#i literally have been writing this for the last four hours because i have zero self control

[spooky-titties]

Do you trust me?

Do you trust me?

Prompt: “Do you trust me?” “I trust you with my life, but i’m no certain I trust you with yours.” Paring: Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin x F/reader Warnings: Little to no editing(I literally saw this prompt and ran with okay? Don’t hate me if it sucks), angst, alluding to sex, curse words, fluff ending Word count:2774 *Italics are flashbacks*

Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin. He was cocky, he was over the top, he was arrogant, and despite all that, he was the love of your life. You two had met on a beach in Florida while he was stationed there. One thing led to another and you found yourself picking up your clothes off his floor at three in the morning before sneaking out. You had left your number just in case, and by God were you happy you did.

You definitely weren’t expecting him to call you the next morning, certainly not expecting him to ask to meet up for coffee. He didn’t seem like the type to talk to his one night stands, but who were you to turn down the chance to see him again?

The coffee shop that he had asked you to meet at was a local favorite, one you had been to on countless occasions, but yet walking through those doors today made you far more nervous than you ever had been before.

‘It’s just coffee.’ You reminded yourself as you scanned the coffee shop for him.

You thanked the heavens above that he wasn’t there yet before ordering your coffee and taking refuge in the booth that sat in the far corner. Your eyes stayed trained on the door, watching each and every patron that walked in, before you finally saw him.

He wasn’t dressed in anything special, just jeans and a tee shirt, but yet he looked like a Greek God in just that. He saw you immediately, winking in your direction before ordering his own coffee. Never in your entire life has a man made you as nervous as he did right now, walking over towards you with the cockiest smirk that you had ever seen on another human being.

“Well hey there, sweets.” He grinned, taking a seat in the booth across from you.

You could feel the heat rising to your chest and neck until it reached your cheeks as you shifted under his gaze. “Hey.” You hummed, offering him a small smile.

You’ll admit, it was a slow start, but soon the conversation between you two flowed easily. He told you all about his job, and listened intently as you spoke of yours. At some point the two of you left the coffee shop and settled for walking around the town, laughs falling from the both of you as you shared stories and told jokes.

“When can I see you again?” He asked, smiling at you, a real smile, one that made the corners of his eyes crinkle. One that warmed your heart, one that you wanted to see each and every day.

“You can see me anytime you’d like, Jake.”

After that it was rare that you didn’t see him. He became a staple in your life, and you liked to think that you were one in his as well. Whenever you were with him it felt like an adventure and the more you were around him the more you wanted to be with him as much as possible. And you’d be lying to yourself if you said you didn’t get excited each and every time you saw him.

Sure, he definitely was an asshole, that much you could say, but when it was just the two of you it was like he was a completely different person. He showed you a side that you were certain that no one else got to see. Around you he was so much softer, he made you laugh until you cried, he listened carefully anytime you were having a stressful day, and beyond that all, he held you like you were going to slip away at any given moment.

Your favorite though was when you got to experience his midnight rambling as the two of you laid in bed. He would talk to you about anything and everything under the moon from his childhood, to his life in the navy, to what he wanted his future to look like. If it came to his mind, it was almost a guarantee that he was going to tell you.

The last thing you ever expected was for you to fall in love with him, but you did. And fuck, did you fall hard. Everything about him only made you love him more, from the way he snored at night, to the way he would chuckle at your cheesy jokes, to the way he looked at you. Everything about him you loved. To your surprise he fell in love with you, you weren’t too sure when it happened, but the two of you just found yourselves saying it to each other. You didn’t even realize it until after nearly a week of doing it because it felt so natural.

“I’m gonna run down to the store to get some more snacks real quick, need anything?” He asked, making you look up from where you were standing in front of his couch setting up the rest of the things for your movie night. It had become a weekly occurrence that on Friday nights, after a week of work, you two would cuddle up on his couch and watch a number of movies.

“Uh, can you see if they have that one ice cream?” You grinned, watching him raise a brow at you, waiting for you to clarify. “The one with the kit-kat chunks in it.”

He couldn’t help the smile that formed on his lips as he nodded at you, “I’ll see if they have it. I’ll be right back. I love you.” He hummed, starting towards his front door.

“I love you too.” You smiled, before the both of you just stopped. Reality setting in of what had just happened. You both turned to face each other, surprise dancing across both of your faces, “Did you just…” You trailed, praying that you had heard him right, and that you didn’t just out yourselves.

“I did, and you just, you too?” He stumbled, watching you nod. You both watched each other, smiles growing on your faces. “Okay, well, I will definitely be right back.”

Over time it changed from him talking about his future in general to him talking about his future with you. “I wanna come home to you every day for the rest of my life.” After that, he had you wrapped around his finger. So when he asked you to travel to North Island with him you didn’t hesitate to say yes. You packed up everything you’d need, spoke with your job about doing work from home and left with him.

Now, you found yourself sitting alone in the house that he was renting for the duration of his time here. You had been here for all of a few days and you could easily tell that this mission that he was called here for was more dangerous than he cared to admit. While he couldn’t tell you in full what the mission was exactly he could tell you that it called for two miracles and a dog fight all the way home.

That alone made a pit form in your stomach, the thought of losing him growing abundantly clear. You knew Jake loved his job more than he loved life itself, and he was damn good at it too, but the thought of knowing that there was a good chance that he may not come back to you was enough to make you want to break down then and there.

The silence between you two was thick and heavy. He had come home from Admiral Kazansky’s funeral, and hadn’t spoken a word to you since he’d been home. You stared at him from where you sat across from each other in the living room, a sigh escaping your lips. “Jake,” You began, watching him lift his head to stare at you.

“Don’t, please, don’t start this.” He muttered, seeming to know what was exactly on your mind. “You knew what the risks of dating me were when we first got together.” And that was true. The night that you both had said ‘I love you’ to each other, you two had a lengthy conversation about everything.

Your body was pressed to his, a smile resting on your face as you laid atop his chest, his arms wrapped tightly around you. “We need to talk,�� He began, making you raise a brow. “I know we’ve only just said I love you, but I need you to know that if you’re gonna date me, that if you’re gonna stick around, I need you to understand that there may be a day that I get sent out on a mission and I may not come back.” He said, and you swore he could feel your chest tighten at his words.

“Babe,” You started, making him shake his head.

“Sweets, I know that’s not something you or anyone else wants to hear but I need you to know, I need you to understand that I vowed to give my life for this country if I had too.” He explained, letting out a soft sigh. “I know that’s a hard thing to hear, hell it’s a hard thing to even say, but I just want you to know what you’re getting yourself into.”

“I know, I know what I was getting into, Jake, but that never meant I had to like it. I understand that you made a vow to the Navy, but that still doesn’t stop the fact that I’m terrified of losing you.” You sighed, a hand nervously running through your hair. “Jake, what if you get in that plane and you don’t come back to me?”

“Do you trust me?” He asked, raising a brow at you.

Of course you trusted him, you trusted him with every fiber in your being. “Jake, I trust you with my life, but I’m not so sure I trust you with yours.” You stated, not missing the look of hurt that flashed across his face.

You had heard from the other aviators just how much of a reckless pilot he could be. Yes, you knew that he was one of best pilots that there was but you also knew that there were times that he threw caution to the wind, and dove in head first despite the impeccable danger that awaited him.

“What does that even mean?” He questioned, staring at you with a slight glare. “You don’t trust me with my own life? I’m a damn good pilot, and you know that. I’m a part of the best pilots there is, and quite frankly I think I’m in a better position to trust myself with my life than you are.” He hissed, and you felt your breath get caught in your throat.

You hadn’t intended for this to turn into a fight, but judging by the way he was glaring at you, you knew that’s where the two of you were heading. “Jake, stop, I don’t wanna fight with you.” You groaned, standing up from where you were sitting, moving towards the kitchen, attempting to put a distance between the two of you.

“Well, telling me that you don’t trust me with my life wasn’t the best route for that was it?” He stated, getting up from his spot on the couch to follow you. “What do you even mean? Do you not believe in me or something?”

You let out a low sigh as you leaned against the kitchen counter, shaking your head at his question, “I didn’t say that, did I?” You fired back, slightly offended that he even thought that. He knew you believed in him, hell, you believed in him more than you did in yourself on some days. You knew just how much work and effort he had put in to get to where he was.

“Then what the hell do you mean?” He yelled, making you squeeze your eyes shut. You didn’t wanna do this, not now. You knew that if you stayed here and argued it would do more harm than good.

“Just forget about it, okay? Forget I even said anything.” You muttered, grabbing your keys off the counter, walking by him towards the front door.

“Where the hell are you going?” He asked, watching you slip your shoes on. “Do not walk out that door, you’re not leaving until we’re done here.”

“The hell I am, Jake. I’m not gonna stand here and argue with you about the fact that you could die on this mission, okay? I’m just not gonna do it.” You hissed, swinging the door open before storming out, the door slamming behind you.

You weren’t even sure where you were going, hell you were hardly even sure where you were at, but that didn’t stop you from letting your legs carry you down the street. At some point you found yourself sitting on the beach, your legs pulled up to your chest as you watched the waves crash down on the shore.

You knew that it was childish to leave in the middle of the argument, but when he wasn’t even willing to let you explain yourself without yelling at you, what choice did you have? You let out a soft groan as you buried your face into your knees, your jeans soaking up your tears. You couldn’t understand why he didn’t see where you were coming from.

You didn’t know how long you had sat on the beach for, silently watching the sun sink down in the sky, before you looked to the side hearing someone clear their throat. You let out a sigh as Jake stood in front of you, a somber look on his face. “If you just came here to argue, you can go ahead and head back to the house.” You stated, watching him shake his head, as he moved to sit next to you. You knew that it was only a matter of time until he found you, the both of you insisting that you shared your locations with one another.

The two of you were quiet for a while, like you were both daring each other to speak first. “Babe,” He finally sighed, pulling your attention away from the sunset, “Look, I’m sorry, okay? I don’t wanna fight.”

You let out a soft breath, nodding your head, “Jake, I didn’t wanna fight from the start of this.” You began, your hands nervously running up and down your legs. “Look, I believe in you, I do, I need you to understand that. I’m well aware that you are the best of the best, but that doesn’t put any of my fears to rest. You told me yourself that what you do is dangerous, and I accepted that, but that also means you have to accept that it’s not just you anymore, okay? You have someone that will mourn you, you have someone that will grieve over your death, you have someone that is praying each and every time that you get in that plane that you’re coming back safe. I trust you with everything in me, I do, but hearing from the other aviators on how you fly sometimes, well, it scares me. You dive into any situation head first without a second thought. That scares me, okay? From the little you’ve told me about this mission, it seems that it’s almost certain that someone isn’t gonna make it home alive, and Jake if that’s you, I don’t know what I’ll do.” You spoke, your hands moving from your legs to wipe your eyes.

You watched his face soften at your words, his arms wrapping around you, pulling you against him. “Hey, shh, it’s okay.” He hummed, pressing a soft kiss to your head before pulling back. “Look, baby, I can’t say for sure that this mission won’t kill me because you know as well as I do the dangers of my job, but what I can say is, I’ll be safer from here on out. I’m not used to having someone in my life care so deeply about whether or not I come home alive from a mission. I’ve always flown solo, but I realized the day I met you I didn’t wanna do that anymore. I wish I could sit here and promise you that I’ll come back to you safe and sound but that’s just not something I can do, but I can promise you that I’ll try my damndest too.” He said, smiling weakly down at me.

“That’s all I ask.” You said, softly smiling up at him. “I love you, Jake Seresin.”

“And I love you.”

[messenger-of-stupidity]

Redacted Incorrect Quotes

Redacted Masterlist

~~~

Baabe: seductively takes off glasses Wow, you're… blurry.

~~~

Angel: If I see a bug, I simply leave the room elegantly and require someone else do something about it. Angel: If no one fulfills my wish, I simply never go back in there.

~~~

David: If karma doesn't hit you, I fucking will.

~~~

Baabe: Quitting! It's like trying, but easier.

~~~

Angel: My favorite outdoor activity is going back inside.

~~~

Asher: Hello, McDonald's, I would like to purchase 130 chicken nuggets. Prepare yourselves.

~~~

Sweetheart: To everyone who has treated me poorly; I am sexier than you.

~~~

Angel: If we were in prison you guys would be like my bitches.

~~~

Angel, on the phone: So no head? Angel: Throws phone and breaks skateboard

~~~

at the supermarket Angel: All right, the last item on the list is "virgin oil." Angel: Angel: Wow. Imagine being an item and still being called a virgin. David: Please stop

~~~

David: Plants are basically the ideal friends. They are quiet, friendly, and easy to please. All they need is a little water and fresh earth, and they are perfectly happy to lie there all day in the sun. And they don’t make increasingly awful life choices, or hide their relationships. They have never, as far as I know, fucked a bee.

~~~

Sweetheart: Life keeps fucking me and I can't remember the safeword.

~~~

David: The next time I open up to someone, it'll be my autopsy.

~~~

Baabe, looking at a dead phone: How do we bring this thing back to life? Magic? Live sacrifice? I know a guy in town-

~~~

Asher is ordering a cake over the phone Shop Employee: …and what would you like your cake to say? Asher, covering the phone to look at the others: Do we want a talking cake?

~~~

Sweetheart: I am literally evil incarnate. Sweetheart: I’m not actually, I just enjoy being evil. Sweetheart: Which I think actually makes it even more evil because I’m making a conscious effort.

~~~

Milo: In case you haven’t noticed, I’m weird. I’m a weirdo. I don’t “fit in” and I don’t WANT to fit in. Have you ever seen me without this stupid hat on? That’s weird.

~~~

David: The path to inner peace begins with four words… not my fucking problem.

~~~

Angel: The waiter at Olive Garden has been grating my cheese for 6 hours now, waiting for me to say when. Customers are screaming. Three people have died. Angel: I will not yield.

~~~

Sweetheart: I don’t need to touch grass, I need the fall of capitalism.

~~~

David: What doesn't kill me better start running, because now I'm fucking pissed.

~~~

Baabe: I'm yet to properly begin my history notes BUT!!!! I got 100 Baabe-percent on a quiz about european countries so who's the REAL winner here.

~~~

Darlin: I’m the sexiest bitch in this therapy waiting room.

~~~

Milo: trying to buy a Father's Day card at Hallmark Milo: Excuse me, do you have any that just say "You are my dad?" Associate: Well, I- Milo: How about "You banged my mom?" Associate: No… Milo: You know what, I'll just get a blank one. Milo: writes You are a father. This is a day. Here is a card.

~~~

Darlin: It's not like I try to blow things up, exactly. It just sort of happens. You've got to admit though, fire is fascinating.

~~~

Baabe: My dad has a spiked collar. Baabe: *dog

~~~

Asher: I know what a prism is! It's where you put bad people.

~~~

Angel: Two bros! Angel: Chillin' in a hot tub! Angel: Zero feet apart 'cause we're GAY AS FUCK!

[titanicfreija]

Three things.

Played with @fossil-finder last night and had a good time. I carried her through Prophecy for shiggles and the Kridis Empire hunt for prisms.

They said I was "the most competent Titan" they've seen and yay for the warm and fuzzies. I've had a lot of practice keeping the DPS alive, and I'm quite proud of my capacity to do so under several circumstances. It's a high priority to me, because if my damage/rez is dead, I don't last long. I'm very grateful to them for shooting the bosses in the faces while I cowered behind the furniture and caught things on fire.

But so I want to brag, because this was badass as fuck.

During the Kridis fight, Bunny got frozen and killed, like you do, while I was on the wrong side of the map, on the other little offshoot platform.

So I hop the railing, touch on the strip and jump over to Bunny. (I can't remember if I used my melee to hurry up, which would have made it even cooler.) She's got a yellow bar on her Ghost, so I spin and put my thermite grenade down in front of where I'm going, get it running up the path to Kridis, catch the marauder for a second, and I land and put up a barricade as soon as I touch down, which saves me from Kridis's ice shit, and I punch the marauder the rest of the way down while I get her up.

It was so fucking cool, I cannot believe I pulled that off.

This was after I had said, "I'm not THAT great". Bunny has suggested this is a bit of imposter syndrome. Which, it might be a little, but I wanted to explain this, cos this is thing 2.

I'm definitely in the top half, probably in the top quarter, skill-wise. But I say I'm not THAT Great for two reasons.

One is kinda unfair to myself, and he's our friend and occasional Fireteammate, Gamerboy. Freija and Three are both impressed by this guy. I plan to write him into a least one story, and if he has an OC, I'm gonna have to make a second Guardian to superimpose the player on.

Gamerboy carried Rise through Zero Hour and got him Rat King in Season 12. He went into the crucible with us and showed me shit I still can't do. This fucker got us Malfeasance when I decided to see what that quest was all about.

That is significant because part of that quest requires an Army of One OR for someone on your team to get an Army of One three times in one match.

That is, you have to invade in Gambit and take out the entire enemy team. Four kills. Or else your team has to do it for you three times.

This mother fucker over here jumped into Gambit with us with a fucking Aachen that just randomly dropped, and he did it on the first match. (This is how I don't get salty about ass-kickings in Gambit. Turnabout is fair play.)

So my basis of comparison, my line of Greatness, is that asshole. I'm not THAT great. I AM good. I've had to admit that one. My greatest shortcoming is my lack of DPS and my second is a degree of inflexibility once I get a good thing going. (I miss Citan's. 😭) Third is that this is, in fact, an MMO and I have horrendous social anxiety.

The other source of humility is connection-based matchmaking in the crucible. It's usually just the one guy that ran the whole match doing the gnawing, instead of me being The Bad One, but sometimes I'm still The Bad One and the times I've been the one eating good are few indeed. I can remember twice. My efficiency drops to .7 and my greatest chances of victory are based around if my team has a carry.

Which brings me to the Third Thing

Rise and now Bunny, and literally anyone else that worries they're being rocks in my backpack-- as long as you are shooting shit, you're helping. If you're only getting shot at, you're still helping. If you rez me one time, that's a time I didn't have to start completely over. If you only get one of the five Nighthawk shots off, you did a goddamn fuckload of damage that I no longer have to do. The difference between solo and duo is night and day and you being there means I'm not solo. In this particular case, we went in knowing I was carrying. I said the words, "I'll carry you." I'm happy to have you.

To conclude: I am awesome and I had fun. 😁

[autisticsociologymajor]

American Healthcare Summed Up:

In the past week, my doctors have done the following….

Forgot to order my MRI from my last appointment because they “forgot what it was for,” and instead of reaching out to ask, they just……. Didn’t order it…….

Then I paid $150 for an MRI (which would’ve cost somewhere in the thousands w/o insurance) only to find out THEY ORDERED IT FOR THE WRONG PART OF MY BACK!!!!!!!

Why did I need an MRI? Because the last MRI I had saw that my spinal chord is being pressed on by b o n e, and the doctor told me it’s “not a big deal,” even though it causes me debilitating pain. Spinal chord issues are typically something to take seriously. Are they not? Guess not.

I’d have to pay another $150 in order to get the correct MRI images done. There’s no refund. No free MRI for a doctors screw up. Nothing. They fcked up, and I, the patient, have to pay for it.

They forgot to call me for my telehealth appointment. Straight up. 100% just did not fkn call me.

I called them an hour past my appointment time, knowing my doc typically runs late. The front desk first tried telling me about my $7 unpaid balance, as if to insinuate I wasn’t being called because i owe them $7. I said I’d pay it later today & then suddenly their excuse was “well the doctor is running late.”

My appointment was at 10am. I called at 11am & had that conversation. So 12pm comes, then 1pm, 2pm….. nothing. I call again. I get sent to voicemail. I leave a voicemail. And I get no response. Nothing at all. Whatsoever.

I then send a message in the patient portal, knowing they’ll try to charge me $75 for a missed appointment for an appointment THEY MISSED, in order to get something in writing saying I was the one who was never called.

I didn’t get a response until 11pm…. From somebody who just decided to make me an 8am appointment for the next day without even asking if I was available or if I wanted one. They also scheduled me with a provider I’ve never seen, who is also a man, again, without asking and without being sensitive to literally anything at all.

AND THEN I get a message from SOMEONE ELSE at the doctors office at 7am the next day telling me “the doctor tried calling but couldn’t get ahold of you.” BULL. SH!T. WTF.

I had zero missed calls. I specifically made myself available. My call log has zero incoming calls from anybody in the past week. “She tried calling” WHATEVER. They do this sh!t to cover their own a$$es & to get patients to pay missed appointment fees😤

So whatever. I see the new guy I’ve never met and had no desire to see. And guess what. Guess what.

He tells me I need a drvg test because I’m prescribed ADHD medicine and tells me it’s a “DEA requirement.” It’s not a DEA requirement. Know how I know? Because I had to force them to admit it.

Someone else I know who also takes medication for adhd was told the same thing about the DEA by this doctors office. Neither of us have ever been asked this question in the many years we’ve been taking meds for adhd.

It’s not a DEA requirement to be drvg tested if you’re prescribed adhd meds for adhd. I did research and found nothing before I decided to call them again to ask what they’re talking about. I was apparently not the first person to call and ask.

I asked them specifically where the DEA says they require it and suddenly it was “well it’s not so much of a DEA thing, it’s more an office policy.”

It’s an office policy. It’s not even a law anywhere at all.

It’s NOT EVEN A LAW!!??!??? And they’re going around telling patients it’s a requirement from the literal DEA??? FOR WHAT? WHY? Just say it’s an office policy? Sketchy a$$es. I would’ve been more willing to do it if I wasn’t lied to first thing. Now I don’t think I will at all. I shouldn’t have to either. I’ve been taking these meds for four years. I’m diagnosed with adhd. Wtf?

Then she tried to backtrack herself and said “it will be a law in this state starting in January.” IT WONT BE THOUGH! I RESEARCHED THAT TOO! I FOUND NOTHING! WHAT THE FUCCKKKKKK???????

They also tried charging me $1,000 for an ALLERGY TEST because they put the incorrect information in to send to my insurance company. And then tried to tell me they did nothing wrong. I literally had to argue with them to do it correctly.

[bomberqueen17]

shopping

so the pandemic not only made it so i didn’t leave the house to do things like run errands, it also did the thing where because of the glitch in unemployment i had zero income for... i forget now, but it was like five or six months? which was stressful? anyway i have complained before about how my relationship to like, buying things is totally broken now. but i do need some things. so.

yesterday it was a lovely saturday and i had resolved to Go Forth And Acquire Some Objects. But it struck me that I did not need these objects to be *new*, necessarily. So I went first to a thrift store, and I can report that yes that’s a good way to get inexpensive bedsheets but there were none in the size/thing I needed, so instead I went and picked out like all the unburnt pillar candles off the shelf, for one to two dollars apiece, and also I bought two old water bottles, since for some reason all my decent water bottles have vanished and I’m reusing disposable ones endlessly. Not great. I could have bought some gaudy tablecloths and am not sure why I did not.

Thence to Homegoods, where I spent far too much on new chair cushions, but our dining table chairs are designed to have cushions on them and the ones I bought from Ikea in probably 2006 had started to definitively wear out. I also spent an inordinate amount on a duvet cover, but it was in fact genuinely linen, and I had been wanting that, so now I have a full set of linen sheets just not quite all matching. Whatever.

I did *not* buy any candles there but the one thing I can never resist is going over to the Wall O Socks and buying myself huge multipacks of really squishy socks. My last set of these have largely worn out, so I’m delightedly wearing new socks right now. oh my god. life’s luxuries.

Then we went to Target. (Yeah, we, I’d brought Dude along, and he was actually better at finding things than me. He’s a forager, that one.) I bought two pillows and a bunch of unscented candles-- you can get multipacks of plain candles at Target after all, reasonably-priced. Now the cabin can be extensively candle-lit, whether it gets electrificated promptly or not.

That’s more Retail Hell than I’ve experienced in quite some time, so we went the back way home to stop by the liquor store and get gin, which we were out of. I’d previously planned on Snacks For Dinner; we had chip dip with kohlrabi and carrots, and some cheese and cured meats and crackers, though for future reference a proper Snacks Dinner ought to have some fruit or sweet cheeses in it. It was a glorious day, I did literally six loads of laundry and have them all dry and folded from the line (I’d gotten four on the line before we left, and did two more after we got home, including the new duvet cover), and we got slightly high and sat on the couch whispering slightly-unsettling things to one another and eating far too many crackers. (The texture.)

I did not get any writing done. i’ve been up for two hours already today still not getting any writing done. Oh well.

[cyncerity]

I drew something for the Dad’s Troubles AU cause I don’t want it to die!

Q is in pain and bitching about it

Close up internal and Q w/out the internal and a lot of extra writing under the cut.

So this takes place after Quackity noms Ranboo and, realizing he can’t spit him out as planned, noms Tubbo shortly after to comfort him (all of which I’ve mentioned in the first draft for this au)

Warning that I’m about to rant about this au a lot (mostly about Schlatt and Quackity’s relationship) and if you wanna read anything else about the actual art, just read the first and last paragraphs (the last four are a short that happens after the events of the picture because I have zero self control)

A few things I didn’t mention that I put in the pictures is that Quackity feels like shit rn. I mentioned that Ranboo was way too big to comfortably fit inside of Q’s belly, so adding Tubbo to that weight was a big mistake. And he still can’t spit out either of them for the next..maybe 10 or 11 hours at this point. And he doesn’t want his fiancé’s fussing over him so he leaves and walks down the hallway to Schlatt’s place, since he’s the only one who kinda understands this stuff and the only person he can talk about Tubbo to.

I’ve seen a lot of aus where Schlatt and Quackity have a really toxic relationship and Schlatt never loved Q and Q got manipulated and yada yada yada but please let me have my one au where it’s different. Yes, Quackity and Schlatt used to love each other. Yes, they were engaged. Yes, the broke it off, but it was on neutral terms. They both agreed that they were dumb fresh out of high school kids when they wanted to get married and now that they were adults they just didn’t mix well anymore. Hell, they started going out because of a game of “gay chicken” gone too long. There’s no way they could go through with years of marriage together. But Quackity’s just happy that he became Tubbo’s “mom” through the proposal. (Tubbo exclusively refers to Quackity as “mom” or “mama Q.” Quackity thinks it’s hilarious and has never objected to the name. He has, though, asked Tubbo where the nickname came from. His son changes the subject every time, and has refused to answer the question for years now.)

I know I put something a little different earlier, but it’s my au so I’m changing it, but Q and Schlatt were still engaged when Q “met” Tubbo (the losing the bet incident that resulted in the first time Schlatt swallowed Tubbo). Schlatt explained the next morning that Tubbo was his son and that if Quackity was gonna marry him, he had to get used to Tubbo and treat him like a normal kid. He didn’t have to help raise him since “he’s tiny, I can handle him by myself,” but Q felt a sense of obligation since the marriage would make him the tiny’s official dad, so he did his best to help raise the kid.

