#but whatever my track record isn’t great so

[cevansbrat0007]

Case of the Ex: Part I

Summary: Just as you decide to explore your feelings for Ari, an unexpected blast from your past sends you reeling...

Warnings: Mature Themes, Ari Being A Menace, Ex-boyfriends, Discussions of Weight, Discussions of Body Image, Mentions of Disordered Eating, Brief Discussions of Race, Pet Names, Cursing, Minors DNI

A/N: Special thanks to @curls-and-eyeliner for helping me brainstorm. This story is part of my Sweet Renegades Series. Not beta'd. All mistakes are my own. Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated. Thanks for reading!

“So do you trust me now, Mr. Carmichael?” You tease as you carefully place several books into your customer’s reusable shopping bag while you wait on the receipt to print. “Because the way I see it, I haven’t steered you wrong yet.”

“Here we go.” The older man grumbles, playfulling rolling his eyes as you punch in the last few numbers to complete the transaction. 

“My recommendation track record speaks for itself.” You can’t help but laugh at the look he gives you. As if you two didn’t have the same conversation at least once a month. “I just want you to give me my props.”

“Arrogance isn’t a good look on you, young lady.” 

“Who said anything about arrogance?” Your eyes go comically wide as you lean into the theatrics by pretending to look around your shop. “Certainly not me. I’m just a small business owner, standing in front of the best retired florist in all of Bell’s Creek, humbly requesting that he finally give me my flippin’ flowers.”  

Mr. Carmichael heaves a weary sigh. “Fine, fine. You were right.” He steps back from the counter to give a dramatic bow. “Jean Hanff Korelitz’s Jacob Bonner was strong enough to rival Stephen King’s own Mort Rainey and Thad Beaumont. Your literary tastes reign superior once again.” 

“And there it is.” You rip the receipt from the printer and drop it into the bag before handing it over so that you can rest your elbows on the counter. “Now was that really that bad? It’s not like I asked for one of your Sapphire Sweetheart bouquets, after all.” 

“That entire moment was so positively excruciating I almost didn’t live through it.” He keeps his tone light as he slings the bag over his shoulder. “Anyway, same time next month?”

“Can’t wait.” You respond with a wink and a wave. “Wouldn’t miss it. And please give Millie my love.”

“Will do!” He calls behind him as he heads out the door.

Once he’s gone you decide to stand up and stretch, raising your arms over your head. You’re not satisfied until you hear the sound of your spine popping. And then you up the ante, twisting your body from side to side before bending down and touching your toes.

You hold the position for a moment, content to let yourself dangle until you hear the chime of the front door, signaling the arrival of another customer. Which was great news for you, especially since business had been kind of slow this morning. 

“Welcome to Baubles & Quills!” You chirp as you quickly right yourself. “How can I he–” The words die on your lips when you get a good look at the person standing just inside the doorway.

“Hiya, Cupcake.” 

It’s a nickname you haven’t heard in years. And it had only ever been used by one man. The same one who had broken your heart and left a wound so deep you’d been almost convinced that it would never heal. 

And yet there he was. Standing right there in your shop. Somehow even more handsome than you remembered.

Mason J. Prescott.

The seconds tick by, turning into minutes as a loaded silence washes over you both. Whatever you’d been expecting, it hadn’t been this. A visit from your ex-boyfriend had not been on today’s bingo card.

Grinning, Mason closes the gap between you. His long, denim clad legs covering the distance in a few easy strides. Once he’s in front of you he removes his Stetson pinchfront and sits it on the counter before taking the opportunity to run his fingers through his thick black locks. 

“Damn if you ain’t a sight for sore eyes.” Still grinning, his gray eyes give you a thorough onceover. It’s a blatant, slow moving perusal that lets you know he likes what he sees. “I swear they don’t make girls as pretty as you out in Brickfield. Must be something in the water.”

“Uh…hi.” You stammer as shock continues to course its way through you.

“You lookin’ to catch some flies there, Cupcake?”

Shit. That meant you were staring. Probably with your mouth open. It was an old bad habit that, up until today, you could’ve sworn you had licked. 

“Sorry.” You cough, forcing your brain to reboot.

“No need to be sorry.” While Mason’s easygoing charm used to calm your nerves, today it seemed to be doing the opposite. 

“What brings you..?” You trail off to take a steadying breath. “I didn’t realize you were back in town.” 

What the hell was he doing here? 

“I just flew in last night. Caught a red-eye home from Buffalo, New York..” He decides to explain further after you flash him a quizzical glance. “Dad had me working on a business deal up there. It was a quick trip with an even quicker turnaround.” 

Oh. “Got it.” 

“Yeah.” He chuckles, scrubbing a hand over his five-o’clock shadow. “My, uh, plan had been to fly back out to Brickfield first and then make the drive. But after speaking with my Mama no less than six nerve-racking times in the span of an hour, I figured I’d be better off coming straight here. And I’ll be damned if it doesn’t feel good to be back.” He raps his knuckles on the wood.  

“I’m sure they’re all very happy you’re home.” You weren’t really sure what else to say to that, so you kept it simple. Although it still didn’t explain his reason for showing up at what was arguably the equivalent of your doorstep.  

“Maybe. Some more than others, I suppose.” His voice drops an octave as he pins you with a knowing look. “Any chance you might be one of those people?”

Your teeth begin to gnaw at your bottom lip as your palms go damp with sweat. Why on earth would he care or not about whether you were happy to see him or not? Especially since you hadn’t spoken in–

“I’ve thought of you damn near every day over the last five years.” 

“Mace…” His former nickname comes on the heels of a weary sigh. 

“I’m serious, sweets.”

“Didn’t say you weren’t.” 

You did not want to do this today. It wasn’t fair or right of him to think he could just pick up and waltz back into your life as if he expected your feelings for him to be the same. 

Things had changed since then. You had changed. Everything was different now, starting and ending with you.

“I’ve been thinking…” Now it’s his turn to sigh as he squares his shoulders. “Maybe we made a mistake.”

“Ha!” You let out an unladylike snort, your hand flying to your mouth in an attempt to catch it. “I don’t believe for a second that I’m the reason your Mama pressed you to hussle your ass back to our quaint little town.”

“I came back because I needed to deal with a family matter. But I was thinking about staying because the one that got away also happens to own a shop that’s just down the road from my parent’s ranch.” His sobering admission is enough to send you reeling all over again.     

Mason then places his hand atop yours, allowing the slightly roughened pad of his thumb to stroke along the ridge of your knuckles.

“I’m afraid I don’t take your meaning.” You give him your best haughty southern belle impression. “But if you’d like, I can point you in the direction of our Self-Help books. I’m sure you’ll find plenty of helpful literature on learning from your past mistakes. Might I recommend John Purkiss’ bestseller, The Power of Letting Go? I hear it’s a real page turner.”

Your newfound snippiness has your ex-boyfriend rocking back on his heels. He even appears a little stunned. Good. 

You weren’t the same meek young woman he’d left behind all those years ago. Something that Mason James Prescott would do well to remember.

“Sheesh, Cupcake.” Your former flame presses a hand over his heart, feigning as if you’d wounded him. “You might’ve shed a few extra pounds when I wasn’t looking, but I see you've also gained a little sass too.”

You fold your arms over your chest as you take a moment to process what feels very much like a backhanded compliment. God’s gift to Bell’s Creek didn’t know it yet, but you were getting dangerously close to kicking his pert ass out of your shop.   

As if sensing that he’s made an error, he quickly clears his throat. “All I’m saying is that I recognize that I’m dealing with a new and improved you.” He moves to reach for you again before apparently thinking better of it. 

“But forgive me if I have a hard time thinking of you as anything but the doe-eyed freshman who wrote poetry behind the bleachers. That is, when she wasn’t busy taking home top prize at the state fair’s pie baking contest year after year.” Mason offers you his own award winning smile for good measure, highlighting the dimple on his left cheek. 

Suddenly, the room feels a little too hot for your comfort. You didn’t like feeling this unsettled. These days the only man who was allowed to get under your skin was your handsome, overbearing bounty hunter. 

It was a right that he’d earned, whether you liked it or not. And there were honestly times when you damn well didn’t. But you’d also be lying if you said that you weren’t learning to live with it.     

“I could sure go for a slice of your famous brambleberry pie right about now.” Mason keeps his deep voice low and even as he takes a tentative step around the side of your cash register, which is the only thing currently separating the two of you. “But I’d be willing to settle for some cherry pie and a scoop of homemade vanilla bean ice cream over at Holtman’s Diner on West 5th if you’d be open to join me.”

“So I can watch you stuff your face with pie while I nibble on a depressing fruit salad from a can like a sad little rabbit?” You scoff. “Pass.” 

Mason huffs out an annoyed breath, his brows drawing together. “You were the one who always complained about shit going to your hips. Meanwhile, I was just doing my part to be supportive. Isn’t that what any good man is supposed to do for his woman?” 

Apparently you weren’t the only one experiencing a few ruffled feathers here. Fantastic.

“I’m not sure it’s allowed to fall under the category of being supportive –” you respond, complete with appropriate air quotes “– if you’re also the one constantly pointing it out.” 

“We were kids, baby!” His hands fly to his waist so that he’s now standing akimbo. “Just a couple of stupid kids worried about stupid shit like football practice and prom pictures. I felt like I was walking around with the world on my shoulders back then. It wasn’t as easy for me as everybody liked to think.” He shifts his weight, resting his hip against the cashwrap. “Nobody understood the pressures of growing up as a Prescott. Nobody even tried…” 

‘Oh yeah?’ Your internal voice all but screams. ‘Try being one of only five black kids in your entire goddamned graduating class. But do you see me crying? Nope.’ 

At any rate, you didn’t sign up for this month’s Prescott Pity Party. So you were about to politely request that he miss you with that bullshit.

“I’m sorry you felt like you had to carry so much alone, Mace. I really am.” You look down at your feet as you try to drum up a way to usher him out the door without touching him. But the next thing you know, he’s suddenly standing directly in front of you. 

“Except for you.” He reaches out to clutch at your biceps, his big hands smoothing up and down your bare arms. “You saw past the spoiled little rich kid act when no one else did. And I didn’t appreciate you like I should have.” 

Your heart speeds up as you take notice of the way his eyes darken. He’s so close that you can see the light smattering of freckles dotting the bridge of his slightly crooked nose. If memory served, he’d broken it during a heated football game.

One where he claimed an opposing player made several crude comments about your body and choice of skirt. At the time you’d considered him a hero. But now…

Now you saw him for what he was. Another run-of-the-mill Prescott pretty boy. All style and no substance. That was the crux of it.  

Right?      

“Why are you doing this?” Your question comes out weaker than you’d like, but at least it doesn’t waver.

“Because I want you to have dinner with me tonight. For old times’ sake.” His determined gaze bores into your own as all of the oxygen slowly dissipates from the room. “Please, Cupcake?”

Just then, you hear the chiming of the door, signaling the arrival of yet another customer. Spell broken, you take a fortifying step back – needing to put some distance between you and the town’s golden boy.

“Am I interrupting something?” The sound of a familiar voice has your already volatile emotions spiraling in the complete opposite direction as a sense of relief blooms in your chest. 

Saved by the damn bell. Thank the Lord.

“Yeah.” Mason snaps at the same time you throw out a swift “nope”. 

“Bird?” 

Of course your gruff bounty hunter would defer to you on this one – for which you were grateful. You turn your attention to him, not missing the tick in his chiseled jaw. 

Now that you saw them together, Ari appeared to have a good inch in height on your former lover. Aside from that, their builds were pretty similar. Instead it was the glaring difference in their personalities that managed to separate one from the other. 

“It’s fine, Ari.”

“Bird?” Mason’s lip curls in an almost sneer as his hands drop to his sides. “Is that what you go by now? It’s…cute.” He tacks on the last part when you respond with a simple shrug. 

If you were being honest, you didn’t much care how he felt or not. You just wanted him gone so that you could actually breathe again.

“Ari, huh?” He turns to give your man his full attention as realization finally dawns. “You must be that rent-a-cop my father was telling me about. Said you blew into town looking for Martin Westbrook’s sorry ass.” 

“Not quite, pal. But you’re almost there.” Ari spares a bored glance in the direction of his would-be rival. But he doesn’t say anything. You knew without him telling you that he was busy assessing the situation. It was something he had a habit of doing anywhere he went.

Especially when found himself face-to-face with a dick like Mason Prescott.

“Well, you won’t find him here, buddy.” Your ex gives him a dismissive nod. “So why don’t you see yourself out? The lady and I were just in the middle of catching up before you took it upon yourself to interrupt.” 

An uncomfortable silence ensues as both men stare each other down, each refusing to blink. The tension grows thicker with each passing moment. And it remains that way until you move to step between them. 

“Mace is an old friend who stopped by for a chat.” You tell Ari, jamming your nervous hands in your pockets. “But we were just wrapping up so I could get back to doing inventory.”

It was a lie. And you recognized that Ari was someone who deserved a better, more in-depth explanation than the basic one that you just gave him. But for now it would simply have to do. At least until you got your bearings.          

“But what about that pie?” Mason pouts, obviously upset by the prospect of you kicking him out. “Don’t leave me to eat alone, Cupcake.”

“Cupcake? Wow.” Ari scoffs under his breath, not bothering to his disapproval.

“Old friend, old nickname.” You hiss, somehow feeling even more self-conscious than you already did. “Now that we’ve established all that, I think it’s best if you two peaches get a move-on. I’ve got a busy day ahead of me.”

