#Gale Force 9

[notactuallyherefor]

Just achieved a longstanding goal of mine when I put together a xenomorph mini, with a dozen more on the way. I am so incredibly happy to see it in my collection.

#miniatures #xenomorph #aliens #gale force 9

[whovian223]

Firefly - 10th Anniversary Collector's Edition Coming from Gale Force Nine

Firefly - 10th Anniversary Collector's Edition Coming from @GaleForceNine

I’m on vacation this week, so posting was going to be sparse this week anyway (hush, you in the back…), but I had to post about this when I saw it. I’m a big fan of the Firefly game from Gale Force Nine, though I haven’t played it in a while. When you’ve registered 25 plays of a game that can take quite a while and take up your whole table and then some, that’s dedication! The game has been…

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#Firefly #Gale Force 9 #Pick Up & Deliver

[kayl-maclaren]

Took a little bit to hunt down, but I love this version of the 2nd Doctor. Quick paint up, too. Gale Force 9 sculpt.

#gale force 9 #doctor who

[princessmelinoe]

A moment with the weave...

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #wyll ravengard #wyll #gale x wyll #wyll x gale #bladeweave #bg3edit #gamingedit #videogameedit #lgbtvideogames #videogamemen #my edit #i dont normally gif in 16:9 but my widescreen forced me for this scene :( #this has been in my drafts

[rabbiitte]

As I guess you can tell, I've been rewatching Queer as Folk while Only Friends is on air. Many have talked about the parallels between both series, since the creator of Only Friends was inspired by Queer as Folk (and many other series and movies). I can confirm that the parallels do exist but perhaps my most important discovery is realizing that Top and Boston are two different faces of Brian Kinney.

Boston represents Brian's essence, that which will never change because it is part of his nature. Boston is the proud and unapologetic side of Brian who resists change. Both are guided by the “I don't believe in love, I believe in fucking” motto:

Gif by: @sophsun1

While Top represents Brian's fragility, which manifests itself in the need to want to adjust himself in order to be loved. Top is the insecure and sensitive side of Brian. In fact, both share many similar aspects, such as substance abuse (without becoming an addiction), negative relationship with their parents, both are seen as sexual figures and as lacking in feelings but actually they have a good heart, among many other aspects. Perhaps the greatest similarity is their willingness to accept change through the beginning of a romantic relationship, this is an adjustment moment that requires compromise and vulnerability.

Gif by: @sophsun1

So, I don't really know what this is but if you haven't seen Queer as Folk, what are you waiting for?

#only friends the series #only friends series #only friends series ep 9 #only friends #ofts #queer as folk #qaf #qaf us #brian kinney #top #boston #gale harold #force #neo #gmmtv #thai bl

[thecheappaintbrush]

Yeenoghu from the Gale force 9 mini line

(Human minis not included, just posted for scale) 

#my stuff #2021 #Gale Force 9 miniatures #dnd miniatures #painted miniatures #wizkids

[welcometomybraincomics]

Delta 9 was a Decepticon mercenary group originally brought together as a platoon in the Decepticon Army. After the exile, many struggled for work, but Delta 9 managed to nab employment for a large group of mercenaries, just perfect for their platoon. They hadn’t actually all taken the job on purpose. News of the job spread through the grapevine and since their grave vine spread through the platoon, well, their forces were the majority of who answered the hiring call. 

They worked well together, already knowing each others’ strengths and weaknesses and covered each other’s backs. They didn’t need extra time for camaraderie to grow between them, it was already there from centuries of fighting together.

When the job was over, they decided to try settling down, make a place to come home to. Many of them tried New Kaon, but they found it too crowded. It was Bastion, the old coot, who suggested an uninhabited planet. He had already found several and was screening for energon deposits. Several of the younger bots laughed that he just didn’t want to be alone. Bastion just shrugged. It wasn’t wrong. He could live on his own and be just fine, but there was comfort in company and he treated these mecha as his own children. The old sap couldn’t very well just abandon them. To him they were, well there wasn’t a Cybertonian word for it, but organics called it family. Kith and kin.

The rest of Delta 9 felt the same, though they would never admit it.

#Gale Force #transformers #transformers OCs #I forgot how emotionally attatched Delta 9 is

[dark-and-kawaii]

༺ 𝒜 𝒟𝑒𝓋𝒾𝓁 𝒴𝑜𝓊 𝐿𝑜𝓋𝑒 ༻

You never expected a Devil to be your savior, never expected to be cherished by him…

PRT 2 (CLICK HERE) - Fluff - Soft Raphael - Past Talk About Abuse

Gazing outside his balcony, you watched as yet another red storm began to stir throughout Avernus. The wilted trees bend to the will of the fiery winds. The overcast clouding your view of the mountains, and with a deep sigh this dreary day has brought back memories you had thought you’d forgotten. A life full of pain and restrictions… But the devil took you away from it all, and gave you a new life with new meaning.

With a subtle startled expression as you felt your hand graze one of the small buttons on your wrist, you look down with a warm smile as you continue to run your hand along the soft cotton of Raphael’s opulent dress shirt. You nearly had forgotten that on days such as this you quite enjoy stealing his shirts. They always brought you such comfort and joy, who would’ve thought… A devil bringing you such comfort. It’s laughable really. Holding your arm to your lips you can smell the scent of cherries and sulfur, it relaxes your muscles and you can’t help but to thank him aloud to yourself, “Thank you, my devil.”

“For what, pray tell little mouse of mine?”

And just like a tiny mouse, squealing wasn’t the right word for the noise you had just made… But with a tiny cute noise, you hastily turned around on his silken bed to face the devil himself, Raphael… He was always so handsome no matter the form he took, right now though he appeared human. His milk chocolate eyes watching you with interest, his hand resting on his chin. Everything about him was so grandiose and each time you looked him in the eyes your heart would skip a beat.

The Devil wasn’t perfect, he had his flaws just as everyone else did… He also had his own ambitions to rule the 9 hells… But, for whatever reason, those flaws made him even more special to you. Yes, he was the son of Mephistopheles. Yes, he is technically one of the “bad” guys, but… unlike the last villain that had captured you… Raphael was soft with you, treated you as if you were some sort of delicate flower that would break apart if not careful. He had his souls he enjoyed to flail and torture, yet with you it was different… the devil had no need to put you through such horrors. He cherished and protected you like a dragon with its hoard of treasure.

“R-Raphael- I uh-… Thank you… For…”

Just his presence alone made you flustered, it couldn’t be helped.

“It would seem that the cat has caught this little mouse’s tongue.” A small laugh emanated from his chest, “How, precious.”

You grin at his response.

Damn near everyone would disagree with you, but in your eyes, Raphael wasn’t foul, not like Astarion was… This devil you came to know throughout your adventure didn’t hold you by a leash… Didn’t force you down whenever he pleased, or gauge your neck with his teeth to prove a point- Your flushed face reducing to a pale complexion as your hand cups where Astarion left his mark on you. A chill runs down your spine remembering when Astarion the Ascended chained you for days… All because you wanted to run out into the city for some fresh brioche and to say hello to Gale.

Raphael, a devil, son of Mephistopheles… Never chained you nor held you against your will. He let you run out into the real world… Let you do as you pleased. You knew he’d make Korilla follow after you. But it wasn’t due to lack of trust, it was plainly because he wanted to keep you safe and out of the Vampires grasps.

Like a falling feather, you gracefully glide off Raphael’s bed. His shirt on you flowed at the bottom thanks to it being far too big on you making this scene before him look like it was out of a book- and into his chest you fell. Your arms wrapping around him while your cheek pressed against his arm that crossed against his chest.

“What’s better than a devil you do know?” You looked up at him questioning.

“By all means please do enlighten me.” His hand never left his face and his other arm stayed crossed over his chest as you embrace him.

“A devil thats your savior…” -You looked away from him, staring back out the balcony-, “I don’t think you’d ever find a quote like that in a book, but I’m thankful for you, Raphael. Truly. Thank you.” You press your face into him, your lashes fluttering close.

Raphael would never tell you how he waited for your hope to whittled down to the very marrow of despair- how he waited for you to whimper his name between sobs while chained to the vampires personal bed. The Devil would also never admit how it pained him to see such a treasure being handled in such ways, yet he wanted you to call out to him. He’s still a devil after all… So he waited all that year, waited for you to call out his name for help, pleading to sign whatever it is he desired…

“You didn’t belong with such filth.”- you didn’t need to look up to know he was scrunching his face, you could hear it in his voice- “Fine beauty such as yourself belongs in a much more suitable home.” He finally moved his hand from his face to the top of your head. Petting you like some adored pet.

Raphael, from the moment he laid eyes on you, knew he'd make you apart of his plan forever someday. He just didn’t expect you to vanish all of a sudden… The damn vampire had ascended and taken you… All those years you were caged like some sort of animal. Nowhere to go, forced into things you wanted no part of… Living like a rat.

A rarity had shown its face as Raphael peered down at you, you didn’t see it and Raphael could only hope for once that Haarlep didn’t see the concern on his face.

Astarion still walks among the living, and Raphael can’t be everywhere…

#bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #baldurs gate #raphael x reader #raphael bg3 #raphael x tav #bg3 raphael #raphael the cambion #Astarion #astarion x tav #tav #bg3 tav #bg3 raphael x tav

[paladinbaby]

first rule of holes: keep digging

poem of the end, marina tsvetaeva / have you been long enough at the table, leslie sainz / @inneskeeper / the charismatic church asks me how i have sinned, janelle tan / blud, rachel mckibbens / leslie feinberg / @aforlorngazeintoyesterday / nonbeliever, lucy dacus / the cow, ariana reines / the wee free men, terry pratchett

[Image Description: Ten images of text on white backgrounds.

1: “Either love is / -A shrine? / or else a scar.” Or else a scar is highlighted in a pale yellow colour.

2: “can you stomach it? / Anyway, you eat it. You eat it anyway.”

3: “ Oh sunk cost fallacy, we’re really in it now. We are in fact so really in it that if we quit now then everything we did would have all been for nothing and so we have to keep going in”

4: “let me fail myself. let me call / love an unanswered prayer. let me be / the very tip of the knife / that touches grace.”

5: “Obedience in the wrong house is a kind of plague,

survivor’s guilt a slight of hand. No outrunning / your blood’s calamity, so you gather your teeth

& dig your trenches, tell your stories but never come clean.”

6: “Did I survive? I guess I did. But only because I knew I might get home to you.” The whole line is written in italics.

7: “doomed by the narrative but not to death. doomed to survive. doomed to stay alive inside the story. doomed to never escape the narrative, not even through death. you are allowed no exit. there is no way out for you and never was. you couldn’t die if you wanted to. the narrative has a hold on you and it won’t let go. death is too sweet a doom for you. the story has something much worse in mind. there is no way out.”

8: “You deal an unspoken debt / No kindness without wanting something back / What do I owe you? What did I forget? / Are we even after all of that?”

9: “There is no sacrifice. You have got to want to live. You have got to force yourself to want to.”

