#it’s also tragic because ford didn’t know

[thereareeyesinsidethetrees]

last post for the night i swear

the real tragic part about the whole science fair incident is that perpetual motion is impossible to achieve

ford’s machine would have never worked, regardless of whether or not stan had interacted with it

(warning i accidentally wrote an approximately 30-tag dive into ford’s character in the tags don’t click see more if you don’t want to read that)

anyway!! good night everyone ❤️‍🩹

[unculturedmamoswine]

Fiddauthor Recs

Ya want a Fiddauthor rec list??? You got it. This is just some fiddauthor I have in my bookmarks, in no particular order. I’m not adding warnings, so pay attention to the tags and such. If a fic is a WIP, I’ll let you know. And please DO add your own recs in comments or reblogs, especially if you know of fics that aren’t on AO3!

 If you read these fics, please consider leaving kudos and comments for the authors!

We’re Still Here by hellmandraws

Not fic, but a fan comic starting with college fiddauthor and going all the way through post-series. So great and really worth a read!

rumination: a guided tour by gesso (1.9k words)

Author’s summary: For all the words, expressions, languages he knows; for all the intelligence, experience -- sometimes it's just easier to show, rather than tell. And maybe that means using the mindscape to just pull up very specific memories in a certain order. Because Stanford Pines would much rather take the most convoluted route possible, especially if that means he can avoid plainly talking about his emotions (past and present). [Unlike the other drabbles in this series, this is not complete, and cuts off kind of abruptly at the end of the draft I have]

This fic is sooo worth a read. Technically a WIP, but don’t let that dissuade you.

Somnus Idigus by Abyssalzones (2k words)

Author’s summary: It's hard to sleep, still, nearly a full year after Bill's defeat. Ford manages to be coaxed to bed by kind words and gentle hands, and wonders just what he did to deserve this kind of understanding. (AKA: Ford has nightmares, keeps trying to put off sleep, Fiddleford manages to lovingly wrangle him to bed.)

Sooo sweet! The exact kind of post-canon snuggly Fiddauthor fic I need in this world!

Intricate Rituals by HazelnutofFortune (1.5k words)

Author’s summary: “Fiddleford,” Ford says. He hates asking for help. 

“Mmm?” Fiddleford asks, looking up, scalpel still raised. 

“ Um, could you show me how to get at that big clump next to the Aorta?” How humiliating. Why did he even ask. Except-

“Well, sure,” Fiddleford sets down the heart and takes Ford’s a little gingerly. My heart is in his hands, Ford thinks. Fuck. 

Extremely cute! A WIP! College Fiddauthor and Ford is soooo smitten.

Jersey Boy by Fordtato (110k words)

Author’s summary: Ford does not want to be at Backupsmore University. He should be in California, at West Coast Tech, showing the world that he's more than a freakish waste of space from Jersey; showing the world that he's more than the scrawny, brainy half of a dynamic duo. He's angry, sure, and he's sure-as-fuck tired of being just one-of-two-Stans.

But who isn't angry right now? The world is in turmoil, they're sending our boys to Vietnam and if it wasn't for this stupid school, Ford would have probably been sucked into the draft himself.

But then he meets Fiddleford Hadron McGucket, and everything is different now.

A slowburny fic that really digs into the historical side of college Fiddauthor. It doesn’t shrink away from the tougher, uglier stuff that being a poor, gay, Jewish college student in the seventies would mean for someone. Features an angry, confused Ford who is having a Hard Time. Also has a whole host of interesting OCs! Also a WIP. This fic takes a turn or two that I really didn’t expect and I’m very excited to see where it goes, as the author is on record saying that they WILL finish it.

if you love me, come clean by Athgalla (105k words)

Author’s summary: This is pretty much just a collection of various moments and possible events throughout Fiddleford and Stanford's relationship that I felt like exploring, starting with their first proper meeting in college on to post-Weirdmageddon events.

Without further ado, on to the tragically star-crossed nerds!

iylmcc spans Ford and Fidds’s first meeting through post-series. It’s so interesting, and so sweet, and has so many wonderful details! Just a great take on their relationship that you deserve to read, dear reader. Treat yourself!

Maybe It’s Not Too Late by GinAndShatteredDreams (main fic is 82k words, whole series is 110k)

Author’s summary of the main fic: Overall: A post-weirdmageddon asexual Fiddauthor fic in which revelations occur, a confession goes awry, some unfinished business reemerges in the form of a raging pterodactyl, and chaos ensues. (vaguely romantic - hugs/hand holding/cuddling/comfort, no kisses - just adding that so I don't disappoint anyone who's hoping for it - or maybe for the sake of people (like me) who sometimes like to read something without ;))

(Edit - No romantic kisses. There's a forehead kiss between family members at one point.)

*It would probably be good to mention that most of this was written before the journal came out and even after, I tried to keep true to the ideas formed before reading it with one exception that is noted later.

So as you can tell, I linked you the whole series. A both super angsty and very sweet fic with wonderful asexual post-series Fiddauthor! I’ve never read anything quite like it, totally check it out.

Romance is Overrated and Living Confusing by 3HobbitsInATrenchcoat (25k words)

Author’s summary: Stanford and Fiddleford started out as college roommates and over the years grew into something more than friends but just to the side of what others would consider a "normal relationship." But honestly, is it really anyone's business what they are as long as they care deeply for each other?

Scenes from Stanford's life as he tries to figure out where he fits in a world built for romance and traditional family dynamics.

This fic is restricted– you need an AO3 account to read it. Also, it’s part of a series, but the other fic is Stan-centric so it’s not a part of this rec list. Aaaand also it’s a WIP. Okay, with that out of the way, this is another Ace!Fiddauthor fic, which you know I’m all about! This fic is more about college and research-aged Fiddauthor, and it’s as delightfully fraught as you could hope. The author also does a cool thing regarding Fiddleford’s time in Oregon, while still keeping it canon-compliant. My hat is off to them.

To Struggle For Dreams And To Hunger For More by Voidfish (8k words)

Author’s summary: “Am I gay?” Ford reads the quiz out loud, before clicking to begin. To his frustration, most of the questions are simply asking him if he has had sex with men (he hasn’t), if he wants to (he isn’t quite sure), or if he ever will (the jury is still out). Nothing defines attraction, no one clarifies if the burn in his stomach is love or gastrointestinal issues, and nothing leaves him feeling any better on the subject.

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Stanford Pines has never loved a woman but, he realizes with a painful jolt, he can’t say with certainty he’s never loved a man.

Aaaaaa I love this fic. I love it sooo much. Post-series and Ford is trying to figure out his sexuality and his feelings for Fidds. Plus a scene where he comes out to Stan! Just a delight.

And Shifty Makes Three by Sarelle (13k words)

Author’s summary: Ford Pines and Fiddleford McGucket deal with the ups and downs of relationships and parenthood in 1970s Oregon. A task not much aided by the fact they have to keep secret the true identity of their shapeshifting alien grub son, from friends, family and the Feds.

Based on WDW's Shiftyverse, can be read as a standalone.

I fucking LOVE this fic!! Aaaaa the little details about Ford and Fidds and their relationship! Their alien son!! This fic is so up my alley it’s bonkers.

queer clan in the middle of the woods by toosolidcuuj (series is 23k words)

Author’s summary of the series: *to the tune of "our house" by madness* queer clan in the middle of the woods, queer clan in the middle of the

Canon-divergent AU in which Stan and Ford make up, adopt an alien, and gradually amass an extended queer family.

This is ALSO a Shifty-adopting fic! With Fiddauthor! This one also has Stan, and focuses a lot on Stan and Ford fixing up their fraternal relationship in addition to the Fiddauthory bits. I haven’t reread it in a hot second but I remember it being very fun but also taking Shifty’s trauma quite seriously, which I thought was interesting and cool to read.

(There's a) Half moon rising in southeastern skies by orphan_account (17k words)

Author’s summary: A series of memories, all compiled in convenient cinema-reel format. It’s all here, folks, the good, the bad, the sexy, the emotionally distressing. Next to nothing left out.

Sad that this fic was orphaned– I love it. It’s in second person, and I’m all about that! Fiddleford looking back at his fractured memories post-series and also reconnecting with Ford. Absolutely wonderful characterization. Author, if you’re out there, I love this fic!! I hope you are happy with it in your heart!!

Syncing Phases by toosolidcuuj (5k words)

Author’s summary: Stan has gone his whole life never imagining he had a twin, let alone an android twin who can shoot cannons out his hands, makes money appear out of thin air, and has a close relationship with a werewolf named Fiddleford McGucket. Even more surprisingly, FORD needs Stan's help erasing a world-ending computer virus. But BILL has allies in many places, leaving the Stans uncertain who they can trust.

WIP. This fic is SUCH a fun and interesting concept!! Only child!Stan, Werewolf!Fidds, Robot!Ford??? Yes, please! A totally unique fic that is so fun to read!

[mylifeincinema]

My Week(s) in Reviews: January 1, 2023

First and foremost... Happy New Year!!

Okay... now let’s get into it. I’m keeping these short because I have little to say about them or they’re going to be featured in My Best of 2022 shortly, anyway, so let’s just go with the old three things format for most of these, yeah? Good.

The Fabelmans (Steven Spielberg, 2022)

1. Wholly feels like the film Spielberg’s been working toward.

2. That final shot is the reason (as if I needed another one) why Spielberg is my favorite director.

3. I’m going to be genuinely shocked if this lands anywhere other than on top of my top films of 2022. - 10/10

Glass Onion: A Knives Out Mystery (Rian Johnson, 2022)

1. What a cast!!

2. A ton of fun, and it chooses an approach and sticks with it. If you’re underwhelmed with the ‘twists’, that’s kinda the point.

3. Seriously, though... what a cast!! - 8.5/10

Babylon (Damien Chazelle, 2022)

What a clusterf*ck…

It’s very clear Chazelle lost the thread about 40% in. Cutting that whole Tobey storyline would help. Also cut the opening scene, just start on the party. Tighten up Margot’s arc, we didn’t need that snake shit. Cut Jovan’s arc complete, there’s enough there thematically for a separate film. Give that to someone who can tell it in a way that’ll actually resonate. Leave everything with Brad Pitt alone. He was fantastic and his arc is the only one that felt like it progressed and ended naturally. Beautiful, tragic, interesting shit, right there. Actually loved the ending, but a bunch of other late moments for Diego felt sloppy/rushed. The phenomenal editing helps some of the more upsetting issues throughout, but can’t save the film from the total loss of cohesion in the those final acts. Despite all its many flaws, though, I still pretty close to loved about 65% of this film. - 6/10

Avatar: The Way of Water (James Cameron, 2022)

1. Visually stunning. Probably the easiest VFX win since the last, right?

2. Someone should give Fincher the money for his 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea... if this film is anything, it’s proof the tech has reached the point where Fincher’s vision is not only possible, but feasible.

3. Has James Cameron actually ever heard two people talking to each other? My God, that dialogue is atrocious. (The screenplay all-around, really.) Yikes. - 6.5/10

Weird: The Al Yankovic Story (Eric Appel, 2022)

1. This is not only the perfect approach to a Weird Al biopic, I’m pretty sure it’s the only approach to a Weird Al biopic.

2. Very funny if you’re familiar with Yankovic as a person, downright hilarious if you go in only knowing his music.

3. Evan Rachel Wood as Madonna... I repeat, Evan Rachel Wood as Madonna. My God! - 7.5/10

Emily the Criminal (John Patton Ford, 2022)

1. Aubrey Plaza is really damn good.

2. So is just how terribly things go in that third act.

3. The rest... not so much. I really don’t get all the hype. - 5/10

Black Adam (Jaume Collet-Serra, 2022)

1. This is a very bad movie. Very easily one of the worst of the year.

2. Any promise Dwayne Johnson had every shown has been tossed in the garbage for terrible line delivery and tough-guy stares.

3. Pierce Brosnan deserved better than this. An interesting character and perfect casting completely wasted in favor of whatever this shit was supposed to be. - 2/10

The People We Hate at the Wedding (Claire Scanlon, 2022)

1. Not a good movie by any stretch.

2. But Kristen Bell.

3. And Allison Janney. - 5.5/10

A Christmas Story Christmas (Clay Kaytis, 2022)

1. Corny as f*ck.

2. But the type of corny I can get behind.

3. And that Christmas morning was the obvious tear-jerker material I’m a sucker for. - 6/10

The Shop Around the Corner (Ernst Lubitsch, 1940)

1. James Stewart really is one of my all-time favorite actors. Just always so damn good.

2. Love me some Lubitsch, yet for some reason I have so many blind spots with him.

3. I know we live in completely different times, but even looking through the scope of the time, that ending seemed a bit forced. Still a delightful film overall, but she must’ve been really desperate to let the shit he pulled go. - 7/10

Elvis (Baz Luhrmann, 2022)

1. Significantly better than I expected. But painfully overlong.

2. Austin Butler is fantastic. Tom Hanks is (somehow) borderline awful.

3. Baz Luhrmann’s direction is god-awful. But there’s a shit-ton of it, so I guess the Golden Globes look at Directing like the Academy does editing, now. - 5.5/10 (Almost all of those 5.5 are for Butler and the early performance sequences only.)

Enjoy!

-Timothy Patrick Boyer.

[beatrixcandy]

I got a pair of lovely comments on my Gravity Falls fics on ao3 the other day so im posting this on a whim. 3 Gravity Falls AUs I’m kinda in the process of writing right now and sorta hope to someday actually release. Would love to hear what people in the GF fandom think of them. Lots of words under cut:

Fixing Stars - Inspired by “Drifting Stars” and “Grifting Stars”. It doesn’t quite fit the naming convention, but in my defense not many words rhyme with ‘drifting.’ Anyway, the premise is that, during NWHS, Mabel is about to get sucked into the portal when Soos jumps at her and gets sucked in himself instead. The story is half spent with Stan, Dipper, and Mabel as they deal with the fallout and half spent with Soos and Ford as the two stick with each other. This story features

Dipper, by all accounts, feeling that he was proven right about the portal and thus about Stan even though the world didn’t literally end. After all, it sucked in one of his best friends. Can his trust be repaired?

Mabel knows that Soos got sucked in to save her and that it only happened because she didn’t push the button. While she can’t regret trusting Stan, she does regret trusting herself. Can she regain her hope?

Every time the portal has activated, Stan has lost family (because him and Soos ARE family DAMMIT! its MY AU and I get to choose the interpretational hill to die on). While he is more desperate than ever to get them back, this is a serious blow to his already abysmal sense of self-worth.

Ford and Soos, two curious and resourceful people, make a surprisingly good team navigating the multiverse together.

Soos, who desperately wants a familial relationship with Stan, meets someone who had that relationship and threw it away. Meanwhile, Ford meets someone who sees Stan as an incredible protector and a way out of loneliness, and feels like he is meeting his foolish younger self.

