#the mad bad sad boys

[minecraftbookshelf]

I just have Thoughts about Limited Life!Grian and Solidarity and how they both are so often characterized as birbs and how they both fell to their final deaths and just.

Of course they fell. Of course they aren't as careful around high places as their friends.

Why do you need to fear falling when, outside of death games, you can fly?

Is it any surprise that, in the heat of the moment, they forget for a second that their wings are bound?

[pi11bug]

Terrified to see where this alliance is headed

-

[ardberts]

i am irrationally annoyed by the results of that poll about which scion could get closest to defeating the wol because we've canonically kicked estinien's ass multiple times, once while he was possessed by one of the most powerful dragons in existence, but the masses voted for him over g'raha tia, who not only has the power to transcend time and space, but who could also go toe-to-toe with emet-selch in terms of both power and wits

[youngyoo-apologist]

OG Choi Han they could never make me hate you cause if some random rich boy was yelling at me and telling me my family deserved to die like a day after it happened and all I wanted was to know how I could get help I’d beat him up too

This plus the added fact that the Harris Village people were the first people to take Choi Han in and take care of him after years and years in the dark forest. Like he’s obviously not going to be mentally stable after all that, and he was so young when everything happened to him like I cannot blame him at all. I don’t think I can ever hate OG Choi Han like ever, he’s flawed, he has problems, but I love him dearly. He deserves the world. This kid who had to fight for his life, was taken away from his family, and in the process had to give up parts of his own humanity to survive, and like went to war two years later, they could never make me hate u OG Choi Han…

Like yeah violence is bad I guess but OG Cale had it coming(saying this as an OG Cale fan, I love him, but he was mean as hell when he was younger!)

If I’m honest, I think they were both in the wrong to an extent. Like OG Cale shouldn’t have said all that no matter the circumstances, and OG Choi Han shouldn’t have beaten him up so much. But u say mean shit and you get hit, that is how it will work when you’re talking to the guy who just saw his entire village get murdered like idkkkk man

I understand where OG Cale was coming from, but he had many issues and while he wasn’t an awful person, he was capable of doing bad things because of his own internalized pain and emotions that he never got to properly process because of his emotionally distant childhood and relationship with his father who should have been there for him more when he was younger.

Okay speaking of his childhood, Deruth isn’t the WORST father in the world but there are a lot of things he could have done better. I think a lot of Deruth’s flaws come from his fear of failure and messing up. He’s scared of doing the wrong thing, and so he sticks to doing what he knows and using what he knows best. That’s why he uses his money, that’s why gift giving is his way of showing affection, he knows that it is one thing he cannot mess up.

The problem is that money and gifts is NOT what OG Cale needed. I think what that guy needed the most was a parent who wasn’t afraid to talk to him, to ask him questions. Not to say that Deruth gave up on OG Cale, but I think in a way he gave up on OG Cale by giving up on himself. Deruth didn’t trust himself to have the capabilities to talk to OG Cale, which is why he never did. It’s because that Deruth was scared, and didn’t trust himself, that he could never face OG Cale

If Deruth was able to trust himself a little more, and pull himself together, I don’t think OG Cale would have turned out the way he did. As a kid, he probably thought the only way he could help his family without relying on anyone(no doubt this whole ‘I have to do it myself’ thing came from the fact that he couldn’t rely on his father when his mom died, and instead was acting as a pillar of support for his father when it should have been the other way around) was to sabotage himself, the only heir. If he was shown to be unfit to be heir, then everyone else would have no choice but to direct their hatred towards him instead of his family.

If Deruth had talked to his son at least ONCE when he was a kid, asking him why he was upset or why he did the things he did, I think OG Cale would have told him. Why? Because he’s a kid!! A kid will obviously want to rely on his father, if he just had one sign telling him that he didn’t have to do it alone I’m 90% sure OG Cale would have said something.

