#devon denis

[mllenugget]

Imaginez avoir le culot de spammer les appels d'urgence Ces deux là sont incroyaux mais ils ne savent pas encore se téléporter malheureusement

For @rown-cheese

[spottys-rathole]

29/04 : Il y a un an les Croûte essayaient maladroitement de cacher une carcasse de camion

Version YouTube (avec audio)

[shyphonics]

Salad Days, Chapter 8: Tell Me Now, and I Won't Ask Again

(Rodrick Heffley x reader)

chapter directory

hi hello I'm here and apologizing in advance for the turn this story took because I started having emotions while I was writing it lmao.

I have once again added a few secret songs to the playlist, so go and check that out if you're so inclined :) thank you so much to everyone who's read this. I'm having a time.

Life's an illusion, love is the dream

But I don't know what it is

Everyone's saying things to me

But I know it's okay, okay

Everybody's happy nowadays

Everybody's happy nowadays

~

Rodrick nods to Buck as he finishes loading up his truck, stretching his arms above his head and hopping into the driver’s seat. It’s been just short of a week since he’d last seen you. He sighs, looking at the dashboard, trying to shoo the thoughts of you away. He’d almost broken the night before and opened up his email account, taken a chance and said something, anything to you.

He’d ended up being too scared.

There’s no point.

Besides, he kind of likes his new job. He just drives around all day, does some light physical labor, and the people at the restaurants, or liquor stores, or wherever he is that day, smile and thank him. Tell him he’s a good, fast worker. He’d specifically requested no downtown bars on his route.

Buck had laughed and said I can’t blame ya. We’ll make Tony do it.

The engine roars to life, and he scans through the radio stations until it lands on a good-sounding song. The music is upbeat, with a high, meandering guitar riff.

Life's an illusion

Love is a dream

Life's the illusion

Love is the dream

He taps his fingers on the steering wheel as he pulls out of the parking lot. The words of the song prick his ears, and he ignores them, pretending they mean nothing to him as the song fades out.

Then he hears a voice.

An all too familiar voice.

This is 98.7, radio free Port Hanna. Buzzcocks, Singles Going Steady, 1979. Personally, it's in my top five. Sometimes, I just feel like-

Suddenly, he sees flashes of your apartment, the lights above your bed. Your kitchen counter. Your face, so close to his, praising him. You, on top of him. Your soft skin. The smell of your soap, and the tile of your bathroom.

I really, definitely like you.

He switches the station fast, to some lifeless buttrock. He leaves it there. This is… fine. A month or two ago, he might have even liked this song. He sighs, stopping at a red light and looking at the map in his passenger seat. He notices a red line veering off from his uptown stops. He picks up the map. Oh, no. Oh, no, no, no.

That looks like The Strike.

 As he gets closer, glancing down at the map, he realizes it’s not, but it’s close. He drives by, seeing the giant, boarded up window, which somebody has painted we’ll be back, fuckers! on. The front of the building is fenced off. He feels bile rise in his throat.

His delivery is 2 doors down, a liquor store on the corner, Phoenix Liquors. The guy inside is friendly, with red hair and a silver nose ring.

“Oh, hey! Are you my delivery guy?” He sounds excited.

“Y-yeah!” Rodrick stutters.

“Oh, thank god. It’s usually this guy named Terry, and he’s an asshole.” The man laughs.

Rodrick wracks his brain. Terry, Terry…

“Oh! Yeah, Terry’s weird. He has these pictures of, like, women in 80s aerobics clothes in his truck.” Rodrick laughs.

The man cackles, steadying himself with a hand on the counter.

“God, that makes so much sense.” He laughs, “I’m Joey, by the way. You look… really familiar.”

Rodrick panics, feeling sweat start to prick at his hairline.

“I, um, uh…” He pulls his hat down, trying to cover his face.

“You played at The Strike last Friday! That’s it. You’re a drummer, right?”

“No, I…” Rodrick laughs nervously.

“Yeah! You guys were fucking sick as hell! You played ‘Rise Above’! What was your band called again? Löded Diper?.”

“No, no,” Rodrick’s voice falls to a hushed tone, “I mean, yes, but no…”

“Dude. You guys were great. I’m in Put Down, I’d love to play a show with you guys sometime.”

“Really?” Rodrick’s eyes widen, “I- I mean, no I’m kinda… I don’t know when we’ll play again, y’know?”

Joey looks at him in disbelief.

“What? Are you guys doing, like, a weird album release thing? Building hype? Because people loved you. You got a mention in The Eye this week. Alex Garcia, the music reporter, really liked you guys. Which is a big deal. Because he kinda hates everyone.” Joey smiles.

“What?” Rodrick perks up.

“Yeah! You gotta take your chance while you got it, man.”

Rodrick’s mind goes blank. Joey’s eyes are kind, and Rodrick feels like he can trust him.

“I, uh… I kinda…”

Joey cocks his head to the side.

“I kinda messed things up with somebody important.”

“Who?”

“Um, the lead singer of The Shrieks?” Rodrick’s voice sounds small, afraid.

“Oh.” Joey laughs, “Yeah, she doesn’t fuck around. We’re friends though, do you want me to ask about you? Maybe it was just a misunderstanding.”

“No!” Rodrick blurts out, then calms down, “No, no, I… it’s okay.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I… I should start loading in.” Rodrick sighs, walking away from the counter.

He makes his way back to the truck out front, keeping his head down in case anyone from The Strike is outside.

He comes back to find that Joey has put a doorstop down, and smiles. What a nice guy. Rodrick gets to work, wheeling cases of bottles and cans into the store, stocking them, and starting over. A different song seems to be playing every time he comes back. Joey makes light conversation, and time seems to fly. Before he knows it, he only has one load of cans left. He wheels his dolly through the front door for the last time, loading the final empty shelf with a quirkily-labeled local beer, the can featuring a topless woman riding a dragon. He wheels the dolly back up to the counter.

“Hey, well, even if you don’t play, we should hang out, okay?” Joey smiles, “I’m always here, or at one of the bars. I kinda work everywhere."

Rodrick feels a pang of sadness in his chest, knowing he probably won’t make it out to hang out with Joey.

“Yeah… yeah, we totally should.”

“We’ve been around, like, if you guys wanna know where to tour when you’re ready, we’ve got a whole guide written up. I'll make you a copy."

Rodrick might as well have been slamming his head against the wall, like the idiot that he was. This guy is offering him tour advice, and he knows he’s not going to take it.

“Yeah, I’ll… I’ll see you around.”

Joey holds his hand out for a high five, and Rodrick meets him halfway, smiling nervously. He freezes in the doorway as he hears your voice once more, low and stable over the store speakers.

Sorry for all the sap today, folks. It’s just one of those days.

Joey flashes him a sympathetic look, that he doesn’t stick around to see.

He makes his way back out to his truck, grabbing a copy of The Eye from a box outside. He sits in the driver's seat for a minute, bonking his head against the steering wheel. What is he doing? This is what he’s wanted, as long as he can remember, and he’s throwing it away, because…?

Because he’s a bad person.

He sits up, looking at himself in the rear view.

He’d forgotten to remind himself of that today.

Bad. Bad.

He stares into his own dark brown eyes, starting the truck and driving off, towards the other end of town. He can’t let himself forget. He did this to himself. No one else. It was him.

~

Tonight you’re mine completely

You give your love so sweetly

Tonight the light of love is in your eyes

But will you love me tomorrow?

~

It’s been a week since you saw Rodrick. Your radio plays are a little spiteful today, you’ll admit. All songs of scorn, or longing, and maybe a small part of you hopes that Rodrick is listening.

This is stupid. You’re strong. You should’ve forgotten him, written him off by now.

But you can’t.

Some part of you is still hoping he’ll call and apologize, have some magic excuse for leaving you hanging for a week. It doesn’t even have to be a good excuse. You really just want to hear his voice.

