#and all he can think of is how unfair it is

[woso-dreamzzz]

Arguments II

Alexia Putellas x Hardersson!Reader

Natalia Guijarro (OC) x Hardersson!Reader

Part of The Big Adventures Universe

Summary: Your first argument

You weren't really one to argue.

You didn't enjoy confrontations. You didn't like yelling.

But you knew this was where it was heading.

Talia stewed in the driver's seat all the way home, her knuckles white as she gripped the steering wheel.

This wasn't how you wanted her to find out.

You had been lucky, you think. You and Talia didn't argue. You had disagreements over silly things over when to feed the pets and whose turn it was to do the laundry.

But you knew, just by looking at the way Talia's jaw clenched that this was heading toward an argument.

You prepare yourself.

It happens almost as soon as the apartment door is closed.

"Lyon?!" She demands," Really, Lyon?!"

It wasn't the best way for Talia to find out, you can admit that. It wasn't that you were trying to keep it a secret. It was that you were told not to talk about it while the details were worked out.

You sigh. "I'm sorry but-"

"I thought you were happy here!" Talia interrupts," At Barcelona. In Spain. With me!"

"I am!"

"You're leaving!" Talia yells," You're leaving!"

"I'm not!" You snap back, hands clenching into fists as you dig your nails into your palm.

Talia scoffs. "Oh, forgive me if I'm wrong but Lyon is in France, yes?! So, yeah, y/n, you're leaving!"

"You're blowing this out of proportion!" You stand chest to chest with her.

You're practically the same height as her now so you're both yelling straight in each other's face.

(You have to concentrate as to not connect your lips to hers because it's unfair just how attractive she is while yelling).

The loan to Lyon had come out of nowhere, as was most emergency loans. It was a string of bad luck for the French team, their keepers dropping like flies until all that was left was two academy players who had never played for the senior team.

You, on the other hand, were twenty-one years old already with six years experience and a world cup win under your belt. You were a proven winner and Lyon were willing to throw an extortionate amount of money at Barcelona to get you on loan.

They offered you bonuses that was bordering on more zeros at the end of a number than you'd ever seen.

Lyon had been knocking on the door when your agent let clubs know you were leaving Arsenal. It had been a toss up between them and Barcelona.

But you chose Barcelona and they still kept knocking.

You agreed to the loan though, if only to get experience in a different league.

"If you want to leave," Talia yells," Then there's the door!"

"Oh, yeah? Well maybe I will!"

"Go on then!"

"Fine!

"Fine!"

You whistle as you make it to the door, crouching down to clip on Prins' leash before storming out into the hallway.

You choose to take the stairs instead of the elevator, working out some of your frustration on the way.

Prins' leash gets clipped onto your belt loop and you take off on a controlled jog around the neighbourhood.

Talia calls you.

You ignore it.

She call you again.

You don't want to continue this argument.

You turn off your phone.

You keep jogging, your feet pounding onto the pavement.

Prins runs next to you happily. He's always been able to keep up on your morning runs and a random afternoon run doesn't seem to faze him either.

Your mind runs just like your feet as you overthink all of your little interactions in the argument earlier. You wonder, briefly, if this means you and Talia have broken up now.

You hope not.

You're not sure how you would cope if Talia broke up with you over this.

Your running slows to a walk as you make your way to the beach. You sit on the sand and just stare out across the sea.

Prins whines a little bit, stamping his feet on the ground.

"Sorry," You say, unclipping his leash so he can run," There you go."

He doesn't though. He just whines a bit more, shuffling closer until his snout is pressed up against your face.

You smile.

"Thanks, Prins," You say, tearfully," You're a good boy."

His tail wags happily.

"He is a good boy."

You nearly burst into tears are hearing a familiar voice behind you.

"Hi, Alexia."

"Hi."

She sits down next to you and you bury your face in Prins' fur, not wanting her to see you cry.

"Nat's worried," Alexia says," She's calling everyone to see where you've gone."

"I turned off my phone. I didn't want to argue anymore."

Alexia frowns. "You argued with each other? That doesn't sound right."

"She was very angry," You whisper, turning on your phone in your pocket.

Alexia can just hear you over the roar of the sea. You've still got your head buried against Prins so your words are muffled.

"She's not angry anymore," Alexia says," She's very, very worried. You've been gone for nearly two hours."

That doesn't sound right, you think but when you fish out your phone, Alexia's right.

You've been running for nearly two hours since the argument.

"Oh."

Alexia chuckles. "Yeah, oh. You've had people looking for you. I think Nat even called your parents."

"I didn't want her to worry. I just wanted to stop arguing," You mumble.

"That's okay," Alexia assures you," But maybe you should shoot her a text telling her where you are so she doesn't worry anymore, huh?"

"Okay."

You text Talia your whereabouts.

There's silence for a long while between you both, nothing but the ocean and occasionally Prins shuffling around to get comfortable.

The sun is setting when Alexia speaks again.

"What were you arguing about?"

"I'm moving to Lyon," You say and Alexia jolts.

"What?" She asks in disbelief," Why? Does Barcelona not make you happy anymore?"

You give her an odd look. "No, it does, but staying out for one season wouldn't do any harm. Lyon has no keepers. Barcelona has two others plus that La Masia girl."

"The one that's always following you around?"

"I think it's sweet. She's good." You shrug. "I'll be back next year anyway."

"Wait..." Alexia blinks a few times. "What do you mean you'll be back next year?"

"It's only a loan," You reply," They're..." Your face goes red. "Lyon's offering the club a lot plus a bonus for me." You're sure that you resemble a tomato right now. "It's a lot of money. Enough to pay for a house in cash. Talia mentioned about maybe finding a place for ourselves."

"You want to buy Nat a house?"

"Well, I want to buy us a house." You frown. "Sorry...is it too early in a relationship to consider that? My Morsa said she was envisioning a house with Momma within the first month."

"No!" Alexia assures you," It's sweet. You're sweet, y/n, but I think there's been a bit of a misunderstanding."

You turn to look at her. "A misunderstanding? Over what?"

She doesn't get to answer because a body crashes into you and a phone is shoved into your face.

"I found her!" Talia exclaims," I've got her! I've got her!"

On the phone screen is your mothers, both pressed up against each other as they stare.

"Don't do that!" Morsa immediately jumps into a lecture. "Do you know how worried we were?! We called you so many times! We thought you were dead in a ditch!"

"I had Prins with me." It's a weak defence and you know it but you have to at least try. "He wouldn't let anything happen to me."

"Princesse, I love you but your dog is as dumb as a pile of bricks," Morsa says," But I'm glad you're okay."

"You can go to France," Talia says quickly," Not that you need my permission but if you want to go then go. I'm sorry that I yelled. If you want to leave Barcelona then go but-"

"Leave?" You repeat," I'm not leaving. I'm just going on loan."

If you weren't still a little worried about Talia breaking up with you then you'd find the shocked look on her face comical.

"What?"

"It's just a loan," You say," I...erm...They're willing to give me a lot of money for it. I thought, maybe, we could use it to get a house."

"I...You...We...You want to get a house with me?"

"I mean...er, if you want that too. I know that-"

You don't get to finish because Talia drops her phone to pull you into a kiss.

"Yes, I want to get a house with you."

[emchant3d]

part 2 of runaway bride stevie! modern au, exes to lovers, transfem stevie harrington pt 1

Eddie Munson is not having a good day.

His phone died last night so his alarm didn’t go off, his bassist is sick so their gig tonight has to be canceled, and his last three Uber rides have stiffed him on a tip.

He accepts a request from some dude named Scott with a terrible comb-over in his profile picture and gives himself two seconds to bang his forehead into his steering wheel in frustration with a closed-mouth scream. Then he dials it back so he doesn’t seem absolutely fucking insane. He can see the suit he’s about to escort to some fucking meeting even though he’d rather be doing any-fucking-thing else, and he pastes a fake smile on to greet him. He’s gearing up to fall into the usual routine of this godforsaken job, but then it all goes a little sideways.

There’s movement from the corner of his eye, and then a blur of a body is slamming into poor Scott from behind, shoulder checking him and almost sending him careening onto the sidewalk. The dude pinwheels his arms like a cartoon character, suit jacket puffing up around his shoulders awkwardly, expression so baffled it makes Eddie snort despite himself.

“Oh, shit,” he mumbles, and he’s reaching for his seatbelt to see if the guy needs any help - he looks like he might break a hip if he hits the ground - but then a whirlwind of white fabric swoops into his backseat and a loud, desperate voice yells "DRIVE!" in his ear, and he sort of just thinks 'sure, why the fuck not,' and slams his foot on the gas.

The car fishtails a bit and the tires squeal as he swerves into traffic, horns honking after him, and he picks a direction at random, going way too fast for this area of town.

His heart is pounding in his chest, worst case scenarios running through his head. He’s going to get car jacked. He’s going to go to jail for being an unwitting getaway driver. But there isn’t any more yelling from the back seat, just heavy, panicked breathing, and he settles into traffic and slows down to a more normal speed before he cuts his eyes up to the rearview mirror.

Time stops.

It’s Stevie.

He can’t believe he didn’t recognize her the second he saw her, but in his defense, it's not like he was expecting to see his ex-girlfriend in a goddamn wedding dress running like she stole something today.

Pure panic wraps tight around his throat as he takes her in - is she hurt? In danger? Nothing good could have had her sprinting away from her own wedding, but it seems like she’s just shaken up.

His heart calms a bit once her tears dry and they get properly on the road.

And shit, it’s so unfair, because she's just as breathtaking as she was the day they split. She looks just as sad, too, which is certainly not how a woman like Stevie Harrington should look on her wedding day. But seeing her in a gown like that - Jesus Christ. His heart squeezes painfully in his chest. It’s like something out of a fantasy, seeing her in the exact kind of dress she used to whisper to him about wanting, the kind of dress he’d once promised to marry her in. Of course, they fell apart before he could even get a ring on her finger, but it still sends his stomach swooping to see the future they’d spoken about come to life.

“You’re sure you’re okay?” he can’t help but ask, glancing over his shoulder at her.

“Yeah,” she says, voice high and a little squeaky. “Yeah, I’m totally fine. Just in my ex-boyfriend's car after I left my fiance at the altar, it’s all fine, it’s chill.”

“Okay,” he says haltingly, delicately, because Stevie Harrington is not the kind of person who says it’s chill, “it’s just that, you know, all of that sounds decidedly not chill.”

“This is so chill. It’s the chillest I’ve ever been, actually - hold on–” she says, and next thing he knows a swirl of silk is blocking his view and he sputters a bit as the train of her dress smacks him in the face, but she’s clambering gracelessly from the back seat and over the console to plop down on the passenger side with a loud huff and a cloud of perfume.

It’s different from what she used to wear. She used to smell spicy and warm, with notes of amber and cinnamon. He’d kiss the little spots in her wrists where she’d spritz it on, trace the veins beneath the tan skin with his nose to keep the scent of her with him.

Now she smells like vanilla and something floral, airy and light. Like he stepped into a bakery. It’s not bad, of course it’s not bad, but it’s…different. Not her.

Or not his version of her, anyway.

This is someone else’s Stevie now, and she smells like fucking cookies instead of home.

Instead of commenting on it, he just tells her to put on her seat belt, and she looks at him like he’s an idiot.

“And wrinkle this dress?” she says, her nose curling a little, and God she’s such a bitch and he’s missed it so much.

“I hate to break it to you,” he tells her, “but some wrinkles are not the worst damage that thing has seen today.” There are small grey splotches on the bodice where her makeup dripped as she cried earlier, and the hemline has some muddy staining from her mad dash on the sidewalk. It’s not ruined, but it’ll have to be cleaned, and a couple of wrinkles will be the easiest thing to get out of the formerly pristine fabric.

He glances over at her in time to see her run her hands over the skirt of the dress, smoothing it out over her thighs. It shifts, the leg slit parting to show her skin, teasing at the hint of a crease where her thigh and stomach meet, and Eddie rips his gaze away to stare at the road instead.

“Probably for the best, anyway,” he says, and he feels her eyes latch onto his profile.

“And why’s that?” she asks, and he smirks.

“Well, pure white? C’mon, Stevie, we both know that’s a lie.” He flashes her a wicked grin and she makes an outraged sound, but a small smile is teasing at her mouth even as her cheeks flush.

She kicks off her heels - red bottoms, because of fucking course they are - and slouches in the seat. She pushes herself up, adjusting in the pile of silk and corsetry she’s been strapped into, and he sees the absolute mountain of a rock on her hand, and manages to bite his tongue about it being the gaudiest thing he’s ever seen.

"So who was the lucky guy?" Eddie asks before he can stop himself, and the glare Stevie gives him could cut glass. “Or lucky woman. Person? Far be it from me to deny you your bisexual rights.”

He probably sounds like a jealous asshole, but he can't help it. He's the getaway driver for his one that got away on her fucking wedding day, and he feels like he deserves to ask a few questions.

His hands tighten on the steering wheel as the silence lingers, but eventually, Stevie just groans, letting her head fall back against the headrest dramatically.

"Don't laugh," she demands, and Eddie shakes his head.

"Scout's honor," he promises, and he swears a wry little grin teases at her lips.

“You were never a scout. You would have been kicked out for inciting a riot.”

“Hey, I just ensured we all earned our arson badges, okay? I did every one of those kids a favor.” Stevie scoffs, and it almost sounds fond.

Then she says, “Tommy,” and he almost swerves into oncoming traffic.

"HAGAN?" he says, louder than he means to, and her hand flies up to grab the oh-shit bar.

“Eddie, Jesus!” she says, glaring at him, and he shakes his head, focusing back on the road.

“Sorry, sorry,” he says, but fucking - really? “Really?” He can’t help himself. “Tommy Hagan?”

“Yes, really, Tommy Hagan,” she says hotly, like she’s defensive, like she didn’t just leave the schmuck at the fucking altar.

“Well that explains the ring, at least.” She reaches over, smacking at his arm, which, thanks to the aforementioned ring, is probably going to bruise. “Hey, ow!” He glares at her, taking a hand off the wheel to rub his bicep. “Watch it, that thing’s a weapon.”

“Then stop sassing me about it,” she snaps, rolling her eyes and crossing her arms and her face falls into that adorable bitchy little pout he’s always fucking loved, and he looks away again.