He never regretted it. He loves Tubbo just as much as Schlatt does, even after they broke up. When they told Tubbo they weren’t gonna get married anymore, he just asked if Quackity was gonna leave him “again,” whatever that meant. He said no. Tubbo felt better after that. Presently, Tubbo doesn’t care that his parents aren’t married. They love him, and they care about it each other, even if it isn’t romantic anymore. (Also, Tubbo has been begging Quackity to let him be the ring bearer at his wedding with Karl and Sapnap since their first date).

Safe to say, Quackity and Schlatt are best friends. Quackity has a back up key to Schlatt’s apartment and will break in in the middle of the night to do whatever. Most of the time that’s breaking in and waking Schlatt up so he can complain about something. This usually ends with a pillow getting thrown in his face before Schlatt falls right back asleep. That’s kinda what happened with the pictures above (see, it wasn’t just a rant, I brought it back around to the art. I’m a genius).

Schlatt was literally just trying to go to sleep before Q bursts the door open, hand on his stomach which is extended far more then normal, and a pained look in his eye. “Schlatt, I fucked up.” “What happened and where’s our son.” “In here, he’s not alone, I can’t get them out because my fiancés are idiots, and my internal organs are being stretched too far and I feel full in the worst way and it fucking hurts and I crave death.” Schlatt sighed and turned on the coffee machine, filling his mug before walking to his couch and sitting down, patting the open spot next to him. “Talk to me.” Q dramatically flopped down next him, wincing immediately after at what Schlatt could only assume to be Tubbo and whoever else getting thrown around his gut due to the sudden movement. Quackity began to ramble about what had happened earlier, hand never leaving his stomach. Schlatt just listened.

The next morning, Schlatt woke up to Quackity leaning on him, still fast asleep. Schlatt shook his shoulder, eventually slowly waking the man up. “What do you want?” Q whispered, still half asleep. “I want you to spit out the poor soul that’s been stuck in your belly all night. Probably scared the fuck out’ve ‘em. Also, I’m sure You and Tubbo and them are hungry, and none of you can eat while your like this. I don’t think you could fit anything else in there if you tried, anyways.” Schlatt said, smirking and poking Quackity’s stomach. Q smacked the finger away and got to work getting the two out of his gut as Schlatt walked away to get food. He came back to see Quackity and Tubbo talking as the sleeping borrower layed on a washcloth on Q’s lap. Tubbo himself had a washcloth, too, and was trying to scrub the spit off of him as he saw Schlatt walk up the the couch with a plate of fruit.

“Dad!” “Yes?” Schlatt smiled, looking down to meet eyes with the tiny, who had a glare on his face and fire in his eyes. “You’re a dickhead.” “Woah, what did I do?” He laughed, and Tubbo smiled back “‘Oh you probably scared them,’ ‘you need to check on the borrower you swallowed last night.’ You forget about me or something?” Tubbo began to dramatically fall off the table, Schlatt’s hand instinctually coming up from under his to keep him from actually hurting himself as Q scoffed, barely containing his laughter. “Your very own son, worthless, abandoned! Forgotten by the man who raised him in favor of another borrower he’d never even met!” Quackity finally laughed out loud before Schlatt slid Tubbo down on his palm and loosely closed his hand around his torso and head, keeping him from speaking as he brought his other hand under him for support. “Ok you drama queen, I get it. You have jealousy issues.” Schlatt said as he set Tubbo back down on the couch near the fruit plate. Tubbo picked up a grape and bit into it before trying to shout “I don’t!” “Dont talk with your mouth full. Besides, I’m not worried about you. You’ve spent longer than 12 hours in specifically Quackity’s stomach before, never mind me and Q’s. I think your record with me was 2 days. So you’re far more than used to this than they are. We’ve been swallowing you for a while, but this other kid must’ve thought they were gonna die. Did they seem ok while you were in there with them?”

Tubbo swallowed another bite of his grape and shrugged. “I don’t know. They seemed pretty panicked when I first got in there with them. They may have relaxed a bit when I told them that we were in my mom and we could trust him. But that might’ve just been confusion since mama Q is, y’know, a guy, and they knew that and I just referred to this random human man as ‘mom.’” Schlatt could practically sense Quackity facepalm without even having to look at him. “At least that bit got them to stop crying some. But they seemed to calm down at least a little after a few more hours. Enough to fall asleep, anyways.” “Alright, that sounds…good, probably.” Schlatt responded looking back to the still unconscious borrower. “Damn, Alex, I feel bad for you. How did they even fit in there?” Quackity went to reply before Tubbo cut him off. “That’s what I was thinking, too!” Tubbo exclaimed. “His belly is, like, barely over half the size of yours. And I normally have extra room. But god was it cramped in there last night.” “Yeah, it seems like it would’ve been.” “It was. I can tell you right now, it was.” Schlatt laughed, picking up Tubbo and moving to sit down next to Quackity as he set Tubbo on his lap next to the other borrower. “So, what are we gonna do when they wake up?” Quackity asked. Schlatt shrugged. “The best we can.”

[spenciegoob]

Who Needs Luck?

A/N: hi! I solely wrote this because of my 3 recent visits to NY (no, I sadly did not meet mgg)... plus i’ve been going there my whole life.. this is becoming the longest authors note, but as i’m writing I just want to say the people who work at food trucks in nyc are the nicest people ever, ask them about their day (AND TIP OMG PLS)

Summary: Reader invites Spencer to go to New York City with her where he finally sees the beauty right in front of him.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Category: Fluff!

Content Warnings: reader can’t drive very well (I apologize if this is a callout post), slight road rage, language

Masterlist

Word Count: 2.4K

____

I never considered myself a lucky man. Life had proven time and time again that no matter how many four leaf clovers I set out to search for, how many pennies on the ground faced heads up I stumbled across, luck was never on my side. I’ve learned to live with it, accepted my fate as the world’s smartest punching bag long before I was even in college.

But then I met her, and as cheesy as it sounds, I didn’t need luck that morning.

The second I woke up, the universe seemed to have it out for me specifically. I swung my legs over my bed, and in my half asleep daze stepped on my glasses, successfully breaking them. Unable to see on my short trip to the bathroom, I stubbed my toe… twice. Once I finally finished my morning routine more methodically, I walked out of my apartment only to bump into a stranger, sending the coffee she was holding all the both of us.

I had tried to apologize so many times, cutting my words short when they didn’t feel right. I had gotten through a series of “I’m, uh, oh, I, you,” before her smile interrupted my thought process, leaving me awestruck instead.

“That’s okay, but you owe me a coffee now.” She giggled, actually giggled, even with the scorching liquid causing her shirt to stick to her body. “Maybe… together?”

I didn’t hesitate to agree, taking her up on the offer that weekend and never looking back. Even when a loud crash, followed by a quiet, harsh ‘shit’ woke me up in a startle, there was no regret. Maybe just a little concern for my girlfriend who now that my eyes have adjusted to the darkness, can be seen holding her knee on the floor of our bedroom.

“Hey, I didn’t mean to wake you,” she whispered out, grabbing onto the dresser to stand straight again. Once she was on her feet, she came over to sit on the edge of our bed, immediately running her fingers through my hair. If I wasn’t so worried about her knee, I probably would’ve fell asleep again.

“Are you okay?” She giggled at my scratchy morning voice before nodding her head. It’s then I realized how the sun hasn’t even begun to rise, the room still pitchblack. “What are you doing up?”

“Getting ready to go to the city, sleepyhead,” she said as if it was the most obvious answer, but truthfully, it left me with more questions.

“At... 5 am?” I sat up, glancing at the alarm clock three times just to make sure I was reading it right. She may have always been a little strange, but usually at a reasonable hour.

At this, she stood up to continue getting ready for the very early morning. Now I notice why she fell, the piles of clothes leading to the closet had to have at least half of her outfits compiled together.

“Well, yeah. I want to get there before noon.” Even in my perplexed state, I rose from the bed and carefully tiptoed around haphazardly thrown clothes to reach her.

While wrapping my arms around her waist still hidden under my t-shirt, I questioned. “It’s right outside? You have 7 hours.”

She turned to look at me funny as if I wasn’t the one digging through clothes and waking up before dawn to walk literally 5 minutes to my desired location. My eyebrows must have subconsciously furrowed at one point, because she brought her hand up to stroke her thumb on my forehead. Immediately, I felt the tension melt, no longer caring to correct my confusion. She still did it anyway.

“Not DC, silly. New York!” I wish it were untrue, but my heart dropped at her words. She was leaving, going to a city I wasn’t familiar with beyond reading about, solving cases, and memorizing subway maps. Is this how she feels every time I board that jet?

“W-what? You’re just going to New York City?” I inwardly cringed at how desperate and sad I sounded, but I really didn’t want her to leave.

“Mhm,” she mumbled, turning back around to return digging in her closet.

“For how long?” Please change your mind. Please change your mind. Please change you-

Realizing that I was fully awake, she let out a boisterous laugh, allowing the way it bounced off our four little walls to return back to us. It was a sound most treasured. “I was hoping to get back around 9.”

“What?” I leaned back to look at her like she was absolutely preposterous. I mean, she was!

“Roadtrip!”

That’s how I found myself in the passenger seat of her car, no coffee in my hand because I wasn’t allowed until I have “a real cup of coffee.” Whatever the hell that means better happen soon, because as much as I loved watching the way she concentrates on the road in front of her, my eyes were starting to droop.

“It’s going to be another 4 hours. You can sleep, my love.” How she knew me so well, I will never be able to figure out, but I was out before we even made it across state borders.

That however, didn’t last very long. My girlfriend may be short and sweet, but behind the wheel? That’s a different story. The horn to her car is a very familiar sound when I’m jolted awake by a sudden stop.

“Really, asshole? Go!” She yelled, slamming her hand against the top of the steering wheel before looking over at me. “Hey, I’m so sorry I didn’t mean to wake you yet. I forgot how awful drivers are here.”

“Where is here exactly?” I questioned, sitting up from my slouched position to find cars practically on top of each other on a road not wide enough for two lanes.

“New Jersey. We’re 10 minutes away.” Wow, I didn’t realize I slept for that long, and I have to admit I’m a little surprised I wasn’t woken up sooner.

“How are we 10 minutes away? It’s at least another 30 to get to the tunnel.” Looking at our surroundings didn’t help me determine our exact location. To the left of us, there were dozens of graffiti murals on the side of what I assumed was another elevated highway. To the right, sidestreets with local businesses ranging from auto repair shops to fast food joints to gyms.

“Nuh uh, stop analyzing mister. You’ll know when we get there.” She waved a finger in my directions, putting a pin in my scrutinization. I pouted right back, successfully playing along to the theme of her scolding me like a 5 year old.

“I don’t like surprises you know.” It was the truth, but her contagious laughter that filled the car made me slightly less disinclined to stop asking questions.

“Oh I know, but trust me, you’ll like this one.” She went to go reach over to grab my hand from where it was resting in my lap, but stopped short and retracted in favor of slamming the horn. “Oh, come on!”

***

“So you drove to a train station... in New Jersey?” I asked while she was… attempting to park the car.

“Well, yeah. I’ve been taking this route since I was a little girl.” Once she finally figured out how to evenly space a two door convertible in a very spacious parking spot, she unbuckled her seatbelt, and was quick to grab her bag from the backseat. “Well, come on mister, we’re going to miss the train.”

To be quite honest, I have never been so lost in my life. I could probably pinpoint our exact location on a map if I wanted to, granted I was given any sort of information, but part of me didn’t want to. Scratch that, all of me didn’t want to, because my entire life has been planned out in front of me before, but right now, I get to be spontaneous with the most beautiful girl on the planet.

“Don’t let go of my hand,” she told me, lacing our fingers together and pulling me forward. “Don’t stop to look around, you will get pushed.”

We made it inside, and if I thought the DC transit system was bustling with people constantly, this place was so much worse. There were hallways left and right, all packed with people in a rush. It seems everybody had some place to be and zero time to get there.

“Upstairs.” We walked up two flights before reaching a platform, buying our tickets and making it just in time for a train to arrive. “I know they come every 8 minutes, but thank god we made this one,” she said as she sat down.

The cart we were in wasn’t too crowded, and once I finally found a map on the wall across from us, I saw that it was a direct ride to the World Trade Center.

“You said you took this train when you were little?”

“Yeah, I went to the city a lot as a kid. This was the easiest, and the cheapest way there.” A small smile played at her lips, obviously the product of some childhood memory. “I used to hop it.”

“Of course you did,” I laughed back with her, thinking about how an innocent looking child would be the first person to get away with sneaking onto the train.

***

“I said it before, I will say it again. Do not let go of my hand.” This time it was more stern, and if I were being honest, I would say that it got me the slightest bit nervous. She must have noticed, she always does, because she continued. “Don’t worry, it just gets congested and I don’t want to lose you.”

She was right about that, it indeed was very congested, but that was okay because she was holding my hand, and I would follow her just about anywhere if it meant she kept looking over her shoulder and smiling when she saw me. Once we made it across the way, and in front of heavy looking glass doors, she turned to me and started walking backwards.

“You okay? This is definitely not off to a great start.” She was wrong, it was off to a perfect start.

“Yeah, I’m okay, but you might want to watch where you’re going,” I said before her back hit the door.

“Please I can get here with my eyes closed.” And then we were outside, and all 5 of my senses were hit immediately. The sun was shining down on us, and before I could complain about not bringing my sunglasses, she handed them to me. My heart fluttered at the innocent act, taking the sunglasses with such gratitude even though she had already moved on to retrieve hers. “Do you smell that?” She asked.

“There are a lot of answers to that question,” I told her, not knowing if she was talking about the smell of the construction happening at the corner, the permanent garbage smell or something entirely different.

“The hotdogs, silly. Come on, there’s nothing like ‘em.” This time, I laced our fingers together, not because I was scared of losing her, I was, but I just really wanted to be closer to her. She didn’t mind, in fact, she let out a content hum and leaned her head on my arm as we walked to the stand.

“Can I get four hotdogs with sauerkraut and two grape sodas,” she asked the vendor, who politely nodded before moving on to prepare our food.

“You’re going to have a heart attack by 35,” I said as I nudged her with my shoulder. She gave me a small push back before answering.

“Is that a doctor’s diagnosis?” She asked as she took our now ready food into her hands, after paying the man before I even had time to blink. I just grabbed the two cans of soda and followed her where she was making a beeline for a park bench. “Watch out for skaters.”

“Yes, it is indeed a doctor's diagnosis.” I unwrapped one of the hotdogs before taking a bite. I closed my eyes and let out a content hum. “It may be a little worth it.”

“Exactly.” We sat there quietly, enjoying the warm weather and sounds of wheels against pavement. At one point, she rested her head against my shoulder, and I am convinced wherever she went would be Heaven.

***

“Are your eyes closed?” We found ourselves with both our hands interlocked, my eyes closed while she walked backwards. I gave an ‘mhm’ before she continued. “We’re here, just keep them closed, and…” her words trailed off. “Okay open.”

I opened my eyes to her holding her arms out in the middle of the largest bookstore I’ve ever seen. “Surprise!” My eyes were bouncing everywhere. It wasn’t too crowded, the large stairwell across the store catching my eye first. There were bookshelves tens of feet high, all loaded with different genres and authors. To the right of us, tiny knick knacks and pins and socks. It was beautiful.

“Wow,” I whispered out, still stuck in my place admiring our surroundings. She was beaming up at me, a hint of pride at her successfulness to drag me 6 hours away to the most beautiful place I’ve ever seen.

“The Strand has always been my favorite place in the city. Come on, let’s go explore.” She grabbed my hands again, pulling me deeper into the store towards a shelf labeled adult fiction.

***

Six books, three pairs of socks and a postcard later, we were back on the busy streets of New York, aimlessly walking and admiring the tall buildings and different attractions. Well she was, I was admiring the way she was looking around like it was her first time here. Maybe I should have been paying more attention to our surroundings, but no amount of skyscrapers or fountains could possibly ever match up to her level of beauty. 

“Have I ever told you how much I love you?” I asked randomly, startling her into jumping a tiny bit before giggling. She stopped us, turning to face me fully before reaching up to grab my face in her hands.

“Once or twice.” The kiss we shared on the New York streets were no different than the ones before, but this time, it felt like a silent promise. A passing between two lovers that no matter where we are, our love is the most beautiful thing there is. “I love you too, dork.”

___

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[andersonsbiceps]

My Works for SpecReqs

me: I wrote three works for SpecReqs last year, which was in fact too many. I will write fewer fanfictions this year because I am more busy and do not want to burn out

me@me:  you’re going to write four works this year. only half of them will be in the collection. good luck.

proserpine for @theharellan​: So, proserpine is my actual assignment, taken from the prompt (paraphrased) “bittersweet vibes for Shepard/Samara”. Which, of course, is my jam, so I was very excited to get this as my assignment.

proserpine is about the asari outlook on mortality, how they cope with their own deaths and the deaths of shorter lived species, especially the ones they love/are reproducing with. proserpine is about Samara, who hasn’t had a friend in centuries, trying to figure out what to do with herself when she isn’t lonely. proserpine is about Samara figuring out how to live when her life is more than a pile of grief and regret.

and, perhaps most importantly, proserpine is a single, gigantic excuse for me to make a thousand metaphors about spring, flowers, and blood blooming like crimson petals. I love writing Samara’s internal monologue, it gives me a great excuse to try my hand at being pretentious and poetic. 

(And yes, proserpine refers to Proserpina, the roman equivalent of Persephone, because titling this fic Persephone would be a little bit on the nose, even for me.)

erinye: man, it’s gotta be awkward to meet your mother’s new girlfriend when that girlfriend is literal centuries younger than you, helped your mom to kill your sister, and was involved in the one time your other sister and the people you’ve lived with for centuries all got turned into monsters and died. pour one out for Falere, whose problems are only beginning. it’s also an excuse for me to think about ace vibes wrt asari, and how that would work with ardat-yakshi.

this is lowkey a sequel to proserpine, if you would like to believe that that one has a happy ending. 

what do you MEAN nobody wrote f!shali for @keita52​: ok. look. ten people offered to write tali/female shepard for specreqs this year. zero tali/female shepard fics got written. there’s only one possible response to that, and the response is:

so, I wrote 3.5k of fic in two hours and posted it with zero regrets, as one does. 

by necessity (i.e. the player character is invented by the player and not the game), all the romances in Mass Effect are somewhat one-sided. you care about their problems, they can’t get involved in yours. I wanted to explore the other side of the Tali romance with this one - we all know what Tali gets from Shepard, what does Shepard get from Tali?

so, relatedly, Tali starts off being interested in you because you save her life and you look super cool doing it. I wanted to write something about the (extremely bumpy) transition between Tali being in love with the idealized hero Shepard she met and Tali being in love with the human being Shepard, who is a hero, but also has less emotional intelligence than a sea sponge and more issues than the entire Spider-Man comic series. 

and thus, this fic, in which Tali and Shepard, after an attempt at a relationship in ME2 which ends in tears for everyone, start to slowly figure each other out and get to a place where they might be able to for real have a functional love affair. good times.

and, finally, the one you’ve all been waiting for:

she broke your throne and she cut your hair (1/2) for @ferusaurelius​: the time-travel fix-it sequel to i looked over it and i ached, my Shepard/Saren Shepard-roleswaps-with-Anderson-and-canon-ensues AU that I wrote for SpecReqs last year. if you haven’t read that one, read it first, it’s great. but, you know, mind the tags. canonical character death ahead :)

after a lot of screeching in the comments and a lot of brainstorming with the lovely @ferusaurelius​, I figured I’d write the fix-it fic for my own fic that I had to come up with in my head so I wouldn’t chicken out of killing Saren in the ending.

this one is about two dysfunctional assholes with zero compunctions about murder trying to figure out how a “relationship” works. it’s about getting another chance at his life and trying to fix your mistakes and about the difficulty of figuring out what those mistakes were in the first place. it’s about hope in the face of impossible odds and having faith in the people you fight for. and most importantly, it’s about Saren realizing that possession by giant evil space squid was really only responsible for half of his interpersonal problems.  

and man, i’ve written like, five-to-eight fics with the same Shepard. maybe I should write some meta on her...

[andilovetowrite]

Tough Love (Part 2)

Peter Parker x Enemy!Reader

Summary: Peter Parker and I have always had a tense relationship, but there was always a line that you wouldn’t pass. What happens when one day you do, and there are horrible repercussions? Will you and Peter make up, or will it be an endgame for you?

Warnings: A bit of angst, and fighting, but a lot of fluff in the end.

Here is the request it is based on!

Here is my Masterlist as well, in case you wanna check out my fanfics :)

Word Count: 1.7k

“Are you really going to ignore me forever?”, you asked Peter, buckling up your seatbelt. It had been a week after your flight, and you two hadn’t said a word to each other. You had tried to apologize several times, but it was hard when Peter skipped school just to avoid you, and while training, he made sure to stay out of your radius.

So you didn’t really have a wide variety of ways to say sorry to him. There were no insults thrown at each other, no teasing and definitely no normal conversations. Even now, Peter just looked away, his jaw clenched shut at the question you asked. Sighing, you turned away, focusing on the floor rather than Nat’s questioning eyes. Everyone in the compound could see something had happened. Usually, your dad had to separate you two from biting each other’s heads off, with the rest of the team cheering either one on. But this week? It had been pitch silence at the compound.

You could pretend you didn’t care, but you did. A lot. When MJ had called you up after the fight, you had been a mess. And maybe, just maybe, it was because you wanted the conversation in the closet to go well. “Well” in a way that you finally told Peter you liked him, and hopefully, he reciprocated it. But the cards were definitely not in your favour, because the day ended with him storming out, and leaving a red-faced, teary-eyed mess behind.

“Okay team, here is how it’s going to go”, Tony said from the front of the jet, looking back at the 4 of us. “Nat and Steve, you two work on getting rid of all the guards inside the place, and I will patrol the outside. Once all the threats are taken out, Y/N and Peter can get in easily and retrieve the Hydra files. It should be easy enough-”

“No”, Peter muttered, looking up, his eyes dark. “I’ll stay with Steve. Nat can go with her”, he said, jerking his head towards you. You could feel your throat close up, as you took a deep breath, opting not to say anything. The entire jet went quiet, all the eyes on you. Not knowing what to say, you just nodded, not taking your eyes off the floor.

Instantly, Peter felt bad. He knew you were trying to make amends, but to what? Just so you could go back to fighting 24/7 every day? He didn’t want that, not in a billion years. So he just shut you down or ignored you anytime you spoke to him. It was better than getting his heart broken again anyway. But now looking at you, head down, biting your lip, he almost felt like reaching out to you, but the plane lurched forward, indicating you guys had landed.

“Alright team, let’s do this”, Tony said, looking hard at you. “And remember safety first. This isn’t a hard mission, so we can be in and out in 15 minutes”

At least that’s what he thought. When Steve and Peter went out to get rid of the soldiers, they were immediately outnumbered, by a lot. Calling in Nat, the four of them kept fighting, giving you a straight passageway to the secret room.

“Y/N, you alright sweetie?”, Tony asked, grunting as he got hit again. You said yes, ducking away from a guy’s view, pushing him out of a window with your powers.

“Yeah, no one is here”, you said, pushing your way into the room, the files just lying there on the table. “But it seems too easy-”, you began, but the minute you touched the paper, the room exploded.

Bright, hot heat clouded your vision as you were thrown back, your suit feeling like it was on fire. Trying to move away, the last thing you could remember was Peter’s voice in your ear, crying out as your eyes closed, giving in to the sticky darkness that swallowed you.

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

“Y/Nnnnn”, you heard Tony’s voice call out to you, “c’mon, get up”. You could feel your eyes start to flicker open as a sharp pressure was applied to your head.

“Ugh”, you groaned, trying to dull the pounding ache in your head. Pushing your hands up, you couldn’t help but wince, a burning pinch travelling up your arm.

“Woah woah woah, relax little Stark”, Steve said, pushing you softly back down, “you have heavily burnt your hands. I would refrain from even lifting them up”

“Wha-”, you asked, looking at your dad. Tony sighed, telling Steve to go outside the room, as he came to stand next to you. You looked at him, still confused about what happened.

“Yo-you went to the main circuit and apparently, they anticipated it. Well...they anticipated Peter to be there instead of you. Some type of fiery air was released around you, which, based on Bruce’s experiment, showed that it would literally burn Peter from inside his suit.”, Tony stopped for a second, looking outside the door, “Um, since you weren’t wearing a suit, it didn’t have too much of a boiling effect, but it did cause some burns and severe blackouts-”

“How long was I out?”, you asked quietly, looking down at your arms, seeing the layers and layers of bandaging on them.

“About 2 days”, he said, looking at you closer. “Peter’s been out there the entire time, waiting for you to wake up” Tony chuckled, resting his hand on your shoulder. “I don’t know how many times I’ve told him to go home, but he just wouldn’t listen to me-”

“Where is he now?”, you asked, surprised he had stayed behind to see you. After your fight, you were so sure that the chances of making up(making out) with Peter were close to zero.

“He’s outsid-”

“Mr Stark, is she awake?”, a drowsy voice called out, as a disheveled Peter came inside the room, his eyes catching onto yours. “H-hey Y/N”, he mumbled, eyes wide as they scanned your body.

“So I’ll leave it to you then”, Tony said, backing away, but not before whispering something in Peter’s ear that made his entire face go pink. “I’ll be back in an hour, alright? Gotta go pick up Morgan from school” He waved you off, but you were too busy staring at Peter. Who, by the way, looked like a mess. His hair was sticking out in all places, his eyes were bloodshot, and clothes rumpled.

Yet, he still looked like your Peter. Hesitantly, he walked over, almost as if he was too scared to even come near you, but the moment he was close enough to hear you, you blurted out the first thing that came to mind.

“I’m so sorry”, you whispered. Peter’s eyebrows shot up in surprise.

“Why are you sorry? I’m the one who acted like a total dick!”, Peter exclaimed, and it was like a dam broke inside him, “y-you could’ve died Y/N! Why did I-”

“Peter, I’m fine, okay?”, you said, wanting badly to put your hand on his shoulder, but you couldn’t even do that. “And I’m sorry for what I said to you last week- i-it wasn’t right, and I didn’t even mean it-”

Suddenly, you were cut off, because Peter’s lips were on yours, kissing you as if his life depended on it. You froze for a second, but as he began to pull away, you surged forward, kissing him back.

You could’ve stayed that way forever, in the dim light of the hospital room, kissing your enemy(crush), but you both needed oxygen to live. Pulling back slightly, you kept your forehead on Peter’s, looking into his brown eyes, as his looked into yours.

“I-I needed to do that”, Peter whispered, and you understood. “With you almost dying, I couldn’t just-”

“I know”, you said back, smiling at him slightly.

“I’m in love with you Y/N”, Peter confessed, glancing briefly at you, but blushing down in embarrassment. Not responding for a couple seconds, he took it the wrong way, as he backed up, eyes starting to brim up with tears.

