#[ threads ] —* ( Cause I know you got a bad reputation )

[inthencght]

Despondent. Not in the way that was meant to get others to pity. No, this was genuine. Harper struggled to keep herself together, emotions passing over her features in such rapid succession that unless someone was paying attention, they would miss it. Tears threatened to fall, but it was sheer stubbornness that didn't allow it. If the other hadn't stopped her, she would have isolated herself and broke down in private.

"Does it really matter?" There was an edge of frustration. "He found someone better, called off the engagement, and I just have to deal..." Her voice broke a little. All those old insecurities came rushing back. Why wasn't she good enough? Shoulders dropped, Harper curling in on herself a little bit as her arms crossed her chest. All the confidence leaked from her frame, and she couldn't even look the other in the eye.

Open: All.

Muse: Harper. 26, personal assistant, submissive.

Plot/Connections: Harper's fiancee just ended things in favor of being with someone else. She needs it proven that she is worth someone's attention. Open to connections. T*boo, age gaps encouraged.

[13uswntimagines]

13 Eras of Us (Taylor Swift x Morgan!R): Era 1 - We Were Both Young When I First Saw You

Request: Taylor Swift x Alex morgan's little sister. They start off as friends and realize that there may be something more.

Chapter synopsis: 1 of 13: The era where everything begins. R and Taylor meet, and become friends. Composed of little moments between them, r and the Team and R and her sister.

Notes: Hey dudes, i'm really really stoked about this series, and i really hope you enjoy it. Let me know what you think.

July, 2015

We were both young when I first saw you

You sighed, gripping the rubber handles of your crutches, leaning more heavily onto the foam padding under your arms despite the ache it caused from the constant chafing. It was an annoying consequence of your injury. 

A secondary effect that the trainers hadn’t told you about when they convinced you that an Achilles tear wasn’t something you could walk off. When they swore up and down that the two other liniments in your ankle were holding on by threads and absolutely could not hold your weight for another 5 weeks. 

You still hadn’t gotten used to them, not that you really had the chance. 

They were a fairly new addition to your wardrobe, made necessary by one bad tackle only 20 minutes into your first game in Canada, effectively ruining your World Cup run (something you were still bummed about despite your team actually winning the World Cup- not that you would call yourself a World Cup Winner). 

You let out another breath, unable to stop the smile on your face as the lights shifted to highlight the woman on stage. 

She was absolutely mesmerizing in her shimmery silver dress, and it was nice to get to watch without the team lingering behind you. It was the only good thing about being injured. 

You didn’t have to go on the stage with them. 

Alas, you were lucky you got to come to the 1989 tour with the team at all. Taylor Swift had only invited the 2015 World Cup winners. 

It was one of the few benefits of being The Alex Morgan’s little sister you supposed. She sent a text and then you had been invited too. 

It strangely made you feel like a 10-year-old chasing after her and her new college friends, going to places where you just didn’t belong. But then again, you felt that way any time you spent more than an hour with your older sister since she left your sobbing form in the driveway as she headed off to Berkley. 

Things hadn’t been the same between you since, and all of her efforts just felt like a weird form of a twisted apology, even now. 

It was like you were her charity case or something, and that didn’t sit right with you. 

Still, you were grateful she had pulled the strings to get you backstage to one of your favorite singer’s shows. God knew you wouldn’t have survived well in the crowd, especially not now that you could barely stand on your own. 

“Pretty spectacular isn’t it?” 

You flinched at the voice, jerking away from the woman standing close enough to your left side to also be able to see the stage, but not too close. Just like she had been all night. 

She reached out a steadying hand as the crutches wobbled dangerously underneath you, an easy smile never leaving her features. 

You swallowed hard, trying to form words to say anything to Taylor’s mom. 

You weren’t big into fandom or social media, but you still knew who she was, and it felt weird meeting her (definitely not because you had a massive crush on her daughter- or the character her daughter pretended to be on stage). 

“She’s amazing,” You finally managed to force the words from your throat, turning back towards the flashing lights on stage and around the stadium.

Andrea hummed. “She is. You’re pretty amazing too,” 

She had heard about your… reputation but all she had seen from you tonight was a shy kid desperately searching for something. Exactly what that something was she couldn’t put her finger, but she suspected it had to do with the way you were watching your older sister interact all night. 

You shrugged, your shoulders collapsing in on you just a bit. “Right now I’m gimpy, and I couldn’t imagine having the control over an audience that she does,” 

Andrea made a low noise, thinking better than to argue with you. She didn’t know you well enough for a debate. 

She didn’t want to interrupt you any more than she had anyway. 

The way you were staring at the stage was a sight to behold, to say the least, your lip trapped between your teeth and your eyes filled with wonder. 

She had seen many fans in her days, but there was just something… different about how you watched the show. The tender adoration in your eyes was beautiful, and it made the mom in her wonder what the future would hold for you and her daughter. 

You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding as style came to an end and your sister disappeared below the stage. 

You smiled towards Andrea. “I better go before they think I tried to escape,” 

She raised an eyebrow at you. “Is that something you’ve done before?” 

You shrugged again, your grin turning impish.

 “I don’t kiss and tell,” You winked as you started to maneuver yourself back towards where you knew Alex would be coming out, and Andreas' laugh sounded from behind you. 

That had been the point after all hadn't it? 

Still, you were slightly relieved when your sister stepped through the curtain that separated the stage from the backstage area. 

While Andrea and the stage managers had been as welcoming as they could be, you still hadn’t felt like you belonged. You hadn’t been the one invited after all. It also helped that you would be getting out of the noise until Taylor got off stage and was ready for the mini meet and greet the team planned. 

“How did that crowd feel?” You asked as Alex approached you, and the crowd at the front of the stage cheered again, painting an interested smile across your features. 

It felt electric from the audience, so you could only imagine what it felt like being on stage, 

“Really good,” Alex smiled widely, wiggling the trophy in her arms just a bit. “Like World Cup good,” 

“It’s insane how she can control a room like that,”

Alex’s eyebrows furrowed. You felt her slow down beside you and her eyes searched your face. “Don’t even think about it,” 

“What?” You asked, your tongue poking out of your mouth as you focused on keeping up with the team. 

“I know you and I know that look,” She said seriously.  “She’s my age, and you’re not 18 for another 10 days,” 

You shrugged. “So?” 

You hadn’t been planning on hitting on America's top superstar, but you would never miss an opportunity to mess with your older sister. Plus, you didn’t see the harm in flirting. 

It was a fundamental part of your personality after all. 

“Y/n I’m serious,” 

Your lips pulled into a playful smirk, glancing up at her as she held the door to a small room for you. “And I’m committed to not being serious,” 

It was no secret that your… extracurricular activities had picked up since your injury, and you had done little to mask your enjoyment of the league's hookup culture since you joined in lew of going to college. 

What annoyed Alex more was that no one in North Carolina would step up and help her stop you. 

“Y/n,” Alex let out a suffering sigh, catching the crutch before you could hobble away. 

“Look, she’s out of my league, and it’s criminal to not tell a gorgeous woman how gorgeous she is,” 

“Kid’s got a point,” Kelley said, appearing at your other side and sending you a small wink. “Shooting my shot is how I landed you after all,”

“That’s true baby horse,” Cheney said, grabbing a coke off of the large catering table that dominated the room. “It’s also how Toby got Chris,” 

“How did we get roped into this?” Tobin groaned, her slightly red-rimmed eyes going wide, popping a grape in her mouth. 

Kelley snorted. “You got roped into this because you asked Chris out after you beat her in the college cup, while she was still on the field,” 

“You fucking proposed to Alex after your team beat her in a shootout,” Christen snickered, shaking her head. “You literally have no room to talk,” 

You chucked at Kelley’s blush, barely noticing the new body that had entered the room and was leaning up against the doorframe next to you. 

“Sounds like the field is a very active place for you guys,” The voice said, and you snapped your head to meet the most gorgeous blue eyes you had ever seen in your entire life. “Though your timing seems… questionable,” 

“Tay!” 

“That was an amazing show,”

“Dude, that crowd is nuts. It’s like they’re eating out of the palm of your hand,” 

Taylor smiled widely at the team, her eyes glimmering in the dressing room light. “Well thank you, it was an absolute pleasure to get to share the stage with you all tonight,” 

She pushed off of the wall, and your eyes followed her like she was a magnet. She looked so… graceful even in a pair of sweats.

“The pleasure was all ours,” Cheney grinned back at her. “it was a blast, thank you again for inviting us,”

“Anything to bring more visibility to what you guys do,” Taylor nodded, looking over the catering table and picking sparkling water from the selection. “It’s empowering to young girls everywhere,” 

You were drawn to her hands as they flexed around the bottle. To her lips as she timed her sips so she could continue her conversation with Cheney. She was so elegant. 

Even in your sexcapades, you had never been so… taken with someone. 

“This is my younger sister, Y/n,” You blinked away from Taylor and towards Alex, and back, feeling taken slightly off guard. You hadn’t realized you zoned out. 

The blonde singer nodded towards you, waving the bottle. “Hey. I’m Taylor,” 

“I’m Y/n,” Your lips quirked up, and you stuck your hand out for her to take, bringing it to your lips when she did. “And I’m your wildest dream,” 

“Very smooth,” Taylor chuckled, pulling her hand back, and you could have sworn she had a little bit of pink dusting her cheeks. 

“Smoother than a fresh jar of skippy,” You winked back, earning an ever louder giggle from the singer. 

The room erupted into laughter, and you sent a proud smirk toward your sister. 

She shook her head. “Don’t encourage her. She’s been practicing all week for this,” 

“Well I can’t practice soccer, so what did you expect?” You shrugged as much as you could over the crutches. “I need to use my talents for something,”

“I think it was amazing,” Taylor cut in, grinning. 

“See!” 

Alex rolled her eyes but didn’t argue. She had obviously been outvoted. It would be a fun story to tell your future significant other anyway. 

“It’s very nice to meet you Y/n,” Taylor said, sobering. “I was happy you could make it, even if you weren’t on the squad,” 

“It’s nice to meet you too,” You nodded, your dimples on full display. “Thanks for the invite,” 

“No way I would exclude one of my favorite players,” She hummed. “I was so sad when you got hurt,”

You felt heat in your cheeks, traveling up to your ears. Taylor knew who you were. She liked to watch you play. 

You swallowed hard. “I should be up and playing again within the next couple of months,”

Your PT promised you that as long as you followed the plan, you’d be back and playing by the end of the season. With the way Paul was pushing you, you knew you’d probably be back sooner. 

“Well, if you’re ever in New York let me know,” She said, pulling out her phone and opening the texting app before passing it to you. “I’d love to see a game,” 

You took the offered item, quickly typing in your number. “Yeah, I’m sure I can get you and the squad good seats,” 

She sent you one last smile before she turned back towards the team. “I’ve gotta go, but it was nice to see you all again,” 

You stared at her, as she waved and left, not actually believing what had just happened. 

Your bad pickup line had gotten you The Taylor Swift’s number, and she wanted to see a game. 

*****

September, 2015

We play dumb, but we know exactly what we’re doing

You never expect Taylor to actually text you. Hell, you weren’t convinced that the phone she let you text yourself from wasn’t a business phone. 

But as it turned out, Taylor did text you. 

First, it was a simple text asking about your recovery because a commentator had mentioned it. Then the conversation between the two of you just didn’t stop. 

And you realized very quickly that you never wanted it to stop. 

You found that Taylor was up at all of the weird hours you were and that no matter what she was doing, she was never too busy to say hello. Then texting turned into hanging out when you were in New York, Florida, or California, and before you knew it, it was a regular occurrence. 

“I fucking suck at this,” You groaned, letting go of the guitar strings and flopping onto your back. “And my fingers hurt now. I’m pretty sure they’re bleeding,” 

You held them up in the air pretending to examine them for the little flecks of red you were sure you would find there. 

“No, you just haven’t practiced enough to build calluses,” Taylor said, and you could hear the eye roll in her voice. 

“I got enough of them on my feet thank you,” You muttered, looking up at her through your eyelashes and wiggling your fingers at her.  “I don’t need guitar string scars on my hands too,” 

She caught your hand, smoothing it over her palm. “Don’t be overdramatic,” 

“Me!” You exclaimed indignantly, holding your hand to your chest in mock offense. 

“Yes,”  Taylor smirked. “This isn’t soccer where you can flop about,” 

You frowned. “I don’t flop,” 

She raised an eyebrow at you, and you pouted. “Fine. I don’t flop often, and not unless it’s necessary,” 

“Whatever you say,” She chuckled, shaking her head. “Sit up and I’ll help you,” 

You pouted but did as she asked, pushing yourself back to sit, crossing your legs so you could hold the guitar like she had shown you the first time you did this. 

Her lips ticked up at you, and she scooted so your knees were touching. 

“Alright so g,” She said, positioning her fingers on the string, waiting for you to copy her. 

You tried, moving each finger to the strings. “Like this?”

“Not quite,” She said, leaning forward and moving your pinky. “That one goes on the low e,” 

You nodded, trying not to blush at how close she was to you. So close that you could smell her coconut shampoo. 

“Now, strum slowly,” She said, leaning back and demonstrating. 

You did your best to copy her, slowly drawing the pick across each of the strings, but instead of making the beautiful chord she was, it made an off-key wamp. 

“I’m hopeless,” You said dramatically dropping your pick and flopping back on her fluffy carpet. “Worse than the whole Tom Sermanni debacle,” 

She sighed and took the guitar off, maneuvering so she was sitting next to you. “I didn’t know you were so easily discouraged. I thought with all the sports, you’d have some resiliency,” 

“I’m good at soccer,” You shrugged.  “My fingers aren’t long enough or sting enough for guitar,” 

“Were you good at soccer to begin with?” Taylor asked you softly. 

You scrunched your nose. The truth was that you had been playing soccer too long to remember when you started. It was always a part of your life. 

“No,” You said finally, biting your lip. “Alex absolutely destroyed me any time we practiced. She even stepped on my neck one time with her rain cleats and gave me a scar,” 

You pointed to the small dimple just below your chin. Sure it had been an accident, but it ultimately was the reason you were a midfielder instead of a forward. 

When you were young, Alex had always been better than you. More competitive, more ruthless, and she didn’t go easy on you in practice. It’s what made you such a good player. 

“But you still play?” Taylor pressed, and your eyes were drawn to how her lips formed a thin line. 

“Not as a forward,” You admitted easily.  “Mom got tired of all of the bickering,” 

Once you switched positions, you and Alex could work together instead of going head to head. It made you a lethal pair and let you both show off your talents. 

It also saved your mother’s sanity. 

“That’s not the point,” Taylor chuckled. “If you can change positions, you can play a chord on a guitar. You just need patience,”

“I wasn’t born with that,” You smirked. 

She rolled her eyes. “Try for me?” 

“Fine,” You sighed, pushing yourself to a sitting position yet again. 

It was kinda scary how easily she could bed you to her will. All she had to do was ask. 

“Put your fingers in position,” She said, leaning forward and checking to make sure they were on the right strings. “And then play each one individually,” 

You grabbed the pick from the floor beside you and very slowly brought it across the strings. All of the strings sounded right except for the pinky. 

“Press down a little harder,” She said, her tongue caught between her teeth as she reached over to help you. “And try again,” 

You did as she asked, and this time, the G chord sounded through her apartment. 

“Great job!” She cheered, and you felt heat rushing to your cheeks. 

“Thanks,” You cleared your throat and looked away.  “Couldn't have done it without you, literally, but um… can we be done with me playing? I think my fingers are going to fall off,” 

You turned towards her, not realizing how close you were, and nearly brushed her nose with yours. You pulled back, trying not to look at her lips, or her burning blue eyes, focusing on a very small freckle on her forehead because it felt like the safest option. 

The two of you hated a lingering breath, and the air between you felt electric. You would have sworn that her eyes flickered to your lips, just as her tongue poked out to wet her own. 

But she couldn’t be into you. 

She was America’s favorite pop star, she was a fully-fledged adult while you were still basically a kid, and most importantly, she was straight. 

“Yeah, we can do something else,” She hummed, reaching for the guitar and carefully pulling it over your head. 

“Can you play something for me?” You asked, scooping Meredith up and settling her in your lap when she nudged against your leg. 

For a cat that didn’t like being picked up and cuddled, she was very attached to you, except when you were playing the guitar. 

“Sure,” She nodded, grabbing her guitar and plucking out some chords. “Any requests?” 

You shook your head, smiling down at the cat as she kneaded her feet into your thighs and finally plopped down with a short purr. “Whatever you want,” 

“Now that’s no fun,” Her lips turned up, and her head ticked to the side and she reached over to scratch the cat's head. “Come on, what’s your dream surprise song?”

Your shoulders lifted and fell, and more red bled into your cheeks. “Um… I don’t suppose you have the 10-minute version of All Too Well available?”

She chuckled and shook her head, a playful smile pulling at her lips. “Unfortunately, it was a rant that I don’t currently have memorized,” 

“Hey, you asked for the dream song,” You held your hands up in defense, unable to stop yourself from laughing with her. “I think a lot of fans would agree to have that on their list,” 

She shrugged, half in agreement and half in amusement. “I just think it’s funny that it came from a line I said in an interview almost 4 years ago,” 

“Honestly, I think if a demo version of it did exist, it would have been leaked already. Some of your sleuthy fans are obsessed,” You said, your dimples popping out. “I couldn’t not ask for it,” 

She snorted “Trust me, I know. It was a good shot, and if it did exist, I’d totally play it for you. I trust you not to be secretly recording,” 

You hummed, trying not to think too hard about how she trusted you. How she would have played one of her most secret and tightly kept songs for you “But alas it does not,” 

“No, not in a playable form,” She shook her head, her blue eyes shining. “Pick a new one,”

You bit your lip, rolling through the list of songs in your head. “What about State of Grace,”

The piano version had always been one of your favorites, and you so often got the intro stuck in your head. 

“We can do that,” She smiled widely at you and began picking out the chords. “Only if you promise to sing along?”

Your nose scrunched. “You don’t want me to sing, I sound like a dying walrus, just ask Alex,” 

You knew Alex would agree, even if it wasn’t entirely true. You didn’t do music anymore. 

“Hum then,” She conceded, and you nodded. 

You could hum- just not in tune, but you didn’t have to be in tune with Taylor. 

You just had to be yourself, and you had never experienced that with anyone else. 

******

December 2015

Barefoot in the kitchen

Sacred new beginnings 

That became my religion, listen

You eyed the oven warily from across the island, leaning into the cool stone countertop as Taylor flitted around you, pulling out various ingredients. 

It wasn’t that you were afraid of the oven, it was just that you were not known for being a good cook. Actually, you were known for being a very not good cook. 

You were banned from making anything in any of your sister's kitchens, and you rarely ventured to make more than Dino nuggets (which you still burned) on your own. 

As long as you didn’t touch the controls, everything should be fine. 

“You alright?” Taylor asked, setting a stick of butter on the counter next to you, her hand landing gently on your forearm. “You’re staring at the stove,” 

“Yeah,” You blinked away from the copper appliance and towards Taylor, painting an easy smile across your lips. “I’ve just never made cookies before,”

She frowned. “Never ever?” 

You shook your head, biting your lip. You didn’t want to tell her that any time your sisters had tried, it ended in charcoal (and an oven fire… twice) instead of ooey, gooey deliciousness.

“We were more of sports people than baking people,” You explained with an easy shrug. “Plus after a hard game, the precut square ones always do the trick,” 

Her nose scrunched adorably. “But they don’t sell peanut butter chocolate chip cookies in the little squares,” 

“Kelley likes to bake. Jerry too. I’m not usually involved,” You answered with ease, taking the wooden spoon she passed you. “When Alex and I get together we usually get distracted trying new tactics and tricks,” 

You didn’t want to say that you were always banished from the kitchen, at least until the oven was off. 

A thoughtful look crossed her face.

This was the first time you had mentioned Alex by name and not followed it with a remark about something terrible she had done. The first time you hadn’t breezed by her existence in the greater context of the team. 

She wanted to pry, to ask why there was a strange tension between you and your older sister, but she wasn’t sure you would give her a straight answer. 

You were a master at spinning questions around (and running interviewers around in circles) when you wanted to, so the only way she would get the story was if you wanted to tell her. 

And she so desperately wanted you to want to let her into your personal life. 

 “Austin doesn’t like to cook either, but we usually chat while I get everything ready,” She said. 

“Alex and I talk better on the field,” Your head bobbed gently as you began to stir the ingredients in the bowl. “Soccer is our best communication method, and Kelley likes to feed us when we’re done,” 

She opened her mouth to ask more, to try and understand why the only place you really opened up was the field, but your phone buzzed obnoxiously on the counter. 

Your eyebrows furrowed as Emily’s contact photo popped up on your screen. 

“You can answer it,” Taylor hummed, grabbing the spoon and bowl from you and carefully measuring in more ingredients. 

You sighed. “It’s probably not important,” 

“But what if it is?” Taylor shrugged. She didn’t want you ignoring your other friends to hang out with her, even if she was slightly flattered that you always gave her your undivided attention (except when you watched movies). “Answer it,” 

“Sup loser,” Emily’s voice filled Taylor’s kitchen as your best friend’s face filled the screen, a wide smile showing off her dimples. 

You rolled your eyes. She would never let you live down how the thorns had beaten the red stars. Badly. Even if you had gotten a banger of a goal on her yourself. 

“Don’t rub it in,” You muttered, balancing the phone against a vase so you could keep stirring the batter, careful that you were the only person in the shot. “What do you want?” 

“Just figured I’d see if you’d seen the roster for January camp yet,” She hummed, shifting forward as if she was trying to see what you were doing, just as Taylor’s hands plopped a stick of butter into the bowl.  “Are you baking? Should I call the fire department?” 

You glowered at her, beginning to mix the thick batter, your tongue poking out the side of your cheek in concentration. 

You hadn’t had time to read your emails yet, not that you were worried. You just got so… distracted with Taylor. You wanted to be in the moment. You wanted to savor every second you got with the person slowly becoming your best friend. 

“No, yes, no,”  You said, eyes flickering towards Taylor and then back to the phone.“I’m supervised,” 

She raised an eyebrow at you. “You’re supervised? Are you clothed?” 

Red filled your cheeks at the implication, and you did your best to ignore Taylor’s raised eyebrow. 

She had heard about your reputation, but having one of your friends bring it up right in front of her still made you blush. You didn’t want her to think that you had some endgame. That you were playing her. 

You weren’t (even if the fluttering in your chest when you were with her made you want something… more). 

You cleared your throat. “I’m with a friend Sonnett,” 

It came out more biting than you meant for it to. More defensive. 

She rolled her eyes, holding her hands up in surrender. “Whatever you say, just be safe,” 

“Fuck off,” You bit back, your teeth clacking, even as Taylor dumped the chocolate chips into the bowl. 

“I love you too Y/n,” She cackled back, unphased by your sudden moodiness. She had seen it hundreds of times before when things in the pitch didn’t go your way. “See you in a few weeks,” 

“Bye loser,” You muttered, unable to resist returning her jab. 

A devilish smirk broke across her face, and you knew you would regret trying to tease her. “Bye y/n and y/n’s friend,” 

“Bye Sonnett,” Taylor added, as you clicked the end call button, and from Emily’s furrowed eyebrows just before the screen ended, you knew she didn’t know who had said goodbye to her. 