Basically, while Deruth isn’t the worst father, he’s not really a great father either. I think he does do his best, but he has issues with communication lol

OG Cale and OG Choi Han are both complex characters and had their own reasons to behave the way they did. The thing is with people is that they’re complicated and have layers, so the situation with them would have layers behind it as well with multiple co-existing truths and stuff

[dannyphannypack]

i’m very sorry, but you guys have got to properly label your ao3 fics because “bad parents jack and maddie fenton” is starting to really get on my nerves.

and if, in the middle of the fic, you decide to add a tag like that: PLEASE communicate that you’ve done so in the chapter notes. because i don’t recheck the tags after i’ve bookmarked something.

please. i don’t think it’s that big of an ask.

[skyelijah]

THE MAD BAD SAD BOYS || (⁠⌐⁠■⁠-⁠■⁠)

Looking great this season! Loving it!!!

[identityquest]

babycat hero moments

[majimassqueaktoy]

His eye was so... sad.

[yellowmellow841]

THE BAD BOYS FEELING A LITTLE BIT SAD BOYS!

Actually in love with this team up I’m so normal about this ahhhhhh

[reel-fear]

MIKE BLOCKED ME ON TWITTER FOR ROASTING HIS DUMBASS RESPONSE TO THE GRAPHIC NOVEL STUFF!!

grown ass man scared of the 19-year-old queer being mean to him over his public meltdown more at 8.

[tflora04]

Hello traffic life community

[tunastime]

On the Wolf and the Canary

In which Joel and Jimmy get to talk about it all

(3490 words)

Somewhere, quietly, the sun is rising. Orange-gold beams slice through grey hanging on the edge of speckled cliffs, bows of red and yellow stone, orange hills and canyons. It brushes the dark sky and turns it pink-red-orange, too, mottling out the stars. Jimmy Solidarity isn’t awake to see this. Or, he is awake, but he isn’t watching from the window. He’s lying in bed, tired, half-lidded eyes staring at the ceiling. He can feel a sort of anxiety, a grief, pooling in the hollow of his arms and wrists, behind his teeth, in his throat, and in the white space of his eyes. When he moves to scrub his face the movements are stiff and jerky, like the muscles are sore and taut. They are sore and taut, and he spends a moment rolling his wrists free of the click. Beside him, as per usual, Norman is sleeping. He thinks he can see the soft body of Flick at his feet, paws stretched toward his ankle.

On the day Jimmy comes back from the death game, where he doesn’t linger, where no one is here to make sure he’s fine, he’s alright, he’s okay, he’s not hurting, the world is quiet. Jimmy swallows, mouth dry and gritty like he’s eaten a handful of sand. He closes his eyes for a long moment, and pretends as if he’s still asleep, pretends that if he were to fall back asleep, he might wake up to Grian prodding him in the side, standing over him. Or that Joel might be tucking the blankets too tight around him. He presses the heels of his hands into his eyes. Right now, as well, he’s pretending like his heart doesn’t ache.

When he sits up, his back aches in protest. There’s no spot where his wings should be, leaving the muscles sore from use. He rolls his shoulders, twists, feeling his spine pop, tries to get on with dressing with as little fuss as possible. Flick wakes as he stands, and watches him as he wanders over to the dresser and starts his search. He hears something thud against the roof of his house. It’s quiet for a moment, this repeated, soft thudding, before he recognizes.

Jimmy sprints down the stairs, shirt half-tucked, half-buttoned, pulling his socks on. When he opens the door, the sky is heavy and light grey, clouds partially blocking the sun.

On the day Jimmy comes back from the death game, it rains.

It’s not a quiet rain, either, not anymore. There’s just a moment before there’s a crackle of thunder that sends Jimmy, and Norman, perched at the doorway, scrambling back. It’s not raining particularly hard enough to worry about flooding, but the few people left that he could see on the cliff-side had peered out of their doors and promptly shut them. He can imagine the inch-thick layer of mud he’d been walking through to get anywhere over the next few days, the cobble he’d need to replace.

