#why does this balding man think he can say that and not get hurt?

[satyricplotter]

say something kind to me again

pairing: dick grayson x reader word count: 1.9k rating: gen notes: no warnings, but mentions of scissors and some vague threatening with them. hair cutting, but the only mention of your hair is about a tendril slipping away. sorry if you're bald. this is within the birdwatcher universe, but i'm not sure it'll make it into the main story. you can consider it an outtake. these were the chairs i was picturing, only a little taller lmao title from sydney ross mitchell's new song.

read it on ao3

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"I don't think I've ever met a man who wants to be bald more than you do," you huff, setting the scissors aside for the third time.

Dick has the gall to smother a laugh against his shoulder, ruining the part you've redone twice as many times. The bathroom at his apartment is small and cramped, and it feels even more so like this, Dick half-sprawling over the sink and you backed against the closed door. He'd dragged one of the kitchen table chairs, old and knobby, made of sturdy wood but not necessarily compact, into the bathroom, positioned it right against the vanity, plopped a towel around his shoulders and said something to the effect of go on, then.

You'd made fun of him earlier, walking back to his apartment. Summer was here, and it made its presence known. Sensibly, you'd worn a hat, but Dick was rawdogging the midday sun. Sweat collected at his temple, ran its trail down his neck, and you had to think about something else, something other than the flat of your tongue pressing over his skin to follow. So you'd snorted, watching him try and fail at huffing his bangs out of his eyes, the plastic bag with your assortment of snacks and melting popsicles swinging off his wrist, and said, "ever met a pair of scissors, my man?"

So now you're here, doorknob digging into your kidney every time you try and put some distance between you. He'd set the chair right across the mirror, which rested above the puzzlingly large vanity, and the space between mirror-vanity-chair-Dick-door was barely enough to fit you in. You'd tried keeping the door open, of course you had—it opens to the hallway, you're not stupid—but it swings inwards and every time you moved, it kept hitting the wall, and this is a rental… and so on and so forth. So closed is really the only option you have if you want to keep some range of movement, short of pushing the chair against the door and climbing on Dick's lap, which is no option at all.

(He'd say yes if you offered. You would never.)

"Stop snickering," you grumble, sneaking a hand around the wing of the chair to poke him in the side. Dick, sitting cross-legged, knocks his knee against the edge of the vanity and groans. Good. "You think I'm joking? I've watched that stupid Brad Mondo video like ten times already. If you keep moving, I'm giving you a bald patch on purpose."

"Uh-huh," he says. Giggles. Idiot. "Should I get a bowl from the cupboards? I've never had a bowl cut before, but the idol guys Steph likes to watch on her phone seem to rock 'em. You think I'd look good like that?"

"I think you should get professional help."

"Oh, that's way past me."

"From a hairdresser," you stress, picking up the swords again. Scissors. The scissors again. They might as well be swords in your hands, though.

"I trust you," he says simply.

You sigh. It's because he does things like this that you'd be better off hating him, really. The man peers into the wound, digs his thumb in and asks if it hurts. If you like it. And you do, is the thing, you love the little moments. The crumbs of affection, freely given and unimportant. It hurts to have him inside you, but you live for the stretch, for the itch of the tears drying down your cheeks. You're a masochist, simply put, and he's your unknowing sadist.

"You should trust a licensed professional with the $26 a decent cut is worth," you say instead of all that. Because why would you say that, even.

See, that's the other thing in the up and down of this friendship. A lot of it feels pretty pointless. Not the happy stuff—not the talking, not the getting along. Not the walks on the sidewalk, the sun blaring down on you. Not the movie nights and the shoving each other for popcorn. Not even the grievances, big and small, and rare as they've become. But this, the… the expectation. The pause before the step. The constant second-guessing, the self-vigilance. The waiting around to see if you've been found out, even though Dick knows, even though he bears it so kindly, so patiently. Every moment you set your hands upon him, asking yourself is this innocent enough? and knowing it isn't, and knowing he knows and lets you anyway. Out of pity. Out of love.

Not, crucially, out of interest.

You think he'd do whatever you asked him for at this point. Your friendship's something of a rubber band. It changes shape, it constricts around time and opportunity to squeeze out passing and enduring enjoyment. You take care not to stretch it too far so it doesn't snap on you, sting you all the way to hell, but by this point it's pretty sturdy. You text most days, and you've got his brother's number, and whenever he disappears, he always comes back around.

So he'd do it, really, if you asked. If you came to him, and pleaded with him sweetly on your knees, and said would you teach me? Would you show me? He'd set his hands on you, and he would. He would teach you. He would show you. And he would do it with care and attention, mouth pressed against the divot between your ear and your jaw, and he'd mutter loving nothings that'd ring out true in the cloying dark because he does love you. He does. You love him back. That's no trouble to admit.

But he doesn't want to, is the thing. His gaze will slice across a crowd and pick you out of every person in the room and say I want to spend my afternoons with you, but he won't mean it like that. His eyes will flit over your body, and he'll say you're cute, but he's not thinking about it the way you want him to. You linger in his thoughts the way the comfortable simplicity of a morning cup of coffee does, something you want and seek and look forward to, but not something you crave.

Which is fine. Well within his right. It's just the way the chips fall.

His neck is warm when you hold it, rotate his head just a little to the left to inspect the place you'd been working on before. It's hot inside the bathroom, and it's not just you, it's the half-hour you've already spent cooped up in here, and the bad ventilation courtesy of the sad, little window over the shower head. His skin is almost damp, too hot to feel clammy, and you gotta get the two of you out of here soon or you'll end up getting heatstroke.

You set Dick up just right, and he blows his bangs out of his eyes, ruining the parting. Again.

"I will recede your hairline well before your time," you threaten, pressing the side of the scissors under the line of his jaw.

Dick works his throat, the muscle moving under the cold metal of the blade, and you hold the scissors a little tighter so they don't slip. He throws you up a flirtatious smile, drawls a seductive, "promise?"

"Ugh," you groan, more for the show of it than anything else. You have to play act it, over correct and be more brusque than you'd like. The hand resting on his shoulder slides up to grab a fistful of hair, so soft between your fingers, so much of it to cut, and shove his head down.

Dick makes a sound half between surprise and—well. You do not question that. Eager to move well past it, you inspect the back of his hair with critical eyes, and are pleased to find it laying mostly okay. It's a little shaggy, really, but it suits him. Few things don't.

"Don't be so rough," he says, and your guilty grip slackens. Then, unnecessarily, he adds, his voice gravelly, "I'll start getting excited."

"Shut up, Dick," you tell him, for lack of a better response. Sometimes he makes it worse on purpose.

You make the next cuts in silence. He's pliant underneath you, moving where you tell him, twisting this way and that. Doesn't mind you shoving his toothbrush and soap over the toilet—

"Get a shelf, man."

"It's a rental," he whines.

—or having to press against the knobby bars of the chair when you have to get your ass over the corner of the sink to get his bangs straight. When he sees you concentrating, he shuts up, but when you're deliberating or faffing about, he makes conversation. He'd make any barber's day, honestly.

"I think," you say, curling over his shoulder and running your fingers through the floppy bits of hair over his ears, "we're officially done."

Dick inspects himself in the mirror, turning his face left and right. You slide your hands down to grip the back of the chair, expectant. He doesn't seem unhappy, but he has the tendency to keep a straight face when he's evaluating. You kinda like the way his eyes go sharp and assessing, but then again, that's not a thought to entertain for too long. He grins at you through the mirror, and then drops his head over the back of chair, knocking against your knuckles.

"I like it," he says. "Do I look handsome?"

You snort. "I said it was done, not that it was good."

Dick pouts. "So I don't?"

A modest shrug. "I think it could be worse."

"You're so mean to me sometimes." He sighs. He does look handsome, choppy bangs and all, and you'll tell him later, but it's good practice for him to work for it. You won't reap those benefits, but some poor devil will.

"A barber would've sung your praises."

"Mm," Dick hums, uninterested. God, you hope he's not considering coming to you for all your haircuts.

You slide your hands out from underneath his head, rest them on the swoops at the very ends of the back of the chair, but he doesn't move. He's watching you now, bright eyes inscrutable. You look back on, holding his electric gaze. I am watching you watch me, you think. All our lives, we'll watch each other. And that's enough.

A tendril of your hair slips down your temple, hangs above you both. Dick lifts his arm to catch it, twisting the end around his finger.

"Should I cut yours, too?" He asks, far more quiet than before. You know what he's asking. His fingers through your hair. His hands on you.

You want to kiss him. You want to swipe back the hair off his forehead and press a kiss there. You want to feel his throat move under your fingers as you kiss his eyelids and his cheeks. Want to watch his mouth part when you hover right above it. The desire's so immediate, even now, even after all this work, as though it's never faded even a little, always at the ready right beneath your skin. He's watching you watch him, and he can see it brewing in your eyes.

Instead, you slap a hand over his mouth, widen your eyes at him, and go, "hell, no!"

He laughs you out of the bathroom, cowardice slipping out right behind you.

[xdinari]

Who in XH would and wouldn't read / write fanfics

Jooyeon

reads (as a joke), writes (as a joke)

Has has jokingly written a fanfic about him and Jiseok just to drop it in the group chat and traumatize everyone and make them lose their time

Would read if it was good "WHAT ITS GOOD INSPO"

Gets offended when someone gets something wrong about him "WHY DO THEY KEEP SAYING I DONT BRUSH MY TEETH IN THE MORNING"

Has a very disorganized bookmark system, he doesn't remember what he read, didn't read, plans on reading, it's all a mess

His (joke) fanfics have a lot of spelling mistakes and he does NOT care like that one time he wrote "Jiseok kicked Jooyeon's lips" instead of "kissed" only to be yelled at by the other like "BRO I THOUGHT WE WERE GETTING IT ON?"

Loses sleep over a stupid fanfic he got too invested in

Would recreate cringe fanfic scenes with Jiseok for funnies and first one to laugh fails

One thing about this man is that he's CREATIVE, like what do you mean you wrote a fic where you were all Stuck in a Virtual Reality (that's how the XH lore started)

Junhan

kinda reads, sometimes writes angst about a movie he watched

Would read something once by mistake and now he's kinda addicted to little snippets but he's too embarrassed of it, he's a weird mixture of embarrassed of it, weirded out and intrigued

He can appreciate good writing regardless of the type of writing (novel, fanfic)

One time he saw a really cool fanfic name, those with long names and he stole it to use it as a name for one of their songs

Doesn't really read, but will open Jooyeon's fanfic just to go "hey guys why am I not here :(" and just for Jungsu, who's a delivery guy in the fic to go "WHY WOULD YOU WANT TO BE A PART OF THIS?"

