#because the cards are completely for them like no doubt whatsoever in my mind

[xceanlynx]

Only Friends (2023) x Major Arcana Sand → Strength

The Strength card, when reversed, demonstrates how uncertainty and a lack of self-confidence make one vulnerable, heartbroken, and incapable of comprehending their own value. The Strength card, being upright, reveals that said value and one's inner force do not come from brashness or indifference, but from resilience and the kindness within one's heart — it's through determination and love that the lion is tamed.

[indiee19]

The View From... The Top Bunk

Alex Turner x reader

Summary: You're on tour with the band and (Humbug!) Alex gets you alone on the bus while the rest of the band are out.

warnings: smut, cringey jokes from Matt, Nick, And Jamie.

word count: 3.2k

-This part was wrote by the co-writer and my best friend, Thea, so thank you @teddyarabellapicker. the fic is also up on her page, so be sure to check her out

A/n: sorry for not uploading in a few days, I've just been writing a new story inspired by the Everything You've Come To Expect album. Also, I'm making a tag list, so lmk if you want to be added to it. Enjoy.

✿✼:*ﾟ:༅｡.｡༅:*･ﾟﾟ･⭑ ✿✼:*ﾟ:༅｡.｡༅:*･ﾟﾟ･⭑

The sound of the boys shuffling around the bus and chattering woke you up. You tried to nuzzle your head back into Alex's neck, but he wasn't there. You opened your eyes, seeing that Alex wasn't squeezed into the bunk with you. You groaned and forced yourself out of the bunk, eyes adjusting to the sudden ray of light that came through the windows.

You dug into yours and Alex's bag, grabbing one of his shirts and you walked to the bathroom, rubbing your eyes to try and help wake you up. Once you got there, you went in and brushed your hair and teeth, making yourself somewhat presentable, putting the shirt on over your bra that you slept in.

You used a hair tie on your wrist to tie it up so it didn't go past your shorts. You checked yourself in the mirror one last time and then walked out, turning off the light and walking to the small lounge at the back of the bus, seeing Alex and the rest of the band sitting on the sofa.

"Ahh, so the beast has awoken and come out of their cave," Matt said, eliciting a laugh from everyone.

"Fuck off, Matt," you said, still tired and half asleep. You walked over to Alex, sitting beside him and nuzzling your head into his neck, cuddling up to him and Alex wrapped his arms around you, holding you close, and lifted you chin so that he could kiss you. You could taste the last cigarette he had before you woke and you smelled his spicy cologne that you bought him for his birthday.

"Oh, no, we better leave before they start shagging," Jamie said, making a disgust face. You and Alex both held up your middle fingers at him, Nick and Matt laughing. Alex pulled away and you nuzzled back into Alex's neck, closing your eyes.

"You alright, princess?" Alex asked, kissing the top of your head.

"Yeah, just ... just a little tired," you said and yawned immediately after making Alex 'aww' in his head. You drifted off into your own world, not paying attention to anyone or what they were saying.

All you knew was that they were talking about what songs they would play on their set list for the gig later. You heard them say something about playing 'When the sun goes down,' 'Brianstorm,' and 'Teddy Picker' but that was about all you heard.

Thirty minutes went by and then the boys got up, including Alex, making you finally open your eyes when your head fell without his shoulder holding your head up.

"Where are you guys going?" you asked, sitting up completely.

"Oh, we're going to the sound check," Alex said, scratching the back of his neck. "Do you want to come?"

"Sure, just let me get properly dressed," you said and got up and went to yours and Alex's bag.

"Okay, we'll be outside, love,” Alex said, walking outside with the rest of the band.

You reached the part of the bus where your bag was, reaching in it, grabbing some denim shorts and a t-shirt, putting on some shoes and the you walked outside, walking up behind Alex and scaring him. Matt, Nick, and Jamie laughed, Alex on the other hand, did not.

"Not funny," he said.

"Oh, come on, pull the stick out of your ass, it was funny and you know it," you replied, kissing him, making him smile, no longer being slightly mad.

"Okay, you're right. It was funny, princess," he said quietly, wrapping an arm around you, pulling you closer to his side. "We ready to go?" Alex asked the band.

"Yeah, Al. Let me go get Mark," Matt said, quickly telling Mark to come on and Mark grabbed his camera. You all got in the car, just barley enough room for all six of you. You were in between Alex and Jamie, Alex's fingers intertwined with your own. Jamie glanced over to you two and jokingly rolled his eyes and scoffed.

"You two better not snog in front of me," he joked. You and Alex laughed and Alex gave you a quick peck on the lips. Jamie made an over exaggerated disgusted face when Alex peppered your face with kisses, your lips, cheeks and forehead and everyone else laughed.

Alex stopped kissing you and laid his head down on your shoulder. "I love you, princess," he whispered, placing a chaste kiss to your jaw. You rested your head on top of his and you both sat in silence as everyone else talked the entire way there.

Once the car came to a halt at the venue they were playing at, everyone got out, Alex's hands grabbing yours and intertwining his fingers with yours, always desperate to touch you, whether it was by holding hand or laying beside you, he always liked to have some sort of physical contact with you.

You all walked into the venue they were playing at and you sat backstage while they did their sound check. Every now and then during the sound check Alex would look at you and when he stopped singing, he would blow you a kiss.

Even though it was their sound check, they still sounded amazing. Mark was filming them, no doubt for another installment of 'The View From...' videos that Matt was quite fond of doing and were also very fun to film. You laughed when Alex walked over to Jamie and did what you would describe as 'guitar fucking' where Alex was standing over Jamie and played their guitars and made weird faces at each other.

You were kind of sad whenever the sound check ended but you were also happy that you could kiss Alex finally. As soon as he sat down his guitar, he kissed you, his slightly chapped lips moving against your own.

Matt tapped on Alex's shoulder. "Okay, lovebirds, that's enough," he said. You and Alex pulled apart.

"Just because you're sad and single doesn't mean that you have to project onto us, Matt," Alex laughed. You couldn't help but laugh as well, Nick and Jamie joining in.

The show didn't start for another four hours so you all decided to play some games - throw the lime down the corridor, cards, but mostly throw the lime down the corridor, that made the hours go by fast.

You hadn't realized how close the time was to when the show was supposed to begin, after a while of playing the game, Alex grabbed you and pulled you into his dressing room.

"Alex,"  you squealed. He pushed you against the wall and instantly started kissing you, his hands traveling up your body to fondle your breasts through the material of your shirt and bra.

"Alex, stop, you have to be on stage in a few minutes," you said, pushing him away. You immediately missed the feeling of his lips against yours, but you didn't want to be the reason that he wasn't on stage in time.

He sighed and stepped back, grabbing the clothes he was going to perform in, quickly changing all the while you were watching him. Once he finished changing he ran his fingers through his hair, styling it in the mirror. You were jealous of how incredibly good his hair always looked, jealous of how soft and shiny and smooth it was, and how it rarely ever got tangled. His hair was better than yours could ever be, but you didn't mind because he was perfect.

"Do I look good, love?" Alex asked when he noticed you starring at him, chuckling lightly.

"You always look good, Al," you replied, Alex blushed at your compliment, always being an adorable, shy boy.

"Al, come on. We have to go on stage!" Matt yelled from outside his dressing room. You and Alex walked out, hand in hand. Alex grabbed his guitar and kissed you before going up on stage with everyone else.

Just like always, their show was amazing. The way Matt played the drums that made the songs, Alex's absolutely amazing vocals as well as Matt and Nick's backing vocals and Jamie occasionally messing up the cords, but still doing amazing. You couldn't help but sing along sometimes, though your voice didn't compare to Alex's whatsoever.

Your favourite song they played that night though was Do Me A Favour, though you were confused whenever Alex laughed during the saddest part of the song, but the confusion quickly went away when the drums and guitar kicked in.

Though you enjoyed the sound check, you enjoyed the show even more, and you loved the confidence that they all radiated, acting like the coolest people in the world, because they were. You loved hearing the crowd cheer for them - and you also loved the girls yelling at Alex.

"I love you, Alex!"

"You're amazing!"

"You're a fucking amazing singer!"

"Alright, everybody, it's time for us to go. We're gonna leave you with this one," Alex said, seeming sad himself. They started playing D Is For Dangerous, and you were glad they did, it was one of your favourite songs after all.

You got so into the song that you forgot that it was their last song of the night and you were sad whenever they stopped and said goodbye to the crowd. They all walked off stage, leaving their instruments on stage for the next night when they would be performing again.

You stood up and walked over to Alex, his face immediately lighting up when he saw you, grabbing your waist, kissing your temple.

"Did you enjoy the show, princess?" he asked. You nodded and told him that you absolutely loved it and couldn't wait for tomorrow nights show, certain that it would be even better than this one.

You saw the guys talking and wondered what they were talking about. They then walked over to you and Alex.

"So, we're going to out and eat, you guys wanna come?" Nick asked.

"Yeah, or do you guys want to go back to the bus all by yourselves?" Jamie added, him and Matt laughing. You rolled your eyes and Alex looked at you, then back at the guys.

"Nah, I think we'll go," he said, grabbing your hand, walking you to his dressing room to change, the rest of the guys doing the same. Alex wore the blue button up that you'd bought him for his birthday, he wore it every chance he got, it only being special because you had bought it and not anyone else. He quickly stepped into his black jeans and tugged them up, buttoning and zipping them.

You were on your phone most of the time, responding to messages from friends and family who were asking about the show. Alex saying your name snapped you out of your daze and you looked up at him, seeing his adorable, lazy grin that he only did when he was alone with you, not wanting to show it in public in fear of breaking his 'bad boy' persona that he had.

"You're so cute," you smiled, laughing when he made a weird face at you. You wished that he showed his playful and goofy side in public, you thought that his persona wasn't truthful to who he actually was - a shy, quiet, socially awkward, playful romantic boy.

"You ready?" Alex asked, holding his hand out for you to grab. You took his hand and he helped you stand up, grabbing his bag that had the clothes he performed in and you both walked out, leaving the building entirely, seeing the guys waiting for you two.

"You guys ready?" Matt asked, leaning on the car, Nick and Jamie getting in it along with Mark in the very back, Jamie sitting where he sat on the way to the venue.

"Yeah," you said. You and Alex then got into the car, sitting in the same spots as before, you in between Alex and Jamie, Alex beside the window.

The drive was full of singing, shitty jokes, and occasionally sneaky kisses between you and Alex. Nick and Jamie ended up arguing about witch soccer team was better and it was fairly funny, Matt even joined in. You couldn't help but laugh when they tried to bring Alex into the argument, though he quickly stopped that, saying that he didn't have a say in it.

You layed your head down on Alex's shoulder for the rest of the drive, holding hands, tuning out the stupid argument going on between the rest of the boys.

The car came to a halt at a restaurant, everyone getting out and walking inside, stopping in the entryway for the band to take a picture with a fan of theirs. You all then walked over to a podium where a waitress was standing.

"How many?" they asked, getting ready to pick up some menus.

"Uh ... six," Matt said, stopping for a moment to count up all of you.

"Okay, right this way," they said, picking up six menus, leading you all to a round table where you all took your seats. The seat beside you was empty, Alex sitting on the other side. The waitress left and soon after another waiter came to take your drink orders, bringing them out not long after.

It was a few more minutes until you all had decided what you were going to order and the waiter was quick to come back and take your orders, rushing it to the kitchen.

The boys somehow got back onto their argument on soccer, their bickering amusing, it was like they were children arguing about what superhero was the best which made it all the more better.

They seemed to be too into the argument to notice that Alex was now much closer to you, his hand rubbing up and down your thigh, brushing dangerously close to your clothed clit. You quickly grabbed his hand, reminding him that you were in public. He didn't seem to care though, continuing to rub your thigh, lightly brushing against your clit through the material of your shorts. You held back a gasp and grabbed his hand, pulling it away from you.

He glared at you, grabbing your hand, kissing it. You all talked until your food arrived at the table, though that didn't stop Alex from teasing you again. Whenever the guys were looking away from you two he would whisper dirty things in your ear.

"I can't wait till we get back to the bus."

"You look so hot right now, princess."

You knew that this was either him being horny as always, or it was his gig high that he hadn't shaken off yet. Your second thought was confirmed when he went back to rubbing you thigh, never wanting to do something like this in public, whispering in your ear. "When we get back to the bus, I'm going to fuck you up." That was it, you were gone, couldn't handle his teasing any longer.

"Please, Alex," you said quietly, begging him with your eyes. "As you wish, princess," he said, taking his hand off your thigh. "Hey, guys, I think we're gonna head back to the bus, she's not feeling really well," Alex lied, you playing along.

"Oh, okay, hope you feel better, love," Matt said, drinking his beer. "Thanks, Matt," you said softly, acting as if you were actually not well. You and Alex said your goodbyes to Jamie, Nick, and Mark and then left the restaurant, rushing to get to the bus.

You were both very eagar, more than  you could've ever remembered, the ten minute walk taking a little less than five when you began to hurriedly get there, pushing past people so you could get there faster.

As soon as you both reached the bus and got in, Alex pushed you against the wall, attaching his slightly chapped lips to yours, moving in sync with one another. He bit down on your bottom lip, demanding entrance and you complied, his tongue easily fighting yours into submission. He was quick to rid you of your shirt, working on getting your pants off.

Once he rid you of your pants, leaving you in your bra and panties, he grabbed the underside of your thighs, signaling for you to jump, to which you did. He carried you to your shared bunk with him. You shuffled out of the rest of your garments before crawling into the top bunk, watching as Alex took off his own clothes, crawling in and laying over you, closing the curtain.

He wasn't in the mood to tease you anymore, too far gone just like yourself. He was quick to give his thick cock a few tugs before he nestled himself between your legs, slowly pushing in, head falling down on your shoulder when he bottomed out, the feeling of your walls stretching to fit his size too much for him.

He let you adjust to his size before starting to move, going slowly, setting a pace of his own liking, though it didn't last long, he couldn't take it anymore, his need to hear you moan for him growing immensely. And it didn't take long before you were a moaning mess for him, fingers knotting in his precious hair that you loved so much.

He began to place wet kisses on your neck, one of his hands coming in between your bodies to rub vigorously on your clit, his other hand the only thing holding all of his weight off of you. You knew that it wouldn't be long until you came undone, his thrusts getting faster and faster, but at the same time sloppier and it was obvious that he wasn't very far off either.

"A-Alex, I'm so close," you whimpered, voice trailing off into a moan as Alex had delivered a particularly hard thrust, hitting the spongey spot that made you see stars.

"Come for me, princess," he said, delivering one more hard thrust, flicking your clit, sending you over the edge, your own orgasm triggering Alex's, his hips stilling, his hot release spurting inside you.

His support arm gave out and he collapsed on top of you, panting heavily.

"God, I love you," he panted, the both of you coming down from your highs. "I love you too, Al," you responded.

All of a sudden, you heard the bus door open and heard Matt yell yours and Alex's name. You heard him walk over to the bunk and opened the curtain, quickly closing it when  he saw you both.

"God, Al, you could've given me a warning," Matt said, walking away. "Jamie, Nick, don't look in their bunk. Trust me, you'll regret it," you heard Matt say in the small lounge room and Nick and Jamie's laughter echoed through the bus.

"Sorry," Alex yelled, pulling out of you with a sigh, the two of you shuffling so that you both could sleep comfortably in the very small bunk. "Goodnight, princess, I love you.

"I love you too, Al."

[sarahlynnirl]

Losing my best friend - Sugar Daddy culture is not empowering

I finally feel strong enough to talk about this and hopefully get some love, support, and reassurance from other women who agree that this is fucked up. I’ve never been “terfy on main” before so here goes. (TW child abuse + SA but no graphic descriptions of SA)

My mother is a narcissist who financially and emotionally abused my father and myself, with some additional physical abuse of me, for as long as I can remember. My dad made plenty of money but my mom controlled it all and made sure it didn’t go towards anything for me beyond the bare minimum required not to look obviously guilty of child abuse and neglect. I met Kiara (not her real name) when I was a junior in highschool and she was a freshman. Her mom was a single Korean woman doing her best to support Kiara and her 2 sisters while also running a Korean restaurant. My first jobs were a summer camp counselor and fitting room attendant at Forever 21. I would spend the last scraps of my paycheck making sure Kiara was able to order a full meal when our friends went out to dinner, buying her little gifts, and generally trying to keep us both as happy and healthy as possible.

When Kiara graduated highschool her mom drove her into Koreatown New Jersey, got her a room in the apartment of an acquaintance, and basically left her to fend for herself. Kiara spoke barely any Korean. She began working at a Korean salon where she met Ariana (not her real name). She had a NY cosmetology license, not an NJ one, while Ariana was an illegal immigrant from Korea so they were both overworked, underpaid, forced to work overtime, paid under minimum wage, and deprived of their tips. They couldn’t report or complain about this since they were both working illegally.

Kiara had to pay rent for the one room she occupied despite her land lady yelling at her, walking into her room while she slept, banning her from having friends over, and reporting to her mom if she spoke to a guy on the phone or a guy dropped her off. I was working at a restaurant in my college town on top of my classes and doing my best to keep surprising her with little gifts, but neither of us had enough disposable income to afford to visit each other. This was really difficult for me as she was my favorite person in the world and I was used to spending every second with her when we both lived in upstate NY. Ariana got them both to start using SeekingArrangement for one time meet ups with Sugar Daddies where they were paid anywhere from $200-2000 for sex. “The first time I ever did it I walked out of the hotel and just screamed because I was so disgusted and I was thinking about his wrinkly skin touching mine and all I wanted to do was get in the shower and scrub it off but I had $1000 cash in my hand for a couple hours of work which was so crazy and kinda made it all worth it ya know?” - Ariana to me

I was immediately skeptical and a little grossed out but Kiara genuinely seemed happier. She was buying new clothes for herself, ordering food to the apartment when she was hungry, and taking trips into NYC to have fun with Ariana and her friends. By the beginning of the summer of 2019, Kiara had found the Sugar Daddy who she would establish a long term agreement with and who ultimately ended up completely supporting her. I’m not going to say his name here but if people want to know it just ask, I am willing to share. He moved her into a much nicer much bigger apartment with Ariana as her roommate. He paid for me to fly up and visit her, and all of our activities during this vacation. I’m so sorry I’m so sorry I’m so sorry. I wish I shoved the money back in her hand before it was too late, I wish I worked harder and longer hours and got us an apartment in Florida and paid both of our rent. I’m so fucking sorry I didn’t listen to my instincts and allowed her to brush off my concerns. It was the most freedom we had ever had, I ran around NYC by myself while she was at work, and my ex took the bus to NJ from upstate NY and joined us for a few days. I feel so selfish but I also didn’t know how bad things would get.

One night Kiara and I went to NYC for dinner with her SD and she took the bus back to the apartment because she had to work early the next morning. It made sense for me to stay in the city because I was supposed to visit my friend at NYU the next morning. In the Uber to his apartment alone with him he was drunk and high and I very clearly looked scared shitless. At this point she was 19 (but she had looked that way since age 17 and I doubt he would have minded if she was lying about her age), I was 21 and he was 44. He seemed offended by my discomfort and was basically like “jeez relax I’m not gonna touch you, I really care about Kiara I think she’s so amazing, just go to the guest room and sleep, make a left to walk to NYU when you wake up.” I peaced the fuck out of there early the next morning.

After that summer Kiara and Ariana quit their jobs at the Korean salon and sugaring became their sole incomes. Ariana was still doing one time meet ups, not nearly as financially stable as Kiara, and got herself into a lot of credit card debt that to my knowledge she’s still in. At this point Kiara was flying down and staying with me in Florida so often that people at my college thought she went there too. I also wasn’t working at this point because college had gotten harder and my ex was fucking up my mental health real bad. He had given me a coke problem and Kiara sending me “grocery money” was enabling me to continue. I wasn’t honest with her about where all the money was going. During Halloween week we didn’t know that she couldn’t just snort molly (MDMA) with the frequency I was doing coke, she ODed, my guy best friend took us to the ER, it was so fucking scary, she got IV fluids for 2 hours and made a full recovery, she stopped doing molly, I kept doing coke. I’m so sorry :(

In November her SD paid for us to take a trip to Cancun Mexico. He was with us for the first part of the trip and this is where things started to get really bad. He tried to be my friend and act the way a boyfriend of my best friend who was my age would, but it was creepy and wrong and I was so uncomfortable. He asked about my drug use in a way that was gross and shamey and basically him seeing me as the “coke whore” stereotype...while continuing to buy me more coke. He also brought and gave us ecstasy pills. He asked really invasive questions about my relationship with my ex, why I stayed, my sex life, etc. It felt like an uncle asking me these questions, I did NOT wanna talk about any of this with him. But from what I did say it was very clear to someone with 44 years of life experience that I had an abusive mother, an addictive personality, and was in an unhealthy relationship. He offered to set me up with an SD friend of his looking for a sugar baby. I of course declined because I always knew this was a boundary I wasn’t willing to cross. No matter how bad my addictions got I would NOT give up that piece of myself in return for money.

In this part of Mexico, drugs that were only given with a prescription in the US were available over the counter. Kiara and I got a little box of 1mg Xanax with my money. My ex had given us Xanax a couple times in NY and we had fun with it, but at this point in time we did NOT have a problem with it. We had bought one bar, broken it in half, and each took half one night of Halloween week and called it “xanpires”, but this wasn’t something we were scripted or buying regularly from plugs. We went to dinner with her SD, we got up to go to the bathroom, and she immediately slipped and hit the ground. I was like woah did you take one of the xans and forget? Because we were supposed to tell each other if we were taking one so we could look out for each other. I was never mad at her! I never wanted money from her! I was just a little concerned, and once I determined that she was safe we thought it was kinda funny that she had taken a xan without realizing and started joking around about it. Her SD of course didn’t understand how a 19 year old and 21 year old girl joke with each other because he was a creepy old man, decided that we were “arguing”, and got up from the restaurant, walked across the street, bought a 90 count bottle of 2mg xans and gave it to me. This was honestly the most irresponsible way someone has ever treated me in my life, and this is coming from someone with an abusive and neglectful parent. Google “benzo withdrawal” if you’re not familiar with it.

