When the character asks another character if they're ready but you, the author, are in fact not ready

Just saw that Sam tweeted that this is a good episode

And no 4 sided dive this month

I’m SCARED

I'm going to need someone to give me Loma Vista's contact information so I can send them my therapy bill.

y'all what the FUCK did i just watch with my own two eyeballs?!

are;th2o4itw'oithq OPFJW'ROGHSL"DKVNAOWDJ 'wothwoehg

i had heard of the mythical hour long second but nothing could have actually prepared me for that

when the event ends with espresso being worried about going back to the republic and clotted cream looking at the both of them weird ….

How to hurt a critter in 10 words or less, today's edition:

"Do not go far from me"

I am pissing my pants right now with excitement

“i’m the only one in this city”

*panic mode intensifies*

if we get some kind of reunion between these two in btsv i’ll bawl my eyes out

hey guys if you’re planning on making a vaguepost on the dashboard can you message me with the details and some of the lore behind the vague post you’re making. a vaguepost for the dash and a detailedpost for me. because i like to know what’s going on. if you do this i will automatically take your side because you’ve done the right thing by letting me know what’s up. thanks in advance ❤️

the fact that shakespeare was a playwright is sometimes so funny to me. just the concept of the "greatest writer of the English language" being a random 450-year-old entertainer, a 16th cent pop cultural sensation (thanks in large part to puns & dirty jokes & verbiage & a long-running appeal to commoners). and his work was made to be watched not read, but in the classroom teachers just hand us his scripts and say "that's literature"

just...imagine it's 2450 A.D. and English Lit students are regularly going into 100k debt writing postdoc theses on The Simpsons screenplays. the original animation hasn't even been preserved, it's literally just scripts and the occasional SDH subtitles.txt. they've been republished more times than the Bible

when ao3 is back up i want all of you to leave comments on the fics you were interrupted from reading, the fics you were looking to find, the fics you were thinking about re-reading, and the fics left open in your tabs for months now.

when ao3 is back up, i want you all to show some love to your favourite writers, favourite fics, or even just the 600 word one-shot that brought a smile to your face that tuesday three weeks ago.

when ao3 is back up i want you all to remember that comments and explicitly voiced appreciation are what keep writers going.

Addiction Isn't Your Ending Story | Book Reading 7

"Lord Byron Rosfield, isn't it?"

The Cursebreaker approached the noble with great trepidation once there was an opening in the passing residents of Hideaway, hesitation and uncertainty etched upon every line and every crevice of his face. Most of all, though, was an obvious aversion to setting those ocean-hued eyes upon the younger man -- fearing that the emotions storming within them would give away just how conflicted he felt.

"Your brother --" Miles began, the furrow of his brow deepening, and for a moment his jaw was set firmly in contemplation of how best to proceed. Or rather, how best to convey what he wanted to convey without offending his brother by overstepping the boundaries set for a stranger. Of course, in the end he disregarded the caution he had just been clutching onto, as was ever in his nature to do; reckless and far too open even 'til the last, with that bleeding heart of his fixed to his sleeve like a badge of honor. "-- I was there with him at Phoenix Gate. Please know that he thought the world of you. He always did look up to you, even when you were but a child; between your heart of gold and the way your personality lights up the area wherever you go, you are... you are someone he had aspired to be like."

With the faintest, yet warmest of smiles tugging at the corners of his mouth, his expression eased and he finally, finally found the courage to straighten his posture. He turned his gaze upon Byron's face, seeking out the other's eyes even if for only a moment.

"Would that he had found the time to tell you sooner how much he loved you, and how proud he was of you. To remind you that you live in no one's shadow, especially not his -- no, you illuminate the darkness so effortlessly that all can see the strength and goodness that you possess, Sir Crandall." One gloved fist reached out to lightly bump against Byron's chest. "Never will there be a greater, more noble and true knight than you."

Byron's initial enthusiasm as he acknowledged the man gradually faded when he spoke, the feeling replaced by an incredulous irritation. Why was a Cursebreaker claiming that he'd not only survived the tragedy at Phoenix Gate, but he also knew Elwin himself?

"Excuse me?" Byron bristled, his eyebrows lifted in disbelief. Though he spoke as though he was being nothing but sincere, it was impossible to believe. As if merely saying he knew Elwin wasn't enough of an insult, it stung to hear such fond words, supposedly spoken from Elwin's own lips, thrown in his face. To even reference Lord Crandall. How could he know his and Elwin's shared appreciation for the piece of literature? And to bump his fist to Byron's chest, as his brother had done countless times before?

To have the audacity to bring any of this up to Byron at all-- who did he think he was?

And yet Byron felt his eyes beginning to fill with tears and his lower lip trembling, both sensations catching him terribly off-guard. He swallowed hard and attempted to blink away the wetness, though he feared the man had already seen. "It's cruel to say this to someone who has gone through the turmoil of grieving their brother for decades, who has wanted nothing more than to speak to him again. You-- you have no right."

The more he looked at him, the more Byron could nearly make out something familiar. But he quickly convinced himself that it was wishful thinking; however badly he wanted it to be true, wishing for it didn't make it so. Elwin was a Duke, a public figure that a bad actor would have reason to bring up in this manner. Byron himself had wealth: was he making an attempt at a bizarre grift?

Still... the slim, impossibly slim chance was agonizing, and he couldn't ignore it.

With apprehension, Byron steeled himself for what would inevitably be letdown and humiliation -- but he had to ask. "Is there a chance, however slim, that he could have...survived?" he proposed, searching the man's face for deeper signs of his elder brother. Was that his voice? Byron felt shame for the fact that details of Elwin had begun to fade with time. His voice, his cadence, his smell, his gait. He knew that in years past, these traits were as obvious to him as anything; for he saw the man nearly every day for much of his life.

But the passage of time wore away at those clear memories. Now, he wasn't sure. "I am a fool to ask, I know. And you may very well be a cruel, manipulative man that I shouldn't even humor. But I would do anything to see him again. Making a fool of myself would be the least I would be willing to do." Byron's heartbeat stuttered uncomfortably in his chest as he attempted to read the other man's features for anything reminiscent, anything that echoed Elwin's likeness.

@phoenix-flamed