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I really wish there were a non-expensive way to stream procreate to twitch ;_;

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TONIGHT AT 9PM EASTERN: SAIHATE STATION (for about an hour, maybe two depending on if I stop feeling like garbage lol)

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Taking morbid delight in killing toenail fungus bit by bit every day and am reminded of the one and only hero's journey type story I would (but never will) write:

An elder is telling their grandkids of this great journey they went on. The usual stuff, bog standard hero's journey shit: they were a kid when some dark force disrupted their life, they went on an epic quest with a ragtag bunch of people, they fought some epic battle that changed the world forever, yadda yadda. And at the very end it's revealed that this epic hero and all their successful progeny is a deadly pathogen. Their world is was a living creature and that epic final battle was the last attempt at the body trying to survive. Our brave, heroic elder is the pathogen and their successful progeny is the disease taking root in a new host. The end. :D

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Oh lads. oh, lads. the pain is back. prednisone run is almost done and the pain is back and it's not even that big of a deal but it's making me despondent.

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"Becky!"

"Becky!!"

"BECKAAAAAAAAYY!!!"

She startled out of her trance, turning away from the window. Outside, more cars were pulling up despite the pouring rain; she could see two girls from Drill in reflective vests directing traffic.

"Becky." Natalie half-fell into her, grabbing at her arm. "They said they want you upstairs." She was giggling, her face flushed. “It’s time for you to become a maaaaaan—“

“Stop,” Becky laughed, shoving her away. 

She let Natalie lead the way toward the stairs to the tower, squeezing past dozens of chattering students. The halls here were narrow and badly ventilated, and the addition of so many bodies— some of them still wet from the rain— had turned the air unpleasantly swampy and hot. The wispy curls of hair at her temples were already stuck to her skin with sweat. She was thankful they’d decided not to go with the wig this year.

”Coming through!” Natalie screamed cheerfully over the din. “Cast member coming through!”

Most of the people back here were from the drama club, though there were a few members of the YSCA and a handful of museum volunteers. All of them were too busy laughing, singing, or shouting over one another to take any notice of Becky and Natalie. The season finale of *Dream Brothers* had aired earlier that night and there were a lot of cries of “Brother! To me!!” And “Dance again, dance again my darling!” Sarah Hernan was doing the splits while explaining how simple she found it to do the splits. 

“Timberwolves!”

“Becky! BECKY!!”

“Timberwolves!”

“Becky, Tim said Adam’s looking for you!”

“Dance again, dance again, dance again, dance again—“

“TIMBERWOLVES! AWOOOOOOO!!”

As one, the churning mass of teenage excitement halted and threw their heads back. “AWOOOOOOOOO!!”

”Alright, Timberwolves, if you’re a cast member it’s time to get upstairs for dress!” Mrs. Flutie, wearing a sign around her neck that read ‘TRAITOR,’ shook a noisemaker that made a sound like a very distressed cow. “If you are not part of the run you *must* go downstairs to the banquet hall! Rebecca, there you are.”

”River Coast!” That sounded like Patrick, one of the stagehands. “River Coast! RI-VER COAST!”

The rest of the students took up the chant as Becky and Natalie finally made it to the stairwell, slipping in behind Mrs. Flutie. 

“River Coast! River coast!”

”That is where we learn the most!”

”—Better than those dicks at Shoaks!”

“—ANDREW’S MOM IS FUCKING GROSS!”

*”Patrick Flaxmann!”*

”Quicker than the Bastard’s ghost!”

Becky turned to look over her shoulder, but Natalie seized her by the wrist and pulled her onward.

The stairs were dark, spiraling upward so tightly that there was no room for a handrail, let alone any useful kind of light fixture. The arrow slits in the outer wall served more as ventilation than illumination, and as she and Natalie were now on the wrong side of the building to see the parking lot, there was nothing beyond those tiny windows but blackness. 

”Someone said Adam was looking for me?” Becky said into the gloom. It was strange— she knew the entire museum was buzzing like a kicked beehive tonight, but inside the stairwell it all felt muffled and far away, almost not really real. 

“Stephanie said Tim said,” Natalie replied. From behind, her high blond ponytail swayed back and forth and Becky was reminded of a happy golden retriever. “But if it was important he’d have gotten Mrs. Flutie, or one of the pages.”

”Did anyone say where he was?”

”Why?” Natalie leered over her shoulder. “Rebeccaaaaaa?”

Becky could feel her face getting hot. “It’s not,” she spluttered, feeling awkward and a little annoyed at how weird Natalie could get when she was on one of her event-highs. Last year at Iverfete she’d giggled about horse penises more and more loudly until one of the staff had come to shush her, and Becky had thought she was going to die of embarrassment. 

Horse penises. Because none of them had ever seen a real one— a man’s one. Probably. And Becky would never see a man’s one— not that she wanted to!— if Natalie kept getting weird every time a boy even looked at her.

”It’s not a thing,” Becky managed, swatting Natalie away again. “His mom has a cabin up in Whitemount and they all go every year over break. We were talking about maybe, his mom could ask my mom if I could go with them.”