You hate that you’re so desperate to hear his voice.

You spin in your desk chair as a commercial break plays, a man yelling about discount tires. You’re tempted- so tempted- to send him another email. One with harsh words. One that will hurt him, maybe stick with him forever. You want him to feel just as bad as you do right now.

Something tells you this isn’t just him being a dumb guy, though.

Something tells you that something much bigger is at play.

You instinctively take the mic as the commercial break ends, your mind unfocused, running on pure routine. You barely even hear the words you say.

“98.7, radio free Port Hanna. Listen up, folks. Repairs are delayed. The city sent the fire marshal after us, and we’re on cable control duty until they say we’re good to go. I’m sure you can imagine the nightmare that guy walked into- power strips as far as the eye can see. But the window will be back tomorrow. Why don’t you come up and drive past us sometime?”

You sigh, preparing to hit play on your next pick.

“Stay strong, folks. You never know when the man is out to get’cha.”

The next song plays, and you stare into the grainy little screen of your cell phone. Then just like that, it's ringing. An unknown number. Your eyes nearly jump out of your skull.

You do have a rule with unknown numbers, though. You always let them talk first.

You answer the phone, bringing it to your ear, and squeeze your eyes shut, hoping against all hope that it's Rodrick.

The voice on the line is familiar, but in a way that makes your blood run cold. There's no way… it can't be.

It sounds like your dad. He's laughing, in a smug, awful tone.

“We found you,” he says, the laughter coming to a halt, “We finally found you.”

Your jaw drops, and your hands shake as you hang up as fast as you possibly can, the phone falling out of your hand and onto the floor.

No way. No fucking way. He's bluffing.

Then you remember… you were on TV last week. There's a good chance that news piece made it back to your hometown. You put your head in your hands, cursing yourself. Shit! Free access to what you look like and where you work got broadcasted straight to the man you've been trying to hide from for nearly 6 years. You don't know how much he's capable of on his own, but you should clearly be cautious if he found your fucking phone number.

The thought hadn't even crossed your mind, you'd just been so angry about what happened. Part of you had hoped he just wouldn't care anymore.

You check the clock. You're on air for another hour, and then it's straight to the bar for more work on repairs. You cross the studio and double check the lock on the door. Checking the window, you see that the parking lot is as empty as it should be on a day like this.

Cautiously, you pick your phone up and see several new texts.

You ungrateful brat.

You thought you could hide? You think you're smarter than us?

You're still sick. You need help.

I'll be waiting outside of that horrible bar to collect you and bring you home.

Your hands shake so hard, you can barely read what he's sent. You feel your breaths coming fast and ragged, trying to come up with any plan at all.

You have one beam of hope left. You hadn't said anything on the phone. He may know where you work, and what you look like, but he doesn't know for a fact that this is your phone.

You unlock the studio, rushing downstairs and giving the receptionist a frightened look.

“Bonnie…?”

She smiles, looking up from her knitting.

Bonnie is a woman who proudly describes herself as “funky.” She's in her mid 70s, and she dresses like she's in a Deee-Lite video. Her orange hair is tied back in a floral scarf, her eyes are lined in bright turquoise, and her lipstick is a jarring shade of coral. You smile back. She's one of the sweetest people you've ever met.

There is a reason that she's trusted to man the front door, though.

Bonnie doesn't take shit from anyone.

Not a lot of people know about your past, but you have had a few late night talks with Bonnie in the studio, and she knows your dad is not a man you want to see.

“Can you do me a huge favor?” You smile sheepishly, clasping your hands together to keep them from shaking.

She nods, putting the knitting aside, “Oh, please! I'm so bored.”

You laugh, despite the situation, and take your cell phone out of your pocket.

“Well, I'm getting these harassing phone calls,” You start, frowning down at the little screen.

“From who?” She looks devastated.

“My, um… my dad. Remember how I said he's kind of a bad guy?”

She nods fiercely.

“He found me, and he called me, but he never heard my voice, so he doesn't know for sure that it's me.” You frown down at the phone, then look back up at her, “Bonnie, will you record a voicemail message on my phone?”

She leans back and laughs, nodding and reaching her hand out for the phone.

“Oh, this will be fun!” Her tone is devious.

This is Bonnie Forester. You’ve reached my personal telephone line. If you are a solicitor, I ask that you take me off of your list. I’m old, and I will not buy anything. Go to hell!

You burst into laughter the second she’s done.

“That’s perfect.” You grin as she hands you your phone back, feeling a sense of relief wash over you.

“Don’t say I never did nothin’ for you.” She winks.

You make a mental note to bring her flowers or something on your next shift.

She picks up her needles and waves as you go back up to the studio. Songs are still playing from your CD queue, and you decide to call Mike before commercial.

“Perfect timing, kid,” he answers, “You ready to check 28 power strips?”

You sigh.

“Mike… is there a car parked outside the bar? One that looks out of place, maybe? A white BMW?”

You're not sure if your dad is still driving his stupid vanity car, but you wouldn't doubt it.

You hear his footsteps.

“Yup, white BMW. Yuck. Why? Are you psychic? Have you been hiding that from me this whole time? Do you know how useful that would've been?”

A laugh almost escapes, but the dread of the situation is just too consuming.

“That's my dad. I don't know if you remember, but-”

“Your dad?” Mike's tone is hushed, panicked, “The one who-”

“Yes!” You interrupt, pinching the bridge of your nose, trying not to let any stray memories come in.

“What the fuck is he doing here?” You hear Mike pacing.

“He found me, I don't know. I have to assume he saw me on the news last week and tracked me down. I thought he would've stopped caring by this point!” You lean against the wall, hand on your chest, in some effort to comfort yourself.

“Should I go out there and say something?” Mike asks, “I’ll make something up! Tell him we forgot to paint the curb red.”

“He already knows I work there, Mike. There’s no point. He said he'd wait at the bar to ‘collect’ me.” You feel tears pricking at the corners of your eyes.

“Collect you?” Mike scoffs, “You’re a fucking adult!”

You sniffle, shaking your head, your voice starting to break, “What if he's got a court order or something? What if he can collect me, Mike?”

Mike is quiet.

“You're right. Don't come in, lay low. Finish your shift, and then go home.”

“Should I go home?” You feel yourself unraveling completely, your heart beating fast, your eyes twitching, “What if he knows where I live?”

“I'm watching his car. I'll let you know if the fucker moves. Just keep your door locked, and let me know if you need anything.”

You nod, wiping your eyes, “Thanks, Mike. I'm… I'm so sorry.”

“He should be fucking sorry. I'll talk to you later, okay?”

“Okay.”

You hang up, collapsing into the rolling chair just in time to play a commercial break. This wasn't supposed to happen. He was never supposed to find you. He wasn’t supposed to give a shit anymore. You turn the playback volume as high as you can handle, trying to get him out of your head. Trying not to remember.

You feel like a zombie for the rest of your shift, finishing out your queue and waiting for Nick to come in for his shift.

You hear the doorknob rattling behind you and spin around, your eyes wide in fear. Nick puts his hands up in surrender.

You let him in, sighing in relief.

“Hey, paranoid, what's gotten into you?” He smiles, hanging up his jacket. His face drops when he looks at you.

“My dad is here. He's at the bar waiting for me.” Your voice comes out small, pitiful. You hold your elbows, slouching over.

“Your dad? Oh, fuck,” He whispers, “What are you going to do?”

“Run and hide,” you shrug, “Wouldn't be the first time.”

You grab your stuff and turn to face him, forcing an uneasy smile.

He sits in the chair, putting the headphones around his neck, and returns your uneasy look.

“Well, if you need help, you know where to find me."

"I know."