Something about it though, how…soft it is. A soft rain. Something the crops could soak up and flourish with. Something rain barrels and gutters could catch. It eases the tension in his heart just a fraction. He wanders away from the door, smiling to himself, and then to Norman as he twists around his feet. He tucks in the tail end of his shirt, buttons the last few buttons at the top, and scoops Norman into his arms.

“What’s for breakfast, aye, buddy?”

Norman settles, shutting his eyes.

He lilts around the room, swinging Norman in his arms, humming to himself as he walks into the kitchen. The sound of the rain on the roof muffles out a good majority of the whispered, pitched baby-talk he mumbles to Norman, who blinks sleepily at him as Jimmy kisses his head and turns him out onto the kitchen table. There Norman sits, flicks his tail, and observes as Jimmy maneuvers around Flick and lights the fireplace. He stuffs down a bit of charred wood and sets in a new log, watching for a moment as the flames lick at it. Then it’s on to lighting the stove, filling the kettle, and setting it atop the stove. He waits for it to boil, busying himself with familiar tasks, something to keep his mind off the facts of the matter.

It was his fault.

He pulls down a cup. It’s yellow.

He nearly drops it, though, when there’s a shout outside his door. It’s nearly as loud as the thunder that follows, rattling his windows. If he had feathers to fluff, he’d surely be standing on edge. He frowns deeply, before leaning away from the stove. The call comes again.

“Sheriff!”

Jimmy blinks, startled. He paces to the coat rack, cup forgotten on the counter. There, he stuffs his feet into shoes and lifts his hat off the hook, settling it firm on his head. At least his head and shoulders won’t be wet if he has to trudge through the rain.

“Jimmy!”

Jimmy throws open the door.

Standing in the middle of the rain, in the square, on the cobbles Jimmy placed himself, looking quite a normal height as of right now, which is to say, much shorter (or, wait, is Jimmy taller? Wait, is he. Wait.) than normal, is Joel. Robes, beard, looking a bit disgruntled with his whole affair, Joel. Joel who should still be making sure Grian isn’t getting into too much trouble, Joel.

“Joel?” Jimmy starts. He’s still standing in the doorway. The rain is making puddles in his empty terracotta pots and dry soil. He can feel a cool breeze from the rain on his exposed neck and face.

“I’m sorry, Jim—” Joel starts, shoulders sagging. He raises his voice over the rain. Where he’s standing, he’s getting the brute force of it, the rain splatting down on the cobbles under his feet. At least he’s not standing in mud, but. He stands like there’s something more to the words than just I’m sorry, but Jimmy can’t place what.

“What are you doing here?” Jimmy says. For some reason, he can’t wrap his head around this. He must be hallucinating, right? There’s no way Joel is actually here in front of him. Something about that won’t click. He’s just woken up. Or, he’s just gotten up, from being woken up many times. Or something. Matter of the fact is that Jimmy’s just gotten up, gotten back, whatever. There’s no way Joel went so quick. It couldn’t have been so soon, right? There’s no way that Joel. No.

“What’d’you mean?” Joel says, incredulous all of a sudden, sweeping a hand out. He’s almost laughing. “‘Ve blummin’ died, what’s it look like?”

“No—wait, that’s—” Jimmy puts a hand to his forehead. The air feels muggy around him all of a sudden. Or maybe he’s just clammy. His hand comes back damp, but he’s not sure from mist or sweat.

“Yeah, ‘s happened. All a blur, really.”

He watches Joel cross his arms, set his jaw. He doesn’t look upset, per se, if upset was anything other than shouting and yelling and punching the air. He looks frustrated. Which is exactly how Jimmy feels, consequently.

“How’d it happen?” Jimmy asks. Joel stares at him like he’s gone mad, for about thirty seconds, before he sighs again, and his demeanor drops, and he gives a weak shrug. A defeated shrug.