Needing some space, you attempt to shoo them out the door. But unfortunately, you might as well have better luck trying to herd a couple of cats. Lucky you.

“What about lunch?” Your man growls. Apparently he didn’t take too kindly to being thrown out either.

“Too busy. Gotta cancel. Sorry you came out all this way, but these books aren’t gonna stock themselves so…” You throw your arms in the air. “It is what it is.” 

Instead of accepting his dismissal, Ari takes a step towards you. He doesn’t stop until he’s in front of you, his body eclipsing your smaller frame and  effectively blocking you from Mason’s view.

“Did you eat today, baby?” He asks as one big hand comes up to cup the back of your neck, giving you an affectionate squeeze. Some of the stiffness in his shoulders eases when you give him a little nod. “Good. What’d you have?”

“A piece of toast and a hard boiled egg.” 

“Alright.” Warmth pools in your belly when your sweet bounty hunter hands over a plastic bag filled with what feels suspiciously like a sandwich and chips. “It’s a grilled chicken caesar wrap. Best they had since you said you don’t like that chipotle spread. Also got you some sea salt and vinegar chips, some cuke and onion salad, and a cookie.”

Christ. This man was simply too good for you. Moments like these only served to remind you that you truly didn’t deserve him.

“Thank you.” You murmur once you finally manage to swallow the lump forming in your throat. 

“I’m gonna need you to eat every last bite for me.” He tells you, his intoxicating blue eyes dropping to your lips. “So that I can fully enjoy taking a bite out of you later.” Thankfully, he's thoughtful enough to whisper the last bit. Making it clear that it was for your ears only.

“Okay, Ari.” 

Nodding, he shifts his attention back to an increasingly annoyed Mason. But while there’s no way he could’ve missed the moment you shared with Ari just now, he chooses to stew in silence. Which is absolutely fine by you. 

“Call me when you lock up.” You know that Ari’s words are meant for you even though his focus remains entirely on the other man taking up space in your tiny lobby. 

“I’ll see you around, Cupcake.” Mason smiles, but this time you notice that it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “I can’t wait to find out if you’re still as sweet as I remember.” He finishes with a knowing wink.

With that, he turns and strides out of the shop, not even bothering to hold the door for Ari. But your man doesn’t seem to mind. Instead he makes a show of shouldering through it with minimal effort. 

As soon as it swings shut you hit the lock and flip the sign. And then you duck in the corner, watching as the two men exchange what you can only assume to be a few choice words right there in your parking lot. 

And while you can’t make out what they’re saying, you’re convinced that it’s anything but friendly – what with them being practically nose to nose. 

You stay in your spot until Ari and Mason finish their conversation. And it’s only once they’ve climbed in their respective cars and driven away that you finally slink off to the back room to lick your wounds and figure out your next move. 

Fuck! You had the sinking feeling that things were about to get complicated fast. Opening the fridge, you toss your lunch inside before slamming it shut so that you can snag a homemade strawberry and cream popsicle from the freezer. 

As you sit down, you feel your phone buzz in your back pocket. You fish it out, surprised to see that you’ve got a text from Ari that reads:

“Mace seems like a real stand-up guy.”

“No shit, Beast.” Rolling your eyes, you place the device facedown on a nearby table before nibbling on your sweet and creamy treat. “Tell me something I don’t know.” 

END

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[definitelynotafurinasimp]

Congrats on 1.5k! Super proud of you! If it isn’t too much of a hassle #12 with Lynette if neither of them are taken?

“Aren’t those my Clothes?”

characters: Lynette x gn!reader

warnings: none, just fluff

a/n: This post is part of my 1500 Follower event, if you want to read other works belonging to it or want to request something yourself, you can do that here.

Anyway, thanks for the congratulations and I hope you enjoy!

Lynette

While Lynette liked her and Lyney’s stage outfits, something she would never say otherwise, not wanting to witness one of Chiori’s lectures again, she had to admit that they weren’t exactly clothes she would consider wearing in her time off, loungewear fitting her usual afternoon activities such as relaxing and reloading her batteries much more. And fortunately for her, she knew a person with a fantastic track record of picking the most comfortable clothes to wear at home.

When you opened your front door, only to be hit with the smell of someone’s favorite tea almost instantly, your eyes were quick to land on a particular pair of shoes. And while you had no problem with Lynette coming over to your home to relax after a successful show, even when you were away, giving her a copy of your keys for exactly that reason, the sight of her silently sitting on your couch while drinking her tea and reading whatever book she found in your bookshelf had something about it that just felt… off.

“How was the show, Lynette?”, you asked, her ear twitching for a moment before she looked up towards you, her previously focused look softening as she greeted you with an easy to miss smile.

“It was fine, nothing out of the ordinary”, she responded briefly, an answer you were happy to hear considering what happened last time her show didn’t go as planned. As the two of you continued to exchange a few words, you saw down besides her, only to notice her folded up clothes in the corner of your eye.

So that’s what felt strange! Your brain finally came to the same conclusion any normal person would have ended with immediately after looking at her.

“Hey Lynette?”, you called out her name, causing her to face you with a curious look on her face, “Aren’t those my Clothes?” Whatever responses you had expected, a shift back to her book and a casual nod of her head definitely wasn’t one of them.

“May I ask why you decided to don my clothes? Did you miss m-”, you teased, only to be cut off by her response.

“I like clothes that have your scent”, she said completely stone faced, causing your face to open in shock as your face filled with a deep red. Only for the entire mood to change when Lynette gave you an amused smile.

“Is what you wished for me to say, didn’t you? Check your pocket”, Lynette continued, you complying with her command almost instantly, only to pull a card out you were sure wasn’t there before, causing your eyes to widen in awe.

“As you might have heard already, distraction is the key ingredient to magic”, the magician explained without looking up from her book, a small blush and smile lingering on her face that filled you with nothing but adoration for her.

What a great magician you had the honor to date. To plan things out this much in advance to pull of a trick when you least expected her to, her change of clothes and bold words serving as one big distraction for her card trick.

…or maybe, it was the other way around?

[freswoe]

i really don’t know how im feeling about the latest fhjy episode. sure, it was fun, the combat planning was great to watch and the battle map was awesome, but… story-wise? It wasn’t good. more than that, the preview for the next episode looks like it’ll mainly be just a battle episode, and that combination does Not make me feel optimistic about the ending of fhjy as a whole.

i think the thing that best sums up my confusion and disappointment with this episode is when Ally/Kristen shouts ‘For Lucy!’ and honestly… why? What about Lucy Frostblade - the kind girl whose major philosophy was that the world is cold so we have to keep each other warm, the foil to Porter’s house of conquest without mercy - suggests that she’d want the brutal murder of her friends without any attempt to talk to or redeem them? the entire season has stressed the doubt/conviction relationship - with the RGs representing wrathful conviction and the BKs representing doubt - and yet there’s zero doubt, zero room for understanding, when Fig’s first action as Wanda Chillda is to stress that she fucking hates ruben and wants to see him die. also, whatever the fuck was going on with ivy and fabian.

its just. this episode is the penultimate episode of the entire season, and if i was watching with no prior knowledge, id probably say it would be episode 13, 14 etc. a cool fight, but absolutely zero emotional resonance - just the Bad Kids going to town on yet another enemy. cool fights, cool planning, cool teamwork, but nothing really special about it.

i’ve seen some people saying not to take this so seriously, that it’s an dnd liveplay so of course the storytelling isn’t always gonna be Handcrafted To Perfection TM, but Fantasy High has a track record of some pretty amazing and thoughtful storytelling, and that’s what makes this episode kinda suck. There’s zero emotional resonance. The BKs clearly view the RGs as minibosses, annoying obstacles to defeat so they can focus on the main event, and that would be fine if that’s what the RGs were. But they’re not. We’ve learnt about them, we’ve seen how they were corrupted and groomed, we’ve seen how they really are just the Bad Kids who really went bad. They have narrative weight! They represent the mindless, wrathful conviction that the BKs are trying to stop, and for the BKs to slaughter them with that wrathful conviction (with no room for doubt or redemption at all) is… it’s not good.

don’t get me wrong, I get why (they’ve been awful to the BKs all season, cathartic last fight etc) but it still sucks narratively. like i can’t stress enough that the BKs are using the exact same tactics that they resented the RGs for to slaughter them. ruben says to fig that the BKs are killing his friends (despite their awful interparty relationships, they’re still his friends) and her response, instead of the understanding and kindness that fig (and, tbh, Emily) are known for is to cast ruben into literal fucking hell.

even oisin’s death was anticlimactic. gorgug’s kill on him was cool, but no nod to adaine? not even a mention of ‘you led my friend on and broke her heart so now i’ll break your heart?’ the broken heart thing was Right There and nothing happened. oisin died, a player was removed from the field, the battle went on. no emotional connection or resonance whatsoever.

i don’t know. from a narrative perspective, this episode was bad. all the nuance of the bad kids/rat grinders dynamic has been lost. the bad kids have become Exactly what the rat grinders said they were with apparently zero self-awareness on the matter. they shoot porter and jace and the RGs down with zingers and cool spells and don’t bother even trying to de-rage the rat grinders, and the result is an episode 19 which feels like a mid-season miniboss fight. they bring the same approach to fighting the RGs that they did to fighting the monsters in the Last Stand, which, y’know. not good.

the only way i can think that they might turn this around is if the BKs are shown to be influenced by rage/the RGs get brought back (still hating the BKs, but at least giving them the chance to try again), but I really don’t know at this point. just overall feeling very disappointed.

[thetwilightroadtonightfall]

so I’ve been trying to think of the best way to talk about Skuld’s fate for a while now and I think I’ve finally got it. My feelings about how she could be handled are a bit complicated (maybe even controversial? lol) but I hope I can make myself clear. This is essentially gonna be the post I point to whenever and if ever I need it later in the future. Thanks in advance if you read this!

If for whatever reason it’s confirmed that Skuld isn’t Subject χ and she gets together with Ephemer in canon (which I don’t believe will actually happen, but who knows), I do genuinely think there’d be something incredibly poetic about both of them leaving behind a legacy together.

Skuld as Subject χ is a super intriguing concept that I want to see get played out in canon, and even outside of that possibility, I would really love to just see her go on her own journey, have her own story where she can grapple with the events of khux in her own ways. But as someone who also happens to love her and Eph’s dynamic, I like to indulge in the possibility of them founding Scala together too.

Believe me when I say that I’m very skeptical of Skuld getting the credit and spotlight she deserves given the track record of how female characters are treated in this series. It would break my heart if Skuld got turned into an accessory or got shafted or worst case scenario, is used only to kickstart the Ephy lineage and nothing more outside of that. She deserves good, solid writing no matter what her fate is, I’m sure we can all agree on that at least.

And then there’s also the question of whether or not Nomura would ever establish a canon romantic relationship, and if he even should do that in the first place. I think it would be great, as long as it’s written in such a way that it doesn’t impede on the other types of relationships he’s already established. It could delve into some interesting new territory that can highlight the themes of kh, and make them even stronger and more profound. But you don’t absolutely need romance in order for that to be accomplished, ya feel?

Do I love Skuld and Eph together? Yes. Do I think they should be together (romantically) in canon? Not necessarily. You can both enjoy a ship AND recognize the nuances involved.

But anyway anywaaaaay, long disclaimers aside, these two characters have been through so much together…they witnessed two apocalypses. They’ve suffered the loss of a dear friend at their hands, along with their other friends as a result of horrible circumstances they had no control over. They stayed side by side as their home collapsed around and on them. But they also laughed together. They looked out for each other, stood up for each other. Encouraged and comforted and teased each other so they would smile.

From the very beginning, to the very end, they had each other over and over again. Clinging to hope with incredible resilience. From party members, to friends, to leaders. They’re both wonderful characters who I have no doubt would support each other throughout the rest of their lives, just as they always have.

I’ll be fine if a romance between them doesn’t become canon, in fact I’ll probably be pretty relieved. But I can’t deny that the idea of the two of them being entwined forever, bonded by the tragedies they’ve been through, yet also by all of their happy times and shared memories, is a beautiful thought to me.

Surviving to see the other side and building everything from the ground up again together, and seeing the legacy that follows their love, is a story worth telling, in my opinion. In the end, if that’s a story left to us fans to tell, that’s more than enough for me. We have so much to work with. Regardless of what Nomura and/or the rest of the writing team choose to do, I don’t need them to be a canon couple to enjoy the profound love and care they have for each other.

TL;DR - Whatever happens with Skuld, I’m down for the ride. As long as she’s present, period, I’m here for it. Just…please for the love of god, let her be written well. I miss her so much and I need all these years of loving her character to pay off

[zepskies]

Never Say Goodbye - Bonus Track #2

Pairing: Dean x Female Reader 

Summary: The first time you and Dean sensed each other’s thoughts and feelings, you were just kids. It would take years to realize that you both were bonded for life, and even longer to finally meet. [Soulmate AU] (18+)

AN: Did I say two parts? I meant three lol. (It got too long, I’m sorry.) 

Word Count: 4,300 Tags/Warnings: Angst, supernatural shenanigans, death…

Bonus Track #2: One Last Hunt

“Okay, try not to panic,” Sam said. Dean had him on the phone while he sped through town in the Impala. 

“I’m coming now, but I won’t get there for a few hours,” Sam said. “My flight leaves in 20 minutes.”

“Thanks, man, but I can’t afford to wait,” Dean said. “She fucking disappeared. I don’t see her anywhere…I’m gonna have to start at her job. That’s where she first took off from.”

“How did she seem this morning?”