~

My eyes feel like they're gonna bleed

Dried up and bulging out my skull

My mouth is dry, my face is numb

Fucked up and spun out in my room

On my own, here we go

~

Rodrick sits in his usual stool at Jimmy's, a mug of beer in his hand, staring down at the bar. The top is smooth, clear plastic, with ads and business cards slipped underneath. Used cars, chiropractors, nail salons, and so many little concert fliers.

Most seem to be for smaller country, tribute, or solo acts, people that play in places like this.

Currently, a man sits in the corner with an electric guitar, playing a simple riff, with no rhythm to be found. His off-key crooning makes Rodrick want to cover his ears, but the guys from the plant are watching him closely, cheering him on.

He hates it here.

He opens his copy of The Eye, flipping through to the music section.

Hey, Friday Night's Alright for Fighting, Too

by Alex Garcia

A brawl broke out last Friday at The Strike, just a day before the vandalism took place. I personally think that the raw power of all 5 bands was too much for the local frat boys to handle, and their little brains just straight-up exploded.

Newcomers Löded Diper burst onto the the scene for the first time. Ignore their name, and go see them as soon as you can. With a powerful rhythm section, and a palpable friendship between the members, these guys are definitely one to watch. The chemistry was off the charts.

Dammit. That's a good review. That's a really good review. Rodrick leans forward, his elbow on the bar, his head in his hand.

The bartender is the same one as usual, Caitlin. She's about his age, with flat ironed hair and an eyebrow ring.

“This sucks.” She slumps down on her elbows in front of him.

“I know,” he shakes his head, taking a long drink of his beer. He feels a slight smile on his face. At least someone gets it.

“I'm going to this tonight,” She points down at the counter, to a small, square flier advertising a show at one of the bars downtown, Dime Store. His heart sinks, remembering that you'd said he could probably get a show there. “You wanna come with?”

He looks up. She's smiling sweetly, with one of her eyebrows raised. Is she… flirting with him? Rodrick swallows hard, his mouth falling open, but no words come out.

Caitlin is pretty, and nice, and tough as hell for working in a horrible place like this.

He can't say he's interested in her, though. She's not you. He's still thinking about you, even if he's accepted that he's completely ruined his chance.

Not to mention, he can't show his face down there, even if he was interested.

“I…” he looks down, “I can't, I'm sorry. I'm really busy.”

He looks up, sheepish, knowing that was a shitty lie.

Caitlin looks disappointed.

“Yeah. Yeah, that's fine. I get it.” She stands up straight, grabbing a rag and wiping down the empty side of the bar.

Rodrick lets his head fall with a thunk. Dumbass.

“Y'know, if you have a girlfriend or something, you can just say it. It's better than some lame ‘I’m busy’ bullshit.” She looks down at him, mocking him with a deep, dopey voice as she repeats his words.

He picks his head up, eyes still down towards the bar, focusing on an ad for a dog groomer. The picture is old and warped, and the dog looks like some sort of monster.

“I don't have a girlfriend, I just…” He sighs.

“Oh, you like someone.” She teases.

“Sure, you could say that.”

“And you screwed it up, because you're a dumb guy?” She laughs, but her face is sympathetic when he looks at her.

He nods. That’s a pretty good way to put it.

“You should call her or something, it can't be that bad.” She comes back to stand in front of him.

“It's that bad. I'm that bad. I'm a bad guy.” He sulks.

“You? C’mon,” She laughs, “You’re not a bad guy. You're the only one of these assholes who's actually nice to me.”

Rodrick turns to look at his horrible coworkers. Buck is singing with the guitar guy. They’re doing a Creed song. Fucking Creed. Buck is crying. He rolls his eyes, turning back to Caitlin.

“Yeah, they’re pretty fucking horrible. I don’t mean that I’m mean, though. Like, I’m not rude or anything. More like… sometimes I think I was just born bad. I do bad things, and I don’t even realize they’re bad. Or that I’m doing them! I try my best, but I just spread… badness. Everywhere I go. I’m a bad person.” He shrinks back in the barstool.

Caitlin gives him a look of absolute pity. It makes him want to disappear.

“Jesus. What the hell did you do to this girl to make you think that?” She laughs softly, shaking her head.

“I got into a stupid fight with a stupid asshole at her bar, and the stupid asshole went and vandalized the bar, so it’s my fault. I shouldn’t have even given him a second look.”

“How… exactly is what happened to The Strike your fault?” She looks unimpressed, “Sure, bar fights are fucking stupid, but did you start the fight? Or did he?”

“Well,” Rodrick thinks back, “He pushed me, I pushed him, he sucker punched me in the face.”

“Buddy,” Caitlin laughs, “That is not your fault.”

“But…” Rodrick looks down, “You should’ve seen the way she looked at me when it happened, and when she figured out it was the guy who punched me who did it.”

“How did she look at you? Show me.”

“Like… like…” Rodrick frowns, and shakes his head, doing his best impression, trying to match the rage that had been in your eyes. Caitlin covers her mouth as she laughs.

“Okay, that just looks generally pissed off. Did she say anything?”

“She said,” Rodrick thinks, “She… she said… ‘don’t feel bad, it’s not your fault, I’m just pissed off’.”

Caitlin looks at Rodrick like he is the dumbest man in the world.

“...what?” Rodrick asks quietly, after a moment of silence.

“She said it’s not your fault!”

“She didn’t mean it, it’s totally my fault.” Rodrick groans.

“She would’ve told you if it were your fault. So, what you’re telling me is, this girl had her workplace vandalized and a guy she presumably liked completely stop talking to her on the same day?”

“See?” Rodrick blurts out, “Even if the bar wasn’t my fault, that’s not good either! Either way, I suck!”

“Do you know what you can do about that?” Caitlin gets closer to him, smiling.

Rodrick is quiet.

“Call her!” She enunciates carefully.

Rodrick stutters, starting and abandoning several sentences, finally landing on, “I can’t.”

Caitlin rolls her eyes.

“She probably doesn’t even like me anymore! She probably just wanted it to be a one night stand after all! She was probably just being nice when she said she wanted to see me again! She’s, like, hardcore!”

Caitlin’s eyes go wide.

“One night stand?! Rodrick!”

“What?!”

“You slept with her?” She yells.

The music stops. Rodrick’s coworkers all look at him, and start hooting and hollering as they always do.

Yeah, alright, Ricky! Atta boy!

Rodrick puts his head down in shame.

Caitlin lowers her head, whispering.

“Okay, dude, I do not think you’re a bad guy, but you seriously need to call this girl. Like, right now.”

“I… I don’t have her number.” He admits.

Caitlin puts her face in her hands, rubbing her temples.

“You can not be serious! Okay,” Caitlin flips her phone open, “I have everybody’s numbers, what’s her name?”

She scrolls through her contact list, and fuck. There you are. Caitlin keeps an iron grip on his arm as he dials, and he takes deep breaths as it rings.

This is Bonnie Forester. You’ve reached my personal telephone line. If you are a solicitor, I ask that you take me off of your list. I’m old, and I will not buy anything. Go to hell!

Rodrick stares, dumbfounded, at the phone.

“She didn't answer?” Caitlin releases his arm, leaning over the bar.

“It was… an old lady's voicemail.”

She looks at him, confused. He dials again, this time putting it on speakerphone.

This is Bonnie Forester. You’ve reached my personal telephone line. If you are a solicitor, I ask that you take me off of your list. I’m old, and I will not buy anything. Go to hell!

“She changed her number.” Rodrick murmurs, looking down.

“No, no,” Caitlin looks at her own phone, her eyebrows hitched in worry, “I met her, like, 2 years ago, she's probably just changed it since then. Or I took it down wrong!”

Rodrick crumples onto the bar, groaning.

Caitlin grimaces, putting a tentative hand on his back.

“Hey, hey. This doesn't mean anything.”