The few times he writes, he's incredible at describing emotions and thoughts, even though he might think he's not

Seungmin

doesn't read, doesn't write, judges

He tried to read something once, came across a cringe badly written one and never again

He might read one if u show it to him just to judge if they did well with the characterization

"God this is making my head hurt why are there no comas..."

Kicks Jooyeon out of the group for sending his fanfic

Won't admit it but he likes it when people write him well and gets an ego boost from it

Jiseok

reads, writes, shares, DOES NOT CARE

"ITS ART"

He comes to gunil one day like "THIS FIC IS SO FUNNY THEY MADE YOU A DRUG DEALER"

Has been late to multiple practices because of being too immersed in a fic

Co-writes with Jooyeon just to piss Seungmin off when they make him bald in one of their works

"Ah...this is what real writing is..." (the fic wrote him as a super cool guy that gets everyone he sets his mind to, is muscular and talented)

Uses it as inspo for their more intense songs when he's out of ideas

Would dedicate you a fanfic as a birthday present if you asked him to

The absolute KING of dialogue, absolutely everything this man writes is COMEDY GOLD, PEARL CLUTCHING (Gunil has stolen his jokes from fics multiple times as a party trick) (Jiseok lets him)

Jungsu

reader to an extent but mostly writes (he canonically admitted to writing stories after he watches movies I know what you are)

He is epecially a WRITER he LOVES IT

It helps with song inspo, managing his emotions, expressing himself in a more rough way

If he reads about himself his ego gets BOOSTED especially when it's written as him being hot (he cried the first time he read smut out of happiness people find him hot)

"I write about....stuff..just yeah..."

Writes very descriptively, with a lot of emotion and carefully chosen words

Loves to write romance and is not ashamed of it

Shares his works with the members so he can get feedback and they all go along with it because they love him and his writing (even Seungmin)

"STOP MAKING ME SO BORING IN YOUR FICS, JOOYEON, FOR FUCK'S SAKE!!"

Gunil

reads if asked, doesn't write

He thinks t's funny and might read a bit if u give it to him saying "Whatever makes u happy I won't judge."

Always gives five star reviews when he's shown a piece of writing

He catches himself giggling at a fic of reader x gunil then immediately puts his phone down

Somehow everyone in the dorm got wrapped up in the fanfic deal and he threatens the members wifh exposing them whenever they're not behaving

"Guys I think it's time you uninstall google docs..."

Steals Jiseok's fanfic Jokes

They make it a whole thing, they have like 30 extra inside jokes because of the fanfic ordeal

thank you to my dearest coworker @chericherilvr for participating with ideas and supporting this 🫦

[lazyneonrabbitt]

Hunters Ink

Tattoo artist!Daryl Dixon x Reader

One tattoo leads to many more when you fall head over heels with the artist.

You made your way into the shop, quickly engulfed in old rock music and the buzz of machines. The place was packed.

An older bald man welcomed you, a bright smile on his face after he had notified his client. "What can I help ya with, sweetheart?"

You stumbled over your words, unsure how to go about things. "I'd like to get a tattoo."

The man gave you a soft laugh. "Well tha's a given, why else walk into our shop, huh? Now, you got a picture withya, or do ya need sum time to look around fer inspiration?" He motioned around and pointed at the walls adorned with designs.

"I brought something" You fished in your bag for the piece of paper that held the print of a dog's paw.

The man took in the print and called someone else over.

"Daryl! C'mere, this one's yer business." When he turned back to you his voice went softer. "Mah brother does what ya want, my style ain't good fer the lil' details. He'll take over, yeah?"

He handed your paper over to his brother, who looked it over. "Where d'ya wan' it?" You went over all the basic details, where, how big and if you had any other tattoos already. You shared the reasons behind the pawprint and got a couple of placement suggestions before deciding you wanted the piece on your lower arm.

The appointment was quickly made and you left with Daryl's artist card and a warm feeling inside.

The day of the appointment came up quick and you made sure to follow the advice you were given. You had a good meal beforehand and brought some sugary sweets and drinks with you.

"C'mon over, cutie. Got yer paw ready for ya." Daryl came to collect you after you hadn't moved when he called you.

"I got the whole day for ya, so we'll go at your pace, yeah?" His gravely voice was so calming, it really helped with the first tattoo nerves.

"Thanks, really appriciate it." You gave him a sweet smile as you watched him cut different sizes of your tattoo and asked for your hand. "Let's see which size looks best."

Daryl held the guessed sizes to the chosen spot on your arm. "I think the second one?" He took it and held it to your arm once again at your decision and after taking it in you decided it was good.

"Aight, go sit and I'll get it ready for ya." You followed his every move as he talked through the whole stencil making process and came back to you.

With minimal peach fuzz removal and proper cleaning the stencil was on your arm and you were admiring the idea of what it would look like when it was done.

You were ready to go.

Daryl's touches were featherlight, so precise and focused you were almost scared to speak from the moment he held tour wrist to place your arm on the stand beside the chair.

"M'gonna start, do a lil' line ta see how ya handle it." He rubbed something on the stenciled skin and moved the buzzing, inked up machine to your skin, keeping and eye on you as well but you barely gave a kick when he drew the first line.

Daryl gave you a proud smile and went to work. "Ya can ask ta tap out anytime, need ta keep ya as comforable as possible."

You watched his hands work your skin. The way the muscles in his arms tensed at every precise movement and the way his hair was tied back for the work was hypnotising to see. The outline was done before you knew it with how distracted you were by his own large collection of ink.

"How'r ya holdin' up? S'not so bad ain't it?" He came back with a glass of soda for you to give you both a little break.

You admired your arm, the skin all red from the scraping but it didn't hurt that bad. "I'm good." You started, giving yourself a moment to form a sentence. "You're so.. so much softer than you look?" God what were you saying? That was nowhere near a compliment.

"Ya thought we're all as loud as Merle? Loud music, loud angry mouth?" You shyly nodded as his correct assumption. He was being so sweet to you, making sure you were still good every few moments and it warmed your heart to know such kind people were still around. You just didn't think they looked like that.

With the way his heavy boots stomped through the room and the chains on his pants jingled with each step you'd expected short, snappy answers and the all black attire didn't feel welcoming at all before.

But now as you stared at him while he was answering a phone call you couldn't help but let your mind wander off.

You were mesmerised with the ink covering his throat, the wings that followed the natural lines of his body almost perfectly, and every other piece that disappeared into the neckline of his shirt. Even the nude lady laying over the top end of a knife on his lower arm was pretty to you, and you never though the silouhette of roadkill would hold your attention like it did.

"Didn't your mama ever teach ya it's rude ta stare?" You were so deep in thought you hadn't heard the door bell jingle when Merle came waltzing in. His voice pulled you from your daydreaming so fast you got embarrassed. With your head ducked down you glanced over at Daryl who was still on the phone, but he did look back at you with a smile and winked at you. He flipped off his brother with his free hand and went back to writing on a scrap piece of paper and ending the call.

"Ya see me on the phone from outside the window and ya still come in like tha'?"

Merle only laughed and went over to his station to set up for the day. Their back and forth bickering kept up for a bit but it didn't bother you with Daryl smiling through all of his comebacks.

"Darlene, when will ya learn it's still mah own shop, so I can do whatever the hell I want." Merle was at the printer, reading his client's designs while Daryl wiped the excess ink off your skin. "Your shop? Aight how 'bout ya start doin' all the supply orders too, then. Watch ya run outta paper towels halfway into a client's piece."

Merle only yammered some insult in return and went back to working in silence.

Now that his brother was finally quiet again Daryl could continue working without interuptions, having constatly removed the machine from your skin as he replied to the conversation.

A couple of times you thought he was done when he went to move away, but eaxh time it was small top ups and detailing, making sure all the small lines of fur were copied over from the stamped pawprint of your dearest friend were copied over onto your body.

"Ya still like me after today?" He was cleaning up his station while you were admiring his work in the mirror and saw him smile at you in a way that had your stomach do a flip in the best way, already thinking up a next piece so you could come back.

"Ofcourse I still like you! You got me exactly what I wanted, thankyou." You were back at his station, letting him clean your arm for the last time with his gentle touches, but not without a soft "Sorry." before wiping away the excess fluids and wrapping it up for you.

"I'll give ya this, tells ya how ta care fer new ink. And this, on the house." You accepted the paper and aftercare creme and made your payment before you shared goodbyes and you went on your way.

As planned you came back to the shop four weeks later to show the healed piece, not needing any touch ups and getting compliments on taking good care of it.

Instead of heading out immedately you stuck around, looking at the walls until Daryl's voice caught your attention. "Ya wanna ask somethin'?"

You looked at him before averting your gaze again, somehow feeling it was wrong to already ask for a new tattoo. You heard Daryl chuckle. "Ya want somethin' new, dontcha? Tell me whatya got in mind."

He had stopped to lean over the front counter and gave you a knowing smile. "Ya were starin' at the animals, want one o'them?" He looked over and pointed at the frame that held a part of his flash designs and you carefully mentioned liking the rabbit, but not the overall dark theme of the collection.

"Lemme draw ya a pretty bunny and i'll send ya the picture, 'kay?" You immediately loved the idea. The way Daryl's animal desings held so much emotion had you excited he was designing one just for you. "Yeah, that would be amazing. A softer, maybe less dead bunny." You smiled whe he slid over a piece of paper that held your info he copied from your previous appointment, but the phone number section still open. "Fill tha' in for me? Fer the books."

Maybe it wasn't the smoothest way to ask for your number, but he had it now along with a reason to text you.

Not long after you got your bunny, then came some flowers added around it and eventually you were getting custom pieces drawn by Daryl every time you had some money to spend.

Ofcourse it wasn't all you. Daryl had figured out where you worked and made sure to leave you very generous tips to add to your tattoo funds, just so Merle wouldn't figure out you weren't paying full price anymore now that you were getting so close.

"No way he just left you that much--" your work bestie squinted at you as your gaze followed Daryl out the door after he had paid way too much and headed out. "Is he your boyfriend?" You looked at her with a frown and swatted her arm. "Shut up, oh my god we're just friends.."

The truth was, you were both too scared to ask the other out, so seeing each other at the shop and the lunch place was what kept you both close for now.