We went to a different hotel, and Kiara and I both took xans and blacked out. I passed out on the guest bed, while Kiara was awake but in a conscious blackout. I woke up on the couch on the balcony (which was fine, it was comfy and I saw the sunrise over the beach. The gross part was that meant her SD had picked me up, put his hands on my body while I was unconscious and carried me out there). I remembered that at one point I had woken up, wanted to go to the bathroom or get something from inside, caught a glimpse of what I thought was them having sex, and went back outside. I mentioned it to Kiara and she had no memory of it whatsoever, she thought all she had done was gone to sleep. She was rightfully pissed the fuck off that her SD had taken advantage and done things with her while she was blacked, screamed at him, he gave us a half ass apology, and bought us more stuff (buying our silence). He finally flew home and we got to enjoy the trip with just each other, but I was careless with the dosage of a drug called tramadol, and I ODed with my head in her lap...I’m sorry. When I woke up I was hallucinating, hearing voices, crying hysterically and terrified. Kiara called my ex who asked how many mg I took, told us I was 100mg short of the amount that would require medical attention, made me laugh, and told me to go to sleep. I recognize how scary and unfair to her this was and I really do take responsibility for my actions. The day I was supposed to leave I did ecstasy, hooked up with a guy from Canada, and tried to skip my flight. She was mad because like yeah what the fuck. She got me on the flight, the ecstasy comedown hit, and there’s pictures of me crying in the airport because I hated when we fought.

I was supposed to stop in Miami, then fly back to my college town but while in Miami I texted my granny that I was “sad and really didn’t feel good and could she and my uncle visit me at the airport and bring my uncles dog?”. Her parenting instincts went off that something was very wrong, made me skip the flight, picked me up from the airport and took me to her house where I immediately threw up and ran an extremely high fever that night. She said it was one of the scariest nights of her life and she kept checking on me to see if I needed to go to the hospital. She drove me back to my college town where my guy best friend took me to the ER and it came out that Kiaras SD, in addition to giving me drugs, had also allowed me to drink Mexican tap water throughout the entire trip. I was treated for that + given chlamydia meds just in case since I’d had unprotected sex in a foreign country. I was fine, promised to do better, Kiara forgave me, things started to go back to normal. Except I had begun taking Xanax daily to deal with the anxiety of the illness...and she had a trip to Bali planned.

During that trip things managed to get even worse. She was there with her SD and another Korean friend and her SD was pressuring her and guilting her into sex, isolating her from her friend, going through her phone, and becoming extremely aggressive. She would call me crying and having panic attacks and I would walk out of class to try to comfort her over FaceTime. She did not have panic attacks before this trip. She begged to go home early because something was very wrong but he said it was a waste of money and kept her in Bali until the planned end of the trip. I think it was almost a month. She sent me a recording she secretly took of him screaming at her and her saying “don’t touch me, don’t grab me like that, leave me alone”. When she got back to the US I was begging her to stop. I was so worried for her safety. I said the money wasn’t worth it, we’ll get jobs, please just stop. I’m pretty sure he read those messages. We also had a suspicion that he had installed spyware on her phone but were never able to prove it. At this point I also reached out to my dad for help and his response was basically “I don’t care, not my problem, focus on school”. I reached out to my granny who absolutely cared, but her response was “I’m sorry but I can’t afford to support her, I have to focus on taking care of you, if she won’t stop this you’ll have to stop being friends with her”.

I went home to New York for winter break, suffered through my first round of Xanax withdrawal and was truly trying to get better but my ex manipulated his was back in my life and got me addicted again....but now this bottle of 90 had run out. I went back to my college town, got scripted, and was copping street bars when my script inevitably ran out early. What comes next is blurry for obvious reasons. We moved to the town in Florida my granny lived in and got an apartment together. The female friends she made in our town (my current home) she got most of them into sugaring and using SeekingArrangement. Things deteriorated super fast at this point. I was struggling hard, failing my online classes, and eventually got completely financially cut off by my parents. My granny was paying my half of the rent and my puppy’s vet bills but I was too embarrassed to admit I couldn’t afford groceries. Kiara was pressuring me hard to go on SeekingArrangement but I still refused. I would sit on the floor of the bathroom in a towel after I showered and just cry because the steam made me nauseous and dizzy since I wasn’t eating.

I met my current boyfriend and something just started to click: I didn’t wanna live like this anymore. The mom of a friend from this town who also refuses to sugar landed me an interview at the gym I currently work at, I fought for the job, and I got it. Now I knew I didn’t wanna be completely fucked up all the time anymore but I was still doing enough Xanax to keep me out of withdrawal. The 2mg that had blacked me out at the beginning were now just barely enough to keep me functional. Kiara and I were fighting frequently and bad by this time. She and her partner in sugaring, Mena (not her real name but pretty close to it, fuck this bitch fr) were expecting me to keep how they made their money a secret....from friends and guys that I saw every single day. They both very obviously did not work and were flexing new cars, designer clothes, and cash all over their social media. Kiara thought she could cover her ass by saying she dealt drugs but it was also obvious that she wasn’t putting the time into that to come up with the amount of money she had. The only one dealing drugs was me, and not enough to do anything flashy, just enough that in addition to my work money I was usually getting enough to eat. But there were still some times when the previous weeks paycheck had run out and I was having my first meal of the day at 3pm after someone had bought adderall from me. We had our serious serious fight where she threw my stuff in the lawn and I lived with my current boyfriend full time for about a couple weeks since my bedroom at my granny’s was getting refloored when this happened.

By January 20th he was concerned by my Xanax problem and wanted me to seriously try to stop. At the time I started tapering because I wanted the girlfriend title but I’m forever grateful for him giving me a reason, even if it was a shallow one, because I just needed to START. We tried to reconcile once, despite boyfriend and guy best friend begging me not to, and of course the same problems reappeared, we had another serious fight and haven’t spoken since.

Now the fog is clearing and today I’m 96 days clean of xanax, 16 days clean of all benzos, and 19 days clean of gabapentin (what was keeping me from having a seizure while quitting benzos). But it’s hard because being out of the fog means feeling all of my emotions, even the really bad ones. This past week I’ve been waking up and crying sitting in front of my mirror trying to put my makeup on for work and it just drips right off and I have to start over. She was my best friend for 8 years. My favorite person. My partner in life. I loved her more than anyone.

My boyfriend and guy best friend are pretty uncomfortable when they hear someone express an opinion of me that’s “Kiara’s side of the story” and I don’t correct it. Both of them saw exactly how bad it got near the very end and don’t get why I don’t defend myself more or tell people about her letting my dog eat dab (THC) wax while she was supposed to be watching her and having to be rushed to the animal hospital TWO separate times. (She’s a Pomeranian and the highly concentrated THC was super dangerous to her tiny little body). Yelling at me and giving me the silent treatment because less than 48 hours after my SA she expected me to drive her to a hair appointment in Miami and I woke up late and didn’t get her there on time with traffic. Me begging her to be there for me when it felt like everything was falling apart and I self harmed for the first time and her leaving me to go on a vacation to Orlando with a girl we didn’t even really like. Me not wanting to sleep in the apartment alone after my SA and her not letting me sleep in her bed anymore, her and Mena just dumping me at the neighbor’s so they could continue to sugar, party, and see guys our age at night (this sounds super awful but neighbors roommate —> current boyfriend. He kept me safe until I felt better, was really sweet and careful, and I was the one to make the first move). There’s more but I really don’t like talking about it, after the abuse she went through and I assume is still going through, I expect her to be pretty damaged and not have it in her to treat people right all the time. Not exposing every bad thing she’s ever done to all our mutual friends and acquaintances is kind of my last gift to her.

I also admit that sugaring wasn’t responsible for everything that went wrong. Loving an addict is difficult and exhausting and I went through it myself with my ex. I was also out bi and she was “probably straight, maybe a little bi-curious” in her words. But when she was drunk or on Xanax she’d kiss me first...we had done more than kiss but only during 3somes with a guy. I don’t know, I think I loved her more than I was supposed to and some of the stuff she’d say made me think she saw me in a way she really didn’t. When we first moved to this town I had a thing with a girl and expected it to be no big deal but things here were different than up north. I got called the d slur for the first time by someone who wasn’t joking. It was like getting slapped I was so shocked and hurt, I truly didn’t think that happened anymore. I think she saw what happened to me and kinda closed off that part of herself because she didn’t wanna experience that herself. She stopped making out with me at bars and parties after that and it made me sad and maybe a little jealous. But I really do blame her SD for basically “breaking her”, for handing me that first bottle of free Xanax, for a lot of other little things that I can’t possibly include because this is already way too long. This is my first time even saying this much. Feel free to add your own experiences or thoughts on this or anything you’d like. [I’m prepared to get death threats or called a SWERF or whatever but I don’t care, now that I started talking about this I’m not going to stop.]

[along-came-atsushi]

Fyodor’s Ability

This is probably the umpteenth theory written about Fyodor’s ability in this fandom. But I wanted to express my own thoughts I had in mind since reading/watching the story.

I’m curious which things in this theory will turn out to be wrong or right, when his ability gets revealed in the future.

[Beware: Some spoilers starting from chapter 77]

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What we know so far:

1.)  People are not able to protect themselves from Fyodor’s ability via clothing:

-> His ability relies on the fact that he has to touch his victims, but it doesn’t matter if it’s the bare skin or clothing.

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2.)  He’s able to change or remove certain emotions from people’s brains:

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3.) Therefore, his ability seemingly has something to do with his victim’s brain, as they all die due to their heads exploding and the fact that he’s even able to alter/remove people’s emotions.

Things that are pretty unclear until now is whether Fyodor is able to control his ability or not, and which factor serves as trigger.

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Possibilities:

1.) Fyodor is fully able to control his ability -> just like Akutagawa can control Rashomon.

2.) Fyodor is not able to control his ability and his ability reacts to any person he touches -> just like Dazai and his ability.

3.) Fyodor is not able to control his ability and his ability reacts on its own, but only in a certain situation -> The same problem Atsushi faced with his ability before joining the ADA. Another example is Yosano not having control over her ability when she gets heavily injured, or Odasaku’s ability activating whenever he’s in danger.

4.) Fyodor is able to control his ability, but his ability is still dependent on a certain situation in order to activate -> kinda like Kunikida can use Doppo Poet whenever he wants, but he needs his notebook for that. Chuuya can decide whenever he uses Corruption, but has no control over himself after that.

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The confrontation with Ace:

- If we consider Possibility 1 (Fyodor being fully able to control his ability) then some things during the scene with Ace don’t make sense:

It’s weird that Fyodor needed to trick Ace into committing suicide. If he has full control over his ability, then he could’ve just simply touched Ace and the problem would’ve been finished. They were even completely alone in the room for a while and just sitting inches away from each other. Yet, Fyodor did not, for some reason, decide to touch Ace and kill him that way.

The reason for this could be simply because Fyodor loves to torture people by manipulating them and he did just that with Ace. But the whole set-up of playing that card game with him, telling Ace’s subordinate Karma something false about his ability, just for Ace to think that his ability has a different power, and then waiting for Ace to go nuts and commit suicide… a little bit too much work compared to a simple and quick touch.

Therefore, I doubt that it was just this reason alone. And Ace isn’t on the intellectual level that Dazai is, so that Fyodor would’ve enjoyed a “challenge” in outdoing him in his scheming.

It’s also different what he later does with the children. He needed to use those children in order to break Kunikida and impede the ADA.

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- If we consider Possibility 2 (Fyodor is not able to control his ability and his ability reacts to any person he touches), then the scene with Karma doesn’t make sense:

-> Karma was able to touch Fyodor, but didn’t die back then. And as we know by now, people aren’t able to protect themselves from Fyodor’s ability via clothing.

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With this there still remains Possibility 3 (Fyodor is not able to control his ability and his ability reacts on its own, but only in a certain situation) and Possibility 4 (Fyodor is able to control his ability, but his ability is still dependent on a certain situation in order to activate). Which brings us to the question:

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Which factor triggers Fyodor’s ability?

What the name ‘Crime and Punishment’ could mean:

“Have you never wondered why my special ability doesn’t leave me in this fog? I am crime. I am punishment. Did you know? Crime and punishment are close friends. Borders vanish. Rooms awaken.”

“Crime and punishment are close friends.”

-> His ability could have something to do with guilt, since guilt is the worst punishment you can feel for your own crime.

Fyodor is well aware that the things he does are considered crimes, and despite his outer behaviour he feels guilty for the things he does or thinks he has to do.

The difference is that he believes he does it for the greater good and for humanity’s sake.

(And look at his face, he’s not exactly delighted about killing children.)

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If his ability is based around guilt, then his victims also need to feel this certain emotion in order for Fyodor to use it. Or in other words, his ability gets triggered by this certain emotion. Considering the above where it’s explained that Fyodor must have some kind of semi-control over his ability (due to the whole Karma situation), then this means it belongs to Possibility 4 (Fyodor is able to control his ability, but his ability is still dependent on a certain situation in order to activate).

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Having this theory in mind, then his confrontation with Ace has another meaning, other than Fyodor simply having fun with his mind games:

Ace does have zero regard for his subordinates, treating them like mere tools, literally calling them slaves. All this gets emphasized by his ability alone, that allows him to turn the life of a human (“trash” from Ace’s POV) into diamonds.

And Ace tells this Fyodor right off the bait, meaning with this information Fyodor knew that Ace didn’t feel any guilt about his actions (his crimes) and for his subordinates at all. If Ace doesn’t feel any guilt at all, from which Fyodor’s ability might be dependent on, then he wouldn’t be able to use it against him. Therefore, Fyodor couldn’t kill him by touching him, and needed to trick him.

Other possible hints for his ability being based on guilt are these:

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Karma’s death:

-> Even though he had no power whatsoever over his upbringing and was sold as a slave since childhood, Karma still felt guilty for the things he had been doing since (or was forced to do), calling himself a bad person and seeing himself as unworthy of any help. Something which he personally revealed to Fyodor.

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Ivan:

-> We don’t know what Fyodor’s “Happiness to the World” looks like. But Ivan must have had some kind of epiphany when Fyodor “removed the part of his brain that feels unhappiness”. Assuming that Fyodor is only able to remove the part of the brain that feels guilt, to which Ivan refers to as unhappiness, then people would indeed feel happier about their lives.

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Nikolai:

-> Another character with a connection to Fyodor who mentions things like “emotions”, “freedom”, and “guilt”. Nikolai claims that Fyodor is the only one who truly understands him, so much that he even considers him a friend. Which means that Fyodor must’ve experienced something in his past similar to Nikolai and/or that he has the same notion as Nikolai (killing innocents for the greater good, living with the guilt of murder).

[Side note: Since Nikolai is planning to kill Fyodor now, Fyodor in return could be the one to actually kill Nikolai once and for all, simply confronting him with his guilt. Which would mean that in the end Nikolai would get his freedom by dying through Fyodor’s hands, freeing him from his emotions towards Fyodor and his guilt.]

[[Side side note: Even though I don’t want this to happen and hope it doesn’t end this way, because Nikolai is one of my fav characters. And he just respawned, it wouldn’t be fair, man! Everything… everything but the clown!]]

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Why does Fyodor want to become God? His (possible) origin:

[Please keep in mind that the following is just mere speculation and just an example of what could’ve happened!]

Fyodor sees ability users as sinners and wants to rid the world of them. From his ideology this makes him a sinner too, because he himself is an ability user.

And maybe that is the reason why he so vehemently pursues this goal. Because he himself feels guilt for something he has done in the past.

An example for this would be:

Maybe someone close to him (his father or mother) accidentally killed someone (maybe through a car accident). And because of this they felt guilt over that person’s death.

Fyodor unaware and not in control of his ability at that time wanted to comfort this person close to him (through physical contact), which then led to him killing this person by accident in return.

A trauma like this could’ve been the source for his ‘ability users are sinners’ ideology and why he wants to change the world.

[higuchimon]

[fanfic] Desire of Darkness

Dreams were for the weak. For those too foolish and too useless to have goals, to have plans, to work towards those goals and plans.

Haou wasn't like that anymore. He'd made his mind up in Brron's arena and nothing whatsoever would stop him. His goals were twofold.

First, to conquer this world, bringing it all under his control, and therefore ensure that no death would happen without his permission. He did not think often about the screams of those he'd called friends, but he swore those would never happen again. If there was death, it would be because he willed it and not because someone else thought it might be fun.

Second, he would create Super Fusion. That went hand in glove with conquering the world. There wasn't any other way that he knew of to bring the card into existence. He'd spoken extensively with as many duel spirits as he could who might know something about this and they all said the same thing - that it required souls. So he would give it souls, and when he had it, his conquest would be that much easier.

Not that he expected it to ever be easy. There were other beings in this world who were as strong as he was - perhaps even stronger in some fashion. Some cunning, some ruthless. They would have to be dealt with when he had the power and the opportunity. Exactly when that might be he wasn't entirely certain. But he would do it.

He had a mental checklist of what he wanted to do, sorted out into different levels. Overall remained those two goals, world conquest and Super Fusion. Underneath those came gathering the strength and the power to defeat Belial - Marquis of Darkness, Curse of Vampire, and Fallen Angel Lucifer. They would all kneel to him - or they would be no more. Surely beings that strong would be powerful enough to boost Super Fusion towards completion.

He suspected that all three of the others had spies inside of his own fortress. He would need to recruit someone who could do the same - perhaps more than one someone. But that would have to come later.

Is this what it is like to study? It wasn't the same thing, but it wasn't too far from it, he thought. Instead of the goal being to pass a test, it was to achieve conquest and victory.

It wasn't a smile but he could feel his lips twitching ever so lightly. What would Chronos-sensei or Principal Samejima think if they could see him now? They would not approve. He knew that very well indeed. But that wouldn't change his goals in the slightest. He'd already had to deal with the people he'd thought he could trust turning on him.

That inexorably led his thoughts to Shou. He refused to acknowledge the pain in his heart, his armored fingers tightening into a cold fist. He pressed his lips together behind his helmet, thinking. Part of him wanted to ignore the fact Marufuji Shou, Jim Cook, and Austin O'Brien even existed. He hardly knew the last two anyway, cold logic informed him, and Shou had clearly chosen to cut every tie possible.

He knew that he should simply carry on. His goals didn't need any of them. But he considered one thing - that if they found out what he was doing, then they would no doubt make the effort to stop him. Not for his sake, of course. If they wanted to help him, then they would help him, join his side, and aid him in conquering this world. He knew they'd never do that.

But there the tiniest of voices, the thinnest of thoughts, that whispered he should find them, convince them in any way that he could to join him. They might not be his friends anymore - Shou had made that abundantly clear - but they were strong duelists. They would be of more use to him than they were wandering around scrabbling for food. They would be safe with him - they would only die if they weren't strong enough or if they angered him too much.

He considered his options. If they weren't on his side, then they were his enemies. He didn't want them to be his enemies. He would far rather they served him. He knew that Shou hadn't been happy about dueling in this world. That was fine; he could find other uses for him.

Assuming that something hadn't happened and Shou wasn't dead already. If he was, then it wasn't by the hand of any of his servants. They all had orders to bring any duel disks and decks that their foes left behind, so he could continue the search for Johan. If anyone had ever brought in the Gem Beast deck, then he would have them summarily executed. He'd decided that on his second day as ruler here.

He wouldn't know how useful they could be unless he made the effort. He pulled a scrap of paper towards him - he wondered vaguely where paper like this came from in this world - and wrote a few notes, listing what sorts of decks that the three used and what they looked like, before he summoned in one of his lesser servants. This wasn't important enough for him to call the Death Duelists.

The one he called was Fallen Angel of Pleasure - she'd defected from the Fallen Angels and told him of their goals in defeating him at some nebulous point in the future. Fallen Angel Lucifer hadn't yet decided when. That didn't make him a high target on Haou's own to-do list.

"If you find them, bring them to me," he ordered. "But be careful. Any of them could prove far more dangerous than expected."

"Of course, my lord," Fallen Angel of Pleasure purred, voice low and husky as usual. Haou nodded, dismissing her with a flick of one hand, then turned his attention back to deciding where he'd next send his army.

He had no more dreams, no real hopes, nothing except the burning need to create Super Fusion, to make all of those deaths - Fubuki, Kenzan, Asuka, Manjoume - worth something. So that it hadn't all been in vain.

He had no more dreams, but he could be everyone else's nightmare. And maybe then, his own would cease.

The End

Notes: I had to think a while before I decided on what I wanted to write for this prompt but then it hit me. And I rather like it, because I like writing Haou.

[kiruuuuu]

Smoke/Mute in which ten cups of coffee change Mute’s life. (Rating T, slice of life/fluff/budding romance, ~5.8k words) - written for none other than @nutbrain​ for being a remarkable human being and an even better friend 💖 Please enjoy!

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Mark eyes the shopfront before him with suspicion. His safe haven apparently gone, a flashier version has taken its place some time during the semester break, keeping nothing but the location and the proffered goods. Instead of the old-fashioned, thick-cushioned chairs and dim lighting, the new café shines with an open-floor concept, simple wooden furniture and an overall dark look with specks of gold to brighten it up. Leo Coffee, reads the sign next to a golden logo displaying a roaring lion. What big cats have to do with coffee isn’t obvious to Mark, but he overcomes his initial distaste and steps inside nonetheless.