“It means fucking everything,” his mouth pulls into a frown, “It means she hates me.”

It's quiet for a while. Caitlin slowly takes her hand off his back, shifting from foot to foot uncomfortably.

“Well,” she finally says, “Come out with me, then.”

He lifts his head.

“As friends! Just as friends.” She clarifies, waving her hands, “C'mon, I'm off in 20 minutes. Let's have a good time at a bar for once.”

He looks at her for a while, before finally agreeing.

“Yeah. Yeah, okay.”

~

You don’t want me anymore

So I just walk right out that door

Played a game right from the start

I trust you, you use me, now my heart’s torn apart

So I'm sailin’, yeah I'm sailin’ on

I'm movin’, yeah I'm movin’ on

Sail on, sail on, sail on, sail on

~

Your cell phone rings once again, and you debate snapping it right in half. You sit, curled on your couch, staring at it in fear. This is a new number. Probably your mom's phone. You consider yourself lucky that Bonnie had been there to help you out. The message will at least throw them off your scent a little.

You've received one text from Mike, ugly car is at Motel 6 on Coal Ave.

That's a relief, at least.

You feel like you're going crazy.

A thunderstorm rages outside your apartment, and you're suddenly hating how many windows you have inside. The entire outside-facing wall is essentially just one big window. Every time lightning strikes, you find yourself thinking, that's it. He saw me.

Yet, when you check the window, nobody unusual is parked on the street below.

You're struck with a passing thought as a clap of thunder rattles your windows.

What if…?

No way.

Why would Rodrick call now?

You carefully pick up your phone, looking at 2 missed calls. You'd bet good money on that being your mom's cell phone, or even your dad having a backup number.

You'd really like to hear from Rodrick, though. Now more than ever.

As pathetic as that may be.

You take a deep breath. If you don't talk, nobody will know it's you.

You dial. It rings for what seems like forever.

I'm sorry, but the person you have dialed has a voicemail box that hasn't been-

You hang up quickly. Dammit. Now you have no idea.

You eye your laptop for a second before opening it.

Rodrick hasn't emailed you. You decide to send another one to him.

Not to hurt him. Not to destroy him. Just to see.

~

From: worldsbestbartender@aol.com

To: bigrod@plainviewcommunitycollege.edu, lodeddiperrawks@aol.com

Subject: Did you call me?

Rodrick.

Are you calling me? I assume the ship has sailed and I don't know why you would be. Dick move, by the way.

Let me know if that was you who called me twice in a row tonight and I'll answer. I can't answer mystery numbers right now. I don't want to explain and you probably don't care anyway.

Just please let me know.

~

You drop your head as you hit send.

You doubt he'll answer. You doubt it was him.

But the chance is enough to make you wonder.

Enough to make you miss him.

You know he wouldn't have some grand plan to save you from this situation, but that's not what you need, anyway. You have a feeling that Rodrick’s form of support would just be sitting on the couch with you until you could fix things yourself.

That's what you need.

You stare at your inbox for a while, refreshing over and over, feeling more helpless. You wonder where he is. If he's even thought about you once.

You feel so weak.

You feel so angry.

No person should make you feel like this. You're better than this.

A knock at your door scares you within an inch of your life, and you cover your mouth to stifle any sound you might make. You creep towards the door, peeking through the peephole.

It’s Nick, with his hands shoved in his jacket pocket. You open the door and let him in.

“Hey,” He closes the door behind him, locking the deadbolt, “Any word?”

“Nothing. I got 2 calls, but it might be… someone else.”

He eyes you strangely, then takes his hands out of his pockets.

“I had this crazy idea,” He reveals what he’s got to you.

2 plane tickets from the nearby regional airport to LAX. You take them, staring up at him in disbelief.

“It’s crazy, I know,” He scratches the back of his head, “I just thought, if you’re gonna run, you might as well go far, far away. Somewhere exciting.”

You keep your eyes on him, eyebrow raised in confusion.

“And I’d wanna go with you.”

“What? Like, run away together?” You hand him the tickets back.

He looks at the floor.

“Look. Ever since I met you, I…”

“Don’t, Nick. I know you feel bad for me, but don’t say anything you don’t mean, okay?”

You walk to your couch, sitting with your hands in your lap.

“I mean it,” He appears in front of you. He looks so sincere, “I love you. In whatever way you want me to.”

You don’t really know what you feel for Nick. He’s been there, with you, since the beginning, but…

Do you love him? As a friend, maybe. You decide to shelve those feelings for now.

“I can’t leave, Nick.”

His face drops when you don’t respond to his confession.

“I have too many things here worth fighting for. I can’t leave. Plus, who’s to say my dad can’t find me wherever I go? I have to stay here and fix this.” You look out the window as another flash of lightning strikes.

Nick looks at you for a long time, head down, shoulders slouched. He finally speaks.

“Just think about it, okay?”

(tag list: @crumpets-are-better-with-jam @stargurl-01)

[justanotherhockeyfinnatic]

Via IG — COL 🛫 AZ

[fazcinatingblog]

200 chapter fanfiction on what really happened the night of 26th January 2019 at a house party in Richmond

[jeanmetabolictrainer]

DENIS CYPLENKOV 2023 El hulk de UKRANIA y sus daños por esteroides El co...

[iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia]

The Arcana HCs: M6's ringtones

Julian

For Asra: Hot n Cold by Katy Perry

I mean, does it even need explaining? Yes, Asra knows this is their assigned ringtone, and no, they don't mind it at all

For Nadia: Run the World (Girls) by Beyonce

Nadia didn't know that this was her ringtone until you told her, to which she looked flattered and Julian began to stutter

For Muriel: Why Can't We Be Friends by War

Does Julian respect that Muriel is allowed to feel however he wants to about him? Yes. Does the dislike still bother him? ... maybe

For Portia: Sweet Child O' Mine by Guns N' Roses

This was the most sentimental ringtone Portia would allow him to set for her, and only because of the sick guitar intro

For Lucio: Mean by Taylor Swift

He's not going to lie, some of Lucio's accusatory words did hurt a little, especially after he saved his life with that amputation

For you: Can't Help Falling in Love by Elvis Presley

A classic. It sums up his feelings for you perfectly, and if you happen to dial him in earshot he'll croon along for you

Asra

For Julian: Dumb Ways to Die by Tangerine Kitty

There's no hard feelings between them anymore, but the moment Julian decided dying counted as a solution this became his song

For Nadia: That's My Girl by Little Mix

She might not remember how close they were, but after the tea parties they had together, he'll always be rooting for her

For Muriel: Lean On by Major Lazer

Never let it be said that they can't be sentimental. They'll just do it to EDM and cheesy lyrics for maximum teasing potential

For Portia: Drama by AJR

If you think for a second that he and Portia didn't eventually bond over their love of collecting tea, I beg you to reconsider

For Lucio: Stupid Hoe by Nicki Minaj

You can try to shame them for this all you want. They are humming along, and have been known to keep singing after picking up

For you: Tear in my Heart by twenty one pilots

You're the tear in his heart, and that means he's alive. Changes it sometimes to lighten the mood, but always switches back

Nadia

For Julian: Rasputin by Boney M.

She doesn't remember him, but there's one thing she knows for sure - the only thing he does more shamelessly than flirt is dance

For Asra: Daydreamer by AURORA

Doesn't the title of the song say enough? Even if it didn't, the dreamy music fits them too well too deny

For Muriel: Lean on Me by Bill Withers

Here is what she knows about Muriel: Vesuvia failed him, and she wants him to have better. Now if she could just get his trust ...