10: “All witches are selfish, the Queen had said. But Tiffany’s Third Thoughts said: Then turn selfishness into a weapon! Make all things yours! Make other lives and dreams and hopes yours! Protect them! Save them! Bring them into the sheepfold! Walk the gale for them! Keep away the wolf! My dreams! My brother! My family! My land! My world! How dare you try to take these things, because they are mine!

I have a duty!” End ID.]

#litstack #web weaving #terry pratchett #lucy dacus #personal #c: lost township #onion

[anachilles]

sorry i just need to ramble a bit more about ep 9!post-rescue!gale after he makes his way back to thorpe abbotts because this has been rattling around in my brain like a peanut in a tin can.

like… the sheer force of the guilt he must have felt. for making a split second decision in pure, unadulterated panic (which he was loathe to do in literally any other situation) and running when he had the chance. the chance that bucky had given him.

and he left bucky behind without so much as a second look (<- as remembered by his anguished brain with tortured memories).

being back without him felt wrong. gale felt like a ghost trailing behind the men who were guiding him back around the base, like he was haunting them, not really fully there. one half of his soul was still lost somewhere in eastern germany.

and when bucky shows up, rougishly unannounced, the guilt only multiplies around the relief and joy and disbelief at seeing him back here, liberated so such sooner than he’d anticipated.

bucky himself is overjoyed. he can’t believe he’s here; that he and buck both got out of this thing alive and, okay, not as ‘together’ as they had hoped but they were now and that’s what mattered.

meanwhile gale feels sick to his stomach every time he looks him in the eyes, his body tense under the rigid smiles he puts on, partly for the other boys around them, but mostly for john himself.

how could john ever forgive him for just leaving like that?

(( i need to make a one shot out of this omg ))

#abbie.txt #clegan #I’m probably not phrasing this eloquently at all I’m so sleepy #but there’s some juicy JUICY feelings there that i *need* to exploit for literary purposes

[nebulablakemurphy]

Moves & Countermoves (Part 16)

Summary: No one ever wins the games, even fourteen years later, Y/N is still playing.

Prologue | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15

It is cold and dark, woken from a peaceful slumber to run. Everyone around them is yelling, it’s always scary when grown ups yell.

They are scrambling now, tripping over each other in haste, to get to the woods. A place they’ve been forbidden to go.

“Come on, baby. Keep up.” His aunt insists, in a voice that sounds so like his mother’s. His mother.

“What about my mom and dad?” Everest asks.

“We’ll see them soon.” Madge tells him.

The sky opens and rains fire.

“You said we had an hour.” Gale shouts, over the commotion.

“They must’ve launched the fleet out of district eleven.” Everest’s grandfather calls back. “Get to the woods.”

He is a quiet man. Even tempered, he does not yell; yet he is yelling.

“Dad!” Aunt Madge tries to catch him, but her hands are full.

Full of Arista and me.

“Captain goes down with the ship.” He is gone, lost in the smoke, never to return. A debt paid for the lives he saved.

“No!” Everest wants to go back. Run to him, change it, but he can’t. Someone is holding him still, shaking his shoulders.

“Everest.”

His mother. But she isn’t here. She couldn’t be.

“Shh, shh.”

Mom. The boy startles awake, in their new living quarters of district thirteen. Just a dream.

The baby is crying, he must have woken her too.

Still his mother is there, rocking him gently, smoothing down his hair. “I’m here, you’re safe.”

Everest clings to her, watching as she uses a foot to push the bassinet from side to side. Quieting his littlest sister.

Daisy May.

A child wrought into the world through his mother’s blood, sweat and tears. She cries like it pains her to be separated from the woman who’s given her life and he does not blame her.

“Here, you can come lay with me.” Y/N offers, it is hard to be in two places at once.

Everest climbs into her bed, the spot left vacant by his father. The doctors are trying to make him comfortable, while his body adjusts to the lack of alcohol.

To the victors go the spoils.

————————————————————————

Morning comes much too early, signified by the shifting brightness of lights, rather than the sun.

Everest and Arista leave with Madge for school. There aren’t many children here in thirteen, most teachers have been made useful elsewhere.

This is one of the few things she has allowed, over their three weeks underground, hoping it will help the children acclimate.

Y/N sets her daughter down, in the makeshift bassinet, causing the infant to wail in protest.

“Just for a minute, just for a minute.” She’s coos, pulling on her jumpsuit as fast as she can. Even showering has proven difficult without the extra set of hands. Without Haymitch.

“Civilian Abernathy.” One of the guards call from outside the door.

“She’s fine.” Y/N assures him, finishing up the last of her buttons and tossing the baby sling over her head. Reaching down for the infant, she situates her gently. The silence is instant.

“Happy to hear it. Your presence is requested by President Coin.”

Y/N rolls her eyes. If it’s not one president it’s another. She opens the door to find the same man who’s been keeping an eye on her since arrival. “It’s not on my schedule.” She holds out her forearm, showcasing the printed timesheet.

“Your schedule will be revised to compensate the time.”

“Perfect.” Y/N forces a smile. “Any idea what this is about?” She follows him down to the elevator.

“I’m just here to escort you.” He draws the large metal doors closed around them.

“Ever had anybody jump?” They must be thirty stories up.

The soldier shifts. “Are you thinking about it?”

“No,” she shrugs, “just making conversation.”

They reach their destination and the gates plunk open, “charming.”

The rest of their trek is silent. He opens the door and then closes her inside to stand watch. Leaving her to the wolves.

“Y/N, thank you for meeting with me.” Alma Coin says, seated at the long rectangular table. “Please, have a seat.”

“She likes it better when I stand.” Y/N says, patting the child on her chest as she approaches the table.

“Of course.” Coin nods, “you look well.”

“I’m weller than I was when I got here.” Unconscious and hemorrhaging from birth complications.

Plutarch smiles. Hello again.

“I was glad to hear that you’ve received a clear bill of health from our medical team.” Coin runs the tip of her pen over paper as she speaks.

“So the therapist you have me meeting with is just for fun?” Y/N cocks her head to the side.

“For anyone to endure the level of psychological abuse that you have seen and still persevere…you are an inspiration to us all.”

Y/N swallows hard. What do you want?

“Even still, we feel it’s beneficial for you to continue your sessions with Dr. Aurelius.”

“Any word on extracting the victors being held in the Capitol?” Peeta. Johanna. Annie.

“Rest assured, we are working around the clock to find a safe and effective way to liberate the other victors.”

Y/N nods, bouncing lightly from one foot to the other.

“I hear Haymitch is nearing the end of his withdrawal process and will be assimilated into the general population in the next few days.” Coin continues.

Another nod.

“I understand how delicate this subject may be for you, but if you’d like to keep separate quarters-”

“Why would I do that?” Y/N demands.

Plutarch clears his throat. Alma Coin is about to step over the line and finally understand why Snow kept such tight reins on his Capitol darling.

“Given your history.”

“History?”

“This can be a fresh start for the both of you.” Coin replies, softly. “Dissolve the marriage, with custody arrangements for the children.”

“I don’t want to dissolve my marriage.” Maybe there was some version of her that did. A casualty of war, buried long before his babies grew inside her.

“This is all you’ve known since you were nineteen. I can see how the idea of leaving would be intimidating.”

“You don’t know half the hell I’ve been through, or what Haymitch had to do for me to be standing in this room today. If you did, you wouldn’t be insinuate that this ‘arrangement’ is something I want.” Y/N’s chest heaves, anger boiling in her veins.

“Forgive me.” President Coin concedes, “I didn’t mean to offend you, it was only an offer.”

“I appreciate the thought, but it won’t be necessary. If that’s all-”

“There is one more thing,” Alma is not yet finished, “in regards to Katniss.”

Leave her alone. “Katniss needs more time.”

The president steeples her hands. “I wish we had that to offer, unfortunately the revolution has grown stagnant. We need to fuel this fire, otherwise we might be waiting another seventy-five years.”

“What do you want her to do?”

Now Plutarch takes the floor. “We’d like to shoot a series of propaganda, I like to call them propos. Ideally, we would use you and Katniss in tandem. The districts will follow Katniss, but the Capitol will follow you.”

We would use you. “Can I talk to her first?”

“Please do.” This is a clear dismissal.

————————————————————————

“Sorry I’m late.” Y/N is all but panting when she reaches her husband. Past the rooms harboring Cashmere, Finnick, Katniss and the other patients of thirteen.

He stops bouncing the muted green ball off the wall, catching it in hand. There’s not much to do down here, especially in what feels like solitary confinement. The good doctors are all concerned with his fine motor skills. Haymitch simply tells them, ‘they’re fine.’ Somehow they don’t find this funny.

He gives his wife a tired grin. “Word is, you got stuck in a meeting with Coin…anything new on Peeta?”

“No,” Y/N sighs, “she called me in to tell me about her master plan with Plutarch.”

“Ah,” Haymitch chortles, “do tell.”

“They wanna use Katniss to appeal to the districts and use me to rally support in the Capitol.” She plops, unceremoniously, onto his bed, shoes and all. Removing the baby from her carrier when she begins to fuss.

Thirteen’s jumpsuits are nothing to write home about, but easy enough to open and nurse at a moment’s notice.

“I can think of a few reasons as to why it won’t work.” Haymitch sits at the foot of his mattress.

“Lay it on me.”

“First of all, Katniss can’t act. Not to save her life.”

Y/N lifts a shoulder, “maybe she’ll do better with practice.”

“I think it’ll be harder than they’re expecting. Especially now, without-” Peeta.

“Yeah,” Y/N looks away.

“What else is wrong?” He knocks her knee.

“Coin offered to dissolve our marriage.”

Haymitch shifts, “and what did you say?”

“I told her to fuck herself.” Y/N says, with a hand over Daisy’s ear. “Nicely.”

At this he smiles, “good. I’m glad we’re both in agreement.”

Y/N reaches for his hand. “You look really good today, Haymitch.” Healthy. No longer trembling or in pain, from lack of alcohol.

“You too.” This separation thing is brutal. They’ve never been apart like this since before they were married.

Y/N can’t run down, at any hour after a nightmare, to crawl into his bed. Same way she couldn’t sit by his bedside and comfort him, when he needed it most, because their children needed her.

“Don’t do that,” he chides.

“Do what?”

“Don’t cry. Don’t.” He moves in closer, putting an arm around her, with Daisy nursing between them.

“I just miss you.” I wanna be with you.

Haymitch inhales, deeply. “When I get outta here, I’m gonna be so far up your ass-” This earns him a laugh, so he keeps going. “You’re going to be sick of me.” I wanna be with you too.

————————————————————————-

“Katniss.” She is in the same place Y/N left her. Alone in her room, with her mind out to sea.

The girl says nothing, acknowledging Y/N with a glance as she rolls Peeta’s pearl between her fingers.

“I was hoping we could talk.”

Katniss pauses to consider. “I stayed with you.”

“Hmm?”