He can’t help but glance back over at her left hand. The ring is…certainly something. Giant, square, one big diamond surrounded by other, smaller diamonds, with even more diamonds on the band. It looks heavy and cumbersome and like she’s going to smack it into every wall and door and get it caught in her hair and seriously, he’s pretty sure he’s already got a knot forming on his arm where the thing hit him.

It looks like Tommy walked into the priciest jewelry store he could find and asked for the most expensive ring they had.

It looks like a status symbol.

It doesn’t look like her.

“Apologies, highness,” he says, shaking himself free of his thoughts. It’s not fair to hold her to those standards. He hasn’t spoken to her in years. He can’t know what kind of person she is now.

But there’s still a bone-deep knowing that overtakes him at the feeling of the woman next to him. A sense of deja vu so strong it threatens to knock him over.

A different car, a different time, a different circumstance, but the same person. The same love.

He’d picked a direction at random, but as the streets become more familiar, he realizes he’s heading towards his place. It’s as good as any, he figures, and he shifts lanes, reaching to tap on his phone and shutting down his Uber account.

“You know, I almost expected you’d still be driving that beat up old van,” Stevie says suddenly, and he crows a laugh.

“Ah, Van Halen, you served me well until you almost blew up on the highway,” he says fondly. “Lost her about a year ago. It was tragic. I held a funeral.” She laughs again, shaking her head.

“I wouldn’t expect anything less,” she says, turning that pretty smile his way, and his heart does a somersault.

“That was a very impressive move back there, by the way,” he tells her, “that shoulder check of that old defenseless businessman?” He whistles. “Haven’t seen anybody move that quick to steal an old man’s ride before, really, it should have been documented.”

“Oh my god, shut up,” she says, but there’s a laugh in her voice, and she brings up her hands to press to her pink cheeks. He can’t help but keep digging.

“No, seriously! And sprinting like that in heels? And in that dress? What’s that thing weigh, like twenty pounds?”

“It’s a dress, not a suit of armor,” she tells him, but her smile is growing, making her eyes crinkle.

“Just saying, it was pretty metal,” he shrugs, and she snorts.

“Well, you would know,” she says, and he ignores the way his face flushes in response. She gives a little sigh, wiping below her eye and frowning at the smear of black on her fingers.

“Here,” he says, reaching across her. His arm brushes her leg as he opens the glove box and he’s so fucking normal about it. He pulls out a few fast food napkins, holding them out to her. “No makeup wipes in here, but that’ll help with the worst of it.”

“Thanks,” she says, and she flips the visor down, tapping a napkin to her tongue to wet it before wiping at the mascara tracks running down her face. “God,” she groans, scrubbing at a particularly stubborn smear, “I look like a raccoon.”

“A very cute raccoon,” he says before he can stop himself. Jesus, Munson, dial it back. “Like the raccoon that’s about to get the best trash in the bin, she doesn’t even have to ask for it.” Stop talking. “The other raccoons are just gonna give it to her, on account of how cute she is.” He’s gonna throw himself into traffic.

“Did you just call me a raccoon on my wedding day,” she asks. Fine, commit to the bit.

“You called yourself a raccoon on your wedding day. I was just agreeing with you,” he replies, keeping his eyes fixed to the road.

Her eyes are on him - he can feel her stare burning into the side of his face, and his cheeks are going pink and blotchy and God, he’s an idiot–

And then she laughs. Not her polite little contained laugh, either, no, this is that loud, wide mouthed laugh that she hates, that makes her shoulders shake and her head fall back. It’s squeaky and hearty and a little obnoxious and he’s always been so obsessed with getting her to let it out, and he can’t help the smug beaming little smile he gives at the sound.

“You’re such an ass,” she says through her laugh, and Eddie can’t help but laugh with her even if it’s at his own expense, because at least she doesn’t look so goddamn sad anymore.

When they finally reach his apartment complex she’s a little more subdued, but the look on her face isn’t totally heartbreaking, and he’ll take what he can get. He comes around to the passenger side to open her door for her and helps her gather the dramatic skirt of her dress to keep it off the pavement as they head towards the stairs, and he knows he looks like an insane person as he carts a bride down the hall, but he just smiles at his nosy neighbors and lets this cement his reputation as the weird as fuck off-putting metalhead he knows they all think of him as.

He feels a little self conscious as he opens the apartment door for her, sweeping an arm dramatically to allow her to enter first. For the first time since she swept into his car, he wonders if this is a good idea. But it’s too late now – Stevie’s giving him a little smile and stepping into his home, and part of him knows this was inevitable. She may not have called him, but he was always going to come if she needed him.

He follows her inside and tries to calm the pounding of his heart, watching her take in his space, struck all over again by her beauty and the impossibility of her standing here, and silently prays he isn’t going to fuck it up all over again.

this was almost even longer, but I figure 2.5k is enough for a part 2! no tag lists, sorry, but part 3 will be here at some point. thank you to everyone who's had a kind word to say about this au these two are very near and dear to me 💕

[ominouspuff]

No Man Left Behind / Something Worth Dying For

REQUESTS / BLOG EVENT

Request from @razzbberry - Palette #1 - Alpha-17, Cody - Death of the Cynic in Me

Notes and close-ups beneath the cut!

Notes: I think Seventeen would, both subconsciously and consciously, keep his cynicism as long as possible. It’s how he thinks the world works, but it’s also a survival tool. It’d be a very, very slow death.

It’s put to the test with Cody — not because Cody is special among his fellow clones, but because he’s one of the first that bothers to fight Seventeen on his own terms. The argument is always the same. Cody wants to talk about what he hopes to be, someday, after he is a soldier. Seventeen thinks he’s stupid to think that’s possible, or that he’d be capable. Cody knows it, and he, might not be. Seventeen thinks it’s even more stupid, in that case; what a waste of energy.

It develops. When they’re older, and in the thick of war, one day Cody risks his life for the chance to save a brother that was going to die anyway. Seventeen yells at him for fifteen minutes once he’s conscious about luck and stupidity and the trouble it’s causing Seventeen and the false hope it’s engendering in others. Cody says he can disagree all he likes, but he doesn’t give a fig, respectfully. Seventeen thinks Cody can go try to get blown up again, if he thinks so.

There’s no point fighting for a better tomorrow; they’re bought and paid for to fight for something else, FOR someone else. Seventeen is prepared for being fodder, as a result. He’s prepared for unfairness and the bleak life that they’re living. Instead he watches as Cody defeats odds time and time again, somehow managing to balance being an exceptional military leader with a secondary war to live for something more, running himself ragged and — inexplicably — gaining ground. Each of those little victories are a little death for Seventeen’s cynicism; a chipping away. A little seed of Cody’s brand of hope takes root, awkward and begrudging, fond and tentative.

Then Order 66 happens. Cody’s efforts for a better life are in vain, and Cody himself-

Cody may never know that Seventeen was right abut just how helpless they were. Now he only knows that Seventeen is a traitor, apparently, because Seventeen — for once in his life — was the lucky one and his chip malfunctioned.

And Seventeen could say ‘I told you so’. He could rest, vindicated and resigned, in the fact that every dream Cody built up and everything he thought was worth dying for is pointless, now — as he always suspected it would be.

But it isn’t fair, even by Seventeen’s standards.

“What are you doing,” Rex will rasp, caught in a strange role reversal as Seventeen paints an armor set with Cody’s golden colors. “He’s not coming back, Seventeen. He can’t. It’s pointless to keep going after him, you need to stop.”

“No,” Seventeen will answer, unbothered, “I don’t think I will.”

“We can’t — we can’t keep hoping,” Rex says, because he means he will probably have a breakdown if he imagines there is even a pitiful possibility he could save his brothers and then have to turn away from that scrappy chance for the greater good and Rebellion, and all that. “We’ve got to move on.”

“Go on.” Seventeen will invite sincerely, one brow raised because he knows Rex better than that.

“Do you want him to shoot you?” Rex will finally yell, all knotted up at the thought of losing Seventeen too, even though it’s funny because Seventeen was never kind to Rex.

“He can try,” Seventeen will say, touching up the last of the paint. He will stand, wiping his fingers, and pick up his pack. “See you when we get back, then.”

Alt version:

[dazednmatthews]

(crazy how) this love thing seems unfair~ m. sturniolo

short mini fic cause i lurve this song so bad. angsty asf w a semi-happy ending. enjoy my loves <3333

“mattttttt,” her voice is coated in sleep. “come back to bed.” matt is standing at his closet door, rubbing his own tired eyes. it’s about nine in the morning, much too early to be doing anything other than laying in bed with her.

“you know that i can’t, sweetheart. i have to go work with the guys.” he finally picks a top, a soft, white sweatshirt that’s semi-cropped.

“boooooooo.” she sits up, pushing the curls that escaped her bun away from her face. the look on her face almost makes matt want to say fuck it and stay right here.

after he puts on his shoes and cologne, he walks to the side of the bed and sits. she sinks into him, body melting into his touch. they sit there for a moment, no sound in the room except their breathing. it’s peaceful.

she leans up in his arm and places a kiss at the shell of matt’s ear, making the boy groan softly. “don’t do that. it makes me want to stay right here.”

another kiss, this time under his jaw. “that’s the idea.”

one of matt’s hands are kneading the flesh of her thigh, pausing momentarily to rub circles with his thumb. the other hand is planted gently on her waist. he grips a little tighter when she kisses the corner of his mouth.

“stop touching me like that if you’re leaving.” she whines, pulling away slightly. “so not fair.”

he pulls her back. “give me a real kiss.”

she shakes her head. “ew, no. morning breath, hello.”

matt gives her a flat look. “i put my literal tongue inside of you twenty four seven and you think i give a fuck about morning breath?”

she shoves his shoulder with an incredulous laugh. “it is nine in the morning, matthew!” her eyes are sparkling now. “tone it down.”

matt shrugs. “i’m just saying.”

there’s a brief moment where they lock eyes, and suddenly it’s like all the air in the room has been sucked out. matt moves his hand up, feeling the thrum of her heart beating rhythmically. it’s one of his favorite sounds.

she moves into his lap, his hands coming to the swell of her ass to steady her. her arms loop around his neck, face close.

she pulls him in, gently connecting their lips. the way the interlock is something out of matt’s wildest dreams, serenity coating him from head to toe. he’s tugging and grasping with all his might, always needing her closer.

he can feel her lashes on his cheek, can feel her nails on the nape of his neck, can feel her love through every swipe of her tongue. he never wants to be anywhere but here.

there’s a knock at the door. “matt, we gotta go!” it’s chris. “y’all are too quiet in there so i’m staying my ass out here.”

she breaks the kiss with a giggle. “duty calls.”

he groans, resting his head on her shoulder. “so not fair.”

though it’s a fight, from matt mostly, she untangles herself and stands. she extends a hand to pull matt up, giving him a chaste kiss. “it’s okay, matty, go. i’ll be right here when you get back. always.”

***

turns out that always didn’t mean forever.

there’s a low static sound coming from the t.v, but matt pays it no mind. he’s been sat there for what feels like hours, staring into the distance. he has no idea where his brothers are, something about a friends house or something.

it’s been a couple months since the two split. since matt’s entire world shifted off its axis. he hasn’t seen you since you came to drop off the box of stuff that was filling your apartment. still hurts like the first day though.

matt fights with the same urge he gets every night at about this time. during the day is easier. he’s either asleep or so busy with work that he doesn’t really think about the you-shaped hole in his life. doesn’t really think about the absence of your toothbrush in his bathroom, or the lack of your perfume on his sheets. yeah, the day is infinitely easier.

it’s at night, when he cracks. when he turns in bed and there’s no one there. when he can’t hear the sink running because you’re doing your ridiculous sixteen-step skincare routine. when he walks to his bed just fine because there’s no ill placed bag in the middle of the floor to trip over. it feels like walking into a room and immediately forgetting what you were meant to be doing. he knows something is missing, but he doesn’t know how to get it back.

he wants to call you. wants to talk. to sort through all the communication that wasn’t handled well. it wasn’t a messy breakup, or even a hostile one. and somehow, matt thinks that’s worse. he’d prefer yelling and arguing and just knowing you weren’t right for each other anymore.

but it wasn’t that. instead it was distance and tears and feeling like right now there just wasn’t enough space in each others lives for one another.

he didn’t want this. at all. he wondered if you felt the same. he’d stared at the phone countless night willing himself to dial the number. to draft a text. he’d spent just as many willing you to do the same. it never came though.

matt knows tonight is different. the hum of the ac is lulling the anxious feelings in his stomach. he knows by the way his shaky hands grab his phone that this time is going to be the one.

he doesn’t know what to say, nor how to get it out. he wants to pour his heart out, but he also can’t do that without looking at you. without seeing you and feeling the rush of unwavering love he always got whenever his eyes met yours. it wouldn’t be fair.

so he starts off light and hopes for the best. you always did used to say that he had a way of knowing you better than anyone else.

he hopes to god that’s still true.

a/n: i’m tewwwwww good to y’all fr. jus sumn lite bc i love that damn song soooo bad and it came on this morning and a giant ass cartoon lightbulb went off in my head. anyway number neighbor part five & six later today cause ik that’s what u guys really want 😭 i hope u guys like this okie bye i love you all sooooo bad!!!

TAGLIST:

@sturnioloco @peachmels @sugrhigh @tastesousweet @rootbeerworshiper @hollandsangel @sturnolio-luvs @mattsobvimyfav @misscocodiorsblog @ilovechrisssturniolo @pepsiboyy @braindead4l @mxqdii @fawnchives @hearts4chriss @certifiednatelover @nmegamett20 @imaslut4kehlani @dominicfikue @wovenribbons @streamermattsgf @pr1ncessmatt @pinksturniolo @yourfavoritefangirl @nickmillersn1gf @freshxsturniolo @sturniolobltch @mattspolitank @lookingformyromeo @alorsxsturn @imwetforyourmom @kiarastromboli @sleepysturnss @mattscoquette @sturncakez @inkyray @simply-a-simper @lanas-doll @wh0resstuff @giannasturn @iluvmattsbeard @mattsmad @bambi-slxt

(also if i add tags based on requests and on comments so if u ever want to be taken off let me know!!!! jus send me an ask or a message and it’s no problem <3333)

[chatsukimi]

ᴅɪʀᴛʏ ᴛʀɪᴄᴋꜱ

featuring: touchstarved!gojo, slight enemies to lovers. synopsis: gojo satoru can't understand why he keeps wanting to spar with you... until one time, you two get a little too close. masterlist

sparring with satoru is a pain above all else. yaga has been assigning you to hand to hand combat with satoru for weeks now- a suspiciously long amount of time without switching partners.

you kick, dodge a punch, and stare up at his shameless smile. each time you come close to landing a hit, he turns on infinity, then poof! your opportunity rushes out the window.

