#I was possessed to make this since my summer job has been a lot of time spent on a canoe

[birdlover9000]

Mob Psycho canoe trip??

[bratbarzal]

Let It Happen (LH43) 1/3

Pairing: Luke Hughes x Fem!Reader

WC: 17k

If you're ready, all I mean is we could go, I've never craved someone's attention as much as yours.

General Warnings: an almost unbearable amount of sarcasm and snark, even more idiotic shenanigans, many affectionate empty threats of murder/violence, fluff, mentions of golf 🤢, cursing and I'm pretty sure that's it for this half

A/N: in line with the general consensus lmao this has been split, part two will be posted as soon as it's finished (lol) but it's best read as one whole fic, it isn't a multi-part situation really!! it was originally supposed to be my submission for the eras tour fic challenge (hence the graphic I'm too attached to to change) but took a different direction to the song I was given, and I missed the deadline, and I pretty much listened to the secret of us exclusively while writing this whole thing. also dropping an overwhelmingly summery fic in december might actually be my brand. keep your eyes peeled for a christmas fic in july.

very special shoutout to shea @sleepretreat I made a random comment one day that luke gives seth cohen energy, and she fanned that flame like a full time job. ily shea!! I hope this lives up to any expectations and I owe a lot to your instigating!!

AS ALWAYS!!! never proofread!! I'll probably get around to it when the thought of a spelling mistake keeps me awake at night. and also!! please let me know what you think I am like a teeny tiny little plant that can only thrive under the constant shower of validation and you don't want me to wither and die do you? (I’m kidding) (I’m not)

You kind of, sort of, think you might hate summer.

You haven’t always felt this way, though. Growing up, it had always been your favourite time of the year. 

No school? Check.

Going on vacation, sometimes multiple, all expenses covered by your parents? Double check.

Getting to do all the cool things you don’t have time for in the school year with all your friends? Concerts, festivals, beach days, bonfires on the evenings. Check, check and check again.

But 4 years ago, your whole world as you knew it was torn apart, and summers have never been the same, since.

A season that was once filled with light and companionship, never ending plans and joviality, became darker - isolated, getting yourself out of the house even if everyone else was busy, driving just to drive and making the best of your own company. 

School ended up becoming your escape, especially since you had started college - your studies and the chaos of Greek life distracting you from the calamitous state of your home life, making new friends that became like family and sticking to them like glue, where possible, clingy and possessive to the point of ruin, almost - and so the lack of it in the summers now actually sends you into some sort of warped spiral.

It’s manageable in the winter and spring, the breaks no longer than a few weeks at a time, but going home for summer is somewhat of a nightmare.

It’s hard to go back, hard to ignore the mess your mind has become when it’s just you and your mother - or, you, your mother and whatever bottle of pinot she’s 3 glasses deep into at any given time of the day - and you’re sat in a house that’s a cold reminder of the warmth that once filled it. 

But when Ellie - your best friend since moving to college, the girl who took the sister part of sorority sister to the next level at all possible opportunities over the years - found out you’d put your name down to be the caretaker for your sorority house instead of going home, she had put her foot down on your summertime sadness session.

Which is how you end up moving into her family home - spending the first few weeks integrating yourself into their routine while trying to grip desperately onto some form of your own - trying not to get too used to the feeling of such a big family when you know it won’t be forever.

You braid her little sister’s hair everyday, kick a soccer ball around with her little brother when he needs someone to stand in goal, wash the dishes with her mom, talk sports with her dad, and before long, you blend like a chameleon into their dynamic.

You pick up a summer job at the country club to cling back onto your independence. Your commute provides the solitude and quiet you‘ve grown accustomed to in the years before, a bus journey through town with headphones on, watching the scenery and admiring the greenery until you get to work, donning your navy blue polo and tucking your little notepad into your hip apron as you serve tables at the clubhouse restaurant and bar. 

It’s a much needed escape from Ellie, if you’re honest.

You love that girl with all your heart, appreciate her housing you more than you’ll ever be able to say, but if you have to hear her sit and mope about how hopelessly in love she is with Jack Hughes for even a second longer, you’re going to vomit. Or scream. Or both.

Jack and Ellie grew up together - their families close, Ellie’s dad best friends with Jack’s uncle, or something - and she’s been into him since he had teeth missing - a point she loves to hammer home when it comes to you always listing that as one of his (many, if it’s up to you) cons. Considering his job, and the fact he already lost one, not too long ago, a toothless boyfriend seems like a massive ick, if you’re honest. 

But Ellie is beyond reason when it comes to him. She worships the ground he walks on - talks about him non-stop, messages him every day, regales you with stories you, awfully, but realistically, couldn’t care less about - and it’s the only real problem about living with her.

Even beyond the summer, you two had shared a room your first two years in college, still live in the same house - and it’s a year round problem.

But being unable to escape, having your days tied to close to hers, and knowing that it’s bound to be worse with proximity, Jack back in Michigan for the summer, himself, she’s starting to drive you up the wall.

It wouldn’t bother you if you had never met Jack, but the two of you don’t exactly get along. He’s rude, and self-absorbed, and had looked down on you the first time he ever laid eyes on you, and you really shouldn’t let it get to you, but you do - the thought that your best friend is in love with an asshole, and that she won’t let you hear the end of it. 

Won’t stop whining about how he’ll never feel the same, or that she can’t handle another summer of biting her tongue, of being around him, feeling the way she does, and not being able to do anything about it.

She deserves better. 

Ellie has a heart of gold, and she deserves someone who handles it with care. If Jack Hughes doesn’t like her back, that’s his loss - but you’re kind of getting sick of telling her that.

Getting through a whole summer of it is going to be hard, you think, but it’s better than the alternative. Better than being entirely alone. So you put on a brave face, use work as your escape in the same way you usually do with school, and avoid blowing your top for as long as you can, suffering through the late nights and heart to hearts where Jack is the sole topic of discussion, and bask in the good stuff.

In the chaos of her siblings, in the closeness of her family, and the way they’ve welcomed you with open arms.

This summer could be okay, you’ve just got to give it a chance. 

Luke Hughes loves summer.

He loves being back home in Michigan, spending his days out on the lake, or making the trip out to parade around Ann Arbor, catching up with all his college buddies, making the rounds at all the UMich sporting events he now gets a VIP pass to thanks to his last name.

The routine of it all is familiar, and warming, and it restores a sense of normality that playing in the NHL for the past year has so brutally ripped from him, already. 

He had enjoyed starting his summer overseas - making the team for the world championships and competing beyond the abysmal end to his rookie season - had enjoyed the time away from his brothers, if he’s honest. Quinn and the Canucks making it a few rounds into the playoffs, and Jack back home recovering from getting surgery on his shoulder - and it’s the latter he needed the reprieve from.

He does love living with his brother.

Jack looks after him in ways he’ll never really be able to make it up to him for. He always has, Quinn has too, but ever since Luke got drafted to the Devils, Jack has helped him adjust to the chaos of his career without much fuss or hardship.

And he really is grateful for that.

But, God, can he be annoying.

Especially when it comes to his infatuation with his best friend, Ellie.

Jack and Ellie have always been close - despite the fact she’s Luke’s age - and grew up thick as thieves, spending summers together, especially when the family moved to Michigan, and Ellie’s family were just on the other side of town. 

He’s always been obsessed with her, even if it hasn’t always been love - but these last few years have been different. Like a switch flipped in his head when Jack saw what Ellie was like when he came to visit Luke in his freshman year of college.

A version of Ellie that was no longer just his - no longer exclusive to their summer bubble, and lived in a world beyond lounging by the lake and hanging out with the Hughes family.

A version of Ellie who liked partying, liked schmoozing and charming everybody she came into contact with, liked being the centre of everyone else’s attention, not just Jack’s.

And it’s that version of Ellie that has driven Luke’s brother crazy, which has, in turn, started to drive Luke crazy. He talks about her non-stop, and it was those much needed weeks away in Czechia that almost had Luke forgetting just how stupid his brother has gotten about the whole thing.

Until he came home to Michigan, and Jack, in all the commotion with his shoulder, with ending his season early and starting his summer off alone, has worked himself into such a stupor about the whole thing that merely a week into his return, he has driven Luke up the wall. 

He’s grumpy, all the time - which leads to him being snarky, all the time. He huffs and puffs around the house so much Luke is starting to think he might need an inhaler, and he really can’t take any more.

Not when he’s making such a show of his irritation, stomping around with heavy feet and slamming doors that don’t need to be shut in the first place. 

“What crawled up your ass and died there?” Luke frowns as he follows Jack into the kitchen upon his return from therapy, holding out for the doors he swings open with a little too much vigour so that they don’t swing back into his brother’s slinged-shoulder. “I thought the physio is going alright?”

“It is,” Jack huffs, storming over to the fridge and yanking it open, the jars and bottles in the door clanking together in a way that makes Luke cringe. “I’m fine.”

“Tell that to all the hinges you’re testing the limits of.” 

“Don’t start with me, Luke, I’m not in the mood.”

“You just said you’re fine.” Luke rolls his eyes as he starts to scroll through his group chat with his friends from college, trying to check who said they might be free today to get him out of this vicious circle.

“It’s nothing.”

“Clearly not.” It’s interactions like this that confirm to Luke just how annoying Jack has become - because what reason does he have to be so evasive? Luke is handing him the opportunity to air out his grievances on a silver platter, and he’s rather slam cupboards and create creases in his forehead from frowning 24/7.

“Fine, it’s Ellie.”

Luke wishes he never bothered asking, although he has been wondering why he’s been seeing way less of her already this summer. He had figured Ellie was away with family until he saw her at the gas station the other night - had watched from the car as Jack had what seemed like a heated conversation by the entrance. 

“She’s refusing to hang out with me.”

“Has she said why?” Luke asks, although he doesn’t really care. He’s just asking to get it out of the way in the hopes that Jack talking about it might lighten the load, might make his own life a little easier. 

It’s the bitter muttering of your name that captures Luke’s full attention, his neck audibly cracking at the speed in which his head shoots up, no longer caring what could possibly be going on with the boys in the group chat. 

“She isn’t going back to whatever fiery hell pit it is that she comes from for the summer, and she’s staying with Ellie’s family, therefore Ellie isn’t staying with us.”

Luke hasn’t heard your name in a while. Not since he left college last year, not since he got caught up in the whirlwind life in the NHL, when a schoolboy crush on a girl he interacted with once in his entire college career became the least of his worries.

But one utterance of it has his spine straightening, just like it would have done just over a year ago.

You’re in Michigan. You’re at Ellie’s, on the other side of town. You’re barely two degrees of separation from him.

“Why can’t Ellie bring her here?” Luke asks, throat dry and voice breaking so subtly that he hopes Jack doesn’t notice. That could be fun. Would make up for the hell his brother has been putting him through since he got here. 

Maybe a little glorious sunshine might finally get you to notice his existence. He wouldn’t mind third wheeling Jack and Ellie if you were there, too. It would give him the perfect opportunity to prove he’s worthy of your attention - too shy and too scared to do so, back in college, but he’s different, now. Confident, almost. More sure of himself.

“She hates me.” Jack huffs, “Last time we met she was giving me the stink eye all night.”

And of course it would be his brother to ruin his plans, yet again. You’ll probably hate him, too - a hatred so strong for Jack that it seeps through his entire bloodline, because Luke of all people knows he can be annoying like that. 

“Trust me, she probably doesn’t care enough to hate you,” Luke scoffs, not realising the spool of information he’s just given Jack to unravel. 

“You know her?”

“We had a class together. I know of her.”

Not the truth, but not exactly a lie.

Luke knows a lot about you. It’s borderline creepy, the observations he can still remember, even after so long.

He knows you like only like coffee if it’s iced, had seen you with too many clear plastic cups to count, had watched plump lips chewing at straws by the time you had finished the drink. He had even, one time, tried to zoom in on a picture of your order printed on the side in one of his many states of delusion where he had been trying to build himself up to ask you out. 

He knows you can hold your own in an argument, had watched you debate with the best of them in your business comms class, has watched you shoot down most guys that approach you with a sharp tongue and even sharper wit, and has watched you take down a frat guy or two, usually in defence of your sorority sisters - who Luke noticed you’re the most protective of. 

He knows you match your perfume to the colour of your outfit, had notice you smelled citrusy like lemons in yellow, floral like roses in pink, sweet like candy in purple, and clean like fresh cotton in blue. 

He knows the pieces of hair that frame your face curl when wet from the rain. Knows you used to volunteer at the pool on the weekends it was open to the kids of the community, would teach them how to swim. He knows you listen to Taylor Swift and has heard you humming just about every song of hers he knows.

But he doesn’t really know you - not on the level Jack is assuming, when his eyes widen and hope flashes across his crystal irises.

“You know how I’m your favourite brother?”

“No,”

“And I let you live with me all year?”

“My name’s on the lease.”

“Maybe you could talk to her for me?”

Luke sighs, shoulders heavy and eyes rolling practically to the back of his head. “I already told you, I don’t really know her like that.” 

“C’mon, you could at least try! I’m dying here, Luke! She’s hogging all of Ellie’s time, and she won’t give me the time of day if I try!”

If only Jack knew how much time you’d ever given Luke, he wouldn’t be asking him such an absurd request.

You’re so out of his league, it isn’t even funny. He probably couldn’t convince you to light a candle in a power cut, much less to give his annoying brother a shot to prove himself.

“You’re wasting your time, Jack,” Luke responds, “I’m gonna meet Dylan at the club. No, you can’t come.”

And by the time Luke makes it out to his car, he’s relieved to have ditched that conversation, entirely. He knows what’s waiting when he gets home, what his brother is going to be like for the next few months to come, but a temporary relief is all he needs.

He had already been planning on getting a few late morning holes in at the club, and meeting up with Dylan had been a white lie, needing some alone time away from Jack’s incessant whining to think about how he was going to survive the summer - and seeing you on your break, perched on the edge of the fountain in the courtyard by the clubhouse bar, basking in the sun and talking with your co-worker, he feels like he might have just struck gold.

Since when do you work here?

He supposes since you decided to spend your summer with Ellie’s family - it only makes sense. Ellie doesn’t live too far from the club - not as close as the lake house, but closer than Ann Arbor, at least. She’d worked in the club shop last summer, even when Jack insisted he’d pay for whatever she needed while she was staying with them - had said it was nice to pass the time with something else while they all went off doing whatever - and he assumes you’re doing the same. 

It’s the first time he’s seen you in a while, outside of coming across your pictures on his Instagram feed occasionally, or the flash of your figure in Ellie’s stories. 

He had thought that, after the year he’s had, he’d be over schoolboy crushes like this - would be over the way his breath catches just at the sight of you, over the way the hairs on the back of his neck prick up and stand to attention, over the way his throat goes dry as he watches your eyes crinkle from afar, watches your lips curve up into a heart-stopping grin.

But it’s like he’s picked up straight from where he left off at the end of his college career, pining after you from afar with hearts in his eyes and feet that start to shuffle at just the thought of approaching you.

If he’s going to do this, though, he needs to be clever about it, he thinks.

Approaching you on your break, limited to the amount of time he can use to put his point across, wasting yours, doesn’t seem like something that will work.

Which is how he finds himself bypassing you completely and walking straight into the bar, offering a friendly nod to the guy stood at the front of house, and letting him point him toward the right section to be served in. 

It isn’t long before you’re in front of him, sidling up to his booth, and he had almost forgotten how pretty you are up close. Hair clipped up with loose strands framing your face, chewing at your plump bottom lip as you scribble on your notepad to get your pen to work. And your honeyed voice settling deep in the pit of his stomach, warmth spreading throughout as you introduce yourself, like he has no clue who you are, and tell him you’ll be his server, “What can I get for you?”

“Five minutes of your time?”

The Luke that spent his college years obsessing over you might have stuttered - his voice might have broke, squeaked or choked in your presence - but while his throat does feel a little dry, he’s able to maintain his cool now, even when you look up from your scribblings to meet his eye. Maybe he can do this. Maybe he has matured.

His heart might jump in his chest, his mouth might tingle, his spine might stiffen, but he holds your gaze, hoping if you see a reflection of confidence that you might give him the time of day.

He’s seen you interact with guys before, has familiarised himself with the ten-foot walls you have in place, has seen others fold and try find a long way around, but he thinks that maybe matching your energy is the way to break through. 

Who doesn’t love a shortcut?

Your eyes narrow back at him as pouted lips form around a response, looking him up and down before tilting your head, and coming back with, “I all of a sudden feel the need to inform you we do have security here,” you point the tip of your pen to the entrance, where he was greeted on the way in. “I meant a drink.”

“Water’s fine,” his gaze flickers to the movement of your wrist as you click the other side of your pen, not even writing it down. “Maybe with a side of conversation?”

“I’ll go get your water,” you offer a smile, and the insincerity of it does little to cool his bravado, even if you head off with mutterings of why do I always get the creeps?

He watches you as you make your way over to the bar, not creep-like whatsoever, and he channels the nerves that sneak up on him, now that you’re distanced, through fiddling with his fingers on the table, pinching at the tips of them when you glance back over your shoulder, probably telling the girl behind the bar just how lucky you were to once again get the weirdo in your section.

It surprises him how little he cares, possessing more of your attention now than he ever has before, and if he could tell the Luke from two years ago, who spent every shared Principles of Marketing class ritualistically watching you chew on the end of your pen, that he’d be able to make eye contact without dribbling and breaking out into full body sweats, he’d have lost his mind.

He embodies a strange level of dislocated arrogance that manifests itself in his body language, sinking into the booth with arms outstretched across the back, a dangerous smirk teasing the corner of his mouth when you return, placing a pitcher of water down on the table and a glass with ice. 

“I’m Luke,” he tells you, placing a hand on his chest and doing his best to ignore the thudding he feels beneath it. “Hughes. Jack’s brother,” and when you look back over to him with a raised brow, he adds, “Ellie’s Jack.”

“And who’s Ellie?” You ask with a tilt of your head, your voice dripping in teasing sarcasm. 

“Funny,” he quips, biting back the urge to call you what he actually means. He can hardly call you cute, you’d probably pour that water straight over him. “I went to UMich, we had a couple classes together.”

Your eyes narrow again, and he knows it’s an intimidation tactic, a way to make him feel smaller than he’s acting, shrinking him down to a version of himself you can stamp your authority on, but he finds himself being resilient for once, carrying on like he isn’t affected.

He is. Massively, in fact. Just not in the way you probably want. Your indifference drives him in a way that presses into his spine, an inner voice pleading, notice me, I’m breaking through!

“Bauman’s class, Business Comms, you sat in the second row, I sat in the third, you dropped your pencil one time and I-,”

“I know who you are.”

So he’s been yapping on at you for no reason? Fantastic.

He can’t let his momentum slip, though, so he forces the corners of his lips into a victorious smile, and counters, “So you know I’m not a creep.”

“You literally memorised my seat in a class from 2 years ago, so…” 

“I have a good memory,” he’s quick to defend, fighting the urge to let his eyes linger on your pouted lips.

“Right,” you roll your eyes, “What is it you want, again?”

“I came to talk about Jack and Ellie.” He nods to the other side of the booth, and has to roll his shoulders so that his chest doesn’t inflate with misplaced hubris when you shuffle into the seat with a huff, discarding your notepad to the side as you level him with another raised brow.

“What about ‘em?”

“About how they’re hopelessly in love with each other and doing nothing about it.”

“You got hopeless right. What’s that got to do with us?”

Us. Oh, he likes that.

“I’m thinking they need a little shove in the right direction. And maybe we could be the shovers.”

You presses your lips together in faux-apology, a lopsided, patronising, adorable frown taking over your expression. “No can do, I don’t shove, I’m a pacifist.”

“A nudge, then?”

He isn’t giving up easy, no matter how much sarcasm you try to throw his way. You wouldn’t have sat down if there wasn’t something about this situation that irks you, too.

If Ellie is being only half as annoying as Jack is, he knows that you’re having a bad time of it. And you’re supposed to spending her summer with her - it can’t be easy, having your friend constantly pining over someone and refusing to do anything about it, if anything, making it your problem.

“Are you here to eat or annoy me?”

“Both,” he smiles, “I just figured a problem shared is a problem solved, and all.”

“How profound.” 

“C’mon, you sat down, you at least agree they’re into each other, and I know you’re staying with her this year, so I know you’ve been getting the same grief I have.”

“I’ve been on my feet 4 hours, I wouldn’t look too deep into me sitting down.” 

“Jack’s been moping around about her for years, I can’t listen to it anymore, he’s all, she’ll never like me back, this, and, I’ll never find a girl like her, that,” he whines, imitating his brother’s voice in the most annoying, high pitched tone he can muster, “I can’t take one more breakdown of her snap stories, especially not if it’s all summer if she’s not gonna be staying over, I’m gonna lose my mind.”

“How supportive,” the sarcasm in your bite does little to hide the beginnings of your smile, your glare softening into what he hopes is the start of some sort of bond, a shared feeling of exasperation. Finding your footfall in common grounds.

“It’s relentless, we can’t go a single conversation anymore without him bringing her up,” he sighs, slumping into his seat, finally giving in to all the ways this is starting to grate on him. “I don’t get why neither of them do anything.”

“Yeah,” you sigh, too, relenting a little. “She talks about him so much it kind of makes me nauseous.”

“How supportive,” he mimics, nerve endings set alight when your eyes meet his over the table, and narrow in a different way, almost appreciative, almost respectable.

“Can it, Hughes,” you scoff, “Me even entertaining this conversation right now is support enough, I’ve had it in my ear for months about how she doesn’t know how she’ll make it through another summer.”

“That’s what I’m saying. If we can get them together this summer, then we’re both better off. No more whining or crying or earaches for either of us.”

“I’d hope you didn’t make your way out here with the mere promise of no more earaches, Luke.” He tries not to preen at the way you say his name. “What’s in it for me?”

“You and Ellie can stay at our lake house.” He suggests, straightening up before he leans onto the table, elbows extending so that he can rest on them, “It’s closer to the club than her family’s place, it’s gotta be better than having her siblings running around you all the time, I can even drive you to work when I’m free, if you want?”