“Fine, I guess. I left before she woke up,” Dean said. He still felt guilty about the fact that he didn’t bother waking you up to say goodbye. 

“Okay, yeah, start at the museum,” Sam said. “Let me know what you find, and I’d loop in Bobby. Probably Jack too.”

“Bobby’s meeting me there…but we don’t need to bring in Jack yet.”

“Dean, he’s her dad—”

“This isn’t his thing. It’s ours,” Dean said firmly. “If it’s a demon, I’m gonna find her and exorcize that son of a bitch.”

Sure enough, Bobby met Dean at the museum where you worked. The old man was worried, Dean could tell, even if he wouldn’t say it. But he knew the drill: now they had a job to do.

“I’ll go in first, flash my badge,” Dean said. “Meet me in the library.”

“Roger that,” Bobby agreed. 

Dean had a decent rapport with your boss, Jerry. When he explained that you were actually missing, Jerry was concerned for your wellbeing instead of irate that you’d taken a very valuable book from the museum. 

It gave Dean a theory to lie about on the fly: that you’d been mugged and taken hostage, presumably by someone who might’ve wanted to steal the ancient text. 

“How ancient are we talking exactly?” Dean asked.

Jerry gave him a look. “Ancient Egypt.”

He showed you the inventory log on the new shipment you were supposed to compile into the system. The title missing from the rest was called The Eye of Ra. 

“All right. Thanks, Jerry,” Dean said. “Anything else you can tell me about this book?”

“It’s a recording of the great deeds of the Ancient Egyptian gods and goddesses,” Jerry explained. “It was said to be touched by Ra himself.”

Touched by Ra, Dean mused. Ain’t that just fucking swell. 

Whatever happened to you, Dean knew it was because you touched that book.

For the next few hours, Dean and Bobby worked together on deeper research in the library. Now that they had a starting point, Bobby was able to find some intel. 

“The Eye of Ra was actually a nickname,” he said, earning Dean’s attention. “For Sekhmet, their goddess of war.”

Dean’s brows furrowed at that. “Why’s it never the goddess of peace and fucking tranquility?”

“Among other things, she was the daughter of Ra,” Bobby said, raising a wry brow. “And she was known as the bringer of plagues and death…and sometimes healing. Go figure.”

Fucking hell, Dean thought sourly. This was getting worse by the minute. 

“Okay, what does this have to do with the book?” he asked. Though he had some idea.

“Well, she ain’t been alive in a millennium. But she had a husband. The god Ptah, a craftsman,” Bobby said. “According to this, when he was eventually killed, she sealed her soul away until she could find a way to rescue him from the underworld…I’ve gotta think she sealed it in that book.”

Dean sighed, rubbing the now aching spot between his brows. An ancient Egyptian goddess was most likely possessing his fiancé. 

And it was much worse than it sounded on paper.

“Okay, which means she’ll be looking for a way to bring back her husband,” he said. “So how do we find her?” 

Just then, the police radio buckled to Dean’s belt sounded off. When he listened closely, his eyes grew wide. It was a report of five murders committed at a nearby gas station. 

Dean pulled up to the local 7-Eleven. Bobby was on the way, but he’d been caught up in traffic while Dean was allowed to use his police siren to his advantage. 

He then used his badge clearance to get behind the yellow tape and over to Jack, who was still on duty. 

Dean stepped inside the gas station and surveyed the brutal scene: the nice old man who owned the place, plus four patrons were lying dead. 

Their skin was covered with boils.

Jack wore a disconcerted frown along with his crossed arms in his police jacket. 

“It’s almost…biblical,” he remarked. 

Dean knew just how right he was. Jack seemed to know that too when he glanced over.

“Is this your kind of thing?” he asked. 

Dean nodded. “I might know what’s going on here. Let’s check the security footage…but no one else can see it but you and me.”

Jack nodded, leading Dean to the back of the store. Jack was shocked by what he found in the footage. Dean watched grimly, but not surprised as you came into the frame. You tilted your head at the owner, who seemed to ask you something. 

You raised a hand, and with a flare of magic, everyone in the station was cowering and screaming as a plague of boils covered their bodies, and eventually ended their lives. 

“Christ,” Jack gasped. “What the hell—”

“It’s not her,” Dean told him. “She’s being possessed. I’ll handle this, Jack. Just make sure this footage gets buried, along with whatever prints she might’ve left behind.”

Jack barely had time to agree. As if that kind of thing was so easy. He called after Dean as he took off out of the station. 

Dean didn’t see Bobby yet when he got outside, but he didn’t have time to wait. 

However, he did spot someone familiar hanging out in front of the department store across the street. Dean jogged across and raised a hand to flag down Jessie Deluca. 

The kid was gnawing on what looked like a melting Butterfinger. He groaned in annoyance when he saw Dean coming.

“Not you again,” he muttered.

“Yeah, me again,” Dean said. “You been standing out here long?”

“Look, grandpa. I’m just chillin’ here,” the kid sassed. It sparked Dean’s irritation, as well as his impatience.

“I don’t give two shits if you’re contemplating the great Butterfinger Heist of 2008, all right?” Dean pointed back to the gas station. “You see that?”

Jessie’s expression faded from some of its assholeness, becoming more solemn. “Yeah, I heard someone died or something.”

“That’s right,” Dean nodded. “Did you see anyone walk out of the station?”

“No,” Jessie said. But Dean could tell it was a reflex, not the truth. 

“Listen, Jessie. I need your help,” he said, more earnestly. “I’m trying to find someone. So if you know anything, I need you to tell me right now. Please.” 

Dean stared down in the kid’s brown eyes. Eventually, Jessie relented. 

“When I came out of the store here, I saw some business lady walk out. I think, after it had all just gone down,” Jessie confessed. “She looked fine.”

Dean sighed and nodded. “Okay. What’d she look like?”

“Uh…black skirt. Great legs,” Jessie said, his lips curving a little. Dean raised a brow. 

“Anything else?” he asked wryly. 

“White blouse, heels…actually, she kinda looked familiar,” Jessie added as he thought harder about it. 

“Good. Now tell me what direction she went in,” Dean said. Jessie nodded and pointed him down the street. 

“I think she went down there. I saw her turn the corner.”

“Where? What street?” 

“Dude, I don’t know!”

“Then show me,” Dean insisted. He grabbed Jessie by the shoulder and guided him forward. The kid looked annoyed, but he begrudgingly agreed to lead him down the street. The two of them walked brusquely, with Jessie trying to match Dean’s longer strides. 

Dean glanced over at his companion, who was still working on his Butterfinger. 

“When’s the last time you ate something that wasn’t covered in chocolate?” he asked. Jessie didn’t look at him when he shrugged. His winter jacket hung off his skinny shoulders, making him look ten rather than thirteen. Dean’s heart twinged.

“Listen, next time you’re itching to knock over a department store for KitKats, come by the station,” Dean said. “Find me or my partner Jody Mills. Or even my boss, Jack. We’ll get you a burger or something.”

Jessie briefly looked up at him, but all too soon, his gaze returned to the ground. 

“What do you care?” he said. 

“Maybe I know something about having to fend for yourself,” said Dean. “Sometimes going hungry, not knowing when somebody’s gonna come back for you.”

Jessie’s jaw clenched. He didn’t answer, but Dean hoped he’d gotten through to him.

Jessie led him around the corner at the street he thought he saw you turn down. He and Dean didn’t have to walk too much farther before he found you through the window of a bakery, of all things. 

“What the hell?” Dean muttered.

He pulled Jessie to the wall by the window for safety, but both of them snuck a peek inside. 

You were once again wielding magic to spread a plague of boils across an entire room of screaming, agonized patrons just trying to get their donuts and cream pies. 

Jessie started to utter a cry of alarm, but Dean quickly covered the kid’s mouth with his hand and pulled him back to his side. Dean waited, stock still, until the screaming inside the bakery subsided.

He looked down at Jessie and raised a finger to his lips. Though he was scared, Jessie nodded. Dean led him around the corner into an alley beside the bakery.  

“What…the fuck was that?” Jessie hissed. 

“Keep your voice down,” Dean warned. 

Then suddenly, it donned on the kid as he looked up at Dean. “Oh, shit. That’s your freakin’ girlfriend.”

Dean let out a sharp sigh. “It’s not her…exactly.”

He knew Jessie didn’t understand. Dean sighed again and grasped Jessie’s shoulders. 

“Look, you’re right to be scared. There’s something evil in there…that’s why I’ve gotta save her,” he said. “Now you, you’re gonna run. And don’t look back until you’re home, got it?”

After a moment, Jessie nodded shakily. Dean nodded back, patting him firmly on his shoulders. 

“Good man,” he said. “Okay, scram.”

Jessie seemed reluctant, like he felt some type of way about leaving Dean behind. But at Dean’s encouraging look, Jessie took off running. Dean hoped he headed straight home.

Then, rolling his shoulders, Dean braced himself. He drew his gun, which was filled with silver bullets. He didn’t think it would work on an Egyptian goddess, nor did he want to pull a gun on you. But for the threat of it alone, he would have to draw it with the safety on. 

He entered the bakery, where you were perusing the selections with a dispassionate look. All around you was death. 

But you perked up when Dean entered, eyeing him curiously in recognition. 

“Feelin’ a snack?” he asked. 

“I have been asleep for a very long time,” you replied, holding up a pastry. “What is this confection?”

“Cherry Danish,” Dean supplied. “You’re Sekhmet, right?” 

Your lips twitched. “You know of me?”

“I do now,” he said, carefully stepping further into the bakery with his gun pointed down, avoiding stepping on the bodies. He noticed the book you left closed on the counter. The goddess saw him noticing. Her gaze cut to him in amusement.

“Why’d you kill these people?” Dean asked. “Didn’t bow down at the right angle?”

“Among all of my brothers and sisters, I alone was favored by my father,” she said, “because my job was to balance the world, between life and the afterlife.”

Sekhmet brushed her fingers against a glass case, and with a small spark of magic, the glass cracked into thousands of fractals, but didn’t shatter. 

“And I did exceedingly well at this,” she said. “Though I see that my work has been undone. This world is rife with imbalance.”

“Mass genocide. Nice,” Dean quipped. “But that’s not all you want, is it?”

Sekhmet’s head tilted at him with reluctant interest. 

“I heard you’re looking for your husband, who went an offed himself,” he added. 

The goddess’s lips pursed and she slapped a hand on the glass counter, making it shatter. Dean turned and shielded his eyes with his arm. By the time he recovered, Sekhmet was coming around the counter. He took a few cautious steps in the opposite direction.

“My husband was unjustly slain by the very people who once worshipped us in droves,” she said, her tone exacting and harsh. Her eyes, however, were heavy with fury and pain. 

“He was an artist. A creator in purest form…his talents were wasted on this abomination of a world,” she said, with disgust at her surroundings. But as soon as her anger came, it diffused into exasperation. 

She picked up a glazed donut and took a bite, crossing her arms. She hummed in delight, making Dean’s brows raise. 

“Well, I can help you find him,” Dean said. It was a bluff, to be sure, but it still earned Sekhmet’s attention.

“Can you?” she asked in amusement. She didn’t believe him. Yet. But she drew closer to Dean, tilting her head just so. All the while, Dean inched towards the far end of the counter where The Eye of Ra had fallen to the ground. 

“And after, you let my girl go,” he said.

“You know of a way to reach the Underworld?” Sekhmet’s gaze roamed over him in disdain. “Unlikely.”

“Well, I’d call it a gate to Hell. But same difference, right?” Dean quipped.

The second he tried to reach down for the book, however, Sekhmet pinned him in place with a vibrant amber coil of magic. Dean grunted as she forced him to the ground, onto his knees between the bodies of a young man and woman, likely a couple. 

The goddess stopped in front of him, looking down at his face with interest. 

“Dean Winchester, as you are called. I understand why you continue to display such reckless judgment, all but throwing your very life at my feet,” she said. Her lips curved knowingly. “I hold your lover, correct?”

She harshly grabbed his cheek in her hand, and Dean glared in response. She seemed to ponder something as she considered him.

“Soon to be your wife,” she realized.

And Dean had a feeling she was in your head, sorting through your thoughts and memories like any demon would. He didn’t know what was worse: the thought of you being awake in there, unable to fight this bitch’s hold, or if Sekhmet had completely taken over your body and shut you away. 

“Just let her go,” Dean said, almost pleading. “You can have me. I won’t even fight you.”

“Such self-sacrifice,” she said. “The only noble act humans are capable of.”

Before she could decide whether to kill him, or keep him for further amusement, the front door of the bakery swung open.

Bobby came in first, followed closely by Sam and Eileen. 

Bobby was holding a damn crossbow, which he aimed and shot off at Sekhmet. It was a warning shot, just grazing her shoulder. But it burned her with a sting of flesh that made her hiss in pain. She glared up at Bobby, and after grabbing the book before Sam could, she disappeared in a whirlwind of magic.

The coil holding Dean in place shattered, allowing Dean to catch his break and get to his feet, with Sam’s help. Dean had to admit, it was good to see his brother. 

“You okay?” Sam asked. Dean reached over and pat the other man’s shoulder. 

“I’m good,” he said, though with a sigh that belied his weariness. “Hey, Eileen. Thanks for making it to the party.”

The pretty brunette offered him a sympathetic smile, rubbing his arm. “We came as soon as we could.”  

Dean nodded and turned to Bobby, who still held his crossbow. He wasn’t happy about the old man shooting at you, but he recognized that it had saved his life.

“Why’d that thing hurt her?” he asked. 

“The arrow’s dipped in a potent mix of salt from the Dead Sea…and Egyptian wine, among other things,” Bobby replied. 