Without a memory gun modification method, the three at home need to find another way to dispatch those agents.

They have all three journals, Dipper has a knack for the blueprints, and three heads are better than one, but the portal is in shambles on the floor and Dipper and Mabel go home in a little over a month.

As Fiddleford recovers, will he be a help or a hindrance in the portal’s restoration?

You know, nobody’s keeping an eye out for rifts...

Levity Falls - Not exactly an AU, but rather a collection of several AUs that coexist in the multiverse. Simply put, the premise is that the anti-characters listed in Anti-Mabel’s profile are not from the same universe but rather they all emerged from their own canon divergences. (HAFHSW IRU DQWL-ELOO, WHFKQLFDOOB. KH'V VRUW RI D VSHFLDO FDVH.) I wanna withhold details for this one because I think the story is pretty twisty and I like it that way. But I think key to it is the fact that every single character’s backstory is incredibly tragic but also incredibly stupid. Yes, even Anti-Ford’s backstory is tragic.

Distant Relativity Falls - Bad name, need a better one. By all appearances, this is a simple variation of Relativity Falls, one that takes place in nineteen-sixty-something rather than modern days, with a few unique features. But there are hints that maybe there’s something else going on here.

While they go by Grauntie Mabel and Grunkle Dipper, Stan and Ford know this is a simplification and that Dipper and Mabel are not the siblings of their grandparents, but rather some complicated form of distant relatives, hence the tentative AU title.

Certain characters like Soos, Wendy, and Pacifica are nowhere to be seen.

There is no portal, there is no bunker, and there is no journal except for the one Stanford picks out and starts when Dipper and Mabel tell them to get one item each, on the house. (Stan gets a pair of bedazzled brass knuckles)

While Dipper and Mabel both live in Gravity Falls, they live in different parts of the town and run their own businesses. While they both clearly adore Stan and Ford and are similar to each other in a lot of ways, they can’t seem to stop themselves from incessant bickering whenever they are together for extended periods of time.

Mabel, the town’s premiere artist in a variety of mediums, runs a wildly successful craft store and homemade knick-knack shop where she stocks popular handcrafted items and takes commissions. She is a household name in town and has no humility about this fact.

Dipper runs a wildly unsuccessful secret-themed summer program and associated gift shop featuring studying, code-breaking, ARGs, and a woefully-ahead-of-its-time Escape Room.

[doloresabernathypiplup]

Westworld season 4 ep 1 : The Auguries

Alert spoilers

-so, I expected it but it’s terrifying to see it. The flies allow indeed Charlores and the host man in black to control the humans like the hosts were controlled.

-the timeskip is strange. Like, for the characters it’s been seven years since season 3, so I feel like a disconnexion with them. Which isn’t a bad thing, it makes me enter more in the story because I want to connect the dots, but it’s the first time it happens in Westworld, before we always find the characters where we let them at the end of the precedent season, so I don’t know, I like it but it’s a little strange to me too.

-we finally meet Christina. You know, I can’t stop myself to imagine if I haven’t seen any trailers or spoilers, what would have been my surprise seeing Dolores alive again and actually, it’s not Dolores ? But to talk about Christina...we have the same taste in fiction XD She wants to tell the story of Dolores but her boss prefers William’s one. The scene with her boss made me think about the scene between Lee Sizemore and Ford in the second episode of season 1, except that this time, the one who wants to tell a story touching people is the employee and the one who is just interest by the superficial element which attracj the guests/players is the boss. I feel like Christina what S1 Dolores would have been if she lived in our world : she has a little or her naivety and idealism, but repressed because she lived in our reality and this kind of sentimentality is judged idiot. But I want a story with a happy ending too.

-we discover what Caleb and Maeve became : one is married and is the father of a girl who loves him, the other lives alone mulling over her happy and tragic memories of her past. No wonder ho succeded its life the best XD More seriously, it seems that a lot of things happened to them, Maeve said “William did it again” but did what ? Caleb didn’t even know William and for Maeve, he was just an asshole in the park. Did they already fight William and Charlores, without realizing Charlores was behind William, between season 3 and 4 ? Did they know that it’s not the true William but a host ? At least, they don’t look surprised to see that William sends hosts after them and not humans. 

-so Peter said he saw Christina in his mind. He’s clearly controlled, so I think he doesn’t see Christina but Charlores, but like Connellores was played by Evan Rachel Wood and not by Tommy Flanagan in the simulation in the sixth episode of season 3, he sees Charlores for who she really is, Dolores played by Evan Rachel Wood, and not how she looks like in our real world, Charlotte Hale played par Tessa Tompson.

-one of my issues with season 3 was that Caleb didn’t look at all like a violent and paranoid person. So it’s actually fine to see in this episode that yes, it’s a part of him, and a part that can lead him to take bad decision, or at least decisions he could regret

-Teddy ?!!! Like, I knew that James Marsden was going to come back, but I thought he’ll appear later in the season, that Bernard was going to bring him back from the Sublime. Actually, we didn’t see Bernard in this episode, it’s surprising. Like, I understand why we don’t get to the big villain, Charlores, but I expected to see Bernard.

-Oh, and the musics were beautiful, as always.

So, this episode was excellent, I really liked it. I think it’s a way better season premiere than Parce Domine, and maybe I prefer this one over Journey into the night. I don’t compare it to The Original because it wasn’t only a season premiere but also a series premiere. I can’t wait for the next episode...but I’m going to wait anyway because I won’t be able to follow the three next episodes TT

[lesbiten]

Hate to hop into your asks and drop this on you but god I am inspired by your walls of text tonight. I agree wholeheartedly with everything you said. The way that people dumb Fiddleford in particular down to just some hillbilly that dated Ford in a traditional romantic relationship is honestly wrong in so many ways. I won’t get into all of them for the sake of time and you reading this, which if you do, thank you so much. Something a lot of people fail to realize is that especially with the kind of abuse Ford received growing up (from Filbrick primarily but also the other children of Glass Shard Beach), there is no chance he would ever unpromptedly confess to Fiddleford and be like “yeah let’s get in a relationship”. Fiddleford as well is also so complex in this topic. He is clearly interested in women as he does dearly love Emma (keeping a photo of her on his desk, talking about her to Ford, being shown to miss her a lot), but when it comes down to it, he was queercoded. Which yeah sure great but that is not his only character trait! He’s incredibly written as a man in that day and age where mental health was very much taboo and he was doing the only thing he could think of to cope, which does actually link back to his childhood and how he was raised Christian but that’s a different conversation, he knew no other way than out of sight out of mind taken to the extremes which is so tragic in itself. He didn’t feel like he could really confide in anyone his fears, including his wife and best friend. I think the saddest part of him, though, really comes down to the memory gun and how he was so smart, he probably knew it would cause brain damage. Yet he still decided he would rather permanently damage his mind than deal with the trauma he’d received. Anyways there’s my wall of text sorry again. Have a good night o/

WOO MORE WALLS OF TEXT. THANK YOU ANON I LOVE IT

okay okay but i really think people forget a multitude of things when talking about the nature of their relationship and its

-its the 1980s in research era. In The United States.

-fiddleford is not only noted to be christian but like. Very christian. like ford puts a big emphasis on it. and obviously being christian doesnt stop him from being queer but once again he grew up during a time when those two things Especially did not mesh together

-filbrick absolutely was the kind of dad to. React Negatively if either ford or stan ever strayed from traditional masculinity. having a parent like that seriously impacts your ability to analyze your own sexuality

but anyways thats not me saying anything against people who don't really care about all that but i find that considering the complexities of the time they lived in as well as their own personal experiences makes their relationship a Lot more interesting than just. teehee they were in love. they r so much more Okay theres so much more to look at and talk about than just them having a regular normal relationship

Anyways . moving along

fiddleford is such an insanely interesting character outside of him being shipped with ford which is something i definitely think people forget. you are very right that him inventing the memory gun and ruining his life with it is a really good (if extreme) representation of how having poor mental health back then was very very frowned upon. to the point where he'd rather do all the things he did than simply confide in the two people closest to him about his struggles.

& yes yes he is Very sad to think about because ur not wrong that he was smart enough to know what the gun would do to him. even if after a few uses it slipped away from him. when he shows it to ford and ford tells him to destroy it, fiddleford straight up acknowledges he could (and doesnt want to) forget his wife and son, before proceeding to erase fords memory and keep the gun. he knows the risks. he would rather lose his life than deal with his trauma and axiety in a healthy way. and isnt that so great and awesome i feel great about it!!!!!! <- dead

[scott-mccall-the-hot-girl]

theodore raeken: missing persons

( okay so i kinda had an idea ,, and then went through the whole teen wolf timeline to see if it would work ,, so here it is !!

theo’s backstory !! it started off way more messy headcannon format & then it got kinda a real story vibe ,, def thinking about making it an ao3 one shot eventually )

-

TW: very sad & hurt my feelings

don't imagine:

eight year old theo raeken...

who sleeps at his best friend scott mccall's house almost every single night, stiles is almost always there too.

theo and his friends where they all watch movies together until ungodly hours of the morning. stiles loved star wars, theo will never forget that. they had gone as luke, han and chewy for halloween that previous year. melissa went as leia. scott has always been more of a indiana jones fan himself. theo would watch either, anywhere where harrison ford was theo didn't mind being.

in this little trio, who were all raised in the mccall house, where they were given eveything they needed. sometimes when theo thought about her, when he needed to remember the good things in life. he never quite knew how she managed. expecially with scott's dad who floated in and out of the picture.

yet, it always was melissa who gave scott extra lunches to take to school because theo and his sister, who were often forgotten by their parents usually were left to fend for themselves and a fourteen year old girl rarely had the funds or mind to give a growing boy a nutritious lunch. these packed lunches always with the crust off because that's the way theo liked it. melissa always remembered.

theo had three favorite places: scott's bedroom, the corner next to his bed where theo's blow up mattress was. the bridge in which tara and he crossed everyday on their way back to raekens from school. his final place was actually beacon hills elementary.

theo always liked school. theo was good at school. he didn't realize this until mellisa had pointed out an exceptional report card. he didn't think it was much of anything to be proud of.

he liked recognizing big words from english class and novels that would help him when his mom watched jeopardy. she would watch the show every night. sitting in a daze in the raekens dark living room. not paying much mine to the eight year old, until he started blurting out the answers to her favorite show. she beamed at him. he loved his mother's smile, she had the same dimples as tara.

so yeah, when a seventeen year old theo raeken spent months filing the names of anyone ever involved in the mccall pack, current members, deceased and ones that just fell out of beacon hills. he remebered some names.

theo raeken grew up in beacon hills, and beacon hill wasn't to big of a town.

theo rembered issac lahey a quiet boy who had been in his thrid grade class, jackson whittemore who was a grade older than them and everyone knew him because he was was offered a spot on the middle school lacross team, he knew erica reyes who he rembered for her epilepsy and it made him hate himself a little less for being the king of the heart condition, he even remebered names like derek hale- who was in the same grade as tara. theo even rembered the name malia tate as she was small girl who did go to beacon hills elementary, who was always startled and always walked a bit faster than everyone else through the halls. or even lydia martin, a girl stiles had a crush on. she talked to theo a lot, lydia used to call him teddy, he didn't know when it started but he let her do it purely to spite the fact that lydia gave theo a nickname and never bothered to acknowledge stiles.

theo rembered all of them, i mean for years of his life all he had to rely on was his memory to make sure it was real.

though during the line memories turned bitter and he was left with the sour taste of resentment.

so it was weird to think despite it all, that year was one of theo's best. he never felt like he belonged. sure he had scott and stiles before but gaining friendship & being labeled as an "inseparable trio" by the sheriff station deputies, whenever they rang havoc through their office made theo's mouth crack a toothy grin. he felt like he had a family.

that was until the air started getting colder in beacon hills. theo started hearing the voices. though, even so much later in life he never could quite pin point how it started, like his brain couldn't truly decipher what was going on. some of it felt like dream, though the dreams and the thoughts. sometimes they didn't feel like his own and made him so scared he would leave the day feeling nauseous.

though this all came in spurts. his birthday was that november, and that was magical. he spent the weekend with stiles and scott, theo's mom actually made the point to bring the three of them bowling. the boys pitched in on buying theo a big millennium falcon lego set because he was always doing things with his hands, something he picked up not being so most athletic of the bunch. they also got him big poster of han solo just to spite him. he blushed and yelled at them for stupid gifts but they knew by the smile on his face he loved them.

he loved so much because despite the fact that they were poking fun at him ever so lightly, they were good natured and they held thought. they really thought about theo enough to know what he liked. he never had that before.

so the voices started getting louder again around christmas time. it was weird for theo, the happiest time of the year filled him with such excessive dread. it didn't feel right. theo's life changed that month.

then one day scott and stiles get sit down because something tragic happened. tara raeken is dead. the details are fuzzy and they don't really understand how, seeing as these boys are just in fourth grade. they are horrified, it's one of the only other times they've experienced death besides with stiles mom. though claudia stilinksi was sick, sometimes sick people die. learning about tara left a bad taste in their mouth. she was young.

they try and call, bike past is his house. they don't hear from him. they go to her funeral, scott and stiles, high on anxiety attached to their parents just trying to sneak a peak of where their best friends may be. he's gone, that's the conclusion they come to, he's gone. they don't know how it could have happened, they just know that he isn't there. why wouldn't he be there?

they try and talk to the raekens but haunted by their daughters death, they paid less attention to theo than before. they barley give them a straight answer, melissa explains what grief can do to a family and not to blame them but is equally suspicious.

just take a minute to think, while scott and stiles are scared and searching for their best friend, theo raeken, barley nine years old is given a heart transplant. alone in a dark and cold sewer hidden deep under beacon hills, horrified and a failure, that's what the dread doctors tell him. a boy who keeps quiet, does what needs to be done and has to survive. doing absolutely everything he can to be kept around, the second he heals (which theo recognizes is abnormally fast) the doctors are straight out of beacon hills.

the doctors eventually find his parents too, who leave beacon hills, he doesn't exactly know what happened to them. he doesn't everything he can not to think about the possibilities. he hopes he has a chance, survival instincts flourish but the ideal of living isn't quite the same as surviving.

one day, the doctors inform him he has absolutely nothing to go back to, he figured this he just be didn't think they would actually tell him. they never told him much.

they are far away from beacon hills- much farther than he assumed. he has no sister, and his parents are gone.

he is alone, and he is finding out that now, he has one more secret to hide. the poor boy has claw and fangs and often thinks about using them to rip himself apart, i mean he deserves it right? he just watched his sister die, to go down with the last living part of her, his own heart.

while theo is expecting his fate, stiles and scott and stuck in months of confusion. missing posters of the boys face are strung up everywhere they can reach, once his parents are gone. they know they need to do everything they can.

mellisa feels like she's been punched in the gut, so she helps her boys. she calls every hospital in the county, and then she starts reaching out to some of the bigger hospitals in the state. spreading word of a missing nine year old like wildfire. she spends nights after her shift arguing with noah stilinksi, he has been looking to. he tries to bargain logic with her.