You anxiously rubbed the back of your neck, avoiding running your hand through your hair so you didn’t have to wash them… again. “Sorry about her,” 

“She’s charming,” Taylor hummed, taking the bowl of cookie dough from in front of you. “Is she always like that?” 

“No,”  You muttered, as she carefully scooped out a bit of dough with a spoon and transferred it to a baking sheet. “She can actually be pretty sweet when she wants to be. It’s why Rosie loves her so much,” 

Taylor’s head tilted to the side as she tried to follow your train of thought. Despite how much you talked about the team, you rarely ever mentioned the relationships within it. The team was intensely private in that way, and she respected that. Still, it didn’t mean she wasn’t curious… and you had technically mentioned it first. 

“Are they dating?” 

“No,” You snorted, shaking your head. They were two blind idiots in love, terrified of messing up a friendship. “They mostly just make moon eyes at each other right now. But hopefully winning a gold will give one of them the balls to finally make a move,” 

“Like she thought you had the balls to bake naked,”

She knew there had to be a story there, but getting you to actually tell her would be a bigger challenge. 

More red colored your cheeks, traveling up to your ears.

“It would be more likely for me to be naked, than for me to be baking,” you murmured, rubbing harder at the back of your neck. “That comment was probably more about the supervision. The last time she called I was sneaking out of a girl's apartment,”

Her eyebrow raised nearly to her hairline. “And you answered?” 

It was hard to wrap her head around how commonplace your hookups were. She didn’t like how casual you and everyone around you were about them, especially since you were so young.

“She wanted to check in,” You waved a hand dismissively. “We lost pretty badly,”

She didn’t quite know how those two pieces fit together. “But she asked if you needed the fire department,” 

You cleared your throat and looked away. “I… distracted a girl one time while she was cooking,” 

Taylor swallowed her grimace. She wasn’t allowed to be jealous. Not yet anyway. 

She was your friend. 

She scooped a small bit of batter with her finger and reached out to smear it on the very tip of your nose. “Sounds pretty dangerous,” 

Your eyes crossed as you tried to see the little blob, and Taylor laughed loudly at the expression. 

“You didn’t just do that,” 

Taylor sat back, smirking at you widely. “Oh, but I did. What are you going to do about it?”

You reached across the island, grabbing a small scoop of flour. 

“This,” You said, rubbing the flour into her cheek with a grin. “It’s a little lighter than your normal highlight, but it suits you,” 

She paused for a second before reaching for the flour container, dipping her hand inside. “Oh, it’s on now,” 

She didn’t give you time to duck as she tossed a handful of flour towards you, and you caught a stick of butter still out on the counter as you dove for cover. 

More flour powdered around you in a cloud as you peeked up from your hiding space, throwing a bit of soft butter towards her. It skidded across the counter, mixing with the sugar and flour smeared across the surface. 

It almost made you feel bad, but you would help her clean it up. 

“Missed me, loser,” 

Your nose scrunched at the name, and your eyebrows furrowed. 

You would not be a loser. 

You crawled towards your left, sneaking around the island until you saw her right foot, and a smile broke across your face. 

You dove for her, catching her around the waist, sending the bag of flour flying around you as you both fell, her peels of laughter echoing across the kitchen. 

“I don’t lose,” You chuckled into her neck as flour fell around you like snow. “Flour fights and otherwise,” 

Taylor rolled off of you, propping herself up on her elbow so she could look at you. “You’ve got a little bit of flour there,” 

She gestured towards your nose, and you lifted your shirt to wipe the area she indicated. You felt the way her eyes were immediately glued to your exposed abs, and you took an extra second to wipe your face so she could look. 

Her face was red when you dropped your shirt. 

“Thanks,” You winked, and the red bled from her cheeks down her neck. 

She snorted and shook her head. “That just made it worse,” 

You wiggled your eyebrows and licked your lips for good measure. “That’s ok, I’ve gotten way dirtier anyway,” 

“You’re too much,” She said, still giggling, watching your shoulder as she sat up. “Let’s get the cookies in the oven and we can clean up while they bake,”

You pouted dramatically. “What if I want to stay dirty?” 

She rolled her eyes, already pushing herself to her feet. “You don’t get cookies,” 

You wrinkled your nose. “Bummer,”

“Come on,” She held her hand out to you, and you took it, letting her pull you up. 

She stole a hug before she let you go, directing you towards where the broom was. 

And you couldn’t help the small smile pulled across your features, both at Taylor and the sight of the cats staring safely at you from the kitchen archway.

You would tolerate baking if it was with Taylor. 

*****

March, 2016

If you’ve got a girlfriend, I’m jealous of her. But if you’re single it’s honestly worse.

You were never good at sneaking. You hadn’t even tried in high school because you knew you would be caught, and after you moved out, there was no one to sneak from. 

Your North Carolina roommate didn’t care how late you were out. She barely even spoke to you at all. 

You were pretty sure she hated you, but which of your Courage teammates didn’t? 

Maybe the newfound freedom made you wreckless, or maybe you just didn’t care about changing your behavior when you were visiting your sister in Florida. 

But whatever the case, Alex was waiting for you when you stepped back into her house, her arms crossed and an annoyed look on her face. 

Part of you wondered if she had been standing there all night, or if she heard the door of your UBER shut and came down to greet you. You wondered if they turned the porch light on as soon as they got home, or if you just hadn’t noticed it when the car pulled up. 

“Where the fuck have you been?” 

You slowly turned towards her, kicking off your shoes, neatly placing them in the rack by the door, and pulling your sweatshirt over your head. “Out? Why?”

“It’s almost 2 am,” She grit out, her eyes flashing dangerously, but it did nothing to dissuade you. 

You shrugged, hanging your sweatshirt on the hook right next to her. “I got distracted” 

She scoffed, following you as you tried to brush past her. “You didn’t call or text, I was worried sick about you,”

You rolled your eyes. 

It wasn’t like you texted her often anyway. The two of you barely spoke as it was, nothing besides Hey how was your day messages and one-word responses on your end. 

It was weird to you that she was still trying to look after you. That she was still trying to be the protective older sister, when clearly your relationship had evolved. 

You weren’t the toddler crawling after her wherever she went, or the 4-year-old tripping over every soccer ball she passed you. 

You were a just barely adult trapped in the shadows of everyone’s expectation of you. 

“OK mom, chill out. I was just… busy,” You snarked, wiggling your fingers at her as you headed towards the kitchen. “I had my hands full,” 

She made a face at you. 

There had been a time when she was more like your mom than your mom was. A time when you were closer to her than anyone else. 

Now it felt like she barely knew you. 

“Just your hands? I thought you had more game than that,” Kelley said from the couch. 

“Trust me, I do,” You cackled, fist-bumping Kelley as you passed her, headed for the kitchen. 

“Don’t encourage her,” Alex grumbled, nudging her as they both followed after you. 

You again rolled your eyes, pulling out one of the stools at the island, settling into it, and running your hand through your wild curls. “Chill out Al, I made it here, ok?”

You didn’t like it when your hookups messed with your hair, but it seemed everyone was obsessed with it. 

“Good argument kid,” Kelley chortled, grabbing a plate of rock shaped objects from next to the stove and holding them out to you. “Cookie?” 

Your nose scrunched at the offered items, but you took one anyway, letting your shoulders relax as the tension between you and Alex mellowed. 

She had been acting as referee for the two of you for a very long time, almost as long as they had been dating, and she was an expert at this point. It helped that you would open up to her more than you ever would to Alex. 

You knew your sister and her girlfriend didn’t like your… relaxation method, but as long as your partner was into it and you were into it, you didn’t see a problem. It was better than some of the things you could be doing. 

“You know, eventually you’re going to have to stop this,” Alex muttered, sitting down at the counter beside you.

“Why?” You asked, examining the cookie. 

She laid her phone on the counter and slid it towards you, “Because the team aren’t the only people who have picked up on it now,”

You glanced down at the device. 

It was a Twitter feed of pictures of you and the girl you had just left. You reached out and scrolled, frowning when you saw all of the text tweets below it. 

@randomy/nfan: it’s unfair how ridiculously hot she is. 

@randomy/nfan2: no one needs to wipe their face that many times during a game

@randomy/nfan: Did you see how she stuck her tongue out each time she ran her hand through her hair? It should be criminal. 

@randomy/nfan3: she totally winked at me after she gave me her jersey. Too bad I wasn’t the one she took home after. 

@randomy/nfan5: can confirm she winked after she took her jersey off. She even flexed for the photo. 

@SoccerUpdates: Y/n Morgan spotted with Orlando rookie Sam Witterman after the game. 

“The fans need to mind their own fucking business,” You grumbled, sliding her phone back. “I didn’t flex for her either,”

Alex raised an eyebrow at you. “If it wasn’t for her, who was it for? Because Sam wasn’t even paying attention,”

You looked back at the cookie, using it to hide the sudden heat in your cheeks. “I’m an adult and I can do whoever or whatever I want,” 

You hadn’t been flexing for the fan. You had been flexing in case your favorite singer was watching the game like she said she would be. 

It was frustrating how obsessed the media was with you sometimes. The fans didn’t know the line between who you were on the field and in interviews and who you were off the field. They didn’t understand the concept of privacy.

“You can,” Kelley agreed, ignoring the glare Alex sent her way. “But aren’t you concerned that you give a part of yourself away each time you sleep with someone?” 

Your shoulders lifted and then fell. “It’s not like I receive,” 

“What?” Kelley frowned. 

“Half the time, I don’t even take my pants off. It’s not like they notice,” You mumbled, taking a bite of the cookie and wrinkling your nose at the crumbly texture of oats and coconut. “Why is everything in your house vegan?” 

“I never pegged you as a stone top,” Kelley breathed out, shaking her head. “And my cookies are vegan because your sister is vegan and enjoys being able to eat the things I make,” 

“You just don’t like that she won’t let you kiss her when you’ve had anything that actually tastes good,” You hummed, taking another bite of the too-dry cookie. “It’s just easier,” 

Alex’s eyebrows furrowed, a warning bell sounding in the back of her mind. “Easier?”

You nodded, swallowing the sand-like texture in your mouth. “It’s hard to find clothes in the dark without waking anyone up, and that makes sneaking out more difficult,”

“You don’t even stay long enough to say goodbye?” Alex grimaced. 

“No,” You said dismissively, reaching for another cookie and taking a bite. “Then they’d have a chance to try and get me to stay,”

Alex could only stare at you, wondering where the shy kid who had been terrified to ask your high school crush out went. When had you gone from sweet and reserved to a Fuck boy who didn’t even tell the person they were sleeping with goodbye?

 “Jesus,” She scoffed, running a palm across her face. “You’re only 18, you shouldn’t be participating in hookup culture,”

“Like you weren’t when you were at Berkeley,” Kelley chuckled. “Y/n is just having her frat boy era without a frat. Let the kid live,” 

“Yeah Alex, let me live,” You intoned, copying Kelley. 

Alex glared at the side of your head, much like she did when you were young and being a brat. “Fine then. Was she good?”

You tilted your chin toward her incredulously. “You really want to hear about my hookup?”

“Well you wanted me to let you live,” She sat back in her chair, crossing her arms. The stance that always made younger you cower. “So tell me, was she good? Did you enjoy yourself?”

You raised an eyebrow at her, staring for a long second before shrugging and taking another bite of your cookie. “She was fine, like the others,”

“Just fine?”

“Her nails were really long, so she gorged my back,” You said, turning and pulling the collar of your shirt down so she could see the angry red marks at the top of your back. “I was worried I was going to bleed all over my shirt,”

Alex’s eyebrows furrowed. You had to be the good one to get marks like that, and the idea that you were… talented in that area almost made her want to vomit. As did the notion that your… skills probably came from… practice. 

Lots of practice.

“So you ditched us for a just fine hookup?” Kelley asked, and it made the guilt bubble in your stomach. 

That was the only good part about playing Orlando… that you got to spend time with your sister (something that was rare after she left you for Berkeley).

It was the only real hope you saw at mending the bridge that covered the crater that her departure left in your relationship. 

And you sighed, sinking on the stool, your shoulders hunching. “I didn’t think I was going to be out as late as I was. I’m sorry,”

“Ok, but why go for a hookup anyway?” Alex asked, her hand finding your back and rubbing circles. 

You took another bite of your cookie, chewing it slowly and swallowing hard. 

You weren’t sure you wanted to open up. That you wanted to accept her comfort or her touch, but pushing her away felt… cruel. 

“Paul is trading me to Chicago. He said I’m not progressing, and I don’t fit his scheme. I went out because I needed to blow off some steam. I found out right before the game,”

The words felt like lead in your mouth. He hadn’t even had the guts to tell you himself. Instead, you found out from your manager, with his comments on your performance. 

“That sucks,” Kelley reached across the island to take your hand. 

“Paul is a fucking asshole,” Alex grit out, her hand falling from your back. “You’re better off honestly,” 

There was something else in her voice that you couldn’t quite place. 

“Chicago is going to be lethal with you and Chris,” Kelley hummed, squeezing you three times, before turning towards the cabinets and pulling out a plastic bag. “These have eggs and milk. I made them for you. You deserve it.” 

You instantly dropped the cookie in your hand and reached for the bag of peanut butter chocolate chip goodness. “Why didn’t you pull these out sooner?” 

“Because you snuck into our house at 1:30 am,” Kelley shrugged, leaning on the counter. “After ditching us,” 

“I wasn’t trying to ditch you,” You mumbled, pulling a cookie out of the bag and biting into it. Your eyes slid closed as the chocolaty peanut butter played across your tongue. 

They were nearly as good as the ones Taylor had made you the last time you saw her. 

“You were just trying to get laid so you could forget your problems,” Alex finished for you, frowning. You rolled your eyes, grabbing your phone out from your back pocket and snapping a picture of the cookies. 

Alex sighed heavily, reaching over and brushing a curl from in front of your eyes. “I just worry about you,” 

She promised your parents and older sisters she would look after you when you decided to forgo college and join the league(even if the 2 of you weren’t as close as you once were). She didn’t think letting you sleep your way through the teams was healthy, and she couldn’t help but wonder if it was a sign of something deeper going on with you. 

You were always so shy growing up. Even after you told them that you were into women, you had never been so… overt with your interactions. You were so sweet with the girl you took to your senior prom, so nervous around any girl you really liked. 

She wasn’t sure when that changed. 

“I’m doing fine,” You said, taking another bite of the cookie. “You’d be the first to know if I wasn’t,” 

“Promise?” She asked you, more softly. 

Every time she looked at you, she would see the tiny 4-year-old running after her, telling her you were fine after you skinned your knee or elbow. Or 7-year-old you swearing you were good to go after you broke your arm surfing a too-big wave. 

“With my pinky,” 

You held your finger up for good effect, and she linked hers with yours. 

“You guys are disgustingly adorable,” Kelley hummed, sliding you a glass of milk. “Now eat up, I want to actually sleep tonight,” 

OoOoOoO

Twitter wasn’t one of Taylor’s favorite social media apps. It was a pit of anxiety-inducing posts and hateful opinions, and she genuinely made an effort to stay away. 

But after watching your soccer game, she couldn’t help herself. 

It had been a humid night in Florida (according to the commentary team). You kept lifting your shirt to wipe the sweat out of your eyes, and your curls had been wild by the end of the second half. 

The grainy stream hadn’t been clear enough for her. It hadn’t done your abs justice so Taylor had relented to the bird app. To pictures taken by people who were actually at the stadium, and things spiraled from there. 

It should have made her feel… shameful that she was scrolling through photos of you, looking for one that showed the moment you lifted your shirt and maybe when you gave your jersey away. She should feel bad that she was looking for the moment you put your abs on full display. 

But she didn't. 

She had been slightly obsessed since you sent her a bathroom mirror picture after the game the US had played against Canada, your shirt pulled up to your chin to show off the perfect impression of a cleat on your skin. And getting to see them in person in her kitchen had only made things worse.

Maybe it was slightly more than slightly…

If you didn’t want her to look, you certainly wouldn’t have sent her the picture, but still. With the parade of women that always seemed to be surrounding you, she wasn’t sure that you had really given it that much thought. 

She sighed, scrolling through the feed, pausing on a picture that had been taken of you after the game. 

She really shouldn’t be this invested in you, not when your reputation was that of a player. 

She didn’t want to be played. Not again. 

But you were different with her. You weren’t the arrogant soccer player posing for photos, or winking at fans. You were sweet and charming and it took almost no effort to make you blush. 

And… she groaned, swiping to the next picture. 

Your arm was slung low across a girl's back as you guided her into a car, a wide smirk pulling at your lips. It left nothing of your plans to the imagination, but maybe that’s why you had done it. 

You wanted to world to think you were a fuck boy. You wanted them to believe that you had an impenetrable shell. 

She rolled her eyes. 

She knew differently. 

That didn’t mean that it didn’t send jealousy through her veins when she saw the pictures, even if she didn’t really have the right to be jealous. 

She sighed again, scrolling past the pictures. 

At least she knew that you were still technically single (though that might have actually been worse). 

Her phone buzzed in her hand, and she grabbed the message from the top of the screen. 

It was a picture of a bag of cookies.

Soccer Hottie: Kelley made me cookies. They weren’t as good as yours

She smiled at the screen, her jealousy melting. Though she was slightly disappointed a picture of your face hadn’t been included. 

I can make you more when you visit me

Soccer Hottie: I’d like that 😘. I’ll have to check my schedule. 

At least she got a part of you that none of your hookups did. She got to see the things you cared about. She got to see your likes and dislikes. 

That was more than any of your hookups would ever get, and that made it easier to be your friend. 

*****

June 2016

I watched from a distance as you Made life your own

“You know I hate this game,” You sighed, resting your chin on your hand and staring at the Scrabble board. 

It was the same expression you made when you stared at the stupid app Taylor made you download so you could play her, except no one was ever there to heckle you while you tried to figure out what your next move should be. 

She also didn’t rush you or set a timer so you couldn’t take all day. 

“It’s better than Monopoly,” Emily shrugged, extending her legs so her feet were resting in Rose’s lap. “Last time we played there was a fistfight,” 

Rose hummed, squeezing Emily’s foot and shifting the tiles on her little ledge. “That’s why we switched to monopoly deal,” 

Board games were a staple during the downtime at camp, and this one was no different. With Rose (and Emily by default since they started dating) as your roommate(s), you had been roped into a quick Scrabble game while you all waited for team bonding. 

She reached out and placed 4 of her pieces, forming the word Focus around your word Cracker.

You frowned. You had been planning to make the word cutter, but now your c was gone and there was no way for you to connect to Emily’s R on the other side (though you weren’t sure exactly what word she had created considering the two center letters kept flipping in your head). 

You liked Monopoly better. It didn’t make your head hurt so much. 

Plus it was one of the few games where you always kicked Alex’s ass. 

“I still think you two have an unfair advantage over me,” you muttered, puffing out your cheek and pulling out your phone. You smiled as you scrolled to a very familiar contact. 

Emily’s eyebrows furrowed. “What are you doing?” 

“Leveling the playing field,” You shot her a wide smirk, as the ringing of the FaceTime app stopped and the little boop that meant your favorite person had answered sounded through the room. “Hey Scrabble queen,”

“Hey, what’s up?” Her lips ticked up in a smile that she only used when she was with you, and you saw an unfamiliar painting and a microphone behind her.

She must be at the studio. 

You knew she was working on an album, though you’d been reluctant to hear any spoilers. You didn’t want to hear about a new… love interest. You didn’t think you could take it, and you needed to focus if the team was going to do well at the Olympics. 

“I need your help,” You pouted at the phone, making your eyes as big and innocent as you could. “Im shitty at scrabble and I don’t want to lose to Rosie and Emily,”

Taylor rolled her eyes at you. 

“Hey! Why do you get to phone a friend!?” Emily exclaimed, reaching for the phone, and the semi-familiar voice on the other end. “Is it the person who was with you last time I called?” 

You shrugged nonchalantly, shifting so she couldn’t steal your phone without looking at your tiles (thereby disqualifying her). “Because I’m dyslexic,” 

“You’re getting better actually. You got a triple word last week,” Taylor said, and your eyes darted back toward her. You hadn’t told her it was really Kelley who saw the triple word yet. “Can you show me the board and your letters please?” 

“You didn’t answer my question, is this mystery girl?” Emily cut back in, even as Rose held her foot so she didn’t try to tackle you to see who you had called. 

“She’s not a mystery,” You scrunched your nose and flipped the camera, giving Taylor a good view of the board. “She’s my friend,” 

Rose raised her eyebrow at you. “Then what’s her name, you know so we can call her something else?” 

“Taylor,” You answered with an easy shrug, not really thinking about it. 

You doubted they’d make the connection anyway. 

Not unless Taylor said something incriminating, and you doubted she would considering how careful she was. 

“Ok, I think I’ve got it. I’ll text you the next couple of moves,” Taylor said, looking sideways over the phone and nodding. “I’ll talk to you later, I’ve gotta go,” 

“Thank you!” You flipped the camera around and sent her a goofy smile.

“Anytime,” She mirrored your smile and blew you a little kiss. “Talk to you later babe,” 

You caught the kiss and waved, staring at the phone for a very long second even after it had gone back to your Lock Screen. 

It made your chest feel warm that even when she was busy, she answered your calls. That she always made time for you. 

“If she’s your friend, then you have one hell of a crush,” Emily said, drawing you back to the moment. 

You blinked back up at the pair, the warm feeling in your chest replaced with sudden anxiety. “What?” 

“She called you babe,” Rose supplied, her voice very soft like she was afraid to startle you. 

They all knew of your… reluctance to settle down, and she couldn’t help but feel like there was a deeper reason behind it that they were all overlooking. 

Emily snorted, not catching the hesitance in Rose's voice. “And you stared at the phone after you hung up for a solid 30 seconds,” 

Red immediately flooded your cheeks, and your hand clenched at your side. “We’re just friends,” 

Even if you enjoyed the flirting and your feelings were slowly surpassing the boundaries of friendship. She would never want someone like you. 

You were just a kid compared to her, bumbling your way through your career and fucking it up at every turn. 

Plus she was straight. 

It was too cliche for you to handle. 

“Ok,” Rose conceded, shooting Emily a very serious look to not push you more. 

It never turned out well when they pushed. 

“It’s still your turn,” Emily said, her voice also going soft, gesturing towards the scrabble board. “Let’s see how good the mystery Taylor really is,”

You hummed, pulling up the text, and ignoring the little Good luck 😜 that accompanied her instructions. 

Your tongue made its way between your teeth as you read the step-by-step text, each letter separated by a double space, and you slowly reached for the letter tiles and slid them into place, forming the word Resonate with the help of two of Emily’s words and one of Roses. 

“Ha, a quadrupole word,” You cheered, typing out a thank you text to Taylor as Emily groaned. 

Rose rolled her eyes, still smiling softly at you.“And let me guess, it’s the easiest one she sent you?” 

She hadn’t seen you this… engaged in a long time. She hadn’t seen you so… happy, not since you started playing at North Carolina, and she hadn’t seen you show more interest than a quick one-night stand. 

“Yep,” You popped the p and smiled wickedly at them. “read it and weep losers,”

“You’re only winning because of the mystery scrabble queen,” Emily pouted. “What, does she have an entire empire made of word blocks too?”

“She’s not a fucking mob boss. She’s just a friend, and I told you, it’s fair because it levels the playing field,” You shrugged, failing to mention that the butterflies Taylor sent swirling in your chest were much more than friendly. 