"no techniques allowed." you grit your teeth.

"oops." he holds his hands up in a faux surrender. "sorry, forgot."

he certainly did not forget.

this time, he charges at your torso, his annoyingly long arm closing distance on your shoulder at breakneck speed. you feel the limb dislocate. you wince. using his upper hand, gojo grabs your arms and pins you to the gymnasium floor. the air is knocked out of your lungs.

he's panting, his blue eyes clambering over you, under him. like always, he's too close to you- so close you see your own figure in the reflection of his watery irises. you could lift your hand up an inch to brush the sweat from his forehead. always. way too close.

his fingers trail across your elbow up towards your collarbone- whoosh.

infinity on again. he lets out a long exhale, scrunching his eyes shut as though pained.

that's when gojo thinks he's safe.

only, he's not really.

instead of giving up, you close your hand around the infinity and pull the whole thing, gojo and his infinity, towards you. your legs drag around his hips.

his eyes widen.

your hand pushes his chest then in the brisk manoeuvre, you're on top of him.

you think you see his soul poke its head out his mouth, tipped ajar in shock.

you don't know why you do what you do next. in some depraved performance, your fingers close in on his windpipe. you don't squeeze; the imagery is enough to satisfy. snowy white eyelashes fluttering to meet your gaze, the groan echoing out from his throat, the tight strain in his chest as he breathes shallowly, letting you way too close.

"they're watching," he murmurs.

shoko and geto. fear washes over you, and you're about to let go-

his own hand closes around your wrist.

he's staring at you darkly, goading you to move.

"they're watching," he says again, his hands suddenly at your waist pulling you closer. his tongue flicks over his bottom lip.

you're almost laying on his chest, face to face with your own deadly consumption.

"how long have you been beating me up just to get this close?" you tease.

"huh?"

truly innocently desperately confused, satoru has the gall to tighten his grip, hoisting himself up until he's sitting to lean over you again- if only slightly.

"we're just sparring, aren't we?" and he's telling himself this as his nose bumps against yours. and he's lying to himself that the way he's exploring your body is an act of aggression, not an act of compulsion. "you've been playing dirty tricks on me, but i can do it better."

dirty tricks? you think you see the thought passing through his concentrated face.

unfair, unfair, unfair-

how dare you provoke him let down his infinity? who do you think you are? how could you break him down through just one touch, leave him barrelling towards you for more?

unfair, unfair, unfair-

his hand rests by your jaw, stroking up your cheek, taking his precious time.

because sparring with you is the only time satoru gets to touch you.

he forces all his common sense out of his brain as he whispers, frustration coursing through his tone, "you're weak. your form is full of openings." and he's almost kissing you-

"time out, time out." shoko's voice cuts through the haze.

you feel you two being dragged apart by shoko and geto. the latter frowns at the white haired menace who's temporarily lost his obnoxious pride, silent.

the moment is awkward for everyone except for him.

gojo cocks his head to the side, looking at geto. "we were just fighting?"

geto sighs. just fighting?

you shiver as gojo's expressionless stare sticks onto you. curious.

the fight is over already...

but then why does he want to kiss you still?

[fuckmyskywalker]

𝐇𝐢𝐭𝐦𝐚𝐧!𝐀𝐧𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 - 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐈: 𝐌𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐤𝐬.

Summary: A week of chaos. From the end to the very beginning. You find yourself in the darkness, remembering how the light touched your skin first. When you fly too close to the sun...

CW: 18+. dead dove do not eat, non-con, gun play, knife play, knife riding, death threats, dirty talk, dark content. | word count: 3.3k

a/n: Hope you enjoy it! DNI if you don't like the topics listed and DNI if you are a minor. Happy riding!

Hitman!Anakin series.

"𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦 𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘮𝘦 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘢 𝘴𝘮𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘱𝘪𝘦𝘤𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘭𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘦𝘳𝘤𝘺."

Sunday. 16th.

Comically, he could argue with any soul that crossed the empty streets that life doesn’t have a price. He could laugh at the soft-spoken, naive answer of self-value, laced with the dumb kindness of human nature. Humans are kind by nature, or that’s what idealists say; what— a sane person, he thinks— would say is that humans are selfish by nature, the realistic approach.

Since the start of times, the number two has been sacred. There are two worlds to join in the afterlife: Heaven and hell. Two deities to recognize: God and the Devil. Two spectrums: Good and bad. Two cycles: Day and night… and two options: To kill, or get killed. 

It could also be described as a constant phrase he learned while growing up: “The strong one will eat the weak one”, eight words haunting him like the plague, following him and patting his shoulder at every failure, and congratulating him at every success. Strength equals power, money equals power, intelligence equals power… but can a man have it all without losing his mind? Or perhaps he is just getting philosophical when he shouldn’t. Unlocking the windows with ease as his mind races with the never-ending turmoil of an unfair life, edging him to do unfair jobs, and win dirty money. 

Although Anakin Skywalker has learned that some hot dish soap helps clean the blood stains over dollar signs.

Twisting the knife— an anxious habit— Anakin stands beside your bed, watching your immobile boy. There’s a soft smile plastered on your face, you must be having a nice dream… too bad it won’t last long. Leaning down, the tip of the knife dances over your neck, careful— careful. Not yet. Those aren’t his instructions. Although his boss never specified the in-betweens. 

His lips ghost over the shell of your ear, raising goosebumps in your slumber. Your skin is aware of the intruder, the instincts kicking in. “Hey,” His voice is barely audible, but his warm breath sends a jolt of adrenaline like a lethal injection directly into your veins. “Wake up.”

Your eyes shoot open, body jolting forward only to be pushed back by the knife against your throat and his gloved hand over your face. There’s no need to use brutal force, it’s easy to fuel your fear; blue eyes staring into yours through the holes of the black ski mask. He can tell you are shaking— in fact, he can see it. 

“Don’t move, don’t try to scream. If you do, I’ll slice your throat from ear to ear. Smiley face, that’s why I like to call that,” He chuckles when he sees you shivering. Oh, to be the strong one grants him with a power that makes him feel alive. Who cares about repercussions when simple acts and sighs like your tears make him feel immortal? “Do I make myself clear?”

You nod weakly. Every fiber of your being is yelling at you to run, to push him and throw him everything within your reach but you can’t move. Your body is paralyzed and for the first time in your privileged life, you realize something frightening. When he pulls back and lets go of you, the loud exhale that escapes your lungs pleasures him even further. Good. Everything is going according to plan.

It doesn’t matter how much money you have. You can die just like anyone else. 

“See, I can imagine you already know why I am here,” Anakin continues, chuckling when you shake your head. “No? Uh, I thought you’d be smarter. Well, I guess money can’t buy intelligence.”

Your eyes flicker to his wrist, watching him twist the knife. At least he isn’t all over you. How can a human be so calm while toying with another’s future? As if it wasn’t a delicate situation, as if money was everything in the world— pathetic. 

Stuttering, you run toward the only option your brain knows. “I’ll d–double the price. I’ll triple it,” Your legs move, hanging them on the edge of your tall bed. Anakin arches an eyebrow, he could’ve killed you for moving. Yet, he is somewhat interested in your offer. “I can pay much more than whoever hired you.”

“Oh, really?” Anakin laughs. It’s a cold, bitter laugh. There is no humor in it. Only cruelty. “And what makes you think money was the only thing I got paid with?”

“Who hired you?”

He laughs again. It has been seconds since you heard him laugh for the first time and you loathe the sound already. “That’s for me to know and for you to find out, darling. Or maybe I’m lying. Maybe it’s just like the movies and I get a mystery envelope with money and your name. Would that make you feel better?”

He is definitely mocking you, which normally would raise your anger and bring out the worst in you— right now it seems like a bad choice. Anakin can’t blame you for questioning, every victim does, sometimes he grants them their wish— when they aren’t that important— sometimes he just does the job, hoping they die with their doubts as their last thought. Your life's on the line, it must be the first time someone has pierced your little bubble… so yeah, he can’t blame you. 

“Please don’t kill me, I’ll… I’ll do anything.”

There it is. Classic. His favorite words. Anything means anything. Everything is fair in love and war— everything is fair at gunpoint. “Anything?’ He repeats. “It’s not like I haven’t heard that one before.” His sarcastic tone flies over your head. You cannot pay attention to anything else besides the ringing in your eardrums and the palpitations of your heart. 

Anakin finds great joy in fueling the terror in your soul. It is something he wasn’t exactly born with— or at least, during his loneliest nights, buried in alcohol and money, surrounded by his guns and his ghosts. He isn’t afraid of them, they can’t hurt him. 

“Anything,” You confirm, lip wobbling and tears streaming down your cheeks. His task was awfully simple, yet, there is something he must do first now that he sees you more clearly. Anakin doesn't have the pleasure to witness such a pretty downfall often.

In a swift move, Anakin lifts the knife over his head, smirking wider when you raise your hands in a pitiful attempt at self-defense. Expectant, you sob one last time before the pain comes, before the burning sensation of piercing skin and crimson blood. 

Which never arrives. 

The sharp blade pierces through the sheets and the mattress. Ripping the stitches and creating the most awful sound you have ever heard in your life. That could’ve been your face. Did he miss his shot? Is his aim that bad? Your vision is blurry due to the thick coat of tears, crystal clear and salty that trickle down like tiny diamonds. 

“Money is not enough this time, sweetheart,” He coos at you, cupping your cheek and brushing your tears in a fake act of kindness. His pursed lips make your stomach twist. You never thought there’d be fates worse than death… but here you are. “I won’t kill you—” His words make your shoulder fall for a second as a smile dances on your chapped lips like the weak swing of a butterfly’s wings. “Yet.”

“What do you want from me?” You sob, placing your hands on your lap, not sure what to do with them. You are in no position to fight. You are under the mercy of a clear psychopath. Someone without morals, without ethics and values— under the claws of a monster. 

The worst part? You don’t even know who is pulling the strings tied over the monster’s claws. 

“Don’t be sad, sweetheart. I’m sure you will find it amusing— and if you don’t I don’t care,” If you weren’t begging for your life, his voice could’ve been attractive. Even his eyes. His fucking eyes that seem to pierce your soul. “You see that handle?” He points at the knife with his chin. “I want you to lift your cute nightgown and ride it. You can close your eyes and imagine a cock, I’m sure you’ve done it before from what I’ve heard about you. If I like the show, I’ll let you ride my cock— and if I don’t like it. I’ll kill you.”

“You cannot possibly ask me to—”

A small squeal escapes your lips when the muzzle of a gun comes in contact with your temple. The steel is frigid against your burning skin. There are no words left in your throat, if you weren’t terrified you would’ve thrown up. 

“You don’t like to think, you don’t like to listen— I’m starting to believe you are actually stupid, princess. You either fuck that knife or die.” Your whimper. Irritating. Infuriating. Fucking lovely. 

Lifting your hips from the bed, you kneel with the little strength you have left. Anakin never removes the gun from your temple, in reality, he presses it further, watching your skin dent slightly. Lifting your sheer nightgown, you clumsily hook your finger at the waistband of your panties, tugging them down with embarrassment.

“Please don’t make me do this,” You beg, losing balance momentarily as your panties hang from your ankle. 

There is a storm echoing in his laugh. Like pouring rain falling over your heart before it even reaches your ears. “If you don’t do it, I’ll force you. I will enjoy it more… and then you’ll die.”

The flat tip of the blade handle feels like steel against your folds. The touch is feathery light, perhaps unintentionally gentle. You are glad there is a thick leather wrapped around it— otherwise, it might hurt even more. 

Rocking your hips slowly, you close your eyes focusing on anything else. You will not enjoy this. You refuse to give him pleasure. If this is the way you die— at least you want to imagine you put up some kind of fight. Despite your constant thoughts— foolishly thinking your mind is stronger than your body— when the handle comes in contact with your clit, your body instinctively jolts. You stop. You don’t talk. 

You don’t want to die. You don’t want to die, and you don’t want to enjoy it.

“Spread your legs wider and don’t stop moving. Don’t make me go there and open them myself,” His voice is low. “Show me how much you don’t want this.” His voice mixed with the adrenaline brings you to a borderline dizzy state. 

Resuming your movements, you bite the inner part of your cheek, flinching when his free hand cups your breast. “See? Is not that difficult to obey. I know you are so used to getting your way, little princess. But not this time. Not with me.”

His thumb traces your nipple poking through the silk. You hate yourself for this— even more when you find a steady rhythm. Your clit grinds against the flat top and throbs, quickly begging for more. Hooking the barrel underneath the thin straps of your nightgown, Anakin lets them fall, exposing your chest. 

“Don’t come. If you do, your tiny brains will make a bloody mess over your lovely canopy and walls. Now fucking ride it.”

The leather glistens with your arousal. It’s pathetic, humiliating, miserable. When you position yourself above it, when you flex your knees to fit it— that’s when everything you are— breaks. 

The handle stretches your walls in a way that couldn’t be more uncomfortable. Your arousal helps but only much. Unhurriedly, you begin to ride it just like he commanded you to, just like you have to. Your pussy clenches around it, you can’t even fool yourself and think it is a dick. Nothing could help you now. No one can save you now.

“Seems to be you can listen sometimes…” Anakin observes, removing the gun from your skull to press it against the valley of your breasts. “Don’t think I can’t see how wet you are. Are you that deranged you are enjoying this?”

Are you?

Is he?

You just have to do this. Right?

Too many questions, no answers. 

“Faster.”

Increasing your pace, the tears make themselves known again. You are enjoying it. Your walls are dripping, your pussy is begging for more. The slick sticks to the leather like a second layer of shine, the sounds your body is making are against your will— but you can’t stop moving. Anakin breathes loudly, his own excitement evident. You cannot see the outline of his erection underneath his black cargo pants but he feels it, throbbing, leaking, eager to bury itself in you. Hear you sob and feel you clench after every cry.

