapphic way" type or even a "im horny for women in a way that is not a cishetero white man's headspace" wants to help me by thinking of female equivalences for these following categories??? ill proverbially kiss your forehead. my brain is too dead rn, im also a two-spirited person who is kinda aroace (demi-romantic and very asexual) anyway, and im too focused on "Hollywood, do better" about the lack of spectrum for women to Actually Think Of The Rare Female Characters Who Do Fit This Overall Spectrum Of Items rn)

1️⃣: the main biggie is still the "hear me out" cake

in my opinion, these are ones where the creators themselves would be shocked you liked them (eg. me when i was 11 and going all 👉👈 about the headless cockroach from "Growing Up Creepie" or, y'know what, fuck it, the number 5. not Numbuh 5 from "KND", but the literal number 5 in mathematics. give me absurdism). and i say "creators" bc there shouldnt be irl humans here; bc thats either mean bc its based on looks (stop putting Steve Carrell in there) or its "buddy?? this just killed the mood" (like irl serial killers and shit, like, "no, no, save that for your therapist, no"). so we are predominantly looking at fictional, animated (2D, CGI, comics, illustrated, etc), puppets, masked, heavy make-up, that kinda thing okay?? not just a literal irl person and their face. that just feels mean (why! have i seen!! Steve Carrell! four different times!! guys!!! he's a real person who other real people can look like, that could hurt his or someone's feelings in a big way, wtf!) plus also some absurdism (again, the number 5, but maybe also planets? like Planet X would be on par with the number 5 to me of baffling but "...y'know what? i'll hear you out. sell me on this" lmao)

but again, that's irl humans. so it can be fictional Regular Humans (they just, i guess, gotta be very heinous to be a Regular Human yet qualify for this) (eg. Chris McLean from "Total Drama Island". bc my friends heard me out during a ppt of Weird Childhood (+ Some Lifelong) Crushes i did where one slide was the "Growing Up Creepie" cockroach with snorts and snickers, but still. and then i changed slides to Chris and they screamed and did a (joking) impromptu intervention for me bc of that, even tho *i* think Chris McLean should be one of the two other cakes im about to mention. but i have been out-voted), it can be costumed actors (eg. a live-action "Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle" of your choice, the Ferryman from "Annabelle Comes Home", the logo of the Quaker Oats guy, or MAYBE Moe from "The Doodlebops") where there's a spectrum of "that's a guy and his face" and enough make-up where you're like "okay, this hear me out has nothing to do with the facial features here being considered 'ugly' or unconventional"

but just: overall the Appearance Fuckery is either "has no intention of making this person/creature/thing remotely attractive" (eg. i seriously doubt the number 5 was designed to "be hot" lol) OR "they are actively trying to make this person not-hot and not-cool on purpose" (eg. the giant headless cockroach from "Growing Up Creepie", he's not supposed to be hot or cool, he's just kinda there lol but i guess you could also argue like.. idk, im thinking of how Robert Pattison did a very unattractive voice while acting as the Grey Heron of "The Boy & The Heron". like, youre not supposed to find the Heron attractive or cool or anything, i think lmao). that's the point here. at least to me

2️⃣: the other is "normal: but chronically online take" cake, it is the middle one of this trio i am pitching

in my mind, this is the category where "someone put effort to make this character seem attractive or cool or likable beyond their actions"... but they're also unconventional as a pick, it's "not a 'normie' choice" to make (no derogatory intent to "normies" btw)

so this is where we get into shit like the Green Goblin from the Toby McGuire "Spider-man" movies, specifically his robo-suit. sure, the suit may not be rom-com-attractive to look at, and, sure, he may be written sympathetically so audiences have affection for them (moreso Osborn with how they made him scared of himself and clueless to the harm he has caused, but close enough); but that robo-suit WAS made to look COOL. it was made to be liked and gotten toys and posters of, and a person having a crush on the Green Goblin in the robo-suit is a "normal: but chronically online take" in my mind. does that make sense?? bc im adding John Silver from "Treasure Planet" up there too, bc it's Disney and he was meant to be likeable (to betray Jim, yeah, but still), he was not meant to be a romantic lead, but he was drawn and characterized to be likable. that's just a fat man that's a cyborg and a little bit alien; and he's hot. he's a normal person to like, in my mind