It wasn’t like they hadn’t beaten you each time you played this game before. “Now make your move before I sic the time turtle on you and you have to draw a wicked wango card,” 

Rose raised her eyebrow at you. “Since when did you watch Friends? 

“Yeah! I thought you hated anything remotely scripted besides superhero movies and Indiana Jones?” Emily added, crossing her arms indignantly. “It’s how you get out of literally every movie bonding night,” 

Your shoulders lifted and fell, and red bled into your cheeks. 

You hadn’t really minded the comedy eating kettle corn with Taylor in a massive pillow fort, though Meredith and Olivia pawing at your bowl while Taylor pouted at their adamant ignoral of her had made it all worth it (they had been very unhappy about the quick baths she made them take because they were covered in flour from your little food fight). 

Plus you thought that Bamboozled was probably the only game show that wouldn’t put you to sleep (you agreed with Joey that it wasn’t that complicated). 

“Friends doesn’t really have a plot,” You muttered, looking down at your phone and moving your tiles around so you didn’t have to think about your next move. “And it’s funny so it’s not so bad,” 

Rose made a low noise, poking Emily with her toes, telling her not to push.

She had a feeling that your sudden interest in the show had more to do with who you were watching it with than the comedy. And she wouldn’t be the one to meddle in what was your first real relationship. 

She wouldn’t let Emily either. 

The wrath that would meet them from all the vets and your older sister was not something she wanted to deal with. 

“Come on Sonny, make your move,”

******

July 2016

But I stay when you're lost, and I'm scared, and you're turning away

2016 was the summer of the apocalypse. 

There was no other way to put it. 

You never thought a singular PK could turn your team and the rest of the world against you. But it did. 

You only got to play the last 10 minutes of the game, and your only job was to make the penalty. 

But you missed it. Badly. 

Jill made it clear before you were even back in the locker room that you would need to earn your way back. Roary had benched you as soon as you returned to Chicago. But the worst was the media, and the slew of hate that had been unleashed on you the second your foot left the ball. 

It rivaled the hate Hope was getting, and that was saying something. 

You blew out a long breath, took another swig of your lukewarm beer and slowly kicked the ball back toward the PK spot. 

One of the few benefits to Chicago was that the high school soccer field was within walking distance from your shitty apartment. The other was that the high school soccer field stayed open all night and had good lighting. 

You took another swig before gently setting the bottle next to four of its already empty friends, and setting up for the kick. It should have concerned you that the ball was slightly blurry, or that you were a bit wobbly on your feet, but it didn’t.  

Not when you so clearly saw your path to regaining your future. 

You rolled your neck, squaring your shoulders and looking from the ball to the net. You could imagine the thousands of people screaming, and the keeper jockeying in her line, waiting for you. 

You took another breath, leaning forward. You shuffled your feet, starting the countdown in your head. 

5

4

3

2

But just before you got to 1, your phone buzzed in your pocket, pulling your focus from the upper right corner of the net just as you fell into step for the pk. The ball connected with your foot at the wrong angle, and was sent flying into the stands instead of towards goal. 

“Fuck,” You muttered, running a hand through your hair and pulling the offending device from your back pocket. 

Blondie👱🏻‍♀️🎤: Hey, you ok? They said you weren’t on the bench, but didn’t give a reason.

You couldn’t help the small smile that pulled at your lips when you saw Taylor’s contact on your Home Screen, even if you had to squint to make out her message. 

She was one of the only people who was still talking to you after the Olympics. One of your only friends who hadn’t ditched you. 

She liked you for you, and what you did on the pitch didn’t change that. Maybe that was why you were so drawn to her. Why the hangouts had gotten more frequent? 

Maybe you just liked hanging out with her.

You took three steps back towards your drinks, plopping down and grabbing your beer. 

I’m good. Cosch bwndnwd me bdcajwe hd thihls I zuck.

You swallowed the last of the sudsy liquid as you hit send, lining it up with the others and reaching for a new one as 3 little dots appeared. 

Blondie 👱🏻‍♀️🎤: ???

You sighed, cracking the bottle open with your cleat and typing out your response. Your fingers slipped across the screen, and it took you a second to find the send button. 

Hd said I’k not aolowed badk pn the vrncn until I deserve to bd a profrsakonal spcver player abIN/

The message instantly went to read, but the three little dots didn’t appear again. 

You shrugged, taking a long sip of your beer (nearly downing the entire thing) before you placed the bottle next to its partners and began to kick a new ball toward the penalty spot, your phone dangling dangerously between your fingers. 

You let out a long breath, lining up for the shot, your eyes lifting from the fuzzy ball to the equally fuzzy net. 

But your phone buzzed in your hand before you could step into the kick. You lazily held it up to your face, clicking the accept button when you saw the FaceTime logo. 

“Whad upp T-Swizzle,” You smiled dopily at Taylor’s face as she appeared on the screen, the stadium lights glinting off of your glassy eyes. 

“Hey, are you ok? Your texts were kinda crazy,” She asked, her eyebrows furrowing with worry at your slurred speech. 

“‘M great!” You cheered, spinning in place as if to show how great you were. 

Her frown deepened. “You sound drunk?”

You rapidly shook your head. “‘M nottt,” Your voice caught on the last t, and you quietly stared at her for a long second before your dopey smile was back.  “‘M practicin’ PKs. Wanna see?” 

“No, Y/n,” She said, trying to sound stern. But it was too late, you had already flipped the camera around to face the goal. 

“Those arrr the ones I made,” You slurred, the camera shaking violently as you tried to focus on each of the balls that had made it to the back of the net. 

The camera then suddenly jerked, panning towards the bleachers. “And those arr the ones I missed. I missed a lot. I suckkkk,” 

Several balls were haphazardly strewn across a set of rusting bleachers and lying by a dilapidated fence. But what really caught Taylor’s attention was a silver and gold cardboard box and a pile of empty bottles sitting at the gate.

She sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. She knew that things had been difficult for you, but she never expected you to get drunk and go to a random field at night. Or to make your way through a case of beer like she was sure you had. “Y/n turn the camera around,”

It took you a second to flip the camera back around, but your now somber face met her when you finally got it. 

She tried not to think about how adorable your pout was (an expression you rarely ever used when you were sober). 

“How many beers have you had?” She asked you seriously. 

“Few?” you shrugged, squinting towards where the box was and biting your lip. “Almost gone,”

“I can see that,” She breathed out, trying to stay calm. “How big of a pack did you buy?” 

Your grin returned, and you threw your arms out wide, spinning in a circle. “The biggggest,”

“Y/n,” Taylor sighed again, waiting for you to get back in frame. “Where are you? I’m gonna send a car to pick you up,”

“No. I gotta clean up annd practice so I can play,” You said, looking away from the camera, biting your lip. “I gotta nooot suckkk,” 

“You don’t suck,” Taylor said, already pulling up her contacts. “Tell me where you are, and I will help you clean up before the car arrives,” 

The line went quiet for a long second, and she looked up to see your eyebrows furrowed. She wasn’t sure if you were just trying to think, or if you were trying not to cry (it was hard to tell with how red and glassy your eyes were). 

“Y/n?”

“I don’ suck?” Your bottom lip wobbled. 

She shook her head. 

“No. You missed a shot. It happens to everyone,” She repeated your own words back to you, ones she had heard you speak hundreds of times. Ones she meant with all of her heart. “Now tell me where you are. I’m worried about you,” 

You buzzed your lips. “The high school field by my apartment,” 

“Ok,” She said, feeling the knot in her chest loosen as she scrolled through her contacts and sent a frantic text to her security. Jason would send someone to get you. Someone who would keep you safe. “I have someone coming to get you,” 

“I gotta clean up,” You poked your bottom lip out, stumbling over to the ball bag and struggling to get it open one-handed. 

“I’ll stay on the line with you while you do,” Taylor said, keeping her voice soothing, and calm, even as she sent more frantic texts to her security and assistant moving her schedule around for the next few days. “And Tony will help once he gets there,” 

You paused, from where you were sloppily gathering up balls and looked at the camera with wide eyes. “Iron man?” 

Taylor resisted the urge to roll her eyes or coo at the adorable expression (though she did store it away in her memory bank for later recollection). “No, not the same Tony,” 

You frowned, stumbling towards the stands and using a foot using push the balls to the bottom so you could gather them. 

You tripped as you stepped up onto the silver seating, intent on getting the stray ball you had sailed to the top of the stands. “Nashatasha wass cuter anyway,” 

“Yeah,” Taylor said slowly,her eyes scrunching as you nearly tumbled down the open side of the bleachers. “Why don’t you sit down? Tony is almost there to help you anyway. He can get the rest of the balls,”

All she needed was for you to fall out of the stands and hurt yourself. 

Your tongue poked between your teeth like you were thinking before the phone shook violently as you plopped down onto the bleachers and rested your chin on your hand. “Kay,”

She blew out a breath as you blinked lazily at her. “Don’t worry, Tony will be there soon,” 

She said the words for herself as much as she said them for you. She didn’t like the idea of you being drunk and alone on a random high school field in the middle of the night. 

She needed you to be safe, and ok. It was a protective instinct that curled around her chest in a way that it had only for one other person. 

Tony would be there soon, and they would get you back to your apartment and she would be able to breathe again. 

OoOoOoOo

“Alright, I think I’ve got her all settled,” A salt and pepper-haired man said, as he tucked your Arsenal blanket under your chin as you snorted softly on the couch. His mirror-finish aviators hung from his v-neck shirt, something more casual than anything Taylor had ever seen him wear before. 

It was a testament to how quickly he had abandoned his vacation to help her (and you by extension), and for that, she would be forever grateful. 

“Thank you, Tony,” She said softly, keeping her voice down so she didn’t wake you. “Really,” 

“It’s no problem ma’am,” He waved her off, his southern drawl calming whatever worry was still left in her chest. “I was happy to help when Jason contacted me, and Ms. Morgan is a very cooperative drunk,” 

You had been incredibly well-behaved when Tony arrived, allowing him to guide you into the back of the SUV and then giving him your apartment address and your keys with no arguments. You didn’t even complain when he basically carried you up the stairs because you were too wobbly to walk. She wasn’t sure if it was because she was on the phone with you, or if you were just too tired to fight.

“Hopefully we don’t have more of these encounters to compare it against,” Taylor said, glancing at the text from her personal assistant. “Casey texted me, my plane is ready, so I should be there fairly soon,” 

Tony made a low noise of agreement, placing a glass of water and an Advil on the coffee table next to your sleeping form, and taking a few steps back to sit on one of the stools, shifting so he could check that the three distinct dog bowls below him also had water. 

The three huskies had refused to leave your side as soon as he got you laid down on the couch. 

“I’ll stay outside her door until you arrive in case there are any issues,” Tony said, looking around your tiny apartment yet again to make sure that there wasn’t anything else he could do so that you would be comfortable when you woke up. “Would you like to stay on the line?” 

Taylor nodded. “That would be great,” 

Even though he was there, she wanted to stay too. She needed to be present in case you woke up. She didn’t want you to feel alone, especially when it seemed your team had abandoned you. 

Tony stood, plugging in your phone and setting it up on the coffee table so that Taylor had a clear view of your sleeping face. 

“I’ll be just outside the door, and my phone is on in case you need me,” He said, squatting so he could look into the camera, and send her a small smile. “I’ll see you when you get here,” 

She sent him a wave as he disappeared, leaving the two of you alone (save for the gray huskie who had wiggled under your arm and the black one who was curled up behind your head). 

She let out a long breath, watching the slow rise and fall of the edge of your Arsenal blanket. 

You looked so young in your sleep.

You were young, she had to remind herself. You were barely 19, even if you wanted to act like you were so much older. Even if you had more responsibilities and people scrutinizing you than most other people your age. 

You shifted, pulling the blanket closer to your face, one eye sleepily blinking open. 

“Tay?” 

She hummed, keeping her voice soft. “Yeah, I’m still here,” 

You shifted, wrapping your arm tighter around the gray husky in your arms. 

“Don’t ever leave,” You murmured the words into the dog's fur so softly that Taylor almost didn’t hear them. “I like you too much. Even if I don’t deserve you,” 

“I like you too,” She smiled gently at the words that sent butterflies swirling in her chest. “Go back to sleep,”

She had liked you too for a very long time, even if she was still hesitant to admit it. 

“Noooo,” You pouted, forcing your eyes further open to look at her. They were breathtakingly blue, just like your older sisters. “I like you like Alex likes Kelley, but I’m not supposed to. You’re too good,” 

Her eyebrows furrowed. 

Why weren’t you supposed to like her? What did you mean that she was too good? 

“And you’re straight,” You added, shifting so your nose was hiding behind the dog in your arms. 

“You can like me Y/n,” She murmured, wanting nothing more than to reach out and brush your messy curls from in front of your sleepy eyes. “I like you too,”

It wouldn’t be worth it to argue with your assumption of her sexuality now anyway. You were too drunk to remember in the morning. 

Your eyes blinked open wider in an adorable doe-eyed expression. “Really?”

“Yes,” She nodded, her lips ticking up impossibly more at your adorableness. “Now sleep. I’ll see you soon,” 

You made a low noise, your eyes sliding closed as you snuggled your nose into the dog under your arm. 

She waited for your breathing to even out, (and several minutes after that) before she clicked off the call to catch her flight. She could watch your sleep for the rest of your lives, and still not get enough. 

She wondered if you were dreaming of her, or of soccer balls and shots that you didn’t miss. Or maybe you were dreaming of a world where one kick didn’t have your teammates and friends turning their backs on you. 

Maybe one day she would ask you. 

OoOoOoO

The first thing you noticed as you came into consciousness was that your mouth felt like it was full of cotton and your head felt like Ashlyn had used it as a ball during punting practice, or like Megan had used it to practice her perfect PKs.

You groaned, shifting on the couch, accidentally displacing the three dogs that had cuddled in around you at some point. 

You had no idea why you were sleeping on the couch, instead of in the king-sized bed you had purchased so the 4 of you had room. 

Come to think of it, you didn’t actually remember how you got here. 

The last thing you remembered was cracking open your 4th beer and gathering your balls so you could shoot more penalties. You didn’t exactly like how the sudsy liquid tasted, but it did an excellent job at dulling the ache in your chest that had settled as soon as you took that fucking PK. 

The ache that went ignored by your sister and your teammates who were too wrapped up in their own grief to even check on you. 

You groaned, running a hand through your hair. At least you remembered to close the blinds, and put out Advil and water for yourself? 

You pushed yourself up, closing your eyes when your apartment spun around you, and pressing your fingers to the bridge of your nose. 

Three cold noses nudged your skin, and you slowly worked your eyes open and reached for the tall glass. 

“I’m ok guys,” You mumbled towards the three dogs sending you worried looks and took a large sip of the still-cool water. “It’s like when I give you guys too many treats,” 

The gray huskie on your left wined, butting her head into your arm. You reached over with your free hand to scratch behind her ear. “I’m ok Art, nothing a good cup of coffee can’t fix,” 

The red dog to your left also nudged you and you rolled your eyes, setting the glass down so you could scratch his head too, and you eyed the black dog still contently cuddled into your left leg. 

He was always the most chill of the floof pack, happy to just be in your presence. 

You would be happy to stay here all day. To let them love away the empty feeling that lingered after you like a bad cough. 

You blinked as a knock sounded at your door, the levity in your chest deflating like a popped balloon. 

It was probably one of your teammates coming to scold you for not sitting in the stands at last night's game. For ditching it instead of taking your punishment.  

The knock sounded again, and you blew out a long breath as you forced yourself to your feet. “I’m coming,” 

Artemis and Apollo trailed after you, stopping by the counter like they had been trained, and Orion stayed on the couch, watching over the living room like a centennial. 

You rolled your eyes at him, running a hand through your hair again, trying to at least pretend you were presentable, as you grabbed the door handle (barely even bothered that the deadbolt wasn’t latched)

You froze when you saw a head of blond hair and the bluest eyes you had ever seen instead of one of your teammates. 

“Taylor? What are you doing here?” You frowned, opening the door wider with one hand and rubbing your tired eyes with the other, hoping it would quell the dizziness that actually standing brought on. “Don’t you have a recording thing today?”

“I have a recording thing every day,” She said, stepping closer to the door. “You scared the shit out of me and I needed to come to check on you myself,” 

Your eyebrows furrowed. 

How had you scared her? Did you call her? 

“Sorry. I don’t really remember the details of last night,” You opened the door wider, your hand lingering in your curls. “Do you wanna come in?”

Taylor nodded, stepping closer to you. “I’d like that,” 

Took a step back, looking behind you towards the dogs. 

“The gray one is Artemis and the red one is Apollo. Orion is black and probably hiding out here somewhere, he’s not a big fan of meeting new people,” You gestured towards the husky’s two waiting for their release command. “Do you want to say hello? They won’t jump, but I know you’re more of a cat person,” 

She looked over your shoulder, nodding. “Yeah,” 

You turned towards the dogs, waving across your waist. “Vale, saluda,” 

Art sniffed at you as she pushed herself up and slowly waltzed past you, Apollo close on her tail as they made their way over to Taylor. 

She tensed like she expected them to tackle her, but they didn’t. Apollo politely sniffed at the hand she had extended as Art circled her twice before nudging gently against her leg, asking to be pet. 

“They’re so well-behaved,” Taylor said softly, her fingers winding their way into the soft fur of Art’s neck. 

“Thanks,” You said, watching carefully as Apollo pressed his into Taylor’s other leg, indicating he wanted to be pet too. “They’re pretty mellow for huskies, as long as they've had their exercise,”

Art paused as Taylor’s other hand began to scratch Apollo's back, and you sighed, pointing away from the two of you. “De,”

Yes, they were well-behaved, but their relationship was also similar to the one you shared with your sister. Apollo liked to rile his older sister up, just like you loved to get a rise out of Alex. 

You didn’t think that Taylor would appreciate a play fight breaking out. 

Art sniffed at you, but did as you asked, her nails tapping as she trotted off towards the living room with Apollo at her heels. 

Maybe they would go find Orion and show him the visitor wasn’t so scary. 

“Want a drink?” You asked, awkwardly scratching the back of your neck with one hand and gesturing to the small bar in your kitchen with the other. “I think I have coffee somewhere,”

It was mundane in comparison to Taylor’s full marble kitchen. Small and disheveled on all accounts. 

The linoleum blue counter had a crack running down the center and you knew that both wooden stools wobbled dangerously when they weren’t in the right spot. But Taylor didn’t complain as she followed you. 

“Coffee would be great,” She hummed, and the stools squeaked as she settled onto one and placed her bag on the other. “I think you could use some too after the night you had,”

You shrugged, turning your back on her, pulling the coffee out of the freezer, and settling up the coffee maker. “What happened last night?”

You didn’t turn to look at her, busying yourself in grabbing 2 coffee mugs and a glass and getting the milk and a carton of orange juice from the fridge. You would have offered her a glass too, but considering how often you drank directly from the carton, you didn’t think it was a good idea. 

“Well,” She drew out the word, and you felt her eyes on you as you moved through the kitchen. “I texted you because you weren’t on the bench, and you responded mostly with self-deprecating gibberish, so I called you,” 

You made a low noise in the back of your throat, grabbing your sugar jar and sliding it towards her, but not meeting her eyes. “I was probably a couple beers deep at that point,”

“Just a couple?” You could almost hear her raised eyebrows, and you finally turned to look at her, placing the coffee pot between you. 

You shrugged, smiling impishly as you poured yourself a cup of coffee. “A few more than a couple,”

“Try a 24-pack,” Taylor scoffed, pouring herself her own cup of coffee. “You’re lucky you didn’t get alcohol poisoning,”

You set your coffee on the counter, sucking all the warmth you could from your mug, your blasé mask cracking. 

“I didn’t drink it all last night,” You said, finally meeting her eyes. “I only had like 13 left,”

She sighed, reaching out and catching your hand. “Still,” 

You paused, blowing out a very long breath. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you, or make you fly all the way out here and waste a day,”

Her eyebrows furrowed at the end of your sentence. The rapid turn in conversation. 

“I’m not wasting anything,” She said slowly. “You obviously needed someone and I’m happy I could be here for you,”

You grimaced. You didn’t deserve to have someone there for you. 

You were the one who fucked up the team. The one who ruined everything. 

“Hey,” Taylor squeezed your hand again, drawing your eyes back to her, like she could read your thoughts. “No time I spend with you is a waste,”

Red flooded your cheeks, up to your ears, and you tried to hide it with a sip of your too-hot coffee. 

She smiled gently at you, looking at the microwave clock behind you. “But we can talk about that later. You have to get ready for practice,” 

“I’m not going,” You scoffed, taking another sip. “There’s no point,” 

“Y/n, avoiding practice isn’t going to fix what’s happening,” She said, her voice patient.  “It’ll only make it worse,” 

A dark look crossed your features. 

“It can’t get worse,” You said, your voice too calm. Too dangerous. “I’ve already been told I won’t be fielding for the rest of the season, and Mallory Pugh has been called into camp to replace me. My soccer career is over at the ripe old age of 19,” 

Despite your efforts to hide it, she could still hear the misery in your voice. The utter defeat. 

Her head tilted to the side, and she took a strategic sip of her coffee. “I thought you didn’t lose?” 

You shook your head. “This is different,” 

You couldn’t fight the system. Not when it was so dead set on driving you out. 

If only you could be like your perfect older sister. 

“Is it though?” She asked, too nonchalantly. “Prove them wrong. Show up and shove it in their faces,” 

You sighed. You knew exactly what she was doing. You always responded better to challenges than to comfort. 

Plus if you left, you weren’t sure Taylor would be here when you returned, and you preferred spending time with her over a useless practice anyway. 

“And I’ll be waiting here for you after practice,” She added as if sensing one of the reasons for your hesitation. “We can grab some dinner and hang out. But first, you need to go kick some ass. It’ll make you feel better anyway,”

You took another long sip of your coffee, before nodding begrudging. 

She was right. Skipping practice would only make things worse, even if going would suck anyway. 

OoOoOoO

“Rough night?” Christen smirked at you, bumping your shoulder as you jogged onto the practice field, fixing your practice jersey. 

You shrugged, sending the striker a half smile. “Something like that,”

She caught the collar of your practice jersey, peeking at the skin underneath it. “I don’t see any hickeys so it couldn’t have been too bad,” 

You batted her hand away, unable to stop the smile that accompanied your rolled eyes. “I don’t have any. I didn’t hook up last night,”

She raised her eyebrow at you. 

It was rare you skipped a team thing unless it was for a girl, even when you weren’t on the bench. She knew that you had been bedhopping more to cope with the loss at the Olympics and the tenuous situation with both the national team and Chicago that you found yourself in. 

She supposed it was a way for you to distract yourself, even if she didn’t think it was what was best for you. 

“Roary was pissed you weren’t at the game,” She said instead of pushing. You were an adult, and what you did off the field was really none of her business. 

“I know,” You mumbled, stepping into line behind Huerta, scratching the back of your neck, a strange look crossing your face. “I already had a meeting with him. It’s why I missed activation,” 

Christen frowned. “He wasn’t too hard on you, was he?” 

He had a reputation for being… abrasive, and Christen was aware of how many times he had been so with you. 

You shrugged again. It wasn’t like Christen could do something about how awful he was. Plus you knew Christen would report anything you said right back to Alex. 