You blink at him slowly, as if to say, and? “So I can stay at your glorified frat house, and you can be my chauffeur?” You ask with an unimpressed raise of your brow, before letting out a humourless scoff of, “What more could a girl want to do with her summer?

“What do you want?” He asks, leaning further forward.

“To go back to work and not worry about strange guys propositioning me, funnily enough.”

Luke laughs, a deep, breathy laugh that rises from the depths of his chest and comes alive in an almost-bark, and he doesn’t miss the way your eyes flicker to his mouth when it comes out.

This is fun. 

There’s no way he’s letting you leave this table without agreeing - just the thought of one more singular interaction keeping him on his toes.

“Why don’t we make it interesting, then?”

“It’s about time you tried.” The quiver of your lip tells him everything he needs to know - and that’s without the entertained glint in your eye that accompanies it. You’re enjoying this, just as much.

“We could make a competition out of it.”

“A competition?” You ask, with a curious tilt of your head.

There it is, he thinks. Interest: piqued. He practically has you in the palm of his hand. Who would ever have thought, the way to a sorority girl’s heart would be a friendly little wager?

“Whoever actually gets them together, wins.”

It’s all he can think of in the moment - petulant and part-planned, but it seems to be enough.

“Wins what?” You lean onto your elbows, your gaze levelling his as he mirrors your positioning, having to slouch a little further forward in his seat to meet your pretty eyes. 

“Whatever you want.” He doesn’t intend it to come out as low as it does, doesn’t realise how close the two of you have gotten over the table, but he sees the flicker of something cross your features as your head tilts again, eyes still locked on his as yours begin to narrow, still just as pretty even when they’re glaring at him.

“It’s what you want that concerns me.”

“Don’t worry your pretty little head over it,” he jibes, watching the way your lips part in preparation of another witty comeback. “What do you say?” He asks, not giving you the chance, seeing the way it makes your skin crawl that you weren’t quick enough, for once. “Are you in?”

You heave out a sigh, shoulders slumping - a tell-tale sign that you’re about to acquiesce - and Luke starts to feel his chest puff out in victory. This feels like a shut-out. It feels like the best performance of his life. 

“You’re gonna make me regret this, aren’t you?”

“Oh definitely,” he smirks, eyes tracking you as you lean back into the booth, retreating from him in defeat, a hand running through your hair as he promises, “You’ll warm up to me soon enough, though.”

“I can’t see that happening.”

“I can,” he shrugs, leaning back too. “I’ve been told I’m inevitable.”

Luke can remember, like it was yesterday, the first time he ever saw you.

Freshman year, the week he moved into his dorm at Michigan, Jack had sent him across campus to check in on how Ellie was getting on. He had arrived with some extravagant gift basket in tow, plastic wrapped, a giant blue bow tied around the top and an assortment of snacks inside, and was left knocking for at least five minutes before you showed up.

“Please tell me you’re not another stripper-gram.”

If his throat hadn’t gone so dry all of a sudden, he thinks he would have had more wits about him to have questioned the use of another - a concept that had stuck in his head for weeks until he caught wind of a story of pledges for Pike being sent around campus and forced to lure girls to their house through way of humiliating song. 

But God, you were pretty. 

Siren eyes narrowed toward him, glossy lips pouted pensively, long lashes blinking impatiently as you awaited some kind of response that didn’t come in the form of an open, drooling mouth.

“I’m Luke.”

“Right.” You had sighed, pretty eyes rolling at him. “You’re blocking my door."

“Oh, I’m-,” he stuttered, immediately stepping to the side for you to come forward and insert your key into the lock. “Does Ellie live here?” He asked, confusion etched into his features as he watched you swing the door open, turning in your place to look him over again.

“Depends who’s asking.”

“I’m Luke.”

“So you’ve said.”

“I know her.”

“Clearly.”

“This is her basket.”

“Does she need to sign for it?”

“No, I-,”

“I’ll make sure she gets it, thanks, Lu!”

And when you had taken the basket from his hands, he had been too distracted by the way your skin brushed against his to properly respond, or worry if you had called him that as a nickname or had already forgotten his name, entirely.

He then spent days thinking about you, looking for you - at parties, in the campus coffee shop, online, despite not knowing your name - trying to commit to memory the way your eyes had sparkled when looking his way, until his first Business Communications class.

He had been a little early, first week nerves playing out and his constant craving for positive validation coming to the forefront, and was watching the door waiting for the professor to arrive. He had been slouched in his seat, chin in the palm of his hand, foot tapping rhythmically against the floor, and he had almost given himself whiplash when you walked in. 

He learned your name from there, learned a lot just from watching you in that class, but never really captured your attention.

And if the Luke that has been driving you to work every few days, who has been living with you for the past two weeks - who sits around the same dining table, laughs at the same jokes cracked when you’re all lounging around the house, sits out under the same sun, drinks from the same carton of orange juice in the morning - could tell the Luke that sat pining after you all that time, all the little ways in which he’s captured your attention lately, he’d probably have an aneurysm. 

When you and Ellie moved in, Luke had been the only one allowed to touch your stuff - and there’s a part of him that knows it was mainly because you enjoyed watching him work like a packhorse, hauling your cases up the stairs and dropping them in front of you with a huff, but there’s a larger, more delusional part that thinks you preferred him to the others, maybe even trusted him.

He’s taking credit for how quick you’ve adapted to the dynamic of the house, too. Of all the different faces coming in and out - Quinn’s friends, Jack’s friends, his friends, sometimes even his parents. If you’re around, you’re pleasant. You abide by house rules, some of them stupid, but set by the brothers so long ago that they just work now - like no phones outside of your rooms so that you can be more present. You insert yourself comfortably into conversations, you form your own relationships with everyone - you and Quinn trade book recommendations, you and Jack bicker while Ellie mediates. You do your fare share of chores - laundry, dishes, cooking, even. 

And he’s so caught up in just sharing space, just being around you, even, that for those first couple weeks, he forgets why you even agreed to be there in the first place.

At least, he forgets the incentive part - because he watches mindlessly as you interfere in Jack and Ellie’s dynamic, without a care in the world for the fact that it means he’s losing.

He watches you push one of them out of the way to claim whatever seat at the table or in the car forces them to sit beside each other. He watches you taunt Jack to just the right point where Ellie interferes, coos at him protectively and he melts into her affections. He watches you agree to plans he knows you wouldn’t in a million years follow along with, just to get them together - and all he can do is admire how easy you make it seem. 

He admires when you come out wakeboarding with the group, when you let him fasten you into a vest and don’t flinch when his fingertips brush against bare skin. Watches you bite your tongue over the fact you just got your hair blow dried - a fact you have no problems relaying back to him when he drives you to work the next day, and you’re muttering in his passenger seat about lake water giving you frizz - just so you’re not dampening the mood.

And when you agree to tag along to the golf course on your day off, despite the fact it’s so close to work if could be considered triggering, and you stick by Luke’s side so that Ellie can feign some sort of incompetence until Jack takes it upon himself to correct her form.

You stand by Luke’s side, the two of you watching with mirrored expressions of almost-disgust as Jack wraps his arms around Ellie’s body, and send a shiver down his spine when you lean in for only him to hear as you say, “I’d ask if you’ve put any more thought into what you want out of our bet, but I so have this in the bag.”

The bet.

Luke hasn’t thought about it since that day in the restaurant, if he’s honest, but he had known what he wanted then.

He’s hardly going to tell you, now, though. 

If he’s ever going to take you out on a date, he doesn’t really want to force your hand - not that he has a chance, he’s fallen so behind with this Jack and Ellie thing that it isn’t even funny.

He needs to up his game, if only for the fact that you’ll no doubt catch on to his lack of efforts, soon.

“I wouldn’t be so sure,” he taunts, because it’s what he does best, “I have a few tricks up my sleeve.”

“And how long do you plan on keeping them up there?” You call him out so easily, tilting your head when his eyes meet yours, mischief highlighted by the sunshine that speckles in your irises. 

“Maybe I’m luring you into a false sense of security,” he shrugs, “Maybe I’m letting you do all the heavy lifting so I can swoop in when those weak arms get tired.” He pokes at your side, basking in the way you scowl like you pertain any sort of threat to him.

He has you figured out, by now. 

“I didn’t have you pegged as being lazy, Hughes.”

“You spend a lot of time thinking about me, huh?”

“You wish,” you scoff, shoving when he dares to get too close, and it’s when Luke is biting back a full-blown grin that Ellie comes back over. 

“This sun is crazy, I think I left the sunscreen in the locker room and Jack’s nose is going all red, would you come back with me?”

You smile sweetly at your best friend and agree, only glaring at Luke over Ellie’s shoulder when she’s distracted with saying her brief, temporary goodbyes to Jack, and once you’ve turned and made your way over to the cart, he lets his eyes linger on your figure as you retreat.

The soft sway of your ponytail, the expanse of smooth skin along your legs, he’s completely hypnotised, and he needs to pull himself together, he thinks.

He tries to regain focus as he and Jack work their way through the next couple of holes, caddying their clubs around without the cart, and chatting mindlessly until Jack sighs heavily, like he’s been waiting to bring something up.

“I want to take Ellie out on the boat tomorrow,” He states as Luke tees up, resting on his club as he squints against the sun to watch his little brother, “Just the two of us, so we can talk about stuff.”

“Sounds riveting,” the disinterest in Luke’s tone is amplified by the lack of attention he’s giving overall, looking out across the green and trying to measure his swing before he takes it. “Have fun.”

“I was thinking I’d need your help for it to work.”

“I’m not being your boat-butler again,” Luke scoffs, mind immediately going to all the times their parents would make Jack take Luke out with him and his friends, and all the times he was made to wait on his older brother hand and foot to make up for crashing his hang-outs.

“I’m not asking you to tag along,” Jack scoffs, “You third-wheeling would be the ultimate buzz-kill. I thought you could be of use elsewhere.”

“You’re making whatever it is sound so fun.” 

Luke takes his swing, driving the ball and watching it soar to his desired point with a hand shielding his eyes from the sun. Jack watches too, stepping to Luke’s side to measure how far from his own ball it lands.

“Nice,” he mutters appreciatively as the two of them load their clubs into their stand bags. “I need you to keep Regina George busy, distract her or something, she’s stuck to Ellie like glue, it’s beyond annoying.”

If only he knew, Luke thinks, a worry in the back of his mind about how his brother owes more to you than he even realises. 

“You worried she’s gonna make her see sense?”

Jack swats at his arm and rolls his eyes.

“I’m worried she’s gonna ruin the good vibes like she usually does and I won’t be able to bite my tongue from saying something and looking like the asshole.”

Distracting you isn’t the worst thing he could be doing with his time, Luke thinks. It’s not like he has to go all out, you’ll no doubt be hanging out around the house and the two of you can hang together. All he has to do is keep you off your phone. Shouldn’t be too hard. You’ve adapted pretty well to mimicking the guys when it comes to staying off theirs.

It ticks off the box of trying to fight for a scrap of your attention. With no one else around, you’ll have no choice but to entertain his company.

And it puts him in front of your little race - lending a helping hand to Jack’s plans to talk to Ellie is surely the same as getting them together. It’s all falling so perfectly into his lap. He isn’t being lazy.

But he can’t let Jack know that, so he heaves out a sigh and offers a slow shake of his head for dramatic effect. “Fine,” he groans, “But you owe me. Big time.”

You’re starting to find it harder and harder to pretend like you don’t want to be at the Lake House.

If you’re being honest, you don’t entirely know why you’re even trying to keep up pretences, but using your disinterest as armour has become like second nature over the years, and you’re hardly going to stop now.

Even if there are already so many little things about being there that are starting to wear you down.

Quiet, early mornings, for one - birds chirping just outside your open window, sun rays pouring in through sheer curtains that flow in the slight breeze, that light feeling that blows through your chest when you’re sat out on the deck behind the house with a fresh cup of coffee, looking out over the still lake and basking in the peace of it all.

And even when it’s not so peaceful, when the kitchen is full of bodies swerving around each other to try and throw together some sort of breakfast spread - pastries and fruit, bacon and eggs, various boxes of cereal on the counter. Quinn had even made a whole batch of pancakes one morning, and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t come down every day since hoping to see him donning that same frilly apron that Cole had draped around his waist and working his magic with a pan. 

You’ve never really been a part of such a full house. You had been an only child for so long - and by the time your parents split, and it was just you and your mom, on the days she wasn’t already at work when you got up - and were so ingrained in your own routine in the morning that you think you might actually need the chaos to function better. The rush of bodies, the arguments over who drank the last of the juice, the bickering over who’s turn it is to do the next grocery run - it’s a kind of entertainment you haven’t been privy to in a long time. 

Being kind of disconnected from everything else isn’t as bad as you thought it would be, either. You’re not attached to your phone, checking socials to see what everyone else is doing, to see if your dad has sent any messages yet this summer, and you find yourself connecting a little more with the people around you and leaving your family stress on the back burner. You’re more focused on what’s in front of you, and your relationships with other people. With Ellie, with some of the guys in the house, with your friends at work, even.

And it’s nice to be closer to work too. You don’t have to rush around trying to make the bus - Luke has been keeping his word and driving you to the club most days, and where he can’t, either somebody else has offered, or you’ve just ridden one of the bikes in the garage that the boys said were free to use - the helmet hair is an easy fix when you have access to the locker rooms.

It’s an adjustment, for sure, getting used to being in a full house. Especially this one - with a constant revolving door of faces, friends of the brothers switching out week by week to come and stay, departing just as you’ve started getting to know them with a promise of dropping by again soon.

So far, you’re almost at double-digits for the names you’ve had to memorise. Some of them you were already familiar with, guys from Michigan who you already knew or knew of, but others were more Jack or Quinn’s friends that you’d never had the pleasure of meeting before now.

Cole Caufield being one of them. 

He had arrived a couple of days after you and Ellie moved yourselves in, closer to Jack than the other two brothers, you had noticed, and was going to be staying longer than any of the other visitors - having his own designated room in the house, similar to you girls.

You like Cole - he’s good fun, can take a joke unlike his supposed best friend, and has the kind of smile that almost gives you a buzz whenever it’s flashed your way. Your first few interactions with him were seemingly pleasant, despite Jack constantly in his ear with a hardened glare pointed your way and no doubt unsavoury words uttered. Cole would just shrug him off, laugh, meet your eyes and drop a wink your way - a gesture you’d usually squirm and cringe at, but Cole kind of pulls it off. 

He joins in when you chirp Luke, too - which, if your honest, is your main source of entertainment since arriving, so your interactions with him grow day by day.

You haven’t really spent any one-on-one time with Cole yet, though. You were hoping to, before he left to visit home for the weekend - for no other reason than to get the scoop on something you’d happened upon at work last week - and had planned on asking him to hang out on your day off. But with Cole now gone for a few days, Jack and Ellie off doing god knows what, Quinn and Luke working out wherever, you have no choice but to spend your free Sunday lounging around the house, trying to find something to suppress your growing boredom.

You start with your nails, painting them a summery orangey-red and doing your toes to match, then do your laundry, abiding by house rules that you rotate the loads between the machines, and fold out whoever’s clothes were last in the dryer and place them in the hamper on the side. 

You’re hoping you haven’t had to fold Jack’s underwear but you decide to live in blissful ignorance - trying to identify the load based on the rest of the clothing in there is impossible when they all share, so it kind of works in your favour. 

You FaceTime your mom for almost an hour, getting an update on what she’s been up to with work, and giving her updates on how your summer is going, trying to focus on your time at the club and Ellie so she doesn’t worry too much again that you’re spending your summer in a house filled with boys. 

And by the time Luke and Quinn come back from their workout, you’re in the lounge, 50 pages deep into a book you really couldn’t care less about, but there’s something in you that refuses to beg one of them for company, so you suffer in silence.

Even when Luke does join you, throwing himself down onto the opposite side of the couch you’re occupying and pushing your feet off his side like it’s his sole purpose just to annoy you.

“I was comfortable there, asshat,” you frown, lifting your feet back into their previous position and using one to give him a light kick to his thigh.

“Yeah, well, I hardly want your feet all up in my business while I’m trying to relax,” he sighs, sinking into the cushions with hands clasped behind his head, biceps flexing and tightening the arms of his t-shirt in a way that momentarily catches your eye. You’re thankful for his closed eyes, chewing at the inside of your cheek as you divert your attention back to the mundane words on the pages in front of you.

“And yet here you are when there are 2 other couches.”

“Yeah, well, I know how much you like to be near me.”

You try to ignore him, pulling your feet a little closer to your body and focusing back on the book, but it’s hard when Luke has such a presence. You feel the little looks he keeps sending your way like a physical touch, and the couch shifts with every slight movement he makes, so when he constantly shuffles, you start to think he wants your attention.

Of course he wants your attention. This is Luke Hughes.

“Are you just sitting down here to annoy me?”

He lights up, like he’s just been waiting for you to ask, and shuffles in his seat to face you, fully, bouncing in place like a puppy being teased with a tennis ball. 

“I’m actually trying to distract you, if you must know.”

“Bold of you to assume you have enough of my attention to be distracting in the first place,” you scoff, trying not to react to the way he smirks in your peripheral, the words in front of you all blurring together. If you were actually focused on them, you’d have lost your place, already.

“I think you pay more attention to me than you’d like to admit.”

“That’s some ego you’ve got on you, Hughes,” you narrow your eyes as you look above the edge of your book, “Is that what you spend that big NHL paycheque on, charisma classes? How to flirt for dummies?”

“Oh, is that what we’re doing? Flirting?”

Damn. You walked yourself right into that one. 

Sometimes biting back at Luke comes like second nature, words first, thoughts after - and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t like it that way. It’s easy, the back and forth, and you can’t really think of an instance with him where you’ve sat in a lingering, awkward silence. You’ve really grown to hate silence, lately.

“You wish.”

“You think I’m charismatic,” he teases in a sing-song voice, knocking at your knee and wiggling his eyebrows when you glare at him. 

“I think you’re an idiot.”

“You’re not gonna ask what I’m distracting you from?”

“I don’t really care,” you lie, eyes darting back down and diverting the attention he so desperately craves away from him.

“Jack wanted to take Ellie out on the boat.” He says, ignoring your attempts to ignore him - pushing your buttons like a full time job. Like an operator for your last nerve.

“Good for her.”

“Alone.”

“No shit.”

“To ask her out.”

“Whoop-de-doo.”

“Whoop-de-,” Luke straightens up, like a whack-a-mole with his head positioning itself over the top of your book, and you kind of wish you had one of those soft mallets right about now. It would be so satisfying to bonk at his head, you think. “What do you mean, whoop-de-doo, is this not what you agreed to be here for? To get them together?”

You scoff, flicking to the next page of the book in feigned disinterest. “He isn’t asking her out today.”

This is the exact something you had wanted to talk to Cole about - whispers in the staff lounge at work earlier in the week doing the rounds would imply otherwise, but your main source is kind of a gossip, and you’re not entirely sure of their reliability, despite the few degrees of separation to the subject at hand. 

Mutterings of Jack and Cole and their little country club connections. 

You can hardly ask Luke of all people if his brother is as much of a man-whore as everyone is making out. Cole was a safe bet - he’d probably just tell you straight up what they’re up to, wear his pride like a shining gold medal. He’s upfront about his promiscuity, at least. Luke is more protective. Of himself, of his family, you’re not entirely sure. There haven’t been as many whispers about him. 

“How could you possibly know that?”

“Because he’s a spineless idiot,” you retort, eyes flicking up momentarily to take in his furrowed brow. “No offence,” comes out of nowhere, and you surprise yourself with the instinct to lessen the blow of your words for the first time in forever.

“None taken, he’s only my flesh and blood,” Luke huffs, “You’re just jealous I’m winning our bet.”

“Sure,” you drawl, eyes widening to emphasise the sarcasm as you make a point of angling your head to the next page, like you’ve taken a single word in for the past five minutes. “He’s been talking to one of the girls from work. There’s no way he’s doing that and asking Ellie out, unless he’s completely brain dead.”

And when you look back at Luke, that furrowed brow has shifted into a full blown frown, pouted lips and eyes cast down as if he’s trying to figure everything out in his head. 

It’s probably the pout that has you cushioning your words, once more.

“Again, no offence, I doubt it’s in your DNA.”

“How do you know?”

“I’m no bio student but I don’t think there’s a genetic marker for being a fuckboy.”

“No, about him talking to one of the girls at the club. He didn’t tell me that.”

Why does he have to sound like that? Let down and unsure, quieter than you think you’ve ever heard him. It’s like the tone he carries goes straight to your fingers, clasping the book closed without marking your page - because what business do you have carrying on that charade?

“Do you guys tell each other everything?” You ask as you throw the book until it lands on the coffee table with a gentle thud, shuffling until you’re sat against the arm of the couch with knees bent in front of you, giving him your undivided attention and feeling guilty that it might not be enough.

“I thought we did,” he scratches at the back of his head, nervously, “He literally told me yesterday he was taking her out to talk about stuff, why would he make a point of asking me to keep you busy if he’s not serious about asking her out?”

“You don’t want to hear my answer to a question about your brother not being serious.” 

“Who’s the girl?” He asks, ignoring your comment despite the slight ghost of a smile you see flash into the corner of his mouth. 

“Jessica, she works at the pro shop, apparently they’ve been texting all summer.”

You know for a fact that since you’ve started paying attention, you’ve seen Jack on his phone a lot for a guy who chirps you for your own screen-time, and who has enforced the house rule of no phones outside your room like a prison guard yells out no touching at visitation. So it sort of checks out. You’ve tried to sneak a peak, but he’s protective of his stuff like a yappy little dog with attachment issues at the best of times, so you haven’t really put too much effort into it.

“There were a few people talking about it in the lounge at work the other day,” you shrug, “One of the girls talking about it is Jess’ best friend, so not exactly from the horse’s mouth, but I don’t think she’d be spreading lies about her friend around like that.”

“Can you find out?”

“You ask that like I haven’t been trying.” That gets a full smile, a small chuckle that lifts his shoulder, even, “I was gonna grill Caufield about it but he’s gone. But I know you guys have plans when he gets back tomorrow, so if you want to take Cole I’ll hack away at the grape vine at the club?”