but this category as a whole would be me vaguely Getting why some "normies" would scream "nO, YOU CANNOT BE SERIOUS" at the pitch, yet also knowing all of my fellow chronic online buddies would approve of the same pitch. like, the chronically online just heard "goblin robot suit" and "anti-hero dad-figure fat cyborg pirate" be upheld as a "hear me out" and would respond like "ah, good choice, mmhm, yes" like we were discussing wine. but like. then my friends wouldve paused and gone like "....not weird enough to be a 'hear me out' tho". like?? as if it's objectively true or a Basic Bitch take? (my chronically online brethern: it's not. lmao it just is a Basic Bitch take to our niche, it's Fucking Weird outside of us)

so it's that in-between of "would be Freak Behavior to any hypothetical 'normie', but would not be to anyone chronically online". so the 1️⃣ category would be where both "normie" and the chronically online are going "pARDON??? HUH?" to the same extreme degree. but this one, 2️⃣, is where it's a more lower-level mix. like maybe some chronically online are going "hUH??" while some are going "oh, yeah, obviously"; but for the most part, this is "normies" go "HUH?" and chronically online go "this is an objectively agreed upon take, not a 'hear me out' pitch". idk, i hope that makes sense. like. maybe some more examples would help, we already discussed two, but we can do more. the two i just did were examples of "not THE most 'obviously yeah' takes for the chronically online" because i wanted to start us in on the logic of why they would count here (at least, to me) so then these next ones can be a "ooooh, yeah, i can see what you mean now", you feel me?

bc, yeah, obligatory "yes but that's obviously objective and not a 'hear me out' pitch" to Kovu from "Lion King II", yes, Nick Wilde from "Zootopia", yes, Robin Hood fox from Disney's "Robin Hood", yes, Gil from "Finding Nemo", yes, Garrus from "Mass Effect", etc, etc, again, they were made to be a romantic lead and/or made to be cool. so, to me, liking them is very normal. and, again, i get that it only is a "yes OBVIOUSLY tho" in ✨️a chronically online✨️ way. but i think most other chronically online people would agree like "yes, weird to 'normies'; but not us" and i think both the "normies" and the More Newly Chronically Online could follow the logic since we just broke down how Green Goblin's robo-suit and alien-cyborg John Silver might be More Unusual Picks but same logic of "made to be liked in some way, ergo Liking Them Like That is not actually that weird". you feel me??

like the creators of these fictional guys would go "oh!! oh, that makes sense, yeah, okay, didnt intend that but nice!" you feel me?? like the spectrum goes from "wHAT?!! ...actually, y'know what, i see it" to "odd choice, but also?? of course". am i making sense?

like you could put your unconventionally attractive people here if they dont quite fit (or fit at all, potentially) with the next cake. like, i wouldnt be mad if the the Purple Wiggle from the original "The Wiggles" group went here, y'know?? like, yes, the Purple Wiggle breaks my "please have it be animated or a puppet or a mask or have heavy make-up, so we arent just potentially arguing about facial features of an irl human (bc that's mean)" rule technically. but thats enough of a "hUH?? i mean yeah buT HUH????" that i, for one, would forgive it and let the Purple Wiggle be on this cake. because it's not about his face or appearance: it's a "hUH??" because he is a fucking Wiggle, so that's what makes him unconventional. does that make sense?? like the "....fucking way way out of left-field, but Yeah Okay" type "unconventials" rather than "well yEAH" like Milo Thatch from "Atlantis" or Roger Dearly from "101 Dalmations" who would be on the next cake (instead of this one), for me, personally)