“So fucking wet,” He mumbles, pressing his lips against your sweaty neck. The soft cotton of his ski mask brushes over your skin, bringing you a nasty comfort. “Remember, if you come… you die.”

The muzzle now dances over your nipple, distracting you from the burn in your lower stomach for a second— when his hand finds your clit. Circling it quickly, roughly, Anakin exhales again right in your ear. 

“I can’t wait to fuck you. I hope you are ready to die while I bury my cock inside you.”

A loud moan, mixed with a throat-ripping wail falls down your lips, body writhing and hips trashing. The handle is as deep as it can go, and before your vision goes white you feel the gun poking underneath your chin. Your hands curl around the hem of the nightgown you are still lifting, almost piercing the expensive and delicate fabric. Your orgasm is strong, it clouds your senses and for a moment the euphoria makes you forget how you just marked your destiny. The handle is sticky just like your thighs. The world is spinning.

Your life is ruined.

Just as your vision goes white, it goes black.

Monday. 10th.

Politics are known to be comparable to walking on thin ice. One false step and you sink— all the way to the cold and lonely bottom. Made only for the ones who can twist and turn others under their will and for those who aren’t scared of the nerve-wracking possibility of being a hero or a villain. 

When your father offers you the vacancy for Campaign Manager you don’t hesitate to take the opportunity. Daddy dearest always serves opportunities such as these on a silver platter. Why would you refuse? Sure, a week before the presidential elections might be signing a death sentence, but why would you care? Even if you fall, your safety net is insured, secured and endorsed. 

“Are you sure you can do this alone?” Natasha Andrews, your father’s assistant lowers her clipboard, focusing her dirty blue eyes on you from beneath her thin-gramme glasses. “We have a week before the election, these last days are crucial.”

“I’ll be fine!” You answer confidently. To have such confidence and naivety that being young gives you. You just feel invincible. “I read some of John’s final projects. A few venues and bookings won’t scare me.”

“I don’t think you are seeing the big picture here,” Natasha calls your name patiently. Removing her glasses, folding them and placing them next to her clipboard, you can already imagine a boring lecture about responsibility. You’ll be fine! “Your father has an image to maintain, a reputation to hold and the statistics are growing in his favor. This last week is to secure the win. Your father chose you for a reason.” Another way to say ‘There are high expectations. You better fulfill them.’

Huffing, you take her words as a weak attempt at an insult. You understand the big picture. You’ve been surrounded by the big picture since you can remember. “Why are you looking at me like that?” 

Natasha runs a hand through her ginger locks, taking a deep breath. She’s too old to deal with all this. “Look. I know you are young and I’m sure you have wonderful ideas for the campaign, but our time is limited. We can only continue with the schedule and hope for the best. If your ideas can be incorporated into the events then you are more than welcome.”

Always used to getting your way, you find baffling how someone who doesn’t know can defy you— or in your eyes, Natasha is doubting your capacities. Standing up, you point at her. Your manicured nail, painted a crimson red holds an almost accusatory tone. You don’t have to prove anything to anyone— not even your father. There is no chance of failure, because when you are young… you are on top of the world.

“No, you look. I know you are worried but I can do this,” You reply, not bothering to hide the patronizing tone in your voice. “My father knows I’m more than capable. You may not know me but you will. If I want to change the date of a venue, or if I want to make a goddamned pool party we will. I know what’s best, I know what will work.”

Natasha raises an eyebrow at your words, her expression hardening slightly. “I never doubted your… abilities, Miss. We have a schedule we must follow. Nothing personal. It is your first day in your position. Can you even name three key supporters of Jonathan's campaign? Have you planned a meeting with potential donors for when your father wins the elections?”

The assistant has a point, but you won’t give up. You will never lose a fight. 

“Easy, everything you say is too easy,” You narrow your eyes, placing both palms on the desk to hide how they shake from frustration. “If I say the word, my father will fire you. It doesn’t matter how long you have been working with him. I’m his daughter.”

That’s your wild card.

And as usual, it works. 

Sighing through gritted teeth, Natasha rubs her temple. How can an educated girl like yourself be such a despicable person? “Go on.” 

The smile that brightens your face beams like flames. Threatening to consume everything on its way. Everything is easy when you have the influence. You were born with it, what’s wrong with using it? “Alright… key supporters….”

The redhead scribbles down as you talk, from all you know she is playing hangman with your face on the stick figure, not that you care, of course. Your mood heightens as she just listens and comments on trivial things such as locations and schemes. You knew it would be easy. You just need people that follow you. 

“We can do the last meet-and-greet at Cafe Serenity. My father invested in the project and the owner owes him that. I’m sure if we present the petition he will accept,” You talk, tangling the wires inside your head. “I can schedule an interview with Channel 7, Global News Network, and Insider Globe, they do most of the coverage during the elections and my father knows the actionist in GNN…”

“The meet-and-greet sounds good. It’s the perfect strategy to calculate the supporters Jonathan has. Plus the media coverage will be wonderful,” Her jaw clenches as she talks, but you are too busy staring at your nails to see the daggers coming from her eyes. “You’ve got a good grasp on this.”

“I know,” You smile, ignoring the fake smile. 

Suddenly, your phone rings. It’s an unknown number. A frown etches on your face as you pick it up. Excusing yourself from the table, Natasha nods, her blue orbs gluing to your back; if looks could kill…

Closing the door of the meeting room behind you, you bring the phone closer to your ear. “Hello? Who is this?” 

Silence.

“Hello?”

A feminine voice breaks the silence. The unknown woman calls your name and your heart stops momentarily. It sounds vaguely familiar, and it carries a heavy accent that you can’t pinpoint from where. 

“Lisseth? Is that you?” Your chirp echoes through the empty hallway. “I can’t believe you are back!”

Thank you for reading! ✩

[dalliancekay]

We've been talking for millions of years

Aziraphale was clearly taken by Angel!Crowley from the moment he met him. I think the 6000 years could be read as when the whole human breeding thing starts. Even God says there's been many nice days in the Garden. How many? The count didn't start until the day they left Eden I think. When we meet Aziraphale and Angel!Crowley in Before the Beginning, Earth was still an idea in the works. And the War didn't happen. Or Crowley surely would have been more cautious. So I hope they have met and talked and Crowley grumbled about how unfair it all was.

And Aziraphale tried to placate him that it will all work out somehow, there’s a Plan. And they kept meeting, Crowley showing Aziraphale the prettiest corners of the universe, Aziraphale telling Crowley exciting developments re: Earth.

I wouldn’t try to guess at how far their relationship has gone… maybe relationships of the kind we know now weren’t invented yet and still, these two loved each other without knowing anything about it. After all, no other angels seem to have ANY relationships of any kind. Apart from higher or lower levels of condescension towards each other.

Then the Great War came and tore them apart. After knowing each other for millions of years and their close more-than-friendship, their world falls apart. After all, Crowley tried to do the right thing. And Aziraphale did too but it wasn’t to be. Yet. But. Their story wasn’t finished yet.

Aziraphale is relieved when he’s sent down to Earth to guard the brand new humans from the demons he has heard that the damned angels have been turned into. He’s a bit fearful about the whole thing but glad to be away and keen, if a bit anxious to see the project he’s discussed/worked on for so long.

Crowley hates Hell. He hates it cos it’s not what he wanted or what he thought he was joining. He has been lied to. He’s not regretting his decision to turn his back on Heaven, no. He still thinks they’ve made too many crappy decisions. But he despises what the Rebellion became.

When Beelzebub asks for a volunteer to go up to the new planet and tempt the fresh innocent human couple into joining them, he volunteers, even if only to escape the claustrophobic walls and the mess nobody ever clears up.

Tempting comes easy to him. He imagines talking to his lost friend. ‘But why wouldn’t you try fruit from this one tree. What’s the problem with knowing things anyway? Wouldn’t you want to decide by yourself Eve? And Eve does make a decision.

Crowley’s worried now. Not for himself. He’s without hope but did he hurt humans by doing this. He didn’t mean to. He doesn’t really want them to go to Hell. Or Heaven for that matter. He only thinks they should be free to make their own choices. If only he had someone to talk to.

He spotted a distant angel earlier. Reminded him of, of… the light hair...anyway. They held a flaming sword but surely he can dodge that if needs be. He could just try for a simple chat. He has no idea how demons are talked about in Heaven. But he guesses the angel might just try to smite him. Worth the risk. Everything feels so raw and strange here. Maybe stealing a bit of familiarity will help him settle his nerves.

He decides to slither over and ask how the angel feels about what’s been done. Will they be furious. Hurt? Guilty? Oh. It’s him. It’s too late now. Always too late. It’s him. Aziraphale. Aziraphale. It is HIS angel. What is he going to do. FUCK! Well. No better way to find out. He could just tease him like the old times. What's the worst that can happen.

Shitfuck but he smells good. These new senses will take a while to get used to: “Well that went down like a lead balloon.” A lead balloon? Whatthefuck even is that. Oh for Someone's sake.

Aziraphale’s standing on top of the Garden wall, squeezing his fingers with worry - what exactly has happened. What has possessed him to give away his sword. Did he disappoint God? Heaven? It doesn’t FEEL wrong to help them. If only he had someone to talk to.

Another angel? What. A snake? Oh. Oh. They are changing. Could it be? His heart will surely explode into million pieces…!!!! A lead balloon?!? “Sorry what was that?” Does he remember me? I think he does. I think he does. He’s here. As lovely as always.

I’ll keep him safe. Safe. I will keep him safe this time.

[thefirst3chapters]

Unpopular opinion (maybe): Luke's ultimatum at the end of Season 3 inadvertently reinforced Jess's choices that stopped him from finishing high school in the first place.

Disclaimer: The intent here isn't to attack Luke for how he handled things. The overall effect of Luke's presence in Jess's life is undoubtedly positive and instrumental to where Jess ended up. Luke was put in an unfair position that he wasn't prepared for, he genuinely cared and tried his best with the knowledge he had, and it would have been well within his rights to say no to Liz to begin with or to Jess when he came back after the car accident.

From what Jess tells Rory in "Teach Me Tonight," it sounds like he never had much academic support from adults, which is of course why Rory's belief in him will end up meaning so much. Details about Jess's childhood that are revealed once Liz is around suggest that Jess didn't have trustworthy adults in his life and had to learn how to be self-sufficient early. Even though we as the audience can see that Luke is responsible and trustworthy through his own actions and his relationships with people who have known him for many years, Jess doesn't have the same history with him, and it can take a long, long time to unlearn those survival instincts. Additionally, Jess's Walmart manager, as gregarious and pro-corporate as he seems to be, doesn't appear to engage in the practice of pressuring introverts to socialize (which happened to Rory at Chilton) and allows Jess to do something constructive and work toward a tangible reward. Some people get these benefits from going to school, but Jess didn't. Then there's a layer of youthful hubris here because Jess really did seem to think that he could manage all of this and go to school just enough to graduate based on what he tells Rory in S3 E17, Luke in S3 E18, and the principal in S3 E19. With of all this information in mind, it's really not surprising that Jess would prioritize work above school. His logic is self-destructive but understandable, and his fatal flaw ends up being that he committed to more responsibilities than a person could reasonably handle. This isn't the standard media portrayal of ditching school.

Luke's approach to being Jess's guardian is fairly hands-off. After Luke's "laying down the law" talk in the first episode Jess is in, the only requirement we see enforced is that Jess has to work at the diner, which Jess complies with. Luke didn't know Jess was working at Walmart at all until Jess bought his car, he didn't know Jess was eventually working more than full-time hours, and he didn't know Jess was missing as much school as he was. (This last one suggests a significant oversight at the school, which is another story.) When the extent of Jess's work hours is brought to his attention and Lorelai speculates about what is going on, he tells Lorelai that there is no way Jess would skip school and doesn't investigate further. When he realizes Jess is working some days instead of going to school, he offers to pay Jess more at the diner (and later steals his car) to prevent him from working at Walmart (the place he worked before he had a car to earn the money to buy it???) but doesn't press him about what is really going on.

So after all of that, it turns out Jess didn't go to school enough to graduate. Luke does give Jess the option to stay in Stars Hollow and keep going to school, but I could never blame someone for not being able to have a rational conversation immediately after a stranger randomly shows up, claims paternity, and runs out. The emotional damage of that incident really can't be divorced from what happens here. Luke is of course also in crisis mode. Jess didn't graduate because he worked too much, so now he's in a position where his consequence is to keep doing what got him into trouble, only this time he doesn't have anyone looking after him. This isn't what Luke is intending, but his ultimatum basically reinforces Jess's mindset of prioritizing work (i.e. short-term financial security) above school and his reluctance to trust other people, and it reinforces Jess's family history (ironically not including Luke) of abandoning difficult situations (in this case, the aftermath of the fight with Dean) and relationships (in this case, Rory) instead of facing them. Jess ends up on his own with the money he had from work that he was saving for a different car, so he probably thinks it's a good thing he worked as much as he did, and he ends up without adult guidance or restrictions to help him sort all this out and repair the harm he caused. This could have turned out much more darkly than it did, and it's really a miracle that Jess got to where he was by the time he was 21.

When Jess is with Jimmy in California, he acknowledges that he's failed and doesn't know where to go from there. It probably isn't outlandish to think that Jess was earning more as a full-time forklift driver than what he is earning during Season 4. Factoring in the lower cost of living in Stars Hollow or somewhere nearby compared to New York, he probably could have been able earn a decent living if he stayed at Walmart (even if he wouldn't have been better off in the long run). That's probably why Luke's "I'm sorry I didn't think driving a forklift for the rest of your life was good enough for you" stung. It was likely a much better situation than whatever Jess is in mid-Season 4.

In late Season 4, Jess seems resigned to where he is. He doesn't complain or blame anyone else for his circumstances, even when Luke repeatedly mocks him in New York. (Even mid-Season 4, Jess doesn't express anger toward Luke about anything other than Luke stealing his car until Luke provokes him multiple times.) Maybe Jess was already thinking about writing a book or studying for a GED during Season 4, but his posture and mannerisms seem to suggest defeat more than anything else. At this point, Jess might not be envisioning anything other than what he has. It is only after Luke accepts Jess for who he is, and stops seeing him as a failed project, ("You are who you are. I cannot change that, and I'm going to stop trying.") that Jess really starts to move forward. Although Luke isn't even very positive in how he says this, it's still the sort of affirmation Jess always needed and maybe never received from a family member before. Then, he's honest with Luke about his emotions, he's receptive to Luke's advice, he expresses appreciation for what Luke did for him, he offers Luke a way to stay in contact, and he makes a commitment to pay him back even though Luke says he doesn't have to do so. He tries (and fails, for the time being) to make amends with Rory, and after all of these things happen, he progresses into the version of himself that returns in Season 6. Jess pursues a path that Luke doesn't quite understand but has accepted and is proud of (it's also a path that Rory does understand and is proud of, and both forms of support are so important).

