#one week to go and i'm actually kinda dreading it

[nicistrying]

Thurs 1st August

2.39am and I am wide awake bc my mother in law is being a total nightmare. She's been mostly great all through wedding planning, they are doing us a huge favour by looking after Maggie so we didn't have to put her in kennels. But now they've suddenly decided they really wanted to stay at the hotel, which we said 8 months ago when we asked them to have Maggie that we didn't want her staying there, bc she would be stuck in the room all day, and if a cleaner went in she would be territorial of the room so she'd probably have to be muzzled, and we would be so stressed about making sure people were going to check on her etc. They said this was all fine, they were planning to go home on the night anyway, no problem. But now because there are empty rooms they are having a fit that they can't stay. I get that that's frustrating but we would be so uncomfortable with Maggie being in a hotel full of 60+ people, she'd be so so stressed and it would not be fair to her.

So his mam has then been telling us we shouldn't be paying for empty rooms, but it was in the contract we signed 18 months ago that any empty rooms still need paid for because they're all booked out for our guests, which is fair and from what I can tell is standard for any wedding venue so we would be in the same situation literally wherever we had the wedding. We've explained that to her several times over the past few months and she would not take no for an answer bc she's used to kicking up such a fuss that people just give in to her.

So she had been having this discussion AGAIN with Matt yesterday, and she said she was 'going for a walk near there anyway so she would pop in to talk about it' and he told her not to, because there is nothing to discuss, everything is under control and nothing needs changed. The venue then emailed us saying she had been in wanting to discuss the rooms and thank god the wedding coordinators weren't there to discuss with her. So they emailed us saying rooms can be made up at the last minute if anyone else decides to stay etc as I think they assumed that was maybe what she wanted. Matt sent her their email and said Idk what you wanted to discuss but there's the reply, and she replied 'they said the wedding coordinator would call me and I told them not to tell you!'

Obviously Matt's reply was of course they told us, it is actually our wedding. Then she starts saying how upset she is that she's being left out of the wedding and feels like she doesn't know what's going on. But we've TOLD HER every single update, we talk wedding planning every time we see her, I've offered to take her dress shopping multiple times and she didn't want to go with me, I asked her to send photos of her mam for a memory table and she just never did, we asked her to make our cake, she is a witness to our marriage and will be on the fucking certificate. What else did she want?! She's been just as involved as, if not more than, anyone else. We said from the very start we wanted to do it all ourselves and that's what we've done but we've kept them in the loop the whole time. I genuinely don't know what else we ahould have done. I'm at my fucking wit's end with her I am so stressed and it's literally all because of his family being dicks. My face is breaking out, stress eczema is coming out, I can't eat or sleep. I had a bag of crisps and 4 squares of chocolate for dinner then went to bed and lay awake. His one brother and his wife who we get on really well with have been so supportive bc they've already been through this. Like we were so worried about my family behaving themselves but they're all actually being really chill about everything. We really didn't think his would be such a nightmare

But on the bright side, my sister in law (the one married to the nice brother) helped me make these lovely glasses for everyone having hair and makeup done and it took us 4 hours and we just ranted about this stupid fucking family the whole time and it was v v cathartic

[faedotexe]

So i'm working on a tiny roll & write about being a giant dragonness and conquering the land and burninating the countryside and uh I'm kind of trying to make """"""art""""" for it lmao

chat is this cringe

[zepskies]

HEADCANON: Doctor's Appointment

HC: How would Dean Winchester, Beau Arlen, Soldier Boy (Ben), and Russell Shaw react when you try to take him to the doctor?

Pairings: Dean x Reader || Beau x Reader || Soldier Boy x Reader || Russell x Reader

AN: This one is a request from my lovely friend @spnbabe67 over on Patreon! 💜

Tags/Warnings: Established relationship, literal man children, medical stuff, angst, mentions of PTSD, hints of spice, fluffff

Dean Winchester

"I'm fine."

Ah yes, the same two growly words you've heard for an hour already.

"You're not fine," you testily reply. "You're not even 'Winchester fine.' You wanna know how I know? I'm driving the damn car right now!"

Dean shoots you a warning look.

One, you can tell he wants to say watch it on how you talk about his Baby.

Two, he doesn't want to admit that you're right.

He shifts in his seat with his arms crossed, trying to cover up a wince. It's the only tell that he's uncomfortable, even in pain, other than the fact that you've managed to hijack his car and take him to this damn doctor's appointment.

Dean can count on one hand the number of times he's been in a doctor's office for a genuine ailment, and not just trying to fish for information while impersonating some form of law enforcement.

That's because he's more of a "pour some whiskey on it," patch it up, and forget about it kinda guy.

And if we're talking about hospital stays, then that's usually a "one step away from death's door" kind of visit.

But when you first noticed something was off with Dean (confirming with Sam on the side of your suspicions), you did your damnedest to convince the man that he should see a doctor.

You even make the appointment for him as convenient as possible, around midday, so he doesn't have the excuse of it being too early to disturb his morning, or too late to mess up his afternoon.

Dean is a grumbly grizzly bear who only rolls his eyes in the waiting room when you offer him the clipboard to fill out his medical history.

"This is stupid," he says. "It’s probably just gonna clear up in a week or so anyway."

"You don't know that," you say. And you heave a sigh. Sometimes this man requires every last ounce of your ever-thinning patience.

You reclaim the clipboard and do this part for him too, filling out his fake-ass insurance information with his fake-ass name.

You detail his history and current symptoms to the best of your ability, and you make sure to jot down certain visits to free clinics in his past that he'd probably gloss over.

When the nurse opens the door and calls him back to see the doctor, Dean still glances over at you, mostly annoyed. But underneath, you sense his hesitation.

You slip your hand into his and get up with him. You grace a kiss over his knuckles — a moment of solidarity — and you go with him to one of the back rooms.

You later have to bite your lip against the vindicated urge to say I told you so.

The doctor informs Dean that he likely has a kidney stone.

If possible, Dean is even more sour the whole car ride home. He's convinced all the vegetables you've been trying to get him to eat are the culprit.

"This is what I get for eating fucking rabbit food," he grumbles. He levies a finger at you. "See? I told you. Nothing good comes of it."

"Right," you snort. "Zucchini is what's got you're, uh, pipe all blocked up."

But seeing the disgruntled look on his face, you remember just how much pain he's been trying to cover up for the past week. How many times you've found him hunched in the bathroom, dreading a piss.

You reach over and try to soothe him, gently stroking his thigh.

"It's okay, baby. We'll get the official test results soon. In the meantime, just keep drinking lots of water and get some actual rest."

"Whatever," he mutters.

But underneath the embarrassment, the shit, I'm getting old bit cropping back up again, and the Dean Winchester quirk of not wanting to be fussed over, not wanting to be seen as weak or ridiculous — what finally surfaces past all that is you.

Specifically, how much you push him to take care of himself.

Besides Sam, you're the only one who manages to keep him in check, the only one who cares that much, that you'd literally try to steal his car.

Yeah, I love you tends to cut through pretty much all the other bullshit.

Dean might not always express it words, but he does it now, taking your hand off his lap and pressing a kiss to your wrist, right over your pulse point.

You briefly take your eyes off the road to glance over at him, smiling. He's going to be out of commission for a while until this little problem clears up, in more ways than one.

The great Dean Winchester.

Beats Death itself, too many times to count.

Felled by pebble in his...well...proverbial shoe.

You try to hide your amusement, if not your affection. You bite your lip hard.

"Shut up," he warns, even though his lips twitch upward.

Your snort of laughter escapes before you can reign it in.

Beau Arlen

Beau is resistant at first, but he's probably the easiest to wrangle into seeing the doctor, whether it's yearly checkups or a man flu gotten out of control.

("You know what, my throat still feels weird on the left side, especially when I swallow. Feels scratchy and, uh, kinda hurts. You think I should get it looked at? What if it's laryngitis, or pneumonia, or God forbid, throat cancer. I mean, throat cancer, honey! That's nothin' to laugh at.")

You wish he'd have that "proactive" mentality with other areas of his health too, like not overworking himself at the precinct.

But when it comes to one exam in particular, he's your typical male of a certain age.

No matter how many times you remind him and write down the appointment on the calendar stuck to the fridge so he doesn't forget, he conjures some excuse for why he couldn't make it.

At first it's begrudgingly amusing, but by the third time, you're concerned, and even annoyed that he isn't taking his health more seriously.

"Look, I know it's not exactly pleasant, but this stuff is important. You gotta take care of yourself," you say.

You know you don't have to remind him that he has a daughter, but you will pull that card if you have to.

"Yeah, I know. It's just, uh..." Beau trails off, hands on his hips. He doesn't know what to tell you to make you understand how much he'd rather not go to this appointment.

"It's just a prostate exam, babe. I'll bet it's not half as invasive as a pap smear," you say wryly.

Beau shakes his head at you. "That very well may be, but believe you me, no man wants a latex finger up his..."

You raise your brows and tilt your head with a smile. "Well, you know. Some guys actually—"

Beau waves a hand at whatever you were going to say next.

"You know what, forget I said anything. I'd rather just live my life not knowing what's down there. Really, I'm good."

You utter a laugh, but you sidle up to him and grasp the open edges of his jacket. You turn your face up to him with a more sensuous smile.

"You don't mind when I do it," you tease.

Beau actually blushes. His cheeks and the tips of his ears tinge pink.

He clears his throat, his hands settling on the curve of your waist.

"Well, that's different," he says. His voice pitches lower, his green eyes taking on a slight mischievous gleam. "You're just teasin' the cave. You're not looking for coal."

Laughter bursts out of you like a gut punch. Your forehead falls against his chest as your entire body shakes with giggles.

Beau wraps you up in his arms. He tries and fails to temper his grin, even though his cheeks are still burning.

"All right, fine. I'll go," he says. "But I don't want to hear a damn peep out of you when I get back."