“Bloody arrow. Dunno who it was. Scar or Bdubs maybe,” another shrug. “Sure Grian knows, he was right behind me.”

“Sorry, man…” Jimmy says. He feels a twist in his gut, a remnant of anxiety, watching the disappointment grow on Joel’s face. He scuffs his boots for a moment, staring at the wooden slats on the ground. The rain continues to fall. It drops in little rivulets down the banister and off the roof and still into his pots. He should really bring out a bucket to catch it all. ‘S good rain, that’s what it is.

“What happened to you sucks, by the way,” Joel says sympathetically. He’s just barely loud enough to hear over the rain. Jimmy shrugs weakly, chewing the inside of his cheek.

“I know, it sucks,” he huffs. He kicks against the deck, hearing his boot thunk and spur jingle.

“It sucks,” Joel says again. Jimmy huffs once more, gritting his teeth, shutting his eyes. He pinches the bridge of his nose, trying to calm himself down. It doesn’t work well. There’s something clawing about and it’s making quite a mess of the inside of his chest and man. Man. He can feel it sink to the pit of his stomach, stretch all the way up his throat. He’s holding it there, like he’s trying to breathe through wet paper.

“I know, it sucks,” he says, dropping his hands in frustration. He waves them about instead, a self-righteous anger bubbling up in his chest. “I know that! I’m the one it happened to, Joel! Y’know!”

He groans, letting the sound peter out as he covers his face with his hands. He scrubs his eyes with the heels of his hands. For a moment, his vision goes blurry, before he blinks, and blinks, and it clears.

“‘S whatever,” he says, the tone of his voice falling flat. He’s finally back to looking at Joel. “Let’s just not talk about it.”

Joel nods, folding his arms.

“Right…”

There’s a beat of silence between them, filled only by the rain, in which Jimmy realizes Joel is very much standing in his square without cover. He startles, stepping forward toward the steps, gesturing with his head.

“You wanna come inside?” he says, looking back to the beam of yellow coming through the cracked-open door. “‘S soakin’ out there.”

Joel shrugs. His expression shifts from disappointed toward unsure.

“‘M not wet or anythin’,” he says, a bit confused.

Jimmy’s face falls. “Oh…”

They stare at each other for a moment, Jimmy’s expression rapidly saddening and Joel finally rolling his eyes, trudging over the path.

“Well don’t look so sad about it,” he says, stepping up the stairs. “‘m comin’ in, hold on.”

Jimmy steps back, letting him onto the landing. He laughs a little, feeling something settle in his chest. Then, he pushes open the door, stepping aside to let him in. “Right, god-man…get in.”

Joel smiles a bit as he steps in. He pauses at the threshold, glancing around the room as Jimmy shuts the door behind him, toeing off his boots. Norman wanders over after a second, giving Joel a cautionary sniff. Joel crouches down after a moment, holding out his hand. Norman sniffs before wandering back, making a loop between the two of them. Jimmy smiles. Something about that makes his heart go soft. Norman’s a precautious guy! Seeing him warm up almost instantly to Joel, who he’s never seen, it’s sweet. It’s nice, okay? There’s not a lot of nice things happening usually in his life. So he’s enjoying it. He’ll take what he can get.

He sets his hands on his hips, watching Joel as he rises from a crouch.

“Tea?” Jimmy asks, tilting his head. “Kettle’s on.”

Joel nods a few times. Norman makes a reappearance, bumping against one of Joel’s legs. Jimmy watches him for a moment, before looking back up to Joel. The smile lingers on both of their faces.

“Sure, sure.”

Jimmy nods, pulling away. He waves his hands as he wanders back to the kitchen, gesturing to the room at large. Rug. Desk. Lit fireplace. Gas stove. Green couch. Armchair. Map. Bookshelf. Gas lanterns. Pots and pans. Shelving. Cat bed. Things that make a house a home, to him.