“No more than usual,” You said, sounding uninterested.  “We actually talked about how I’ve improved since coming back from Rio,” 

While he had assigned you 8 laps after practice, overall the meeting hadn’t gone as badly as you feared. Considering how awful the Red Stars were performing with you not even allowed on the bench, you shouldn’t have been so surprised that he was sticking you back in the starting 11 for the midweek game. 

So despite his critique of your personality and playing style, he had conceded that Chicago scored more when you were on the field to service Christen. You would take it as a win. 

Christen’s eyebrows furrowed, not quite believing you. “That’s good I guess,” 

You made a low noise, watching Sofia run the drill so you knew what was happening. 

It was a simple give-and-go with the midfielders, and a shot on goal. 

It would be easy. 

And frankly, it was easy. 

Your fingers wiggled as you watched Sofia launch the ball just over the crossbar, waiting for the goalkeepers to swap so the striking coach would send you the ball. 

You let yourself sink into the drill, and just as he passed you the ball, it was like your brain turned off. You easily tapped it to Colaprico, skirting around Krueger and turning just in time to receive the through ball the midfielder sent back. 

It only took a little flick of your heel to get past Naeher, and send the ball into the back of the net, and head to the back of the other line with little fanfare. 

“Nice shot,” JJ reached out her hand for a low five as you passed her, and you tilted your chin at her as you passed, a smile playing on your lips. 

Taylor had been right, playing did make you feel better. 

And you didn’t have to think about the butterflies her presence sent flying in your stomach. 

“Maybe you have the Morgan gene after all,” Roary said gruffly, stepping onto the practice pitch, his hand landing heavily on your shoulder.

Your back went straight and the hint of a smile slid off your face. 

“I might be able to make an acceptable attacking midfielder of you yet,” He continued, oblivious to how rigid your posture was. 

Christen cleared her throat, casually stepping between the two of you and forcing him to let go. “That was a really good goal. I bet you and Al could make that work for the national team too,”

“Hm,” You made a low noise of agreement, looking away from her. 

You didn’t want to say that with your reputation, you doubted you would ever get a call up again. You were pretty sure Jill already blacklisted you anyway.

“We’ll have to see about that,” Roary chuckled, and his hand found your shoulder again, squeezing tightly. “A few extra film sessions could help,” 

A shiver ran down your spine. You hated film sessions, especially with Roary, but you nodded anyway. 

It wasn’t like you had a choice. Roary always got what he wanted.

He squeezed your shoulder one more time before heading off to harass someone else, but you knew he would be back. You were one of his favorite targets. 

“You know you don’t have to do sessions with him,” Christen said when he was out of earshot, and you looked away. 

She could never understand that you couldn’t say no to him. That your precariousness with both the Red Stars and the USWNT meant that you couldn’t piss off a coach. It meant that you were at his mercy, even if you didn’t want to admit it. 

“He’s an asshole, but he has some good insights,” You said, watching as JJ ran the opposite side of the drill with Huerta. 

Christen used a finger under your chin to force you to look back at her. “That’s not what I asked you,” 

“I know Chris,” You said with too much force, jerking away from her. “I can handle Dames. Right now, I need all the help I can get to show Jill that I deserve my fucking spot. If he wants to help, then so be it,” 

She paused, her hand still hovering in the air where your chin had been. 

“Ok,” She said slowly, her eyebrows furrowing while she tried to decipher your overreaction. “I just wanted to make sure,” 

You swallowed hard, moving up in line. “I know. Sorry, I snapped. I was up late,”

Her lips tilted into a teasing smirk. “Ah yes, you got fucked to get over how Roary fucked you out of your starting spot,”

You threw your head back and groaned, red coloring your cheeks as the line around you erupted in giggles. 

You would never outlive your… reputation, but that was ok because at least it stopped Christen from asking too many questions. Questions that would make their way back to your sister.

They would never believe that the girl who had distracted you wasn’t one you were currently sleeping with anyway. 

“Morgan, you’re up,” The striking coach said, his voice sobering your teammates. “Let’s see if you can do the other half of the drill as well as you did the first,” 

You easily stopped the ball he passed your way, winking towards McCaffrey. “I’ll do better. There’s a reason I’m a midfielder after all,” 

You would have to thank Taylor for making you practice. She was right, it did make you feel better, and you were on your way to proving why you were one of the best in the world.

OoOoOoO

“I can’t believe you’ve never had a burrito before,” You said, biting into your chicken and queso concoction. 

It had been an easy decision to grab Chipotle after practice, one you hadn’t really thought about until the text came through that Taylor didn’t know what to order. 

That she had never been to one of your favorite post-practice restaurants. 

“I’ve just never gotten around to it. They’re not common in Nashville,” She hummed, delicately biting into her own streak and bean creation. “How was practice,” 

You scrunched your nose but decided that pointing out that Chipotle was a national chain (and that you and Emily had eaten at one when you played Australia in Nashville) wasn’t worth it. You felt like there was something… off about her relationship with food, but you didn’t know if you were close enough to be able to bring it up. 

You honestly didn’t know if you were just friends, because the way she looked at you felt like you were edging on something more. 

“Fine,” Your shoulder lifted and fell as you took another bite and swallowed. You grabbed a chip from your bag, shoving it in the top of your burrito. “Apparently I’m starting tomorrow,”

Taylor frowned. “That feels like quite the jump from being left off the roster,” 

She wasn’t entirely sure how the whole selection process worked for roster and starting lineups (despite her recent research into the topic), but it felt very weird for you to go from essentially not on the team to one of the people who would carry it through the game. 

You made a low sound of agreement, swallowing. “I have a feeling it was ownership’s call,” 

Taylor raised an eyebrow at you, clearly asking for a more comprehensive explanation. 

“We lost like 6-0,” You explained. “And our media guy said that the attendance dropped by 40% because I wasn’t on the bench,” 

It was one of the few concessions that Roary made. The team hadn’t been able to break through North Carolina’s midfield without your creativity or ability to draw defenders. They hadn’t been able to supply the forwards or stop the line-breaking balls Zerboni kept sending through, and ultimately it led to a complete creaming of your team. 

They needed you on the field, no matter how loath he was to admit it. That’s why you assumed Armin had overridden the coach's judgment. 

The team brought in less money when they lost. 

Taylor nodded in understanding and the two of you lapsed into silence, slowly munching on your respective burritos. 

“I can’t believe you have a game 2 days apart,” She said after a few minutes. “Doesn’t seem to leave you a lot of time to recover,”

You tilted your head. “The league wants to squeeze in as many matches as they can before the international break,”

“That seems reasonable,” Taylor said, seemingly agreeing with you. 

It didn’t, but the league (and the owners) weren’t really concerned with your health. You were basically a trading card designed to bring them more money. 

You played with the foil around your burrito, biting your lip. “I um… I have an extra pass if you want to come watch,” 

She paused, her grin dipping into a frown. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea. Going out somewhere isn’t always easy,”

Not that she was sure anyone even knew she was in Chicago. So far, there hadn’t been any talk on social media of her impromptu trip, and she had no intention of that changing. 

She didn’t need the space in front of your apartment becoming a circus. Not with the horrible things the press had been saying about her. 

“The seat is in a box, so no one would see you if you decided you wanted to go, and you can use the player’s entrance,” You explained, trying to seem like you didn’t care what her answer would be. Trying to pretend like you wouldn’t care if she decided not to one. “No cameras are allowed in the tunnels,”

Her lips pressed very tightly together, seemingly seeing through your facade. “I just don’t want to take away from your game,” 

“You can’t distract from the match,” You shrugged. “There will already be crazy speculation because I’m on the roster, and the Camp call-ups haven’t been made public yet,” 

She hummed. She knew that the media that you dealt with was different, but still vicious nonetheless. 

Instead of picking apart your outfit choice or your performances on stage, they tore apart your play. They ripped your soccer skills apart and compared you to your sister at every turn. 

“I think it’s horrible that they’re focusing so much on one play,” 

It was still difficult for her to wrap her head around how a singular moment had seemingly derailed your entire career, but then again a single misconstrued phone call had derailed hers. 

You shrugged. It was nothing when compared to what Taylor was dealing with. “At least they’re attacking me for something I actually did. I ended my soccer career with a single kick. You’re being punished for a man’s lies,”

Taylor nodded slowly, taking another bite of her burrito. 

She didn’t think either circumstance was fair, but that was the position that you were both in. You were trapped by your coaches and she was trapped by perception. 

The only thing either of you could do was control the things you could, and enjoy the ride. Everything would even out eventually. 

“I’ll come to your game,” She said, not just because she knew it would make you happy, but also because she wasn’t ready to leave yet, and going to the game would mean spending more time with you. 

Plus, there was no way she would miss seeing you so in your element in person. Not when it was so ridiculously attractive on screen. 

Your whole face lit up. “Really?”

She couldn’t help but smile too. “Yeah, it should be fun,” 

Even if the paparazzi got wind of it, seeing you look so happy for the first time since you returned from Brazil would make it worth it. 

“It’ll be great. I’ll even make sure to score for you,” You said, wiggling excitedly as you cleaned up your burrito wrapper and held the bag up for her as Art and Apollo both sniffed at it (she was shocked they hadn’t even begged for scraps earlier). 

“If you do, you’ve gotta do the backflip celebration,” She chucked, tossing the aluminum wrapped from her burrito into the bag. “That one’s my favorite,” 

You paused, your grin morphing into a mischievous smirk at the mention of your very famous goal celebration. 

“For sure,” You said with your signature wink, and Taylor couldn’t help but burst into laughter. “I’ll do a double if I get a hat trick, just for you,” 

It took a second for her peels of laughter to dissolve into shorter giggles and for her to catch her breath. It was so strange to have the look you always sent fans directed at her. The look she was sure had landed you most of your famous hookups. 

Though it kind of melted her heart that you only used it on her in a comedic sense. That it shifted back to the look she liked to think you saved just for her as soon as her giggles filled the air. 

“Do you want to watch something before dinner?” You asked, sobering and shifting awkwardly on the couch. “The pups and I thought a pillow fort would be cool,” 

Taylor hummed, leaning her chin on her hand. “I think that sounds incredible,” 

The little fist pump you gave was adorable, as was the way the dogs hopped around you, and in that moment she knew. 

When she looked back on this moment, it would be the one she would point to as the moment she knew she was in love. 

OoOoOoO

Taylor had been to a lot of places in her life. She had played down the road from Seat Geek Stadium in Chicago many times. 

But she had never gotten to see this side of the city. 

She had never gotten to be normal and watch a game without hordes of people screaming for her attention. She hadn’t even needed to use the special player entrance. The stadium attendants had escorted them to the box with zero fanfare, and she felt safe sitting in the open area of the box with the promise that the cameras rarely panned it. 

She didn’t even regret not bringing extra security like she thought she would. 

Her heart also fluttered each time you glanced up at the box, smiling impossibly wider each time she waved.  

It was like the little lanyard pass you had given her (and Tony) was an invisibility cloak.

It was an addictive feeling to be so… free. To be hidden to the rest of the world but so visible to you. 

“She’s really on fire tonight,” Tony said, glancing over at the game clock. 

You had only been on the field for 15 minutes, and you had already scored twice. 

“She’s got a lot to prove,” Taylor hummed, leaning forward in her seat as you slotted another better ball between the two opposing team’s defenders. “This is the first time she’s gotten to play since the Olympics,” 

You had already told her that you probably wouldn’t get to play the full first half anyway. Your coach was stuck on the penalty you took in Brazil just like the rest of the world was, even if Taylor didn’t see a point in basing your playtime off of it. 

That meant you had limited minutes to prove to them that you deserved to be on the pitch. To make them regret not starting you in other games, 

Tony’s head tilted as number 23 played a quick pass back to you and the ball buried itself into the back of the net with just the tap of your toes for your 3rd goal of the evening. 

It looked easy. Fluid. Even when he knew it was anything but. 

You smiled as the crowd went absolutely wild, tipping an invisible hat towards the bench. 

“I think it has more to do with who’s here,” Tony countered, gesturing towards where you winking towards the player's box was replaying on the Jumbotron. 

She shrugged, ignoring the slight red creeping up her cheeks and his sideways glance. “The team has so much more energy when she’s on the field,” 

Even as the teams got ready to reset, you bounced on your toes, twisting your hips in a way that reminded her of the shake it off dance  and saying words Taylor couldn’t hear to your teammates. Words she was sure were organizing your offense. Words she knew would help you continue to shred your former team, even if she herself wouldn’t understand them (watching a game with you had been like listening to a foreign language as you yelled at the screen, unwilling to translate until it was over). 

“She’s the focal point of their offense,” Tony agreed, deciding not to comment further on Taylor’s blush. “But tonight she’s playing more flashy than she normally plays,” 

Taylor hummed. He was right. 

From what she had seen, you were not generally a selfish player. You liked to serve balls on a platter to make your team look good. You liked to pull defenders and set your strikers up. 

Tonight you hadn’t done that. 

Tonight you had taken the chances for yourself, putting them in the back of the net and making sure the league knew exactly what you were capable of. You wanted to show them how dangerous you could be. 

“She’s proving a point,” Taylor reiterated. 

“I don’t disagree,” Tony said as you slotted a very nice through pass past the first defender, and the second just barely poked it out for a corner kick. You glanced up towards the box as you took your position, a little smirk on your face. “I’m just not sold that she’s only proving a point to the coaching staff, her teammates and the reporters,” 

Taylor’s head tilted. 

It was true that while you didn’t play flashy, you did like to tease the fans (and whoever had caught your eye that week). You knew their obsession with you, and you never missed an opportunity to play it up. 

But this felt different. 

You hadn’t been winking at anyone on the field, or in the stands. The only place you kept looking was over towards the coaching staff and up at her. 

“She doesn’t have anything to prove to me,” She said, sitting back in her chair as your header landed in the keeper's hands. 

Tony smirked. “I know that and you know that,” 

Taylor made a low noise, her eyes flitting to the sideline where the 4th official was getting ready with the sub-board. “I think she knows that too,”

You trudged to the sideline when your number came up, using your jersey to wipe your mouth (flashing your abs to the crowd) and glancing up at the clock. 

Taylor followed your eyes, frowning at the large 25 on the screen. 

It was stupid to take you off when you were playing so well, and the booing from the crowd echoed her sentiment. The fans were about as happy as you looked about coming off, even if it was already expected. 

You ignored your replacement and brushed off the coach's hand, glaring at him as you took the pinny from one of the equipment managers. 

There was an odd friction between you and the man, one that brought out a fierceness and an anger that countered your normally sunny personality. But then again, your personality was much different when you were on the field anyway. 

There was a confidence and swagger about you that made butterflies erupt in her stomach. That made her want you in a way that should make her feel uncomfortable. 

But even now, the way you signed autographs for the fans behind the bench reminded her that you were still you. You were still the sweet and shy, not the cocky character you played on the field (even if she was rather sexy). 

This version of you was the one that melted her heart. 

“She might know that, but I think she wants to impress you anyway,” Tony said, drawing her attention back to him. “It’s cute,” 

Taylor raised an eyebrow at him, clearing her throat and trying to ignore the warmth that moved from her cheeks up to her ears. “Shut up,” 

He chuckled, settling back in his seat, ready for the rest of the game (even if it had considerably slowed down now that you weren’t playing). He had a feeling that he would get to witness many more of your interactions in the future and that he would get to see your insane footwork on the field again if the look on Taylor’s face was anything to go by. 

Getting to see the two of you actually interact together had to be just as adorable, and he was looking forward to it. 

OoOoOoO

You sighed, leaning back on the couch, scratching Orion’s head where he rested it in your lap, just above your air therapy boots, and changing the channel for the 30th time. 

You weren’t actually watching the television, but you thought that some background noise would help alleviate the odd emptiness that had overtaken your apartment. It was quiet in a way you hadn’t expected now that Taylor (and Tony) were gone, and it made you feel like there was a little piece of you missing. 

Post-game recovery was always your least favorite part of the process. It always gave you too much time to think and to worry. To dissect every movement you made on the field. 

But now it also gave you too much time to miss Taylor. 

You understood why she had to leave after a quick congratulations after the game. You knew she was busy and that she needed to be in New York to record. 

That didn’t mean that a part of you didn’t wish she had stayed. 

You shook your head, shifting on the couch (much to Orion's annoyance). 

You weren’t supposed to get attached to Taylor. To people in general, really. 

Experience taught you that they would all leave eventually, no matter what they said or how much they promised you they wouldn’t. 

Your parents forgot about your existence when Alex started getting called up to the U20 team. Alex left you for college and was too wrapped up in her new life to remember you existed either. Your friends all left when they realized that you weren’t worth the effort.

 And Taylor…

She would leave too when she found out about the feelings you harbored for her. 

She would write a song about how you ruined your friendship because you were too selfish to accept that she would never feel like you did. Even if she didn’t, she would leave once she saw how fucked up you really were. 

Still, the little voice in your brain fixated on the chemistry between the two of you. On the moments where you caught her staring at your abs during the game, or how you would swear she was staring at your lips when you met her in the tunnel afterward. 

But she couldn’t like you that way, and if she did it was something more than a sexual curiosity. 

You blew out another breath. 

It wasn’t that you hadn’t crossed that line with your friends before, you had, but you didn’t want it to be like that with Taylor. You didn’t want her to be a fuck buddy or a one night stand that she would regret later. 

You couldn’t cross that line without her leaving you, but you weren’t even sure if there was a line to cross. Hell, you had never had a real relationship so you weren’t even sure if you had already crossed it. 

Did friends do the things you and Taylor did? Did friends fly cross country to help? Did they cuddle in pillow forts? 

You were just… lost. 

You had never felt so… attached before. 

You let your head fall back on the couch with a low thump. You didn’t know what to do, and you couldn’t call the person you normally would (Kelley) because she would tell Alex. 

You grabbed your phone from the edge of the couch, scrolling through your contacts until you found one of the few who weren’t ignoring you for missing the PK. One of the few who you trusted (even if you would get the shit teased out of you). 

You paused, your finger hovering over Emily’s picture. 

She would know what to do. She always knew what to do. 

It took you another second to gain the courage to actually press the call button, and you worried your bottom lip as it started to ring. 

She was definitely going to make fun of you. 

“I need your help,” You said as soon as Emily’s face appeared on the screen. 

“Hello Emily, how are you? I’m fine, thank you so much for asking,” 

“Emily,” You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose, but she just raised her eyebrows expectantly in response. Your shoulders sank. “Hello Emily, how are you?” 

“I’m doing great,” She smiled cheekily back at you. “Now what’s up?”

You ran a hand through your hair, rubbing over the short curls at the back of your neck, trying to mask how nervous you were. 

“I..-“ You stuttered, looking away. “There’s a girl, and I like her, but I have no clue what’s happening or what’s supposed to happen next,” 

She squinted at you. “Are you dating this girl?”

“No,” You breathed out, dragging your hand from your hair to press into your forehead. “I don’t think so. She’s my friend. She’s straight, but there’s all this weird tension, and I’m not sure if she would ever want to date me. I doubt it, cause like I said she’s straight. But she’s really really pretty and we cuddle and I like her a lot but i-“ 

“Y/n,” Emily said, cutting you off mid-ramble, a playful smile pulling at her lips. 

You blinked at her. “Yeah?”

“Let’s just start at the beginning,” She leaned forward, towards the phone, accentuating each syllable. “And talk at a pace where I can actually understand you,” 

“I…I got drunk and missed a game,” You swallowed down your blush and looked away from her raised eyebrow.  “She flew to Chicago to see me because she was worried, and I bought her her first burrito-,” 

“She’s never had a burrito before? What kind of person hasn’t had a burrito?” Emily snorted, and you felt the tension in your chest relax a little. 

You shrugged. “She said she never had one before. She liked it a lot,”

Emily’s head tilted in question, but she waved her hand. “Ok, carry on with your story,” 

You swallowed hard, focusing on how your fingers dug into the spot at the back of your neck“She came to check on me and convinced me to go to practice. I bought her a burrito, and we had Thai for dinner. 

“Did she sleep over?” She asked you, her pointer finger tapping her bottom lip. 

You nodded slowly. “Yeah. The huskies cuddled up with us in a pillow fort and we both fell asleep to survivor,” 

Emily sighed, sending you a pointed look. That wasn’t what she had been asking. “But you didn’t sleep together?” 

Red instantly colored your cheeks, and the pads of your fingers dug further into the muscles at the base of your skull. “Not in the um… traditional sense,” 

You looked away from her, unable to meet her eyes. You couldn’t have Taylor in that way. She didn’t want you. 

And if you crossed that boundary (like you had with only one other person who was a friend) then you knew you would lose her. 

You weren’t ready for that. 

But at the same time, you didn’t know how to not cross it. Not with the feelings still bubbling in your chest. 

Emily’s eyes narrowed. “Is she still there?” 

“No, she had to go back to New York after the game,” You shook your head. “And we’re going to meet up again while you all are at came because there’s a break,” 

Despite how much you didn’t want her to go, you understood that she had responsibilities and music to record, but that didn’t stop the way your chest ached now that she was gone. 

It didn’t stop the confusion racing around your brain. 

Emily stared at you like you had grown 3 heads. “A girl flew to Chicago for you, waited at your shitty apartment while you were at practice, let you bring her lunch and take her out to dinner, then attended a shitty Red Stars game and you still don’t know if she’s into you,” 

You sighed, weaving your fingers through the too-long curls at the base of your neck and tugging. 

“She’s my friend, Emily,” You grit out. 

She raised an eyebrow at you. “The same friend who answers every time you call her,” 

You tugged harder. “You don’t understand,”

Taylor was like that with all of her friends. She made everyone feel like they were the only person she could see. The only person who mattered when she was with them. 

“I understand just fine,” She snorted. “You’re such a dumbass,” 

You sent her a withering glare. “Emily be serious, please,”

She held her hand up in defense. “I am being serious. You’ve been on at least 2 dates, and she invited you to her place. All before the two of you have hooked up. If that doesn’t scream dating, or the desire to be dating, then I don’t know what will,”

You shook your head, dragging your fingers up through your hair and down your face. 

This was why you hadn’t wanted to call Emily. Why Kelley or Alex would have been a much better option. 

“This is not why I called you,” You mumbled. 

“Then what is?” She asked, sounding amused. 

“I…-“ You bit your lip and finally looked up at her, meeting her eyes through the phone. “I don’t know how any of this works, and I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do next,” 

“Well, at some point a conversation should happen where you define what you two are doing,” She said slowly, her voice turning soft but serious. “but other than that, I think you just go with it,”

You squinted. “Just go with it?”

What was her brilliant advice to your crisis? To just… let whatever was going to happen happen. 

“Yeah, if you’re into it and she’s into it, just be into it, together,” She shrugged. “It doesn’t have to be complicated,” 

Part of you wanted to yell that it already was complicated. That you couldn’t cross a line and lose her like you’d lost everyone else. But you didn’t. 

“Ok,” You said. “Thank you,” 

Emily smiled brilliantly back at you. “No problem, I’ll see you soon,”

You stared at the black screen of the phone as she ended the call. 

Maybe she was right. Maybe you just had to go with it and trust your gut. 

Maybe it would all be ok if you didn’t overthink it. That’s why you were good at hookups after all wasn’t it? 

[oepionie]

—"GOTTA ESCAPE THE VOID." overblot mc!