You were so shocked, you didn’t even realize that he was almost out of the room. Tyring to speak as loud as possible, you piped up, “If you leave now, you aren’t gonna be here to hear my declaration of love Pete”

Peter stopped, his hand on the doornob. “What?”

You smiled, staring at the familiar mop of curls. “Yeah, and if I start speaking as you go out, then Cap might think it’s for him, and that’s an awkward conversation waiting to happen”

“Wha- declaration of what?”, Peter asked, baffled.

Grinning at the dopey smile of his, you chuckled. “I like you too Peter. Hell, I love you”

Peter walked closer, “Wait, you aren’t just saying that out of pity right?”

You rolled your eyes, trying to sit up, “When have I ever done something out of pity Parker?”

“Never”, Peter replied, a smile taking over his features. He came and sat next to you, and as suddenly as he kissed you earlier, he did so again, this time whispering so close to your mouth, and so quietly, you weren’t sure if you even heard him. “We were literally at each other’s throats a week ago, and now-”

“We’re making out”, you said, smirking, “but do you want to change that? I’m sure I can find someone as equally crazy as you to make out with”

Peter shook his head, laughing. “Not at all...plus, as tough as it is loving you”, he said, giving you a chaste peck, “it’s well worth it”

“Mhm, tough love”, you agreed, smiling at your brown haired boy.

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

Wow! Loved writing this, and even though it took a long time to update, I hope you enjoyed this, and I can't wait to write my next one :)

Ps. If you have the time, check out Season 2 of Never Have I Ever, on Netflix. It's awsome!

Taglist: @idkatee @eternalscribblesforthesoul @loudbluepancake @poisondevotion @scram1326 @t-hollanderr @305weasley @starknik22 @marvelfansworld @lou-la-lou @lomlparker @marvelfansworld @wowitsel @vanteguccir @fullcheesecakeengineer @ladykxxx08 @allegras-sunflower @ifyouknewhowmiserylovedme @a–1–1–3 @hayhays

[borisbubbles]

Eurovision 2022 (#38)

38. AZERBAIJAN Nadir Rustamli - “Fade to black” 16th place

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Decade rank:75/79 [Above Roxen, below Undisclosed]

I’m GNOOOOOME, GNOOOOME!

Ugh, I just DON’T want to write about this fucking male Dilara! please read this chat I had two hours before I FINALLY sat myself down to write this entry: 

There, you have it! The extent of my willingness to talk about this year’s Azerbaijani entry. It’s EXHAUSTING.

André is very charitable though. Nadir is not a Gjon. Nadir is a Freddy. An “attractive” (but not really) athletic guy with a strange, gruff voice and HORRIBLE enunciation (like seriously, the words I can make out are *the wrong English* words) dressed in roughspun, barefoot, screaming notes in an annoying, an fully masturbatory way. Between Freddy, Nadir and this Mello’s Lundvik, is there a catalogue where you can order these? Can I get one at IKEA?!

Method Singing. +1SIN ::CinemaSins sin counter ping::

Was there ever a bigger case of blue balls when Azerbaijan deliberately *delayed* the reveal of their song by a full week and then hit us with ::pages through notes:: “Fade to black”? Apt name btw. “Snap” isn’t amazing or anything, but it at least has a memorable melody. I don’t think I could remember any chord from “F2B” other than “I’m Gnome” assuming I could have been bothered to try and memorize this inherently dull! 

Even if we were to take the staging into account, ”Fade to Black” has an astounding lack of originality. Yeah, it looked “artistic” perhaps to those not familiar with art? (which: Konstrakta is a Eurovision alum and not an NF loser in our universe, so how are you not?). Yeah sure “a classy act” but HAVE YOU HEARD THE SONG?! (god the way this sentence is applicable for at least *four other entries* I have to rank after this, THIS IS WHY THEY ALL RANK LOW *AND* IN RED Y’ALL!! THIS IS EXACTLY WHY I DISLIKED 2022!!)

Azer just literally went to Sweden to buy themselves yet another generic trash song with HORRIBLE lyrics and expected to be rewarded for it. Again!

What makes this worse though, is that they were rewarded wtf?! I don’t fucking understand it, what sort of a person sees the Eurovision 2022 Grand Final, reaches “Fade to Black” (mind you, having already witnessed Chanel and Maro by this point) and thinks “YES! That one! THAT’s The One!! That’s the winner of Eurovision” (and continues to think so even after seeing Cornelia and Sam). Apparently, several “professional” juries. At least with Spain you can make the excuse of them being strategic since they had a leg in the race for second, but what excuse do the others have? Were they experimenting with artificial intelligence? Or did they simply not get caught cheating?

This neatly brings me to the last two points, which are what truly pushes Nadir into the bottom 3 for me: Azerbaijan were, ONCE AGAIN, up to some dodgy shite, and had their jury cancelled. Yet they have the audacity to be indignant about it? (unless they want me to believe they DIDN’T cheat but were punished anyway because the EBU doesn’t trust their potentially recidivist arses, which is a narrative I can get behind tbh <3) Like seriously, why does Azerbaijan always get away with a stern warning and not actual action? Expel them, on the fucking spot.

Even worse, *because* a third of the Semi 2 juries were DQ’d, the EBU’s rigging algorithm took over the jury results, and this insipid calculation is what ultimately carried Azer into the finals despite receiving ZERO TELEVOTE POINTS from the audience?! I don’t know what should have advanced (um, that is to say, it should have been Ireland, but realistically probably Cyprus or NoMac), but whoever they robbed, that country’s delegation have grounds to sue.

In sum: "Congratulations" to Azerbaijan for making me hate an entry *this* insipid with *that* much passion. Your reward is a bottom 3 spot on the ranking :-)

The Ranking: 

38. AZERBAIJAN - Nadir Rustamli - “Fade to black” 39. ITALY: Mahmood & Blanco - “Brividi” 40. ISRAEL: Michael Ben David - “I.M”

[wevegottogetaway]

El Patrón

I’m so excited to finally be posting this piece. I’ve been working on it for the past few days and it’s been consuming my mind. If you like angst, smut, art student Harry, and great plot twists, this story is for you, so buckle up, cause you’ve got 13700 and then some waiting for you! And on that note, I don’t thing I have many words left in my brain... so, hope you enjoy xx

TW: smut, fool language

After her first day back to classes, Y/n is not surprised to see Harry Styles’ lanky frame standing behind the bar of Bottom’s Up. She hoped that he would bugger off to work some place else but alas, all her summer prayers were unanswered. For yet another semester, she would have to endure bartending by his sides, trying with all her might not to jab a corkscrew at his throat every time he opened his gob. Granted, she could have switched jobs herself, but the pay is too good to turn down and the bar sits literally right around the corner from her place; a match made in heaven if you ask her. Besides, she’s been mastering the art of tuning out the insufferable green-eyed prick for two years now, so what’s one more? Of course, knowing it is likely to be the last - having just kicked off the final year of her psychology major - makes the news easier to stomach. And with any luck, the fool did some sort of soul-searching over the break and came back a changed man.

"Well, well, well. Look who decided to grace us with her delightful presence again. Knew you couldn’t stand to live without me, y/l/n." Harry greets her with a smirk as he looks up from his phone. 

Well, some much for change, but luck has never been on y/n’s side anyway; she knew it was wishful thinking to entertain the idea of a pleasant or even tolerable Harry. "Shut it, Styles. I’m not in the mood for your bullshit," she quips back and goes straight to the employee’s locker room to dispose of her stuff and swap her top for one bearing the bar’s logo. Once done, she takes a brief look in the tattered mirror still hanging by the door to readjust her ponytail, before joining her co-worker behind the counter. The bar is rather quiet for now, clock having not chimes 6pm yet, but y/n expects the place to be soon crawling with students drinking the classes’ return off their mind. 

The next few minutes are spent in unexpected peaceful silence, y/n prepping for the upcoming rush while Harry idly sits by, not lifting a single finger to help her out. Admittedly, he’s completed all his pre-shift duties during the last hour, but y/n doesn’t think it warrants the smug look painted on his face as he watches her battle a jar of olives with an old opener and  a concentrated frown. So peaceful silence was a bit of a stretch, maybe.

Then to make matters worse he decides to taunt her, "I see you’ve grown zero muscle strength over the break. Too busy vegetating on the beach?" 

The surge of anger triggered by the provocation is enough impetus for her to crack the can open, but it doesn’t stop her from turning to face him, "I see you’ve grown zero neuron in that thick head of yours. Too busy making people miserable instead?" she counters with flaring nostrils and a look of disdain hardening her features.

"Ah, still got a feisty mouth on you. ‘Was worried you might turn soft on us." Harry sasses back, but y/n doesn’t bother telling him off this time. No matter how strong her comeback, he’ll just brush it off with that smile of his that irritates her to no end. That’s the thing with Harry, the bastard has the thickest skin of all, he’s downright unattainable. And believe it or not, bad-mouthing doesn’t come naturally to y/n, he just seems to draw it out of her, perhaps as the trigger of some kind of survival instinct. Time and time again she’s tried to come up with a quip that would leave him speechless, tail between his legs, but he always has a wittier reply to throw back at her. For so long they’ve been playing this debilitating game of ping pong and she has yet to claim a point to his countless wins. 

It’d been the case since their first meeting on that dreadful Friday two years ago. Y/n was about to embark on her second year at uni and decided to get a job so she could afford her own place instead of the dreary dorms she’d gotten used to. Bottom’s Up had seemed to be the perfect choice, a 2 minutes walk from the sweet little apartment she’d just visited a few days prior. She’d been excited for her first shift that night, air still warm from the Indian summer sun drawing a plethora of eager students to come enjoy their last day of freedom. Her happy jitters had quickly dissolved once she’d made her way in the staff-only area located behind the bar though. There, she’d walked in on a very frustrated Harry vociferating at a lost-looking colleague, "how many times do you have to fuck up before doing your bloody job, Steve? Stop sitting on your lazy ass, or I swear I’ll-" 

She’d come to this Steve guy’s defense then, furious at the tall curly hair jerk for bullying his way around, "stop it, you asshole. You can’t talk to people like trash, who do you think you are?" Granted, she didn’t know it at the time, but the lost look on Steve's face was in fact pretty standard for the amount of weed in his system; nor did she know that the lad could actually win the Olympics of lazy asses hands down, should such a discipline be appended. It was too late to call off the hostilities though. War had been declared, and aside maybe from that one time he had graciously accepted to cover for her when she’d had a trip to Brighton planned for one of her classes, no truce had ever been reached. Besides, she’s sure it was more so because he was low on cash rather than to fulfill the hidden desire to help her out for once in his life.

Now, as she finishes wiping her work surface with a wet cloth, y/n wishes more than ever to be teleported in a parallel universe where she doesn’t have to work with the bane of her existence, much less see his annoyingly handsome face four times a week. (Also, exams would only be optional in this alternate reality of hers, but that’s another fantasy for another day.) Mainly, she’s just glad she doesn’t see him around campus ever, the art building standing all the way across from the psychology department. At least she’s Harry-free the moment she steps out of the bar; she’d probably have a nervous breakdown if she had to put up with his antics outside of work.

                                                       ***

A month in the new semester, the novelty of it all has finally worn off to make way for routines to settle in. Y/n’s weeks now consist in a well-practiced cycle of sleep, study, eat, work and occasionally go out with her best friend Mia. Her shifts at Bottom’s Up still prove to be challenging because of the company she’s forced to keep but things seem to have calmed down at the bar too. Students are now less inclined to party the week away, mainly indulging during the second half of the week, but more importantly, Harry appears to be less of a smug bastard and more of a sulky sod. For some reason, the lad has been stuck in a sullen mood, constant frown wrinkling his forehead. He has reverted to distant one-word answers as though he is saving a dictionary worth of words for whatever conundrum is going on in his brain. Y/n doesn’t mind though, and almost welcomes the transition if it means less digs taken at her expense.

Now y/n finds herself on her way to the campus library for a much needed paper-writing cramming session (the assignment is due the following day and she barely has two thirds of the work completed). After a quick stop by the coffee shop down the block, she finally strides in the lobby of the library, ready to dive nose first into the riveting matters of cognitive psychology. She’s already so focused mulling over concepts’ definition in her mind, that it takes her a minute to realize something is going on.

It’s nothing major really, no big fire rushing around the premises or fist-fight breaking the crowd into a frenzy. No, just everyone seemingly hushing and gasping, bewildered expressions etched upon their faces as they keep pointing towards the nearby study room. Truthfully, y/n might have been completely oblivious to it, it she weren’t a psychology major; but reading people’s feelings and interactions is kind of her thing, so she does notice the bubbly energy infiltrating the usually quiet space. What could possibly have them so intrigued, she wonders as more students come out of the room with the same looks of wonder.

Her confusion is finally quelled when she steps into the study room in question and her eyes fall on what has everyone so engaged. On the wall to her right, between two sets of shelves brimming with decades-old books, hangs a life size canvas of audacious shapes and bold colors. Not one seems to have been left out, the painting seemingly transporting the viewer in a psychedelic albeit appealing trance. It’s full of contrasts, an embodiment of serenity and boldness at the same time, and y/n can’t stop ogling the masterpiece for the life of her. The amount of passion is so obviously overwhelming, yet she can feel all of the artist’s emotions underneath each of the brushstrokes.  

After another minute of wondrous observation, her thoughts are interrupted by a foreign voice. "El Patrón? I wonder who that could be," the stranger wonders aloud, and her eyes immediately drift off to the bottom right of the painting to catch the small but unmistakable signature: black cursive letter spelling the two words withholding the real artist’s identity. The mystery only adds up to the appeal of the work and y/n already feels a bubbling feeling in the pit of her stomach at the idea of ever finding out what beautiful soul is responsible for such mind-bending work. She hopes this won’t be last she sees of it. 

                                                       ***

It’s Friday night and unfortunately for y/n, she’s stuck at work with her least favorite person in the world. It’s all the more unfortunate that Harry seems to be back to his usual annoying self, his thoughts finally free from whatever trouble had plagued them, and eager to fall back into nuisance mode. Less unfortunate for y/n and much to Harry’s discontent, Mia decided to stop by and keep her company. Though she feels slightly sorry for her having the act as her buffer for the night, y/n figures she’s more than making up for it with every free cocktail she keeps sliding towards her friend. Their conversation is scattered at best since patrons keep interrupting them for a fresh pint of ale, but as the night slowly dies down they manage to talk longer than 20 seconds.

The manager of the bar has long clocked off and gone home, as per usual on Friday nights, leaving both her and Harry the pleasure to indulge in a few drinks of their own. They don’t do it every week and always keep it low-key of course; Mia’s tonight presence mostly accounting for y/n’s partaking while Harry just likes a nice glass of tequila when the week-end comes around and there’s nobody to tell him off about it. One thing they never do though, is drink together, like two friends celebrating yet another week they survived at uni. Come to think of it, the only thing they do share is a job position and their never-ending bickering. Cheers to that, y/n takes another sip of her gin martini in sarcasm. 

She’s brought back to reality by Mia as the tipsy brunette lets out a loud gasp before she inquires in a slightly high-pitched voice, "y/n! totally forgot to tell you, went by the library today and you’ll never guess what was there!" 

"Oh my god, you saw the painting too, didn’t you" y/n answers, excited at the idea of discussing the whole thing with her best friend. Truth be told, the majestic work of art hasn’t left her mind since she’d first seen it a few days before. 

"Yes" Mia squeals in confirmation, "I mean, it’s kinda impossible to miss. I wonder how they got it there without anyone seeing."

Y/n has wondered the same thing and she came to one conclusion, "they probably sneaked in last Sunday after the library closed, it’s the only time the building is empty," Mia humming in agreement. The campus library is opened 24/7 all days except on Sundays, so realistically speaking it is the only window of time that would allow for such an experiment. Whether said experiment required an actual break-in or was conducted in full legality remains a mystery but that is just bygones in y/n’s eyes. She’s much to mesmerized by the work to give a damn about how it got there in the first place. 

"Oi y/l/n! What are you two fawning over this time" Harry chirps in the conversation, uninvited as always, and y/n hates how condescending he just sounded.

"Not that you could ever understand something with substance, if your lack thereof is any indication, but it’s none of your damn business," y/n spats out dismissively but Mia’s Margarita-induced brain seems to have forgotten all about their concerted hatred for piss-taking bartenders.

"Harry, you’re an art major aren’t you? D’you know who’s behind that beautiful painting at the library?" 

Y/n tilts her head back in a sigh at her friend’s behavior before turning to watch the puzzled look on Harry’s face. He seems to silently gauge the both of them; for what, y/n doesn’t know, and then his whole expression switched to a blasé look. He shrugs in disinterest, "who cares? ’s just one more Banksy wannabe who’s trying at it too hard ‘f you ask me." 

Y/n takes it as a personal offense, her admiration for the painting outweighing any instinct she has of avoiding the brazen man taking a sip of his tequila on rocks across from her, "of course you’d say something like that. You’re just jealous you’ll never compete with his talent."

Harry raises a brow at her accusation, "and how would you know since you’ve never seen any of my work?" 

It’s a valid point, but not enough to rebut her. "Doesn’t take a genius to know a shallow mind like yours could never create something as deep and transcending. That would require actual emotions from you Harry and we both know the only emotion you’re capable of spreading is irritation." 

For once she’s confident she’s gonna have the last word, but in true Harry fashion he just gives her a bored look as if to say ‘is that all?’ towel thrown over his shoulder, "right, and here I thought talking to people like trash was a bad thing. You should really take a page out of your own book, y/n, wouldn’t want anyone to think you’re as big of a jerk as I am." Then he turns back to face the room full of customers, and tends to one disheveled looking guy slurring out an order. 

Y/n barely registers the friendly "alright Joe, but ’s the last one," Harry rasps out to the guy, her ears are still ringing from the last words he’d said to her. More specifically, the little truth they held despite how much he deserved the backlash, and y/n absolutely loathes the way her throat seems to be closing in on itself. She’s afraid she’s turning like him, bitter words at the ready and always trying to outdo his own taunting spiels. Before anxiety can settle in her bones though, she swallows back the knot tightening in her airways and goes back to serving customers and conversing with her friend.

                                                        ***

The next time it happens, she expects it even less. A couple weeks have passed since her gruesome interaction with Harry at the bar, and along with her doubts, all thoughts about art have seemed to vanish from her busy mind. She’s had a few tests occupying all her free time and now that they’ve been done and over with, all she can think about is calling Mia up to plan their next night out; she needs a few drinks that she didn’t make for once. 

She’s about to take her phone out of her pocket to send her best friend a text, when she enters the lecture hall of her Monday experimental method and research design class. The déjà-vu feeling that creeps up her spine stops her from completing the action, and y/n frowns at how her fellow students seem to be all entranced in deep conversation, exchanging baffled looks with one another. Even the sleeping kid that sits at the back seems to be more alert than during their last fire evacuation procedure test. 

It’s then y/n turns around to see what is hanging at the front of the room, covering the large board. This time, the colors were carefully handpicked by the artists, flashes of pink and yellow dancing along to a frenzied rhythm of salsa as their union creates powerful jets of oranges across the canvas. It vaguely reminds her of the pendant she wears on a daily basis, rose gold laurels wrapped around a delicate sunflower, an orange topaz incrusted in its center. The painting is of abstract nature much like the last one, but the movements of the brush still bring her mind back to the jewel presently nestled between her collarbones. How odd.

The piece is slightly smaller than the last but no less impressive, catching the attention of even the least artistic eye. The sensibility of the artist is so distinct, intentions clearer and more in touch than most people with their own. For a second, y/n thinks she’s glad the pieces have only been ones of unadulterated happiness and colorful bliss so far, because god knows how heart-wrenching the outcome would be if all this uncorrupted honesty was used to fill canvas with pain.

As the professor enters the room, everybody settles back on their seat, and wait for the chap’s reaction. "Well, that sure is something. It seems we have a bit of a mystery painter on our hands, don’t we; and a talented one at that," y/n’s professor smiles at the class as he pulls a computer out of his satchel and places it at top of the front desk. His words make her look back at the artwork, this time settling on the small signature reading El Patrón on its corner. And it’s all it takes for Y/n’s obsession with the anonymous artist to be back in full force.

                                                       ***

That night she can’t stop raving about the painting as she starts closing the bar after a long and tiresome shift. She’s got a shoulder pressing her phone to her ear, Mia on the line, while she absentmindedly sweeps the floor. Normally the exertion of the job would have her stifling yawns and her bones aching but tonight her voice is perky as ever as she recollects the pinnacle of her day, "you shoulda been there Mia, it was gorgeous. And same as last time, like you’d be minding your business, doing your thing and then boom, it’s there. Damn, this guy is a genius."

As she comes back around the counter, Harry makes sure she notices the roll of his eyes. He’s been wiping and tidying the bar space after making sure everything is stocked up for the next day, all the while listening to her drone about El Patrón and his stroke of genius, praise after praise falling from her lips. She completely brushes off the patronizing gesture and that’s perhaps what irritates him the most. She’s barely acknowledging him or his stunts with all her attention placed on the mystery painter and well, Harry quite likes riling her up. Doesn’t do it out of spite, but merely because he likes the way it ignites a fire in her that he’s seldom seen in people. But now, all her fire is directed elsewhere and he doesn’t know what to think of it.

                                                         ***

Over the next month, the rumors around El Patrón spread like wildfire as more and more of his works are found scattered around campus. Much to y/n’s delight, she always seems to fall upon them as though they’ve been placed specifically on her path. It didn’t start as obvious though; the first following pieces hung in common areas around campus such as the lunch hall or the student center but as time went by they tended to follow her whereabouts somehow. Y/n knows she’s probably fabulating but when she’d stumble across two absolutely stunning pieces in the lobby of her gym and at the entrance of the psychology building, she couldn’t help but feel deeply attached to them. And the possibility that this mystery artist might have the same attachment to her, only fuels her obsession further, sending her reeling with all but one nerve-wracking question: who is this guy?

And it’s not like she’s the only one pondering over their identity either. Hell, the genius has literally everyone on campus under their spell, trying to uncover the enigma of the year. Everyone seems to be determined to find clues, easter eggs hidden within the paintings that could lead them closer to the truth. El Patrón has effectively turned the whole uni into a large-scale game of Cluedo, people speculating left and right and swapping theories about who it can or cannot be, what year they are probably in, or whether they have an accomplice. Nobody has ever executed such a tour de force in the history of campus, and it has everyone one edge, y/n included, desperate to be in the loop.

The fact that each painting is more beautiful than the last and always seems to connect with her in personal ways doesn’t help her daydreaming either. Take the one she found at the gym for example, for a few second she’d sworn she was looking at a familiar piece of the English South Coast, dark hues of blue fighting dots of white, reminiscent of the way foam always seems to top even the most raging waves as they crash along shores. She’d only had to close her eyes to feel the wind blowing her hair in a thousand directions and the sand engulfing her feet, making its way between her toes and every crevice of her skin. She was still in the middle of her gym when she reopened them though, her sport bag straddling her shoulder as she kept gaping at the painting in adoration.

Her suspicious keeps nagging at her head, the desire to unveil the identity of her beloved artist getting stronger by the day. The feeling is almost unbearable when she spots yet another work of his across from Bottom’s Up. The coincidences keep piling up and the more she mulls it over, the more she’s convinced this mystery guy is talking to her. Damn, is it possible to have a crush on someone because of their work? After months of this cryptic scavenger hunt, she’d dying to know if all her theories are right and the fact that she has no way to find out, is positively killer her.

That’s why when she stumbles across a flyer for a midterm exhibition gala hosted by the art department as she waits in line at her favorite coffee shop, she doesn’t think twice before jotting down all the info. In a week time, most of the uni’s art students would be gathered up in one place to present their term’s work. The chances are too high for y/n to pass up the opportunity, her guts telling her he’ll be there. It makes sense doesn’t it? Surely, this El Patrón ought to be an art student if not a teacher. How else would they have access to all the campus amenities most of the paintings were found in? 

As she goes to pick up her coffee from the counter, y/n walks with a newfound spring in her steps; she really can’t wait for this gala to happen.

                                                       ***

Y/n stands at the entrance of the art building, a black floor-length long-sleeves open-back dress hugging her curves in all the right places. Her heart speeds up at the nervous jitters crawling underneath her skin, and the million question swarming her frantic mind. What if he actually doesn’t know her and doesn’t give a damn about her thoughts on his work? What if it’s actually a woman and she’s been hiding a man’s pen-name to consolidate her deceit? Is she about to make the biggest fool out of herself by coming to this exhibition? She doesn’t know anyone here, nor has she ever been to this kind of event before but she’s decided this guessing game has run its course. Maybe this all thing has nothing to do with her and that’s okay. All she really wants is to have a chance to tell this exquisite mind how remarkable their work is; the rest be damned.

Y/n slowly makes her way inside, and after a quick stop at the coat room to dispose of the unnecessary garment, she is finally greeted by a room full of dressed-up people roaming  and chatting around, champagne flutes in hands. How cliche, she thinks with humor, before picking up a glass of the bubbly beverage. It’ll help sooth the nerves, she reasons as she starts walking around the place to observe each of the displays. Despite not having had a glimpse of her number-one painter yet, she finds herself having a good time. Most of the work offered to her is engaging in one way or another; some pieces quite provocative is their depiction, others straight out pushing the limits of 2D, with structures coming out of the canvas as though they were about to grip at the viewer. 

Turning at a corner, she comes across his art before she sees him, having almost forgotten art was supposedly his thing too, and she realizes she actually knew someone here apart from the mysterious painter. She takes a brief look at his tall frame, the baby blue suit over his crisp white shirt fitting him perfectly. A black tie is completing the look, and it makes y/n waver for a second. She’s never seen him dressed in anything other than jeans and the bar’s t-shirt every employee is supposed to wear on call. Granted, even that he can make work better than anyone else she can think of, but that suit is something else altogether. 

Her eyes shifts back to his work, not wanting to waste too much time on his appearance; she is here on a mission after all. She can’t deny his painting is good as much as she wants too. It’s made of a perfectly executed optic illusion that has her pause for longer than she intended to. The colors are picked wisely only adding to the entrancing design, tempting the viewer to reach out to the painting to convince themselves that this is fact a pretty subterfuge and no reality; the frontier between both worlds much too hard to distinguish. Just like for the rest of the exhibition, a single plaque hangs underneath the canvas, introducing the title of the piece above the name of its artist: Fine Line by Harry Styles. Damn, the bastard had to be talented…

"Is it as depthless as you thought it would be?" A hoarse voice interrupts her inner thoughts. She knows it’s his at the first word and already she regrets ever thinking positive things about him.

"Funny, I would have shared a compliment but you just had to go and open your stupid mouth," she bites back as she fully turns around to face him. She can feel is eyes shamelessly scanning her body, sending her nerves on overdrive. She wants this exchange to be as curt as possible, she’s got important matters to tend to.

"Here for you mysterious bloke, I presume?" he inquires in a taunting voice.