Soldier Boy (Ben)

(Oh, good fucking luck on this one.)

Ben rarely, if ever, gets sick. Of course, he's also nearly invulnerable.

However, you've been trying to get him to see a different kind of medical professional.

"Excuse me?" he growls. The first time you suggest it, he dismissed the idea with a roll of his eyes, thinking you were just trying to get a rise out of him. He doesn't appreciate you bringing it up again. "You better be fucking kidding."

"Ben..." You try to ply him with a gentle hand on his arm, but he shrugs you off, too irritated to curb the impulse.

"I'm fucking crazy, is that it? That what you're trying to say?" His voice raises, notch after notch. "I don't need a goddamn shrink!"

"I didn't say you were crazy!" you say. It's hard not to match his volume, but you manage to stand your ground while he huffs and puffs and eventually storms out.

You get discouraged and frustrated yourself, but you cling to every scrap of patience you can muster up for this man.

It's gonna take a few tries.

You start to suggest that maybe he should start easing up on the weed and the booze too.

Any time he snaps at you, you remind him that for as much shit as you've put up with him so far, this is the kind of shit that'll send you packing. Leaving his ass. For good.

He volleys back with empty words. "Fine, fucking leave."

You know they're empty, because every time you've called his bluff and packed a bag, he stops you.

"All right, enough. You've proved your fucking point."

After that, he tries to cut back on the booze, at least. He watches you pour out the Grey Goose and the Patrón.

Fucking fine by him. He's lost the taste for vodka, let alone that frilly French shit, and the cheap tequila.

But choking off the vein of one vice just makes another twice as strong.

Ultimately, it doesn't fix the problem either.

There's the time Ben blows a hole in the roof of your house (after a nightmare, he refuses to admit).

And there's a second time too. A third close call, and Ben pushes you clean off the bed so you won't get hurt.

If that didn't do it, he finally gets the picture after the second pink line appears on that white stick.

It now lies on your nightstand while you and Ben lay tangled together, bare skin against bare, flushed, sweaty skin.

A celebration, if you will.

His big hand lies splayed over your belly, protective, possessive, and deep down...grateful.

You glance up at the patched ceiling. Ben follows your gaze. His contentment fades into a frown, just like yours.

Both of you are thinking the same thing, if in different flavors of concern. Anxiety. (Guilt.)

"It's different now. You know that, right?" you say quietly. "If we're going to do this, you and me together, then I need you to protect us. Protect us from you."

At this point, you know he won't see a psychiatrist for his PTSD; not if it's to help himself (God forbid he admit that he needs it).

But if it's to protect you and your child, his own child...

Ben swallows a few acidic ounces of his pride.

Despite every cell in body that fights against it, he gets in his car the very next day and shows up for the appointment you made for him with Dr. David.

("What kind of quack fucking doctor goes by his first name, anyway? Christ.")

After the first couple of painfully awkward sessions, it's not so bad, Ben discovers.

He has a willing (heavily paid) audience for all of his stories from "the good old days."

Every gushy detail.

Russell Shaw

Russell is always quick to give reassurances, to downplay, to tell you that he's good.

But the day he comes home from a job with his bag hanging from his fingertips, almost dragging on the floor, his movements stiff as a rail — your heart sinks into your stomach.

"Hey, baby," he greets you tiredly, even tries to kiss you, but you're too busy running gentle hands over his arms and chest. Searching.

"Hmm, someone's missed me. Miss Handsy-yy-ahhh..." His playful quip dies the moment you find it.

Under his jacket lies the shoddy patch job on the bullet wound in his arm, located a few inches below the shoulder, just barely hidden by his sleeve.

"What the fuck is this?" you snap, half in anger, half in worry as tears spring hot in your eyes.

Russell immediately goes into damage control, soothing a hand down your arm and meeting your gaze.

"Hey, I'm okay. It's just a graze."

"Yeah fucking right. You're still bleeding!"

"Ehh, yeah, but no biggie. I've got some tools in the car—"

"No! We're going to the hospital."

"Sweetheart—"

"Right now! Let's go."

The man doesn't have the heart to argue with you too much after that. He knows he should've taken proper care of this before he got home. He really just wanted to, well, get home. To you.

But he regrets scaring you. He regrets making you worry.

He brushes the tears from your eyes and is grateful you don't ask what happened. He can't really tell you, even if he wanted to. His contract work with Horizon keeps his lips sealed for your safety, above all other reasons.

Only now does he begin to realize just how fucking unfair that is.

It really hits him when you sit with him for an hour and a half in the Emergency Department, waiting after the guy who fell off his moped, a kid with a little green army man stuck up his nose ("Hey, retro," Russell whispers to you), and a lady who can't seem to stop hiccuping.

Russell takes in a deep breath. He leans over to your ear.

"You know, we could just fix this up at home. A little needle and thread and some alcohol. Perfect First Aid kit," he says.

You narrow your gaze at him. "We're waiting to see a doctor. And don't think I'm done with you. When we get home, prepare to get punished."

A little smirk tugs at his lips. He brushes said lips across the back of your ear. "What am I, a little kid?"

You smile slightly as well.

"Well, if you're not going to tell me when you're hurt and try to cover it up like a little kid, that's how I'm gonna treat you."

Russell chuckles. His hand slips over your thigh.

"Gotta say, I'm kind of liking the sound of punishment. What'd you have in mind, sweetheart? Gonna spank me?"

And he's willing to give you more ideas.

You roll your eyes. Despite wanting to remain strong, his touch, the sensation of his lips brushing your ear sends a shiver curling down your spine.

"Oh, you just wait."

AN: lol I always have so much fun writing these. Let me know which one was your favorite this time! 💕

@waynes-multiverse You gave me another perfect little tidbit for Beau on Man Flu that made it into this one. 😂

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[whambambatfam]

Webs of a Wing

Chapter 5

Late but not as bad as before! (ᵕ ´ᗜ`) It doesn't feel as long as it is like, I actually questioned the word count. (´∀｀；) But at least I put the right title this time!

I promise I really do love Tim so much. I love all the robins so very very much. (ᵕ,—ᴗ—,)

I hope you enjoy!

Reader ages 15 - 17

───── ⋆⋅ 🕸 ⋅⋆ ─────

So, you lied to Alfred about your new spider friend, telling him instead that it was dead. Worried about what kind of experiments it would most likely be put through. Plus, it's kinda cute. Now that it's got the little nipping thing out of the way it's warmed up considerably to you. In fact it seems almost drawn to you in a way. Tapping at the little aquarium you bought for it when you come in. Even, dwindling webs around your fingers excitedly when you greet them.

"You'll be nice to our friends, right?" They catch on the tip of your nose before letting go to swing from your fingers, "Good baby."

The last time you saw your friends was as they were stumbling down the crowded halls with no hope of closing the gap. Everything was too sudden and confusing, it didn't even feel real at the time.Your week out of school has been spent at home, then the gym as you mastered your new... abilities.

Of course, you've kept in contact with them, let them know you hadn't died or anything crazy. Well, not that something didn't happen, you just couldn't face them about it. Until now.

"Finally! God, I've been waiting for you to spill it!" Mj practically cheers from her spot laid out on your bed. She sits up, emerald eyes wide with an almost child-like excitement, "I'm totally grateful that it was Flash you laid the fuck out like you did but like.. how did you?!"

Gwen finally pulls herself away from the spider tank to huff at the redhead, "How sensitive of you.." Spinning her chair to face you, she gives you a more sympathetic look, "We wanted to wait for you to bring it up first."

Now, you wish you hadn't waited so long to open up. They don't care how strange your situation might be, even if they did criticise your decision making abilities. Of course, you had to show off your new strength, lifting your bed up with both of them on it. Along with your.. web things. Which was still a little tricky to get a hang of and it felt so odd, creating this incredibly strong substance that stuck to everything concretely. The two of them were ecstatic, even saying you could be a hero.

"Well, if you can get over being in the spotlight. Like when you're in a competition!" MJ is squeezing your hands and while it's nothing to what you can withstand now you can practically feel her excitement from the contact.

It made it so much harder to say, "I don't, um, well, it's just that-" Literally, especially when you can see the stars in her eyes, "There's.." No way someone like you could do what they do, "So many heros and vigilantes out there already..."

"That would be quite a chance in your life, we are still pretty young for all that..." Gwen, your voice of reason, pillar of sanity, your- "Maybe you could train until you're an adult and we can work on your brand before that."

"No, not you too."

Life at the mansion is quiet as always, the familiar desolate kind of quiet you've grown hate rather viciously. You've only crossed paths with your father in glimpses since the funeral. In fact, you hardly see Alfred anymore, always busy tending to Bruce and minding the cave. Of course, It couldn't stay quiet for long, it's something you both dreaded and anticipated. After weeks that bend together life rises in the somber walls again.

There's something going on. Something big if the sudden commotion around the manor is anything to go by. Some kid is hanging around Alfred, he's got to be the one stirring up the birds. Not to mention you catch sight of Nightwing, stupid big collar and all. You thought he was too busy off living his own life to actually come around anymore, not that he ever paid you much mind but... it made Alfred sad! Stupid jerk.

It's not until the next day that the old butler does his best to explain the situation. "He's a young boy that's been observing Master Bruce since... Well, since he was mentoring Master Richard." Oh, so he's a weirdo like you. It's strange the two of you didn't cross paths sooner. "I'll bring him around some time soon." So, he's sticking around, that could only mean one thing.. "The two of you could be close.. Young master." You could practically hear 'like Jason' on the tip of his tongue. The unsaid words burn your ears and twist up your chest.

Opening the top of your aquarium you let out your like friend. The excited skitter of your dear spider up your arm leaves a silken trail in its wake. Giggling you guide the bitty spider onto a finger, holding them up to eye length.