“I stayed with you and slept in that stupid chair by your bed for three days, before they made me leave.”

“Katniss.”

“They took Haymitch first, when his headaches got too bad. Madge took the baby and it was just us.” Katniss recounts, “I thought you were gonna die.”

Y/N runs a hand over her dark hair, loose from its braid.

“Then you got up and kept on living, like nothing happened. Like Haymitch wasn’t drying out in some facility, like the bombs never went off, like the games never happened and Peeta isn’t gone.” Katniss says, “but I’m not like you, I can’t do that.”

I hope you don’t end up like me, Katniss. “Can I show you something?”

Katniss nods.

“This is a trick somebody taught me a long time ago. I think it might help.” Y/N holds out a hand.

Katniss mirrors her.

“I feel everything right in my chest. All my pain, worry, anger; it always starts right there.” She gently rests her hand over her heart, just above where her child sleeps, content in her sling.

Katniss follows, placing a hand on her own stomach.

“I just hold it there and think.”

“Think about what?”

“What I’m going to do with those feelings. Sometimes all I can do is feel them. Other times I can channel them into something else, something good.”

“Haymitch taught you that, didn’t he?”

‘That’s where it hurts, huh? Right here?’ Haymitch rubs at the ache in her chest.

That was a lifetime ago. “He did.”

Katniss allows her hand to fall away. “I can’t forgive him.” Not yet, maybe not ever.

“I’m not asking you to.”

This stuns Katniss, eyes wide, searching.

“I do want you to remember that he cares about you and he cares about Peeta. Leaving him behind isn’t something he wanted. It was a choice we had to make; the Capitol fleet was within firing distance. We took a hit and we still circled back, but Peeta and Johanna were already gone.”

“I didn’t know.”

“How could you know?” Y/N replies, ruefully. I wasn’t here to tell you.

Katniss blinks at her.

“I had a meeting today, with Plutarch and President Coin.”

“What did they want?”

“They wanna use us, namely you, to fuel the revolution.” Y/N cuts to the chase, “I’m no stranger to being used, but I have found that if you play your cards right, it can be mutually beneficial.”

“Beneficial how?” She wonders.

“Help us get Peeta back and take down Snow.”

————————————————————————

“It’s been a week since our last session. Any changes? Anything specific you’d like to talk about?”

Y/N sinks back into the chair. “My son’s been having nightmares.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” Dr. Aurelius jots this down. “About anything in particular?”

“The bombs, district twelve, losing his grandfather.” My dad.

“This was your father, correct.”

“Yes.”

“And what about your husband’s family?”

“They were killed before I met him.”

“Killed?” This is news.

Y/N nods, “Snow had them killed as a punishment for how Haymitch won his games.”

“That must have been hard.”

“That’s not my story to tell.”

“Tell me your story.” The doctor crosses one leg over the other.

“Which one?” Y/N picks at the bed of her thumbnail.

“The real one, if you feel so inclined.”

“I’ve never told anyone.” Not even people I’ve known for years.

“There’s a first time for everything.”

“I don’t even know how to tell it.”

“Try.” He says simply.

“Well, I was born in district twelve, to my mother and father. My dad was the mayor and my mom…” My mom- “they both grew up in town.”

“What does that mean?” There is an implication he doesn’t understand.

“In district twelve,” which doesn’t exist anymore, “only the merchant families live in town.”

“They’re wealthy?” He deduces.

“By comparison.” Nothing like a victor’s salary.

“To what?”

“People from the Seam.” Y/N explains, “where Haymitch grew up.”

“I see.”

“The first few years, I was close with my mom’s sister, her name was Maysilee.”

“Was she lost in the bombing as well?”

“No.”

“How did she pass?”

Don’t you watch the games down here? “In the Quarter Quell, same year Haymitch won.”

“Did he kill her?”

“Come on, doc, the story’s not that twisted.” Y/N shakes her head. “They were allies.”

Part 17

Series Taglist: @praline357 @flowercrowns-goodvibes @justheretoparty420 @avocadotoastwithegg @treehouse-mouse @emo-markie @spilled-mi1k @magical-spit @greaser9902 @jessicamellarky @yourebuckingkiddingme @smuha2004 @sendhelplease @ninimackbrews @wittiestrain184 @r1dd1kulus @erenluvr69 @helpimhyperfixating @jackierose902109 @jellybear455 @dreammgc @dadbodfanatic-x @ftdtcmlovr @inky-sun @ms-brek-ker @undercover55655 @mischiefmanaged21

#moves & countermoves #haymitch abernathy x you #haymitch x reader #haymitch fanfic #thg haymitch #haymitch abernathy fanfic #haymitch abernathy x reader #haymitch x y/n #haymitch abernathy x y/n #haymitch abernathy x yn #haymitch abernathy #katniss everdeen #peeta mellark

[galedekarios]

Honestly that was something that I had noticed, they some parts of his story seemed to have less than others. For example, I didn't even romance Astarion and yet his story seemed to have more conclusion than Gales

yes, absolutely.

that's what i meant by the scene disparity and that larian has an obvious bias. there are far better posts detailing it, but you can feel how much the other characters needed the same amount of scenes and attention that have been given to ast*rion in spades, who has 9 regular scenes and 6 romance scenes.

compare that to gale who has 6 regular scenes and 3 romance scenes, some of which don't even trigger properly at all, like the boat scene in act iii.

and speaking of conclusions or having fulfilling arcs, i'll very briefly here speak on how much the whiplash you get from the way gale's arc has been written bothers me:

(i still have to order my thoughts a bit better on this so excuse me if i'm rambling again.)

in act i and ii, the narrative is very obviously set up in a way that recognises that gale, too, like all other companions was in a relationship that had a great and massive power imbalance and that the person (or god, in gale's case) who holds the power intends to use him for their own ends.

the player can voice that to elminster, to gale, and the other companions voice that as well, including their disapproval of what is demanded of gale by this powerful being using him (well, most of them do, apart from ast*rion).

yet in act iii, it's all turned on its head. in order for gale to have what the game clearly intends to be the "good" ending, you have to push him towards seeking mystra's forgiveness. it's the only way to have the alternate version of the boat scene, too.

he is the only companion who is made to do so. the only one. imagine making shadowheart return to shar after everything she has been put through and have that being portrayed as the good ending. or forcing wyll to continue to be indebted to mizora.

companions who, so far, have voiced their negative feelings on this relationship speak like that never was a thing with the exception of a handful of them, like a selunite shadowheart.

elminster does a 180 as well, going from at least implied to feel sorry and doubting what he had to do in act ii (even more so in a gale origin playthrough) to fully supporting mystra's actions and chastising the player if they dare to question her intentions/remark on how she hurt gale.

it's... i don't know.

#also esp in the context of gale being a victim of gro*ming like #ch: gale dekarios #vg: baldur's gate 3 #series: baldur's gate #text: asks #text: personal #larian critical #bg3 critical

[whovian223]

Top 50 Games Played of All Time - 2024 Edition (#20-11)

Top 50 Games Played of All Time - 2024 Edition (#20-11) @GaleForceNine @kayentagames @fanfactories @StrongholdGames @GamesSylex @stonemaiergames @elizhargrave

How our tastes change over time is always kind of interesting to look at. As a kid, I loved Brussels Sprouts! Now, I really really hate them. Ok, I’m kidding…nobody sane likes Brussels Sprouts. But you get my point! Things you like as a kid, or didn’t like as a kid, you may now feel the opposite. Hell, that can change from year to year! Which is definitely the case in our boardgame likes…

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#16 #20 #Action Selection #Amalfi: Renaissance #Andrew Veen #Area Majority #Card Games #Cole Wehrle #ctr #Dan Hallagan #Deckbuilders #Deep Water Games #Dice-rolling #Elizabeth Hargrave #Fantastic Factories #Fryx Games #Gale Force 9 #Hand Management #Jacob Fryxelius #Joseph Z Chen #Justin Faulkner #Kayenta Games #Lunch Time Games #Nick Little #Obsession #Pax Pamir - 2nd Edition #Peter Lee #Rio Grande Games #Rodney Thompson #Schadenfreude

[camilleonne]

Trying to work out Gale age+ timeline, plus analysis

BG3 is my first introduction to the DnD lore, so this is really just me trying to work out where the BG3 story fits into the broader timeline of DnD. All of this information I got from the Forgotten Realms wiki, so if I'm misunderstanding anything I'd love input!

My goal with this is to guess how Gale's personal story fits into the timeline of the Forgotten Realms, mainly to estimate how old he might be and how long his relationship with Mystra was. According to the Wiki, Mystra was only recently resurrected, which means her relationship with Gale is very restricted in how long it could have been.

Here's Mystra's timeline:

1385 - Mystra dies, the Weave becomes unstable, magic changes, and the Spellplague begins

1395 - the Spellplague mostly ends, but the Weave is still unstable and Mystra is still dead

1479/1480 - Mystra returns with help from Elminster, magic starts to go back to normal

1482 - the Second Sundering begins, which aims to reorder the hierarchy of gods

1484 - gods begin acquiring Chosen mortals in order to cement their power

1487 - Mystra returns to her full power, the Weave is finally restored, and the Second Sundering ends

1488 - prayers to deities are ignored, and instead divine missives are directed through deities' Chosen

1489 - prayers begin to be answered again, while Chosen's powers and gifts are revoked by their patron gods, since they no longer serve a use to their gods. Only a few Chosen retain their powers.

1490 - nothing of note happens, according to the Wiki

1491 - Mystra restricts mind-reading magic. Otherwise, nothing of note happens pertaining to Mystra

1492 - the plot of Baldur's Gate 3 happens

If I understand this timeline correctly, the earliest Mystra could have begun interacting with Gale is the year 1480. But because this is when she had only just been resurrected, this is likely when she began to "mentor" him, and not when their romantic relationship began.

It was probably sometime between 1482-84 that Gale became Chosen and his romance with Mystra began. And if Gale was also one of the many Chosen who were cast aside by their gods in 1489, simply because he was no longer useful, then their romantic relationship would have lasted 9-10 years at most, but more likely was 7-8 years. But still! Nearly a decade of having a close relationship with your patron deity is hugely influential on someone's personality and outlook on life, and definitely explains where a lot of Gale's arrogance and hubris come from.

1480-82 - earliest possible time frame Mystra could have begun interacting with Gale

1482-84 - likely when Gale is Chosen, and the earliest their romance could have started

1489 - Gale likely loses his status as Chosen, and with it his extra powers gifted to him by Mystra. He would have been cast aside for no reason other than he was no longer useful to Mystra. This likely happened with little to no explanation from Mystra, forcing Gale to guess as to why he had been cast aside by his god and lover

1490 - this is likely the year that Gale searches for the "missing Weave" and takes the orb into himself, destroying his innate magical gifts and leaving him weakened and dying

1491 - Gale isolates himself in his tower for a year, depressed and heartbroken

1492 - BG3 plot occurs. One way or another, Gale comes to terms with his relationship with Mystra and manages to remove the Karsite Weave from himself

Gale mentions something about being called "delusional" by his professors when he graduated from wizard college (or whatever it's called). My guess/headcanon is that Gale would have graduated wizard school before Mystra began to mentor him. So he'd be, at the youngest, 21 when she initiates contact with Gale. Gale mentions that he'd been in relationships before Mystra, but that she was his longest partner, and 21 fits that backstory pretty well. This means that Gale is either 30 or 31, at the youngest, when Mystra casts him aside. This puts Gale at approximately 33-35 years old when BG3 occurs.