A/N: This took so much longer than I planned, I hope the hype for this one hasn't left yet!!

[hmhas-00]

Ch. 8

Hit Me Hard & Soft

A/N- Hi lovelies! Plz don’t forget to like & rb. It means the world to me! :)

Remy’s POV

“Look at you. You don’t even respect your fucking self, man.” Billie mumbled, barely making any sense. Her eyes looked angry, bothered, annoyed. It wasn’t her.

“Let’s go home, you’re drunk as fuck. You don’t mean that.”

She swayed to the bass in place, slightly nodding her head to the beat. I didn’t even notice how much time had passed, standing there awkwardly to the side of the dance floor. Finneas came up to us. He had probably seen her yank her arm away and wondered what was going on.

“Let’s head out. She’s had too much.” I pointed towards the exit.

He took one look at her and nodded, calling the car out to the front.

“No! Fuck it, I do mean it. You’re too fucking scared to take a risk, so you keep sitting in your fucking office hoping one day you’ll do more than shred paper.”

That stung. I ignored her as Finneas and Claudia began to walk her outside. I wasn’t much of a help since I was struggling on my feet too.

“When I get back, you’ll be right where I left you. You’re not gonna go anywhere working for a fucking pig like him.”

“Is that what you think, Billie? What else?” I knew it wasn’t a good idea to argue back, but I didn’t care what state of mind she was in. I couldn’t believe she was saying any of this to me.

“Let’s just get in the car, Rem. She’s too fucked up, she doesn’t know what-“ Claudia shook her head.

“No! I’m not! And I’d like to- I want you to know I’m so serious. You let everyone treat you like shit! Your fucking ex, your boss, your parents!” She pointed.

“Shut up, Billie! Stop talking!” I put her seatbelt on her, struggling to put the buckle in the hole the first few times as Finneas drove off.

“Who took care of you when that motherfucker left you for another bitch?! Who lived with you and held you all day and night, and fed you, and made you whole again?” She shouted, scrambling her words, closing her eyes for emphasis.

“You want to throw that in my face now?” I was pissed. How dare she bring that up. There was no need to be that petty. I didn’t understand what brought this on her. She had never said anything so mean before. I knew it was the alcohol talking, but this hurt deep.

“And now! You’re just gonna leave me!” She pointed her finger.

“Leave you? Like you said, I’m not going anywhere! You’re the one leaving me!”

“She doesn’t mean any of this Rem, just ignore her.” Finneas reassured me, trying to deescalate the situation.

“No, say how you really feel, Billie!” I looked at her, squinting.

“You don’t believe in your fucking self! You beg me to believe in you, when you won’t even give yourself a fucking chance!” Her eyes closed as she tried to be louder.

“Oh, is that why you boss me around and tell me what to do with my life? Because you think I could do so much better being your fucking groupie?” I snapped back.

“You might as well be my fucking groupie! Better than being assistant TO the groupie!”

“You wish! So I could clap for you and gas you up every night? Like everyone else does?” I shouted back.

“Well, it’d be nice to have you be there for me once in a while, instead of putting work first like you always do!” Billie crossed her arms.

“You KNOW I can’t just do that!”

“Yeah, okay, whatever. You just wanna stay there and be a martyr so you can have something to complain about!”

“OH! So now I bitch about everything! I thought I kept things to myself and didn’t accept people’s help? Which one is it, Billie?”

“Whatever dude, you wanna be a sexy little office receptionist, and bend over for some bald fuck, and write some bullshit on a magazine, when you know you want to do more with your life.” She waved her hand around, her eyeliner running a little on the corner of her eyes.

“No, that’s your girlfriend Rachel! Weren’t you the one trying to suck her dick so she’d let me hop on a damn column?”

“I was trying to help you, dumbass!”

“I was trying to hang out with my best fucking friend before she travels the world for, like, a year!”

“Right! That’s why you wanted to get fucking wasted tonight! So you wouldn’t even remember our last night together.” Billie got teary eyed, blinking away her anger. “I didn’t even want to drink tonight!”

“No one forced you! You got all weird when that guy talked to me, and you shoved 2 shots consecutively up your ass!”

Claudia looked at Finneas. They shared a look and I wondered what that was about. He turned the corner toward my apartment and turned on his hazard lights.

“No one is concerned with who you wanna make out with, Remy!” She mumbled.

“Except you, because you act like my damn mother anytime anyone even looks at me!” I pointed at her. She stared at my finger, looking nauseous.

“Maybe if you had better judgment I wouldn’t have to fucking-“

“Whatever bro! You don’t get to tell me what to do with my life! And when you get back, you’ll see how fucking wrong you are! And how shitty of a fucking friend-“

“Shitty friend?? Because I want better for you?!” She leaned forward.

“You wouldn’t even know what being wrong feels like! Everyone always tells Billie Eilish yes!” I said, immediately feeling terrible. Immediately feeling like I crossed a line. But she had crossed multiple already.

Her face turned a shade of hurt I hadn’t seen before.

“No, fuck that! Fuck you, Remy!” She yelled.

“Fuck you, too!” I open the door and slam it, walking out before the car was even in park. Finneas fully stopped the car and ran out. He walked me to the door as I keyed in the code.

“I wanna make sure you get inside safely.” He held the door open for me when it unlocked. “God, I’m sorry, that was a lot.”

I held back tears and rubbed my arms, feeling the midnight breeze give me goosebumps before quickly walking in.

“She’s definitely not in the right mindset and I really don’t think she meant to be that-“

“Honest?” I asked, tears starting to stream down my face. “I think she did.” I called the elevator, pressing the button 18 times.

“Remy, she loves you. More than you think. You’re everything to- She just-“

“It doesn’t matter, Finneas. That fucking hurt. Drunk or not.“ I stepped into the elevator as the door slid open.

“Please, Rem. Listen, I know she was pushing it. I’m not gonna make excuses-“ He was visibly frustrated, pushing his hair back as he spoke. “And trust me, she’s going to feel like such a dick tomorrow-“

“I don’t care. I don’t want to hear it anymore from-“

The elevator door began to slide, when he stuck his hand in the way to stop it from closing. “Promise me you’ll see her tomorrow before she leaves for tour.” He looked serious, as if it would change anything. As if seeing her tomorrow would make it hurt any less.

I didn’t say anything. I just leaned back on the elevator wall, crossing my arms.

“Please. Think about it… I’m sorry, Remy. Have a good night.” He nodded, removing his hand and letting the door shut. My heart dropped as the elevator rose to the 5th floor.

In my apartment, I got ready for bed and threw myself into the pillows. My head spun and throbbed as the effects of alcohol slowly left my body. I knew everything would hurt tomorrow morning. I stared at my ceiling, hoping to fall asleep. I thought about Billie’s face when she said those things. When she told me I’d stay exactly where she left me. How can I give up all the hard work I’ve put in. I wonder if she was ever proud of me. I wonder if she knows how much I care about what she thinks of me. I thought about her face when I practically told her she doesn’t know what no means. I thought about her face when she told me “fuck you”. I wonder if tomorrow she’ll be hurting about all this as much as I am right now. We’d never spoken to each other like this before. It felt like she wanted to say more than she actually did…

Eventually my eyelids became heavy, and I drifted into a deep, deep sleep.

******

My eyelids slowly blinked open, staring at my wall. I groaned, stretching and turning on my other side. The light from my window was so uncalled for, causing me to squint and curl up into a ball. My head pounded, reminding me of the events last night.

“Oh shit.” I gasped, grabbing my phone faster than my brain could register. It was 1:02pm and a missed call from Billie displayed on my screen. I put my passcode in, messing up twice before finally being able to call back. The phone rang for a while. I sat up in bed, impatiently. No answer. I had overslept and didn’t have a chance to say good bye before she left on the tour bus. She was probably so angry at me. I remembered how much she hurt me last night, the words all freshly dancing around in my mind. I didn’t know what to make of it, but clearly she didn’t want to talk about it anymore. I figured if she did, she’d call back.

I threw my phone at the foot of the bed and pulled the covers over my head, wishing away the awful headache. I closed my eyes and tried my best to fall back asleep so I didn’t have to think. Obviously, that didn’t work out. My brain wanted to walk me through the least blurry bits of our fight instead.

I threw the covers off and got up, going straight for the medicine cabinet and taking some Advil, dry. I rotted into the couch for the rest of the day, watching the tv show I wasn’t allowed to watch without her. I don’t know if I did it out of spite or to feel close to her. I’m sure she’ll be watching it without me anyway.

Each time I checked my phone for any calls or texts, my stomach did this weird flip thing. I waited all day to receive anything from her to no avail.

Around 8pm, I realize I haven’t had a bite to eat. As I put some almond butter toast on a plate, my phone dinged. I pulled it out of my pocket to see Billie had posted on instagram. An update to her fans letting them know she was on the road, and excited to see them in Quebec, Canada.

I made it a point to like the insta story post, so she knows that I know she’s ignoring me. This is bullshit, I thought. How petty, I thought, the irony going straight over my head.

[miyaheestar]

live reaction to the pack wedding audio

KISS SJSGJS DAVID KISS HAIII HAI DAVID 🥺🥺🥺

"i just want a little time with you today, before everything goes crazy" MSHSMHDMSHSM IM GONNA GO INSANE

IM GOING INSANE IM IM GOING IM INSANE IM ACTUALLY DGINGSJSYSISGSKGAJA

"how are you feeling?" NOT GOOD MY BODY TEMPERATURE IS HIGH IM GOING INSANE FYM YOU TOO

"WE MADE IT" WHAT IF I DONT MADE IT WHAF IF I CRY WHAT IF YOU DIE DO NAWT SAY YOU LOVE ME I WILL CRY DAVID SHAW I WILL ACTUALLY CRY SO HARD

"WE'RE GETTING MARRIED TODAY"HE SOUNDS SO FUCKING HAPPY AND SOFT IM ACTUALLY CRYING IM NOT NAWT OKAY IM NOT PLS DONT DO THIS TO ME PLS

"beautiful" i haven't showered and i didn't sleep and it's 7 am in the morning are you blind

"you are. especially first thing in the morning. still all sleepy and cuddly and relaxed. im the luckiest man in the world to get to see it everyday.. for the rest of my life" do you want me to die?