“Make yourself comfortable,” he says absently, turning up the heat for the kettle. It starts to bubble a bit, a lilting trail of steam coming from the spout. He takes down another cup—one he got recently, with a green ring around the rim.

When he looks over his shoulder, Joel is standing in the center of the living space, looking at the map on his wall. His head is tilted just so.

“Dunno if I’ve ever been in here, Jim,” he says, and Jimmy is starkly aware of how much taller he is than Joel right now. His stomach twists. He feels a little dizzy all of a sudden, reaching out to hold onto the lip of the stove to steady himself.

“Mm,” Jimmy says, fighting the weakness in his voice. “Didn’t realize.”

“‘S nice.”

Joel sits on the sofa. Jimmy sees his body shift as he gets comfortable. If he knew any better, he might be able to tell whether or not Joel was contemplating putting his feet up on the round coffee table. He might be. Jimmy isn’t certain. He wouldn’t blame him. He does the same thing. He turns back to the kettle, now boiling, and lifts it off the stove.

“I was gonna sacrifice myself so you wouldn’t be first out, y’know.”

Joel speaks the sentence into the silence left by the pouring of two cups of tea. The kettle hangs heavy in Jimmy’s hand. He doesn’t say anything. There are words trapped in his throat—something incredulous, something asking why. And even then, there’s a creeping feeling over his spine, a dread that he feels just seconds before disaster. Not enough to save anything, but just enough to hurt him. He takes a long breath in, swallowing the words that have turned sour in the back of his mouth. One of his hands grips the edge of the stovetop as he sets the kettle down. He’s staring at his yellow cup full of his favorite tea. He’s in his home, safe, warm, dry, and yet he feels too big and too small all at once for the space he occupies. He shakes his head, sighing.

“You don’ have’ta lie t’me, Joel, to make me feel better or nothin’,” he manages. “‘M fine about it.”

Joel scoffs. “‘M serious, Jimmy—”

Jimmy shakes his head. “‘S not funny—”

“‘S true—”

“Seriously, dude, stop. Stop it—”

Jimmy whips around, staring at Joel, who’s turned to face him. Joel’s face is screwed up, eyebrows deeply furrowed, mouth a sharp downward curve. He breathes in and out and his shoulders rise and fall a little quicker than they should. Jimmy’s heart jumps to his throat.

“I’m not jokin’, Jim, why would I ever—” Joel shuts his eyes, shaking his head. He reaches up to press his fingers to his eyes. “That’s not somethin’ I’d joke about. It was funny the first few times but you’re my friend, man, for god’s sake, Jim—”

Jimmy stands in his kitchen, on the day he gets back from another death game, and for the first time, he doesn’t feel utterly alone.

Not that he—he’s not always felt alone. He certainly didn’t in the last two games, with someone, two very good someone’s in his mind, glued to his side. Or partially glued, he guesses. But to have that physically ripped away from him on respawn. To come back to a mostly empty town—especially now, that it’s pouring rain, that nobody else has come to check in on him—it was always so isolating. Isolation isn’t what he wants after dying. He wants someone to tell him he’ll be okay. And Joel is sitting in his living room staring at him and sounds so frustrated he might cry and Jimmy is sure he will, too, feeling something sharp and burning in his nose and throat. What’s he supposed to do with all this, huh? How’s he supposed to make sense of it all?

“I don’t want you to think it’s your fault all the time, ‘s all,” Joel mutters, looking away from him. He folds his arms, settling back against the couch and grumbling to himself and generally sounding put-off again, so much so that Jimmy nearly passes out. He feels sick. “I care about you, alright?”

“Joel…” Jimmy’s voice wavers. It reminds him of a life that isn’t his—something that resembles his life. It reminds him of a fairy tale, or something like that. Something about something powerful and strong and scary protecting something small and too soft and unable to fend for itself. His chest feels heavy and achy.

“‘S the tea done?” Joel asks. Jimmy turns, lifting both cups. He wanders over quietly, setting them both on the coffee table. Joel leans forward without looking at him, lifting the cup and taking a sip. He seems pleased.

