#THEN WHY DID YOU ALLOW SHIT LIKE THIS?!?!??

[goron-king-darunia]

Story time! I thought writing and essays especially were stupid for most of grade school. Teachers would "correct" deliberate choices I made for creative writing and spelling was my absolute nemesis because we didn't exactly have dictionaries in class let alone the internet so I couldn't figure out how to spell words I'd heard and got marked down for using them.

When it came to essays on reading comprehension the questions seemed... How do I put this. I understood solving equations in math. They put a bunch of similar questions to make sure you could get consistent results so they knew you knew the process and not just that you memorized that 2+2 was 4 but weren't grasping somehow that 2 was a unit of two ones each so that 1+1+1+1 also equaled 4. But with reading questions they always seemed... like they weren't testing consistent things? Some questions would make sense like "Why do you think character did X? (Though my ass would get so mad if I got marked down on those because like "You're asking my opinion? You're asking me to interpret the text, the answer should vary?!" Even though I didn't have the language for that.) And then the other half of the questions were the questions I also hated on history tests where it was just memorizing pointless trivia that no human being would need to know like "what color were the curtains in the MC's bedroom?" which is the same shit as like "what happened on the 4th Thursday of May in 1411?" Like bitch, why would I know that? The date isn't as important to history as the actual events so ask me "what was X historical event about?" instead. I can tell you what the Boston Tea Party was about but why the fuck would I memorize the date? "What happened on page 12?" JUST ASK ME WHAT THE INCITING INCIDENT IS INSTEAD, I CAN GIVE YOU THAT ANSWER!

So I grew up putting minimal effort into English class for a while because a lot of the questions were some form of "what is the title of the book" levels of dumb, "give us your pre-approved opinion" frustration questions or the goddamn trap questions of "what was the MC's cousin's name that gets mentioned once in the entire book?" type questions. So I just phoned a lot of stuff in. Made my essays the bare minimum so I could move on to stuff I liked more.

Until about 7th grade when my English teacher made us do daily writing exercises. You had to write 5 paragraphs at least on any topic you wanted and it had to be 5 good paragraphs every day, around 5 sentences per paragraph. And I HATED it. "What do you MEAN I have to write an ESSAY every day?! This sucks!"

But the more I had to do it, the easier it was. Especially when the teacher realized that my handwriting was just not going to improve so I was allowed to write my entries during class but then type them at home and paste them into the book. So then I could actually look up words I wanted to use and learn to spell them correctly instead of having to guess or flip through a big ass book that at best the class had to share during school hours. (Electronic Pocket dictionaries of the 2000s my beloved. I carried mine everywhere when I finally got one.)

And for once I wasn't being graded on if my opinions on fucking Sonic the Hedgehog were valid or not. I wasn't being graded on whether Sonic being blue is actually deep symbolism or if blue is just a neat color. I was being graded on tangible qualitative skills like whether I could construct a good argument and whether my sentences were full sentences and whether all 5 paragraphs related to each other.

And suddenly writing was fun. And when we had free reading periods and could read for pleasure instead of "Okay, pick one of these pre-selected books so you can do a report on it later" I started to enjoy reading too. Enough that by the time I reached high school, I'd picked up Dante's Inferno at the nearby public library and read it on my own only to get excited when the next year it was required reading and I was ahead of the curve because I'd read it once before.

I get it. School is fucking terrible and the measures they use to test when you're "good" at something or not are fucked.

But if I decided to phone it in forever, I wouldn't be able to read through a full news article today or read through contracts and insurance benefits. I would have to trust strangers to tell me the truth on current events and business things. I could be fed easy-to-read lies and swallow them hook, line, and sinker because lies can be as short as you want but the truth is rarely brief.

If I kept phoning things in, I wouldn't have enjoyed half the stories and games that I do, met the friends that I've met, or made the art that I've made.

Having to write 5 paragraphs every day for a year taught me that... 5 paragraphs isn't much at all. Nowadays when I write a "short" story, it's 5,000 words or more. For fun.

I wouldn't know the things I know or how to find out the things I've learned if I just gave up and let the Liar Box with the Fake Answers write all my papers.

I get why it's tempting. School is awful if you're a normal kid, let alone a special needs kid like my ADHD ass. But not only will you not learn very useful and necessary skills by asking the liar box to write your papers, but you're setting yourself up to trust and rely on the liar box, and by direct extension, setting yourself up to forever rely on and trust strangers to give you "correct" information without having any of the skills to learn for yourself if their information is correct.

600 words is not that much. It's a chunk to be sure. But it's not that much.

This is already 1000 words. It doesn't take that long and I promise it's so worth it to be able to express your thoughts in your own words and learn things with your own power instead of having to trust a machine and the strangers that lie for fun to give you the stuff you want to know.

[loveln4]

PART 1 , PART 2

LANDO NORRIS x GIRLFRIEND!READER

You will love me until you resent me

- gracie abrams, I know it won’t work.

warnings: unhealthy relationship (lying, ignoring, etc), cursing, violence??, sexual tension question mark??

synopsis: Lando’s caught in a scandal and has to prove to his significant other that it didn’t mean anything, will she listen?

“Get the fuck up.” Y/n shook Lando’s sleeping body, “Fucking— Get up, Lando!”

“What do you want!” He groans and shields his eyes from the light coming from the uncovered windows, “I need sleep—what’s wrong?” His annoyance slowly shifted to worry. Y/n was crying, like she was obviously gasping for air crying. Lando’s worry turned into defence as he had realised that she was no longer sad, or not showing it at least.

“I told you, you should’ve stayed in.” She whispered harshly as she brought her phone up to his face, “What the fuck?” Her voice broke slightly.

The image woke him up entirely, events from last night rushing back to his mind, “Y/n, it didn’t mean anything.”

“Fuck you.” She pushed him down as he started to get up.

“No—I swear, I was drunk.” He grabbed her forearms as she batted him with blunt hits, “Enough!”

They both stilled and a single tear fell from y/n’s eye, “You’ve been so ignorant, is this why?”

He shook his head, “I don’t know who she is.”

“Your Instagram following list begs to differ.”

“Shit…”

Y/n pulls away from Lando’s tight grip, clambering off the bed and out of the bedroom into the recently cleaned kitchen. “Where are my keys?” She asks herself way too caught up in her head to be embarrassed by the conversation she’s having with no one but herself. Lando’s now standing in the middle of the empty space dividing the kitchen and dining table.

“Let’s talk about this, okay?” He goes towards her but stops as he notices her glare from across the island table. “I had too many drinks!”

She scoffs, her arms folding against her chest, “That doesn’t make you any less of a cheater.” Y/n rushes off past him and back into the bedroom, looking through her bedside table, “What the fuck, where is this bitch?” It seemed her keys had gone missing.

“Baby, please.” He went up behind her, turned her around and pinned her on the bed, “I want to talk with you.”

“Get the fuck off me.”

“No.”

“Get off!” She had shouted. This shouting turned into three minutes of constant screaming.

How did Lando bare it? Who the fuck knows.

Gasping for air she finally calms, her body was once tense but is now gently relaxing, allowing her body to be pushed down by Lando. “If you were over me, you should’ve just said so.”

“I’m not over you.” He whispered sadly.

“You are, stop lying to yourself. You’ve lied enough.” She closed her eyes and regulated her breathing, opening them once more, meeting Lando’s. “Lando, you have ghosted me three times this month, stood me up last week at dinner even though you knew how exhausted I was that day and have been ignoring my presence in the paddock.”

“I— I haven’t, stop saying this.” His voice breaks, eyes tearing up. “I didn’t mean to…I didn’t…” He could tell she was getting over his repetitive defences and let go of her, turning to his right so he could lay on his back beside her.

Her breath shudders and she sniffs, “This isn’t healthy.” She sighs, “You can’t deny what I saw in that photo, I mean…photos.”

“There’s more than one?”

“Each one gets worst.”

“Fuck, I’m sorry.” They lay there in silence waiting for each other to break it, to say something about their relationship. Where would they end up by the end of the day?

Y/n sat up, maybe a little too quickly as her vision started to get spotty. Lando following this action but staying seated on the bed. “I fear you loved me too much at the beginning and started to get bored…” She whispered to him, “I love you…I do, but i can’t be with someone who won’t give me the time of day.” She’s knelt down looking up at him.

Lando begins to cry in his hands, not saying a word to her.

“I’ll be back for my stuff in an hour or two, make sure not to be here when I am.”

She got up and left the apartment not caring that she had no transportation. She just needed to get out.

A/N: right sorry… i don’t know what’s overcome me wtf.

send through your requests for any driver 🩷

[blorbocedes]

Lando is on top of the world, lounging on AirMax, heading into summer break as the championship leader.

The team had hoped he'd be leading the championship by a clear margin by now, allowing them to institute a 1-2 and bring home both the championships. But Oscar was still close enough that that made it insulting, to play second driver when you're one DNF away from leading the championship yourself. Lando was fine challenging Oscar on merit, and he'd done so far, innit?

Although the way the media spun it... let's just say he's glad the focus is on Max potentially leaving RedBull now, after he was spotted speaking with Toto in Mercedes hospitality.

The RedBull's kind of been a shit show. Max has been clawing at that distant P3 but only barely, and the behind the scenes internal drama, the struggling second seat -- he does not envy Max getting grilled about that every weekend.

"So, is it true?" Lando asks, raising an eyebrow. "You and Toto sitting on a tree?"

Max sips on his gin&tonic, with an air of 'you know I can't say that.'

"Come onnnn," Lando persists. Max hands him his drink and he takes a huge gulp, washing out the champagne flavour from his mouth.

Max turns to him, completely serious. He picks his words carefully. "Sometimes you can spend your whole life with a team, right? And the partnership is good. But if they do something that makes it intolerable, it's better to walk out. If they break your trust."

Lando nods quickly, taken aback by Max's seriousness. Things internally at RedBull must be worse than reported. "Course. You can be loyal to a team but you're also a driver at the end of the day, you have weigh your options and your future." Max is father now, after all, which is still surreal to think about. His lockscreen is the baby girl.

Max softens. "First one's always the best. Enjoy it, Lando. I know I did."

"It's not over til it's over." Lando says, but crosses his fingers.

What hurt the most is that it really was out of the blue for him. He'd never ever ever expect it.

Zak pulling him aside, telling him they're willing to pay out his whole contract and then more. That he'll always be a part of the papaya family. Their first world champion after Lewis in 08.

It was an out of body experience, like wading through water, the words washing over him. He kept repeating, "I don't understand."

"Kid, it was out of my hands. Once it was official Verstappen showed interest, I had to report it to the board -- and Bahrain." Zak tried to soften the blow, hiding that he had been the one aggressively courting Max. Showing him confidential information of their projections of the new car.