"yeah it's strange he never said goodbye, he wasnt at the funeral- it's weird, yes, but his parents left too. their daughter just died melissa. maybe they didn't want to stay."

melissa knows, yeah that makes sense. theo had to of just moved with the raekens but something about it doesn't feel like it makes sense.

he would have said goodbye to her. she knows it.

other people in beacon hills were actually thinking the same thing, something wasn’t quite making sense.

those other people being some who can sense unrest in supernatural frequencies. a family who makes it their business to monitor the supernatural. the hales.

though, talia hales supernatural concerns didn't often revolve around fourteen year old girls who drown, shes curious. the girl, was in dereks grade. the mother in her falters but it doesn't get strange until the police reports reveal the fact that the girls heart was gone, she was found. gaping chest wound, lying in the river.

so she starts to suspect somethings wrong. she's seen the raekens case, something about it doesn't make sense. sure, the death of a teenage girl is overwhelmingly tragic but there isn't much to investigate. though talk of the raekens is getting loud, she comes to find out this is because of the raekens youngest, who was nowhere to be seen days before the funeral.

she knows the hunters are back in beacon hills. so wonders if the two correlate. so she starts asking questions.

talia, with her daughter in tow see two boys standing outside the sheriffs station, stopping people when they walk in to show they a poster. it's theo raekens missing poster, though there isn't much official about it. it seems like the sheriffs department couldn't issue anything official, so as she walks up to the boys seemed to have made dozens of copies themselves. there information seems formal enough.

she catches their anxiety heighten as talia hands the poster over to laura who stands behind her.

the taller one raises a brow, "have you seen him anywhere miss?"

she smiles, "miss hale- you can call me talia though. this is my daughter laura. we haven't seen your friend but we'd like to help..."

the taller boy nods, "well, i'm scott. that's stiles. how could you help?"

talia hale lies easily, "i've heard about what happened to the raekens and it sparked my concern. i have a friend, local sheriffs station who is awfully good with the police dogs. if you have anything that your friend owned i might be able to call i'm a favor."

a few days later, stiles had found her in the same spot as last time with a small black sweater. she smiled and told him she would do her best to help these two boys. not sure if her intrest in the case was supernatural based or because she didn't want these boys, who smelled like anxiety and exhaustion to fall down the hole of loss themselves. she wasn't sure where investigating theo’s disappearance themselves would leave them, she didn't want them getting caught up in the supernatural spiderweb of beacon hills.

though, talia hale looses scent and momentum on the case. literally and metaphorically. she finds herself near some suspicious tunnels, leading right under beacon hills but scent falls short. she's frustrated, and the time since his disappearance is lengthening but her families needs become increasingly concerning.

she's listens, she likes to know what's going on. so when she hears her sixteen year old whispering a bit more with her kid brother she raises suspicion. she doesn't trust peter like she used to, not after getting involved with the desert wolf.

paige dies months after that, dereks heartbroken and talia is trying to put together pieces of a story that turned her babies eyes blue. to young. beacon hills doesn't quite understand how another student is dead, with no previous medical history. this, the death of paige she knows is supernatural.

kate argent moves to town and in months, the hale house is burned to the ground. inside, theo raekens black sweater. tucked away in a room, where news clippings and missing posters caught fire the fastest.

so with no surprise, another tragedy is unleashed and it's the talk of the town. memory of theo starts to fade, like most things do in beacon hills. it's not anybodies fault but it still stings. though, theo million miles away hasn't felt much of anything latley.

it's been a little over a year. he hasn't cried in the past three months. he won't let himself. nobody is going to find him. he isn't going to het out. so he puts up his walls, as many as he can. he just has to stay alive a little bit longer. make something worth taras sacrifice. they had started to kill off more of the chimeras, more of their science experiments. he can't get killed, he can't do that to tara.

theo was always a fast learner. theo always liked school. theo was good at school. this wasnt exactly the same as math class at beacon hills elementary but he was picking up skills quickly. theo didn't quite recognize himself after that year. he wasn't that same boy, and that had to suite him just fine. he never had much of a choice in this. he just chose to try and keep her heart beating for as long as he could.

so theo raeken adjusted, he had to.

[dracoladon]

oh my god I absolutely ADORED lucid and born slippy, so the chance to prompt you with something is so so exciting!! as always, no pressure, but how about something about undressing each other? i've always LOVED the unlacing/undressing tropes in capri, and I bet it would be incredible applied to some lovely drarry. do with this what you wish!!!

sidjdjfnndkff thank you, and thank u again for this ungodly prompt. if there’s three things i love, they’re captive prince, drarry, and soft smutty tropes such as the one u hath so kindly bestowed upon me.

i accidentally made a fair few lucid references in here (prizes for all who can spot them, the prize is a poem about u as composed by me) so i suppose, if you’ve read that one and so wish, u can consider this part of the same universe. or smth ://

maybe i’m just hideously unimaginative when it comes to topics for my banter. anywho

rated e, 1732 words.

The thing about Draco’s work robes, is that they’re buttoned all the way up to the throat. Which, hm, doesn’t sound like an issue in and of itself. But becomes one, of sorts, when Harry is overcome by the need to unbutton them every time he lays eyes on pale, elegant throat, the column of it under stiff black fabric. 

The thing is, that Draco looks so austere, so tightly laced, and the thing. Is. That Harry just wants to unlace him. 

Draco is, of course, not austere. He’s in fact very, erm, flexible. Pliant. He told Harry once, when they first starting fucking, that his body reformed around Harry’s, and he liked the way he went malleable in Harry’s hands. 

“I can’t do that with anyone else,” Draco said. Then frowned. “That didn’t make much sense.”

But the buttons. The buttons. The high-necked buttons. They give Draco a look of frigidity, that he’s not to be spoken to, touched (all in a very sexy, aristocratic kind of way, of course), and it’s so bloody hot that Harry’s taken to banishing his glasses and burying his head under a pillow when Draco dresses in the mornings, just to stop himself getting so hard he goes properly blind with it. 

Draco asked him, the third time he burrowed under the bedclothes like a “demented ferret” (glass houses, Harry said), what he was doing. 

“The buttons,” Harry murmured. “Want to undo them.”

“The buttons?”

“The buttons.”

“You sick, kinky twist, Harry Potter.”

Harry unearthed himself, at that. “Shut up? It’s not about the buttons, you horror. It’s about what’s underneath the buttons.”

“How touching.”

And then more teasing, and Harry had it up to here and said, “I’ll burrow again.”

So Draco sat next to him on the bed, robes all secured, and said, softly, but still smiling like a git, “Tell me, love. Why the buttons?”

“You’re just—they’re, you know. So—God,” and then Harry had reached out and rent the sides of Draco’s robes apart, the little cloth covered studs clattering over his polished walnut floors, and pulled Draco down on top of him, and fucked him right there until Draco was late for work, and later still because they’d had to spend half an hour charming the wretched things back into place. 

Now, Draco says, “the buttons are still wonky from that little stunt you pulled.”

Harry can see only Draco’s legs (crossed over each other on the couch, back flat on the ground, because Draco feels it centres him to drape upended from the furniture at the end of a long day) from where he’s decanting the wine in the kitchen. “I’ve always been pants at tailoring charms.”

“Was that a pun?” says Draco, sounding pained. “I’m leaving you, if that was a pun.”

“But then who will do your bidding? Aerate your wine, iron your silk pants—”

“I’ll get a house elf.”

“—not finished, suck your brains out your cock, make you pasta with butter and cheese when it’s cold and you’re in a mood—”

“I’ll get a gigolo, too.”

“I still wasn’t finished,” Harry says, and Levitates the wine into the living room in front of him.

Draco says, “did you get the right glasses, this time?”

“You’re very funny,” Harry says, because after months of trying to educate Harry, Draco has finally accepted that his one true love is cheap beer, and sorted all the wine glasses he keeps at Harry’s flat into labelled little boxes. (‘This is a coupe, Potter. If you bring me red wine in it again, I’ll throw it at you.’ ‘These are for dessert wine — after dinner, before a good hard boffing.’)

“Why don’t you just go snag one of those fucking — sommiliars.”

“Sommelier.” 

“Yeah,” Harry says, happy because Draco’s wearing his work robes and speaking French and looking all twisty, and it’s Friday night, and there’s wine and music from the record Draco put on, and Harry gets to untwist him.

“Did you know,” Draco says, arching his back into a luxurious stretch before rearranging himself right side up and plucking a glass from the air, “that Amantea is starting her own firm.”

“God. Really?”

“Quite. It’s a pro bono thing, evidently. You know she’s been on the exec’s for months about how they direct all their mandatory hours towards corporations, not, you know, people who actually can’t afford legal counsel.”

“‘Course.” Harry distinctly remembers being cornered by Amantea when Draco brought him along to last year's Christmas drinks — he was a decent few in, and Draco kept palming at him through his formal robes when no one was looking, and he thinks he may have agreed to some kind of public crusade in the name of her cause that he doesn’t remember the details of to this day.

“Merlin, that’s incredible. She’s just quit, then? Starting it from the ground up?” 

Draco nods, sips his wine. “She asked me to come with her. Ford, too.” And then, into his glass, “Said yes.” 

Harry chokes, and Draco smirks at him behind the rim while he expires into his Pinot. “Bastard,” Harry coughs.

“Mm,” Draco hums. 

“That’s—fuck, hang on—that’s great, love. Draco, it’s brilliant.”

“Really?” Draco says, tangling his fingers in Harry’s. He can see now that he’s doing that Very Draco Thing where his eyes go a bit too wide and his tongue keeps darting out to wet his bottom lip. “Cause I haven’t quit yet.” 

“Of course. I think it’s really, really incredible.”

Draco rolls his eyes, but his cheeks flush pink. “Any more of that, and I won’t go near your cock for a week.” 

“I’m proud of you,” Harry says, smiling. 

“Two weeks.”

He leans on his haunches, hooks a blond tendril behind Draco’s ear. “I’m so proud of you, Draco. Everything you are.”

“A month. A year! Harry,” Draco complains.  

Harry snorts. Sits back. “Fine. So would you still be doing all the same work?”

Draco nods. “I’d still be a defence counsel. I’d just be, you know. Not getting paid. At least, not for a while.”

“Good,” Harry says. “We’ve got a horrific amount of money, between the two of us.” 

“I’m glad you think so, because we’ll be living off your salary alone. What’s the going rate for darling of the Wizarding world?”

Harry walks his fingers over Draco’s knee, daubed in the heavy black wool of his robes. “Several million a year darling. Are you excited, then?”

Draco shuffles around so he can rest his back against the couch, keeping Harry’s palm pressed to his knee with his own hand as he moves. “Yes. Very. I love my job, but the fees they charge our time at are outrageous. I was always thinking, Mother and I wouldn’t have been able to afford that right after the war. Had we even been allowed a solicitor, but don’t get me bloody started.”

Harry thinks that’s Draco down to his bones. He gives cold little glares to people he doesn’t want to talk to, and shrinks in on himself like a turtle whenever Molly tries to hug him at Sunday lunch, and he’s selfish about stupid things, like letting Ron have the last of his chips at pub night. 

And then he does things like drop lunch by Hermione’s office when he has afternoon meetings with the Wizengamot, or quit the job he loves so much, where he’s finally respected and secure, to work for free with Scary Amantea because he actually cares about the abysmal state of the Wizarding justice system, or rent out an entire Muggle theme park for Harry’s birthday, because he’d said, off handed, one night in Draco’s arms, that he’d always been left behind when the Dursley’s took Dudley as a child. 

“You’re so nice,” Harry says. 

Draco frowns. “Take it back.” 

Harry says, “Won’t,” and gives him a good, slow kiss that tastes like wine. Wine from a proper glass. 

“I have bad news, too,” Draco says into Harry’s lips. 

Harry can’t think of how anything could be bad, wrong, when Draco’s mouth is so soft and so close, but he murmurs, “What,” anyway. 

“No dress code, at the new firm.” 

Harry pulls back, stricken. “No more buttons?”

“Less regular buttons,” Draco amends, and Harry places a protective hand over Draco’s clavicles.  

“This is completely tragic,” Harry says. 

“Dare I say, Potter, you’ll just have to make the most of them. While you can.”

Harry nods, leans down again, a hand either side of Draco’s hips, and kisses him again. 

When he pulls back, it’s so he can get his hands on the reeling column of buttons that runs from Draco’s navel to his Adam’s apple. 

There was a certain carnal appeal in tearing them off him that first time, but now Harry likes this. His hands on Draco, his mouth following. Pushing the silken studs through the loops, undressing Draco inch by milk white inch. 

“Yes,” Draco says, as Harry licks and nips his way down every bit of skin he exposes. When Draco swallows, Harry feels the movement of it roll beneath his palm. When Draco’s legs fall open, Harry mouths at his hip bone as it shifts under his tongue. 

Harry disrobes himself with slightly less worshipping finesse. Pushes the tailored cloth off Draco’s shoulders, helps him arrange himself underneath Harry, ankles clasped lazily at his back. Fucks him slow, and sweet, and two more times. 

Really, Harry doesn’t know why the robes do it for him so utterly and completely. They look kind of like the type of thing a vicar would wear, which is also what Harry remembers thinking when he saw Draco in his dress robes at the Yule Ball (although now it’s more a very rich, very sleek sort of vicar vibe, and less of the fusty, I-took-a-celibacy-oath-at-thirteen-and-am- now-seventy-two thing he had going back then. With all the velvet. Draco looks much better in silk. Anyway.)    

On that, it’s probably because it’s a reminder that it’s Malfoy who he’s with. Malfoy, not Death Eater, tormentor, but pale limbs, plush, pink mouth and naked vulnerability before him. It’s how far they’ve both come, and how Draco presents himself to the world — so far away from what Harry gets to see. What’s Harry’s. What’s theirs. 

“Also,” Draco says, when Harry tells him this in bed that night, “I look positively indecent in black.”

[jonesyjonesyjonesy]

heyyy, this is my first ask ever on this page so I'm not exactly sure how to start this, so ill just get right to it from one jonesy/zeppelin stan to another.

Robert apparently wrote Carouselambra about him being frustrated with Jonesy and Jimmy not being there for him after his son karac passed away,,, the song itself is great inho, it's my favorite off of ittod besides in the evening. The situation was tragic enough on it own, but it also put a huge strain on the relationships between the band members, it seems like. I can't pretend I know a whole lot about that part of their history in particular, just wanted to hear your take on it.

Hello my dear!! Welcome to my asks! I hope it is a cozy and pleasant experience. You are always welcome, no matter how inane, as I myself am the queen of inanity (I'm claiming it here and now folks).