Another important thing is that, at least from Gale's perspective, he was cast aside by Mystra suddenly and without explanation. This left him having to guess why he was no longer one of her Chosen, which is what motivated him to win back her favor. Unfortunately, by trying to win her back, Gale took in the Karsite Weave, which ate away at his innate magical abilities and left him even weaker than he had ever been before.

Something that sticks out to me about this timeline is what Mystra says to Gale when he's finally able to confront her. She says to him something to the effect of "I would have made you my Chosen again, you just needed to be patient. But because you were impatient, you will never be my Chosen again". Likely the key difference between Elminster and Gale as both being powerful wizards devoted to Mystra is that Elminster understands that Mystra is a goddess, and should be treated with a sort of awe. If she does something that he doesn't understand, he just defers to her judgement as a goddess. But since Gale was in love with her, he treated their relationship like one between mortals, not that between a deity and their faithful. Gale's main folly is that he was in love with Mystra, while she was just using him as a pawn to consolidate her power. She probably wasn't lying to him about him being gifted, and probably would have made him Chosen again when it suited her, but Gale wanted more and couldn't stand the lack of communication, and so those powers were revoked from him.

It's really sad because Gale wanted real love, and wanted to be treated as an equal to Mystra. In a normal, human relationship, begin treated equally by your partner is a normal expectation. But because Mystra is a god and would never acquiesce her power, especially after only very recently regaining full control of it, Gale was doomed to be heartbroken. Also, the fact that Mystra cast Gale aside without telling him why, then didn't warn him that the Weave he found was deadly and would kill him, and then didn't tell him how to fix it, and then told him to kill himself to apologize, then ONLY tells him the truth of the situation after he starts to threaten her power, is super shitty. Can you blame him for any of it when he was literally ghosted by his goddess/girlfriend of 10 years?

The fact that Mystra is one of the "good" gods and can't even be bothered to treat one of her Chosen with decent respect, after manipulating him for his entire adult life, is super messed up. It really ties into the subthemes of BG3 about gods and how they just... really don't give a shit about their followers. Even the "good" ones still only really care about their power and protecting their interests. Like obviously Shar and Vlaakith are evil and treat their followers like shit, but the fact that Mystra does essentially the same thing with zero remorse, and then also blames Gale for all of it and forces him to beg her for forgiveness, is... sad.

And that's why Gale is a sweetheart and deserves all the love. Thank you for coming to my Ted Talk.

#hi im super normal about this game and character #sorry for the essay i just literally dont have another person to talk to about bg3 lmao #bg3 #bg3 gale #gale dekarios #gale #bg3 analysis #i also love gale and im like. kinda obsessed with him. wishing he was real rn fr #rambling

[yesimwriting]

Final Girl - Part 9

Final girl Masterlist (all parts in order and extra fics, updated parts 1 - 9)

Series Summary: Y/n can’t believe that she has to leave the only home she’s ever known just because her mom’s latest boyfriend has a house in some town in California. Just as she’s starting to think that Woodsboro might not be that bad, something life altering happens after she agrees to sleep over at  Becker’s house. Now her name is practically synonymous with Ghostface’s.

Chapter Summary: Nightmares aren’t that bad when you’re sleeping over at Stu’s house. Too bad no amount of late night movie watching and hot chocolate can cure a bad case of being on Gale Weathers’s radar. 

----

The light glints off the knife’s edge so sharply the entire thing warps. The blade looks longer, then smaller, then larger. It changes with each movement of the person holding so much it’s fascinating, almost like a cartoon. 

For a second it feels like it’s just that. Like I’m watching Scooby Doo or Nancy Drew or some other kids’ mystery show. Then the knife comes down. 

I scream, snapping into the moment as I start running. Everything’s hazy, I can barely register how unfamiliar this place is. Branches are tugging on what I’m wearing, scratching at my face, but I can’t feel them. All I feel is the blood rushing in my ears. 

Something cold and sharp digs into my shoulders. I’m thrashing, but it doesn’t matter. It’s too late. My attacker forces me to turn. It’s him--the too familiar white mask, the permanent scream. 

He lifts his knife and forces it down. My eyes shut as the blade meets my chest. The pain is a barely there flicker. It’s being drowned out by a tingling sensation that’s taking over my entire body. The feeling disconnects me from it all until my vision fades to black. 

Reality returns quickly. My body is laying on something soft, my face pressed into something cushioned. 

“No, don’t--” The words come out so tight I almost don’t recognize the voice. Billy. 

My head snaps up. The dimly lit space looks like it should be Stu’s living room but something about it feels off. Like everything’s been flipped or something. I don’t see Billy until my mind reconnects the dots and refocuses.

He’s standing with his hands held out cautiously. His back is to me but I can feel his tension. Swallowing back my panic, I force myself to look in the same direction as Billy. That damn mask. Ghostface. 

“Billy...” It’s a shaky whisper and I don’t know what I expect from it.

The helplessness washes through me. My eyes drop down, but that makes everything worse. 

There’s a thick puddle staining the hardwood floors reflecting the low light of the room. It leads to a pale arm that leads to a shoulder that leads to what--oh. The realization that the mess of glistening red used to be a chest sends a sharp wave of nausea through me.

My gaze shifts up, catching eyes that should be familiar but are too hollow, too blank as they stare up at nothing. Stu. 

I scream, my entire body shaking with the urge to get closer like that’d mean something. There’s another sound, some kind of grunt or cry--I don’t--I don’t know--and then Billy falls. First to his knees before slumping over. He lands on his side...next to Stu. 

The killer looks up at me with a tilt of their head, they walk over my friends, but they don’t--they--

----

When the darkness of the room washes over me, I’m already sitting up. Not real. Not real. Not real. The tightness in my chest doesn’t go away and a type of sickness that hurts stays in my upper stomach. 

I can hear myself panting, but I don’t feel the relief of air entering my lungs. My hand stretches over tangled sheets, a part of me trying to stabilize myself. Maybe that will make the nausea go aw--no. 

I’m on my feet in a second, crossing the room to get to the door. Autopilot leads me to the bathroom. Wait--this isn’t my house--I fell asleep at Stu’s. They were both here--so where are they now?

My nausea spikes. I gag, moving instinctually onto my knees. 

“Hey.” The voice feels far, I can’t grasp onto it. “Hey,” a warm touch on my back as my hair is pulled back. “You’re okay, angel.” 

Oh. I try to breathe through my disorientation as I turn my head. “Stu?” 

The amount of nerves in my voice must throw him off but I can’t make out too much of his expression in the dark. Just as the thought settles, the light flickers on and my eyes are squinting to adjust. 

Stu moves to stand and keeps a hand on my arm to encourage me to do the same. I’m so stiff and the world is so hazy I don’t think, just follow. The same thing happens as Stu sort of extends me so that I’m in front of the sink. 

Another arm is in front of me, holding a tiny cup between two fingers. The liquid is a sharp green. I take the cup before I really know what I’m doing. It smells like the heavy kind of mint that belongs in a dentist’s office. 

I bring it to my lips and swish the mouthwash around for longer than I normally would before turning on the sink and rinsing. Such a small thing shouldn’t make that much of a difference but getting rid of the taste of acidic bile in my mouth clears my head enough to let me think. 

My head turns in the direction of the arm. “Billy.” 

Something clues him into my confusion. It could be the way I said his name or the way I’m just staring like he’s some sort of ghost. He’s trying to figure it out, or maybe he’s trying to piece together a reaction that’s appropriate when someone’s staring this much.

“Hey,” it’s said a little unsurely, “You’re okay. You’re--” His hand finds its way onto my upper back, moving in that circular motion that’s become familiar. It’s enough to let me feel okay about looking towards Stu again.

“You guys are--” I can’t get the words out, can’t figure out how to explain it. “You’re--you’re okay.” I can feel the shakiness in my voice but I can’t bring myself to fix it. 

Again, instinct takes over and I pull Stu into a hug. He has to be surprised but he doesn’t hesitate to squeeze me back just as tightly. Billy stays close, his hand still on my back. 

They’re both here, still warm and breathing and here. The relief is too much and it joins a flurry of other feelings. 

I pull my head off of Stu, “Where were you guys?” I know that anger’s irrational, there are hundreds of reasons they could have both been up, especially since we didn’t fall asleep too late, but I can’t help the panic hiding as aggression in my tone. I try to pull further away, but Stu doesn’t let me. “I woke up and you guys weren’t there and I thought--” I’m not even sure if what I’m saying makes sense, but it’s coming up the same way the bile did, “You can’t do that--you--you left. You can’t just leave.” 

“No one’s leaving.” Billy’s voice lacks the defensiveness I expect. “We were just downstairs. I couldn’t sleep so I went to get some water and Stu woke up, and you know how that is.” The attempt at a joke is appreciated, but I can’t bring myself to show it. 

Normally, Stu not letting go when I try to push him off bothers me, but now I’m kind of glad he didn’t let me get too far. Something about having them this close is grounding. They’re okay. 

“Yeah,” Stu hums, “Who’d leave you?” He says it so casually, so assured, like the thought of going somewhere would have never crossed his mind if I hadn’t said that. 

It’s assuring in a different way, not quite getting at all of my panic. “I had a dream that--” The longer I’m awake, the more aware I am of how unnormal I’m being. That doesn’t mean I can stop it. “It was--it was so real, and then I woke up and you--” 

They’re being quiet. I know that I’m being a lot and they’re probably still trying to figure out how to react to my panic, but it’s making me antsy. If they’d joke or tease me about this, I’d be able to convince myself that I haven’t fully lost it.

Billy smooths my hair back carefully. “We’re okay,” his voice is low, a little tight. “Everyone’s okay.”

I nod once, trying to convince myself that his certainty is my own. “In my dream--you guys ended up like--” It’s hard enough to mention her when I’m well rested and feeling together. “Like Casey.” 

“That’s not going to happen.” Stu’s hold on me goes from fully relaxed to a little firmer.

Argument and doubt immediately bubble up. No one counts on dying. Casey was in her house. I got a call from the killer while home and they knew that Billy was locked out. The cops are still so lost Dewey wants to meet with me again to go over some details. There’s no reason for the killer to just go away...and from what they said the last time we talked, they’re not planning on it. 

Stu places a hand on the side of my head, angling me closer with no warning. He places a quick kiss against my temple. I nearly jump before realizing what just happened. That was such a Stu reaction I can’t help but smile a little, even though I shouldn’t encourage him. “You’re cute when you’re worried about us.”

