i butchered that mask


the small shoulders of the hero of hyrule

(alt. title: young links)

Gotham is a really special show because an episode ends and half of me is like, “It’s so sweet how protective and caring Oswald is of that adorable little boy who he’s formed a fatherly bond with,” while the other half is like, “I still can’t believe that demonic butcher in a pig mask baked people into meat pies and fed them to the rich while singing Cell Block Tango.”


I have so many stories to tell.
The most recent is of the last day of school. My friend and I were bored so they wrapped me in some butcher paper and added masking tape and drew on it. They made a little choker too. Then we had the bright idea to turn it into a dress.
Now, on the last day, the teachers let you eat stuff if anyone brought it, and also let you go around the school and ask people to sign yearbooks. So since I didn’t buy a yearbook, I decided to walk around in my dress and ask teachers and friends to sign it. By the end of the day, my dress is full of signatures from kids I didn’t even know! I showed my mom and she just sighed.
I cut out all the signatures from the dress and now there just hanging on my wall so yeah

Another time we found a bra on the playground in 2nd grade
My friend and I ended up throwing it on the roof. Fun times. Gotta love Texas’ school system.

Where is your second?” Kincaid asked.
Ortega grimaced. “Primping.”
He hadn’t finished the word before a young man slapped the door open and stepped jauntily into the tavern. He was wearing tight, white leather pants, a black fishnet shirt, and a white leather jacket. His hair was dark and hung to his shoulders in an unruly mane. He had a male model’s face, smoky grey eyes, and thick, dark eyelashes. I knew him. Thomas Raith, a White Court vampire.
“Thomas,” I said by way of greeting.
“Evening, Harry,” he answered. “What happened to your duster?”
“There was a woman.”
“I see,” Thomas said. “Pity. It was the only thing you owned that gave me hope that there might be a feeble flicker of style in you.”
“You should talk. That outfit you’re wearing is treading dangerously close to the Elvis zone.”
“Young, sleek Elvis ain’t bad,” Thomas said.
“I meant old, fat Elvis. Possibly Michael Jackson.”
The pale man put a hand to his heart. “That hurts, Harry.”
“Yeah, I’ve had a rough day too.”
“Gentlemen,” Kincaid said, a note of impatience in his voice. “Shall we

Harry Dresden and Thomas Raith (Death Masks by Jim Butcher)

I love that they’ve only met each other once before this, and from the moment Thomas walks in they’re already bickering and snarking together enough that it annoys the other people in the room xD. They’re such idiots <3.

What about him?” I asked the Archive, and nodded toward Kincaid.
“Can he be trusted?”
“Kincaid?” the girl asked, her voice whimsical. “Can you be trusted?”
“You’re paid up through April,” the man replied, his eyes still scanning the street. “After that I might get a better offer.”
“There,” the girl said to me. “Kincaid can be trusted until April. He’s an ethical man, in his way.
—  Harry Dresden, Ivy the Archive, and Jared Kincaid (Death Masks by Jim Butcher)