As visible from outside, the place is deserted. The previous coffee shop was frequented by businesspeople and students alike, located halfway between the campus and Mark’s dorm – on rainy days, people often took public transport and bought their coffee elsewhere, but even on those occasions, it’s never been as empty as this.

Not that Mark is complaining. If the coffee is good, he’ll continue frequenting the new shop, and being able to work in peace would be an added bonus. He is quite fond of Julien and Timur, but even so, they’re not the… easiest to live with. To say the least. A quiet place would be very welcome.

He sets his books down on the table furthest away from the counter, slings his bag over the back of a chair and approaches the empty void where an employee should be standing. This is when he notices another curiosity: there’s no menu board. There isn’t even a menu card by the counter or anywhere, really, only a glass case with a handful of baked goods inside, most of which look like a child made them. So far, the only redeeming quality is the delicious dark smell of roasted coffee beans lingering in the air.

After another minute, still nobody has appeared, so Mark checks his phone for reviews. If the place has less than four stars – alright, three, he’s giving them the benefit of the doubt purely because of their convenient location and quietness –, then he’s out of here. He can’t even remember the last time he had to wait this long to -

“Are you going to order or what?”

Nearly dropping his phone in the process, Mark jumps at the sudden gruff voice and looks up to find himself face to face with a grizzled man. The black apron is all that betrays him as an employee as the unimpressed glare and casual attire do nothing in his favour. “Uh”, he replies eloquently and vows that he’ll never set foot in this place again if this is how he’s going to get treated.

The old man’s expression melts into friendliness. “I’m sorry, I just wasn’t expecting anyone. Welcome to Café Leo – it’s your first time here, so have a loyalty card, lad.”

Mark accepts the piece of paper without thinking, still thrown off by the bloke’s sudden appearance (how does he move completely silent like that), and at least has the presence of mind to inspect it. Its contents are so absurd that he forgets to ask how the man opposite him knew he hadn’t been to the shop yet. “‘After 10 coffee purchases, you’re eligible for a free wish’”, he mumbles, reading the text printed white on black aloud. “‘This offer is not transferable.’ What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means that only you can redeem your reward, not anyone else. Would you like some coffee?”

He blinks at the bearded man, trying to ascertain whether he’s being serious, and is met with an almost bored stare. Weighing his options, the scales are only slightly tipped in favour of staying, but only because he knows Julien has a ‘visitor’ over today and there’s no other place he can study – the library is overrun by frantic procrastinators who left finishing their coursework assigned over the break to the absolute last minute, and Manu is coming back tomorrow. Apart from her and his roommates, there’s no one with whom he’s comfortable enough to invite himself over.

Especially not him. God knows why Mark even considered him for a brief second.

Looks like he’ll have to deal with this awkwardness if he wants to get any work done whatsoever. “Alright then. What do you sell?”

“Coffee”, comes the curt answer.

Mark rubs his eyes in exhaustion. He’s beginning to understand why there’s no other customers here. “Sure. Yes. A coffee, then.”

“That’ll be…” The employee trails off while frowning down at his wristwatch. “…um, about £7.92.”

“For one coffee?”

“It’s free refills, son.”

Oh, so maybe this is an American chain. That would explain quite a bit. Mark considers whether he’s staying long enough to get the most out of his money, but seeing as the bloke doesn’t seem the chattiest type and he’s unlikely to get interrupted, he decides it’s worth it. Still, there’s something he simply can’t let go. “… what do you mean, ‘about’ £7.92?”

“Are you paying cash or card?”

Alright then.

The next ultimatum: if the coffee turns out dogshite, he’s never coming back. He’d rather travel an increased distance to a normal coffee shop than to have to deal with this nonsense. Wordlessly, he sets down a £10 note and scoops the change into his wallet before watching the obviously American guy (and maybe the chain imports all their workers, who knows) pour a cup of the darkest coffee he’s ever seen. He unceremoniously sets it down in front of him and makes no indication of mentioning neither cream nor sugar. He’s lucky Mark prefers his energy supply as-is.

“Ta”, Mark mutters and scurries away, glad to escape that hard stare. To make sure he’s not being scammed, he takes a quick sip of the fragrant liquid and is surprised at how pleasant the taste is. Minimal bitterness, a gentle, almost floral note, and just strong enough to satisfy his craving.

Well, crap.

Looks like he’ll have to come back after all.

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~*~

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“Did you guys know the old coffee shop closed?”, Mark voices his thoughts into the middle of a medium-sized food war between Manu and Timur involving entirely too many packets of salt.

“The one on campus?”, Manu asks and accidentally elbows Julien in the ribs, causing him to actually look up from his phone for once.

“No, the one halfway to our dorm.”

“I was there last week”, Timur pipes up, making him furrow his brows. A week can’t be enough to refurnish the entire café, let alone switch owners completely. “Is it closed now?”

“There’s a different one instead. It was dead when I went, but the coffee’s good. The bloke serving me was weird.”

“Look at you, stringing multiple sentences together”, Julien chimes in, grinning. “Something novel must’ve happened for you to even bring it up. Was the dude hot?”

“Because that’s the only reason anyone would ever get excited about anything”, says Manu drily. “We can check it out if it’s good, even if the employees suck. Not like we have to socialise with them.”

Mark shrugs and regrets mentioning the café in the first place – it feels somehow personal, whether it’s to do with the odd experience overall or the fact that he ended up staying more than three hours. His productivity was through the roof, the calm atmosphere helped immensely and the thought of his loud friends – as much as he appreciates them – invading his newfound hideout isn’t one he particularly enjoys.

It turned out that the employee wasn’t so bad after all: as soon as Mark considered asking for more coffee, he appeared right by his side and filled his mug again, without bothering him at all. Still, Julien would complain about him and Timur might agree and Manu is likely to judge his impolite manner, and Mark wouldn’t be able to defend him. Even if he doesn’t mind the silent company.

For the moment, he needn’t bother with these thoughts as his friends are wholly occupied with arguing over some internet memes (and Mark remembers vividly how they all had to talk Julien down from nibbling at their laundry detergent pods), so nothing could be further from their minds than sitting down and actually studying for their degrees.

Not that they’re bad students, quite the opposite, they’re just not as… ambitious as Mark. Some have called him obsessed, yes, and he can’t quite refute it, but he prefers to call it ‘determined’. There have been few who are able to keep up with him, which is probably partly the reason why he’s made friends with people from completely different departments. He tends to be a loner in most classes, which suits him just fine.

Well. Most classes.

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“I would give my left bollock for you.”

Mark certainly doesn’t appreciate the imagery. He hands over the photocopied sheet to the bloke nearly bouncing in delight before shuffling after his fellow students into the lecture hall. Closely followed, of course. “Make sure to change enough details”, he repeats the reminder, earning a scoff.

“I’ll make it illegible, babe, don’t worry.” James plops down next to him, stretching and taking up too much space. “You’re the only reason I’ll actually get credit for this course.”

Oh, Mark is very aware of this fact. He lets his seat neighbour prattle on as he takes out his materials, lines up his pens, and waits for the lecture to start. If he were pressed to explain how he ended up in this position, with a chatterbox glued to his side too lazy to do any of the coursework, he wouldn’t have a concise answer. Other than his inability to say no.

The problem is that James knows exactly who to befriend. Mark is naturally drawn to the overachievers in each class and carefully selects his group for projects, going by people who do put the time and work in to get a good grade – anything where students are meant to collaborate is 30% actual work and 70% politics. The right people tend to listen to him whenever he knows better, because they’re interested in improving and learning, they tend to go along with his division of tasks, because he distributes them fairly and suited to everyone’s skills, and they tend to work best independently, so they can get it done even without excessive communication.

And James? He follows the same strategy as Mark, except that he’s a leech. He latches onto the teacher’s pets, chooses the easiest tasks, always volunteers for presentations (meaning he’ll just have to regurgitate what his group produced), and bribes his groupmates so they don’t throw him out. Whether it’s snacks or drinks after class, whether it’s attention and compliments, or playing matchmaker: he knows how to make himself useful in all aspects other than his studies.

He’s a clown. He makes everyone laugh and worms his way into their hearts so they would feel bad about calling him out. Not having to do any work is his reward for asking questions everyone’s thinking but doesn’t dare ask for fear of looking stupid in front of the prof.

Obviously, James has latched onto him ever since they crossed paths in chem last semester, and Mark considered dropping the current class when he found out that he was in it as well. Even worse, James began asking him for homework, giving excuses like having had no time, not being able to write it down concisely, and so on – and though Mark initially refused, classmates approached him and gently nudged him towards sharing his results with James. Just to be nice. Just to help him. He’s such a good guy after all.

So Mark’s homework gets copied and passed along. And James’ fondness of him only grows.

During the long, meaningless rant interspersed with an impressive amount of curse words, he perks up at a quiet: “Wait, this one doesn’t make any sense.”

His pride won’t let him ignore it. “Which one?”

James points at one of Mark’s answers, a complicated equation. “Shouldn’t that be on top?”

“The denominator?”

An uncertain glance. He points again. “This.”

“You mean the bottom fraction? That’s the denominator, yes. And it is where it should be.”

James frowns, indubitably not content with the reply but possibly unsure how to voice his dissatisfaction.

“Trust me, it’s correct. Just copy it.”

“But I want to understand it.”

Fat chance. No way did he get any of the previous homework without having engaged with the subject matter at all, so it’s impossible for him to work it out, even if Mark explained it. Which he doesn’t want to. Because he figures it’d be like explaining string theory to a brick wall. He’s saved by the prof’s entry, knowing James at least has the decency to shut up during class, and hopes he can simply slip away afterwards.

It turns out, however, James is fully aware of his biggest weakness. “Do you have a bit of time after? You think you can explain it to me? Please?”

Yikes.

Not only is Mark burning to show him how wrong he is, he’s also entirely unable to refuse a plea for help. And there’s no doubt James knows this. He can’t keep getting away with it, he’s exploiting Mark enough as it is without offering much – if anything – in return, plus it’s obvious the endeavour is futile and doomed from the start. And this is disregarding the possibility of James suggesting more meetings in the future. So, like the reasonable adult he is, Mark replies: “Sure.”

And has never wanted to kick himself more.

.

If this bloke really is the only employee they have, it’s no wonder the place is dead yet again. They stare at each other, unblinking, and seem equally dismayed about each other’s presence. “Hi”, says Mark after a few seconds of tense silence.

The old man is wearing the same clothes as last time, apron and jeans – even his disinterested expression hasn’t changed. “I’m Sam”, he offers completely out of the blue, surprising Mark with how unexpected the introduction is. “I figured you shouldn’t have to keep calling me ‘this bloke’ in your head.”

“… Mark”, he responds hesitantly.

“Is that a threat?” Sam barks out a brief, mirthless laugh. “I know. You wrote it on your loyalty card.”

He most certainly did not, but only because the card is solid black with white text. “Look, I’m just here to buy coffee.”

“You brought a friend.” Sam indicates James who already sat down by a window and is absorbed in his phone for the time being – and for all his faults, Mark has to admit that at least his (limited) attention is always on the person he’s talking to; he’s never seen his fellow student even checking for messages during a conversation.

“Not really”, he says nonetheless and is reasonably sure they’re out of earshot. “We just have chem together.”

“You have chemistry, hm?”

He wonders if it’s possible to set someone on fire with a hard look alone. “Just sell me the bloody coffee.”

“For the both of you?” Sam turns around and studies the clock on the wall behind him, whispering to himself for a few seconds before announcing: “That’ll be roughly £15.84.”

“Fine.” He holds out a card, scowling when Sam makes no move to take it.

“No complaint?”

“Is it gonna be cheaper if I do? Besides, he’s paying. So I don’t care.”

“Oh. Then it’ll be £22.43.”

“Why is it -” As quickly as his annoyance spikes, it ebbs again. It’s obvious there’s no logic behind all this nonsense, yet he still tries: “If it’s cheaper for me, I’ll pay and get the money back from him.”

“That’s illegal. You’ve already told me he’s paying.”

“I’m not trying to buy liquor, why would it -” Deep breaths. He already told James about how good the coffee is, and if they go anywhere else, someone else might see them. He’s strongly incentivised to stay. “Fine. Here.”

Sam runs the card and, as last time, pours two very unimpressive mugs before, to Mark’s horror, reaching into the display case and pulling out two slices of cakes on their own respective plates. The chocolate one is drooping and threatening to fall over if anyone looked at it wrong, and the sponge cake seems suspiciously wet. There’s no telling how long they’ve been sitting there. “It’s on the house”, Sam says, almost begrudgingly, as if he was the inconvenienced one.

Mark considers asking for forks or napkins but decides that the shorter their interaction, the healthier his sanity. “Ta, mate. Do you need my loyalty card?”

“No need.”

Fair enough, though he’s not sure what the point of it is, then. He carries the coffees and cakes over in two trips and wonders how he’ll get rid of the sickly-looking bakeware without Sam noticing. When James eventually tries his piece and doesn’t keel over immediately though, Mark gives his own a try.

It’s the best chocolate cake he’s ever had. And he’s never been madder in his life.

.

~*~

.

At some point, it turns into stubbornness. There’s a few mannerisms, the odd hobby and some of his preferences which started out as either ironic, as guilty pleasures or as things he actively disliked, but the more he engaged, the more he developed the attitude of: you know what? This is mine and I don’t care what anyone says about it.

He’s starting to adopt Leo Coffee. The awkward vibe about it, the indecipherable employee, the delicious food and drinks – it holds its own charm in a way, and he’s stopped wondering about being the only patron. It’s perfect for studying or unwinding, and does wonders for his stressed soul. He’s been returning regularly now, about once a week, and even brought James with him a second time to argue about yet another homework he criticised. The atmosphere renders Mark calmer, more patient, and so he endured the other man’s presence for much longer than he would’ve thought possible. They stayed for almost three hours the first time, even longer the second.

Just to make sure he’s not being a nuisance, he tried to check the coffee shop’s opening hours and wasn’t even sure what he expected to find. They’re listed nowhere, of course, and Sam switched topics the instant he brought it up.

So now the only people he has to drag in here are his friends, who have somehow evaded his efforts so far – but not today. Timur and Julien promised to come even though Manu has to go to some recital or other, meaning she’s excused. For now.

Eyes idly following pedestrians outside, he’s resting his chin in his palm and waiting. Being the only punctual one has always meant boredom, so he’s lucky his mind is imaginative enough to keep him occupied in the meantime. His train of thought meanders through all the topics occupying his brain recently, how the new guy Julien is seeing is basically moving into their apartment, how Timur keeps hanging around the wrong crowd, how unfair it is that Manu aces all her courses with so little effort, how he happened to run into James during his break today and almost suggested spending it together -

His phone buzzes, interrupting his aimless daydreaming and prompting him to check the colourful screen.

I got ambushed, writes Julien and it’s unclear whether he’s being cryptic on purpose. Mark sends a question mark and has to wait a minute or two for the explanation: Sudden date night, looks like Netflix & chill boys ;) sry for ditching you but the shop isn’t gonna go anywhere right?

An eye roll later, Mark responds with a simple TMI.

I don’t think I’ll make it either, adds Timur, a friend wants to yarn bomb the stature by City Hall and they need me as lookout.

This one gets points for creativity at least. He sighs and reassures them with a quick sure, no problem before commending himself for not going home first to drop his bag off. Now he can just study instead. Woohoo.

Another brief vibration, this notification from a completely different group chat, one Mark apparently forgot to leave once the project was done: @Mark: are there carrots in carrot cake?

The number is translated to ‘GirthControl’, so there’s just one person this could be. He stares at his screen. Is that a trick question? Yes, he feels confident enough to affirm to James.

Ah okay. Thanks babe.

This is when it occurs to him: Wait, why did you only ask me?

Silence. Whatever quest James is currently on, it apparently required Mark’s input and Mark’s input only.

He can’t help but laugh at the absurdity and suddenly feels a lot less abandoned. In the grand scheme of things, it doesn’t matter whether his friends don’t rank him at the top of their priority list as long as he’s on it somewhere. And knowing that he’s left a lasting impression on James beyond being the lad who supplies him with homework is oddly reassuring.

When he approaches the counter, Sam once again materialising out of nowhere (at least that’s what it feels like – he’s always there when Mark needs him and never at any other time), he’s decided to not get weirded out by anything today. “A coffee”, he orders confidently and inspects the haphazardly thrown together bagels featured prominently in the infamous display case. “And a bagel.” He doesn’t bother specifying, Sam will choose for him anyway.

After peering at the digital alarm clock on the counter, Sam announces the approximate value of the aforementioned items and then squints at him. “Weren’t you going to meet with somebody?”

Mark half-shrugs. “Kinda. They’re busy though.”

“Mind if I join you?” He must notice Mark’s surprise because he adds: “It’s your ninth time here. Would be a shame if we didn’t get to talk before you’ve filled up your loyalty card, don’t you think?”

“Alright”, he agrees and waits until Sam has poured himself a mug as well before they sit down at Mark’s usual table – tucked away in a corner but close enough to the windows to be able to do people-watching if his eyes need a rest from staring at textbooks or screens all day long. It’s the first time he examines the man opposite him more closely: the distinguished features, greying beard, wild mane of hair. He looks too… important to be working in a coffee shop, like he was destined for greatness. Mark can’t picture him angry even if he exudes a bitter, cynical aura which he’s likely to hide behind sarcasm.

“How did you end up here?”, he wants to know, genuinely curious.

“Good question.” Sam takes a few sips of his excellent coffee as he ponders how to reply. “It’s a temporary thing, that’s for sure.” He leaves it at that. “What do you study?”

Mark eyes the disorganised heap of books keeping his bagel company and sighs. “At this point, I don’t even know anymore.”

“Sounds fun.”

“It is”, he emphasises. “I love studying.”

“Where’s the problem then?”

There is none, he wants to say yet his mouth refuses to comply. He stares into the dark liquid, running his thumb over even porcelain and then decides to sod it – he asked, right? And somehow, it’s always easier to unload on a complete stranger. “I feel like it’s all I’m doing.”

“You keep others at a distance on purpose.” He nods, even though it wasn’t a question. “So don’t be surprised if they do the same.”

“I’m not.” The warmth seeps into his palms as he wraps his hands around the mug, providing as much comfort as Sam’s gentle tone. “I just want it to be different.”

“Make an effort. It’s never to late to change. I’m sure your friends will appreciate it. Put some trust in them, they’re your friends for a reason.” He nods again, lost in thought. “Have you figured out what you’re going to wish for next time?”

He scoffs, amused. There isn’t a single thing he can imagine himself wanting from the old man before him, so he’s unlikely to wish for anything at all. “No. Not yet.”

“Well, think about it. I believe in you, son.” With that, Sam downs the last of his own coffee and gets up, ready to walk back behind the counter and only stops when Mark calls his name.

“Is there someone you care about?”

It’s the first time he sees Sam smile. “Yes. There were two, but I lost one – so I keep the other one twice as close without trying to be suffocating. It’s hard. But remember, Mark, it’s never too late to tell the people in your life how you really feel.” And then he’s gone, disappeared into the back, leaving behind a faint nostalgia tinted with hope.

There’s no challenge from which Mark has shied away in his life, and this one isn’t going to be his first.

.

~*~

.

The word fuck on his lips, Mark bursts into the café like a panicked chicken. He’s juggling two bags and his phone, his frantic typing only interrupted by the need to breathe now and then, and nearly drops it when he slams his book bag to the ground at the counter. “Sorry, one sec”, he addresses an unimpressed-looking Sam as he dials a number and curses once more when it’s not immediately picked up. “Can I get a coffee to go?”, he asks, out of breath, as the dial tone beeps in his ear.

“I don’t serve people who are on the phone”, Sam replies, as calm as ever.

Mark mentally increases the number of people who’d be dead if his looks could kill by one. “This is the worst thing to ever happen to me”, he says gravely and hangs up after thirty seconds have passed. “I’m gonna fail this class.”

“An event without precedence, I assume?”

“You have no bloody idea. But yes, a coffee please, I need to go back to the library and get an entire semester’s worth of material because I’m too fucking dumb to read a syllabus correctly. This has never happened to me, I have one day to write this assignment and I’m lacking so much -”

“Can you give me the time?”, Sam interrupts him nonchalantly and stares at the screen of Mark’s phone as he holds it up for him to read. “Thanks. Let’s say £2.63.”

“And I can’t study at home because Timur has his friends over, and Manu is in a panic herself, and I know the library is going to be overrun by people who treat the study rooms like their social media accounts by loudly oversharing all the time, and I have no idea how I’m supposed to do this. Maybe I’ll just accept fate and fail. No clue how I’m gonna tell my parents.”

“Your loyalty card.”

Distracted, Mark fishes it out of his wallet and puts it on the counter. “And the other people in chem aren’t answering or are no help at all, I don’t get it, I’ve done group projects with them and still they don’t have the courtesy to help me out in this. It was a genuine mistake, as stupid as it is, and I’m just -”

“You need to write it down.”

He’s briefly interrupted in his rant to frown at the black paper card. “Write what?”

“Your wish.”

“But you won’t be able to read it. I only have black or blue pens.”

“Doesn’t matter. Write it down.”

With an irritated sigh, Mark takes out a pen and thinks for a second, the majority of his attention elsewhere still. Eventually, he scribbles someone who cares, not that it’d be legible in any way, and hands it to Sam. “That’s it? I’m not sure this reward system is going to pay off in the long term, you know.”