For Portia: Count on Me by Bruno Mars

The person who sat by her as she slept and took care of her needs after awakening and stuck by her side? She can count on her

For Lucio: Shout Out to My Ex by Little Mix

Never let it be said that Nadia is afraid of growing and getting stronger. Though saying he broke her heart is an overstatement

For you: Halo by Beyonce

Just ... read through the lyrics. She's never going to hear you call her without remembering what you mean to her

Muriel

For Julian: D.I.L.L.I.G.A.F. by Kevin Bloody Wilson

Specifically the chorus - "Do I Look, Like I Give A F***: DILLIGAF." He doesn't plan on getting chummy with him any time soon

For Asra: Stressed Out by twenty one pilots

He knows they both had to grow up and suffer, but he still gets nostalgic for the quieter years they spent as kids in the woods

For Nadia: Kings & Queens by Ava Max

Is she intimidating? Yeah, but he'd pop champagne to celebrate her succeeding Lucio any day. More queens on the throne, please

For Portia: W.I.T.C.H. by Devon Cole

Nadia may be intimidating, but Portia's the one he truly fears the most. This woman is small and mighty and way too unpredictable

For Lucio: When Will You Die? by They Might Be Giants

Does he have any murderous intent towards the count? not really. Will he sleep easier when he knows he's all the way gone? ... yeah

For you: All of Me by John Legend

Well it's true, isn't it? You pulled him back out into the world and earned his total trust. But he's never letting you hear his ringtone

Portia

For Julian: Welcome to the Black Parade by My Chemical Romance

As all younger sisters must, she chose this solely to make fun of him. Julian, on the other hand, is flattered at the iconic song choice

For Asra: Jericho by Iniko

She knows there's better choices out there, but it's just the vibes, y'know? Try convincing her that they haven't been to outer space

For Nadia: Best Friend by Saweetie

Can't resist singing along to it every time it goes off. Which means that she'll always answer with "hi bestie!!" even when she shouldn't

For Muriel: Y.M.C.A. by Village People

1) She doesn't know him that well, 2) it's a really good song, 3) telling him not to feel down is what she wants to do anyways

For Lucio: Girl on Fire by Alicia Keys

*cue gremlin face* sure, she never met him personally, but the dude wasn't a great husband for her bestie. giggles each time

For you: I Will Always Love You by Dolly Parton

Likes to belt this out to you when she picks up. Whether she squeaks on the high notes each time is up to the listener

Lucio

For Julian: House of Memories by Panic! at the Disco

You can't get amputated on the battlefield by a newbie without trauma bonding at least a little bit. Besides, it's catchy

For Asra: Teenagers by My Chemical Romance

Ohh, he remembers when they were a teenager, and he does not want to go back. He had good reason to be uneasy around them

For Nadia: We Are Never Ever Getting Back Together by Taylor Swift

Yes, he knows their marriage ended because he died, but indulge him a little if sometimes he likes to fantasize that he called it off

For Muriel: Sorry by Justin Bieber

Well, what other song are you supposed to give the victim of your past self? Okay so maybe it isn't the best apology, but it is "sorry"

For Portia: Sweet but a Psycho by Ava Max

Oh, he knows that the force truly worth fearing is not the woman you did wrong - it's her loyal and unhinged best friend.

For you: Teenage Dream by Katy Perry

You do make him feel like a teenager again! It's not nearly as glamorous as life used to be, but having you there for it is exciting

[idk-i-want-mcl-content]

omg omg omg

the first time you go to the shooting minigame, the employee tells you "the first try is free for couples" refering to Candy and the LI. Thomas is very blunt and says "we are not a couple" and just pays, while Devon LITERALLY blushes (Am I supposed to remind him he's my boss?)

AND HE ISN'T DENYING IT (devon i'll be in need for those acting skills to get myself an apartment next ep)

Devon: Well yeah, it seems easy. But we don't know how much it cost... Employee: For couples as cute as you two, the first try is free! Candy: (I looked at Devon as he looked at me too. When our gazes met, we looked away.) Devon: Hm, well... Let's do it, you try first, Candy.

[i-donot-forget]

Jason and the accusation of plagiarism (spoilers ep 7)

YSALINE : the cheater who has not hesitated to steal someone else's project to enter a competition? JASON : it seems that we are really meant to be in a couple… YSALINE:(always that little smirk…)

He doesn't deny the accusations… this story between Jason and Devon is getting more and more interesting....

[feith-rikya]

All these characters are from an RPG campaign called; Gehenna's Gates, set in the world of Vampire The Masquerade. Feel free to ask any questions!

Rebecca, Aaron & Devon: This is the story of Rebecca, Aaron, and Devon, raised by the ancient vampire Adan, an Angellis Ater whose dark purpose was to breed heirs destined to wreak havoc upon the world and survive the impending Gehenna.

(TW: abuse)

Adan, a vampire bent on global destruction, resided in a sinister mansion in Spain. There, he adopted orphans, subjecting them to ruthless trials to groom them as his progeny.

The children endured his sadistic games, designed to shape them into perfect instruments of chaos. He honed their skills, whether in music, art, or cruelty, ensuring they'd unleash their worst selves upon the world. Under his roof, the children were left to fend for themselves, provided with the bare necessities to survive: rooms, a playground, but also subjected to his twisted games meant to toughen them up. Whether it was instilling fear, honing their skills in music or art, or resorting to any means necessary to shape them into perfect beings, Adan spared no cruelty.

The mansion itself was a labyrinth designed as a sinister puzzle, a test to determine which of the children possessed the strength to become his heirs, to be transformed into vampires and amplify their potential for malevolence. Three children, against all odds, managed to decipher his lethal puzzles: Rebecca, Aaron, and Devon. But little did they know that their victory marked the beginning of an even darker chapter.

Rebecca: A very clever girl, was Adan's prized creation. He orchestrated her descent into darkness by forcing her to change her appearance, transforming her once-blonde hair into a fiery red, erasing traces of her former self with every tint. She emerged as Adan's favorite, a mirror to his cruelty and depravity. Post-transformation, her fixation on wealth knew no bounds; she bartered with morality, trading anything and anyone for financial gain.

Despite her initial bond with Aaron and Devon, her transformation into an angelis sater, akin to her sire, weakened these ties. Her path was paved with despicable acts, and a curse shadowed her every move. She became a prominent member of Camarilla’s Red List, knowing for using her power like a puppeteer. Completely controlling the mind of her slaves, substituting their will with her own, always making them tint their hair red.

Aaron: Music flowed through Aaron's veins, a gentle soul with a heart tuned to melody. Yet, Adan's machinations twisted his passion into a tormenting symphony. Confined to a room devoid of sound, Aaron's senses sharpened, a cruel preparation for the role Adan envisioned: a toreador. Adan, in his pursuit of perfection, forcibly turned Aaron, seizing an ancient toreador musician, Giuseppe Tartini, to sire him against his will. Aaron's attempts to flee earned him scars, both physical and emotional.

Post-liberation, he sought solace in drugs and hedonism, desperate for the love he was denied. He became less cruel than his brother and sister, but not less dangerous.

Devon: From his early days, Devon displayed signs of psychological instability, a seed that Adan nurtured into full bloom. His passion for painting became a twisted outlet for Adan's malevolence, as Devon's skin became the canvas for his depravity. Each stroke etched deeper into Devon's psyche, cultivating a cruelty and psychosis that would define his existence. The only thing he couldnt do was making him learn how ti tie his tie, he broke his hands every time he didn't do it right, but never really managed to make him learn. As he transitioned into a vampire, his descent into darkness reached new depths, evolving into a serial killer whose atrocities were both savage and disturbingly artistic. Despite his monstrous actions, a curious attachment to his siblings persisted, a fragile thread of humanity amidst the chaos of his mind.