"Would you like to come take some pictures, little one?" You coo as they dangle from your index. "We'll see how the-" No, you couldn't say that. Ha, yeah, new Robin. That old one's dead. So? Just shuck a new one in again and keep going. Fuck you hated it and you hated feeling so bitter and you hated not being able to just- fucking scream at someone. Let rage that's building in your heart out on something.

You can feel your back hit the wall. Thoughts swirl as you steady yourself with a hand against the wall. This was the kind of situation you could only talk to Alfred about. The old man was all words of wisdom and you felt too ashamed to bring such thoughts up to him.. He was mourning too, it was all too much, too heavy. You just wanted laying around and whining like you did with Jay, like you can with your friends.

But, if Bruce found out you knew and went blabing? Spilling secrets, even to your closest confidants.. People outside the family things you shouldn't even know? Telling them would surely spell your end. Hell, not to mention the actual risk you're friends could be in by letting them know something so dangerous. If someone found out they knew who The fucking Batman was..

As the feeling of the winding emotions tighten your lungs, two little spider legs tap against your nose. "Okay, okay, I'm alright." The laughter slips from your mouth before you realize it's yours. Little legs dance across your face. Your breathing evens out and you realize that your room seems.. smaller.

Like you've suddenly outgrown the room entirely. Looking down you realize your feet are not, in fact, on the ground. Instead they, along with your free hand, are stuck to the wall. You've unconsciously backed yourself into the corner... of your ceiling.

"Is there anything else you like to tell me about?"

The thought felt so far out there but... maybe you really could use this? Go out, fight crooks, help people, be a real vigilante. The thought squeezed at your heart and burned at your ears, you're well rehearsed in running about Gotham and capability in fighting. It has crossed your mind as so unachievable... until till now.

Now, it actually feels within your grasp, all too sudden and yet... all too late at once. If you could have worked at his side. What would he think? Would you tell him right away? Would he accept your strange changes? Would he think to do the same? To finally tell you?

Does it matter?

He's gone.

Feet hitting the ground silently you lower your spider back into its enclosure on your desk. You collapse on your bed. Tears slip down your face as your gaze blurs at the ceiling. The kiss of twilight lying lazily across the white surface in soft dim rays.

When the lights are suddenly flipped on you shield your red eyes with your hood. Sitting up your knees tuck to your chest as you glare at the intruder. Two, standing awkwardly in your doorway. Oh, Alfred, what impeccable timing you have, old man.

He smiles, calling your name gently, "This is Master Timothy-" Hand laid on the young boy's shoulders, he presents him.

Breaking from the butler's grasp he strides over, "My name's Tim. It's nice to meet you." Another black haired, blue eyed boy stands before you. Reach out a hand for you eagerly, "I guess we'll be seeing each other so-"

That simmering anger boils over and you snap at him, "Yeah, cause your- what? Here to replace Jason, right?" You couldn't take this, not again. "Sorry, I'm not looking for a new brother."

"What-?" The look on his face makes you feel like shit, but it can't plug the hole it's opened.

Hissing bitterly, you turn away from him, "I'll make this easy for you," Pressing the balls of your hands into your eyes, you force away the tears. "We don't have to know one another. You might as well forget where my room is now." Glaring at him over your shoulder, face burning and chest aching, "I'm sure we won't be seeing each other."

So, this is Robin. What? Because he figured out Bruce is Batman? If you told him that you figured that out years ago, would he suddenly see you? Would he see your hard work, all that you fucking went through? Would he finally take you in as his own? If he knew of your powers, your skill, yours achievements...

Would you be his next tool? Thrown as his extension until you were of no good to him? Until your use is exhausted and you're tossed aside again?

No.

You are your own person and will use your own powers for your own good. Never have you needed him, any of them. You most certainly don't need them now.

You can't say you blame Tim for shutting you out following your outburst, Alfred had also scolded you soundly. Yet, you were too tired to hope anymore, to try for such a close connection, and he made sure to pay you in kind. From snubbing you on the rare occasion you crossed paths in the halls to out right leaving a room you've entered.

Making your way into the dining room after an exceptionally long day, you freeze in the doorway. The hand that was rubbing at the crook fell to form a fist at your side.

Bruce leans over to swoop up the paper he was helping Tim with, "It's okay, chum. Just rest up for now." He snatches up the rest of the studying material scattered on the counter piece by piece. "We'll get back to work when your head is clear."

Oh, what a diligent father he is...

Tim, clearly not willing to be pushed into taking a break, snips back at him, "I can't rest now! What if-" His words die in the throat as those cornflower eyes catch you.

Before you can retreat and save both of you from this encounter, Bruce notices his newest son's hesitancy. He finally sees you, pinned in place by the doorway, "Oh, Good-" Pausing to look out the window over the sink to assess the time he turns back with a smile, "Evening, this is actually good timing. Have you met, Tim?"

"Yeah." He's only been around for months but, of course, you're oblivious.

Suddenly, Tim bolts up from his seat, "I think you're right, Bruce. 'Should probably head home, get some rest." Study supplies gathered in his arms, he nods in departure as he pushes past you, "Night."

Returning to your room, you watch the car pull away and Alfred returns him home. Having him around grated on the parts of your grief that were still raw. A small part of you took some pleasure in knowing he would go home eventually. Back to his own house with his own parents.

Despite any lingering animosity, you couldn't help going out to watch the new dynamic duo.

Tim, well, the kid makes a damn good Robin. What he lacks in strength he doubles in agility and triples in cunning intelligence. It's fascinating watching him go, embracing his part so fluidly. Like he was born to play his role in this show of justice and brutality.

Speaking of, Batman and Robin were now long gone, having hopped in the batmobile and sped off after their latest lead. Normally, this would be time for you to head home. Climbing walls was a neat trick that got you out of most situations you got into while getting your shots. The tingle in the back of your head, hairs raised and skin prickling that makes you whip around to spot two figures at the end of the alley is new.

"Hand it over, lady," The man's gruff voice is muffled by the cloth obscuring his face, "and no one gets killed." He jabs something into the stomach of the woman he's cornered.

Wincing away, her back hits the wall, "No, please.." She clings to the plastic pharmacy bag, shaking her head vehemently, "My son, he's sick, please!"

This wasn't time to evade, it was time to intervene. Scaling the grimy bricks of the wall, you descend silently. Feet touching the ground just behind the man, his looming figure blocking the woman's view of you.

"It's not very nice to go through a lady's purse." The sudden sound of your voice makes him all but jump out of his skin and you can't fight the grin that pulls at your lips.

He looks you up and down, "What the hell do you want, kid?" Eyes honing what's hung around your neck, he chuckles under his mask, "That's a nice camera ya' got there."

Lifting the device up, it dangles on its strap, "Oh, this?" You tilt your head, "I was just in the neighborhood, getting the scoop on Gotham's latest scum. You'll make a good headliner." You're not really sure where this cockiness came from but it seemed to spill out whenever you used your powers. "Local loser gets ass kicked by teenager." Especially against assholes like this.

Finally shoving away the trembling woman, he turns to you fully, "So, you're just asking for it then?" The weapon he'd threatened her with, a handgun, now focused on you.

"Cute toy, let's play." Before he can react you've thrown your hand out, hitting the barrel with a web and yanking it from his hands.

He stands there for a moment, looking at you, the webbed gun, the woman and then back to you. "No, no I'm not about to be a part of some superhero background bullshit." Muttering almost hysterically under his breath, he backs out of the ally, "Fuck this, fuck Gotham.. I'm outta here!"

With that proclamation, he runs away leaving the two of you standing there stunned. With a sigh, you straighten yourself, hoping to give an air of confidence as you turn to the distressed woman.

It doesn't seem to matter though as she throws her arms around you, "Th-thank you, so much." Tears stream down her face as she trembles in your awkward arms. The stress of her life threatening situation washes over her and like a true gothamite she shakes it off like a champ. Brushing herself off, she gives you a thankful smile, "Please kid, if there's anythi-"

Your hands shoot up, waving off her offer, "No! No, no! Just don't, uh-" However in vain it may be, you pull at your jostled hood, trying to obscure your face. "don't tell anyone about me, what you saw, here, today- night.. Please?"

It feels like a weight off your chest when she agrees earnestly, giving you an affectionate pat on the heads and wishing you a good night.

Maybe you were getting a little ahead of yourself. To say you were inspired would be an understatement. Emboldened by your sudden victory, you use your.. fair skills in art and sewing. Ment for patching not to piece together a whole suit. Your first drafts are... bad.

It's a blessing and a curse when MJ stumbles upon your spider costume concepts.

"What are you making?" She gasps, flipping through your concept book.

"Don't look!" You squawk in horror, flailing for your book as an artist's worst nightmare happens before your very eyes.

"You know, this isn't all bad... Yeah, yeah I could work with this." Says the perpetrator of the heinous acts as she giggles at your dismay.

"Work with-?" before you can ask, she's pulled a small tape measure from who knows where. Lifting your arms up and around as she notes your measurements in nimble calculated movements.

"Hold still tiger." She smiles up at you, moving her work down your body until she has every inch of you jotted down. "So, what's the basics of what you're thinking?"

"Something bright, a nice red," like your dear round of Robins, "and blue to contrast. But, maybe that was too Superman-y?"

Mj suggests stitching black webbing across, and a spider.. where a bat would go, you liked that, differentiating yourself from them. Because you aren't them.

You are Spider.

Ya'know, like, Robin.. but, a spider.. the Spider? Oh wow, is that terrible? Are you dumb? You can't even tell anymore. What are you doing? Is this real? Are you really going to do this? Could you really go through with it after everything you've experienced?

After a day Mj is back with a design that immediately captivates you, "Holy shit.." You take the page, admiring the webbing over the blocking of the colors and the added large white eyes.

Looking rightfully proud of her work she wiggles ginger brows at you, bumping your shoulder with hers. "Nice right? It won't be very protective but you'll look damn good." Throwing your arms around her you both giddy at the prospects.