Sam holds the card up to the light as if he was inspecting a bank note and nods, apparently satisfied. “You’re all set. Good luck.”

“Ta, I’m gonna need it.” Mark shoves all his belongings in various pockets, hoping he’ll remember where he put them, and grabs the to-go cup. And then, without so much as a goodbye, he storms back out, steeling himself for an all-nighter certain to mess up sleep schedule for days, if not weeks.

He ascribes it to his flustered state that he doesn’t look up as he exits the coffee shop, and promptly runs into someone, collides with what feels like a solid wall. His coffee gets squished and sloshes over, soaking the front of his clothes – fortunately, it’s not hot at all, more like lukewarm which is odd in and of itself. He swears again, yanking his phone out of his pocket before it gets wet also and it’s only due to another hand grabbing the device that it doesn’t plummet to the ground straightaway.

“Oh bollocks, I’m so sorry”, says the wall he ran into which turns out to be none other than James. Of all people. “Are you alright? Is it hot?”

“No, no, I’m fine”, Mark presses through clenched teeth, the stress slowly overwhelming him. “But now I have to go home and change before I can start on this stupid fucking -”

“Babe. Calm down. What’s wrong?”

He takes a deep breath and ignores the quickly cooling wet patches on his clothes for the moment. “I still have to do the report. I didn’t realise we were meant to -”

“Oh, you haven’t done it? At all?”

“No! No, I didn’t, and everyone else is partnered up so I can’t just join someone else, so I’ll have to -”

“I’m not paired up.”

“Sure, once I’m done I’ll put your name on there, whatever, but that doesn’t -”

“Babe. Mark. Listen to me.” James waves in front of his face with a slight grin. “I did it. It’s almost done. I’ll put down that we did it together and you’re good.”

He stares at James, mouth open, for several unflattering seconds. “Wait – you… how?”

“I can show you, but it’s at my place. My roommate is around your height, he can lend you some clothes. Let’s go.”

And yet again, Mark finds himself unable to refuse. He drinks what’s left of his coffee in one go (and it really is tepid, he must’ve gotten really lucky), tosses the cup in the nearest bin and leaves Leo Coffee behind without a single glance back.

.

James’ flat looks exactly like Mark would’ve imagined it, only louder. Double bass and epic vocals are permeating every room, and all available horizontal surfaces are littered with stuff. The walls are plastered with posters, some funny, some pretty, some morbid, and it reeks of weed.

A small part of Mark feels right at home, oddly enough.

“Turn the fucking music down!”, James yells at the top of his lungs, throwing him an apologetic look, clearly uncomfortable with the state of it all and ignorant as to Mark’s growing amusement.

Somewhere, a door opens and the shrill guitars become clearer. “Whot?”, someone replies just as loudly.

“Exactly!”, is James’ deafening reply, and a few seconds later, the melodies decrease to a reasonable level. Another bloke joins them, tall and well-built with an unkempt beard and a band shirt as well as no socks.

“Who’s that? Is he allowed to be here?”, asks James’ roommate and regards Mark with suspicion.

“That was Sabaton, wasn’t it?”, Mark inquires back. “Primo Victoria?”

The dude’s entire face lights up like a Christmas tree. “Oh, a connoisseur. He can stay, James, I like him already.”

And while the two of them exchange more words, Mark goes exploring. He ends up in what must be James’ room which is covered in paper, be it books or hand-written notes, and most of it seems related to chemistry in some way. Curious, Mark looks around until he finds a spiral-bound notepad titled with the name of the course they’re sharing this semester. Contrary to his expectations, it’s far from empty – not only does it contain copious lecture notes, it also features every assignment they’d been given since the start of the course.

Solved differently from Mark’s own answers.

Confused, he checks more closely and finds a recurring pattern: equations that are struck-through, calculations lacking several steps in between which wouldn’t be accepted by the prof this way, and very little text. It looks like the writings of someone who certainly understands the material but simply has a hard time putting his thoughts in order, putting his ideas into neat writing.

He’s been immersed for several minutes when James finally joins him, and when he does, Mark holds up his notes and greets him with a simple: “What the fuck?”

James doesn’t seem to realise where Mark’s problem lies and shrugs. “Yeah, I’m a hopeless case, I know.”

“No. No, you’re really not. This is – look here, if you just shift this around, you end up with the correct result. You’re like 95% of the way there, you just didn’t finish it.”

“Oh.” James blinks at him. “I guess. It’s kinda like that with the report. I was hoping you could help me write the conclusion, I’ve got the rest, but -”

“Sure. Yes.” Mark’s agreeableness seems to astonish his host. “That’ll take an hour, maybe two. And I won’t have to pull an all-nighter. James, you have no idea how much you saved me.”

And James, bless his soul, is blushing. “Well. No problem. I owe you anyway. Right?” He suddenly remembers he’s holding spare clothing and vaguely gestures in Mark’s direction. “You, uh, you can change in the bathroom. Don’t mind the cat, she just loves staring at naked people. Dom found out the hard way.”

Twenty minutes later, Mark is reading through James’ report with a ball of fur purring on his lap, faint metal playing in the background. There’s a lot of grammar and spelling to be fixed, as well as phrasing, but content-wise, it’s near flawless. He’s smiling to himself, enjoying the way James turns almost bashful whenever he compliments his work, and remembers Sam’s words from the second-to-last time he visited the café: it’s never too late.

He’s definitely treating James to dinner after he’s saved his arse like this.

.

The next time Mark passes by that familiar spot, the next time Mark develops a craving for caffeine and some peace and quiet, the next time he plans to go to Leo Coffee, all he finds is the same coffee shop which has been here for years already, the afternoon crowd populating the tables and several diligent employees taking care of the customers.

Somehow, Mark isn’t the least bit surprised.

[jawritter]

Second Chance

Part 2 (Final)

Warning: Angst, heartbreak, unrequited/requited love, young mistakes, light smut, unprotected smut, depression, panick attack, language, domestic voilence (a slap), I think that’s it.

Summary: No one has life figured out at 18, but can one mistake made and twenty-one years of hurt and regret be fixed with an “I’m sorry?”

Pairing: Jensen Ackles x Reader

Word Count: 3885

A/N: This is one of my older stories from WattPad that I wanted to bring over here and clean up a little. This is completely unbeta’d, and all mistakes are mine! Please do not copy my work! Feedback is gold! Part two will be posted tomorrow! Hope you all enjoy this one!

Want More? Check out my masterlist!

***MASTERLIST***

Jensen's POV:

Jensen pulled his baseball cap down lower over his face to hide his features from unsuspecting passing customers, his eyes glued on the door, as he ideally ran his finger over the rim of his coffee that had gone virtually untouched in front of him as he sat in the back booth at the little coffee shop in Dallas that he quite honestly couldn’t even remember the name of.

Jessie had said she'd meet him here over an hour ago, now she was late, and he was quickly losing his patients.

The coffee shop was already filling again for the second time since Jensen had taken his seat. He watched the people closely, afraid at any moment someone was going to figure out who he was and blow his cover. 

He'd gotten pretty good at hiding mind you, he'd been doing it since he was roughly eighteen years old, so he'd learned a few tricks to keep people kind of at bay when he really didn't want them around, or want to be noticed.

He pulled his phone from his pocket and shot Jessie the third text of the morning.

"Where the fuck are you?! I've been waiting for you for over an hour!"

Sitting the phone back down on the counter he waited for her reply, but no response. There were even more people filtering in and out of the coffee shop now, she must not be coming. It's probably for the best if he just leaves, and gets her to meet him somewhere else later. The longer he sat there, the longer he ran the risk of someone he knew walking in, or some fan figuring out who he was.

He’d just shoved the phone back down deep in his front pocket and was about to pick up his coffee and head towards the door when the shrill ding announcing someone’s entrance into the little shop made him look up, finally she was here.

Jensen watched her as she made her approach with a cold, dead look he usually reserved for his ex-wife. She looked at him completely unfazed by his sour temper as she made her way closer, and flopped down at the little table across from him. 

“What took you so fucking long?" Jensen almost snarled. 

"Fuck you asshole, I can walk out of her right now, and without me, you have zero chance with Y/N again? So what's your choice? You can either start treating me with some respect, or you can figure out how to get her to talk to your sorry ass all by yourself? Dealer's choice." she said coldly, looking at him like he was the most disgusting thing she'd ever laid eyes on.

"Fine, fine!" Jensen said, throwing his hands up in frustration and then glaring at her like if he could get away with it, and she wasn't a girl, he'd probably punch her in the face.

Another few moments or so silence passed with the two of them glaring at each other while Jensen's blood pressure simmered back down to a normal rate before he dared to speak again. 

"So, have you talked her into going out again?" Jensen said, taking a deep breath to steady himself. 

"No." 

"Well, then why the fuck did you say you wanted to talk to me! If you don't have information for me on where she's going to be then you're not...."

"Jensen!" 

"Ssshhhh!! Someone will recognize me!!" 

"Ugh!! I'll be so glad when the two of you kiss and makeup so I don't have to look at you anymore!"

"Feelings mutual, sweetheart!"

About that time Jessie's phone started to ring, effectively ending the argument between them. Looking down she saw it was Sherry and quickly silenced it. Jessie was already late for work, and if she kept this up she was going to get fired, and also caught in the middle of this drama, which is exactly what she had told Jensen she didn’t want to happen when he’d messaged her, asking for her help in fixing his fuck up.

"Look, let's just get this over with, I don't want people to know I'm still in Dallas, they'll start to ask questions," Jensen said with a huff of frustration, sinking lower into the booth seat.

"Fine, Y/n will not leave her apartment again, not with us or with anyone else. She's been locked in her apartment since the night we dropped her off when we left the bar, she's been working from home, she hasn't left the house at all. It's almost like she's slipped into some sort of depression. I don't think we're going to get her to go out with us again, so we might have to take a different approach." Jessie said, staring coldly at that man sitting across from her.

"Okay, then what do you suggest we do? " Jensen said, taking his hat off and carding his hands through his soft hair in frustration before putting the cap back in place harshly.  

Your POV:

It had been three weeks since you saw Jensen at the bar that night. It had set you back worse than you thought it ever could. Every time you closed your eyes all you could see was his face. You'd even been dreaming of him more than you had in the last three years. It wasn't healthy to say the least, and you were seriously starting to wonder if you had just dreamed it up, and had that nervous breakdown your therapist had warned you about.

All the progress you had made over the years in getting over him had seemed to spiral, and it had taken you three days to even get out of the bed once you stumbled through the apartment door. 

There was no doubt in your mind that after all these years you were still in love with this man, even though you were sure he'd ever loved you. Still, the heart wants what the heart wants. 

Over and over again you kicked yourself over the past three weeks for not accepting his offer to just talk. That damn ring when you saw it on his hand was like being nailed in the gut, by a ball pin hammer, just as hard as he could swing it.

He'd been able to do what you couldn't. He'd been able to move on, he'd been able to find love, and here you were alone. 

You hated him, but you loved him. To you that made no sense whatsoever, but there it was. 

You hated him for abandoning you all those years ago, you hated him for pushing you away, when all you'd ever done was love him, you hated him for giving up on you.

You loved him because it was something you just couldn't control. The way he smiled, those beautiful jade-colored eyes that always seemed to dance with an air of mischief that made your knees weak. You could still remember his scent, the way his strong arms felt when they wrapped around you all those years ago. You loved him because just with one smile he made your heart feel like it could leap out of your chest and fly around the room, you loved him, and for a lot of reasons, you didn't even know why still you did.

There were no denying things had changed in him. Even in the dim light of the bar, you could see that boy you fell in love with in Dallas was long gone, and a man had taken his place. The deep lines around his eyes, the way he carried himself, strong, confident. His voice was much deeper than it was back then, and even though his eyes were the same, the grey in his beard told you the boy he was back then was long gone, and really, you were in love with someone you didn’t even know anymore. He was a far cry from the boy that had taken your virginity all those years ago. 

He’d lived, and you hadn’t, simple as that.

He chose money, fame, and fortune over you. You would have given him everything, a family, a warm home to come home to. 

Then again, you guessed he'd found someone to do that for him, so again that rendered you useless.

Supernatural had been playing on your TV through Netflix for days. You just couldn’t stop watching it, and you couldn't stop kicking yourself. You couldn't stop thinking about him, and more than anything, you couldn't fill the hole that was in your chest, one that had almost closed, and was just a piece of you that was missing, now was ripped open and bleeding, and there was no way to make it go away.

Thank God your job allowed you to work from home. You just could do it. You couldn't deal with people, not in person, you couldn't go pretty yourself up and act like everything was fine, because it wasn't fine, and you didn't feel pretty. 

You weren't pretty enough for Jensen all those years ago, and you're not enough for him now, so why even try?

A loud knock on the door disturbed you from your self-loathing.

It was probably Sherry or Jessie. They were just worried about you, you know that, but you just hadn't been able to face them. The way you just completely broke down in the Uber on the way home was just embarrassing, and the fact that you couldn’t seem to pick yourself back up again was borderline humiliating on a whole different level.

Now apparently they'd given up on calling you and had just decided to show up. Well, you were a little impressed it had taken them this long actually.

"Go away! I don't feel like talking yet." 

Nothing, just another pounding knock on the door in response.

After sitting there a moment in confusion, you remembered Sherry knew where the spare key was, so it couldn’t be them. Getting up slowly you made your way to the door, pulling it open you looked through the crack and who you saw nearly knocked you on your ass.

"JENSEN!" you half yell, shocked to see that beautiful face on the other side of the door, and for just a moment you thought you were hallucinating. 

"Hey, can I come in or you just going to make me stand out in the hallway?" he said, looking around like he was afraid you were going to slam the door shut in his face. 

To be completely honest you thought about it, you just couldn't deal with the guilt and the “what ifs” this time if you did like you'd been dealing with for the past three weeks.

Pulling the door shut just enough to remove the chain lock that was placed on the door you open it, stepping back and letting him into your apartment. 

When you shut and relocked the door you turned around to find him staring at you, a look of concern painted over his God-like face as his eyes raked over you.

You walk around him and head for the TV, turning it off before he could see himself walking with a flashlight across the screen.

"What are you doing here Jensen?" you ask him, sitting down on the couch to keep your legs from falling out from under you. You didn't realize how weak he still made you, even after all these years.

"I wanted to see you, to talk to you." 

"Why? You said all you had to say to me 21 years ago." you watched as he visibly flinched at your sharp words. 

"Y/n, I'm sorry, I was young and stupid, I should have never let you go, I should have never let you walk away from me, I've regretted it since you have. I just haven't been man enough to tell you..." 

Standing up you cross the floor and get right in his face. A boldness you didn't have just five minutes ago springing out of nowhere, and anger burns deep, deep down in your belly. 

"Don’t come at me with your lies Jensen!” you scream at him. 

Bringing your hand up you slap him hard across the face before you could stop yourself. Not able to even control your own actions anymore, all you could see was red.

Your own pulse quickened in your ears as your slap staggered him back against the bar, and his hand flew up to the side of his face that was quickly turning red. You didn’t care, at that moment you didn’t even see it, all you could see was years, and years of hurt, and rejection.

“You’ve suffered so much huh?! With your perfect little wife, and kids that live in a fucking mansion on the lake in Austin! You really just expect to walk back into my life, say your sorry, and all the years of hurt would just magically go away? Fuck you!

You raised your hand to slap him again, but this time he caught it with his left hand, standing to tower over you he backed you against the wall, pinning you there with his solid form, using his sheer size and body weight to hold you there and keep you from hitting him again.

Through all the anger, through all the hurt, through the blinding tears that were now rolling down your face, there were two things you registered. First was the overwhelming feeling of his body weight pressing you, grounding you, and by some miracle, pulling you back down from your fit of rage his apology had triggered. 

The second and most important thing was that his wedding band was gone.

All your strength at that moment was gone.  The adrenaline crash hit you hard, and your knees buckled, a loud ringing taking the place of your pounding pulse in your ears, and your vision going white at the edges.

Jensen reached down and scooped you up into his arms before you could hit the floor, pulling you tight to his chest and bringing you over to the couch. Sitting down this you wrapped his arms, cradled in his lap like a small child. 

It was hard to breathe as the tears flowed down your face now, your chest felt so tight that you were almost certain you were breathing through a straw, even though your breath was coming in pants, the overwhelming feeling of passing out made your head spin, and your body began to shake.

Jensen shushed you over and over again, running his fingers through your hair, which gave you something else to focus on. “Breath for me Y/n, come one breathe with me.” 

You focused on the steady rise, and fall of his chest against you, the scent of his cologne, the steady brush of his hand through your hair, and before long you were able to focus enough to take a breath.

“That’s it, baby girl, fuck I’m so sorry sweetheart, this is all my fault.” 

This was a result of twenty-one years of hurt, hurt that he caused, and he knew it.

When you'd finally calmed down he put a finger under your chin and forced you to look up at him.

"I'm so, so sorry that I hurt you, I'm sorry that I did this to you, I'm sorry that I was a fucking coward, I was afraid to find you, afraid to admit I was wrong, I'm sorry it took me twenty-one years to get enough balls to apologize to you. I know that’s enough, but I plan to stick around and do everything I can to make this up to you. I'm not married anymore. I didn't love her, I tried to, I really did, but I just couldn't, So I did the right thing, and I let her go so she could go and find someone that can make her happy."

You sat there staring at him like he'd popped out a third head. You wanted to pinch yourself to see if you were dreaming, or if you were dead. 

"So I came here to find you, the one person that has ever really made me happy. Your parents wouldn't tell me where you were, so I found your friend Jessie, she was going to get you to come to the bar that night so I could try and talk to you. I'm sorry about that too. I didn't know I'd hurt you this way. If I did I wouldn't have sprung myself on you." 

Crawling off of his lap and sitting down on the couch next to him you tried to make sense of what he was telling you.

"So what do you want from me? After all these years, what do you want from me now?"

You tried to understand, but you just couldn’t. Hell if you weren’t good enough all those years ago to make him want you, why the hell did he think you would be enough now?

Moving to the floor, Jensen got down on his knees in front of you, grabbing your hands in his. He looked like it took all the strength he had not to start crying himself, which only made more tears flow from you as you watched him bite down on his lower lips for a moment before he spoke.

"I want a second chance with you, I know I have no right to ask you for one, and you have every right to tell me to fuck off, and if you do I'll leave, and I'll never come back If that's really what you want, but sweetheart please, please give me a chance to fix this. Let me fix what I broke all those years ago." 

His thumb made little circles on the back of your hand, and he broke eye contact with you, looking down at the floor as he waiting for you to tell him to go fuck himself.

All those years you'd prayed he'd come back. All those years you'd dreamed he wanted you again. Here he was, and if you didn't give him another chance now, he was gone for good, and that would be all, you'd die right here, you'd never be able to recover.

Jensen took a shaky breath drawing you back to the present. 

"Please Y/N, say something?" 

Putting your hands on either side of his face you did the only thing your brain would let you do. You pulled him to you, crashing your lips to his. 

At first, he sat there shocked, but he caught up quickly though. Getting off his knees he crawled his large frame over yours, laying you both back down on the couch you were sitting on, holding his weight on you just enough to make you feel safe, for the first time in a long time.

"So I guess that means yes???" he said, lifting a perfect eyebrow and looking at you with the cutest little expression on his face, his eye crinkles showing just enough to make your heart melt.

"Yeah, but you got a shit ton of makeup to do Ackles," you tell him through tears, smacking him on his solid chest playfully.

"Well darlin’, let me start now," he said, bringing his lips softly back to yours before standing and dragging you with him, pulling you towards the open door of your bedroom.

Your mind worked on autopilot as he backed you into the room, closing the door with his large foot, and like jolts of electricity being shocked to a still heart, every lingering touch of his hands trailing your body, and every passionate kiss that made you breathless seemed to wake you up again. 

This wasn’t some quickie in the back of his truck in the middle of the wood. There was no rush to this, there was no hurry in the way he lowered your body on the bed, and crawled his way over every inch of skin, leaving a trail of kisses he went. 

There was no uncertainty in the way he looked into your eye as he pressed himself slowly into you, rocking slow and deep, stretching you, in the most intimate way possible, breathing life back into you as his lips found yours again in a slow lazy kiss, as he continued to work you both higher in an almost painfully slow pace. 

This wasn’t going to fix it all together, twenty-one years was a lot of time, and there was a lot of damage, to the both of you, but the way his body moved inside of yours, the promise that he made not only with his words, but with his body, and with his soul that he’d never leave you, never hurt you again, it brought you back in a way that you thought was long dead to you. 

When your release came, and he held you close to him, your name falling from his lips as he spilled himself deep inside of you, you felt like your heart really started to beat for the first time. 

There were still a lot of unanswered questions, and there were some things you just never wanted to know. Right now as he pulled you close to him, wrapping his arms around, and caging your body close to him, promising to never let you go again would be enough. 

Not everyone gets the second chance the two of you were having now, and this time you would follow him to the ends of the earth if that’s what it took, because he was the other half of your heart, and it just didn’t beat if he wasn’t there.

Jessie's POV:

“I can’t believe you sent him here!” Sherry hissed as Jessie dug around for the spare key to your apartment. 

It had been hours since she had sent Jensen here to try and talk to you, and they had heard nothing. Then when Jessie let it slip on her lunch break what had been going on with Jensen and herself over the past couple of weeks, Sherry had blown her top, and insisted on coming to check on them.

“Would you shut up! I’m sure they’re fine!” Jessie hissed back, finding the key and turning the knob slowly. 

The apartment was quiet as the two women pushed the door open, and closed it silently behind them. 