MGSMSGSMSHSM I WANNA CRY SEND HELP SOS SOS SOS SOS SOS SOS SOS SOS SOS SOS SOSBSOSBSOSBSOSJSOSOSOSOSOSOSOSOWIS

pls i will actually cry

"you fucking menace" IM YOUR MENACE HAH

KISS

ASHER ASHER ASHER ASHER ASHER ASHER ASHWR ASHWR ASHERA AHEEDHA ASHER AHSER ASHW AAGE

oh he eepy baby 🥺

good morning asher 🥺

"oh my god it's actually today holy shit it's actually happening" HE'S LIKE ME FOR REAL FOR REAL

"when did you wake up" you think i sleep?

WOAHWOAHWOAHWOAH SEXY?? AYO I KNOW I AM SEXY

"IM GONNA BE YOUR HUSBAND" WHAT IF I CRY WHAT IF I CRY WHA IF I ACTUALLY LOSE IT THEN WHST IF I DIE WHAT IF YOU DIE OH GOD DON'T DIE ASHER PLEASE

IM TEARING UP DONT DO THIS TO ME

ASHER I LOVE YOU SO MUCH WHY YOU'RE NOT REAL

"I LOVE YOU SO MUCH BABE" I SAID IT FIRST SO THAT MEANS I LOVE YOU MORE

DAMN RIGHT ASHER DAMN RIGHTTTTT

"about the person who matters to me more than anything else in the whole damn world" STOP STOP THIS OFFICER OFFICER A WEREWOLF TRYNNA SEDUCE ME HE TRYNNA SEDUCE ME SIR I WILL DIE SIR IM BEING SEDUCED

okay scene change

SAM AND ASHER AUGSUAGUAGUAGUAGAUFAUAGAHHUFAHHHH

"mate pairs shouldn't see each other in the morning" DAMN RIGHT SO TRUE HEWL YEAHHH

MILOOOOOO MY BIG.. um SMALL BIG BOY

"grouchy grandpa" HELPPPP "now don't you start." HELLAGSISGSKSG HAHAHAHAHA

"oh my mistake" YOU'RE SO SASSY

... ITS JUST SILENCE HELPP IM CRYING

ERIK PLEASE HAHAHAHAHA YOU'RE SO 😭😭😭

ERIK BODOH LAH KAU NI 😭😭😭😭

HELP PLEASE ENOUGH SILENCE PLS THIS IS WAY TOO FUNNY I'LL THROW UP

IM CRYING

STOP THIS

IT'S TOO LONG STOP THE SILENCE ERIK I WILL EAT YOUR HAIR AND YOU'LL BE BALD

ERIK

LMAO MILO NOT THE WARNING

CHRISSY

"are you trying to look like you got married in wind tunnel" HAHAHAHAHAHAHA HELPPP MILO PLEASE

"im fine.. i-im not" ME TOO ME TOO ME TOO ME TOO ME TOO ME TOO ME TOO

aww grandpa sam 🥺🥺🥺

AWWW DAVID HELPING ASHER

"david, can i ask you something?"

STOP STIP SRSOSO STIP SFOP STOP BITCH STOP I WIWLL CRY

"well i did" DO YOU WABT ME TO KILL EVERYONE THEN MYSELF

im not okag im not ojay im not okay I AM NOT OKAY

i cant do this I'll actually pass out

i cant

im hypervinelantagwtbf

"my dad-" SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP DAVID SHAW SHUT UP

"i picked you because you're the one person i trust more than anyone else. you made me feel safe." I WILL ACTUALLY LOSE IT

I WILL LOSE IT

I WILL NO

I WIGSKSGWK

I AM GONNA CRY

"i was a decent alpha but i wasn't a very good friend" so you want me to kill myself

i am genuinely gonna cry

THEY'RE HUGGING IM GONNA CRYYYYYYY IN GONANNAHSGSISFWKSFISV IM NOT OKAY

"ash euw" I LOVE THAT

MILO DO NAWT HURT MA MAN I WILL EAT YOUR REMAINING HEIGHT

MILO SPEECH

"how much does it pay" BOSGSISGSJGAHAGAGAGAGAHAHAGAHA STAPH

what if i jump

i will jump

i won't

i will

i wont

I WILL SOB I WILL WIBSUSVWKSGSJ STOPAHSGSOGSOSGS

IM GETTING MARRIED YALL

IM IM IM IM

IM GONNA GET MARRIED

it sounds like asher and david getting married LMAO

"um" classic opening

asher if you cry YOU BETTER BE CRYING okay he's gonna cry

what if asher dies after his vows

I WILL BE A WIDOW OH GOD

"i love you" IM GONNA KILL MYSELF AND EAT ERIK'S HAIR

so it's just silence and giggles for babe's speech

got it

it's okay i love asher's giggles

"angel" I WILL JUMP BRO

I WILL

I WILL

I WONT IM SCARED OF HEIGHTS

david please cry

PLEASE CRY

GO FULL ON SOBBING

why guy is not angel's brother

HE'S CRYING YALL CHEERS

CHEERS

and he's laughing too

BUT HE'S CRYING YEAYYYYY

LMAO MILO HAHAHAHAGAHA PLEASEEEE

IT SOUNDS LIKE ASHER AND DAVID KISSING WOAH

... I NEED MORE

ERIK ERIK ERIKSON

[saveahorserideaneddie]

By killing off Bobby Nash, Tim Minnear and company have hit the selfdestruct button. Season 8 was way too late to start MCD's. He has doomed season 9 to be the final season. The only thing that could save it, is maybe a Bobby resurrection arc. He will never make Buddie canon.

so i know im in the minority when i say i dont think the show is in danger right now… but i do think that if they continue the way they’ve been going, they will very quickly fall into the red zone.

i haven’t really gone into detail over it, but like the concept of a MCD doesn’t really bother me if it had been done respectfully and effectively… ive said before if they were going to kill off a main it would make sense for it to be bobby, BUT that does not change the fact that the way it’s been done, and the way TM and co handled the aftermath of the situation was the catalyst for why it became a much worse situation than it would have been had they handled it in a respectful way

i think if it hadn’t been rushed or so glaringly last minute, the initial shock and hurt of the audience would have blown over quickly, especially with a funeral episode that had actually focused on the team and the emotional impact of bobby’s death (which is not what we got)

the show is limping after the finale, for sure, but a limp can be fixed if it is taken care of and healed. its when the limp is left untreated when the real deterioration begins.

hopefully the abc execs who have gone on record to point finger at tim minear know it, and it may be wishful thinking on my part, but knowing that they’ve said they don’t want to lose this show bc it’s such a huge money maker for them, i would hope some serious conversations are being held with execs, producers, and TM about the show’s future and what that looks like for TM specifically.

i know the general fandom reaction is thst we want tim to be fired… i think that’s wishful thinking, but what i do think is more plausible is that someone at abc might instill the fear of god into the bald man, and that hopefully they’ll realize this show needs a head writer under tim who collaborates on every episode to maintain consistency, and will also keep tim on track and has veto rights to his more outlandish ideas.

i would hope they would point back to how successful seasons 1-4 were under him so that he might realize that that is the show he should be writing for, and not lonestar where he got used to just writing whatever the fuck he wanted bc he didn’t care.

im still on the fence about buddie. if i base things purely off the last few episodes alone, then no, i absolutely wouldn’t think it was plausible, but the show isn’t just the last few episodes; we still have at least a whole other season that has not been written yet. we know they see what the fans say, regardless of if tim wants to admit it or not. it always gets back to him- and if abc is aware of the amount of vitriol the fandom has towards him after this season, then they will not risk allowing him to further shoot himself in the foot.

they’ve absolutely given him too much power at abc, but he’s not the end all be all- he has bosses and higher ups who can tell him no, and hopefully the amount of press, social media reactions, and blatant cast frustrations as well will prompt executives at abc to stop letting him just do what he wants.

[heavensickness]

Completely random things about Disco Elysium characters that I think about

Klaasje isn't Garte's type and he is probably the only one immune to her charm (she even manages to fool Kim)

Garte never takes a step back and even yells at the Hardie Boys and mercenaries. He doesn't give a shit if he dies.

Cunoesse sleeps outside at night

Cuno used to do his homework so he is not 100% illiterate

Cuno is locked out of his house by his father (his father keeps his key) so Harry breaking into their apartment might be the only way he could get in again

Smoker in the balcony says that Harry looks like he does belong in the Homosexual Underground. He even flirts a little

Egghead dresses like a boideiro

Measurehead can't get hard for his babe which he uses some of his racist bullshit to explain

You can touch the hanged man's penis for some reason and electrochemistry even urges you to

Kim intervenes when Harry is talking to Paledriver or Joyce only out of concern for him

When Harry sees Judit he immediately remembers her as the horse faced woman because that was probably what he used to call her before his amnesia, at least in his head

Similarly, Jean uses the words middle-class, bangable and fuckable while describing Dora in a deadpan tone even though he never met her because that was probably what Harry exactly said about Dora while he was drunk. The drunks in the fishing village also confirm that Harry said a "whore" fucked him over.

Endurance and physical instrument holds Harry's repressed toxic masculinity and possible misogyny, although you can become a feminist or grow out of those thoughts throughout the game. If you don't, they will repeat thoughts about how women are whores and they are all crazy.

Both in Harry's first dream and last dream, his subconscious focuses on Dora's sexual aspects: Warmth of her mouth, between her thighs, wearing a white gown that shows her figure etc.