It would be entirely asinine of you, yet..

Using the abilities you've been honing for as long as you've lived in the manor. Not to mention studying every move of the renowned dynamic duo. The bite only enhanced what you already had.

You could actually help people, not just watching as they get rescued.

Dick showed you how to out maneuver your enemies, Jason showed you have to take them down soundly, and now Tim is showing you have to crumble them from the inside. Witnessing the swift ways he hacks into anything, taking out controls, shutting things down, using them to his advantage. It was truly fascinating. The skills he presented even reignited your interest in tinkering.

Of all the little things you've made, none ever had much of a use before. Mostly novelty things that you'd either give to your friends or gift to Alfred. Simple devices only meant for mundane tasks.

"Gwen. What if, hear me out, we parent trap our dads." Mj muses, from her end of your bed.

Rolling her eyes from the other end of the bed Gwen shushes her, "Stop yapping nonsense and listen." She gestures to you, standing there waiting for their attention.

"I dunno, I'm kinda interested." You chuckle lifting up the device in your hand. After a brief explanation of what it is and how it works you ask them as they stare in a mix of disbelief and confusion.

"So... what does this do?" She eyes the pair of inconspicuous goggles resting in your palm, "In, like, plain english please?"

"It should let you see." You grin, offering them up to her and she accepts them readily, "Wanna see?"

It's just the heat signature and outline of people in the vicinity. Hesitantly she takes them, slipping them over her head until they're in place.

"Holy shit that's cool..." Whipping her head around, she gasps, "Wait is that-?"

Gwen perks up, leaning in as if she could catch a peek, "Huh? What is it?" She nudges Mj's knee when she doesn't answer right away.

"You really, truly, outdone yourself this time." She presses her hand to her cheeks which are reddening under the goggles, "I can see his ass so clearly from, what? three rooms away?"

What did- Gwen cuts in, not leaving you to wonder for long, "Dicks home? Damn bitch, let me see."

"No, absolutely not." You practically jump her, wrangling them from her head.

"Hey! I'm not done!" Mj clings to the band as you lift her into the air with them, like a ferret latching onto a stolen shoe.

The leather of the other end of the band cries out in mercy as your eye twitches, "Give. Now." Gwen cackles at the sight of you trying to shake her off.

They may not always be the best but you know these two will always be your biggest pillars of support. No matter what happens.

───── ⋆⋅ 🕸 ⋅⋆ ─────

Tag list?!

@butratherbutrather @dorkatron-2000 @mys0cksrwet @nervousalpacalady @notsamaira @facelessisnthere @danir2006 @ryuushou @sirenetheblogger @l3v1us @jsprien213 @crazycaoticsimp @shadowytravelerlover @whatamoodhoney @alittlelostmoonchild @tiarea @tsxukikami @levi-09 @stardustnightfall @antov828 @awawage @kaitense1 @1abi @d3nnji @yhin-gg @ithoughtthinks @cherrydaisymanic @bat1212 @shycreatorreview @mikusamsan @strwberryglass @hebaoffside @kawaiimusiccollection @bunniotomia @wishiwaswritingrn @epicy0n @cristy-101 @timebomb1101 @st4rg1rln @lithiumval

[harrysfolklore]

buzzcut - blurb

this kinda sucks but it was on my drafts sooo why not, hope you enjoy !

MASTERLIST | MY PATREON

//

"I wonder how would I look with my head shaved." Harry randomly said one night both of you were cuddled up in bed.

"Where is that coming from, lovie?" You looked up at him, curious by his sudden statement.

"Dunno, I've never in my almost 30 years of age had a buzzcut," he shrugged, "I feel like It's part of manhood to shave your head at least once."

"Your manhood is just fine," you rolled your eyes with affection and pecked his chin, "But if you want to know how you'd look with no hair, you can always look for those AI pictures your fans have been making lately."

Harry laughed and kissed the crown of your head, leaving the conversation at that and focusing on the romantic comedy movie you picked for the night.

Days passed by and you soon forgot about your conversation and Harry didn't bring up his desire to shave his head again, so when he mentioned that he wanted to get a haircut you assumed that he was getting his usual trim.

Oh boy, were you wrong.

"I want to chop my hair a bit before we head to Vegas." He said a week before your trip, Jeff kept insisting that you needed to see the show he had been working on at the Sphere and you finally agreed.

"That's fine, just don't do anything extreme you know I love the curls." You replied, unaware of what he had up in his sleeve.

"Nothing to worry about, baby." You failed to notice the devilish smile on his face that gave away that he was planning something else.

The following day Harry told you that he was going to Ayae's place to get his haircut, which was weird to you because his hairdresser always came to your house to cut his hair, but you still didn't overthink it too much.

Until you got a text from her that read "Don't kill me or your boyfriend for what he made me do."

Just a minute after you got the text you heard the front door open and your name being called from downstairs.

"H are you home? Ayae texted me but I don't know what she means." You said as you made your way to him, he was standing in your living room, his hair being covered by the hood of his hoodie.

"I cut my hair," he said and a confused frown made its way to your face, "And I'm going to show it to you, but you need to promise me you won't freak."

"Why would I freak? Why are you acting so weird about it?"

Harry only smiled and pulled the hood from his head, revealing that his brand new buzzcut.

You stood in your place for a few minutes before reacting, "Is this some kind of joke?"

"It's not love! I shaved it," he got closer to you, a big smile on his face, “Do you like it?”

“Oh my god! Your hair is really gone! What the fuck, Harry.” You laughed in disbelief, grabbing his face to get a better look at him.

“I told you I wanted to give it a try before my twenties ended, remember?”

“Yeah, but I didn’t think you’d actually do it,” you shook your head, ��This is crazy! Does Jeff know? Forget about him does your mom know? Oh my god we need to facetime her right now.”

Harry laughed at your rant, “Jeff knows love, he wants to shave his too, and we’ll facetime mum later,” he pecked your lips quickly, “Now wipe that look off your face! You’re looking at me like I’m an alien!”

“This is just so weird, but also such a you thing to do,” you pecked his lips back, “Your fans are going to be absolutely nuts about this.”

“Lord, that’s what i’m dreading the most.”

A week later you and Harry were standing in the crowd of U2's concert at the Las Vegas Sphere, surrounded by friends and other concertgoers.

Somehow Harry's new look gave him a little more privacy, since the world didn't know that his signature brown curls were gone and he could go unnoticed sometimes.

"You've been busted." You said as you noticed a phone camera filming the both of you, Harry was standing behind you with his hand protectively gripping your neck.

"What, love?" He asked, making you discretely point at the person with the camera.

"Well, I guess the madness stars now."

A day later, pictures and videos of Harry's new haircut flooded the internet, making his fans go crazy once again.

taglist: @lightsoutstyles @willowpains @straightontilmornin n @sleutherclaw @gimsaysay @hazzassmirk @platinumbarbie143 @musicforcinemas @celesteblack08 @scntfrhs @eleanordaisy @lomlolivia a @iceebabies @iloveshawn @be-with-me-so-happily @watermelonsugacry @rayisthehoe @drewrry

[kunoiashifts]

ᴡᴀɪᴛ, ɪᴛ'ꜱ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴇᴀꜱʏ? *:･ﾟ✧

* ˚ ✦ title is literally what i'm currently going through AS WE SPEAK 😭

* ˚ ✦ okay, this week has been a little wonky for reasons i'd rather not get into, but basically there was something going on today that i just DID NOT WANT TO DO.

* ˚ ✦ and with that, i began to panic a bit and kind of subconsciously put shifting onto a time crunch which is TERRIBLE FOR ME!! time crunches make me extremely anxious, however a lot of things happen in my life that make me want to shift asap sadly

* ˚ ✦ so, last night i was very overwhelmed and was upset about everything as a whole which carried on into this morning as the deadline(?) was literally right around the damn corner. (i had to go right after school). i spent the morning wallowing a bit about it and dreading the outcome of me having to go somewhere i didn't want to go to

* ˚ ✦ i overconsumed content on shiftblr AGAIN which is a horrible cycle i need to break whenever i feel stuck because for me, it just reinforces the idea that i don't know what i'm doing WHEN I DO KNOW 😭😭

* ˚ ✦ as i did that, i was like ok. i don't wanna take a break, i just want to get out of this situation. so throughout the day, whenever i thought about what i didn't want, i just said "i don't have to go." and even throughout the doubts and spirals about shifting, i still affirmed for a different outcome instead. i feel like the fact that i was so focused on having not shifted to my dr in general made me kind of lessen the doubts and stress over the circumstance that was actually upsetting me which is WHY i managed to manifest a different outcome so quickly

* ˚ ✦ i literally kept getting pissed about shifting while simultaneously affirming and revising the idea of what i dreaded so badly that made me want to shift in the first place (which is kinda funny because i could've EASILY just manifested it away earlier instead of throwing shifting under the bus (HELPP), but i digress)

* ˚ ✦ fast forward to after school, where i literally sat in my bed and LOCKED IN. i was kind of affirming for both at this point like on one hand i was accepting the outcome of me having to go but on the other hand i was like i'm still gonna try to shift before it even happens just in case.

* ˚ ✦ i laid down in bed since i had maybe 2-ish hours before i had to go and used alunirs new video as a way to help me shift. didn't shift to my dr, but i got extremely close as i saw flashing lights, fast heartbeat (worst symptom for me IT DISTRACTS ME BADDD), felt extremely numb, etc. etc. but that's not the reason why i felt so close.

* ˚ ✦ i was hit with a sense of realization again. like oh, it's really this easy, i just have to remember i shifted. i felt so free and calm, as if i was already there in my dr again. as if it was just a simple act of remembering (because it is!). it started to feel natural, which in my opinion was the shift of my awareness :D then i fell asleep for a few minutes before waking back up. my mind drifted back to my current situation again which worried me, but made me remember; i could change it.

