GIVE ME BACK MY DIAMOND.

yes, she added on a few years. who cares? vincent's old as balls either way.

if they go one day without closing the distance with each other they will die. he's about two seconds from sticking her fingers in his mouth. it's muffled, (his words), but it gets the job done, ❝ oh, hardy-har-har... we'll see who's laughing when you find you no longer have your pretty little shoes to stand on, ❞ lucy's about ten seconds short from taking a trip to the nearby dentist if all things go according to plan.

you know I hate to say, but I told you so. (x, x)

I had a son once.

❝ does this mean i get to blame you for lucy scaring the shit out of me last time i came over? ❞ a devious smile from the devious dj herself. coffi makes grabby hands towards vincent's head. ❝ come closer. i'm nice and can be trusted not to throw you into a suplex. ❞

asking to touch his hair is like asking to touch his butt. he’s fragile, also he spent like ten minutes doing it before he came over here so that’s a firm no. cutting it, on the other hand… ❝ lucy doesn’t know any better. she’s just a baby. ❞

I am my mother’s daughter.

(1/4)

" there, there, " batari hums, a low note. her fingers carding through the hair of the dead vampire whose head rests on her lap, pinning stray strands into place with hairpins as she does so. an eerie smile on her lips as she rises to her feet, admiring her handiwork from above. the still body on the ground looks pristine, made up and clean. she's closed the vampire's eyes, removed the wooden stake protruding from their chest, changed them out of their blood-stained clothes, laid as many wildflowers as she could find around their body in the open field. given them more dignity than what would've been typically afforded to a vampire. come sunrise, the sun will burn their corpse down to ashes, and the wind will carry those ashes away. their name will be lost to the passage of time, to the centuries to come. but in the shades of the night, this dead vampire is remembered, made pretty to meet their creator. " i wonder . . . " a short pause. her eyes sweep around the forest, at the shadows enveloping her. it's quiet, save for the hoots of owls and the sounds of crickets. but batari has a sense for these kinds of things. she can always tell when she has an audience, someone watching her from afar. " should i feel pity or envy for them? " her voice resonates through the space, reverberating off the trees and their branches. a kind of theatrics added to her tone. " this existence is a wretched one, isn't it? " a playful smile, a chortle of laughter. " what if you weigh in? you've been watching me for some time now. "

the string of moonlight reveals a tall yet unearthly creature that slithers from the shadows, only becoming smaller and smaller due to the mere illusion of something strong. alice is no stranger to death, but she is somewhat akin to a vampire. although she is one herself she had never gotten close enough to familiarize herself with her own kind, merely lurking in the background of everyone else’s painting. a ray of light in a corner, she tips her hat to the stranger. it is big and wide and covers her from almost head to toe as she is coincidentally dressed up for a funeral. always mourning, i suppose. she lures amongst the trees before coming out once more, seemingly startled by the mere accompany of what she now realizes to be another one of her kind, but alive. death is nobody’s mistress, much less forgiving. “pity,” she answers. a timber in her voice, what she had been doing is little to no relevance nor a contribute to the strange one’s death. she had almost been rooting for it, a mere distraction in the midst of her own, “think about all the people that will miss you, and us. it’s forever.”

Timothy Olyphant as John Armstrong LUCKY (2026–) cr. by Jonathan Tropper

❝ the men or men's best friend..? ❞ coffi blows a raspberry. ❝ dogs are fine. for the most part. i've never really wanted one, though. like, at least i can put the men in a headlock when they get scary. ❞

vincent’s kinda like a dog when you think about it. he lies, he cries, and most importantly, he whines... ❝ they’re better once you get to know them, i think the owners are to blame. it’s like when you get into a car accident: you don’t blame the car. you blame the driver. ❞

❝  we’re  here.  that’s  what  matters.  ❞

The Mountain Goats, Heretic Pride

What I love so much about this song, No One Mourns the Wicked, is how hard it is for Glinda to be there saying these things to these people and celebrating and rejoicifying with them when she's grieving her friend in real time. She's obviously having to do a hard thing here by celebrating what she's singing about while the lyrics are also her trying to spoon feed them the idea that wickedness happened to her. Give her a chance. Even though she's there doing this thing she knows she's supposed to do, rejoicify with them and celebrate this news, the lyrics...she's actually still fighting for her friend, for them to understand. She's giving them a chance. She's holding out a hand saying, but give her a chance...She's actually asking them to humanize her. It kind of is an impossible position to be in for her at this moment...This was really hard to look at. This was not a fun moment to film...Grief can feel different, and it can show up in many different ways. Sometimes it's really emotional. Sometimes it makes you angry. Sometimes it makes you feel numb. But either way, setting your best friend on fire...not good. Not preferred.

@timelincs, alice jolivette.

she sneers at the possibility of favoritism but not the drink. it’s free. are they profiling her because she’s a woman? the red liquid continuously scales itself against the warm yet undead underbelly of her palms, which are stilted and foreign. they move only when they want to. “money is nothing to somebody like me, let alone an upgrade,” figures. it may look better on their end if they bring a girl in. “are the only people who show up here men?” she kicks up her heels. judging by the suit at hand, trixie must be a big deal. did they send her their best girl on purpose? how flattering… if only she cared enough to make amends. “you know if i had it my way i’d bring in a little more music. i don’t like when people talk too much.”

THE NEWSREADER | 3x06 “The Fall”

You’re not a part of this family. You do not belong here.