Adan's demise came when he moved to eliminate Aaron for his attempt to free his sire and escape. Devon leaped to his brother's defense but was ultimately overwhelmed by the sheer power of his sire. In a crucial moment, Rebecca, harboring a deep-seated hatred for Adan, made a decisive choice. Instead of siding with her former mentor, she turned against him, using her powers to block his advances and shield her brothers from harm. It was her intervention that provided the crucial opening for Devon to strike, driving a stake through Adan's heart. However, even as they believed victory was theirs, Adan's kept moving trying to free himself. In a final act of desperation, Devon made his siblings escape and then absorbed what he could of his sire's essence through diablerie, but it proved to be an incomplete victory. Despite his best efforts, a part of his essence remained, stubbornly refusing to fade away. Adan's influence continued to haunt him, a constant reminder of the darkness they had faced. Now, with the Gehennah on the horizon, Adan's shadow looms larger than ever. His presence threatens to resurface, more formidable and dangerous than ever before.

(this drawing are meant to represent the path of these three characters, from their childhood to the present, there are many details that i haven't mentioned but tried to convey)

[whencyclopedia]

Walter Raleigh

Sir Walter Raleigh (c. 1552-1618 CE) was an English courtier, soldier, mariner, explorer, and historian. A one-time favourite of his queen, Elizabeth I of England (r. 1558-1603 CE), Raleigh organised three expeditions to form a colony on the coast of North America in the 1580s CE. The colony was abandoned but the expeditions were notable for introducing tobacco and the potato to England. Unsuccessful at colonisation and falling out with his queen when he married one of her ladies-in-waiting, Raleigh turned instead to finding El Dorado, the fabled golden city of South America. Once more, success was elusive. Back in England, the adventurer was accused of treason by King James I of England (r. 1603-1625 CE) and imprisoned in the Tower of London for 13 years. Writing poetry and an important work of history, the beached mariner was improbably freed in 1616 CE to explore one last time South America. This final expedition was another failure and led once again to imprisonment. Raleigh was executed in the Tower in 1618 CE.

Early Life

Walter Raleigh (or Ralegh as he himself preferred) was born c. 1552 CE in Devon, the son of a member of the local gentry. Educated at Oxford University, Walter volunteered to serve in France to assist the Huguenots there against Catholic oppression. Moving on to Ireland in the mid-1570s CE and establishing a plantation there, Walter was a young captain involved in putting down the Irish rebellions against English colonialism. Raleigh hardly covered himself in glory, though, when he participated in the massacre of 600 surrendered Italian troops at Smerwick in 1580 CE.

From 1581 CE Raleigh arrived at court and his family connection to Elizabeth I's childhood nurse was a helpful point of introduction to his monarch. He made a positive impression with his height, good looks and quick wit. Although 20 years her junior, Raleigh's charm and poetry soon attracted the good favour of his queen. Polite and chivalrous - at least in outward form, Raleigh's eccentricity is illustrated by the likely fictional story that he once lay down his cloak upon a puddle so that the queen need not get her feet wet. Raleigh's good relationship with Elizabeth was helped by his position as captain of the Yeoman Guard which gave him more access to his queen than most. The relationship thus had practical and often lucrative consequences. Over time, Raleigh accumulated large estates in the southwest, Midlands and Ireland which went along with his political influence as a Member of Parliament for Devon and Cornwall. He was given royal monopolies for tin and playing cards, and licences for taverns for 30 years. Rich and proud of showing it, critics once quipped that Raleigh's jewelled shoes alone cost a ridiculous £6,000. The pinnacle came when he was knighted in 1585 CE. All this social progress came despite the rumour Raleigh was said to have denied the immortality of the soul and questioned Elizabeth's foreign policy as not aggressive enough; Raleigh once joked, "Her Majesty did all by halves" (Guy, 289). Perhaps, for this very reason, Raleigh was never admitted to the Privy Council, England's executive seat of government.

Continue reading...

[spottys-rathole]

Compilation de tous mes fanarts de fanfics RPZ (y'en a certains j'ai un peu mal au cul quand je les revois j'vais pas vous mentir mon style artistique se conserve aussi bien que du lait) Certains ont un an, d'autres ont deux semaines

1- Liam et Marcello, chapitre 4 de "Briser les Chaînes" par Loucia 2 & 3- Dona fantôme, pour "Les Vignobles Hantés Montazac-Torez" par @rown-cheese 4- Matéo, pour "Les Canailloux" par @littlehachoko 5- Lorenza Succube pour "Occultus" (non disponible en ligne) par Blackquill et GuillotineNova (dans le style de la série Helluva Boss) 6 & 7- Dona et le Iench + Devon pour "Tour d'Ivoire" par TastyGoldZipper

[high-functioning-fang1rl]

More of Mama Nica!

All of the kids have parental trauma, that’s for sure. Most of them, however, miss their Mom.

Junior, Jake and Devon got incredibly lucky in the Mother department, which honestly made their loss and their relationship to their fathers all the more traumatic.

Nica and Junior filled the hole in each other’s hearts, and their bond was almost instantaneous. He was the first to refer to her as “Mom”, and for a long time all they had was each other.

When her family grew and she finally got to meet Jake and Devon, it was similarly simple; Jake at first seemed suspicious of her easy acceptance of their relationship and hesitant to allow anyone to take a maternal role in his life, while Devon was more focused on surviving and keeping everyone together. Very quickly they both learned about her history, and their admiration of her turned into the hero-worship they held for Andy Barclay. As they bonded with Andy and witnessed their hero fall in love with the strong woman that took care of them so well, the parental relationship they felt with both of them grew and solidified along with it.

Lexy, however, was a special case.

The spunky blonde had never had a positive female role model until Rachel and Nica came along. Her mother had lost her way falling into politics; become critical and fake, neglecting Lexy and heaping unrealistic expectations and standards on her oldest.

Lexy could faintly remember when she was very little, the days spent laughing and driving around in the car with her Mom, the way she’d brush her hair and wrap her up in blankets. It felt like a different lifetime, someone else’s memories entirely, but she could remember when she and her mother were best friends.

Nica’s heart goes out to Lexy. She knows how a complicated mother-daughter relationship can affect someone. So she bides her time. She makes sure to always include Lexy and invite her when she does things with the kids, but she never insists or pushes her. It’s a conscious effort, one that takes a lot of restraint when all Nica wants to do is hug her and whisk her away, protect her from the world.

The first time Nica finds Lexy crying about Caroline is the first time Nica plays her card. She shares the strained relationship she had with her sister and sympathizes, telling her she’s sorry and leaving lots of space for Lexy to actually talk about it. When she does, she surprises Nica and crumbles into her chest, hugging her tightly and letting herself be wrapped in maternal comfort and affection. She tells Nica how amazing she thinks she is, that Nica inspires her, seemingly shocked and bashful when Nica says she feels the same way about her.

From that moment on, the two become close. They make it a point to have “girl time”, doing face masks together (sometimes with Rachel) and cherishing the mother-daughter relationship that is new and foreign to both of them.

Nica Pierce loves all of her children fiercely and equally, but she can’t deny that working to earn Lexy’s love, respect and trust, is one of the most fulfilling things she’s done with motherhood.

She sometimes lets herself believe that she IS actually pretty good at the whole “Mom” thing.

****

[ghostiewriter]

jealousjj!

“Yo, Jay, you good?”

Expected answer? Oh yeah, he was good. He was fucking great. He was surrounded by friends and people who had felt like his family long before he knew the true meaning of the word. He was brilliant. 

Honest answer? He was about thirty seconds away from convincing himself the lifetime in prison sentence would be worth it.

“Fucking peachy,” he grumbled, the grip on his gloves tight and firm—a little too fucking firm considering his knuckles were white. 

“Yeah, you look it,” Pope muttered, sarcasm dripping from his voice as he looked away from the motorbike he was kneeling in front of and instead towards the blond. “Stop doing that, you look constipated!” 

“Fuck off,” JJ rolled his eyes but then he heard her laugh—heard her fucking giggle—and his eyes were back on the other side of the dirt track. 