3️⃣: and the last one (as far as i can think of it, and this one would really be a cupcake or a one-person-serving of cake bc your goal is the other two. this one shouldn't have too many people on it, so you skimp out on this cake for sure) is like the council deciding "normal: not as weird as you think, you're not alone at all" cake. not a "you're basic" tho, but that this pick is more popular with society than the person realizes it is

first of all: this is not a "punishment cake" of "nope, doesnt count". i just vote it be the smallest cake bc it will, ideally, have the least amount of people in it compared to maybe the other two. but yeah, it should be a "no, thats such a valid take, i think it should go on the 'youre not alone' cake", y'know?? like, this cake's purpose isnt to knock someone down, its to be like "omg dude i have so many tiktok thirst edits of this character to show you after this" or "there should be so many more of this guy, this has to be objectively True That This Person Is Attractive, i think we as a society just agree via osmosis, we dont need to hear you out, we need to let you into the discussions about them, let's set up a text-channel on discord about them" type of 🌈realization🌟 okay?? bc the moment anyone is mean about someone trying to be vulnerable and silly online, im rescinding my pitch for this cake. cool? cool

this is for the people who put on Stiles Stilinski from "Teen Wolf" and just... buddy, idk if you actually read the assignment. Dylan O'Brien who plays Stiles Stilinski is an attractive man, like who needs to "hear you out" on this?? im confused? let me show you how MANY MANY MANY edits and fan-art that man has, even with his head shaved. like. im not mad you picked him, he's an attractive guy, sure, why not. i just am surprised if someone maybe teased you to the point of bullying to have thought this was a "hear me out" and not a "oh, yeah, well, of course, that much is obvious". like. that's fucked up if someone made fun of you for Dylan O'Brien (or Steve Carrell since i mentioned him before. and, really, all irl people go on this cake. hell, i wouldn't be surprised if the Purple Wiggle ended up on this cake after some council deliberation and after the surprise of "The Wiggles" name-drop had calmed down). but also, like, someone bond with the two tiktokers i saw pick Dylan O'Brien and show them fanfic of Stiles and thirst edits of his role in "Teen Wolf", preferably while the said tiktokers gets to giggle with ice-cream and a cozy blanket, bc they deserve to have known about the outpour of love their pitch has had, they do not deserve mocking or hatred for their pitches, bc they didnt know what they didnt know

but also i think kind of most fictional characters who are Main Characters + Have A Romantic Interest go here, even if theyre slightly unconventionally attractive, like i said with Milo Thatch of "Atlantis" and Roger Dearly of "101 Dalmations". maybe a different group of friends would decide otherwise, but if i was in your tiktok?? "not as weird as you think" cake for sure for Milo and Roger. like. id also put some "odd choice but yeah" that are not SUPER out of left-field here, like i saw someone put on a couple of people who are Fright Actors that have gone viral. and im like "..out of left-field for sure, but part of why they went viral is bc they are conventionally attractive 9 times out of 10", you get me?? does that make sense? like i saw someone say "the grandpa from the 'Johnny Tsunami' movies" and that's out of left-field and there's no thirst edits of him (as far as im aware), but also i would say "not as weird as you think, actually"

like. the boundaries are nebulous and group-dependent, but i just think itd be fun and itd be a cool spin that also will get some comments to shut up about what is/isnt a "hear me out" cake. bc i agree some of these "hear me out" cakes dont have enough of group 1️⃣ (for me), and are instead all 2️⃣ and 3️⃣ (for! me!!); but also sometimes people just are unaware and haven't been "let into the room" to know how popular and/or objectively acceptable their pick is, and i dont wanna shame people for that lack of awareness, that's mean. instead, get excited for them like "omg i have so much to show you!" or "we NEED to talk after this video bc hard-same but nobody else is talking about it, i feel like!!" y'know??

but, yeah, that's my compromise/pitch lmao

[donnerpartyofone]

Wow, I just saw where you put the comma in your user name. It's even funnier now.

I never thought of it as Donner, Party of One as a table reservation. Announced in an officious tone.

I pictured it as donnerparty OF ONE. Meaning there is only one person in the Donner Party. As in, you are all alone in the cold woods eating yourself. LOL.