None of it made sense. Lando's entire world was coming to a crash. The 2026 car was a gamble, they and Mercedes were neck and neck, they were powered by them after all, but '27 was supposed to return to form for McLaren with the new regulations.

"Believe me, you and Oscar were the dream pairing." Zak always emphasized the R in Oscar in his harsh American accent.

"Oscar." Lando said faintly. Oscar who came second to him, who he beat all 3 years they've been teammates. Why? Why him? Hadn't he proven himself, hadn't he won the title, hadn't he been with the team through fucking everything when the car barely worked? Andrea's comment vaguely echoes in his head, Lando is our present, Oscar is our future.

"You don't put two big dogs in the same team. You're a big dog now, Lan." Zak had his hand on Lando's shoulder like that was supposed to make it better. Lando is McLaren's World Champion and they still chose Max Verstappen.

"Why?" Why kicking him out and not Oscar — it's an unfair thought but he was better. There's a searing, heavy, visceral pain in his chest making it heart to breathe.

"Their reasoning was --" Zak hesitates, "It would've been a McLaren driver winning this year either way. But we don't know how 26 is gonna pan out just yet. And, I guess they were really impressed with how Max won it in '24 when that wasn't the best car, so when he came knocking..."

Zak said more words after that but it all got tuned out. After that his lawyers handled the rest. When the news dropped of Verstappen and McLaren after the season ended, Lando turned his phone off, packed his bags, and headed to Finland with Max Fewtrell.

The 'no thanks' to RedBull was easy. He had no interest in going to Milton Keynes and seeing Max's face, his trophies, his legacy everywhere.

He didn't even ask who he was replacing when the offer from Ferrari came. It's racing, after all.

[becausegoodheroesdeservekidneys]

Faerie question! What do you think about the relation between their realm and our geography? Your 'white American fae stories' mention reminded me that I was thinking about this a while ago - if someone is interacting with ~fairyland~ from a regular ass non-European continent, is it (Watsonianly!) weird that they are interacting with Welsh-culture faeries? Or is that place decoupled from our land? Conversely, if the supernatural world you access depends on your human world location, does that imply that different cultures' supernatural entities have a similar geographic relationship with each other to human lands? or does it imply that the shape of the fae is downstream of human culture a la Small Gods?

Oh this is FUN and I am going to RAMBLE

So the thing that sort of answers and sort of complicates both of your questions is that Welsh faerie lore and mythology, while having some Venn diagram overlaps, is nonetheless Very Much Different from Irish or Scottish (or indeed English) stuff. It's an interesting one, because while I have increasingly strong Views on the way Welsh faerie lore is used by white American authors who want to write about elves with wings who fuck and think this is the solution, actually a huge chunk of what those authors use - and what Americans in particular more broadly know about faeries - isn't Welsh at all, it's Scottish. Seelie and Unseelie courts, season-based courts, never thanking a faerie to avoid offending them, selkies, the list goes on. None of that is Welsh.

I, as you know, have been writing werewolf erotica, for fun and sport. Set in Wales, of course. I haven't directly included faeries yet, but they've been mentioned, and I know how I'm going to be building that part of my world. And to me, faeries come in different species with a different geographic distribution - if my characters were to approach the Fae in Wales, it would mean entering Annwfn. They would meet very Welsh types of faerie. Welsh rules would apply.

If they were to go to Scotland, they'd be dealing with different types entirely. Seelie and Unseelie would now apply, and not thanking and all that jazz. To speak like an ecologist for a moment lol, it's a question of biogeography.

Soooo, yeah, I find it weird when American fantasy lit describes Celtic fae creatures in America, because to me... surely there's native shit there. Like what is this? Did the Fae colonise with the humans? Has the American Otherworld been invaded and settled? What am I looking at, here? Why is the author ignoring this question? How are there gwyllion in those mountains and what did they displace? Did they follow the people and just naturalise, or are they invasive? Are there gwragedd Annwfn in Lake Superior? How is that working? These are questions I have, but alas, no answers.

(I can allow arguments for Appalachia, given, you know. <same-mountains.jpeg>)

That said, the rules are fuzzy for time/space distortion with entering Annwfn. This is a (relatively) new addition to faerie lore, because once upon a time Annwfn was a place you could just... walk to. It had a geographical location, like Rhyl. You could find it on a map, and that map would tell you it was Somerset, pretty much. But over the centuries, human population density grew; Somerset stops being a place of mystery and starts being the place your flighty cousin ran away to and now grows a cider orchard. The magical realms hidden in thickest forest are demonstrably not there when you cut the forest down and just find a bunch of exposed bears. So the lines, as it were, get redrawn - we know it's there somewhere, but part of the magic hides it; so maybe what we were pointing to on that map wasn't Annwfn, but the doorway...?

By the 1700s at least, the concept of the faerie ring being a doorway between worlds was fixed. The 1800s gave us the Victorian concept of the veil between worlds, two worlds overlaid on one another, which mapped beautifully on and basically reconciles the issue perfectly in the minds of believers (faerie belief in Wales persisted into the early 1900s). Enter that cave and you'll enter Annwfn; not because it's in the cave, don't be silly, it's because the door is in the cave. Step in that mushroom circle and see another world; not because Annwfn is a patch of land three feet across in Mam-gu's garden, don't be daft, it's because that's the way through. Welsh faerie myth was already enamoured of the time distortion element, but this is where spatial distortion kicks in as well.

So understanding all of that means you can exploit those rules to explain a lot. Watsonianly speaking, does a doorway lead to Annwfn if it's in Wales, but Tír na nÓg if it's in Ireland? Or could a doorway for either turn up anywhere, given that spatial distortion? What is it about Wales that ties Annwfn here specifically? Does the land generate the specific type of magic needed to fuel it? Or could it feasibly go anywhere now, as that separation between worlds has evolved - initially they lived in this world, but they evolved to straddle here and another, and then to draw a veil between the two, and now they run parallel and so can send the tunnels between the two wherever they like. It depends on the story you're telling, I guess. As I say, I know how I'm doing it lol! But there are options available

[the-oh-in-24601]

Not to take from the point of the post (women being allowed to make decisions for themselves in peace), which is completely correct! But I'd like to point out that being with someone you don't feel anything for is also bad *for them*...

This is from personal experience, but staying together when you don't really feel as much for them as they do for you, "just because they never hurt you or anything"... just makes everybody waste their fucking time!

I deeply regret doing that *once*, when I was younger and inexperienced... and I don't even regret it for me because, as I said, he never hurt me and it was only 6 months... but I know I hurt him because *he* had strong feelings

That man cried in public when I broke it off. We wasted each other's time for 6 dumb months. All because I heard when people said "don't, he's such a good boy"... but it made me so uncomfortable to keep it up that I broke things off

Glad I did. Couple years later he's happily married to someone who actually loves him and I'm living my fucking life... but it took many a "why did you break it off? He was a good boy..." and me explaining it wouldn't be fair for people to understand! Many a "he's married now did you know?" and me saying I'm happy for him, like c'mon!

Anyways, I just wanted to say that this practice benefits literally no one and it baffles me that society still insists on it... it's so weird, if you love men so much, shouldn't you wish they got with people that are actually a match? It's not even about "the poor nice guy who did nothing wrong" at this point, just oppressing and blaming women for their independence

The "poor nice guy who did nothing wrong" is a strawman. It's an excuse, a reasoning, misogynists use to criticize women who make decisions for themselves and won't be bullied into shit... if that guy is actually nice, he'll likely be sad things are over, yeah, that's understandable... but he'll also respect you and your decision

shaking women by their shoulders with all my strength, screaming YOU DONT NEED TO GET PERMISSION TO BREAK UP WITH SOMEONE!!!!

[ryewwww]

Gotta say, My husband is a truck driver (retired now, since we got a little boy on the way—probably from all the truck sex), and you couldn’t have nailed what it’s like having sex in a Semi-truck/truck stop better. Would absolutely love to read more of your Trucker!Ghost! Kudos to you!

LOL congratulations!!!

Writing truck driver!Simon was a little hard because I literally had to search up the inside of a truck and just…picture how to do it.

And looking at photos inside the latest trucks—they’re actually sooo nice?!?!! Microwaves, fridge, TVs that hook up to a console. It’s like a mini hotel in the back of your truck!!!

After a long day of driving, you and Simon get some junk food from the truck stop, or maybe walk to the nearest fast food place. You hurry back, stuff your face with fries and once you’re finished, he’s stuffing you😩

For Simon, he lovessss when you tag along. Usually, he does these trips alone, in literal silence. Sometimes he’ll play like Metallica or smth but a lot of the time, it’ll just be him and the sound of his truck rumbling. And he’d never get bored because he was so used to this shit back in the military.

But now, with you in the picture, you’re talking his ear off. You’ll go on and on and on about whatever the fuck, and for a moment when you stop talking, he looks over and sees you chugging some water because your throat went dry LOL.

Eventually, you get tired of talking and Simon takes over. You love listening to his military stories on the road. He’s had some crazy ones and when you shoot him a look of concern, “I’m still breathing, aren’t I?”

When you see a different kind of semi truck or a different kind of trailer, or an oversized load, you ask sooo many questions.

“Si, why does the trailer look like that?”

“Oh my god, how did they get that big machine on there?”

“Are they allowed to do that?”

“What even is that thing?”

You’re full of questions but Simon is more than happy to answer. And thanks to him, you’ve learned so much. Now you know that trucks need lots of space to turn (left or right) so you’re more mindful about that. You’ve heard Simon swear one too many times when a person crosses the stop line because it makes it impossible for him to turn without hitting the other car.

Their relationship is not just sex, but genuinely so sweet. Simon is so so happy that he has a co-pilot to accompany him on these long trips🥹 All his life he’s been alone, and constantly working. Though, he could stop working, his retirement from the military would take care of him no doubt, but being all by himself made him depressed as fuck. So he talked to price about truck driving, I mean he had his class 1 so why not right? And he’s so grateful he did, otherwise he would have never met you.

[ephemeralinstance]

Why is Rook so uncurious?

I've seen people complain that Veilguard changes Solas' motivations. And that's sort of true, but really it doesn't so much change them as just try really hard not to look at them. All of the things we were shown in previous games about the ongoing and serious harm done by the Veil still remain completely true, it's just that Rook is never allowed to ask or think about any of this stuff. Which is frustrating because it significantly weakens Rook's character: they end up coming off as determinedly ignorant and uncurious.

Take the information we're given about why taking down the Veil is bad - which seems entirely limited to Varric's claim that it would 'drown the world in demons.' Rook is constantly parroting this line, treating Varric as the ultimate authority on the matter. But this claim makes very little sense, because it surely cannot be the case that Solas wants to create a world filled with nothing but demons. From Inquisition we know he's greatly distressed every time a spirit becomes a demon, so that can't possibly be the outcome that he's expecting.