At least that’s the return of something normal. “You say that about everything.” 

He breezes past my attempt at harshness, “Not everything.” 

“You said it when you noticed that my history folder and notebook match.” 

The corner of Stu’s mouth turns upwards, “Ah. The matching notebook-folders.” 

I roll my eyes, regretting bringing that up again. He had asked about the matching thing so much I felt like he had to have been making fun of me. “I’m not doing this again, a lot of people color match their stuff.” 

“And their sticky notes,” Billy mumbles. I turn my head enough to glare at him. He found me sorting my sticky notes by subject early into our friendship and so far it’s kind of been our secret. Not because it’s a bad thing, just a little type-A and make-fun-able. “Kidding.” Maybe I’d find him funny if I was better rested. He stares at my blank expression for a second, “Are you going back to bed?” 

There’s a small chance I’ll never sleep again. I don’t get a chance to answer. Billy steps back, pulling me forward a little. We all walk out of the bathroom and down the hall. Before I can say that I really don’t feel like sleeping right now, Billy walks past the door to Stu’s room. 

----

Stu pushes the mug so that it slides against the granite countertop. One of my hands wraps around the handle and the other presses against the ceramic’s side. The warmth soothes me as it leaches into my fingers.

“Thanks.”

He smiles a little, tapping his fingers against the kitchen island, “It’s the least I could do since you’re worried sick over us.” 

Billy looks over at us, mumbling some response I barely register, “The least you could do?” 

“Whatever, man, you kn--” 

The block of knives is only a few feet away. I can only see the handles, the blades are hidden in the wood, but that doesn’t make it any less distracting. 

Trying to force myself to stay in the moment, I stare at my mug, studying the giant, cursive London and cartoonish city line that wrap around the ceramic’s side. Big Ben is at the center, almost piercing the lettering. I almost ask about England, but decide not to risk it. Stu’s parents are always traveling. There’s a good chance he wasn’t on this trip. For all I know, the mug was what they brought back for him. 

I lift the glass to my lips, taking a few sips. The hot chocolate is almost shockingly good. Perfectly balanced between sweet and cocoa-y. Even the whipped cream and marshmallows are paired so well it feels scientific. 

“Y/n?” 

I set the mug on the counter, eyes studying the deflating marshmallow lump. “Yeah?” Tearing my eyes away from the marshmallow mutant, I force myself to look up. Billy and Stu share a look. It’s brief, but it feels heavy. Like one of those moments where they slip away into their own world. Normally, when they do that, it’s more like being left out of a joke. This time it might as well as be a psychological assessment. Be more normal. "I’ve never had hot chocolate after 2 AM before.” I take another sip, “It’s nice.”

My recovery feels smooth, so I let myself look up again. Stu’s already staring at me. It’s the kind of focus that wouldn’t be suspicious from him if he’d make some kind of joke about it. Any kind of flirty comment would make it okay and cancel out the seriousness behind his eyes. “You’re feeling better, right?” 

The worry is there, but pushed forward with such Stu-like energy that it almost feels more like a statement or request than a question. “A little.” I don’t know how true it is, but it’s easier to say that than admit how unsure I am. And maybe I’ll speak feeling better into existence. “Seeing you guys...knowing you’re okay helps.” 

Ah. Sleep depravation is no joke because that’s something I’m definitely going to regret. It’s way too vulnerable and easy to make fun of. I stare at my mug until the quiet’s too much and I have to face what I’ve done. Stu’s not holding in a laugh or radiating a smugness that he’s given into over less. He’s still watching me, but it’s different, softer and more open. I set my mug down before looking over at Billy. His eyes dart down to the sink almost immediately.

My attention snaps back to Stu as he moves forward to place his hand on mine. “Look who loves us.”

I glare halfheartedly as Stu gently bends and squeezes my fingers. “Duh.” Like these two weirdos don’t already know. “I know it was cheesy, but given the circumstances, can you guys please not.”

“That wasn’t cheesy.” Billy’s voice is low, a little rough. “But the nightmare over u--” 

“Shut up.” He’s smiling, clearly enjoying my reaction. “Sorry that I’d probably lose it if anything happened to either of you.” 

Billy rests his weight on his forearms, leaning forward. The front strands of his hair fall forward as he angles his head towards me. It’d be so easy to extend an arm and push his hair back into place. “Probably?”

I use the hand Stu isn’t still holding onto to grab my mug. “You were mean about it. That got you guys downgraded.”

Stu tugs on my hand with just enough pressure to get my attention. “Hey, leave me out of whatever he says.” I roll my eyes as I take a sip of hot chocolate. “I’m a total sweetheart compared to grumpy over there.” 

A burst of laughter tries to claw its way up my throat as I’m swallowing. I know what Stu said wasn’t that unbelievably funny, but something about oversimplifying Billy like that gets to me. “He isn’t grumpy.” I set my mug down. “He’s multifaceted.” 

“Multifaceted?” Billy repeats, tone trying too hard to be more wary than amused for it to work. The failure makes me fight down a grin. I like the slips from his usual demeanor, not that Billy’s rough around the edges exterior is something I’d change, it’s just nice to see him relaxed from time to time. It’s also probably good for him. 

I nod, committing to whatever bit I’ve accidentally started. “Like a house cat.” 

Billy’s eyes stay focused on me, the corner of his mouth hinting at what’s close enough to a smile for me to count it as a win. He looks like he might say something, but then Stu snorts. Laughs in a way that has him pulling on my hand again. “You nailed it, angel.” 

Billy tilts his head stiffly, still managing to glare at Stu. It’s still part of the joke, for now, and I need to make sure it stays that way. “So we agree, not grumpy.” 

“Hm...” Stu pauses, scrunching up his face as if I’ve just asked him an incredibly deep question that warrants this much reflection. “He’s not grumpy to you because you’re pretty.” 

Warmth rushes to my face and I don’t get why. Stu’s definitely said similar and much more intense things before. This comment shouldn’t be different, but he breezed out that last part so casually...like it was factual. “Shut up.” 

Stu turns my fingers. “And you have this kicked puppy thing you do with your eyes that makes it not worth it.”

That snaps me out of any embarrassment. I try pulling my hand away, but Stu doesn’t let me get too far. “I do not.” 

Stu squeezes my hand between both of his. “Yeah, you do, babe.”

I glare at him and Stu has the audacity to grin. The brief flash of teeth is a little too confident for my taste. He needs to be humbled. I turn my head enough to look at Billy. “He’s exaggerating, right?” 

Billy’s expression is hard to read. “It’s just...your eyes.” No. They’re teaming up and turning on me. “It’s not a bad thing.” 

Yeah, just what I need, another reason to seem like a cute little, doe eyed victim. It gets under my skin even though I know they didn’t mean it like that. 

“Hey,” Billy’s voice is low as he leans a little closer, “We’re just kidding.” 

I know that, which only adds to my irritation, because why can’t I just be normal? 

“Yeah, sweetheart,” Stu tries, “You’re all big, bad, and scary.” 

Stu drops his voice dramatically, and despite myself, I smile. It’s awful how funny I actually find some of the things he does. Sometimes I feel like I have the sense of humor of a middle school boy. Billy raises his eyebrows, giving me a look that screams we really choose to deal with this, huh? He picks a mini marshmallow out of the bag before I can fully react and tosses it at Stu.

The marshmallow bounces off of Stu’s forehead and lands on the counter. I laugh a little more than I should. “What was that for?” 

“For being an idiot.” 

Stu scoffs, picking another marshmallow. He throws it at Billy. The marshmallow bounces off of Billy’s chest and falls in front of me anti-climatically. “Fuck you.”

His reaction is half joking and half not, like a majority of his more aggressive comebacks. It’s always just Stu going along with it until he’s not anymore. Maybe I should try to say something calming or distracting, just to assure the preservation of the easy mood. But I can’t think of anything, so I just pinch the marshmallow that fell in front of me between two fingers and toss it in Stu’s direction. It hits his arm and falls onto the counter. 

They both turn to look at me. The weight of their full attention takes me a little by surprise because I have no good justification for that. “What?” I shrug a little, “Everyone else threw one and I felt left out.” 

Stu lets go of my hand, which is a little concerning. He leans back, leg moving forward to push against my seat. The barstool is the kind that swivels so he succeeds in turning me. “You’re lucky you’re cute or people would talk about how weird you are more.” 

I push the front of my leg against his in an attempt to get my seat back into place. He doesn’t budge. “Right. I’m the cute, weird one.” 

His lips part slightly and his grin feels a little surprised. That can’t be a good thing. “You think I’m cute?” 

Oh my god. What have I done? “Hm. I don’t think that’s what I said.” 

“That’s what I heard.” His leg shifts, moving so that he’s touching closer to my knee than before.

There’s a chance that I could turn away or push him off, but that feels like letting him win, so I ignore the warmth rushing to my faced. “That’s what you always hear.” 

“I heard it, too.” 

My head snaps in Billy’s direction. “Don’t encourage him.” 

“If Stu had made it up, it would have been dirtier.” 

They don’t need any motivation to make these kinds of jokes. I know that I should be smarter about this, commit to my annoyance, but I can’t stop the laugh that slips out. “You guys are the worst.”

Billy moves so that he’s leaning even closer. So close I can make out his individual lashes. “Really looks like you feel that way.”

His voice comes out low, a hint of rasp finding its way into his voice. The words are casual, a return of a joke. Nothing in them can justify the weird rush of heat to my face.

“Yeah, well,” this has to be a sign of sleep depravation, “Looks can be deceiving.” 

He adjusts the weight resting on his forearms, “I believe you.” 

The reply is a little flat, hard to get, but the underlying amusement is clear. Like there’s some joke I’m missing. “Shut up.” I push myself further back into my seat.

“I didn’t say anything.” 

I pick up my mug. “You had a...vibe.” BIlly’s eyebrows draw together. “A making fun of me vibe.” 

The corner of his mouth pulls upwards. “A making fun of you vibe?” 

“You know what I mean,” I mumble, taking a sip of my hot chocolate. 

He tilts his head, as if seriously thinking through what I said. “You sound like you’re tired.” 

I knew we’d circle back to this eventually. There’s a good chance they’re tired. When they woke up in the middle of the night, they probably expected to go back to bed soon enough. “If you guys are tired, you can go to bed.” 

“We sleep when you sleep.” Stu turns my chair so that I’m facing him a little more again. Great, add their sleep schedules to the list of casualties my new weirdness is responsible for. “Don’t worry, babe, I can go all night.”

Stu looks so pleased with the stupid joke that I give in and crack a smile. “You shouldn’t have to, though.” 

His eyes lose some of their humor, softening in a way I don’t quite get. “I’ve stayed up for less important things.” 

“He’s tried,” Billy mumbles dryly, looking over at me, “I’ll actually stay up with you.”

I grin, “Wanna draw on his face when he falls asleep?” 

Stu lets out an offended scoff from the back of his throat, Billy ignores him, returning my smile. “Permanent marker.” 