SYNOPSIS: The Ramshackle prefect has a reputation for frequently encountering fatal magical mishaps. And when a magical accident involving Crowley almost kills them, Crewel resolves to take matters into his own hands. But it appears that his impulsive decisions cause the prefect to reach their limit and go off the rails.

⊹ [ cw ] — heavy warnings, please read before you proceed. arguments with father, self-depricating thoughts, mentions of blood, protective parent, thoughts of offing self (only once), overblot mc!, miscommunication w friends, crying, physical fights ◞

⊹ [ tags ] — angst! gender neutral reader, crewel really embodies the 'cruel' in 'cruella', ace gets mad at you :(, deuce tries to comfort you through it all, crowley feels guilt (wow), crewel is vry vry angry and punches crowley, crewel has a mother gothel moment<3◞

⊹ [ w.c ] — 2.5k+◞ | 🦇masterlist◞

YOUR VISION WAS NOTHING, but a myriad of colorful blurs and shapes. Muffled voices spoke to you, but everything was practically just incomprehensible, panicked babbling. The heavy pressure of metal was pressed up against your windpipe, restraining your breath as it wound tighter and tighter. Though, a few seconds later, it vanished as if it had never existed, bursting into bright magical sparks.

The gush and pool of blood surrounds your dirtied, tangled mess of hair, a dark scarlet seeping into the knotted strands. Kneeling before your body, Crowley felt his heart skid to a stop. The sight of your fatigued form writhing around the ground tore at his chest, claws of guilt digging in deep and dragging across thick tissue.

"Prefect…Can you hear me?" The crow murmurs, clawed hands pressing against the side of your pounding head as he guides it to rest atop his lap. Vibrant blooms of red stain the dark fabric of his pants, but he couldn't bring himself to care.

"Dad…it hurts s'much." You slur in hushed tones, your eyes wringing shut from the pain. That was enough for Crowley to put his arms around you.

He shielded your body with his torso, hands clawing at your back as he wracks his mind of what to do next. Hastily turning round, he shifts his gaze to the surrounding students, all of them looking equally mortified.

"What are you standing around there for?! Call the nurse!"

"Y-Yes, sir!"

Drip. Drip

The pungent smell of alcohol and medication fill your senses as you groggily blink awake.

The familiar creaky wood of Ramshackle's ceiling greets you as you pull yourself from dreamland. Looking over both sides of your bed, you smile once you see both Deuce and Ace seated on a nearby couch. Both of them were quick to jump up and approach you, fussing over your bedridden form.

"Thank Sevens." Deuce murmurs, tenderly combing your damp hair back. You roll your head to the side to face him, but wince at the sudden throb of pain in your spine. Ace darts over and hushes you, gently repositioning your head to face front once more, making sure your neck was supported by a pillow. "Hey…It'd be great if you don't move so much…"

“Right. Makes sense. 'Nways…how bad was my injury?” You mutter, your recollections of the past event still foggy. All you could remember was that Crowley had fired a spell, and you somehow got into the crossfire.

“Fucking horrible.” Ace scoffs, looking at you sternly.

"Yeah, take it easy for a bit. The injury was…pretty serious. It was a miracle that the spell missed your head by a thread…" Deuce murmurs as he presses a gentle hand on your bandaged forehead.

Strands of blueberry hair fall loosely at the sides of his face as he stares down at you with worry. "You were out for three days."

"Ah…well—you know, me and my dumb non-magical ass. Always getting into trouble," you giggle, a cheery grin stretching over your cracked lips. Though it rapidly drops when you realize your two friends aren't laughing with you.

Ace shifts his gaze to the floor, hands clasped into a fist. "You're not dumb, prefect…"

"Well—I kinda am," You snort, tugging the blanket closer to your chilly form. "I really have to stop being around the old man's magic shows."

Unconvinced, Ace only shakes his head and scoffs at your jokes. The ginger reclines back into his chair, hands vigorously tugging and pulling at his hair. "You aren't. The real issue here is that deadbeat crow. I mean...hasn't he learnt anythin' from last time? What kind of idiot treats his child—"

"It wasn't his fault, Ace." Pushing yourself off the bed, you immediately interrupt him, voice stern as you rush to defend Crowley. "He didn't mean it. I got in the path of his magic. And—I'm pretty sure he's already beating himself up over this."

Sinking back into the bed, you clasp both your hands together. "It wasn't his fault. Sure, he's reckless and all but…but he's still my dad."

Silence washes over your room.

Ace was visibly frustrated, the blunt tips of his nails dug deep into his skin, nearly piercing past skin. With a final scoff, he stands from his chair and quietly excuses himself from the room.

The door slams shut with a blaring bang as both you and Deuce were left alone.

Sighing, the freshman takes your trembling hand in his, clasping it tight as his body temperature warms the cool skin. He draws your right arm up to press your palm against his cheek, eyes looking deep into yours.

"Professor Crewel is pissed," Deuce whispers as you trace gentle circles on his skin. A pair of shaky cyan eyes meets your concerned ones. "He was planning to—"

Deuce's mouth parted open and close and yet he couldn't bring himself to finish the sentence. You cast a questioning glance his way, but Deuce shakes his head, disregarding your questions.

"…nothing."

Surprise washes over you as you stare down at Deuce's hunched over form. It…wasn't like your friends to be so dismissive.

You, Ace, and Deuce had always been good friends. Sure you had your differences but you always communicated openly with one another. Nobody has ever been this...secretive.

Just…what was happening?

Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip.

The sickening crack of a bone echoes through the faculty room as the rough knuckle of Crewel's fist connects with Crowley's face. The headmaster reels, mask flying off as his hands fly to his bloodied nose.

Everyone in the vicinity quieted as the only noise heard was the potionology professor's labored breathing.

Then, without hesitation, Crewel surges forward. Loud commotion and screaming could be heard in the meeting room as everyone quickly circles around the two. A couple of hands seize Crewel by the arms, but the professor only grows more agitated, attempting to fight past the herd.

"Let me go!" Crewel roars, tugging his arm free as he attempts to swing a fist at the headmaster. "Dire! This is your fucking fault!"

"Divus! Calm yourself!" Trein scolds, arms locked tight around the man's torso. A few more pairs of hands restrain the professor as he is forcibly pushed down onto a couch.

His face was the epitome of unrepressed rage: With his cheeks drawn back in a deep sneer, eyes bloodshot red, and hair a knotted mess.

Trein stands before the younger man, looking down at him with disgust. "Have you no shame? What will the prefect think once they hear of this?"

Across the room, Crowley spits out a little blood, blinking fresh tears out of his eyes. For the last three days, the crow has been suppressing all of its emotions; however, all of a sudden, he is overcome with an unfettered and unhindered flood of shame and rage.

When the headmaster finally turned around, he fixed Crewel with an expression so scathing that the potionology professor felt compelled to charge at him again.

Once, coldly, sharply, and bitterly, Crowley laughed. "It's my fault, you say? You think I don't know that?"

"Oh please—Dire. I couldn't care less about what you think." Crewel seethes, venom practically dripping from his lips. The alchemy professor strides forward, heels clicking against the floor as he grabs Crowley by the collar.

"You're a failure of a father. All you've ever brought their way is danger." The professor cackles kicking the crow's skin.

Digging deep into his red handbag, Crewel snatches out papers and jams it into Crowley's chest. The crow unravels the creased pages to read the text on the document, eyes ripping wide open as he realizes what it was.

"You…can't possibly." The headmaster sputters, hands shaking as he reads the texts again and again.

"Oh, but I can." Crewel sneers, taking pleasure in the look of fear Crowley sends his way. He snaps around, coat billowing up behind him as he briskly walks towards the entryway. "I expect those papers to be signed by tonight."

Before walking out of the room, Crewel spares the headmaster one final glance. "The prefect departs this Monday."

Days after the event were all followed by violent storms that appeared to go on forever. Every night and day, the rain endlessly poured down from the bitter grey skies and roars of thunder echoed through the dewy clouds. Some days, it was nearly impossible to go to school.

It was almost as though Mother Nature herself was upset.

Just like how everyone was.

Crowley and your other friends shunned you like you had the plague. Even bright Kalim greeted you with a deep frown, a flimsy excuse slipping off his lips as he ran away. Only Deuce stayed by your side through it all.

The blueberry had told you everything was alright—that everything was normal and fine— but you couldn't help but be skeptical.

So when Crewel came to visit, you welcomed him right in. Eager to hear what he has to say.

The clatter and click of your father's heeled boots echoed through the walls of the dormitory as he examined the premises, comparing it to his own much more lavish flat back home in the city.

Finally, after an excruciating 5 minutes. his gaze flitted over to your bedridden form.

And the words he utters out next shatter your entire being.

"I'm withdrawing you from NRC."

What.

The glass clasped in your bandaged hands slips from your grip, smashing onto the oak wood of Ramshackle's flooring. You raise your mortified gaze to scowl at your professor, jaw dropped open in shock.

"What?" you breathlessly utter. "What do you mean?!"

"I'm transferring you to another school." Crewel replies, pushing himself off the fireplace and slipping his thick fur coat off his shoulders. The scant light emitted by the candles atop your study table did nothing to help you navigate his form as he strode around your bedroom.

"Now. You might be asking why? For one, look at the…accommodations Dire provided you with."

Crewel kicks a piece of splintered bark aside while making a gesture towards the disorder and wreckage all around you.

In the evenings, you had to use candles because the ceiling lights seldom ever functioned. The flooring had so many tears and holes that they were virtually falling apart. On occasion, you could even see the scuffle of rats beneath. The roof leaked, horribly; You had no money to fix it so you placed a bucket below instead. The front door was broken, barely hanging on its hinges, evidence of all the times your friends visited and never bothered to knock.

All of these problems and so many more were present, but this dorm was with you since the very start. It provided you with a roof over your head…it helped you survive.

"So what?" You retort, leaning back into your bed and sinking deep into the scratchy yet familiar pillows. "I don't mind it!"

"A foolish decision." Crewel sneers, running a hand into his hair. "Your accommodations aren't the only problem. Your self-destructive habits endanger you as well!"

There it was.

Groaning, you wring your hands through your hair, tangling it up. "When are you gonna stop saying that I'm self-destructive!?"

"When you start acting like somebody that actually cares about their life!" Crewel barks out, hands grasping your shoulders. The sudden increase in volume makes you recoil, but you were stubborn and refused to give in just yet.

"But I do care about my life!" You sputter out. "Why can't you just—"

"Remember what happened when Rosehearts overblotted?" He reminds you, "You charged towards a bloodthirsty tyrant with no protection, no magic, and no plan." Crewel then crosses his arms over his chest, addressing you with a pointed glare. "And you have the nerve to tell me you're not self destructive?"

"Riddle is not a tyrant!" Crying out, you slam your hand against your bedsheets, face twisting into an unsightly sneer. "I was trying to save my friend!"

Crewel gets right in your face, returning the expression of anger you sent his way. "Those friends of yours only care about you when you're useful!" he thundered, jabbing a finger into your chest.

That comment immediately silenced you.

Your hand was clasped over your mouth, jaw dropped wide open in disbelief as a sharp gasp escapes your dry throat.

A poisonous and dangerously harmful feeling gripped at whatever remnant the professor had of a heart. It colored his thoughts with regret as he began to feel a twinge of guilt, the weight of words sinking in.

There was a deep sigh of resignation from Crewel before he put a hand on your shoulder and looked you deep in the eyes, voice lowering to a softer lilt. "Why is it that every other person in that dorm had the sense to run away from the blots, but you didn't?"

Kneeling down, your father gazed at you with such vulnerability in his eyes as he murmurs, "Do you know how terrified I was every time I'd get the same message from Dire that you were out fighting overblots again? Putting your life at risk for those rabid dogs?"

The recognition of your destructive habits hit you like a splash of ice cold water. With a guilty and uncomfortable grimace on your face, you averted your attention to the floor. "I just wanted to help."

Slowly rising to his feet again, Crewel casts a deep frown your way. "I know you do, but you're careless with your life and if you're not careful…one of these days, you're gonna die."

"I will not hear anymore disagreements about this, do you hear? I've allowed you to run rampant around these past few months. You will so as I say and I'll have you transferred by the end of this week." He says simply, dropping a pristine sheet of paper clasped in a clipboard before you. Your dull eyes flicker across the title as you grudgingly reach for the pen he offers you.

TRANSFER APPLICATION.

That blank line at the end of the page is swiftly covered by your shaky red signature and Crewel is powerless to stop the relieved sigh that heaves past his lips.

A surge of victory, certainty, and an intense sense of relief overpowers the tangled and conflicting sentiments of guilt that were swimming through his chest.

You were safe, that's all that matters.

With a grieving heart, you nudge the pen and page back to your father dismissively, placing them both atop the bed. Crewel re-rolled the page and tucked it back into his handbag along with the pen.

The professor raises a hand to gently pat your shoulders as he bends down, pressing a kiss atop your head. "Father knows best."

As Crewel quietly takes his leave, he is none the wiser to the formation of impure, tainted tar-like blot dripping from your tears. Curling in yourself, you tuck your head into your knees, a broken sob spilling from your lips.

A sick and twisted feeling arises in your heart as you replay the argument you had with Crewel, and you start to wish that maybe, just maybe, Crowley's spell had succeeded in striking you.

Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip.

"Oi…Henchhuman?"

Drip.

—TAGLIST:

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[inthencght]

"I, well.. do you mind if I stay here for a bit?" Gabriella knew that her brother wasn't here, but it was the only safe place she could think to come right then. Seeing her ex had really shaken her up.

open — anyone! muse — noah sharp, 32, session drummer. okay to assume any sort of connection.

“ what’s the matter?  you look like you’ve seen a ghost. ”  

[cherry-romper]

gen narumi x medic reader, where his vice-captain and platoon suddenly realizes why he gets injured so often (to see reader)

Gen Narumi X Medic!Reader

Warnings; Mentions of blood and injury

Contains; fluff, angst(?), GN!Reader

Word count; 936

For a guy who classes himself as “the best”, he sure gets injured a lot.

He was never grievously wounded, but he’s always need stitches – this just so happened to be your department.

His platoon often made fun of him, jesting at how he’d “fallen off”

It got so bad that he’d been called into the Director’s office, many were concerned as to why he was suddenly getting injured so often. 

No matter how small the cut, he'd always end up at your door. His platoon teased him relentlessly.

Ignoring them, he waltz into your office and man-spread in your chair.

He'd stare you down as you worked, unflinching as you cleaned and dressed his wounds. 

You’d shift uncomfortably under his gaze, looking up to him a couple times, irritated. 

You felt very judged, like he was scrutinizing your every move.

Even if the gash was on his back, he’d crank his neck round to watch you while you work. 

After the first few times, you got used to it and voiced your irritation: “Stop watching me while I work.”

“Why should I?” you didn’t even have to look at him to hear the smirk that tugged at his lips.

Frustrated, you set down your needle and thread with a clank. “You make me nervous; my hands shake the more you stare. I could hurt you more.”

“I can handle it.”

“Or stop getting injured, then we won’t have anything to worry about, would we?” you counted, sarcastically. 

He scoffed as you got up, shifting his weight in the chair. 

For the third time this week, you bandaged another part of his body. 

He’s gonna run out of limbs to injure soon, you thought to yourself.

He didn’t say thank you as he left your office. 

You tried to not let it get to you, he had a reputation for being rude. 

It was only two days till he was back again, some pathetic cut on his pinky finger. 

You were a professional, to laugh in his face wouldn’t be right, but it was hard not to with him stood there, cradling his hand like it had been cut off. At 2 am no less.

“Bandage,” was all he said, almost demanding.

Cocking a brow at him, you looked from his face to his hand. There was barely any blood, you couldn’t even see the cut.

“What did you do?”

“Papercut.”

“Narumi…go to bed.” You turned to close your door, but his foot stopped it.

Using just he leg his pushed your door open again, making his way over to his usual spot and held out his hand for you to examine.

You were shocked but thought it best to entertain him. Quicker you gave him a plaster, the faster you could get back to sleep. 

Grabbing what you needed from your cabinet, sat across from him. Taking his hand in your own, you can feel his familiar gaze on you. 

Wiping it down and wrapping a plaster round it, you tapped on the back of his hand, “there you go, now can I go back to bed?”

“No,” 

Puzzled, you looked back to him.

“I actually have this weird mark on my ass,” without hesitation, he shifted in the seat onto his knees.

“WOAH!! Not my department, buddy!” you scrambled to stop him moving any further. 

He laughed, “I’m just joking”

You didn’t know if you should laugh or cry, you were too tired for this. 

He saw himself to the door, “thank you…and goodnight, Doc.”

A week had passed since you’d last saw your favourite patient. Until your peace was disturbed on a Wednesday afternoon. 

Once again, Narumi had some meek slash on his abdomen. Not deep enough to cause issue, but enough to warrant stitches. 

Conveniently, his suit didn’t complete the healing process, again.

Your usual routine unfolded. Him staring and you just trying to work.

However, for the first time, he flinched. Not at the needle, but at your touch.

Taking a step back, you asked if he was okay. No matter who your patient was, their comfort and health were your top priority. 

He just nodded, nervously biting his lip. Unable to meet your gaze.

You made sure he was okay as you continued to weave the thread in and out of his flesh. 

He winced a couple times, jolting as your hand grazed over his bruised torso. 

His body temperature had risen, and you could feel the sweat forming on his body. 

Looking to his face, you could see the beads glistening on his forehead and the blood pooling in his cheeks.

“God, Gen. You’re burning up.”

He shook his head and cleared his throat, “don’t worry about it, I’m fine.”

“Of course I’m worried about it!” You knew form your years of experience it was best to finish one task before starting another.

Completing the last few stitches, you pulled them tight. 

A gasp escaped Gen’s lips. He launched forward, grabbing a hold of your wrist. 

He was hunched over in the chair, his hair covering his eyes. You couldn’t make out the expression on his face. 

“Are you okay? Talk to me, Narumi!”

He let out a weak chuckled, “you’re really loud, Doc,” 

His hand still gripping your wrist tight, he meets your eyes. 

His lips were pale and his eyes sunken. 

Panic immediately washed over you.

“God, you’re bleeding internally,”

Calling for extra nurses to assist you, he slumped against you.

“This is what I get for wanting to see you, huh?”

Perplexed, you try to lift his weight off you and move him into a safer position, but he wouldn’t budge. 

Resting his head on yours, he whispered in your ear “I’m sorry, Doc. I just didn’t know how else I’d get to see you.”

“Gen Narumi, you idiot.”

[bonefall]

So, I'm writing an essay on the whole STATE of misogyny in WC for one of my university classes, and I was wondering if I could ask you a couple of things! No pressure of course, please feel free to say no!

A) Could I reference your good takes with appropriate harvard referencing and links back to your blog?

B) Are there any specific moments from the books that you think should be covered the most?

C) The end result will be a visual essay, so it's like those fun infographics people on Tumblr make on like ADHD and stuff, so when it's done, would you like to be tagged to read it?

(Sorry for anon, I'm nervous lmao, but if you'd be more comfortable I'll resend this off anon)

AAY good topic! You've got a lot to work with. Absolutely feel free to reference anything I've written, and tag me when you're done.

While you're here and about to write something so legitimate, I'm also going to recommend you check out Sunnyfall's video on gender in Warrior Cats. She breaks down the arcs into numbers, directly comparing the amount of lines mollies have to toms, and examining the archetypes women are usually allowed to be.

I think it's a must-have citation in a paper about WC misogyny.

...and, I think it's insightful to look at the WCRP Forum thread about the video. Note how the respondents immediately come into the thread to complain about how the video is too long so they didn't watch it, dismissing Sunnyfall as not being entertaining enough to hold their attention, even whining that she starts with statistics to prove her point, which I'm convinced she did exactly because they would have cried that she "had no evidence" if she didn't.

I am not a scholar, so I don't know how to document or prove that the books have an impact on the audience outside of anecdotes. But I think if you do write a section about fandom, it would be worth mentioning the in-universe and metatextual apologia for Ashfur and its reflection in the real world discourse, the authorial killing of Ferncloud because of fan complains, and the utter defensiveness against the discussion of misogyny you see outside of Tumblr.

You may also want to check out Cheek by Jowl, a collection of 8 essays about sexism in xenofiction by Ursula K. Le Guin. There's a very unique manifestation of authorial bias in animal fiction, having a lot to do with how the author views "the natural world," and it's worth understanding even though Warrior Cats are so heavily anthropomorphized.

So... Warrior Cats Misogyny

I think discussing individual instances can be helpful, but I'd implore you to keep in mind what's REALLY bad about WC's misogyny is framing and the bigger picture.

Bumble's death is shocking and insulting, but it's not just that she died. It's that the POV Gray Wing sees her as a fat, useless bitch who took his mate so she deserves to be dragged back to a domestic abuser, and he's right because the writers love him so much. It's that Bumble's torture and killing only factors into how it's going to hurt a man's reputation.

It's how Clear Sky hitting, emotionally manipulating, or killing the following women,

Bright Stream (pressured into leaving her home and family)

Storm (controlled her movements and yelled at her in public)

Misty (killed for land, children stolen)

Bumble (beaten unconscious, blamed nonsensically on a fox)

Alder (child abuse, hit when she refused to attack her brother)

Falling Feather (scratched on the face, subjected to public abuse and humiliation)

Tall Shadow (thrown into murderous crowd, attacked on-sight in heaven)

Rainswept Flower ("blacked out" in anger and murdered in cold blood)

Moth Flight (scratched on the face for saying denying medical treatment is mean, taken hostage in retaliation against mother for the death of his own child, which he caused)

Willow Tail (eyes gouged out for "stirring up trouble")

Is seen as totally understandable, forgivable, or not even questioned at all, when killing Gray Wing in an act of rage would have been "one step too far" with the ridiculous Star Line.

"Kill me and live with the memory, and then let the stars know it would only matter if a single one of your murder victims was a man."

It's the way that fathers who physically abuse their kids out of their ego (Clear Sky, Sandgorse, Crowfeather) aren't treated anywhere near the same level of narrative disgust and revulsion the series has for "bad moms", even if they're displaying symptoms of a post-partum mood disorder (depression, anxiety, and rage), an umbrella of mental illnesses 20% of all new mothers experience but are heavily stigmatized with (Sparkpelt, Palebird, Lizardstripe).

It's Crookedstar's Promise giving him two evil maternal figures in a single book, while bending over backwards to make every man in a position of power still look likeable in spite of the fact they're enabling Rainflower's abuse. Leader Hailstar is soso sorry that he has to change Stormkit's name for some reason, in spite of leaders being unaccountable dictators the other 99% of the time, and Deputy Shellheart functionally does nothing to stop his own son from being abused or even do much parenting before or after the fact.

It's the way men's parental struggles are seen sympathetically, and they don't have to "pay for it" like their female counterparts (Crookedstar's PPD vs Sparkpelt's PPD, how Daisy and Cinders are held responsible for Smoky and Whisper being deadbeats, Yellowfang's endless guilt for killing her son vs Onestar's purpose in life to kill his own), even to the point where a father doesn't have to have raised their kids at all to have a magical innate emotional connection to them (Tree's father Root, Tom the Wifebeater, Tigerstar and Hawkfrost).

It's less speaking lines and agency for female characters, being reduced to accessories in the lives of their mates and babies, women getting less diversity in their personalities, with even major ex-POV characters eventually becoming "sweet mom" tropes.