“You mean tha’?” Jimmy says after a beat, sitting on the couch beside him. Joel’s eyes flick up to see him before he sighs, turns his body toward him. His expression isn’t as frustrated, softer now, but not sad. Remorseful. Regretful. Something like that. Jimmy frowns a little.

“I did, yeah,” Joel says, glancing into his cup. “I do. It’s horrifyin’, is what it is. I mean, ‘s productive for everyone else, I guess, but it sucks for you.” Joel takes a long sip. It sucks. He knows it sucks, more than anyone else. But to hear it out loud…

Jimmy nods. He picks up his tea cup, holding it in the cradle of his hands.

“I ‘preciate tha’,” he says after a minute, after a sip. “Really, Joel. That’s…it means a lot.”

Joel laughs a little. “Sure thing, Jim,” he shrugs. “A good bit’s changed since we last talked here, eh?”

Jimmy laughs, too. “Yeah, you can say that again.”

It’s something at the root of it all. Some line of friendship finally surfacing, after too long away. Jimmy doesn’t know, he’s not sure. Why would he be? He’s not good at this sort of thing. But it makes him happy. And that’s what matters the most, he thinks. Joel is sitting on his couch, drinking his tea, and generally making kind, though emotionally distressing, small talk. The rain keeps falling. If he peeks out far enough, Jimmy’s certain the light grey cloud cover hasn’t broken, though the sun might be lighting them up from the back. Or there might be a crack where the sun gets through. Wouldn’t that be nice? Norman bumps his leg. He reaches down to trail his hand down his back.

It’s funny, now that he thinks about it, how the rain suddenly started. Usually he can see the clouds brewing on the edge of the horizon, where they never truly reach the edge of the canyon. But today they broke that barrier, and offered the needed bit of rain. Jimmy takes in the sound of the rain pattering against his tile-shingled roof and sips his tea.

“Did you do all that, by the way?” Jimmy finally says. “The rain ‘n all?”

Joel tilts his head. There’s a sheepish smile forming on his face. He sets his tea cup down on the coffee table as Jimmy does.

“Oh…a bit, yeah,” he says. “Yeah…”

Jimmy smiles, a smile that turns into a laugh, a laugh that turns into throwing his head back. He reaches out, patting Joel’s arm, before pulling him forward into a hug. Joel startles before he leans in. Jimmy thinks he hears him laugh, too—but maybe it’s just a sigh.

“Thank you, Joel, seriously,” Jimmy says, leaning his cheek on Joel’s shoulder. Joel pats his back, and it makes his hair stand on end, like the precipice of a static shock. “Thanks. You’re my best bro, you know that?”

Joel laughs at that. He laughs, and it sounds a little like the thunder Jimmy had heard and he laughs, too, and Joel pulls back from him and ruffles his hair and claps his shoulder, giving it a squeeze that leaves an impression as he drops his hands.

“You were always my favorite Bad Boy, Jimmy.”

Jimmy’s heart squeezes.

“Joel—” he groans, drawing out the syllable into definitely more than the one required. “Don’t say that!”

Joel only laughs and picks up his tea cup again. After a sip, he makes a face at Jimmy. Jimmy makes a face back, kicking him in the shin. Joel yelps, kicking him back. Jimmy pulls his legs up, shuffling back to the corner of the couch with his tea cup in hand. He glares at Joel from his side, and Joel from his own side, and they drink in relative silence before Joel says:

“Remind me to tell you all about my murder rampage later, eh?”

Jimmy barks out a laugh. Sure, okay. He nods. Yeah. He’ll hear about a murder rampage later. That ought to be fun.

For now though, as he nods, he’s too preoccupied on the feeling finally settling in his chest. One he hadn’t felt in a good long bit. A sense of belonging. Because at least one person’s looking out for him now, right? Post mortal enemy, half-brother-in-law from another time, weird-annoying-brother relationship aside. A friend. A shoulder. A guy in his corner.