Kim will still like your karaoke performance even if it was a disaster and he will even defend your performance against Jean

Jules Pideu will try to encourage you if you tell him you can't do this anymore

What Judit feels for Harry is just pity

If you make a "joke" to Cuno about Kim dressing in drag Kim will think something like "YOU are the one who looks like a hooker in those promiscuous clothes"

Jean will also tell you that you look like you have 20 STDs if you are wearing something "promiscuous"

Trant used to be a drug addict and so he understands why Harry can't just quit drinking

Ruby does not actually want to hurt Harry and Kim. She even decreases the intensity of pale emitter because she feels bad for them

Evrart will say "you are NOT an ultraliberal Harry, get the fuck out of here" if Harry says that he is an ultraliberal

Kim will yell "are you stupid??" so loud that Harry will lose a health point if he says that he is a fascist

Andre is "not twenty" and he is already balding

"Pigs" lady used to take care of the Hardie boys when they were kids

Titus says "some Hardie boys are queerer than others and that's okay", looking at Glen

Glen is probably gay but he is the one who reacts the most when Harry says that Ruby likes girls

You can give the working class woman a hug

Harry can ask Joyce if she wants to fuck but she will evade it immediately, saving both of them from embarrasment

If Harry goes on a date with Lilienne, one of his skills will say that this is as far as he could go in his current state & he should be sober for more than a year for something more. Which indicates that if Harry did not keep drinking/he has recovered, he could actually pursue Lilienne and they could be something more

Kim knows that wearing anal beads in public would not make a sound

[queerfortress2]

Oh my god, I loved the way you described the support classes in an argument, I feel like it was totally spot-on. Would you be willing to write how the other classes would be in an argument, as well? Or, at least maybe the defence classes?? Thank you and have a wonderful day! 🥰

another engineer (technically) one, im in heaven. also, thank you! (also so very sorry for how short it is, my brain is so very very fried from art fight.) — mod engie

GN!READER X DEFENSE CLASSES ; ARGUMENTS

DEMOMAN

out of all of them? he is the best. he can actually recognize that he is wrong in an argument after the fact and apologise, which is crazy by mercenary means. after all, most of his problems are solved by alcohol and bombs, but he cares about you enough not to blow you up, so be thankful for that.

that being said… he’s also drunk most of the time, so the former may not even apply when you’re arguing. he most likely won’t recognise he’s even arguing— hell! he might not even remember he’s arguing halfway through and begin talking about a completely unrelated topic. it’s kind of difficult to continue from there, considering he’s either too drunk to recognise you, sleeping, or taking another swig out of a comically large bottle.

"Aye..! I know y’er mad aboot th’ match but in—" His glassy eyes looked around, almost not at you, rather your general surroundings, his leg limp slightly. Be tilted to the right as he looked towards the fireplace of the lounging area, stumbling slightly, "—Wh’teva’ ‘s really jus’ ah… hic!—" Almost on cue, the man had practically fallen, stumbling over, falling asleep momentarily. The second his body loses balance, you seem to have been forced by your instinct to catch him. The impact between him and your arms almost knocked you both over, but thankfully he slowly rose back up to his feet and looked you in the eyes. Unfortunately for you, he already forgot about the argument, and began incoherently babbling about how he missed being this close to you. ..Maybe bring it up another time. One of the rare hours when he’s sober.

when he's sober afterwards i imagine its a lot easier to have a conversation with him, after all he's usually willing to admit he was in the wrong, and a lot of the time, its not a big argument. he's just not a man easy to anger. while the support classes are much easier to aggravate. a common theme seems to be the defense class men are just a loooooot more patient. (also a lot more apologetic)

ENGINEER

its genuinely really hard to argue with this man because he is (most of the time) correct. even if it is an argument you thought you knew all about he's INFURIATINGLY on top. why? well, he does his research really. he's not as willing to win silly little debates but when it comes to much more serious decisions being made. or, say, doing something utterly STUPID at work that could've gotten you killed. yeah, the respawn exists, but darn it that don' mean you can play with it!

so when you, say, fuck around with dangerous technology, he will 100% start arguing. not because he hates you for messing with his latest trinket, but because you could've gotten seriously hurt! that's not a game he's willing to play. unlike the medic, he doesn't often fuck around with satan, the poor texan doesn't want to grow more grey hair in his... beard? eyebrows? i don't know, dell is practically bald.

"WHAT were you THINKING?" The Texan dropped his hard hat onto the desk beside him. The man works late nights to make sure no one gets royally fucked by that dangerous machine his Grandfather created a few generations before, and you're skipping out of it like it's a playground? It's safe to say his blood pressure suffers due to your recklessness. Though it was clear his volume was unwarranted, he finally started over with a long sigh, talking at a normal volume. "Y'know that thin' wasn't always 'dere? Dontcha? Don't get too comfortable with that thin'. I don' wanna see you get hurt, y' hear me?" Dell really didn't want to hear your side of the argument, after all, in his mind there was no reason in hell OR heaven for you to just casually run at the flames of the opposing Pyro for 'funsies'. Imagine how it is for him to see you die in numerous ways on the battle field. It AIN'T NICE, to say the least.

no matter how long the argument went on, he would eventually shut you down with a good 'don't pull that shit again' and move out to take a lap. he takes a lot longer to cool down than the other two defense mercenaries, mostly because whenever he argues genuinely, it gets rather personal. even if to you it seemed rather 'impersonal' and 'professional' feel-y, in his heart it was because all the machinery is what gives his family their name. whenever he sees someone messing around with it? it genuinely ticks him off.

HEAVY

man of little words argues the least, mostly because, unlike engineers, everything is rather impersonal. he's definitely heard it all, and while i don't think he apologises as often, it's also just difficult to get him to argue THAT BADLY. the most you get out of him is maybe two words telling you not to do something, and even then there's not that much room for argument is there? you either do what he's asked of you or you don't. both are things he can't quite control. he's just as stubborn, as you can tell he just does his own thing, only following directions when he can see it's vital for his or others' survival.

not impossible to argue with him, however. there are times when you can get him to argue, but its usually not anything important. perhaps you had a different opinion on how a cliffhanger was supposed to be interpreted? now we're getting somewhere. maybe you have a rather negative imagine of fyodor's brothers. he's not gonna let you pass without explaining why.

"I just didn't understand what the Father was supposed to mean in all that!" You may have exclaimed as you sat across from the largest mercenary on the team, yet sat composed in a comfortable sofa chair, with small glasses and a comically small book in hand. He wasn't usually seen like this, after all, most people see him screaming violently on the field. It's only this side that you see most commonly late at night. The way you seemed to speak of it was rather surface-level. Which, not to blame you, it's a Russian novel, not many are reading it at all. Heavy never owned books in English. So it's really just for you to 'suck up and take' while reading with him. Thankfully, he's taught you enough to have you fill in the blanks with common sense. Perhaps it was just American society getting to you. Back at home, the meaning was a lot easier to grasp, knowing that most were under a similar crushing situation under the new rule. At least in Russian society, where a lot of knowledge is needed to even begin to understand the book, the brothers' differences were clear in what they represented and what their father represented, especially in the modern day with the uprising and new government, filled with Soviet control. The man stared lost in thought at you, which is mighty intimidating on its own, before actually speaking up. "Ah, no." He simply shook his head, leaning forward in his chair for you to hear him better, "He uses father in metaphor not..." He snapped his finger attempting to remember the English word for his sentence. "Literal. Father mean more than just caretaker. Mean oppression." It sounded as if he were to continue before he simply sat back and relaxed back into his chair.

it didn't exactly feel like an argument, in fact it felt more like he was informing you. but that's genuinely the closest i could ever imagine him getting to an argument. he just doesn't seem like that type of guy.

[thatmemething]

SPONGEBOB SQUAREPANTS. 🧽 season 3 sentences. part one.

great minds think alike, am i right?

i got the elements on my side--the elements of surprise!

i'm ready--ready to get it on

i may be down, but i'm not out!

who threw that piece of paper at me?!

only the baddest of the bad can get in here

how tough am i? how tough am i?! i had a bowl of nails for breakfast this morning!

this place is too tough for you, little man.

i'll have you know i stubbed my toe last week and i only cried for 20 minutes!

how is your collection coming along?

you can't hide what's inside

what you need is a tough hairdo

he isn't bald--he has a shaved head. shaved. that's a hairdo!

say--haven't i seen you before?

well then, i guess it's time to take it up a notch.

relax, you're among friends!

i gotta pick a fight with a muscular stranger

i feel pretty bad for the next guy who looks at me funny!

you, smiling over there and what not--somebody ought to teach you some manners!

oh my gosh, i never thought this moment would come!

please--have mercy!

this is the happiest day of my life!

you ran inside and slipped on an ice cube

so i just took my private yacht across my private lake to my private heliport--it's the only way off my private island

oh, i'm just succeeding in everything you failed in

anyone can be a bigshot in a hicktown like this one!

oh no he's hot!

what have you accomplished since high school?

oh, boohoo, let me play you a sad song on the world's smallest violin

lets just take a second here to relax

now, i just want you to empty your mind

if you need anything else, just call!

okay, i admit it, i'm a fraud!

this was a futile, pathetic attempt to impress you

ugh, i have such a headache

now to get a good night's sleep

shut up--i said shut up!

you think i'm a robot?!

you're going to interrogate my blender...?

what's the matter--is he stupid?

i think somebody's hungry!

don't 'one more minute' me, mr. man!

so, what's the plan?

for a second, i thought you were mad at me

wait, wait, let me guess! ... i give up.

oh, so this is the thanks i get for working overtime?

this is the hardest part of every parents' life... i assume

the only way for the ritual to work is for us to get hurt! ... real bad.

well that was a rip-off

we're dead! do you know what that is?!

we're not cavemen--we have technology

don't panic, panic is the enemy

you don't have to look around, i already did that for ya!

no, no, don't look, it's a trick!

you gonna buy something, or just stand there? because there's a standing fee

look carefully at the 'i really wish i weren't here right now' button

not so fast, eager mcbeaver!

hosting a party is hard work...

nineteen seconds--that's a new record!

well, i guess it's time to move again

you better call an astronomer, because this [food] is out of this world!

this is gonna be the coolest party ever!

i officially declare the party switch in the 'on' position!

so--do you come here often?

is it too late to offer you some punch...?

that's funny, i don't remember subscribing to 'fancy living digest'.

stealing my mail, eh? you're lucky i don't report you to the authorities!

if you could have anything in the world right now, what would it be?

fancy livin', here we come!

i got it--let's get naked!

why don't we try being nice?

nice place you got here!

you just can't wait for me to die, can you?

i was born with glass bones and paper skin...

poor, poor man... if there is anything i can do for you...?

it does my heart good to con some class a suckers.

no, no--please don't hurt me!

the boy's eyes are bigger than his stomach

if you won't give me respect as a hero, maybe you'll give me respect as a villain

i am crossing over to the dark side

did someone say 'evil'?

nighty-night you old goat!

nighty-night--will you tuck me in?

how will we defeat the evil?

[lottievintage]

Ruth Beautè’s Voice Lines [Remastered]/ Errands (Role In Game)

Name: Ruth Beautè Ruth Beau

Kissable? : No (but if you give her flowers, you can kiss her on the back of her hand)

Age: 15-16

Greetings/Bumped Into:

“Morning, Hopkins.”

‘“Howdy.”

“Good day”

“Um..hi?”

“What do you want?”

*Bumps into*

“Oh, my sincerest apologies.”

“Do watch were you are walking..”

“Argh— it’s fine, just watch it.”