Hahaha obviously this is the username that keeps on giving! It's interesting how people react to it. I don't remember how long ago I came up with it but I'm sure I was feeling VERY clever, it would be many years before I learned that Robin Williams made the same joke in some standup routine, and he probably wasn't the first person to think of it either. I once applied for a job where the person who interviewed me vigorously insisted that I got it from the movie SCREAM, and I'm sure that joke is nowhere to be found in any installment of SCREAM but she was so passionate about her assumption for some reason, I didn't fight her on it too hard; in retrospect I chose the irrational belief that that was an omen that that was going to be a really hard, shitty, low-paying job.

My conscious interest in cannibalism emerged during my first semester at college, where it became clear that I had been interested in cannibalism all along but had never really connected the dots. It seemed to be the most frightening and compelling thing I could think of. When I was a kid I had a copy of Silence of the Lambs that I carried around like it was the Bible, reading it over and over. I had intensely vivid nightmares about THE TEXAS CHAIN SAW MASSACRE for years before I would ever see the movie, my brain just seemed to know it would become a big part of my life. RAVENOUS came out right before I went to college and when I got there I made a cult out of it; I was watching it at-least-daily in the dorm lounge, which at first people hated, then some people started to join me, then after we came back from Thanksgiving I learned that a lot of people went home and showed it to their families! And then it seemed to happen that whenever I picked the movie, it would involve cannibalism unpredictably--none of us were Shakespeare-literate enough to know it would be in TITUS, and when it randomly came up in DEAD MAN everyone turned around and looked at me like I must have known, like I tricked them. There were other examples that aren't coming to me. At some point it just sort of became my identity. I used to have a couple of fork & knife clothing patches that I painted and wore on various things.

I just think it's interesting, like it has lots of allegorical possibilities. I'm mainly attracted to it as a description of extreme anti-sociality. Like in TEXAS CHAIN SAW, you have a nuclear family in the American heartland, but instead of a heterogeneous unit that makes more people, you have a clan that is somehow only males and they consume people. (I mean there's a mother theoretically but she's literally a mummy, which I think is pointed) I'm interested in that kind of unhealthy system inversion. But people react to it all kinds of different ways, it's curious. I recently contacted this woman who wrote a horror-related paper I loved and she replied that she'd be happy to talk to me about anything "except cannibalism :)". I said this elsewhere but when I arrived at this book launch I had to host last week, the author told me "You know you're doing something right if people are offended!" and explained that when the event was publicized with my bio attached, which listed some of my academic interests, some guy emailed him "THERE IS NOTHING FUNNY ABOUT CANNIBALISM!" and cc'd a bunch of different people like it was an emergency; I mean considering what else was in my bio, I guess he thinks I find murder and sexual exploitation "funny" too, but none of that stuff bothered him. After the event someone waited patiently to tell me about his favorite metal band that only plays songs about serial killers, including some prominent cannibals, and I had to promise I would listen to it. Whatever you think about it, it's a very provocative topic, and I guess it's good that people are still sensitive enough to have a strong reaction!

[girlfriendsofthegalaxy]

tuesday again 1/31/23

month started on a sunday, ended on a tuesday, very satisfying

listening

Toxic Las Vegas (Jamieson Shaw Remix). this has been on my "silly little walk for my silly little mental health" playlist for three weeks so it's time for its place in the tuesdaypost. part of the appeal is that it's two songs i already like but this remix does something where i go "whoa is that the james bond chord" every time even though it is NOT.

-

reading

Bullet Train, a black humor thriller set on a train full of asssassins by Kōtarō Isaka. i have been having... mmmmmmmm. a time. let us say. and i have been clinging to things that i have lost my mind about (mostly cowboys) in order to get through the agonies. so it is weird, now that i am branching out a bit more bc things are on a slightly different tack, to be like "yeah i liked this a normal amount and i agree with the 3.8 goodreads average. i will not remember this in three months." npr said basically: fun little genre piece with no real depth! i don't completely agree with this, bc the book is not action-scene focused! the very few fights are short, blunt, quick affairs. there's a lot of focus on personal ethics and legacies, and a great deal of terror derived from random chance. but yeah it's not really a literary novel.