Jimmy’s happy. It’s good now.

[biillys]

something about when el went into void and found billy, she saw him on the beach surrounded by sunshine and love and truly fucking actually happy. something about how when she turned around and saw the storm, she put her hands out and felt the ash falling from the sky, and then saw neil abusing billy and abusing his wife. something about how even in the monstrous world from another entire dimension, neil's still the fucking monster in the story

[red-might-be-dead]

we're only two episodes in and:

the bad boy's bad boy manor has been burned down twice (by cleo both times)

joel has died once by digging straight down into lava and once from a vindicator

jimmy has died once by digging straight down into lava and once from a vex

and grian has died once to a vex

joel has killed two people via TNT minecart

bread bridge has been built, and is threatening to continue to be built

grian once again found a way to get past the border

and finally the bad boys are on a episode pun streak of 2/2 due to grian's feliz navidad pun

[boxwinebaddie]

It’s totally understandable uncle Nina we appreciate you and are here for you<333

My question for pep Kyle, what was his perspective and view when he fought Stan? We know he has a huge soft spot for him and he would never do anything to purposely hurt him. Also if he ever found out about Stan’s gift (origami) what would be his reaction?

Take your time, don’t rush to answer

HYH💗💗

omgggg, please don't make me cry!!! you are so sweet! really, like, all of you have been so sweet to me about my update which means a lot to me because you all mean a lot to me <3 and i really hate letting you all down, but in an airplaine when the cabin pressure is low, they tell you to put the oxygen mask over yourself and then help others. so this is me, putting my oxygen mask on, then hopefully assisting you.

which! speaking of! thank you kindly for your question! i do have an answer and what an Answer it is, darling! xx

so, i know they were a hot mess, but the reason i even wrote/wanted to include the original chapters 11/12 of peppermint were because we only got to see stan's vers. of the days leading up to operation style.

and obviously, he was toiling away in acts of service/gift giving biboy hell making kyle 1005 origami paper cranes, fueled by fantastic visions of mean green eyed angel boys & true loves cherry nyquil kiss.

...but kyle didn't know that.

all that kyle knew was that his super best friend, the boy he's been in love with his entire life and his favorite person on planet earth just...stopped talking to him. no explanation. stan shut his phone off to focus on kyle and by accident, completely shut kyle out instead.

so kp's perspective of the fight or the kyle trial/denial, was that stan was acting...really weird. and i mean...Really, Reeeeallly, Weird.

because if we can recall, during the kyle trials, stan was flirting with kyle relentlessly, trying to get him to blush, touching his arms, standing way too close to him & overall just being a fucking Menace.

this, ofc, was strange to kyle, but he was trying not to overthink it because when he overanalyzes every little thing stan does and tries to use those things to prove the unprovable theory -- that stan's secretly in love with him -- he just gets really depressed & miserable.

so, that happening was weird enough...

...but then it stopped.

from kyle's perspective, stan went from being around him 25/8, every waking moment, texting him 34634983 times a day, one million emojis, breathing down his neck, carrying his books, bothering him, batting eyelashes at him...to going completely ghost.

stan who would make dumb excuses to get kyle to keep talking to him was making dumb excuses to Not keep talking to him. and that was when they were talking. because stan stopped talking to him after that. he said he had food poisoning and went dark.

and that...put the fear of god into kyle.

so while stan was pretending to be sick w/ food poisoning to avoid telling kyle he was actually lovesick/throwing up abt kyle, kyle was WORRIED SICK about stan, in a constant state of panic because stan just stopped texting him, stopped responding, stopped being his sbf.

and i had a lot of people be like 'okay, but nina if kyle knew that stan was having an episode, why was he still mad at stan' like??

because he'd had ENOUGH you guys!!!! kyle spent his Whole Life loving stan, taking care of stan, bending over backwards for him, dropping everything for him, forgiving him for everything and enough was enough, you know? he just...Broke. it was the final straw for him.