* ˚ ✦ i began to affirm for both shifting, and what i wanted. "i don't have to go, i get to stay home." (and i was saying "home" as in my dr bc i consider it my home :3)

* ˚ ✦ and you know what happened around 10 or so minutes later? my dad got a call and told me i didn't have to go because he could tell i was tired. it was that. easy.

* ˚ ✦ TLDR: Despite me spiraling a little all day, I managed to change the outcome for something I didn't want ON A TIME CRUNCH WHICH IS WHAT I HAD BEEN WORRIED ABOUT ALL WEEK! It took LESS THAN ONE DAY. One school day of me just affirming and being the person that just doesn't have to go somewhere they didn't wanna go to.

Honestly, I pretty much DID shift, too! Shifting = Manifesting to me. I just shifted my awareness into a reality where I got to stay home and the 3D reflected it instantly.

* ˚ ✦ :D so tonight i'm gonna shift to my dr to celebrate.

- ʟᴏᴠᴇ, ɴᴏɪᴀ

[mochinomnoms]

Omg that’s so funny. Like the boys ask you to hold smth for them really quick and you put it in your boobs 😭😭😭

Azul would put you to good use and give you his random little trinkets he carries around

Malleus would be fascinated with how you figured you could hold all that

Leona would start putting his hand in them as a pocket to heat him up 💀💀

-🌑

YEAH TITTY POCKETS quick snippet before I go to bed:

Riddle was walking past the cafeteria when he noticed a small crowd forming around the table that the Prefect, Grim, Ace, and Deuce would normally sit at. A sense of dread filled him as he approached, positive that one of his freshmen was up to some trouble again.

So imagine his surprise when he walks up and sees a bunch of students, from various years and dorms, surrounding you as they handed you items. Imagine his even bigger shock when you, making direct eye contact with Riddle, smile at him as you take a small notepad from a random hand and stuff it into your breasts.

It takes a moment for him to realize that you've undone your tie and unbutton your shirt to reveal a healthy amount of cleavage, the hem of your white lacy (Oh heavens, he thinks it's lace, wait why is he looking!?) peeking at him.

“Oh, hey Riddle—”

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING!? YOUR SHIRT—DID YOU JUST—GAH!” Riddle launched himself over the crowd to clutch your shirt and tug it closed, face in his signature red.

“Hey! What's the big deal!” Riddle whipped his head over to see Ruggie pouting, holding a handful of granola bars.

“I was gonna see how many granola bars they could fit—”

“This is utterly indecent! Why are you allowing this Prefect? What even led up to this?!”

“Oh!” You perked up, grabbing and gently pushing his arms off you. “I was telling Ace and Deuce how I can fit up to 19 items into my boobs for storage, 10 if they're bigger. 3 if they're really big though, like a cell phone!”

He stared at you with confusion, flushing again as he saw you take three bars from Ruggie, adjust your…boobs, and start sliding the items in. As if this was a normal thing.

“Why are you acting like this is normal?”

“…. Because it is? Riddle, as someone with titties,” you ignored his scandalized gasp. “I gotta take advantage. These girls may hurt my back, but they also make excellent pockets. Look!”

You took a potion bottle from a different hand, smoothly sliding your hand down the side of your right breast. Taking a moment to adjust again, you stood up with your hands on your hips, looking proud.

“Look at my boobs and tell me how many items I have in them. Right now!”

Riddle gasped, “I will not, that is so, so, so indecent—”

“10!”

“25!”

“8!”

You snapped your fingers at a random Ignihyde student, grinning as you shouted, “Correct! You get a prize, lemme just—”

You took a moment to dig through your bra, as Riddle listened in to the students around him make comments.

“Is it wrong to find this hot?”

“Dude, why can't I have boob pockets?”

“Oh my goooood, am I into this? I think I'm into this.”

“That's actually kinda useful, not gonna lie.”

You cried out triumphantly, holding out a lollipop and handing it over to the Ignihyde student, who shrugged and accepted the candy.

“See Riddle? Useful, you can ask me to carry anything you want—”

“I will do NO such thing!” He scoffed, crossing his arms indigently, “I am a self-respecting housewarden of Night Raven College, and I'm offended at the implications that I'd do such a thing with your... you know.”

He gestured as Azul casually walked up, the crowd parting for him and the twins.

“Hello, my dear Prefect, can you hand me the spare punch cards I gave you? We ran out faster than anticipated this week.”

“Oh yeah, here” You dug through your left breast, taking out a small bundle of Mostro Lounge punch cards. “I ended up giving out a few to some guys, so expect a few new customers this weekend”

Azul smiled and nodded at you, taking the cards from your hand.

“That's fine, thank you, Prefect. I come by again later to grab the rest of my items.”

“Okie! See ya, byeee!”

You waved him goodbye, turning back to Riddle, who, once again, looked at you scandalously.

“… What?”

[heardsomedickwasbeinmeantoyou]

TRUST ME, I'M A LESBIAN

.

Hen was actually so, so wrong.

Buck was completely one hundred percent uninterested in how disgustingly attractive New Guy was, with his lean, mean firefighting-machine physique and those super pretty, long-lashed, stunningly big brown doe eyes of his.

Eddie Diaz. Ugh.

Ex-army medic. Top of his class at the academy. Infuriatingly unflappable.

Also too cool for a dumb nickname like any other normal fucking person. The douchebag was too cool for school in general, apparently.

Although neither of those things ended up being true, as Buck found out after two hot seconds of his ego pointlessly scrapping for position of Top Dog. Like when his new kick-ass partner answered to ‘Eds’ as if he always had, the moment Buck's subconscious decided it was just gonna be that way. Like when he'd discovered his awesome new friend was a single dad with a son, a kid of elementary school age, who just so happened to be the brightest shining light Buck had ever had the privilege of having to squint at.

That kid, just—wow. Buck was completely smitten, right from the off. Christopher was amazing. Way smarter than Buck, and way cooler than Eddie (who actually, adorably, turned out to be six-foot-worth of pure marshmallow that Buck kinda wanted to simultaneously squish and eat).

These irrefutable facts were first presented to him after inviting himself over to the Diaz residence with an offer of help to clean up following the earthquake, and then he sort of just…

Well, he sort of just never really left. At least, his heart always stayed behind at 4995 South Bedford Street, each and every time he reluctantly drove away from what very quickly became the undisputed best part of his life.

Until all of that changed in the space of a single heartbeat.

A few years down the line came the day that Eddie almost gave Buck a fucking coronary when he crowded into Buck's personal space and backed him into the fridge with a hand bracing either side of his head—post-it notes coming as unstuck as Buck did, magnets clattering to the kitchen floor and managing to sound like wedding bells to Buck's pathetically romantic ears—when suddenly Eddie was kissing him, and kissing him, and kissing him.

And—holy fuck.

After seeing God, Eddie had nervously asked Buck and his heart to stick around, for long enough to not just have (make) dinner and choose their after-meal movie, but to be the little spoon with Eddie in Eddie's too-small bed until morning time came around.

Eventually, after so many cosy nights on the porch with a beer and and arm snaked around his waist, and mornings consisting of packed lunches and pecks on the cheek, Eddie asked Buck to never leave.

Obviously, Buck and his heart sang out with a chorus of yes, yes, a thousand times yes! Or rather he'd screamed it with every goddamn fibre of his being, because Jesus fucking Christ, Buck was just as in love as Eddie apparently was.

Eddie didn't just want Buck; he wanted Buck to stay.

They'd grinned at each other like toothy, goofy idiots, before Eddie was kissing him again, and again, and again, and kind of never really stopped—never for very long, at least.

Yeah, sorry, Bobby and Co.

Funnily enough, it wasn't necessary for Buck to go home and pack a bag, seeing as most of his stuff already lived at Casa Buckley-Diaz (that was what Chris had started calling the place a while back). Thing was, all three of them already knew Casa Buckley-Diaz was Buck's real home, and had been for a really long time.

So that's how everything and nothing at all changed: Eddie and Christopher weren't just a part of Buck's life anymore; they just were his life.

Hen, it turned out—both annoyingly and completely wonderfully—was actually so, so right.

And yes, Buck definitely learned his lesson: Always trust a lesbian.

.

look, i've had A Time of it this last couple of weeks, and also have the dreaded block and just needed to write something—like, anything, y'know? i guess that this is the silly little fanfic-y no-dialogue something-anything i managed to come up with xp

[nectardaddy]

full throttle | sakusa kiyoomi

chapter five | painfully awkward | 🏎️

note: more written parts than smau for this one oops, kinda long so strap in I didn't want this to be in multiple parts

masterlist

He swallowed hard when he heard his passenger door open, a small "thanks for taking me," hitting his ears before the door closed. He didn't know what on earth could've possessed him to do such a thing as this. Not minding at first, offering as he was tired and only wanting his friend to stop texting, but now that she sat in his car he realized the space felt all too cramped. Seemingly caving in on himself as he averted his gaze and let out a hum of acknowledgement.

But the woman next to him, although riddled with anxiety of her own, was all too quick to notice his white knuckles and tightened jaw. He had tendencies peculiar to those who didn't know him; and although she wasn't chummy, she caught on quickly. "I'm kinda invading your space, sorry." Trying to make herself, almost, smaller in the seat genuinely made him feel a bit bad.

If he didn't know her habits from high school, he would've never agreed. Always tidy, well kept, and never coming to school sick. Ticking off boxes in his mind before he felt like he could breathe again. A quirk that was difficult to overcome, but he had learned to dial down, only ever so slightly, in recent years. "It's alright," speaking in a breath, "let's just get going."

Breathe. The woman told herself internally, shifting in the seat uncomfortably as tension was thick and silence loud. Just be yourself. An inner monologue of thoughts hammering her head as all she could do was keep her eyes glued forward. "So," she began, cringing at herself before sighing. This is so stupid. He's never been talkative.