this was a fast, fun read. a rare example where i liked the adaptation (the recent movie which is a VERY loose adaptation) much more than the original work.

i try not to be picky about sentence structure or work choice in a translated work, bc translation is a tricky business at best, but there were some funky choices here and there that did throw me out of my groove. it's written in present tense, which is fine, but i cannot remember the last time i read a professionally published non-romance book written in present tense. i described the movies as "really wants you to know it took AP English", and the book is similar in an interesting way-- book!tangerine is constantly quoting English literary-canon novels.

the book (and movie) have a very dry sense of humor that clicked with me. "it's not clear why the man is naming fruits". at LEAST two sensible chuckles.

the biggest book/movie divergence is with the character of the Prince: a fourteen-year-old serial killer, who we spend a great deal of the book with, who asks nearly every grownup on this train "why is it bad to kill people?". a rare book in which i actively wanted a child to die. i think this character is much improved in the movie, since the character is both aged up (a young teen boy in the book, an older teen girl in the movie), and given clearer ties to the rest of the cast. however, this adaptational choice does lose almost all of the terror of the random chance the book makes you sit with. in the movie, the prince has a motive. in the book, that kid just ain't right.

had a fun time but not enough of a fun time that i will be seeking out the other novels in the series on purpose. perhaps if i come across physical copies cheap it will ping my memory and i'll grab them, which is how i acquire a lot of my physical books. this feels like im damning with faint phrase, but i did have a fun time reading this! it's just that my brain is a sieve and lately anything that doesn't completely possess me is immediately forgotten.

-

watching

fallow week bc i have been #gaming. i need to literally put on my to-do list "rewatch The Big Sleep for febslash feb research" maybe that'll get me to actually do it. im going to take this opportunity to complain about how much fucking work it is to write smut. not even the technical stuff bc i do like to write smut that's threesomes where everyone is the same gender and has the same color hair. the hard part is going "okay what's sexy" and then like storyboarding out the sequence of events to make sure everyone's having fun and it CONSISTENTLY stays sexy the whole time. i have never had irl sex with a narrative throughline. difficult difficult lemon difficult

-

playing

still running around in wolfenstein: the new order making this big beefy boy do jumps and slides. went to the moon. came back from the moon. hit a very fun bug as i try to fight my way out of the london nautica where i crash landed, bc i died, the level spat me out at the last checkpoint, and there were no health or ammo or armor pickups anywhere. just what i could scavenge off the fallen. very unpleasant to fight through a room with 20 health but i did do one whole room before realizing this was a bug. i would not like to play the entire game like this. very stressful. the big boss at the end of the level was also extremely stressful.

but let's talk about the moon, the moon in the fucking sky. how was the moon? was the moon fun? no it was full of nazis. it was also jammed full of sixties computer banks tho. many instruments and dials as well.

as i write this on sunday night i am going to attempt Again to finish the second to last chapter in this game. i am So Close to finishing this game in under 20 hours [ed note, monday night: lmao still have not finished this game]. look at some more computer banks there aren't enough pictures to break up this post.

not sure if this is a side effect of the next-location action movie disease, but wolfenstein is very interested in how areas link together. lots of temporary facilities that have grown ad-hoc roots, lots of trains planes and automobiles. we drive a lot of trucks. we’re in helicopters and subs and moon rockets. we blow up a bridge and scramble through several trains, blowing one of them up. we fuck on a train also can't forget that cutscene. we live in the sewers. we scuttle around in vents. we are in some very far-flung locations but they all look the fucking same bc they are encased in brutalist concrete. i'm sure this is bc it's fun to have a gun battle on a train and on the fucking moon and bc like u only have so many guys actually modelling things for your levels.

this is a very half-baked observation bc i think i am beginning to get a migraine (as i finish writng this on monday night) but let's get this out of the way first: all buildings are political. something something things invented and built for war never actually go away, something something transportation infrastructure to ease conquest continues to keep the colonies within easy reach of the imperial core, wartime infrastructure like highways and bridges as a tool of empire, fascism is a constant state of war which in this game is partly represented by constant shooting and also constant building. something something the unsustainability of not only constant building things but constant growth. something something long linked history of fascist architects who love brutalism. this video game has great visual design and visual shorthands is what im trying to get at. i think.

the london nautica museum/labs/spaceport is a big gun. this is not a subtle game.