[jq37]

The Report Card – Fantasy High Junior Year Ep 16

Kipperlilly Copperkettle and the World's Smallest Violin

Welcome back to Fantasy High where everyone’s graduating with A pluses and we’re *finally* figuring out what the hell Kipperlilly’s deal is! 

But, before we get to that, we have some loose ends to tie up. You’ll remember that the Bad Kids just demolished the Last Stand Exam and dropped Gavin Pundle off at the Council of Chosen office in Bastion City. It’s the day before Spring Break so hypothetically they should be relaxing–they don’t have a Spring Break project like everyone else because of the Last Stand–but these are the Bad Kids. They don’t get breaks. 

First order of business when they get back to Elmville is to check the crystal they left recording at the crime scene. They see a massive figure--14 to 15 feet--wearing a hood approaching Buddy with their back to the camera. The stones behind Buddy glow with Ankarna-style light so they check to see if Bakur is escaping the gem he’s trapped in. He isn't but Riz using his spy tie can tell it's def something Ankarna related based on the magical mDNA he's clocking. Based on the footfalls, it seems like something big and humanoid (though not like a tabaxi or dragonborn with their digitigrade feet. Giant is def on the table though).

The figure moves closer to Buddy and Kristen thinks they’re about to slap the symbol on Buddy’s chest but Buddy’s body spasms and blood spatters as his organs seem to crush. He jolts awake with a pained roar and then says in his southern drawl, "Dang, y'all. I worship a nameless god of rage." The figure kneels over Buddy and they both vanish. 

So, yeah. Good call setting up some CCTV. 

Fig right away speculates that maybe all the Rat Grinders died and were brought back to life in that way. Maybe in the Mountains of Chaos, Fabian adds. Kristen points out that KP has been angry since Freshman Year and they all finally get around to digging into the file that Riz stole. Has she always been a follower of Ankarna or was she scouted at some point because of how insanely aggro she is?

Everyone piles on buffs to Riz’s already stupid Investigation score so he gets a 32. I’m going to bullets to organize all of this info:

Her Freshman and Sophomore Year accomplishments are pretty meh. She was doing quests but pretty low level, easy ones

We find out the reason KP hates Riz so much and it’s his tragic backstory. In a meeting at the top of Sophomore Year, they see KP complaining that it’s so unfair that Kalvaxus killed Riz’s dad. She’s too suburban and normal and she hasn’t been able to find any sordid secrets in her lineage that would make for good plot hooks essentially. Her parents went to *Mumple* for Cassandra’s sake! Over the course of Sophomore year she started having rage outbursts. and saying that kids with tragic backstories had an unfair advantage in adventuring and their grades should reflect that. 

She talks about how much she loves her party. The way she speaks, she's def the leader (which we kinda already assumed from the vibes). She seems especially fond of Lucy and says that she's the only one who sort of "gets it". Apparently, KP came up with the name "High 5 Heroes" and Lucy was supportive of that because it meant a lot to KP. Rat Grinders was a name that Ivy and Oisin came up with (they're the other pair of besties in the group which checks out because they were the ones hanging out and playing beer pong together). Ruben voted for the change to piss off KP and Mary Ann voted for it as well and refused to elaborate (on brand). 

In her Junior Year she gets even more unhinged. She talks about wanting to straight up murder Kristen. She thinks Kristen is going for President as a joke and won't even do the job when she's elected. And she he hates Fig for boxing her out from confronting Kristen.   

There's a note that, for Spring Break, they're going to the Mountains of Chaos for the second time. The last time they went was a week or two after Spring Break last year, right before Lucy died. They had a school chaperone because it was too high an adventure for their abilities in the school’s view and no prizes for guessing who that was: Jace Stardiamond. 

As we kind of already know, KP has been gathering Bad Kid info via Jawbone--specifically, stuff about the Prompocalypse/Kalvaxus fight and the Yes! Stuff. These questions are coming Sophomore Year, post the first Mountains of Chaos trip. 

With a dirty 20 Insight, Fig sees that, starting at the end of Soph Year, there's a change in KP's language where it goes from, "I don't think X is fair"/"I think they get special treatment" to just straight up, "I hate them."

The group wonders if Jace is the mastermind here and scoped out which of the students were susceptible to rage poisoning or if maybe he died during that mountain trip and got taken over just as much as everyone else. As far as they know, he was super chill prior to this. 

They take a brief detour to razz Fabian about The Incident in his dance class with some excellent puns and then another brief detour to IRL razz Murph because he makes the grave mistake of saying the phrase, “honor the cock.” And then, Kristen has a brain blast. She wonders if maybe the difference between someone who gets a crystal put in them and comes back as a rage person (eg: Buddy) vs someone who is left in limbo like Yolanda and Lucy is that you get a choice and you can either come back full of rage or refuse and stay dead with the mark on your chest. Brennan doesn't even make Ally roll for it, Kristen just gets it in one. And everyone realizes it makes sense. Yolanda was super principled and Lucy always stuck to her guns according to Ruben. [Note: This also offers a potential reason that Ivy wasn't shocked to see Lucky at the party–maybe she thought she finally took Ankarna’s deal.]

Another list of info just to keep things neat:

They check the tape from the Coliseum and see that there's a ten minute gap between the Bad Kids leaving and the figure coming to rez Buddy so that’s a bit of a timeline established (assuming no chronomancy BS I suppose). 

They also get the thing about digitigrade feet I mentioned earlier at this point but I just thought it fit better with the other tape stuff above. 

Ruben has deleted most of his social media presence from a little bit before last year but they can see from photos where he's tagged with his friends that the emo thing started after spring break of Sophomore Year, confirming what we assumed from his old Yearbook photo. Before that his vibe was more soft rock/folk pop (based on the musician they reffed who I've never heard of but just Googled--Jack Johnson). 

The Bad Kids think they might have to waste yet another Spring Break, this time chasing the Rat Grinders into the Mountains of Chaos, but before that, they have in-town business and downtime to attend to. 

Everyone's parents and guardians are so happy and proud of them for their Last Stand victory. 

Sklonda asks Riz if there's anything she can help with and he asks if she can look into Bobby Dawn. She says  Bobby used to go to Aguefort (info that has come up before according to Brennan though I don't remember it) and asks if Fig knows he's teaching there. It seems like a non sequitur until she reveals (via Emily figuring it out at the table with very impressive swiftness) that Bobby Dawn was at the center of Sandra Lynn's sordid past! For those of y’all who don’t remember, we learned in Sophomore Year that Sandra Lynn joined a party when she was young as a replacement member. There was a married couple in the group who were older and more powerful than her. She fell in love with one of them and when it all came out, she was kicked out and slandered (even though it takes two minimum to tango, as we all know). She was basically blacklisted from adventuring after that which is why she joined the rangers. Well, now we know who that couple was: Bobby and Pamela Dawn! 

Which, ugh what an upgrade Jawbone and honestly even Gilear are from Bobby Dawn.

(Also, as an aside, we learn Pamela is the chief paladin of the church of Sol which, como se dice, yikes. That whole pantheon needs better reps. Tracker is doing all the heavy lifting herself.)

Gavin checks in to say that the Council of Chosen is looking into things but the body is missing. The Bad Kids, who already knew this, share their footage because they have to do EVERYTHING around here. Gavin also lets them know that they’re completely free from academic requirements other than filling out a teacher eval and attending graduation (which is odd considering they aren’t graduating but Aguefort is a weird school and Brennan never went to trad high school so shrug–we’ll see if that’s just a weird Aguefort thing or a something suspicious).

Back to Riz and Sklonda, he asks his mom if she's ever heard of Eugenia Shadow and she tells him that she's a granddaughter of one of the founders of the Society of Shadows (which was named after their last name--it's literal AND a metaphor. She offers to drive him to the cemetery in Ashgrove which is about 90 minutes away. 

Wilma and Digby are exuberant as always about Gorgug's success. They’ve finally fixed up the Hangvan for him and give him the keys. He thanks them and then asks about why Frosty Fair picked their tree as the new event site. They think it's just because they're heavily in the Frosty Fair circuit and also someone (who we know is Ruben) vouched for them. But they mention that the FF reps had a lot of questions about their tree including whether the tree was a Root Warden. They don't have a Druid or Ranger who would know but Kristen gets a Nat 20 (and Cass is a sylvan goddess so it checks out that she would know some stuff about trees). 

A Root Warden is a tree that is so magical that it's a little more alive  than a normal tree (without fully being a treant) and has an Int of like 1 or 2 instead of zero. So it's basically the big, old tree that guards the other trees in the area and tells them when to have their guards up and protects them from general bad mojo. Brennan calls it a sentinel. The Thistlespring tree is the Root Warden for the trees in all of Elmville county.  Gorgug rolls too low to tell if the tree is corrupted but his parents do tell them that the people who came by to check on the tree dropped something into the roots with eye droppers that was absorbed. Everyone is worried about rage pollen, especially since it’s the middle of spring. And once he’s looped in, Riz can see on a map that Loam Farm is significantly outside the tree network that Thislespring tree is a part of. It seems clear that they were trying to make sure they were not only operating within the network but poisoning its very heart. 

Fabian gets a proud message from his dad now that they’re synced up with infernal/material plane communication. Gilear asks Fabian about baby clothes so, naturally, he burns them all. He also gets another 20k gold allowance because his life is full of intense highs and lows and that’s about it. 

Kristen’s parents text her to ask her to make sure Bucky is going to his classes. Suspicious! She agrees to check up on him. 

Aelwyn has accepted the job at Leviathan so she starts coming by the mansion again since there's a door/portal to the library which saves her the spell slot. Adaine tells her she can just come back home if she wants and Sandra Lynn agrees. Aelwyn asks if all her cats can come and everyone says yes, even if it means kicking out Kristen (which is a joke…mostly lol). So yay, Aelwyn is back in the bunk beds baybee! And during the month of my birth irl and in canon. Ty Brennan. Kristen tries to verbally spar with her because she knows Aelwyn is uncomfortable with people being too openly nice to her but Aelwyn accidentally claps back too hard and sends Kristen running back to her room near tears. Sorry, K! She’s working on her people skills! Fig of course has her President’s back and gives Aelwyn a wet willy which majorly grosses her out but she doesn’t sling any retaliatory spells. Progress! 

Gorthalax makes sure that Fig knows he’s always a resource for any help with anything infernal. Meanwhile, Adaine has a couple of spells she wants to cast. She makes a Simulacrum of Kristen, to make it confusing for anyone who wants to go after Kristen. It’s a clone of her with half her HP which is slightly British and slightly straight. She casts Legend Lore on Kipperlilly and gets no info which means she’s a basic ass bitch. (Riz, in comparison, does get a ping but it’s for being the 5th person to summon the Night Yorb so he is keen to do better than that). Finally, she casts Scry on Kipperlilly and doesn't get anything because she has Nondetection casted on her. She realizes that all of the Rat Grinders do at all times which is 18 third level spells a day which is crazy. Clearly, they’re scared. 

Graveyard time! On Saturday, they head to Ashgrove and find the grave of Eugenia Shadow who died at the age of 111. Adaine swaps to Ethereal Vision to try and find her but Riz (with his Blindsense) is the one who finds her (she’s carefully ducking behind Adaine to dodge her line of sight). Eugenia is annoyed to have two students find her in one year but very happy to drink, smoke, and do drugs with the Bad Kids(just go with it). 

Despite being dead, Eugenia knows a lot about stuff that's going on and congratulates them on passing their Last Stand. Riz asks her about what "the Rogue teacher found her" re: Kipperlilly means and Eugenia says that KP somehow found out that she was dead (despite the fact that as far as Shadow knows, the only records of her death exists in Aguefort’s office) and showed up at the grave with a rented backhoe, threatening to dig her up unless she showed basically. Which, yes, is grave desecration and messed up but is it any more messed up than the concept of a rogue in general? Like, I hate KP as much as the next person but this feels like normal rogue behavior. As Eugenia says in this very scene, rogues do crimes! Anyway, Eugenia reiterates something we already knew about Kipperlilly:  that she's obsessed with technicalities and loopholes. We learn for a fact that she's a Mastermind Rogue and Eugenia says that she's a lot like Riz but walking a darker path. 

As they're speculating how KP could have gotten into Aguefort's office (via Jace maybe?) Mazey comes up since she's acting principal and Eugenia reminds them that Aguefort is not a normal school with normal positions. Things are set up so that whoever is VP has to follow whatever the Principal says no matter what since Kalvaxus is supposed to be in that position as a prisoner. Equally importantly, Aguefort is more than a school. It's a hotbed of very important magical threads that Aguefort had going and they'll unravel without someone at the helm. That fact and the fact that killing her would mean chaos and not a simple transfer of power to another party is probably the only reason no one has tried to assassinate her yet. At his friends’ urging, Fabian texts Mazey to hang out, to help keep an eye on her. 

Eugenia tells them to keep their guards up and that she expects to see all of them in Rogue classes next year. She gives Riz an eval form and Fig asks about a Landscaping Company that KP contacted (which I think must be in cut footage because this is the first time it comes up in the ep. Eugenia says that the name of the company is Loam Landscaping which gives everyone pause for obvious reasons. 

Speaking of the Loams, they're on the same death clock as Lucy since it's been a while since they died and Adaine wonders if they can Plane Shift to where they are if they can figure out where that is. Brennan says that the vibe is that Yolanda and Lucy are probably with Cassandra, wherever Cass is. 

Downtime before Spring Break!

Fabian is up first. 

He rolls a 27 for Popularity. People are hoping he's gonna keep up lofi study nights over the summer and they're so psyched that his birthday is the same day as the election (the 31st). Adaine realizes that THIS must be the bday party/election victory she keeps having visions about and tells him he has to do it. For his second track, he asks Mazey out on an official date to Krom's Diner. She says yes and, on a 20, we get a very sweet scene where Fabian has a nice normal date with a genuinely nice, down to earth person.