Of course, Solas could be wrong; he's certainly been wrong about many things before and he's not thinking very clearly. But even so, why on earth would we take Varric's word over Solas' here? Solas is an ancient and knowledgeable mage, the only person around who lived before the Veil, and he literally made the Veil. Whereas Varric is not a mage, has never studied magic or spirits, and is canonically frightened of the Fade and spirits: in the Lighthouse he mentions several times that he finds this 'Fade shit' weird. How could he possibly be in a position to know better than Solas about what would happen if the Veil came down?

Maybe I as a player can just accept that because Varric is The Narrator he must be right about all this. But Rook doesn't know that Varric is The Narrator. So it just feels like Rook is either incredibly ignorant or so devoted to Varric that their ability to think for themself has completely shut down. It's such an odd, anti-intellectual, anti-expert framing: don't do research or talk to anyone who has knowledge on the matter, just accept unquestioningly what your friend says.

Equally frustrating is the absence of any critical thinking about Solas' reasons for doing what he's doing. The only thing Varric and Harding tell Rook about this is that Solas is doing it because the ancient world was beautiful, but what does that mean? And is it really plausible that Solas is doing all this just because of aesthetics?

Rook hears Solas say 'The Veil is a wound on the world,' and never once thinks to ask - what did he mean by that? A wound is something that causes harm, that causes pain. What is the Veil harming? What pain is it responsible for? (From previous games we know the answer, of course. It's harming spirits, mages, and perhaps elves. But Rook never bothers to ask Solas, or to ask anyone else, or even to try to think about for themself about it.).

There's a moment right at the very end, where Solas is finally permitted to mention that he's doing this partly for the spirits. But in a perfect encapsulation of their whole dynamic, Rook immediately interrupts him. Doesn't even let him finish his sentence. Rook is so completely confident that they know best for the spirits and that this person who literally was once a spirit couldn't possibly have any insight into the matter.

At the beginning of the game Varric comments that he chose the name 'Rook' because Rook tends to think in straight lines. Which struck me as odd at the time, because 'thinks in straight lines' sounds like Varric is saying Rook isn't very smart. I thought I must have misinterpreted it, because why on earth would you choose to impose as a requirement on all players that their pc must lack critical thinking? But looking back I can see that's kinda exactly what they did, which - maybe they thought it would be more relatable? Still, if you're going to impose a fixed personality on the main character of a game, it's baffling to me that you would pick 'absence of critical thinking' as one of their main features.

[echolynn13]

Okay, I finally got to watch today's video, so here's the not-quite-live commentary/chaotic highlights post I promised about it :)

Not entirely video related, but I love that as usual, I see a bunch of people in the comments saying "Woah I never knew AJ stood for Alexander Jeremy" while I'm here like. I don't think I've ever heard any of them refer to Tom as Thomas before this intro. Do they normally introduce him that way and I just never noticed or-?

Eve is an icon, love the vibes going from "oh fuck" in response to "what is your name?" to her pulling a "your mum" on Sam. Got her confidence back real quick there

Not to mention the fact they actually used 'your mum' as the stimulus-

"My mum is lovely" *5 seconds later* "You ring the bell, I don't want to" Something is telling me her mom isn't that lovely

AJ saying the name Martha, trying to figure out who it would make sense for Martha to be, and then giving up by saying his character panicked. Love it

"She's a massive *bleep*" Censors aren't allowing me to hear Tom say 'bitch' and I won't stand for it

I saw a comment say it as a joke, but it really was funny how Sam kept saying change until Luke made them a straight couple (calling Tom's character 'Suzanne') lmao

Darren: "Listen, I'm gonna win her over, okay?" Suzanne, about to sob: "yeah-?"

The whole coming onto Suzanne's mom bit was gold "He's coming onto me" "Sorry I'm panicking" "Why am I coming onto my mom??" "You're panicking!"

"I wish I had his muscles.." "Oh you'll catch up with me, don't worry" Tom you're so fucking funny-

The slight hesitation from Luke at the 'men' suggestion, followed by all of the other three being like "Fuck yeah, let's complain about men" is so good and lowkey reminds me of Tom's vs everyone else's reaction to the Evil-Make-A-Wish-Kid title

"Because you have one thing on your mind" "Yeahhh" "Podcasts" "🤨"

"Take 2 steps towards your progress" is the new "Today embarks on change"

Legendary Letters/Time Warp crossover we didn't know we needed

Words can't describe how much I expected and wanted the last line to be "Now you are our bitch" goddamnit-

Sam entering the scene, eating a large block of cheese while moaning, and waiting for another character to interrupt him, only for AJ to fuck it up immediately upon doing so, this is what we love to see

Something about Sam going "I love cheese :D" makes me very happy

"No one wants me to say" He's right, I absolutely do not want him to say what's so different, not while knowing SFTH's history with dairy products

I know everyone's been saying this, but yeah Sydney is definitely cosplaying as Sam in this video and I respect that

Luke's character quickly becoming problematic throughout Pillars is great. First he's unfaithful, then he's saying 'gay people' and 'the t-word', and by the end he apparently represents all of the world's problems smh

"I'll just sign this myself and do it in your writing" Heathers: father's will edition

Speaking of him, are we gonna acknowledge that he's trans-? "When I gave birth to you, do you know what I said to your mother?" Because none of the guys mentioned it, which is unlike them

"Daddy, I just want a fucking hug!" The first uncensored 'fuck' in the video!

Tom describing AJ's Tindr profile while AJ tells him to shut the fuck up-

"Sorry Mum!" a necessary apology from Sam, although at this point in his career I feel like it has a lot of ground to cover-

Thought for a second we were gonna get another one of Sam's iconic animal characters. But instead we got a surprise Henry VIII reference??

All in all, good shit as always, though the censorship did throw me off, idk what that's about-

[mohawkmania]

I will say, as someone who was once a suicidal 15 year old, and someone who was also once a 16 year old who attempted suicide, part of wanting things to be better is accepting how and why they’re awful right now.

I got frustrated the most with the fact that I often felt that while we could all see that there was a light at the end of this tunnel, no one seemed willing to help me with the darkness I was stuck in currently. Or willing to help me get any closer to that light at the end of what seemed like an ever lengthening tunnel.

And @teaboot is correct, there are not words for many of the ways your life will change and improve over the next few years, and absolutely no way to articulate how it will change over the next few decades.

But there ARE ways you can get through whatever it is in your life that makes it seem worth dying to escape, and they are things that you can do now, for yourself, with little delay. I will warn you, this is a bit of novel but I hope it’s a novel that helps save someone’s life, even if it’s not the person who first asked the question.

(I’ll preface this as well by saying I DID learn most of these in therapy, and that while therapy is a fantastic tool when it works I can’t say that every therapist I had was good, or effective)

First - if you haven’t but are safely able to, reach out to an adult you can trust. You don’t have to tell them you want to die. You don’t have to tell them you’re depressed. You should tell them about the things that are making you feel this way. This adult need not be a parent or a therapist or a counselor. If you have any of those that can be trusted to really listen, fantastic, if not, that’s fine. It can be your older cousin, your best friend’s mom, or an adult coworker if you have a job. The important thing is that it’s someone who has been through their teen years, is someone you genuinely feel as if you know to be trustworthy, and who cares about your well-being. Having an in person connection with someone who has perspective further out from the awfulness of teendom will genuinely be helpful in gaining perspective yourself, and will also give you access to support that your peers can’t provide. Being able to speak to someone who knows you, who knows how to get through the rough years, and who may be able to help you with whatever it is that is making things awful helps. Whether it’s typical highschool, the state of the world, or something more personal, like abuse.

Second- obviously I don’t know if this is going to apply to you specifically, but if it does; stop treating your depression/suicidality/other mental health struggle here as if it’s dumb, stupid, or childish. You are not foolish, immature, or silly. Neither are your thoughts. They are what they are for a reason, and that reason must be accepted as existing, and then addressed in whatever way it can be. Sometimes the reason is you have an imbalance in your brain that makes it five times as hard to feel things like happiness and ten times easier to feel like shit (clinical depression). Sometimes the reason is traumas or abuses you’ve suffered that made you brain develop a way of coping with those situations that now isn’t very helpful in dealing with anything else going on in your life (a coping mechanism that helped you survive one thing, can become it’s own trial with the next part of you life if it no longer works the way it used to. Dissociation and anxiety can both be this sort of thing). Sometimes it’s more straightforward like facing terrible situations, or being constantly bombarded with messages about the future and expectations and fears of what waits out there 3 years from now when you’re an adult (these stresses are normal, wanting to die about them isn’t quite, and both of these facts are okay. Your reaction being disproportionate doesnt negate the seriousness of the cause). Regardless - do not allow yourself to belittle your feelings, or your thoughts. Some of them will not be helpful. Some of them will be totally out of alignment with the facts and reality. Some of them will be extremely upsetting to face and to think about. NONE of that means they’re stupid or worthless. If a feeling is big enough to be something that has you reacting suicidally, you MUST respond to it with the same genuine consideration. The more you do this, the easier it will be to both like and understand yourself, and also your actions and your feelings. This is a form of mindfulness.

Third - start doing things that make your life better, and help build a solid future for yourself. I know, this statement seems kind of pointless. Either you feel like you have BEEN trying, and are getting nowhere with either the future or your mental health, or like there’s nothing TO do and no point to doing the other things that don’t even matter anymore. But I mean this, dead fucking serious, that the future saved my life. I did not expect to really make it past 18 when I was your age. I tried not to, even. I had a bit of a Moment™️ when I turned 20 and realized I’d actually survived being a teenager (I was more than a thousand miles away from any place I’d ever dreamed of being, working a job I hadn’t known existed, with coworkers I still miss today, and I was so much more alive than I’d been at 15). But every time I intentionally did something, whether it was the tiniest thing of googling universities, or bigger things like opening a savings account and taking personal finance classes offered at my school - it was like stepping into the sun. Barely noticeable at first, but the more you do it, the more you’re bringing that light to you. Drag the future kicking and screaming right to your feet. Drag yourself kicking and screaming into the future. Do it. Grab the bright things, the good things, the steady things. Make a plan for after highschool and work towards it. Make a 5 year plan with real goals. Or a ten year one. Have fun but do it with gravity. Start building your future, not as a requirement or a standard or an expectation, but for yourself. The future you wanna live in. Maybe it’s dollars stashed in a sock drawer. Maybe it’s college applications. Maybe it’s trade classes. Whatever it is - find it. One little piece at a time.

In a few years, you’re going to look back and want to tell the person you are today “don’t worry, we did it”.

And like teaboot said, it’s about choosing to want that.