“Does this mean we’re teammates?” 

“No. It absolutely does not.”

Hacking away at the grapevine is really a lot more like plucking absentmindedly at an overgrown patch of grass when it comes to workplace gossip. 

By the end of your shift, you’re leaving the club with a fist clutched full of loose blades, fingers stained green from the amount of information people were willing to ‘fess up.

Liam who works behind the bar had overheard a conversation where Jack had mentioned Jessica, but could only give you useless tidbits, like how he had to stop by the shop for a new putter, and Jess had been the one to ring him up.

Hardly incriminating, but you had a feeling it would be a small piece of a way larger puzzle. That, and guys are notoriously useless at gossiping, there’s definitely more to that story than Liam could even comprehend in his tiny man brain.

Cassidy who works at the front desk had seen Jack and Jess talking in the main lobby last week, definitely flirting, she had said - with hair flips and giggles galore - and way too familiar to be new. 

Much better.

Paola who has the alternative shifts in the pro shop was more than willing to take up ten minutes of your time ranting how Jess’ work is never fully done when it comes to a handover, and she spends half her time on her phone. Kiran, who works the bev cart every Monday, said Jack is always one of the most charming in their golfing group, so it’s no surprise if he is exchanging texts with girls from the club. 

You get dirt from most corners of the place, and it leads you all the way back to your station, to reservations set for the restaurant, where tonight’s list - unfortunately a shift you’re not set to work, although you very much question the serendipity of that - has Jack’s name down at 7pm. A table for 2 in the back corner, shielded from prying eyes and intimate.

And if it weren’t for the fact you’ve already worked a full shift, you would consider staying just to get the full scoop. 

You know Ellie isn’t going to be the one sat across from him, she’s been sending you pictures all day of her various hauls for her quiet night in. New paints and pencils, a sketchpad, some candles - she has all intentions of working on her watercolour technique.

So it has to be for him and Jessica.

Imagine his face, you think, picturing wide, panicked eyes as you roam up to his table to take his order. He’d actually crap his pants. 

But, it’s another set of eyes that you picture when you start to enjoy the scheming a little too much. The sad, teary eyes of your best friend, when she finds out the guy she’s been hung up on for half her life, who she has all but convinced herself isn’t interested, and is - absurdly - ‘far too good’ for her - yeah, right - is dating other girls while taking her out on not-so-platonic boat dates only the day before. A boat date that she had come back to your room, flung herself onto her belly on the bed, and kicked her feet as she gushed all about it. 

So you make your way back to the house after a long day, and resign yourself to the fact that you’re going to have to, yet again, get all your information on Jack’s date second hand.

You primed Cara, your colleague in the restaurant, to keep an eye out, and she promised to send updates on her breaks, and you have been holed up in yours and Ellie’s shared bedroom trying to keep her busy when there is a persistent knock at the door, and a mop of soft, curly brown hair pokes in before his eyes meet yours.

“Hey, Luke!” Ellie chimes, cheery and all too blissfully unaware of the potentially horrific circumstances you’ve stumbled upon. “You need to borrow my conditioner again?”

You scoff from your position on the bed, watching a slight pink hue flush up Luke’s neck.

“What? No,” he denies, running a hand through his hair and seemingly frowning a little at the way it feels. “I’m going to the store, wondered if either of you needed anything?”

“Nah, thanks, we’re good,” Ellie smiles, attention diverting straight back to where she’s drawing in her sketchbook, missing the way Luke widens his eyes and tilts his head as if to encourage you to take him up on his offer.

“Can I come with?” You shuffle from your position on the bed, swinging your legs out from beneath you and over the side as Ellie looks back at you.

“Sorry, I didn’t realise you wanted something.”

“Someone’s got to show the poor guy what’s what on the haircare aisle, El.”

And you’re thankful that Ellie has settled herself in for the evening already by 6:45, showered, pyjamas on, otherwise she might have tried to tag along, too, just for something to do.

You swipe her phone before she can notice and hide it under your pillow before you leave, thinking it might reduce the risk of her getting bored and texting Jack, or, worse, checking his location.

A trip out gives you the chance for you and Luke to debrief each other on your findings of the day - or, as it turns out, just you, because Luke Hughes might be the worst information-gatherer on planet Earth.

Finding his life’s niche in hockey is fortunate, because he definitely wouldn’t cut it as an investigator.

“He just said he didn’t know anything,” Luke shrugs of his earlier encounter with Cole, and you try not to gape at him in disbelief as he fiddles with the screen in his BMW, scrolling through the interface in search of the nearest store. 

You swat his hand away with a scoff, typing in a destination, “And you believed him?”

“Was I not supposed to?”

“You’re about as useless as a chocolate teapot, Hughes. What is it with guys and gossip, are you all really that dumb?”

“That’s the address for the club,” he points out, ignoring your jibe as he starts driving.

“Well done, you can read.”

“Why?”

“Because, thankfully, one of us is a good detective.” You snark, “Jack’s there.”

“So?”

“He’s on a date.”

“No he isn’t,” Luke frowns, attention momentarily taken from the road as he looks over at you. “I’ve been with him all afternoon, he would have told me if he had a date, tonight.”

“Oh yeah? Where’d he say he was going when he left, earlier?”

He hadn’t been home when you got back from work, but that had been around an hour ago. You figured if he was sneaky enough to book into the restaurant when you’re not working, he’d have his wits about him to avoid you, entirely. Whenever the two of you cross paths, you can’t help but try get on his last nerve, and he’s hardly going to want to start his evening in a foul mood.

“To get his hair cut.”

Jesus Christ, you think, he’s so lucky he’s cute.

“You’re so clueless. He’s at the lounge with Jessica, the girl I told you about yesterday.”

“And what are we supposed to do about that?”

“We’re gonna supervise. And maybe interfere, if necessary.” 

You don’t really have a plan, but it seems like the right thing to at least get a look in as to what the hell Jack thinks he’s doing, especially if you’re going to carry on with this whole plan of getting him and Ellie together. If he’s seriously entertaining other girls while making out to Luke that he only has eyes for Ellie, your plans might have to change. You’re not sure if Luke will be on board with the new path you’re willing to take, but you’ll be happy to kill his brother on your own.

“Interfere?” Luke’s eyes are wide, but he keeps them on the road, fingers flexing against the wheel. “I just came out for chips to make nachos, not play spies!”

“Cara’s working tonight, she said she’d keep an eye on them for me. I bet if I cover her hosting shift on Friday she’d sabotage their date. We’d just have to sit back and watch.”

“Oh,” Luke’s brows furrow, as if it’s taking any consideration at all to mess with his brother. “You really are an evil genius.”

You try not to think too hard about who’s been spewing that rhetoric already in his ear, and instead you smile when he casts his eyes your way, proud and pleased. 

“Thank you.”

It takes another 15 minutes to get to the club, considering Luke’s best Driving Miss Daisy impression, so their date is already underway by the time Cara is ushering you to a booth in the far corner, where you can see Jack’s table, but he shouldn’t be able to see yours, and agreeing to play along.

“Can I get you guys any drinks?” She asks as she hands over two menus, and you’re too interested in trying to gauge the vibe at the other table while Luke looks over his.

“Two diet cokes, shaved ice, no lemon,” he says, and you can’t help but frown at the way the specificity of that order rolls so easily off his tongue. That’s your order.

“Any food?”

“Could we just get some nachos, please?” You ask, sliding your menu across the table without even looking, not wanting to give Luke too much of a chance to peruse his own out of fear you’ll be here all night. “And extra picante on the side.”

“Extra guac, too,” Luke adds as Cara scribbles the instructions on her notepad, “And some of those chicken tenders, and extra ranch. And maybe some fries. Yeah, chilli fries. And breadsticks.”

You level him with a glare, already proven right in your decision not to give him too much time to think about what he wanted. He’ll order every appetiser on the menu, if given half the chance. 

“Thanks, Cara, that’s everything.”

“Sure thing, should be around fifteen minutes. They only just ordered,” she points her pen back to Jack’s table, where Jess is leaning onto the table and Jack is leaning back in his seat - heavy on the distance but even heavier on the eye contact. That little shit.

“Does he have any allergies?” You lean onto your own table to ask Luke, quirking a brow up when his eyes darken in response, mischief swirling in his emerald irises.

“Absolutely not,” Cara interjects, “I’m doing this so you cover my job, not make me lose it.”

“Let me guess, he ordered the steak, medium-rare?” Luke asks, and she nods, hesitantly. “Char it.”

“Won’t he complain?”

“He’ll just grumble to himself about how tough it is. It’ll put him in a bad mood. That’s what we want, right?”

“Yeah,” you confirm, nodding your head to ease Cara’s worries despite what you really want is for Chef Michael to poison the cut, entirely. If Jack Hughes wants to play with your best friend’s heart, you’ll play with his gut. But you can settle for burnt meat. Luke can work some sort of magic with that, you think, convincing Jack of all people that any first date that resulted in him coming home all sour-puss and sulky should never result in a second. “Bad mood. Bingo.”

“Fine,” Cara grumbles, “But if he even thinks about asking for a manager, you’re covering my next 3 Fridays.”

She storms off to the kitchen, and you and Luke simultaneously sink into your seats, attention immediately diverted back to the table in the opposite corner of the room.

“We should have kept the menus,” Luke mutters from across the booth, “Could have hidden behind them.”

“What are we, children?” You snark, “You can’t think of any more creative ways to stay hidden?”

“I heard PDA makes people pretty uncomfortable,” he leans onto the table, dropping you a wink when you glance over out of the side of your eye, “We should make out to throw everyone off the scent.”

“In your dreams, Hughes.”

Luke sort of envies the charm you hold over people.

The way you can convince people to do your bidding with a mere flutter of your eyelashes or a flash of pearly teeth and a glimmer in your irises.

He has trouble, sometimes, skirting around his honesty or hiding his intentions - and he knows that’s not a bad thing, knows that being clear and truthful is an admirable trait, if anything - but the way you persuade others to bend to your whim with intricate white lies based on observations you’ve made or intel you’ve gathered is a praiseworthy level of genius. 

It had taken such minimal effort for you to get Cara on side, to convince her that being a little clumsy is hardly grounds for her termination, and spilling a little of Jack’s drink close to the edge of the table - close enough that it drips onto his pants and Luke can see the steams of frustration exuding from his brother’s skin from all the way on the other side of the restaurant - or bumping her hip on the edge of their table every time she passes are really just harmless irritations, not likely to cause actual complaint. 

You had used the mere tone of your voice to convince Liam from behind the bar to squeeze a little lime in Jack’s water, knowing just from observing him back at the house that he hates the taste, face curling in disgust at even the slightest hint of it, and Luke had watched your eyes gleam in delight every time Jack took a sip of his drink and tried not to spit it back out, seeking much needed reprieve to swallow down the world’s toughest steak cut. 

You’d even worked your magic on him, pouting your lips when the food had arrived at the table, and he had initially declined to share his chicken tenders with you - your grumblings at him ordering enough to feed the five thousand fresh in his memory, but so easily wiped away by the soft, sad look in your eyes, and your whining of, “But I didn’t realise how hungry I’d get. Plotting and scheming is hard work, Luke.”

You ended up eating half, but he could hardly complain - you were doing the heavy lifting out of the two of you.

He was sitting back and enjoying the show - enjoying your company, if he’s honest. Enjoying the way his gangly limbs would sometimes knock into yours under the table, enjoying the way he kept getting little nuggets of information out of you while you were distracted, sipping at your coke and making little comments about yourself, about your life, without even realising you’re doing it. 

And an unplanned, pseudo date ends up being the first time he thinks he’s had a glimpse at the real you.

The you who knows more about hockey than you’ve ever let on before, who comes back to his stories with contextual questions about the game, even has references to a few games of his back at Michigan, and keeps the conversation flowing despite your feigned disinterest, and a constant gaze cast his brother’s way.

That would usually drive him crazy.

He’s experienced it so often that he has come to expect it, people only entertaining his company to acquire the attention of his brothers, but that’s not what you’re doing. Not really.

You pay more attention to Luke than you’d ever let on.

You ask him about his time in Ostrava at the beginning of summer, even though he’s only mentioned being overseas once while you’ve been staying with him - an offhanded comment from Quinn at breakfast that you must have taken on. Ask him about all the food he tried while out there, when he mentions he doesn’t like picante, and you use it as a springboard to talk about what sort of spices he does like, or if he’s the type to try things or stick to what he knows. 

You ask him about being the youngest sibling, and it stems from an offhanded comment Luke had grumbled about always being the last to be clued in on stuff, about how Jack had probably confided in Quinn about his extracurricular activities at the club, and didn’t trust him enough to let him in on the fact he’s going out on dates. You ask if he usually figures things out himself before he’s told them, if that’s what makes him so good at observing and analysing stuff, and he hadn’t ever realised he was particularly good at those things before you brought it up. But then you reference a day in class one time, where he had picked up on something in a textbook that you never would have figured out in a million years, and his heart leaps at the praise you don’t even realise you’re giving him.

You sandwich your perceptions in your usual snark, but he doesn’t miss the slight curve of your lips anymore when he bites straight back, knowing now that there is some part of you that feels the nip of his teeth, that acknowledges his existence beyond him being a speck of inconvenience in your peripheral.

And he gets a little carried away in that acknowledgement - stops paying attention himself to what is happening on the other side of the room and tries to focus on what’s in front of him; the girl he pined after his entire college career, sat sharing nachos and pretending not to know him at a level you so clearly do.

You must get carried away, too, because neither of you notice Jack’s date wrapping up until Luke catches him hand his card over to Cara.

He’s lost count of how long the two of you have been at the club, now - way longer than it takes to get chips from the store, that’s for sure - and all he does know is that if Jack catches either of you two here, after a night of mishaps, bad food, spilled drinks and Cara’s incessant clumsiness, he’ll know who’s to blame. 

“We better get out of here before he sees us,” Luke sighs, not entirely wanting to wrap up his time with you but knowing he doesn’t really have a choice.

“I’ve just got to pick something up before we head back,” you reply, edging out of the booth at the same time Luke does, “I’ll meet you out front just give me two minutes?”

“Be quick,” he tells you before you scurry off, and he flags down Cara, who tells him you already put your bill on your worker tab. He tells her to switch it to his, and that he’ll drop by tomorrow to pay it off, promising to leave her a good tip for her stellar services for the evening. 

He waits where you asked him to, making sure to stick to the side of the entryway where he can duck for cover if his brother makes an appearance - but you show up first, skipping out from the staff lounge with a bag of tortilla chips in hand.

“Let’s go, Lukey boy!” He follows you out like a puppy on a leash, all the way to where his car is parked, almost bumping into you when you stop and turn without warning, stretching your hand out to him. “Give me your keys.”

“Are you crazy?” He snorts, “You’re not driving my car!”

“I know a shortcut!” You reason, stepping forward and making a grabby motion with your fingers, “We gotta beat Jack home, I just paid another server $20 to spill a whole drink on him before he leaves and he’s gonna be pissed. I want to see the meltdown back at the house and you drive like a nun!”

Luke doesn’t know why he gives in so easy - it could be the proximity, the way you’re so close you have to look up at him, eyes twinkling softly under the moonlight, voice carrying over to him like a siren song, or it could just be because he’s weak - but he hands his keys over with a roll of his eyes and climbs into the passenger side, sliding the seat back with a huff to accommodate his long legs and watching as you adjust the driver’s side, cringing at the way he’s gonna have to figure out exactly how he had it before.

You drive like a maniac, to the point where Luke has to screw his eyes shut as you use some back road, can hear the squelch of mud beneath his tires and squirms at the thought of having to take it to the car wash, tomorrow. 

But you make it back to the lake house much quicker than if he were driving, he’ll give you that. So quick that you feel comfortable enough to turn to him once you’ve pulled up, in no rush to unbuckle and get out to get inside before Jack gets home.

“Just so we’re clear, this is a point under my name. You’re not claiming tonight as a win.”

Luke chuckles, turning in his seat to face you, features illuminated by the dim overhead light that turns on when the engine switches off and a slight flush of exhilaration to your cheeks. There’s no pretending you haven’t enjoyed yourself, not tonight. “But the steak thing was my idea?”

“If it weren’t for me, you’d be sat watching baseball and thinking he was getting a 3 hour haircut, you can’t seriously be trying to steal this from me, I thought you athletes had integrity!”

“You’re really keeping score?”

“You’re not?”

If Luke’s honest, he hasn’t really thought about your whole wager all night. He’s been too wrapped up in the idea that his brother had lied to him. Twice. And now his whole plan for the two of you all summer has potentially been messed up. But hearing you mention it, hearing you talk about it like it hasn’t been flushed down the toilet by his brother’s idiocy sparks something in him - excitement, anticipation. He doesn’t want to let this go.

“I actually think we made a good team back there,” he shrugs, eyes meeting yours to gauge your reaction to the thought of doing this together.

“You’re only saying that ‘cause you’re gonna lose,” you retort, eyes sparkling with those same sentiments he had just felt. 

“Probably,” he acquiesces, “Also ‘cause you kind of scare me a little after tonight, last thing I wanna do is go up against you when you have the power to turn half the country club against me.”

You smirk, and his eyes are drawn to the plush curve of your lips, watching them as they form around the softly spoken words, “God forbid you can’t go a round of golf without your caddy breaking down.”

“Exactly.” He mutters back, glad to see your gaze is still zeroed in on him when he meets it again. He can feel the thump thump thump of his pulse in his ears, and takes a deep breath before proposing, “Partners?”

He cocks a brow and holds his pinky out over the centre console, and you eye the digit, sceptically, narrowing your eyes into a glare before raising them to meet his. “Fine,” you grumble, then hook your little finger through his and tighten it to shake, a slight yelp of surprise filling the car when he tugs, your lax arm giving way until your knuckle touches his lips and he kisses it.

“Ew,” you whine, snatching your finger back as he fills the space himself with a hearty chuckle, wiping it on his hoody in disgust. “That’s gross!”

“No take backs,” he smiles, victorious, with his chest puffed out, primed for you to swat at with the flex of your hand, and the two of you are only pulled out of the moment by the sound of tyres pulling up on the gravel behind you, both of you stumbling to unbuckle yourselves and climb out of the car. 

Jack is exiting his own vehicle behind, and stomps down the driveway, shouldering past you until he realises who he has passed, turning back and looking at you with suspicion cast across his features. 

“Where have you twobeen?” Jack asks, glancing a curious eye between the two of you before meeting Luke’s gaze, levelling him with an inquisitive glare.

“We went to the store for chips,” Luke holds the bag up, the crinkle loud enough for Jack to hear, and he feels an insurgence rising within him, spurred on by the way his brother is looking at him like he’s the one who should be ashamed of his actions. “Nice haircut.”

Jack runs a hand through his hair, surprise crossing his features in a brief flash at the call out, like he had never even expected Luke to notice his hair looks no different to the last time he saw him mere hours ago, like he would never even need to question his alibi.

“Oh, yeah, I got the day wrong. Went out for dinner instead.”

“On your own?” You ask from beside him, your presence giving Luke the kind of back up he very much needs right now, a new target for Jack’s narrowed eyes that takes the heat off of him a little, lessens the burden of lying to his brother - despite Jack being the one who started it, it doesn’t make Luke feel any less bad, doesn’t quell the need to word vomit and admit to all the ludicrous things he had done to ruin Jack’s night. “You end up having a little accident there, bud?”

Luke tries not to outwardly laugh as his attention is diverted to the wet patch that still soaks up the front of Jack’s pants, lips quivering as he presses them together, oblivious to the steam pouring out of his brother’s ears as he immediately gets riled up. 

“One of your esteemed colleagues at the club apparently lacks hand eye co-ordination. Plus, some of us like our own company,” Jack scoffs, “Some of us can go an evening without the need to annoy anybody else.”

“It’s not news to me that you’re in love with yourself, dude,” you retort back, entirely unbothered by his jibes. “Bet you’ve got all sorts of riveting thoughts swirling around that ginormous head of yours, must keep you busy for hours on end.”

“At least I have thoughts, at least I’m not some airheaded-,”

“Hey,” Luke’s tone is authoritative when he calls out, stern and demanding, “Cut it out, Jack.”

“She started it!”

“She asked you a question,” Luke frowns, disappointed with how quick his brother had taken to escalating the situation, all in an attempt to deflect the attention from his own deception. He knows you don’t need him to protect you from Jack’s sharp tongue, knows you can very much defend yourself, but he needs to vent his frustrations, somehow, without causing a bust up on the driveway. “You could have just give her a straight answer without biting her head off.”

He feels like you’re a little closer, all of a sudden, and he doesn’t know it’s the slight brush of your arm against his or if it’s something else, something less tangible - but it warms him, all the same. Steadies the static thump of his heart in his chest at the thought of starting an argument with his brother out of nowhere. 

“Whatever,” Jack rolls his eyes, “I’m going to bed.”

And as Jack turns, Luke sees your lips part, ready to send him off with the last word until a large hand clamps itself over your mouth, and your wide eyes meet his over the sides of his fingers.

He’s not sure why he did it, why he all of a sudden feels comfortable enough to cross the boundaries of purposeful touch, but he doesn’t entirely regret it.

Plush lips press mid-word against his palm, and your skin is soft, cheeks warming ever so slightly beneath his hand.

“You gotta let him go, there’s no use fighting with him tonight, it’s better to drag it out. Didn’t think I’d have to teach you about the beauty of the long game,” he says, voice low as he watches his brother retreat to the house, waiting until he’s safe inside to retract his hand. “Not like this, anyway.”

“Your brother’s an asshole,” you grumble, “Full offence.”

“No arguments from me,” Luke concedes, holding his hands as if surrendering to the fact, himself. “What are you gonna tell Ellie?”

“Nothing.” You sigh, stepping a little down the drive and toward the house before turning back to him. “We’ve got a lot of work to do, partner.”

There have only been a handful of times in your life you’ve ever been thankful for work coinciding with huge plans, but when the group had decided that they wanted to go see Zach Bryan play Ford Field, you had thanked your lucky stars you had been put down to work a full shift at the restaurant and wouldn’t be able to go.