and when i tell you that through every single stan spin cycle, he has texted kyle good morning and good night, every single day since seventh grade, you guys. they talk for hours, they are attached at the hip, they are litrlly co-dependent super boy best friends in hellschool. like what kyle as saying is that stan...has never shut him out before. not like that. even during a depressive episode, stan will text kyle a sad face or 'hi :/' or something like...he has never...for multiple days just not texted kyle or spoken to him. At All.

and to his knowledge, stan suddenly wanted nothing to do with him, and here was tolkien, being super kind to him, doting on him, fucking worshiping him, actually asking him out on a date

( also i wrote this weird section [ before i stopped and scrapped it ] that was going to go into old 11 if i had space...originally i was going to write in that whole part i summarized in the bebe chap where kp was at tolkiens house filmin the tiktok...sum boy drama in there. )

and kyle was still!!! thinking about stan!!! like tolkien black was literally kissing him on the lips and kyle smelled pepper fucking mint and swore in his emo-boy aroused BRAIN that stan was there and lke could not even enjoy that moment -- for the second time. like tolkien kissed kyle twice and he was thinking about stan!!! BOTH TIMES

and that was frustrating to him, you know? like he feels pathetic about it because here he is, like every other day of his life, chasing after his best friend, being in love with him, giving stan a million chances and just watching stan run past him in the hallways, like desperate to get away from him??? like that is seriously painful. kyle never told stan he was in love with him because he was scared it would ruin their friendship, but now it was like...his super best friend in the whole world...didn't want to be friends with him anymore???

and wouldn't tell him why.

AND IN KYLES PERSPECTIVE, IT WAS THEIR 12TH SUPER BEST FRIENDAVERSEY WHICH EVEN W A PEP!STAN LEVEL OF ADHD HE HAS NEVER ONCE FORGOTTEN...AND STAN FORGOT!!!!

like when i tell you that kyle was DEVASTATED. like kyle fighting with stan in the hall...it wasn't out of anger, like he was so miserable. it was because he was desperate to know what the hell was going on. it was from a place of pure fucking hurt that he was yelling at stan. also stan LIED TO HIM? stan has never ever once lied to him!!!! like stan had to find out from other people that he was not sick, when kyle spent DAYS worried about him like...HE WAS HEARTBROKEN!!!!

edit: also...i had kyle shove stan. i'm taking it out. i put it in there for drama but i literally don't think kyle would lay a finger on stan. so i'm nixing that its no longer canon.

BUT ANYWAYS!

so, yeah. kyle was hard on stan even during an episode, but he had to put his foot down and i think that your best friend seemingly ignoring you for several weeks, lying to you and not speaking to you once on your 12th sbfaversey and actively avoiding you??? is a pretty good reason to publicly super worst break up tbh.

the worst part too is that if stan had said...anything. quite literally anything in response that would have explained anything, kyle would have folded like all those little paper cranes. but he didn't, so kyle was just like i cannot keep living like this??? like it is very exhausting and embarrassing to love someone who is running away from you.

after the friendship bracelet incident, he did sit in his room, crying loudly to taylor swift in stans stupid cure sweatshirt. he was SAD. like kyle was wallowing, he wanted to run back so BAD, but like if he runs back, its a vicious cycle like: he put the oxygen mask over himself. :(

okay, as far as the last part of the ask goes with the cranes, i have another ask about that and it's later on so i'll have to go into that more later...but what i can tell you is that...

if we can recall, stan ran crying out of that school, took the wish jar out of his backpack and CHUCKED IT into the trash but...

no body, no crime.

we didn't hear it smash, now did we, girls, gays and theys?

because it did not smash.

and better yet? it was secretly fished out of the trash...

by kenny. <3

[quaranmine]

step one of an alliance that involves both jimmy and grian on a server that has boogeymen: have a specific word or sound to turn into a repeatable bit,,,