Dean frowned in confusion. “Why the fuck?”

“According to the lore, Sekhmet could be subdued with alcohol,” Sam explained. 

“Great, we’ll just get her drunk and all our problems will be solved,” Dean quipped dryly. He grabbed the radio from his belt. His gaze returned to the dead bodies on the floor with dismay. 

“I’ve gotta call this in. Bobby, get the security tapes.”

After Dean finished calling in the deaths to his precinct, he shared a disheartened look with Sam, who grasped his shoulder in support.

“We’re gonna find her, all right?”

They regrouped at Bobby’s house once Jack took over at the bakery. Now the three men and Eileen were congregated in the living room, trying to decide on their next move. 

“You told her about the Hell gate?!” Sam said incredulously. 

“Damn it, Dean!” Bobby slapped the coffee table in exasperation. 

“All right, lay off! I was improvising under fucking duress,” Dean snapped. “At least we know where she’ll probably go next, assuming she finds out where the gate is.”

“She’s a goddess, Dean. One of the oldest and most powerful in ancient history. I’m sure she can figure it out,” Sam said, rubbing at his tired eyes.

And, as Dean remembered, Sekhmet was rooting around in your head. She’d find the gate for sure.

Eileen looked between the brothers, clearly worried. Sam had told her about what you, him, and Dean had gone through to close that damn gate to Hell last year. 

“So how do we stop her?” Dean asked. Without hurting you, was implicit. Bobby heaved a sigh.

“We gotta burn that damn book,” Bobby said. “But we’ll need to be smart about it.”

So that was how the four of them ended up driving to southern Wyoming. They stopped along the crossroads by the train tracks, and ventured in on foot into the very clearing where their final battle against Yellow Eyes took place.

Dean thought he’d be able to put his past behind him, but the universe clearly liked to kick him in the balls.

Evidence of this came when he saw you standing at Samuel Colt’s gravestone. Or rather, the goddess Sekhmet. 

She was expending large forces of magic to try and open up the gate to Hell. The book that bound her soul lied on top of a nearby headstone.

Dean gestured for Sam, Eileen, and Bobby to hang back and fan out, while he stalked forward. He’d changed out of his police uniform in favor of his familiar jeans, shirt, and a red plaid shirt, hoping that at least would help you focus on him, wherever you were deep inside your mind. 

But he called out to Sekhmet from a (relatively) safe distance away. 

“Are you stupid or something?” he mocked. 

Sekhmet paused in her magic wielding. She craned her head over her shoulder at him in annoyance, with amber rings illuminating her eyes. 

“There’s only one thing that can open up that gate, and I’ve got it right here,” said Dean. 

He pulled out the Colt from behind his back. 

Sekhmet’s gaze narrowed on the gun, then at Dean with a slow smirk.

“Why, by the gods, should I trust your foolishness?” she asked. 

“Because we’re about to make a trade,” Dean said. “The gun for my girl. You let her go, or you’ll never see your husband again. In this world, or the next.”

Dean pointed the gun at her and cocked the safety back. She didn’t have to know the barrel was empty. 

“You cannot harm me, even if there was ammunition in that weapon,” Sekhmet replied knowingly. 

She turned to him and reached out with a magic-fueled hand, but before she could grab Dean, Sam shot his own gun. 

It deployed a net of rope that twined around her frame and held her in place. It was soaked with the same concoction Bobby shot her with in the bakery, and it made her fume with outrage.

It didn’t completely weaken her though. Her hands were still free to fling Sam and Bobby away from her with magic. 

She then turned to grip Eileen, who was nearly able to steal the book. And the goddess sent Eileen across the clearing, breaking a headstone as she fell. 

Sam had been trying to pick himself up from the ground, but he gripped at his chest, feeling his soulmate’s pain. He scrambled over to her prone form on the ground and checked the cut along her hairline. 

“Eileen,” Sam called, pressing his hand to her cheek. He had one eye on her, and another on his brother. 

Because meanwhile, Sekhmet had broken free of the ropes holding her captive with a cry of fury. 

Just in time to grab Dean by the throat when he tried to surprise her from behind. She forced him down to his knees and smirked in satisfaction as Dean struggled against her hold.

He called your name, trying to reach you through the goddess’s hold on your mind.

“She is gone from this world,” Sekhmet taunted. “This is but a vessel for my eternal soul.”

“I don’t fucking believe that,” Dean choked. “If she was gone, I’d know it. Deep in my bones I’d know it.”

Her mouth twitched, but she seemed to enjoy the idea of slowly choking him to death. Or maybe, something was holding her back. Dean could only hope it was you, trying to break through. 

He looked into your eyes and tried to find you through the cold disdain of a goddess.

“Whatever happens, I’m not letting go,” he gritted out. He held tight to your wrist, on the hand wrapped around his throat. 

“I love you, you know that?” he said. “From the start…you closed the door in my face when I tried to kiss you. Teased me. Never took my shit. But you never left me either. No matter how hard it fucking got, you kept my feet on the ground. You never called it quits…‘cause we never say goodbye. Right, baby?”

Slowly, slowly, Sekhmet’s hard exterior faded. The amber rings of magic receded from your eyes, and the woman he loved was there again, softening your face into shock and horror. 

You released your grip on Dean. He stumbled to the ground as he coughed and gasped for precious oxygen. 

He straightened enough to grab your hand. You reached out for him instinctively. 

“Dean,” you said with shaking effort.

“I’ve gotcha, sweetheart,” he said. He turned back to see his brother helping Eileen to her feet. “Sam, the damn book!” 

Sam snapped to attention and quickly looked for The Eye of Ra. It had been knocked over from the headstone onto the ground. He grabbed it and fished out a lighter from his pocket.

Dean’s attention turned back to you when you squeezed his hands.

“I can’t hold her for long,” you said tremulously. Your whole body was shaking. “She’s so damn strong…”

“It’s okay, we’re gonna fix this,” Dean said, brushing your hair back from your face. 

You closed your eyes and gasped. But when you opened them once again, they were hard, and glowing with magic. 

Sekhmet tossed Sam away from the headstone. 

Dean tried to hold her back, but she backhanded him hard. Sekhmet followed where he fell. She reached out and gripped him by the neck again, this time choking him with a vengeance. 

But then she gasped, as if in pain. She turned her head and found Sam with the book in one hand, and a lit match in the other. As the book started to burn, Sekhmet weakened. 

Dean caught her before your body could hit the ground. 

Sekhmet released a shaking breath; she gazed into the dimming sky, painted in its golden, amber hues, and knew that her soul was dying. Hot tears slipped down her cheeks. 

Dean almost felt sorry for her. Or maybe it was the sight of your pained, weeping face that tugged at his heartstrings.

“You’ll just have to join your husband this time,” he said.

Sekhmet’s lips trembled, but she nodded. “This world was never made for us…but we shall soon be together for all eternity.”

She looked up at him with a rueful smile. 

“You understand,” she said. “A soul bond can never be destroyed.”

And with that, the haze of magic drained from your eyes as your body went limp. 

Dean’s brows furrowed with worry as he called your name. Behind him, Sam helped Eileen draw near with a limping Bobby. All three watched with worry at Dean’s side…until your eyes opened, revealing their natural hue. 

You took in a tremulous breath. “Dean.”

His eyes burned with emotion, but he closed them as he held you tight. All he could do was press his lips against your forehead in relief. 

You clung to him right back, for as long as you needed to. 

AN: Fun fact — According to Egyptian mythology, the only thing that could stop the goddess Sekhmet from ending humanity with bloodshed was by getting her drunk on beer, which had been dyed red to simulate blood (which she also liked to drink, apparently). 

Egyptians (the survivors) would drink beer mixed with pomegranate juice and get drunk to celebrate not being killed dead. (Woo!)

Anyway, let me know if you enjoyed Part 2! All the fluff is coming in the finale of Part 3, very soon…

Next Time:

Dean brings you home. The two of you figure out how to move on from here...

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[parkerslatte]

Songbird || TWELVE

Eddie Roundtree x Fem!Reader

Warnings: mention of blood

Word Count: 3.7k

Part Summary: The band records songs for Aurora and Y/N attends a party with Daisy.

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•••

TRACK TWELVE;

MANEATER

...

DAISY JONES: We must’ve written eight or nine songs the first couple weeks. I would have an idea, and then he’d flesh it out, or he would come up with a riff, and I’d come up with a melody line.

BILLY DUNNE: When you’re making an album, any album, it’s an intimate thing. I mean, it has to be.

DAISY JONES: Which isn’t to say we didn’t fight.

BILLY DUNNE: Oh we were fighting constantly.

WARREN ROJAS: For a month it was like that. We’d be in the studio, you know, recording all the arrangements, and they’d be who knows where doing god knows what.

EDDIE ROUNDTREE: Everyday they’d come in with something new.

KAREN SIRKO: I mean great fucking songs.

Y/N L/N: Even though I didn’t want to be in the band, I can’t fault the songs, they were great, amazing even.

EDDIE ROUNDTREE: And every night, they’d come in giggling like two little schoolgirls. 

INTERVIEWER: Did it concern you?

GRAHAM DUNNE: Not really. Not yet, anyway. I mean…like whatever they were doing…it was working.

INTERVIEWER: How was Y/N adjusting to being in a band?

KAREN SIRKO: She adjusted well, it was only the arguments that was a concern.

…

“I did everything you told me to do, Billy!” Y/N yelled into the microphone. 

“But it’s not good enough,” Billy says from the booth, “Try again.”

Y/N sighed, and began to play again but as soon as she started playing, Billy cut her off again.

“In what possible way was that wrong,” Y/N exclaimed, “I played one note.”

“It was the wrong note.” Billy says, trying to remain calm.

Y/N rolled her eyes, “You need to get your hearing checked.”

Billy turns to Teddy, “It was the right note, Billy.”

A smirk appeared on Y/N’s face at Billy’s annoyed expression. 

“Again.” Billy ordered. 

Once again as soon as Y/N began to play Billy interrupted her. 

“Right,” Y/N says, “This is bullshit.”

Y/N lifted the guitar and placed it back on its stand. With one final glare at Billy, she left the room, joining the rest of the band. 

“You finished?” Karen questioned. 

“Nope,” Y/N said, flopping down on the couch next to Eddie, “Apparently Billy needs to get his hearing checked because everything I’m doing is wrong.”

Billy came storming out of the booth, his eyes focussed on Y/N, “Get back in the studio now, Y/N, you’re wasting time.”

“Why?” Y/N questioned, “So you can stop me every two seconds, I’d say you’re the one who’s wasting time.”

“Billy, just give her a break,” Karen says, “She’s been in the studio all day.”

“And so have the rest of us.” Billy says.

“Yeah, but we haven’t been yelled at for the past two hours.” Eddie muttered. 

Billy sent a glare Eddie’s way before his gaze landed back on Y/N, “Y/N, get back in the studio.”

…

KAREN SIRKO: Billy didn’t know when to stop when he argued with Y/N. 

WARREN ROJAS: Y/N never let her emotions show much, but I could tell that she was getting to her breaking point.

CAMILA DUNNE: I knew how Billy was treating Y/N and I wasn’t standing for it. She was my best friend and he was treating her awfully. I knew they didn’t like each other but that was no excuse.

BILLY DUNNE: Y/N got on my last nerve. She always wanted things her way. 

Y/N L/N: Billy was a controlling prick.

DAISY JONES: I knew that Y/N didn’t want to be in the band, and I didn’t understand why she was in the band. Her talent shouldn’t have been pushed to the side like it was. 

…

The band sat around in the studio waiting for Billy and Y/N to come back with their new song. Y/N sat with her guitar, carelessly strumming a tune she had come up with, humming along to lyrics she had written months ago that was meant to be for her album. 

“I like that melody.” Graham says. 

“Thanks,” Y/N smiled, “I was working on it for my album.”

Graham began to listen to the song as Y/N continued to strum her guitar. As he began to play her own guitar, working with what Y/N had already created, she turned to him and smiled. One by one each member of the band began to play along with Y/N and Graham. It didn’t sound fantastic but to Y/N it sounded like the most amazing thing in the world. 

“Sing the song.” Graham says.

“I wrote the song as a duet,” Y/N says, “Eddie, would you be able to sing the other part.”

“Me?” Eddie questioned.

Y/N smiled and reached down to her bag and pulled out her notebook, turning to the correct page and held it out to Eddie.

“The green ink is what you’re meant to sing. You’ll pick up the melody.”

Everyone began to play what they were before, slowly getting a good balance. Y/N began to sing everything melted away, the only thing she concentrated on was the music. Y/N signalled that Eddie should start singing. As he began he was out on timing which caused Y/N to smile but he soon got into a rhythm. 

Their voices complimented each other perfectly. Y/N couldn’t help but smile. Every member of the band got into the rhythm of the song, fully enjoying themselves for not being told what to do, they all got to freely play what they wanted. 

The door to the studio opened and in walked Billy and Daisy. Daisy slowed down her walk as she listened to the song, meanwhile Billy let out an annoyed sigh. Y/N was the first to notice and she stopped singing and playing, everyone followed her actions. 

“What’s going on here?” Billy questioned.

“Y/N wrote a song and we were playing around with it,” Graham answered, “It’s a great song.”

“It’s not going on the album.” Billy says.

“Come on,” Warren says, “It’s a great fucking song.”

“It’s not going on the album.” Billy repeated. 

“I think it should go on the album.” Daisy intervened.

“Thank you Daisy.” Y/N says and Billy rolls his eyes. 