You could zoom in on any one of these examples and have an amoeba try to argue with you that "Oh THIS makes sense because X" or "Ah well my headcanon perfectly explains this thing" or "MY mother/girlfriend was abusive/toxic/neglectful and I've decided that you are personally attacking ME by having issues with how a character was written or utilized," but the beleaguered point,

That I keep trying to hammer in, over and over, across books worth of posts,

Is that these are trends. More than just a couple one-off examples. It's the fabric that has been woven over years, showing a lack of interest in, or even active prejudice of, women on behalf of the writers.

LONG STANDING trends, which have only gotten worse as the series progressed. From Yellowfang being harshly punished with a born evil son who ruins her life in TPB and the mistreatment of Squirrelpaw that begins in TNP, all the way up to the 7 Fridgenings of DOTC and Sparkpelt's PPD being a major character motivator for her son Nightheart.

So, I would stress that in your paper, and structure it less as "the Sparkpelt slide" and "the Yellowfang slide," and more as "The paternal vs maternal abuse" slide, and "the violence against women" slide. They're really big issues, there's tons of examples for each individual thing.

Anyway to leave off on a funny, look at this scene in Darkest Hour that I find unreasonably hilarious,

"Everyone who matters to me; my truest friend, my sensible and loyal warrior, the wisest deputy I've ever known, and 2 women." -Firestar, glorious idiot

He can't even think of a single trait for either of them what the hell does "formidable pair" mean lmaooo, when I finished a reread about a year ago this line killed me on impact.

[alexusonfire]

Warmth of Your Doorways - Chapter Seven

Jane Murdstone x dressmaker!Reader

A/n: In collaboration with @daydream-cement 🖤 If you wish to be added to the taglist please send me a DM!

Summary: Unbridled Rage.

November 6th, 1856

There will be no salvation for me. 

Time and time again, she came back to me. She begged for my love and what did I do? I called her a harlot. I degraded her and told her she was tarnishing my family reputation. 

Marjory refuses to speak to me and I cannot blame her. I hate myself as well. I know this is due to the hatred I have for myself due to my love of the fairer sex. I thought I had stamped out the flame of internal hate when I began loving the seamstress, but yet it was still glowing bright within me each time that sweet face brightened my doorstep. 

I am tortured as I relive those moments. She told me she regretted ever loving me. How I must have caused her such agony for her to ever say such a thing. 

This household is my personal hell. My only friend finds me despicable, my brother is proud of me for ‘remaining strong in my virtues,’ and my one true love hates my entire being. She deserves so much better than me, but I feel the need to rush to her and apologize. I want to crawl on my hands and knees through the depths of Hell in order to prove my repentance. She must understand that I have meant none of what I have said. 

Far too long, I have been held under my brother’s control. I must break free of this hold. I am not who I wish to be when he is near. I am not the woman my darling little violet deserves when I give his opinion more weight than is deserved.

I must find her. I must fall to my knees and let her know she is my one and only true love. I must do everything in my power to earn back her trust and love.

- J.M.

It had been over a week since Jane had seen you last. She could hardly eat, nor sleep, since her brother arrived nearly two weeks ago. The only task she found herself capable of was to reread her diary over and over, reminiscing the love you had shared.

After tonight’s diary entry however, she was feeling far less helpless. Her words filled her with a new sense of urgency - the need to be at your side and beg for forgiveness.

The next morning she awoke with the same vigor, gathering herself as best she could. She pinned her hair into place, put on her best dress, and gathered some of your favorite flowers from her garden before striding down the gravel walkway towards the shop. Her knees felt as though they would give out at any moment, her breathing rapidly increasing the closer she got to you. Her mind raced with every possibility, good and bad; you forgave her, you didn't forgive her, you loved her still, you hated her, you rushed into her arms, you spat in her direction-

Whatever the outcome, she knew she was responsible for it, and now it was her time to fight for you.

The shop loomed over her, and she felt a great weight in her chest just looking at it. She briefly recalled the first time she stepped foot inside, the first time she met you; how her heart had stuttered, her cheeks had flushed, how she couldn't get you out of her thoughts no matter how hard she tried. In this moment she longed for those early days, carefree and falling in love.

Unsure whether she was still welcome to use the back entrance, she chose instead to enter through the front door, the bell above it seeming far too loud. The shop was quiet, and Jane was surprised to see your workbench empty.

Much emptier than usual.

Odd.

She waited for a few moments, her stomach twisting in knots at the thought of seeing you again, still unsure what your reaction to her would be after she'd been so cruel-

"You're too late, I'm afraid."

The thick scottish drawl pulled her attention towards the back of the shop, where Mary was cleaning up after a day's work.

"I'm sorry?"

Mary laughed, continuing to wipe down surfaces and tidy up loose threads and needles.

"Well, perhaps if you'd said those words a little sooner you wouldn't be in the mess you are now, now would ye?"

Jane held her tongue against the blunt retort that lay on it. She knew she was in the wrong, and if getting to you meant getting through those around you, then so be it.

"Well, I'm here now, with every apology I can think of prepared. Is- Would I be able to see her? Please?"

The "please" caught Mary off guard- Jane Murdstone was not one to ever start or end a request with "please". Mary felt her resolve soften towards Jane, only a little, enough to be more upfront with her.

"Unless you're willing to hop aboard the next train, I'm afraid not Lass. She left for France shortly after you two had your final falling out. Said she couldn't live in a place where you existed and didn't love her anymore."

Jane had to steady herself on the nearest wall, a sudden wave of nausea overcoming her at Mary's words.

But I do love her.

I love her, I love her, I love-

"Thank you, Matron."

Jane all but stumbled out of the shop, the flowers she held in her hand tossed to the dirt as she strode back home.

You'd left. You were gone without so much as a goodbye- and why would you say goodbye to her? All of the cruel, hurtful words she'd thrown at you, the way she'd turned her back on you; she'd left you first. No explanation. No closure. The only difference was you'd seen fit to separate the two of you by countries. Could she really fault you for that, after all she'd done to you?

Upon returning to her cottage, the ravenette slammed the door behind herself. Her hands repeatedly combed over her hair, frantically thinking over what Mary had told her. How could you have gone all the way to Paris in a matter of days? Perhaps if she were to speak with Marjory, she could-

“Where have you been?”

The voice startled Jane from her thoughts and she was immediately filled with unbridled rage as she lay her eyes on the intruder who had opened her front door: Edward Murdstone.

“I find that it is really none of your business where I have been.”

Edward strode into the room, almost as if it was his own home, “Lord Barclay was here waiting to meet you Jane, but you deliberately ran off, no doubtably to commit some heinous sin.”

“Lord Barclay? Whatever for?” Jane snarled, remembering the older gentleman from moments in passing when he came to work with Edward.

“To marry you, of course.”

Jane saw red.

“You bastard! How-” Jane’s hands found the upper right hand corner of the bookshelf, and with a flourish of extreme strength, the ravenette pulled the ornately carved bookshelf to the floor. The right side of the shelf hit the wood table a few feet away, both pieces of furniture cracking and splitting upon impact. The sound of shattering glass of picture frames and the loud thuds of books hitting the floor filled the air, but none of it was as loud as the silent rage that radiated from Jane. The raging woman finally finished her thought as the sounds died down, “DARE YOU?!”

Edward was taken aback, unable to respond to his sister's rage; never had he seen her act in such a manner.

Jane’s volume only increased, her voice a full fledged scream, “YOU TOOK HER FROM ME! YOU ROBBED ME OF LOVE! AND NOW YOU DO THIS?! Are you so desperate in your need to control me that you must ruin my life at every turn?” She was snarling and spitting as she kicked though the mountain of books, wading closer to her brother.

“I-I-”

“ANSWER ME!” Jane roared, reaching out to a nearby decorative hurricane lamp, pushing it to the floor with a swift motion resulting in a crash of glass shattering.

Edward’s choice of response was to yell in return, grasping Jane by her wrist in an effort to keep her from breaking anything further, “Pull yourself together!”

“PULL MYSELF TOGETHER? HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO PULL MYSELF TOGETHER WHEN YOU CONTINUE TO KEEP ME FROM LOVE? I am so lonely, Edward... or at least I was until I MET HER AND YOU FORCE ME TO SEND HER AWAY. For what, Edward? Why?” Jane’s tone fluctuated as her thoughts flew from her mouth, tears beginning to spill from her eyes at the pure anger and sorrow she felt. She wasn’t withholding anything from her brother any longer. Today, he was receiving the full force of her wrath, “First it was Sarah, and then Elizabeth, and then mother and you forced me into a-a SOLITARY CONFINEMENT where I was forced to be at your side as you made a mockery of father’s name.”

With two long strides, Jane crossed the room of her home, eyes settled in on the China cabinet as she was determined to destroy every last bit of beautiful ceramics in her home.

Edward followed after her, his own rage building at her insinuation that he could be a disgrace to their family name, “You are the one making a mockery of our family’s name by- by... choosing to be so unnatural!”

His hand wrapped around her forearm, and in her frenzied rage, Jane’s free hand swung around at full force, clawing at her brother’s face and sending him to the floor. She loomed over him, her mind racing as she searched for an additional way to harm him. Jane needed him to understand the agony she felt inside.

Swiftly she gathered two of the fallen books from the floor, lifting the novels over her head and launching them downwards at her brother, “UNNATURAL? UNNATURAL? DO YOU THINK I WOULD HAVE FACED YEARS OF INCCESTANT ABUSE FROM YOU AND MOTHER IF I HAD CHOSEN TO BE LIKE THIS?”

Edward shifted away from Jane, scrambling across the floor as the books hit him. He was in utter fear of his sister. He had no excuses for his past or present behavior, and even if he did, Edward knew Jane had no true interest in hearing them. He had yet to notice the blood dripping down the side of his face from where Jane had struck him.

“GET OUT!” Jane blared, her voice becoming raw and hoarse from screaming louder than she ever had before. She repeated those same two words as she reached out and lifted piece after piece of fine China, throwing each of them against the far wall, “GET OUT! GET OUT! GET OUT-”

When Edward lifted himself from the cottage floor he launched himself towards the front door, quickly throwing it open and spinning back to attempt to steal back some of the power away from his sister, “You will marry Lord Barclay by the end of the month and that is final.”

His bravery was only momentary as he quickly slammed the front door shut, saving himself from the pieces of china being hurled towards him. As Edward stalked away from the home, he could hear Jane’s screaming from inside, but her words were hard to make out. Her cries of despair and the sounds of breaking glass and furniture would continue far into the night as Jane mourned for the loss of her love and freedom.

--

Tags: @weemssapphic @bitch-we-have-a-hulk @yourlocaldisneyvillain @renravens @thegoddamnfeels @dvrkhcld @blessmysouljessisonaroll @opheliauniverse @ahsfan05 @ness029 @carnivorousflowers @willowshadenox @mysaviorfalsegod @myzzjolanda @bigolgay

[agendabymooner]

RUSH || DR3 SMAU + FIC SERIES: a masterlist

f1 masterlist: a - n o - z

daniel ricciardo x ofc (lester alessandro)

summary: lester alessandro, before she was a bassist of a eurovision winning band, was a daniel ricciardo fan. it was too bad they didn't get to know each other well until monza 2021.

content warning: MY VERY FIRST SMAU SERIES (that's a trigger warning on its own), use of explicit language, 16+ rating

rush series (x måneskin member!ofc)

honey (are u coming), smau: how lester alessandro got blocked by daniel ricciardo before meeting him in monza 2021. (h)

own my mind, fic: it took lester almost six italian grand prix races to come across daniel ricciardo once more. sure, she was hesitant to speak to him regardless of the fact that she was his fan but the mclaren driver was certain he’d rather cause a stir in the f1 community with her after his win in monza than celebrate his victory with a lot of people. OR the second close encounter between the two of the most unhinged people of f1. (g, h)

read your diary, smau: it's 2021 and everyone thinks that lester and daniel are dating. lesson learned: never underestimate a fan's investigation skills. (g)

mamma mia, smau: an interview with jimmy fallon gives a brief idea of how lester and daniel came to be. (g)

mamma mia (again), smau: a youtube playlist was created to compile clips of danny talking way too much about his beloved girlfriend (f)

gossip, smau: everyone thinks lester's only here to be a formula one girlfriend with a bad reputation. it's not her fault she's confident. (mc, hc, h)

kool kids, smau: lester and daniel are going to new york to see a musical... while babysitting their "kid" (feat. lando norris) (g, h)

timezone, fic: lester wasn't normally like this, but she's more than willing to pay twice the price just to get to the next flight to where he wanted her: his arms, her home. (hc)

if not for you, smau: messages exchanged between lester and others as she takes care of the wolff children and an ex with the poorest decisions to have existed. (feat. lando norris, max verstappen, charles leclerc and characters from a story) (f, g, h)

baby said, smau: many tweets are posted that they don't often mean. their fans thought that his marriage proposal was one of them. (f, g, h)

supermodel, smau: how not to cry when you're talking about the man who'd give you the wedding that you dreamed of? (f, g, h)

rush series: wedding special

london bridge, smau: the alessandro-ricciardo wedding week is nothing of a peaceful week, and the monday only proved that thought right. (feat. f1 drivers) (f, h) - wedding special 1

fergalicious, smau: the grid singles need to touch some grass… or in lando’s case, go swimming. (feat. f1 drivers) (h) - wedding special 2

l'azienda di famiglia (e le donnole dell'isola), smau + fic: the alessandro family arrived and lando and george found themselves alone with two of the sisters. (feat. lando norris and george russell) (f, g) - wedding special 3 ♡

rush series: mrs. ricciardo special

part of you, smau: mrs. lester ricciardo asks her followers what to get her husband for his 35th birthday. little did danny know, she’s already got one ready to surprise him (f, g)

when emma falls in love, smau: as her pregnancy progressed, lester ricciardo made sure that her sanity wouldn't go the other way as she posted a thread of journal entries talking about her pregnancy. (f, h)

slipping through my fingers, smau: beau ricciardo was his dad's carbon copy and his mom's little heartbreaker.

here comes the sun, smau: despite having a red bull driver dad, beau ricciardo - or "little par" - is converted to tifosi, thank god for his full-italian mother. OR lester ricciardo's one year old son and his chaotic dad attended a måneskin concert when the bassist returned to the stage after almost two years of absence. (f, h)

pocketful of sunshine, scenario: beau ricciardo turned one and what's a good way to show his personality besides from showing it in front of an irwin? ★

[bubbles-for-all-of-us]

Also I'm sorry my mind is Lorcan mush right now 😂 but like him baking with his soft SO? Like she made him his own apron and it's fall so there's a slight chill, she had flour smeared on her cheek and he's chuckling as she shows him how to properly roll put a pie crust because he messed up the first one

Managed to type this out before my body completely gave out. Been a long minute..

warning: slightly suggestive

Pie crusts

This man aka Lorcan was far from sweet in others' eyes. They crossed the street when he walked through the town. They never stared. Never struck a conversation. These were the basic rules. You just didn't. Because this man had a reputation. Had a name to him. And it made one shiver. Made you take a double look just to make sure that you haven't caused yourself trouble. Haven't ended up in a bad book. Because Lorcan had that predatory attitude. That cold-blooded killer look. One that drowned out any happy sounds around.

But if they only knew. If they only knew what kind of male hid away behind the cold mask. What kind of male he was when no one but you were watching? His beautiful, selfless, radiant mate. His life. His pride. His joy. You had Lorcan wrapped around your finger and people who got to see that, that mainly being the family, knew that Lorcan was nothing but a big gentle giant. One that would drop everything if a planted pot in your yard needed to be moved. One that stocked up your hygiene supplies every month because he knew that you would forget about it. One that did nothing but smile when he was in your presence.

"No, you need to put more flour on it", you pointed to the jar, watching the dough sticking to the rolling pin. Rolling pin that looked ridiculously tiny in Lorcan's hands. "You said to dust it once", he rumbled, yet still reached for it. "Yeah, but you probably put too much butter in it, so it's sticky", you said, turning to reach for the bottom layer. A tin filled with a berry jam you bad made first thing in the morning.

Lorcan let out a slight growl as he tried to roll the dough again, only to be met with the same sticky mess. "You can't scare the pie out, Lor", you chuckled slightly. Sometimes you wondered why he even agreed to participate in things like this. He had little to no patience yet if he saw you doing anything by yourself he never failed to ask if you wanted him to join you. Or he would simply join himself without saying a single word.

But pie making and Lorcan had a deep-rooted beef going for a couple of months. That was Lorcan's first attempt at making the pie crust. It had gone awfully bad and nothing usually went bad for Lorcan. This man was way too competitive. Way too sure of his abilities to fail at something. You had laughed till your stomach asked back then. Watching him scowling at the dough, your tiny apron barely covering his chest.

Now Lorcan had his apron on. Once you had made for him. One he had been strangely excited to receive. "Stan up for a minute", you had told him one evening while he was finishing his paperwork. Lorcan had given you a strange look but didn't question it. Especially when he saw the messing tape in your hands. "You know, my cock hasn't changed size", he cackled to himself while you hit his chest shaking your head, "You're disgusting, put your hand up, you brute". That had him cackling, while you tried to hide your smile. You had sowed him his apron that same night. Had chosen a much more dim color, no pastels but Lorcan had frowned as he looked at it. "I don't get to have a pocket with a flower?", he questioned, glancing at your apron that hung in the kitchen. "Oh, I... I didn't think you would want one", you admitted, reaching for a deep red thread but Lorcan beat you to it, "Make it pink and blue, like yours".

You smiled at the memory as you moved to stand beside him now. "Add some more flour and knead it through once more", Lorcan simply nodded his head, following your instructions. You reached to rub the back of his neck as he worked. You would have loved to run your fingers through his hair but it was put up in a messy bun, the baby blue scrunchy shining against his onyx-black hair. "You're doing great, honey", you said softly, watching him reform the dough back into a misshapen ball. "Usually, I'm the one praising you. This is new", he grumbled but his attention was full on the backed good he was desperate to craft perfectly.

You let out a light laugh, "You're making it sound as if I never tell you just how amazing you are", you scrunched up your nose and that was enough for Lorcan to lift his head to look at you. Any, even the smallest feeling of hurt or discomfort coming from your side crippled the dark wielded. "You do, you do...", his words died down as his eyes fell on your face. A smile tugged at the corners of his lips.

"What? Why are you looking at me like that?", you tilted your head to the side. "You have...", Lorcan's voice died down, "Let me get it for you", he said softly, fingers moving to brush over the tip of your nose, whipping away the flour. His touch lingered, moving to brush over your cheek next. "And something here", he muttered, before leaning in to softly kiss your lips. No rush. No eagerness. No need to rush as Lorcan softly kissed you over and over again.

"Smooth", you mumbled as you two finally broke apart. You turned your attention back to your mate, "You took your time with my lips. Must have been real dirty", you trialed off, and turned to check on the oven. Instantly feeling Lorcan's hands slipping around your middle, "They are dirty, especially when they are wrapped...", you elbowed him in the stomach, "Don't you finish that! You dirty, teenage fea baby...", Lorcan only laughed, smirking down at you. "Go finish the crust or you will die defeated by the pie", you pointed to the forgotten dough, ushering him away with a tea towel. Smiling to yourself when another laugh slipped past Lorcan's lips and the smooth sound of him humming filled the kitchen.

[foxes-that-run]

Gorgeous

Reputation is split into 2 volumes. "Volume 1 - Who is Meredith's Real Father?" includes the first half of the album and Gorgeous, track 8 so not consecutive with the rest of the volume. Vol 1 relates to the time before she disappeared including April 29 2016. In the 29 April 2023 Eras show Taylor also played Gorgeous and High Infidelity together. There is a more detailed thread on this here, and in the 2016 timeline.

In the Making of Video. you can see she also had pre-met Gala hair when making these as they take place before she met Joe.

The original lyrics have more detail on the muse:

I gotta boyfriend, he's older than us, I haven't seen him in a couple of months. You've got a girlfriend that's __ enough, and tonight..... ah. you're so gorgeous... (2:17) [...] I go through phases when it comes to love / I'm nothing that you want, but I must say / you're so gorgeous (3:20) I can't say anything to your face / You gotta fence in [?] [kinda defencive?] of us ... / (3:41)

Lyrics

You should take it as a compliment That I got drunk and made fun of the way you talk You should think about the consequence Of your magnetic field being a little too strong And I got a boyfriend, he's older than us He's in the club doing, I don't know what You're so cool, it makes me hate you so much (I hate you so much)

In the opener Taylor establishes the muse has an accent, a magnetic pull and is frustratingly cool. Taylor is not the type to mock an accent of someone she just met. She did make fun of Harry’s accent at the 2013 Grammy's during never getting back together though.

In Suburban Legends Taylor sings of Harry “You were so magnetic, it was almost obnoxious / Flush with the currency of cool”

Whisky on ice, Sunset and Vine You've ruined my life, by not being mine

Whiskey on ice, sunset and vine reads like a meet up, around the April 29 story. The line that her life is ‘ruined by the muse not being hers’ also speaks of a longer term relationship than someone she just met.

Taylor has a similar Lyric in Suburban Legends "You don’t knock anymore and I always knew it, and my life had been ruined"

You're so gorgeous I can't say anything to your face 'Cause look at your face (gorgeous) And I'm so furious At you for making me feel this way But what can I say? You're gorgeous

Fair enough

Taylor and Harry have sung and said in interview that they can't say in person to each other what they can say in song, describing it as the most amazing unspoken dialogue.

You should take it as a compliment That I'm talking to everyone here but you (but you, but you) And you should think about the consequence Of you touching my hand in the darkened room (dark room, dark room) If you've got a girlfriend, I'm jealous of her But if you're single that's honestly worse 'Cause you're so gorgeous it actually hurts (Honey, it hurts)

In So it Goes Taylor talks about getting alone with her muse and a magnetic pull and hiding interacting with each other. The line of 'if you've got a girlfriend, I'm jealous of her' was changed from the making of video. The original sounds like shade on the girlfriend, who was Kendall Jenner/Yachtgate of January 2016. the final lyric casts doubt on if they are even dating. If Harry was single she was more likely to be unfaithful, as detailed in Did something bad, and for Harry in Sweet Creature.

Ocean blue eyes looking in mine I feel like I might sink and drown and die

Harry does not have blue eyes, Joe does though. In secret sessions Taylor went to pains to tell fans this song was about Joe and this line fits with that. Since they separated/the end of their relationship she released high infidelity with the April 29 date and she has played them together on April 29!

You make me so happy, it turns back to sad, yeah There's nothing I hate more than what I can't have You are so gorgeous it makes me so mad (mmh) You make me so happy, it turns back to sad, yeah There's nothing I hate more than what I can't have and Guess I'll just stumble on home to my cats (yeugh) Alone, unless you wanna come along (oh)

This last verse shows that there is more to the relationship than crushing on a new person. If this song were about a person who she just met, like Joe or Tom H she would (and did) have them. It also wouldn't turn back into sad.

The line 'you make me so happy, it turns back into sad' perfectly captures seeing someone you love, remembering why but having broken up with them.

Finally, stumble on home to my cats, unless you want to come along is both adorable, and a call back to her AMA interview the year where she said she would go home to her cats, which Harry referenced in Kiwi as going home to her cactus. Taylor then responded photos of Joe with a Cactus.