Natalie stopped to leer at her again, this time close enough that Becky could see the glint of her braces in the dark. “Oh, you two alone? What are you gonna doooooo?”

”Go skiing,” Becky snapped, her patience fraying. ”God, Natalie, it isn’t like that.”

That got Natalie to lean back a little. “So-rry. Geez.” 

She turned to resume her climb up the stairs. The little bubble of affronted silence that squirted up between them was kind of worse than the teasing had been, but Becky forced herself not to apologize for it, even if just to break the tension. You didn’t have to apologize if you didn’t do anything wrong, she told herself firmly. Natalie would just have to stop being weird about stuff.

The yellow light from the ancient incandescent bulbs at the top of the stairs were like a cartoon doorway into heaven. Becky let out a breath, realizing she’d hunched her shoulders together, and tried to shake it out. Then she heard a voice in the hallway above say, “Hey, Nat. Seen Rebecca?”

Whatever happened to stars that turned them into black holes was happening to Becky’s stomach, making her feel both like she couldn’t breathe, and that she was breathing too much. It made her feel like she was in trouble for something; she glanced at Natalie’s ponytail and reminded herself that she didn’t have to apologize for not doing anything wrong. 

“Yeah, right there,” Natalie said. She reached the top of the stairs and stepped out of the way. “We’re supposed to be getting dressed,” she pointed out sullenly. 

“I won’t make you guys late. I just wanna talk to her for a sec.”

”Okay.” Natalie’s voice was like three minutes after sitting on the wet bleachers— irritated but resigned— and Becky cringed. 

She heard Natalie walk off, tennis shoes squeaking on the linoleum. After a moment, Adam appeared in the doorway, blocking out most of the light. “Hey.”

”Hi,” Becky said, the black hole in her stomach making the word come out wavery. 

It was hard to see his face because of the light behind him, but Adam was cute. Like, pretty cute. He wore glasses, but cool ones, and there was the faintest reflection in the lenses as he looked down at her. “I talked to my mom about Whitemount,” he began. 

”I haven’t seen my mom yet, but she’s here,” Becky said.

”Yeah, mine is too. She said you might be able to come, usually my cousin comes but he might not this year.” 

“‘Kay,” Becky said. She climbed the last three stairs, coming up close to him. He smelled a little spicy, like boys’ bodywash, and the damp-shirt smell that everyone had after coming in from the rain. She looked, not at his eyes, but at his upper lip, at the way it was shaped.

He crooked a little smile. “Have fun killing Richard.”

Becky chuckled. “I don’t kill Richard. Jessica and Stephen kill Richard, and then I kill *them.”*

“Stab-stab-stab,” Adam grinned, motioning.

“Yeah. Stab-stab-stab,” Becky agreed, and her feet were carrying her away.

"backstage at a live event" is perhaps my favourite human collective emotion ive ever experienced. From running through the creepy empty school hallways before a theatre show, to the staff only breakroom at a convention or event where youre running a stall, to the bridal suite getting ready before your bestie walks down the isle.

Theres a little wall between the guys who are 'in on it' with you, whatever it is, and your audience or customers or guests or just all those people who are *not* in on it. Youve got a wallkie talkie, or a backstage pass, or an exhibitor badge, and youve never felt more alive

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they're the same guy

It is absolutely vital in any fandom to have a favourite character who you want to wrap up in a pile of blankets and give sweet treats to and a favourite character you want to beat on the head with hammers.

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FUCK YES YOU DID IT!!!

oh my gods,,, i came out to my parents as trans!!!! and it was okay!!!!!! they obviously need time to come around etc but they accept me!!!!!

Woah ….. okay gonna read some farseer trilogy tidbits and just decompress ahagegwhshs !!!!!!!!!!

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I'm going to bed in ten minutes. But Boo Boo just ate a big meal and she's ready for bed NOW. No matter how many times she punched me, I wouldn't go to bed early. So she's divorcing me again.

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The most @qthewhatever -ass post

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Shout out to football clubs (or Fookies if you're from New North South West Wales) whose team song is basically people chanting "here we go here we go here we go" to the tune of whatever song has the least to do with sports while grabbing onto each other and jumping up and down

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Casefile is taking a mid year break and I've got to keep morale up while they're gone

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If you need assistance you should read this in Stephen Briggs's "Terry Pratchett Audiobooks" voice

What's that? Keep quiet because it's not as bad, because we don't have it worse than the worst places? We should sit down and shut up and be grateful that it's just people 30 years from now who'll be dragged off and disappeared, and not people today? Are we being told to wait our turn for the privilege of being scared?

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What's that? Keep quiet because it's not as bad, because we don't have it worse than the worst places? We should sit down and shut up and be grateful that it's just people 30 years from now who'll be dragged off and disappeared, and not people today? Are we being told to wait our turn for the privilege of being scared?

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just made my 100th post on bluesky, didn't even get a fun little badge :(((

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TFW you accidentally make yourself cry listening to a song from a musical about a killer AI who looks like Keanu Reeves

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Me: It would be pretty funny to make an animatic of Isilud singing "I Believe" from the Book of Mormon. Me: Me: Me: Me, quietly: .... Wiegraf in the bathroom at a party...