“Hey,” Stu pouts, “Don’t be mean, or I won’t tell you about my surprise.” 

Hm...with Stu, there’s an 50/50 chance that whatever he’s referencing is weird. “Ominous.” His smugness does make me curious. “Okay--tell me.” Stu’s quiet for a second, a hint of smugness in the tilt of his head. I move my arm forward, softly shoving his arm. “Please?” 

At that, he cracks, his hand turning over in order to grab mine. Stu places a kiss to the back of my palm. “Only for you, angel.” He then lets me go and stands. Whatever the surprise is, Stu apparently has to leave the room for it. 

I blink, turning my attention to Billy, who halfheartedly shrugs. “There’s no telling with him.” 

Definitely an exaggeration on Billy’s part, considering the way the two just get each other. It’s a bond anyone could pick up on. “As long as he comes back fully dressed.” 

Billy faintly smiles. “Probably a 50/50 chance.” 

Tapping my fingers against the counter, I turn my attention back to my mug. “I don’t know, he seemed a little excited.” 

Stu comes back before anything else can be said. He’s holding out a VHS tape. Even though he’s still at the edge of the kitchen, I can make out a familiar red on the cover. No way. “You--” 

He keeps an arm extended in front of me until the tape’s in reach. I take it and he sits down with a triumphant grin. “I know my girl.” 

After I forced him to watch Clueless, I didn’t think I’d ever get him to do anything like that again. And now he just has it here, lying around on a night he didn’t even expect me to come over. He also didn’t pull it out for points earlier. If I hadn’t woken up, he might not have even mentioned it this visit.

It’s sweet and oddly thoughtful, especially coming from Stu. That fits him, though. When I least expect it, he’ll hit me with something like this. I grin, “Someone’s getting soft.” 

“I can take it back.” 

Gently tapping the tape against his arm, I look up at him. “Don’t you dare.” 

The tape is pulled out of my hands. I turn my head in time to see Billy fully steal my weapon from me. “Before you kill someone.” 

He’s joking, but the thought of their death is still fresh. My mind isn’t given a chance to latch onto the thought, because Stu leans forward and steals the tape back. “I’ll go set it up.” 

Stu stands up again, walking towards his living room. I slide off the stool, ready to follow him. I only make it a few steps before feeling a touch on my shoulder. It takes me a second to think to turn. Billy’s standing closer than I thought he’d be. On anyone else, that natural tendency to move so quietly would weird me out at least a little. But on Billy, it’s just another thing to add to the list of cat qualities I’ll definitely have to mention later.

Or now, considering the way he’s just staring, hand still on my shoulder. “Hi?” 

His thumb runs past the loose collar of the oversized shirt I’m wearing and over the base of my neck. “Hi.” Billy presses his lips together briefly, “You’re--” He stops himself, eyes flitting away from my face. “You’re okay, right?” 

From him, the question isn’t so much an assumption as it is an almost nervous check in. Billy’s stiff, like he’s bracing himself for hurt. Whether that’s stemming from forcing the question out or concern over my answer or something else all together, I don’t know.

His eyes are focused on something just past me. Billy’s so tense I can feel it in his hold. He’s not squeezing me, but there’s some rigid quality to the contact that wasn’t there before. Whatever he’s thinking of must be heavier than what I’ve been feeling. I don’t know why, but I shift closer and pull him into a hug. 

He lets me, eventually moving to place his free hand on my back. “I’m okay.” Billy’s surprisingly warm. “You and Stu just need to really try not to get murdered.” 

I feel his exhaled almost laugh more than I hear it. “We’ll try.” 

“Good.” The word comes out blunt and hard. I feel the tightness of it in my chest, aggravating the panic that took over earlier. Helpless and grieving and guilty. “Cause I’d--I’d lose my shit if--” 

My hold on him tightens. I’m squeezing him so much it has to be uncomfortable and my face is pressed into his shirt even though I can feel tears welling in my eyes.

He runs his hand up and down my back firmly, assuringly. “Nothing’s going to happen.” There’s no way of knowing that. My silence must get to him, because Billy moves his other hand near the nape of my neck, slowly forcing me to move my head away from his shirt. “Look at me.” It takes me a second, but I eventually find it in me to meet his eyes. “Nothing’s going to happen. We’re going to be okay.” I sniffle once before nodding. “All of us, because you’re not the only one that could lose their shit.” 

His tone comes out so hard it radiates an aggression that should make me feel worse. It doesn’t, the anger doesn’t make my throat feel tight like it normally would because it’s not directed at me. He’s watching me intently, hand shifting onto my collarbone as if he’s starting to regret what he said. 

I nod again, a little more convinced because it’s hard to challenge Billy’s intensity. Almost impossible to not believe him, no matter how little control he actually has over the situation. 

“Y-yeah.” My voice feels too small, too childish, like most of my actions tonight. His hand moves forward enough to get his thumb to brush against the pulse point of my neck. “I don’t know what I’m going to do when you two graduate.” 

I’m joking. Mostly. Billy lifts a shoulder in a shrug. “We’ll be around, so much you’ll be sick of us.” Again, another thing I want to believe just because Billy’s the one saying it. “If anything, you’re the one that’s going to break us up.” My eyebrows draw together as his thumb presses down a little harder.“Princeton, taking over the world...” 

“You’re exaggerating a little.” All of that’s still a world away, and there’s always a chance--knock on wood--that I won’t get in. But the shift in his mood tells me that those maybes don’t matter right now. “You guys could come with, there’s a lot of stuff in New Jersey.” Ah--that was kind of a weird thing to say. I can’t just pack them up and take them with me. That’s not how the world works. “Or--y’know--you guys could just visit and I--visit--I can visit you guys, too.” 

Smooth. Billy’s thumb drags down again, the touch regaining its comforting feel as he presses his lips together to fight down a smile. “Come with you?” 

“Not like--” I have no one to blame but myself. “I mean--yeah, it’d be cool, and New Jersey’s probably a good place to figure things out...” He’s just letting me ramble, which has to be intentional because he knows how I am. Honestly, it’s a little rude that he’s forcing me to elaborate with so little sleep in my system. “Plus your super awesome best friend would be there.” 

His smile eases a little more, “Super awesome best friend?” 

“It sounds like something you’d say about me.” 

He lets out a breath that’s definitely more amused than he wants it to be. There’s something about getting an extra smile or clearly suppressed laugh from Billy. It’s fun, like a game I’m forcing him into. 

“That is how I talk.” His lethal levels of sarcasm take nothing away from my victory. 

Billy steps forward. Instead of letting go, he moves his arm so that it’s around my shoulders. I’m kind of glad that he’s staying close. We walk to the living room together. 

Stu’s head snaps up from the VCR. “Took you two long enough.” He tilts his head back even further before raising his eyebrows dramatically. “Leave me out of something fun?” 

I roll my eyes, slipping out of Billy’s grasp and moving to sit on the couch. “Yeah, actually.” I relax into my seat. “We just hooked up in the kitchen.”

Stu jumps to his feet as I struggle to commit to the bit and not laugh. “Careful, angel.” He sits down next to me, so close our knees are touching as he moves his arm to get me even closer. “I might get jealous.” 

It’s not really a threat when he goes there often. Sometimes joking, like he is now and sometimes actually annoyed, like the time I couldn’t go to the movies with him because I had already agreed to hang out with Sidney for the third time that week. But now’s not the time for that, so I play along, “You’ve got nothing to worry about.”

The other side of the couch dips, Billy’s arm moving to rest on the back of the couch. “Ouch.” 

There’s little harder than trying to keep them both equally happy. “Relax.” I relax further into the couch. “You know you’re both my favorites.” 

“But if you had to pick a number one...” 

I lift my hand, lazily swatting at Stu’s arm. The back of my hand barely brushes against his forearm. Stu moves quickly, grabbing my wrist before I can retreat. He pulls my arm towards him, slipping his fingers between mine. “Instead of starting problems, you should start the movie.” 

“Bossy.” He lets out a quick tsk, reaching over for something on the end table next to him. The crinkling sound of a wrapper has my eyes following his movements. He holds the packet in front of him triumphantly. “Now I don’t think I should give you these.” 

My sour gummies! “You actually have--” I reach forward with my free hand, but Stu pulls them back. “C’mon, you don’t even like them.” 

“You were mean.” 

He’s basically pouting, especially since I didn’t really do anything. But pointing that out won’t get me my gummies. “Fine. I’m sorry and you’re a treasure that I don’t appreciate enough.” 

Stu grins, angling his head towards me. “That’s more like it.” He shifts his arm, pulling the packet open before handing it to me. I grin, happily taking the pack and popping a gummy into my mouth. Stu wrinkles his nose. “How do you eat those?” 

I pick another gummy from the pack. He has to be exaggerating how much he dislikes them if they’re at his house. “If you hate them, why do you always have them?” 

Stu shrugs, a movement I can feel against my arm. “They’re on the list, the house shopper gets them.” 

I almost snort, nearly choking on the gummy that’s in my mouth. “I should make a list of all the rich people things you say.” 

“Ask him the difference between a house keeper and a house manager.” That only makes me laugh more. 

Stu glares past my head and at Billy. “Ask Billy about his family’s vacation cabin.”

This conversation belongs to a different tax bracket. “If either of you bring up skiing I’m leaving.”

Billy angles himself towards me in order to grab a gummy out of the pack. He squishes it between his thumb and pointer finger, exaggerating his skepticism. “That’s where you draw the line?”

I let myself sink further into the couch, “I’m being generous.”

“Mhm.” Billy shifts, moving his shoulder away from mine. I’m about to dismiss it as him being in a personal space mood when he rests his arm on the back of the couch, his fingers brushing against the collar of my shirt. “I believe you.” 

The response is brushed over, but there’s a pinch of smugness there that would be easy to dig at. I’m pretty sure that if I were to lift my head, I’d see evidence of it. A sarcastic smile he can’t explain away or a hint of too much humor behind his eyes. But I’m too comfortable to go after it

With no warning, the other side of the couch dips with no warning. My eyes snap towards Stu. I frown. “Stu?” 

“Just starting the movie.” His back is to me, but the grin in his voice is is audible. “Try not to miss me too much, sweetheart.” 

My nose wrinkles, face briefly pressing into Billy’s side as I cringe. “I think I’ll live.” 

The upbeat music of Clueless’s opening starts playing. After a second, the couch shifts again. Stu pulls the now empty gummy packet out of my hand and place sit on the coffee table. He then sits down, closer than before, our legs touching. After my dream, I can’t bring myself to scold him. They’re both here, completely okay. I don’t even say anything when Stu pulls my arm towards him. 

Billy lets out a breath that I feel more than hear. “Don’t fall asleep,” he whispers, “You’ll hurt your neck.” 

I roll my eyes. Sleep isn’t going to come back to me. It might not for a really long time, and there’s no way it’ll happen during Clueless. And sometimes Billy can be such a mom about things. It’d be more annoying if it wasn’t kind of...endearing to think of Billy as being a little bit of a secret softie. He likes to seem detached, but it’s all surface level. 