“It’s not going on the album,” Billy says, “And that’s final.”

“Okay,” Daisy challenged, “Then I want Y/N to sing The River with me.”

The room fell silent. 

“It’s one or the other Billy,” Daisy says, “Her song goes on the album or she sings The River with me.”

…

Y/N L/N: Originally I never wanted my song to go on the album, but the look on Billy’s face when Daisy gave him that ultimatum was what made me want to have my song on the album. 

DAISY JONES: We recorded Y/N’s song that day. 

EDDIE ROUNDTREE: Y/N’s song was my favourite on the album, still is. 

WARREN ROJAS: I think that was the most laid back recording we did. Y/N took the reins on it and let us fuck around with it. It was a good day.

…

“Camila!” Y/N says, entering the house through the front door.

“Y/N,” Camila says, coming around the corner, “I didn’t know you were coming around today.”

“It wasn’t originally,” Y/N admitted, “But figured that since Billy isn’t here, I would come around. I haven’t seen Julia in ages. How are you by the way? We haven’t had the chance to sit and talk in a while.”

“I’ve been okay,” Camila says, sitting down on the couch next to Y/N, “I’ve been busy with Julia, she’s getting to the point where I can’t leave her unattended for too long or they’ll be another broken glass on the floor.”

“Billy hasn’t helped at all?” Y/N questioned.

“He has barely been here,” Camila says, an edge to her voice, “And when he is here, he’s always on the phone with Daisy.”

“I would say that I would have a talk with him, but we all know how that would go, so…”

Camila laughed, “It’s fine, you don’t need to talk to him, I’ll try to when he gets home, whenever that will be.”

“Hey, if you ever need help with anything, you can call me and I’ll answer and be here as quick as I can.” Y/N says, talking ahold of Camila’s hand, “If you need any help with Julia or even a break from her, I’ll babysit her and you can go and take as many photos until you literally can’t anymore.”

“Oh,” Camila says, getting to her feet, “That reminds me.”

Camila walked to the other side of the room and opened a drawer, “I forgot I developed these photos ages ago and I thought you would want them.”

Walking back over to Y/N, Camila handed her three photos and Y/N’s heart sank. The photos were of her and Eddie from the Christmas her first single was released. The first photo was just after Y/N handed Eddie his gift. The two were looking intently into each other’s eyes, a look of adoration on their faces. 

Flipping to the next photo, Y/N’s heart sank even more when she saw it. In the photo, she was staring at the camera with a smile while Eddie looked at her. The look on his face couldn’t have been mistaken for anything other than love. 

The final photo ripped Y/N’s heart out and threw it on the ground. The photo was taken when neither of them were aware. The two were cuddled up on the couch. Y/N’s arms were wrapped around Eddie’s torso while his arm was wrapped around her waist and the other held onto her arm. Her head rested on his chest while his head was dipped, his lips brushing her forehead. 

“When did you take this photo?” Y/N questioned.

“The same day,” Camila says, “It was a cute photo, I took it when you both weren’t looking.”

“Stalker.” Y/N jokes. 

Y/N placed the photos back in a stack and handed them back to Camila.

“Don’t you want them?” Camila questioned, furrowing her eyebrows. 

“I just-I just don’t think I need them.” Y/N says.

Camila saw right through Y/N’s lie, “What else is going on? Because months ago, you would have been excited to have these.”

Y/N sighed, “Nothing’s going on-”

“Is anything going on between you and Eddie?” Camila questioned.

“What?” Y/N says, “No, there’s nothing going on.”

“Are you sure because the two of you have been acting like strangers for months now.” Camila points out.

Y/N shrugged, “We just grew apart. I was busy working on my non-existent album and he was working with the band, we just haven’t had the time to talk and hang out.” Y/N hated how easily the lie rolled off her tongue. 

“Are you sure nothing’s going on?” Camila asks.

“I’m sure,” Y/N says, “There is nothing going on between me and Eddie.”

…

Y/N L/N: All of these lies were eating me alive. Of course there was something going on, but at the time I couldn’t figure out exactly what it was, I had never felt that way before so it was all new for me.

…

The next day, Y/N was sitting in the studio, bored out of her mind. They were meant to be recording vocals for Aurora but Daisy never showed up. With her notebook in hand, Y/N was just colouring in the page out of pure boredom. They had all been sitting there for hours. 

“Did you try her room?” Teddy asked.

“Yeah, couple times,” Billy says, “I’m worried something’s happened.”

“She’s probably just off somewhere.” Teddy suggested.

“No,, no this is her record as much as it’s mine. Something’s not right,” Billy says, “I got to go.”

“I’ll go with you.” Teddy offered.

“No, it’s worse if the principal comes.”

“Well, take Warren.” Teddy says.

“I can handle it.” Billy says, walking out of the studio.

Y/N looks to where he had disappeared before throwing her notebook down and followed after him. Just as he started up his car, Y/N climbed into the passenger seat. 

“What are you doing Y/N?” Billy sighed.

“Look, we don’t like each other, cool,” Y/N says, “But I care about Daisy too, so let’s just go.”

Surprisingly, Billy didn’t argue. He simply nodded and pulled away from the studio. 

As the two arrived at the hotel, music was blaring out and shouting was heard for every direction. Y/N and Billy slowly walked closer to the pool where they found Daisy. 

“Y/N,” Billy says, “Can you give us a minute?”

“What? Why? I want to see-”

“Y/N, just go.” Billy says. 

Sighing, Y/N sat down on a chair, watching the interaction between Daisy and Billy. Y/N had never been one to pry into people’s relationships but she didn’t quite understand what was going on between Daisy and Billy. One moment, they were acting like the best friends in the world and then the next they were acting like they detested each other. Y/N couldn’t work it out. 

As Daisy climbed out of the pool, Y/N watched as the glass dug into her feet, causing them to bleed. Y/N winced, standing to her feet. 

“Say, hi to Camila for me!” Daisy called to Billy as he stormed off. 

“Billy, wait!” Y/N says as he leaves the hotel grounds. Y/N contemplated following him as he was her only way home but she decided against it, opting to check on Daisy. 

“Let me guess,” Daisy says, “You’re here to yell at me as well.”

Y/N says, “No, not at all, unlike Billy I know what a fun time looks like.” Y/N lied, she had been annoyed with how late Daisy was but she wasn’t going to outright be angry about it like Billy was.

Y/N looked down at Daisy’s feet, “Can I clean that up?”

Daisy looked down at her feet and watched as the blood mixed with the water, “I’m fine.” As she tried to walk away, Daisy limped, in obvious pain. 

“Look, I’ll make a promise,” Y/N says, “You let me clean that up and I’ll happily leave you alone to do whatever you want.”

“Why don’t you join me?” Daisy says. 

Y/N sighs, “As long as I can clean that up.”

Daisy rolled her eyes and sat down and Y/N rushed to find a bandage and some alcohol, the latter being much easier to find. After getting some bandages, Y/N went back to Daisy who was miraculously in the same place. 

Bending down, Y/N inspected her foot, luckily there wasn’t any glass embedded into her foot so it would be rather easy to clean up. 

“Okay,” Y/N says, unscrewing the bottle of alcohol, “This will probably sting a little bit.”

Daisy nods before Y/N pours the alcohol onto the cuts. Daisy winced but Y/N continued to wipe away the blood, disinfecting the cuts. As Y/N wrapped her foot in the bandage, Daisy watched her intently. 

“There,” Y/N says, “Just please don’t put your foot in the pool again, I don’t think I can find any more bandages.”

Daisy put her foot down on the floor and looked at Y/N. She didn’t say anything before reaching down and picking up the bottle of alcohol, “No your end of the deal.”

Y/N smirked and took the bottle of alcohol from Daisy and took a long swig. 

***

“Where’s Y/N?” Warren asked as Billy entered the studio alone. 

Billy looked around, like he was surprised that Y/N wasn’t with him, “I think she’s still with Daisy.”

“You think?” Eddie says, “You just left her?”

“Yes Eddie I did,” Billy says, “I had more important things on my mind.”

“Look,” Karen spoke up, already sensing the tension, “She’s probably fine, she’ll either stay with Daisy or she’ll find her own way home, she always does, there’s no point in worrying.”

No one said anything as Billy picked up his guitar case and left swiftly without a word to anyone.

Back at the house, Eddie was finding it difficult to sleep. Every time he closed his eyes, he felt fully awake. Every time he tried to get comfortable, it would only turn into the most uncomfortable position only moments later. 

As Eddie closed his eyes for hopefully the final time that night, the phone began to ring in the living room. Due to having the room closest to the living room, Eddie flipped the covers off and got out of bed. As he passed the clock on the wall he took notice of the time. Four in the morning. 

Picking up the phone, Eddie answered it. 

“Hello?” Eddie says.

There was a long pause before there was an answer, “Eddie?”

“Y/N?” Eddie says, “Are you okay?”

“I-I don’t know where I am.” Y/N says. 

“What do you mean?” Eddie questions. 

“I lost Daisy,” Y/N says, her words barely legible, “So I continued to drink without her and this guy gave me some pills and I took them.”

“Y/N, are you okay?” Eddie asked, suddenly fully alert. 

“I’m-I’m fine,” Y/N says, “I went to walk home but I think I took a wrong turn.”

“Can you describe what’s around you?” Eddie questions. 

There was a pause before Y/N answered, “It’s too dark. I don’t think I’m that far away from the hotel.”

“Okay, Y/N, stay where you are, I’m coming to get you.” Eddie says and hangs up the phone. 

Only picking up a jacket before he left the house, Eddie got into the van and pulled out of the driveway. His heart was beating fast as he drove, the only thing he thought about was Y/N. As he neared the hotel, he slowed down and kept an eye out for her. There wasn’t much around at all, simply a road and trees with a few houses scattered down it.

As Eddie drove further down the road, he spotted a payphone box and a person sat down next to it. Immediately Eddie got out of the van and ran the small distance. 

“Y/N.” Eddie says softly. 

Y/N looked up and she smiled, “Eddie…”

Y/N was shivering and goose bumps covered her skin. Pulling off his jacket, Eddie placed it around her and helped her to her feet. 

“I’m sorry.” Y/N says as his arm wrapped around her waist as he helped her to the van.

“For what?” Eddie questioned.

“For dragging you out here in the middle of the night.” Y/N says, clutching onto Eddie. 

“Don’t apologise.” Eddie says, helping her into the van. 

Y/N pulled his jacket tighter around her body as she sat safely in the passenger seat of the car. Eddie got in and began to drive back to the house. Y/N didn’t say anything the entire way there, she simply looked out of the window at the world passing by. She was fully aware of Eddie continuously sneaking glances at her. 

As they arrived back at the house, Eddie tried to help Y/N out of the van but she pushed him away, “I’m fine, Eddie.”

“You sure don’t look fine,” Eddie says, “You don’t normally get this bad, Y/N.”

“Yeah?” Y/N questioned, “Well I have all the reason to be.”

Y/N sniffled, trying to fight back the tears she had been keeping at bay for months. 

“I’ve had everything I’ve ever been working towards taken from me,” Y/N says, “My album was the one thing I’ve always wanted to do and now that opportunity is gone. I never wanted to join the band and now I have and I haven’t been more miserable in my whole life. Billy never lets me have any creative freedom, and everything I do is wrong. I can’t do anything right in his eyes. I am a singer and a songwriter and it’s been taken away from me.  ”

“You have one song on the album.” Eddie says, trying to look at the positives. 

“A song that I wrote for my album.” Y/N says, finally letting the tears fall, “I wrote that song with the idea of you singing it with me. I wrote it for us.”

Eddie didn’t say anything, he didn’t know what to say. Y/N looked up at him, tears streaming down her face. Reaching up, Eddie cupped her cheeks and gently wiped them away. He stepped closer to her, decreasing the distance between them. 

Y/N continued to stand there, not knowing how to react. Her thoughts weren’t clear and she didn’t know what to say. 

Looking down at Y/N, Eddie began to lean forward, his lips inched towards hers like it was a magnetic pull driving them together. Eddie couldn’t help himself, the feeling of Y/N’s lips on his was a feeling he craved, it was as if it were his own personal high and he needed a constant fix. Y/N, noticing this, pushed him away harshly. 

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Y/N whispered.

“I-I-” Eddie cut himself off because he didn’t really have an answer. 

“No, Eddie,” Y/N mumbled, “You’re being mean.”

“I’m not,” Eddie begs, “I’m not, I’m sorry.”

Y/N shook her head, “You are, you don’t do that to someone. You can’t do that to someone. You don’t mess with someone’s feelings like that. Don’t talk to me again.”

With that, Y/N walked back into the house leaving Eddie outside on his own. Eddie remained there in silence for a moment, processing everything. He wished he could rewind time and never did what he did. Angrily, Eddie turned around and punched the wall. Almost immediately he brought his hand to his chest, cradling it. There were cuts on his knuckles and bruises would certainly form, but Eddie didn’t care. 

The pain made him aware of what he did. The pain on the outside reflected the pain he was feeling on the inside. 

…

EDDIE ROUNDTREE: Everything I did that night, I regretted. I ruined what was left of my friendship with Y/N. I loved her, but I ruined that. And I only made everything more complicated from there.

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[jonkentt]

a little Sambucky ~

Bucky starts collecting vinyls. Sam notices them accumulate in his apartment. How very typical of Bucky to buy records while refusing to invest in a mattress. Sam glances at the pile of blankets shoved under Bucky’s couch and regrets it.

“Even thinking about you sleeping on this floor every night makes my back hurt.”