[epitome-of-an-openbook]

op I read your steddie fic where post and specifically the part abt Steve being intelligent got my attention bc (and also youre so right abt the whole thing)

-what about the fics where Steve is visibly (?? idk englishs not my thing) autistic? Cause if you're neurodivergent and can actually follow his thought process along he's super smart (unconventionally smart my beloved) but for neurotypicals I'm told it makes him sound some variation of stupid/oblivious/dumb (when he's def not haha)

-what are your opinions about the fics where Steve is _pretending_ to be stupid? Like, plays into the jock bit, and makes people think he's slow to use it to his advantage? not necessarily in a "bad person" way (and especially if you can tell he's smart from the outside/his own pov)? >>>esp if he doesn't even realize he's doing it?

-how about Steve's concussions/neurodivergency affecting the more "conventionally smart" aspects of his brain? like, his memory is shit and he can't spell properly or he can't do complex math, but he knows everyone's expressions and holds a scary amount of talent in physical activities he's never done before type thing (insp after me who got complimented by the "hardass" coach after trying boxing simply because I watch and calculate and how that's easy for me to switch into my own movements)

-opinions on Steve "looking dumb" because he's simply...not American? Like, his English is plenty good but that's because he's been copying speech patterns for so long now, and the Harringtons are tied to some p important Italian families so he almost never speaks English there either, and I personally like the fics where he's frustrated simply because he can't understand (like the story about the Korean immigrant and the lovely teacher) and also the scene in modern family where Gloria says "I know what I meant to mean! do you know how smart I am in my own language?"

-thoughts on someone lifting their head up from nerd shit and realizing Steve's been making like many smart remarks that nobody listens to cause he doesn't know nerd lingo?

(also unrelated but trans!Steve MTF _or_ FTM is so important to me <3)

I've a whole "trope theory" about different types of intelligence groups tend to have, and simply put it goes

book smarts, street (survival) smarts, emotional smarts, social smarts

and how those mix and match to show through in characters that are disregarded as stupid and I personally believe Steve is very Socially _and_ emotionally smart but because he's arguably in line to be the most toxic masculine people by reputation (not personality but the past -both his and his dads- linger) people don't notice it.

I'd love to chat more both abt my theory and Steve in general <3

Hi anon, of course I want to talk about Steve's intelligence - because I am so so so tired of him being written off as the fool, and I am especially tired of people pretending like he is not the most emotionally intelligent person in the show other than potentially Will or Joyce. Also in advance, I totally go on a BUNCH of tirades and rants so I'm sorry if you lose the thread at all, I just have a lot of thoughts and they all FEEL important to me. So yeah, this is a long one.

-what about the fics where Steve is visibly (?? idk englishs not my thing) autistic? Cause if you're neurodivergent and can actually follow his thought process along he's super smart?

I haven't read many fics where Neurodivergent! Steve's divergence is specifically autism and personally I feel that other divergences fit him better such as OCD (see - his need to keep things tidy, instances of reduced impulse control, repetitive/ritualistic behaviors, hypervigilance, and agitation), ADHD (see - his need to be moving lots of pacing and bouncing, difficulty concentrating on the group discussions, impulsivity), Dyslexia/Dyscalculia (personal/popular headcanon), or something that would affect his audio processing (personal/unpopular headcanon; see- being unable to get past the music on the recording, difficulty following along with the group discussions, immediately losing track of the group in the Upside Down Wheeler's house when he thinks he hears Dustin)- but I definitely read him as someone whose brain works in a way that is non-typical which is something we ABSOLUTELY see in season 3 where he focuses in on the music and it seems like he literally can't focus on the Russian words until he knows what the music is.

But what it comes down to is that so many people read the fact that he didn't get into college (which is more indicative of a lack of testing skills than it is for actual intelligence) and his inability to follow along with group discussions about Upside Down stuff (which could point to issues with concentration or audio processing or just a lack of knowledge regarding the lingo being used) as a way to characterize him entirely as an idiot/fool. This of course isn't helped by the Duffers refusing to deepen his character beyond "he was bad but now he's good because now he's interacting with intelligent™ people". So to answer this question, I'm all for fics that explore Steve's intellect through a lens of "no he's not dumb, he just processes information in an atypical way".

-what are your opinions about the fics where Steve is _pretending_ to be stupid? Like, plays into the jock bit, and makes people think he's slow to use it to his advantage? not necessarily in a "bad person" way (and especially if you can tell he's smart from the outside/his own pov)?

I'm not 100% sure I'm interpreting this question correctly but I have some issues with fics where the character of interest is 'pretending' to be stupid so it entirely depends on what the motivation behind doing so is.

If the motivation is "I play dumb so that I can fit in better and not be bullied for being smart" I don't like it that much - I feel like in a lot of media, and American media especially, there is this perpetuation of Smart=Unpopular/Bullied/Unathletic and Dumb=Popular/Bully/Athletic and I don't like that because in my lived experience that really isn't the case - I have friends that were the Valedictorian's of their high schools by gpa that were also class president and soccer captian and genuinely good people and some of the meanest people I have ever met were stereotypical™ nerds. So if the motivation is that he pretends to be dumb specifically to fit in and not get bullied I don't really like it. HOWEVER, if the motivation is "I downplay my intelligence so that people underestimate me" that's different and I can get behind it to a degree - no one is perfect and Steve was not the best person at first so him having a little manipulation bit like this would make sense.

Also this leads into another thing I feel we don't talk about enough - Steve is a jock with a head for STRATEGY and you cannot tell me otherwise. The ability to strategize is something we like to take away from jocks all across media, but as a former athlete myself I can tell you that a LOT of thought goes into athletic strategy and it translates well to other aspects of life. We also see Steve make quick strategic decisions A LOT but we never mention them - some examples include when he leads the scoops troop through the crowded russian base w/o getting caught - some of this is simply poor writing/tracking and i will admit that but if we suspend our disbelief for a second it's Steve that looks at the set up takes in the information and says "Follow me, stay low and be quick" as they navigate that scene, we also see it in season two when him and Dustin get to the junkyard and he says "oh yeah this will do nicely" and then he proceeds to set the stage for catching Dart with a clearing to trap him, a reinforced fort for protection and surveillance and honestly the only reason this goes wrong is because there was more than one demodog. So yeah being good with strategy lends itself well to Steve using his intelligence as a manipulation for others to underestimate him. I personally would love for there to be a fic where one of the kids challenges Steve to a strategy game like chess or risk or something like that and for him to DECIMATE them because strategy is the thing he's good at.

-how about Steve's concussions/neurodivergency affecting the more "conventionally smart" aspects of his brain? like, his memory is shit and he can't spell properly or he can't do complex math, but he knows everyone's expressions and holds a scary amount of talent in physical activities he's never done before type thing

For one I would like to quickly put out there that Steve almost definitely got a TBI (Traumatic Brain Injury) from the Russian Torture - and probably PCS (Post Concussion Syndrome) from the fight with Billy (I would also like to quickly mention that these are different things with different causes and potential future outcomes/side effects, I feel like they get confused a lot in this fandom which is totally fine but just a reminder that a concussion comes specifically from your brain impacting your skull and how he receives his head injuries from Jonathan and the Russians would indicate to me that he probably didn't have a concussion those times but when he crashes the car in season three he could have easily gotten a whiplash concussion which is something we don't talk about but does actually happen a lot and it's less likely to get treated because people don't realize you can get a concussion w/o hitting your head. Also I am so sorry about this head trauma info dump, it's just a subject I have lots of experience with/knowledge about).

ANYWAY, yeah TBIs and PCS can really mess with your head and are often the cause of things like memory loss - as well as vision and hearing impairment. Also TBIs have been studied a lot in American Football players and sometimes they can even cause shifts in personality. (Also @peter-pantomime has some really good discussions and headcanons regarding Steve's head traumas so I highly suggest their content both here and on tiktok.)

And yes, Steve consistently proves to be extremely socially intelligent. You do not get to the top of the high school food chain by simply being attractive or athletic, you have to be capable of understanding and manipulating certain social interactions - walking into a room and knowing who to talk to and who to avoid, popularity is often just a matter of networking and part of the reason Steve loses his popularity is because he abandons the network he built himself up through and switches it out for a group of people much lower on the social ladder. We also can tell he's incredibly emotionally intelligent through his interactions with others - scenes that really show this are Steve cleaning up the theater sign and going to apologize to Jonathan (some might say this is just emotional maturity but i would like to point out that he was emotionally intelligent enough to realize that it was Jonathan that deserved the apology instead of just Nancy) (s1), when Will comes home and we see him empathize with the worry of Joyce & Jonathan (s2), when he can seemingly tell that something happened between Nancy and Jonathan but instead of lashing out he supports her (also s2), when Robin comes out to him and also technically rejects him but he just treats her like normal (s3), like… every scene with him and Max in S4, and also when he tells Eddie that he needs to stop being so hard on himself when he keeps talking about how much of a coward he is (also S4).

-opinions on Steve "looking dumb" because he's simply...not American? Like, his English is plenty good but that's because he's been copying speech patterns for so long now, and the Harringtons are tied to some p important Italian families so he almost never speaks English there either, and I personally like the fics where he's frustrated simply because he can't understand (like the story about the Korean immigrant and the lovely teacher) and also the scene in modern family where Gloria says "I know what I meant to mean! do you know how smart I am in my own language?"

I have never seen this done before, but I absolutely adore this concept, if you (or anyone else) has some fic recs with this trope 👀👀👀 please share.

-thoughts on someone lifting their head up from nerd shit and realizing Steve's been making like many smart remarks that nobody listens to cause he doesn't know nerd lingo?

Yes do it, caveat: I think it needs to be Robin, Eddie, or Will - I think everyone else is a little too in their own way of realizing Steve has consistently made good points.

For Robin, as a Queer Platonic Stobin truther, I feel like if anyone were to really get into Steve's brain it would be her.

For Eddie, I feel it comes from that same vein that we see people pointing out that Eddie is the only person who directly answer Steve's questions, so it would make sense for him to be the one to say "wait hey - Steve is actually asking incredibly relevant questions that lead to a point he wants to make."

For Will, I simply think that he's the most emotionally intelligent member of the original Party and also the one with the fewest interactions with Steve so if he were to be with Steve in a time of crisis he wouldn't ignore Steve's thoughts the way that sometimes happens and notice something about how he processes information or something and be like "why did you guys all tell me he was dumb, he's making extremely relevant points right now?"

(also unrelated but trans!Steve MTF _or_ FTM is so important to me <3)

<3 Trans!Steve 🤝 GenderFluid!Steve solidarity

I love fics where Steve explores gender identity or at least his relationship with gender presentation, I'm partial to GenderFluid!Steve but regardless I love this.

[inthencght]

@modcrnspirits

Continued from this thread

"Now, don't go putting words in my mouth." Still lighthearted. A little bit of a dance about without it being spoken outright. "Never said anything about it curing a broken heart. Ain't what that's for. A good fuck is about clearing your head. Giving yourself something enjoyable. A distraction, if you will. Nothing wrong with needing a palate cleanser to get yourself in a better state of mind. Besides, the dickhead that broke it off doesn't deserve you sulking. Think of it as another fuck you. Take the advice or leave it, no skin off my back either way." Colt shrugged, broad shoulders moving up with a quick enough motion that the chair rocked a bit. His own empty beer bottle sat in front of him. It was how he had always dealt with the end of relationships. The healthiest of coping mechanisms? No. But it was hardly the worst. An ego boost did wonders to a person after all. "Ah. Fuck that app shit. Go to a bar. Or find someone you've been wanting to fuck or get fucked by and have a go. All the better if the persons a better lay." Amusement shone in his eyes, not quite saying aloud what they were teasing back and forth. Colt could be as stubborn. Worth it in the end if the game came to a satisfying conclusion for the both of them.

[fragmentsoffatezine]

hey I don't know why yall didnt post the thread about supporting Palestine but not donating to Tumblr, but there are ways to support Palestine through charity donations (legal defense funds specific to Palestinians or supporting organizations doing strikes or other pro-Palestine campaigns). it feels like yall didn't research at all but just were like ehh no easy solution, we support them but not enough to actually help. especially since POs are months away, you can defer the charity decision...

Hello anon!

We will be putting our response in a read more.

For full transparency, we do support Palestine, and to be accused that we don't care for going with another charity idea is a bad faith argument.

We do understand why you're upset, but that is not fair to accuse us of that. From the start, criminal justice reform and improving the lives of incarcerated people was one of the charity ideas, and both organizations on the poll were suggested via the interest check.

These are important issues to the mod team as well, and topical to the game, supporting one does not take away from the other.

We have all been supporting Palestine in our own personal time. One of us has lost our employment for our support, we have been donating e-sims (which are always a great way to give directly to Palestinians), and protesting.

Emergency aid funds are tricky because Palestine is not currently getting the money and resources which they desperately need now and we can not guarantee where our money will be best needed to support the effort by donations. Yes, it's good to look towards the future towards upcoming issues, but this is a current issue that needs dire financial attention, that the zine itself cannot provide at this time.

We have given information on what people can do to help. We also got some very polite messages from people who suggested other charities that were not on the interest check that we are looking through for possible aid. We again wanted to keep our contributors informed of where we were leaning with and what other causes we were considering.

The LDF is a reputable criminal justice reform organization and Purrfect Pals has a fantastic prison foster care program that improves the lives of both incarcerated people and cats, which is very topical for this game. These are also causes that we would like to support.

Thank you for reaching out and making your concerns known.

[looselipssinkships-x]

((doodles are bad, spacing is bad, this is a concept))

*from under the cork tree embroidery sweatshirt*

return to sender envelope with a crown -- "i got your love letters, corrected the grammar, and sent them back. it's true, romance is dead, i shot it in the chest, then in the head//and if you wanna go down in history, then I'm your prince" (the music or the misery)

xo (specifically along the neckline) -- closing track title, "choke me something awful just like kisses on the necks of best friends" (i've got a dark alley and a bad idea that says you should shut your mouth)

flaming match -- "strike us up like matches, 'cause everyone deserves the flame" (champagne for my real friends, pain for my shame friends) "i swear i'd burn this city down to show you the light" (sophomore slump or comeback of the year) "light a match to leave me be" (nobody puts baby in the corner)

2/4 -- "we're falling apart to half time" (dance, dance)

gift tag -- "the ribbon on my wrist says do not open before christmas" (our lawyer made us change the name of this song so we wouldn't get sued)

z z z -- "i used to waste my time dreaming of being alive (now i only waste it dreaming of you)" (of all the gin joints in the world) "keep quiet, nothing comes as easy as you, can i lay in your bed all day? i'll be your best kept secret and your biggest mistake" (nobody puts baby in the corner) "sleeping in and we're sleeping for the wrong team" (sugar we're goin down)

empty chair -- "sitting out dances on the wall, trying to forget everything that isn't you, i'm not going home alone, 'cause i don't do too well on my own" (7 minutes in heaven (atavan halen))

clock -- "set your clocks early 'cause you know i'm always late" (a little less sixteen candles, a little more touch me)

mailbox -- "why put a new address on that same old loneliness?" "mailing letters to a ghost town" (get busy living or get busy dying) "i got your love letters, corrected the grammar and sent them back" (the music or the misery)

notched bedpost -- "i'm just a notch in your bedpost, but you're just a line in a song" (sugar we're goin down)

↑↓ -- "are we growing up, or just going down?" (sophomore slump or comeback of the year)

record player -- "and the record won't stop skipping, and the lies just won't stop slipping, and besides, my reputation's on the line" (i've got a dark alley and a bad idea that says you should shut your mouth)

"love" keyhole -- "to the "love" i left my conscience pressed through the keyhole as I watched you dress, kiss and tell, loose lips sink ships" (xo)

heart (in gold thread) -- "this story's getting old, homewrecker with a heart of gold" (snitches and talkers get stitches and walkers)

[breakingarrows]

Dirty Laundry: Easy Allies and Last Stand Media

What was originally supposed to be breaking down the recent online drama between Easy Allies and Last Stand Media has devolved into me scouring Twitter and forums to try and nail down what it is that makes Colin Moriarty such a lightning rod for arguments online.

Originally I was attracted to this recent collaboration due to being a former fan of both Easy Allies, made up of former staff of the website GameTrailers, and Colin Moriarty, from his Podcast Beyond and early Kinda Funny days. I use the term former more strongly in regards to Colin as while I was a fan for a long time I eventually grew tired of his shit. I had already begun to wobble on my commitment to Kinda Funny by March 2017, the same month he made his infamous tweet that led to his ousting at the company, was also the release of The Legend of Zelda: The Breath of the Wild. In an episode of the Gamescast the quality of the game and games media’s response to it became a subject and Colin had some really out there takes that I detailed in a post at the time. He was shortly afterwards pushed out and started his own Patreon and rarely appeared on my feed mainly when people were dunking on whatever opinion got traction and passed around in screenshots or quote-tweets.

This most recent drama was due to a guest spot on a recent Easy Allies podcast called Frame Trap with guest Dustin Furman of Last Stand Media. The episode is business as usual with nothing outlandish going on. The next day Easy Allies community manager Gabby Montoute posts on the Easy Allies discord this message,

Hi guys, just wanted to quickly address the latest episode of Frame Trap. To first explain our thought process: Brad & Dustin are friends and Dustin is a fan of ours, so Brad wanted to have him on FrameTrap. We unfortunately did not think it through beyond that & that is entirely our fault. Please understand, Brad has known and trusted Dustin for many years, but we hear your concerns and will take more time to discuss & vet new guests before bringing them on. We sincerely apologize for any and all drama this has caused. Thank you so much for understanding and please feel free to reach out to me if you have any questions or comments!

This seemingly was posted due to individuals reaching out to members of Easy Allies to voice their displeasure that they would associate with someone from Last Stand Media, namely due to its ownership by Colin. A follow up was added afterwards

Guys, read the apology before you jump to any conclusions. No one is apologizing for being friends with Dustin, but there is unfortunately some inherent messiness (to put it lightly) when it comes to LSM that we would rather avoid than participate in. It was a mistake, but let's all please be mature about this. If you want to discuss it again, feel free to message me, but any bad faith conversation about it in this Discord is over.

Additionally Daniel Bloodworth would pin his comment on the episode on YouTube

I want to offer my deepest apologies to everyone for my failures regarding this week's Frame Trap and its aftermath. I tried to address some people's questions in our Discord about bringing Dustin Furman onto Frame Trap, and unintentionally made Brad and Dustin look bad in the process. I failed to properly account for potential reactions, and I failed by rushing out a statement which has harmed one of our guests and biggest fans. There are few things that hurt me as deeply as knowing that I've hurt others. And it's my own mistakes that have led to this absolute turmoil for Dustin, Brad, Gabby, our staff, and our community. This is my responsibility, and I'm sorry. -Daniel Bloodworth

That same day Washington Post reporter and Last Stand Media contributor Gene Park would join the ResetEra thread for Easy Allies defending the reputation of Last Stand Media.

I really want to push back on the idea that LSM, a company I contribute to, is any kind of political show or holds any kind of political or ideological stance. It does not and it is not. My employer, The Washington Post, would not have greenlit my involvement if Last Stand Media was in any way a show about strong political viewpoints. The leadership vetted it. It simply isn’t. Social issues are rarely discussed, and if they are, they’re addressed with some nuance, and Colin has always been very careful in stating his own inherent bias and ignorance on certain issues. However lightly social or political issues are addressed, it is a centrist approach, which is largely aligned with how mainstream media orgs like The Post operates. Literally all the content is about games, the business of games, the culture of games. I would not have gotten involved if that was not the case. But it is. It’s just a gaming media platform. To say otherwise is simply inaccurate and based on hearsay and memes.

Gene’s posts eventually led to a (1) month ban due to, "Dismissive commentary around banned source and transphobia." Last Stand Media would post on October 23 a tweet stating, "“We’ll see about that.” with a photo where a sign states, “Warning Poaching is Strictly Forbidden. Violators will be prosecuted.” stirring speculation on its meaning in regards to the situation between themselves and Easy Allies, namely on if Bradley Ellis would be jumping ship from Easy Allies to Last Stand Media as a result. That same day Last Stand Media would upload the episode Is the Skinsuit Complete? | Sacred Symbols, Episode 277 with timestamp “0:52:24 - The Easy Allies Situation.” During this segment Colin goes off on Easy Allies and his prior conversations with Brandon Jones which he misinterprets as ending by being thrown under the bus. Brandon Jones’ video and posts online at the time were non-committal and bore no condemnation or judgment towards Colin and were simply him becoming wary of the reputation Colin had accrued for himself online. Colin is just so thin-skinned that any pause to contemplate whether there is merit behind why a portion of your audience is saying, “maybe don’t work with this guy,” is equivalent to “being thrown under the bus.” I also find it humorous that Colin felt the need to send a strongly worded email about how the two were done and would never work together again.

Easy Allies should have handled the situation better. To suddenly denounce the guest  you had on shows that no vetting was done beforehand, or the word of Bradley Ellis was held as verification enough. If the latter, to suddenly turn becomes a critique of Brad’s judgment. All of their wording has been vague-posting, meaning you leave everything to speculation and the matter would have been passed over in a short time had it just remained unaddressed. Let the segments of your audience that find Dustin’s guest appearance vilifying to move on, to peter back and forth between condemnation and apologizing just makes into the mess it is today. According to Dustin he is no longer welcome on Easy Allies’ channel and Brad is not allowed to go on Last Stand Media content going forward.

You can’t please anyone, and Easy Allies needs to be smarter about who they are aiming to please. It is often said to ignore a vocal minority, and it might have ended up being the best course of action for Easy Allies. Listening to Brandon’s old Cup of Jones, the one in which he “throws Colin under the bus”, it is clearly apparent that he is desperate to appease all the voices that are coming through the channel’s various platforms: Twitter, their forums, comments, and emails. Appeasing one group means angering a separate one, and teeter-tottering back and forth between them all will eventually shake all the leaves off your tree, namely your Patreon subscriber base. Colin echoes, more harshly, the attitude that dominated the former Easy Allies subreddit in that the company is failing and on a downward spiral that can’t be sustained, and I doubt this recent controversy has helped at all as the terminally online are the ones more likely to be giving you money on Patreon than the casual observer on YouTube who will likely never follow Dustin to his home channel and watch Colin’s rant.

Combing through Colin’s tweets (something I don’t recommend but the fruits of which are listed on my timeline at the bottom of this post) is a confirmation that not much has changed. He has always loved the term “echochamber” and frequently lacks the self awareness that this is what he cultivates for himself. Colin consistently states he loves being challenged and disagreed with but always antagonistically responds to criticism and frequently only engages with the most offensive and weakest responses to his stances on Twitter. His favorite is to pick a random Twitter user who makes claims of racism, sexism, transphobia, etc towards him and then asks for the specific instances and says he’s made plenty of pro-[social issue here] arguments in videos online.