"So?" He repeated, brows furrowing. Eyes flicking over only for a split second before returning to the road in front of him. Another pregnant pause, making both of their skin crawl from uncertainty and pressure to speak. "Where'd you learn to drift like that?" A question that left his lips without grace; where he usually took his time to think before speaking, but wanted something to replace the dreadful silence.

"Oh, uh," caught off guard, the woman sat up in her seat more and looked over to him. "I taught myself actually, more or less," shrugging as she continued, "youtube helped a lot."

"Christ," he mumbled aloud, "are you serious? You can drift like that and you taught yourself?"

"You say it like it's a bad thing," she grumbled. "You don't believe me?"

"I never said that," he corrected. "I just remember you had no clue how to even do a donut in high school. It's surprising you actually beat me a few weeks ago." Nonchalantly leaving his lips with a twinge of, very dry, humor.

A humor that was unique to him, a coarse humor that she didn't pick up on right away. Moreover, not at all. "Excuse me?"

"What?" He asked, once again flickering his eyes over to her. "I'm telling you that you really improved. You sucked in high school."

Closing her mouth as words fell short for her and letting a breath out of her nose, she shifted her gaze. "Well you haven't changed at all," mumbling under her breath as she rolled her eyes. This was a terrible idea, why did I ever like this asshole.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You were a dick in high school," she admitted, stubbornly refusing to cast her eyes towards him again. "I always thought you were just broody and wanted space, but you're actually just an asshole."

Taken back by her statement, he inhaled deeply, fingers once again gripping the steering wheel tightly. "What are you talking about?"

"Dude," she groaned, not grasping that the man genuinely couldn't see his own actions. "You were always so short with me in high school, like it was annoying to even talk to me at all. And, you just said I sucked at drifting. That's like, peak asshole behavior."

"Oh," realization hitting him abruptly, slamming into him like a derailed train. Had he really been that callous? Did he not realize that his words would force her back rather than forward? "Sorry. I never knew that. And, I didn't mean it to come off rude. You've genuinely gotten a lot better, I'm impressed. Really."

Brows furrowing in confusion, she now found it within herself to look at him once more. He was serious. A strange, nonconforming, way of complimenting someone she almost found herself enjoying. Pulled in opposite directions of what to feel because neither the man himself knew what emotion swirled in his brain. "You're impressed?"

"Yeah?" Asking as if it was a given. But the man wasn't usually one for compliments, they were used sparingly and very few and far between. "I'll be honest, I haven't seen someone drive that aggressively in a street race in years. It was cool."

"I'm so confused," she blurted out, a nervous laugh following suit to try and break up the obvious tension. What she didn't expect; however, was him to match the anxious laughter. Neither party not knowing exactly what the other felt, but somehow, someway knowing that the back and forth had fizzled out. "But thanks, you're like the best driver I've ever seen, so that means a lot."

omi does not know how to talk to people like a normal person (same). he's way too blunt majority of the time but he's working on it

this man actually feels so bad. he didn't know she thought he was being an asshole

omi has really dry, basically sahara desert level, humor. he actually thought she would laugh or at least chuckle at what he said

he did the same in high school and didn't realize until just now he had done a HORRIBLE job at flirting with her

HE DIDN'T MEAN IT

this was painfully awkward for the both of them

both of them will pretend this situation never happened and never bring it up again. but they're in a silent agreement that everything is fine now.

yn will not be telling the group chat about this and will be taking it to her grave. this was peak level of both confusing and mortifying for her

hmmmm his laugh was probably so hot I gotta say it

the rest of the time was just spent talking about drifting and qualifiers

"you're the best driver I've ever seen" will be playing in his head the entire time he is in his car at qualifiers and he doesn't know what this means to him

taglist under cut

@wyrcan @hilichurl-lover @neuviloved @mayariviolet @wqnsho

@chosugarplum @dontmindtheevie @ilyless @phoenix-eclipses

[lj-lephemstar]

Progress Checkup! (Nov. 2024) | Scratchin' Melodii Devlog

​​Hey again guys! Sorry if it's been a bit since the last devlog. With how much I've been up to, it sure feels like it!

Let's get right into it. For starters, the 3rd rival battle of Act 2 is complete! I'll likely be showing a gameplay preview of it sometime soon. This is the first song to use the new framework that I'll be using for all the other stages going forward, which also means I've had to spend the past couple weeks getting the previous songs working with this new system too... Did you know that in the demo builds, if I wanted to change something about the gameplay, I'd have to manually go back and change it for EACH individual song one by one? Well now, imagine all the songs had like a peace treaty to just share one good, clean, and organized system that I can easily tweak and add to as I please. So development is gonna be smoother than ever from here! This is how most games are SUPPOSED to work, but I was a liiittle too stupid to figure out how to do this until recently!

While I was moving Cream Cheese Icing over to this new system, I took the opportunity to make the chart a bit more beginner-friendly! For example, the first line went from this...

To just this!

As you can see, it has less notes, therefore it is less scary for new players. Believe it or not, I actually never intended for Cream Cheese Icing to be so difficult for new players in the first place! Naturally, being too good at my own game can make gauging the difficulty curve a bit tricky at times, but I think I'm figuring it out!​

You may have also noticed that the characters have new UI icons too! I felt like the old ones were too flat and boring, so I did a new take on them, aiming for more dynamic shapes and angles, not to mention how my art style's just kinda grown a bit in general since I last drew the icons. I also ended up leaving out the circles behind them. I was a little worried I was gonna run out of unique colors for all of them at some point, plus SOME of these guys can have really big hair and/or hats that pretty much just cover up the whole circle anyway. (hi rensa)

Speaking of artwork, here's a little look at some of the updated animation I've done for Stir & Mix! (Try to imagine it in not highly-compressed-gif-form. I promise it looks better in-game!)

When working on Stir & Mix related stuff, I can't help but feel a bit of a sense of dread knowing how people may react to it... Honestly, sometimes I kinda wish it never got as popular as it did in 2022. But hey, doing my own thing regardless of what's expected of me is the most Scratchin' Melodii thing I could do!

Speaking of which, Mia learned a ton of new stuff while doing the VOCALOID tuning for the last rival battle we worked on, so we might revisit Stir & Mix's vocals again at some point before release to give it even more style! (By the way, Mia and 2cada are the same person! Sorry if I refer to both names interchangeably! She's been the one doing all the VOCALOID tuning and vocal mixing for the game since 2023.)

Well, I think that's all for now! Here's another friendly reminder that there will NOT be anymore demos of the game. Any new content will be saved for the full game's release. I know I've said it before, but I probably won't stop saying it until people stop getting confused about it LOL. Thanks for reading!! I appreciate you. - LJ

[taffywabbit]

[kind of a longwinded vent post i guess, i was gonna just make a sort of tired joke post but then it actually wasn't a joke oops. don't feel obligated to read this, i just need to put my thoughts somewhere]

man. i am wayyy too damn busy this week to be getting hit with as many heavy thoughts and potentially entire-perspective-on-life-altering realizations about my identity and mental health as i have been. why can't i ever have important stuff to think about during literally any time when my life affords me the time and energy to think about it properly. it just ends up being loud background static behind my existing stress every time because it's like... i obviously do have tangible stuff i NEED to prioritize, and it's reasonable for me to put that first, but i still end up feeling like i'm somehow being cowardly or irresponsible by putting off the internal processing that's demanding i pay more attention to it.

i'm literally just living that one post that's like "i'm probably nonbinary but i have a job so i don't really care about that right now" or whatever, except i'm already trans so swap that first part out for a growing list of possible untreated mental illnesses, an increasingly-hard-to-ignore identity crisis, the looming dread that i cannot keep treading water in my current stagnant career forever. also, most notably, a general sense that i have no idea where my life is going or what i want from it now that i've finally broken down my mental wall labeled "you can't pursue anything else you want until you get your ass in gear and start transitioning already", gotten some joy out of that, and then realized there wasn't much else it was actually obstructing. and it's like. breaking that wall DID at least give me a clearer view of things and now i have plenty of other important stuff i could unpack, but it feels like i'm just stuck on a nonstop conveyor belt of "actually i don't have time for that because i'm behind on work again" that prevents me from making real tangible progress in figuring my shit out, even now.

like i am aware this is very much a "GOD i need to talk to a therapist" type situation but guess what! seeing a therapist costs a lot of money (yes, even in canada) and takes time and effort to set up, and if i want those things i'd better get my work done! except oops now i'm once again too busy to do anything BUT work, because i burned out and slowed down and the work took too long again and now i no longer have the time for the genuine proper break i needed in order to do anything for myself besides earn money.

one of the most frustrating parts is that HRT has seemingly made me a lot more emotionally sensitive and outwardly reactive (as it reportedly does for many people), and instead of that being the cathartic experience it should be, it usually just manifests as all my shit very visibly unraveling at the seams as i spiral and make an ass of myself and push people away, where i previously would've at LEAST been able to hold it together a bit better. so not only do i feel like i'm not making progress, it's constantly taking all the energy i can spare just to avoid crashing out and burning all my bridges and leaving myself with no external supports. my friends are kinda all i have right now, and i'm painfully aware that the more i procrastinate sorting out my issues, the more danger there is that i'll damage my relationships with those i care about if any of this internal pressure leaks out at the wrong time. which then becomes yet another fear to add to the pile of stuff i'm not equipped to deal with right now

idk. i was about to instinctively say "i'm fine tho" and that's very clearly a lie, but like. i WILL continue to manage at least. i'm not in any physical danger from myself or others, nothing is gonna happen to me, you don't have to worry about anything like that. i'm just overwhelmed and exhausted, and i don't have any good outlets for talking about this shit anymore besides just dumping it on friends at random, which feels shitty and i would really prefer not to make a habit of it. i just feel like i'm waiting for some kinda stroke of good fortune to come along and perk me up and give me enough of a jolt of extra energy to start doing things differently, kinda like last year when i suddenly stumbled into getting my transition stuff started and then THAT gave me enough confidence and excitement to seek out an ADHD diagnosis a couple months later. just something to break me out of this routine temporarily and help me feel unburdened enough that i can do SOMETHING, y'know?