Not only for the fact that he isn’t really your thing, but for the fact that you’re finally getting a full evening to yourself.

So far, in your time at the house, most evenings have been spent with everyone else - group dinners, game nights, movie nights, even a couple of girls nights with just you and Ellie scattered in there, but nothing on your own, yet. 

You can’t wait. And with an empty house, you have a full pamper night planned. You’ve been stocking up odd bits on your trips to the store over the past couple of weeks - sheet masks, aromatherapy candles, you’ve even picked up some flower petals from the spa at the club, in the hopes that you might even treat yourself to a relaxing soak in the bathtub. You can play whatever music you want, make whatever food you want, sit wherever you want in the house, out on the deck, overlooking the lake with a book in hand and no chirpy voices in your ear all night.

You can’t wait.

The only downside is not having a ride home, but you haven’t finished too late. The sun will still be up for a couple of hours, and a walk in the simmering heat back to the house doesn’t sound like the worst thing in the world.

Your feet carry you with ease down the back roads, and you even make the journey without your headphones on, taking in the scenery, the blissful peace of your surroundings, so lost in the tranquility of it all that the sight of Luke washing his car on the drive when you get home dampens your mood as quick as a torrential downpour of rain, flash floods coursing through your evening and wrecking your plans entirely. 

“What the hell are you doing?” You can’t help the bite in your tone as you approach, sneakers crunching against the gravel as Luke pauses the hose, looks over at you with the sun in his eyes, and you have to remind yourself he’s just ruined the one night you have for yourself before you get distracted by the fact that he’s shirtless.

“Washing my car?” he calls back, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“Aren’t you supposed to be in Detroit right now?”

Luke shrugs, and you have to will your eyeballs not to move any lower than his neck to watch his shoulders lift and drop, lest you get too caught up in the broad expanse of his chest and do something ridiculous like drool.

“Wasn’t feeling it.”

“You weren’t feeling a concert you guys haven’t shut up about for weeks, but you were feeling washing your car?”

He’s dead. When he’s finished with his car and he retreats to his room, you’re gonna smother him with a pillow and discard of his body in the lake. You’re not even gonna let him shower, first. That’s what the lake’s for.

He’s crapping all over your plans because he wasn’t feeling it?

“It needs cleaning,” he shrugs again, and you swear you’re gonna jump in and run him over with the damn thing, “In fact, you really should be helping me.”

There’s a small part of you that feels like the thoughts of violence are worryingly aggressive, but then a larger part of you realises he must have a death wish.

“How’d you get to that conclusion?”

“You’re the one who drove us through a swamp,” he scoffs, a pointed hand flung toward the body of his car, where the sides are lined with a thick layer of dried dirt from the other night, “You get it dirty, you clean it up.”

“As much as I would absolutely love to fulfil your pervy car wash fantasy, I have much better things I could be doing with my time.”

Or you did, until Luke rained all over your parade of solitude.

“Like what?”

“Literally anything but this.” You gesture at the show he’s putting on. The suds dripping from the roof of the car, the hose in his hand, the buckets scattered around the perimeter. “I need to shower, I just walked from the club and I-,”

A death wish might actually be an understatement.

Luke wants you to murder him in the most gruesome, horrific way you could possibly muster - he has to, because there’s no other explanation for why he’d turn the hose on, point it straight at you, and drench the front of you, entirely. 

You can feel the fabric of your t-shirt dampening and sticking to your chest, and you scrunch your eyes shut to stop droplets of water slipping into them, thankful that when they open again, his own are looking back at you, and not any lower.

You’d really have a reason to kill him, then. 

“You did not just do that.” You growl, glaring back at him with a clenched jaw as the fucker beams back at you, pressing the trigger once more in a short burst that fires straight at your chest, again.

“What, that?”

“You’re so dead.”

You drop your bag and launch for him, aiming to take the hose from his grip, but he fires it again out of sheer panic, the water spouting out from between your splayed fingers, cold and pressured, and it soaks the both of you, raining down as you grapple for the head and Luke remains unrelenting.

There are squeals and yelps called out into the misty air between the two of you, and you get to a point you can’t tell what sounds are coming from who, but you manage to wrestle the hose from his grip and point it straight at him as he jets away with a laugh that rumbles straight from his belly.

It’s the kind of laugh that elicits another, and you don’t realise until he’s circling back to you that the laughter is coming from you - giggling, even, as the two of you engage in a water fight like misbehaving children - and it isn’t long until all aggressive thoughts wash away with the suds that slip to the gravel, forgetting why you were even annoyed in the first place.

It shouldn’t be as fun as it is, but after the long day at work, and the tiring walk back, letting your guard down and engaging it a little mindless chaos seems to wake you up a little.

Your childish game gets Luke what he wanted, anyway, the two of you working together to clean his car when you realise he’s only running in front of all the parts that actually need hosing off and relying on you having bad aim to get the job done, and you figure getting your hands a little dirty is harmless when you’re already soaked through and in dire need of a shower.

And your pamper-plans of a bubble bath and self-care don’t entirely come to fruition, but Luke promises to make up for his petulance by ordering pizza and sticking a movie on, so you bite your tongue to refrain from voicing your initial complaints, and decide to just go with the flow, for once - he hasn’t exactly led you astray, yet.  

You take a little longer in the shower than normal, with no one around to complain about hogging the bathroom or worry about them barging in unannounced, and you suppose that’s a small victory - one little luxury you get to cling to as you bask in the steam, letting all the tension slip from your aching muscles after being on your feet all day.

And once you’re out, hair dried just enough with a towel that it isn’t going to drip or soak your t-shirt, and you’re dressed in your pyjamas, you make your way downstairs, where Luke has already set up a plethora of snacks in the living room.

Nachos, popcorn, candy and drinks scattered across the coffee table as he relaxes on the couch, hair extra curly after his shower and an old Michigan t-shirt stretched tight across his now much-broader chest. 

“Thought I’d wait for you to pick a movie,” he chimes up from where he’s sat, gesturing with a lazy point to the wall of blu-rays beside the TV. 

“Did Netflix never make it to the Hughes household?” You scoff in disbelief as you take them all in properly for the first time. You’d seen them in your peripheral when you’d been hanging out down here, before, but actually looking at them up close, reading all the titles, seeing the sheer volume of how many there are, it kind of surprises you.

“We can look on Netflix if you want. They always take stuff off, though.”

You know. All your favourite movies get taken off of streaming, and you only ever find out about it when you’re really in the mood to watch them. As soon as you realise the wall is alphabetised, you know exactly where to look.

“That’s alright,” you shrug, stepping to the side as you track backwards, through M, L, K and J. “You guys are pretty analogue, I’ve noticed.”

“What do you mean?”

“The board games, the DVDs, the whole no phones around the house thing.”

“No phones around the house is common courtesy,” he chuckles, “But I guess we’re a little weird about the other stuff.”

“It’s pretty cool,” you shrug, spotting the DVD you want and sliding it out to assess the case. “It’s old school. Probably better for the brain. My little brothers can’t really function without an iPad and they’re 5, it’s freaky, like they’re haunted by the capitalist ghost of Steve Jobs or something.”

“I didn’t know you had brothers,” Luke frowns where you almost expect him to laugh, and you spin on your heel to face him. He has this look about him like he should have known that - like the two of you have ever conversed in anything other than sarcastic quips and scrunched up faces, or whatever attempts at flirting have been on his part. 

“Technically they’re half brothers,” you shrug, “They live out in Philly with my dad and step mom, I don’t really get to see them much.”

“Didn’t know you were from Philly, either.”

“I’m not, my dad moved out there when him and my mom got divorced.”

It’s not something you really love talking about. 

The few times you’ve tried, you’ve been shot down, patronising tones scoffing at how your biggest trauma is the separation of your parents, as if your whole world didn’t crumble down with the demise of their relationship, the demise of life as you knew and very dearly loved it.

“You don’t see him even in the summer?”

“Him and his family are on vacation in Europe for 6 weeks. England, France, Spain, Germany, the boys are into soccer so they’ll be out there until the Euros.”

You don’t miss the way Luke’s face scrunches at how you call them his family, and you’re not sure you’re ready for him to start pitying you, so you throw the DVD case toward him before you can second guess your choice.

Interstellar. 

You hope he doesn’t pick up on why it might be one of your favourites. Especially not considering the topic of the conversation at hand. Something about the crippling regret Cooper has for leaving Murph behind plucks harmoniously at some unidentifiable strings deep within you, but you’re hardly about to admit that to Luke, of all people.

“I love this movie,” he smiles, almost surprised, as if he expected you to throw The Notebook his way. Maybe next time - he’d probably love that movie, too, if he gave it a chance. 

“Me too. I love space movies.”

“Like Space Jam?” He asks as he pushes himself up, going toward the TV to set up the movie with the DVD in one hand and the remote control in the other. 

“No, like movies about Space,” you say, throwing yourself down onto the same couch he just vacated and tucking your feet beneath you to get comfortable. “Although I guess Space Jam would technically fit into that bracket.”

“I didn’t realise that was a genre,” he chuckles.

“Not the scary ones, though, I don’t wanna be freaked out by space.”

“Is that like a thing? You just like any movie set in space?”

“I like anything about space, period. Movies, documentaries, books. Thinking about it makes me feel really insignificant.”

“Insignificant? Is that not a bad thing?” He asks as he makes his way back, settling into his side and angling his body toward yours.

“Do you ever think about how big the universe is, Hughes? It’s humongous! If I ever feel anxious or panicky I think about just how big it is and how I’m not even a speck of dust in the grand scheme of things. If I’m so tiny, how big can my problems actually be?”

“I guess that makes sense,” he seems to mull it over in his head, the thought of him even considering it and not making you feel stupid warms your chest - makes you forget just how much of yourself you’ve shared with him in the last couple of minutes alone, makes you worry less that you’re sharing too much. “I think I might be the opposite, though. Probably the youngest brother in me, I only feel better if I feel bigger.”

You think that might be why he’s always trying to one up you - sassy comments and inappropriate jokes galore. Not that you mind any of it, not really.

“What about you? What movies do you like?”

“You’re gonna be so shocked.”

“Sports movies?”

“Look at you, knowing me like the back of your hand.” He coos, nudging at your knee with his hand. “I’ll watch anything, though. We should take it in turns, whenever it’s just us,” he says like the thought of spending time alone with you has only just crossed his mind. “Picking a movie to show each other.”

You think there’s a lot of yourself in the media you consume. The movies you watch, the music you listen to, and sharing those things with Luke feels like giving him the only other key to a high security vault. It’s something you’ve avoided so far - letting him play his songs in the car, avoiding making any sort of pick in the group movie nights. It’s daunting, and it’s a lot of pressure, and so you don’t know why you agree with so much ease - a shrug, and a casual muttering of, “Sure, why not?”

The pieces of your dynamic slowly start to slot together, and you start to realise why you’ve been entertaining his company so often, lately. Why your mood so quickly de-escalated itself, earlier. Why you’ve found yourself curled up on the same couch as him, instead of literally anywhere else in the house, doing anything other than this. Why you’re so quick to agree to letting him access all these unseen parts of you.

And why you think he might be able to read your mind, after he asks, “Can I ask you a question?”

“Only if I get to ask one back.”

“What were you gonna do tonight, if you were on your own?”

Thank God, you think, your heart jumping at the thought of anything else he could have asked.

“I was gonna do a sheet mask and steal the bottle of wine Quinn stashed behind the laundry detergent.” You admit with a nonchalant shrug, the plans you had been looking forward to all day seeming mundane in comparison to this. “Why’d you stay behind? You love Zach Bryan.”

“I love sheet masks and stolen wine, too.”

Your lips curve up before you get the chance to huff at his non-answer, and you feel your throat go a little dry at the way his curve, too - the way his green eyes darken when they meet yours, and you feel like he’s looking straight through you.

It’s around half way through the movie that you realise how much you’re enjoying yourself - when you look over at Luke, and the light from the screen is still bouncing off the sticky white sheet plastered to his face, only just able to make out his round eyes through the little slit in the fabric. 

You sip at your wine to hide your smile, and turn your attention back to the TV until Luke nudges at your feet with his, and your eyes meet over the tops of your bent knees. 

“You tell anyone I did this, I’ll never speak to you again.”

Your laugh ripples through every inch of your upper body, rumbling up from your belly and manifesting itself in shaking shoulders, your smile wide and your sheet mask slipping out of place. “You can’t threaten me with a good time, Hughes.”

You spend the rest of the night trying not to think about how there might just be a tiny door in your heart, eking it’s way open for him to squeeze his gangly limbs into.

>PART TWO<

another a/n: I don't want to put a timeframe on when the next part will be posted bc as soon as I do that, my brain will revolt and it won't happen, but I'd love to know your thoughts in the meantime!!! I have a lot of the rest actually written, and what I don't have written, I have drafted, so it shouldn't be too long but!!! like I said no timeframe!! I've had a lot of fun with this dynamic, and hearing any opinions would mean a lot to me!!

this was my first time writing reader insert if you saw any instances of she/her where they shouldn't be, no you didn’t. I tried as best as I could to avoid using Y/N because it takes me out of it I don’t even remember if I put it anywhere but sometimes it's hard to get around I did my best ok!!!

[briz-z]

Reverse falls

okay, so the brainrot has gotten to me and i literally cannot stop thinking about reverse falls. so here's my take on it. (or at least the pines) (also, im using their actual names)

Stanley:

everything stays the same up until he's kicked out of his house

see, my thought is that along with becoming a master con-man, he also ends up joining a circus

this is the big change

he begins to look for new ways to make the circus more enticing for people, and in doing so makes a crap ton of money

in fact, he makes so much, he is welcomed back into his family

like he becomes rich

but back to the circus business, he hears about gravity falls and all of it's anomalies

he decides to set up shop there, bringing people from all over to see the weirdos and wackos of gravity falls

in gravity falls, he ends up meeting his brother again

their strained relationship doesn't get much better (and i honestly don't expect it to...)

when he meets dipper and mabel for the first time, it is like light has been let back into his life

he really cares for them, but doesn't show it

he is especially close to mabel (like in the show) (they relate to each other)

i think he would be ever so slightly scared of ford and dipper

i think he would still be a very lonely person, but caring nonetheless

stanford:

i think that reverse ford would be a possessive, narcissistic person

filbrick pines put a lot of pressure on ford to be "perfect"

this seriously messed him up

when he lost his potential scholorship, he felt like his whole life was ruined

he decided that he would be better than everyone else

and he succedded in that

he was crazy smart and got the grant to study analmoies like in the show

when he gets to gravity falls, though, that's when it changes

when he finds bill, instead of being mauniplated, he's the one to manipulate bill

he becomes obessed with power and control

when stan comes into town, ford is pissed

but he sees how stan and his circus act could benefit him

so he basically becomes a mastermind in control

the circus brings about new people to perform experiments and what not on

mabel:

unlike the show, i think the kids would have gone to gravity falls since they were kids

this change happens because stan is let back into the family and ford never got sucked into the portal

anyway, mabel and dipper become performers for stan's circus, at least during the summer

they are known as the "physic twins"

mabel seems like a happy go lucky person, like in the show, but in reality she is not

i think that she would be a deeply sad person (if that makes any sense)

see, unlike her brother, she isn't as "special" and because of this often feels worthless

this lets her bond with stan, like, a lot

but anyway, because of her "job" i don't think she would have a lot of time to make friends or have crushes

even when she does have downtime, she has to worry about her image and how people see her

after all, they are the "physic twins"

unlike dipper, i don't she would involve herself in the supernatural much

she really just wants to be a normal kid, but because of her family, she can't

dipper:

i think that reverse dipper would be ford's apperentice

see, since birth dipper (or, i guess, mason) has been a genius

like crazy smart genius

so, when his parents hear about a certain great uncle who can help nurture this intelligence, they send dipper and mabel to gravity falls asap

here, dipper meets his crazy great uncle ford and immeditally loves it

both on stage and doing research, dipper is crazy enthusiastic

he loves what he does, both research and being one half of the "physic twins"

he ends up making his own deal with bill, following in his great uncles footsteps

he spends his free time with ford, learning and gaining knowledge

on stage, he has an uncanny ability to charm people into doing what he wants

he cares for his sister, but rarely has any time for her (i think that if mabel ever tried to leave, dipper would go crazy)

he has very (one-sided) co-dependant relationships with his family (yes, this includes stan)

Okay, that's all for now 😮‍💨 sorry if there are any spelling errors or anything like that. i might make a part 2 with gideon and paz and bill… idk yet.

[inkblot22]

Can You Keep A Little Secret?

JFC this took me longer than usual I'm so sorry anon. I sort of explained it before, but I didn't exactly use your prompt, based on ineptitude on my part. After I finish reading Oshi no Ko, I might try again! Line divider by @/cafekitsune.

This fic is aimed towards sort of everyone, but the reader possesses afab features (they don't come into play until later, this chapter has no mention of them.) You'll understand what I mean by it being for everyone if you read the first paragraph or so. It has to do with suspending your belief/ employing your imagination.

TW for: lots of confusion, semi-shy reader, creep behavior, mention of death, mention of lobotomy/grippy sock jail, reincarnation. These warnings will get worse, and this takes place when all characters are 18+.

Waking up was never your favorite part of the day, but that feeling increases tenfold when you wake up in someone else’s body. You know for sure you didn’t look like this last week, and the name on your ID is similar to your own, but you don’t recognize the face in the mirror. Whoever you’re inhabiting has a few similar features to your own, but your skin was never this dewy, your eyes never so… hollow and strange. 

When you looked up your name, you found out that you, or your body, at least, had died in your sleep. When you looked up the name on that ID, you found out that you’re the child of some big business man and a prolific model, and you apparently dabble in acting. Your dad isn’t your dad, but he calls you every night to make sure you’re settling into your “new” apartment. Your mom isn’t your mom, but she has popped by once or twice to ask you how you’ve been and make you really good food. She mentioned last night that your acting instructor was worried, since you hadn’t attended your Thursday classes, and also that your agent has been trying to contact you. You didn’t know you had an agent.

When you called your agent, who was literally just titled “Agent” in your new phone, she sounded relieved then irritated, chiding you for living the high life too fast. She said you weren’t popular or loved enough to go on week-long benders, and then she mentioned that she had a job for you and she’d see you on Thursday. According to this phone that isn’t yours, Thursday was tomorrow. 

You made a night of getting prepared- slathering on the fancy face masks, trying on various outfits, scrolling through the pictures on the phone of your new body in the past, painting your really gorgeous nails- and then you went to sleep and woke up to a phone call from your new dad. 

“Hi, sweetheart!”

“Uh… hi, Dad…” You mumbled. You didn’t know him from Adam, but there was no point in being rude to him.

He pauses, and then he speaks slowly, “Did you hear from your agent, honey?”

“Yeah- yeah I did, uh, I have acting class in a little, and she said she has a job for me.”

“Oh, I’m glad to hear it! You know you can always visit me if something is wrong, okay? Just call me or Devin and he’ll come get you as soon as possible.”

You don’t know who Devin is, but you don’t point it out, “Of course. Thank you, dad.”

There was another pause. This one stretches out for a while and then he mumbles, “Okay… love you, sweetpea.”

“Uh… love you too. I’ll call you when I get back home?”

“Sure thing. Bye bye.”

The call ends with a click and you hop in the shower, trying to scrub away the confusion. You pair the lotion with a body spray that makes you smell like a summer afternoon in an apple orchard, and then you dress yourself in a soft off the shoulder sweater dress with a pair of tights with little sequins and gems sewn onto the sheer black material. You pull your hair back, tied at the nape of your neck, and roll on some lip gloss. You grab your bag, which isn’t your bag, and stroll out, walking down the street to get to the talent agency.

The receptionist looks at you in some measure of shock and greets you kindly. You smile and wave. He looks even more confused as you clomp into the stairwell. Once you get to the third floor, mildly out of breath, you hurry to room 3-5 and silently slide into the back.

You’re not sure why you’re acting so covert, as the class hasn’t even started. A woman with dark hair strolls in and flinches when she sees you sitting there, your new name tumbling from her lips with confusion.

“Hello.” You hope that she’s the instructor, “How are you?”

She looks at you like you grew two heads and forces a smile, “Oh, I’m well, dear. Give me a moment to look outside.”

She clicks to the window in her heels and opens the blinds looking around wildly before she turns back to you.

“Well, nothing’s on fire and there’s a distinct lack of flying pigs, so I guess you’re finally serious about getting better at acting?” 

“Uh… I…?” You don’t know how to respond, “I didn’t realize I’d been late so often.”

“Late? Half the time you didn’t even show up. The only person worse than you is-”

The door behind you opens. You clench your hands to stop the shaking you just realized you were struggling with, and turn slightly in your seat to see a willowy young man, tousled lavender hair being haphazardly smoothed by his slender hands.

The instructor snorts, “Speak of the devil. Hello, Mr. Felmier.”

He smiles, but it’s a bit too calculated. When he speaks, his voice is soft, almost artificial, “Ah ha… Good morning, Angie.”

Angie, evidently, rolls her eyes and takes a seat at the front of the room, crossing her long legs, and tilts her head skeptically, “Sure. If a satellite doesn’t crash in this room and kill us all in the middle of class, I’ll be shocked.”

“Mr. Felmier” walks over and smiles at you. It seems even more strained than before, and keeps eye contact with you as he points to the chair next to you, his voice high and sweet, “Mind if I sit here?”

“Oh, of course not. I don’t own that chair, haha!” You joke. 

His face twitches, some micro expression that you’re just observant enough to notice, but not to see, and he takes a seat. Angie gets up and leaves and you look out the window. You can feel eyes on you, and when you turn to look at him, his face is impassive save for a slight narrowing of his eyes. You look down at yourself and pat your cheeks, suddenly nervous.

“Oh, no, is there something on me?” You ask.

He doesn’t immediately respond, his eyes blinking so fast that if he hadn’t done it twice you would have never seen the movement, and then he gives you that sweet, plastic smile, “Oh, no. Your makeup is different than usual. It looks nice. Pretty.”

“I- I’m only wearing lipgloss, so I guess that’s why. Thank you.”