-

making

here's a peek behind the curtain: i talk about cooking when i don't have anything else to report on. but i genuinely did not have anything else going on this weekend bc this took all my fucking literal and metaphorical spoons. this represents like three weeks worth of soup lunch (the red lentil previously discussed on this series) plus two quiches.

why so many quiches lately? i bought two dozen eggs before christmas and thought i would do more baking than i did, which was zero. tried this dal palak recipe, majorly fucked up the proportions of the spinach bc i cannot read the back of a package, and by the time i corrected my mistake i had a fuck of a lot of the spinach/onion/spices. unfortunately i fucking hate the texture of rice plus lentils plus this mixture all together, but felt bad about wasting so much food, so the lentils went into the soup (which i needed to make more of anyway) the spinach mixture went into some quiche (bc i needed to use up those eggs anyway) and uhhh idk what will happen with the rice yet. maybe fried rice to finish off the last three eggs in the carton. this entire debacle used all my spoons for the weekend.

there's also a pork shoulder defrosting (and after that marinating[from last summer's Father's Day Meat Sale i also wish i was making this up]) but that's not very photogenic. i desperately need freezer space and it's been a fucking minute since i had some meat.

[lleldey]

May I just say what the hell is wrong with men? Like a genuine question. They have been testing my patience harddd for the last two months, and I’m just like— ✋🏼

This is prob a rant, but geez I need to get this shit out of my system. Today, a lovely day, intended to have a chill day, as yesterday I passed an exam in uni (which I’m very happy abt) for what I was having countless all-nighters; but my housemate was begging me to join her for some sort of party/friend gathering her co-worker invited her to.

Usually I decline. Not a fan of parties, even more so with people I don’t even know. But for the first time ever she was begging me to come, and I caved in when she said that people there are going to be on the older side and she feels uncomfortable going alone.

❗️First red flag, we arrive and we’re the only ones there. Def should’ve turned around at that point 🥲 That’s some serial killer move - saying there’s loads of people but turns out she’s the only one invited. In a small space. With a 40+ year old man. She’s in her early twenties.

Then he says some very rude and inappropriate remarks abt her ass, how she’s brainless for working where she works, her music taste and so on.

Then homie starts flexing his ‘open lifestyle’ - in other words how he has used every possible hard drug all his life. Which is fine, but a bit concerning especially after saying how his brain doesn’t work the same way it used to.

Then fairytales come in; suddenly he’s been in a relationship with a married billionaire woman, who’s husband tried to kill him and she basically paid for his whole life for months 🙇🏼‍♀️ ???? What

Suddenly he has been a professional basketball player with a big ass contract till he decided to move to another country?? What?? He literally works in a factory

Then he keeps spitting how awful are people who marry, as that shouldn’t define a relationship (which I agree to), but then some bs comes in as he first said he has never been married, then he has, then his ex-wife is a crazy bitch who blackmailed him. Then she’s suddenly with disabilities. Then she cheated on him and robbed him ?? What ?? (Later on the way back home my housemate said he completely bullshited everything as he said this story to her before with completely different details)

Had to listen to him bitch about his ex-wife for a good half an hour, which, dunno if anyone is still reading this, but trust me, if a man says his ex is a ‘crazy bitch’ - RUN. Trust me on this. One side is never the responsible one. And from my experience - later it turns out that the man was the crazy one.

Then homie gets pushy. Offers drinks one after the other (all refused), and then he pushes me like 6 times to smoke weed. My housemate was also like just smoke some, it’s fine. Took 2 puffs mainly for him to leave me alone, such small amount that it would do nothing. Then he started saying how much ‘I’m under it’ and what not - aha, no, all it did was make me sleepy and a bit fuzzy (still wondering whether he mixed something in it), like literally no effect.