"What’s it to you, anyway?" y/n dodges the question with another, hoping it’ll steer the conversation toward its end.

She’s answered by rosy pouting lips, a hand on his heart in faux vexation, "ouch, was just hopin’ you’d come to see me, and now you’ve just crushed my dreams, love."

The pet-name is not lost on her and Y/n has had enough. In own gulp she downs the rest of her champagne and forces the glass to his chest for him to hold as she makes her way past him, "just leave me alone and go be a pain in someone else’s ass, Harry." She doesn’t wait to see if he’s following her as she marches across the room in long and purposeful strides. 

Something in the corner of her eyes catches her attention right then. Halting abruptly, almost making someone walk right into her, she turns her head to the side and that’s when she finally sees it. A whole part of the wall has been dedicated to his work, a shrine of his most outstanding pieces randomly hung against the white surface. Y/n recognizes each and every one of them, but then her eyes take in the extra work added for the exhibition: next to each of the pieces are displayed a bunch of photos capturing the students’ expressions as they first discovered the paintings. Dozens of faces lighting up in amazement, widening eyes and finger pointing at the unexpected intrusions; some show confusion and puzzlement while others simply behold laughter and animated conversation.

In the center of the wall, a video is projected. It’s a compilation of those same moments but this time captured on tape. The sound was removed, but as y/n takes in the faces of her fellow students she can almost hear the sound of their laughters; she’d been there for most of it after all. She thinks the idea is amazing, El Patrón has managed to make the viewer a permanent part of the art. The paintings are marvelous of course, full of emotions and passion, but the mysterious artist has gone one step further by also displaying how those emotions had reflected back on the audience. It is an ode to art, to the power of sharing, and proves art is limitless; not owned by museums, not bound between walls and certainly not restricted for trained-eyes only. Because art isn’t all about beauty, it speaks for the need for sharing that human have but often forget, and this is a perfect reminder of it.

The next tape playing has her eyes doubling over the video, a small gasp escaping her lips as she takes in her own figure. It was taken the day she found the painting at the gym and unlike all the other videos she’s alone. No group of students by her side elbowing her in disbelief, or sharing a puzzle look with her. Just her doe eyes gleaming at the painting, lips slightly parted in pure wonder, as she studies every inch of the canvas. And the feeling that this might mean just as much to him as it does to her comes back crashing on her. She’s not paranoid; this artist his using her as some kind of inspiration, she’s sure of it. Random cannot be this accurate, it would defy any laws of statistics. 

After the slideshow finally moves on to the next video, y/n looks around in the hopes of finding the man that has wormed his way into her heart. She’s imagined it a thousand times over during the past week. A young man would be discretely standing on the side, watching the evening pan out and waiting for her to find his work. Then they would make eye contact and he’d make his way over to greet her and share more of his beautiful mind with her. That’s the happily ever after she’s hoped for since that first painting in the library, but alas everyone around her seems to be engrossed in conversation about this and that. 

"I thought he would be there too," the unexpected voice makes her jump. She recognizes the student from that first day, she’d also be intrigued by the mysterious man.

"I know, all of his work is here, he has to somewhere around," y/n tries to convince herself. She hasn’t given up yet, she won’t let herself unless she goes home tonight empty-handed. Only after that will she stop searching, she promises herself. If he doesn’t show up tonight, then that’s because he doesn’t want to be found.

The girl next to her has the same disappointed tone when she explains, "you’d think so, but I’ve been asking everyone around and nobody has a clue still."

Before y/n can come up with her own rationalizations, someone starts speaking in a microphone, asking for everyone’s attention. It’s a man in his early fifties making a speech about the whole reason behind the exhibition so y/n pegs him as the head of the art department. "Thank you all for coming tonight, it is always a pleasure to see so many of you supporting our young talents. As you may know, tonight’s exhibition signs off our students’ final work for the semester, and will also see one of them receive a one-time collaboration with a renown art gallery in the city. Now, before the judges finish deliberating, let me tell you a bit about the topic of this exhibition which, by the way, serves as the main criteria for this contest. Our artists were asked to work around audience engagement and crowd reaction. The task was to produce art that would prompt an active response from the viewer and go beyond a passive experience. I hope this info helps this event take all its sense, I’ll let you all meander for a couple more minutes before we announce the winner. Thank you for your presence." 

Since she has a couple more of minutes, y/n decides to take advantage of the fresh insight she was just given about the artwork and goes around the exhibition one more time. The whole thing does take on a new meaning, now that she knows what was going one in the students’ mind as they first got their assignment. But what has her in awe really, is El Patrón’s coup de maître in all of this, because unlike any other applicant here tonight, he’s had the strongest reactions from the public for months now and had even documented it. So really, in a way he’s already won, no bias to blame. The amount of work and planning behind such a tour de force surely has exceeded everyone’s expectations and secured the number-one position for the still-to-be-revealed artist. In the pocket, as they say.

"Alright everyone, without further ado we are going to announce the lucky talent selected by the judges tonight," the head of department speaks up again. "On behalf of the whole department, I would like to salute each and every one of the students that presented their work tonight. Skills are certainly not scarce among you all, and as always it gives me great pleasure to see you all grow into yourselves alongside your craft. As you know, there can only be one of you coming up to this stage tonight and I must say, this semester has proved to be full of surprises. Never in my 26 years working here have I ever seen something of the sort, so ladies, gentleman, I have no idea who is about to join me now, but please give a warm round of applause for El Patrón!" 

The room explodes in loud cheers as people clap their hands in honor of the mysterious artist. Y/n probably the loudest amongst them all, is still craning her neck in every possible directions trying to catch sight of anyone moving towards the stage. The standing ovation quickly fades into silence as everyone realizes nobody is coming to claim their prize. The usual hushing following any of El Patrón’s stunts is once again spreading across the room to match people’s incredulity at the situation. It was one thing to keep their identity a secret, as it was clearly a crucial condition for the plan to work, but now that it is all over and done, prize ready for the taking, it doesn’t make much sense.

"Mister El Patrón? I think you more than deserve to drop your mask and receive your prize," the host reiterates in hopes that the much awaited artist comes out of his lair, but he’s met with the same result. Perhaps he’s not here after all, or perhaps y/n was right to think he might not want to be found, but regardless a strong feeling of disappointment takes over a body. He won’t be coming, she knows. No matter how many times the host calls for him, he won’t be coming. 

She lets out a long sign in frustration then, she really thought tonight was the tonight. But now that the evening is coming to its end, tears pearl at the corner of her eyes and she just wants to go home and forget all about El Patrón. Aren’t artists supposed to be dark and twisted anyway? Maybe she just dodges a bullet, she tries to make herself feel better, but no amount of sarcasm can save her from the painful pinch at her heart. As she comes to term with the fact she won’t get any more answers by staying (and possible ever), she decides it’s her cue to go. 

On her way to the exit, her eyes fall upon Harry’s slightly hunched figure. He seems deep in his thoughts, eyes fixed towards the floor though he’s not looking at anything in particular. For some unknown reason, y/n is not irked by his presence like she usually is. He’s just lost a great career opportunity so his preoccupied disposition is understandable. Feeling as though she needs to end the night on a different note - whether positive is yet to be determined - she approaches him slowly as not to startle him. "Your painting is really good. I’m sorry you didn’t win, but you should still be proud," she softly tells him to cheer him up. At least, one of them might get to go home in higher spirits. 

He looks up at her then, curls bouncing on top of his head, as he aligns his two glistening emeralds to her own gems. He seems quite surprised to hear her voice, probably rightfully so since he can count on one hand (scratch that, one finger) the number of times she’s actively sought him out for conversation. She can tell he’s debating whether to say something or not, as they keep their eyes locked. It’s probably the longest and only civil exchange they’ve ever had, and somehow it manages to soothe some of her sorrows. 

Y/n likes this reflective side of him, she realizes. Not that she wishes him any torments (at least not tonight) but his quietness makes him look vulnerable in that beautifully human way for once. That’s twice he’s proven her wrong about the assumptions she had on him, tonight: first his talent, now his character; she doesn’t know what to make of it. Silently, she accepts the timid smile and light nod he offers her in gratitude, before making her way to out at last.

                                                       ***

Two days after the night of the exhibition, y/n still has a hard time to let her grievance go. Her mood has yet to upgrade from crappy at best, and the fact that all the artwork has been removed from their previous spots is not helping much. Of course she knew they had been put down for the big night, but her heart still missed a beat when she went to the gym only to find the walls of the lobby bare of any craft that would liven up their otherwise dull and colorless structure. Just like her state of mind, she’d joked. And y/n is not one to throw pity parties, especially to herself; but then again, she’d never fallen under the charms of a faceless virtuoso because his art brought to life parts of her that she’d believed otherwise dormant, only to be metaphorically stood up at the end of the process. So really, what does she know anymore?

Now that she’s back at work, she revels in the constant effort she has to provide. The ever-growing list of task to complete gives her mind reprieve and focus, but she still hasn’t budged from her unusually distant and withdrawn self. Even harry’s own standoffishness hasn’t caught her attention; a week ago, his awkward demeanor would have flashed red flags all over her radar. An unfiltered narcissistic prick he could be, but y/n has never known him to be anything even resembling reserve; apart maybe from that one fate-less night not even 72 hours ago when she found him on the outskirts of the attention even though she knew full well that he is more of center kind of guy.

As they’re about to start closing, the awkwardness becomes more palpable by the second. They’ve skirted around it during the whole shift, the steady solicitation of customers enough to ignore the growing tension; but as the last of the patrons finally make their way out of the bar, an eery silence settles in their wake, making them both want to crawl out of their skin. Even the heavy-served drinks they’ve indulged in, despite the absence of their respective motives, hasn’t help assuage the strain between them. Instead, they start their usual routine in overrated silence, y/n in charge of the floor while he tends to the bar. Then before long, Harry bursts the uncomfortable bubble they’ve locked themselves in, voice void of its usual teasing tone, "so, what’s got you so grumpy?" he inquires.

"Please don’t start, Harry. I really can’t be bothered tonight," y/n sighs in response, failing to recognize the note of concern in his question and thinking she wouldn’t survive another bickering session. It hasn’t been the lad’s intention though, so her false accusation has his thick skin itching against his will. To be honest, Harry’s never taken much offense from any of their past squabbles no matter how hard she’d come at him, but this one he can’t brush off. Not when for once, he’s trying to be decent, dropping the attitude he knows rubs her the wrong way and she responds by telling him to get lost.

"Fuck sake, I wasn’t tryin’ to start anythin’" he berates her for lashing out unjustifiably, "you need to take a chill pill." The hostile reaction as her pausing mid-swipe in the middle of the room. He was always so unbothered by everything she said, she hasn’t expected him to be so hard on the defensive (or even know what a defensive is in the first place). 

Still, she doesn’t appreciate the same chastising tactic he’s used on her countless times, especially because given his serious temper, she knows he means it for real now. "Oh I’m sorry Harry, I didn’t know what sympathy actually sounds like coming from your mouth," she quips back in sarcasm. 

The response makes him livid, "you tell me I’m a jerk every chance you got, but you sure know how to be a bitch, y/n" he spats before finishing wiping the counter. As his hand reaches the end of the surface, he finds his half-empty glass of tequila, most of the ice completely melted through the amber liquor by now. He takes one long sip in a vain attempt to calm his nerves but the alcohol merely tingles the back of his palate and warms its way down his stomach. His mind is still burden with frustrations he doesn’t know how to alleviate; the end of term, the exhibition, his career’s future, and y/n’s stubborn nature all wreaking havoc in his tired brain.

"Shut the fuck up, Harry. I didn’t ask for your attention," y/n retorts, trying not to expose how bruised her heart is. While he’d mocked her plenty during the past two years, he’d never resorted to calling her names, unlike her; so the insult does more damage than she’s willing to admit, even coming from Harry. And to think she’d thought of him as a half decent being not three days ago…

"Right, I forgot only anonymous bastards are worthy enough of your attention," he replies before checking the shelves behind the bar to make sure they’re stocked enough for the next shift. "And even when they turn out to be cowards, you still choose them over the people that are actually around you. You need to open your eyes and wake up, it’s pathetic."

Y/n has almost finished cleaning her area but at this point, she’s ready to call it quits and run as fast as she can, away from him. "Go fuck yourself, you don’t know anything you’re talking about," she manages to croak past her swelling throat and quivering lips. The man in front of her is breaking her heart even though he’s never had it in his calloused hands, and y/n doesn’t know why. 

"Fuck this, ’m done," he quite literally throws in the towel, leaving it in a bowl on the counter before making his way back to his drink. In a swift movement, he grabs the bottle of tequila to pour himself a new one. "You keep blindly mopin’ about your precious painter, I don’t care, you’re probably right anyway," he says before chugging the bitter spirit in one go and slamming the bottle of tequila down on the counter in a loud bang that has y/n jump in fear. "I don’t anything about bloody anything," is all Harry says as he locks eyes with hers, before making his out of the bar, not bothering to put the bottle back to its rightful place.

Y/n is still trembling from the exchange, and it takes her a hot minute before she can finish what she was doing. As she resumes wiping the floor with shaky hands, she tries to even her breath out. Why had he been so hurtful? What could have possibly impelled him to utter such malicious words? The questions are still reeling in her mind as she twists water out of the mop  for the last time. Once the floor is spotless and all the tables are no longer sticky with spilled alcohol, chairs stacked up onto them upside-down, she makes her way back behind the bar, checking that Harry didn’t leave any of his duties unattended before his theatrical exit. She spots the bottle of tequila sitting lonely on the counter but just as she goes to reach for it, she freezes. 

It’s a cold shower pouring over her body all at once then, dots finally connected as her eyes read over the label of the fat bottle she’s seen him take out of the stack countless times before. Everything that happened for the last few months falls into place and suddenly there is no mystery left to be solved. ‘You’re probably right, I don’t know anything about bloody anything’ Harry’s final words keep playing on a maddening loop in her head. 

Y/n takes in the small bee design printed under what is unmistakably the last piece of the puzzle she’s been craving to complete: one word that has her stomach churning in a myriad of emotions she can’t possibly untangle. Anger, relief, surprise, fear, curiosity, warmth and more, are all rushing through her in one colossal wave, because printed on that bottle in black capital letters is the brand of Harry’s favorite drink: Patrón.

                                                       ***

The next day, y/n navigates through her classes purely on autopilot mode. She doesn’t quite remember picking the floral blouse nor the light-shade pair of jeans she’s wearing, and barely recalls the brief conversation she had with an old lady during her bus commute to campus. One thing she sure as hell hasn’t paid one iota of attention to, is the behavioral psychology class she’s just got out of. Two hours she spent pacing up and down every twist and turn of her mind only to come out more lost than she’d started. Add to that the fact she’s running on 4 hours of sleep, she’s quite simply a recipe for disaster. Fortunately for y/n, she isn’t due at work tonight, having called sick this morning, because sleep-deprivation aside, she still has no idea how she’s supposed to face Harry.

The revelation of the night prior is still something she has trouble wrapping her mind around, as it goes against every constructed opinion she’s made about her life. Harry is Patrón, she’s pretty sure. Harry, the allegedly conceited asshole she’s been bickering with since their first minute spent together, is the mind-blowing painter that had taken residence in y/n’s heart since the first time she set eyes on his art. The two characters have yet to fully merge into one in her mind, despite the fact it makes perfect sense to her. 

The Brighton painting, the one inspiring her necklace, it was all true. And with that revelation comes two intimidating truths y/n is kind of scared to delve into: one, all this time she’s been right to think she is the muse behind this all scheme; two, if Harry is the mystery painter, that makes her Harry’s muse more specifically. And that’s the part of the equation she struggles the most with, because up until last night she was pretty positive that the twat despised her (the night in itself being prime evidence of that) but now she doesn’t know what to think.

It’s like there are two versions of Harry battling in her brain, splitting her heart in halves; the one that made her miserable at work for years and made her cry last night, and the one she’d gotten a glimpse of at the night of the exhibition. The one that hid a fully blossomed bouquet of emotions behind teasing banter to protect a diamond-rough talent that had the power to touch just about anyone’s sensibility. The one that had her wrapped around his finger in awe with that beautiful mind of his. The question is, can she or will she see this Harry the next time she’s facing him or will all their bad-blood history come crashing down on her instead? Y/n doesn’t think she’s ever fit more the definition of having mixed feelings about something.

On her way home, she makes sure she doesn’t fall asleep against the bus window, despite yawning every thirty-seconds. It feels like the trip is taking forever, she almost lets out a cry of relief when the automated voice finally announces her upcoming stop. Once she’s thanked the driver and stepped out of the bus, she’s met with a gust of brisk air, instantly blowing her hair all over her face. She draws the lapels of her coat tighter around her shivering body and starts making her way towards her apartment building. 

It doesn’t take her long to complete the walking distance to her place and tread her way up the stairs, but the sight greeting her in the hallway of her floor almost sends her down on her ass. Because right across from her door, is Harry hanging yet another one of his chefs-d’oeuvre. He’s dressed casually in his usual jeans and t-shirt ensemble, with a thick grey hoodie covering his broad upper-half in a feeble attempt to combat to cold weather raging outside. As he reaches in the back pocket of his jeans to retrieve a sharpie - no doubt to apply his trademark signature - the movements of her feet on the laminated floor catch his attention. Spinning around in a jolt of surprise, he realizes too late that he’s been caught red-handed. There was no going back this time, but he doesn’t necessarily see it as a bad thing.

There is a short moment where they are both just standing in front of each other a few feet apart, as their eyes bounce back in silent conversation, before y/n softly breaths out, "so it is you." The weight of her words has him swallow in nervousness, "of course it’s me," he replies in a gentle tone. A smile pulls at his lips when he realizes she’s not running for the hills or bursting out in a furious rant. 

"I just…how? why? I mean, you gotta help me understand Harry, cause I’m pretty fucking lost over here," she blurts out with wide doe-eyes begging him for answers. Her obvious jitters earn her a soft chuckle., and for a hot minute all he can bring himself to do is study her snuggled figure and the way she keeps fiddling with her keys. It’s so endearing to him, if they were at his place, he would have offered to make some tea. The thought has him hesitantly looking at the door across from them, "can we maybe talk inside?" he inquires, beckoning his head towards her place. "I know I haven’t given you much reasons to let me in, but I promise I’ll explain everythin’," he feels the need to convince her, " after that, you can kick me out if you still want."

The last bit has her smile timidly, "yeah, let’s go inside. I wanna hear what you have to say," y/n admits as she steps to the door and unlocks it. She’s intrigued by how gentle and well-mannered the man following her to the living room seems to be, light years away from the rowdy lad she’s come to know. 

For a second, y/n is worries about the state she’s left the apartment before she rushed to classes this morning, but her apprehensions quickly go away once she takes in the sight of her rather tidied living space. A velvety throw blanket is covering the couch in a makeshift comforter from the way she spent the night on the couch, and apart from a few class notes scattered across the coffee table, everything seems to be where it’s supposed to be. 

They both discard their top layers on the armchair adjacent to the couch, Harry slipping his hoodie off above his head in one swift gesture, while y/n simply lets the sleeves of her coat slide down her arms. He brushes his hair back into submission with one swoop of his hand, before sitting down on the couch and directing his attention back at her. She decides to leave some distance between them, taking the other end of the sofa and the move desperately makes him wonder what thoughts are running through her head. The only way to uncover them  however, is if he starts talking first; and so he does.

"So uhm," he starts clumsily, clearing his throat, "remember the first day we met, you walked in on me telling some stoner guy off," he watches closely as y/n nods. "It was our first ever conversation and we fought through the whole thing. I was pretty pissed when it happened, not gonna lie, but once I got home and slept it off, I thought it was really cool how you’d stand up for that random guy." The admission has her eyebrows raising but he keeps going, "and okay maybe, just maybe, I found it a lil hot, the way you tried to put me back in my place." 

He stops to make sure he hasn’t offended her, "tried to?" she challenges instead, Harry laughing at her objection. 

"Right, maybe you did. My poin’ is, no-one really calls me out on my bullshit, so it was kinda refreshing that you did. But then the next day, you were still mad at me, an’ we bickered that time too. It felt like you’d already made up your mind about me. So in a way, all I had left was doin’ this thing where I push your buttons and rile you up. Know it doesn’t make sense, but it was the only way you’d interact with me so I kept doin’ it, because being jerk-Harry was better than having nothin’." 

He pauses for a minute and waits as y/n swallows all the information. All this time he’s been teasing her just to have some sort of connection, no matter how perverse, while she thought he just hated her guts. When she shares this thought with him, he shakes his head with a smile, "never hated you. If I ‘ad, I wouldn’t have bothered talking t’you."

Suddenly, her chest feels lighter, as though all this months of anguish had evaporated from her mind, now that she knew their rocky relationship was the result of miscommunication, "sound logic, Styles," she replies in good humor. Then she remembers the El Patrón’s fiasco so she urges him to go on.

"My final. Right. Well as you know, we were given the assignment at the beginning of the semester, and I came up with the idea of creating this alter ego that would plant his work around campus. I thought by taking people’s by surprise I was guaranteed strong genuine reactions. People are always more opened when they don’t expect it. Like if I had just brought my paintings on the night of the exhibition, the same people wouldn’t have reacted that way, probably because they’d know they’d be observed so they would have adjusted their behavior accordingly." They both know he’s getting slightly off trail, but watching y/n so enthralled with his words makes it hard for him to stop. Fact is, for month she’s dreamed of meeting and picking at the brain of this mysterious painter, and now that he’s sitting on her couch, walking her through his thought process, she finally feels like she is. 

"Anyway," he resumes the storytelling, "I started with that painting in the library and it worked so perfectly, I knew if I followed the plan I would have somethin’ really good. But then you just had to go on an’ rave about the paintings without knowing they were mine, and it was killin’ me inside. Because I knew if there was a real chance I could change your mind about me, I’d do anythin’. But no matter how much I wanted to, I couldn’t tell you. Couldn’t jeopardize my final… so I tried to tell you through the art. I started painting stuff that made me think of you and placed the pieces in locations I knew you’d pass through. It was the only way I could tell you."

Harry’s confession had Y/n’s heart beating so hard in her chest, she can almost feel it thumping through her ears. Her next question is on the edge of her lips, but she takes her time tracing each of Harry’s graceful features until his eyes catch hers, "tell me what, Harry?" she asks barely above a whisper. 

His response comes in three bashful steps: first his lips curve into a shy grin that has him look down with rosy cheeks; then his hand inches its way along the soft fabric of the couch to gently hold her fingers, thumb grazing over her knuckles; and as he looks up from their joined hands to connect their gaze once more, he finally spells it, loud and clear, "tell you that I like you, y/n." 

The sentiment sends her own emotions reeling in a tornado of passion. This is it, this is what she’s been half-knowingly wishing for, and now that she knows the truth in full, she’s ready to embrace it. Her eyes twinkle in bliss, a growing smile illuminating her face as she squeezes his hand in a silent invitation to slide closer to her. Harry is much happy to oblige, and once he’s sitting directly next to her, knees grazing her own, he cups her face with one of his bear-paw hands. A few strands of hair are caught in the cuddling gesture, but none of them care. Harry just keeps smiling at her, waiting for her next move, and his beam grows two sizes wide when she mirrors his affection. "I like this side of you," she whispers fondly, as her thumb draws slow circles across the skin of his cheeks.

Harry closes his eyes at her words, "this is the real me, I promise," he reassures in an almost pleading tone, vulnerability seeping through. And y/n feels like she’s lying down on cloud nine really, because dropping his fortress of pretentiousness is all she’s ever want from him. With a hushed ‘okay’, she finally brings her mouth to taste the rose-tinted flesh of his. It starts off chaste and slow, lips dovetailed in perfect symbioses like they are made to cohabit, but quickly the kiss heats up to a full on make out session. "Show me, then", y/n mutters out when they part for a breather.

Harry slowly nods his head, before helping her straddle his lap and y/n immediately brings both her hands to his neck once she settles her hips against his. The friction already had them deeply inhale, trying not to work themselves up too fast, but Harry doesn’t think he’ll have much self-control when it comes to y/n. Already he can feel his cock fattening up inside his brief, the tingling sensation making him roll his hips up into hers. Their lips are back in a sensual duel, tongues tentatively taking their turn to lick their way inside the other’s mouth. Every now and then, he teases her bottom lip with a graze of his teeth, and the move as her tugging the root of his hair at the back of his head every single time without a fail.

He loves discovering all the quirks and tells of her body, thinks he could spend hours on hand learning every single one of her curves and memorizing each of her special spots. The smell of her fragrance infiltrates his nostrils as he dips his head to her neck to plant open-month kisses along her skin. Head angled towards the ceiling to make room for his ministrations, y/n can’t do much but let her hands scout any expanse of skin accessible to her. She starts at his shoulder, squeezing the flesh to feel out the strong muscle laying underneath, before making her way down his tone arms, then to his hands currently holding onto to her waist. She gives them an affectionate pinch at the same time she presses down onto him with a deep moan, and Harry retaliates with a buck of his own. 

As he starts kissing down the exposed skin of her cleavage, y/n finally drops her head to place a tender kiss to his hairline. One of her hand is back at his neck, holding him firmly to her chest as he licks at the valley of her breasts down her sternum. The other worms its way underneath his shirt from the neckline, nails grazing down his back in soft enough pressure not to leave any marks.

Harry’s descent is obstructed by the soft material of her blouse, so he takes the garment off of her in one swoop, and places his hands back on her newly exposed body, rubbing up and own the skin. As his mouth goes back to the supple flesh of her breasts, y/n increases the pace of her hips grinding on his cock. The sensations seem to be not enough and too much at the same time for her; the heavy material still covering their most sensitive parts in the way of her pleasure, while Harry’s work has her going into overdrive under his velveteen mouth and calloused fingers. She starts kissing her way up from his shoulder to the edge of his jaw, and Harry revels in the sound of her moans tickling his ear. 

Done with the excess of fabric between them two, y/n grips at the top of his shirt and pulls it upwards, leaving him shirtless. "Fuck, I didn’t know you have so many tattoos," she babbles against his lips, while her hands smooth over the ink. 

"Plenty you don’t know about me, love," Harry chirps as he bask in the praise and the feeling of her skin of his. 

He then circles one arm around her waist to bring them chest to chest, and the contact has y/n once again intensify the friction between their crotches. "Wanna find out," she murmurs against his neck while she grinds on his clothed member, "Harry, please take me to bed."

He jolts at the quick bite she delivers to his neck, the impish gesture her way of saying ‘now’ but before she can make her way out of his lap to bring him to her room, he presses her back down with both hands on her waist. "Nuh uh, y’not goin’ anywhere. Want you to come once, b’fore I take you to bed, pet," he says, smoothing his hands over her ass to guide her rocking motions. The term of endearment sounds so innocent yet dirty all at once, it sends a chill down her spine. Nobody had called her that before.

"Can’t," she shakes her head, "can’t feel you through the jeans."  