^^ look at these boys in their 30s (36, 34, and almost 32 respectively, dear god)

In Through the Out Door is generally pretty fascinating. 'Carouselambra' in and of itself I think is one of those tracks that if it had been deeper into the canon (as if Zep had been able to make more albums), it would have been openly considered a masterpiece. That's actually how I feel about the whole album, but...instead, it causes consternation.

The track itself is one of my favorites as well. It's like Space Jam but everyone's on drugs and having a midlife crisis and WOW it's good. The actual inspiration for the track, as you say, I think was a combination of the highs and lows of Zeppelin and this includes Karac's death and the aftermath. 'Carouselambra' was originally called 'The Epic' -- I like to imagine the epic poetry it was being likened too and if epic poetry was still written and consumed the way we consume Homer and Virgil, that Zeppelin would be a perfect candidate. 'Tales of Brave Ulysses' could never.

The general consensus is that 'The Epic' was renamed 'Carouselambra' because that's what being in Zeppelin was like. Around and around on this gaudy mechanical and in the process these tragic things were happening and you only got fast glances at them or missed out on important things. And in the case of Karac, I'm sure Robert was grappling with the fact he just wasn't around (and I believe he's said as much).

This culminating with Jonesy and Jimmle not being at the funeral, which at the time, Robert had apparently said to Richard Cole, “Maybe they don’t have as much respect for me as I do for them. Maybe they’re not the friends I thought they were.”

Which is understandable! I mean, anyone that close to you dying, let alone a child. You would want your friends there (...if Robert considered Jonesy a "friend" to me is debatable considering his supposed tongue-in-cheek offer to Lita Ford to be the bassist for Zep in '77, but I'm just a bitter Jonesy stan (and I have plenty of theories and ideas about the Jones/Plant dynamic)). From what I've read, Jonesy was on family holiday, I imagine continuing with Maureen and the girls in the RV they rented for the second leg of the '77 tour -- he stole away after the Oakland debacle and drove it up to Seattle (this is from a glancing in Mick Wall's When Giants Walked the Earth, which I'm currently reading). Can that man get any more precious? And Jimmy was...Jimmy, heroin and all, although he's been quoted saying "We were all mates. We had to give the man some space.”

Potentially illustrating this, Robert commented on this in 2005: “The other guys were [from] the South [of England] and didn’t have the same type of social etiquette that we have up here in the North that could actually bridge that uncomfortable chasm with all the sensitivities required … to console.”

By ITTOD, though, we have our "relatively clean" camp friends Jones and Robert leading the charge and, I hope, having some good heart to hearts and enjoying each others' company. I really do wish we had more from that time, of that dynamic because I think it's a really interesting blip on the timeline given their distance mostly (I believe Robert said in 1971 that he had just started becoming friends with Jonesy, which I don't find hard to believe considering their opposite natures).

And then you get 'Carouselambra', all the nonsense and the mayhem boiled down into "why the fuck are we doing this"-edness. The kids are getting older, the tour is now a slog, and now you've got back pain. Kind of a sad carousel at the end of the day. “The whole story of Led Zeppelin in its latter years is in that song, and I can’t hear the words," Plant said, regarding how his voice is mixed lower than the keyboard in the first half. And there they were, in their 30s, and punk was on the rise and let's be honest, rock n' roll has never been a "middle years" kind of game.

But TO ME, that adds to the theatricality, to the idea that everything WAS getting lost and muddled. It's a brilliant, most likely unanticipated homage in my mind and Led Zeppelin WAS theatrical for as much as it was about the music, it was about the mythos and fable as well.

As a side note, I really hate how ITTOD is talked about for the most part as this like "lame keyboard album" when in fact, if Zeppelin had continued, it would serve as an LZ III/HotH vibe to me in that they could do whatever they want so they did and wow it was great. That's just my opinion, though, and I can definitely chalk it up to bias and also my love for Jonesy's post-Zeppelin work that really showcased just how fucking marvelous he is.

oh my god this got so long how did this get so long

This is just my take...I'm sure many people would be ready to contest what I have to say and that's just fine. 'Southbound Saurez' is one of my favorite Zep tracks and I stand by it.

I hope this was worth the time, lovely. Thank you for appearing in the asks and I hope you return someday. It was really lovely to take a journey into the more "academic" side of Zep...turns out I know quite a bit and I'm pretty good at rustling through the interwebs to find all the quotes I wanted to locate!

Feel free to correct me or engage in discourse kindly. I don't have time for negativity, I just turned 26 after all.

let it be known this is literally 950 words

[exquisitley-obsessed]

We’re Leaving (Carlisle Cullen x Reader)

Author: @exquisitley-obsessed

Summary: The already infatuated Carlisle Cullen and reader are faced with their next challenge, but this time the danger is within their own family. Edward needs his father as he pulls away from Bella over the course of NEW MOON, but this means Carlisle must make the choice between his own happiness and that of his son’s. No matter what he chooses, someone’s going to get hurt.

Word Count: long

Pairings: Carlisle Cullen x Reader

Warnings: Heartbreak, abandonment, sex, drug abuse

A/N: Technically this is a fourth part of my ‘Dinosaur and the Vampire’ series however you don’t need to read it to understand. Plus, in my head this part functions better as a oneshot.

Dinosaur and the Vampire:

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

MY MAIN MASTERLIST

Y/n gasped, the pain was rippling from her chest now, ricocheting through her muscles as she collapsed on her bedroom floor. She could already guess his next words.

‘We’re leaving.’

***

The past couple of months had been glorious. Following the disaster that was the ending to y/n’s junior year where she somehow managed to get tangled up in a high speed car chase with a vampire named Victoria (who had promptly taken her hostage in order to track down y/n’s best friend Bella) - things had begun to look up.

Her infatuation with the town’s local medi-hero Carlisle Cullen had surprisingly taken off, after of course he revealed himself of being a 300 year-old vampire who had a taste for bunnies. Most days she met up with him at his mansion in her brand-new white Ford Bronco, that which Carlisle had bought specifically to save her life and, following the destruction of her own car, decided to gift her - that was an interesting conversation with her parents. 

Of course that accident hadn’t just left her with a beautiful new mechanic baby but also some battle scars. The largest of which was a crescent white line arching over her left brow, not to mention the faded lines circling her waist. Her arms had healed up nice enough, the rope had caused them to double in size as blue and green bruises splotched on the surface for the first few weeks but they eventually died down. The story went that after being in a lot of stress and anxiety y/n had lost sight of the road and crashed into a car and it was stunning how no one thought to question it.

It was difficult being around her personal doctor for the first few days after the crash. So often would she catch him staring mournfully at her scar and bound hands, evidentially blaming himself for her battered state. Y/n spent most of the time convincing him she was fine and reminding him that she would go through so much worse to be where she was today.

And where she was, was a few weeks into her affair, unbeknown to all apart from Carlisle’s family and Bella. Together, Carlisle and her would often circle around the endless abyss of wood and glass that was the Cullen house, or drift up and down the small forest of a garden they had out back. Talking, always talking.

Carlisle was fascinated by every aspect of her previously thought mundane life. She could watch as he made mental notes of her favourite bands and books, what colleges she wanted to go to, her dream job. Y/n so often hated talking about herself but only because she felt that her life paled in comparison to that of Carlisle’s. He had of course explained his entire existence to her, right from its origins in 17th century London, and yet there was still so much he mentioned off-hand that left y/n floored.

Of course with the cat being out the bag, y/n’s and Bella’s friendship felt like it was flourishing for the second time. Now Bella was able to be honest with why she had been so distant, she didn’t have to lie when she explained the intensity of her and Edward’s relationship or why she kept disappearing with him after school. Y/n was able to confine to her about her relationship with Carlisle, about the way he always seemed to be looking at her through his soft amber eyes and the way he was so comfortable in touching her. Constantly brushing his fingers over her wrist or stroking her hair out of her face. All in all y/n had never been happier, of course until Bella’s tragic 18th.

***

For a night that would be so monumental to y/n’s life it seemed strange she wasn’t even present. Her parents had somehow dragged her on a holiday in Florida. And after giving Bella her early birthday present and a promise to Carlisle that she would be careful, she hadn’t thought much more of her time away. She spent most of the time on the beaches, reading and reliving all her memories with the doctor.

He had kissed her only a few nights ago. It came quite literally out of the blue. She was only stopping by his house to pick-up Edward’s copy of ‘The Catcher in the Rye’ when he was at the door waiting for her he seemed somewhat disturbed, as though he had had a rough day at the hospital. She had smiled at him as she got out and he in turn had pattered down the front steps.

“Hi.” Was all she managed to get out before he had caught her lips in his, his body flushed against hers as she was pushed against the car.

“Sorry.” He whispered breathlessly when the kiss had unfortunately come to a close and he rested his forehead against hers, gently rocking her in his arms. “I couldn’t wait any longer.”

Yet she couldn’t stay on holiday forever and inevitably she returned to the mess that was life back at Forks. When she got home the first thing she wanted to do was see Bella, to ask her about her birthday, if Alice got her that necklace y/n helped pick out, but Charlie was no help.

“I’m sorry y/n...” He looked incredibly stressed. His shirt old and stained his hair sticking up at the back, heavy set bags hanging below his eyes. “Bella...she’s...she’s not good right now.”

Y/n assumed Bella had come down with something and so she shrugged it off, blaming Charlie’s appearance on well, Charlie stuff. It was the next day at school when things started to feel really wrong, when the pain began to dig it’s hole.

***

“You looking for the Cullens?” Angela asked. Y/n snapped her head around, embarrassed that she had been caught glaring at the completely empty table near the back of the cafeteria. She would have never guessed it was related to Bella’s illness.

“Something happen?” Y/n tried to appear disinterested, picking at her food. It was September and not sunny so it didn’t make sense for them to be away perhaps they were in need of a feed or maybe they had family business...

“Yeah, they moved away.” 

Angela said it like someone would talk about the weather and yet she might as well have leaned across the table and shoved her fork through y/n’s chest.

“What?” The word squeaked out. Y/n felt the colour drain from her face.

“The dad...you know the doctor one...well apparently he got some big time job offer down in California and...”

Angela’s words dissolved into the air, muffled by some invisible blanket. Distantly y/n was aware of her arms going limp, her fork clattering out of her hands as her body tingled numbly underneath her. The worst feeling was the shortness of breath, the way air couldn’t seem to move through her lungs anymore as her chest was weighed down with what felt like a sphere of lead.

The rest of the day couldn’t pass slowly enough. In history it seemed like y/n was watching the clock forever her mind racing a million miles an hour. Surely they hadn’t left properly, Carlisle couldn’t leave without saying goodbye at least. No, it had to have something to do with vampirism, maybe an old friend called or maybe they were in danger, 5 more minutes then gym and then she would find out.

In the end she decided to skip gym altogether jumping in her car and racing home, still in her daze. She needed to see Bella and then she would head up to the Cullen’s, there was no way they had really moved away. Maybe it was just so the humans weren’t getting suspicious, a strange feeling pulled at y/n’s gut as she remembered that technically, she was a part of the ‘humans’ or supposed to be at least.

“Charlie is Bella in?”

“I’m sorry y/n-”

She pushed past him, muttering an apology as she went but Charlie appeared too exhausted to stop her. Turning left she raced up the stairs two at a time before exploding into Bella’s room, she would know from Bella, she would get her answer.

Bella sat on her bed, her face white, her eyes glossed over. She didn’t even look at y/n as she walked in.

“Bella?” Y/n’s voice was shaky, the tears already bubbling in her throat. She knew deep down that she already had her answer. “Bella?”

Finally she turned to her, but there was no recognition. Nothing. Complete emptiness behind her eyes as she stared back for a few seconds before her eyes flickered forward.

Y/n left, apologising to Charlie under her breath as she jumped back in her car. But it was too late, the pain had already settled in her chest, her mind was already convinced. They were gone. He had left. Without even saying goodbye.

It was inescapable now, it spread like fire across her body, consuming her whole. She tried to start up her car but her body doubled over and she grit her teeth in pain. It had begun.

***

She didn’t know where to go, what to do. Most of her wanted to go to the Cullen’s house but she already knew it was most likely empty, devoid of all life. Could she really handle that?

Y/n went to start up her car when she realised that this car was all Carlisle had given her besides her own memories. She raced out of it, turning away from the sight of it and running into her house.

When she got to her room she shut her curtains with so much vigour a few hooks snapped off the edge, she knew she would see the pale car in her drive if she left it open. Before she knew it she was crying, trying desperately to control her emotions before they consumed her whole. Then she saw it.

Resting on her bedside table was an ivory note with her name etched onto the page in rich navy ink.

‘Dearest y/n l’n,’

A letter. He had left her a letter. She opened it carefully, if what she assumed was true this, as well as her car, might be all she had left of him; her sobs still hiccuping in her throat, she raced her eyes over his calligraphy. Five paragraphs. That was all. Five paragraphs loosely explaining how Edward was in a rough place, how people were judging Carlisle for his youth, how he needed to put his family first - five paragraphs.

Y/n gasped, the pain was rippling from her chest now, ricocheting through her muscles as she collapsed on her bedroom floor. She could already guess his next words, the words to conclude the letter.

‘We’re leaving.’

The worst feeling was when she read ‘we’, she knew from this word alone she was to understand that Carlisle did not group her with his family. The letter gave no insinuation that he was deeply sorry for their departure, or that he would in any way return at all. How, in the space of a few hours, could her world be turned completely inside out?

She went from giddily planning a small future with Carlisle to believing he had never cared for her at all. If he did, it certainly wasn’t as much as she had cared for him. Another wave of pain beat her down. She was just a stupid kid with a crush. Another wave. She was a fool, an embarrassment to assume that he wanted her even half as much as she wanted him.

Her tears got too much then, the letter shaking out her hands as the pain, now unbridled, exploded out of her. The waves of heartbreak crashing into her again and again, her stifled screams bouncing off her walls and ringing back in her ears, haunting her with her own pain. 

He was gone, and he had taken her heart with him.

***

“Y/n we’re worried about you.”

“Don’t be.” Y/n laughed loudly, pushing her untouched pasta around on her plate. Angela glanced at her through tense eyes. “I already have a mum, Angela.” The words came out harsher than she meant to, not that she cared.

“But seriously, Mack?” Angela whispered, her voice low so the others wouldn’t hear. Y/n rolled her eyes. 

“We’re not a thing, we just hang out and he...helps me out.”

“He’s a druggie.” Her voice was low, accusing, incredulous. Another roll of y/n’s eyes.

“Duh Angela. What do you think I meant by ‘helping me out’.” Angela just shook her head disappointed. Y/n didn’t care, she couldn’t. Technically sitting at that lunch table on that Friday she was still coming down from her high this morning, her brain soft and fuzzed around the edges and, most importantly, the pain in her chest non existent.