Any tips for being a suicidal 15 year old?

When I was a suicidal 15 year old everyone told me “it gets better”, and it sounded like bullshit. And frankly, it still sounds like bullshit. Like oh, what, I’m living in hell and you’re not gonna help me or *do* anything or give me any useful advice and I’m supposed to just hang in there on the nebulous, pithy promise that things are just gonna work out on their own? And you can’t tell me how or why, I’m just supposed to take it on the faith that I don’t have that something might change in ways I haven’t considered?

But yeah. It does. And it’s frustrating as hell.

Yes, things are gonna get better, and they’re gonna get better in ways I can’t describe even after experiencing it myself. Things you don’t even know CAN be different WILL be different. One day you’re just going to step outside and realize things got better somewhere and you didn’t even notice it happening.

And there’s really nothing I can say that makes that sound even a little bit believable.

I guess all I can tell you is that you have to want to believe it.

[traumadumpwriter]

Ninety Five

Controlling!Rafe x ED!Reader

“It’s not a big deal, I just want to get to ninety five pounds before Midsummers”

Summary: Reader is suffering from an eating disorder and when Rafe finds out about it he struggles to be sympathetic

Trigger warning for explicit depictions of bulimia, vomit, starving, drug use, controlling behaviour

Word count: 5.7k

Reminder as always that I’m here if any of you need to speak to someone! This is my first Rafe fic and I rly hope y’all enjoy. Working on a part 2 already. (Story is below divider by @kodaswrld )

Part One:

Rafe Cameron could have any girl he wanted, so why did he want you? That was the question that you'd found yourself thinking every day since he'd asked you to be his girlfriend. It didn't make any sense. He was handsome, rich, charming - the king of Kildare County. What on earth could you have done to deserve his devotion?

He knew that you felt this way - or at least that you didn't like yourself. It was clear in the red of your cheeks whenever he paid you a compliment, the way that you'd fidget with your fingers when one of his beautiful kook associates would talk to him, or how you'd look down shyly when he introduced you to them. Part of him liked it for purely selfish reasons. Knowing that you probably wouldn't leave him for someone else - that you thought that he was the best you could get. But more often than not, he found it irritating. He wanted to show you off without you getting embarrassed, to be able to persuade you to wear the tiny dresses he'd buy you in public, to know that you were happy and that you felt worthy around his friends. He even slightly wanted you to try to leave him, just so that he could show you what he would do if you tried.

The first time it had occurred to him that your insecurity was anymore than just that, it had been six months into your relationship and he was watching you get ready for your date that night. He'd wanted to take you out somewhere nice to eat, but you'd managed to persuade him to go bowling instead. He took you out to eat at least once a week and it would be nice to change things up - and to not have to worry about calories for once.

"Well if I don't get to see you in a nice dress tonight, I want to at least pick your outfit." Rafe pouted from his leant back position on your bed, a smug gleam in his eye.

You were stood on the other side of the room, assessing the options you'd laid out and feeling displeased with all of them. You'd been trying really hard to loose weight recently - even harder than usual - but you couldn't see any change in your body. "No matter what I wear, I'm going to look like shit." You thought to yourself, struggling to not show your sadness on your face.

You quickly hid it though, not wanting Rafe to get annoyed with you as he sometimes did, especially not on an anniversary. He would accuse you of not wanting to be with him, of not being happy about the date, and you would have to spend ten minutes convincing him otherwise.

"Okay, sure. But nothing too revealing, there's probably gonna be at least one group of kids, n maybe some old people there." You smiled, sending him a teasing wink.

"Fine. How about those black shorts I like, the Gucci ones, and one of your cute crop tops - you know, the ones with the little cartoon on them." He suggested with a smirk, his voice assertive in a way that let you know there was no point arguing. Not that you would anyway.

The choice was a semi-modest outfit by Rafe's standards and of course you would only be allowed to dress that way when you were with him. Those shorts would not fly with your friends or even to go out by yourself. This control wasn't something you particularly hated though.

There had been one incredibly hot day in OBX where you'd decided to wear a mini skirt to go out and meet some of your friends. They were all dressed in little material too so you didn't think much of it as you enjoyed cocktails with them at the Beach Club. When Rafe picked you up a couple of hours later, his jaw had clenched instantly upon seeing you and he paced over before you could even step down the wooden steps and into the car park. He'd grabbed you by your waist and practically dragged you back to the car, hissing that "there were filthy Pogues about" and that you were "stupid for dressing like that when he wasn't there to protect you." You'd apologised profusely and promised to never wear that skirt without him again. And you hadn't.

You pulled off your comfy clothes and put on the new outfit, feeling Rafe's eyes devour you the entire time. He always loved to watch you get dressed, examining your body with lustful obsession. He knew every inch of your body like the back of his hand - or at least he thought he did - which was why he was confused when you slipped on the shorts. They had always been tight fitting - that was why he liked them - but as he gazed at your thighs and ass now, he could see that there had been a slight change in how the material sat on you. It was looser - not in a severe way, the shorts still revealed your shape nicely - but it was enough for him to notice.

You hadn't even turned to look at him yet, still disappointedly looking at yourself in the mirror, when he offered his opinion, his unaroused tone taking you off guard.

"Have you lost some weight or something? They don't fit as well as the last time I saw them." He questioned, slowly sitting up to get a better look.

You blushed, looking down at yourself and then at him. Any discussion of your body - particularly the size of it - made you extremely uncomfortable.

"I don't know. I don't think so." You mumbled, scratching your arm awkwardly.

"Come here." He demanded softly and you obliged, stepping towards him and standing beside the bed, his head level to your stomach.

He eyed your body closely, a light crease between his brow, and then motioned for you to spin around, which you did with a blush. Waiting for his verdict felt like minutes long torture, though it was realistically only a few seconds before he spoke again. He wrapped his arms around your hips and pulled your ass into his face, grinning as he did.

"All mine." He stated into your flesh, humming in satisfaction as he lightly groped your skin.

After feeling how stiff you'd gotten beside him, he'd decided not to say anything more of your weight - but he had concluded that you'd lost some. You perceived his lack of a verbal decision to mean the opposite though and felt silently mortified, imagining that your boyfriend had come to the conclusion that you'd actually put on weight but just didn't want to embarrass you.

"She's probably just been busy with studying and forgot to have a few meals. I'll take her out for some nice food tomorrow." Rafe thought to himself and then moved his focus onto how good you looked in the outfit he'd picked, entirely unaware of how horrible you felt inside.

The next time he found himself worrying about you was a month later in a restaurant with Topper, Kelce and their dates - Georgia and Elle.

You were wearing one of the dresses that Rafe had bought you that week; flowy and loose fitting as you'd requested it to be much to his dismay but short and cute much to his satisfaction. He loved having you on his arm anywhere, but especially next to his friend's girls. You looked obviously more attractive than them and that served to boost his ego massively. He could see it on the faces of Topper and Kelce too - they knew that he'd won that contest.

You didn't see that though. In fact, you automatically compared yourself to Georgia and Elle as soon as you'd all sat down and found yourself wishing that the ground would swallow you up.

"Everyone must think Rafe is mad for being with me. They must laugh when they see us together. Especially next to these girls. They're so beautiful. I look like a pig next to them." Your thoughts started to spiral, though they remained hidden by your polite smile and casual conversation.

When the menus came out, instead of looking at the names of any of the dishes available your eyes went straight to the calories written next to them, and you chose the meal with the lowest amount without much consideration for what it would actually taste like. Rafe had taken you out to eat every night that week and all of the meals had been good, overly priced, high calorie heaven. It would be nice to not have to make yourself sick after this one.

"Really? Just a salad?" Rafe scoffed after you told your order to the waitress, causing you to stiffen up against him anxiously.

"I'm not that hungry." You smiled awkwardly but he shook his head with a wink.

"Put the salad on the side, she'll have the carbonara." He turned to the waitress and you didn't dare to disagree with him in front of his friends. He was just trying to be nice after all.

You chuckled and nodded at the waitress, sending her off as the conversation resumed around the table.

"So I hear that the Pogues are planning on throwing some kind of surf party at the beach tonight. Anyone else feel like crashing?" Elle suggested with a sly grin, earning a proud kiss from Kelce.

"Sounds like a good plan." Topper stated, less interested in Georgia who didn't look impressed with the girls suggestion.

The only reason Topper wanted to go was to mess with his ex, Sarah Cameron, and her new group of friends. Everyone at the table knew that - including Georgia. You shot her a sorry look as Rafe's arm snaked around your waist, agreeing with his friend, but to your surprise she shot you a sorry look back.

"Maybank needs his head kicked in." Snorted Rafe. "Always got his eyes on you, don't he Y/N? Piece of shit just wishes he could have a chance."

"I'm not sure that I'm really his type to be honest." You jested.

"He doesn't have a type, he'd stick his dick in anything. Last I heard he'd been doing it with Kiara, although she's probably done the whole gang." Topper snorted, earning a chorus of chuckles from around the table.

Food came and went, and soon everyone was gearing up to leave and start pre-drinking for whatever they were going to do that night. You didn't particularly want to join them for a multitude of reasons but the evening had spun entirely out of your control and there was nothing you could do to stop it now.

Luckily, there was one small thing that you could still control.

"I'm gonna go to the bathroom." You said to Rafe, sliding out of the booth as the waitress came over with the bill.

"Women and their tiny bladders." He tutted with a teasing smirk, which you playfully returned before walking away.

The restroom was empty. You went into the last stall and flung yourself down in front of the porcelain bowl before swiftly putting your fingers down your throat. It didn't take long to achieve the desired affect - having gotten very used to it - and you were soon feeling waves of relief crash through you. Your anxiety was suddenly under control again and you felt that maybe tonight wouldn't be so bad. Even at the sound of footsteps coming to the stall next to you, you kept your fingers there and let another calming wave settle through you before cleaning yourself up.

You waited in the stall for the other person to leave and then stepped quickly to the sinks, splashing your face with cold water before chewing a piece of gum.

"I look fine. I'm fine." You said to yourself, looking in the mirror one last time before stepping out, a smile on your face that was instantly uprooted by the concerned expression on your boyfriend's face.

He was stood right outside the toilets and from across the room you could see that your dining accomplices were looking over.

"Georgia said that you were being sick in there. Do you not feel well?"

"Oh." Was all you could say at first, your brain short circuiting before desperately scrambling for an excuse. "I don't think that was me she heard."

"She went in right after you, said there was no one else in there." He frowned, examining you closely.

You didn't know what to say, shrinking under his intense gaze. He'd caught you in a lie and now you were only going to have to deepen it further. With an anxious swallow, you started to open your mouth but to your surprised relief he spoke in a soft tone.

"Listen, if you don't feel well baby that's fine. We don't have to go out tonight. Did you think I was gonna make you?"