"Alright then, stand up," he calmly asserts and she doesn’t hesitate to comply, standing in between his spread legs, in her flimsy bra and jeans. "Take ‘em off then, ’s what you want no?" he sends her a tantalizing look and bites at his lips as he watches her peel the pants off her legs. He can’t help the light squeeze he gives himself through his own jeans, as y/n stands in front of him awaiting his next instructions. "Come sit on my thigh now, think should be enough to make this pretty pussy tingle in all the right places, no?" 

Y/n’s insides are already twisting in a knot as she settles back on his lap and lets the rough material of his jeans against the softness of her cotton panties spread a prickling sensation through her pelvis area. Quickly, she resumes undulating her hips, gripping back at Harry’s neck to pull him in a languid kiss, pleasure vibrating against their lips. It is not long before her pace picks up, and her eyes shut at the intensity of her bliss. "That’s it, pet. Already makin’ a mess of me. You’re doin’ so well," he coaxes her with his words. 

As promised, y/n feels the lips of her sensitivity start to throb at her impending release, the sensation making her clamp her thighs tighter around his meaty limb. As her knee now presses against his bulge, Harry cries his sudden pleasure out in her mouth, and that’s all it takes for her to let her orgasm consume her. She unravels on top of him, one of her hands shooting to cup at her pussy in an attempt to quell the overwhelming throb. Harry draws soothing caresses down her back as he look at the sticky mess she’s left in her panties, damp patch matching the one tainting the material of his jeans. "All ruined, just as they should be," he smirks at the sight before giving her a sweet kiss. 

Flushed skin and blown pupils, she slowly regains her breath, "take off your pants and take me to bed now?" she requests.

"You’re quite demanding for someone who’s just gotten off," he keeps taunting her. After all, winding her up has always been one of his favorite thing to do, and dare he say in the past two years, he’s gotten quite good at pushing her buttons. Now he’s got new ones to figure out and play with, the thoughts has him pulsing in his jeans. 

Y/n doesn’t relent in her advances, she’s never been one to bow at his mockery, "thought you like how bossy I could be. Something about the way I put you in your place, if my memory serves right." 

"Anytime, anywhere, you’re the boss of me, love. But this," he cups at her cunt, adding pressure on her clit, "this is mine to have. Understood?" 

Y/n’s about to combust from all the desire firing up every one of her nerve-endings. His words might be the strongest aphrodisiac she’s ever experienced, she can’t wait to see what more tricks in has up his sleeves. "Now get up and show me the way to your room, pet," he softly commands before leaving a peck on her cheek. 

They both get up from the couch, and y/n guides them both down the hallway to her room, her hand wrapped in his tightly. Once they’re standing by the bed, Harry is surprised to face a patient y/n, biting her lips and awaiting his next directive. He doesn’t think he’s ever been more turned on in his life, "undress me, love" he murmurs against her skin after kissing her forehead. 

His jeans are quickly discarded but before his boxer briefs follow suit, y/n can’t help but tease him in reprisal, "looks like I’m not the only one who made a mess in their panties." 

He lets out a boisterous laugh while she smears open mouth kisses along his stretching jaw, "mmm, I’d rather make a mess somewhere else," his innuendo causing her to gasp while he works the strap of her bra.  Once she’s gotten rid of his last piece of clothing, his cock springs up, free of it’s confines, dollop of pre-come already pearling at his tip, and sticking to the skin of his stomach. 

With a gentle grip at her hair, he has y/n’s head tilted backward, to let his mouth make its way towards her already pebbled nipples. Since she can’t look down, y/n blindly reaches out to wrap her hand around Harry’s thick shaft and starts massaging him in languid strokes. "Your hand feels so fuckin’ good around me, pet, I wanna fuck you so badly," he hisses around her nipple, before kissing his way back up to her lips. 

He starts backing her towards the bed in small steps, but she brings a hand to his chest at the feeling of the edge of the mattress brushing against the back of her knee, "wait, wait, wanna taste you first," she insists and Harry doesn’t think he could ever say no to that face, no matter how much he wants to just sink home inside of her in this moment. 

"Fuck, you’re killin’ me, love," he pinches at her waist and lays his forehead against hers, "you want my cock in your pretty mouth, before I drive it home in your cunt, is that it?" She nods, eyes turning into two lustful fireballs. "Okay, love, but y’ can’t keep it on your tongue fo’ too long, cause I really need to fuck you, alright?"

Y/n hastens to lower herself when he bids her "right then, on your knees and open wide fo’ me," and her brows furrow in confusion as she watches him stray from her spot. Picking up a plush cushion from her bed, he places it on the ground for her to knee upon, "there love, want you to be comfortable," he runs his fingers through her hair, and her heart grows three sizes bigger at how tender he can be in amidst his filthy ways. 

Sensually, y/n brings her lips around the crown of his cock, her tongue teasing its way across the salty skin. Once she’s licked up all the previous mess, she starts working her way down his cock, hand stroking at the base. After bopping up and down a few time, she removes her month from his swelling cock, and lets a string of spit fall down onto its head and make its way to his balls. "S’right, pet. Get me wet," Harry rasps in appreciation. Now that she’s got him properly slicked, she goes back to pumping his hardening cock and takes him into her warm inviting mouth, determined to have him all the way inside. She feels her throat expands to accommodate his thickness, and the pressure makes Harry tighten his hold in her hair, "fuck, that’s it, love. Take me good." 

Muscles already tensing up in preparation for his climax, when y/n’s hand finds his full and swollen balls to roll them together like dice, he is quick to calm her zeal, "Christ pet, you gotta stop before I can’t help myself," but his tone hardens when she defies his demand, "come on now, s’enough." 

Once she pulls off, the sight of her flushed face and puffy lips induces an animalistic groan to come out from his chest, as he thumbs through the wetness coating her chin. Taking the hand resting on his hip to guide her up, he captures her lips in a searing kiss, the taste of his arousal blending in their mouths. 

His hands come down to knead at the flash of her ass, before he scoops her up and on the bed with a quick flex of his biceps. "Harry, please," she whines in impatience, hands gripping at his sides to pull him down against her. His rock hard cock slides against her clothed pussy, pins and needles cruising along their skin and only fueling their eagerness. 

"Need me in your belly, pet?" Harry keeps working her up, as he slides her soiled panties down her legs, "need me to fuck you so good, you forget I was ever a jerk?" 

She’s putty in his hold, legs wrapping around his waist to feel the pressure of his member on her bare lips , "yes, yes, I wan’ it," she pleads.

Harry would love to tease her further, have her writhing and proper begging underneath him, but at this point it would be self-torture to even consider. Instead he pumps at his shaft to give himself some relief, their sex so close his knuckles graze at her clit every time his fist comes at the top. "You ready?" Harry utters softly while spreading and skimming her cleft with the head of his cock. It has y/n gripping at his hair, a series of delirious ‘yes’ tumbling form her mouth, so he doesn’t wait a second more to push his tip past her threshold and begins his descent in her warmth. "Fuck, t’feels so good. So wet, and tight, and warm," he thinks out loud once he’s stuffer her full, balls pressing against her ass.

Y/n whimpers against his lips, urging him to start moving to quell the building pressure coiling in her belly. A slow roll of his hips finally gives her reprieve causing her to moan in gratitude. She’s already so close, it baffles her how this man could have her coming apart at the seams without doing much. His thrusts starts gaining zeal then, betraying his own yearning to take the final leap. "So tight, love. Can feel you squeezin’ me, are you close already? Is my girl gonna cum fo’ me again?" he grunts in her ear while he pounds into her dripping cunt. Y/n doesn’t offer a response, too caught up in a daze of bliss, but her clenching muscles is all the answer he needs to start nudging his thumb at her clit. A several flicks across the sensitive bud later, her orgasm is pulsing through every bone and fiber of her body, walls hugging Harry’s cock so tight, it has to pause his hammering. 

Waiting for her to catch her breath, he peppers delicate kisses along her cheek, "was that good, love? Think you can give me another, uhm?" he asks when she’s regained some of her senses. The pressure at his groin is growing more and more the longer his cock remains unmoving entombed within her vice, and the luscious agony must be written all over his face, "yes, Harry, wanna be good for you" y/n cups his jaw tenderly. 

He nods at her approval, "good girl," delivers a sweet earnest kiss to her pouty lips as he pulls out and spins her around to lay on her stomach. His hand brushes the hair off her skin so he can sew a string of kisses at her shoulder blades and neck. Painfully red, his cock is propped between her buttcheeks, "can I take you like that?" he punctuates his inquiry by rolling his hips backward, tip lingering at her soaked entrance. Y/n clutches the sheets firmly, as she murmurs a faint ‘please’, back arching at the thrills consuming her mind. 

Harry plunges in her wet core in one smooth swing, hand digging at her hip to keep her steady as the other one interlaces with hers to lay on the mattress above her head. Unforgiving lunges have y/n cinch around him, face buried in the sheets and muffling salacious wails of pleasure, and he doesn’t think he’ll be able to steer from his end for much longer. He slows his cadence to steady and firm strokes, slipping a hand around her waist to polish her swell. 

A million tremors spark off the onset of Y/n’s climax as she shudders in a firework of ecstasy. Harry  doesn’t relent until he’s worked her through completion and can no longer stop the coil in his loins from snapping. His release fills her in several spurts of wet warmth before he flops down next to her, positively fucked out.

They both lay unmoving in comfortable bliss for a few minutes, before y/n plops her head on his chest and an arm around his torso, her leg sneaking in between his. "Well, here goes two years of sexual tension," Harry says jokingly, fingers drawing abstracts design on the skin of her back. It might just be his favorite canvas to paint on from now, he muses before chastising himself at the onslaught of filthy thoughts tagging along. A playful slap on his abdomen takes his mind out of the gutter, "don’t ruin the moment," y/n says in fake admonition before placing a tender kiss on the spot she just abused. 

"M’sorry, love. M’just really chuffed to be in your bed finally," the last word reminding her that while she’s struggled to come to term with her feelings for him, ransacking her mind for a possible change of heart, he’d only seen her in but one light. The revelation still has her floored and giddy, "can I ask you something?" she asks as there was still one question pacing back and forth the pathways of her mind. Harry hums in acquiescence, "anythin’ love, by brain is yours."  

She feels his hand cradling her skull followed by a small peck to her forehead, and she smiles at the gesture, "why did you stay away that night at the exhibition when you got the prize? Why not coming forward?" It’s been bugging her brain since it happened. Although she didn’t have much insight on anything at the time, most of the pieces of the puzzle fell in place after the big reveal; but this, she still can’t make sense of.

Harry lets out a long breath, organizing his thoughts, "two reasons," he starts off tiredly. "One, I kinda like having this secret business going on, and like, as long as nobody knows, I am in control of how and when it happens, you know? And the moment I let go of that, I can’t go back." He searches her face for any hint of confusion but she’s just patiently listening. "Two, when we bumped into each other at the gala, I got convinced you’d never see me differently regardless of how good a painter I was; and that had become a big part of who El Patrón was." 

It’s the first time she hears his alter ego’s name from his mouth and with how flowingly natural it sounded coming out of his lips, y/n suspects that it’d been a conscious decision on his part. She recalls their interaction that night, the way they fell in their usual ways of ping-ponging vindictive words until one of them has enough and leaves the premises (usually y/n). A lump starts forming in her throat at the recollection of all the other fights they’ve had and how they’d all been pointless wastes of time and energy, now that she knows she is meant to be in his arms. She wishes things could have been different but the warmth of his body around her overweighs her regrets. They’re here now, looking bright toward the future, and it’s all that matters.

"I’ll keep your secret if you want, be the Lilly to your Hannah Montana," she tells him lightly before they both laugh at the silly reference. 

Happiness and glee has Harry tightening his hold around her shoulder, "nah, I don’t wanna play double-agents anymore. I wanna be the guy who gets the girl." He dips his head to catch her lips between his own, reveling in their newfound intimacy. Turning her face against his chest, Y/n impresses her bashful smile on his swallow-tattooed skin, before she lays a trail of pecks tickling the area underneath his armpits, "well, you got me now."

➪ Masterlist

[gifted-burnout-archive]

The Games We Play

1. Good News, Ruined.

Word Count: 7.8K+

Author’s Note: I had a flood of inbox requests surrounding Luke Patterson x Reader, enemies to lovers/fake dating/all the good stuff, and decided it was too good not to make something bigger. this chapter was sooo fun to write, and obviously with the whole thing being in an AU universe, I get to change a bunch of shit without consequence... So thank you for reading, I hope you love it, this is my nonsense.

Warning: none.

masterlist | taglist

--

Parents tend to assume things of their children, the practise usually implemented by those who believe ignorance is bliss, especially when it’s easier to assume your kid is studying, or asleep in bed, or catching up on their reading list. Why worry about what your kids are up to after hours when you could share a bottle of wine and fall asleep on the living room sofa watching some shitty Hallmark movie? Enjoying the perfect ideal, even if it isn’t, in fact, real.

It was this sort of behaviour from the likes of Luke Patterson’s parents that led to him sneaking out pretty much every night of summer.

This was, of course, on top of lies about study groups and volunteering work and classical guitar lessons with his school teacher during the day, and it had been going on a lot longer than just the summer. But could anyone really blame the boy when he once again climbed out his bedroom window that last night of the summer, armed with his guitar on his back as he grabbed his bike and started off in the warm August air?

The soft breeze rushed through Luke’s hair and sent his flannel overshirt billowing behind him as he rode down his street, destined for the other side of town, to the other reality he had created without his parents’ knowledge, the world glowing under the last traces of another beautiful sunset. The reds and oranges gave way to tinges of green and the endless expanse of midnight blue the later hours welcomed, street lamps slowly flickering to life as shadows grew and Luke took a hard turn left onto an underpass, pedalling as fast as he could.

He was already late, he was usually late, but that night his mom and dad had demanded a family meal before he began his senior year, something about tradition or memory-making he had been too preoccupied to listen to. His year wasn’t going to be great because of family albums over his dad’s famous chili, though it was very good chili: no, his year was going to be great because of the people waiting for him at the end of his bike ride, and the news that waited with them.

Luke’s summer hadn’t been spent studying like he told his parents, and it hadn’t been spent the way many of his classmates enjoyed their time off school. Luke’s summer, and the majority of his Junior year before, had been spent in a garage in the LA suburbs, one that belonged to the Molinas. He had spent every spare moment there writing, practising, rehearsing, because Luke’s end goal in life was nothing like his parents had planned for him:

Luke was going to be a Rockstar, and the way to that wasn’t school. It was Julie and the Phantoms.

As he pulled up to the familiar residence about fifteen minutes later, legs aching from the high-speed ride over, Luke couldn’t help but smile. Ray and Carlos were out on the porch playing a game of cards under string lights, and it looked like Mr Molina was losing quite spectacularly to his ten-year old son.

“Hi Mr Molina!” Luke called with a wave, distracting Ray for long enough that Carlos managed to sneak a peak at his dad’s hand and plan accordingly.

“Luke, it’s Ray. Please.” Ray corrected, for the one hundredth time, but Luke was a polite kid, and while he wasn’t one for following his own parents’ rules, he was too respectful to ever start his friend’s dad by his first name. “Everyone’s in the garage, they’re waiting for you before they check the website.” Ray called over, and Luke nodded with a bright smile, waving a hurried hello and goodbye to Carlos before rushing towards the garage at the far side of the house, pulling off the straps of his guitar case and bringing it to his front.

The front pocket was stuffed full of scraps of paper, possible lyrics for new band music, which was required since they had managed to get on the YouTube trending page a few months before, and had begun playing the LA music circuit with high levels of success. The band had only been formed, properly at least, for the last year, and their sudden success was calling for them to be scooped up by a record label any day now.

That’s what the team were congregating for that night, Luke entering the converted garage, their studio, to find his bandmates huddled on the couch with their closest friends. In the couch’s centre was Reggie, Julie and Alex: to the blonde’s right was his boyfriend Willie, to Reggie’s right was his girlfriend Kayla, and Flynn paced on the other side of the coffee table, only coming to a halt as six pairs of eyes came up to find Luke fixing his hair from its windswept state after biking across the city.

“Where the Hell have you been?!” Flynn exclaimed, wide eyed and all gestures. She was a Junior like Julie, and perhaps the band’s number one fan: it made sense, she was kind of their manager. “The site is going live any minute now, and we’ve been waiting almost an hour for you to show up!” She hollered, Luke coming forward and placing a hand on her shoulder, the younger girl scowling at him as he did, but she stopped talking, allowing the boy a word in.

“My parents wanted a family meal, I got here as soon as I could.” He explained to the anxious faces, his eyes travelling down to the laptop sat on the coffee table that they all seemed rather focused on. “Is this it?” He asked, and Julie quickly nodded, turning the laptop, displaying a countdown on a website, to face Luke.

48 seconds… He had arrived in the nick of time.

“Will you read it first?” Julie asked in a quiet voice, Flynn taking the girl’s space on the couch behind her, squishing herself between Reggie and Alex. “You take bad news best…” It wasn’t actually true, but it seemed like Luke had been nominated for the task of finding out whether they had hit the jackpot, and looking at his friends’ all tucked onto the three-seater couch, Luke couldn’t bring himself to refuse.

“Alright.” He said with a curt nod, taking a seat at the opposite side of the coffee table as Julie sat herself back down, now on Flynn’s lap as the two girls hugged onto one another in fear.

23 seconds…

“This could be it…” Reggie muttered; his hand interlocked with Kayla’s. She and Willie had come along as emotional support for their boyfriends, and it was a good call: Alex was as pale as a sheet, and Reggie looked like he might vomit. “Imagine… If we’re in this competition, if we qualify… Guys, we could be signing with Fall Down.” He continued, the seconds ticking away as a silence filled the air after the bassist’s words. He was right, sure, but it was too hopeful.

The competition was country-wide, and thousands of bands had sent in their entries. It was quite literally a one in a 100,000 chance they would make it, that they would be one of the twenty bands picked for the competition.

After all, the tagline was quick to remind that ‘only the best’ would get into the Fall Down Records’ Battle of the Bands.

“3… 2…” Luke counted down, and as countdown finally hit zero, Luke refreshed the page.

Instead of the list Luke and his friends had expected to appear, instead he was greeted by a video, and the boy quickly pressed play, turning up the volume to let it play around the room.

“A very big hello from Fall Down HQ in Los Angeles!” The laptop spoke, and Luke looked up at six confused faces, quickly adjusting the laptop and sitting himself on the table so he could watch along with his friends. “I’m Trevor Wilson, and I’ve been given the honour of sharing the Fall Down Records’ Battle of the Bands line-up with all of you, across the world. But first, a quick reminder of the rules.

“This competition looks for the very best young artists in the US, the twenty top finalists getting a chance to join in our televised six-week competition. Each week our contestants are given a new theme to perform for, and each week three bands are eliminated by judges’ and audience vote, until the Final Four Battle it out for glory.” The video explained, but this wasn’t new information to the seen friends watching with desperate hope. “And the grand prize? The victorious band will be leaving with not only a multi-album record deal with Fall Down Records, but their very own World Tour and $1 million for each band member! I cannot make this up, and I can’t stress more when I say that the band winning this competition are going to be changing the history of music, with Fall Down Records and me, Trevor Wilson, by their side.

“Now, enough of me talking. Let’s get to what you’re all here for, the big announcement. Thanks to everyone who submitted their auditions, don’t give up hope on just yet… But viewers, I give you your top 20.” The video disappeared, the website suddenly coming to life with the full list of finalists, and Luke jumped into action to begin scrolling down as everyone leaned forward, instinctively, Luke’s finger moving as fast as it could past other acts.

Finalists came from all across the country, from all music genres: they scrolled past Idols, a country trio from Nashville; Rallico, an R&B group from New York; Everest, the folk-pop band from Montana. Luke’s finger continued to scroll, through videos and bios on each of the bands, and he counted as he went through to himself. 11, 12, 13…

“STOP!” Kayla shrieked suddenly, Luke moving his hand from the mousepad in surprise, his eyes finally focusing on the screen, the haze of scrolling quickly subsiding. He had to blink once, then twice, just to be sure, glancing back at the shocked faces of his friends beside him, making sure they were all seeing the same thing.

NUMBER 15: JULIE AND THE PHANTOMS. FROM LOS ANGELES, CALIFORNIA.

“Oh my God…” Alex breathed out, the first to speak as he clutched onto Willie’s hand, and one by one, the faces on the couch went from looks of worry to ones of ecstatic joy.

“Oh my God!” Julie yelped, jumping off of Flynn’s lap and flapping her hands, unsure what to do for a moment, but Reggie quickly stood up as well, and the pair embraced in a tight hug. It took a few moments for the rest of the room to process, but the moment everyone had…

Carlos and Ray heard the screaming from their cosy spot at the front of the house, whooping and yells of triumph echoing across the cul-de-sac as the kids celebrated their achievement.

The hugs and bouncing and complete inability to stay still probably lasted a solid seven minutes, and by the time Luke was coming down from the high of the news, Julie was disappearing round the corner to tell her dad and brother, Reggie was spinning Kayla in his arms, and Alex had found himself in a rather heated kiss with Willie. His eyes went back to the laptop, and he removed himself from a hug with Flynn to sit back on the couch, scrolling back up to the top of the finalist website page.

“What are you doing man?” Reggie asked, Kayla jumping off his back and taking the bassist’s hand as they walked over to Luke, the boy pressing play on the first of 19 videos, the audition tapes of the other competitors.

“We’re up against all these other groups, the competition starts in a few days… I want to see what we’re up against.” Luke explained, the words pulling Alex and Willie over to the laptop too. The five pressed play on the first video, Luke leaning over and turning the volume up as high as it would go as the first band’s music began to play. “Willie, can you go get Julie?” The raven-haired boy nodded, squeezing Alex’s hand one last time in celebration before rushing towards the Molina residence to collect Julie and Flynn.

“I can’t believe we actually managed this…” Alex scoffed in disbelief, running a hand through his hair and glancing over at his friends with the brightest of smiles. To think, the three had met at the age of 10, that all those days of mindless rehearsal led them to Julie, which led them to this?

“You guys deserve it.” Kayla commented with a smile, glancing down at her watch with a frown. “Shit, I forgot about curfew…” She muttered, pressing a kiss to Reggie’s cheek. “I need to get home; I’ll give Willie a lift too. See you tomorrow babe?” She asked Reggie, who nodded fast as Willie came back with Julie and Flynn. “Curfew, Skater Boy.” She reminded Willie; whose eyes widened before muttering a soft curse to himself.

“Right.” He sighed, waving a quick goodbye to his boyfriend and friends before slipping out the door with Kayla. Flynn watched them go, giving Julie and quick hug.

“This seems to be a band member meeting now, and I need a ride. See you tomorrow, alright?” Flynn asked, and Julie nodded, the pair sharing another hug before Flynn too disappeared through the garage doors, leaving the band to themselves.

There was a comfortable silence, as they all looked at one another, as they all came to terms with the sheer insanity of what was happening. Out of thousands upon thousands… Out of millions of applicants, Julie and her Phantoms had managed to snag a spot in the country’s biggest competition, managed to get themselves a chance at a record deal, at a world tour, at millions of dollars…

“So,” Julie said with a grin at her three best friends on the couch, the boys looking to her for their next move. “These other contestants…” She made her way over to the couch, sitting herself between Luke and Alex quite comfortably and taking charge of the laptop from Luke, who was happy to hand over control. “Why don’t we break this down?”

“Well,” Alex spoke up as he peered over Julie’s shoulder, the girl clicking on the second contestants’ audition tape, the sound of soft banjo filling the air. “If we want to win… We need to be looking for the biggest threat across the board, not just in one category.” He said, his friends looking over in slight surprise. It was undoubtable that of the guys, Alex was the smart one, but his smarts weren’t something he used very often to begin with. He coughed and ran a hand through his hair, sitting up a little straighter. “I just mean, the competition is a new theme every week, right? Well, we’re a band with a pretty wide range. I mean, Reggie with his banjo is just a start.” The blonde gestured across the couch, the compliment causing his friend to grin and wave. “If we’re optimistic here, planning the hypothetical that we make it past week one-”

“The band that’s going to be the hardest to beat is the one with range, like us.” Luke finished for his friend, clicking onto contestant number 3, the audition tapes only 90 seconds long, and gesturing to Reggie. “Get a pen and paper, we need to start writing notes.” He decided, and Reggie pouted.

“Why do I have to do it?” He asked, and Julie let out a laugh.

“Luke taking notes would be a waste of time, his handwriting is worse than a doctor’s, and Alex and I have thinking to do.” She explained simply, but it was enough for Reggie to grumble his way over to a dresser on the far side of the room they kept stocked with stationery in case inspiration struck, coming back over and sitting on the ground, getting into position to write.

“Back to contestant 1.” Julie instructed, the four beginning their first bout of research.

--

It was well after midnight when the band were only just reaching the end of their list. Alex was pacing as he listened to the audition tapes of their competitors over and over again, Luke and Julie both huddled over the laptop as Reggie jotted down notes.

They all should have gone to bed over an hour ago, what with their first day of school that morning, the last first day of school for the guys, but there was too much excitement, too much energy buzzing through them, and this research was the best way to channel it.

Where other subjects were not their strongest suit, everyone of the kids in that room excelled at music: not just playing it, but understanding it. This was a competition, and from what extensive knowledge they shared on Fall Down Records, this was not about looking for one-hit wonders or kids with untapped potential. It was about finding stars already in the making and pushing them forward.

This was good news for the four kids, and bad news for some of their opposition. It became clear in the first half of the tapes who was and who was not going to last long in the competition, a clear divide that didn’t seem like it would change any time soon. Alex was walking around the room that night trying to figure out just who would be going home in the weeks to come, and where Julie and the Phantoms would fall into the grand scheme of things.

“Final video.” Julie announced, the blonde looking over and deciding it would be best to sit himself down, at least for the watch through. Reggie too seemed intrigued as to who their last challenger would be. As Julie clicked her way onto the video, she was confused for a moment when presented with a black screen, wondering if she had accidentally turned her computer off.

Suddenly, a noise, unlike any Luke or Julie or the guys had heard in the last few hours of investigation. Accompanied by bongo drums and maracas, they were all expecting some sort of island breeze music, quite honestly, and Luke was about to pause and check the band’s name once more when the odd noise was suddenly replaced by a much more familiar one: an electric guitar coming in with the drums. An image finally flickered to screen, unlike the other videos of live performances across the country or awkward homemade recording sessions, this band had opted for an old, grainy video quality, a sepia coloured moving picture of hands beginning to play along on the guitar.

“All that I want is to wake up fine. Tell me that I’m alright, that I ain’t gonna die. And all that I want is a hole in the ground, you can tell me when it’s alright for me to come out.” The first few seconds were enough to leave jaws hanging, and though he would later deny it, Luke’s was on the floor.