The drug scene in Forks was nothing to be impressed by. It was only by luck that y/n had met Mack, a guy a few years out of high school who had never made it to college. Y/n was pretty sure he was crushing on her but she didn’t mind exploiting that a little if it meant she got high for free. 

It had been four months since they had left. They might as well have taken Bella with them considering she was a shell of a human being: unresponsive, uncooperative. There was nothing behind her eyes, just like the day y/n had come searching for her. That had been one of the last times y/n had stepped foot in the Swan house. Partly because y/n’s new found drug habits wouldn’t go down well with Chief Charlie Swan, partly because y/n couldn’t stand the sight of Bella.

The emptiness, the hollowness, the pain. It was just a reminder to y/n of what was waiting for her the day she became sober. In the beginning, after a few days of wallowing in the pain, feeling as though she were unable to move, y/n had forced herself to go to the beach where she had ran into a bunch of La Push boys. They were smoking green and it was clearly their first time, they called out and invited y/n over clearly expecting that she wouldn’t accept.

But she surprised both them and herself by walking over. After sitting and smoking them with a bit she found herself smiling and laughing at their jokes as her head became warmer and fuzzier, moreover, the pain of his abandonment warmed into nothingness. She had asked them where they got the weed and they had pointed her in the direction of Mack.

“Down for tonight?” 

Y/n read the text as it flashed across her screen.

“You bet :)″

She sent back. Two more lessons and then her high could be refreshed and the cycle could continue.

***

Y/n gasped as she awoke. Nightmares had been more common the past week. They were a regular occurrence when he had first left but going to bed high had always numbed it out. But recently his ivory skin and ribbons of muscles were becoming clearer through the haze.

Rolling over in the dark with some desperation she flicked on her phone and dialled his number.

“Hey Mack, I just called cause-”

“You have a bad high?” He murmured over the phone, distantly she could hear his TV playing in the background. She could picture him, half-dressed surrounded by trash as he got himself high for the third time today. Y/n pushed the image away - no, I’m not like that. It’s different for me, I have a reason.

“Yeah.” She muttered, “I just didn’t know who to call.”

“Usually bad highs are a sign you’ve been smoking too much.” She had basically been smoking consistently for four months now and if she wasn’t smoking she was drunk and if she wasn’t drunk then the pain began to settle.

“Ugh, are you going to tell me I have to stop?” She laughed quietly over the phone, trying to cover the slight desperation in her voice. Distantly she was aware of her parents sleeping in the next room, it was stupid, she was eighteen now and it felt as though she had been through enough trauma to move out, to get away from school. On the other hand school seemed to be the only thing holding her together now.

“No, you don’t need to stop smoking but maybe try something else?” He asked nonchalantly.

“Something else?”

“I stock more than green but it’ll have to be sooner rather than later.”

“Sooner?” Y/n murmured robotically. She had bought enough to get her through the week.

“This weekend?” He asked, almost as if he read her mind.

“See you then...your place?” She rolled over in the dark.

“See you then?” She could hear the enormous grin settle on his lips and it sent a shiver down her spine - she hung up. She had promised herself to never do anything more serious than weed but now she was faced with an ultimatum: break her promise or embrace the darkness.

***

“Hi Mack.” Y/n smiled when he opened the door, he didn’t say anything just grinned and stood to the side letting y/n into his dingy apartment. Y/n had used the same lie to her parents that she used whenever she came here - that she was sleeping over at Angela's. Not that they ever checked. 

Of course she wasn’t  sleeping over at Mack’s, to be honest she didn’t trust him enough for that, normally she left late and would drive her car up to the Cullens house, it wasn’t too far and the road was easy enough to follow when intoxicated. It was the only time was she was able to wander around the house without feeling any guilt or remorse. 

Mack’s place was tiny, made worse by the clutter and rubbish. A small corridor lead to a small living room which the tiniest of kitchens looked out into. Mack had a strip of lights around the top of the ceiling that were constantly flashing multi-coloured as loud obnoxious music played, somewhat muffled in the smoke.

“Hey y/n.” Danny, Mack’s roommate, smiled from the couch, clearly already lost.

“Hey Dan.” She smiled before collapsing at his feet, her knees propped against the coffee table where booze and skins cluttered the surface.

“You’re in for a treat.” He slurred, his arms limp by his sides as his eyes flickered back and forth, his mouth ajar. Y/n felt somewhat excited at the sight of him, so out of his head - this excitement no longer frightened her.

“He’s not lying.” Mack laughed, full of energy as he jumped up and grabbed something off the kitchen counter before holding it in front of her face. A small white square was compressed in the middle of a tiny plastic bag. “These things pack a punch.” He laughed, y/n laughed. “You’re still down to do this right? I’m not going to pressure you or anything.” He said, and for a moment it looked like he was actually concerned for her.

Y/n thought seriously about it for a moment. There was nothing stopping her from getting up and walking out, telling him that it was a mistake to come here, even just telling him that she’ll run the risk of sticking to green. Except the weed wasn’t enough anymore, she was realising that. To keep him away she would have to go further, and she was more than willing. It seemed somewhat funny, that to escape her doctor she had to pollute herself.

“Of course.” Y/n heard her voice laugh as she shuffled out of her jacket and pulled her hair out from it’s knot. If Mack and Danny could, she could.

“Awesome.” He grinned before sitting down on the coffee table in front of her so that her head was somewhat between his knees. “This is how you take it.” He said, clearly enjoying being a ‘teacher’. Y/n could see him properly then.

Mack was in his early-twenties, the same age he was supposed to be. A short brown beard tufted around his jaw whilst shoulder length brown hair was pulled into a low pony at the back of his head. He was sweet really, just lost.

“Stick your tongue out.” Y/n obliged, picking up on the moment of tension as he placed the white square on her tongue with his forefinger. She felt no guilt as she lapped her tongue back into her mouth slowly, gazing into his dark eyes as his finger rested on her bottom lip.

The rest of the night was a blurry mess; mistakes were definitely made and y/n was definitely going to have to find a new dealer. It was strange how that night only happened because she was so desperate to escape Carlisle Cullen, and yet for most of it, it was his icy face that she was picturing instead of Mack’s.

***

Weeks had passed and y/n’s drug exploration was starting to get a little out of control. She was sure her parents were picking up on her strange behaviours: never home at weekends, always fidgeting, bleary eyed and always tired. Perhaps she was just being paranoid, Mack said that could be one of the side effects. 

But it was lucky she was high one specific Friday as she parked her car outside Mack’s apartment complex. She glared at the Bronco, she had seen Bella ripping the radio (Emmett’s gift to Bella) out of her own truck, removing all traces of the Cullen family’s existence. It wasn’t so easy for y/n.

She was thinking of him again. It had been quite obsessive these past few days and that’s why when she first saw him, leaning against his black Mercedes in the shadows, she couldn’t quite believe her eyes.

“What the hell.” She was so sure she was hallucinating, she blinked fiercely.

“Y/n.” He said her name and she felt her eyes flutter closed, how good it felt to hear her name dripping from his lips. She wasn’t aware she had memorised his voice so well. She audibly hummed in response to the sound before snapping herself out of it and ignoring his form. Mack was just upstairs with something new to try and then he would go away. “Y/n.” He said her name again as though he were sure she hadn’t heard him.

Y/n ignored it. The sweetness of his presence was quickly turning sour, and the corners of the hole in her chest were beginning to sting.

“Y/n, it’s me.” That stopped her. From the corner of her eye she could see him step out of the shadows, his pale skin iridescent in the street light. He looked unsure, pleading, desperate. “Y/n.”

“No.” She gasped suddenly. There was no more guessing, she couldn’t even try to deny that it was truly him. She stumbled slightly in the street and he was by her side in a second. When she was stable in his arms he held a lock of her hair between his fingers inhaling deeply. “Your blood smells different.” He murmured. She had forgotten what it was like to be around people who could move so quickly. “Y/n, what have you been putting in your body?”

“Leave me alone.” She murmured, her head still fuzzy and numb from the sight of him. Was it a dream? No it couldn’t be. As she got over her shock, anger pooled in her gut. 

“Are you high?” His eyes were confused and worried.

“If I am what would you do about it?” She smirked. “You have no right to critique my lifestyle.”

“Your lifestyle?” He asked somewhat incredulously, his eyes were slowly melting darker and darker. “Poisoning yourself with LSD is a lifestyle for you?”

“It’s a coping mechanism.” She spat suddenly. “To deal with the pain that you left me with.” That shut him up.

“I would’ve never left if I knew you would do this.” He grimaced. Wrong move.

“Stop!” She gasped suddenly, her arm snatching to her gut where she was sure the pain would brim over. She thought seeing him again would melt her troubles away, instead his presence seemed to intensify them. “Stop talking like you get a say in what I do! You lost that privileged the day you left! Left with nothing but a stupid note Carlisle!”

“I left to protect you. I didn’t want to cause you pain. Remember Victoria?” Was all he could say in response.

“Victoria...” Y/n spat. “What Victoria did to me pales in comparison to what you did. You’re the one whose hurt me the most Carlisle. Do you understand?”

She was still in shock at the sight of him. A million questions were racing through her head but none of them seemed as important now. Her shouting must have alerted someone’s presence because she heard movement near the apartment steps as someone walked up to them.

“Are you okay?” It was Mack but he seemed a million miles away now, unimportant.

“Are you her dealer?” Carlisle strode forward, his voice pure steel.

“Carlisle stop it!” She spat, jumping forward and pushing against his stony chest but it was like trying to move a mountain.

“Are you the one that did this to her?” Carlisle ignored her, still towering over Mack.

“You did this to me!” She suddenly exploded. Carlisle was past listening.

“If I ever see you near her again. I will break you myself, I promise.” His voice was calm meditated, as if every word had weight.

“What are you, her boyfriend?” Mack asked venomously. “Well then maybe I should let you in on a secret.”

“Mack shut up.” Y/n felt fear bubble into her throat. Sure she could swear in that moment she hated Carlisle but that’s all it was, a moment. There was no point in ruining her future.

“Your girlfriend ain’t too loyal.” Mack drawled out, a coy smirk slipping on his lips as he rocked back and forth on his toes. Carlisle tensed. “At least...she wasn’t last night.” 

An animalistic snarl snapped from of Carlisle lips like a whip and within the second he had Mack pinned against the bonnet of a car. Then, just as quickly as he moved, he remembered himself. Letting Mack drop Carlisle’s breath heaved before he turned and stalked towards his car without sparing y/n so much as a glance. Always the pacifist.

“Carlisle.” She called, rushing after him but Mack caught her elbow.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were in a relationship?” He asked and if y/n wasn’t mistaken he sounded somewhat heartbroken, all his previous anger evaporating.

“I’m not.” Y/n gasped struggling to get out of his grip.

“You’re in something.” He murmured, letting her go.

“I’m sorry Mack, I really am. I’ll...call you.” The words were falling over her shoulder as she escaped, but he was already gone and distantly she could hear his Mercedes ripping into the night as he drove away.

***

“It’s not his fault.”

“I don’t need this right now Edward.” After jumping into her Bronco y/n had followed Carlisle’s black Mercedes back to his house. During the drive she couldn’t decide whether her anger was riling up or fizzing into the air and thus, nothingness. He had been so close, she had put her hands against his chest, he was right there.

“Please I just...” Edward’s eyes were tentative as he blocked her path on the house steps, “It’s my fault why we even left, all he was trying to do was be a good father to me.”

“And you think that’s and excuse?”

“No, of course not.” He added hurriedly. “It’s just, I love him, and I know he loves you. Please don’t walk away from him.”

“Walk away?” Y/n gasped, angry tears pricking behind her eyes. “I never wanted to walk away. I never even considered it. You were the ones who left and you took everything with you.” Tears spilled and she hurriedly wiped them away. Edward grimaced. Y/n took her opportunity and stormed past him into the house. To her surprise there stood Rosalie and Emmett; a few hours ago and she would have run into their arms laughing, overjoyed to see her friends again.

“Where is he?” Was all she spat and to her surprise they looked somewhat intimidated as they pointed loosely in the direction of the kitchen. She stormed past them and up the stairs swinging a right to find Carlisle waiting for her, leaning over the counter his head in his hands, he glanced at her.

“Y/n I-” He began.

“Shut up.” Was all she said. Distantly she was aware that Emmett and Rosalie had followed her along with Edward. At the far window she saw movement and assumed Jasper and Alice had come to see what the fuss is about. “You had your chance to talk the day you left but you chose not to, so, what you’re going to do is you’re going to sit in that chat, patiently, whilst I stand her and say what I got to say...understand?”

Carlisle stood now, an internal battle dancing behind his eyes as he glanced from y/n to his family. Y/n was aware of them staring now, watching the leader of their family, the alpha male be challenged, all tentative to see what he would do next. Slowly and with weight, Carlisle walked a few paces before he slid down into a chair, leaning forward and resting on his knees as he looked up at y/n through his lashes. This sent a tremor through the family and within the blink of an eye they were all gone, giving Carlisle and y/n their privacy.

“Carlisle...” Now she was here, she wasn’t quite sure what to say. “I am...sorry...about Mack and what we...” She trailed off, maybe it was not the best idea to start with this. “But you can’t judge me. You just can’t.”

“I know.” He whispered, his brows furrowing apologetically.

“All this...the drugs, Mack, everything, all of it’s just me trying to cope. And it’s not an excuse but-”

“Please don’t apologise.” Carlisle whispered and within the second he was standing in front of her cupping her cheeks in his hands and brushing his thumb under her right eye. “Never apologise.” He kissed her forehead. “You did nothing wrong.” He kissed her nose. It seemed like he went to go kiss her lips but he hovered, as if he remembered himself and he pulled back slightly, resting his forehead against hers.

“I’m sorry for the way I behaved. It was foolish and embarrassing of me.” He decided to say. “Back at the apartments. It’s just...”

“Just what?” Y/n murmured, now in a daze.

“I could smell it.”

“What?”

“Your scent...on him. On his neck, his shirt. Deep down I already knew what had happened but then hearing him...say it...and gloat.” His teeth gritted.

“If it’s any consolation, if I knew you were coming back I would have never-”

“But you didn’t know I was coming back. Because I left you here with nothing.” He was talking to himself now. “I...” He began. “I knew I was hurting you the day I left, the idea alone tormented me for months but I kept lying to myself, telling myself I would put you in more danger, more pain if I came back. But seeing the reality of what I had done to you, coming back to your blood smelling different and...” He trailed off.

“I know.” Y/n filled the silence, overwhelmed now at the feeling of him flushed against her body.

“I’ve got to hand it to Edward.” He chuckled to himself. “He’s more persuasive than he looks.” They stood like that for a moment, just comfortable at being able to be around one another again before y/n scrunched up her eyes.

“God, I've just been so caught up in being angry at you that I don’t think it’s really settled that you’re here. I feel like I’m going to wake up and this is just going to be a cruel dream.” 