“If he’s done something to hurt her I swear to God!” Sherry hissed again, making her way over to where Jessie was standing by the bar, staring through a crack in Y/N’s bedroom door.

She pointed towards it, and Sherry silently made her way to peek inside, seeing Jensen and Y/N curled into one another sound asleep, clothes strewn all over the floor, and long forgotten. Sherry smiled to herself as he turned around and looked back at Jessie, who was leaning against the bar, grinning like she’d won the war, and that’s all that mattered. 

“Come on, let’s get out of here, I think those two are gonna be just fine.” She said, leading Sherry towards the door, and closing the door to the apparent behind them. Leaving the world outside unknowing, while two hearts did what it took to heal.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Tag List: @lyarr24​ @amandamdiehl​ @deanwanddamons​ @imabitch4jensen​ @rvgrsbrns​ @bi-danvers0​ @onethirstyunicorn​ @i-love-superhero​ @akshi8278​ @lyss-dw79​ @magssteenkamp​ @lemondropirwin​ @squirrelnotsam​ @hobby27​ @spnbaby-67​ @mrsjenniferwinchester​ @defenderrosetyler​ @screechingartisancashbailiff​ @thecreatiivecorner​  @aflamboyanceofgays @vicmc624​ @busy-bee-angel-misska​ @justanotherwinchester​ @brilovesdeanwinchester​ @idksupernatural​

[concubuck]

two guys going 🙃 and being awkward (9/10/21 chat log)

A conversation between Alastor/Buck (hi there) and Alastor/Alexa (@furby-organist/@killstreaming). So remember when Alexa said “you should turn your junk into a fan” and Buck said “one time i turned my junk into a garbage disposal wanna see” and an hour later Alexa went “I can’t believe I told my alternate to turn his junk into a fan” and Buck went “I can’t believe I showed my alternate my garbage disposal junk”? In a stunning and unprecedented display of mutual emotional maturity, they decide to mutually apologize instead of silently pretend it never happened.

concubuck

"Hi! Hello, am I reaching Alastor? This is your alternate speaking! The one that, uh..." AWKWARD PAUSE. "... The one from last night!" That was the only non-horrible way to identify himself, wasn't it.

killstreaming

Oh. Oh God. Alexa wanted to die significantly less today than he wanted to die last night after the post-clown clarity hit, but the feeling immediately SPIKED. Oh no. (Keep calm.) “Hi! Hello, alternate! Yes, speaking! What can I do for you?” He’s going to get chewed out, he knows it.

concubuck

Oh he answered. Buck had been braced to spend five minutes talking to dead air and never be sure if his alternate was silently listening or just not home. He sort of thinks this might be worse?

"Yes? Well!" Clears his throat. "I thought I ought to address last night before it festers. You see, I, uh..." A nervous pause; and then he sighs. "I—okay, look. Cards on the table: I haven't been human for several years. I'm doing a poor job of remembering human etiquette. Even the basic things, like 'don't send an unsolicited film starring your genitalia to a near stranger.' So—I—wanted to apologize for driving you to drink yourself to sleep."

killstreaming

Oh god, they were talking about last night. /Oh./ He wasn’t being chewed out. “I see. Alright. First and foremost, I appreciate you reaching out.” That meant /Alexa/ didn’t have to reach out. “Understandable and fair on all counts, apology accepted. For what it’s worth, I don’t think you’re entirely in the wrong here. What I’ll /mostly/ take you to task for is putting me in a position where I’d have had to deal with the awkwardness of declining /publicly/. But ultimately, moot point.”

“It was on topic, though, wasn’t it? I /started/ it, and for that, I owe /you/ an apology. I shouldn’t have roped you into that conversation to begin with. Admittedly, this sort of absurd lewd banter has become the norm on hotel grounds -- but with /friends I’ve known for a while/. I don’t know you well enough to bring up your genitalia, absurdist meem or not. I was out of line, and I apologize. I didn’t drink because of /you/. I wanted to exit consciousness upon realizing my social ineptitude, for which I have no excuse, as I’m currently human. So.”

concubuck

Apology accepted. Silent BIG sigh of relief. "Yes, I—I do recognize I put you in a no win situation, there. Modern etiquette hasn't yet provided us with a gentlemanly way of saying 'no, sir, I do NOT want to see your #### live and in color!'"

HE was owed an apology? He blinked in bewilderment, doing several rounds of mental gymnastics before he worked out WHY. "Oh! Oh. Yes, that's—right—well, I— Well that's—there you have it, just what I was saying about the difference between succubi and humans. It never even dawned upon me that the subject matter was unusual. In fact, I'm /sure/ I thought something to myself like 'oh! Dismemberment! How refreshing, a conversation that isn't sexual.'" Hi don't mind that slight edge of hysteria to his laughter, it's barely noticeable, hardly there, really. "Well—apology accepted, naturally. No damage was done, didn't even chip the paint."

killstreaming

“Pff--” Alexa cackled loudly, one hand uselessly covering his mouth. Live and in color, indeed. Alright, point made, looked like he and Buck were on the same page. “In retrospect, tuning in with no hesitation wasn’t the most grandiose display of decorum.” /Was/ there a correct way to have handled that? Alexa didn’t think so, so, no apology offered.

It was Alexa’s turn to internally sigh of relief. Good, he hadn’t irreparably weirded Buck out. “Hah, alright! I’m not entitely familiar with succubus etiquette, but I’m glad to hear it cast me in a better light than I otherwise would’ve been!” Oh, wheeze. “Hah, what people are into has never ceased to amaze me. Dismemberment, really. But hey-- I’m fine to say, no harm, no foul. I’m good if you’re good.”

concubuck

"... Mm. Perhaps." Tuning in with no hesitation was, in fact, exactly what he hoped and needed people to do. The suggesting that /watching what he offered to be watched/ was somehow inherently indecorous, as though to consume his content was an act of self-degradation... He shifted uncomfortably and tried to remember whether or not he would have agreed with his alternate back when he was human.

(Did it really matter? Wasn't it a succubus's duty to be a corruptive force? If gazing upon him made people a little dirtier, he was doing his job, right? He told himself that and tried to ignore how uneasy he felt in his skin.)

"It's less accurate to say succubi have etiquette around the topic and more accurate to say they have a near complete lack of barriers or standards. The mere fact I prefer not to cuss on air marks me out as queerly prudish." A rueful laugh. "No harm, no foul."

killstreaming

Good golly, Alexa, how do you eat when you’ve got your foot in your mouth so frequently? And he doesn’t even know this time! He’d intended to strictly critique /himself/, but it did imply something about the person offering, didn’t it? To make matters worse, he was taking Buck’s silence as judgment for being prudish about the matter.

Aaand then he wasn’t. Good, okay, they were fine, he really had to stop getting in his own head. “So you’re telling me it’s absolutely /lawless/ out there!” Dramatic hands to his cheeks. “Humans aren’t that much different -- they find me prudish for it as well. Anyway, my interactions with succubi have been largely business to this point, so I have much to learn about social norms.” There, a shield in case he shows his ass in the future.

concubuck

"Oh, succubi don't have much in the way of social norms worth learning." Which was probably a grave disservice to succubi for him to say, but he wasn't currently feeling very charitable to his own state of existence. "I interact with humans to interact with humans. Don't let me get out of line."

killstreaming

“Right, well.” And /that/ conversational door had been shut in his face. His smile thinned into a tight V. “Understood. Call me out if I’m out of line as well.” (He’d like to think his excuse is that he’s barely resocialized, but he doesn’t think it holds much water.)

concubuck

"I doubt you will be, but—yes. Of course."

He realized, a bit too late, that he'd come across as more dismissive than he'd intended to. He ought to offer /something/ more. "The thing is just that there is, as far as I can tell, nothing taboo to say among succubi. If a complete stranger says 'hi, how are you' and the other replies 'I caught something from this b##### and now my c### itches like a mother####er," of the two, the only one that said something surprising is the one who asked how the other is. So, there's—there's very little that /can/ be said wrong. Actions, /physical/ actions, can cross the line, but words are weightless. Almost meaningless, even."

killstreaming

“I-- pfft.” Buck’s sample of succubus dialogue threw Alexa off for a bit, he hadn’t been expecting that. Okay, give him a second, maybe you can hear him stifle another laugh.

“Really! No boundaries around oversharing whatsoever! Fascinating, and oddly reassuring! It’s not even that lax on hotel grounds!” And, well, Buck had gotten a glimpse of how wild those could get. “Look --all cards on the table, right?-- people think they can talk to my husband every which way because of his profession. Forgive me if I kick myself too easily over doing the same; it’s not a critique of succubus standards.”

concubuck

"Very few boundaries, at any rate. Personally, I think their could stand to be a few more. But when you're walking down the street, some oversexed pedestrian says 'hey there succuc###, wanna s### off my c###?' and you find yourself thinking 'do I have enough time for that?' instead of the more reasonable 'should I decapitate him or just give him a swift kick,' well... At that point you have to concede that the standards you think you should have and the standards you actually have no longer overlap, don't you?"

Which was a far more horrifying thing than he'd intended to admit. So he hurried on, "So—anyway, I appreciate the gentlemanly inclination; but don't beat yourself up too much over a comment that didn't even faze me, won't you? I'd hate for my own alternate to suffer needlessly on my behalf!"

killstreaming

Alexa wasn’t /judging/ Buck -- by what standards does one judge an entire other species & their cultural norms? it is what it is, -- but the divide between them was beginning to feel a bit more /present/. And did he want to hear about an acquaintance contemplating blowing a pedestrian? Not really, but he’d chalk it up to aforementioned cultural norm. He laughed to shake it off, and hoped it didn’t come out too awkward.

“Alright, alright, fair enough! Point taken. Don’t worry about me, then. And /you/ don’t beat yourself up either, alright? I don’t have much reassurance to offer other than that it takes a /lot/ to genuinely offend me, and I’d like to think I’m charitable regarding cultural differences.” He fidgeted, hoping he hadn’t said anything wrong. “I mean, because I /would/ like to keep getting to know you.” Did that sound like a come-on? If that came off like a come-on, he’d eat his whole foot. (The other one, the one he /hasn’t/ already stuck in his mouth.)

concubuck

It kind of did sound like a come on. But of the two Alastors who had watched his video, this was the one who HADN'T offered to fist him, and on top of that Buck didn't WANT it to be a come on, so he was going to take it on faith that it wasn't. "And I'd certainly like to keep getting to know you!" ... He hoped THAT didn't sound like a come on. "Ideally with less amateur pornography this time around."

killstreaming

Alexa almost made that stupid joke about waiting until the second date for that sort of thing (third if he's feeling REALLY old-fashioned), but no. Buck wasn't /in/ on the fact that Alexa was resigned from dating altogether. /That/ would be taken as a come-on.

"Ha! Sure, fair, sounds good. Now, I don't know how you feel about coffee, but if you'd ever like to meet for a cup, offer's on the table." Just whenever was good. (Something something morning afters are only awkward if you make them awkward, let me be a gentleman and handle breakfast -- it made more sense in his head. It was funny in his head. But really, a friendly coffee chat sometime would be nice.)

concubuck

"I'm practically powered by the stuff! Coffee sometime sounds delightful." And then, just because that really did sound like it could be a date, he added, "And since you're a married man, I'm going to trust that it's /only/ going to be coffee!" Little lighthearted joke—what's a marriage worth in hell with a succubus around?—but by God, he was determined to meet ONE alternate in person and keep it platonic.

killstreaming

"Good, that seems to be one thing we all have in common!" Coffee fiends, the herd of them.

This was probably /not/ the time to 'actually, it's an open marriage', oh well, Buck was just going to have to get blindsided next time Alexa wilded on voxblr. "Haha! Yes, yes, that's all, just a friendly chat over coffee. Unless the bakery items catch my eye -- then it's over coffee /and/ a croissant." Scandalous. Hey, some of those places made a mean pain au chocolat.

concubuck

"Well, who am I to say no to a croissant!" Okay, this was okay, they'd navigated this mess successfully and were coming out of it on the same page. Hah. Good. Good job, team.

killstreaming

"Aha! I’ll be looking forward to it. Just reach out whenever's good.” Well done, everyone. Crisis very much averted! The deersasters are going to be okay.

[themidnightfarmer]

Good weekend boss? || Metzli & Jared

Location: The gallery

Tagging: @deathisanartmetzli​

Description: Getting to know who you work with. 😊

Triggers: none i think?

Jared was bustling as fast as he could into work. Carrying a cup of coffee and a bag of some things he could leave in the lunch room for people who’d missed breakfast. Though admittedly no one had taken him up on his offerings yet. Why no one wanted his mushroom and mayo bagels or spam and pickle wraps he would never know, maybe today would be the day. When he had some spare cash he’d buy something instead of making it himself. But that was a problem for another time. It took him around ten minutes into his shift before he found himself in the back looking for a piece and found his boss amongst the art. 

“Morning.” he greeted cheerfully a smile adorning his face for all of two seconds before it fell. “Good weekend boss?” The nymph inquired with uncertainty. 

Without breaking concentration on the work they were focused on, Metzli gave Jared a single wave before greeting verbally. “Morning, Mr. Gordon. Yes, I had a rager of a weekend. Multiple BDSM orgies.” A playful lie in hopes that they wouldn’t get any more questions. The weight on their chest was heavy enough from the anxiety of being in the building that Eloy knew about. Several times the night prior, they nearly called all of their employees to lay them off, close the gallery and stay inside. But that would be giving in. 

“And what the hell did you bring into this building? Your food smells awful and I could smell it from here.” Metzli finally looked up and let their eyes meet with Jared’s. The bruising had faded significantly, but it wasn’t enough to go unnoticed. “Are you looking for a specific piece or are you in need of help? I can give you more in depth training after your lunch break.”

The response was certainly not what he’d been expecting whatsoever. Enough to make this grown man blush. He opened and closed his mouth a few times letting out a soft sort of embarrassed laugh. “Really? Huh, wow okay cool. Pretty good weekend then I guess…” He trailed off. Although his eyes lingered on the marks and wondered if it was usual to be so injured...and deciding quickly that it wasn’t his business and he was DEFINITELY not going to be asking.

Jared bumbled over with his clipboard of paperwork and smiled. “I brought breakfast just in case anyone skipped it. Strong smell, great taste. It’s the good stuff!” He insisted. “Did you miss breakfast? I’ve been trying to coax some of the others, but maybe they’re too shy just yet because I’m so new…” His brain became alight with worry however as their eyes met. Completely missing the offer of more training or help with his current task he broke his own rules by asking further. “Are you uh...sure it was a fun weekend? I don’t want to like….pry too much but… you’re not looking so good…”

“The greatest.” Metzli droned, and went back to using their magnifying glass on the painting. They had just been sold a genuine Liu Wei, based on their current analysis. But their task didn’t last very long since Jared decided the conversation was still going. A fuse that was normally so long and rarely met its end, was much shorter now. Choking back a growl, they locked onto the food topic and stuck with it for as long as they could. “I don’t eat human food, Mr. Gordon. I can’t even taste it. And based on the smell of the combinations, I’m sure others would love to be blessed with—” The end of the sentence never came, they were too caught up with the genuine concern in not only Jared’s face, but his tone as well. 

Squeezing the magnifying glass, they placed it down next to the painting and circled around the table. Metzli looked like they were about to yell, go off on Jared, but they didn’t. Face softened and they sighed. There wasn’t enough energy to be angry or irritated. The vampire was simply just too tired. “No, it was not a good weekend. It was not a good week. But I’m alive. That’s all I could really hope for.”

His breakfast offering was far from his mind as Metzli rounded the table. Jared stayed where he stood, but raised the clipboard between them defensively as if that were to stop the other from throwing a punch for being so nosey. Belatedly recognising a punch was unlikely but a thorough dressing down was much more likely to be on the cards. 

“Alive is good.” The nymph commented dumbly. He stood unsure what to do for only a second before lowering the clipboard and reaching out tentatively to pat the vampire on the shoulder very gently. “Is there something I can do? I know it’s likely not something you wanna talk about or anything like that. But if something is ongoing I can maybe help. Or if it’s over and you just want to get it outta your system I can set something up.” Giving Jared this job was an incredible favour in the nymphs eyes and he’d try to return that as best as he could.

The sudden touch made Metzli lash out, grabbing Jared’s arm brashly and pulling it off. The hold threatened to be harmful, but their contracted pupils dilated, marking their mind’s return. “S-sorry. Please, don’t touch me.” Touch wasn’t something they let happen easily. Not the kind that was gentle or tender. There was too much room for deception, too much vulnerability. There were one too many times where their mother tricked them into a hug just so she could get them to come out for a punishment. Eloy did the same. “Not sure anyone can help. But that’s okay.” Posture sank and shoulders dropped despairingly. They couldn’t even help themselves, so how could anyone else do it?

“Why would you want to help anyway? We’ve met each other once.”

Jared flinched at the sudden and rather rough removal of his hand from their shoulder. Shaking his head and withdrawing a few steps to give Metzli more space around themselves. “Ah no it’s fine, sorry I forget not everyone needs the same sorts of things when things are tough.” He clutches the clipboard firmly with both hands in order to show that he won’t be reaching out again. Shooting an apologetic smile their way. “Well not sure isn’t the same as ‘can’t’ right? There’s always a chance?” Moving around the table to the other side he pushes the chair out from underneath on the other side and nods at it for his boss to take. Placing himself firmly on the other side of the table a nice safe distance from accidentally touching them again.

“Why shouldn’t I offer help if I can give it? You gave me a job. You carried me outta the way of the cops back on the street. Would be pretty shitty of me not to care at least a little about you.”

Metzli took the seat warily. It still made no sense that he wanted to help, and they were growing suspicious. Even given what they had done for him, they saw those things as favors for themself. “I did those things for me. Who’s to say you wouldn’t have ratted me out if I hadn’t moved you? And I needed a new-hire immediately. I know a lot about being an asshole considering I don’t even have a soul. Most of the shit I do is self-serving.” They shrugged and leaned back into their seat, crossing their arms. 

“You’re not bound to do anything, are you? Pretty sure the only thing you actually owe me is a meal.” Tone was doubtful and had no ounce of trust, especially for someone they did not know. “If you really wanna know, my master—my sire is after me. So I’ve been a little on edge.” They admitted a little crestfallen.

“Just because it benefitted you doesn’t mean it didn’t also really help me out?” Jared said with a dumbfounded expression. “I mean sure maybe your intention wasn’t to do good by me, but it ended up really helping me out...I uh….don’t really know what to do with the knowledge that you don’t have a soul though I mean...what does that even really mean?” The whole thought of not having a soul was lost on him completely. Weren’t they sort of fundamental? But then again if Metzli didn’t have one then he wasn’t sure what that even meant anymore, they seemed to be doing alright to him after all.

“No, not bound to anything more than another meal.” Unfortunately for the both of them, Metzlis explanation didn’t actually clear very much up for the nymph. “Your boss messed you up like that? That’s… damn that’s-...” He didn’t have words to convey what his expression likely would. A healthy mixture of confusion and a hint of disgust. 

An empty chuckle rang out and Metzli ran a hand through their hair. There was just so much going on. “You don’t have to do anything with that information. It just means I’m more of an asshole than most.” Their eyes rolled and frustration began to brew. Not at Jared, but at everything in general. Nothing was ever simple, but dammit why couldn’t it be at least simpler?

“Not my ‘boss’ but his little minions. I used to be one of them and he’s pretty angry that I’m not anymore. He doesn’t like to lose.” Metzli scoffed at their loose lips and bit the inside of their cheek to stop from revealing any more information. “Don’t know how you could help, but that’s fine. I’ll figure it out. Like I said, at least I’m alive.”

“Well...I guess some people are assholes even with a soul so it’s a good...excuse?” It was a valiant attempt to put a positive spin on things but he knew that was likely not something Metzli wanted. It was all he could think to do. Jared quickly shook his head and waved a hand for the vampire to ignore that comment, something he’d learnt early on in life...he’d been known by folk in town to say dumb things.

“So he’s a vampire like you then?” He nodded his head as he slowly connected the dots. Sire must be a vampire thing, he concluded. “So he’s trying to get you back.” Jared fiddled with the papers on his clipboard for a moment. “Well I mean, if you really don’t want me to try to help that’s okay. But I do mean it when I say I want to. Even if it’s just patching up after something like-” he gestured to his own face in places where the bruising was still apparent on their skin “- all that happens.” He didn’t quite know the extent of what was going on, but the grim expression was definitely giving him a hint. “Glad you’re alive boss.” he tacked on the end with the hint of a hopeful smile.

Metzli struggled to understand why Jared would be so concerned and willing to help. It was so easy to forget how kind people could actually be without needing anything in return. They envied that about people with souls. They were a monster, a selfish one. And it made them yearn for their soul a little more. Being soulless wasn’t an excuse. Bex had taught them that. But they were too tired to even attempt to explain. 

“Yeah, vampire like me. Only way more powerful and has actual control over me. But it’s whatever. You don’t have to be concerned about it.” Metzli rose from their seat and made their way back to the painting so they could get back to work. “Of course you’re glad, Mr. Gordon. I write your paychecks.” There was a small smirk playing at their lips, and then it curved fully. “Which reminds me, here.” Pulling a check from their pocket, they handed it over to Jared. “Everyone else is on direct deposit, but here’s your pay from last week.” The check was for a thousand dollars. “Not all of them will be like that. But you held down the fort while I was gone on your first week, so consider it a bonus.”

The nymph opened his mouth to reiterate the sentiment that they would be concerned whether they were directly involved or not but decided against arguing any further. His new boss didn’t want the attention so he’d keep it to himself. Unfortunate for the both of them that Jared had a hard time not worrying over people he knew. Especially those who found themselves in dangerous situations on the regular… Which was a description that matched far too many people Jared knew.