The sound was so different, such a bizarre mix of percussion and pop and rock, with such a happy sound despite the bleak lyrics. It was impressive, to say the least, and suddenly the picture before them flashed away to reveal the band on a white stage, all dressed in block colours, and Luke scanned over the set up: they had a guy on drums who was dressed from head to toe in blue; a girl in all green on a beatmaker surrounded by the odd percussion they had heard at the song’s beginning, the funny noise revealed to be a marimba; the second guy was on guitar, though it wasn’t quite clear if he was lead or rhythm, and adorned in orange; and then finally…

“Hard Times.” The three other bands members sang, introducing the chorus for their front woman.

“Gonna make you wonder why you even try. Hard times, gonna take you down and laugh when you cry. These lives, and I still don’t know how I even survive. Hard Times, hard times.” She sang in a vision of block colour red, in a short tennis skirt and crop top beneath an oversized blazer, a pair of opaque red cat-eye sunglasses perched on the edge of her nose. The hands from the opening shots of the guitar playing had been her, the instrument a bright red that matched the outfit she wore, and Luke quickly realised that everybody’s instruments matched their clothing colour.

“Marimba…” Luke heard Reggie mutter under the music, only for them to be silenced by the chorus’ final line.

“And I gotta get to rock bottom!” The distortion on her voice as she half sang, half yelled the line was jarring and enchanting and Luke had to let out a bated breath as she continued, lifting the mic off its stand and walking to the boy in orange, passing the guitar duties over to him as she began to sing again, the camera focusing in on the girl in green’s ability on the beatmaker, her fingers dancing over the buttons as they brought in the bridge.

“Tell my friends I’m coming down. We’ll kick it when I hit the ground.” Another drastic change to this soft head voice, paired with the instrumental making it feel like, for a moment, they had all been sucked into a dream. “Tell my friends I’m coming down. We’ll kick it when I hit the ground… When I hit the ground. When I hit the ground. When I hit the ground.” The final note hung for a moment in the air, everything else going silent to let it resonate as the singer hung onto the boy in orange by the shoulder, her hand rising up to pinch his cheek before the final chorus hit.

“Hard Times.”

“Gonna make you wonder why you even try. Hard times, gonna take you down and laugh when you cry. These lives, and I still don’t know how I even survive hard times. Hard times.” The whole band sang the final chorus, their front woman spinning across the stage and singing in harmony with the girl in green, red’s voice riffing on the last notes as the beatmaker brought the snippet of music brought to a close, the screen going black as the music continued to came to a halt. “And I gotta get to rock bottom!”

And there it was… Their main competition.

Luke couldn’t drag his eyes away from the black screen, still trying to get over what he had just heard: while he was more partial to the music he made with his own band, there was undeniable star power in just that song, and four talented musicians to accompany it… Not to mention their lead singer.

He didn’t think he’d go into the contest attracted to a rival band member.

“They used… A marimba?! A marimba…” Reggie exclaimed finally, the first to talk, or rather yell, the leather jacket-clad boy jumping from his seat with his arms stretched in front of him in exasperation. The majority of their night had provided information on bands that gave them a challenge for first place, but confidence they might just grab it. And now? Now they had more than competition, but a threat to the biggest break of their lives.

“Electra Heart…” Alex read the band name out loud, frowning a little as he said it, something about the words seeming familiar. “I feel like I’ve heard of these guys before.”

“Maybe because they’re from California as well?” Julie suggested, pointing to the end of their title card as Contestant 20, stating the band were from San Diego, just two hours away from where they all sat.

“Watch out.” Reggie muttered, turning to face his friends once more and waving a hand at Luke. “Patterson’s smitten.” He muttered, the words knocking a frown on Luke’s face as he straightened up and closed over the laptop, putting the voice of the mystery girl to the back of his mind.

“First off, I’m not. And second? This is a good thing!” Luke exclaimed, though it was clear to everyone he was changing the subject. “The contest starts in two weeks, and we have the upper hand. We submitted Bright as our audition song, and it’s great, but that wasn’t even our best performance of it! We literally ran out of time to submit something better!” He reminded them all, drawing their minds back to the start of the summer. They had done their very best to piece together the audition tape, but Julie had suddenly gotten sick and they lost a week or so of their schedule. They ended up submitting a draft version, and still got in. “That is probably their top tier, and we know we can match and beat that! Right now, they’ll think they have this in the bag, when they don’t.” He got to his feet, walking over and hooking an arm around Reggie’s neck. “We’re going into this prepared, and ready to blow the show’s socks off, yeah?”

“Yeah!” His bandmates chorused, Julie standing up and prompting Alex to do the same, the four congregating in the centre of the studio. She was the first to hold out her hand.

“Legends on three.” She called; smiles shared amongst the band.

“One.” Reggie went first.

“Two.” Alex next.

“Three.” Luke finished, four hands stacked atop each other, four teammates ready to try and take on the impossible.

--

Sleep didn’t come to Luke that night.

He opted to cycle home despite the late hour, and clambered into bed at around 3 am while Reggie opted to stay overnight in the studio, too lazy to take himself home, not that it was an uncommon occurrence. Since Alex has started living with the Molinas, Luke and Reggie found themselves crashing more and more often.

But Luke cycled home anyway, mainly because he wanted the chance to think in private, to be alone as he planned their success now the competition slot was confirmed. It was the opportunity of their lifetime: he wasn’t going to give it up without a fight. No matter how beautiful the lead singer of Electra Heart was.

She weighed on his mind from the moment he saw her well past sunrise, and as the light flooded in through Luke’s curtains with the boy getting no sleep, he opted for a shower before his parents got up for work, and hopefully getting to avoid talking with them as much as possible until Kayla came by to pick him up, always with Julie, Alex and Reggie in tow.

That was another thing: how would he be suddenly breaking the news of his rock band on global television to his parents, who have yet to find out how he really spends his free time?

As he stood under the hot water that morning, washing away the adrenaline and sweat from the night before, he couldn’t help but hum the girl’s song: why was it so catchy? He tried to rinse it away with his fatigue and the aches in his legs from the biking to and from Julie’s, but it wasn’t budging, and neither was her face. In an act of defeat, Luke clambered out the showered, and shoved his earbuds in as he dried himself off and got dressed for the day, drowning out her voice in his head with the loudest music his phone had available.

As Luke continued about his morning, shuffling around the house as he sorted his laundry for the week and got his bag ready for classes, it was only once his dad yanked on of the earphones out of his ear that Luke figured he might have had the music too loud.

“Lucas, you play that music any louder you’ll be deaf by year’s end.” His father muttered, gesturing for his son to take a seat at the table. Luke glanced at the clock: it would be another twenty minutes before Kayla showed up in the car, and he decided it wasn’t the morning to start an argument.

“What’s up?” He asked, reaching over and grabbing an apple as his father sighed across the table, cradling a cup of coffee in his hands. Luke took a bite, the flavour and scent filling his senses, only for that damned ear-worm to return.

“Luke, your mother and I are worried…” His dad began, and Luke frowned. It wasn’t the first time they’d had this conversation, it wouldn’t be the last. His parents had been set on sending him to college, or some sort of naval academy by Christmas, and Luke had continued to adamantly refuse. His grades were still doing well, perhaps thanks to the amount he copied off of Alex, and with his plan being the band anyway, it’s not like he needed school that badly anyway. “We want you to explore your options, to at least give some thought to your future.” His dad continued, and Luke took another bite of his apple, the song rattling in his head.

“I’m just fine.” Luke assured with an insincere smile, getting up from the table and heading back towards his room to grab his school bag. Perhaps he would just walk further down the road, get picked up on the Main Street.

“Son, come on now.” His father was a quiet, stern man, so while the words alone would have been a plea, the tone twisted them to an order, and Luke stopped just before his bedroom. “There’s an open day in a few weeks, all we ask is you go to it. No commitment, just attendance.” He continued, and Luke glanced back, shrugging.

“If you’ll get off my back about it then yeah.” He conceded with a roll of his eyes, quickly opening his room door and slamming it shut behind him, ending the conversation before his father ventured into small talk.

He waited in there, picking at his apple as he hummed the song from the night before, until a horn sounded outside, Luke then scooping up his school bag and rushing out the house as fast as he could, shouting a quick ‘goodbye’ as he slipped round the front door and closed it firmly, letting out a heavy breath.

He took a moment to compose himself before starting a light jog down his front lawn’s pathway to the car waiting at the bottom of the drive, chock full of his friends. Reggie was driving, Kayla and Julie sat tucked together on the front bench of the old vintage, while the back seat of the convertible was occupied by Alex, Flynn and Nick, who waved Luke over to the space free beside him.

“You know Kayla, the more people we pack in this car, the more likely it is your dad takes his car back.” Luke commented as he jumped into his tight spot in the back, sharing a fist bump with Nick as Reggie sped off in the direction of school.

“My dad gave up rights to this car the moment I started filling the tank, Patterson.” Kayla called back, Luke smiling and letting his head loll back as they raced along the back streets towards school. He could say he never felt more at home than with his friends, in moments like this.

“Like, shit, I forgot to congratulate you.” Nick called over the chatter in the car, garnering his friend’s attention with a dimples smile and tousled hair from the wind. Despite only the year separating them, Luke thought of Nick as a little brother, and the comment made him grin and pat Nick’s shoulder.

“Congratulate me when we win Battle of the Bands.” Luke corrected, leaning closer to make sure the front seat didn’t hear his next words. “And I’ll congratulate you once you finally ask out Julie, alright?” He posed the offer, Nick’s cheeks turning bright red. Luke chuckled it away, sharing a glance with Apex from across the backseat.

When they all got thrown into the same music class three years ago, it was pretty clear to Alex and Luke that Nick likes Julie, and vice versa. They had been trying to set the pair up ever since, with minimal levels of success. But with the impossible seeming to occur everyday now, who knew what might happen?

Reggie sped through a stop sign and near drifted round the corner into the parking lot, sending everyone in the car but Kayla grabbing for stability, whether it were the dashboard of the door or the back of seats, but they didn’t hit anything, and Reggie pulled into the assigned parking space the car had kept for the last year or so, right in front of the school quad.

“I can’t believe it’s the first day of our last year…” Alex remarked as everyone gathered their things and clambered out the car. They had become a collective over the past few years, a friendship group not easily frayed or broken, and as they walked in almost a clump across the school lawn, with Julie in the lead, it was quite difficult to not notice the rest of the school’s eyes resting on them.

Word must have gotten out about their good luck.

“What are you guys going to do without us when we’re gone?” Reggie asked with a grin, his arm sling over his girlfriend’s shoulder as the pair sauntered in the group’s centre, and Flynn turned back from her place beside Julie.

“Maybe get some school work done for once.” She clapped back, earning a chorus of chuckles and tones of agreement from amongst the group.

Luke was hanging back in the rear, taking a moment just to observe his friends, a habit he had gotten into over the summer: this was the last year they would, theoretically, all be together, and Luke had no intention of wasting any of his time with them.

“Hey, uh, Luke!” A voice interrupted his thoughts, the brown-haired boy spinning on the spot to come face to face with one of his classmates. She wasn’t someone he knew very well, granted, but he still smiled and took a step towards her, laying down the infamous charm.

“What can I do you for?” He asked with a dopey grin, which later turned to a smirk when she blushed profusely at his words.

“I was just… uh… Congratulations! On the contest, everyone’s talking about it.” She paused, rummaging in her bag and pulling out a slip of paper, Luke pulling a hand out of his pocket to accept the offering. “If you ever, I don’t know, if you’re ever free and wanna go out for a coffee or something…” She trailed off, and Luke examines the name and phone number.

“Well, Sara,” He read her name out, looking up at her as he spoke. “I’ll send you a text, maybe?” He suggested, taking a few steps back when he heard the sound of Julie shouting his name.

“Uh, yeah! Cool! See you around!” Sara beamed, waving him off as Luke turned to catch up with his friends, the interaction boosting his ego a little more as he went into day.

In fact, by the time lunch had come around, Luke’s day had been rather jammed packed with words of praise and offers of phone numbers, and it seems like his band mates had been experiencing the same thing. When Luke arrived at lunch after a gruelling lesson with Mr Norbert, glad that the rest of his day would consist solely of music, he found his friends at their preferred lunch table, each with a collection of notes falling from their pockets.

“Am… Do I need to act more gay? I thought people knew I was gay.” As Luke sat down, Alex asked the question to the table, Willie’s hand rubbing his boyfriend’s shoulders.

“What do you mean?” Luke asked as he set down his tray and took a bite of his sandwich.

“Four girls… Four girls have tried to ask me out today! And I mean, how am I supposed to respond to that? Did they not know I was gay in the first place?” He questioned again, head frantically searching for an answer as the boy’s anxiety began to build, only to be wheeled by Willie’s lip pressing to Alex’s cheek.

“Join the club, guys.” Carrie spoke up from the end of the table, a vision in pink as she and Julie shared notes from a previous class. “I’ve literally been receiving Instagram DMs for years, all the Dirty Candi girls have. The amount of guys that think they can ‘make you straight’.” The girl involuntarily shivered and let out a sigh. “This is just the beginning for you four. The amount of fan mail thanks to the competition will be huge.”

The Dirty Candi girls had been a group as long as Julie and the Phantoms has, but their music was so different there was no need for competition. They all just sort of became friends instead, and when it became clear the girls wouldn’t be allowed to audition for the Battle of the Bands because of Carrie’s dad’s position at Fall Down Records, there was a mixture of sadness and relief. No hard feelings were had, and no hard feelings would happen, because the last thing the friends wanted was to be compared with one another. They were all talented.

Plus, Dirty Candi performed on Ellen, so if anything they were currently the more well-known.

“In other news.” Flynn spoke up, pulling her eyes away from her phone to address the group. “There’s a new transfer student.” She announced, and glanced over at the clock on the far side of the cafeteria. “We should all be meeting them in about half an hour.” She said decidedly.

“How do you know?” Reggie asked with a mouth full of pasta. He had a semi-circle of clutter around him as he tried to eat and copy homework all at the same time, the boy quite aware of how lucky he was to have better-prepared friends than him.

“Mrs Harrison was our free period supervisor this morning. She got a call, disappeared from class and didn’t come back for twenty minutes.” Nick spoke up on Flynn’s behalf, the girl turned back to her phone to feverishly type away at the screen. “Mrs H has to welcome all the new music students.” He added quickly, glancing across the table as Julie nodded in agreement.

“They’re a senior, or we would have seen them in classes this morning.” The band’s lead singer stacked on top of the Juniors’ theory, and Carrie quickly got her attention back to point out a mistake she had made on the maths coursework.

“New students come in every year.” Luke remarked, brushing off the fascination with a wave of his hand. “Maybe we should talk a bit more about, oh you know, the fact that we’re going to be playing to millions of people on a televised game show in a fortnight!” Luke exclaimed, earning grins from around the table as they all got that hit of realisation again. It had felt like a dream the night before.

“Well, I don’t wanna spill secrets…” Carrie started, all eyes quickly on her. “But with dad hosting the show, there are some responsibilities the Wilson family are taking on… Like an acoustic jam session for the competing bands to meet each other.” She revealed with a squeak, taking a hold of Julie’s arm with excitement. “And don’t even get me started on the Halloween bash the Record Label will be holding…” She added, and Kayla hit Carrie’s arm playfully.

“You keep this up and you’ll rig the competition, C.” Kayla reminded with a meaningful smile, and the pink-themed girl rolled her eyes, but fell quiet nonetheless.

The conversation steered away from the competition for the rest of the lunch period, the friends slowly beginning the walk to music as eyes watched them pass. It wasn’t something any of them acknowledged, well, apart from Carrie on occasion, but they were the popular kids.

It was a mixture of charm, friendliness and musical success, but they had become the ‘it’ kids of Los Feliz High. None of them particularly disliked the role they had been prescribed either: the more people they knew, the more people would hear their music, the more people they could share their passion with. And it was nice, too, sitting at the top of the food chain. They had all been at the bottom at some point in time, and knowing their influence on their peers was a positive gave them all a little bit of pride.

“Quickly, quickly!” Mrs H called from the doorway down the hall, ushering the group to hurry toward the classroom, Julie and Luke in the lead as the nine kids shuffled through the door of the band room, Mrs H closing the door behind them. Their teacher quickly checked through the window to make sure no-one was on approach.

“Mrs H, is everything ok?” Julie asked, taking a step forward, and their teacher nodded quickly.

“I have a favour to ask. We’ve got a new student joining. I didn’t want to ask with other kids listening in but.” Mrs H paused, and relief flossed the faces of her students. There wasn’t any danger, just a request they usually got. “Could you make her feel at home? I. She’s been admitted to the program without an audition, I have no clue of her ability. I just don’t want her being overwhelmed, turned away again.”

“Anything for you, Mrs Harrison.” Luke chipped in, their teacher smiling and letting out a breath.

“Thank you… Right, get yourselves seated, we can have a chat more about this competition during second period, I’ll go fetch her from the office.” Mrs H explained, rushing out the door as their classmates filed in, the room becoming a hub of activity rather quickly as kids picked up their instruments and began tuning.

“How does someone get into the music program without auditioning?” Reggie asked, though there was no malice, just naïve curiosity. Unfortunately, his friends didn’t know how to answer him. It was a question they all had on their minds as they got themselves comfy in the room’s far corner, Luke collecting his guitar and Reggie’s bass from one of the storage cupboards, the pair nodding Julie over to the piano to help them tune the guitars.

It was Julie sat herself down at the grand piano that the door suddenly swung open, Principal Brown coming into the room in a dazzling magenta pantsuit.

“Good afternoon students.” She greeted, receiving a chorus of ‘good afternoon Principal’ back. “As some of you already know, we have a new transfer student joining us for her senior year, and she will be studying alongside you all part-time at the school’s music program.” The principal prefaced, quickly gesturing outside the door for Mrs Harrison to enter along side their new classmate.

“Is that…” Julie whispered, receiving a nod from Reggie and Luke.

The girl from the video last night, the front woman for Electra Heart, stood in their music classroom’s doorway, dressed like a model off a runway, a cigarette perched behind one ear. She was wearing a pair of red plaid trousers, paired with black heels and a corset style crop top, an oversized jean jacket thrown on top, all matched to a pair of sunglasses perched on the end of her nose. Her hair was in a bun, showing off the cigarette behind her ear and a collection of piercing along the earlobe. Her nails were all painted the same colour of red as her trousers, which matched the colour on her lips, which matched the outer corners of her eyeshadow.

“Perhaps you can introduce yourself?” Principal Brown asked, she too noticing the cigarette and plucking it from the girl’s ear, throwing it in the nearby trash can. The girl seemed unfazed by her actions, eyes scanning over the room until they landed on the piano, and the band members stood around it.

Luke couldn’t help but stare back, trying his best to keep his jaw from going slack. How was she here? How did she look better in person? And why in the name of God was Luke overcome with a sense of nostalgia as they looked each other over. There was something other worldly about her, something that made Luke feel like he was younger again. It was the eyes, that raked over his body as she smirked, eyes Luke had known to be timid and frantic when they were kids…

It suddenly click in his head.

“Class.” Mrs Harrison decided to speak for the student. “The is Y/N Y/L/N.”

“No fucking way…” Alex muttered standing up from the back of the class, causing confusion amongst his and Luke’s friends. The rest of them seemed to be missing something important, but were yet to figure out what.

“Y/N, why don’t you find yourself a seat?” Mrs H suggested, Principal Brown taking her leave as Y/N sauntered towards the far corner of the classroom, not pausing for even a second as she sat herself on Luke’s chair, arms folding over her chest as Luke’s gaze on her turned from one of surprise to one of raw, unfiltered annoyance, something Julie would later describe as ‘the angriest she’s ever seen’ her friend.

The pair stared each other down for a moment, Y/N the first to move and reach out an arm, taking Alex’s nearby hand in hers as he stayed standing, shocked by the revelation.

“Seven years is a long time, isn’t it?” Her voice was smooth, trained, like molasses dripping down. It stuck in Luke’s head, the words taking hold over his brain just like her song had earlier that day. Alex pulled the girl to her feet suddenly, the pair embracing in a tight hug, staying like that for a moment as the class watched on, as their friends watched on.

When they finally pulled apart, the girl turned her attention to the frowning Luke, whose knuckles were clenched so firmly that the skin was as white as bone.

It couldn’t be. How was she here? It had to be some kind of joke.

But her eyes were the same, her smirk so familiar, and the deal was sealed when she sat herself back down and crossed one leg over another, in his chair, sending a wink his way that was anything but playful.

“Well, hello there, Skywalker.”

He had always hated that nickname...

--

TAGS: @siennanoelle01 @epikskool @eries45 @thesweetestsinner @fangirlangioma @moviesbooksandfandoms @ohyoureaqueenbutuncrowned @saroo-hawks @charliessunset @lana-moe-fandoms @bigdesi @avngrsinitiative @emotionalbruv @lolychu @lazydaisy19 @korydickson @futuremrsb-r-main @uglypeachh @reggieandthereggies @rogersangel @izzyhogue @writerinlearning @independentgirl @delicatelukepatterson​ @mybrainiswhack @uhmitstori​ @mon-charmante @writingforphantoms @musicconversedance @mjflower @heimdoodle​ @kcd15 @-episkey- @billiesburritoess @walkingonshunshine @obxmermaid​ @sunsetcurvenotsunsetswerve @kristencoontz @n0wornever @simp4madi @aliciameix​ @kinda-just-chillin-here @jatpfan @blueyed-one  @vicesvsvirtuesfanfic @ghostlyb1tch @leahstypewriter

[ecoamerica]

Watch the American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 now: https://youtu.be/bWiW4Rp8vF0?feature=shared

The American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 broadcast recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by active climate leaders. Watch to find out which finalist received the $50,000 grand prize! Hosted by Vanessa Hauc and featuring Bill McKibben and Katharine Hayhoe!

[seerofmike]

The Writing In Apex Kinda Sucks And Also They Use Ship Bait As A Plot Device I Hate It Here

a stupid essay/rant encouraged by @zombiegloss that originally started as a youtube video script so if its like. weird at points. this was intended to be a verbal rant SNZISKSIA

basically i'm gonna talk abt the caustic-wattson-crypto relationship drama and how i think it was mishandled and how much the writers kind of Suck because i Can

you are free to disagree with me on any of my points and think that this aspect of the story was handled well, this is just my opinion, and i'd love to hear your thoughts and counterpoints !

first, addressing some things:

i know this is a battle royale and not necessarily a story-based game, so i can’t expect it to have masterful witcher-style writing.

but with the direction the game seems to be going; putting quests, evolving interactions, and comics in the game, plus coming out with a lore book and hinting at something bigger in the future, i think it’s fair to criticize it for lackluster writing, especially since what i’m criticizing has been something present since Apex’s story technically began.

secondly, i am not a professional writer. i’m a high schooler who writes as a hobby. i don’t have the decades of experience that some of the apex writers do, and i can’t claim to be a better writer than they are--but i also don’t have to be a five-star chef to realize that something tastes bad. when i critique something and give suggestions, i am not saying i could’ve done it better. i’m just bringing up what i think could have worked.

third, before i upset anyone , when i say a relationship is badly written, i’m not telling you that you can’t ship it or that your ship sucks. i’ll briefly touch on the shipping aspect of this and how it’s a detriment to the story but Ye

okay, so with that out of the way, let us Begin

relationships are often the emotional core of a story, and how strong your reaction is to conflict in these relationships depends on how the story sets them up. if you want the audience to care about these characters and what they go through, you need to develop them and establish the type of relationship they have well. it’s why so many people cried in the last episode of telltale’s the walking dead. you’ve spent roughly 12 hours bonding with clementine and protecting her, and your relationship with her is part of several story beats as well as character beats for lee. 

when these two characters’ relationship reaches its peak at the end of the game, it’s powerful, and it’s emotional. you care. you feel something, and the fact that you have to choose what to do to lee only makes it more gut-wrenching. 

now, the walking dead is entirely story-based and especially character-driven, so it may be unfair to compare it to apex, but i just wanted to lay the groundwork down for what i think is a strong relationship that makes you feel something when conflict arrives, in this case the conflict being lee getting bit and clementine having to decide his fate.

the broken ghost in general is kind of not-good sometimes, tom casiello previously wrote for soap operas and you can really, REALLY tell sometimes.

this story feels like it should’ve taken place a little later, and that we should’ve had a season to actually set up the characters and their relationships, but that’s a story for another day.

to put it bluntly, the set-up for the crypto, wattson, and caustic conflict is done poorly. for caustic and wattson's relationship it’s a little better, but not by much. 

wattson and caustic having a relationship was hinted at in season 2, when her lore indicated that caustic was among one of the Legends who comforted her after her father died. In season four lore materials posted on Twitter, an email from Jacob Young states that Caustic is acting paternal towards Wattson. In season five, interactions get added to the Game, and this is the first time we actually see their relationship in action, as they have unique revive voice lines for each other. in the quests, when wattson is injured, caustic lashes out at loba and attacks her out of what seems to be anger at wattson’s current state.

Side Note this plot point was really stupid and done for cheap drama because she literally wakes up like two chapters later and they don’t even give her anything to say it’s just suddenly oh yeah crypto and wattson are working together. the same exact injury thing happens to octane later but nobody gIVES A SHIT because again, it’s just cheap soap opera drama.

their relationship might seem a little bit sudden for anyone who wasn’t on top of twitter lore drops, but like, it’s okay, i guess. i’ll give it the slightest credit for at least establishing something between the two in terms of voice lines and stuff, even if for some it might seem like it came out of nowhere.

what did come out of nowhere, though, was crypto and wattson’s friendship. in the quests, crypto and wattson are tasked with rebuilding the broken ghost because of their respective skills, and they’re seen talking in chapter six while they work on it. we’re not really given a clear timeline on how long the story in the broken ghost is, but i think it takes about a week, maybe.

unlike wattson and caustic, their relationship has been given absolutely zero material to work with before now, not even a passing glance in the trailers--which is a little weird considering crypto took down the repulsor tower and destroyed wattson’s home, but. Whatever.

tl dr of the chapter: crypto and wattson talk to each other while doing nerd shit, crypto laughs at wattson’s bad pun, and then suddenly they’re BESTIEEEES, until a couple dozen lines later in the same chapter. then they’re Not.

crypto’s drone gets hacked by revenant while everyone was kind of on edge after the reveal of a spy in their midst, he gets framed as the spy by caustic, anddddd wattson gets upset.

before i get into how dumb this storyline is, i’m gonna talk about the set-up to this conflict.

we have been given no reason to believe that these characters have ever talked to each other, and quite frankly, their friendship doesn’t really make sense.

ignoring the fact that crypto destroyed wattson’s home--which she probably doesn’t know about, so that’s forgiven for now--crypto is a paranoid guy. in the lore book he makes people stand on fucking footprints in his house so he can scan them for weapons and listening devices, and he apparently doesn’t stick around much after the games and nobody knows anything about him because he doesn’t talk to them.

a key part of crypto’s story is the fact that he is undercover and afraid of anyone finding out anything about him ever. him becoming friends with wattson kind of comes out of the blue, and we’re not even given a reason as to why they supposedly became close in the first place. i would kind of understand if like, maybe he draws parallels with her and mila in his mind and it makes him open up a little more, but that doesn’t happen. he just laughs at her joke and suddenly they’re friends.

maybe they’re trying to go for this ‘wattson can become friends with anybody’ angle, kind of hinted at with caustic but not really we’ll get into that, but that also? kind of doesn’t make sense since so many of her voice lines straight-up say she doesn’t understand people and electricity is more her thing, but honestly, she also does have those really friendly elements in her voice lines too, so its not as egregious as what they did with crypto.

their sudden out-of-the-blue friendship would’ve been fine if they spent a little more time fleshing it out, and giving us something to work with, but instead, the story immediately tries to rip it apart and frame it as this grand conflict where crypto is framed as the mole, crypto then accuses caustic, and wattson feels betrayed.

except it doesn’t really work, because we don’t give a shit. for several reasons. 

one: crypto and wattson became friends and then ended their friendship in the same exact chapter. they did not speak to each other onscreen until this chapter began, you can read the entire quest on the wiki and see for yourself that their interactions up until that point were nonexistent aside from mentions in the narration that they were building something together.

the reason wattson feels betrayed is kind of stupid too. why does she really care that much if one of them betrayed loba? nobody else really cared about the fact that one of them was a spy, in fact, nobody even seems to like loba that much, and they just found out that loba’s been lying to them this whole time, and wattson was conscious for that conversation and had a speaking line, so she’s fully aware of the situation. 

maybe it’s just like, the idea that one of them lied, but that’s still kind of a weak reason. 

this entire betrayal thing is just dumb, and it gets even worse when you realize that there could have been an actual legitimate reason for wattson to feel betrayed by crypto--even if it still would’ve come across as weak conflict because of their newly established friendship, it would’ve made more sense than this. 