Clique people/ or speaking about others in game mode:

“Some people say the most attractive greaser is Jonathan Vincent, but it’s obviously Ricky.”

“Each time that Martin girl dares speaks to me, I wanna kms. Honestly, does she have any real personality? Can’t blame her, she is kinda sad, then again I use her so I guess she’s not all bad.”

“That Harrington gets on my nerves, you know, he payed to win a mock trial session? What a fucking joke, I mean— if you suck at it, you suck at it. Must be hard having no talent or skill. What a dumb stereo typical blonde. Ha!”

“Hey, Gauntheir, wanna know what [block name] said about you?”

“Russell, that Ape? His parents are probably those flints stone people, have you heard him speak? How [R slur].”

“The greasers and the preps will fight? What is this? The outsiders again!?”

“Wiles is so…dead, s-she ruined my name, now boys glare at me…like I’m a whore, how can I be one? I haven’t even had sex yet-!?”

Talking about staff:

“Dr. Crabblesnitch is not fit to run this school, so I took it upon myself to…be his student advisor, meaning, I can tell him we need more clubs, he’ll do it, if I say a student did something, he will believe me. Amazing isn’t it?

“One time, Miss Danvers believed I had a crush on Crabblesnitch….all because I suck up to him. I think she’s on shrooms…”

“Mrs.Peabody allowed me to install new curtains, a vainity, and silk and satin sheets for my bed, for my dorm room. Being class respective certainly has its advantages.

“I told Mr. Burton about my shorts for soccer… saying I need a larger pair, but he says it’s not a big deal…that bald man knows nothing about my body, I don’t want the whole school go know.”

“That dingus Burton! Now everyone has been calling me RUTH BOOTAY! CURSE MY SOMALIAN GENES THIS IS RIDICULOUS!”

“Thanks to Wiles…I feel so dirty Joetta… is this how prostitutes feel after a long day at work?”

“Wait a minute….why am I moping? I can just do what I do best, ruin her life! Oh my gosh ahaHA!”

“I heard the jocks been taking steroids, I know they are but— I can’t snitch on them…Since Max takes them and I’m in his favor. Meaning I won’t be able to use him anymore…”

“Why yes, I am on good terms with all the prefects, they…also help me a lot….more than I need of course….”

“That Edna woman has to be a former convict…”

“Lucky me..I don’t eat her food, I always make mine when’s she out of the kitchen…that hefier can’t cook even if it was to save her self from a UTI…”

“Mista Max, I think I saw [Block name] have substances in their book bag, tell Crabblesnitch and expell that miscreant at once! Go! go!”

“You know…Justin, the Vandervale kid, was right…MONEY TALKS!”

Grooming:

“I don’t look like her…n-no I don’t..”

“Ha, what was Vendome talking about— me looking like Vivian…”

*Sighs* “I wish my hips weren’t so wide..”

“Sexy, as always.”

Being hit (Winning and Getting hurt):

“You’re so dead Hopkins!

“Don’t touch me again you fucking miscarriage looking bastard!”

*Looks around to see any Prefects, take out her rosary and uncaps the bottom, revealing a blade*

“I’m gonna kill you….”

(Can actually cut you and run to Prefect and tell that you tried to kill her fake crying. : Good chance you will be suspended)

“Now you’re crying? So fucking pathetic, good God.”

Random Quotes:

“I miss my Hadid…”

“So what if I ruined her social status, her skin, friend group, and probably made her wanna end it all? She did it first, so do it back to her, now she’s crying? What a waste of half good oxygen! Ugh!”

“You know..that Smith guy is actually kinda funny…”

“Parker is such a dork…and kinda sweet..”

“White trash!”

“You failed abortion!”

“No, Hopkins…you got me all wrong…I don’t wanna take over this school, doing that…is like being a zoo keeper. Why would I wanna be in control of a bunch of…slimy, insolent, animals!? Yeah no.”

“Hey get off of my friend, cocksucker!”

“Let me get help!”

“Oh you gave me flowers…sorry but I’m not kissing you on the mouth, I don’t know where your lips have been…”

“You may…kiss on my hand…” (She’s will rub her hands with head sanitizer afterwards when you walk away.)

Roles:

Pays player 85 dollars to plant drugs in someone’s car.

Pays you 50 dollars if you can give her back rosary Mandy stole from her.

When you investigate the Halloween party, and go in the woods you will see Ruth putting on her ghost face costume, get ready to scare Casey. You will hear a scream and run to it, you will have to help Casey who broken his leg, out of the ditch.

She comes to you when dates Gary and will give you hush money not to tell anyone.

[blackcatnip]

Satoru, what happened to your hair?!

Satosugu What if Satoru used the wrong hair product in his self care routine? (Because he does one, no way that man has those glossy lips without a self care routine)

Any similarities between Satoru and Howl are entirely your imagination This is not cheesy, mind you – Okay, maybe just a little, but they are stsg, what can I do?

He comes out of the shower feeling at peace. His skin was smooth, his nails well cared, face already shiny and his hair just as soft as a cloud. He missed that, with all the missions and curses to take care of he actually hadn’t had time for himself in a while. No better way to feel relaxed than to have control over your own body.

He walked murmuring his favorite lullaby, already dreaming of his bed and the sleep that would come. Until he hears a crashing sound. Shoko was staring at him with her brows at the roof and mouth agape.

“What?” He stopped abruptly, casually kicking some of the pieces of the once-ceramic bowl on the floor. Suguru would be so pissed, that was his mother present.

“You-“ She gagged and bursted out a laugh immediately grabbing her phone. “No fucking way.” She puts it on her ear and looks mischievously at him. “Suguru, you have to come back, now. Leave the groceries, you don’t wanna miss this.”

She looks back at Satoru and smiles again.

“Do you really want to get him home after the mess you made?” He says.

“He will forgive me.” Her eyes locked on him, practically in awe.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” He furrows and slowly walks back to the bathroom, something is not right.

“No! Wait!” He starts running the second she grabs his arms and they both fall to the ground. He kicks her trying to push her away and starts crawling to the door. “Pleeease please just wait until he gets here, then you can fix it.”

He looks even more distressed at that and starts to shove her away, getting even more resistance at that. “You are creeping me out!”

“Worth it!” He desperately tries to push her off him — why does she weigh so fucking much?! — and halt at the sound of the door opening. His eyes meet Suguru’s

“What is going on here-“

“Shoko has gone mad! Help me!” Satoru yells. He sees the moment Suguru's confused face turns into a complete shock. It was when he looked at Satoru’s hair.

Panicking, he finally manages to get away from Shoko, who is laughing uncontrollably at the floor, and gets to the bathroom. What he sees makes him scream.

“What the fuck happened here?!” His hair is completely black, from the root to the tip. He puts his head out the doorframe and looks at his friends. “What should I do?!”

“Well, for starters you should really paint your eyebrows too, cause now you just look freaky.” Shoko says with a serious scowl.

“At least now we match?” Suguru adds, trying to contain the laugh that Satoru is certain will come as soon as he is away.

“This is so so bad.” He looks back at the mirror and starts to pour water into it.

“Don’t think this will work.” Shoko counters. 

“I am ruined!” He starts to fiercely rub the towel on his head. “Hideous, repulsive, I’d prefer to go bald!”

“It can still be arranged if you want that.” Shoko says and he just glares at her. “Okay okay, why don’t you paint over it?”

“I am albino, my hair was white, there is no paint to achieve that.”

“We could bleach it.” She says. 

“What? No. Then I would just be blonde.” 

“Is it black hair that bad?” Suguru asks with the hurt in his voice evident. Satoru retreats at that, maybe he was being a bit overdramatic. But… It wasn’t only about his hair, it was about their thing.

“You really don’t see a problem?” He asks, maybe it was all in his head.

“No? Why should I?” 

Satoru sighs at that. And immediately starts to feel a little insecure, and childish. Until he hears Shoko giggle. 

“You are so obvious. You see Suguru, he is like that bec–” He jumps forward and puts his hand over Shoko’s mouth, already feeling his face fully red. 

“It’s nothing! I’m just gonna wait for it to grow out. Drop it.” He glares at Shoko, which just seems to make her laugh harder, she surely is having a great time today, a sadistic little menace. 

“Oh.” Suguru gasps in his back. “Are you upset because we aren’t like a pair anymore?” 

That makes Satoru’s hair go all the way up. “No I’m not, forget it.” He walks away and slams his door. Picking a mirror he stares at the mess that was his face now. Satoru wouldn’t say he is narcissistic, he just always knew he was good looking, self love is important after all. 

Okay, maybe he is a little. But again, confidence is just another trait everyone loves. He exhales slowly and pokes his hair. It was already so dry from the paint, so different from his usual fluffy hair. He falls to the bed on his back and just stares at the ceiling. When a soft knock at his door is heard, he doesn’t even dare to move.

“Satoru? Are you awake?” Suguru silently enters his bedroom. “I bought you something.” 

He looks up and just watches as Suguru sits beside him on his bed. “'I'm sorry for laughing before.” 

“It’s okay, I get it, it was funny.” Suguru moves a little and takes out something from his pocket. “Wait, is this-” He looks at a beautiful earring. It’s a little betta fish, a black one, with little metal details on his tail. 

“For you, it’s a pressure earring, but I know you wanted to pierce your ears, so we can go together later.” Satoru takes the piece, still a little confused, but then Suguru shuffles his hair behind his ear revealing a matching earring. A delicate white betta fish, it's like Satoru forgot how to breathe. “Now we can still be a pair, black and white, at least until you grow out your hair.” 

Satoru's smile in return is so big that he can feel his face muscles stretching. He jumps out of the bed, grabs the earring and marches to the exit. 

“Hey wait, where are you going? 

“To get my ears pierced! Aren’t you coming?”

“What? Now? Don’t you want to paint your eyebrows first?

“Nope, feel like starting a new fashion trend.” He says and walks through the door. Maybe accidentally painting his hair wasn’t that bad after all.

[xf-cases-solved]

S1E21: Tooms

Case: Guess who's back, back, back! Back again, again, again! Eugene Victor Tooms is back, back, back! Tell a friend! 

Anyway, Tooms is back.