“I sleep on the couch sometimes.”

“Yeah?” Sam claps a hand on Bucky’s shoulder with a laugh. “That’s great, maybe we’ll be able to get you in a bed before the next century.”

“It’s a lot less important than you make it seem.”

“If you slept in a bed you’d see my side.” Sam squeezes Bucky’s shoulder and leans into him. “You know I’m just looking out for you.”

“I know,” Bucky says softly and Sam can tell he’s smiling.

“What’re you doing?” Sam leans over Bucky’s shoulder to get a look at the kitchen counter which is littered in tea bags of every color. It looks like Bucky just dumped them all out of the jar he stuffs them in. Why he can’t keep the different flavors in their individual boxes, Sam has no idea.

“Makin’ tea. What kind do you want?”

“Umm you pick. Something fruity.” Bucky grins. “Make sure it goes well with—”

“Honey. I know.” Bucky reaches to open the cupboard above him and pull out a honey bear for assurance. Sam gives his shoulders another squeeze before wandering over to a stack of records that hadn’t been here last time Sam came over.

Sam picks through the records on the top, wrinkling his nose at Dire Straits and Journey. He sets those aside so he can get to the box underneath and leaf through them properly.

“Buy anything good lately?”

“You ask me that as if I would buy bad music.” Sam snorts. “But yeah I found a couple European records. I guess it’s called ‘downtempo’. Café music. It’s nice.”

Sam hums doubtfully. He hears the electric kettle start and continues to look through Bucky’s music, gently pulling out one at a time to look at the covers. He doesn’t recognize a lot of these, which Sam immediately equates to Bucky’s inferior taste. God, he hopes Bucky didn’t pick up any of the stuff Zemo played on his jet.

Bucky sidles over and rests his vibranium hand gently on Sam’s hip. With the other he flicks to the back of the crate and quickly pulls out an album in black with white geometric line art on it. Sam quirks an eyebrow just to be difficult.

“If this is some weird indie shit—”

“Just let one side play out, Sam. Then pick something else if you hate it, but you won’t cause it’s good.”

As Bucky slips the record from it’s sleeve, Sam plops onto his couch. He stretches his arms and leans back, closing his eyes. This has become sort of a routine for them: Sam coming over and Bucky playing his music. It helps Sam unwind, relax, finally exhale the intensity he feels he’s always holding inside. Bucky’s one of the few people Sam can truly be at ease with. They give each other a lot of shit but it comes from a place of truly embracing one another for who they are. It’s never in question that they have each other’s backs.

Sam settles more comfortably into the couch. Whatever tea Bucky’s steeping smells lovely. Definitely fruity. Sam only half pays attention as the record spins through the first track but so far it isn’t bad. As the next track starts all smooth keyboard and mellow vibes, Sam might even dare say it’s relaxing. He opens one eye when Bucky presses a steaming mug into his hand.

“Happy Tangerine,” Bucky says with a wink. “With honey.”

Sam smiles and hums his approval, closing his eyes again. The record is unexpected. Somehow the music is both upbeat and very chill. A pleasant ambiance that inexplicably reminds him of tall evergreens against a pink sky. Sam brings the tea to his lips to blow on it.

“What’d you say this was?”

“Downtempo. Downbeat? I had to get the record shipped in from the UK. It was a whole deal.”

A laugh tickles the back of Sam’s throat. “Nerd.”

“You hate it?”

“No…” Sam considers. “It’s almost okay.”

“Mm, told you.” Bucky’s voice is low and soft. Sam can feel the heat of Bucky’s breath on his lips and his heart skips. Their faces must be so close. They’d barely have to lean in at all to close the distance.

Slowly, Sam opens his eyes. He blinks. Bucky’s face isn’t there. Sam tilts his head to look around the room but he knows what he’ll find. Bucky is sitting against the opposite wall right beside his record player, mirroring Sam with his head tilted back and eyes closed. Sam blinks again and slowly, silently, exhales. He looks at Bucky for a moment longer. His upturned face illuminated by sunlight filtering in through the window and catching the dimples of his small smile.

Sam drops his head back again. One day he’ll have to do something about this. The whole imagining what Bucky’s lips would feel like on his. The whole mistaking the steam of his tea for Bucky’s breath as if it would be just as sweet. But for now he lets their old routine play out.

for @saryasy

on Ao3

[catflowerqueen]

I’m kind of… of two minds about today’s SAMS episode.

(Warning for resigned and unhappy ranting below the cut)

The acting was spot-on—especially Moon’s hysterical laughing fit and the way Solar was trying to protect him and keep him from making rash decisions—but I don’t really like that they used Eclipse the way they did to achieve that. It seems almost… not exactly like a plot device, per say, but more of… an unnecessary upping of the stakes, I suppose? The group was already facing threats on five fronts: The constellations, Stitchwraith, Bloodmoon, Ruin’s mystery, and the Creator’s machinations.

And, sure, technically you could separate out the Creator, constellations, and Stitchwraith since their “plotlines” are more intertwined with the Lunar and Earth show and Monty and Foxy show… but considering how often Sun, Moon, and Solar get pulled into that and how Stitchwraith was technically the one who blew up the daycare, they are still fairly intertwined. So adding Eclipse in on top of all of that just feels a little… not great. Especially considering that it sort of ruins that scene he had with Solar Flare as the two of them were dying.

That isn’t to say I can’t see a few ways this could work. For example, Ruin could just be pulling another “Bloodmoon” and basically creating a new Eclipse using old SAMS footage to basically act as a smoke screen and hide whatever he is up to. He could have even used bits of Solar’s programming to do so given that it is pretty likely they were the one to knock Solar out, and there was tons of time to scan him and make blueprints after hiding the camera footage. Or Sun could be right and it could all just be a mean prank from Ruin’s end. Sure, Solar saw him on the camera footage today in the arcade, but since it was more than likely Ruin who edited the footage of Solar getting attacked, they could also very easily edit the footage to make it seem like they never left the arcade when in reality they had come over to mess with Sun and Moon. And they had plenty of time to learn how to disable the defenses and mess with the computer since they used to live in the ballpit, which is extremely close by one of the entrances to reach the computer from Moon’s room.

And it could, in theory, be the original Eclipse from when Sun first threw him out of his mind and messed up the spell and who has only just now managed to fix himself and stayed caught up on what was happening by watching the show—showing that he really did learn from his mistakes when Lunar pointed out how useful the viewers can be at information gathering. Or it could be any number of backups that Old Moon never found before Bloodmoon started being an actual nuisance that first time.

But give the show’s track record for bringing up interesting plot points and ideas only to drop them or otherwise retcon explanations… honestly, my hopes aren’t that high.

Honestly… I feel like I might want to just step away from the show for a while. At least partially—Maybe just focusing more on the gameplay side of the show more than the lore. Like. I still like the show, but I’m not really as excited as I used to be for the theorizing part, and I might be a little burnt out now.

I’m not saying I won’t be interacting with or posting about the show occasionally still, or that I won’t ever come back in full force, but…

I might just need to think about the recent developments for a while first, I guess. Maybe just focus on some other things in general anyways—It’s not like I don’t have stuff that needs attending to offline, after all.

Sorry if this leaves a sour taste in anyone’s mouth, and I’m not trying to dampen anyone else’s joy or excitement about the new developments. I just feel a bit down about the way things are going, and I needed to vent about those feelings a bit.

…I do want to emphasize again how much I loved Moon and Solar’s reaction today, though, because that was really, really excellent.

[destinygoldenstar]

I Despise How Dhar Mann Treats Autism

This is coming from an autistic individual. And this is not really targeted towards one video but nearly ALL autistic videos Dhar Mann has produced.

They’re all the exact same message.

This tells me that the guy has not learned a thing, does no research, rejects any and all feedback, and refuses to change at all, AND does not care about the health and safety of his audience. And his workers in case anyone forgot THAT controversy.

I’ve put off talking about his videos often because I learned this man was just flat out a bad person who didn’t deserve support. But this is something I need to get off my chest.

I am on the autism spectrum. I’ve been a victim of bullying for my autism. I’ve struggled significantly with my autism and it’s gotten me in trouble. And I’ve been a witness to intense bullying on autistic people. So yes, I KNOW what I’m talking about.

And yes, while this isn’t targeted specifically at the new Jayden episode, this is what sparked me to make this.

You’d think I’d talk about the Mikey videos due to my track record, but really my only response to those is: “What more do you want me to say?”

The mom genuinely thinks Dhar Mann is more important than her own son. Sounds about right honestly.

I didn’t associate Jayden as autistic in the past, because any episode that uses the actor (who IS autistic btw) is playing a different character.

But this is the episode that confirms that Jayden is on the spectrum. And he acts like this was obvious and always there.

And I will say, if I, an autistic person, saw NO indications of such beforehand, then that probably means the average viewer who knows nothing on the subject probably can’t either.

It’s almost like Dhar Manns autistic characters have NO autistic traits whatsoever.

Special interest on a certain subject. The lack of ability to process things outside of that subject. Sensory overload on stuff that doesn’t bother the average person. The poor social skill and communication. Stimming, like fiddling or pacing. Easily being emotionally overwhelmed.

These are just a few of the many obstacles autistic people go through on a daily basis. It’s why we are very easy bully targets. These are detriments to functioning right in the world.

Yeah no, all autistic people are perfectly fine and capable and don’t need to stim or sit back to clear their minds from sensory overload whatsoever. They also don’t struggle with anything ever aside from jerks.

Implication that you’re perfect the way you are and it’s the rest of the world that needs to change.

Great message. Let’s apply it to our real lives!

…doesn’t work out, does it?

By portraying it like this, the message doesn’t become ‘you are good enough even with your autism’, it’s ‘just be born perfect’

Which, I don’t think I need to tell you that this message, no matter the situation, is harmful to people.

I’m certainly not perfect. I’m a good writer, sure, but that’s because it’s my special interest. If you put me behind an electrical panel, I won’t know Jack s**t.

The only time I’ve ever seen Dhar Mann portray a character as imperfect is in this recent video, where they DO address Jayden struggling in certain classes. (Which is bulls**t if you’ve seen any other video with Jayden in it. But whatever.)

Here’s the problem: We never SEE that. We are TOLD that. What we are SHOWN is Jayden succeeding at everything, and the thing that gets him expelled isn’t through any fault of his own, it’s the sabotage of the bully character. Yes they say he’s bad at writing, but he’s perfectly capable of programming, which is a lot of writing, so… yeah. That’s not a defense. I need to SEE the struggle for this point to matter. Cause otherwise I’ll be convinced you’re lying.

The claim in these videos is that ‘Autism is not a disability, it’s a different ability’ is insulting for all these reasons.

Yes, this is a REAL line he uses over and over again.

It’s insulting, as it tells us that our setbacks are purely our fault, and they do not matter or need to be taken care of at all. ‘Your autism isn’t the setback. YOU are the setback. Get better.’

You need to address the faults in order to teach how to help autistic people succeed. Which, THATS the message I THINK they’re trying to portray. ‘You can be capable despite your autism’

Saying autism is a genius superpower is like saying a deaf person is a master listener.

I wouldn’t mind this if ALL of his autistic characters weren’t geniuses. Smarter than everyone else, can understand things that even professionals can’t levels of smart.

One or two of them, sure, people are unique, but ALL OF THEM?

That’s stereotyping. Dhar Mann is stereotyping autism to the public.

Reminds me of some other harmful movies and websites with autism as it’s main focus.

Also, ‘Your son is mentally deficient.’

Just, that one ticks me off and speaks for itself.

I understand it’s written by an antagonist, it’s still insulting.

This is more than just saying ‘you’ll go nowhere in life’ being so triggering to any person who’s felt that way and developed self loathing problems. (Example: me)

This is more than the unrealism of a child taking over the job of an electrical professional.

This is the very thing and one of the many reasons why Dhar Manns messages are harmful.

He uses a real person as a reference at the end. As though that excuses anything. ‘This one person has this experience. ALL people like them must have this experience too.’

No. No we don’t. I didn’t get expelled for autism discrimination.

And then there’s the mom. In case you needed any more reason to prove my point she’s an awful parent.

They say early in the video that the mom told Jayden he was smart despite his struggles, and the bully claims the mom lies.

This is the bully, the antagonist, we’re not supposed to like him or agree with him.

So why then, is he proven RIGHT?

The mom LIES to her son just to make him feel better.

Jayden is upset, wants to know the truth on what the principal thinks of him, and what does the mom do? LIE ABOUT WHAT HE SAID.

Because it’s not like we want to teach our kids that some people suck and don’t understand you, but you don’t need their support to see the value in yourself! (I love Ninjago Dragons Rising for this)

NOPE. LIE TO YOUR CHILDREN.

You will face no consequences at all.

10/10 parent, this woman is.

For any autistic person that reads this, don’t listen to Dhar Mann. You don’t need to be a genius to be worth it. You don’t need to be talented at anything to be worth it. There’s people who love you, and people willing to help you find your place in the world.

[swaps55]

Snippet Sunday

Tagged by @cr-noble-writes. Thank you!!

Tagging @bioticbooty, @shadesofmauve, @pigeontheoneandonly, @laelior, @crescentbunny and anyone else who feels so inclined, no obligations!

From Mezzo.

~

Shepard lets go and takes a step back. Something red flashes in his eyes, eerily reminiscent of staring down Sovereign’s main gun. We rebuilt him, Lawson had told him. Like Shepard was a drive core that could be taken apart and put back together. The Two Billion Credit Man.

By comparison, Joker’s bone weave procedure had been a hell of a bargain. In addition to the Hero of the Citadel, you can also have a fucked-up pilot of your very own for a fraction of the price!