Crypto destroyed Wattson’s home. He took down the tower and then all the flyers and stuff invaded Kings Canyon and made it their bitch. Not only that, but Wattson considers the Syndicate her family. The Syndicate are the very people who framed Crypto for murder and he’s trying to take them down. 

They could’ve set up actual conflict with these things, and it almost seemed like they would, because Caustic briefly brings up that Crypto could be working with Revenant because he has something against the Syndicate but then that doesn’t really go anywhere and we’re just back to Wattson feeling betrayed because either Crypto or Caustic was a spy and she doesn’t know who.

Weak conflict could’ve been made better by a strong relationship and a weak relationship could’ve still been interesting with strong conflict, but both the relationship between Crypto and Wattson and the conflict that drives them splitting up as friends were really weak and didn’t make much sense. 

It would’ve been ten times more interesting if Wattson found out Crypto ruined her home, the arena she grew up in, and was now participating in the Games to take out the people she regards as her family. That’s where her distrust could’ve manifested and conflict could’ve began, but instead it was the stupid betraying loba thing. why do you care. you just started talking to this guy like 2 hours ago.

also caustic’s whole reason for framing crypto feels stupid as fuck. he didn’t just frame crypto randomly, he framed him specifically because he doesn't want him to influence wattsob because he likes her Big Brain, but this is the FIRST time we have seen those two interact. 

what influence is he talking about? wraith and wattson have been shown to be friendly with each other in the trailers, according to tom’s tweets, and in the story too so why doesn’t he frame her? at this point the audience had slightly more build-up for those two’s relationship than crypto and wattson and a betrayal storyline would’ve felt a little more deserved if still weak.

this is the point where i briefly want to touch upon shipping, and the fact that part of this conflict feels driven by shipbait. 

aside from their relationship coming out of nowhere and the writers trying to make the stakes seem high and deeply emotional to the characters involved (despite this essentially being the first time they’ve ever interacted) tom casiello literally addresses shippers in a tweet regarding chapter seven, and as the story between these characters progresses, it becomes clear to me, at least that the crypto-wattson thing is just bait for shippers, and it’s lazy. 

it’s easy to get away with giving your characters little to no relationship development if you’re just counting on shippers to do the heavy mental lifting for you

why should i put any effort into making this relationship seem believable? people are going to see a young guy and a young girl having bare minimum interaction and assume there’s romantic interest! then i don’t have to do any work, see look, it’s a ready-made relationship wrapped in a bow for me! all that’s left for me to do is give them conflict so i can keep teasing shippers with lines like ‘you never deserved her’!

i think it’s reasonable for me to suspect shipbait, since tom casiello likes doing darksparks shipbait on twitter, and i’m like, eighty percent sure mirage and bloodhound suddenly being childhood friends in the book is shipbait too, because these characters were the number one ship in apex for a long time despite little to no interaction, and then all of a sudden in the lore book they’re childhood friends despite this literally never being mentioned before?

like bloodhound is set up to be mysterious and nobody knows what they look like, or where they’re from, or who their family is--except for mirage Apparently, who played with them when he was a kid on their home planet, and has seen them with their mask off, because bloodhound did not wear a mask when their parents were still alive.

its weird.

i’m pretty sure they’ve said somewhere they were working on this book before apex even came out, so i could just be completely wrong and they always planned for mirage and bloodhound to know each other, but if that’s the case, why did they never mention it like they did octane and lifeline?

i refuse to believe MIRAGE never brought it up either like ‘heeeeyy bloodhound remember when we used to throw eggs at our parents lab haha wanna go do to that to bangalore’s room’ 

[silence]

‘good talk buddy’

ANYWAYS I GOT OFF TOPIC. POINT IS, shipping is a detriment to the story because the writers don’t feel like they actually have to put any work into establishing or developing the relationship between characters when they know the community’s just going to do it for them anyways, and that they can put in shipbait and it’s fine and it makes sense when it really doesn’t.

imagine watching captain america civil war after not seeing a single other marvel movie.

why would you care about the avengers splitting up or tony and steve butting heads or steve’s commitment to bucky? you wouldn’t care, at least not as much as someone who’s seen all the movies and knows the relationship between the characters and why the sokovia accords exist in the first place. you don’t have context and you don’t have any reason to be emotionally invested in these characters’ relationship.

 this feels like that. the writers tried to squeeze this relationship and stuff into a single chapter and we don’t fucking care unless we were already invested in the idea of their relationship (shippers) because we barely spent any time with it.

so to summarize this little section, the set-up of this storyline Kinda Sucks! crypto and wattson barely seem to know each other, because we the audience barely saw them together and the writers are relying on shipbait in place of a relationship.

wattson and caustic are a little better but not great, but the conflict is stupid and it only gets stupider.

moving onto summarizing the rest of the broken ghost, gibraltar and caustic talk, caustic LITERALLY confesses to being the mole and says he framed crypto so he couldn’t corrupt wattson and to appear innocent because his identity was suspected, then that wraps up the season storyline.

season six begins with new voice lines, where wattson has had enough of crypto and caustic’s shit and is all passive-aggressive and going ‘this doesn’t change anything’. she has to decide who to trust, and how to figure out The Truth for herself because she’s not a little girl anymore. crypto and caustic are both trying to convince her they’re innocent and it creates some interesting conflict.

just kidding. it’s terrible conflict. you want to know why?

BECAUSE GIBRALTAR TRIED TO TELL HER THE TRUTH, RIGHT AFTER THE SEASON 5 QUEST HAPPENED, AND SHE LITERALLY REFUSED TO HEAR IT.

LIKE THERE’S A SEASON 6 LOADING SCREEN WHERE HE’S TELLING EVERYONE THE TRUTH ABOUT WHAT HAPPENED, AND WHEN HE GETS TO WATTSON AND IS LIKE HEY I KNOW WHO THE MOLE WAS AND WHY THEY DID IT, SHE JUST GOES i dont wanna hear it. i need to think

IF YOU WANT THE TRUTH WHY ARE YOU REFUSING TO HEAR IT

SHE SPENDS ALMOST TWO ENTIRE SEASONS MAD AT CRYPTO FOR SOMETHING HE DIDN’T DO BECAUSE SHE TOLD GIBRALTAR TO FUCK OFF WHEN HE TRIED TO TELL HER WHAT HAPPENED

ITS SO DUMB

i think it was towards the end of season 6 or the beginning of season 7 where apex posted this picture of wattson asleep at her desk where she has a letter from gibraltar on it that looks like it tells her the truth, so she knows now, she knows what happened, but NOW her issue is the fact that she doesn’t know anything about crypto.

WHAT THE FUCK. WHAT IS YOUR GODDAMN DAMAGE. YOU DON’T KNOW SHIT ABOUT BLOODHOUND EITHER ARE YOU THIS UPSET WITH BLOODHOUND TOO?? HAVE YOU EVER TALKED TO PATHFINDER. DO YOU HATE PATHFINDER TOO

oh but she was friends with crypto and now she’s mad that he lied to her EXCEPT THEIR RELATIONSHIP WASN’T BUILT UP WELL SO IT JUST FEELS STUPID. THEY SPENT LONGER BEING NOT-FRIENDS THAN THEY SPENT BEING FRIENDS. THEY BECAME FRIENDS IN ONE CHAPTER AND THEN IMMEDIATELY AT THE END OF THAT CHAPTER THEIR FRIENDSHIP ENDED AND THEN WATTSON SPENT LIKE 2 SEASONS MAD AT HIM FOR SOMETHING HE DIDN’T DO . 

AND THE WRITERS TRIED TO RECTIFY THIS BY SAYING OH SHE’S NOT MAD ABOUT THE TRAITOR THING SHE’S MAD BECAUSE SHE DOESN’T KNOW ANYTHING ABOUT HIM AND IT’S LIKE WHY THE FUCK DID YOU NOT MAKE THAT CLEAR WHY DOES SHE SAY ‘IT DOESN’T CHANGE WHAT YOU DID’ IN HER VOICE LINES WHY DOES SHE CALL HIM A TRAITOR IF HER CONFLICT WAS HER NOT KNOWING MUCH ABOUT HIM . WHAT DID HE DO. 

HE JUST STOOD THERE AND LAUGHED AT HER JOKE AND THEN HE GOT FRAMED AND THEN THAT WAS THE END OF THE CHAPTER AND NOW SHES SUDDENLY LIKE IM ACTUALLY MAD BECAUSE YOURE A LIAR AND I CANT TRUST YOU EVEN THOUGH I NOW KNOW YOU WERE FRAMED I STILL DO NOT LIKE YOU AND HES LIKE YEAH THATS MY FAULT

The Caustic voicelines are stupid too, again his reason for framing Crypto was stupid and a lot of his voicelines just seem to be that shipbait thing again but like from the angle of overprotective dad who doesn’t like the new boyfriend. it’s stupid but not as egeregious as this next part which is

crypto telling wattson his identity.

CRYPTO was framed for MURDER and is paranoid and can’t trust anyone and doesn’t talk to anyone and the last time he did talk to someone he got framed for Another thing and the person he was talking to turned her back on him and actively refused to know the truth for like 2 seasons and then he went This Is Fine I Can Tell Her My Identity

the stupidest update to this storyline was crypto telling wattson the truth

why did they do it on the dropship where there are presumably syndicate members and other legends around.

why didn’t he scan wattson for listening devices like he did for pathfinder in the book.

why is he telling her his identity when he knows she has very close ties to the people that FRAMED HIM for MURDER. Does he trust her that much? WHY? They spoke to each other in a chapter and then spent two seasons not talking to each other beyond passive-aggressive BS. why are you so fucking stupid taejoon

their relationship was so poorly set-up that even if the writers maybe intended for them to come across as close friends who had spent weeks bonding, it really feels like they became friends in a single conversation, had a falling out, and now crypto suddenly trusts her with his identity after an undetermined amount of time because he wants to be friends again. 

that does not make SENSE this conflict feels contrived AS FUCK and the resolution feels even worse and unearned UGGGHHHH

it honestly comes across as crypto feeling desperate for friendship, and maybe this would’ve worked better if that’s the angle they played it as.

he’s been alone for roughly two years, and just wants a friend, and he’s honestly so lonely he just breaks down to the first person who’s really talked to him. it could’ve been an interesting little part of his character, and they could've gone into depth about how much this situation has affected him, but that’s not what they’re doing. he’s still paranoid and anxious and doesn’t trust anyone, except for wattson, because the plot needs him to or else there won’t be any stupid soap opera drama.

and to rub salt in the wound, wattson’s new voice lines with caustic have him telling her that she forgave crypto.

WHAT ARE YOU FORGIVING HIM FOR. ARE YOU FORGIVING HIM FOR BEING FRAMED? WHY DID HE HAVE TO APOLOGIZE TO YOU WHEN YOU WERE THE ONE WHO REFUSED TO HEAR THE TRUTH?

 did the conversation just go hey my real name is taejoon park and something bad happened to me and she went aight i forgive you WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT

Caustic’s new voice lines to Crypto where he’s like ‘what did you tell her’--YOU TOLD GIBRALTAR STRAIGHT-UP YOUR EVIL MASTER PLAN LIKE A SUPERVILLAIN AND NOW YOU’RE SURPRISED WATTSON AND CRYPTO ARE ON GOOD TERMS NOW?!

THAT’S LIKE TELLING SOMEONE YOUR SOCIAL SECURITY NUMBER AND THEN BEING SURPRISED WHEN YOU BECOME THE VICTIM OF IDENTITY FRAUD. YOU SET YOURSELF UP FOR THIS WHY ARE YOU ACTING LIKE CRYPTO DID SOMETHING SINISTER OR LIED OR WHATEVER. WHAT THE FUCK. WHY DO YOU HAVE LIKE 3 BRAINCELLS

this is at like ten pages already so i’m going to just try and wrap this up quickly. 

it’s frustrating seeing this storyline play out when there are actually good relationships and storylines written into apex. i’m kind of getting tired of the loba and revenant conflict, but we at least had set-up to it in the form of a few animated shorts and it doesn’t play out as stupidly as this story does. bangalore and loba’s friendship is actually developed well, even if the point between the end of season 5 and season 6 where they suddenly talk like each other feels like it could’ve used a little more. 

where crypto and wattson having an established friendship in the broken ghost failed, lifeline and octane’s established friendship works because we’ve been told since octane’s release they were childhood friends and given lore materials that indicate they’ve known each other for a very long time.

apex wants this storyline between crypto and wattson and caustic to feel dramatic and tense and ultimately rewarding when crypto and wattson did become friends for real and stuff, but instead it just comes across as hollow and empty. 

there’s nothing there. it’s a case of tell, don’t show, and it looks like this stupid conflict is gonna keep going for another couple of seasons at this rate. 

side note: this entire script was written before the new twitter comics

please tell me ur thoughts and feel free to respond with ur own lil essay

also believe it or not this is not the "shipping is a detriment to apex's story" essay i was gonna write this is a completely different essay that has some overlap SKXISOSOW

[percontaion-points]

Raven King chapter 6

Click to see the rest of the snark & image descriptions.

Chapter 6

Nicky was bringing Jim from his improv class...

I thought Nicky had a long-term boyfriend?

Well, if he did, he probably doesn't anymore. Not with all of Nicky's jokes about cheating and him taking some rando to the big dinner.

Blackwell was slow to appear in the distance, but it didn't take long to spot the two stadiums. The football and Exy stadium were on opposite sides of the campus like massive bookends.

I'm still having a really difficult time swallowing that society completely shifted because of a sport invented some 30 years earlier.

Like I'm willing to overlook a lot for the sake of a story. But for society to just go completely and utterly apeshit over a 30 year old sport makes zero sense. AND I READ THE STORY WHERE THE LADY HAD SEX WITH THE LITERAL BULL.

Wymack pulled a bottle of vodka out of the bag and put it down beside Kevin. "You have ten seconds to inhale as much of this as you can. I'm timing you. Go."

It was alarming how much a man could drink when he needed an emotional crutch.

WOW THAT'S SUPER FUCKING HEALTHY.

Like I get that his foster-father and brother abused the shit out of him. But therapy is much better than alcoholism.

Madison was using the home locker room to change right now, so the Foxes had to go all the way around to the away side.

I really love how there's this big fancy banquet dinner where they invite all of the college exy teams, and they literally have to change in the locker room.

My high school did this band banquet, too. But we didn't have to fucking eat dinner out on the football field with our parents... We had the school cafeteria for the evening.

Out of touch author can't even think of a world where these idiots would want to rent a banquet hall. Oh no... it's got to be at the fucking stadium, for some unholy reason.

Judging by Neil's quick headcount, the Ravens hadn't brought dates. They hadn't brought any color along, either. All twenty-two of them were dressed head-to-toe in black. The twenty men wore the same shirts and slacks, and the two women wore identical dresses. They even sat the exact same way, all with their right elbows on the table, all of them with their chins in their hands. Another team might look foolish going so far, but somehow the Ravens looked imposing.

I joke about the fox characters outside of Neil, Kevin, and Andrew being cardboard cut-outs... but this ain't got nothing on those cardboard cutouts.

"I know who you are," Riko said. "Who here doesn't? You're the woman who captains a Class I team. You've done admittedly well despite your disadvantages."

CASUAL SEXISM.

The man to Riko's right stood up as soon as the Foxes were settled and walked behind the Ravens until he was across from Neil. Two fingers to the woman's shoulder got her out of her chair and she moved to the newly-emptied seat. The stranger sat across from Neil. As he did the Ravens fell out of their frozen poses, but they did so only to lean back as one in their chairs.

Did they practice this ahead of time?

The black three tattooed on his left cheekbone meant he could be no one but Jean Moreau.

Imagine getting a tattoo of a college sports number. Of which you would only get to play for a few years before being forced out.

It took him only a few seconds to realize the Ravens were coming. The entire team was crossing the court toward Kevin, walking in V formation like a flock of birds going south.

I can't with her descriptions of the Ravens. Like one team's colors are orange and white, and the other is black and red. ONE OF THEM IS GUD AND THE OTHER IS EBUL. THE RAVENS ARE EBUL, AND THEY'RE ALL HENCHMEN ROBOTS.

"We're sure it is," the Raven striker said, "seeing how you're dating a prostitute."

"Stripper," Dan corrected...

[…]

Neil tried not to stare at her. He would have dismissed the Raven's insult as an outright lie if not for Dan's easy response. Too late he remembered her telling him she'd worked an overnight job during high school to make ends meet.

THE AUTHOR DOES REALIZE THAT YOU HAVE TO BE 18 TO WORK JOBS LIKE THAT... RIGHT?! Like please tell me that the author didn't write about a 15 year old getting a job as a stripper.

This series is bad enough without needing to drag child strippers into the mix.

The others fell asleep within a few miles, but Neil spent the entire ride thinking about Riko and his father.

Chapter 6 summary: So it's time for the banquet. They do a random lottery draw where they decide which school will host the banquet this year. The school picked is only about four hours away. The banquet itself lasts for two days, in order to justify some of the travel time for those further away. However, the foxes are of the opinion “fuck that; we're not staying the entire two days”.

As they get closer to the school, Kevin starts to have a panic attack. As the others leave the bus, David gives Kevin some alcohol, and tells him to chug it. Which... yeah, that sounds fucking healthy. They have to change out in the locker room, which is fucking weird if you ask me. And then they go into the stadium, which has been turned into a banquet hall. The sight makes Neil angry, and mood. Rent a fucking banquet hall for this, assholes.

They're upset to see that the foxes are randomly supposed to be sitting across from the ravens. And the ravens are all dressed like evil henchmen, and are even randomly acting in unison. Talk about zero personality. David warned the others not to pick a fight, but obviously wasn't counting on Riko bringing his planet-sized ego with him. A rando Raven player named Jean-- who is the embodiment of every French stereotype you can think of-- starts to antagonize Neil, and calls him by a bunch of Neil's former names. He then moves on and starts insulting everybody else.

Their little pissing match goes on for a long while. But hey, it's not like anything else is going on, so this might as well happen, I guess. Finally, Riko antagonizes Neil into speaking, and Neil calls Riko out on his shit, saying that he's a whiny, entitled little brat who doesn't have anything going for him. Then, Jean and Riko start to act like they “own” Neil, which has fucking creepy slavery undertones to what they're saying.

David finally shows up to say that they're trying to move the foxes to another table. As they get up to leave, Jean can't help but name-drop Neil's father. The others rally around Kevin and Neil once they're away. Kevin is sent back to the bus to drink some more liquor, and Neil thinks about following. Not only that, but just fucking leaving. But he doesn't, because then this series would be put out of its misery.

After dinner, then they put all of the tables away and everybody starts socializing and networking. The ravens come over, act like they've never met the foxes before, but then continue to insult them. I'm really fucking over this. Riko's uncle and the raven coach comes over. The two teams awkwardly stare at one another, and the only thing this scene needs is some dramatic finger snapping. Tetsuji says that he ran fingerprint test off of a glass Neil drank out of back during that dumb morning talk show, and knows who he is. He yells at Neil about crimes that Neil's dad committed against The Family©, as if Neil himself personally did all of that. However, Neil stands his ground and refuses to be bullied by these assholes.

Matt finally drags Neil away, and threatens to tell the exy board about Riko's shit behavior and have him benched for the rest of the season. They all go back to the bus finally, and start to head home.

[everybodyscupoftea]

keeping a secret

pike jj x reader (ft. cody and tyler)

family secret santa in which the boys can’t keep a secret

this made my heart soft btw so y’all are going to melt

(warnings: cursing, light editing)

Secret Santa never worked the way it was supposed to. The four of you drew names the weekend after Thanksgiving, and when you got together to exchange gifts, you had pretty much figured out who had who.

“There’s a forfeit this year,” you interrupted their excited chatter, clutching Cody’s name in your hand, “if I find out who everyone has before we open gifts because of y’all’s dumbasses, you all have to buy me a gift.”

Tyler scoffed, “How is it our fault, maybe you’re just nosy.”

You raised your eyebrows, “So last year you didn’t borrow my chapstick and accidentally slide your slip of paper back into my pocket with the chapstick? And then JJ didn’t literally try and buy my gift while I was in the same room?”

Cody snorted, “She may have a point.”

“Yeah, I have a point. Y’all are sucking the fun out of it, so please, keep it a secret for fuck’s sake.”

“Mhmm, sure. Um, J, what were you wanting for Christmas this year?” Cody asked, grinning at you.

“I’m going to kill you,” you threatened, flipping him off, before pulling your phone out, “everyone send what they want in the group chat.”

You watched Cody’s message roll in and had to hold back a scoff at a date please.

“Cody, you’re being difficult,” Tyler complained.

“Fine,” he huffed and sent something else.

Idk kitchen shit i guess

Now that you could work with.

-

“You know,” JJ mused from where he was lying on your bed, “I think that you have me.”

“Pardon?” you asked.

“What’d you get me for Christmas, I know you have me for Secret Santa.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, “I’m not going to ask how you came to that conclusion, but I want to make it absolutely clear that if you try and ruin Secret Santa again, I will kill you.”

“You won’t,” he answered, confidently, “but I know because Tyler obviously has Cody after the text thing. And I have-” you lunged across the bed to clap your hand over his mouth.

“Maybank, I thought I was clear.”

He smirked and licked your palm until you jerked your hand back, JJ answered, innocent tone of voice, “I was just going to say that I have someone other than myself.”

“Sure you were.”

As you moved to stand, he frowned, grabbing your wrist, “I promise I’ll drop it. Can we study?”

“That’s what you’re here for.”

-

Wanna go to the mall this afternoon

Came onto your phone in the middle of your class, and you sighed, reminding yourself to respond to Tyler once the lesson was finished. Your professor let the class out early, and you responded, walking toward your apartment.

Yeah sure. What time?

Now. I’ll pick you up at your apartment

Okay I’m not quite there yet

I know. I’m sitting outside

You snorted, not even remotely surprised. He was parked right outside your building, looking down at his phone, and you ducked, sneaking around the front of his truck before popping up and tapping on the driver’s window.

He jumped high enough that his head slammed into the roof and screamed so loud and high pitched that even you flinched. Tyler grabbed his chest and glared at you, flipping you off.

Laughing, you ran around the truck and climbed into the passenger seat and asked, “What’s up, creep?”

“Nothing much, asshole.”

“To the mall?” you said, buckling up.

“Yeah, gotta get my Secret Santa gift.” You gave him a look, and he glanced over at you at a red light, “What?”

“Ty, baby, please tell me you’re not bringing me to spoil Secret Santa.”

“I’m,” he paused, “not?”

“Uh huh. Well, I hope you’re buying one for me too, that’s the deal.”

“How do you know I’m not getting one for you in the first place.”

“Tyler,” you warned, “I swear to god.”

“Darling,” he answered, “I’m not religious.”

You groaned, “I’m going to kill you before your driving does.”

-

“I need help,” Cody told you, sitting down with a dramatic frown.

“With what?” you tossed your notebook aside to give him your full attention.

He smiled sheepishly, “Can you wrap my gift for me?”

“What?”

“I know you’re joking. Did the three of you plan this? You’ve all done this.”

“Done what?”

“Tried to ruin it for me.”

“Nope, it’s honestly coincidental and absolutely hilarious.”

You rolled your eyes, “I’m not helping you.”

“Fine,” he pouted, “I guess that my person will be very disappointed, don’t want to upset-” and before he could answer, you kicked out and hit his thigh hard.

“Cody, you’re going to make me do something drastic.”

He smirked, “Oh yeah, like what?”

“I’m going to spoil it for you. I know how much you love Christmas.”

Cody looked conflicted, “Damn, you’ve kinda got me there.”

“Wrap your own damn gifts.”

-

You showed up to the frat house in your pajamas, ready to exchange gifts. Cody was in the kitchen, finishing up some snacks for the group, and you leaned against the counter, “Good afternoon, sir.”

“Good afternoon, ma’am.”

“Excited for today?”

He beamed, “Of course.”

Tyler stumbled into the kitchen rubbing sleep out of his eyes, and you gaped at him, “Bro, it’s 2 p.m.”

He yawned, scratching his stomach, “I’m catching up on sleep.”

“From what?”

“Life, bro. It’s exhausting being alive.”

Which, fucking true. You held your fist out for him to bump, “Feel that.”

“Nap later,” he suggested and you nodded.

JJ came down the stairs next and tilted your chin up to kiss you hello, tapping his fingers on your jaw a few times before pulling back.

Tyler made a gagging noise and reached for a mug of coffee Cody poured. JJ rolled his eyes, “Don’t be bitter.”

“Can we just open gifts?” Tyler whined.

You laughed and nodded, “Yes, let’s take a seat, shall we?”

Cody looked at you warily, “Why the tone?”

“Tone?” you asked, faking innocence.

JJ side eyed you, “You know?”

“I know.”

Tyler groaned, “Literally how? Who blabbed?”

“Cody did. He drunk texted me asking what JJ wanted.”

He smiled sheepishly, “I have zero recollection.”

“Okay but how did you figure out the rest?” Tyler interrupted.

“You have me, we didn’t buy anything at the mall that time we went, but you followed me around all afternoon, trying to figure out what I was interested in.” Tyler narrowed his eyes, “That obvious, huh?”