"No- I- I just didn't want to ruin your fun. You can still go out if you want." You answered, which he smiled and shook his head at.

He leaned down closer to you and said lowly "It would be boring without you. Let's just go back to yours and I'll nurse you back to health."

His breath on your skin gave you goosebumps and your stomach did an excited flip as he told his friends that you would be staying in.

A few hours of fucking and cuddling later, you were cozy under your covers, looking up at Rafe with adoring eyes as he got dressed. His beauty never ceased to amaze you; everything from his angelic face to his chiseled body - and the fact that he was yours still didn't feel real.

Rafe caught your eye, smirking at the redness forming on your cheeks. He leant over the bed and planted a short kiss on your head.

"You're cute." He mused, momentarily reconsidering his plan to meet his friends after all. "You sure you're feeling better?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. Go be with your friends. I'll survive." You answered in a sweet tone.

"Weird how you were sick like that earlier. Maybe it was something in the food." He mumbled.

"Probably. Don't worry about it. I feel okay now." You agreed, your heartbeat rising slightly as he eyed you with uncertainty.

He opened his mouth but then quickly shut it, sucking in his lips like he was annoyed before sitting down on the end of your bed.

"I just think that if it was the food, you'd probably still feel sick now. Right?"

"I- I don't know."

"And it was weird that your first reaction was to lie to me about it."

"I just didn't want to worry you. I'm sorry."

He still looked unimpressed as he eyed you, but his face softened slightly after a moment and he mumbled "I know... you never want to worry me."

He left shortly after that and you were relieved that his suspicion had seemingly been dealt with. It didn't take long for you to fall asleep, but little did you know that Rafe's was extremely suspicious and his mind was running through different theories - none of them good.

"Maybe she's pregnant and doesn't want me to know. She thinks I'd leave her.. or make her get rid of it." Was his first idea - something that he had to sit in his parked car in silence for a couple minutes to process. Once he'd decided that that probably wasn't the case, he moved onto his next theory - that you were acting weird because you wanted to leave him. The insecure part of his brain screamed out at him that that was probably the case, but he was able to put that out of his mind pretty quickly, thinking of the way you looked up at him with absolute adoration, how you clung onto him for protection, how you moaned his name.

Remembering how his name had fallen from your lips a few hours prior, he smirked to himself and relished in the memory. You'd been entirely on display beneath him, hardly able to keep your mouth shut as he rammed into you. You were so beautiful and delicate beneath him, he felt like a God knowing that he could make an angel feel so good. With his hands around your waist, you felt tiny and breakable - and he felt powerful.

But then he remembered that a thought had momentarily occurred to him earlier on; of how you felt smaller than usual. Quite a fair bit smaller. It had come and gone in that moment, distracted by your tits, but now he was focusing on it. You'd definitely lost weight since he'd last thought about it, and that didn't make sense - since then he had spent most days with you and you'd been eating a good amount; he'd made sure of it.

So then the idea suddenly occurred to him, shocking and confusing; that you'd been making yourself sick. That was why you'd been loosing weight. That was why you'd lied about it. It didn't make any sense that you would do that to yourself until he thought on it a bit longer and... maybe it did. You'd never been particularly kind to yourself... but you'd never been outright unkind either.

Three nights later, awoken by your movement in the early morning, Rafe confirmed his suspicion. Usually when you got up in the night and accidentally woke him he would ignore it and go back to sleep, this time he only pretended to do so.

He listened as you crept to his bathroom, ears pricking as he heard the sound of retching. He sat up out of the bed and crept to the ajar door, peaking through the gap and grimacing at the sight. You were bent over the toilet with your hand in your mouth, eyes watering and forehead beaded with sweat.

Without your shoulders poised properly and unguarded in the yellowish bathroom light, Rafe was surprised by just how vulnerable you looked. Your body looked about ready to snap with every heave, your shoulder blades poking through your pyjama shirt like metal under a sheet.

He stood and watched until the vomit finally exited your throat, and saw the look of bliss on your face at the release. You leant over the bowl for another minute, catching your breath before pushing the handle down, jumping out of your skin at the sound of Rafe's voice.

"How long have you been doing this?" He questioned, his voice low and sounding almost completely void of emotion.

He was stood in the doorway, his arms crossed across his chest and a blank expression on his face. It worried you - not being able to read him - and you froze, suddenly terrified that you'd pissed him off. How long had he been stood there? Could you get away with this?

"Rafe- I didn't meant to wake you. I- I must have a bug or something-"

"Don't give me that bullshit Y/N. You've been making yourself sick after you eat, I know you have. Just tell me how long you've been doing it for." He said plainly, his jaw twitching.

You noticed that he was twisting one of his hands, clicking his wrist and fingers with his each moment. He was angry. Anxious tears threatened to spill over the brims of your eyes but you managed to blink them back, swallowing and taking a breath before answering. You stood up and tried to look like you were completely fine, running your hand under the tap.

"Not long. It's not a big deal." You lied. "I-I'll stop if you want me to."

"Yeah, you will stop. That shit is fucked up, Y/N." He said with aggressive certainty.

He was enraged that you'd been doing this to yourself, but he was more angry with himself for not clocking onto it sooner.

"I don't get it- do I not love you enough or something? Why would you do this to yourself?"

"What? No. Of course not. It's not your fault - it's- you love me more than enough. I'm sorry baby. I just wanted to loose some weight. I- I wanted to look good for you. F-For Midsummers." You stammered, stepping closer to him, hoping that he would open his arms and embrace you in a way that would let you know you were forgiven. He stayed still though, his arms crossed, lip curled and brows furrowed.

"So this is my fault."

"No! That's not what I meant-"

"And you're doing this to look good? You look like shit, Y/N. Take better care of yourself." He cut you off with a harsh scoff and then turned around, going back to bed without another word.

Your gut twisted and a dagger struck your heart. A real nausea rose in your body and you felt that you might actually need to be sick. Your hands shook uncontrollably and the tears that you'd previously been able to suppress spilled down your cheeks as you looked at yourself in the mirror.

Rafe had never said anything like that to you before. He'd gotten angry and told you to shut up, reminded you of all the things he did for you, told you to change your outfit, berated you for being anxious about going somewhere. But at the end of all that - you'd still always been his beautiful girl.

"I look like shit." You repeated to yourself in your head. "If Rafe ever catches me being sick again, he's going to leave me. I should've seen this coming. I'm already not good enough for him - why would he want a bulimic girlfriend?"

You splashed your face with water and stared at yourself, only seeing the gaunt tiredness and red blotches - not thinking as to why you looked that way.

"I'm going to have to find a new way to loose weight. It'll be fine. I can go to the gym." You decided, trying to calm down. "I can make Rafe think I'm beautiful again. I'll start wearing a full face of makeup every day and just keep some distance until I reach my goal weight. By this time next week, he won't even remember seeing me like this."

Eventually, you were calm enough in your delusion to crawl back into bed with him, sticking to your side and not daring to try to initiate a cuddle. He already seemed to be asleep anyway and you didn't want to wake him up again.

You were surprised to find the bed empty when you woke up the next morning, a note in place of where Rafe would usually be.

"Got to do some shit with my dad. I'll see you later." It read and you found yourself feeling sick again, becoming certain that Rafe was disgusted by you now.

The few times that you'd woken up to a note or a text like that, it always ended with a "love you". The empty space where it ought to have been mocked you. With a shaky breath, you got out of bed and pulled your clothes on, grabbing your belongings from the side before making your way to your car. Rubbing salt into the wound, Ward was downstairs.

"You alright, Y/N?" He questioned, genuine concern on the older man's face.

He liked you a lot - claiming to Rafe that it was about time he brought a nice girl home - and would sometimes worry about how his son was treating you.

"Yeah, I'm good. Just got some studying to do." You lied with a forced smile.

It was something that Ward could see right through, but he nodded anyway and allowed you to believe you'd fooled him.

"Is Rafe up yet?" He asked.

"Yeah, he's gone out to play golf, I think." You answered, entirely uncertain of the truth and starting to worry that he might actually be with another girl.

Ward rolled his eyes and muttered something under his breath but smiled at you nonetheless. When you finally got home you were unsurprised yet relieved to find that your mother was out - most likely at her boyfriends - and you quickly made your way to your room, throwing yourself onto your bed and letting out the sobs you'd been suppressing.

You wanted to get up and do some exercise - to start bettering yourself as you had planned to do - but with no food in your body, you had no energy and so ended up spending the day hiding under your covers. You thought about calling Rafe, but you were too embarrassed, and then you even thought about calling Sarah - having been quite close with her before you started dating her brother - but you didn't dare to do that either. Instead, you slept and cried the day away, wondering where your boyfriend was and if he even still loved you.

Meanwhile, Rafe was sprawled across the sofa of Topper's beach house, an empty bottle of whisky on his lap and a mirror decorated with white lines at his side. He had decided to break into the residence - as he had many times before - some hours prior, calling Topper once he'd gotten inside and demanding that his friend come and meet him.

"It's eleven in the morning bro, what the hell is wrong with you?" Topper had sighed upon entering the residence, seeing that Rafe had raided his parents very expensive liquor cabinet. "You better replace all that. My dad is gonna be pissed."

Rafe scoffed and rolled his eyes.

"Obviously I'm gonna replace it. When was the last time your old man came down here anyway? Isn't he too busy sucking up to mine?"

Topper ignored his blatant rudeness and sat down on the polished leather seat beside the matching sofa Rafe had claimed. He grabbed the mirror from the side and picked up the rolled up note, inhaling a line before speaking.

"What are you doing here at this time anyway? Have you been up all night?"

"No. I got up about an hour ago."

"So what are you doing then?"

Rafe sighed, snatched the mirror back from Topper and snorted another line. He let his head fall backwards and looked up at the ceiling, forcing the powder down to the back of his throat - the bitter taste having become therapeutic through his habitual use.

"I don't know if I'm good for Y/N." He muttered after a moment.

"Why not?" Topper returned, acting clueless although your mental decline had been somewhat visible to him for the last couple of weeks. He'd just assumed that you'd been doing too much coke with Rafe.

Rafe shrugged.

"I think she might just be fucked in the head, you know?"

"All women are. But with one as hot as that - you kind of just gotta put up with it. You know what I mean?" Topper snorted. "I mean, Georgia's a total fucking bitch. The other day she complained about her outfit for an hour straight! Some bullshit about how the collar of her shirt was making her look fat. God knows I wouldn't put up with it if she wasn't so fine."

Rafe rolled his eyes and spoke matter-of-factly, his head still facing the ceiling. "Yeah well Y/N isn't a bitch. And Georgia's not even that hot. Everyone knows you're just rebounding after my bitch sister."