The Alliance hadn’t thought that was much of a deal. They wouldn’t even pay for the bone weave. Nice to know your life pencils better if you just ally yourself with terrorists. If Cerberus really wants to bump up their recruiting numbers, all they really need to do is lead with the health plan.     

“The Illusive Man said he had a pilot I could trust,” Shepard says.

“He may have been exaggerating. My track record isn’t great.”

I killed you. But here you are, alive. You, and my ship.

Shepard stares at him with that ice gaze, like he’s processing something and the gears got caught.

Coming back from the dead probably makes you think about a few things. Joker wouldn’t know. He hadn’t died. Because Shepard had done it in his place.

Why do you always have to be such a fucking savior?

“How did you get here?” Shepard asks finally. “Did you know about…whatever this is?” He nods out the window, at the silent, sleek Normandy that’s just as new and perfect as the one that had set out for Eden Prime three years ago. Like everything Joker wrought had been forgotten.

“Yeah,” Joker says with a nod. It was their biggest selling point. It…and you.

“This has to be bullshit. The Normandy is the only stealth frigate online. The Ain Jalut isn’t scheduled for shakedown for months. It’s—”

“Ain Jalut’s been flying for over a year now,” Joker says, guts twisting into a knot. And they didn’t put me at the helm. “Three more are in production now, last I heard. No idea how Cerberus got the specs, but she’s definitely an SR. I toured the ship this morning.”

And it had felt like coming home.

Except, instead of Pressly grouching about relay vectors from the CIC and Addison Chase gossiping about Felawa while Joker ran calcs, a disembodied AI calmly answered all of his questions.

If you can’t beat the enemy, join them, Joker supposes. Just throw in a few cushy upgrades like leather seats and a tricked-out lounge, and no one will notice the missing people Cerberus didn’t resurrect.

The ones whose lives didn’t pencil.  

[theserpentsadvocate]

So I’ve been doing a lot of research (or, more accurately, I’ve been doing cursory research fairly often) for the seventy-million Veronica Mars fanfics I’m currently writing, and I’ve run into a… difficulty. The fic that actually prompted this post wasn’t even related to the Thumper thing even peripherally, like it doesn’t even happen in it, but what can you do.

Here’s the thing: under California law, assault is the attempt to hurt or cause harm to someone by an individual with the capacity to actually cause that harm (e.g. throwing a rock at someone and missing, trying to punch someone who dodges). Actually harming someone is battery (e.g. you knock someone out and hide their drug money inside their motorcycle).

Now we, the audience, know that whatever someone might feel morally*, Weevil isn’t legally guilty of murder – he committed battery, and that’s probably all Lamb can prove, because he has witnesses to that part. But he has witnesses. He should have Weevil over a barrel on the battery charge at least.

But here’s the sticking point (or one of them): Veronica says, canonically, that Weevil ‘pled down to assault’ (and he seems to agree with her). So… why did he end up doing time for a lesser charge?

Answer One: The writers messed up.

Okay, so this is a very unsatisfying answer, and I’m rolling my eyes at myself about it. But still: it’s very common for the general public to gloss ‘assault and battery’ as one thing, or to use ‘assault’ to refer to battery charges, doubly so since, in a non-legal sense, the word ‘assault’ does include (legal) battery. Probably whoever wrote that line assumed that they knew what ‘assault’ was and just didn’t double-check.

(And they also didn’t bother to brush up on the difference between a felony and a misdemeanour and whether you can be on parole for a misdemeanour (answer: no), but I’ll get to that.)

But that doesn’t help square everything up with canon (unless you’re the kind of person who can say stuff like ‘that line doesn’t make sense so I’m ignoring it’, which I… am not, generally speaking), so more productively –

Answer Two: Veronica messed up

Veronica’s attitude toward Weevil isn’t always great in season three, trending towards dismissive on several occasions, and she is, technically, a member of the general public, so maybe she just said assault and meant battery, and he did go to prison for battery and not assault. This would track with him still being on parole – well, at all, but notably about halfway through season three, when Veronica wants to meet with the PCHers – and mentioning his parole officer multiple times. (Simple assault is a misdemeanour and has a maximum sentence of six months; parole, unless there is a glaring hole in my Googling, is only for felonies. Nothing he does to Thumper, as far as I can tell, would qualify as felony assault – he doesn’t use caustic chemicals or a deadly weapon, and he definitely doesn’t throw anything at a moving vehicle.)

Misdemeanour battery, on the other hand, appears to have a maximum sentence of a year, and a battery charge would leave the possibility of a felony open: aggravated battery, or battery causing serious bodily harm, is a ‘wobbler’, which means it can be filed as a misdemeanour or a felony, depending on the circumstances, and ‘serious bodily harm’ includes loss of consciousness. (This would also mean he very well could be a convicted felon, which of course has implications for the rest of his life beyond just having a record. I don’t actually want this for him, obviously, but if you want the felony for fic reasons, or to explain the repeated parole references, that versatility is there.)

The only problem is, Veronica is not a very likely person to make this particular mistake. Her dad spent most of her life in law enforcement and she’s very well-acquainted with most law enforcement (and much legal) procedure, she regularly interacts with the sheriff’s department, and she commits enough illegal and dubiously legal acts herself that it’s in her best interest to be familiar with these kinds of distinctions. (Although she’s still very much protected by being a middle-class white woman – she can do things like tasing obnoxious frat bros in The Rapes of Graff without worrying overmuch that she’ll be arrested on misdemeanour battery charges, even though it would absolutely qualify.)  Also, she clearly made the effort to look into how his case played out, since she’s the one who brings all this up, and she appears to have tracked him down at the car wash deliberately, so it would be kind of bizarre if she then got the offence wrong. This one is convenient, but in the end it’s a hard sell and I don’t think I buy it.

Answer Three: Weevil didn’t plead down from murder to assault, he pled down from battery to assault.

Lamb’s case for murder probably isn’t all that great. It makes for terrific oomph when you are deliberately arresting someone two minutes before he’s supposed to graduate, like an absolute monster, but what does he have, really? Two kids who saw Weevil knock Thumper out with… a cloth? Or something? and take a bag of… something. (And leave.)

So this proves battery, it strongly implies robbery, and given Thumper showing up under the ruins of Shark Stadium it certainly suggests murder, but that’s not going to stand up in court. Assuming the autopsy can conclusively determine which ones are from the stadium collapse and which aren’t (admittedly a big if), Thumper’s likely to have injuries from the beating the Fitzpatricks gave him that Weevil is (per the prosecution’s own witnesses) not responsible for and which were incurred after his attack on Thumper. The kids also saw him leave Thumper’s unconscious body and walk away with the bag of money, so – dead to rights on battery, but iffy on murder. The other PCHers can testify that he had motive to kill Thumper, but they might well not be willing to, for a whole host of reasons. Weevil is absolutely smart enough to establish himself an alibi for the entirety of the time after his attack on Thumper, and that would make Lamb’s case very difficult, as does that fact that Weevil literally didn’t kill Thumper, and so there’s very little forensic evidence to be found that would be damaging to him.

(Honestly, even if the charge was murder, and he pled down to assault or to battery, the fact that they offered him that also suggests the case was flimsy. Rich, white, even-more-innocent-of-the-actual-murder Logan only got offered manslaughter in the plea deal for Felix’s murder.)

So if this is it? That is a ton of reasonable doubt. And that’s before Cliff gets up there and points out that Eduardo Orozco was a known gang member and drug dealer and had all kinds of opportunities to make the kind of enemies who might have chained him up in that stadium (which is not only true but also… basically what did actually happen). In fact, typing this all up, I’m kind of pissed Weevil did any time at all.

Add to that the fact that both eyewitnesses are kids, who are notoriously unreliable on the stand… Yeah, I can easily see the DA deciding a murder charge won’t stick. But they have him on battery! …Wiiiith most of the proof being those notoriously unreliable child witnesses. So maybe they drop the murder charges, get him on battery, and then offer him a deal. On their side, they don’t have to worry about those kids holding up in court; on his side, well, if they threatened to file the aggravated battery charge as a felony, he’s looking at the difference between a year at most in prison and a possible four-year term with all the attendant miseries of being a convicted felon for the rest of his life. And he definitely can’t afford a better lawyer than whoever’s available from the public defender’s office. So it’s reasonable to decide that going to court is too much of a gamble, and just take the deal. This also explains how he’s out so quickly, since it cannot be more than three months since he was arrested when season three starts – but if he pled right away and got a light sentence (since it’s his first adult conviction), that might make sense.

The main problem with this one, even though I really like it, is that, well, there are the repeated references to him being on parole. Weevil himself could just be glossing probation as parole, I suppose – ‘don’t tell my parole officer’ makes a better joke than ‘don’t tell my probation officer’ – but Veronica also says he’s on parole in President Evil, which is an unlikely mistake for her to make if he’s not on parole, for all the reasons outlined in Answer Two, especially in what is literally a presentation for her criminology class. (Of course, in that same presentation she refers to him ‘assaulting’ Thumper, so who knows.) Most damning is the entire B-plot of Wichita Linebacker, which makes it clear he is indeed on parole, since if he doesn’t get another job he’ll go back to prison.

(And I suppose ‘pled down to assault’ is kind of a weird way for Veronica to phrase it in this case – but not utterly bizarre, and she’d be unlikely to spell it all out like that, since she doesn’t know she’s on TV and that line is supposed to be letting the audience know why he’s not in prison.)

Answer Four: Veronica was just guessing

I’ve always read the scene in Wichita Linebacker as her finding him on purpose, especially since she doesn’t actually stick around to get her car washed, which is why I also tend to assume that she’s either recently looked up his case or been following it from the beginning and would know what the charge is. (She doesn’t appear to be surprised to see him, either.) I also just… like to think that she’d care enough to follow up on him.

But it’s also possible that she really is just at the carwash for carwash-related reasons, and she’s just… guessing about the reasons he’s out already. In this case, she might have said assault, and he acknowledges this as correct even though the actual charge was battery, because he figures it’s close enough, and she’s got the general idea, anyway.

This covers more bases than anything else, although it still doesn’t explain why she implies he’s on parole for an assault charge during the criminology presentation, at which point she would definitely have done the background to know it was battery and not assault, but mostly I don’t love it for character reasons.

Anyway. If anyone wants to hit their heads repeatedly into this particular wall with me, I would love to hear your thoughts.

*and I’m inclined, personally, to say that the moral responsibility for Thumper’s death is pretty much on the Fitzpatricks, and it’s not like he didn’t know who he was getting into business with

[multiplicity-positivity]

Hi! Do you know of any advice for, or if there's any way, to use tools like simply plural, lighthouse, or antar without having/knowing names for system members? It seems like you need at least something to call yourselves I guess... It's tough because sometimes there are identifying features, but no sense of a name, but also sometimes it's fully just '???'. I know it's not exactly an uncommon experience to have no clue who's fronting also. Sorry for the confused question. Thank yo Igor any help and have a good day!

Hiya! This is a great question! What comes to mind for us at first is… could y’all maybe use placeholder or stand-in names so you can differentiate each other while using these tools?

Like you could use things like favorite colors, foods, and activities to “name” your headmates for the programs! Or maybe even assign each headmate a number which is their number for tracking switches and stuff! A placeholder name doesn’t have to be set in stone - y’all can just use whatever you’d like for names to make those programs useable, and your different headmates can feel free to change the names they use for this purpose whenever! :3

Um, we’re not really sure what can be done besides using placeholder names to keep track of different headmates using programs designed to help systems. Maybe if you use the same name for each headmate, you could at least pick different avatars/profile pictures to distinguish between them? Or something like that? >w<

And as far as not knowing who’s fronting… that really is common for sure! But right now we don’t know how to record and track switches when we’re blurry or don’t know who’s fronting. We do like this article from YoppVoice by a system sharing tips on how they figure out who’s fronting!

We hope this helps! We’re really sorry if this response isn’t very useful >_<

💚 Ralsei and 🌷 Corrie

[greatunironic]

Do you have any idea what the Party’s reaction to “Boy with a Bat” would be, specifically El and the Byers clan?

after steve hears the album for the first time, eddie’s next port of call is of course the assorted hopper-byers clan. it’s pretty fortuitous, that he finished the album when he did, just before they were all coming together for terry’s birthday at the old dairy farm in memphis, indiana. (or maybe not; eddie’s a planner, okay?)

but so he’s got the whole gang under one roof; and while he would’ve gone on the great american road trip with the master, that would’ve been a real bitch of a time suck, and the studio was breathing down his neck. plus, he wanted to drop it on steve’s birthday anyway, because eddie’s a big gestures guy, sue him or whatever.

he holds court in the dairy barn, because it feels right. still smells like hop’s smokes, if he closes his eyes and breathes deep. the boys and max all love it, when they listen, though they maintain that they didn’t ever need to know that much about his and steve’s sex lives, thanks. mostly, they argue amongst themselves about whose voice is whose, and loudly inform eddie he’s a fucking creep for recording them without their knowledge, and demand royalties. will, with his face like an angel and truly hilarious bitchy streak that eddie is convinced he learned from steve, mean girl extraordinaire, looks eddie dead in the eye when steve’s laugh fades into the next track and says very seriously, “that is so gay, man.”