After being rehabilitated and made totally normal and non-cannibalistic by his psychiatrist, the Baltimore court decides that Eugene Victor Tooms is ready to leave the crazy house—where he was serving time for assaulting Scully (he was never charged with eating livers)—and is now free to rejoin society, despite Mulder's attempts to sway the court otherwise, by using his skills as an expert PowerPoint presentation maker. Tooms, of course, has every intention of finishing what he started before being apprehended, so that he can take a nice long hibernation in his bile cocoon, and Mulder has every intention of stopping him before he does. Mulder engages in some mild-to-moderate stalking behaviors; Scully tries not to kill Mulder and then herself out of pure mortification during the world's most uncomfortable slideshow presentation; a retired old cop in a wheelchair returns and makes fewer references to the Holocaust, and is slightly clairvoyant; I have a moment during the episode where I think, "Oh no, shit, wait, I think he does a gross thing here, is this where he—ah man, yep, it sure is," right as Tooms licks his fingers that are covered in roadkill juice; and, most importantly, ASSISTANT DIRECTOR WALTER SKINNER HAS ENTERED THE MFING CHAT!!!!

All rise for that big, bald, beautiful man!

Does someone die in the cold open: Ofc not, Tooms is a fully rehabilitated, mentally sound, non-homicidal freak of nature, who would never hurt a fly, because flies don't have livers. (It's entirely possible I just googled "do flies have livers"...)

Does Mulder present a slideshow: Unfortunately yeah, he does. Kinda wanted to die alongside Scully as he presented his PowerPoint presentation to the courtroom. I'm all for having the strengths of your convictions, babe, but c'mon, even you had to know that wasn't gonna work.

(^ me and scully suffering from immense secondhand embarrassment)

Does the evidence survive the investigation: Actually, yes, I believe it does. They have their findings, and the findings of the retired old cop in a wheelchair (who straight up just. had part of a victim's liver in his apartment? who let him have that?? mulder and scully are out here literally fighting for their lives just to hold onto one shred of evidence, and this hoe just takes biohazardous material with him after his retirement party and holds onto it as a keepsake of his biggest failure as a cop, smh)

Whodunit: Eugene Victor Tooms once again!

Convictions: Escalator did the justice system's work for them.

Did they solve it: I will say yes. The killings have stopped, the perpetrator is dead, they wrote a report with evidence to cite, and even though Skinner is skeptical, Smoking Man tells him he believes their take on things. It's more solved than most of their cases, anyway. WHICH REMINDS ME. There's a bit in the beginning where Scully tells Skinner that their solve rate is at 75%, which is ABOVE BUREAU STANDARDS, like????? Really FBI? The fucking *X-Files division* is doing better than the rest of your departments? And you wonder why people distrust law enforcement, jfc

[how do i determine if a case is solved? check the scale here: x]

THIS EPISODE IS SPONSORED BY: Escalators. Since 1892 [yes I looked it up], escalators have been a godsend for those of us who, for whatever reason, just don't feel like taking the gosh darn stairs. For well over one hundred years, escalators have been a convenient way for you to get around shopping malls, get to and from train platforms, crush your enemies to death with a conveyor belt, get through airports with ease, and so much more! So next time you need to get from one floor of a building or structure to another, or have someone you need to die quickly, consider using an escalator!

***

General Total Stats:

(green means stat has changed since last ep; red means new stat added to list)

Total Cases *Definitively* Solved So Far: 11 (first time they've solved two in a row for a while. must bc they're so high above bureau standards...)

Total Number of "Mulder/Scully, It's Me" Phone Calls: 1

Total Number of Times Scully Has Conveniently Not Seen Something Crucial: 5

Total Number of Times Mulder Has Been in Mortal Danger: 7 (i mean, tooms chased him through the escalator thingy with murderous intent, right?)

Total Number of Times Scully Has Been in Mortal Danger: 8

Total Number of Sexually Charged, Uncomfortably Intimate, and/or Flirty Moments Between Friendly Coworkers: 11 ("mulder, i wouldn't put myself on the line for anybody but you" 🥺 actually that whole little exchange is cute af. mulder's like "don't get in trouble bc of me," and scully is like, "don't tell me what to do, bitch, i love you," and mulder's like, "i don't know how to handle genuine compliments, so i'll just say that if you have iced tea for me i will go down on you right now, no hesitation, forget the stakeout, sit on my face" but then she only has root beer 🙁 or at least that's what i remember happening, i might be paraphrasing)

Total Number of Autopsies Scully Has Performed On Screen: 2

Total Number of Times Scully Plays Doctor: 2

Total Number of Times Mulder Talks to an Informant: 10 

Total Number of Times People Making Out in a Car Are Hurt or Killed: 2

Total Number of Nosebleeds: 4

Total Number of Times Mulder Has Tasted/Sniffed/Touched Something Questionable Without Following Proper Safety Procedures: 2 (but tooms definitely did :( )

Total Number of Times Someone Says "Trust No One": 1 

Total Number of Times Someone Says "I Want to Believe": 3

Total Number of Times Someone Says "The Truth is Out There": 1

Total Number of Cigarettes Cigarette Smoking Man Has Smoked: 6 (lol that stat hasn't gone up since the pilot, and then he shows up in one episode and smokes four of 'em)

Total Number of Maggie Scully Sightings: 1

Total Number of Lone Gunmen Sightings: 1

Total Number of Alex Krycek Sightings: 0 :(

Total Number of Times I Had to Look Up What State the Episode Takes Place in Even Though I Literally Just Watched It: 7½ (i remembered from squeeze, bc sometimes my memory works like how it's supposed to)

Total Number of Times I Had to Look at an Episode's Wikipedia Page to Fill This Out Because It Was Fucking Confusing and/or Too Boring for Me to Pay Attention: 5

[thequeenofmyownscreen]

My thoughts about episode 12, season 3 of The Legend of Vox Machina :

Still no "Call me child one more goddamn time !". Disappointed I am. With the number of times Raishan called her a child, I for sure thought... Oh well. Maybe they cut it, but damn. I'm not writing the show. If I was, this line would've have been at the top of the "number 10 things we HAVE to put un the animated series".

the scene where Keyleth transforms into Minxie and then her "Fire Ellie" (copyright Marisha herself) is so cool

Like, don't get me wrong. I like changes in an adaptation, if they're good. Like Raishan's deaht for example. In the Campaign, Raishan was a very clever ennemy, always manipulating and spying, etc. And a powerful mage on top of that ! So when Keyleth succeeded on her Feeblemind spell, it was a sign of victory, a reversal of the roles, the dragon was simply a beast once more. Here, in TLOVM, they chose to have Keyketh use Raishan's old body to transmit and amplify the curse to her new body. It works ! It works great ! It works better than if Keyleth would have used a Feeblemind spell ! This spell could translate poorly visually, plus Raishan wasn't exceptionally clever in this adaptation. But the disease was a very important element, so it's only logical. The visual is superb ! It's a good end for her, a good change. I like this.

Vex's speech at Percy's resurrection was so beautiful, and pretty close to what she said in Camapign 1 when they resurrected Percy just after Glintshore.

Is this how Vax will become a revenant ?...

Love that in the Château this time, we can hear, in the background a quartet rendition of "When the Bald Man Cries" (aka, the masturbation song). I hope they did an extended version of this. I will check.

This is the first and only time we'll ever hear Travis or Grog say "Oh, goodie ! Shopping !" in an excited voice.

Yeah, VEX, don't do what you just said to Keyleth :

So that's it. No Bard's Lament, huh ? I have... a lot of thoughts about this one. First, I'm trying to see why they didn't do it. The way that this season was built was... not giving enough space for a Bard's Lament moment. This is the final episode, and they already had to kill Raishan and resurrect Percy. That's enough to fill an ending. Plus, as much as I liked that moment in the Campaign, what made it hurt was that it was a scene where Scanlan was speaking, a long time at that, from his heart, and finally revealing what was eating him up. Just "talking a long time" wouldn't necessary translate well on a visual medium, and Scanlan has already revealed to Pike first, then to the team, that he's anxious to find his daughter and repair their relationship. Now the part where I regret they didn't do it : maaaaannnnnnnn. Bard's Lament is so good though ! It was a scene that punched me in the guts. It's a time where Scanlan is at its most dark, he just died twice at the hands of a dragon, in a particularly horrible way at that. He's addicted to danger and bad decisions, including suude, and lying to himself and his friends. He just woke up and found out his friends did what they always do to make him feel better (a poor joke) except it's NOT FUNNY for the first time in his life and he can't just saty the course anymore. And, I don't know how you could translate that feeling I just described to the screen, to be honest, I don't. I only know they didn't, and it feels like Scanlan in TLOVM is now missing something. Especially since they were so careful to cultivate a lot of the "I'm stuck between my friends and my daughter" dichotomy in the early episodes : the resolution feels a bit disappointing ? To be fair, I'll have to ask people who have not seen Campaign 1 to know if they feels that way.

Still, Kaylee's song is good.

Hehehe, the Whispered One will rise next season ! WAIT. With what I just said about Bard's Lament and that... Does this mean we will get no Tarryon Darrington ?!! It's a fair question on my part, I think : Tarry was introduced just after Scanlan's departure, one Sam envisionned as long if not permanent after everything they said to each other in Bard's Lament. That's not exactly what happens here in TLOVM, it's not an "I will never see you again !" moment. Also they already went to the Hells this season, so no reason to go there with Tarryon. Keyleth has already said she will complete her trials with Vax, while Percy and Vex return to Whitestone. This already feels more like the year-apart pause they took just before the rise of Vecna. And by then Scanlan did return... I don't see them doing Season 4 only on Tarry, the kraken fight, Pike's family, and that's it. It has to be tied to the Whispered One somehow. But if that's the case, will they have time to introduce Tarry only to have him exit again ? So many questions. I'm not optimistic. This is a conundrum, and I hope they will do better than this season's changes.

[lily-alphonse]

This month marks one year since I began posting my post-BOTW Zelink longfic, The Most Dangerous Thing is to Love to AO3, so I'm doing an author's commentary no one asked for :3

My Inspiration:

I knew when I first started writing fanfic that I wanted to write something Zelink. I wanted to see them happy post-canon. Then I played TOTK and was so struck by how tragic it was for them to lose each other AGAIN, and I got obsessed with what their relationship would have looked like between games. Why are they calling Link's house Zelda's house? Why, by the end of TOTK, are they STILL NOT FREAKING KISSING? Which led to a whole spiral of thinking how two traumatized kids would probably handle a relationship pretty poorly, and what they would need to learn and grow past to form a healthy relationship and thought THERE. That's where I want to get them.