“Fall asleep during Clueless?” I tilt my head up enough to look up at him. “Do you even know me?” 

----

Narrator’s Perspective 

Stu’s eyes move away from the screen and towards your face again. It’s been less than 10 minutes, so checking on you is a little pointless, but Stu can’t help it. Sure, you must be tired, but there’s no way--oh. Your eyes are shut and you’re completely still, temple resting against Billy’s side. 

“She’s asleep,” Billy summarizes, not looking away from the screen. 

Nodding absentmindedly, Stu keeps his attention trained on you. There’s a softening of your features that always comes when you’re asleep. He can make out enough of that easiness, but there’s an underlying quality that feels stiffer. Stu tries to convince himself that any inconsistencies with the pout of your lips and the set of your brow is a product of the low lighting or his own tiredness reading too much into things. 

Your reactions tonight had been a surprise display of how well things are working. You’re all over them, you need them, you--He had never seen you like that. Most of it felt the way he imagined it would, but that relief was undercut by a different kind of tightness in his chest.

Stu runs his thumb over your knuckles. Billy sighs, finally turning his focus towards you. He smooths his thumb across your collarbone. “She’s fine.” 

Stu presses his lips together for a moment. “Yeah.” 

Billy manages to read that just as easily as he read Stu’s silence. He moves his hand to reach for Stu’s shoulder. “We want her needy, not broken. We’ll just ease off, no calls until she’s ready.”

“Yeah, she just--” There’s no way to say it without pushing at one of the lines they’ve both silently agreed to never mention. That moment in the kitchen when you slipped away, the blankness behind your eyes. It paralleled the way Billy gets when he gets into his head and disappears for a few days. The way he’s been for over a week. “You think she might need something?” 

It’s an awkward thought to force out, Stu so skeptical of the idea it’s almost like it came from someone else. Therapy, psychologists, all of that mental fix-what-isn’t-broken bullshit has always been a sore subject. “Isn’t her mom a little...” 

“Who gives a fuck about her mom?” Billy’s voice comes out more strained than he wants it to. Part of it is worry, part of it is the implication of motherhood and maternal genetics being that significant. “She--” There’s no real end to his sentence. What is it about you that makes Billy so sure you’ll be okay? Makes him so sure you have to be okay?

It’s not that you have that much going for you survival wise. You’re a good person, but that doesn’t mean much. Good people die all the time. You’re smart, but sometimes that just makes things worse. Billy lets himself mull over it, reflect on you and the way you made him feel when you walked in today. He decides then that you do have something going for you. “She has us.”

That admission serves as a sort of apology. “You and me. That’s all the help she needs.” 

You shift against his side, still asleep. The way you held onto him earlier bubbles in his chest. It’s one thing for you to need them, another thing to think that they’re so fucked up they broke the one good, normal thing about them. 

Stu frowns, noting the heaviness behind Billy’s eyes. It’s familiar, and now some version of that shadow that pulls Billy away from him is trying to take you. “We just won’t leave her alone.” 

That might not be the best thing to say, considering that the closest they come to acknowledging Billy’s occasional slip aways is Stu’s extended presence during those periods. The implication that Billy needs to be looked out for the same way you do is also risky, something that could be taken too seriously depending on Billy’s mood. 

A beat of silence, but Billy doesn’t stiffen or react to the implied similarities. “Until she snaps out of it, we don’t leave her alone.” They already spend an amount of time with you that’s hard to justify. Especially with the ever approaching grand finale of their plan. “I’ll need help with my history homework or get tickets to some movie, and when I’m not doing that, you’ll need help with an essay or be in a fight with your parents or--or anything.” 

Letting go of your hand, Stu leans further into the couch and stretches his arm over the couch. He rests his palm against Billy’s shoulder. “Yeah.” There’s more he could say. A range of things, maybe a joke or two about your unexpected outburst of worry. “We’ve got her.”

Billy nods, the motion stiff as he avoids looking at either Stu or you. He’s used to Stu’s closeness, and your openness tonight did ease that part of him that always assumes anyone that matters is flighty, but it’s pairing itself with things he’s not used to. The combination is starting to make him feel off, uncomfortable in a way he can’t understand.

“We should wake her up.” Billy’s voice is flat. “Her neck will hurt in the morning if we don’t.” 

Stu’s expression shifts to something a lot more smug. “I’ve got it.”

Billy rolls his eyes. Stu’s exaggerating in an attempt to bring back a more easy going atmosphere, but Stu’s definition of reasonably touchy is different than most. You’ve been through enough for one night, so Billy moves away. You let out an annoyed sound, trying to move closer to him in your sleep. He ignores the fondness that stabs at him and gently shakes your shoulder. Your eyes squint open. 

----

The dimness of the room makes it hard to register the fact that I’m awake. It takes a second, but I get there enough to pull myself off of Billy’s shoulder. I straighten my back, ignoring the hint of stiffness I feel in my neck.

I wipe the sleep from my eyes, looking at Billy and then Stu. “What?” 

“So much for too riveting to fall asleep.”

Billy’s a little too amused by the fact that I briefly dozed off. “I was...barely out.” 

The corner of his mouth turns upwards, “Then explain the snoring.” 

I scoff, moving back to give myself some space to hit his arm. “I do not snore.” He raises his eyebrows at me and somehow that’s more insulting than if he would have pressed the argument. I turn my head to look at Stu, “I don’t snore, right?” 

Stu takes my hand, squeezing my fingers. “It’s a cute snore, angel.” 

Sighing, I pull my hand away from his grasp, ignoring his pout. “You are so just taking his side.” 

He holds up his hands, “You’re adorable, but I’m neutral.” 

Yeah, right. “Yeah, you’re Switzerland.”

“Someone woke up moody.”

Because I have no good defense and sleep is still making my eyelids feel heavy, I just glare in his direction. Stu chooses to retaliate by placing a hand on the side of my head and pulling me towards him, placing a kiss against my temple before I can tell him to knock it off. 

Wrinkling my nose, I twist my arm back, trying to smack his chest. Stu lets go of my head and catches my open palm with an ease that’s a little insulting. He squeezes my wrist to his chest, head angling downwards. The light coming from the TV changes as one scene cuts to the next. The dimness seems to briefly lodge itself behind Stu’s eyes. 

“You know you’ve played into my trap.”

Stu angles his head to one side, a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. He makes a silent point by lightly tugging on my wrist. “Really?” 

“Mhm.” I straighten my spine instinctually, even though any height I get from that is useless. “I’m building your confidence, so that when I decide to attack you, you’ll never see it coming.” 

He grins before letting out a laugh. I know that I’m joking, but again, being dismissed that quickly is a little rude. I’ve never given him any reason to think I could kick his ass, but it’s not that impossible. “When?” 

I pull my arm towards my lap and Stu lets me go. “Shut up.” 

“What? I’m on your side.” Right. “You’re a mastermind, angel.” 

Billy sits up before exhaling. The sigh is low and brief but gives away how tired of us he’s getting. I can’t blame him, Stu and I are a lot to manage even when he’s well rested. “I don’t think you have to try too hard to build his ego.” 

I smile, turning my head to look at Billy. “It’s not a complicated plan.” 

Stu scoffs out a sound of protest before sinking further into the couch. “Fuck you guys.” 

A joke about how he’s pouting briefly comes to mind, but I decide that I’m too tired to push it. Considering how little sleep we’ve all gotten, it’d be easy to pass the line between easy going teasing and into one of Stu’s actual moods. “We’re kidding.”

“Yeah,” Billy starts, and I already know it’s not going anywhere good, “You’re the most humble.” 

Stu looks over my head to flatly glare at Billy. “Hysterical.” 

Despite Stu’s annoyed expression, there’s something about the exchange that’s so familiar it feels easy. Lighthearted despite potentially sharp edges. It’s the specific energy that’s usually associated with a specific group. “You two argue like an old, married couple.” 

That shocks Stu enough to make him forget any potential argument. His expression blanks as he turns his head down sharply to look at me. Whatever he finds in my amused expression makes him laugh. “Yeah, like I’d tie myself down to Billy’s sorry ass long enough to grow old together.”

Billy scoffs, and even that feels in good humor. “Like I’d be able to put up with him that long.” The words are dismissive, Billy’s tone bored, but I don’t miss the way he glances over at Stu. 

“Please,” Stu mumbles, pushing Billy’s arm from around the ledge of the couch before leaving his hand there, “You’d be lucky.” Stu scoffs out the sentence, but again, there’s something warmer lurking beneath the surface. 

It’s hard not to smile at the hidden in plain sight display of fondness. They really do get each other. I don’t know what’s shifted in the two seconds of silence, but I can practically feel them disappearing into one of their silent exchanges. It’s weirdly cute, but it’d be cuter if I wasn’t sitting between them during it. My position feels like it’s highlighting how out of place I am. 

Stu’s arm moves off the back of the couch and settles on my shoulders. “Who’s too good for who, sweetheart?” 

Yeah, there’s no way I’m even giving that a joke answer. “I’m tired, not stupid.” 

He frowns, “You’re no fun.” Before I can respond, Stu adjusts his hold on my shoulder to angle me a little closer to him. “I get it.” To his credit, Stu is whispering, but his voice is still loud enough for Billy to hear. Definitely on purpose. Stu angles his head towards me, leaning closer in order to pretend that this next part’s the real secret,“We’ve got to keep Billy’s feelings safe.”

Billy lifts a hand off the back of the couch and flicks the side of Stu’s head.

Even though I’d have to crane my neck awkwardly to look at Billy, I can feel him shrug. The motion briefly brings how close the two of them are to the front of my mind. 

“Ow--man, what was that for?”

I laugh, the sound too sudden and loud for this time of night. Stu might take that the wrong way, but I can’t help it anymore than I can help the way I slump into the couch. 

“Okay.” Billy sounds a little like someone speaking to a child resisting nap time, but does nothing to get me off of his shoulder. “Let’s go to bed before you fall asleep again.”

The thought of going to bed isn’t appealing, but I’ve complicated enough things tonight. I peel myself off of Billy’s shoulder and he keeps an assuring hand on my back. Stu follows along, standing up first and then making a point to hold onto my arm like I could fall without his support. 

We walk up the stairs almost exactly like that, hovering close together like kindergarteners on a field trip. It’s reassuring as we get to Stu’s room, helping me fight against the lingering anxiety from my dream. I focus on that as I force myself to sit on the edge of the bed. They’re fine.

Billy lays down on the same side he was on before. When I don’t move, he turns enough to nudge my shoulder. I take that as a sign to force myself to actually lay down. There’s no good way to justify the nerves. I fell asleep earlier and nothing bad happened. 

“Nothing’s going to happen.” The sentence is forced out and mumbled in a way that doesn’t fit Billy. It feels so hesitant I almost convince myself that I imagined it. 

“Yeah,” Stu echoes, moving so that his arm brushes against mine, “Everything’s okay, angel.” He pulls my hand towards him. “Promise.”