At that point I’m sober, my housemate’s sober, but he’s having some major effects - he starts laughing like a maniac. Genuinely those laughs from horror movies. Needles to say I’m scared shitless.

He starts saying tomorrow he has to drive in town for some ‘serious business’, he mentions something about him needing to *drop it off* later somewhere. Instantly gather he’s talking about some criminal activities and try to end the conversation. He keeps pushing saying I want to know what he’ll do. I said around 10 times I don’t want to hear it. Sometimes the less you know, the better.

Start to make excuses saying I have to meet up with friends so we have to go. He insists we need to stay over, as he prepared his bedroom for us, even left some towels and he’ll stay on the couch. Yeah, not a shot. Fucking creep.

He very professionally sweetens his words and dubiously motions that I’m a bad person who manipulates him. What. Met him for the first (and last) time in my life. When I question him he does his maniacal laugh and says sarcasm. Kept going for good 10 minutes 🤨 continues saying the only bad person he has met is a dude who confessed on being a murderer and was prisoned for 11 years. What.

Aha, and this was only a fraction of those 3 awful hours. What the fuck. Ya know what’s sad - this genuinely wasn’t my worst interaction with men in the last two months alone. Don’t even want to think what could’ve happened if my housemate went alone.

That’s also the main reason why I wrote TDMOE; just wanted to feel some hope that not all men see women as mindless objects ready to follow their every command.

Yeah, this turned out to be a full-blown rant. Sorry abt this, but men have been eating my nerves alive for the past two months. Thank you if anyone actually read this.

Just a reminder to never-EVER lower your standards for any man. Trust me, it’s better to die unmarried but happy, than caged with an animal.

[pinkbelugacollective]

Another year, another hundred million things goin on. One thing’s for sure, the years start comin and they don't stop comin 😂😂😂

This year, I didn't go in with any special reading goals. It was only as I was heading towards summer that I found out that one of my favorite comic book superhero teams got a revival. And so, after nearly ten years of not looking at mainstream Big Two books, I finally picked up a DC mainliner a couple of years old. One thing lead to another, and I decided to reread old comics I enjoyed pre-2012, bringing me to the conclusion that motherfuckers did not lie when they said you a Big Two comic book nerd for life no matter how long of a break you take. I was literally reading every other comic book in the world except Big Two for the last ten years, and now I have a spreadsheet tracking when I gotta pick up my 2024 Zods and Lors. It's atrocious. I love it.

I also made my grand return to reading Stephen King books, which I've been off longer than Big Two comics! I, of course, went with the fattest, most interesting one I could find, and that's how I ate The Outsider in less than a week. It was really that good, I highly recommend.

I also read my fair share of popcorn horror written by Grady Hendrix, Darcy Coates, and Paul Tremblay. Got played by the homoerotic lesbianism in another Rachel Harrison that didn't have any real gay. Maybe she enjoys gaslighting me. Continued my adventures with M.R. Carey and Camilla Sten because those motherfucker can write. Read some adapted-by-Hollywood horror novels I've been avoiding for years like Lovecraft Country and Bird Box, both which got sequels I have to read now.

I veered into the weird this year to get more used to the surrealist side of horror. "The Devil Takes You Home," "My Sister, The Serial Killer," and "Tender is the Flesh" did not disappoint. Meta horror like "Curse of the Reaper" was also enjoyable. I also found a book in the tradition of Poppy Z. Brite. "Gone to the See the River Man" was a nasty thriller but one that reads like one fucked up ass poem. Threw in some short stories and novellas. Read one poetry anthology, and opened up sci-fi novels because I wanted to see if my brain could handle googling physics and mathematics every five minutes to see if I could handle books based on real-world science. Turns out I CAN handle physics, geometry, and planetary motion. Read Liu Cixin's "Remembrance of Earth's Past" novels, I guarantee you'll eat multiple hats.

Overall, a wonderful year of reading. I might get laid off from my job, but I still got my library card and my wits.