acquiring candy is my life goal.

[calware]

gender affirming pointy teeth

[incorrectfmaquotes]

Ling: The thing is. I would eat the grapes. I would eat the pomegranate seeds. I would eat the Turkish delights. It doesn’t matter what the stakes are, if you put a little plate of snacks out in front of me I’ll eat them. Ling: If you sent me to an evil fantasy realm and told me that if I ate anything I would die a painful terrible death then set a charcuterie board down in front of me, that would be it for me. Like it wouldn’t even be like a torturous internal struggle to not eat the cheese. I wouldn’t even need to be that hungry.

[incorrectfmaquotes]

Ling: Is this blasphemy? It feels like maybe it is.

Ed: I don’t know, let me check.

Ed, pulling out a phone, tapping away at it: No, God says it’s fine.

Ling: I’m sorry, you text with God!?

[incorrectfmaquotes]

Ling: If someone tried to make me dig my own grave, I would say no.

Ling: They’re going to kill me anyway and I’d love to die the way I lived:

Ling: avoiding manual labor

[incorrectfmaquotes]

Roy: I’m not afraid of commitment!

Roy: I’ve been annoying the hell out of Hawkeye for at least half of our lives!

[incorrectfmaquotes]

Roy, to Riza: Do you like long romantic walks?

Roy: Because my license got suspended for multiple minor traffic offenses and I’m not allowed to drive right now.

[incorrectfmaquotes]

Ling: Why are you sad?

Ed: I don’t know.

Ling: So, just for no reason?

Ed: Oh no, there are plenty of reasons. I’m just not sure which one it is this time.

[incorrectfmaquotes]

Gracia: It’s time to wake up, Honey.