He loves to bring on people such as Filip Miucin, Vince Ingenito, and Kara Lynne not so much as to do any sort of questioning but instead to just let them talk unopposed. Miucin plagiarized throughout his career and is met with weak opposition to his claims. Ingenito who was the subject of a sexual harassment investigation within IGN that was so mishandled it led to the entire staff walking out in protest when it was revealed but was unjustly “excommunicated” by the industry. Colin would write in June 2023 about Vince, “He has one of the greatest critical minds in the history of games media and it's unfair that audiences have been robbed of him for so long. I'm proud that Last Stand is giving him a place to speak. He'll return.” Kara Lynne who was fired from Limited Run Games after a campaign by an admitted internet bully discovered a tweet by Lynne pushing forward the myth that perverts would benefit more from transgender bathroom laws than anyone else. This is a problem I have with the same softball journalism employed by the bane of Colin’s existence, games media. He literally opens the episode with Miucin by saying, “You don’t hear very much from me. I’ll let Filip speak for himself, tell his story to you, and take from it what you will.” Where is the pushback? Where is the spine to confront someone over lies and instead just let them say their side with no inspection? It drives me crazy. People hail him as a “real journalist” because he brings people on and “just lets them speak.” as if that’s journalism. This is the same man who recommended the book Elements of Journalism by Bill Kovach and Tom Rosenstiel as essential reading for anyone wanting to do journalism but seemingly has not learned any of the lessons taught within its text. No journalist would let an interview subject just put forward their narrative with no attempt at verification or skepticism questioning.

Colin really hates games media, not for the reasons I criticize games media, but instead seemingly just because they’re all out to get him, save for the individuals who still engage with him online, they’re okay. Waypoint writes about how Horizon Zero Dawn devs responded to accusations of appropriating imagery and cultural elements from native american tribes and he calls it outrage culture. Kotaku, Polygon, and Waypoint “pedal almost entirely in outrage.” Games media’s real diversity problem isn’t in the color of your skin but instead one of ideologies. Games media is adversarial to game developers, publishers, and PR so of course those same institutions should be adversarial to games media. An article from GameSpot explaining how bra sizes work in response to people freaking out over Tifa’s bust in Final Fantasy VII Remake is mocked as why games media is dying. Games media needs to be dispassionate because they are purposefully ignoring that PAX West dropped my panel and won't refund my fans who are now boycotting the convention in response. “Who do enthusiast outlets write for? It sure doesn't seem like they write for any of us [the REAL gamers].”  Game reviewers who play on easy mode don’t actually like video games (despite the average gamer never actually even finishing a majority of games they play).

Another obsession of Colin is to give the appearance of being a gracious host who just wants to debate people in the common interest of knowledge and progress. He tried to bait Bob Mackey into coming out to see him in person to debate about Bob’s accusations of Colin’s political leanings and actions while working at IGN. He frequently talks about how he would love to have people who disagree with him on his show, as if that would lead to anything other than two people talking at each other with Colin’s fans heralding his great victory and the opposition's cringe loss. Most recently he responded to his friend David Jaffe, himself posting in response to Jeff Grubb screen posting a tweet of Jaffe’s and was offensive because Grubb didn’t “tag” Jaffe(?), “The types of people that do this will never, ever sit and talk to you, just like they won't with me. They're scared. I'd be scared to defend my positions, too, if I spent years flailing around an echochamber. Thankfully, iron sharpens iron and you and I have no such issues. <3”

As I mentioned before, Colin really loves to play the victim. He was able to leverage his Kinda Funny ousting into a very successful Patreon, one whose membership outnumbers the likes of Nextlander, NoClip, Game Makers Toolkit, Jeff Gerstmann, Kinda Funny’s individual patreons, and Retronauts (among many others you can find on the Game Biz sheet I try to keep up to date). He talks about building this successful Patreon despite “Virtually no games PR or publisher goodwill.” though also would tout in 2018 that, “They gave me God of War early, too. Don't let the games media echochamber fool you. Every publisher I've approached has been more than happy to (and often eager to) work with me.” Something changed in 2019 as that same company that gave him Detroit: Become Human and God of War early would blacklist his outlet. “PlayStation has blacklisted Sacred Symbols for reasons entirely unknown, so we won't be getting anything from them moving forward.” Probably the most perfect example of pity party Moriarty comes in this response, “Hundreds? Try thousands. [of people attacking him online] Hit pieces written about me in renowned publications [I’m unable to find anything other than the usual summary of events news stories from the time of his exit]. Thrown away by people I knew for years and treated with respect [This at least checks out from his perspective of events]. Blacklisted [only by Sony as far as his statements have shown]. Defamed and lied about. Intentionally misrepresented [This is likely just the usual twitter posting being referenced]. No. He will never experience 1% of what I did. It's fine. I lived.” It’s quite melodramatic. Colin can cry in his dollar bills though, as he’s tweeted already, he has become much more successful than he ever was before, transforming his tears into financial compensation and playing on people’s apparent need to adulate him with praise.

Lastly, Colin made a big deal of him leaving the GOP in 2016 after Trump’s nomination, as if being a proud Republican for his lifetime prior bore no consequence simply because he was “socially liberal” during it.  His words on there needing to be more diversity of ideas within games media reads as naive in terms of how leftists and liberals are as divided and argumentative amongst themselves as he believes they should be, they just lack a Republican review giving the latest Mario a 9/10. Nobody wanting to debate him nowadays is mostly due to a degradation of tolerance for people who are stymying progress, especially as we grow ever nearer to climate disaster, as the rich hoard more and more wealth as costs go up and wages stay as they are. We’re tired of this shit and don’t have the patience for those who want to present the insidious mask of thoughtful discussion between those who want us dead and those who are dying. As Austin Walker wonderfully put it in Febraury 2017, “While you encourage me to debate a brick wall, I'll be busy trying to keep it from fucking falling on my head.”

Tracking this stuff is exhausting, and I can see why I didn’t really do much with the “Dirty Laundry” series after the first handful of episodes in 2015. There is no shortage of drama, but actually tracking down solid information takes too much time for too little reward. Colin’s fans will read these same tweets and think they’re examples of his strong convictions and character and is correct in his assertions because he’s just so smart. Those like me will find renewed annoyance at his continual whining and bad take posting while he profits and those who actually are the, “greatest critical minds in the history of games media” continue to do so part time and scrape by on Patreon. Shit sucks! Fuck him!

Colin Moriarty: wrote guides and posted them on GameFAQs throughout the 2000s, started guide writing for IGN in 2003, was hired in 2007, jumped from guide writing to editorial in 2009, left IGN to co-found Kinda Funny in January 2015, is ousted from Kinda Funny in March 2017, creates Colin’s Last Stand on Patreon that same month, January 2021 rebrands as Last Stand Media, continues to work there to this day.

December 13, 2012: Colin Moriarty “I love being challenged, I love people disagreeing with me, giving me a different view. Living in an echochamber must be a lonely existence.” [source]

June 29, 2015: Colin Moriarty “Here's my argument: the Confederate flag is a symbol of racism created by traitors to their country. Pretty simple.” [source]

March 3, 2017: Colin Moriarty “Was his response "I wrote a game about a woman fighting robot dinosaurs, why is everything cause for faux outrage?" That'd be a good answer.” In response to a Waypoint article about the appropriation of native american imagery for the groups within Horizon Zero Dawn. [source]

March 8, 2017: Colin Moriarty “Ah. Peace and quiet. #ADayWithoutAWoman” [source] this quickly led to his departure from Kinda Funny.

September 26, 2017: Colin Moriarty “Asian Americans blow the entire White Supremacy/Racism bit to smithereens. Expect the fringe left to chase ‘em hard over the next few years. Compared to whites, Asian Americans are better educated, make more money, live in more affluent areas, and live longers. Where’s the racism?!” [source]

Also, “To reiterate: If @bobservo wants to have a productive debate, I will fly him to LA, put him up, and donate $2,000 to a charity he chooses.” [source]

October 9, 2017: Colin Moriarty “All of those people are welcome to come record an episode with me should they ever find themselves in LA. Would love to host them.” This is in response to someone on Twitter saying he should have Austin Walker, Patrick Klepek, Danielle Riendeau, Gita Jackson, and Zoe Quinn on his show [source]

November 22, 2017: Brandon Jones responds positively [source] to Colin Moriarty’s invitation [source] to be on his show, there was some pushback for and against this. [source]

November 29, 2017: Colin Moriarty “The illustrious @TrailerJones  joined me for this week's CLS: Fireside Chats! We chat about Easy Allies and Patreon, and open up about our time at GameTrailers/IGN, the good 'ol days at Kinda Funny, and the storm surrounding this podcast happening at all. https://patreon.com/posts/15613489“ [source]

December 3, 2017: Brandon Jones “Last week my words were upsetting to some. I worried anything else I said might make things worse. I’ve been doing a lot of reading and thinking lately, but not a lot of talking, and that’s rightfully frustrated people I care about in the EZA community. ⅛” [source]

December 5, 2017: Brandon Jones posts a Cup of Jones on Easy Allies patreon, some bit of it includes comments on Colin's situation. [Colin later cites this as an example of not liking Brandon]

April 11, 2018: Colin Moriarty “Games media has a diversity problem, but it's not the one ably written about here. Can you name a single conservative or libertarian writer working at any mainstream games outlet? Just one. I'd like diversity of thought and ideas. Skin deep is just that. https://eurogamer.net/articles/2018-04-11-why-the-games-media-has-a-diversity-problem-this-website-especially. I love and respect IGN for a lot of reasons, but this reason may be paramount: When they brought me on as a freelancer in 2002 (and full time in 2007), they knew damn well I was a passionate, political conservative, and they embraced it. They never tried to shut me up, ever. I'd love to see some of these outlets hire a Trump voter. Hire an evangelical. Hire a libertarian. Hire a social conservative. These people also play and love games. Millions of them. We're so focused on gender and skin color that we've forgotten about, y'know... the mind.” [source]

November 8, 2018: Colin Moriarty “My favorite game of 2018 is STILL Detroit: Become Human. I bid you good day.” [source]

May 10, 2019: Colin Moriarty “I said it during Kingdom Come: Deliverance, and I’ll say it again: Game devs, publishers, and PR have nothing to lose by being adversarial to a games media that is perpetually adversarial to them. Right or wrong, it’s certainly tactically sound.” [source]

May 24, 2019: Colin Moriarty “There's no doubt that YouTube is an Outrage Fest, but websites like Kotaku, Polygon, and Waypoint pedal almost entirely in outrage. No one would care about Kotaku (at all) if not for Jason S. It's safer to call out the YouTubers destroying his media circle than honestly assess.” [source]

June 21, 2019: Colin Moriarty “It’s almost impossible to believe that old guard games media is dying. [photo of a GameSpot article ‘We Need to Talk About How Bra Sizes Work’” [source]

August 1, 2019: Colin’s Last Stand posts: Introducing CLS' First Full-Time Employee: Dustin Furman [source]

August 3, 2019: Colin Moriarty “The lack of coverage is proof, above all else, that games media isn't dispassionate. If you don't have a dispassionate media, why even have a media at all? The lack of coverage doesn't hurt Chris and I. It hurts our ripped-off fans, who the media also doesn't care about.” [source]

September 22, 2019: Colin Moriarty “It’s their prerogative not to invite us! It’s no big deal. We’ll continue to cover everything thoroughly and fairly regardless of the way publisher PR treats Sacred Symbols. We have more than 50,000 people that rely on us, and we’ll always do our best for y’all regardless. <3” [source]

Colin Moriarty “Nah. PR (and CMs/marketers) hold the cards in this regard. We'll continue to keep the lines of communication open with all publishers and they can work with us if they want. Our show will continue to grow and prosper with or without 'em, and we're happy to buy the games we need.”

October 17, 2019: Colin Moriarty “We've been asked a ton, so: No, @ChrisRGun and I don't have Death Stranding. PlayStation has blacklisted Sacred Symbols for reasons entirely unknown, so we won't be getting anything from them moving forward. We're happy to buy any game and treat it fairly, so it's no biggie. <3” [source]

November 8, 2019: Colin Moriarty “This week's all-new episode of Sacred Symbols+ is dedicated to the decaying mainstream games media. In the wake of Deadspin's self-destruction, it's worth asking: Who do enthusiast outlets write for? It sure doesn't seem like they write for any of us.” [source]

February 13, 2020: Colin Moriarty “This is the perfect encapsulation of intersectionality's complete failure. Trans women can be accepted as women. That's great. But they were born men in male bodies, and they're destroying biological women in sports. It's not fair, and it shouldn't be controversial to say so.” [source]

February 20, 2020: Colin Moriarty “With all due respect, Mr. Bloomberg, your debate performance last night was arguably the worst I've ever seen. Trump would absolutely eat you alive. I think you should step aside and let one of your better-equipped competitors take it from here. Fund 'em, if you like! My 2¢.” Directly responding to Mike Bloomberg’s tweet [source]

March 8, 2020: Colin Moriarty “Hundreds? Try thousands. Hit pieces written about me in renowned publications. Thrown away by people I knew for years and treated with respect. Blacklisted. Defamed and lied about. Intentionally misrepresented. No. He will never experience 1% of what I did. It's fine. I lived.” [source]

March 24, 2020: Lillymo Games Inc publishes Twin Breaker: A Sacred Symbols Adventure on PlayStation Vita and PlayStation 4 with ports later on Xbox One and Nintendo Switch.

May 30, 2020: Colin Moriarty “If you watch the interview (which I suggest), MLK talks extensively about the immoral and intolerable racism the black community faced (and which the community still faces). But he never condoned violence. And he knew it wasn't a useful tool. Peace is the most potent weapon.” [source]

June 2, 2020: Colin Moriarty “I absolutely loved what he had to say, top to bottom. Understanding the results of systemic racism. Holding people to account that perpetrate violence against blacks. Reinforcing your own home instead of burning it down. Planning. Responding. Organizing. Voting. It was perfect.” In response to someone mentioning Killer Mike’s speech. [source]

June 3, 2020: Colin Moriarty “We built this with:✅ Virtually no mainstream games industry support. ✅ Virtually no games PR or publisher goodwill. ✅ Persistent defamation and misrepresentation by games media and their acolytes. But the people have spoken. Thank you so much for that. <3“ [source]

This is seemingly in direct contradiction with an earlier tweet from May 24, 2018: Colin Moriarty “They gave me God of War early, too. Don't let the games media echochamber fool you. Every publisher I've approached has been more than happy to (and often eager to) work with me.” [source]

June 29, 2020: Colin Moriarty “Colin's Last Stand has acquired 49% of @LillymoGames, and I will be its Chief Creative Officer and Lead Writer moving forward. Also: Side Quest will now be a tandem operation between @DustinCanFly and @G27Status Plus: Other things in a letter from me! https://patreon.com/posts/38682170“ [source]

September 1, 2021: Colin Moriarty “I think we can all agree that Kotaku has somehow, some way assembled the Anti-All-Star Team of Games Media.” [source]

September 25, 2021: Colin Moriarty “The types of people that do this will never, ever sit and talk to you, just like they won't with me. They're scared. I'd be scared to defend my positions, too, if I spent years flailing around an echochamber. Thankfully, iron sharpens iron and you and I have no such issues. <3” Response to David Jaffe posting a Jeff Grubb video featuring a Jaffe screen grab and being blocked by Grubb. [source]

July 14, 2021: Colin Moriarty “If you can’t or won’t beat games on anything harder than Easy — and you’re reviewing them from that perspective and not from the perspective of the average player — then your criticism is worthless. Seek out critics who actually like video games. It’s all getting a little trite.” [source] [this in response to Natalie @heartimecia saying she only plays games for reviews on easy after Xbox posted a tweet saying beating a game on easy is still beating the game. Souls-likes, difficulty, accessibility, etc etc etc]

July 19, 2021: Colin Moriarty “The very games media that limply tossed itself head-first into Palestine/Israel (and otherwise goes out of its way to shove every sort of fringe political view down everyone's throat) seems awfully mum about communist China-aligned entities slowly gobbling up our industry.” [source]

January 4, 2022: Sacred Symbols+, Episode 152: The Excommunication of Vince Ingenito [This is the same Vince Ingenito who was laid off by IGN in March 2017, Kallie Plagge came out and shared that Ingenito sexually harassed herself and another female staff member and felt HR’s response was irresponsible. This led to a walk out by IGN staff until management put out a response addressing it. [source]]

April 26, 2022: Gene Park “had a very quick, pleasant chat with Colin about the trajectory of my career and my life. "games media being in its death throes" is colin's view on it but i do talk about how all aspects of media are slowly being overtaken by a creator-led revolution of coverage and distributing information. folks, try not to fight with the journalists in my mentions. i understand their concerns and why they might be upset about this. but as i say in the interview, i see this as Colin giving ME a platform. his audience includes many of my own followers, people who are good. many of you haven't followed my career closely but during my career as an audience engagement editor, i found much success in talking to audiences with an antagonistic view of the press. on reddit, i talked with fervent Trump supporters who HATE us all the time. even in Hawaii, i held in person meetings with groups of people who have every reason to hate the media. this is just how i've always operated, but it's something i passionately care about. this isn't about "validation" it's about reaching out to audiences.” [source [end of thread post]]

January 25, 2023: Last Stand Media has Kara Lynne on their Sacred Symbols+ podcast, she was fired from Limited Run Games after Twitter user Purple Tinker [source] [someone who in June 2020 posted a five page apology for being an internet bully within the brony fandom of which they were a founder of bronycon] found an old tweet [archived version] where Lynne said, “If you think the # of trans crying about using a bathroom is higher than the perves using the excuse, you are what is wrong with this world.” as well as following various conservative people on Twitter.

April 29, 2023: Colin Moriarty “Waypoint's collapse is the most recent reminder that games media is largely finished. But it's important the void fills with passionate, knowledgeable people who care about games. Not people who didn't know there would be a third Horizon. Sacred Symbols x Defining Duke is live.” [source]

May 11, 2023: Last Stand Media YouTube uploads Kingdom Hearts Anniversary Retrospective feat. Brad Ellis | Sacred Symbols+, Episode 291

May 16, 2023: Last Stand Media launches Punching Up: A Nintendo Podcast [we need to talk about co opting that term] and also announce Gene Park as a regular member.

June 28, 2023: Colin Moriarty “It was awesome having Vince on the show to talk deeply about games. He has one of the greatest critical minds in the history of games media and it's unfair that audiences have been robbed of him for so long. I'm proud that Last Stand is giving him a place to speak. He'll return.“ [source] 

October 12, 2023: Easy Allies YouTube uploads Everything Going Crazy - Frame Trap Episode 195 with Bradley Ellis, Daniel Bloodworth, Michael Huber, Michael Damiani, and guest Dustin Furman of Last Stand Media.

October 13, 2023: Easy Allies staff member Gabby posts in their Discord, “Hi guys, just wanted to quickly address the latest episode of Frame Trap. To first explain our thought process: Brad & Dustin are friends and Dustin is a fan of ours, so Brad wanted to have him on FrameTrap. We unfortunately did not think it through beyond that & that is entirely our fault. Please understand, Brad has known and trusted Dustin for many years, but we hear your concerns and will take more time to discuss & vet new guests before bringing them on. We sincerely apologize for any and all drama this has caused. Thank you so much for understanding and please feel free to reach out to me if you have any questions or comments!

...

Guys, read the apology before you jump to any conclusions. No one is apologizing for being friends with Dustin, but there is unfortunately some inherent messiness (to put it lightly) when it comes to LSM that we would rather avoid than participate in. It was a mistake, but let's all please be mature about this. If you want to discuss it again, feel free to message me, but any bad faith conversation about it in this Discord is over.“ [source]

October 15, 2023: Pinned comment on Everything Going Crazy - Frame Trap Episode 195: I want to offer my deepest apologies to everyone for my failures regarding this week's Frame Trap and its aftermath. I tried to address some people's questions in our Discord about bringing Dustin Furman onto Frame Trap, and unintentionally made Brad and Dustin look bad in the process. I failed to properly account for potential reactions, and I failed by rushing out a statement which has harmed one of our guests and biggest fans. There are few things that hurt me as deeply as knowing that I've hurt others. And it's my own mistakes that have led to this absolute turmoil for Dustin, Brad, Gabby, our staff, and our community. This is my responsibility, and I'm sorry. -Daniel Bloodworth

October 15-16, 2023: Gene Park joins ResetEra thread on Easy Allies to talk about Last Stand Media (Gene Park has been banned from ResetEra for “ User Banned (1 Month): Dismissive commentary around banned source and transphobia”) [source]

October 23, 2023: Last Stand Media Twitter posts “We’ll see about that.” with a photo where a sign states, “Warning Poaching is Strictly Forbidden. Violators will be prosecuted.” [source]

October 23, 2023: Last Stand Media YouTube uploads Is the Skinsuit Complete? | Sacred Symbols, Episode 277 with timestamp “0:52:24 - The Easy Allies Situation”

October 24, 2023: Easy Allies Patreon 5,973 members, $1 lowest tier membership

Last Stand Media 15,895 members, $1 lowest tier membership

[khiphop-discussions]

I'm not really familiar with Owen, could you please make a post about what he did/siad? The khh/krnb industry is so wild it's hard to keep up with everyone andd everything they do/have done😂

Whew....where do I even start? It's actually a long laundry list.

So the most recent was when he said he doesn't care about BLM at the height of the protests during the pandemic. He said bascally "yall cant cancel me. I'm still getting money" or whatever. He eventually apologized after many people called him out. This is literally the only thing he's ever apologized for. So on one hand I believe him cause he DOESN'T EVER apologize for anything. No matter HOW bad his reputation and hate gets. But on the other hand I kinda wonder did the heat just get WAY too intense this time and so he gave a fake apology.

His other controversies include:

Saying "why do you guys care. you're not here parents." when a mkitrain member (neil) tried to get or did get nudes from a minor

Said he wants to "rape white bitches"

and honestly? I think there's more. I'm not even gonna lie but I can't remember them all. However, these are the really extreme ones that most people really hate him for and rightfully so.

I also don't like him but I kinda just try to ignore him now cause I got tired of talking about all the crazy, terrible shit he does.

While I HAVE publicly acknowledged that he was nice, polite, and humble when some acquaintances I met in Korea approached him in Hongdae one night* , I AM NOT a fan or apologist of his. I honestly lowkey regret even putting that out there and HEAVILY debated whether I should say it or not before posting. However, it was after a lot of people were surprised/annoyed that him and Ph-1 were friends again and I was trying to give context to why people in the industry will still tolerate his presence or even befriend him. I was shocked he wasn't a complete dickhead IRL tbh.

In addition, that was one experience that made me realize why some fans (and other rappers) will defend certain people (especially Owen) so hard. Cause I DEFINITELY used to be one of those "OMG so and so still has fans??? How is that even possible?" type of people. It's possible they met these people IRL before (obviously not in all cases) and had nothing but good experiences. So I was trying to basically convey that information to other people to help them understand a bit better. I feel like if something is true there's no reason to not say it but I still halfway feel like sometimes it can be unnecessary to say even if something is the truth. Regardless, I don't think that came off the way I really wanted it to. I think it might be something people have to experience personally like I did OR just be on a platform where long form text can add more nuance. Twitter is VERY bad for nuance LOL. Even if you make a thread, the first post ALWAYS gets more views than the subsequent ones so many people will miss the details/nuance even if you go out of your way too add it.

So ANYWAY, I just wanted to go more in depth here while we're on the topic of Owen just in case anybody remembers that tweet about him from not that long ago.

*this was a LONG time ago in Summer 2019. I've never had any direct interaction with him cause I ACTIVELY couldn't stand him back then but I wanted to observe the KHH scene while I was there so I observed everybody whether I liked them or not. Also, the acquaintances told me what happened in the conversation when they left and came back to where I was sitting. Just to be clear. These acquaintances were ALSO not fans of Owen and one didn't know who he was at all. One knew who he was but didn't know much about him. They saw him perform earlier that night. Hence why they approached.