Even though she's not supposed to play favorites, she tells him that Kristen's basically demolishing Kipperlilly in the election so far (which she is impressed by because she didn't think Kristen was going to take it seriously). She also lets them know that technically any place (including a big house party perhaps) can be a polling place as long as someone from the school admin is present (which could potentially be Mazey or Riz). 

Mazey gives him a goodnight kiss (getting his kisses in!) and we move on to his third roll which he uses to try and mend fences with Kristen for Gertie’s sake. He offers her any satisfaction she wants from an apology to combat and she chooses combat. With a 30 to her 16, he handily defeats her and she considers her honor satisfied. They'll chill now. And he even gives her some tips on flirting with Kristen. Trying to make sure his girl gets her kisses in too I see. 

Corsica and Terpsicore find him to give him eval forms. (Also, on a Nat 20, Fig steals RIz's eval and changes his one negative comment about her doing drugs with her students into a positive one because of course Fig loves her).  He just barely gets his Owlbears roll with a bardic and that's his last roll. 

Adaine is up next. She uses a portent to get a 29 on mystery to learn about the Astral Plane and figures out that when a god is dead in the Astral Plane there's still some level of intelligence, like how a mortal can die but then have Speak With Dead cast on them and answer questions. She also finds some weird linguistic trickery in a passage about how where gods die, where they go, and where they're borne--not born, borne as in carried. Imagine the laws of the universe hinging on a pun. Wild. They wonder if that's what Bakur was trying to do/if the proper location would have been the Mountains of Chaos.

Brennan also says she gets some interesting stuff about the Mountains of Chaos and its history and is left with the question of, "When Ankarna was said to have 'died' in the Red Waste, what does that mean?" Adaine decides to roll to learn some spells to help her party survive in the Astral Plane if they need to go and on a 29 spell she learns one new spell of each level. She also talks to her teacher (Tiberia Runsetaff) who, in addition to giving her an eval to do, says she's been talking to Aguefort (Chronomancy) and when she mentioned that she was having problem getting supplies for wizarding, Ayda left her a geocache. Runestaff gives Adaine the coordinates and she texts Fig so they can go together because she assumes Ayda left stuff for both of them.

Next, she wants to roll Relationships and throws an ice cream party for the whole manor which everyone really enjoys. She chats with Sandra Lynn who tells her that the Mountains of Chaos have been nuts lately and social animals like wolves have been killing members of their own packs as of the last few weeks. That sounds very rage-y to Adaine so she tells Sandra Lynn everything they know (except for the Bobby Dawn stuff so Fig can be the one to break the news). 

Adaine asks if Sandra Lynn will take them to the mountains since she knows the area so well from work and Sandra Lynn says they might have to sign some liability waivers but she's down as long as her bosses are down. They also have a very sweet conversation where Adaine says she’s very grateful to them for taking her in and she admits that she's not very good at being a kid. Sandra Lynn says that she's always available for any conversations that Adaine wanted to have with a mom and couldn't (on account of her mom being a raging bitch and also being chased by the Vands of course). Adaine thinks she's about to give her a talk on periods and dashes away, much to Sandra Lynn's bafflement. 

Fig does her evals for her teachers including Lucilla who is weeping over her not remembering her name and just calling her "Attractive bard teacher", Porter who is irked to be sharing a sheet with Zara, and Zara who wants to see Fig because she send her a flap of flayed skin with writing on it (the contract from Bill). Valid concern. 

Adaine wraps up her downtime by rolling to Scry on Jace and gives him a 1 to make sure he fails. She sees him sitting quietly working in his office where he's Fantasy Googling the Complicated Women podcast. Adaine doesn't see what else he's working on with a low Luck roll but on a 17 Perception, she sees that he's starting to sweat in his toasty office. He takes off his scarf and, as he does, she catches a glimpse of him in the mirror, revealing a deep ragged scar in his chest. He looks at the scar and, for a moment, his eyes flash red. 

Detention

Kipperlilly for All Of That

Girl are you KIDDING ME?

“Oh boo hoo. Riz is so lucky. School is so easy for him because he has a dead dad to avenge. Some people have all the luck.”

Man, kick rocks. And she was like that *before* she got involved with Ankarna. 

Also, sidenote, it’s not even like Riz ended up killing Kalvaxus because of his tragic backstory. He didn’t even know there was a connection going in. He just wanted to find his missing babysitter and the other missing girls! You’re a Mastermind Rogue. You want a plot hook? Nancy Drew it up, bitch!   

You want Kristen dead? You want her DEAD? You’re jealous of Riz who lives in a household where sometimes you have to eat your cereal with water because there’s not enough milk to go around? Truly, get a grip.

Honor Roll

Kristen for Making a Clutch Connection

This should really go to Ally but yeah. What a great leap figuring out that staying dead is an option and that’s most likely what happened to Yolanda and Lucy. 

This very likely explains a longstanding loose end from much earlier in the season. Ivy didn’t look shocked to see “Lucy” (Fig in disguise) at the party even though we know she was dead. With this new info, it seems likely that Ivy assumed that Lucy had finally given in and come back as a rage acolyte. 

Anyway, baller connection and she got there before I did. I love it when Brennan is so impressed he doesn't even ask for an Insight roll. 

Random Thoughts

Here is a super useful timeline of events Re: the Ratgrinders by @ratgrinders. 

I’ve seen a lot of people assume that the RG’s died in the Mountains of Chaos but I’m not convinced that happened. Because that was way before Lucy died and we know that once she died, she refused to come back as a rage person. And we know you can take a rage crystal without having to die first. That happened in the mall fight with the wizards. If they TPK’d there and Ankara offered to bring them back, then they would have come back without Lucy because she would have said no.

Here’s my current theory: They went to the mountains with Jace. They either stumbled into information about Ankarna or were led there by Jace if he’s proper evil and not just taken over. They were offered a deal and everyone went for it but Lucy. KP really wanted Lucy to join them–esp cause she considered Lucy her best friend. She tried to strong arm her into it (maybe even forging her god change form) and, when she stuck to her guns, she organized everyone to kill Lucy, forcing her into a position where she’d have to say yes to Ankarna in order to stay alive. In KP’s head, Lucy would do this and maybe be annoyed for a bit but in the end see it was for the best and forgive her–maybe even thank her. But she miscalculated the strength of Lucy’s conviction and voila. Dead Lucy. 

Edit: Wanted to come back and edit to note that it is of course possible that in the mountains everyone died except for Lucy and that's when they took the Ankarna deal, but even if that's the case, the rest of the theory would proceed as written. I was mainly thinking that while what we saw with Buddy is a strong possibility it's not the only possibility. If they died then they're a bit more sympathetic because self preservation is an understandable motivator and taking the deal doesn't make them craven--it just makes Lucy and Yolanda extremely principled. However if they just took the deal because it was offered to them then that's more eyebrow raising. Even though I'm skeptical, I'm kinda hoping their hands were forced because I think that's more interesting and we've had straight up petty power grabbing already from Penelope. But anyway, just being thorough.

"Flash of Stupidity” is so funny. 

It's not surprising that Ivy and Oisin are one of the pairs of besties in the RG's--they were introduced playing beer pong together--but I'm super curious about what their dynamic is. And ditto for Lucy and KP. Was it like a high strung one/chilled out one kind of thing? I really wish the Bad Kids had been a bit nosier about their whole deal.

Do we think KP maybe wanted to make sure the BK's died in the last stand alongside Buddy and Pundle so they'd all come back as rage people? Maybe that crossbow bolt was laced with some rage mojo?

KP being mad at Riz for trying to pickpocket Jawbone of her file when (1) she’s literally a rogue as well and (2) she pickpocketed Kristen and Buddy of their revivify diamonds is insane. 

I love Lou committing to the bit of being appalled at the thought of half-siblings via Gilear because I know he knows that every time he explodes it becomes even funnier which means it’s more likely to happen but he can’t stop because he’s Committed To The Bit. Classic Lou. 

Wizards casting Legend Lore on themselves as the in-universe equivalent of Googling yourself. 

I love the detail that Mazey’s family lives in a Labyrinth in the Red Wastes. 

Kinda bummed we didn’t get to do more with the Relationship track so the special ability never came up and Brennan had to just reveal it (it can reduce stress but also increase it). 

I am so stressed about the bylaws and also Bucky. They keep coming up and then falling off of everyones’ plates and we’re running out of runway here. 

Adaine really said, “You didn’t just kill your parents? Skill issue.” She really is Aelwyn’s sister. 

The VP has to do anything the Principal says, right? And Mazey is the Principal, right? There’s gotta be a way to exploit that, especially now that Fabian is in her good graces.

When did Aelwyn get FIVE MORE CATS?

Answered and Partially Answered Questions

Last week I made as thorough a list as I could about what info we were missing and I wanted to note the answers we got this week. 

1) Why the move to Loam Farm for Frosty Faire? (The Thistlespring tree is a Rootwarden) 

2) How is Jace involved? Why is he manipulating Ruben? (We know Jace went w/ them on the trip but that's not a full answer) 

3) What were the exact circumstances behind Lucy’s death? Who was able to put the rune on both of their bodies and what exactly was the goal there? (We know the mark is from getting a rage crystal but rejecting it but we don't officially know who did it or what the goal was though you know my guess.) 

4) How did KP find the rogue teacher? (Threatened to dig up her grave. Info that she was dead was only in Aguefort's office so maybe got that from Jace?) 

5) Also what’s her damage? Why is she obsessed with Riz? What are her anger issues about? (She's a petty basic bitch) 

6) Why wasn’t Ivy surprised to see Fig in disguise as Lucy who was at the time fully dead? (Most likely because she thought she finally chose rage zombie resurrection) 

7) What’s up with the party vision that Adaine has now had at least twice? (We know this is election night and Fabian's bday now) 

8) What made the Rat Grinders become the Rat Grinders when they started as the High Five Heroes? (We know it was a vote led by Ivy and Oisin and joined by Ruben and Mary Ann but not the why behind it) 

9) Where exactly is Cass right now? (We still don't know for sure but it seemed like a realm within Ankarna’s dead body which is prob in the Astral Plane. We do know Lucy and Yolanda are prob with her as of this ep.)

As an aside, we still don’t know how Oblivati Mori was broken to write Ankarna’s name before the Bad Kids found it but is it possible that the person who wrote it was Ankarna herself? Because Ankarna is still “dead” right now, right? Because she’s been active all the same. Oblivati Mori disallows others from speaking your name but does it disallow the god themselves from speaking or writing their name if mortals find them somehow? Kind of a stretch but I’m wondering if there’s enough wiggle room there to make something happen, especially since this episode Brennan said that gods retain some intelligence even when they’re dead on Adaine’s high roll. I dunno, just spitballing. 

(Also, I don’t remember where I saw this but remember how Aelwyn said KP is randomly loaded? The previous best guess on that was money from Oisin–the boy who was just gonna give Adaine diamonds–but is it possible that she’s spending the embezzled Frosty Fair money? We don’t know much much it was so hard to say if it was enough to be funding whatever this is. But wanted to throw that out there since we’re tying loose ends as much as we can.)

Anyway, can’t wait for next episode which I’ve been told will be more than THREE HOURS LONG and Brennan said in the AP that it’s gonna be a doozy. Excited, trepid, and preemptively bracing for another long haul review. See you then!

[fuckthisshitimin]

THAT DAMNED SPREADSHEET

DOES ANYONE TO HEAR ABOUT MY ADVENTURE IN THE SPREADSHEET?

Cause I'm pretty damned sure I know what getting "High" on Milgram means.

Talking about his being rejected by the Magnus Institute, Samama said:

[That definitely feels like when it all started. […] Well, after that it all just went downhill. Didn’t get into Oxford, so I went to Nottingham.]

And that does not sound like what one would say about something that happened when they were, like, eight. So I went to take another look at the spreadsheet. Of course I was wrong, because The Magnus Institute burned in 1999, so he couldn’t have been more than nine, but I found out other stuff.

A thing that bugs me in how I’ve read some discussing the spreadsheet is that Sam has the highest empathy score, and that it made him “too nice/good” for the Institute’s purposes (not necessarily this directly but it has been implied, including in the “recruiting future avatar theories, and… well, implying that low empathy makes you more likely to become a literal monster is quite disgusting, actually).

First, I think we got one thing wrong on the Kohlberg column. Since they are kids, it doesn’t seem shocking that they’d be around stages 1 to 3 of his “Six stages of moral development”; but it doesn’t say Stage 1, 2 or 3 it says Level 1, 2 or 3, and I don’t think it’s a mistake.

His six stages are divided into three levels: Pre-Conventional (1,2), Conventional (3,4) and Post-Conventional (5,6).

People in stages 1 and 2 (Level 1) have a sense of morality that is linked to the direct consequences of their actions on themself — stage 1 is “don’t hit the dog because you’ll be punished” and stage 2 “give her half your banana and you’ll get half her chocolate bar” (very simplified).

People on stages 3 and 4 (Level 2) have internalized their surrounding’s sense of morality and act accordingly — stage 3 being “I’ll get a good grade in being a person by following the rules” and stage 4 “the rules I learnt are true and real, failing to follow them is Wrong and upholding them is Right” (idem).

People on stages 5 and 6 (Level 3) have a personal sense of morality that is critical of societal norms — stage 5 being “there are rules, and those rules can and should be changed through compromise to be fair to the greatest number”, and stage 6 “unfair rules should not be followed, direct consequences like punishment are irrelevant when it comes to deciding to do what it right” (very, very, very simplified).

If I’m right, the spreadsheet is so much more understandable.

First thing I wanted to do was put numbers on how singular Sam’s results are:

He gets “High” on both Milgram and Asch when the overwhelming tendency is that the higher your other scores are, the more likely you are to get “Low”, and the numbers were, indeed, that among the 49 children who scored “High” on both, 33 were in Piaget’s stage 1, 15 were in stage 2 and only Sam was in stage 3.