Hughes: 5 more minutes…

Gracia, snuggling close to Hughes: 5 more minutes.

~~~

Riza: It’s time to wake up.

Roy: 5 more minutes…

Riza, cocking her gun: Maybe you misheard me.

[incorrectfmaquotes]

Rebecca: What do you believe in?

Riza, in the midst of Team Mustang’s chaos: I believe I should be on a beach drinking margaritas.

[incorrectfmaquotes]

Winry: I think it’s nice that Ed feels comfortable enough to sleep with you guys around.

Lan Fan: He looks so peaceful.

Ling, getting out a sharpie: And vulnerable.

[lizhly-writes]

a line that i'm super sad i have to delete:

“They wouldn’t see my pretty face,” Yang Haoran said, a man who possessed an aura of unremarkability so strong that he was only recognizable to paparazzi as ‘some random guy’.

[incorrectfmaquotes]

Ed: What’s the plan when this inevitably goes to shit?

Ling: I think we should just go with you’re deaf and I don’t speak Amestrian.

Ed: Classic.

[the-quasar-hero]

More game devs need to understand the following concepts:

There is a finite amount of memory on any given device.

No matter how good your game is, players will want memory for other things on their devices.

Not everyone has a stable internet connection so making single player games needing an internet connection is not good.

[definitely-zen-browser]

4. The price of memory has more than quadrupled in the past six months

[writing-prompt-s]

Write a reverse-murder mystery story where one person is reanimated and everyone else needs to find out who’s the necromancer.

[lizhly-writes]

There is a long silence, only broken by the shuffling around of the very recently undead.   

“Well,” says the viscountess, eying the not-corpse unenthusiastically.  “We could always kill her again.”  She doesn’t sound very convinced of the efficacy of the idea she’s just proposed, which makes sense; even if one ‘undoes’ the crime, so to speak, it doesn’t change the fact that the crime’s been committed.  Especially with the viscountess’s sister here, who just so happens to be a constable — the unbribable kind of constable, too.  Great luck, that.

“I’d rather you not do that,” says the horologist, formally corpse.  “I really think that you should take my feelings into account.”

Keep reading

[lizhly-writes]

For the ask meme: Wish you would write a fic where Gong Pildu is the innkeeper of an inn that is on the very edge of the world, and Yoo Jonghyuk, Kim Dokja and Han Sooyoung are his most annoying customers. Yes. It is a fantasy setting.

i have absolutely misremembered your ask as ‘at the end of the world’ instead of ‘on the edge of the world’ while i was writing this.  whoops.  sorry.  hope you still like this tho.

You’d think the apocalypse would be bad for business, but as it turns out, holding the only safe piece of land this close to the border is incredibly profitable.  It’s a good thing Gong Pildu isn’t nearly as rusty as in his studies as he thought.  True, he’d forgotten some things; there’d been a bit of a learning curve.  But he had been a priest, once upon a time.  He might not be a knight of flowers, but he knows the basics.  He knows how to set up a safe sanctuary, he knows how to ward off evil, and when neither of those are enough, he knows how to call down spirits to strike down his enemies and cast a wall of whirling blades to brutally maim anyone whoever comes close.

See?   Easy.  He’s good, and he’s only gotten better.  Nothing like danger to sharpen your edges.

So his jumak stays open, like some beacon of hope for the weary, battered travelers who drag themselves miserably away from death.  Safety is a rare, precious thing, in this part of the world, which is why Gong Pildu makes sure that he relieves his customers of the appropriate amount of gold.  A lot of it.  He’s providing a very valuable service, you see?  He deserves to charge accordingly.

“Owner-nim, I think I see your headaches incoming,” Park Siwoo says.

Of course, there are exceptions to every rule, as much as Gong Pildu would like there not to be, and there’s one of them barging in right now.

“Yo, ahjussi,” Han Sooyoung says, foot still extended from where she kicked the door open.  “It’s been a long time.”

In Gong Pildu’s opinion, it has not been nearly long enough.

“Why couldn’t you have grabbed my body,” a voice that is distinctly Kim Dokja screeches.  Upon closer inspection, Gong Pildu can see Han Sooyoung has Kim Dokja’s head tucked under her arm.

“Get me a drink,” Gong Pildu says to Park Siwoo.  To Han Sooyoung and Kim Dokja, he says, “What did I tell you about keeping your heads on in here.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Han Sooyoung says, waving an hand dismissively.  “No head, no service.  Give me a second.”

She takes a casual step to the side, and a moment later, Kim Dokja’s headless body comes clumsily staggering in.

“Do you know how hard it is to move your body anywhere when your sight and your other senses are in two different places,” Kim Dokja says testily.

“Sorry,” Han Sooyoung says unconvincingly as she hurls Kim Dokja’s head at his body.  Predictably, he screams.  Less predictably, he actually manages to catch his head, though not without his fair share of fumbling.  After a bit of muted cursing, he manages to turn it the right way around and slams it back on his neck with a contented sigh.

“Here you go, owner-nim,” Park Siwoo says, setting down a bowl of makgeolli.  He isn’t looking at Gong Pildu in the face.  Instead, he is staring in horrified fascination as the torn flesh between Kim Dokja’s head and neck quickly weaves itself back together.

Not for the last time, Gong Pildu wonders what kind of creature Kim Dokja is.  Asking doesn’t do any good.  Physical coercion might, if he hadn’t been tricked into that contract that banned him from doing actual harm.  Really, the only thing left is to magically compel the truth, but that only works if he manages to shake Kim Dokja’s head hard enough that he loses his wits and starts talking.  Han Sooyoung had assured him that was a lost cause, since Kim Dokja didn’t have any wits to begin with, but it never hurt to try.

“Are you going to drink that?” Han Sooyoung says, eying his makgeolli contemplatively.

In response, Gong Pildu lifts the bowl to his face and downs it all in one go.  He needs it, he really does.  

“Where’s the last one,” Gong Pildu says.  Han Sooyoung makes a face at him.  Too bad.  If she wants a drink, she can pay for it, like everyone else.

“Joonghyuk-ie?” Kim Dokja says unconcernedly as he straightens out his jeogori.  “Oh, he’s coming.  In five minutes, maybe?  You should get ready, by the way.”

“What do you mean I should get ready.”

“Oh, we ran into a bit of trouble we couldn’t shake off.  We went up ahead because Yoo Joonghyuk said he could handle it.  Well, he says he can, but he can’t.  So he’ll be heading here with some company.  You don’t mind, right?”

In other words: Kim Dokja and company made some enemies that they couldn’t deal with and now he wants Gong Pildu to take care of it.  

This kind of thing is irritating enough on its own, when other people do it, but it’s easy enough. All he needs a good drink and a good amount of gold, and he can cast any offense-is-the-best-defense spell to destroy whatever monster or fell beast whose attention his customer had the misfortune of encountering.

The problem is that it’s these three.  The problem is that it’s Yoo Joonghyuk.  Yoo Joonghyuk is a qualified hwarang.  A powerful one, too, Gong Pildu wouldn’t be surprised if Yoo Joonghyuk turned out to secretly be some god’s champion.  He should be capable taking care of most anything he comes across.  The fact that he can’t -- the fact that Kim Dokja is so confident that Yoo Joonghyuk can’t --

“What are you bringing here?” Gong Pildu barks out.

Kim Dokja gives him the sort of a wide-eyed, innocent look that wouldn’t fool a blackout drunk.  “I have full faith that you can handle it, Gong Pildu-ssi,” he says, which doesn’t answer Gong Pildu’s question at all.

One day, Gong Pildu is going to die.  It won’t be because of a slavering horde of monsters or eldritch creatures beyond the pale or otherworldly conquerors.  It’ll be because of these three and the way they make his blood pressure rise.

[lizhly-writes]

digging through my slightly older than current writing and found this: kdj and yjh, the bridge scene, but they’re both fifteen and stupid

“Thank you for the save,” the other boy says, eying Yoo Joonghyuk warily. Yoo Joonghyuk might have taken out the demonic people around, but the boy — his uniform badge reads ‘Kim Dokja’ — is still holding himself tensed up, like he’s expecting to get the shit beaten out of him at any moment.

There is a small part of Yoo Joonghyuk that feels mildly offended, because the only thing this Kim Dokja has seen Yoo Joonghyuk do is save his life, but the rest of Yoo Joonghyuk is focusing on the fact that this guy is… short.  He’s really really short.  Yoo Joonghyuk doesn’t remember a lot, but he is pretty sure that 1) that’s a middle school uniform and 2) middle schoolers aren’t supposed to be this short.

“Why are you so tiny,” Yoo Joonghyuk says.

“Wha—” Kim Dokja flushes an ugly, blotchy red.  “I’m not tiny.”

“You look ten.”

“I’m fifteen.”

Yoo Joonghyuk squints.  “Are you sure.” 

So Yoo Joonghyuk is perfectly aware that this is a really stupid thing to focus on, especially since he can barely remember anything other than his own name and they’re in the middle of the apocalypse.  But he seriously can’t believe this guy is supposed to be his age.

“What do you mean, am I sure,” Kim Dokja hisses.

[zmpl]

before we start posting that july is gay wrath month let’s consider that july is disability pride month first and foremost. the “be gay do crimes” memes can wait

[zmpl]

before this post breaches containment and people start going “why not both hehehe” i want you to seriously consider the very long history of disabled people’s existence being pushed aside and/or seen as secondary. i promise you it’s not going to hurt to hold onto the memes and give disabled people space for visibility and celebration.

i say this as a disabled trans person whose trans identity is made front-and-center to the (mainly cis) people who know i’m trans but my identity as a disabled person is brushed off by the very same people.