He nods slowly, and tilts his head, still smiling as though he’s trained to do so, “After we’re done here, did you want to go get brunch together?”

You’re about to say no. You don’t remember him, because this is not your life you’re living, but if you did know him, you’d decline anyway. Something feels funny about him. You don’t really have to decline, though, since you have to go down to floor 2 and see your agent afterwards anyway, “Oh, uh, I’m so sorry. I have to do something after.”

“I can wait.”

“I don’t want to put you out. Maybe another time?”

His eyebrows pinch together ever so slightly and his smile doesn’t strain, but it feels wrong as he leans his elbow on the back of his chair to better face you, “Did you hear the news from Mirelle?”

“What news?” You don’t know who Mirelle is.

“Oh, you’re meeting with her afterwards, aren’t you?” He smooths the hair along your temple so it is slicked behind your ear, “Are you wearing that perfume I got you? You said you hated it.”

Okay, so whoevers body this was definitely knew this man, and now you don’t even know his full name. Judging from the way he’s speaking to you, you were friends at least. Your lashes flutter and you look away from him.

“I- I’m sorry. It smells very nice.” You don’t know how you’re supposed to be acting. The irony of waiting for an acting class while not knowing what your role here happens to be is not lost on you.

Felmier sits up like you insulted him and his voice is quiet, so quiet and tense that you don’t think you’re supposed to hear him, “Interesting.” 

You glance at him again, “What?”

“I didn’t say anything. You like that bagel place down the street, don’t you? After you see Mirelle, meet me in the lobby. I think we should have a chat.” Although he is smiling, his voice doesn’t leave any room for argument as he turns back to the front. 

You stand up, leaving your purse in your seat, and walk to the window, looking out of it for a moment until Angie strolls back in. She clicks her tongue and you walk back to your seat.

“It’s just you two? Now I’m really expecting a freak accident. Well, let’s get started.”

Acting class was… interesting. Since it was just the three of you, Angie had you read lines from a script and act out some kind of argument. She seemed pleased with your performance, but Felmier kept stumbling over his lines and making the wrong expression. He seemed tense by the time the two hour long session was over. You didn’t want to follow that thread, and besides, you had somewhere to be. You went down the stairs again and bumped into a woman with silver hair, who looked at you just as confused as everyone else had been, and smiled sweetly, genuinely.

“Hey, you. You’re a bit early.” She says.

“Uh, yeah. I guess so? I don’t know.” You guessed this was supposed to be Mirelle, your agent, maybe. 

“It’s a good change, babe. Why don’t you come into my office?” She doesn’t really ask, since she’s already leading you over.

She takes a seat behind her desk and you take a seat in front of her, and she taps away at her computer for a moment before she says something.

“You remember Epel? Epel Felmier?”

“Uh, yeah, I guess so.”

“Oh? You ‘guess so’? Not that the two of you are constantly arguing, or anything.” She smirks, glancing away from her monitor to look at you, “Regardless, I’ve got something that will help with your little PR nightmare last month. What were you thinking?”

“Uh, I’m sorry.”

Her eyes narrow a fraction, but whatever she was thinking is ignored, “You and Epel are gonna be collaborating on an upcoming short film. Hopefully the two of you don’t get into another screaming match.”

“Um. Yeah. Hopefully.” All this new information and these new people are making your head spin. You don’t want to start panicking- you did enough of that last week- but you’re already exhausted. You wonder if there’s a back entrance to this building so you can just sneak out and don’t have to talk to Epel again. You don’t think you can mentally handle him talking to you over a cup of coffee.

Your agent, Mirelle, is looking at you expectantly, like she just said something. Your heart jumps into your throat, then sinks to your gut and you clear your throat quietly, shifting in your chair.

She laughs airily, “Oh, you didn’t hear a word I just said, did you?”

You shake your head, and she laughs again.

“I just said that production starts Monday. Try not to do anything crazy. This project is monumentally important for your public image.”

“Okay. Sorry for causing so much trouble in the past.” You mutter, standing up.

She shrugs with a happy little grin, “Oh, you’re young. Maybe you’ll grow out of it.”

You just nod. How are you supposed to even respond to that? If you get mad, you’ll probably get hysterical, and if you get hysterical, that is a one way ticket to a stay in grippy sock jail or a lobotomy. Rich people are different, and even though you’re living in some rich person’s body, you did not live this life for longer than a week. 

You purposely walk to the other staircase. Most buildings have two for fire safety. Your eyes water as you pause on the stairs and you sigh before you start descending them. 

Just as you get to the exit, your hand on the door, you hear a voice behind you, “Hey.”

It scares you out of your skin. You jump and spin and squawk, only to meet the wicked smile of Epel. It doesn’t reach his round blue eyes. He tilts his head from side to side, slowly, as if appraising you, and then he starts walking towards you and you push back against the door, opening it ever so slightly. He stops his motion and looks a tad surprised.

Then his eyes narrow, “Come back in.”

His voice sounds different, rougher. You don’t really want to, but it’s hot outside and you figure from all the odd looks and reactions you’ve gotten, running would be too erratic for this poor person’s life you’ve taken over. 

When you close the door and remain leaned against it, Epel’s face relaxes. You didn’t even realize he was making any sort of tense expression. He glances at the spandrel, the area beneath the stairs, and sighs.

“You hit your head last week? That why you were missin’?” Yeah, he’s speaking entirely differently. He has a sort of charming country twang to his voice, an underlying roughness that makes him seem even more boyish than before.

“Huh?”

“‘Huh?’” He mocks, looking back at you. He looks like he might cry, but his eyes are angry, “That all you got to say? For years you’ve told me that I don’t mean shit, and now you’re actin’ like you don’t even know me.”

He is right. You don’t know him at all. Even though you’re still in the cool building, you begin to sweat. You don’t know what to say to this without going through the experiences you’ve had in the past week, so you decide you don’t have to, especially since it seems like he may get aggressive if you say the wrong thing.

You lean hard against the aptly named panic bar, turn on your heel once outside, and take off running. It dawns on you a little late that he might be following, or, seven forbid, that he knows where you live, so you take a different route as dictated by your GPS and call your new father as soon as you get in the building.

It’s the middle of the work day, so he obviously doesn’t pick up. You unlock the apartment door and pant breathlessly, leaving a hasty voicemail, “O-oh, great seven- ugh- okay, hi, Dad. I told you I’d call you when I get home, so that’s what I’m doing. Hope I didn’t disrupt a meeting or whatever. Call me back, bye.”

You flop face down on the bed and groan, rolling onto your back as the ringtone that you would never choose goes off. In bold white letters on the screen, it says “Bumpkin Boy” with no other indication of who it might be. You pick up.

The voice on the other end sounds heated, a quiet mocking lilt to it, “Bet you went home, huh?”

Your blood runs cold and your very ability to speak is ripped from your lips.

“S’okay. You don’t have to talk. I could pay you a little visit, see what it’s like to live like a nepo baby for a day, but I think…” He pauses, and when he next speaks you hear the smile in his voice, “I think I’ll just wait for Monday, since you owe me a coffee date, don’t you?”

He hangs up after that. You stand up and double-check that you’ve locked the door before you hide in your closet and try not to start hyperventilating. You can’t even beat yourself up for this one. These circumstances are entirely out of your control.

[h00nerz]

bodybag!

masterlist | 1k celebration

pairing: kang taehyun x gn!reader (slight park sunghoon x gn!reader)

genre: angst, fluff, college au, sort of academic rivals to lovers, tsundere!taehyun, jealous!taehyun

word count: 2.2k

warnings: none afaik, just taehyun being possessive

prompt(s): #33 — “i can’t pretend anymore.”, #34 — “you’re all i can think about”, #35 — “i am so very in love with you”, #36 — “it’s you. it’s always been you.” & #37 — “i cannot stand you, and yet, i cannot fathom being away from you.”

requested: “okok i wanna send in a request bcs this kind of drabble has been living in my brain and idk if anyone wrote smth like it before but anyway!! lines 33 through 37 would lowk be so good for a jealoustsundre!taehyun where he acts like he fr despises you, but he like overhears u talking abt going on a lil date he gets so upset and mad 🤭🤭 i lowk got this idea from that one video i dont remember where but taehyun held a drink and was talking to the camera and said like " got this for you but that doesnt mean i like you or anything" HES SO 🙏🙏” — anon

authors note: omg heyyy my first time writing for tyun i am so excited!! enemies 2 lovers again bc… yeah. anyways enjoy~~

SO FAR, YOUR JUNIOR YEAR OF UNIVERSITY was proving to be the worst year of your life. You were finally starting to take classes more specific to your major, which meant things were starting to become a lot more serious. You didn’t have time to work anymore, and even though you had spent the whole summer leading up to the start of the semester working two jobs to have enough money for tuition, you were still barely managing to scrape by. 

Worst of all, though, was Kang Taehyun. 

Kang Taehyun was the bane of your existence. You had first met as freshmen at your university, in the same philosophy course, and you had immediately despised him--or rather, he despised you, and your hatred was just reactionary. It didn’t really matter, though, all that mattered was that he was a menace that made your life ten times harder than it needed to be. 

After that semester, you thought you’d never have to see him again. But, of course, fate had different plans for you. It turned out, Taehyun was pursuing the same major as you, which put you in multiple of the same classes by the time your junior year rolled around. By that point, it had been nearly two years since your last encounter, so you’d hoped he’d grown just a little bit since then. But, of course, he hadn’t.

Kang Taehyun had a vendetta against you that he wasn’t quite ready to let go of. 

Your last class of the day had finally let out, which meant it was time for you to head to the library. The night before, you had stayed up late pulling an all-nighter, and you really were not looking forward to another afternoon filled with studying, but if you wanted to make this deadline, you had no choice. 

With a sigh, you stood up from your seat, and were overcome with dread when you recognized a head of pink hair approaching you. “Not today, Taehyun. I am not in the mood.” You grumbled as you stuffed your laptop into your backpack, purposefully making sure not to even glance in his direction. 

“Yeah, obviously. You have a late night or something? It looked like you could barely stay awake the whole lecture.” He laughed at you, and now you finally looked over at him with narrowed eyes. “Jesus! You look like you just stepped off the set of The Walking Dead!” He exclaimed. 

Horror overcame you, as you realized just how bad your dark circles probably looked. “Shut up! I don’t look that bad!” You snapped at him, zipping your backpack shut so aggressively the zipper nearly broke off. “Even if I did, though, this is the face of someone who’s about to get an A on our midterm paper. So, ha.” 

Taehyun rolled his eyes, trailing after you as you exited the lecture hall. “Please. When I got Kai to review my paper, he said it, and I quote, ‘brought tears to his eyes’. It was that good. And I don’t look half as shitty as you do.” 

He was right. He didn’t look shitty at all. In fact, that was the most infuriating thing about Kang Taehyun. Even though he had shown time and time again that he had an ugly personality, his physical appearance was the opposite. Everything about Taehyun was perfect. His recently dyed hair, that was so fluffy atop his head it was reminiscent of cotton candy. His dark brown eyes that were simultaneously adorable as well as mysterious and inviting. You knew he worked out, he talked about it all the time, and it really showed. You hated him for being such a repulsive human inside of such an attractive body that must have been crafted by the gods themselves. 

“Probably because staring at his laptop screen and trying to decipher whatever bullshit you were spewing dried out his eyes.” You suggested. As you walked, you felt a yawn bubbling in the back of your throat, and as hard as you tried to suppress it, you were unsuccessful. 

“How late did you stay up last night? Really?” Taehyun asked, raising an eyebrow at you. For a brief second, you thought you saw a flash of something different, a flash of something human in his pretty brown eyes… But, you shook your head, positive that you had been imagining it, and sure enough, it disappeared.

“That’s none of your business.” You were quick to snap, quickening your pace in hopes of getting away from him. Instead, though, you ran straight into someone else, and knocked a couple of textbooks they were carrying onto the ground. 

“Oh no! I’m so sorry!” You immediately started apologizing, bending your knees so you could start to pick up the books. When you glanced forward, you felt your cheeks redden as you realized you had bumped into the Park Sunghoon, and the Park Sunghoon was looking at you with wide eyes. 

Park Sunghoon was, like, the star of your campus. He was the captain of the school’s extremely famous ice hockey team, which made him basically a celebrity on your campus. That combined with the fact that he had a face only someone blessed by Aphrodite herself could wield. So, for that perfect face to be just inches from your own right now has your stomach doing somersaults. 

“Oh. Hi, Y/N.” Sunghoon greeted you, and as the two of you finally stood, you blinked at him. 

“You—how—my name?” You stuttered out, staring at him like a deer caught in headlights. 

He furrowed his eyebrows together. “We had a class together last year, remember? You always sat in the row in front of me.” 

You slowly nodded. “Oh. Yeah. I’m surprised you remember that.” 

“How could I forget? You know, I always thought you were really pretty, Y/N.” He smiled at you, revealing his fang-like teeth, and you swore your heart stopped. 

There was loud coughing behind you, and when you glanced over your shoulder you were surprised to see Taehyun was still standing there. He was watching your interaction with Sunghoon with narrowed eyes, like he was contemplating murdering the ice hockey captain. You wondered if they had some kind of rivalry with one another, or maybe he was just irritated by him for the same reason he was irritated by you: just because.

You jerked your head to the side, trying to gesture for him to get out of there, but he stood in his place and looked as though he had no intentions of leaving. 

Deciding to ignore him, you looked back to Sunghoon, and flashed him a shy smile. “Really? You do?” You asked, batting your eyelashes at him. 

He nodded. “Yeah, really. Um, I’ve gotta go, but if you wanna get coffee sometime…” His voice trailed off, as he pulled a marker out of his backpack. You thought your heart was going to literally beat out of your chest when he uncapped the marker and started writing on your wrist. “There’s my number.” He grinned at you, and you watched in awe as he backed up and walked away. 

Once he was out of earshot, you turned around to face Taehyun, a big smirk befalling your lips. “I guess Park Sunghoon is into The Walking Dead!” You announced triumphantly, like you had just beat him in a game of sorts. 

He didn’t react, though, still wearing the same, ticked off expression from earlier. 

“What? What’s your problem?” You furrowed your eyebrows, and suddenly he snatched up the same wrist Sunghoon had just written on. “Hey! What the hell?”

“I need to talk to you.” He said in a low voice. 

“Then let go of me and let’s talk!” You hissed, trying to break free of his grip, but he wouldn’t let go.

He shook his head. “Not here. Follow me.” Unfortunately, he didn’t give you much of a choice, as he started dragging you through the great big hallway of bustling students. Eventually, he found an empty classroom and pulled you inside, shutting the door behind the both of you.

Finally, he let go of you, and you immediately stepped away from him, reaching up to rub your sore wrist. “What the hell was that, Taehyun?!” You demanded, practically spitting in his face. 

“I told you. I need to talk to you.” He repeated himself.

You rolled your eyes. “So then talk! I have places to be, I don’t have time for this!”

“Oh, like coffee with Park Sunghoon?” He spat, his voice laced with venom. 

“Maybe! Doesn’t matter, because who I hang out with is none of your business!” You jabbed a finger, and he once again caught hold of your wrist, holding you in place. 

“Listen to me, Y/N. I’m only going to say this once.” He warned you, and although you wanted so badly to fight him and get out of that stupid classroom, you were also desperate to hear what he had to say. He let out what sounded like a sigh of defeat, and he hung his head loose in front of you. He mumbled something unintelligible, and you raised an eyebrow. 

“What did you say?”

“I said I can’t pretend anymore!” He exclaimed, and the sudden outburst caught you off guard as you took a step back. 

“What do you mean…?” You asked quietly, but there was a small part of you who knew the answer to your own question already. 

He let go of your wrist, reaching up to run a hand through his strawberry colored hair. “You know, Y/N… I can’t stand you. And yet…”

“Yet…?”

“I can’t… I can’t fathom being away from you.” His pretty brown eyes finally gazed up to meet your own, and you realized his face had become almost as pink as his hair. Your own cheeks started to heat up at the sudden confession. “Ever since our first class together, you’re all I can think about. Y/N…”

He took a step closer, and you didn’t know why you didn’t back away. Instead you stood still, allowing him to gently take your hands into his own. “As much as it pains me to admit it… I am so very in love with you.” 

You blinked at him. “Y-You are?” You whispered, and he nodded. Kang Taehyun, the pretty boy who had been tormenting you in your classes, who you swore you hated, was in love with you?! It sounded made up. And yet… It made a lot of things start to make sense. 

“Which is why you can’t go out with some idiot like Park Sunghoon.” He pressed.

You frowned. “He’s not an idiot!” You snapped at him, finally gaining the sense to pull your hands from his. “And--And you can’t just spring this confession onto me! You’re probably just trying to distract me because midterms are happening, and--and you want to be the top of the class!”

He rolled his eyes. “No, Y/N, I don’t--”

“Yeah! And you’re just going to--to pretend you love me, and then get me to realize my own feelings, and then right when I start to fall for you, you’ll rip my heart out of my chest, and--” 

Before you could finish your ramblings, Taehyun was cupping your face and connecting his lips to your own. You let out a soft gasp in surprise, frozen for a moment, because Kang freaking Taehyun was kissing you. This was absolutely not what was supposed to happen! But… Something about it felt so right. It was like your body had a mind of its own as you relaxed under his touch, kissing him back with as much passion as he had offered you. 

He pushed you forward until you stumbled back onto one of the desks set up in the classroom, and you gasped again when his hands slid under your thighs to lift you up onto it. Your fingers laced themselves in his pink hair, which was surprisingly soft for having been recently dyed. He was kissing you hungrily, like you were his first meal in days, and he couldn’t get enough of you. 

He was kissing you like he was in love with you. 

After what felt like an eternity, he was forced to pull away from the kiss to catch his breath, and you found yourself chasing after his lips. He smiled down at you, and you felt his fingers brush against your cheek as he gently tucked a loose strand of your hair away. 

“I’m not lying to you, Y/N. This isn’t some cruel trick to make you fail. It’s you. It’s always been  you.” 

You smiled. “You really mean it?” He nodded. “Hmm… I’m not sure I believe you… I think I’m going to give Sunghoon a call…” You lifted your wrist to look at the numbers, unsurprised to see the ink had smeared after Taehyun dragged you into the room.

The color drained from his face. “What? Are you serious? I confess my love, and--and you’re going to call Sunghoon?!” He stared at you in disbelief. 

You tried your best to keep a poker face, but were unable to fight back the laughter for very long. “I’m joking, idiot! Holy shit, you should have seen your face!” You began to cackle loudly, but Taehyun was quick to shut you up with another kiss. 

Maybe the rest of the year wouldn’t be so bad after all.

permanent tag list: @jakeshands @therealhyunjingf @exohclipse @ttyunz @naveries @mazeinthemoon @luvsoobs @n0-thisispatrick @arizzu @dewyboi @yeonboy

[aphroditestempleimagines]

Stay

Pairing: Satoru Gojo x Reader x Suguru Getou

Words: 3527

Warnings: lots of angsty content, bit of rubbing/grinding, just some kissing, language

Summary: Your engagement to the heir to the Gojo clan has been arranged since you were young. Yet you can't help but realize that Satoru himself does not seem to care, neither about duty nor about you. In your sorrow, you slept with his old, now criminal, friend Suguru Getou. That finally got Gojo to admit his love for you. But now that Getou had a taste of happiness he simply cannot let go.

Colour: Angsty with a lot of fluff

His love series - part 3

Author's note: he-hey, part 3! I don't know who reads my stupid shit but thank you, love you! Also i TRIED with this, let me know what you think.

"Getou-san", Mimiko said as she brushed Suguru's hair, "Who are these people?"

She was pointing at the polaroid Suguru held in his hand. It was from his last summer in jujutsu high school. He brushed his thumb over the fake smile he wore in the photo, "They're my friends", he said, "The only ones I ever had".

"But that is Satoru Gojo, isn't it?", Nanako interrupted, "Isn't he our enemy?"

Suguru shook his head. "We just had a fight, long ago", he said, "A fight so big that we haven't spoken ever since. But I still wish only for his happiness"

"And who is the girl?", Mimiko said again, "She's so pretty!"

Getou could not restrain his smile. "Yes", his eyes filled with love, "Yes she is". He brought the photograph closer closer. "Her name is y/n", he continued, "And she's the most beautiful woman I've ever seen"

"She's not that pretty", Nanako pouted. Getou ruffled her hair as he laughed.

He continued staring at the photograph as if his gaze could somehow bring back the moment that was imprinted on the small piece of paper. After a while, Mimiko handed over a mirror to him. He smiled at the little braids she had woven with his black hair, and the little pink bow which adorned his top knot.

"My, you've done a wonderful job", he said, a comment which Mimiko was more than happy to hear.

As the day progressed and night approached, Suguru's soul became more and more unsettled. The girls had awoken those memories in him again, those memories that he had tried with all his might to forget.

He got off his bed, lazily tying his robe. He scrambled the papers on his desk as he looked for something to do. His eyes finally fell onto the report of a very popular department store. Something had reportedly drawn a special grade to it the day before, it was not unlikely that it was born on the spot by consuming a special grade cursed object like, for example, one of Sukuna's fingers.

He needed to have it in his possession. It would make him all the more stronger. And to do that he had to get to it before jujutsu sorcerers could.

He took off for Ginza in the middle of the light-infested night. He gazed at his dark reflection in the store windows; he had not bothered to put the rest of his outfit together, and now he walked wearing just his sandals and high-waisted robes. He entered the Western-style gallery of the department store. He kept his hands in combat mode, ready to strike. He was a special grade sorcerer, but he was facing an uncatalogued special grade spirit, of unknown power.

As he turned at another corner the sky above him darkened. He looked through the glass roof; the blue and pink afterglow of Tokyo's lights had disappeared, and the blackness of the veil covered every corner of the store. Sorcerers, Getou immediately knew. He had to find the spirit, and consume it.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

"You said we were going on a date, Satoru", your eyes scolded your fiancé, "Not another mission"

"We are, love", he pulled you closer by the waist, "We're going to have dinner in Shibuya. We just need to take care of this, first"

"Fine but you're paying for the dinner", you scoffed.