(he gives him a hug when it’s finished too, says, “you’re gonna make history with this one, eddie. i know it. thank you.”)

jonathan holds him for a really long time, after, and doesn’t say much, but the two of them never needed a lot of words between them: freaks to the end, baby.

nancy and robin roll their eyes and echo the kids’s sentiments when they get their listens. (even though eddie knows for a fact robin was well read into steve’s sex life, because they’re the biggest pair of codependent weirdos he’s ever met, and eddie fucking knows from codependent weirdos these days; and he’s not a prude, far from it, but knowing one of your best gals learned to go down on a chick through the verbal teachings of the man you love? well the less said there the better, and he doesn’t care if it makes him a hypocrite, buckley, get off my dick) (gross, she said, anyway isn’t that steve’s job?) but they’re both misty eyed when they emerge, and tell him he did good.

madchen high fives him; argyle does too, and tells him he’s gonna play it on a loop on his show for days when it drops.

but they’re not the first people to hear it after steve. see, “boy with a bat”? it’s an album for steve, sure — even more so than all of eddie’s other albums — and it’s filled with love songs for him, about him, because of him — because they were always, already for him, he’s just finally explicit with it. (pun intended, hit the high hat, boys!) 

but it’s also an album for a family, the family that horror and tragedy and love, so much love, built. because eddie wasn’t there for the beginning of it all, but he knows how the story started, and how the story ended: one woman’s love for the son she nearly lost, and one man’s love for the daughter he found, and this, all around them — it was all the house jim built, in the end.

so, after steve, he starts with el and joyce. 

el’s listened to a lot of eddie’s jams first over the years, to be totally truthful. hell, his first album was named for her; as much as steve’s his muse, so is this little fucking superhero and she’s had shotgun (once again, pun very much intended) on first listens for years.

he takes her by the hand first into the old dairy parlor, sits her down, and hits play before he leaves. she comes out at the halfway point, face tear stained but determined, always so determined, and drags him back inside with her in silence. she pushes him to sit on the ground and then lies down with her head in his lap, and they finish out eddie’s magnum opus or whatever like that.

the record spins into static, and she says, “i liked that very much.”

“i’m glad,” he said. “i, uh, i have some unused tape, with some other stuff from your old man. mainly him yelling at the boys. you want me to send you it?”

“yes,” she says. “i do not know if i’m ready for more, yet. but i will be someday.”

“you sure will, super girl,” he tells her.

as for mrs h — because that’s how he’s always known her, you know? — well, joyce punches him right in the mouth when she emerges. she’s crying and laughing when she does it, so it hurts exactly zero percent, and steve totally laughs his fucking ass off next to him while she does it. 

“hey! i’m being assaulted!”

“you deserve it, baby,” he says, basically in hysterics.

but joyce is wrapping him up in a Mom Hug (TM), all firm and boney, her head under his chin, her wet face on his clavicle. she says, “you’re a menace, ed munson-levy. but thank you for giving him back to me, even if it was just for forty-eight minutes.”

[tokruta]

I’m starting to hc Miguel as Miguel Rivera (from Coco)’s great grandson.

It’s mostly because I’ve been doing my family tree for a good while now, so most of my free time is occupied with tracking down Mexican ancestors, looking for resources to better understand the different settings they lived in, reading old Spanish handwritten records, etc. So, with genealogy on the brain, and seeing some names repeated down family lines…I think having Miguel O’Hara be descended from Miguel Rivera would be a neat lil idea.

Like, imagine little Conchata growing up in Mexico with a famous musician grandfather who loves her and dotes on her and her cousins. Yes, he’s a famous musician, but he’s a family man first and is always ready to pass down stories from his life and his loved ones, dead and living. She loves her grandfather so much she decided to name her firstborn son after him.

She wasn’t always the best mom, especially to Miguel, but she passed down those stories and traditions, including singing and a love for music. And Miguel grows up loving to sing, and being good at it but keeping it to himself and Gabriel because George hated to hear it.

Gabriel, on top of being a good artist, is a pretty damn good guitar player and also has a great voice. He mostly keeps it on the down low, though, even in adulthood.

Miguel didn’t pick up any instruments, but he sometimes wishes he picked up the violin before he became Spider-Man. Instead, he let Gabriela pick out an instrument she wanted to play, and if she happened to pick the violin, the onions that manifested were a complete coincidence.

Plus, it’s literally canon that Miguel goes to Mexico to celebrate Día de Los Muertos and that his suit in the comics was one he wore to the festivals. I think it’s better for that to be a thing he does bc the holiday is a big deal in his family rather than bc it’s an excuse to party or whatever.

His mother had an ofrenda and so does he.

Miguel Rivera is still alive (he was born in like 2005, he could totally still be alive in the 2090s and 2100s, so he is in my hc ☺️) so Miguel visits him in Mexico, too. Miguel is shy about singing in front of anybody, but his bisabuelo is able to bring him out of his shell, especially by singing his old songs that Miguel grew up listening to.

The more I think about it, the more attached I become to this hc.

Now I want to write a fic where Miguel is visiting a dimension in the 2020s (616B, 1610B, etc) and he happens to see that a young Mexican musician is starting to trend, and it’s his bisabuelo Miguel as a young man 🥹 so he buys tickets and flies to Mexico 🥹 to watch him live 🥹 and yes he knows this isn’t his bisabuelo but he is as close as he can get to a young Miguel Rivera at the start of his long and successful career and it just hits him in the soul 🥹

And if Miguel Rivera happens to notice a 6’9” giant at his show, who looks strangely familiar, watching him perform like it’s the best thing he’s ever seen… who’s to say.

[thisaintascenereviews]

Lupe Fiasco - Samurai

I recently reviewed Eminem’s latest album, The Death Of Slim Shady, and to be blunt, it’s a bad album. It’s nothing but a 51-year-old man being a bully and constantly using slurs and offensive language to make himself feel better about never growing up and being as corny as he’s always been. I say all that because the sad reality is that for a lot of people, that’s the only rap album they’ll listen to all year. I’m not going to pretend that I’m a connoisseur of rap, but I listen to some every now and again. An album that caught my attention recently, literally a week or so before Em’s new dumpster fire came out, was the new Lupe Fiasco album, Samurai, and I would recommend this album a thousand times more than The Death Of Slim Shady.

I’ve been a fan of Lupe for a long time now, ever since I listened to him in 2015 when Tetsuo & Youth came out, although he’s been around for much longer than that. His career is weirdly opposite that of Eminem’s, and part of why I wanted to mention his new album, because while Eminem is still really popular, the majority of the underground really doesn’t care about him, whereas the mainstream doesn’t care much about Lupe anymore (not really his doing, though, unfortunately), he thrives in the underground. Lupe Fiasco is an incredibly talented, ambitious, and visionary rapper that can also sing really well, and has a lot of lyrics that are socially aware and/or deeper than you’d expect.

I don’t usually like a lot of pretentious and self-indulgent music, whether it’s rap, rock, or whatever it may be, but Lupe’s music has always been a great mix of unique and accessible. Despite his flows being spitfire, and his lyrics having a lot of meaning behind them, there are some great hooks within the tracks. Samurai is the first time I’ve listened to him since 2017, but this album caught my attention for two key reasons — it’s only a half hour long, and it’s a loose concept album about Amy Winehouse being what she called a “samurai battle rapper.” She said something to her longtime producer in a documentary about her that she was writing music that made her feel like that, and Lupe ran with it, resulting in this.

You don’t necessarily need to know this is a concept album, though, because it’s incredibly loose. What you do need to know, however, is that this album is one of the best albums of the year, and if you listen to one rap album this year, make it this one. This record is a half hour burst of some energetic, catchy, and fun jazz-rap that’s also poignant and well-written. It just shows yet again that Lupe is one of the most talented and versatile rappers, even almost 20 years after his debut. It may not change the game in any way, shape, or form, but not all albums need to. If anything, this just cements his status as a legend, and he isn’t relying on a tired and dated shtick to remain relevant.

At only a half hour, it breezes by, but I want to listen to it again as soon as it’s over, because of its replay factor. Songs like the title track, “Cake,” and “No. 1 Headband” are so much fun, and show off his voice nicely. Lupe’s the first rapper I think of who can “rap fast,” but also be good, as well as refrain from being pretentious and self-indulgent. He also just showcases his lyrical dexterity, too; he can switch his flow at a moment’s notice, whether it’s to another style or a sung hook, and he sounds great. The hooks on here shouldn’t be understated, they’re really good. His sense of melody hasn’t been lost, either, but his knack for being accessible and catchy, just as much as being able to rap in a spitfire way, is just as important.

This record is easily in my top five of the year; I’ll find a handful of records every year that I can’t stop listening to, and this is one of them. It’s just been on rotation constantly, but it’s so catchy, fun, and energetic. There’s just so much to love within this record, and I can’t get enough of it. Like I said, if you listen to one rap album this year, make it this one. Samurai is a killer album, despite its crazy concept, but the concept doesn’t quite matter, since it doesn’t directly tie into the album, anyway, so you can listen to it without knowing anything about it. It still holds up, regardless, but it’s absolutely fantastic in every single way.

[slayonehundredninetytwo]

seatbelt

request: Hello, I’ve got another idea for a request! So I had this stomach ache during my soccer game and I decided to sit off the last 45 minutes because I knew from experience it would get worse if I continued to run around—so I was thinking: what if Felix (changed to Jisung) had a stomach ache during vocal recording for one of their songs and he sat in the same spot the entire time, refusing to get up unless called into the booth and not really talking to anyone because the pain was too great. Then they all head back home and it’s still bothering him. In the car he can feel it getting worse, and the pressure with the seatbelt around his stomach isn’t helping, so he tugs it looser and holds it slightly away from his midsection. Maybe one of the members, could be Changbin, notice it and question him, to which he denies how he truly feels. They’re nearly at the first dorm when he can’t hold it anymore—the pain has grown so much during the ride that he was battling naseau—and he throws up right as the van pulls into their street. You can choose how to end it and who acts as the caregiver when he finally gets sick. ❤️ 

-

Here they are again, recording a new track for a new album. Of course they were all excited! And of course, that includes Jisung. Being on the producing line, it was something they looked forward to throughout the whole production process, it really brings their ideas to life. But he was struggling to really enjoy it, as a dull ache resided in his stomach, and he struggled to keep his focus. The headphones he wore to hear the singing from inside the booth were squeezing his ears and giving him a headache. His stomach hurt way worse in comparison though. Normally, he would be contributing to the recording and directing the singer in the booth, but today, he sat quietly in his chair, only really contributing when asher for his opinion. Even then, his responses were along the lines of “That’s good.” or “Smoothen it out a bit.”, simple answers that didn’t require much thought. 

Chan didn’t notice his friend’s condition. He was in the zone. Changbin however noticed it fairly quickly. Usually Han would be spinning on his spiny chair or moving around somehow as they worked, today, he stayed perfectly still in his chair. Changbin looked at Han, seeing his tired face did not have its usual color, now looking eerily pale. 

Changbin quietly pointed at the boy before doing 👌 in order to silently ask “You okay?”

Jisung gave a little head nod, although Changbin was not quite convinced.

Finally, it was time to head home. Jisung couldn’t wait to go home and sleep off whatever was bothering him. He sat down in the car, quickly buckling his seatbelt, eager to return home. As the car took off, he felt so uncomfy in his seat. His seatbelt dug into his stomach, squeezing the already upset organ. The pressure and the movement along the bumpy road were definitely not helping his discomfort.

Changbin had been keeping close watch on the boy, and noticed the way Han tugged at his seatbelt to release pressure on his stomach. He leaned over to Jisung and whispered,

“Are you sure you’re feeling alright?”

“I’m okay. A little tired I guess.” he was lying straight through his teeth, and Changbin could tell. 

“Okay. Why don’t you lean your head on my shoulder for a bit. We’re almost home.”

hoping to atleast provide some comfort. Han gratefully complied, but couldn’t fall asleep because of the cramping in his stomach and the nausea. But it was still nice.

Even as his eyes were closed, he knew they were about home because they had been turning a lot. Before they reach their dorms,  there’s like a million right and left turns, which only added to the nausea. Changbin watch as the color drained from his dongsaengs face as they were just about to pull in. The boy jerked his head up off of Changbin’s shoulder to hopefully avoid getting vomit all over his friend, but was a tad too late, splashing a guppy of vomit on his hyungs lap. He started to cry out of guilt, pain, and definitely from the fever, each sob just made him sicker.

“Hannie, it’s okay, let’s just get you out of the car, alright?”

“O-okay- huUUurk” He retch, splashing out more hot liquid onto the floor.

“Shit.”

The rest of the group tried to make themselves as little as possible so Han could squeeze past them. He made it out of the car with no more mess, but the second he got out of the car, the flood gates were opened- no- RIPPED OFF and the puke flowed out of him like a fountain. It was atrocious. Even the members who weren’t quite as squeamish had to avert their eyes from the grossness in order to not loose their own stomachs.

Once his stomach had completely emptied itself, he shakily sat down on the curb, still crying.

“It’s really okay Ji. Are you ready to go inside.” Changbin said.

He gave a head nod as Chan and Changbin helped him into their dorm, sitting him down on the couch. The couch was already set up with pillows, blankets, and a bucket, courtesy of Hyunjin who had already headed inside to avoid the atrocities that were happening outside, since he had a sensitive stomach and couldn’t handle that. He gave a gentle smile as he handed Han a bottle of water and some pills.

“I don’t know if you’ll be able to get the pills down quite yet, but atleast drink some water.”

Jisung didn’t know if he could stomach even the water, but his throat was destroyed and he knew it could help.

“Thankyou.”

“No problem. I just want you to feel better.”

~

sorry this took a million years, i worked on it diligently whenever i could but i’m a busy gal what can i say

🫶