The 33 kids who were in stage 1 are the opposite of Sam:

(Abbreviating so it’s easier to compare values but P=Piaget, K=Kohlberg, Ps=Prosocial, S-A=Sally-Anne, U=Ultimatum, EI=Empathy Index)

33K: (P) Stage 1 :: (K) Level 1 :: (Ps) Low :: (S-A) Fail :: (U) Unfair :: (EI) ≥62%

Sam: (P) Stage 3 :: (K) Level 3 :: (Ps) High :: (S-A) Pass :: (U) Fair :: (EI) 98%

So that’s weird. And when I went to filter by Kohlberg levels… absolutely no kid that was on “Level 2” scored High on Milgram and Asche.

In fact, among the 99 kids on Kohlberg Level 2, none got “Low” for prosocial, none got “High” on Milgram, only 2 got “High” on Asch.

And when we read “Level 2 (Conventional Morality) instead of “Stage 2 (Pre-Conventional Morality, what benefits me directly)” we can make sense of this: 

“To reason in a conventional way is to judge the morality of actions by comparing them to society's views and expectations. […] Conventional morality is characterized by an acceptance of society's conventions concerning right and wrong. At this level an individual obeys rules and follows society's norms even when there are no consequences for obedience or disobedience. Adherence to rules and conventions is somewhat rigid, however, and a rule's appropriateness or fairness is seldom questioned.” (by Kohlberg himself, from Wikipedia)

Adults can be Level 2, by the way. Adults can even be Level 1. Subjects of the Milgram experiment are displaying peak Level 2 behavior.

“High” on Milgram is “Did not electrocute/Disobeyed”

“High” on Asch is “Did not conform”

GOSH THAT IS SATISFYING

Bonus: the average empathy index is 79,1%, the median is 82% with 116 kids below 82%, 13 kids at 82% and 120 kids above. Of the 116 kids below the median, 11 got “Low” on Milgram. Of the 13 median kids, 3 got “Low” on Milgram. Of the 120 kids above, 91 got “Low”.

If we take the average instead, of the 163 kids more empathetic than the average, 100 got “Low” on Milgram, and 2 got “High”, of the 86 less empathetic than the average, 5 got “Low” and 59 for “High” on Milgram.

So actually here, low empathy is inversely correlated to willingness to hurt if ordered to.

And it makes sense. Low empathy is often associated with anti-social personality disorder, autism, depression — and you know what’s very associated with anti-social personality disorder? Disobedience.

Now I have to make another post about the weird kids in red's names.

[cirilla-fiona-riannon]

Translations may not always capture the exact nuances or tone of the original text. Expect grammatical errors and inaccuracies.

Case 1: How to Soothe Gilbert When He is Upset

Gilbert: "Is that all everyone wants to say?"

All the important officials in Obsidian were gathered in a large conference room.

At the gathering where military personnel of all ages and genders were present, Gilbert, seated in the upper section of the room, was clearly seething with anger.

(I'm not surprised.)

The reports and agendas they were discussing were all filled with an unbearable stench of corruption.

It wasn't because the officials were lazy or incompetent; it was because of the corrupt practices deeply embedded within Obsidian.

(Every time I see Gilbert fighting alone like this, it feels like my heart is being crushed.)

Gilbert: "I'm getting nothing but half-baked progress reports. What do you expect me to do with this?"

Gilbert: "Your job is to complete the tasks assigned to you. If you can't even do that, then you're neglecting your duties."

Male officer: "With all due respect, Prince Gilbert, the issues we're dealing with are一"

Gilbert: "If they don't change their attitude, then it's better to introduce a new system. You just need to create a draft proposal for that, yeah?"

Male officer: "You're right, sir."

Gilbert: "Why do you impose restrictions on yourselves, calling things impossible and reckless?"

Gilbert: "There is not just one way to achieve a goal."

Gilbert: "If I believe I can accomplish something, then I surely can. You people just lack the capacity."

Gilbert: "Those filthy trash are probably laughing while you all remain at a standstill like this." **

Gilbert: "You know what will happen the next time you give me a report like this, right?"

He got up from his seat with a smirk, and all the soldiers stood up in unison, saluting him.

The tension was so intimidating and overwhelming that I almost forgot to breathe.

Gilbert: "Well then, let's adjourn. Good work, everyone."

He swiftly walked away.

As one of the attendees, I bowed to the military officers and quickly followed after Gilbert.

Emma: "Gil."

Gilbert: "What is it?"

When I called him, he stopped and turned around to face me.

Despite the tense atmosphere, his smile, which contained all the pent-up tension and hostility, was as refreshing as ever.

(But he still seems tense.)

He probably wasn't aware of it, but his eyes weren't fully smiling.

(I think he's planning to inspect the military exercises next.)

(If he goes in this state, everyone will undoubtedly feel uncomfortable.)

(Now that this happens...)

Emma: "Watch this."

I took a coin from the pocket of the dress he had prepared for me.

Emma: "Right now, the coin is in my left hand."

Gilbert: "I can see that."

I tightly gripped my hand, hiding the coin.

Emma: "Which hand do you think the coin is in now?"

Gilbert: "You want me to say it's on your left, right? But unfortunately..."

He gently grasped my hand and rolled up my sleeve.

Emma: "Hey, that's unfair!"

Gilbert: "You're just inexperienced."

Despite discreetly hiding the coin in my sleeve, Gilbert saw through it instantly.

(Performing magic tricks is really difficult.)

(Or maybe it's because he's my opponent?)

He took the coin from me and flicked it into the air, catching it in his hand.

Gilbert: "Where do you think the coin is now?"

Emma: "I'm pretty sure it's neither in your right nor left hand."

Ignoring his clenched fist, I searched through his sleeves but found nothing.

I tapped various parts of his uniform that seemed like they could hide something, but there was nothing.

(Huh?)

Gilbert: "The answer is..."

He opened his hand, and I saw the coin sitting on his palms.

(I fell for it.)

Gilbert: "Haha, you're too easy."

Emma: "You usually do something crazy."

Gilbert: "Are you disappointed?"

Emma: "A little."

Gilbert: "You're so honest."

He clenched the coin in his hand once again.

Then, when he opened it, there was nothing there.

Emma: "Huh!?"

Gilbert: "Little bunny."

He pointed to the pocket of my dress with his finger.

With trembling hands, I reached inside and felt something hard.

Emma: "Wow!"

I pulled the coin out of my pocket and gasped.

(I don't understand what's going on, but he's really something.)

Gilbert: "You always react like a child."

Emma: "I can't help it. It's just amazing!"

He chuckled, his eyes reflecting that sentiment.

(I'm glad. Even though the magic trick failed, it seems like he calmed down.)

Gilbert: "But was it really that obvious?"

He seemed to have understood the meaning behind my actions.

Emma: "Yeah."

Gilbert: "Fufu, I'm hopeless, aren't I?"

Emma: "Isn't that why I'm here?"

Emma: "So that you can have some peace of mind?"

As the number of times we attended official functions increased, this feeling only grew stronger.

Gilbert: "You're so efficient."

Emma: "!"

Suddenly, he leaned in and pressed his cold lips against my cheek.

His red eyes reflected my profile with affection.

Gilbert: "I'm counting on you."

Emma: "Leave it to me!"

(Lately, I've been thinking that maybe I'm the only one who can make him happy.)

Masterlist ╎ Next Part

[danisbrainrot]

tell your boyfriend

natalie scatorccio x reader

warnings: cheating (sorry not sorry, travis), reader being a shitty person, angst

ever since I found out this song was actually about a woman, I don't know why, but I immediately thought of nat. I can't explain it LMFAO.

it had been weeks since the plane crashed, and the team was condemned to suffering in the wilderness. it was lucky lottie had found the cabin in the first place, but as you swung the axe high in the air, before bringing it down with a resounding crack, you started to wonder if life would've been better if you died in the crash.

you were starving, delirious and weak. there was no sign of a rescue team—who knows how long you'd have to spend out here. watching natalie and travis walking back, hand in hand, you felt yourself growl quietly to yourself. it wasn't fair that travis, who'd never talked to nat before the crash was dating her, but you—who'd loved her for years—were forced to watch from arms length. the sight wasn't made any better when you noticed the absence of meat.

everyone was teasing the two of them, causing you to storm off into the forest. you couldn't help but find everything unfair. falling for a girl who liked a boy—knowing if you were a boy, she'd love you.

kicking over a pile of leaves, you took out your anger on the forest. you hadn't even noticed natalie, until you almost pegged a rock at her (you'd meant to get the log). "oh my god, I'm sorry nat," you exclaimed, running towards her to see if she was okay.

she snorts, moving closer to you. "feeling hangry?" she teased, taking a seat on the log you were aiming at previously. you sarcastically laugh in response, taking a seat next to her.

"joke all you want, if you spent less time fucking travis and more time looking for animals, I wouldn't be destroying the forest," you snap, feeling your stomach begin growling. nat's eyebrow raised teasingly, eyes pointed at your tummy. it's timing was uncanny.

"we're not fucking," natalie replied, making your heart race in excitement. "I mean, I'd like to. . . but he can't get it up."

knowing this was your chance, you took advantage of this information. "maybe he's gay?" you reply, trying to sound as earnest as you can. you nudge her side, "no straight man could resist you," you wink at her teasingly, receiving a soft shove to your shoulder.

"I've always trusted your gaydar. . . but I don't think this is it," she mumbles in response, leaning forward and placing her chin in her hands.

there was a beat of silence, as you desperately try to come up with a plausible explanation to break them up. "you could always ask coach, I'm sure he'd know all about gays," you joke.

nat turned her head slightly to face you, "you're right. maybe I should—" your heart sank, realising that she was seriously thinking about it.

"have you thought that maybe he's interested in someone else? and you're just a distraction," you blurted out, wishing you could take it back immediately.

nat scoffed, standing up, "yeah, thanks. that makes me feel fucking fantastic," she snapped, stomping away.

"nat! I'm sorry!" you called out, but she ignored you.

«—(♥)—»

later that night, you found yourself in the storage room, with your stomach growling. you knew that mari was hiding some berries in here and you were so hungry that you no longer cared about stealing.

the sound of creaking behind you made you jump in fright, whipping around to let out some excuse when you realised it was just natalie. "oh, I thought you were mari," you mumble, turning back to continue your quest.

"looking for her secret stash?" she asked, you tried to work out if her tone was curious or teasing. "it's behind the box there."

when she pointed in the direction, you side eyed her, wondering how he knew where it was. glad that she'd shown you, you decided not to ask. you pulled out a large white bucket and hungrily opened the lid, only to be disappointed at the contents. "she's letting them ferment?"

you turn to face natalie, who shrugs, "it's not that bad. it's pretty strong though, just made purely out of berries, makes you get drunk quicker," she explains; you snort at her, shaking your head.

"you'd have a lot of experience with being drunk," you snipe.

"hilarious, you know you're so funny, you should think about joining snl," she replied sarcastically, crossing her arms over her chest.

you sighed, putting your head in your hands. "I'm so hungry, nat. I can't keep living like this," you whisper, on the verge of tears.

natalie sits down next to you, placing a hand on your thigh. "it'll be okay, I promise. travis and I are heading to a new place tomorrow, we'll find deer there, I'm sure," she soothes. you lay your head on her shoulder, playing with her hand on your thigh.

"a new place to hunt? or a new place to fuck?" you snapped.

narrowing her eyes at you, she scoffed and got up, "you know, I liked that you weren't like the others, that you never slutshamed me. . . I guess you're just like the rest of them," she replied, leaving you alone.

you knew it was stupid to take your unrequited feelings out on her, especially because she didn't owe you romantic love. however, it killed you watching her fall in love with travis—and the hunger eating you away wasn't making you a nicer person either.

tentatively scooping some of the berry juice in your hand, sipping it, when you heard mari approaching. in a panic, you'd never put something away so quickly.

«—(♥)—»

natalie trudged through the forest with travis in defeat; the gun slung over her shoulder serving as a reminder of her duty as hunter—a duty she was failing. their eyes were still peeled for any deer, hopeful for any last minute catches. however, it seemed like all the animals in the forest knew about their plans.

groaning, nat put her head in her hands and sat on the log. "this is fucking stupid," she grumbles, ignoring travis as he took a seat next to her.

"maybe we should stay put here, just for a little while," he suggests, his thigh brushing against hers. nat rested her chin against her knees and offered him a weak smile.

neither of them noticed you, hiding in the bushes, having given up scavenging for berries. they'd been gone for three hours, leaving everyone else in the cabin to search for food—and for what? it seemed no one would be eating anything. . . meat or fruit. the disappointing view of just the two of them made your stomach growl, reminding you of how long you've gone without eating something substantial.

stepping on a twig accidentally, you winced as both their heads snap in your direction. "you're following us now? disappointed to see we aren't having sex?" natalie sniped, getting up and walking towards you.

showing off your basket, you know that she wouldn't believe you even if it's true. "just hunting for berries, figured they were further out than usual," you mumble, taking a step back the closer she got.

it wasn't until you were both face to face, your chest heaving and trying to look tough, that natalie smirked. "I get it, you're hungry, but you don't have to follow us," she teased.

you rolled your eyes, "travis, can you give us a moment?" you asked, your heart racing as you come to terms with what you're about to do.

travis scoffs, looking at nat for confirmation, who only gestured for him to return to the cabin. in shock, he sent her an odd look, before standing up, and walking away silently.

natalie turned to face you again, "what did you want to talk about?"

"i wanted to apologise. you're right, I shouldn't be slutshaming you because I'm hungry. . ." you pause, wondering whether or not you should continue. desperate to tell her about your feelings, you could feel your heartbeat raising impossibly fast. "it's actually so stupid—the real reason I was mad at you."

natalie raised her eyebrows teasingly, placing her hands on her waist and smirking at you. "let me guess, the real reason is that you like me?" you stare at her stunned, "please, you don't think I know? I'm not Jackie," she laughs. you feel a blush coming across your cheeks.

sliding her thumb through your jean loops, nat pulled you closer to her, until your chest was pressed against hers. "how'd you find out?" you whisper, looking up at her in awe.

"because I may or may not feel the same about you," she mumbles, her lips inches from yours.

"what about travis?" you ask; nat shrugs in response, finally pressing her lips against yours. initially, you freeze, not kissing her back, until she gripped your waist firmly, holding you in place, encouraging you to kiss her back passionately.

wrapping your hands around her neck, natalie pulls away for a second, "I should probably tell my boyfriend," she whispers. you raise your eyebrows in shock.