The dirt bike races weren’t necessarily an official—or legal event—in Kildare. But they were traditional and the cops always turned a blind eye to the event, so everyone rolled with it. It took place on a makeshift track beyond the golf courses, far enough away from town to be a disturbance but firmly on the kook side of the island. 

And if that didn’t make him uncomfortable enough, he now had to watch some kook with a flashy bike flirt with Kiara like he was the king of the fucking world. 

“If you stare for long enough, he might turn to stone,” Cleo supplied as she sat on a pop-up table beside JJ’s bike. 

JJ sent a glare her way but the girl only laughed. 

“I’m not staring,” he said simply. 

“Oh, so you’re the kinda guy who denies he’s jealous?” Cleo commented. 

His head snapped towards her. “I’m not jealous.” 

“Good,” she said with a grin as she looked over his shoulder. “Because I think he just gave Kiara his number.” 

“What!?” 

He ignored Cleo’s cackling as he threw his gloves on the ground beside the bike, muttering some half-assed apology when he almost hit Pope as he did so before he made his way to the other side of the dirt track. His eyes were zoned on the man across from Kiara, the one with brown curly hair and a smile that made him a little nauseous. The same man whose hand was now reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. 

But he reached her first. 

His arm was wrapped around her waist and tugged her back against his chest, just out of his reach. “Hey baby, I see you’ve met Duke.”

The man’s eyes narrowed. “It’s Dustin.”

JJ flashed him a smile. “That’s what I said.” 

Dustin looked between the two of them, his eyes lingering on the arm wrapped around Kiara’s face. “I didn’t realise you had a boyfriend,” he said eventually and his nose scrunched up a little. “Couldn’t have mentioned it?” 

“She shouldn’t have to if it was a friendly talk, right, Devon?” JJ asked, the words gritted through clenched teeth. 

“Right,” Dustin murmured, something flashing in his dark eyes. “See you out on the track, Maybank?” 

“I hope you don’t get too much dirt on your visor,” he snapped back before he started walking back towards where his set up was, his arm around Kiara only tightening. He didn’t even need to look at her to know that she was either pissed off or thoroughly amused. 

“You know, when you get jealous, there is a little vein right there that just—” 

He lightly slapped her hand away when she reached towards his face and glowered. “Not funny.” 

“It’s a little funny,” Kiara chipped, lips pressed together to hide her grin.

“Evil woman,” JJ murmured. “Taking amusement in my misery.”

“In your jealousy actually,” Kiara corrected and laughed when the blond rolled his eyes. 

“I wasn’t jealous!”

She raised her brows. “Oh, so I can go back to Dustin—”

His arm instantly tightened around her, holding her closer to his chest to the point he wouldn't be surprised if she could feel the way his heart was beating wildly in his chest. “Absolutely fucking not.”

“Caveman,” Kiara murmured in amusement as she pressed a kiss on his cheek. 

“Your caveman,”

[pigagainstsuicidism]

it remembers reading these two pieces about the systemic power that TME people have over TMA people in trans spaces, and the response was so surreal. One of the articles was Devon Price's Transmisandry Does Not Exist, and the other was Cat Harsis's Transmisogyny Exempt Privilege Dynamics. And one of the comments under Price as well as this post on tumblr "debunking" it was about how allegedly the term transmisandry isn't used the way they describe. Those who are affected by transmisogyny are, yes, not just affected by transantagonism and misogyny but this other oppression, transmisogyny. But those who use the term 'transmisandry' (and some alternative terms they provide, anti-transmasculinity for instance) would never dream of denying that reality. Rather, it's just that transmasculine people are impacted by transantagonism in deep, unique, systemic ways, and this is a term to describe that experience.

And then responses to Harsis's essay fully deny that there is any such thing as this extra oppression, transmisogyny. They instead claim there is no axis of oppression at all that explains the disparity of abuse and mobbing when it comes to those affected by this so-called transmisogyny and those exempt from it.

How can the PREDOMINANT RESPONSES to the claim that transmisogyny exists be that:

Nobody is denying that transmisogyny exempt people have power over transmisogyny affected people!

It's ludicrous to think transmisogyny exempt people have power over transmisogyny affected people!

And it gets worse! Let's ignore the tonal differences of criticism to each of their essays, and focus on the fact that 1 is substantially gentler while 2 is substantially more violent. Price the TME writer gets 1 that says "I agree with you, I just think there's a verbal difference." Harsis the TMA writer gets 2 that says "I fundamentally deny you any reality to your experiences, to what you've been through. You're all imagining all that shit lol."

More recently it saw a conversation where a TME trans person said unambiguously and explicitly that TME and TMA trans people go through the same thing, there is no such thing as this extra, bonus oppression, transmisogyny. The two loudest responses were how the TME trans person was just describing his own experiences and never denied transmisogyny and nobody is saying that, and another contingent arguing for why he was right to say there is no such thing as transmisogyny.

And then the worst part, the cherry on top of ALL OF THIS, is that these people all act like they're in agreement with each other. Because it's not about what they're saying. It's about who they're against.

[artemis-fowl-incident-report]

Welcome to my throwback day contribution!

So I did a post a while back talking about what I would have done with the Fowl Twins books, and a subsequent chapter by chapter breakdown for the second book. And thus, as my throwback, I'm gonna break down what I would have done for "Deny all Charges" aka the third one.

(Just to preface, I never finished the third book. I dont know what Eoin was doing there, but I wanted no part of it)

Chapter 1

The Twins have recently turned 14. Following the trend of his character development from my version of book 2, Beckett has really come into his own, doubling down on his talent for engineering and languages, and is actively working on writing his first children's book (since he found that, with all his passion for the "Alien Pooping Boy" books, he might as well try writing all his ideas for himself). Beckett also keeps bees now, since he can talk with them, and bees are one of the only creatures that consent to their domestication by humans. Myles is as snarky as ever, but is a bit less vicious about it, since he's begun realising how hurtful some of his statements can be.

The boys are in Italy with their parents, visiting their Uncle Foxy and his boyfriend, one Giovanni Zito (because I said so). They're just discussing when Artemis will be returning from Mars when the boys get a message. The Crown of Frond they saved from the last book has been stolen from the Section 8 archives. The trail leads to Venice, so the boys head over to investigate.

They tail behind the fairy thief who they believe stole the item as they twist and turn through the city until they come to a church. Just as they get there, however, the building blows up. No one is hurt, but they can only assume their target is dead.

Chapter 2

As they're preparing to head home, Myles keeps fretting about the explosion. He goes over the security footage over and over, until he remembers that many churches have catacombs under them. He keeps researching until he comes across footage of their thief being whisked away by a boat that looks like an ACRONYM vestal.

Cut to their fairy nervously pacing around a safe house, wondering if the money was worth it- BLAM! Beckett knocks down the door. Between the two of them (and Whistle Blower, who they keep threatening to feed the fairy to) their thief confesses that he stole the crown for one Lord Teddy Bleedham-Drye. The only other information he has is that he's going to be attacking a fairy magical research lab on the Devon moors soon.

They leave him, wandering through the streets to where Lazuli parked the shuttle. Beckett wonders if Artemis will be back in time for this adventure, and how it would be fun for them to get to solve this problem together. Myles is less enthused, noting that Artemis would probably get himself killed with his lack of self preservation instincts.

Chapter 3

A few days later, Lazuli, Myles, and Beckett (with Whistle Blower in his backpack) scale the Devonshire Moors. Since the area is well known for its military training camps they deemed it best to go by foot.

Lazuli is doing rather well since the last book, discovering she was from a secret branch of the Frond royal family. She's practically been adopted by Lily Frond, since most of Lily's family isn't great and she always wanted a sister. They may only be distantly related, but its the only family Lazuli's ever had (my heart!)