He mumbled quietly about how he’d been friends with all his bosses in the past before he’d worked for himself, to be cut off when handed the check. He blinked rapidly at the amount and looked up at Metzli completely astounded. Mouth opening and closing like a crazy golf obstacle Jared was speechless for a moment. “Surely that’s too much! It’s not like I did anything crazy.”

“Just take it and don’t throw a fuss. I’ll bite you if you do.” Metzli smiled at Jared and winked. They could tell he’d be a good addition to the staff, and maybe he’d be a good friend too. Making friends didn’t come very easily, though. Having friends was dangerous. The more people you had around you, the more ways you could be hurt, the more you had to lose. Part of them didn’t really care and they could see themselves not caring if Jared was killed. Soul or no soul, though, they knew that way of thinking was inherently wrong. That way of thinking was way too similar to the man they detested so much. There was no way they were going to let themselves actively be the monster Eloy molded them to be. It wouldn’t undo everything they had done up to date, and it probably wouldn’t change that they were a monster, but they could at least try. Bex told them if they could at least try, it was enough.

“Now, Mr. Gordon, care to update me on our most recent purchases and submissions? Or do you just want to carry that clipboard for no reason all day?” Metzli raised a brow as they teased him. Personality returned to the surface, and for a bit they didn’t have to be scared of their gallery, that someone could be watching them and relaying every bit of information to Eloy. That didn’t matter, not now. Not when they had worked incredibly hard to make a name for themselves.

Jared scrunched up his nose in response, only barely avoiding sticking his tongue out at his boss for the biting comment. But a quick laugh did follow as he stood up from his own seat, it seemed the brief discussion of what had been going on this last week for Metzli was finished with and it was to be back to work. Although this did mark a moment the nymph would be likely citing further down the road as perhaps the true beginning of a friendship. Sharing things like Metzli had was laying a sort of trust in Jared that he hoped he could keep.

“The clipboard is all for show.” He quipped in return before rounding the table to push the paperwork towards the other. “Or well, I was looking for this piece to mark down the code-” The nymph rambled away, happy enough to immerse himself back into work. Easily distracted.

[prompt-master]

You're always up for discussion and debate right? So is it okay that I pose this to you and you give me your opinion on it? Danganronpa V3 was the worst game in the series because while it had interesting characters and very (visually and aesthetically) pleasing executions it ruined the immersion of the DR universe by playing the 'Oh it's all just a game and anime in this universe!!! Ha ha' card (gonna do a pt2 so I can continue giving my points hope that's okay)

(pt2) Because they played this card I feel like it was a cop out in a way, an excuse to make more content but without a way to fit the game into the existing canon without shoe horning it in, which the creators clearly didn't want to do given the details they put so much effort into. I just personally think, as I've said, it takes away from the immersion but also that it discredits the meaning behind the other games intertwining storylines and characters (2/3)

(pt 3/3) and to me that was what sold me on the series, the fact that in the games world these were real people, these were *kids* and their actions had effects on the world around them and V3 making it so that it was fake in universe and then trying to make it so that people willingly put themselves into a killing game to me just... didn't work. One of the key points of THH was how *disgusting* the killing games were, that it was morbid and sick that Junko aired them. Anyway, your thoughts pls?

-------------------------------------------------

Yes I am always up for discussion and debate! I find them to be some of my favorite things I have done on this blog and I thank you for taking the time to pose this topic to me because it’s one that I’m actually very interested in.

See,you are certainly not alone in your opinion! And I wholeheartedly understand why the games ending is disappointing! Because it is! By design the game was MADE to upset us as fans. But I actually have a very strong disagreement with the assertion that it is the worst game in the series. In fact I think ndrv3 was better than sdr2, which is often called the best game in the series by fans.

The reason why I feel so strongly that ndrv3 is not the worst game in the series..is because of udg. I don’t want to go into too much detail on this particular post, but udg has a lot of irredeemable content for grossly handling incredibly serious and sensitive topics. If a game makes me feel like the FBI should be coming to my house I would not consider that a good game. Not to mention that unlike ndrv3 which aside from the ending you can see a LOT of effort put into it, udg feels incredibly lackluster and uncared for. The models used look unpolished, giving the game a beta testing feel that does not feel professional whatsoever. The lighting has a lot of issues to the point where Komaeda’s hair looks grey, even in key scenes, but no one bothered to fix that glaring issue. The model movements are awkward. The story is repetitive and rather face value, I often find myself thinking about how in the end Komaru still was on the side of hope, she did not defy being like her brother that she so strongly wanted to defy. The gameplay is also too easy and boring, but thats my personal issue. and finally when I learned that they dropped the idea of the game being about capturing the remnants I just found myself disappointed..far more disappointed than ndrv3 made me. Especially since udg wasn’t attempting to be unsatisfying.

Now as for the reasons that I actually quite like ndrv3...I understand that the last leg of chapter 5 and chapter 6 as a whole as a complete let down. But even right after playing I did enjoy how you could rework the ending to fit in the dr canon by having everything still be real. There’s a lot of evidence supporting Shirogane, and there’s a lot of evidence against her. As mystery game lovers it is our job to take these bits of evidence and try to work out what the truth is to the best of our ability. The ending is designed to be disappointing yes but the ending ALSO implies that they WILL find out about HPA, so that it may exist. And if HPA is real, so is everyone. (personally I believe that the first games are a long time ago due to 53 seasons being a lot. and that the outlandishness led to people forgetting that it was real and processing it as fiction)

I also feel as though I had a lot more fun in ndrv3 than I did sdr2. sdr2 I felt like had a lackluster start and a lot of missed opportunities from chapters 1 to 4. The redeeming quality of the game comes from chapters 5 and 6, where suddenly the game picks up incredible pace and goes out VERY strongly. In a way, ndrv3 is the exact opposite of sdr2. ndrv3 begins with THE strongest beginning in the series without a doubt (I partially blame HOW GOOD chapter 1 was for why chapter 6 was so disappointing, it’s hard to live up to such a good chapter), chapters 2-5 I felt held up pretty damn strong as well before Kiibo got his antenna knocked off. Because of this I had a lot more fun experiences in ndrv3 than I did in sdr2, making me consider ndrv3 as a whole the better game. I also really enjoy the characters and the depth to them. There is so much to analyze in ndrv3, and I really enjoy how every character is more affected by the themes of the game than the others, which felt rather concentrated around a select few individuals. The game is intense, although pessimistic, and if you look more into it the more intriguing the character relationships become. 

Of course, you’re entirely right about the ending shooting down the series. In fact i think it was fairly obvious that it was a direct message to us as fans. You say that the game was made to allow for an excuse to make more content but I argue it’s an excuse to NOT make more content. To add another game to the series after the way ndrv3 ended would quite simply feel WRONG. And you have every right to be upset and annoyed at this and the way the writers handled it! But again, the interpretation of reality that shirogane gave us...it almost feels like they WANT us to prove her wrong with all the contradictions. Now, this could absolutely be the writers not having a real ending and wanting US to write it, but as a mystery lover and a person who loves rewrites I don’t necessarily mind this. In fact I wish the ending didn’t ruin the game for a lot of people. There is a lot of really good things to discuss and analyze about the game but it doesn’t happen too often because of this disappointment. But I sincerely encourage you and others to look closer! There is a lot of gold to be found here, with or without the ending!

[army-of-mai-lovers]

hello arthur!! tbh people are being terrible in your inbox and the last ask killed my brain cells so this is your free bingo card to talk about anything you like. also sometimes googling sharks with human teeth (exactly what it sounds like) helps!! much love <3

oh my gosh I’m OBSESSED with these photos they’re so cute!!!! and thank you for the bingo card Effie I appreciate it so much. I’m gonna rant about Deadly Class (a show I definitely don’t like and thus don’t run a fan blog for....smh) bc it’s on my mind and it looks like it’s just going to go quietly into that good night instead of being made fun of and dissected and I think that should change bc goodness gracious that show does not deserve a dignified death. also I’m gonna put this rant under a readmore bc this is gonna be long and it has nothing to do w atla. warnings for discussions of racism, callous mentions of murder and death, swearing, discussion of Nazis, discussion of gore, abuse ment

Okay so for those not in the know (which is probably everyone considering the show was on Syfy and it’s being canceled due to low viewership) Deadly Class is a teen murder drama set in the late ‘80s starring Lana Condor, which makes it sound like it was engineered in a lab to appeal to me. Literally my friend and I were in the middle of watching Schitt’s Creek, which I adore, and she was like “well I heard about this show called Deadly Class” and described it and I was like fuck Schitt’s Creek we’re watching this. It had a 64% on Rotten Tomatoes, which usually makes me nervous, but I was literally like “I don’t care because I know I’m going to love it.” 

And well. I did not love it. 

I truly do not understand how one fucks up “teenagers (mostly) of color go to murder boarding school in the late ‘80s” that bad (I mean the Russo brothers are involved and they fuck up everything they touch so perhaps it was just that). I haven’t read the comic the show is based on but it does appear that a *lot* of the issues of the show stem from the comic, which is...disappointing. Basically, our MC, Marcus, starts off the show homeless after his group home burned down (and it’s heavily implied that he was the one to do it) and gets hunted down by these elite teenage murderers who invite them to their murder school. 

Already, numerous problems are starting to show themselves. First of all, Marcus is Latino, which, yes, it’s very cool that the MC is Latino, except he is literally the white-passingest man I’ve ever seen in my life, and I’ve seen my dad. I didn’t realize that he was Latino until they showed his extremely stupid backstory in a shitty animated sequence and whoever was voicing his dad did this really, really thick Nicaraguan accent and I was like wait a damn minute. So then, I looked it up, and the guy playing Marcus is named Benjamin Wadsworth, which immediately made me think that they had pulled a Noah Centineo and made me think this fully white actor was half Latino (and yes, Latinos can be white, but I think Marcus is supposed to be a nonwhite Latino, and I thought Benjamin Wadsworth was both white and non-Latino). But you know, as an light skinned ethnically ambiguous mixed kid myself, I thought I owed it to him to dig a little deeper, and turns out our pal Ben is mixed (also, he’s like six months older than me and married, which is a trip). And like, okay, I guess I’m glad they didn’t get a white non-Latino man to play a Latino character, but they literally got the whitest looking Latino they could think of to play him. He originally auditioned for Billy. Billy’s the token white. And the producers were like “wait you have Latino ancestry?” (how they found that out I don’t fucking know) and let him go for Marcus. And like. Okay. The character in the comics is light-skinned but he does not look white, and Benjamin is not a good enough actor for them to just pass on the actors who surely auditioned for that role and were more visibly Latino but like. Okay, I guess. 

Second of all, this show is mega racist and it starts to reveal itself when you look at how the murder kids are styled in literally their first appearance. What struck me the most was the fact that the Latina (whose name is fucking Maria, for heaven’s sake) was wearing a sexy red dress and Day of the Dead makeup, which, I’m sorry, huh? That just so happens to be the Mexican girl’s murder outfit? I’ve tried to give them the benefit of the doubt and speculate that maybe she wears it to like, subvert people’s expectations, but at this point idk how this is subverting anyone’s expectations nor why she’d be so invested in that. Also, she’s supposed to be a teenager. It’s fucked up to sexualize any of your child characters but it really hits different when it’s your Latina character (and yeah, I know the actress playing Maria isn’t a teenager, but still, it’s the principle of the thing). And then of course, the Black guy, Willie (no he’s not related to Billy they were just like yeah two guys with rhyming names in our main cast sounds legit) is a gangbanger dude who talks the way that white people think Black people talk. I keep waiting for this guy to have one line that’s not complete garbage, but I’m five episodes deep and so far nada, which sucks so bad because there’s like, kernels of an interesting character buried in this horrible racist trope. Also, they had him sleep with a N*zi. I hate it here. Lana Condor (her character’s name is Saya) gets off fairly okay, at least in this first shot (they don’t have her wearing a kimono to go murder people, thank fuck), but the way she behaves is super weird, like kinda flirty towards Marcus, kinda badass but not enough to actually do anything, etc. Billy’s white so they couldn’t make him a racist caricature or anything but I have no idea why he’s here. See, instead of talking about the real politics of the real world, Deadly Class makes up fake prejudice that honestly makes the lok bender/nonbender bullshit look sensible. Maria, Willie, and Saya are Legacies, which means that their families are established murderers (fun fact: the N*zi girl is also a Legacy, because her father murdered hundreds of civil rights activists. And the characters of color align themselves with her. I don’t understand.) Billy, and later Marcus when he decides to go to murder school, are Rats, meaning they have no affiliation with established murder groups. So, in this show, the people of color have privilege over the (mostly white) Rats. Make it make sense. Further, this means that Maria, Saya, and Willie should have absolutely no reason to hang out with Billy, and yet they do because the Russo brothers have heard that the kids these days like the found family trope, so they put five unlikely friends in a room together and insinuated that they could all be besties. I swear, this show is the La Croix of found family tho, in that there is absolutely no flavor whatsoever. None of the characters develop into a found family. Saya is bound to care for Marcus for reasons, Maria is using him, Willie is also using him, and Billy is only his friend because they’re both Rats. Saya and Maria are already friends (and honestly their friendship is the most compelling thing in the whole show). There are no other connections between the characters. But they’re totes a found family!!!!/s

Also, they don’t let Saya be mean. Every character says “oh Saya’s such a bitch” but do we ever see Saya being a bitch??? No! Saya is literally just a nice girl who is kinda quiet sometimes and murders people and has a tragic backstory. There’s an argument to be made for Maria being more bitchy than her tbh. And like, fine, if you want Saya to be nice, she can be nice, but stop telling me she’s mean then!!! If you’re gonna tell me that I’m gonna get to see mean Lana Condor in a leather jacket in this show then deliver bitch. 

There’s truly so much more I could talk about (Chico??? What the fuck is Chico’s arc???? What in the actual hell were they thinking when they were writing anything to do with Chico????? my DUDES WHAT IN THE SAM HELL. also making Billy straight was so fucking stupid he’s literally gay come on now, also Master Lin is so fucking useless what is he even doing here) but instead I’m going to outline the version of Deadly Class my friend and I have been talking about while we watch the inferior real Deadly Class. 

lots of things are the same actually because there are some elements of the show that have potential. Marcus is still homeless at the beginning, everybody still thinks he burned down the group home but he didn’t, Willie is still a pacifist, he and Marcus are still partners for their first murder school assignment, Saya’s mean (but like actually), Billy still has green hair and is the token white of the group (although a Billy of color.....thinking), and they all hate Reagan

in an ideal world Willie and Maria would have different names (Willie bc his name rhymes with Billy’s and that’s fucking stupid, also Willie is just a terrible name in general, Maria partially because it sounds way too similar to Marcus and I don’t understand why the guy who wrote this couldn’t make his characters have different sounding names, and partially because no Latina character of mine is going to be named fucking Maria), but for the purposes of this outline I’ll keep their names the same for clarity.

Marcus doesn’t initially have his rep. He’s on the streets when he sees a girl his age (Saya) come out of this elevator in the back of a restaurant brandishing a sword, and decides to go into the elevator, sees the stash of weapons, and decides to steal one so he can fend for himself better. 

also keeping the detail of Rory murdering a bunch of homeless kids, but now Marcus knows that Rory is actively hunting him down. 

in the process of robbing the school’s weapons collection, Marcus figures out that it’s a murder school

Master Lin catches Marcus robbing the school, they fight, Master Lin overpowers Marcus and ties him up. He says the weapons are for students only, and Marcus says he’s applying. Lin asks what his qualifications are, and Marcus says “you know that group home that burned down three months ago? all the kids that died? I started the fire.” 

(also no shade to Benjamin Wadsworth but in this version he is not playing Marcus. Marcus is not white-passing)

Master Lin initially doesn’t believe him, but Marcus presses on and eventually convinces Master Lin that this is really what happened, and so Lin welcomes him to murder school. 

Marcus’s first class is Poisons, and his lab partner is Billy, who takes a shine to him and shows him around school. There’s no Legacy/Rat nonsense, but you do have normal high school drama adapted slightly for murder school. Maria is the prettiest and most popular girl in school, Saya is the mean girl/valedictorian, Willie is the jock, and Billy’s the punky weirdo. 

Marcus is, of course, the new kid with a reputation to live up to. 

Things kind of fall apart when Willie and Marcus are paired up for an assignment: to seek revenge on somebody. 

also Willie’s backstory is extremely different. his dad was a Black Panther, and he was murdered by the FBI when Willie was a kid. distraught, his mom moved to Texas, where she started working a corporate job and rose really high in the ranks. To maintain her status in the company, she had to do some really horrible things, including working with the FBI to take down other civil rights activists. Willie found out about this and was absolutely horrified. his mother insisted she was doing this so that he could have a better life, but he refused to listen to her, and ran away, and ended up at murder school. 

Willie got into murder school because Lin knows who his mom is, and assumes that Willie is just as cutthroat as she is. he gains a reputation as well. 

also, Willie’s extremely wealthy, and this shows in the way he dresses (preppy jock vibes)

you don’t find out about this backstory for a minute tho bc unlike Albert Kim and the Russo Brothers, I can wait until the right opportunity presents itself for a backstory drop. 

ok anyway back to what I was saying earlier

they have to seek revenge on somebody. Marcus asks Willie if there’s anybody he wants revenge on, and Willie very sincerely says no. Marcus scoffs at him and says he’s clearly had a very easy life, to which Willie replies, “Well, who do you want revenge on?” 

Marcus immediately says, “Rory.” 

So they track Rory down, and since Marcus hasn’t actually killed anybody, he hands the weapons over to Willie. Willie frowns and says that he has nothing against this dude he’s never met before, so Marcus should be the one to hurt him. Marcus says that this is a group project and Willie’s got to pull his weight, and they get into an argument

the argument gets loud, and Rory hears them fighting and starts chasing them. 

in the midst of the chase, both of them divulge their secrets to one another. Willie laughs hysterically and says that they deserve each other bc they both lied to get where they are, and now they’re going to die because of it

Rory backs them into a corner, and Marcus uses one of the swords he tried to steal earlier to shank Rory

They throw the body in a dumpster, and after this, they’re friends, and Marcus decides he’ll fit right in at murder school. 

ok so that was only one episode but things to look forward to in the version of Deadly Class that only exists in me and my friend’s heads: Marcus dealing with the emotional and moral fallout of his first murder, Willie trying to figure out what it means to be a pacifist in a world so hellbent on doing violence towards him, Saya being mean to everyone except Maria, Maria convincing Saya to relax and have fun, the gang bonding in a Breakfast Club style situation adapted for murder school and making a joke about how this is like the Breakfast Club because it’s the 80s and the movie just came out, Saya and Maria falling in lesbians, Marcus and Saya being depressing edgelord besties, Billy being gay and fighting his abusive father, Marcus and Billy being uncool weirdo bffs, Willie and Maria rolling their eyes at Marcus and Saya’s cynicism, Billy coming out to Marcus and talking about his experiences being gay, which makes Marcus think “hang on, why do I relate to that?”, Willie seeing Marcus make a sarcastic comment about kissing a guy and having a crisis, Marcus and Willie falling in love, the gang taking a road trip to Vegas to murder Billy’s dad and giving Billy a gnc thrift store makeover on the way, and eventually the gang murdering the shit out of Ronald Reagan. 

[dontasktheradiodemon]

Private Chat Log - Oct 23

After Katsu approached Alastor to attempt to make a deal, Alastor immediately ran off to tell Alastor—who’d only just recently been temporarily bound by Katsu’s mother. And this Alastor doesn’t trust Katsu’s sudden offer at all.

dontasktheradiodemon 🎶 You'll never guess whose son just came to me, asking to make a very peculiar deal!

radio-daemon Oh?? Is this a game to be played because my chin is resting delicately in my palms!! 🎙

dontasktheradiodemon 🎶 Just a warm-up round, so do forgive me for giving away that the answer is your friend Meredith Crowley.

🎶 Now here's the real question: why in the world would her son suddenly want to bargain with me?

dontasktheradiodemon 🎶 His offer: one of his soul fragments that's been trained to do magic tricks. His request: that I do something to improve Hell, provided that I explain the bargain and my own proposed action to either Vaggie or Charlie and receive their approval. It's an absurd bargain—particularly considering that he has no dog in the fight! He stands to gain nothing! He has no material reason to make the bargain!