"Was that the point of the conversation?", he asked.

You lightly clasped his jaw and turned him to face you. "They're paying you for this anyway, aren't they?", you raised an eyebrow at him.

He marched ahead to cut your path and leaned closer to match your height. "They're paying us, love", he smirked, "I need my support".

"Aha", you laughed as he wrapped his hands around you, showering you with kisses on every bare patch of skin he could find...or easily expose. "Pay attention", you smiled as you pushed him away, "it could be anywhere".

"It's not even a regular special grade", Satoru rolled his eyes, their faint glint barely visible under his blindfold, "It's probably just some weakling playing with powers it doesn't understand"

You escaped his embrace. You laughed as you galloped ahead. "Then you wouldn't mind if I beat you to exorcising it!", you smiled at him, "I might even collect the entirety of the reward for myself"

"Hey now!", he transported himself next to you, "It's still a special grade"

"I know, I will, I'm joking", you kissed his beautiful plumb lips, "I know how to analyze the situation. I just want you to be a bit more careful as well"

He kissed you again, his hand holding your nape. "I love it when you worry about me", he murmured against your lips.

"I always do"

He cupped your cheeks and kissed your forehead before he reluctantly waved you goodbye and took the turn for the east side of the mall. You took a left to the west, senses in alert.

A noise tickled your ear and then your surroundings changed. What used to be a hallway lined with shops now was a topsy turvy landscape of a city. 'Domain expansion?', you thought, 'No it's incomplete'. But there was no doubt that the cursed spirit was there.

A hand wrapped around your waist, another covered your mouth. You were pulled into a man's embrace, barhing in the shadows of an alley. You looked up. Your eyes grew wide. He removed his hand from your mouth and brought a finger to his lips, motioning you to keep silent.

"Suguru?", you whispered.

He gave you a soft smile. His eyes darted towards an upside-down building nearby. There it was; the special grade. It was examining what you surmised was one of Getou's weaker spirits from his collection.

He pulled your body flush against his. Before you could do anything else he extended his arm toward the special grade. The dangerous spirit slowly dissolved into thin air, its particles flowing to Getou's hand. They swirled into a hurricane above his palm until they concentrated into a small orb, the color of a Tiger's Eye gemstone. You stood once again amid the shopping gallery.

"No don't!", you cried as Suguru swallowed the special grade but you were too late; it was now his.

"Oh fuck", he coughed, "ugh, it only gets worse with time".

Your heart clenched. Your arms reached to help him but he pushed you away.

Silence governed the air between you. Getou leaned at the alley wall behind him as you gazed at his throat, where the curse had just disappeared. It was cruel how little he had changed in appearance over the years compared to how different his ideals had become. There was such a thin line between memory and illusion that it was so easy to get them mixed up, and see Getou for the man he was and not the things he had done ever since.

"Are you...okay?", he finally asked, "You look well"

The last time he had seen you your eyes were puffy and weighed by dark circles after crying for hours over Satoru. But ever since you heeded Suguru's advice and talked to him, things had improved; no, things were almost perfect.

"I am. I am well", you nodded, "I spoke to Satoru"

Suguru smiled. "Is that so?", his eyes were kindly hiding a mixture of happiness and sorrow, "Did he finally stop screwing around?"

"Well...he is Satoru", you laughed, "But...I don't feel alone anymore"

"That's good", his lip trembled but it was clear that he genuinely tried to appear happy.

Your awkwardness halted the conversation once more. What does one even say in situations such as this? You both tried to call each other's names; you laughed as your voices overlapped. You gestured Suguru to speak first. He pushed at the wall and walked closer to take your hands in his. He brushed his thumb over your knuckles, carefully tracing the small hills and valleys of your hand. You were not smiling anymore.

"Suguru come back", you said without thinking as he kissed your hand, "Come back home, to Jujutsu High"

He chuckled. "Wouldn't that be a laugh?", he said, "I'd be executed on the spot"

"Is that the only reason you won't come back?"

"Y/n..."

"Talk to Satoru"

"No", he shook his head.

"Satoru!", you cried.

Suguru's eyes shot open. You wrapped your arms around him as he tried to leave. You put on all your weight into keeping his massive body in place but he still managed to drag you.

"Let go", he said frantically.

"No. Satoru!"

"He can't see me here", he placed his hands on your shoulders, "You should both just go and be happy"

"Not when you're like this. SATORU!", you tripped him as he tried to peel you away.

He fell on his back, you on top of him. He blushed as your body rubbed over him. You heaved as you gazed down at his shocked expression. He studied your distressed face. He brought his palm to cup your cheek, wiping a single tear before it left your eye.

"I don't understand", he muttered.

"Y/N!", you heard Satoru's voice echo in the empty department store. A moment later he appeared next to you, his blindfold around his neck. He pulled you in his arms, his shocked blue eyes fixed on Suguru. "You okay?", he cupped your warm cheek when he finally turned back to you.

Getou lifted his body, putting his weight on his elbows. He fixed his dishevelled robes and hair before he stood to face his old friend. "You look like shit", he finally told Satoru.

Gojo scoffed. "You're the one to talk", he tightened his grip around you, "What are you doing here?"

"Let's just say I'm not getting paid this week", you joked.

"What?"

"I came for the special grade", Suguru dusted his clothes before directing his gaze at you, "But then someone would not let me leave".

Satoru looked at you. You diverted your eyes. "I can't bloody well let you get yourself killed"

"I'm doing this for our people!", Getou cried.

"If you think what you're doing is right then why did you leave in the first place?"

Suguru caught his breath. His teeth clenched and so did his fists. His eyes focused on the ground below his feet, too frightened of the truth to meet yours. "I'm trying to build a world where your smiles will be safe"

"That is not gonna happen like this", you yelled at him, "Curses won't disappear if humans do and as long as there are any I will hunt them because I BLOODY FEEL LIKE IT! So instead of acting like a delusional fascist with a hero complex who thinks murdering a bunch of innocent people to erase the actual assholes in this world, who by the way are not all human, how about you come the fuck back home and be HAPPY?"

Suguru let out a pained chuckle. "I can't. I can't wear a heartfelt smile around you anymore", he said, "And besides, I wouldn't even live long enough to try"

"Who's to say that?", Satoru pulled at your waist as you took a step forward.

Getou opened his mouth to speak. "Satoru..."

"Don't", Satoru shook his head. He breathed hard. He kissed your forehead, his fingers entwining with your hair. He let go of you and approached Suguru, his arms crossed in front of his chest. "You're a special-grade sorcerer of a whole different level. I'm pretty sure the only person they can employ to execute you is me"

"Satoru..."

"I won't do it", he said firmly, "Not unless you force me to". Satoru looked back at you before returning his gaze to Getou. "See I never placed much value in money", he began, "But there are other things I care about. My home. My students. My friends. My future with the woman I love. The man I used to call my best friend, who taught me how to care about all of the above"

Suguru startled. He raised his gaze as Satoru continued.

"If you threaten any one of these things then yes, I will kill you. For no other reason", he said, "If you ever cared about me, please don't bring me to that point"

"I-"

"Suguru", you called him, "Please. Stay"

"We chose this life", Satoru said, "I like to complain about it but the truth is I could disappear if I wanted to. Others have. Everyone chose this life, knowing its dangers. Humans are no more responsible for what happens to us than the people firefighters rescue from a building caught ablaze"

"I can't-I have to-"

"What do you want in your life?", Satoru placed his hands on Suguru's shoulders, bringing his gaze to meet his by force, "Do you actually wish to be loathed by me? By her?"

Something in the word "loathe" seemed to stir whatever free will had not been consumed by Suguru's dedication to his macabre goal.

"Would you actually enjoy a life where all you have is our hatred?", Satoru continued.

"That is the last thing I want...", tears swelled in Getou's eyes.

"Listen", Satoru's voice came strained, "I know you love y/n. And I hope you still at least consider me your friend-"

"That's exactly why-"

"You want us to smile?", your chuckle came pitiful, "How can any of us smile when you abandon us to play psycho killer?"

Getou laughed, tears of sorrow leaving his eyes. He placed one hand over Satoru's. He brought the other to cup your cheek. Without warning he pulled the two of you into his embrace. You could hear how he tirelessly tried to reign in his sobs as he hid his face behind your backs. You felt his fingers comb your hair.

"Are you making your own path or are you just running away?", Satoru said, "You are loved much more than you think"

Suguru cried on your shoulders. "You two are my world", he trembled, "You're my best, no, my only friends"

"Then come back", you hugged him tighter, "Please, just come back"

"Are you gonna say no to her Suguru? You saw how insistent she can be"

"Stop using her as an excuse you jackass"

The two of them chuckled. Getou took a deep breath before pulling away. He wiped his eyes with the sleeve of his robe. Satoru threw his arm over your shoulders and walked you to the other side of the gallery. He turned back to Suguru to yell a "Don't leave" before pulling you into his embrace, his voice soft enough so not to be carried to Getou's ears.

"Do you love me?", he asked.

"Of course I do", you frowned.

"No, this is important", Satoru said firmly, "Do you love me for me or do you love me as a replacement for Suguru?"

"What are you talking about?", you whispered.

"Y/n I know you love Suguru, there's no doubt about that", his arms held you tighter, "And I know you have guessed how I feel about him too. So my mind right now is pretty clouded on my decision. But one thing I know is that this is a risk. If I ask him to come with us will you stop loving me?"

You cupped his cheeks, pulling him in for a deep kiss that seemed to last years. When you finally released his lips he was panting. You gazed deep into his beautiful blue eyes. "You're asking ME? If I will stop loving YOU?", your eyes teared up as you whispered. He covered your hands with his, his lips kissing your palm. "What about me?", you asked, "Am I-"

"No", Satoru held your face, his eyes drilling into yours, "You are the best thing that has ever happened to me".

He kissed your forehead. You pulled him into your arms, squeezing him as he wrapped his arms around you. He rested his cheek on your head as he combed your hair with his fingers.

"What do you want?", Satoru whispered, "Do you want one of us? Do you want both of us? I'll do anything just....please....don't leave me behind. Losing you will..."

His voice trailed away. It was obvious what he was going to say yet he did not allow himself to put it into words. You did not know whether that was out of his own pride or to spare you the guilt out of compassion.

"I wanna stay with you", you told him, "But my heart is not full when he's not with us. When he's suffering"

Satoru pulled you closer. "Yeah", he muttered, "I know the feeling".

He stepped back to peer at your face. You returned a nod. With that, he understood. He turned back and walked up to Getou.

"There's a ton of things I have been wanting to your tell sorry ass for years", Satoru crossed his arms in front of his chest, "But ...most of all is this; I've missed you".

His eyes were real and pleading, and Suguru's kind expression from his older days returned to his face. "Satoru..."

"Suguru", Gojo said, "Come back. It's us. We'll be fine"

"I slept with your fiance", Suguru scoffed as he looked away.

"I know"

"Aren't you mad?"

"I'm scared"

Suguru caught his breath. He turned his gaze back to Satoru; the man was not lying. His eyes flickered with fear as he clenched his fists at his sides.

"I had not realized", Satoru said, "how alone people feel around me"

"Satoru-"

"You had to knock me back to my senses even after years of being rid of me. I-", Satoru rubbed his eyes, "When she screamed at me after I realized you two...I'm always gone, I know that. I thought I was doing enough by just spending some time but that's not true"

Suguru chuckled. His gaze darted towards y/n. "Took you long enough, you idiot"

"Shut up", Gojo took a deep breath, "I did the same to you didn't I?"

Getou fell silent.

"So I did", Satoru took the lack of response as affirmation to his question, "You were in pain and I failed to see it. I'm sorry"

Suguru's strong arms wrapped around Satoru. "You shouldn't apologize", he told him, "I never blamed you for it". Gojo returned the embrace. "So what did you not want her to hear?", Getou asked.

"That day", began Satoru, "you said you wanted to become the strongest"

"I did"

"It's a curse", Satoru said determined, "A curse even I cannot exorcise"

Suguru pulled away. He followed Satoru's eyes back to you.

"I can't lose her", his voice deepened. He covered his eyes with his palms. "And yes, I've tried to hate you for trying to take her away but I can't do that either and my head is a mess". Satoru stayed silent for a moment that seemed to last an infinity. "She loves you", he finally raised his gaze. "Can't blame her, I love you too", he scoffed at himself.

Suguru smiled; it was peaceful, and happy and beautiful. "I see", he said sweetly, "You're both idiots, falling for a broken man"

"We're all broken in some way", said Satoru, "That's the fate of a jujutsu sorcerer. But, perhaps together the three of us can make a decent person"

Suguru laughed. "You really have no shame", he said before planting a kiss on his cheek. He grabbed his arm and dragged him to you. Suguru wrapped his arm around your waist and took your lips in his own. You were surprised but quickly melted into the sweetness of his kiss. He touched his forehead to yours, "Did the idiot ask you about keeping me around your house like a lover?"

"Y...yes", you blushed.

Getou kissed you again, nipping at your lower lip. "Greedy girl", he said before Satoru pulled you to his side.

"She's staying with me if you leave", you felt Satoru's hand cling at your waist for dear life.

"It was my fate to fall for two idiots, not one", Suguru responded softly.

You moved to stand at Satoru's other side so that you were nestled between the two men. Suguru placed a kiss on your forehead as you walked down the pathway to the exit. Next, he reached out and ruffled Satoru's hair. The other man tried to wave him away. Getou leaned and planted a kiss on his neck; to that, Satoru did not object. Suguru rested his hand on your shoulder, Satoru on your waist, and you lifted the veil to the outside world.

"However, I should say", Suguru took a deep breath of courage, "I am taking care of two orphaned girls. I am not going to leave them"

"How old are they?", asked Gojo

"Almost twelve"

"Oh that's about Megumi's age", you lit up.

"Megumi?", Suguru's brows furrowed.

Satoru let out a small chuckle. "Oh we are going to need some drinks for that talk", he said as he led the two of you to his car and his very confused (and scared) driver.

[kaccvcate]

sorry if this is a bit of a personal question, but is your lifestyle costly in any way, especially concerning the gas for your (sick) car? and is homesickness inevitable?

i feel like a stationary life in a house for years bogs me down. i don't know if i feel this way because of my current living situation causing me a lot of stress and a lot of bad memories attached to my current home, being in a shitty area, mental illness, or all of the above, but i just don't feel like i can live this way especially with my increasing wanderlust (a strong desire to travel).

it was magical to me seeing your many interactions and various views when you were traveling around the country. it was honestly really exciting! i feel like there's a lot to witness in the world and i want to see what i can in the short time i have on earth. (i think it's why i love visiting my family so much, besides enjoying their presence.)

but i don't want to throw myself head first into it, ya know? i want to know how much it's going to cost me. i would love to travel, but i don't wanna go broke over it! ;^;

i also have a strong attachment to my current home, florida. no other place has really matched its beautiful savannas, messy yet beautiful rivers, crazy plant overgrowth, and the nostalgic noise of cicadas (i even managed to find a shell this summer! it's my most prized possession, physical music aside). but, god... i really feel like fucking off sometime and going elsewhere for a little bit.

sorry if this is a lot of personal details, haha... you just feel very easy to talk to and i would like to have a roaming lifestyle. haven't been attached to people as much lately due to things, and i want to have my own adventures and experiences. maybe it's some sort of natural instinct to finally leave the family? xD who knows

To be honest, I've struggled with mental illness and depression the whole time I've been running this blog, and since I've stopped being homeless the last couple months, I've become a completely different and much happier person.

My comic seems very lighthearted and happy go lucky because I choose to focus on positive parts of my life in my work, it helps me to stay alive. When I was a kid my parents took me out of Mississippi, isolated and abused the shit out of me. My whole life I've actually dreamed of being able to live here and make music and have friends, and the whole time I was homeless I was homesick as fuck and cried multiple times daily. A lot of the drug use I portray is from times I was extremely suicidal, now I'm happy as a clam and don't ever feel the need to get fucked up like that, or hate myself or my life or anything (I don't even drink anymore.)

I've always wanted to help my family, who live in extreme poverty, but as a disabled person felt unable to. Now through my work, I'm able to be healthy and improve my life, and it's extremely satisfying.

I know this isn't the answer you guys probably want to hear. When my life was horrible and I was surrounded by abusers, moving into my car was the obvious choice, and while I was homeless, travelling was the obvious choice. You wear out your welcome one place and have to move on. For a while at first I stayed in one place and kept day jobs, which was difficult because of my condition, then when my old truck broke down I moved into the bando and just shoplifted all my food that wasn't paid for by fan donations. Through the kindness of my fans I was able to go to New York, there I lived on the street, and sometimes slept in parks or crackhouses, which isn't the most fun (although there were lots of funny times also, which I drew comics of, and crackheads can be as nice as anyone when they choose to be.) I was hoping to get treatment for my condition and get on disability, but without a place to stay through winter it was impossible. It was thanks to the generosity of fans that I was able to get a van, and I tried again to move to Mississippi, but things fell apart and I had nowhere to stay, so to avoid police attention I went out west. I had wonderful adventures in california, but still I regretted leaving my family to struggle while I bummed around having fun.

Even times I was really broke, kind people would take me in and feed me. People seemed to go out of their way to be extremely nice all the time as soon as I was out of Mississippi, and when I got out west it was fun to hang out in San Francisco with all the other free people who lived in and around Golden Gate Park (there are many.) Travelling was fun, I made so many amazing friends across the country and had great times, but still it was hard to be truly happy.

I'm very lucky to have the support network I do, my life wouldn't be possible without it. Living in a van is definitely cheaper than living in a house for obvious reasons. If you're going to move into a van, get to California as soon as possible, it's the best place to do it. But if you feel you're in a good situation and have nothing to gain from homelessness, you should just enjoy your nice life and be grateful. And next time you have some extra cash or bud, go hand out some alms to your friendly neighborhood busker. They need it more than you.

[pyjamaart]

Year 4 of submitting art for the SiIvaGunner Art Gallery!! >:]

For the fourth time now, I can proudly present my entry for this years SiIvaGunner Birthday Gallery! I had to put up with a lot of obstacles this year, like starting in June when I normally always started in early May, my parents and my brother visiting during the exact time frame I wanted to work on this, a crippling addiction to playing Dragon Quest Monsters and many more.

But as you can see, I really locked in at the end and finished it exactly one day before the deadline (17th June).

Now to explain my vision for this piece: I'll have to admit, since starting my new job in February, I didn't have any time to keep up with the loads of SiIvaGunner rips that are uploaded each day, since I always listened to them at my old workplace while I took care of my mountains of scientific journals. At my new job, I don't have anything to do with journals anymore. I mostly talk to students at the counter all day. Can't really listen to YouTube videos when someone wants something from you every minute. I also do a lot of things related to facility management in between (our library buildings are practically falling apart in some places...), so even when I'm not at the counter, I have way too much stuff to do to listen to rips. Sigh. Sometimes, I miss my old job.........

But I'll try my best to catch up some time in the future. At the very latest in September. My first vacation days in 7 months... Anyway, let's get back to the image at hand:

In the foreground, there's obviously my beloved dynamic duo of besties: Woodman and Nozomi. Woodman has been missing from the channel for 1 and a half years. Please bring him back. I miss my wife, Tails...

For this piece, my theme was centered around my favorite SiIvaGunner joke from the past few months (or has it been years?): The raft ride. I wanted something fun and summer-y, so I decided to put all the characters I drew in cute little sailor outfits. For Woodman, I just drew him in something simple that I thought of myself, which complimented and incorporated his usual armor.

Next we have Nozomi, who dons her outfit from μ's fifth single "Wonderful Rush". I had a few water themed outfits to chose from with her (and Honoka, for that matter), but I chose Wonderful Rush for Nozomi since it just fit with the aesthetic I was going for.

Next to those two is Coraline from the 3DS street pass game "Ultimate Angler", which is also prominently featured on the channel. For her outfit, I just modified her usual attire a little to fit in with the sailor vibe. I also turned her sun visor around because I could for the life of me not figure out how to draw it properly at this angle. Uhhh... I mean, I turned it around because I thought it looked cool.

I hope you can see that I had an absolute breakthrough in Gimp. I think I already talked about it on my Buck fanart, but I finally discovered layer modes. After 4 years of working with Gimp. Spectacular, I know. If you don't notice it here, you'll definitely notice it on the next image in queue for the robot master quest I have going on. I can already spoil you who it's gonna be this time: Tornadoman! I honestly couldn't believe what I was drawing. I think I was possessed by something for a few hours. It was honestly a little scary. But I think you'll see what I mean once you see the actual image, it's really different from the usual stuff I draw.

Getting back to the topic of this picture, let's talk about the background now. I decided to draw a little ship with lots of familiar faces making up the crew.

The ships captain is Honoka, who is standing on the very left of the deck. I took her outfit from μ's single "Heart to Heart!", which also fit into the aquatic theme quite nicely.

Right next to her, under a rainbow flag that's fluttering in the wind above them, is Aquaman. My beloved. Since I drew him into last years birthday gallery image, I decided to do the same this year. I also put a little starfish on his hat because I think it looked cute ;)

Standing epicly and mysteriously on the top of the boat is Meta Knight. I don't know if you can see it when it's zoomed out so far, but he's holding some kind of folded map in his right hand. Maybe they're looking for treasure??

And on the very right of the ship are Tito Dick and Robbie Rotten, reenacting that one famous scene from the Titanic movie.

After that, we shift our focus to the left of the image, where we can see Fluttershy flying over the island from Tomodachi Life.

And that's it for this image folks. I hope I'll finish my Mega Man Fully Charged art before the weekend ends, so stay tuned for that next! And after that, we're going right back to the robot master grind. ;)

Until then, this has been Jenny Pyjamakama, signing off. ;)

[simulation-machine]

SIMS RELATED PROJECTS/UPDATES

My spring break is coming up in a week and holy crap do I have plans on plans on plans, especially since my summer is gonna be full of school + internship + HOPEFULLY friggin' graduating with a BA in Psychology so that I can start applying to grad schools.