but in the meantime i feel like i just need to like. signal in some way that i am Really Going Through It, if only to counter my own instinctive efforts to always maintain this illusion of perfect functionality and never cause any problems or allow anyone to worry about me or be annoyed by me ever. professionalism be damned, i make art for a living, i do not have the luxury of separating my job from my self-expression and trying to pretend everything's going smoothly in terms of work will always kinda inherently come at the cost of trying to convince myself it's going smoothly in my personal life too. to some extent i suppose MOST people don't - the shit that affects you at home is gonna affect you at your office job too, sooner or later - but in my case the false wall of work-life balance is like a two-way mirror, because drawing is also my most treasured hobby and lifelong source of comfort, and any outward-facing concept of professionalism i construct only exists for my audience. there's no fooling myself with this stuff, it's all i have and all i do and the only difference is that sometimes people pay me for it so it becomes "work", but not the kind i get to clock out of at 5pm on weekdays. if i'm going to talk about what i'm going through and be open about my feelings at all and encourage people to see me as a living breathing person, it inherently is going to make me look like i'm also complaining about my job, because my job is to make art and my art (paid or not) conveys a part of who i am. i cannot present myself as brand-safe and a human being at the same time, at least not without driving myself (more) insane

anyways this isn't an essay or anything, i don't have a conclusion? thank you for being here i guess. i feel like i'm at least breathing like 5% easier after getting all that rambling out of me, so that's something at least? i will now go buckle down and try to finish my remaining art obligations and then hopefully when that's done i will make a responsible choice and wait long enough before piling more work onto myself to just like. breathe for a sec and seriously consider if there's perhaps a better way to be doing what i'm doing so it does not make me crumble into dust. and also maybe pick like ONE life-shattering realization or crisis to poke at a little bit, if i feel up to it. hey btw did you know this whole post was originally going to just be a very short one where i half-jokingly reflected on the possibility that i might actually be autistic, but then started thinking way too much about why my brain refuses to latch onto that thought and keeps pushing it aside with a big stick labeled "who cares, i'm tired" and this post happened instead. yeah. anyways that's the most recent small addition to The Pile in case you were curious, yippee

[lythea-creation]

The Price Of Family - Draco Malfoy x sister reader (Part 2)

Part 1

warnings: Angst

word count: 695

---------------------

Draco's PoV

The eerie silence was mocking me.

Mere minutes ago the scenery had been the exact opposite. Mere minutes ago when my sister had still been here.

After Father had left to prepare everything, (f/n) had not said a word to me.

But that changed as soon as our father returned.

I had always somehow admired and envied (f/n) for standing up for herself, even in front of our father. It never seemed to bother her what other people were thinking.

A rare gift in our wealthy circles.

Now it had been her doom.

But in the end it had only made it worse to see her resisting and begging.

The dread I was feeling was making it hard to breathe.

I had never expected that she would be sent to Aunt Bellatrix.

All I had wanted was to be seen and respected. I had known that it was going to be at my sister's expense. But at the same time I had felt like it was her own fault for acting so reckless.

Now I was not sure about that anymore.

If I had not snitched on her, she would still be in her room now, probably reading peacefully or taking a nap from the long train ride.

No matter how hard I was trying to suppress the images, my mind was mocking me in the worst way. All the possible scenarios of (f/n)'s current situation were playing on in my head, one worse than the other.

Everything inside of me was screaming to do something to help her, anything.

But I knew that it was pointless.

(f/n) was already gone and trying to change that fact would only get me in trouble too.

So instead of acting I waited. I waited for the summer break to end.

A few weeks could truly feel eternal.

(f/n) actually did not return until the last day of the break.

Just by seeing her I could already tell that she had changed. The fire in her eyes was gone, replaced by a cold I could barely take seeing on her.

She politely greeted our parents and talked to the until she was dismissed.

But when she passed me she did not even spare me a glance or glare. She simply ignored me.

I had not expected that living here could turn more gloom. Reality was obviously worse than imagination.

I could not help but take a shot at talking to her. However there was no answer when I knocked on her door.

Kinda ironic. One of the rare times I was respecting her privacy and she did not bother to react to it.

So I ended up entering her room anyway.

“Hey”, I greeted her anxiously.

She was packing her stuff for Hogwarts, her wand finally on her again.

“I'm sorry”, I proposed, not knowing what else to say.

No words could rewind time after all. Or maybe they could? There was surely a lot of magical possibilities I did not know about.

Meanwhile (f/n) was continuing her silent treatment.

She only talked when our parents were speaking directly to her. Otherwise I would have worried that her voice was not working.

The silent treatment I was receiving did not stop at that though.

I was keeping an eye on her when we were back at Hogwarts.

She was ignoring almost everyone, even the Ravenclaw weirdo and the Weasley twins.

If I happened to see her outside of class and meals, she was studying diligently and going to bed early.

There was absolutely no trace of the sister I had once secretly admired and loved deeply.

Everything that had been moving me was now seeming minor. I just wished I could get her back.

My fiery sister nobody could stop. The one that was criticizing my behavior, annoying and lecturing me all the time. The one that was worrying about me in a way that was driving me crazy. The one that was willing to stand up for me and protect me at any time, even when she disagreed with me.

I could not believe I had lost her. I did not want to.

--------------------

Hey! Since it was requested here's the second part. It's kinda short, but i hope you like it anyway. What do you think? Do you wanna know what happened to (f/n) in her break? Then I'd consider writing another part for this story.

Next Part

[queenmuzz]

Zea Ingellvar’s Codex

Based off this prompt. I will attempt to put one out each day IT'S THE FINAL ONE!

30. A note/letter that Rook never sent

(Letter recently discovered among Lady Ingellvar’s papers.  Still sealed.  Lady Ingellvar reluctantly allowed it to be unsealed and read by her guardian, several decades after it was written)

Vorgoth,

If you’re receiving this letter, I’m sorry.  Right now, as I'm writing this, it’s late at night, Emmrich is sleeping,  Manfred is  gone on a multi day expedition with his classmates into the Necropolis depths, and it’s two more weeks before I’m expected to give birth.  I know that I’m going to have the best care when delivering this child, and that my pregnancy has been quite normal (aside from the weird cravings.  Why am I craving meat, of all foods?) but I’m under no illusion of how dangerous childbirth can be.  So, as a proper Mourn Watcher, I’m getting my affairs in order. So this means writing these letters when Emmrich is indisposed, as these sort of matters always seem to upset him. I know I told Emmrich that there would be no more worries or fears that we’d keep from each other, but frankly, I’m not actually fearful of dying.  

That’s not to say I’m at peace with it.  I’ve survived the War of the Banners, Solas’s ritual, several dragons and Archdemons, two would be Gods, a prison intended for said would be gods, and the Dread Wolf himself.  To die while giving birth, after all that I’ve been through, it feels so tragic.  I won’t be able to raise my child, they’ll never truly know how much I love them.  Emmrich will undoubtedly blame himself, although it’s not his fault.  I’ve written a rather long letter explaining to him about the matter, to live for me, to live for our child.  Still, Emmrich’s soul is a gentle, fragile thing, and I need you to support him, as best you can.  He will need as much help as you can spare.

I never got to say this in life, so this letter will have to do.  Thank you, Vorgoth.  Thank you for being there all those years ago, finding that little abandoned infant in the crypts.  Raising said infant, despite the trouble she would constantly get into.  Watching her grow up, encouraging her independence.  

Maker, I would even thank you for persuading the council to exile me after the War of the Banners incident.  At the time, I was furious with you and Myrna.  How dare you send me away from the only home I had ever known!?  How dare you deny me a swift and early death?  Oh, I was beyond livid.  I thought you hated me.

Turns out, I was wrong.  Wrong about you hating me, of course.  But also about being exiled.  Had it not happened, I would never have experienced the wide world out there, met so many cultures, people, perspectives.  I, of course, would not have been able to save Thedas.  No doubt someone more capable would have taken the job and done it better.  But without with my exile, I would have never met Emmrich, never fallen in love with him.  Never got married.  Never had a child.  So… in a way, by sending me away to avoid my death, I was still destined to die.  Kinda funny, in a morbid tragic play way.  At least in this way, the life I left behind was far more richer, more vibrant, and I myself left a larger impact on the world.

Again, please look after Emmrich for me.  Look after my child, like you did for me, and I will be eternally grateful.  

Your Eternal Ward,

Zea Ingellvar-Volkarin

(P.S.  If it's a girl, do NOT let Emmrich name her after me.  He’d probably think he was honouring my memory, but I know it would hurt him beyond measure.  His mother’s name would be delightful, but I would like her to be named Selphina.)

[minecraftdog]

dnf | t | claiming, mentions of gituation

I want to learn how to write, I guess, so I'm trying to write at least a little thing everyday for dteam omegaverse week and post it on tumblr. This is my first try for the first day. If anyone has any advice, especially with commas and punctuation, please give.

Dream didn't think it through. They both didn't think it through but Dream only blames himself because he is the alpha. Okay, maybe it is not right to think of George through the lens of traditional alpha/omega dynamic, and he would definitely be offended if he knew that Dream only blames himself, but Dream can't help it. Not in a way that takes any agency from George, but in a way that puts pressure on himself to think about things earlier and protect him from any trouble. And in trouble they are right now, complicated sorta pickle.

The claiming mark is huge.