"Shut up, man. She's got a good rack and you can't even deny that. And if Y/N's not secretly a bitch then what's the problem? You seem like you've lucked out with that one."

Topper poured himself a drink, secretly aggravated with how his friend always seemed to have things go right for him. The richest dad on the island, a good career handed down to him and a beautiful girlfriend who practically no one had anything bad to say about. Rafe had some clue to how lucky he was, but he didn't fully get it. The taller boy thought about telling his friend the truth of what he'd seen the night before, but he feared that it might reflect badly on him so he didn't for the time being. Instead, he agreed that Georgia did have a good rack and changed the subject.

Late into the evening though - after spending the entire day drinking and playing video games - the conversation came up again and this time Rafe was too inebriated to play it cool. The image of you hadn't been able to escape his mind no matter how fucked up he got and he needed to vent.

The game had been paused so that Topper could pour them more drinks, and the temporary silence was unbearable to Rafe.

"I caught Y/N making herself be sick last night." He blurted out, his tone low and solemn. "And then I was kind of a dick about it."

Topper didn't seem too interested in what Rafe was saying, his eyes fixed on the drink he was pouring as he replied "What do you mean? Like she was unwell?"

"No. Like she's fucking anorexic or something." Rafe responded with some frustration. "I think she's been doing it for a while."

At this Topper looked up, his expression seeming almost amused in his surprise.

He scoffed "Well shit. I didn't see that coming" to which Rafe quickly hissed "It's not fucking funny" and Topper's smile dropped.

"Nah you're right dude, it isn't. Sorry."

Rafe ignored his apology, continuing his rant as if he hadn't been interrupted.

"I just don't get why she would do that to herself. Do I not treat her good enough or something? Like, I thought that shit was for weird emo girls with fuckin' daddy issues or something. Why the fuck would Y/N feel the need to do that? It doesn't make any sense."

Topper shrugged and sighed. "I don't know but you should get it sorted before it gets out of hand. That's what got Josie Tenthro sent to a psych ward in the tenth grade, remember? The weird girl - weighed like ten pounds. Apparently she almost died."

Rafe sat up straight with an unamused scoff, rubbing the back of his head with one hand whilst the other reached for the coke mirror. His friend was so stupid.

"Well thanks Top that really makes me feel better. Guess I'll just ship my girlfriend off to a looney bin then, huh? Fucking dick." He seethed before inhaling a line. "I don't even know why I told you anything. Just forget about it."

Topper held his hands up defensively,

"Woah, woah. Chill out bro. That's not what I meant. You and I both know that Y/N doesn't belong in one of those places. She's a sweet girl whose obviously just a bit down in the dumps for whatever reason. Why don't you take her on a little holiday or something? Show her a real good time."

Rafe considered that option for a moment, liking the sound of it but quickly deciding that it wouldn't fix things. If anything it might make them worse. After all, you had said that you wanted to look good for him. Would some time apart be the best thing for you? Some part of him knew that it probably would be, but selfishly he couldn't allow that. He needed to be with you, and as he thought on it deeper, he needed to be with you now.

Without visibly acknowledging Topper, he grabbed his phone and dialled your number, extremely dismayed when you didn't pick up. It was only nine PM - were you really asleep already? Or had you gone out? That last option made him feel unsettled. In a split second decision, he decided that he was going to just turn up at yours and climb into your bedroom window.

"I've gotta go. I'll see you later." He mumbled to Topper, ignoring his friends questions as he headed straight to his motorbike.

The drive to yours was luckily short and the climb up the side of your house was quite easy, meaning he'd managed to do both things accident free despite his extremely intoxicated state. When he saw you curled up in your bed, forehead damp with sweat and arms wrapped tight around a pillow, any hint of insecurity or frustration vanished as he took in your appearance. You were beautiful and there was no one else he wanted more than you.

"Hey babe, wake up." He shook you lightly with a drunken grin, pleased when you stirred awake.

"Rafe?" You said groggily. "What time is it?"

"It's nine baby, how come you're asleep already?"

He was slurring more than he realised and that brought you back to all the anxiety you'd been feeling all day. What had he been doing? Drinking, obviously, but with who?

"I took a nap, I didn't mean to." You answered. You thought about expanding on your words, of maybe even questioning him, but he spoke quickly and as if your answer hadn't really mattered.

"You're like.. the prettiest girl ever. You know that?" He whispered, moving a hand to stroke your face. "I'm sorry I left this morning."

Any anger that you might've felt immediately evaporated at that. Rafe rarely apologised and hearing the words made you feel guilty.

"Don't be sorry-" you began but then he spoke again, his thumb tracing over your bottom lip.

"I am sorry, Y/N. It was a dick move. I'm really fucked up right now, I've been with Topper all day." He said with a heavy exhale. "But I just needed to come here and tell you to seriously never do that shit to yourself again. You're perfect, you don't need to do that to yourself. Is that understood?"

His eyes were wide and his jaw was tight but you were charmed nonetheless, nodding as you gazed up at his sculpted face.

"I wanna hear you say it." He said, his fingers slightly shifting position again so that he was stroking your cheek.

You swallowed nervously, entirely exposed under his gaze and unable to deny him anything.

"I'm not going to make myself sick again." You whispered, blushing as the words came out.

A smile pulled at the corner of his lips and he mumbled "good girl" before leaning down and kissing you, his touch instantly making up for the entire day. "My good, beautiful girl."

[smallestapplin]

If Blades is the one to ask his s/o if they’d still love him if he was a worm…

How would Chase, Heatwave, and Boulder react to their s/o (human) asking the same question to them?

I love shit like this so much, I put my bussy into this

No warnings! Just fluff and sillies.

-

-

Chase

You know how your boyfriend is, you should’ve known a question like this would’ve caused some confusion but that was the point, you live for keeping this mech on his pedes. You’re sat so cute in his lap as he reads a manual, ensuring he knows how a new device the Burns got works. You can’t help but look up at him, loving how focused he looks.

Always so cute in your eyes.

“Hey, Chase, I have a question if you don’t mind me asking.”

You love how in an instant he places the book down on his knee to look at you, giving you his undivided attention.

“I do not mind, please, ask away. I am happy to be of service.”

“Would you still love me if I was a worm?” You try not to laugh as he blinks rapidly as if trying to process what you just asked of him.

“Humans can turn into worms?” He asks in turn, bewildered at the concept or mere thought.

You snort at how shocked he sounds, “No, but if I did become one, would you still love me?”

“Do humans spontaneously get turned into worms, is this a realy threat to your kind that I was not aware of? Can worms even feel that level of emotions? I don’t recall worms having high intellegic to experience such complex emotions. Ah, hold on, dear.”

Chase picks you up and sets you down on the couch along with his manual, and walks over to the bookshelf as he begins to look for books about worms and animals in general.

“Chase, just a simple yes or no works.”

“But worms cannot feel what I feel for you, that and from this book my guess would be correct. In fact would you be able to feel as a worm, or would this be a worm with the brain module of you inside it? Or is it that when you turn into a worm, you fully become a worm and lose yourself in the process?”

Chase keeps rambling asking question after question that you can’t seem to keep up with as he thinks of every last possible scenario, and the different combination, and yet asking them so quickly you don’t even get a chance to ask them. You can only watch as he starts pacing the room as he talks unable to stay still for too long.

You smile, realizing this was your own doing, you set yourself up for this fate and now you must listen to him learn more about worms and ask questions about you being a worm in real time.

He’s so cute though.

You might(will) kiss him after he’s done rambling.

-

-

Boulder

Gardening with your big Cybertronian beloved on such a nice day was something you’d never grow tired of, you love telling him about the flowers or vegetables you’ve planted, love how gentle he is with them and helps you moving the bigger stuff. Boulder is a dream, especially as you two sit under a big tree, taking in the nice spring day.

You sit on top of his shoulder leaning against his helm as he enjoys the sight of butterflies and bees moving peacefully around your flowers, occasionally only being broken up but his chuckles as you place a kiss to his cheek. Boulder could get use to life being like this, calm and domestic with you, it makes him wonder if a human and cybertronian can spark bond, he wouldn’t mind this forever.

“Hey, Boulder?”

“Yes, my sweetpea?’

“Would you still love me if I was a worm?”

You lean away from hos helm to look at him, and to at least allow him to look at you too without disturbing you. Boulder’s optics widen a bit, a worm? Why would you ever be a worm? He’s never heard of humans turning into such a thing, and the idea of anything bad happening to you worries him to his core, but at the end of the day it would still be you, right?

Boulder smiles, carefully raising his servos to grab a hold of you and hold you up in front of him, his orange optics soften at the pure sight of you before he presses a kiss to your face, his engine rumbling softly as you start laughing at how much it tickles.

“I would find the best sized tank for you, get you the best soil I could find and fill it up with so many good and nutritious plants for you, find you little leaves and make your enclosure so pretty for you.” Boulder nuzzles his face against your stomach, smile stretching across his dermas.

“I’d make sure you soil is nice and clean every day, make sure you have plenty of water and natural sunlight when it gets too much. You’d be my little wormy.”

You can’t help but place your hands on his cheeks and lavish his face plate in all the kisses you could possibly give him, making the large mech giggle sweetly under all your affection. He holds you close, snuggly against his chassis. Boulder never wants anything to happen to you, he couldn’t live with himself if you were ever hurt.

But that wouldn’t stop him from doing everything in his power to make you comfortable, to tend to you, to love you even then, nothing could change how his spark felt for you.

Though don’t be surprised when his pet name for you goes from ‘sweetpea’ to ‘wormy’.

-

-

Heatwave

You think he’d ever let you away from him? Let you out sass him? Please, you don’t even know it yet but he will turn the conversation back around. Heatwave is stubborn and as quick with his intake as he is his pedes, his glossa can be vicious if you aren’t careful, yet he’s so adoring and attentive to you, surely this conversation would go well!

You are laying across his chassis in his habsuite, his optics are closed but you know he’s still awake. A servo on your legs and thumb rubbing slow lazy circles across your back, allowing you to full relax into him, enjoying the gentle touches and warmth of his much larger body.

“Wavey?” Your voice slightly muffled as your cheek is pressed against his chassis and youdon’t feel like moving too much.

“Hm?” He hums in return, acknowledging you but also not wanting to move much, as he’s enjoying having some peaceful downs time with you.

“Would you still love me if I was a worm?”

All his movements stop in an instant and he doesn’t make a sound for a solid minute before sighing heavily, cracking his optics open just to look down at you with a playful glare.

“Why would you want to a be worm, huh? Just to get away from me?”

“W-what? No!” You lift up on your forearms to look at him better, but he’s not having it.

“Oh so just being in the dirt is more fun than being with me? I see, I see how it is, you hate me and want me dead.”

“Noooo!” You whine pitifully, flopping back down before crawling up higher to meet his face.