Still not the kind of thing that can be guaranteed, but I want to believe them. I nod even though it’s too dark for either of them to see. The motion is more for me, anyway, an attempt to force myself to agree. Things are okay for now, and that’s enough for me to close my eyes. It doesn’t take long for the lingering sleep in my body to come back, dragging me under before I can overthink anything else. 

----

Sunlight speckles the darkness behind my eyelids. It’s not an overwhelming brightness, but the change is jarring enough to wake me up slowly. I wipe at my eyes with the back of my hand, a little disappointed that the hazy feeling in my head doesn’t go away with the movement. Lack of sleep, I guess. 

I blink, turning my head to check on Stu. He’s still asleep, partially curled onto his side. It could be because of how energetic he is while awake, but Stu’s sleep always seems so full. My head turns in the other direction. Billy’s still, eyes shut, but something about his position feels stiff. I frown, making a point of only studying him out of the corner of my eye even though his eyes are closed. I wouldn’t put it past him to just know. 

Billy turns a little, the motion controlled enough to pass as something someone would do while asleep. He lets out a small sigh, another thing that could or couldn’t be sleep. “You’re up.” It almost sounds like an accusation. 

So he was awake. Knew it. “So are you.” 

He squints his eyes open. A few strands of hair fall forward as he angles his head to look at me. My eyes lock on the way they brush against his forehead. I squeeze my hands together, weirded out by the fact that I think it’d take less effort to push his hair back into place than to not, that it’s taking any effort to not fix. 

“Did you sleep okay, at least?”

The question surprises me more than it should. Billy may seem like the kind of teenage boy that’s too cool for a lot of things, but every once in awhile something a little softer slips out. A bit of a mother hen quality that likes to hide under a thin layer of snarky concern. I’d point this out, but I’m attached to our friendship. 

I prop my head up. “Yeah, I slept okay.” And I don’t even have to lie to say that. After lying down, it took no time at all for me to fall asleep. An all consuming, dreamless sleep, which is all I wanted. “You?” 

“Okay.” 

Hm. That was a quick answer. He seems fine, but the shadows under his eyes have been a little more prominent than usual lately. That paired with the glimpse of what I saw yesterday has to be worth noting, right? 

My eyes drop to the comforter. “You um...” I press my nails into the fabric. “Yesterday, I know I totally freaked, so I might sound a little hypocritical, but when I got here...you didn’t seem...” Ugh...there’s no good way to say this to him. It’s easy for him to twist things in his head and I don’t want him to feel attacked. “...Like you.” 

It’s only been a few seconds, but the silence expands something between us. My nails dig into the plush comforter even harder to distract myself, but it’s not working. I have to look up. Billy’s expression shifts from overwhelmingly blank to something a little harder when our eyes meet. 

“It’s just been a long week.” His tone is casual enough, but it’s missing what makes him familiar. “My dad’s on me about grades, senior year...” 

Billy did not just try to pin everything on his ‘senior year’. The realization that he’s probably lying, or at the very least, not telling me the entire truth, tries to crawl to the front of my mind, but it fails. It doesn’t matter. 

“Whatever it is...” I take a deep breath, “If you ever want to talk about it more, or just...need anything...” 

His eyebrows pinch together, eyes taking their time passing over my face. I don’t know what he could possibly be looking for in my expression. He must find it, because he eventually looks down. “Trust me, if I ever want to have a feelings talk, you’re the first person I’ll go to.” 

There’s a hint of teasing in his voice that makes it easy to smile. “I get it...” Billy places his palm over the back of my hand. “I’m all mush.” 

“Eh,” he tilts his head, playing into the joke as I roll my eyes. He shifts so that more of his weight is resting on his elbow. “You’re nice.” The shift in tone is sharp enough to give me whiplash. “You care about people.” 

I keep my eyes on our hands. “You’re nice, too.” He might not be aware of it, but he’s a lot kinder and more careful than people give him credit for. He’s always there when I need him and he always tries to understand. “You’re a good friend, so if you--” 

“I’ve seen you get worse over a math test.” Technically true, but that was a complicated situation. It wasn’t just the math test, it was the morning after the Ghostface attack and then I found photos of the Becker’s yard printed in a copy of the newspaper abandoned in the bathroom. But I have reacted pretty dramatically to less than ideal grades before. 

Billy’s hand grips mine with a little more pressure than before. “Yeah,” I mumble, already regretting trying to push.

He sighs, “I’m okay.” 

Billy relaxes his hold on my hand. “Yeah,” I nod, “Guess I’m just a little overprotective.”

“You like me that much, huh?” 

I roll my eyes. “Eh. You’re okay.” 

His eyebrows draw together in exaggerated offense, “Just for that, I’m not making you breakfast.” 

He lets go of my hand and moves to stand in an attempt to make his threat seem more genuine. I push myself to sit up fully, “You know how to make breakfast?” 

Billy’s already approaching the door but he turns his head enough to glare at me. “I’ve never set off the fire alarm.” 

“That was one time.” 

He dismisses my defense by opening the door. I push myself off the bed, looking over at Stu. He’s still out. “He’s fine, he’ll wake up when he’s hungry.” 

I focus on the even rise and fall of his chest. Stu’s face is pressed into his pillow, one leg still covered by his blanket and the other kicked out, dangling close to the edge of the bed. At least one of us knows how to sleep. 

“Yeah,” I agree, walking towards the door, “He’s lucky we’re too nice to draw on him.”

Billy looks back at me as he steps onto the stairs, “He’s lucky I don’t have a pen.” 

I laugh. “Maybe we can find one.” 

The part of the living room that’s too far away from the windows to reach a decent amount of sunlight is still illuminated. An artificial glow catches my attention. I guess no one turned off the TV last night. 

I walk towards the TV, crossing my legs beneath me as I sit down. It takes a second because of all the extra buttons on the control panel--rich people TVs should have instruction manuals taped to their sides--but my eyes eventually find the off button. I press it and all the TV does is turn staticky. 

“The tape’s still in there, you need to turn off the VCR first.” 

Makes sense. I mess with the buttons, turning the whole thing back on and starting over. Billy waits near the couch as I manage to turn the VCR off because after a second, regular cable starts playing. I hit another button. Instead of powering off, the TV switches to another channel. Before I can press anything else, a voice catches my attention. “The police department still has no leads on the crime that has rocked this sleepy community almost a year after the still unsolved murder of Maureen Prescott.” 

“Isn’t Gale Weathers that journalist you yelled at?”

Ugh--that’s how I know her. "I didn’t yell.” I stare at her focused expression as she stares down the camera. “I just made my thoughts on her journalistic process clear.” She’s wearing a suit that’s as vibrant as the one she was wearing when I met her at school. “Also my thoughts on what she was wearing.” 

The studio lights reflect against her gingery red, blonde highlighted hair in a way that’s unfortunately put together. “She’s kinda pretty, I guess...” Her getting-the-story-at-any-cost personality is something I’d admire if it was directed at anyone else. “For someone that totally sucks.”

“Which is why I’m still pressing forward with an updated version of my book detailing the two crimes, the suspects, and the most recent piece to the complicated puzzle--the sole survivor of the Becker Case.” 

Oh, there is no way she means--

My yearbook photo flashes onto the corner of the screen. “Local high schooler, Y/n L/n.” 

Blood rushes to my ears. Something warm and assured squeezes my shoulder. Billy. “Y/n?” 

The floorboards creek beneath the weight of even footsteps. “Thanks for--” The grogginess in Stu’s voice disappears with the rest of his original sentence, “What happened?” 

I finally connect with my body enough to pick my jaw up off the ground enough to form a sentence, “She put me in her fucking book.” 

----

a/n billy and stu when the traumatic thing they do is actually traumatic: 😦

also we’re about to get into the gale arch! yay!

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Taglist:  @cole22ann @womenarecannibals @fand0mskullfa1ry @princessleah129 @i-amnotokaywiththis @fvcking-gxddess @suckmyass-things @im-better-than-your-newborn @michibuni @bigenargy @marli-lavellan @mushy-mushroom04 @neenieweenie @lone-ray @the-ruler-of-death @andthevillainshallrises @thesebitcheslovesosadotcom @thesebitcheslovesosadotcom @dixbolik-bby @thebitchiestnerdtowalktheearth @peachycupotea @my5tica1ien @agustdeeyaa @astrial @3ll0kittylvr420 @zoleea-exultant @slaypussypop-21 @aonungs-tsahik @finnydraws @slytherhoes @vxarak @xofeeeeelsxo @thewayiknowyou @yourslashersfinalgirl @winterridinghood @maggieleighc @kobababysblog @moved2burntrubbertoast @gamecrew209 @idkf-loll @wolfgirl-205 @ultimatequeenieofsass @kathanibennett @itsjuststaticnoises @brittney69 @domaniquessidehoe

thanks for reading!! <3

#scream #scream x reader #scream 1996 #billy loomis #billy loomis x reader #stu macher #stu macher reader #ghostface #ghostface x reader #poly!ghostface #poly! ghostface x reader #final girl fic

[visenyaism]

bg3 companions ranking?

10. Halsin. I have no principles and can fully admit if it was a relentlessly horny grizzled older butch WOMAN bear druid i would be like this is the greatest video game character of all time but as it stands he just doesn’t compel me much

9. Minsc. he’s so fun but the whole thing is one singular bit no variety.

8. Karlach. Listen on paper “literally gideon nav but a tiefling” should do more for me i don’t know why it doesn’t. that being said if we were real life coworkers i WOULD want to be besties with her.

7. Shadowheart. yeah she’s alright.

6. Minthara. minthyyyyy everything she says is profoundly arrogant and ludicrously fascist she is so so funny. i love her absolute unwavering commitment to cognitive dissonance and being wrong all the time. my close friend minthara is the funniest person i know.

5. Wyll. he may be a terrible monster hunter because he just keeps forgiving and befriending and maybe falling in love with them but that’s just because he’s got a good heart. i wish the dev team liked him as much as i do. also mr. of frontiers we have got to do something about your father

4. Gale. D1 yapper just like me for real. can’t believe i ever found him annoying and disliked him simply for being a corny ass nerd because i have come all the way around on that. also i like that he has a fun earring even if it IS mystra merch.

3. Astarion. i too am an annoying homosexual shit-starter who is constantly just doing a bit. they put the most effort into his writing and character so he is really by default one of the strongest. also there’s just too damn many locks in this game to not need him nearby

2. Jaheira. love her terrible luck and gravitational force of a personality and slight weirdo mannerisms and fondness for clowns and deadbeat milf ways. wish she had been a companion earlier but she is so fun to take into baldur’s gate.

1. Lae’zel. she’s BEEN my favorite she’s in every single party i have i love her complete and total seriousness i love that she’s a weirdo and i love how much she grows and changes and develops optimism and hope. what can i say. real lae’zelheads know

#bg3 #shadowheart has grown on me but her intro is literally bad bangs AND racist pick a struggle