“I’m not going anywhere.” He cut her off gently, his eyes steely. “Not because I’m afraid of what you’ll do to yourself if I leave, not because you necessarily need me. But because...I don’t know how many chances I’m going to get to love someone like this.” He chuckled slightly. “And I mean, I have an eternity stretched out in front of me...but to love someone the way I love you...completely and utterly and with every piece of my heart and soul...”

His words fizzled into the air, the greater meaning behind them understood by them and only them.

“I’m sorry about Mack.” They were swaying slightly now, as if there were some soft unheard music. “He’s sweet...and he’s just lost...I guess I was for while.”

“As long as it was...consensual.” Surprisingly this made y/n laugh, a noise he had missed with his whole soul.

“Let’s not talk about it anymore.”

And they didn’t. From an outsiders perspective no one could have guessed anything was ever wrong between y/n and Carlisle. Just as before things gently shifted back into place, old routines were picked up and recent habits died out. Carlisle made good on his promise, he spent the rest of eternity doing everything in his power to make y/n happy, for that was all that mattered for him.

“To love someone the way I love you.” Became their phrase. Before long journeys apart, before what felt like impending doom when it came to Victoria, or the Voultri. He murmured it to her before she slept and shouted it after her car when she pulled away - an ode to their relationship, and all that they had been through. Y/n and Carlisle, the Dinosaur and the Vampire.

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[itwoodbeprefect]

because of the weird order on my disks, today i watched sga 1x08/1x09, underground! rambles:

teyla, saying the very first words of the episode: “they call themselves the genii. they are simple people, but good farmers and fair traders.” OH MY. 👀 [cackles with foreknowledge]

LOVE that rodney is eating a sandwich at the conference table LOVE that john is pulling frowny confused faces at him from the background even before they start talking about coffee LOVE that the entire team gets in on the debate on rodney’s coffee habits (teyla’s judgy face counts! it says A LOT)

tyrus: “my daughter, sora.” / john: “you must be very proud.” / [sora looks charmed, tyrus points out she’s bethroted] / john: “i... wasn’t hitting on your daughter, i just thought-” fjdkfdj canon confirmed: john is great at multitasking. how else would he manage to be gay and ace and still find the time to be a womanizer and look vaguely distressed about it? some people really can do it all.

 “do you dress as they do of your own accord?” tyrus asks, starting an interesting conversation that’s never explored very deeply in canon. later in the episode, too, teyla acts grateful while talking to sora that the earth people have “accepted” her, which is... interestingly naive, almost? in a way that teyla usually isn’t. she seems a little blinded by the power of the earth people’s technology.

rodney and john have a tiny conversation about the lack of a sense of humor on the part of the genii and john’s like “they can have yours” and rodney fake-laughs and says “oh, you slay me” and then we hop to tyrus in the foreground talking to the (GASP) modern technology hidden under his sleeve, but in the background the team is still walking away and we faintly hear john say “i’m thinking about it” and that just makes that entire exchange with rodney way funnier, especially because they’re in the middle of a wide open field and walking so close their elbows keep bumping.

ahhhh gosh! john and rodney’s iconic lost-in-a-field trip. “define strange.” “you don’t know what strange means?” “i know what strange means, rodney.”

they find a HUGE metal hatch under a barely-there layer of fresh straw in a shed and rodney’s like “i wonder if they even know it’s there”. greatest mind in two galaxies.

i mean. i mean this is too easy, but when they’re talking about the radiation from the genii’s nuclear experiments and rodney tells john “we’ll be fine. just uh, as long as you weren’t planning on having children” and john pulls a complicated face, that does work as the face of a man who knows that was pretty unlikely to begin with if he keeps trying to run away from every woman that shows an interest in him.

not to ever question teyla ever, but while her decision to tell the genii that the genii plan to attack the wraith during hibernation won’t work because they have already awakened is probably a good one, she uh. could have done that without also mentioning that it was the atlanteans she came with that caused that problem.

john telling ford “hold the fort” is exactly my kind of humor, and the tragic bit is that i don’t even think it was supposed to be funny, gosh.

tyrus’s “the wraith must not know we were ever here” argument against teyla’s desire to save the cocooned people on the hive ship is funny to me because it makes me think about whether the wraith actually would notice or not. do they keep a record? it seems likely. if they do, does that mean there are wraith accountants? do they carry a little suitcase made of human skin? does it contain an abacus with human teeth in different colors of yellow to help them keep count?

fjdkf okay so maybe tyrus is just a little out of his mind with the freakiness of being on a wraith ship. “if we save him they will know that he was taken!” he says, and then shoots the guy asking for their help, with his very loud shooty gun, making sure the wraith definitely know there’s someone on their ship. (obviously part of the whole tyrus thing is setup to make teyla not look heartless when she leaves him after he’s captured by the wraith he attracted, which is itself necessary to explain the deeply complicated relationship between the genii and the people of earth later on, but still.)

the team and callen run back to the jumper and there’s this shot of that happening from pretty far away, where they all one by one disappear into the cloaked jumper, and they would have known where it was because ford was holding the fort ( :D ), but do you think they ever just... think they’re about to step into the cloak and miss? like when you’re expecting there to be another step at the top of the stairs but you just stumble on air, except you may also have just stepped into the realization that you lost your car.

“sixty ships. or more.” OH if they only knew, at this point. better they didn’t, perhaps.

last thought: i think the genii are interesting, particularly in this episode, because they are clearly the bad guys in this narrative at the end of the day, but that’s only because the story has already sided with the atlanteans. the genii respond to what happens in ways that are very often exactly what the people from earth might do if they had been in the genii’s position, and that showdown at the end of the episode is a fairly grim example of that (the jumper lands, it’s revealed the genii were laying a trap with a lot of fire power, then it’s revealed the earth people were laying an even BIGGER trap with even MORE fire power), even if it’s presented like a “ha, gotcha!” moment. mostly feels kind of sad to me - here’s the people inhabiting this new galaxy you say you enter in peace, and you keep fighting them at every turn because they’re doing what you would do and you don’t like it when someone else does that.

[piratewithvigor]

My first thought in regard to every band that gets played on my radio station

ACDC: Every dad’s favourite band

Adams, Bryan: Every mom’s favourite singer until Michael Buble came along

Aerosmith: haha they thought Vince Neil was a lady

Alice Cooper: he’s a Game Of Thrones fanboy and I have proof

Alice In Chains: my sister doesn’t like them because she decided AC were Alice Cooper’s initials ONLY

Allman Brothers Band: good music for dropping acid to

Allman, Gregg: That’s too many Gs for one name

Animals: House Of The Rising Sun, or who even cares

Argent: Sometimes Hold Your Head Up is really catchy

Asia: Tuesdays

Autograph: one of the members went on to be a pharmacist

Bachman-Turner Overdrive: There are just so many pop culture jokes about Taking Care Of Business that whatever I say won’t be as funny

Bad Company: with their song; Bad Company, off their album; Bad Company

Benatar, Pat: Always getting her confused with Patti Smith

Black Crowes: I like them for Lickin, but it doesn’t seem to exist outside of one shoddy video on youtube and my old CD

Blackfoot: this band name feels kind of racy

Black Sabbath: Dio was not better or worse than Ozzy; just different

Blondie: I like Call Me, but Blondie confuses me stylistically

Blue Oyster Cult: MORE COWBELL

Bon Jovi: Hello, childhood trauma, I missed you

Boston: ONE GUY. ONE GUY DID IT ALL AND NO ONE KNOWS

Bowie, David: Don’t let your children watch The Man Who Fell To Earth, or David Bowie’s will end up being the third penis they see in life

Browne, Jackson: Another musician ruined by Supernatural

Buffalo Springfield: Jack Nicholson was at the riot they sing about

Burdon, Eric: no ideas, brain empty

Bush: ditto

Candlebox: ditto once more. Who are these people?

Cars: This band feels so gay and so straight at the same time, I can only assume they’re the poster children of bisexual panic

Cheap Trick: I played Dream Police on Guitar Hero so fucking much because it was the only song anyone who played with me could keep up with

Chicago: Chicago 30 exists, but they do not have 30 albums. Fucking riddle me that

Clapton, Eric: 6 discs in one Greatest Hits is too many. That’s called “re releasing your discography”

Cochrane, Tom: For some reason, everyone thinks Rascal Flats did it better

Cocker, Joe: Belushi did it right

Collective Soul: who?

Collins, Phil: If his biggest hits were done by MCR, they would be emo anthems, but because he’s 5′6″ and from the 80s, they’re not

Cream: *Vietnam flashbacks on the hippie side*

CCR: *Vietnam flashbacks on the war side*

CSNY: David Crosby; meh

Deep Purple: THEY’RE SO MUCH MORE THAN SMOKE ON THE WATER

Def Leppard: the only music for when you’re a heartbroken bitch but also a sexy one

Derek And The Dominos: Clapton and ‘Layla’ broke up

Derringer, Rick: Tom Petty if he was from the midwest

Dio: You thought it was an anime reference, but it was me, Dio

Dire Straits: You can tell how bigoted a radio station is based on how much of Money For Nothing they censor

Doobie Brothers: I have yet to smoke weed, but I listen to the Doobies, and I think that’s pretty close

Dylan, Bob: I take back everything I said about him in my youth

Eagles: Hotel California isn’t their best song, but the memes that come from it are second to none

Edgar Winter Group: @the--blackdahlia

Electric Light Orchestra: Actually an orchestra and sound a fuckton like George Harrison

ELO: I really hesitate to ask what happens with the 7 virgins and a mule

Essex, David: no prominent memories of him

Fabulous Thunderbirds: cannot spell

Faces: Who on earth thought that was a good album name?

Faith No More: I got nothing

Fixx: One Thing Leads To Another is a damn bop

Fleetwood Mac: I ain’t straight, but I’m simply not enough of a witch to enjoy them to full potential

Fogerty, John: He got sued cause he sounded like himself

Foghat: Slow Ride slowly becoming less coherent feels like a drug trip

Foo Fighters: He was just excited to buy a grill

Ford, Lita: deserved better

Foreigner: dramatically overplayed

Frampton, Peter: a masterful user of the talk box

Free: dramatically underplayed

Gabriel, Peter: leaving Genesis changed him a lot

Genesis: if someone likes Genesis, clarify the era, because yes, it does matter

Georgia Satellites: sing like you have a cactus in your ass

Golden Earring: Twilight Zone slaps, but it doesn’t slap as hard as this station thinks it does

Grand Funk Railroad: Funk

Grateful Dead: I like their aesthetic more than their music

Great White: there are so many fucking shark jokes

Greenbaum, Norman: makes me think of Subway for some reason

Green Day: the first of the emo revolution

Greg Kihn Band: RocKihnRoll is literally the most clever album name I’ve ever seen

Guns N Roses: They have more than three good songs, but radio stations never recognize that

Hagar, Sammy: I’m still trying to figure out where he lived to take 16 hours to get to LA driving 55 and how fucking fast was he driving beforehand?

Harrison, George: He went from religious to rock, and if he had continued rocking, he would have gotten too cool 

Head East: I respect people who use breakfast foods as album names

Heart: Magic Man and Barracuda are played at least once every goddamn day. They’re not even the best songs!

Hendrix, Jimi: I have both a cousin and a sibling named after Hendrix references

Henley, Don: Dirty Laundry gives me too much inspiration

Hollies: Somehow sound like they’re both from the 60s and the 80s at the same time

Idol, Billy: he’s doing well for himself

INXS: Terminator vibes

Iris, Donnie: knockoff Roy Orbison

James Gang: too many funks

Jane’s Addiction: if TMNT had a grunge band representative

Jefferson Airplane: *assorted cheers*

Jefferson Starship: *assorted boos*

Jethro Tull: The only band to make you feel not cool enough to play the flute

Jett, Joan: icon

J. Geils Band: I requested them on the radio once and it got played

Joel, Billy: he really did just air everybody’s business like that

John Cafferty And The Beaver Brown Band: literally wtf is that name

John, Elton: yarn Elton sits in my basement, unstaring. Please someone take him from me

Joplin, Janis: Queen

Journey: Stop overplaying Don’t Stop Believing. It takes away from the rest of the repetoire

Judas Priest: literally started the gay leather aesthetic

Kansas: another fucking band Supernatural stole

Kenny Wayne Shepherd: the man confuses me to the point where he isn’t in the right place alphabetically

Kiss: Mick Mars and I will simply have to disagree on the subject

Kravitz, Lenny: runaway vibes

Led Zeppelin: Fucking fight me if you don’t think they’re the most talented band (maybe not the most talented individually, but collectively, no one comes close)

Lennon, John: My least favourite Beatle for reasons

Live: I got nothin

Living Colour: slap a decent amount

Loverboy: do you not get TURNT the fuck up to the big Loverboy hits? Who hurt you??

Lynyrd Skynyrd: Sweet Home Alabama is a Neil Young diss track

Marshall Tucker Band: no opinion

Manfred Mann’s Earth Band: VERY STRONG OPINIONS THAT THEY AREN’T GOOD

McCartney, Paul/Wings: Power couple

Meatloaf: I have nothing but respect for a man who willingly named himself Meatloaf

Mellencamp, John: voted cutest lesbian of 1987

Metallica: I liked their appearance on Jimmy Fallon

Midnight Oil: I get them confused for Talking Heads a lot

Modern English: who?

Molly Hatchet: Hollies vibes, but also Georgia Satellites vibes

Money, Eddie: DAN AVIDAN, IF YOU SEE THIS, COVER TAKE ME HOME TONIGHT

Motley Crue: Stan Mick Mars and John Corabi. They’re the only ones who deserve it

Mott The Hoople: no one loves them except for David Bowie

Mountain: props for naming an album ‘Climbing’

Nazareth: I want to make a John Mulaney joke here, but I can never come up with one

Nicks, Stevie: witch queen

Night Ranger: I get them confused with Urge Overkill

Nirvana: Kurt Cobain was the ally grunge needed

Nova, Aldo: he’s Canadian, at least

Nugent, Ted: *serves a ghost as jerky*

Offspring: nothing here

Osbourne, Ozzy: this bitch crazy

Outfield: Your Love is kind of a sketchy song, but it slaps hard

Palmer, Robert: low quality Eddie Money

Pearl Jam: *grunts in Eddie Vedder*

Petty, Tom: I have so many feelings about Tom Petty and they are all good

Pink Floyd: which one is Pink?