🎶 Which leads me to suspect he somehow stands to gain from the act of making the bargain itself! But what do you think, me?

radio-daemon Hmm hmm hmm.. 🎙

radio-daemon To offer a fragment of a soul is it not his own, to improve an afterlife that he won't see and has no ties to him whatsoever seems suspicious and enticing! Nothing to gain and nothing to lose, nothing that happens affects him in the slightest. 🎙

You get to determine what "improving Hell" means in this context? 🎙

dontasktheradiodemon 🎶 Mostly but not entirely! It has to meet one or the other lady's approval, with their knowledge of the bargain behind it. Of course, even if he has no ulterior motive, that alone makes the bargain worthless! Neither one of them would agree to the sale of even a partial soul unless the gain far outstrips their own guilt at approving the trafficking of a fragment of a human—which means the only deal they'd approve is a bad one for me! No thank you!

dontasktheradiodemon 🎶 I have no interest in taking the bargain—the mere effort it would take to find something one of them would approve of is far more of a chore than a partial soul is worth, never mind whatever task I'd have to do after that! No, my interest in this bargain is not in taking it, but in figuring out why it was proposed at all.

radio-daemon And the righteous nativity of making Hell a better place strikes a bone in me with glee I had long forgotten possible. 🎙

A noble ideal misplaced and if I were a betting dæmon, I'd be led to believe young Katsu here thinks Alastor a fool that just salivates at the idea of a bargain like we're unable to resist ourselves. 🎙

The fragment of a soul is worth a fragment of a deal. 🎙

dontasktheradiodemon 🎶 Too true! I'd plant a tree for a fragment of a soul, and I'd outsource the labor at that.

dontasktheradiodemon 🎶 But is it mere idealism—coming from the son of the one who just recently tried to bind you? The fact that he has fragments of souls to offer means he has a means to break fragments off of souls. Is the bargain, perhaps, an innocent-looking ruse to get an alternate of his mother's foe close enough for him to work his magic on?

radio-daemon And to offer a piece of a soul to take a venturing jaunt into making Hell a better place somehow seems quite the counterintuitive measure! Particularly insulting in the gall that it offers but pleasantly curious in the game that it plays. 🎙

radio-daemon And the little human with the fragments seems to stack all the cards in his favor openly, knowing Hell that of irredeemable finality. Either a fool sent on a task unable to be completely completed, or a charlatan, assuming you aren't as clever as you are. 🎙

You said it had to be approved by Charlie and Vaggie, am I understanding that right? 🎙

dontasktheradiodemon 🎶 Charlie or Vaggie, he said. One or the other. I don't see either of them offering leniency in what they would approve, though! One's too idealistic and the other's too suspicious!

radio-daemon Yes indeedy! Even a fragment too cumbersome and to present would be to our yourself. Have you told the young ladies about Katsu's offer at all? 🎙

dontasktheradiodemon 🎶 No—I see no reason to get them involved in a deal I have no interest in taking! It would only encourage them to go get his side of the story.

radio-daemon Very true indeed! Then it seems young Katsu hasn't quite grasped the proper etiquette of bargaining. Guess he inherented  it from his mother! 🎙

dontasktheradiodemon 🎶 Oh? Did she make a poor bargain recently? I had wondered why she decided to target you, me. A dissatisfied customer?

radio-daemon Indeed!! Broke the rules of a game being played and tried to bargain up in fact. When her hand was pushed she got belligerent! 🎙

dontasktheradiodemon 🎶 Very poor conduct! Hence her retaliation against you, I take it.

dontasktheradiodemon 🎶 Is this game concluded, or ongoing? If the former, perhaps she'll be satisfied with her petty revenge! If the latter... well, I worry whether she might make a second effort to forcibly break off the game early.

radio-daemon Can't imagine she'd try again and practice to another, at that point seems ignorant to try and cross every version of the same dæmon, tricks eventually stop working. 🎙

And for Katsu to try? No no no, he went to you knowing that going to me would elicit a reaction from mother dearest. But involving her son and two of us? 🎙

Has young Katsu made this attempt public by chance? 🎙

dontasktheradiodemon 🎶 Our two planes of reality seem far more closely entangled than most—it’s so much easier to walk from one to the other than it is for most dimensions. Perhaps she thinks taking out one of us necessitates taking out both of us? Or perhaps they mean me no harm, but he hopes to get some estimate of my powers through an up close analysis and pass that info on to his mother to use against you? You can learn a lot about a man from his handshake!

🎶 Not that’s been brought to my attention, but I confess he’s not one of the people whose broadcasts I’ve been keeping a close ear on. But I doubt he’s had a chance—I came to you immediately after speaking to him.

radio-daemon Perhaps glean information from one you have no qualm with to best handle the one you do? Oh oh, the trickiness comes in which moment seems likely! But without an accepted deal, there isn't much to gain bargain. What good what come from that deal? That I'm curious of.. 🎙

A handshake indeed! Indeed you do, but you have to reach with the right hand first!! 🎙

Perhaps then.. I'll go listen in on his frequency myself. Find out what plan he plays!! 🎙

dontasktheradiodemon 🎶 A wise idea! And if I hear any more from him, I'll let you know. Perhaps I won't, as long as I don't contact him again about his proposed deal... but perhaps he'll be calling into my show again to find out why he hasn't heard back from me. We'll find out with time.

[johannstutt413]

(continuing from this post)

While they continued to spend as much time as they could with each other, it was some time before the Doctor and Ambriel went on their third/fourth/fifth date (depending on where one starts counting). Partially because they didn’t feel the need, because simply being in each other’s company was all the blessing they needed; partially because neither of them were sure where to take things from where they were; and partially because both were nervous that, somehow, making it an official date would change something about the experience for the worse. So, rather than make a big deal of it, Ambriel became the Doctor’s assistant so she didn’t have to leave his side, and while she didn’t have much in the way of work to do, she certainly kept him company, and frankly, that’s all he needed her to do to make him more productive than he’d ever been.

So much more productive, in fact, that he earned a raise, including a hefty one-time bonus, and it was receiving this that got him to thinking of another proper date in celebration. The only question was...well, there were a few, but among them, “Is there anywhere you want to go?”

“Hmm?” Amy was in her chair, as usual, spinning in circles until her halo started to wobble. “You mean, like, to eat?”

“Or travel, or whatever. Is there somewhere you’ve just been dying to see?”

Her first few thoughts weren’t terribly helpful, so she dug deeper to try and find something. “Not...really, no. I’m not much of a sight-seer; if we went anywhere, I’d just want to walk around the shops all day.”

“Hm...” That did give him an idea, actually. “I hear Siesta’s got some good shops this time of year, and since we helped out with the Obsidian Festival last time, I think they’d give us a good discount or two.”

“Obsidian Festival? What’s that?”

He smiled. “A big, long concert with some of Terra’s best musicians performing. It was great the day or so we got to watch, but we spent most of the time trying to stop a giant Originum Slug living in a volcano from causing an eruption and destroying the city.”

“That...” Ambriel shook her head. “You should get the movie rights for that. I’m sure you could get good money out of something like that.”

“Oh, we did, actually. One of the company’s FEater worked with in the past is gonna produce it...Where were we?”

She rolled over to him to set her head on his shoulder. “You were talking up Siesta to me, for some reason.”

“I was thinking we could go somewhere nice to celebrate my promotion.” The Doctor booped her nose. “You made it possible, so if you have a place you want to go, I want to go there, too.”

“Oh, well...I don’t know, Doc. All that really matters to me is being with you.”

While there’d never been a doubt in his mind that was how she felt, hearing it out loud was something else. “Amy...Well, is there anything you think would be nice to have?”

“You just want to spoil me, don’t you?” Guilty as charged. “There’s a dress that arrived at the Procurement Division recently that I’ve had my eye on. It’s way out of my price range, so I didn’t have a hope of getting it myself.”

“We can swing by there today after work and get it, then. Sounds like a plan to you?”

 Ambriel nodded. “Yeah, that works...You don’t mind if I keep my head here, do you?”

“Not one bit.” He tilted his head so they were touching. “You’re the best.”

“Aww, don’t go filling up my head with that...C’mere, you.”

Later that day, the Doctor, true to his word, took Ambriel to the Procurement Division’s base of operations - aka, the base’s Penguin Logistics corner. Croissant, watching the register so to speak, waved as they came in. “Ev’nin, Baws! You and ya lady friend need som’in?”

“Amy saw a dress the other day she liked.” He turned to her. “Do you see it anywhere?”

“Uh...Hey, Croissant, do you still have the star print dress that came in a few days ago?”

The Forte shrugged. “I ‘unno, but I’ll take a looksie for ya. Wond’r ‘round while I’m inna back, kay?”

“Sure thing.” As she opened the door behind her, and the creaking echoed ominously into the back of an absurdly large warehouse, Ambriel and the Doctor walked through several aisles of special deals courtesy of Penguin’s not-always-still-alive-by-delivery customer base. “While we’re waiting, see anything you like?”

“This place has everything, doesn’t it? Electronics, clothes, camping gear- oh my God.”

He followed her eyes to what he knew was the dress she’d been talking about. “Oh my God is right...I completely understand the price tag on this thing. Do they have a dressing room or something around here?”

“Yeah, in the back. Wanna see if you can get her back to the register while I try it on?”

“If you don’t need my help with the dress, sure.” The Doctor smiled as she gave him a look. “It’s a zipper-back, after all. Aren’t those hard to close yourself?”

Amy shook her head. “I’ll be fine, Doc. See you soon.”

“I’ll miss you~” A quick kiss, and she was off. He wandered back to the counter, rang the bell a few times, and when no one showed up, he decided to wait by the closet door he’d seen Ambriel walk through.

“Hey, Doc?” She half-shouted through the door. “Could you come help me with this?”

The Doctor opened the door to a shocked Amy. “She didn’t show, so I figured I’d wait out here. What do you need?”

“...I need you to zip it up in the back.” There was a note of defeat in her voice, but he couldn’t quite place it.

“I’ve got you covered.” He closed the door behind him and moved behind her to get to the offending strip of metal. “Huh. It’s broken, I think. Yeah, there’s a knot in the back; it’s not you, believe me.”

She sighed. “That’s good. I thought maybe the sugar was settling in places.”

“I mean, we could get it tailored if that was the problem, I bet...Not the right thing to say?”

“Not really.” Ambriel shook her head. “Well, we can’t get it fixed if we don’t buy it, so...Are you still okay with paying for it?”

He nodded. “Not an issue whatsoever. Besides, we might be able to convince them to give us a discount.”

“Maybe...Doc, are you gonna let me change back or no?”

“Oh, right.” The Doctor left, closing the door behind him. “I’m gonna try to get Croissant’s attention again.”

At this point, the Forte was back at her post, a sly smile on her face. “How’d the fittin’ go, Baws?”

“The zipper on the back’s broken - as in, there’s a major knot in it. We want the dress, but I don’t think I should have to pay that much for it when we’ve got to get it fixed afterwards.”

“Well, we price ev’r’thin’ as-is, Baws.” She crossed her arms. “Trust me, you don’t wanna haggle wi’ me. I know all the tricks.”

He smiled. “Really? What about this one: three days paid vacation for you and a plus one.”

“...70 percent retail.”

“I’ll take it.” The Doctor pulled out a card as Ambriel walked out with the dress folded in her arms. “Here you go.”

As they left the department, Amy’s eyes were focused on the dress in her hands. “Hey, Doc? Can I ask you something?”

“Anything you want, Amy.”

“If...If it turns out I am too big for this dress,” she managed, “what are we gonna do with it?”

He shrugged. “If you didn’t want to get it tailored to fit you better, then I guess we could find someone else to give it to. Are you really worried about it?”

“I’ve been eating a lot of sugar lately. You don’t think I’m gonna get fat, do you?”

“Huh?” The Doctor shook his head. “I haven’t even thought of that. Why do you ask?”

Amy shrugged. “I dunno, I just...I’ve never felt insecure about myself like this until the other day. I’d just gotten out of the shower, and I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror, and I wondered if I was the kind of girl you really wanted to...you know...”

“Oh. I can understand that.”

“Huh?” She frowned at him. “Doc, now you’ve got me worried.”

He shook his head. “I mean I have the same kind of thoughts about myself. I’ll cuddle you like there’s no tomorrow, but there’s this niggling doubt in the back of my head that says if we decide to do anything more intimate, you won’t like what you see.”

“That’s...that’s exactly it. Sorry I doubted you just then.”

“It’s no big.” The Doctor stopped outside the door to her place as she unlocked the door. “You want to come over later?”

She was about to say yes, but another voice prevailed. “Actually...you want to come in?”

“Sure. I don’t think I’ve actually seen your place before.”

“Well, yeah; I was kinda doing it on purpose.” Ambriel blushed as they crossed the threshold. “Sorry about the mess.”

He chuckled. “This is more like how my place was before our first date. You even have the same baking sheet in the sink I did.”

“Heh. I’ll be right back - gonna put this away for now - so make yourself comfortable.”

“Sure.” He looked around, found a spot on her couch that wasn’t filled with pillows, clicked on the TV, and waited. And waited...and started to wonder how her closet was set up if it was taking this long to hang up a dress.

It turned out, there was a bit more going on, as when she returned from her room, she was in a bathrobe instead of what she’d had on before. “So uh...comfortable yet?”

“Pretty much.” He turned the TV off. “What’s up?”

“I was wondering if you, um...wanted to stay the night. With me. In my room.”

The Doctor was walking through his options. “I...I don’t not want to.”

“It sounds like there’s a but coming after that.” She frowned. “Am I moving too fast?”

“Do you think you’re moving too fast? I mean, are you trying to prove something to yourself, or do you really want to...might as well say it, are you really DTF tonight after that conversation we just had?”

Ambriel shrugged. “We won’t know unless we try, right?”

“Honestly?” He looked down at the floor in front of him for a moment before turning back to her. “You know I’ll love you even if we’re never physical, right?”

“Yeah, obviously.”

Okay, so it wasn’t about that. Good…“Then I guess it is a me thing, because I don’t know if I’m ready.”

“I can go change back, then,” she said, “and we can just hang out, if you want.”

“...If I say I kinda want you to keep wearing that just in case I change my mind, would that bother you?”

Amy smiled. “Doc, I sit on my couch in this all the time, and I don’t mind you wanting to keep your options open. Move some of those pillows for me; I’ll get us something to drink.”

“Thanks.” He watched her walk to the fridge, open the door, bend down to look for something- and suddenly he had his answer. “I’m ready.”

“Ready? For- oh! Really?” She closed the door and turned back to him.

He nodded. “Yep, totally, hundred percent.”

“Huh.” She looked down at her robe. “That was quick.”

“I want to take it kind of slow, but...yeah.”

She rejoined him on the couch. “That’s fine by me.”

“Awesome.” The Doctor slowly moved an arm around her waist. “So um...I have no idea what to do.”

“Neither do I.” They looked at each other, hoping to find the answer somewhere in each other’s eyes...and eventually, they did, as independently they drifted closer for a kiss.

[bladekindeyewear]

Book Commentary on Inversion Theory

Alright, as a follow-up to this post, it looks like there’s an actual full bit of Homestuck book commentary (around the pages nearing Rose’s grimdark transformation, Book 6 pg 115, HS pg 3305, thanks @ramiedersedreamer and @zandraxofnebulon) about how Inversion Theory (1, 2, 3, 4, 5) isn’t what we thought.  Quoting and reading it first (not the whole reddit post but that portion at least), then discussion under the cut:

"Rose is a Light player, but her blackout effects result from arguably the nadir of her role as such a hero--that is, when she succumbs to Scratch's manipulations and other eldritch persuasions, and goes grimdark. This truth would appear to lend credence to a line of classpect thinking known as "inversion theory," which really isn't without its merits. This note has just gone to the bother of describing one of its merits, in fact. However, it is possible to get carried away with this line of thinking and use it to evaluate everything that happens in Homestuck. For instance, you could say "Well, Karkat is a Blood hero, and here's where he stops being as Karkatty as usual, so that means he's being the opposite of his aspect. Which means he's being Breathy instead of Bloody. So that means a bunch of other stuff, ipso facto, Homestuck has been EXPLAINED." That's not really the way all this works. Aspect lore runs deep, but it isn't the Rosetta Stone to the story. When in doubt, it's better to remember this: rather than an underlying mystical logic where all classpect roads lead to Deep Answers, HS is a comprehensive nexus of many themes, and all roads lead to the basic idea that this is a tale about kids who are trapped in the universal struggle associated with growing up."

I... hm.  Dammit.  Is that all he wrote??  This slippery author is a master of giving us tantalizing and insightful details without committing to any hard yes-or-no whatsoever.  >:T

I’d been building myself up to reading this all throughout yesterday with gut-wrenching dread that at this late, late, late hour he’d finally given us a definitive “NO” on Inversion.  Instead we get this quite interesting but more vague “eh, there’s merits, but don’t go too far with it”.  Which is...... 

...about as potentially-optimistic as I put it in the previous post, if not moreso?

Andrew’s being careful to lavish odd praise on inversion theory, too.  Which some people are going to interpret as (Option 1) “Nice try, but dead wrong”, like the anon who put a snippet in my inbox initially, and others will interpret as (Option 2) “The big ones are RIGHT, nudge nudge, but stop applying it everywhere cause the fans who say every line of the comic means ‘ghosting inversion’ are looking at the story wrong and annoying everyone”.

As someone guilty of being one of those fans described in the latter half on occasion, I can CERTAINLY agree with THAT last part.  Andrew made it really clear with the ending of Homestuck proper -- “this side shit didn’t matter as much as you thought it did”.  I was so enamored with the classpect system that I thought almost everything was being shown to us through those lenses, at one point -- but even though perhaps more than the random reader might have thought is there, like he says, it ain’t supposed to be no Rosetta Stone.  Even when I WAS overapplying classpect everywhere, the people who did it too often in places I felt clearly un-merited REALLY pissed me off!  I can’t imagine how much more that might’ve been magnified in the shoes of someone who happened to apply the correct, lower amount of classpect and had to put up with me babbling and slathering it everywhere, much less the author’s shoes.

But there is still a big hole in his criticism, one he intentionally seems to have left there to me.  By saying “don’t look for it everywhere”, but ALSO that “there’s more than some merit to it”... I don’t think it’s a stretch to think the truth might not only be somewhere in between Options 1 and 2, but perhaps even closer to Option 2.

Aaaand HERE’s where if you’re someone who HUNGERED for me to admit wrongdoing by sticking with this theory for so long, you’re no doubt angry.  Looking at me as making excuses in the face of this long-awaited OBJECTIVE PROOF OF TOTAL THEORY DISMISSAL... WHY won’t the deluded bastard FINALLY succumb to REASON?  ANDREW HIMSELF spoke up on the issue, IS THIS NOT ENOUGH?!???

And, well... you’re right to be angry.  To be honest, I’m a fair bit pissed off too -- I could’ve used a solid “NO”, traumatizing as it would’ve been to me!

But that’s not what we got, because... *rolls eyes @ author* ...that’s not how Andrew works nowadays.  And as irritating as it is, I also have to respect it a bit.

Andrew has become pretty committed to not full-on table-flipping fan interpretations and fanworks, avoiding forcing one “correct” interpretation (see: central struggle of HS^2 and the villains labeling divergence from canon at all as “bad”) because both interpretations should be rewarded.  If something is REALLY wrong and hurts objective appreciation of the lessons he wanted to portray in his comic, like people plastering Classpect everywhere to the exclusion of the story’s central canon-escaping themes, he’s willing to shut them down... but when it comes to effective-sounding interpretations of the comic that he possibly never intended but “could” have been what he intended?  He’s REALLY careful not to step on them!  Or even sometimes DISTINGUISH them from the ones that he DID intend, sometimes, to keep as many fan interpretations alive in our imaginations as possible.

Which, as someone who pins Inversion’s entire existence on the assertion that “Andrew deliberately intended this and it’s our DELUSION otherwise”, really pisses me off at times like this.  This is a theory hinged on the idea that Andrew had been deliberately hiding INCREDIBLY clever evidence throughout the comic for these intense thematic moves.  All the SYMBOLISM we thought was pointing to inversion would lose an incredible amount of its meaning if it were all an accident.  What about all that cool imagery in the Breath and Blood post?  Did any of THAT really mean what we thought it was there for, like between WV and PM?  Was any of it REAL?  Will we ever even get an ANSWER?  The answer is “no, we won’t”, because Andrew persists in this method of keeping his cards close to his chest even if he has to take them to the damn grave, cause he knows we’ll have more “fun” not knowing ‘em.  That considerate son of a bitch.  >:(

I’m serious -- it really does make me more than a little angry.  I really do wish he’d said more to show us where we’re off-course.

But HS^2 has brought us Terezi telling us that Mind and Heart are indeed opposites.  He MIGHT be holding onto the info because we may get it later in canon itself...

Meh.  I’ll try not to hope too hard.  And I’d better clarify what I actually believe, here:

My TL;DR thoughts on Andrew’s commentary up above are that when it comes to Inversion Theory (1, 2, 3, 4, 5), he’s leaving room for some of the BIG events to have been right or almost right -- say, #1, maybe #2, and only POSSIBLY #3 or #4 -- while telling us to back off and cast SERIOUS DOUBT on stuff that could have more character-driven explanations, especially #5.

If there’s a seriously FUNDAMENTAL transformation in a character that isn’t fully explained by their character journey alone (as kids growing up), involves significant outside interference, and is reflected by countless visual cues, THEN we should want to see if Inversion Theory “has merit” in that sort of case -- while laying it up against other competing theories that account for external interference of a non-Inversion-related nature in their actions too.  Things like pre- and post-ascension Aradia or pre- and post-dreamdeath Jade seeming almost completely different characters?  Or Rose seemingly taken over by the Horrorterrors... only to do nothing to benefit them but throw her mainself at Jack and get killed so she’d be forced to ascend on the moon mission rather than God-tier-die?  I’d say Inversion is worth consideration and -- daresay -- worth believing in, in such cases.

And it still might all be wrong.  There are legitimate ways to read Andrew’s commentary above that would have people screaming that Inversion has been disproven, that the “merits” mentioned were just a nod of respect to the losing side that I’m completely overblowing.  But those seem to me like carefully ambiguous words from a carefully ambiguous man, and if there’s anyone to blame for their ambiguity, it’s Andrew.  Trust me; I don’t like it either.  He’s had plenty of practice saying things in a way that we CAN’T really draw many assumptions from.

Heck, even the Redditor transcribing this summarized their thoughts in a way that draws some assumptions I don’t believe are there:

Mostly I think it's just interesting that he's actually addressing Inversion Theory, and the gist is basically "it's a cool idea and has some merits, but the classpect system and story are not quite that formulaic." Sorry BKEW. At least we know Hussie has been paying attention to our wild theorizing.