Then I heard "Achilles Come Down" by Gang of Youths and man... I can't tell you how many times I've listened to it on repeat while writing. The lyrics I'm most obsessed with (that in the end inspired the name for the fic) are:

Where you go I'm going So jump and I'm jumping Since there is no me without you / Hurt and grieve but don't suffer alone Engage with the pain as a motive Today of all days See How the most dangerous thing is to love

Favorite Chapter:

Reading back, I think my favorite chapter is probably the infamous wolf chapter. I mentioned this in my author's notes but I think its funny how originally I was torn up about it. I felt really bad to be posting something so tense and dramatic and my original author's note was very apologetic. I don't like hurting my readers. But on my latest read-through, I found myself the most proud of this chapter. It's engaging and well-written and I no longer have any regrets about it.

Favorite POV Character:

Unexpectedly, I like writing Zelda the best. I love Link, and in the fandom as a whole I wouldn't even say Zelda is one of my favorite characters from the series. But I'm so comfortable writing Zelda. I mimic my own inner voice a lot when I write her. Plus I find it fun to write all of the behind-the-scenes work that goes into her politics.

Link is more difficult to write. He has a lot of thoughts that are far grander than what he can usually manage to communicate, and also can't read people like Zelda does. He doesn't notice minor shifts in facial expression or tone, except when it comes to Zelda, and then it's a very noticeable second sense and not just as subtle as something like "she said nervously" because he just doesn't pick it up the same way. Instead it's being hit by a wave of anxious nausea and realizing its coming from looking at her, that kind of thing.

Favorite Minor Character:

If I'm thinking only of how I write the characters, I always really enjoy writing Buliara in a scene. She has a great bluntness that's fun to play with. I'm also fascinated with her character since in a lot of ways her life reflects Link's, as the leader's personal guard, except her relationship with Makeela Riju is more maternal. Ex from Ch 25

“I love doing this,” Makeela sighed, tugging Zelda’s blond locks into a long braid. “It’s so relaxing. Buliara never lets me do her hair.” “I do not wish to be bald by fifty, thank you,” Buliara deadpanned from across the room.  It was a sentiment Zelda could very much appreciate as her scalp screamed under Makeela’s attention.

How My Writing Has Evolved:

I used to switch between present and past tense POV. Thankfully I didn't have many tense switches to edit out with this fic but like the wolf chapter is in present tense because of the action and I haven't changed it. I think it would take away from it to change it. But the rest of the series moving forward is in past tense only.

Another thing is that when I started out I was not so focused on flowery language. Then like five chapters in I decided, actually, this isn't good enough and needs to be way more poetic. I went super hard into editing, and then effectively paralyzed myself from moving forward. I wanted to write that good the first time, and that just wasn't possible. Writing like that 24/7 is HARD and I envy the amazing writers who can do that.

In the end I kind of just had to accept that the quality is allowed to change. If I really want to I can come back and edit like I did before. But its better to post something with slightly less flowery language than to let it rot in my docs because it didn't meet some imaginary standard I had set for myself.

Now I have a completely different system, too. I wrote nonstop for a month, no editing allowed, so I now have a backlog of chapters to sit on and slowly upload on a schedule I can handle. It works a lot better because I was going insane trying to work on it in a cycle of editing and breaks. By the time I got back to writing, I had forgotten the previous chapters. This way I can keep my flow.

Hardest Part:

So much of this is really, really hard. I've never written anything this long and it has been trying, but I wanted to prove to myself I could push through a novel-length work. And then I made it even worse by making it alternating POV with flowery prose and hella introspection.

I have several pages of outline. I have two huge flowcharts tracking Link and Zelda's characterizations. There is soooo much that goes into this. I've told my friends to slap me if I ever suggest doing something this complex ever again lol.

Generally, the hardest part is keeping my commitment. I'm someone who never stops having new ideas and I want to immediately jump to them. Historically I would get really excited about something and pump out three chapters then abandon it. When I created an AO3 account a year ago though I made a promise to myself that whatever I posted, I would finish. No abandoning.

I ended up taking a 6 month hiatus on this work. It was a rough time, with a lot of things very understandably causing me to step back. But I'm 2 months back to going strong, and hopeful for the year ahead.

New chapters post every 15th now, I just posted chapter 26 today. I'll be here through to the end. Here's to one year!

xoxo Lily

CURRENT STATS 2024-2025

Word Count: 67,956 Subs: 86 Hits: 8307 Kudos: 197 Comments: 85 Bookmarks: 97

[fakesurprise]

Two Trips

The problem with being the wandering magician for over a decade is that few wandering magicians have lasted as long as I have. I’ve been many places, and been the magician for many more. I can tap into need, shape desire, and use will in ways other magicians would not even begin to think of. I can move between places, and I’m other things as well. All magic is finite. All power is fleeting. It’s easy to forget that in the moment, forgetting that the moment is everything and nothing at all. In some ways I am possibly one of the most dangerous people in the world.

But there is no magic as dangerous as believing the stories you tell others about you.

The universe rewards magicians for being what we are, for offering the service that we do. Lights are always green, the bus always stops. In the city that is a magician’s home, the world bends for us. A gift and an apology of sorts, for what comes after. Which few magicians know about, but one does today.

I blend into the crowd of gawkers watching the police. A ward of polite disinterest and invisibility gently borrowed from an old woman and a young homeless man get me past the police and to the body of a magician I’ve never met. Male, in his late forties. Balding, wearing clothing almost too small, flashy shoes and a brand new watch. Also very dead. I touch the echoes of the moment. Shock. Disbelief. Drawing power from the car toward him, and then trying to disperse the harm into civilians around him.

He had been in his forties, and likely new to being a magician if he trusted to luck, to say nothing of trying to harm others to save himself. The universe bends, but it doesn’t break: a magician who survives learns to look both ways, and in other directions as well. A lesson he never got the time to learn. I would ask questions, but he is beyond my power to reach. Not that I couldn’t cheat, but I have no reason to even try.

I move away back down the street, stretching my senses out. People are hurrying from moment to moment, nervous and worried. Angry conversations that wouldn’t happen, tempers fraying more: a city without a magician is less safe, and generally far less stable. A fact people sense without understanding why. I whisper a single world and watch it spread out from person to person. Not an ear worm, but a moment almost-heard and spreading.

Calming people, ever so slightly.

I feel the awareness of the city sharpen about me, and gently side step any attempt to make me the magician of this place.

There is a rumble in car corns and conversations, a voice that is not a voice: YOU DO IMPOSSIBLE THINGS. HELP HERE TOO.

I pull out my phone and pretend to talk on it. “I have limits, even if the moments claim otherwise. And I should not have more power than I do: I scare some magicians in their cities already. I would terrify them even more if they knew I was taking cities from magicians.”

YOU CAN GIVE ADVICE.

“I am good at that, but it’s nothing you don’t already know. Find someone who needs to be a magician, who wants to help the city. Hope they last and make a difference.”

YOU CAN DO MORE.

“Most can. I wisely won’t.”

The magic of the city stirs again. Formless, shapeless without a magician to direct it. Raw and angry and hurting.

“I am the magician of the small towns and places that are not cities,” I say as gently as I can. “I don’t have it in me to be the magician of a city, to understand that nuances. I move and never remain. Some would call me a fraud compared to other magicians, and the might be right. I do small things, and help places in tiny ways, and move on as too many places need help and I can only be in one place at once.

“The magician of a city is their city: they can be and do more than I. Find someone. Offer the magic. Make them safe and be safe in turn.”

I put my phone away and open a door to a storage room that leads elsewhere because I open it, opening for me because all doors do. The city could try and stop me. It does not, a small relief.

I step through, into another city. Two in one day is rare, and I feel stretched thin in a way coffee can’t do anything about.

This one already has picked a new magician, and I head toward a house to meet them. If nothing else, I can make the new magician feel slightly less alone, and that’s a gift even magic cannot offer.

[artist-issues]

ALSO watched the trailer for that new Wolf Man and I'm not happy, Bob.

I think the idea of someone you love changing into someone who can't understand you and hurts you is a compelling tragedy. I mean. It has a range of relatability. Sometimes someone just gets more selfish and hurtful over time, as they cultivate habits of choosing themselves, at first in small ways, over you. Until they don't see you anymore, they just see what they can get out of you.

But also. The relatability has range. People lose their loved ones to dementia all too frequently.

Problem is, those two truths are very different. So if the movie is going to be allegorical (so that it can have good, beauty, or truth in it) and use the scary-monster-stuff for GOOD...if it's going to do all that, then, "What if Someone You Loved Changed Into Someone Who Can't Understand You Anymore, and Hurts You?" is a BAD premise.

Because if someone has dementia, there's not a cure. You can't bring their brain back to truth and reality. You can't help them, and they can't help IT when they hurt you. So allegorically, you have to abandon or kill the werewolf, or I guess, like, cage it and keep it fed and watered. That's a big downer. How am I going to leave that theater reminded of something good, beautiful, or true? Especially if I have a family member with dementia?

But if, on the other side, someone is just getting progressively more selfish, and hurting you (emotionally, let's say, at first) then there's a totally different solve. They can be cured.

But you can't do both, in a werewolf story with that premise. And one is significantly sadder and more redundant than the other.

So like. The way the man is before he goes-werewolf, and the way his werewolfism is concluded--that's what determines the context for "What if Someone You Loved Changed Into Someone Who Can't Understand You Anymore, and Hurts You?"

Anyway, I'm disappointed for two reasons. One, because I really like the concept of "he progressively can't understand you anymore as he turns into a werewolf," I think that's interesting, but I'm worried they're not going to handle it well—and then two, most importantly, why does he just look like a big-mouthed bald psycho?

First off that's cruel.

Second-off it's not a werewolf movie, it's just any old remake of The Shining or I Am Legend. Come on! Do I have to go ride all the rides in Universal's new Dark Universe and look at Buff Gollum Wolf Man with no beast-elements except pointy teeth?

We get thrilled by dinosaurs and cocaine bears and big sharks! Don't pretend to me that you can't make a scary monster movie with a werewolf that actually looks like an animalistic monster in the year of our Lord 2025.

What, are you afraid the furry allegations will ruin the credibility of your design? Are you worried you won't be able to break the mold and make a wolf-man design that's scary and original? So you're just settling for "scary, bald psychopaths are always scary!"

Listen to me, the scariest thing about werewolves is not the way they look. It's what they're losing when they turn. But the way they look is important to the symbolism, which is the whole point of imagining up a story so scary in the first place.

Is it too much to ask for a solid werewolf movie?