Calming marks, as they are, vary from person to person, from omega to omega, and the size of the jaw and passion of their alphas. And passionate Dream definitely was, he remembers, feeling prickles of embarrassment on the bridge of his nose and the tips of his ears.

The most recent of George's heats was magical. Okay, maybe that's not the right word, because it was wet, potent, slippery, loud, and kinda gross, thinking about it outside of it. But that one was special, it was the one they both decided to take their relationship further. To stake their claim and tie the metaphorical knot. Though the very much real knot during the process was also involved.

Dream is so giddy thinking about George finally agreeing to entrust everything in him. He embarrassedly admitted that he was willing to do it much much earlier, he came along with Dream to this content creation journey after all. But Dream still couldn't wrap his mind around it. It didn't really matter because this was the moment when Dream finally felt ready. After everything ruined on top of George's head, and the whole internet decided to turn their backs on him, Dream needed to hold him close, promising that he, at least, will try to protect him from everything. George choosing not to run away and leave everything behind, go back to England, or some other dreaded thing, shook Dream to his core. It struck him, finally, that Gorge was actually serious. About this. About them.

Even though it was a dark time, George's heat was due, and they talked. They talked about deep topics so much at that time, that it sorta came naturally. George seemed broken open, so exhausted from everything taking its toll on him, that he no longer cared about pretending to put up any walls. And Dream felt like he finally listened to him, and saw, and actually got him, even though he knew him best out of everyone. Trauma really bonded people. So thus they decided they were ready, committed to each other for forever. This was meant to be their bonding heat.

How this skipped his (theirs) mind, he doesn't know.

The claiming mark is huge.

Reaching from the soft place under George's ear almost to his collarbone. Reddish indents of Dream's teeth forever imprinted around George's scent gland, inflamed little bud in the middle. Dream tries really hard to put off his alpha preening at the job well done. It is not good. It is very much not good because there is no way he would ever be able to hide it even under turtle necks or using the strongest of foundations.

“What the fuck are we supposed to do Dream?”, George grumbles making eye contact with him through the mirror they are in front of.

“Your stupid dumb alpha fucked up. I should have known that you wouldn't be able to be normal about it”, he rolls his eyes exaggeratedly.

Dream traces his finger around the healing wound. At least George's omega also seems giddy underneath his mock annoyance, while he shudders underneath the touch of his finger.

“George. I can't be sorry about it. I'll figure something out but now we should wait. You were still planning on taking a break, right? Maybe it will also get a bit smaller when it heals, a bit less noticeable? I guess we will find something that works for you. Now, we should try not to worry about this, right? I couldn't help myself, George. I love you so fucking much. I can't help myself with you, you are right. It's just. I'm just–...”

“Dream.” There are hands scratching in his hair on both sides of his head. George turned to face him during his rumble and his comforting scent hits Dream’s nose. He takes a calming breath mimicking George's and feels his body relaxing. At last, his eyes find George’s already looking at him. “Yes, I want to wait. But maybe after it, it won't matter as much anymore, you know? Maybe there won't be a need to hide it?”

“George��� what?”, he can't. He doesn't mean what Dream thinks he means, right? It can't be-

“We are basically married, Dream. Maybe it will be time for everyone to know, you know? We have some time to figure it out, how we want to do this, and what we are comfortable with, but I'm just saying.”

Dream is dumbfounded. Completely starstruck. He understands the words but he can't make sense out of them. That's everything he wants every day. Especially now, after his hormones are going crazy so recently after the bonding. He wants to climb the rooftops and scream his love for George. He feels the need for everyone to know. His alpha so pleased after staking claim over the smartest, kindest, funniest, hottest omega ever. Overwhelmed with the rush of emotions he surges down and kisses George hard. “Yeah… please...”

George kisses him back through his own smile. They will figure it out. They can do it. They can do anything, together.

[carniekisses]

Here's a long post that I really hope Tumblr will not flag as NSFW (please don't flag this), I remember back when I showed off the needlefelt Gomer sculpture I had made, someone asked if I had like a work process to show off for it. And I did not, because I had kept it all confined to a private account. I thought it'd be fun to have something to show for it for this one.

So I've been wanting to make a BJD for at least the past 15 years, back when I was a kid with no money to buy supplies with and also with a worry for symmetry, and also also I wasn't very skilled. It's 2024, and I vaguely know how to use Blender now

I've started this project on April 6th, as I've been documenting this on the above mentioned private account.

Of said model I (much) later ended up only being able to salvage the physical sculpts of the chest and torso parts as I messed up somewhat badly, see down below. I also ended up dropping the 'magnets in hands & feet' concept as it was just redundant, one can simply unhook them off the elastic if they are to swap them out.

At any rate, I 3D printed it all and got to sanding, and painting.

So far so good I guess, really not a fan of how the knee and elbow bean slots were just holes (I fixed that later don't worry)

So This was Not looking good lmao. I used acrylic paint, which was not necessarily the problem, the problem was that I'd applied it with a sponge brush which caused the surface to feel really sandpapery once dry. So don't do that I suppose, bad idea

On top of this, I realized that given the thickness of this doll I absolutely needed double joints in the legs, in order to have decent articulation. You can see in the above pics I *had* sculpted those, but I later fused the knee beans with the shins with apoxy resin, for some reason? I think it was because as I posed the legs the knee beans kept falling *into* the hollowed out shins/thighs, and I got tired of it.

The final blows for this model were me applying some 3D finish resin in a last ditch effort to smooth out the horrible texture, which rendered the pieces extremely shiny and smooth (disgusting), WHICH then prompted me to apply matte varnish to fix that bullshit. It absolutely did not work lmfao, and I have no pictures of that disaster because I became pretty discouraged about having to go back to like square two or three.

Some time passed (months really because I kept getting distracted for many a reason [sanding is so fucking boring, Blender was a mistake, I was feeling overwhelmed, I was too sad/tired to work that day, etc.]), I buckled down and finally retooled the pieces that needed it: everything But the chest and torso parts, off of which I managed to sand the varnish and smooth resin. I had fixed all the double joints too to actually be decently functional this time. The head was completely resculpted to better reflect the character's latest design iteration.

bean slots: Fixed

So after sanding (which was the part I was dreading the entire time, because it's so tedious and also it hurts after a while), I caved and got myself an airbrush to, hopefully, lay paint down good this time.

Very glad I did because the difference is kinda crazy. Please ignore my dirty ass desk, it's what happens when you craft. These pictures are from last week btw.

The blue base and the blush were airsprayed, the finer details like the dark shading and the pinker parts were done with both chalk and just acrylic paint. I miiight remake the eyeballs, or at least add more of a smooth finish. The shine to them is really nice

Here's she with lashes, wearing a shitty little scrap of fabric I cut in 10 minutes for fun (please DON'T flag th), and posing to test out the double joints too, they definitely could be better but they work Fine and I'm okay with that.

As of today I'm waiting for the fibres to deliver, for the wig, I already have the cap done. I guess I can update this when it happens, thanks for reading so far, I hope it was interesting, see you next time.......

[trekkingthroughtrek]

TNG Watchthrough: S1 E12 – Datalore

Lore! I find myself surprised at how many recurring characters are established in this first half of the first season. We've had Q (twice!), the Traveler, Lwaxana Troi, the Ferangi, and now Lore. I would have guessed, if you had asked me to guess, that those introductions would have been more spread out over first few seasons, and that these early episodes would have had more one-shot monster of the week type aliens that we never see again. It's neat to see all of these foundations being laid.

More thoughts, and yet another rant about Wesley, below the cut.

I didn't know or had forgotten that data's origin was a mystery at first. I was like, what do you mean the mystery of data's origins, he was built by Dr. Soong, even I know that.

"Hold the memories of four hundred and eleven people." Oooh, this is kind of neat actually. Even if he doesn't have their day to day experiences it's a neat explanation for why he might know or understand some things and not others in a sort of patchwork way depending on what the colonists experiences were.

I'm wondering if this is one I actually saw once upon a time. This place where they found data with the secret door behind it is familiar.

"Data, we don't know that this can become alive." "It is very important for me to know that, sir.  I never dreamed it was possible I might find some link with some form like my own." Aww. 🥺

“Does it appear to have all your parts?” They're doing a great job selling the awkwardness here.

Lore waking up is suitably creepy.

"Your referring to him as an it suggests that I, too, fit into the category of a thing." Love this. You tell him data.

"Which requires I now ask you a very serious question. Since the two of you are closely related to each other." "The answer, sir, is that my loyalty is to you and Starfleet. Completely." "Thank you, Commander. I was certain of that." Okay Picard, clearly you were not certain of that if you had to ask. And like, would you ask your human officers if they were going to betray you if they had family come aboard?

I like the gradual reveals of Lore’s trickery with the bit with Riker on the bridge and Data calling him on lying about who was built first. It sets up a nice sense of dread that Lore is clearly deceptive, but we don’t know yet to what extent that crosses the line to evil, and data so clearly wants him to be someone he can have a relationship with.

“Our computer has constructed the image of a great crystalline entity which feeds on life.” Oh! The crystalline entity! I’ve heard of that!

The crystalline entity is very pretty.

Ah, the famous “Shut up Wesley.” This is so irritating. You literally sent him explicitly for the purpose of finding out if Data was doing anything suspicious. If you weren’t going to believe what he told you you should have sent someone else. Picard is being a jerk, Wesley is right, again, I do not understand how people watched all these episodes and decided to hate on Wesley. There was one(1) moment in like, The Battle where he was kinda a smarmy know it all, but other than that it’s been Wesley is earnest and correct and the adults are dismissive jerks to him about it.

“Are you prepared for the kind of death you've earned, little man? […] I promise him exquisite pain unless you obey me too, brother.” Excellent. A+ threats Lore.

“Lore's gone, sir. Permanently.” Well….

“Ensign Crusher, are you able to return to duty?” Sure, fine, I guess this is nice, but like, would it kill you to apologize Picard?