Read more iffin' you'd like! It's long! Here's a picture of my golden retriever napping on her brother's food bowl to entice/entertain you:

god she is so precious i would literally kill for her

GOAL 1: MASTER GSHADE/ReSHADE

I know that some people are sticklers for this but my thing is that I had no gee-dee clue what I was doing with ReShade, whereas Gshade just kinda clicked and worked for me? That said I have a bunch of resources for learning ReShade so I might end up moving back to it at some point.

My main issue is figuring out the order of all the different effects. It obviously matters, I'm sure people smarter than me have tried to use presets only to be like "why tf does this look absolutely nothing like the baller screenshots this one cool Simblr has?" Annnd it turns out it's order + remembering to turn off certain graphic settings. Also photoshop, but that's gonna take a lot longer for me to figure out lol.

Like I'd been struggling to figure out why @gunthermunch's gorgeous Lithium preset wasn't looking as sexy as it did before annnnd it's because I forgot to turn Edge Smoothing off when switching to it. Jesus wept at how dippy I am sometimes.

Eventually, what I would like to do is maybe make my own preset at some point? I would be kind enough to show the effect order too if I did so. But this requires so, so much more shader knowledge than I currently have.

FUN FACT: My first ever degree was in art, I even went to a very fancy and private art school (School of the Art Institute of Chicago if you're curious)- I dropped out after one semester because uhhh that shit is expensive. Ended up finishing my degree at a much cheaper location in MN. That said, my art was 100% analog and 2D, and it turns out it did not translate super well into trying my hand at graphic art.

It's funny because I've been gifted really neat stuff for graphic art (like a really nice Wacom tablet and Adobe subscriptions), like people just expected my mixed-media ass would know what to do with it. NOPE! But yeah, Sims is sort of my excuse to try my hand at this stuff again, especially since I have a bit more energy now that my soul is not regularly being drained out of my body by customer service and tech support jobs.

GOAL 2: GET CRACKIN' ON ANOTHER DOOR

This one is hard because I am only on Gen 2 of the Orsons and it's sort of hard to justify starting up another story while that one is less than 1/5 of the way done.

THAT SAID, I don't plan on posting Another Door until I have a decent chunk of it done. Since it's not a casual gameplay story nor a legacy challenge, I plan on editing the bajeez out of the screenshots for it, really honing in on the aesthetic. I want it to look and feel very different from my random legacy challenge.

Fortunately, this story has been fucking up my sleep schedule for *months* now and I have a lot of the writing for it done. The hard part is translating that into the Sims, making sure I get the right poses and stuff, maybe even learning how to make some super easy CC (like, posters and stuff), and stuff related to GOAL 1 above.

What I'm saying is that it's going to take a bit. But I'm super serious about sharing it because it's my obsession and honestly the first time a story of my own design has possessed me in literal years.

Also, I want to make sure I have a significant backlog of the Orsons before I start seriously simming for it, because I don't want to screw over my favorite little pixel babies. This legacy challenge is going to be the one, I have done so much to keep my save files to keep it safe from harm (ask me how many backups I have of the save files. JK don't, the number is frankly silly).

GOAL 3: START YET ANOTHER MASSIVE CC PURGE

Y'all, my CC folder for this game is honestly an embarrassment. I go so hard on CC shopping because this community is stupid-talented and I like giving my pixel babies nice things and cool looks. When I'm bored and not quite in the mood for gameplay, I just like making neat-looking sims that I do absolutely nothing with because I love fucking around in CAS.

I have built my own PCs since I was 17 years old, and when I first built COMPUTERMACHINE (current rig) back in the autumn of 2018, it was with the goal that it would run Sims 4 flawlessly no matter what I did to it. It's got ridiculous amounts of RAM, I religiously update parts for it. And to be fair, even with the current 6,907,907,890 TB of CC I have atm it runs better than Sims 3 ever had with a measly 50 GB of CC.

But for me, it comes down to finding all the stuff I wanna use. Making myself get rid of the stuff I don't wanna use. Straight up yeeting the CC that I thought was going to look incredible that uh, didn't deliver.

I do CAS CC purges about once a year but have literally never done it for Build & Buy stuff, because OMG some of this shit I've had since 2014. Like when Sims 4 first came out. YIKES. My CAS CC obsession is notable but it's honestly nothing compared to my Build & Buy. Even before For Rent made building lots slow af, my PC was starting to take a solid minute to switch to different buy categories.

It would take a long af time so I want to make sure I have a bunch of content in the queue before I do it. It's gonna be a whole ass thing and be so, so boring to do. So I'm putting it off for when I have a ton of time to do it. Like, oh, my entire Spring Break?

GOAL 4: MAKE A FRIGGIN' RESOURCES LIST ALREADY

This would obviously need to wait until after GOAL 3 is completed, but I wanna make sure the awesome creators whose stuff I use get credit, and that people know where they can grab neat stuff. It would include not only CC but mods, Gshade/ReShade presets, and maybe even lots and sims I've downloaded from the gallery?

(Since I am super anti-paywall and very unapologetic and rude about it, I will also share where one could perhaps get some of these CCs without paying some dip a Trenta Starbucks Unicorn Frappucino amount of $$$)

It's ambitious as hell because *gestures vaguely at GOAL 3* but it would make things like doing WCIF asks and lookbooks so much easier.

Somewhat relatedly, I wanna make a navigation post, especially once Another Door starts getting posted. That story is gonna be a bit huge with multiple arcs that take place over the course of like, 14 years. Plus once the Orsons get to the 4th+ generation, it would be easier to track things down.

IN CONCLUSION...

I have been having so much fun sharing my silly little Sim adventures on Tumblr, so much more than I ever thought I would! You all have been so great to me, and all of this stuff is sort of a way for me to repay that. Ever since I stopped being able to be artistically creative ever since a really nasty depressive spell in 2017, Sims has been my #1 artistic outlet. And having people who are even somewhat entertained by my pixels is incredibly motivating.

Basically, if you read all of this, DAMN would you have been a rad livejournal follower of mine circa 2007. On the seriousness, however, thank you all so much for being rad and encouraging and sweet. I promise to do you all, if not proud, then at the very least not disappointed.

Time to hit the bong and take some pictures of Lou and Tatertot before taking my IRL doggos on a walk~

[tacoma-narrows]

Dorney Park! - 5/19/21

Decided to not let this trip report have a two week long gap like my Great America post did, so I'll write it out now!

Made my first trip of the year to Dorney Park this past weekend! I went by myself for about 5 hours or so and got on everything I had wanted to ride. Lines were very minimal, with the longest (not accounting for a short maintenance delay) being maybe 20 mins. Got a bunch of re-rides on the park's major coasters and I'm sure I'll be able to get more later in the summer, since Dorney is my home park lol. But here are some pics I got, and then like for my Great America post, thoughts about my individual rides will be below them!

Here's my breakdown of what I rode!

Iron Menace - Coaster Credit #169! (Rode twice) I am so glad Dorney finally got a brand new coaster after so long! Their last new coaster was Stinger in 2012 (which was a relocation, and closed in 2018), and their last custom built coaster was Hydra way back in 2005 (Possessed, opened in 2008, was also a relocation). I really liked Iron Menace for what it was though! It looks absolutely FANTASTIC for it's plot of land, and it's directly in front of you as you drive into the park. Makes for a fantastic first impression! The ride itself was pretty much what I expected (in a good way), it's definitely the weakest of the three dive coasters I've ridden, since it doesn't have the scale of Valravn and Sheikra, but I thought it had some fun elements and some surprisingly strong positive forces. The main downside is that it's a short ride, at only maybe 40 seconds or so after the drop. But all things considered, I think it's a great fit for Dorney and I LOVE it's theme! The Steelyard area around it looks pretty good as well! Currently, I have Iron Menace at 56th in my rankings between Flight Deck at California's Great America, and Medusa at Six Flags Great Adventure, but that could be subject to change once I decide if I like this or Hydra more lol.

Steel Force - (Rode twice) I'd heard during the park's Winter Chill Out event back in March that they we're speeding up the chain lift on Steel Force this year since (I believe) they had gotten a new lift motor or something to that effect, so I was excited to see how it rode this year. I didn't really notice a significant difference in the speed or airtime, but that wasn't a huge deal to me since I really enjoy Steel Force. A lot of people give it and the other Morgan hypers flack for not having any airtime, and I just don't see that. I always get tons of air over this hills, especially on the return trip. Then the double helix turnaround acts as a good change of pace with some good positives. So Steel Force still retains it's place as my favorite at the park.

Thunderhawk - (Rode once) Thunderhawk is a ride that's had my opinions on it change a lot over the years. When I first rode it the first time I went to Dorney in 2012, I did not like it. I remember it being really rough and uncomfortable. Over the last few years though, the park has been doing a really good job taking care of it and it's running really well now. My ride this time had surprisingly strong airtime, which I was not expecting. The main problem I had this time, and why I only rode it once, was because I got stapled BAD and the surprisingly strong airtime made for a rather uncomfortable experience lol. But for a ride that's celebrating it's 100th birthday this year, it's still really solid I'd say.

Hydra the Revenge - (Rode twice) Hydra is such a weird little ride but I love it. Lots of funky inversions, especially for a floorless coaster, and you gotta love the hangtime on the jojo roll out of the station. It's running a little shaky this year but not too bad as long as you keep your head forward, as is the case with a lot of B&M loopers. That's nothing new for Hydra as well, since in my experience it's always had a bit of a rattle. I love how dynamic its forces are though between hangtime, airtime, positives and a little bit of whip coming down the first drop in the back row. At the moment, I'm not sure if I'd take it over Iron Menace as my third fav in the park, so that's something I'll have to think about next time I'm back there lol

Talon - (Rode once) I really enjoy Talon as well, which finds itself as my second fav in the park after Steel Force. Very snappy and forceful inversions and it still runs pretty smooth. I especially love the super intense high banked turn right up against the ground towards the end of the ride. The one thing that's a little disappointing is that the park took out the signs underneath you as you go up the lift hill. They were spaced out and said thing like "Going up" "No turning back!" "Getting closer..." as you went up the lift hill, with the last one at the crest saying "Goodbye!" as you go over the drop. They didn't affect the actual ride at all, but I thought they were a funny little thing the park decided to put in. They may have removed them prior to this year, since I didn't go to Dorney a lot between 2020 and now, but this is the first time I noticed it at least. Anways, gotta love Talon, real solid invert all around. I would've rode it more than once, but it got a bit of a longer line towards the end of my visit that I didn't feel like waiting in lol

Possessed - (Rode once) I've never been a huge fan of Intamin's Impulse coasters, and I've always thought Possessed was just kind of okay. It's got a fun launch, and since I was sitting towards the back row, the feeling of height looking straight down on the vertical back spike was pretty cool, but other than that, the ride doesn't do a whole lot for me. I wished the holding break on the vertical spike still worked like it used to, that would make the ride a bit more unique at least, but it's still fine enough without it.

Other than the coasters, I rode two other rides, both of them being drop towers lol. One was Dominator, the park's 200 foot S&S drop tower. I rode the shot side that blasts you up to free fall down and I thought it was way more tame than I remembered, which was unfortunate. Then the other drop tower I rode was Demon Drop, which is one of the very few rides out there that still kinda wigs me out lmao. Something about the moving forward from the lift shaft to the drop track and the fact that the ride looks, sounds, and feels like it's made of sheet metal still kinda gets to me lol. I love it though, and for as rare of a ride that it is, being the last of it's kind in the country, if it's running, you gotta give it a ride.

So overall, I had a fun time at Dorney! It's not the biggest or best park in the world by any means, but it serves its purpose as a regional theme park well and offers things that are fairly unique from other area parks like Hersheypark, Knoebels and Great Adventure. Once the waterpark opens for the season (they were having their season passholder preview day when I was there), then it becomes more of a full day park, since their waterpark is really solid. So I'm sure I'll get back later this summer and you'll get another post full of my ramblings lmao.

[jordansohollywood]

https://www.tumblr.com/seancameronism/718717032203452416

Dee

I didn’t realize this ask has been sitting in my box for literal months. Sorry, Poorni! 😭

1. nickname? Dee is her nickname; it’s short for Deirdre.

2. relationship status? I mean, like, she used to be going with Travis (her neighbor), but now, she’s with Sean or whatevah!

3. comfort food? Lasagna. Especially the way her mom makes it. The meat? The cheese? Perfection, exactly!

4. favourite place in the world? Saint-Marc, Haiti. That’s where Dee grandparents are from, and whenever she goes with her family, she always has a great time. She loves the environment and culture.

5. biggest fear? In the concrete sense, heights. But if we’re speaking more abstractly, she’s afraid of not being loved. She’s afraid of being disliked by her peers.

6. special skill? Besides singing, Dee knows how to sew like a mf. Her grandma taught her, and she loved it ever since.

7. favourite outfit? Whenever she wears her pink off-the-shoulder sweater, her boot-cut jeans, and her black platform shoes, she feel like she got the juice.

8. biggest insecurity? People making fun of her.

9. relationship to their siblings? Antoine and Dee never really got along growing up, with their parents being the mediators. But when Antoine went to University her ninth grade year, their dynamic did a whole 360. They’re now more cordial with each other. Rodney and Dee were always really close with one another, being a year apart. They’ll always have each others’ back.

10. relationship to their parents? Dee’s relationship with her dad is pretty decent, but her and her mom butt heads a lot.

11. most embarrassing memory? Probably peeing her pants after drinking too much juice on a field trip in the second grade.

12. favourite animal? Dogs, because who doesn’t like dogs?

13. bed time routine? You’re assuming that she actually has one.

14. hobbies? Sewing, knitting, crocheting.

15. biggest weakness? Paying attention and talking about herself too much. It’s hard when your brain is on the Dee Germain station all the time.

16. favourite swear word? Fuck or goddammit.

17. achievement they are the most proud of? Getting honor roll throughout her eleventh grade year. After all she’s been through the year prior, she kind of deserved it.

18. favourite type of sport? Dee doesn’t really like sports, but one she tolerates is basketball.

19. mode of transportation? Dee usually walks or hassles Antoine for a ride — until she gets her license.

20. favourite thing to do to relax? Listen to music or sew. Or do both at the same time.

21. eating habits like? She can eat anyone out of house and home.

22. special interests? Like it was mentioned before, sewing, singing, and dancing are her big 3.

23. favourite part of their body? Her lips.

24. role model? LaDonna Adrian Gaines, aka Donna Summer.

25. most prized possession? Her grandma’s sewing machine. It was gifted to her before she died.

26. favourite place to travel to? Saint Marc, Haiti.

27. way to earn money? She works at The Dot with Spinner in her teen years.

28. thoughts about politics? I’ve never really thought about it, but I’d say she’s pretty left-leaning.

29. favourite colour? Any variation of purple or pink.

30. ideal partner? Someone who’s attentive (a bit ironic, right?), someone who can look past her flaws, someone accepts her for who she is.

31. party trick? She can invert her elbows.

32. favourite song? “Bad Girls” — Donna Summer

33. biggest pet peeve? Someone who doesn’t listen to her.

34. favourite person? Besides herself, probably Sean.

35. biggest goal in life? To become famous.

36. highest academic degree? High school diploma.

38. safe space? Her room or Sean’s room.

39. guilty pleasure? Eating chocolate.

40. favourite choice of drink? Cherry Coke.

41. dream job? Becoming a singer.

42. favourite type of music? New Wave, R&B, Disco, 80s Alternative.

43. most distinctive features? Her eyes and lips.

44. favourite aesthetic? Frutiger Metro.

45. fashion style? Anything pink and girly.

46. favourite movie? Clueless, always.

[hsenvs3000w23]

Privilege in Nature Interpretation : Blog 3

My working definition of privilege is an advantage that is given to a certain group. This definition applies to nature interpretation because privilege often gives a group an upper hand at overcoming barriers. The absence of privilege can make it harder for people to enjoy nature interpretation or create more barriers for those that have no privileges. After some more research I found that privilege can be a combination of five things… It is a special advantage, it is granted not earned, it is an entitlement related to status, it is exercised for its benefit and excludes others, and privilege is a status that the person possessing it is not aware of (Black & Stone, 2005).

Before this unit I never considered the role privilege plays in nature interpretation. However, after reading the course content and reflecting on my past I discovered privilege has a strong impact on nature interpretation. To start off this post I want to reflect on the role privilege has played in my past regarding nature interpretation.  My interest in nature has been present since I was a child. I spent my entire life growing up at my cottage, which I recognize is a huge privilege already. Having the opportunity to spend time outdoors with my family in such a beautiful location is not something that everyone gets to experience. I think this is like camping with my family. My parents had to put in their time and effort into taking me on outdoor trips as a kid. They spent their time and money on enforcing time spent in nature on several occasions. I recognize that there is a lot of children that did not get to experience this.  

Another privilege I recognize I have is being in university and taking classes that allow me to further my future in nature interpretation. My parents have helped me mentally and financially get to where I am today. University is an expense that I would not be able to afford if my parents didn’t help me prepare for. My savings are all thanks to past summer jobs that I could not have gotten without some help from my parents. For example, in high school I worked at Canadian Tire and my parents had to drive me to and from my shifts. In more recent jobs, my parents have helped me prepare for interviews.  I am aware a lot of students don’t have as much help from their parents that I do, and this gives me an advantage. The fact that I am in my final year of university, taking this specific course in nature interpretation is a massive advantage that so many people do not have. I am sure there are several people who want to work in a career in nature interpretation but unfortunately face a disadvantage in the work force because they did not attend university.

Lastly, I think a privilege that relates to nature interpretation is the fact that I am young and healthy. I am completely capable of participating in nature programs if I want to. A reason why some people cannot participate in nature interpretation programs could be that they want to participate, but encounter boundaries like physical impediments, such as people with physical disabilities or even the elderly population (Beck et al., 2018).

Beck, L., Cable, T. T., & Knudson, D. M. (2018). Interpreting cultural and natural heritage : for a better world. Sagamore Venture.

Black, L. L., & Stone, D. (2005). Expanding the Definition of Privilege: The Concept of Social Privilege. JOURNAL OF MULTICULTURAL COUNSELING AND DEVELOPMENT, 33(4), 243–255. https://doi.org/10.1002/j.2161-1912.2005.tb00020.x  

[rbreckenridgepromotion]

Exhibition Visit: Group B in Space 6.088

As it was the other half of the class's turn to produce an exhibition this week, I decided to include it as an exhibition visit as well as to participate in the discussion table and to support my peers. From the photographs, I have tried to capture fixture and work to see the relation of fastening and attachment. each of the works will be discussed via contextual analysis in order to brush up on the practice for myself.

Sammy

There are multiples of small, folded forms resting on pins impaled into the wall, recognisable markings of an SPT train ticket. I imagine may have been a fiddly job for the artist – especially as she created numerous of them. Upon further witty note as I stood back to get a full view, I began to associate the small pinned folded forms as an assemblage of buttons, ones that could be found on a train in the drivers area. The larger form is hard to ignore, but very noticeably white, I personified this as a parental form, showing off its infants.

The artist disclosed that the work came from the summer making project where she found herself absent minded folding the forms as it brought a feeling of joy and catharsis. It also brought joy to others when they saw the forms as may have been  a reminder of innocent times – this could be why the larger form as white as the colour can symbolise innocence and virtue.

Rhianna

Some may question this set up as it is piled photo frames with the cardboard displays exposed – yet no photos can be seen. Within this work the artist enquires the preciousness that comes with photographs as they hold memories of events and loved ones. She asks the question as to if that frame would be still precious if the prized photograph is removed?

Also since there are multiples piled up that probes our hidden sides of collecting/hoarding and refusing to let go. Some may see a plain photo frame as just that – an implement to display photographs – but to others whether if it was received as a gift or passed on from a loved one, the simple object becomes an evocative object.

Matthew

The artist employs a bedsheet as his canvas, something our bodies rest on as we sleep, a personal canvas one may guess. The markings on the sheet come from watercolours and Indian inks – highlighting the natural folds and creases of the sheet birthing their own patterns. The colours used bring a sense of calm and although the piece is hung with allowances to drape, it still can be clearly seen that the image depicts a natural scenery.

The artist disclosed that he likes to take a lot of walks – considers himself as a naturist, he always returns to the Clyde walkway as it is considered his happy/safe place where he captures moments that can be turned into memories and is then painted into the sheet with select combinations of colours.

Emma

These works make you question about if what you are seeing is real or if your head is making up figures. One has to take a closer view of the draped forms to confirm if in fact there is a menacing figure there. From a distance you end up doing a double take and have a feeling as if you are being watched.

In the artists work she is purposely trying to convey the sense if something is there, in particular at night when you stir from sleep and that pile of clothes on the chair seems to be a creature instead. “there’s something at my door! Oh, it’s just the coat I hung there.”

Emily

there is a feeling of melancholy with this work - photographs of past family members, but one is removed and replaced with simple words such as "couch, glass" and more that requires close up inspection to decipher. The context behind the work is about the artists Grandmother who unfortunately lost her house due to a fire. Practically everything was lost - these are the words filling the void of the missing member in the photographs, the member is the Grandmother as a young girl. Empty void is symbolic of loss - her possessions that belonged to her family, and loss of the self which could also be inevitable in traumatic events.

Kad

More evocative object play is visible in this artists setup, it is a cross between a relic display one may see in a museum, and a setup of a centre table seen in Eastern country homes.

As the artist has a Turkish father therefore making them part Turkish, they feel it is vital to keep the connection with the other half of their identity whilst living miles away from that country. The ceramic pieces are crafted from objects found in their fathers room, boxes and pouches holding prayer books, vases and dishes and a small funnel used to collect and assist bottling up of special oils for self cleaning. The colour Blue is vital as it is associated with the well-known Turkish Eye. A protecting symbol from evil.

Andy

This artist has created work that confronts the occurring global upset of Israel's mass genocide on Palestine/Gaza. He takes a tongue-in-cheek attempt of making his own artillery and bombs which could be seen by controversial by some, but if one was to pause and take a close up of the words written, they would be seen as one begging for the madness to stop.