Plant, Robert: solo career is a crapshoot, but his voice is unparalleled

Poison: I want them to write a song called ‘Alice Cooper’

Pretenders: I want to say good things, but I have nothing to say

Queen: A doctor of astrophysics, a screaming girl, a disco queen and a diva walk into a bar. It’s Queen; they’re there to play a gig

Queensryche: neutral opinion

Quiet Riot: they got big because of a song they hated. I love that

Rafferty, Gerry: the second-sexiest sax opening in all of music

Rainbow: Ritchie Blackmore created something very magnificent

Ram Jam: one good song and they didn’t even write it

Ratt: I’m sure they have more than Round And Round, but I don’t know it

RHCP: funky, but if you have paid money to hear them, you’re going to The Bad Place (I don’t make the rules)

Red Rider: basically Golden Earring

Reed, Lou: Walk On The Wild Side would be such a cool song if it wasn’t so dull

REM: American Tragically Hip

REO Speedwagon: Props for having a dad joke as an album title

Rolling Stones: Never in my life could I imagine the drummer being named anything but Charlie

Rush: How to make being uncool the coolest fucking shit

Santana: The world needs more Santana

Scandal: There’s something really funny about The Warrior being my brother’s “song” with his girlfriend

Scorpions: Was Wind Of Change written by the CIA? Only the spotify podcast I got an ad for once could say

Seger, Bob: A different variety of Eric Clapton (frankly a better variety, but that’s just me)

Simple Minds: we ALL forgot about you

Skid Row: Sebastian Bach is prettier than all of us

Soundgarden: music that makes you feel like you dunked your head underwater

Springsteen, Bruce: my arch-nemesis. Maybe someday, he’ll find out about it

Squeeze: according to my friends, the stupidest band name ever, but they’re theatre kids, so you know

Squier, Billy: If he can make it through 1984 alive, you can make it through whatever bad day you’re having

Stealers Wheel: Yet another band who I always mistake for George Harrison

Steely Dan: my house’s nickname for the Robber in Settlers Of Catan

Steppenwolf: Either makes me think of Jay & Silent Bob, Jack Nicholson, or that time I had to cut 6lbs of onions

Steve Miller Band: when you’re in the right mood, they slap hard

Stewart, Rod: my soundtrack to summer 2015

Stills, Stephen: Love The One You’re With Is Catchy, but the lyrics are questionable

Stone Temple Pilots: the only band to write a song about goo you smear on yourself

Stray Cats: an obscene amount of merch is available for them

Styx: Supernatural would have ruined them for me too if I hadn’t been into them previously. 

Supertramp: I hunted for Breakfast In America for two years and it was worth every hunt

Sweet: I will never understand my two-month obsession with Ballroom Blitz when I was 15, but it was legit all I listened to

Talking Heads: you may find yourself in a pizza hut. And you may find yourself in a taco bell. And you may find yourself at the combination pizza hut and taco bell. And you may ask yourself; ‘how did I get here?’

Temple Of The Dog: I keep confusing them for Nazareth

Ten Years After: somehow still relevant

Tesla: not the car or the dude

The Beatles: Evokes a lot of opinions from people. Mine is that I love them

The Clash: I showed my sister the ‘Lock The Taskbar’ vine ONCE and it still kills her

The Doors: evokes teenage terror from deep within my soul

The Guess Who: Canada’s answer to confusing question-themed band names

The Kinks: kinky

The Police: wrote the theme of 2020 and everyone somehow forgot it was about a teacher resisting becoming a pedophile

The Ramones: playing all of their songs in a row wouldn’t take more than 2 hours

The Romantics: you don’t think you know them, but if you’ve seen Shrek 2, you have

The Who: If someone can explain Tommy to me, I’d be glad to hear it

The Zombies: I think they happened because of the 60s

Thin Lizzy: Could the boys maybe leave town?

Thorogood, George: blues, but make it modern

Toto: the most memed song behind All Star

Townshend, Pete: just makes me think of the end of Mr. Deeds

T-Rex: Mark Bolan is an icon

Triumph: The no-name brand of Rush

Tubes: like the yogurt

Twisted Sister: they did a christmas album and my mom does NOT hate it

U2: U2 Movers; we move in mysterious ways

Van Halen: RIP Eddie

Van Morrison: honestly, who’s named Van?

Vaughn, Stevie Ray: Steamy Ray Vaughn

Walsh, Joe: The Smoker You Drink The Player You Get

War: Foghat, but even groovier

Whitesnake: the most successful band to be named after a penis

Wright, Gary: the 90s thanks him for writing the song every movie used for the “guy sees cute girl and it’s love at first sight” scene

Yes: To Be Continued

Young, Neil: The best part of CSNY

Zevon, Warren: the album cover of Excitable Boy makes me deeply uncomfortable for reasons I don’t understand

ZZ Top: has been the same three guys since 1969. Lineup unchanged. 

3 Doors Down: They feel a little modern to be on a classic rock station, but whatever

38 Special: Why 38?

[xoxo-ren-xoxo]

Rating the Films I've Seen This Term in University In a Completely Arbitrary and Subjective Fashion

Because I'm getting a degree in Film Studies. This is also a recommendations list go watch all the 8/10 or above ones. Also I'm separating these by which module of my uni course I watched them for, with recreational viewings at the end.

Film History:

The Immigrant (Chaplin) 8/10 the funniest and most down to earth Chaplin film I saw this term

Easy Street (Chaplin) 7/10 again very funny but didn't have as much to say imo

City Lights (Chaplin) 6/10 too long I'm sorry I got bored. Also not as funny to me

Strike (Eisenstein) 7/10 communism :)

Battleship Potemkin (Eisenstein) 8/10 communism plus the staircase scene very iconic

M (Lang) 4/10 you could literally skip the middle and you wouldn't miss anything

The Cabinet of Dr Caligari (Wiene) 6/10 not my thing but if you like weirdo German horror shit then it'll be your thing. Nice stylisation

Grand Hotel (Goulding) 7/10 if you like old Hollywood glamour you'll like this. Lots of good supporting cast. Entertaining

Bicycle Thieves (De Sica) 8/10 fun and sad but not too sad, a lot of class commentary

Rome Open City (Rossellini) 7/10 based on true stories much much sadder still good tho

Contempt (Godard) 6/10 kinda boring, there's like four characters and barely two storylines, but interesting contextually

Day for Night (Truffaut) 7/10 more entertaining, tragic, big supporting cast, lots of storylines, interesting!

Young Mr Lincoln (Ford) 7/10 honestly better than I thought it'd be ngl

Game Change (Roach) 4/10 I don't care about Sarah Palin

Lagaan (Gowariker) 10/10 the 70 minute cricket match was so fucking worth it and ily if you have seen this. I have all of the songs stuck in my head

The Official Story (Puenzo) 5/10 I get it but also eh

Rojo (Naishtat) 6/10 history

Visual Cultures:

Persepolis (Satrapi) 8/10 brilliant animated work and beautifully adapted from the original graphic novel

American Splendor (Berman and Pulcini) 10/10 made me cry, is very hard to watch in some places, definitely doesn't shy away from difficult topics, again brilliantly adapted from the comics

Spiderman: Into The Spiderverse (Persichetti) 10/10 do I even need to tell you this

Scott Pilgrim Vs The World (Wright) 9/10 Edgar Wright can't write women but he can write a damn good film, go watch it if you haven't but you're on Tumblr so...

Theories for Film Studies:

Rear Window (Hitchcock) 8/10 love a story set in one room

American Psycho (Harron) 7/10 hey did you know that rich people can do crime and get away with it. Or maybe they can't.

Falling Down (Schumacher) 8/10 Joker before Joker. Unfortunately one of those films like Joker and Fight Club where certain men watch it and miss the point completely

King Kong (Cooper and Schoedsack) 1/10 it gets one point for the dinosaurs being cool

Bad Boy Bubby (de Heer) 2/10 I get it and yes it's a decent film but no you didn't have to do any of this actually

Bhaji on the Beach (Chadha) 8/10 girlboss

Paris is Burning (Livingston) 8/10 a good introduction to ballroom culture, there is however a lot of discourse surrounding the director and what her intentions were with making the film so keep that context in mind ig

Bamako (Sissako) 6/10 you need to know a bit of contextual stuff before watching and it's pretty boring but I guess it's kinda moving too

As Good As It Gets (Brooks) 9/10 every kind of prejudice is in this film, still slaps pretty hard tho

The Piano (Campion) 6/10 woman has piano and plays it. yeah

Film Analysis:

Rebel Without a Cause (Ray) 6/10 I had to write an essay on this so it's kinda dead to me but it was alright. Amazing cinematography.

Touch of Evil (Welles) 5/10 sorry Welles this kinda sucked ngl

The Shop Around The Corner (Lubitsch) 9/10 very fun very cute again it's the ensemble cast which did it for me I love them yes yes

Blow Out (de Palma) 9/10 absolute banger film tbh very interesting and made me feel emotions

La Mala Education (Almodóvar) 6/10 kinda cool kinda confusing I get what they were going for. Also the guy from Y Tu Mama Tambien is in this which is cool I love that film...

Recreational Viewings:

The French Dispatch (Anderson) 10/10 fuck yeah I even wrote an editorial piece about it. Beautiful and amazing

Passing (Hall) 5/10 it didn't make me feel the emotions I think it wanted me to feel. It felt quite empty but not in an existential way? I understand the importance of it and the Point of the film but it just didn't resonate

Seven Samurai (Kurosawa) 10/10 I understand why people call this the best foreign language film ever. It was insanely long (3 and a half hours) but I loved every second. A masterpiece.

[skinsharpenedteeth]

Coming Up Easy - First Sightings

I am *SO* sorry this is so hella late this week. It's been... a fucking week. CW: One mention of a homophobic slur.

You can also read this on AO3!

CUE - First Sightings

Unpacking boxes was not one of Alex’s favorite activities. He hadn’t had many when he’d moved because he hadn’t wanted to rent a truck or deal with shipping things, so the twelve boxes he’d been able to load into the late nineties Ford Explorer encompassed all his worldly possessions. He’d finally gotten a chance to start unpacking the miscellaneous boxes after a trip to Ikea for bookshelves, a bed, and a couch. Furthermore, he’d promised himself he’d explore his new city more and find second-hand shops for other household furniture and accessories, but the bookshelves would be enough to finally clear away the last of his unpacked boxes.

Alex opened the last box and looked inside. His heart softened a little as he saw the small shoebox of photographs he kept. Promising himself he’d look through it later, he unpacked the few other knick-knacks out of the box and took them to the bookshelves to start placing them. The box didn’t reenter his mind until after dinner when he found himself lounging across his new sofa with a cold beer in his hand. The box stared at him from the floor where he’d left it. Setting down his beer on the floor, he quickly got up and grabbed the box, and brought it back over to the couch. He flipped open the top and gingerly picked up the pile closest to him.

Michael and him in the desert with guitars. Liz, Max, Michael, and him at a church car wash. Michael, Kyle, and him all leaning against a bathroom wall in various stages of being phenomenally sick from drinking too much. Him and Michael hanging out at the UFO Emporium. Him and Michael eating pizza and playing video games at Max and Isobel’s. Him and Michael in college at a frat party. Him and Michael. Him and Michael. Him and Michael…

It hit Alex quite suddenly that basically since he and Michael had become friends they’d been fairly inseparable. They’d dated other people and had friends that the other didn’t like, but as a rule, it was always the two of them against the world and it had been since they were fifteen. He picked up his phone and snapped a photo of the photograph he held in his hand where they were sixteen, pimply, awkward, and bent over laughing outside the high school band room.

Me 8:46 p.m.>> Who the fuck are these dorks? <<Picture sent at 8:46 p.m.>> <<Michael 8:50 p.m.>> Holy shit, look at those nerds!! <<Michael 8:51 p.m.>> Though I gotta say, the emo one is pretty hot. If I were sixteen, I’d definitely have a crush on him. Me 8:52 p.m.>> You did not have a crush on me at 16! I was so tragic! <<Michael 8:53 p.m.>> You were not. You were fucking feral. You took exactly zero percent shit from anyone. It was hot as fuck. Me 8:55 p.m.>> You are definitely misremembering the amount of bullshit I put up with. <<Michael 9:00 p.m.>> Do you know what you were doing the first time I saw you?

Alex cast back in his memory. He remembered the first time he was aware of Michael, but not necessarily the first time Michael was aware of him. He always assumed it was at the same time.

Me 9:02 p.m.>> Uh? Scribbling emo song lyrics on my bio lab notebook? <<Michael 9:03 p.m.>> Nope. <<Michael 9:03 p.m.>> You were having a fight with Kyle during gym because he tagged your gym shirt with the word “faggot” in pink sharpie.

“Mr. Manes, you cannot wear shirts with inappropriate text on them. This is the gym. White shirts only,” Coach Heim called at Alex as soon as he walked out of the locker room and started towards where the rest of the class was lounging in the middle of the basketball court. Alex could see Kyle elbowing his football buddies and smirking, barely containing their laughter. Alex felt his face grow hot with embarrassment and fury. He kept walking towards the group.

“MR. MANES! GO CHANGE YOUR SHIRT!” the coach yelled, putting more authority into his deep baritone. He was a fit, balding adult who generally was an alright guy, but Alex was swelling with indignation. He stopped a few feet away from the group so he didn’t have to yell to be heard.

“I don’t have another shirt, sir. This is my gym shirt,” Alex explained through clenched teeth. As the rest of the class got a good look at the words emblazoned across his chest and stomach, he heard them begin to snicker and giggle quietly.

“Well, you can’t wear that one. You’re smarter than this, Alex, why would you wear this out of the locker room?” the coach asked, not sounding unkind. He shot the gathered students a dirty look and they quieted their laughter.

“Because it’s all I had to wear and it’s not my fault it was defaced. Some pink-fingered fucking COWARD of a football player must’ve thought it’d be REAL FUNNY to break into my locker and--” Alex started, voice growing louder as he let the heat behind his cheeks infuse his voice.

“I did no such thing!” Kyle yelled, cutting in on Alex. Coach Heim looked over at him, eyes narrowed. He opened his mouth to say something, maybe to tell Kyle to sit down, but as soon as Kyle stepped forward away from his buddies, Alex pounced. He landed the first hit on Kyle’s cheek, the meaty smack of their skin satisfying to him. Kyle shook it off and came at him. Before he knew it, they were rolling on the ground hitting each other as hard as they could in anyplace visible. The pain was nothing new for Alex and he kept his head clear as he tried to aim for spots that would hurt long after he was pulled off.

Too soon, arms were wrapped around his chest and a much bigger body than his was pulling him back and off of where he’d pinned Valenti to the ground. He couldn’t hear what they were saying, his ears still ringing with rage, but he could see the thin trickle of blood from Kyle’s split lip and he felt himself smile at the shock on everyone else’s face as they watched him get dragged back. He would not take Kyle’s shit this year. He would not take anyone’s shit.

Alex rubbed his fingers across his eyebrows and sighed deeply. He had been so ready to cause someone else pain by then. His dad had only gotten worse towards him when Kyle started to pull away because it meant that his “unnaturalness” was evident to everyone. His fight then and the fights in the following year always had more to do with his dad than with him being ashamed of being gay. He put the photos down in the box and went to grab a bottle of water from the fridge. His phone chimed as he unscrewed the top and after a deep drink, he checked the message.