"tell him what? that I'm your girlfriend now?" you teased, eliciting laughter from the blonde. she nodded, before placing her fingers under your chin and pulling you in for another kiss.

[ratgrinders]

i think you’re entirely right btw, i really doubt that the girl who seemingly wants attention and achievement bad enough was going into high school expecting to step on rats in the woods… i feel like she thinks it’s either like 1) it’s the only thing i can do to catch up/make up for this unfairness 2) another person or people in the ratgrinders pushed the idea ????? regardless i don’t think it’s her idea

yeah! like my thought process is if kipperlily is so immensely jealous of the bad kids for succeeding at all these big adventures, and we've already seen how far she's willing to go to achieve her goals (trying to dig up dirt on her parents, digging up the rogue teacher), then to me i think she'd be doing everything she can to FIND a big adventure rather than explicitly avoiding them.

i was thinking if this was the case, maybe that's part of why she goes silent in jawbone's counseling sessions when he asks "okay, but what's something you can do to become a better adventurer?". because in her eyes she's doing everything she CAN to become an adventurer and is being held back by things outside her control (the perceived "unfair advantage" the bad kids get, and her party not being as motivated as her). and maybe she didn't want to throw her party members under the bus. idk tho.

[pepperonidk]

i. ride the sun away || all i could do

“All I could do was love you hard and let you go.” “Go and ride the sun away."

Pairing: Lee Jihoon x f!Reader Summary:  5 years ended with a note on the coffee table. Warnings: angst Word Count: 1227

A/N: Hello! It's been a long while, but this idea has been on my mind for a long time. This musical means a lot to me and so does this fic. I know Jihoon is an asshole in this... sorry lol

join the taglist! back to library || next chapter

The glint of light on the coffee table immediately drew your attention as you walked into the living room.

I called Chan and Seungcheol to help me get the rest of my stuff. I know you wanted to go see another counselor… but I don’t know what the point would be. I know I’m not the only one who’s hurting here, and I don’t see what the hell else we can do.

I don’t think you could see how deep the cracks run, or that I had run out of rope.We could keep fighting each other, keep hurting each other, but I think it’s time to just face it… I couldn’t be what you wanted.All I could do was love you – and god did I love you – love you hard and let you go.

-Jihoon

The weighty cream piece of paper lay on the coffee table and on top of it, Jihoon’s silver wedding band, identical to the one on your own finger. The lights are off, but the room is far from dark. The sun outside is at its zenith and its rays spill into the room and wash the air with enough light to see dust floating in the air. Aside from the note and silver band, glimmering in the light, nothing in the living room had been touched in weeks.

The walls are still covered in pictures of the two of you smiling and you wonder if all the “I love yous” ever meant anything or if the foundation was cracked from the beginning. You’re left with more questions than you’ll ever have answers to and all you can think of is how unfair it is that Jihoon felt that he had the right to decide that things were over.

He was the one keeping secrets. He was the one who moved on before things had even ended. He was convinced that you were the problem. He was the one running away. And you were covered in scars you didn’t earn.

I should be crying, you think to yourself. But you don’t. You haven’t cried in a while, really, because honestly, to say you didn’t see this coming would be a lie.

From the minute you met him five years ago, sitting at a table on the fourth floor of the library and madly scribbling into a worn leather notebook, you knew he was on a one way road to something bigger. You suppose it was only a matter of time that he would outgrow you too.

While nearly every other seat was occupied by students with strewn out textbooks, notebooks, and half-dead laptops cramming for midterms, he was writing a song. School was on the backburner for him (as were most other things), a backup plan in case his dreams were just a little bit too far. Interestingly enough, that was what drew you to him.

“Whatcha writing?” you had asked him, the nervous crack in your voice betraying your casual attempt at conversation. You had noticed him as soon as you sat down to study an hour ago, as he was one of the only people around without a laptop in front of him, but waited until your break to finally let your curiosity get to you. 

It took a few seconds before he realized you were speaking to him and he finally lifted his head to look at you. You couldn’t help but smile as you realized the redness on his cheek from resting it on his fist and the messy state of his dark hair.

“Me?” he questioned as you nodded.

“There’s no one else at the table,” you teased.

“Oh,” he looked around as if he hadn’t given any attention to his surroundings in a while. “I’m working on a song,” he admitted softly.

“Cool,” you replied. “Is it for a class? My friend is in a songwriting class with profe–”

“No,” he interrupted, scribbling something else down before returning his attention to you. “It’s just for fun.”

“Fun, huh?” you began. “You have time for fun in the middle of midterms?”

He let out a chuckle as he shook his head. “I like to think I have my priorities sorted,” he answered. “I’m Jihoon.” He extended his hand out for you to shake.

You looked down at his hand, noting the calluses on his fingertips before taking it in yours and introducing yourself.

“So what about you?” he returned. “What class are you studying for?”

You turned your laptop around to show him the powerpoint you had pulled up from your music and neuroscience class. “I’m actually in a class about how music affects the brain,” you explained.

Jihoon’s face lit up in interest. “Really?” he asked. “How does it affect the brain then?” It had been a while since you were able to gush about your interest in neuroscience.

“Well,” you began, pointing your finger over the brain scans on the slide. “There’s some recent studies showing that music could help treat people with Alzheimer’s and some other neurological issues in elderly people.”

You looked over to Jihoon’s brows furrowed in interest as he nodded along. “That’s pretty cool,” he mused.

“Yeah,” you continued. “I saw a couple of videos that show patients with forms of dementia suddenly remembering complex ballet dances and specific memories just from certain musical cues with synaptic activity in many voxels that–” you cut yourself off, realizing you were going to start rambling.

“That what?” Jihoon looked back up at you, clearly still interested in what you had to say.

“That uh,” you blinked at him. “This isn’t boring you?”

“Huh?” he questioned. “This is really cool,” he laughed. “As a musician, it’s nice to know music is more than just something pretty to listen to. I could be making synapses move and what not. I’ll be making an impact.”

You laughed and nodded your head. “Well, synapses don’t move,” you corrected as Jihoon rolled his eyes before giving you a smile. “But thanks.”

“For what?”

“For listening.”

It’s easy, even now, five years later, to remember the way he looked bathed in spring sunlight and the feeling of his callused hands in yours even if you couldn’t remember the last time he actually touched you. He used to trace circles against your skin, humming melodies into your ear, a soft reminder every time of the day you met.

You look down now at your hand and pull off the band, setting it down next to Jihoon’s rather than picking them both up. They’re small, but something tells you they’d be heavy like lead in your palms. So instead, you opt to leave them there, to join the rest of the abandoned and untouched reminders of a life once shared.

On another day you’d take down the pictures of Jihoon kissing your cheek at the fair, the plaque you jokingly made for him out of macaroni after his first single first charted, and the blanket he bought you from Germany on his first tour. Maybe one day you’ll find a lesson to learn in all of this. But all of that would wait till another day when you can begin to move forward the way Jihoon has. But today, you choose to return to your room, to hold onto some semblance of familiarity, still hurting.

taglist: @sana-is-ms-rmty @yksthings @iamxelia @coveyland @xuimhao

[taylorswiftstylequestions]

Sorry this ask turned into an essay — as I explain I have a personal connection to this topic and a lot of thoughts on it, ha

On the topic of Taylor’s discussion of Joe’s depression — I have never seen anyone claim that she has made fun of it, but I have seen some discussions from people who feel that she’s been unfair or insensitive with how she’s spoken about it, or that she broke up with him because he was “too depressed” and that she was blaming him for things he can’t control. Renegade has been used as an example of this, and more recently So Long London (specifically “you sacrificed us to the gods of your bluest days).

I don’t want to speak for anyone but myself here or invalidate anyone’s feelings of hurt with how Taylor addresses these topics (because that is entirely fair to be hurt by if you interpret it in that way), but I will say this: as someone who has been on both sides of this equation (I have clinical depression that I’m in the process of getting medication for, and I’ve also had multiple relationships with people who were going through severe mental health struggles that I was trying to support them through), I don’t think that the way Taylor has referenced Joe’s depression affecting her in her music seems cruel to him. I’ve never gotten the impression that she is blaming him for struggling or that she expected him to just stop struggling and get better, or even that that’s the reason their relationship ended. I think there’s a lot of frustration in those songs, and while I understand why some may balk at that, it can be really frustrating at times to love someone who doesn’t love themselves, or who is pushing you away at every turn. It’s not their fault, and I don’t think Taylor is framing it as such, but that can make it even more frustrating when it feels like things are breaking down and there is nothing you can do to fix it.

And I feel like it’s kind of taboo to talk about those feelings because (in my experience at least) they’re wrapped up in so much guilt? I was in a relationship very similar to the one described in Renegade once, and I would get into this cycle where my partner would be struggling, I would try to help them, they would push me away and/or say things that would really hurt me, I would feel upset and hurt, but then feel so guilty for being upset and hurt because I knew they didn’t mean it the way it felt and that this wasn’t about me, so I would just keep those feelings to myself and say nothing, and it would start all over again. These aren’t pretty emotions at all, and I fully understand why some people are hurt by the way Taylor talks about them, but I think there’s a big difference between “I’m frustrated because my partner is struggling and I feel like I’m giving them everything I have but nothing ever changes and it’s hurting me” and “my partner is too depressed to deal with, why won’t they just get over it?”

I’ve had loved ones tell me tell me to just stop being depressed before — I know that hurt very well, and at least to me, this feels different. Honestly I really appreciate songs like Renegade and So Long London because hearing someone else talk about that experience has made me feel less like I was some uniquely horrible person incapable of being the perfect supporting partner that I should have been. I think it’s just a shitty, frustrating situation where no one is solely to blame, and I think that’s how Taylor presents it.

But again, this is just my opinion — I can totally see how and why people might interpret them differently and feel hurt by them, and I don’t want to speak over those feelings at all

Hi friend! First of all tysm for being so open and honest about your personal struggles with both yourself and past relationships - I'm grateful you feel you can be safe here talking about that. And secondly in your grace and empathy in understanding the many potential sticky layers of feeling here and how this might be ruffly and uncomfortable for people. I love that so much.

My interpretation has always very much been in alignment with yours. And I think if this album was seeking to do any one thing it was to wield honesty like a blunt force instrument - even and especially when the truth is uncomfortable and can be alienating. I've never once interpreted her documentation of a partner's mental health struggles as "get over it" (is there anyone who better understands how fucking hard it is to get over literally anything than Taylor?). But I feel the line that haunts me most is, "I gave you all my best me's / My endless empathy / And all I did was bleed as I tried to be the bravest soldier". And the uncomfortable truth is that it is so incredibly painful to be in love with someone who doesn't love themselves and who has proven (despite years of begging and pleading and patience and kindness) that they are not interested in becoming someone who can love you better. And it's unfair and shitty and horrible to have your "spine split from carrying [both of you] up the hill" for years. You feel sad for them. You feel sad for you. You feel sad that you feel sad. And then you feel mad that they are making you sad. And and and.

[levmada]

Bad Boy week Day 5

Theme: underground Prompt: stray cats/dogs

wc: 0.7k c/w: character study, angsty

Levi wants to be one of them.

Swift. They can cover a distance twice or even thrice the length of their bodies in a single lunge. Even if he was snuck up on, he wants to look like nothing but thin air the next thing his attacker knows. Get away, get ahead.

Agile. Balanced, perfected. They—and he's seen it—can cross clotheslines suspended between roofs, allowing them to traverse the most cramped and most dangerous halls of the Underground gracefully. He would never fall, but in the nightmarish scenario that he did, it wouldn't mean a thing because he'd always land properly on his feet. That's how they all are.

He wants to be a warrior. Lethal, sharp. It's impossible to be infallible, but he'd make everyone think that of him. A hunter, with terrifying efficiency who'd never hesitate. He'd fell would-be threats before they even got the inkling they were being followed. His strength would be unassuming, and he wouldn't play pretend about his friendliness (of which there'd be none). Like them, small, but mighty.

Not for the thrill, though. To eat, he thinks, for comparison's sake...

He once witnessed it, as he was deliberating whether to smash a jar of corn kernels open or find a way to open it, because his hand was too small to grip the tin lid. A cat, crouched low at the top of some wood stairs. The mouse had lingered below. He watched, willing the skinny thing's focus to break.

It didn't. The cat fell upon it from fifteen feet. The next thing he (or the mouse) knew, it was trapped in its jaws. The mouse squeaked, how a person would scream then its neck cracked, and it died instantly.

He didn't look into the cat's vacant, expressionless dark eyes as it ripped into the mouse with razor-like teeth, and ate heartily.

He once saw a cat poke its head throw a jagged gap in a fence no wider than Levi's little finger, and slip the rest of its lanky body through.

He can fit into little cramped spaces, at least. The spaces between walls, and the crawlspaces underneath porches, inside covered wheelbarrows (if he needed to get someplace he shouldn't be seen). He can hide, at least.

But that's nothing. That's like being dead. For as silent as he could be, as much that he had to strain to hear himself take sips of air, sometimes a scream appeared in his chest, the way things disappear into your peripheral vision until you remember they're there do. It was fine in the beginning, but sometimes all he wants to do is breathe in everything terrible—all the air the Underground has—and explode his lungs. He's nervous about the day that might arrive in which screaming would be all he can do.

Hiding in silence... That's what he's doing now. Among spiderwebs and crusty wood-dust in darkness as encompassing as his spot is small: a tiny crevice between the top of a wall and where the slant of the roof begins.

He curls up as small as he can, tucked into a ball, thinking of them again despite the primal need to sleep muddying said thoughts.

Death would be easier, he knows that's an objective fact. So surviving... Why should he? Why does he?

The same conclusion never fails to infuse in him infallible strength.

Because Mama brought him into this world. And what strength that took... To be kind in a place that would rape and take that from you because it sees it inside of you. She was a shimmery ember in a cave of darkness, which to him shown like the light of a thousand suns. He doesn't need to see the sun to know that she was brighter.

Because of her it once, later on occurred to him that fighting and dancing are almost the same thing. He'd never stopped to wonder stupid things like that, but Mama sometimes swayed.

Who is he to be ungrateful to her sacrifices, or to Kenny's vehement efforts for that matter?

He wants to survive.

In an unfair advantage, cats have nine lives (or that's what he's heard). Humans only get one.

He'll become so strong that he might as well, too.