[in-my-feels-probably]

hello babes & congrats on 1.7k!! ❤️ could i please request option two with walking dead as the fandom? my name is noelle & i’m a bisexual cis female (she/her pronouns). i’m also an entp & gryffindor! i LOVE to travel & i value experiences over possessions. my family is very important to me and i also really want to have children in the future. having quiet time to myself is very important to me. my dream job is either a bartender or something to do with traveling (possibly a flight attendant) <3 i’m also considered “the funny one” & the ‘wild child.’ i also struggle/have struggled with anxiety, depression, suicide, substance abuse & eating disorders. i love to read books and write (mostly journal entries & poems). i love my job as a coffee shop barista and i also enjoy going on spontaneous adventures! i love camping, swimming and anything to do with nature. i have a navel piercing, a sagittarius (my zodiac sign!) arrow tattoo below my neck and a fig tattoo (from the fig tree in sylvia plath’s ‘the bell jar.’) on the back of my arm. my style is very 70s mixed with early 2000s. my family is considered lower class & i also thrift literally everything i own. i’m 5’3 & have long dark blonde hair with blue eyes, i’m pretty chubby but i have a great ass lol. thank you so so much!! :)

hi!

thank you for participating :)

since you don’t have a gender preference, i’m gonna tell you from both the boys and girls who i ship you with, and then do the full thing for who i think you’re better suited for.

i ship you with maggie and alden. i’m gonna go with maggie for this, hope that’s ok :)

i think maggie would see a lot of herself in you. she’d definitely understand what it was like to he considered the “wild child.” but as she got older, she’d also learned the importance of family and friends, and i think she’d really appreciate that you value those things too. the communities would become your families, so you’d always have other people in your life, but she’d definitely consider you part of her closest family.

i think maggie has a lot of darkness in her. she’s been through a lot in her life, and she’s lost a lot of people. she’s pretty much got grieving down to a science, but it still really gets to her sometimes. she’s just gotten good at hiding it. and because of that, she’d be really good at telling when you were feeling down or struggling. she’d do the best she could to help you cope with anything you were dealing with, and you’d do the same for her.

—

i consider maggie to be very attentive and observant. if you ever told her about anything you liked—before the fall or after—shed remember it. and when she’d go in runs, she’d keep an eye out for things you’d mentioned missing or wanting. scouting through a upper class relatively untouched neighborhood, the group would spend most of their time looking for food and gas, or maybe some medical supplies. she’d do the same, but she’d also spent a little time going through the closets and bedrooms to look through the clothes. the group could always use good jackets or new shoes.

when the group would get back home and settle in for the night, she’d come and find you. she’d pull out a gold necklace with a dolphin pendant dangling from her palm. she’d hold it out to you, smiling when your face lit up.

“like it?”

“i love it!” you’d smile, turning around so she could put it on you. “where’d you get it?”

“remember that corner store we passed on the way out of town? i saw you looking at it in the window. figured i’d circle back to it on our way out.”

you’d turn around again to face her. she’d reach out to touch the pendant, a fond smile making its way onto her face.

“my sister had one just like it. she got it when my daddy took us and our step brother to the beach one summer. she begged and begged for it, and daddy could never say no to those big innocent eyes and little coy smile. it was hers by the end of the trip—she didn’t take it off for months after that.”

you’d give her an affectionate smile, reaching out to take her hand. you’d run your thumb across the ring on her finger, twisting it around. her cheeks would heat up, making you chuckle.

“i love it…thank you for getting it for me. did you see anything you liked while you were there? maybe we could go back together sometime. it’s only fair i pick you out something.”

she’d grin, nodding. “sure, hon.”

—

thank you again for participating! i hope you liked this :)

[savofid]

So, just watched Dream's "The Truth" video and it got me thinking about my story with false allegations. I guess that's what a trigger is, huh? That it triggered me, but in a neutral way? Maybe leaning towards good? I dunno. I'm stoned and wanna vent. So, I guess warnings for some pretty intense shit like sa, a mention of miscarriage, some talk about psychiatric care, a mention of r*pe, and some emotional trauma? It's not gonna be a good time, but I'll feel better when I finish.

So, my older sister is complicated, in the way that realizing everything is made of math is complicated. It's a lot of jargon. She has a mutation of the MTHFR gene (?) that inhibits her body's ability to uptake and process Vitamin B12. As a result, she has a deficiency of Vitamin B12, and that can lead to a number of complications in one's life. She has a hard time bringing a child to term, having had multiple miscarriages before she was properly medicated and now has three daughters. It interferes with the body's ability to properly send certain chemical signals in the brain, leading to a number of psychiatric issues, often presenting as schizoeffective disorder. Her heart, at any time for no reason at all, can just sorta... Stop.

I could be mad at her for the things that she's done to people, but I can't. It's not even because she's my sister. I hate two of my sisters because they're horrible people, and I've never even met my oldest sister and don't plan to. Family don't mean shit to me. No, I can't hate her because it's not her fault. No one knew what was going on inside her body and she had to spend 3 years in an institution because of it. I can't imagine going through that.

However, using that as an excuse for her actions wouldn't be right. She still did them. She wasn't possessed by some demon. There was some part of her that wanted to do it. I know because I have anxiety and am a recovering alcoholic, both of which cause a ton of intrusive thoughts about things that part of me wants but the rest knows I shouldn't do, even if that part is extremely small and incredibly wrong, like hearing myself tell me to punch some guy in the face cause he "looked at me funny." He was facing the sun and squinting. What I'm saying is that there was SOME malice to her actions, some reason her delusions manifested as they did. It'll make more sense later.

During the summers, my birth mother had visitation rights for the entire summer, so we'd stay with her for three months. When I was 12, we were there and, one night, I heard my dad walk in. It's the middle of the summer and he's supposed to be across the state, back at our house. He and my older sister leave, and my birth mother won't talk about what's going on, and everything is incredibly confusing. I found out a few days later what happened.

My dad had gotten a phone call from the local police department asking for my older sister to appear before the police to give a witness statement. He asked why, and they said that she had accused his friend of having raped her.

My dad's friend, Ron, was a school bus driver, and had been arrested by the local police following the allegation that my older sister made that morning while at my birth mother's house. He had to sell his car to afford a decent lawyer, spent the night in jail, lost his job especially since my sister was a minor and he drives, ya know, a school bus. He almost had a divorce from his wife of 45 years. His grandson was my best friend.

On the drive across the state, my dad only said one thing to her: "When we get there, just tell them the truth." Mind you, my older sister is my dad's favorite. I didn't even know she was the favorite until 13 years after he died. He believed her. He didn't ask her any questions because he didn't want to influence her story in any way, make sure that it's as truthful and accurate as possible.

They finally get there, it's around midnight. My dad just drove six hours at the drop of a hat for his daughter. They take her to be interviewed, and she instantly admits that she lied. Her reason? She didn't feel like she was getting enough attention from my birth mother and didn't think it would get that bad. She stayed with my dad for the rest of the summer.

A year later, I'm at home, just having a regular day, and there's a knock at the door. My dad answers and it's... CYS? They say that my older sister, in a recent discussion with her caseworker, claimed that I was molesting her. They're here for an investigation into the allegations. First, they interview my older sister. I have to sit across the house and wait for it to be over. About an hour later, they have me come in to talk to them.

At this point, it's pretty late. My little sister is ready for bed and is going up the stairs to her bedroom, and we happen to be sitting on those stairs. Instead of going to bed, she sits down and does what she does best: make herself the center of attention. I'm telling this guy my side of the story, and she's there, making a cat dance in front of me. The investigator admitted to having ADHD ("Adult ADD" as he said it, so I assume, in today's terms, that would be ADHD diagnosed in adulthood), and was having a difficult time focusing on what I have to say. Meanwhile, the time he spent with my older sister was uninterrupted and quiet.

Following their investigation, I was given a choice: I could either stay with a friend that didn't have any sisters, or I could live in the local group home. I knew some of the kids at the group home and knew that I did not want to be there, so I picked the one friend I had that I knew didn't have any sisters, my best friend at the time. He's an only child and his parents adore me and treat me like their own kid already. And, of course, they let me stay as long as I needed to. "It'll only be a few weeks, " says CYS.

I'm there for 6 months. Meanwhile, we're still going to school together. She was in a different building than me, so, by the time I heard that she was telling people about it, it had gone from "inappropriate touching" to that I had raped her. My reputation was shot. Everyone fucking hated me. I was already getting bullied before, so imagine how it went when rumors like that started spreading. I'd be bullied to the point of tears and even the teachers heard the rumors, so they didn't do anything about it. It took me two years to undo the damage she did because, in the court of public opinion, an accusation is worse than any verdict.

Speaking of verdicts, you can imagine there were many riveting court sessions during the 6 months I was pulled from my home. Usually one every couple of weeks cause I'm literally on trial for molestation as a fucking 13 year old who has no idea what's going on and I literally just now realized, 19 years later, that that's what that was. Holy fucking shit. What. I feel like I'm short circuiting and now I feel really fucking bad. Why do I feel bad? Oh, cause I was so used to "going to court" being for like family shit that it never occurred to me that it could be for anything else. I... Don't know what to do with this information?

Okay, maybe it wasn't a possibly somewhat good trigger. I guess I did say that it's not gonna feel good, and the only person who's gonna read this is me, so I was warning myself. And potentially you, ever mysterious reader who has no reason to be here, if you even exist at all? Anyways, I'm gonna fight through the melting brain and try to get to my point here.

After those 6 months and the now realization of having been on trial, it was determined that my sister has schizoeffective disorder, resulting in delusions brought on by an inability to determine the difference between reality and fantasy at times. The doctors postulated that she likely dreamed that it happened and believed it to be real.

Now, the only people who didn't believe my sister were the ones who knew both her and me. Even my birth mother saw the holes in her story and, during the trial, said, "Well, I don't think she's telling the truth. She's twice his size and she knows it. Any time he's done something she doesn't like, she hits him or throws him. If he really did try that and she didn't want it to happen, it wouldn't've happened. She would've left him so busted up that I probably would've needed to take him to the hospital. She would've broken him in half."

My dad said a lot of the same thing, even commenting, "I think I only recall one instance in which his hand touched her chest. They were wrestling on his bed, and she jumped up from the floor. He put his hand out to try to stop her from crashing into him, and it landed right... Ya know, *there.* He immediately pulled his hand away, but she punched him in the face, threw him on the floor, and managed to kick him a few times in the back before I could pull her off of him. She didn't care that it was an accident. She would've killed him if he did it on purpose."

I don't mean this as a way to say that my older sister beat me or whatever. I left her with just as many bruises as she left me. We were kids. We fought. We played rough. We used to throw those unopened and resinous pinecones at each other for fun, like they were dodgeballs or grenades. We just beat the shit out of each other all the time, and it was always 2v1, my little sister and older sister vs me (the three kids my birth parents had together, me having a total of 8 siblings including prior marriages and one affair). At 12 years old, I was 4'8" tall and 60 lbs. I was tiny. She, at 14, was 5'5" and 120 lbs. Twice my weight, 9" taller, and a lot stronger than she looks. She used to throw me by one arm and one leg for fun. I was the one that asked her to do throw me.

Now, you'd think it ends there. She went to a mental hospital, I went home, and then successfully quashed all the rumors overnight when it was determined that I was innocent. Life ain't movies.

During my time with my best friend, he slowly revealed that he was attracted to me. I was not attracted to him for a multitude of reasons, not just cause he's a dude. I mean, I like some guys, just didn't know that yet. Anyways, he started doing some stuff like trying to get me to touch his genitals or just outright grabbing mine, or walking in on me while I'm in the shower... Multiple times per shower. And a lot of other things that I just don't wanna talk about right now even though I probably already have. I, me, the reader and writer, know what they are, so I don't really need to?

Whatever.

The dude was sexually assaulting me on a regular basis and then threatening to get me kicked out of his house if I tell anyone about it, or that he'll claim that I admitted to him that I did it, or whatever heinous thing he can think of. I had to share a bed with him for half of the time I stayed there.

On top of that, I've got people basically ready to execute me at school. The game of broken telephone turns "inappropriate touching" into "rape," and the only thing that keeps them from actually trying to kill me is the fistfight I get into with the guy I'm living with. People still talked and still treated me like shit, but it just became a game of trying to figure out how far is too far. They had full rein to try, too, cause, like I said, the teachers had heard the rumors, too, and some believed it.

I had to go to therapy every Wednesday at 1 PM. The therapist I had... Wasn't very good, to put it lightly. You know, the common thing in therapy, often regardless of your methodology, is to let the patient lead the session, right? You merely give them the push to get started, and then it's merely a dialogue that the patient is leading. What would happen with this guy is that I would sit down, there'd be a little bit of small talk, and then he'd ask, "So, tell me about an interesting dream you had this past week."

He was obsessed with my dreams. I dream in super high detail and can remember them very vividly, which he found fascinating, I guess. He said he found my dreams fascinating, but was never really clear about what aspect he seemed to enjoy, so I'm just assuming it was the vividness. Next, he would then try to analyze that dream, and was incredibly Freudian about it. I mean both literally and figuratively.

On one hand, it's that symbols and signs in dreams have objective, universal meanings completely devoid of one's specific culture, beliefs, or upbringing. Red means danger. Ignore the fact that they associate it with good luck in China.

On the other hand, he manages to project his own feelings onto someone else's situation by not only telling me that a dream about my little sister being scared of a snake, so I took a shovel and killed it, that that dream means I want to sleep with my little sister. Not only that, but he also then tries to tell me that it's okay to have thoughts like that.

No. No it is not okay to have thoughts like that. It's also especially not okay to tell children that it is okay to have thoughts like that. What the actual FUCK is wrong with you? "Well, the snake represents the phallus." No, the snake is a representation of general bad stuff due to the fact that my dad just finished writing a book with heavy Christian tones and it's about to get published, so I'm afraid that it being successful can cause problems within the family. "No, no. I'm the professional here. I know what I'm talking about, and it's okay to have those thoughts." No. It. Is. Not.

So, we've got the sexual abuse by my only remaining friend, becoming a pariah, having an absolute creep as a therapist... What else? Oh, right. The complete and crippling anxiety I feel that, at any time, someone can just ruin my life with a few simple words. The first three were temporary, but that one is permanent. Now, I know that most people don't do things like this on a regular basis. Most people's brains operate the way we think they're supposed to. Most people don't have a super particular condition only detectible with a genetic test specifically for that one thing, or a general malice for anyone they can victimize, or are incapable of remorse. Most people are just people, and the vast majority of people don't know I exist. However, there's still that constant hum of "But it could happen again. Can I deal with it again?"

This one's gonna sound, I dunno, like a pittance compared to that, but I'm genuinely still mad about it. I raised fish for 5 years. I had a 50 gallon, a 30 gallon, a 22 gallon, two 20 gallons, and two 10 gallon fish tanks. I did all the work to maintain them myself, only getting help from my dad in starting the siphon for the monthly water changes. I developed my own breed of Corydoras catfish at 11. I fucking loved my fish, and the collective weight of all those tanks literally cracked the foundation of the house. For five years, I took care of them, learned a ton, did all my research into aquascaping and what species prefer what qualities of water and temperature ranges and where in the water column they like to hang out and their temperament and any detail I could find about each species before I added it to a tank. I was obsessed and this might be one of those "*ding!* You're probably autistic" moments but I'd prefer a formal diagnosis before I'd feel comfortable saying that I am.

So, I was gone for 6 months. All the work I was doing with those fish was mine alone. I was the only person in the house who knew how to do it in the first place. Can you guess the state of 162 gallons of water and it's respective fish? If you said "green and dead," you'd be mostly correct! While I was away, my older sister decided to make... An addition to my 50 gallon tank. The local pet shop, where I got all of my fish and was a known regular, had had this pair of angelfish longer than I had lived there. They lived alone in the same tank right by the door. She convinced my dad to buy them.

Had I been present for that conversation, we never would've gotten them, because I had already done my research. The fish we typically think of when we hear angelfish is a variety of Cichlid, like Oscars and Tilapia. A thing about Cichlids is that many of them are incredibly aggressive to fish they don't recognize. As a result, unless they were raised in that tank alongside other fish, they only see their tank mates as competition or prey.

All this to say that I came home to a bunch of algae ridden tanks, disgusting filters, rotting plants, and two very fat angelfish. My bumblebee gobies are gone. My iridescent sharks are okay but the smaller one is gone. My Corydoras are gone. My various tetras and mollies, gone. My gouramis are gone. The few fish left are the aforementioned iridescent sharks that were big enough to pose a threat and my plecos. I wanted to kill those angelfish, but decided that we should just return them to the store cause they're not acting out of hate or anger. They're animals and acting on instincts. They can't control that. They're innocent.

The one thing I lost and can never regain is her as a sister. I don't hate her. I know she has her issues and, yeah, maybe she wanted to hurt me, but plenty of people wanna hurt me. Most people don't. I'm not gonna try to claim I know why she wanted to do that as much as I can about anyone else that has hurt me. Maybe she really did dream that it happened. I wanna hate her, but can't bring myself to do it, no matter how much I suffered as a result. However, I can't, in sound mind and good conscious, maintain contact with her. In the event that she tries to say anything like that ever again, I don't know if I could deal with it. I'd probably completely shatter and... I don't really wanna think about that. For the sake of my own sanity and the tiniest sliver of peace of mind, I just don't interact with her at all. I've seen her once in 17 years, and that was at another sister's wedding... Where she was sent to stay in a hotel after a day and a half due to her not even acknowledging the fact that her children were causing issues and stressing that sister out. Talked to her all of five minutes.

This is by no means me saying to not tell someone if something happens to you. Please do! Don't be like me and mentally fucked for life due to shit that happened to me at the hands of someone else. It's not your fault, don't believe them. However, the people who use an accusation as a weapon do a lot more damage than they think, even if the intent is to deal as much damage as possible to that person. You're not only hurting them, you're hurting the credibility of everyone who actually is a victim of molestation, sexual assault, sexual harassment, and rape. Five different people, two were blood relatives, two were people close to me, and one was just a guy in high school that spent weeks trying to pressure me into letting him suck my dick, even trying to force me to do it in exchange for giving me a ride to work after the SATs. Fuck you, Chris. No means no. Back on track, three were women, two were men. I'm not gonna say that my experience can be extrapolated out to the public at large, mostly cause I don't want to think that the average victim has gone through as much or more than I have because that just makes me wanna cry that so people can be so terrible to others. It's been a while since I had a good cry, though. What I am gonna say is that it's already so hard to be heard when you just want someone to believe you in what is likely the worst time of your life, and making everyone look like a cry for attention just makes it worse. My mom doesn't believe that my 3rd ex raped me. She says she doesn't even know who that is, and that's my mom. She's supposed to be in MY corner and couldn't care less. My roommate cared when I told him, though. One of three hugs he's ever initiated with me in the 11 years I've known him. I'm so thankful to have him. I'm probably gonna marry him someday, even if it's just for tax purposes... He'll still be my husband and you better believe I'm calling him that. Love that man to death.

When people say, "If you can't handle me at my worst, then you don't deserve me at my best," they haven't met me. He has learned more about emotions from me than he has from everyone else in his entire life combined. That's his own words. He's seen me at a variety of different edges, the highest highs, the lowest lows, bursting at the seams and completely devoid of anything. He's literally the reason I didn't off myself on two separate occasions, because I don't wanna leave him alone in this world. While he says he just wants to live away from everyone else, it's followed up with, "Except you. You can be there, too." He's been in more of my dreams than both my parents combined, and we've never stood in opposition to one another in any of them. We're always fighting together. We're just a pair of rocks.

I knew I'd feel better at the end. I fucking love my roommate. I might ask him for a hug when he wakes up.

[megamindsupremacy]

okay wait before we get started with Episode 14 im just gonna ramble a lot under the readmore. feel free to make fun of me in the notes as always

ford is hot and i stand by this

when is bill coming back. its been too many episodes since bill. spspspsppspspspspsppspspspsspspsp

did that whole billdip thing that I keep hearing about seriously come from one (1) single episode where Bill possessed dipper? does he get possessed again later on or something? do they argue one-on-one? why is everyone so up in arms about this

i said this in the last post but i adore how Ford went from Thirty Years Of The Unending Horrors straight into punching his brother (poor Stan) and then getting into looney tunes shenanigans with the kids. guy of all time.

do mabel and dipper's parents have literally any clue what's going on. did stan tell them he was sending their kids home in that one episode? what happened there? stan's like "hey sorry i lost the house and my job so the kids have to come home, i booked bus tickets" and then four hours later he's calling them back like "okay the kids crashed the bus and i have my house back, all good, yeah they can stay for the rest of the summer right. right?" and for some reason the parents did, in fact, say "right"."

or he didn't tell the parents that the twins were heading home and was planning on breaking the news... at some other point....?

the "dipper is trans" headcanon is amazing and has an insane amount of evidence behind it but if we accept it as true, you do have to admit Mabel and Gruncle Stan are transphobic as all fuck

"i respect his name and pronouns. i dont respect his masculinity though because he's a pansy ass weak little shit" like that's how it goes for 90% of season 1

speaking of what the FUCK is dipper's actual name. is it rodrick? is this ever addressed later on because wtf

if i had been into this show at the normal time (middle school) instead of now (college) i know with absolute certainty that I would have projected my entire being onto Mabel Pines. I know this.

now that the order of the evil eye or whatever they're called is gone... is everyone in the town just suddenly Aware of the shit that's going on in Gravity Falls? were they completely unaware before? why has NOBODY gone after the Pines, with all of Their Shit, this entire summer, if an entire cult exists to memory wipe people who Learn About Shit

fiddleford makes me sad :( the scene of him mindwiping himself over and over has me like :((((((

the animation for the scene where they start the portal back up again had me fuckign screaming crying throwing up it was really good and i had a lot of emotions about it\

i haven't even gotten to the really freaky stuff yet but how the hell did these guys get Bill past disney censors. he's wigging me out and i'm a fully grown adult. if i had seen him in elementary school i would have flipped my entire shit. wtf.

yes, i will be reblogging "BILL??" on this post every single time i see him. i get excited okay. i keep forgetting he's like a real character and not some guy made up by the internet so every time i see him im like BLORBO FROM MY SHOWS IS IN MY SHOWS?

Gravity falls liveblog post round three because the last one was getting too long. again. Block the tag etc