<<Michael 9:13 p.m.>> Uh oh, you’ve left me on read. You okay? Me 9:14 p.m.>> I’m fine. Sorry. Just got wrapped up in my head for a minute. Me 9:15 p.m.>> How did you see that? You weren’t in my gym class? <<Michael 9:16 p.m.>> I was hiding under the bleachers skipping english. Me 9:17 p.m.>> THAT WAS THE FIRST DAY! <<Michael 9:17 p.m.>> Right? Nothing to do anyway. It was fine. It’s in the past. I graduated high school, didn’t I? No harm, no foul.

Alex laughed quietly to himself, staring at the message screen. He went back to the couch and flopped back down across the cushions with a sigh.

Me 9:20 p.m.>> You did. Even graduated college. I guess you’re right. <<Michael 9:21 p.m.>> When do you remember seeing me for the first time? Me 9: 23 p.m.>> I feel like it was biology when we were lab partners. I was supposed to be with Max, remember? <<Michael 9:24 p.m.>> Yeah, I was with Liz. Max had no chill back then. How the fuck did it take Liz until senior year to notice that he liked her? Me 9:35 p.m.>> Had no chill? *Has* no chill.

“Michael! MI-CHAEL!” Max hissed loudly from his seat next to Alex two rows behind where Liz was sitting. The class period was just getting started and everyone was still milling around trying to find their assigned seats. Michael looked over his shoulder at Max who was looking desperately at him. Michael mouthed ‘what?!’ and gave Max an irritated glare.

“Switch with me!” Max whisper screamed. Alex was smirking into his notebook as he watched the exchange through the side of his eye. He hadn’t really noticed the curly-haired boy before, but the eye roll he gave Max was epic. He started to turn back to the front when Max whispered again. “I’ll pay you!”

Michael turned back around abruptly and narrowed his eyes.

“How much?” Michael asked, not whispering but keeping his voice low enough not to carry to the teacher who was about to start taking roll. Max looked desperately towards the front of the class at Liz’s back where she was ignoring what was happening beside her in favor of actually paying attention. She was about the only one.

“Fifty,” Max called out.

“Seventy-five and you buy my lunch for a week,” Michael countered. Alex was highly amused. Max darted his eyes over to Liz’s back again and nodded. Michael grabbed his stuff and moved quickly towards the back of the classroom while Max grabbed his stuff to go forward.

“Sorry!” Max called out to Alex softly before he left. Alex watched him slide into the seat next to Liz smoothly and take out his notebook. She looked over and smiled at him in confusion, turning to look back at where Michael was now taking his seat next to Alex. Alex looked over at him and was struck full in the face with his mischievous grin.

“That sucker, I would’ve done it for twenty-five,” Michael shared with Alex conspiratorially, leaning closer to him while he spoke so his voice wouldn’t reach Max’s ears. Alex felt himself blushing a little at the somewhat flirtatious smirk Michael was giving him. He’d been aware of Michael, but hadn’t really ever paid him any mind. Now he was near him, he could see the interesting light brown of his eyes somewhere between gold and green. He also smelled a little like lake water and the woodsy, spicy deodorant Alex had smelled on Mr. Valenti. It was weirdly comforting.

“So he has a thing for Liz or is he that afraid of failing bio that badly? I’m not stupid,” Alex asked, clearing his throat and trying not to seem offended by Max’s desperation to switch partners.

“Oh, he has a major thing for Liz. It’s gross. Like, she’s pretty, don’t get me wrong. But he’s been writing Mr. and Mrs. Ortecho-Evans in his notebook since third grade or some shit like that,” Michael revealed, taking out his own bio notebook from his bag and setting in on the lab table in front of him. Alex took in what he was saying and nodded.

“So it’s not cause everyone says I’m gay?” Alex asked, voice low and a little nervous to see Michael’s reaction. Michael looked over at him, eyebrows drawn together and something like sympathy passing over his expression before he responded.

“No, man. Max doesn’t give a shit about that and neither do I. You weren’t planning on trying to date him, were you?” Michael asked, shooting him a grin. Alex grinned back, relieved to hear that someone in the school who was so upstanding and obviously straight like Max wasn’t a complete jerk. Michael didn’t seem too bad either.

“Nah. He’s not my type. I like musicians,” Alex joked, shooting Michael a side-grin.

“You don’t say? Do you play?” Michael asked, eyes forward now in a semblance of paying attention to the teacher. Alex glanced up towards the board, but continued slouching over his lyrics notebook.

“Guitar,” he replied shortly as the teacher started explaining their first lab assignment.

“Cool. Me too,” Michael said. Alex could see him studying him out of the corner of his eye. “We should jam sometime.”

“Yeah, maybe.”

And they did jam together eventually. A week later they’d gotten together and Alex had learned that Michael did not know one end of a guitar from the other. He’d let Michael borrow his brother Greg’s guitar and then taught him everything he knew over the course of the next three months.

Me 9:40 p.m.>> Man. Who knew we’d still be friends this long after. <<Michael 9:45 p.m.>> I did. Once you taught me to play guitar, you were stuck with me for life. There’s an unbreakable bond built when one dude teaches another dude how to finger... Me 9:46 p.m.>> Jesus Christ. That was terrible. <<Michael 9:47 p.m.>> Bet you’re laughing though. Me 9:48 p.m.>> I plead the fifth. Also, I gotta get to bed. Early day tomorrow. <<Michael 9:50 p.m.>> That’s some responsible adult behavior right there. Gross. Me 9:51 p.m.>> You’re gross. <<Michael 9:52 p.m.>> I am gross. I’m going to take a shower and change that, however. When will you be young and fun again? Me 9:53 p.m. >> Shut up. Go take your shower. <<Michael 9:53 p.m.>> Fine. Go to bed. Think about me in bed. Me 9:54 p.m.>> *You* think about me in bed. <<Michael 9:55 p.m.>> Always do. Night Me 9:56 p.m.>> Night.

Alex heaved himself off the couch and went to his room. The apartment always seemed so dark and lonely when he finished talking with Michael. He needed to work on making friends. That would help him not miss him so much.

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Student debt trap

There's a tacit bet on the left that Biden might turn out be a president in the mold of FDR or Lincoln - a centrist margin-tinkerer whose susceptibility to political currents is such that he can be pushed into real, structural reform.

That's why we're talking about striking student debt, even as Biden ("The Senator from MNBA") stacks his cabinet with finance-bros of all genders (see also: why we're talking about universal health care, police defunding, real climate policies, etc).

These fights are existential. As I wrote in the epigraph to Attack Surface: some fights you fight because they're fights you win, and other fights you fight because you must. When the ship sinks, you tread water until you run out of kicks.

https://attacksurface.com

So there's a lively left debate on student debt forgiveness that's really chewy and interesting, even if it turns on many unlikely hypotheticals about Biden's lack of spine and concomitant susceptibility to pressure from the base.

Take Marshall Steinbaum's work on skyrocketing student debt defaults: he argues that we're ALREADY forgiving student debt, but only after it has destroyed debtors. We're wiping out human capital AND creditors' balance-sheets, at tragic human cost.

https://pluralistic.net/2020/11/20/sovkitsch/#student-debt

By contrast, Michael Olenick argues that student debt forgiveness would transfer billions from the USG to predatory lenders (who'd pay off the debts) AND stick debtors with massive tax-bills for the "benefit" of debt-unshackling.

As an alternative, he proposes simplifying discharging student debt through bankruptcy, which would euthanize the rentiers who hold the debt, and unshackle debtors without creating unpayable tax liabilities.

https://pluralistic.net/2020/11/23/opsec-and-personal-security/#racket

The main forgiveness proposal comes from Elizabeth Warren, who proposes a $50k cap. This number has undergone a lot of scrutiny, with analysts slicing up the data to see who would see the most benefit from this and whether it would be sufficient.

Today, I want to consider a different number: $236,000.

That's how much Chris, a 59-year-old debtor, owes for college. Now, Chris didn't borrow that much! In fact, Chris started out at Missouri State in 1980 paying cash for his courses.

https://taibbi.substack.com/p/student-loan-horror-stories-borrowed

But by 1981, Chris needed a loan. Unfortunately for Chris, that was the year that Ronald Reagan, a human monster, raised interest rates on student loans from 7% to 9%. If he'd borrowed from the start, he'd have gotten a much lower rate.

By the time Chris finished his law-degree, he had $79k in loans. But he figured that he'd be OK, because a) He would get a good job and b) He could deduct the interest from his student loans.

But in 1986, Ronald Reagan (see above) changed the tax code so that college grads could no longer deduct loan interest. Chris got burned out on the law, had a terrible divorce and his life fell apart.

He missed payments and got hit with hard penalties. Then interest on the penalties. In 2002 he was making $28k/year. By 2004, 15% of his paycheck was being garnished to service his loans, which continued until 2011. Since then, he's faced 25% garnishment.

All told, Chris has paid $190,000 against the $79,000 in loans he's taken out.

He owes $236,000 still.

How did that happen? Well, first, there were the terrible penalties he accrued. But then there's the way the loans are serviced out of those paycheck garnishments: the money is applied solely to the penalties, meaning his interest piles onto his principal, which grows.

He's 59. His loan-servicer won't renegotiate his loan, even though they know he's going to retire in ~9years and will likely be dead in ~15 years. The loan servicer is content to continue taking 25% of every cent he gets until he's buried and then hit his estate.

Here's Matt Taibbi with the bottom line: "Chris made mistakes, but as he’s noticed, so have other types of borrowers."

Here's Chris: “It doesn't appear that we seem to hesitate much in giving money to Ford or Chrysler, or a collection of banks."

[impalementation]

Hey I wanted to get your opinion on something I've been thinking about for a little while: For me, I see Buffy's jump from the tower in "The Gift" as (partially) an act of suicide as a result of years of trauma but also IMO guilt that she "lives with every day"(courtesy of "Phases") from all of that trauma that she feels like she should've been able to control: Angel's loss of his soul, Jenny Calendar's death etc. but I wish we could've gotten to see more of how that guilt has affected her (1/2)

(2/2) And by that I mean if we had more references to Dr. Gregory and how she liked him or saw Buffy grappling with her complicated grief for Ford, or if season 3 showed her grief for Kendra and how that might've affected her relationship to Faith. All of that just to ask: do you think the show did a good job of portraying Buffy's guilt and trauma from the losses and tragedies she's faced?

i’ll be honest, i don’t actually subscribe to the read of buffy’s sacrifice in “the gift” as suicide. so that’s going to color how i reply. she is, obviously, killing herself. and i know that there’s the context of spike’s death wish speech and buffy saying “i don’t know how to live in the world if these are the choices.” but personally, i think that buffy’s sacrifice is clearly meant to be heroic. i talked in a recent post about how the white light signals that, as well as the fact that it’s contrasted with ben’s cowardly decision to choose himself over dawn when faced with buffy’s same choice. there’s also the fact that dawn is life, or buffy’s youth, or any number of positive things, and her request that dawn “be brave” and “live” is about wanting that life to go on. most importantly, the show as a whole is so hard-line anti-suicide, that it just doesn’t really make sense to me that this scene that is clearly meant to be a positive, heroic (even if tragic for the audience) moment for buffy would be intended to be read as an act of suicide. like i mention in that post i linked, we even have the contrasting example of buffy in “dead things” for what it looks like when buffy is trying to figuratively sacrifice herself out of guilt. and the show doesn’t frame her actions in that episode as positive at all. (sympathetic, absolutely. but not really the “right” thing to do either.)

keep in mind that when spike says that “sooner or later” buffy’s “going to want” death, he has been unreliably narrating all evening. when buffy jumps, i don’t see her as fulfilling spike’s prediction straight. i see her as fulfilling it ironically, like a prophecy that comes to pass in the letter but not the spirit. in that moment, buffy does technically want kill herself, but not to die, or for any of the reasons spike gave. she wants to do it because it means that her sister gets to live. and she has been terrified all season that this would not be possible. similarly, when buffy says “she doesn’t know how to live in this world” i don’t see it as much about buffy not wanting to live but about buffy not wanting to live in this world. as in, the problem is the world. but when she jumps from the tower, she’s figured out a choice that she is finally content with (“tell giles i’ve figured it out”). a choice that allows dawn, and all of her friends, to keep (a) living, and (b) in this world. in other words, it’s a moment decidedly in favor of life.

symbolically, there’s also the fact that buffy’s leap into the portal is (in my read) about her leaping into the portal of adulthood. and then season six about the rude awakening of realizing that adulthood isn’t just about a single easy leap. which means that her death isn’t really about literal death. it’s about leaving childhood behind. which is sad and painful in its way, but still ultimately something that the show thinks is good and important and even heroic to do.

however. that said. i do think the show addresses some of what you’re talking about. if you’re looking for a season that’s about buffy’s accumulated guilt over her inability to save people, i think the season you’re actually looking for is season seven. season seven puts buffy in a pressure cooker where over and over she’s confronted with the fact that she can’t save everyone. “lessons” has dead spirits come to life who taunt her for not saving them:

BUFFY: Dawn? I'm close by.

DEAD JANITOR: Too late. But then, you're always too late, aren't you? Sure as hell didn't save me.

“help” has buffy trying to save cassie, who dies no matter how much buffy tries to fight it. “selfless” revisits buffy’s history of having to kill angel, and any other friend who becomes evil. “conversations with dead people” forces buffy to kill a former classmate/temporary confidant (shades of having to kill ford in “lie to me”). “sleeper” puts buffy in the position of potentially having to kill spike too, and when he gets kidnapped she may or may not be able to save him. when the ubervamp shows up, buffy’s ability to protect the potentials gets thrown into question. and that uncertainly only becomes more intense as the season goes on. obviously, season seven doesn’t really address much in the way of specific past trauma or guilt for buffy. it doesn’t reference those people you reference. but it does absolutely address the way that being the slayer has put buffy in this awful position where people are always dying, and it feels like her fault—sometimes because she literally has to kill them. which the season does because it’s trying to show that the solitary slayer mantle is a messed up, unjust system. it’s messed up that buffy should have to shoulder this guilt, especially alone.

so i mean, on the whole, yeah. i think the show does gloss over a lot of specific traumas. but in other ways it really doesn’t. "when she was bad” and “anne” and early season three clearly address how the end of the previous season affected buffy. and i don’t think it can be understated how insane it is that the show had buffy be depressed for literally an entire season. and even before that, buffy’s grief over joyce informs the back half of season five. i think it’s also clearly established that buffy represses like crazy, so it’s actually quite in-character to me that most of the time she glosses over the things that are hard for her--except those times when it cracks open. could the show have shown more? yeah, probably. and probably some of what it decided to show was affected by biases about what the writers thought of as important, or them just not wanting to be doom and gloom all the time. but on the whole what the show did show mostly worked for me.

this is all me though, of course! if you feel differently, that’s completely understandable, and definitely don’t let me stop you.