The magical testing facility is disguised as a Tor (big piles of granite that jut from the moors surface). But its clearly been attacked recently, with chunks taken from the surface, revealing the buildings structure underneath.

They head inside, learning that all the scientists and engineers have been kidnapped, and one piece of tech stolen. A magic amplifier. It was originally being developed for No1, as a way for him to cast spells on mass like healing the Amazonian rainforests or large groups of people during emergencies.

As the Regrettables leave they find themselves surrounded by the British Army. They're about to be fired upon, when a bright light shines down upon them. A ship descends, and a familiar voice in their ear pieces telling them to cover their eyes. There's a brilliant flash of light, and the army men drop to the ground, dazed and mind wiped of the last hour.

The spaceship's pod descends and two people step out. Butler and Artemis.

Chapter 4

Everyone (except for Myles) is overjoyed to see Artemis. He and Butler are rushed down the Haven with the Regrettables, and tearfully reunite with their friends, before buckling down and getting to business. (yes, Artemis is most pleased to be back on earth because he gets to wear suits again. Go figure)

Myles does not appreciate being side-lined like this, being treated like a child as Artemis and the others take over the situation. (Beckett tries to point out that they are actually children, but it doesn't go well for him). Its actually Lily Frond who gives them the means to listen in on the situation, having the keys to the office connecting to the situation room.

Turns out the machine is missing one key element, a very rare crystal that draws in magical energy from its environment and stores it within itself. They decide to contact Minerva about it, but it will take a day or so, since she's still a smuggler in this story, but a more high quality smuggler (also, Artemis is Godfather to Minerva's daughter. Its so sweet). Myles convinces Beckett they need to go to Minerva themselves, for which they steal a pod and head for the surface. (They leave Lazuli behind since they want her to, you know, keep her job)

Not that Beckett doesn't like a good heist, but he's usually the impulsive of of the two. He doesn't understand where this grim determination has come from with his brother. When pressed on the subject, Myles simply points out they shouldn't be overlooked like this.

Chapter 5

They turn up in New Orleans, and Minerva is very confused, but agrees to help when the situation is explained. Turns out, she has just the rock they are looking for, and a large chunk of it at that. The Twins buy it off her (because they got that Fowl money, you know what I mean?) and decide to take it to a secure location so Teddy cant get his hands on it.

Teddy gets his hands on it. He attacks the boys as they're transporting the crystal. During his big Villain monologue, he reveals he wants to be King of England, and he will use the fairy people to do so. He does, however, accidentally mention that a certain "she" will demand her share as well.

The twins are pushed from the pod, but not before Myles accidentally manages to get hold of a baby chunk of the crystal. They fall into the Atlantic Ocean, being picked up by a fairy rescue vestal.

Chapter 6

Back at Villa Eco, the twins get scolded by their parents and Artemis. Beckett kind of accepts it, but Myles refuses to. He runs away, reflecting on how all of this has been an absolute mess, that maybe they really should have left it to Artemis and the others.

When he catches up to him, Artemis and Myles have a heart to heart. Myles admits that he used to idolise Artemis, that he thought his big brother could do anything. But then he got himself killed at the end of the Last Guardian. Worse than that, he got killed from information Myles supplied him with after being possessed. He wants to be an equal to his brother, he wants to be close to him, but he felt his death stronger than anyone else. And then, when Artemis came back, he headed off to Mars like an Interstellar hipster on a gap year trying to "find himself".

Artemis apologises, explaining that he'd lived his first life for other people for so long, being the genius, the heir, Artemis Fowl II, that he didn't really know who Artemis was away from those things. He just wanted to keep his family safe, even though he had no idea how to be anything but a stranger in said family. That he should have reflected more on how him and Beckett were affected, that he does see them as his equals, and that he's sorry.

They hug it out. Myles is crying, Artemis is crying (I'm crying!)

Chapter 7

Much like the Death Star, it turns out this magical amplifier has a very specific (plot contrived) flaw. The crystal at its heart is not only rare, but its very fragile. If shot through with the right frequency, it will shatter and explode, all the magical energy contained inside it bursting out in one shot. However, they don't know what that frequency is, since they would have to run tests on some of that specific crystal vein.

Myles is happy to announce that he has one of said crystals, but will only hand it over to the LEP if they agree to let him and Beckett help. Their parents try and argue against it, but finally (finally) realise that nothing will stop their sons if theirs something they want to do and so elect to come along and help.

They fly across to Isle of Scilly to meet up with the rest of the team. Lord Teddy's manor is a virtual fortress, guarded by the fairy scientists and engineers he had kidnapped from Devon. They're clearly being mind controlled, and they have anti shield goggles on, so there's no way they could attack the house by air.

They had, however, contacted the Hortenut Seven, through Mulch, to dig them in. While they face off against Teddy, the dwarves will disable the guards, in exchange for Artemis backing their political interests (he has quite a bit of sway with the People since his resurrection, being viewed more like a Hero than the monster he used to be).

Artemis Sr and Angeline are actually surprisingly good help navigating the halls of Childblain House (turns out Angeline used to be a cat-burglar and Tim was, you know, a former crime lord so that helps). They reach the grand hall where the machine has been set up, the crystal humming away menacingly.

They each separate into one of three teams. Team A, Myles, Fowl Sr, and Butler (who between them are lugging a large box). They will be dug around the back of the hall by Mulch through the garden. Team B, Angeline, Juliet, and Beckett move to various positions around darkened hall out of sight ready to snatch the crown at the first opportunity. And Team C, Holly and Lazuli, who are shielded in the rafters with their guns ready if something goes wrong. Foaly is also there, in spirit, or rather on tech support, using his little bug drones from the Last Guardian to keep eyes on everyone.

Taking a breath Artemis, now wearing a gloop tie and glasses, steps into the hall.

Chapter 8

Artemis tries shooting at Teddy, but misses, being tackled and chained down by fairy guards for his trouble. When Teddy comes closer to inspect the intruder, he's told that this is "Myles" come back from the future to stop him. The maddened Lord wholeheartedly believes this, and takes it as a sign of his future victory. Since, if he hadn't won, there would be no need for "Myles" to have been sent back.

The crystal is changed up. Teddy is monologuing, strolling up have the crown on his head hooked up to the machine, regal in his throne

BLAM

He's shot in the chest.

Teddy looks over, betrayed, as Sister Jeronima, or rather her corps puppeteered around by Opal's ghost emerges.

All the fairies are suddenly released from the crowns spell and try to run, only to freeze back in place as Opal puts the crown on her own head.

Of course she has a villain speech, and of course she knows its Artemis. She talks about how he's always been small and pathetic, with a mind that could once rule the world but no resolve to do so.

She gets her guards to round up all the various Fowl's, Butler's and others. She hooks herself up to the machine, ordering Holly and Lazuli to take aim at their friends.

BOOM!

The crystal explodes, the machine Myles had set up vibrating at just the right frequency to release the magic trapped inside. There's chaos, Opal trying to order her fairy minions as the humans all rush forward to get the crown. Angeline is actually the one to get Opal, punching her in the face with a war cry of "that's for what you've done to my sons!" as Whistle Blower tears Opal/Jeronima's ankles to shreds.

But not before Lazuli goes to take a shot at Artemis, with Myles pushing him out the way.

Chapter 9

Between the two of them, Holly and Lazuli manage to heal Myles, where he wakes up in his big brothers arms.

It ends with them all sitting on the beach eating ice cream, waiting for the LEP to come sort out the mess and take Opal into custody.

They give the crown to Lazuli to look after, who resolves to hide it just as her ancestor Darach wanted.

Artemis tells his brothers how truly proud he is of them, and how he hopes this is the Fowl's legacy. He called an old man by Beckett, and a simpletoon by Myles.

The end

(I have been writing since 3am and now it is 7am. Why do I do this to myself? I have no idea)