Your give him a playful glare, angry pout on your lips while he has a shit eating grin across his face, knowing damn well what he’s doing and what you are asking.

“I just wanted to ask if you’d still love me if I was uselsss-“

“You think you could be useless to me? You really think that lowly of me?”

“Heatwave no, please, you know I love you!”

“And I love you too, so what’s the problem?”

Your head clunks as you drop it back against his chassis, sighing heavily as your stubborn mech of a boyfriend will not back down on this, this is a hill he will not only die on but drag you down with him, you just know it.

“You wouldn’t love me if I was a worm is the problem.” You pout, looking up at him with am exaggerated pleading expression.

Heatwave just stares at you almost wondering how he made it this far with you, until he remembers how dull his world would be without you. He rolls his optics with a huff, as if he’s doing you such a huge favor, though you know it’s mostly played up for the bit.

“You know good and well I’d let this slagging rock burn if anything happened to you, how dare you doubt me.”

“I’m not doubting you.”

“Then hush and try to recharge.”

he leans his helm back and closes his optics again, trying to at least get some shut eye before the morning comes, and with that would be new emergencies. You sudden in getting comfy once more, with him about to put his servo back on you, until you spoke again.

“Heatwave?”

“Now what?”

“Can I get a kiss before bed?”

“You are so lucky you’re cute.” He groans, but that soft smile is back on his face as he sits up a little, moving you to keep you safe and to bring you higher, pressing his dermas to your soft lips, before laying back down again.

“I love you.”

“I love you too, sweetspark.”

He’s so dramatic but you love him for it.

[softantlers]

do you think nat kind of understood lottie once she returned home? and do u think lottie’s words lingered in the back of natalie’s mind about home and stuff? haunted her? nat saying she lost her purpose, nat going to rehab multiple times, got arrested, her mom not giving a shit, etc.

oh this is such an interesting question

in the moment, i am not sure that natalie understood the stakes for lottie (or herself) with the rescue and that's why she was so intense & visceral in her response. like if they go home, lottie is looking forward to a lifetime of being sedated, institutionalized, and controlled by her parents. she not only found purpose in the wilderness but also escape from those pressures.

i think lottie sees this in natalie. before the crash, natalie is already dabbling in a lotttt of substance use & getting accused of smelling like it from tai, being called a burnout, etc etc. it's obvious there's a reputation thing going on there. lottie has seen how competent natalie has become in the wilderness & appreciated it so much that she gave her the leadership. i think she sees a kindred spirit in natalie's ability to thrive out there, when the walls of what made home so oppressive for both of them come tumbling down.

back to your question though. i am not sure that natalie begins to process what the wilderness meant for them, or what it did for them, until she reconvenes with lottie on the commune. as eerie as it sounds, i think natalie needed to accept & value the person that the wilderness allowed her to be (her best self) without turning away in shame or pressing down the memories because this was supposed to be the worst time of their lives. like it was the worst time of their lives, but it also wasn't, and i think being with lottie in her final days led her to realizing that.

but yes, it's so on point that you pointed out how she talks about losing her purpose. even as she craved going home, she was so lost afterward. the world didn't see her as the hunter, the leader, the one who saved them. they saw her as a poor girl from a trailer park with a dead dad and a fuckass mom and a drinking problem. and i think the dysphoria of that really drove her suffering for decades until she came home to lottie. who saw her. because to lottie, she's the hunter. she's its favorite. she always will be.

[tito-rick-rickman-baby-blog]

"The industry is in shambles, but there's still hope!"

Bitch, this show is literally the boogeyman the industry keeps fearmongering about as their justification for why writers shouldn't be allowed near their industry with a ten-foot pole and indie is literally unsustainable for the average person because style over substance assholes like Viv and Glitch and Tracy butted in with their celebrity BFFs and free government money and placed unfair and unreasonable expectations on the rest of us. This may come as a shock to you, but the industry was arguably very necessary for people to get the skills and connections and experience necessary for vanity projects like yours since most of us weren't born into privilege in California or are best friends with important, famous animators or get millions of likes on tweets talking about how we took a shit that morning.

The vast majority of indie shows cannot even meet a tenth of their goals, especially people who can't afford to hire any animators, but because you're best buddies with Australian government leeches and transphobe enablers who were the most popular artist on dA back when it was still in diapers you automatically get a free pass. If "it's not a competition" why are you and Glitch and Iron Circus and Spindlehorse hogging all the support for yourselves while telling people like me who want to learn but are struggling to learn and find our audience and are literal whos with low single-digit followers to fuck off because scripts have too much dialogue now? Shut the fuck up and maybe stop assuming everybody got into Vivzie's pants like Ashley and Dave Cuckerville did.

The animation industry is in shambles… but there's still hope! We can keep animation alive by supporting indie productions! Help the cause by joining the Far-Fetched animated pilot PRE-LAUNCH today. The power is in your hands, freaks! 💜

[chrisstvrns]

blurb of chris loving his girl so much, he would do anything for her forgiveness.

warnings: light angst, fluff in the end

word count: 876

chris knew he had fucked up.  

and not in the way where he could flash that lopsided grin, mumble out some half-assed "my bad," and wrap his arms around you until you begrudgingly accepted his apology. no, this was the kind of fuck-up that left his phone void of your name, your texts, your voice. it had been three days. three days of silence, three days of you ignoring his texts, leaving his calls to ring out, and worst of all, three days since you had stormed out of his house with fire in your eyes and venom in your words.  

matt and nick had given him shit for it. repeatedly. but chris didn’t care about their ribbing—he cared that he hadn't been able to fix it yet.  

so, in an act of desperation, he did something he never thought he'd do: he sat down with an actual pen and paper and wrote you a letter. no texting, no notes app draft, no voice memo where he rambled until he hoped he made sense. just ink and regret spilled onto three long pages.  

chris folded the letter, sealed it in an envelope, and, with a determined heart, drove over to your place. he carefully placed the letter into your mailbox, texted a simple “i left something for you,” and prayed you’d read it.  

you did.  

and not only did you read it, but you also grabbed a red pen and went absolutely feral on it.  

when chris found the same envelope in his mailbox the next morning, his heart leapt in hope—until he pulled out the letter and saw your handwriting scribbled all over it, ruthlessly correcting his grammar, circling misspelled words, and writing snarky little comments in the margins.  

“you don’t blame me? then why did you fight me on it?”  

“you should’ve listened to me? damn right. make this a thesis statement instead of burying the lead.”  

“good, this part actually sounds like you mean it. keep going.”  

and the kicker, written at the very bottom in bold, underlined letters:  

“if you can rewrite this and turn it in by tomorrow, i’ll unblock you.”  

chris stared at the letter, torn between laughing and groaning in frustration. only you would take his heartfelt apology and turn it into a goddamn english assignment.  

he grinned.  

challenge accepted.  

chris spent the rest of the day hunched over his desk, muttering to himself as he scribbled out a new draft. he had never put so much effort into writing anything in his life, not even the one essay he actually cared about in high school. he read and reread your comments, taking them seriously, and making sure that this time, every word counted.  

he started over twice. the first draft felt too stiff, too formal - like he was writing a resignation letter instead of an apology. the second had too much rambling, and you’d already told him not to bury the lead. so, for the third attempt, he took a deep breath and wrote like he was talking to you. like you were right in front of him, arms crossed, waiting for him to say something real.  

by the time he finished, his hand was cramping, his desk was covered in discarded drafts, and the clock read 2:14 am. but for the first time in three days, he felt like he had a shot at fixing things.  

chris sealed the new letter in an envelope, drove to your place, and left it in your mailbox, yet again. this time, he didn’t text you - just knocked once and walked away, leaving it in your hands.  

the next morning, his phone buzzed.  

a text from you.  

chris’s heart jumped as he unlocked his phone and read the text.  

“you passed. barely. but i’ll allow it.”  

before he could even think of a reply, another message popped up.  

“come over.”   

chris didn’t waste time. he was out the door in minutes, barely remembering to grab his keys. the drive to your place felt longer than ever, anticipation and nerves tangling in his chest.  

when you opened the door, he barely had a second to register the look on your face before you were pulling him inside, your arms crossing over your chest like you were still debating whether or not to be mad at him.  

“well?” you prompted.  

chris ran a hand through his hair, letting out a breath. “i meant every word.”  

you eyed him for a moment before unfolding the letter and holding it up. “this was good,” you admitted, tapping the paper. “and better yet, you actually listened.”  

his lips twitched. “had to. i was being graded.”  

your glare was half-hearted at best. “i don’t think you understand how close you were to failing.”  

chris grinned. “guess that makes this an extra credit assignment,” he said, closing the space between you.  

you rolled your eyes, but when he hesitated, waiting for permission, your expression softened. finally, you sighed, tilting your head up just enough to meet him halfway.  

“i hate that you’re kinda good at this,” you muttered.  

chris smirked. “oh, i’m great at this.”  

and when his arms wrapped around you, pulling you in, you didn’t pull away.

────────────୨ৎ────────────

a/n: this was made based off of this post by @muwapsturniolo !! finally out of my writers slump (???) i kinda hate this sooo ?

- aurora ᯓ✮⋆˙

likes and reblogs are always greatly appreciated! ੈ✩‧₊˚

to be added to my taglist, comment on this post!

[nthspecialll]

Could you talk a bit about the wapiti tribe? I am not there yet and I doubt I will since every time I boot the game a wave of sadness hits me as my Arthur cough reminding me of his unchangeable fate and my aim is worst that a blind drunk out of his mind but I come to really like Eagle Flies and would love to know more about him

(Sorry for bothering, I should just play the game instead of bothering you with ask. Feel free to ignore)

Oh yeah of course, I will give a general idea without too much spoilers and then some more heavy spoilers underneath the cut.

Since you are mentioning Arthur's coughing I am guessing you are in chapter 6 or at least past chapter four where you help Eagle Flies steal information from Cornwall Tar and Oil company.

The general plot with the tribe is one that has been seen many times in real life, the army wanting to move Native Americans from their land and onto a reservation (or a rez, which I have seen some Native American now a days call them on tikok, idk how I ended up on Native tiktok but I get to see some beautiful powwows and regalias). The problem with the tribe is that they have moved onto a reservation but they are now told to move again because they have been told there is oil in the area.

The army isn't allowed to just move the tribe but need proper reason and what Colonel Favours has resorted to is framing the Natives as mean or foul. He makes a bunch of contracts and deals, then says the Natives doesn't keep and thus he can hold back medicine, food and vacines. But the truth is, they do hold up their end of the deals, it is the army who doesn't, but who would believe them.