“It was. Which means JJ has you because I have Cody.”

Pushing himself back, JJ laughed, “Got it in one.”

You crossed your arms, “So I will be accepting gifts from JJ and Cody in the near future, thanks.”

Cody sighed, “We figured you’d find out, so we actually already ordered them, just not in yet.”

“Oh my god,” Tyler muttered, “y’all are awful.”

“Hey,” Cody pointed at him accusatory, “just because you weren’t at fault doesn’t mean you get to take a moral high ground, you’re the one who ruined it last year.”

“Yeah,” JJ added on, “I’m the only one who gets to take it.”

“You ruined it the first year,” you reminded him, “well, Brooke did I guess. She texted me asking why the fuck you were spending more money on my gift than hers.”

Tyler choked on his coffee, “What?!”

JJ’s jaw dropped, and you suddenly realized you’d never told any of them about it. They all stared at you, waiting for a response, “Yeah, she was mad I guess.”

“Jesus Christ,” JJ muttered.

Cody laughed, “God she was the fucking worst. That’s why your gift was cheap sweetheart.”

After a few more seconds of laughter, JJ finally interrupted, “Okay, we should actually exchange gifts.”

“Right, so, I had Cody,” you started, passing over your gift.

He tore into it and pulled out the apron that said plant mom in a script font with plants scattered randomly all over the front. He snorted, “This is fucking fantastic.

“Thank you,” you beamed, “but there’s actually more, so don’t get stuck on the apron.”

Cody pulled out a set of hockey tickets, two for the upcoming Hurricanes Leafs matchup and gasped, “Dude, oh my god, I’m going to kiss you right now.”

Laughing, you puckered your lips, “Any time, baby.”

JJ chuckled, “Mr. Steal My Girl, huh?”

“Maybank, she’d leave you in a fucking heartbeat for a Leafs player, we both know that. I’m not quite as great, but I’m close,” Cody fired back, softening it by sliding his gift for JJ across the table. 

Picking it up, JJ shook it a few times before digging through the bag. He made a weird face and pulled out a pair of boxers. His jaw dropped and Cody was very clearly holding in laughter.

“What is it?” Tyler asked, eyebrows furrowed.

Wordlessly, he held them up and flipped them around so everyone could see daddy issues written across the ass in pink writing.

You and Tyler busted out laughing as Cody sat, arms crossed looking smug. JJ was clearly unsure how to feel, close to laughing, until Cody took pity, “Don’t worry, bro, there’s more in the bag.”

Sure enough, JJ pulled out a new wallet, one he’d been eyeing for months but hadn’t pulled the trigger on because it was a bit out of budget. Smiling softly at Cody, he told him, “Thanks bro, love you.”

“Love you too, J.”

“No sappy hours early,” Tyler interrupted, “give me my gift.”

“It’s 2 p.m.,” JJ muttered but passed the box over to Tyler anyway.

He tore into it and JJ jolted forward, “Dude, it’s breakable, chill.”

Inside was a nice tea set and a box of fancy teas. Tyler blinked a few times, in awe of the contents, “Woah.”

“I know you like tea more than coffee, and we never have any here, so I figured I’d set you up.”

“I-” Tyler cut himself off, “wow, this is really thoughtful. Thanks buddy.”

“Anytime. I’ll tell you where I ordered them too so if you like one you can order more. I kinda just got a starter pack.”

“Yeah, that would be sick.”

JJ squeezed his shoulder and Tyler cleared his throat, passing a small bag across the table. You picked it up, curious, and pulled the tissue paper out. After looking, you let out a loud laugh, “Great minds, huh?”

“Great minds,” Tyler nodded, folding his hands.

“What is it?” JJ asked, leaning over.

“Leafs tickets. Two of them.”

“Well,” Cody said, “guess we can all go now. Sitting in different places, but we can make a trip of it.”

Tyler lit up, “I didn’t even think about that!”

“Boys night,” Cody cheered.

“Fuck yes,” you agreed, clutching the tickets to your chest.

“Oh,” Tyler leaned forward, “there’s something else, but it’s in my room, be right back.”

He disappeared up the stairs, and JJ stood to grab his wallet to start switching everything over. Cody looked pleased, and Tyler came running back down a few seconds later with a box in his hand.

“This too,” he huffed out, collapsing back into the chair.

“You’re going to break that one day,” you warned him, tearing into the wrapping paper. Inside was the pair of running shoes you’d talked about the day you went to the mall with him and you smiled, “Thanks, bud.”

“Mall trip successful,” he responded, taking the last sip of his coffee before standing again, “who wants tea?”

“Me,” you answered, standing with him while Cody started pulling out plates for the snacks he’d made. 

In the loudness of everyone talking over each other, you just had to smile. Sure it was chaotic, but it was your family, and you loved them all dearly.

“Oh,” you remembered, “Cody and JJ I expect my gifts on Christmas Eve, thanks.”

Cody groaned and JJ squeezed his shoulder, “You have no one to blame but yourself.”

~

for day nine of @obxmermaid​‘s holiday challenge: secret santa

[huxandthehound]

Why Levi is Still Going to Kill Zeke and Why it Matters

Levi is going to kill Zeke.

You can’t change my mind.

I’ve seen and heard a lot of stuff going around recently. None of it has been rude or angry, just lots of people writing off Levi’s role in the story going forward. And I can understand that to some degree. The series is quickly coming to a close and we’re in the endgame now. (Sorry, I had to.) Levi has been sidelined for over a year. Zeke is absolutely no longer the Big Bad. But none of this means we can throw away a character’s entire motivation because we hear the orchestra warming up to play everyone off the stage.

We haven’t seen Zeke in eight chapters. We haven’t seen Levi do much of anything since getting blown up in chapter 114. Their relevance to the story is seemingly diminishing month by month. Zeke has been, presumably, lying in a pile of rubble or (insert your favorite theory here), and Levi has been getting hauled around Paradis like a small child on a family road trip. Neither of them has done anything remotely relevant, at least in regards to the current state of things with Eren, in a very long time. However, there is one thing Levi has done since then. And he’s done it multiple times: reiterate how much he wants to kill Zeke.

THE PROMISE

The entire reason we’re talking about this is because of something that happened way back in chapter 80. In a grand gesture amongst the chaos and devastation Zeke himself was raining down on them, Levi knelt before Erwin and lifted the weight of his dream from his shoulders. And simultaneously vowed to kill the Beast Titan.

Now, Levi never explicitly swears to Erwin. He never really uses the words “promise” or “vow.” But Levi knew the intent behind his actions, even if his words didn’t convey it, and that kneeling implied his solemnity and dedication to his goal and the commander. And within just a few hours, perhaps less, he reiterates the intent behind his words: “I swore to him that I’d kill you no matter what.”

Interesting choice of words.

I think the “no matter what” is an important addition. This is clearly something he’s added on his own. Unless we’re missing parts of his speech to Erwin, he doesn’t say this, but he clearly thinks it’s implied and is going to hold himself to it.

This is the point where Levi fees the brunt of his words to Erwin. This is the turning point for him, the point of no return, where he begins to feel the effects of his promise that will reverberate well into the future.

Levi does not seem like the type of person to make a promise lightly. He never minces his words or says anything he doesn’t mean. That’s just not who he is. We know this. And not only did he make a promise, he’s recalled it multiple times over the years, reminded himself over and over again of his last words to Erwin. They meant something. They weren’t some hollow promise, some death bed appeasement. Levi fully intends to carry through with it. No matter what.

THE FLASHBACK

After chaperoning a presumably very annoying Zeke at their secure location in the forest for about a month, Levi gets an update regarding the goings on at headquarters. He is not pleased with what he hears, and decides on his own to change the plans and, in the process, kill Zeke.

It doesn’t take long for Levi to make this decision, perhaps because the thought of not only killing Zeke but simultaneously maintaining the power of the Beast Titan is too hard to pass up. Perhaps it’s because the plan would ultimately result in Zeke’s death that helps him come to the conclusion so quickly. I also presume the thought has crossed his mind innumerable times during his stay with Zeke, and he just needed a little encouragement.

Then, he recalls in depressingly accurate detail the vow he made to Erwin, four years later. It’s so knee jerk. It happens so quickly and seamlessly, like Levi has been haunted by this for years, that he’s always had this nagging thought in the back of his mind subconsciously affecting his decision making.

“Erwin, It looks like I’ll finally be able to fulfill the vow I made to you that day.”

The fact that Levi sees the scene from an outside perspective, and not the images of Erwin’s face from below as Levi has recalled before, I believe is important to his memory. It’s not just his words that meant something that day. His words, actually, weren’t the binding part. The fact that he bent the knee to Erwin is what signifies his commitment, and he is reminding himself of his actions that day.

He also says “finally.” These are the words of a man who has thought about this moment for a very long time. I can sense the relief Levi must be feeling when he says this. This thing that he’s wanted so badly to do but has been putting off because of a sense of duty. This is Levi’s “fuck it” moment, when he decides he’s just going to bend the rules a bit, still play along, and get what he wants.

I have a feeling Levi is also recalling the last time he was closest to killing Zeke: in Liberio. It would have been so easy to slice a little too deep or misplace his explosives. The look on Levi’s face in chapter 103 certainly leads me to believe he perhaps tried a little harder than was necessary. Zeke even calls him out on it in the air ship. Levi wasn’t acting. Their battle as a whole might have been a farce, but Levi was taking his frustrations out on Zeke and going through the motions, only to stop just short of his goal.

“Finally,” Levi thinks. This time he’s got a plan that he can see through to the end. No more faking it. No more holding back.

His vow has also seemed to become a little clearer, at least to himself, over the years. Back in Shiganshina, Levi was livid. He’s had time to more fully grasp what his vow truly means, what it stands for. He promised Erwin he would kill the Beast Titan, and while I’m sure most of his hatred is because Zeke killed Erwin specifically, Levi also recalls his other fallen comrades. The ones that died to get them to this point, the soldiers whose deaths Zeke is directly responsible for. And then, as if he didn’t have reason enough to go after Zeke, within just minutes of this flashback, Levi is forced to end the lives of thirty of his comrades.

Another nail in Zeke’s—hopefully literal—coffin.

IN HIS OWN WORDS

Levi knows what he needs to do for his people and the greater good of humanity, and as such, he can’t allow himself to follow through with his promise just yet. He’s waiting—not patiently, but he is waiting—for the perfect moment, one that aligns with his desires and Paradis’ needs. And he’s not hiding it from Zeke.

It’s almost become a running, unfunny joke at this point, for both Zeke and the audience. (I feel like Levi is not as appreciative of these instances as we might be.)

It all starts in chapter 81 when Levi is essentially speaking directly to Zeke after he gets scooped up by the Cart Titan. “I swore to him that I’d kill you no matter what.” He’s telling Zeke. Whether Zeke can hear him as he gets carried away is one thing, but this is ground zero for Levi telling Zeke exactly what he’s going to do to him.

Chronologically, our next on screen instance—though I’m sure there are more we are never shown—is in chapter 105. Zeke is the one to bring it up this time. It’s unclear where he’s gotten this information from, but he knows Levi is still hell-bent on killing him, especially based on what Zeke considers to have been a convincing display in Liberio. Levi ends that conversation with one of my favorite taunts, which I’m going to delve into shortly.

Then, at the tail end of chapter 106 and to help close out the volume, we have a little snippet from what I’m sure was a terribly uncomfortable carriage ride with Levi and Zeke. Levi deflects the conversation away from the supposed victory in Liberio to tell Zeke that he’s going to “kill [him], send [his] corpse to Marley, and reveal everything about [his] plot.” Subtlety has never been Levi’s strong suit. He ends it by telling Zeke, “I wouldn’t mind waiting a little longer before slicing you to pieces.” Levi is more than aware that there is a certain order this all needs to happen in, but no matter how long he has to wait, it will not make him lose sight of his end goal.

THE EVIDENCE

Levi has shown us time after time that he has never given up on his promise. That he will stop at nothing to fulfill it. That he will go so far as to defy direct orders to achieve his goals. Everything is telling us that it’s actually going to happen.

Levi’s first move in twelve chapters, after he wakes up from getting knocked out by the thunder spear, is to promptly call Zeke a “piece of shit” and ask where he is. Keep in mind this is after hearing Eren’s apocalyptic broadcast, and Levi’s focus is still on Zeke. True, Hange and Levi are a bit out of the loop at this point in regards to Zeke’s involvement in Eren’s plan. But the point still stands. Levi is hyper focused on his enemy from the moment he wakes up.

Then, as if it weren’t clear enough, Levi says it again, more plainly, to Magath and Pieck the following day: “My goal is to kill Zeke.” Levi’s motives and goals are not up for interpretation, and he’s not just saying this to appease them either. Magath has his sights on Levi, quite literally, and Levi couldn’t care less. He’s blunt and to the point, as always. He also takes personal ownership of the goal. I think at this point he is slowly starting to come to the realization that he is going to follow through with this no matter what anyone else says. He doesn’t have orders to kill Zeke on sight. He definitely doesn’t have orders to transfer the Beast Titan. But his goal, his mission at this exact moment, is to kill Zeke. And if he has to team up with people to get shit done, he’ll do it. But he’s not hiding his intentions, and I doubt he would even if their goals didn’t align.

Since all of these events, it’s only been a few days, and nothing is going to change Levi’s mind in that short period of time. He’s held onto this promise—this vow to a dead man—for years. I’m not under the impression that Levi is going to suddenly change his mind because of a few new developments and one very cryptic line from a tall blonde woman that I’m pretty sure he hates.  

One thing that Levi says that has always stuck out to me is his eagerness to clarify to Zeke when he plans on killing him: “Not yet.” I know this could be Levi just further emphasizing his ultimate goal (kind of a “don’t mistake my kindness for weakness” sort of thing), but I can’t help but feel like it’s also a nod to the audience. Levi doesn't need to tell Zeke he won’t kill him yet; he knows that. Zeke knows Levi can’t kill him yet, not in the middle of the forest for no good reason without having a titan nearby. The “not yet” seems a little too heavy handed to me, and for that reason I like to cling onto it for dear life.

Additionally there are a few context clues, if you will, that lead me to believe we’re getting set up for the ultimate showdown between Zeke and Levi.

One of my favorite lines from Levi is when he tells Zeke, “I like to save the best parts of my meal for last.” (Levi used taunt; it was super effective.) That line is peak Levi and just everything I want and expect out of any of his interactions with Zeke. I think it might be a little deeper than that though. My interpretation, from a literary perspective, is that this is foreshadowing disguised as snark. I would not be surprised if this is insinuating that perhaps the very last thing Levi will do in this story is kill Zeke. That he’ll kill Zeke or die trying.

I also think that this being one of the last things Levi does would allow him to appreciate his accomplishment. To “savor the taste,” so to speak. I’m not sure what Levi really has to live for if they all come out of this on the other side. We don’t get a lot of insight into his life over these last four years, but I’m willing to bet he feels a little aimless. Killing Zeke would be one of the last things that Levi really feels needs to be done, one last regret to eliminate before he dies. I believe once he’s done that, he’ll be able to move on, and he might be able to rest. I unfortunately don’t see any future for Levi post-war that includes him having closure or relaxing or anything of the sort. This may be his only way out.

If you want to look a little deeper, past Levi’s bluntness, the “no matter what” Levi throws in back in chapter 81 is another thing that piques my interest. Lots of people have pointed out that Levi has also said he’d be the one to kill Eren if he gets out of line (chapter 18). Clearly those parameters have been met. But what happens when Levi’s duty, in a sense, is overshadowed by this promise? The moment Levi said that he’d kill Zeke no matter what, he voided every other task he ever signed up for. I think this is no exception. Is Eren about to kill a bunch of people? Probably. Should Levi be more concerned with Eren at this point than Zeke? Definitely.

I don’t disagree that Levi does seem pretty single minded at this point in the story. But I’m finding it hard to blame him or say it’s a “bad” thing to have happen to him. While fulfilling this promise has become somewhat of an obsession for him, he’s always maintained his professionalism and focus on saving humanity first. He was able to control himself in Shiganshina, in Liberio, in the forest when lord knows Zeke was getting on Levi’s every last nerve. However, the odds are stacked against him now. And if Levi’s going to do it, he’s got to do it now.

Lastly, something that most recently caught my attention was something Zeke says in chapter 113. He’s having a one-sided dialogue with Levi while Levi attempts to escape the 30 titans Zeke has just sicced on him, though I’m sure Levi can hear none of it. “You thought you had strength…” Zeke begins. “Time. Choices. It was those foolish beliefs… Levi… they were your downfall.” Now we know Levi comes out of this battle victorious, if only for a moment. But if we look at this “downfall” of Levi’s to mean only that he was taken advantage of and not that he was doomed, as Zeke obviously thinks, if we accept that Levi ultimately lost this battle in the sense that he also lost his comrades and the fragile plan they had, we’re left to wonder what would then aid in Levi’s eventual salvation...

Look where we are currently. Levi has, presumably, lost his strength. He is injured and weak. Levi has run out of time. Eren is rumbling the world and Levi’s days aren’t getting any longer. He’s also run out of choices. The path laid out before them is bleak: stop Eren or let the world end.  Maybe knowing he has none of these things will be to Levi’s advantage. Maybe that will be what causes him to ultimately make the decision to kill Zeke. He doesn’t have the capability to take down a crazed, Eren dinosaur, but he might have it in him for one last fight with a bearded bastard. He doesn’t have the time to save the world, but he’s got just enough time to fight one guy. And Eren has pretty much made the decision for everyone about how to move forward, and Levi can take that as the last sign he needs to say “fuck loyalty” and collect the Beast’s head.

THE SHOWDOWN

Everything before this was just reasons why Levi is going to be the one to finish Zeke. I feel like we don’t have as many clues as to how he’s going to accomplish this.

I know what comes up a lot in the discussions about Levi’s relevance at this point is the story is his current state, his health and his injuries. I think that’s what makes it interesting, though.

Yes, Levi is injured. But so is Zeke.

We’ll go with the idea that Zeke isn’t stuck in the endless sandbox that is paths. (It’s just easier not to think about all of that...) But the last time we see Zeke in the real world, he’s got a chunk missing out his back. I’m also pretty sure he’s unfortunately placed at the bottom of the walls, which don’t exist anymore. Side effects of this may include death by trampling or being buried under a pile of rubble.

And then we have Levi. Poor, tired, depressed, so done with everyone’s shit Levi Ackerman who honestly would just like to kill Zeke and move on with his life.

Levi is injured. Levi has no gear. Levi is missing two fingers and, very likely, half his eyesight.

However, Levi is Levi. He is nothing if not tenacious and driven. He will make this work. With his bare hands, if that’s what it necessitates.

And I think that’s what it’ll come to.

Zeke has known this day was coming for years and has been under no illusion that he has ever been truly safe from Levi. He knew that he was only spared by Paradis’ need to keep him alive. Their banter is evidence enough of this; Zeke knows his days are numbered. Now, with the world literally crumbling around them, there isn’t much holding Levi back. And Zeke, for his part, has had his dreams ripped out from beneath him while watching his dear little brother betray him and choose to rumble the world. He’s not got much left to live for.

Now, I won’t get into speculating where or when this fight will take place. Over the last month or so, since chapter 129, I’ve been (only half-jokingly) arguing for the theory that Levi may have slipped off of his booster seat on Uber Pieck and remained on the island. Which would obviously make it easier for him to find Zeke or Zeke to find him. If Levi is indeed on the ship (proof where??), then that means the alliance will need to cross paths with Zeke on their way to Eren. Which I suppose is plausible too. We haven’t seen Zeke in quite some time, so who’s to say what he’s been able to get himself into—or out of—in the time being.

So, while it might take a little footwork to get Levi and Zeke in range of each other once more, I wouldn’t exactly count it out.

Regardless of how it happens, the next time these two meet will be far from uneventful. Levi is angry. Levi is resentful. He won’t let Zeke get away again.

I can see another epic Levi panel, similar to the iconic “Kenny!” we get in chapter 57, as he happens upon Zeke one last time. Imagine. Levi rolling up to an oblivious Zeke, calling him “Beardy” or “piece of shit” as the bandages fall away from his face from the force of yelling. We’ll be treated to what I imagine will be Levi’s final form, a presumably partially blind and sliced up version of himself, with rage in his eyes that’s only exacerbated by this damaged façade.

There’s the alternative to this, too, in which Levi heals quickly, perhaps some Ackerman magic as Hange pointed out. He is no longer bloodied, but scarred. Levi may even know this and might just be biding his time under the bandages and only pretending to be unable to fight. I feel like this scenario would horrify Zeke even more, though he needs no help in that department. We already know he’s terrified of the Ackermans.

In either scenario, Zeke will perhaps let his inherent hubris get the best of him, and, seeing Levi weaponless, let his guard down, as he is wont to do. Zeke knows they’re both injured, down for the count. Even if Levi has healed a bit, I have no doubt there will be lasting effects to his injuries. He’s not a kid; he’s older and battered and incredibly tired.

I’m predicting Zeke will remain in his human form. He may be too injured to shift. Or perhaps timing is everything and he might be relieved of his titan curse at a very inopportune moment. My favorite theory would be that in Zeke’s infinite wisdom and pride, he’ll perhaps decide that he’s oh-for-two in Beast vs. Levi fights and maybe he should take Levi on mano a mano.

Ah, Zeke. But Levi is no man.

Imagine, a titan and an Ackerman, both reduced to their most basic selves.

I think we’re going to have ourselves a good old-fashioned fist fight.

Levi knows he’s in a bad state. He’s under no illusions about his health. But we know his heart will be in it. And where Zeke may think this is a level playing field, he will be sorely mistaken.

I just think we’ve seen all we need to see as far as Levi fighting titans is concerned. He goes a little feral, slices them up easily. But Levi fighting Zeke as Zeke, not as the Beast Titan, will inject a little reality into the fight. It’ll allow Levi to really see his enemy, and while it might not make him hold back, we might see Levi get a little more introspective about the whole thing. Maybe the fight is slow. Maybe it’s a bit lousy. I’m not sure how much gas either of them has left in the tank. I can see these two throwing around more words than punches at this point, but blood will be drawn. We’ll have a little more breathing room to take in what’s happening, and, hey, who knows? This might be a good time for one last Erwin flashback.

Levi might have one last knife up his sleeve, a timeless Choice with No Regrets weapon brandishing, one last fancy flourish of his blade before lodging it in Zeke’s gut. Preferably his lower left quadrant. For reasons.

But I think that’s what we need. A messy, emotional fight. No titans. No gear or gas or swords. One last chance for Levi to give Zeke his comeuppance. One last chance to showcase this Ackerman strength that Zeke has been so terrified of and which he has never actually seen the full force of. Levi has been holding back to some extent during each of their fights. He had to. But no more.

Ultimately, Levi will kill Zeke and, in the process, himself.

He’ll fulfill his vow, and he’ll get to rest. Finally.

BUT WHAT’S THE POINT?

Why does it matter? Why does Levi have to kill Zeke?

Ultimately, it’s all about Levi.

Firstly, I love Levi. I think it’s safe to say a lot of people do. And I don’t think it’s a stretch for me to say that we’d like to see him squeeze one last ounce of goodness out of his life.

I believe it would be in very bad taste for Isayama to kill Levi as he stands (or sits) now, broken and sidelined and helpless. That’s not who Levi is as a character. And that’s how you waste a perfectly good scar. So his options are to stop Eren or kill Zeke. And I personally believe there are far better people than Levi suited for the job of stopping Eren, both physically and narratively (cough Reiner cough). Though I don’t deny it would be nice to see Levi have a role in taking Eren down, however bittersweet that may be for him, and us.

But let’s look at where we currently stand. I’m not sure about how everyone else feels at this point in the story, but chapter 130 gave me some interesting vibes. This feels like the second act of an action/horror movie, where the ensemble gathers around a campfire or a lamp in a darkened home, and admits defeat. They look around wearily and kind of decide they’re just going to do whatever the hell they want to do because the world is going to end tomorrow or the zombies are going to break down the door by morning. Obviously, most of our remaining characters want to help, but I can’t help but feel some intrusive feelings of… despair? Obviously most of these feelings are coming from Annie, and Hange is admittedly trying to keep her around. But the zombies are breaking down the door. The Colossals are trampling the mainland. I’m not sure the alliance would have it in them to force Annie to stay, even though they could absolutely use her titan powers to help fight this war.

But when posed with the question “Should Levi be allowed to abandon ship (literally) and go make good on his own promise?” the answer always seems to be “absolutely not.” Levi is denied his dreams. Because people expect better of him. Which is valiant, I suppose, for us to think he’s above that pettiness. But I think most people aren’t really examining his character as a whole.

Points can be made that his drive to kill Zeke is a devolution in his character, that his tunnel vision has changed him and he isn’t the same person with the same goals and motivations as he used to be. On one hand I say: Good. This isn’t a fairytale. This is Attack on Titan. Flawed characters are good. Character development, in any direction, is good for the story. (I mean, have you met Eren?) On the other hand I say: This is who Levi has always been. He’s never been the “good” guy. This is the same man who was called a madman and didn’t deny it. I don’t believe we’re necessarily seeing a different side to him but more of what makes Levi himself is coming to the forefront.

Levi is in his mid- to late-twenties when he joins the Survey Corps. His time underground up until that point had been less than desirable. We all know the story, and it’s not a pretty one. Watching his mother die. Being raised, then abandoned, by Kenny. Followed by who knows how many years of struggling to survive on his own before he found his family with Furlan and Isabel. And even then, it wasn’t easy. Levi is a flawed, fully developed character when we meet him. He is violent and imperfect and deadly. The man tortured someone without blinking. I think wanting him to forego this instinct that he’s known his whole life, in favor of some more angelic or heroic outcome, is a bit too optimistic. It’s almost disingenuous.

Levi isn’t going to be the big hero of this story.

I know... I’d like him to be too, in a sense. But that’s going to fall on our other protagonists. It’s going to be the kids’ tasks to slay the bad guys and tie up the loose ends.

The only reason Levi even began caring about humanity is because of Erwin, and now Erwin is gone. Levi may have found a greater purpose with Erwin and the Survey Corps, but that didn’t change who he was, who he has always been. Letting Levi follow through with his vengeful dreams won’t make him any less of a character. If anything, it’ll cement who he truly is, which is someone that I think most people have forgotten about.

But who knows. Maybe Levi is to be denied, one last time, forever frustrated and regretful. Maybe that’s what Isayama is getting at. Maybe he’s trolling us. It certainly wouldn’t be the first time. Maybe we’ll have all this build up only to get the rug pulled out from under us. Sike, Levi isn’t going to kill Zeke. No dreams will be fulfilled here. Wrong manga.

However, I choose to remain cautiously optimistic. This will very likely be the denouement to Levi’s arc. Let him go down in a blaze of fiery revenge if he so chooses. He’s earned it.

[ecoamerica]

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