--which is a rebuke drawn on the common interpretation that Inversion describes too “formulaic” a classpect system, especially with specific-class inversion like Seer <-> Witch and such.  But IS that what Andrew is saying? Andrew criticizes the overapplication of aspect theory in describing everyone’s actions page to page, but does that mean a quote-unquote “rigid” system (I’m not going to play out the old “specific-class-inversion-is-too-rigid” vs “youre missing the flexible potential a fixed system gives” arguments again) is ITSELF an overapplication of classpect to people’s actions and personalities? Is he perhaps hinting that only Aspect stuff mattered in Inversion cases and the Witchy Rose class stuff was just a separate thematic thing that fits by coincidence??  What does it mean? WE DON’T KNOW!  AND IT’S PISSING ME OFF AAAARGH

...I think I’ve said all I can think to say for now.

I mean, I’m glad Inversion Theory wasn’t outright disproven.  I think it’s neat.  I have a lot of emotional investment behind it, and being told it was all a worthless goose chase would have made me vomitously sick!  But as I struggled with at the end of Homestuck proper, constant ambiguity shows a fair bit of disregard of its own, and both ending AND epiloguing Homestuck not only without a “yes” on this but without even a clear “NO” has caused me more gutache and poor feelings across MONTHS than either answer ever would have given me.  I thought we’d earned that by getting through it, that we wouldn’t have to wait for YEARS and then STILL get cockteased like this.  And I wonder how much I’m going to regret, later, that this wasn’t just a clear, simple “NO”.

I’m being told there’s an upd8 just now and I should read it.  I’ll get on that.  Cy’all.

[relish-the-freezing-silence]

Hi!!! Can I get a request? I have short pink hair, greenish blue eyes, I’m relatively short, and my personality changes from online to in person! Online I’m super bold and charismatic I guess but in real life I’m very shy and quiet. My main hobbies are art, costume making/cosplay, music and horseback riding (I do English hunter/jumper/dressage if that matters) I’m usually tired and usually won’t go into my interests with people unless I’m close with them! I use he/they pronouns and I’m bi!

Hi, sure you can have one!

A/N: And again, sorry for taking so long :P Been sick and busy… 

I match you with…Yaoyorozu Momo!

-        You guys probably met in real life first, and while she talks to everyone in a friendly way, because c’mon, she’s an angel, she might have been a little overly friendly to you. If you had gotten flustered, she’d be apologising a lot. Like, not even a funny amount, she just thinks that maybe now that you’ve gotten flustered, you won’t like her anymore.

-        Yaoyorozu definitely loves both sides of you, online and in real life.

-        If she somehow finds your socials, whether you give it to her, or she accidentally comes across it, she probably won’t say much about it, but she really likes watching you be all bold and stuff, a nice contrast to what she sees in real life.

-        Don’t get her wrong, she loves the quiet you as well, but she likes someone with a bit of spice ;)

-        She doesn’t mind you being socially awkward or shy, she’ll probably carry the conversation anyway, but she does want your input every now and then for a decent dialogue to occur.

-        She’ll absolutely support you in your costume/cosplay making, and she’ll provide whatever you need. She’ll also help you if you run out of ideas, and sometimes you guys just spend the day together crafting a costume/cosplay and laughing.

-        You guys will be one of those couples on the train, leaning against each other as you listen to music with the same earphones.

-        She thinks it’s really cool that you horse ride and would love to come watch any of your shows or competition (help, I don’t know what they’re called), and will, uncharacteristically, scream and yell her support.

-        She doesn’t ever regret her hoarse throat the day after, but will probably request a trip to the chemist on your way back.

-        I think Yaoyorozu is really easy to get close with because of her genuine fascination in so many subjects, so that will probably, hopefully, coax you out of your shell, and encourage you to share your interests with her. She’ll be very invested one you do start talking, and she’ll have this adorable and curious look on her face, soaking up everything you say.

-        If anything, she’s overly understanding of your boundaries and won’t push you, so you don’t have to worry about her being too nosy or indifferent about you.

-        Absolutely no judgement comes from her. None, whatsoever. She likes seeing people without self-constructed walls, and she knows that judging someone will only make them raise those walls higher.

-        Though she’s a little reluctantly being completely honest at first because she doesn’t want to hurt you, if you outright tell her to be brutally honest, she’ll respect your wishes, and will be so.

-        I’m not sure if I’m sorry or not sorry to say, but she’ll baby you when you’re injured. Not at all in a patronising way, she just makes sure you have everything you need in order to get better.

-        A heat/ice pack? You got it!

-        A band aid? Sure!

-        A whole-ass hospital? She’s already getting her credit card out.

-        Because of her tendency to be the mum of any friend group, intentionally or not, she really worries about you whenever you get hurt, and, if you ever need to be admitted into a long-stay in a hospital, Yaoyorozu will try to visit you every day and bring you small little hand-made things to make you feel better.

-        She’s too kinda for her own good T^T

-        Okay, if anyone would be a good person to rant to, it’d be Yaoyorozu. Not only is she literally the embodiment of the phrase “I’m all ears”, if you ask, she’ll also be more than happy to give you advice or comfort(but you don’t have any choice for the latter if you’re upset; it’s a given if you’re around her).

-        Lmao don’t worry, I didn’t pick her because of your maths grade, but she’s literally the smartest in her class/Hero group(?)(sorry idk your age T^T I tried to find it anywhere on your blog, but I’m dumb or it’s not actually there ;w;) so I doubt she’ll say no to helping you :)

-        This’ll be a very, very wholesome couple :)

A quote I think your relationship would match:

“When you stop expecting people to be perfect, you can like them for who they are.” ~ Donald Miller

I hope you like your matchup~

[flyswhumpcenter]

Bad Things Happen Bingo! The event where you send me requests according to this marvelous card! (Red cross is the completed prompt, character headshots are prompts I’ve already filled. Green deltas are for requested prompts.)

Choo choo, the Sickfic Express has just arrived in Galar, straight from Oreburgh City! 

First fic of 2020 is a sickfic oneshot. How rivetting. I've very recently beaten Pokémon Sword and loved it! I found myself really loving the characters, what they are and what they've already become in my mind, so I couldn't help myself but type what I know best... A sickfic. Also, this fandom needs more of this stuff, so here. I'm providing. Is this story OOC? Chances they are. Was it absolutely a blast to write? You bet. I'm probably gonna look back on it later down the lane and be uncomfortable with how I depicted the characters; but you do need to discover the characters first, and what better opportunity for that than a little sickfic with some angst and pre-rel dramatic tension? Anyway, I hope you'll like this lil' thing I busted out in literally a couple hours. I forgot how fun it was to write without worrying yourself over continuity or already established elements like in Earth Never Stops... Btw, this fic was originally requested to me as a FE3H fill for Hubert, so I decided I'd most likely use another square on my card for him. Sorry Nonnie for this, my inspiration got the best of me yet again! 

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Candles in the Rain

Summary: Is feverishly staggering through the damp streets of Hammerlocke under the rain with very little hope to feel warmth again and even less sense of direction a fitting end for a former Champion now that he's been defeated once? Scratch that: he doesn't have the time or brain power remaining to process such a question. Or: Leon witnesses a miracle in the form of a little dog and a childhood friend.

Fandom: Pokémon Sword and Shield (post-canon/game: beware for spoilers) Relationships: Pre-relationship Leon/Sonia

Wordcount: 3.1K words

Event hosted by @badthingshappenbingo​

AO3 version available here.

-------------

The streets of Hammerlocke are covered by a thick layer of rainwater, typical early winter in Galar. Nobody dares going against the terrible weather, which isn’t unlike the flooding that almost ate Kabu’s region of origin, or rather how he once described it based on bedtime stories, a couple thousand years ago. Honestly, after what Galar just went through, he can believe the tale to have been real all along, no issue there…

As always, he’s lost in the grand city of his main rival, and that frustrates him. He’s cold from the water having filled his shoes and wet his hair for hours and hours on end, not even the fire of the camp being able to make him feel warmer. If it wasn’t for his partners’ demands, urging him to stop camping in the wilderness and find a Centre already, he’d have surely stayed in the Wild Area and biked to a better spot. Ah, he misses Postwick, now. At least, he can’t get lost in Postwick, there’d be Hop and his now-Champion best friend, if not Sonia paying them all a visit, and there’d be the warmth of his childhood home… Gods, perhaps he does miss the peaceful life of a ten-year-old whose only contact to the Gym Challenge is dreams of grandeur.

Ah, if it didn’t rain so badly, Charizard could be warming the both of them as he tried to make his way to the nearest Centre.

 Despite his best efforts to remain proud and confident, he ends up having to lean against a wall to stop a coughing fit from suddenly urging itself out of there. He must look pathetic and he does wish, deep down, that someone would get out of their house for a reason or another, recognize him like literally everybody in Galar; but his pride and brand would be on the line, and nobody is fighting against the terrible, terrible weather today. He’s all alone in the streets of the city, pushing himself from the wall with wobbly arms, trying his hardest to remember where to go with slow, hazy thoughts…

Even if he was cold merely moments before, his head now burns. He feels too hot under clothes that are wildly unfitting of such a muddy season, despite the hair rising on what is exposed of his arms. A Cramorant stole his jacket when he was training, a Linoone tried to steal his stuff, and he ended up having a Pokemon knocked out and losing most of his healing items in the kerfuffle. It really hasn’t been his day, lately…

 His chest hurts. Not from the outside, as if he had injured himself in one of the falls he endured trying to feel from the Wild Area with no Pokemon to battle with and the slippery grass constantly trying to get the best of him, but from the inside. He doesn’t doubt the possible existence of bruises under the shirt that sticks to his limbs like a second, drenched skin; but this isn’t it. It intensifies when he coughs and it rattles strangely. When he tries to ignore the excruciating weather wishing for his demise, he hears the strange sounds his breathing now makes. He doesn’t know them so, in a moment of out-of-character lack of reason, he gets scared of them and vaguely wonders about worst-case scenarios.

It isn’t just his chest either. It’s his throat, it’s his mouth, it’s his feet, it’s his legs. Everything in his body is tired and screaming for rest, but he cannot provide it for any of his own self at the moment, stuck trying to navigate with what little he can distinguish with almost-closed eyes from how much he has to squint. His eyes can’t focus anymore, this much he realizes with a bitter sense of resignation, so everything he sees is blurry, including the weird gooey stuff he keeps coughing out whenever he can’t breathe anymore and has to stop for who knows how long.

 He trips over his own unmade shoe tie, losing in one fell swoop what was left of his balance, and falls right into the rainwater that has accumulated on the ground. It sounds and looks and feels like it’s the end, that this is where his journey ends: in some damp street of a city that he has never been able to find his way in, alone, cold and hot at the same time, rain burying him with the rest of the pavement. Not that he even thinks he has the energy to go on… Not like that. Not when his strength, the only thing he thought he had left, has all but given up on him too. Truly alone in a time where, sitting against a giant wall, he realizes what has been going on and poisoning his breath. Hah, ironic.

Still, this isn’t how he should admit defeat. He’s been won over now, and recently at that, and it’d be more than a shame for him to all but give up now. He needs to bring his team to the Centre, he can’t not try taking his revenge on the new Champion, he can’t not at least prove his superior battle skills to Raihan yet again, he just can’t leave Hop, and Sonia, and everyone else like that…

So he rises up once again, on weak arms and unsteady legs, almost tripping over himself, shoulder stuck against the wall. He won’t let this be the end of him.

 Even with a new resolve, it still doesn’t make it much better for him. Unless there’s a miracle happening right before him, he’s stuck with his heavily weakened state trying to find a place whose location he has no idea. His phone doesn’t seem to be able to show a map, its signal disturbed after whatever happened to it while he was looking or doing the polar opposite, so he’s stuck with his truly inefficient sense of orientation.

But it’ll be okay. It’ll have to be okay, because he needs to see Hop become a Professor, to buy Sonia’s new book, to rematch the Champion and his Leader friends, to give his team at least one more chance to shine. It’ll be okay, surely it’ll be okay, of course it’ll be okay… It’ll be okay, because this is all a terrible nightmare he’s going to wake up from, where he isn’t stuck in the torrential rain with a fainted party and very little hope of finding way out.

It’ll be okay, oh so okay…

 He tumbles and falls over again, this time hitting the ground with no grace whatsoever, most likely scratching elbows and knees in the process. Even rising his head up as not to cough in water when a fit claws at his throat again takes most of the energy he has left, only for his blurry sight and cottoned-down hearing to spot the first good thing in who knows many hours: a familiar yelp and vague brown-and-yellow figure rushing towards him.

With a trembling and feeble hand, he tries reaching out to the Yamper who has guided him so many times out of dangerous situations, only for an oh so familiar voice to yell in his direction. Still, it’s hard to know if it’s real or just his imagination. Ah, well; he’ll have to see when he’ll have woken up. If he even wakes up from the darkness starting to invade his vision…

  “Yamper, where in the world are you running like that?!” This creature never stops running, doesn’t it? “Yamper, wait for me!”

If she’s used to her trusty furry assistant running around everywhere it goes and pursuing it, Sonia has to notice there’s something odd in the air. Yamper never goes this fast, especially not in a city where it could smash muzzle first into people. There’s an urgent feeling to its yelps as it runs in one precise direction.

 As suddenly as Yamper started running when she had just gone out of the vault to investigate a little bit more into the Galar mythos she had become a specialist of, it stops right in its tracks in a little street she’s frankly never seen nor noticed before. With how much it’s raining and how unlikely it is to stop pouring soon, she doesn’t want the both of them out for much longer than needed.

She stops to regain her breath, hands on her knees as she folds in two, wet red hair hanging from her head. Yamper stays in place, running around her in circles, then disappearing from her view into the old, little street covered in rain and shadows. It doesn’t seem to have any intent on leaving soon.

 --------

“Why did you… bring me here…? Seriously, it’s raining Growlithes and Purrloins…!”

Still, Sonia gets herself together and goes on to follow her “assistant”. There’s dread building in her chest and stomach that she can hardly ignore… She’s seen enough movies as a teenager to know where this is going. She’s going to end up tangled into some messed-up situation, isn’t she…?

 Her heart skips a beat when she notices a very familiar person lying face down on the pavement, drenched to the bone. A person who hasn’t given her any response or sign of life for a few days.

Someone who’s gotten lost in Hammerlocke again.

 -------

 When he wakes up, everything feels different than the last time he’s been awake. It’s all white, dry and soft. He stills feels too hot and too cold, breathing remains a chore and he wishes he wasn’t there anyway; but he supposes he’s now safe and, honestly, he can’t think of anything much worse than treading through the torrential rain with little strength left.

Now, if he knew what the thing on his face was, he’d be doing a bit better, but his arms feel like they’re made out of lead and he lacks the energy to rise them to his mouth and at least touch it…

 “Leon?”

The voice, even if it’s muffled, is undoubtedly Sonia’s. He can’t quite put a finger on why exactly, yet he feels like this confirms something. If his chest didn’t feel so heavy and full, he’d have sighed in relief. That doesn’t prevent him from coughing again when trying to respond to his own name.

“Let me do the talking, okay? I’m sure you have a metric ton of questions to ask, but for the love of Galar, spare your voice unless necessary.”

 Now that his vision is focusing again, he notices both the pipe inserted in his wrist and the frown on her face. She seems less than content with something. What, he doesn’t quite know, and thinking hurts his head even further than it already bothers him, heavy on his neck despite resting on a pillow. Speaking of which, where is his stuff? His clothes?

“Hey, hey, hey,” Sonia rises from her chair and puts her hands on his chest, putting him back into his mattress. “You stay here and don’t cause anyone any worry more than you’ve already done!”

 He’s confused as to why she’s so adamant on him not doing anything. No speaking, no moving… If he didn’t feel this drained and lethargic, he’d absolutely get back at her with playfulness. Well, that does kind of answer his own question, doesn’t it? Or, at least, it seems to make sense to his brain which has troubles keeping up with the situation…

Yet, he sees a small smirk contrast with her frowned eyebrows. She seems… pained. Pained by what, or who, he doesn’t know; he’s most likely at least partially responsible for it, because she wouldn’t be there otherwise.

 “I don’t know how you’ve ended up in that situation exactly, Leon, but you’ve managed to surpass yourself in terms of putting yourself in harm’s way. You’ve scared us before, but not to that extent!”

“I…” His voice sounds hoarse and it absolutely feels that way. “It’s complicated…”

“Your entire party was fainted, safe for Charizard who was about to follow; you somehow bricked your phone in the process and ended up catching more than a death of cold. Where were you during all that time?!”

Sonia sounds a bit too scared for someone who’s facing her childhood friend stuck in a bed.

“The Wild Area…”

“That’d explain why you were soaked to the bone when I found you lying in a puddle… You’ll have to excuse me for using that crude language, you scared everyone on that one!”

 It’s his turn to ask a little question, even if the state of his body makes him want to remain quiet. Still, no matter how intelligent she is, Sonia doesn’t read minds, so he’s somewhat forced to go through with it if he wants his answers.

“Where are we?”

“A clinic in Hammerlocke. I forgot to add you also scared the ER staff with how bad your breathing was.” Has to be that irritating wheezing sound he’s hearing since he’s woken up. “By the way, since I know you’re going to ask me about that, your team is safe and doing much better now. They’re all gently resting in their balls while you recover.”

He misses Charizard and everyone else already. He owes them a big apology, that’s for sure, but he’s also certain his brain can’t process much right now. Sometimes, you just need to admit yourself to have been defeated… even if it bothers you to no end.

 Sonia paces around for a little bit before sitting down on the chair next to the bed, arms still crossed. She sounds more than frustrated, and, well… He can’t really hold it against her, can he? He already can barely hold anything against her to begin with, considering how much they’ve lived through together; it’s not today, in these circumstances, that he’ll try finding a reason for her not to be frustrated. Who knows how long he’s been gone without giving news: he frankly, forgot how quickly or slowly time was passing while he was wandering through the Wild Area.

“At least, you’re still here and breathing with us. Just, if you could not do that ever again, it’d be better, you know? I can’t always be there worrying after you when I’m now a Prof! Arceus, I don’t even imagine what sequence of events has thrown you into such a state. You looked absolutely pitiful when Yamper found you.”

 He tries to puff at himself to ease the tension he feels rising, but all he ends up doing is coughing. And coughing. And coughing.

“What did I say about sparing your voice? Tch, you’ll never change, will you? You’ve always stubborn, after all, so there’s no reason that’ll change now. That’s part of your charm, I suppose.” She shrugs before suddenly darting her eyes away from him. “But you’re right, I shouldn’t have to worry! You were the Champion of Galar for more than ten years, why would I be afraid of you? That makes very little sense, haha!”

“S-Sonia…”

 He only now spots the dark rings under her eyes and the hair pulling out of her ponytail, one strand at a time. How long was he out for, and for how much of that time was she there, exactly? (Hey, he does work fairly well, for someone who can’t stop sweating and whose entire frame is shaken up by chills at irregular intervals!). Too many questions, too little available brain space, he guesses…

“Go for it, make fun of your good old friend who still hasn’t gotten the memo. I should have been like Hop and blindly believed you’d come back to us, as you’ve always done…”

Oh, right, Hop! How is he doing, has he advanced in his research, does he still worry for him? Well, sadly, it’s not the time to think about his brother: his childhood friend seems to have a meltdown right in front of him.

“Why?”

 Sonia stares at him, completely silent, eyes wide. Seems like she doesn’t have an answer to her own interrogation, until pain comes back on her face like the wave crashing on the shore.

“You don’t… think it’s ridiculous?”

“What?” His throat doesn’t take kindly to his attempts at having a conversation.

“Everything! We swore we’d trust each other, but look at me, worrying over you as if we were still kids running in the fields with the Wooloos… And I’m telling you all that while you’re cooking on the inside! Really, isn’t that ridiculous?”

 Gathering his breath and his strength, he rises up with shaky arms against the bedhead, pillow still preventing his head from entirely lulling over his shoulder from how heavy it is. Whatever he’s caught, it’s one hell of an affliction he’s found himself with. Still, if it’s for Sonia, if she’s this distraught over the situation (he did almost pass away), he can put up with the migraine, the difficult breathing, the mask over his mouth, the lethargy, the chills…

“I’m sorry, Sonia.”

He does cough immediately after apologizing, as expected. For once, she doesn’t reply immediately, doesn’t make a witty remark; instead, she looks confused and maybe embarrassed, considering the red he can see with the eyes that still refuse to entirely focus for more than a few seconds.

“Sorry for what? And, again, spare your voice, you…”

“For all of this.”

 Her expression softens, eyebrows drooping and eyes shining brighter. Even if it’s slight and his eyes almost miss it, she finally smiles.

“How long…?” He’s interrupted by a fit.

“How long you’ve been out?” He nods, still trying to calm his chest down. “Around half a day. You did wake up at some point but immediately passed out again. No wonder why you don’t remember that.”

He now points at her with an unsteady finger. “Why are you… Oh, how long I’ve been here?” He nods again. “Most of that time, I’d say. I’d also say I fell asleep at some point too…”

 She crosses her arms again, just as his vision starts weakening again. It’s back to sleep, right?

“I think we both need our rest. I’m also certain Hop is waiting at the door, so you’ll even have a guardian angel watching over you, isn’t that super cool? And if you attempt rising from that bed, you’re sure to be put back into it in mere seconds!”

He’d try laughing if it didn’t trigger such a massive reaction from his lungs, so he decides to just nod instead.

“See you later, Leon. Goodnight.”

He waves at her, the lethargy still reflecting in his slow and sloppy gestures, but that’s fine enough for now. Her smile is worth it, isn’t it?

 Absolutely worth trekking through the rain with full lungs and little energy left…