Rains Fall, the chief, tries over and over to take political and lawful action, peaceful action together with Captian Monroe, a part of the army who was sent to make a report on the situation but is in truth helping the tribe the best he can. Meanwhile Eagle Flies gets more and more angry because he can see the army doesn't have any interest in holding their end of the deals, so he acts out.

Dutch is also introduced to Eagle Flies and pushes him to do more and more, to attack and fight. He tells Eagle Flies to humiliate the army, Eagle Flies ends up captured and tortured, meanwhile Dutch draws attention away from the gang and "people will blame everyone on the Indian situation" (his words), aka he pushes his crimes on the natives.

HEAVY SPOILERS UNDERNEATH

Not to mention the mission where Eagle Flies dies, when they attacked the Oil Company, that was Dutch's idea, he encouraged it! And what did the Natives gain? Nothing, meanwhile the gang gained a shit ton of money.

Rains Fall says to Arthur in A Fine Art Of Conversation, which is after their sacred spot was burned down by drunk army men: "when we find out medicine and surplies are being deliberately withheld, how can we not see it as something personal? When they destory our sacred sites? How can I convince Eagle Flies and the others not to fight back?" to which Charles replies "Maybe that is part of why they destory these things, they want you to fight back." Which is pretty much what the army wants.

After Eagle Flies and a big part of the tribe is killed, Rains Fall gives up and moves to Canada with the help of Charles, though even more of them are murdered in Wvyoming by the army. They will make it to Canada but as nothing but "Just a few families", Rains Fall will come back in the epilouge where you can meet him after he visited his son's grave.

And sadly all of it was for little, the reservation did not hold oil.

[schemmentisimpasours]

Getting Control Back- Chapter 2

Another great gif by @babytakeittothehead

Summary: Melissa finally opens up to you about her relationship with Barbara.

TW: Mentions of emotional abusive relationship in vague details

Last Chapter- Next Chapter

Masterlist

-

Melissa told you the code to her garage, allowing you to pull into a spot that would typically be reserved for her car. You opened the door for her and held out your hand patiently.

“You don’t have to walk me to the door hun,” She said her eyes still bloodshot from all the crying that had happened throughout the day.

“I know boo but I want to help,” You smirked as she rolled her eyes, “So I am guessing that boo is off the list?”

“Oh, you weren’t kidding about making the list,” She laughed unlocking all five of her front door locks.

“You should know by now I don’t joke about lists,” You responded, placing both of your teacher bags onto the counter and pulling out a notebook covered in numerous doodles

Across the top of the first clean page, you scrawled Melissa’s Favorite Nicknames. You looked up at the older woman who was grabbing out a wine bottle from the fridge. She sat it down and you immediately grabbed it sliding it out of sight.

“Hey! What is that for?” She asked, reaching for the bottle before you pulled it out of her grasp.

“A very drunk Melissa told me on New Years Eve at Janine’s party… and I quote,” You said flipping to a page inside the notebook ‘When that woman, Barbara, breaks my heart. Don’t let me drink. I will crawl into the bottle and die there.”

Melissa glared, having no memory of this. You pulled out your phone, pressing a couple of buttons until you pulled up a video of Melissa hanging off you at the party in question. You were lounging on the couch, and a very drunk redhead was leaning her head on your shoulder.

“Mel, what did you just tell me?” You asked just loud enough to be heard over the background music.

“When that woman, Barbara,” Melissa said, pointing off camera, “Breaks my heart. Don’t let me drink. I will crawl into the bottle and die there.”

“Why did you have to remember that shit,” the older woman groaned turning back to her fridge and grabbing a soda for both of you instead.

“I don’t remember a lot,” You admitted, “But I make a point to remember everything about you Missy.”

Melissa shook her head as she went to gather ingredients to hide the blush that came across her cheeks from your words “Absolutely not that one.”

You laughed writing it down just to cross it off the list. You quickly went through the ones you had already used on Melissa getting her opinion on them. Missy- NO. Boo- NO. Mel- Eh. Buttercup- Yes. Sweetheart- Yes.

As you finished the list for the moment, Melissa looked down at the notebook, “How you have that conversation written down?”

You blushed sliding the notebook to her, “When I first started in your classroom I was very overwhelmed because I wanted to make a good impression and not fuck up my baby eagles that I started to write down things to remember. Once I got the hang of the classroom it kind of spiraled to things that you just would tell me randomly. I hope that isn’t weird.”

Melissa flipped through the pages of your sloppy handwriting and little notes about her crowding every page. Most of them were about how she liked to teach. Tricks she had to loosen locks for storage closets. How she wanted the Peter Rabbit project done. But then it turned to more personal notes. Her favorite coffee. Her favorite pizza and bakery.

“How do I take my coffee?” She asked staring at you intently.

“A dash of vanilla creamer and a handful of sugar unless it is after a sports game then you drink it black because you were up so late the night before,” You replied automatically.

“Where was I born?”

“South Philly where your family had a large hand in the unions that spread across there and north Philly,” You said a blush starting to form across your face.

“When I start smokin?”

“Fourteen because it was the only way that you felt you could release all the anxiety you had, having to help raise all your siblings. It was your way to take control of one thing in your life,” You explained looking down at your lap now, “You stopped right before you married Joe because he didn’t like the smell. But whenever you smell cigarettes, you are reminded of your childhood. All the times your siblings looked up to you like a mom. You have always wanted to be a mom.”

“You know Barbara and I have been friends for about twenty years,” Melissa said running her fingers over your writing, “She couldn’t even tell you how I take my coffee let alone why I stopped smokin.”

“Mel,” You said as you heard her swallow back tears.

“You remember so many things about me not because you want something from me but just to know me,” Melissa continued, “I haven’t had someone to actually want to know the real me in so long that I don’t even know if I remember who I am.”

“Then let’s find out who you are together,” You said walking around the island to take Melissa into a hug.

She buried herself into you hugging you close to her. Moments passed in silence before she finally whispered, “I am gonna burn my sauce.”

You kissed the top of her head, “Go finish the sauce, I will get the table set.”

Once you were both settled down at the table you finally asked the redhead the question you had been dying to know all day even if it came out more of a statement than anything else.

“You slept with Barbara.”

Melissa nodded her head twirling her pasta with her fork, “I slept with Barbara. After years of falling for a woman who I knew couldn’t give me all of her I gave in. Told myself that even a small piece of her was better than nothin ya know.”

You listened along all to aware of the fact that you were also scrounging for whatever pieces you could get. Melissa wiped a tear from her face as she continued.

“I became her call girl. She wanted sex, and I was supposed to give it to her. Regardless of the time or if I had something I needed to do. I wasn’t allowed to use pet names with her. Wasn’t allowed to tell her I love you after the first time it slipped out. Finally I realized I was being used. After Joe I promised I would never bow to anyone ever again. With Barb I didn’t bow she snapped me until I stayed.”

“She told me to cancel again today and I said I wouldn’t,” Melissa shrugged, “I missed ya. Sure we spend time in class together but this… this is our time to relax. Watch shitty movies. Eat some good food and talk about our hall pass celebrities.”

“Sherri Shepard,” You supplied for Melissa as she said yours, “Mariska Hargitay”

Laughter spilled from the red head’s lips before more tears accompanied her story, “She said she could find any slut off the street to give her what I was.”

At this you jumped from your chair with a loud, “What the fuck?”

You had made it all the way to the front door reaching for Edith when Melissa’s hand clamped around yours. She gave you a small smile, “While I appreciate you defending my honor I don’t even think I have ever seen you hold a bat before.”

“I played softball in college,” You stated simply but pulled your hand away, “Sorry about that though. Was probably not the most appropriate reaction.”

“The reaction I should have had,” Melissa admitted, “Come on let’s go read that book. It has been the only thing to help keep my mind distracted.”

You relented, allowing Melissa to pull you to the couch. She read till the sun had fully disappeared from the windows and the little light from the kitchen was no longer enough to see by. You had laid on the opposite side of the couch curled into a pillow drifting off to sleep when the older woman gently shook you.

“Hun, it’s time to get to bed. I’ll get you some clothes and you can sleep in the guest room,” She said helping you sit up.

You rubbed your eyes but followed her up the stairs sitting on the bed till she returned with a large t-shirt and shorts. She left you alone to change and promised she would be back to say goodnight. You nodded tiredly ripping your clothes off and throwing them into a pile on the floor. The smell of Melissa consumed you as you put on the shirt. It did nothing to push aside your anger for Barbara who clearly had stripped away the badass woman that you had gained feelings for over the school year.

You attempted to push away these feelings to be there for your friend but you were finding it extremely hard when you were wrapped in her intoxicating smell. It became even hard when she came in with a large green t-shirt over baggy boxers. Makeup removed from her face you could see how much the day had drained from her. You wanted to wrap her in your arms and never let her ago. Protect her from the world outside for as long as you could.

“You gonna be okay darlin?” She asked and you swore your heart stopped for a moment.

“Yeah, thank you for letting me stay the night,” You smiled opening your arms for a hug.

She hugged you back tightly kissing the top of your head, “Thank you for being here with me today. I really needed the help.”

“Anytime Sunshine,” You said as she went to leave.

Melissa laughed louder than she had all day making you smile, “That one is a no. We both know I am far from sunshine.”

You made the mental note even though you knew that Melissa had the capability to be sunshine. She was sunshine to her students when they came in every day. She was your sunlight every time she looked at you. Even on her darkest days she shone through, you just wished she could see that.

Shortly after Melissa had turned off the light, you were fast asleep enjoying the comfort that you found in the older woman’s smell. You had only been nestled among the pillows for about an hour before a hand was lightly shaking you.

“Angel what is it?” You asked groggily looking up at the redhead towering over you.

Melissa her face growing two shades redder asked barely above a whisper, “Can I come sleep with you? I can’t… I don’t… I need help.”

You threw back the covers patting the empty spot next to you, “Get it here.”

Melissa crawled in immediately feeling calmer as her senses mingled with the smell of your lavender shampoo. She froze momentarily as you wrapped your arm around her hips pulling her into you. She couldn’t remember the last time that someone had wanted to cuddle her. Not just to run their hands up her body to use her for their pleasure. But just to hold so that she could be in their presence. Melissa relaxed into you as you nestled into her back letting out a yawn.

“Goodnight Angel,” You said sleep already threatening to overtake you.

“Say it again,” Melissa whispered placing a gentle hand over yours.

“Goodnight Angel, I will see you in the morning,” You repeated and within moments you were asleep.

Melissa laid awake in your arms, still decompressing from the whirlwind of the day. She was still heartbroken that Barbara, a woman she had loved, had treated her so poorly. But she also had you. There holding her hand every step of the way with no expectations. No demands. Just there to help her when she needed it. Trying not to overthink it, Melissa curled further into you and let herself be held.

“Angel might be my favorite,” She whispered into the air and then fell asleep

-

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