#and now she's not the underdog i thought she was and i can say that her music sucks ass

[fazmid]

still losing my mind about my brother immediately clocking the opening act of the concert we went to as a tiktok artist. makes me feel less chronically online that my observation was "wow this music sounds like a parody of 2007 emo/pop-punk who is the audience for this" and not "this is clearly doing numbers in some alt tiktok subculture"

[pitchsidestories]

Girlfriend Material II Jen Beattie x Reader

masterlist I word count: 3223

summary: in which Jen Beattie falls in love with a sports journalist who is also a single mother.

A/N: based off this request here. We hope you enjoy this one and we agree with you that Jen Beattie is really underrated. As always this is just fiction.

audio transcript of the interview with Jen Beattie for the bookproject

Jen: sips on her coffee So, how did you..?

Reader: laughs amused do I have to remind you Jen Beattie that I'm the person here asking the questions and it's about the Scottish Women’s national team?

Jen: I thought we weren’t starting yet!

Reader: You said you got your coffee in front of you and that we can start recording that conversation.

Jen: I didn’t know you meant immediately.

Reader: So now you know.

Jen: okay, sorry. I’ll let you talk now.

Reader: Thank you can see jen lifting her finger Yes?

Jen: No, sorry. I forgot I’m not allowed to ask questions.

Reader: Maybe you can ask a few so it feels more like a natural conversation? Maybe that works better for you too.

Jen: Okay, fine with me. How did you get the idea to write this?

Reader: Easy your team’s story is very intriguing and inspiring. I really wanted to cover more than a story, and, in a book, you get the chance to tell multiple of stories.

Jen: I like that. But I always think, we’re just Scotland, you know? There are more interesting teams to write about.

Reader: Yes, I get that but it might sound like a stupid reason, but I grew up in Edinburgh, so Scotland is very dear to my heart, also everyone loves the underdog.

Jen: I like that.

Reader: So, what I’m trying to say with this is you can trust me.

Jen: I do. Why would I not trust you with this topic?

Reader: Good point

Jen: See.

Reader: going back to our topic, when and how did you feel when you were getting your first call up for Scotland?

Jen: chuckles Oh that was a long time ago but as a football player you always dream of that call so as you can imagine I was very excited.

Reader: Do you remember that exact moment?

Jen: Yes, I do. I still played for Glasgow, and I almost missed the call because I started at the phone for too long.

Reader: You did?

Jen: Yes, I’m not sure what would have happened if I missed it.

Reader: I guess they would have tried it again.

Jen: Who knows, right?

Reader: I think it was meant to be.

Jen: It probably was. I’m glad I took the call though. It changed a lot for me.

Reader: This must have been a big step forward in your career.

Jen: It is. I don’t know if Arsenal would have wanted me if it hadn’t been for that call.

Reader: but Arsenal did want you. Lily entering the room Oh sorry this is my daughter Lily.

Jen: She’s adorable. Hi Lily.

Lily: Hello, are you mum’s new friend?

Reader: Actually, I’m interviewing Jen for my book.

Jen: But it’s almost something like that.

Reader: True. Can you give me five more minutes, Lil? And when we’ll go to the park to play football like I promised you earlier.

Lily: Okay.

Reader: Thanks love. Sorry, so where were we Jen?

Jen: Uhm.. oh, Arsenal.

Reader: Yes, right, you got the chance to play there.

Jen: I did. Together with my Scotland teammate.

Reader: So, you must have been very young when you made your move to London?

Jen: I was 18.

Reader: Right.

Jen: Kim was 18 too when she moved to London the year before, so I was glad to have her there too.

Reader: That’s really sweet.

Jen: We both were the youngest and now we’re the grandmas.

Reader: protests You’re not grandmas !

Jen: No but we like to joke about it.

Reader: I can see that.

Jen: With all the youngsters here.

Lily: wears a Scotland jersey Mum, I’m ready !

Reader: Shit, the five minutes are over.

Jen: You probably shouldn’t let her wait.

Reader: Sorry, that’s so unprofessional.

Jen: No worries. I understand that.

Reader: Thank you.

Jen: Have fun.

Lily: Do you want to play with us?

Jen: I would love to, but I have training. Another time, I promise.

Lily: Oh okay.

Jen: Lily?

Lily: Yes?

Jen: I mean it.

Lily: I trust you.

Jen: I’ll see you soon.

Reader: Goodbye, Jen. Thank you for taking your time.

Jen: Thank you for inviting me. And don’t forget to call me, so Lily and I can play some football.

Reader: I’ll call you. Promise.

Lily: whispers Mum, she likes you.

Reader: I think she likes you more.

Lily: But she likes you too!

Reader: Do you think so?

Lily: Yes!

Reader: When it must be true.

Lily: Its true.

The London Derby was about to start. The crowd at the Emirates was roaring with excitement. Amazed, you took in the atmosphere from the side of the pitch alongside some of the other jounalists.

Across the grass, you caught Jen’s gaze who was standing next to the tunnel in a big puffer jacket. She subtly waved at you which you answered with a small smile.

Kim Little appeared next to Jen, telling her something with a stern face. You knew the game was about to start so you turned back to your work.

“Has anyone seen Lily? Jen, you were supposed to look after the daughter of your girlfriend. “, Kim scolded Jen on the other side of the pitch. Reluctantly, Jen turned away from you and towards her teammate; “You said you would babysit.“ “After the match! I’m in the starting line up, remember?“, Kim replied, more amused than annoyed.

Laughing, Jen rolled her eyes; “Ugh, show-off.“ Her smaller team mate gave her playfully offended look; “Hey, you’re still talking to your captain here.“ “Yeh, sure. I’ll go find Lily.“, Jen answered with a grin and brushed past Kim into the dressing rooms. “Good!“, the Arsenal captain called after her.

Jen opened the door of the dressing room where the Arsenal players were just getting ready for the important game against Chelsea; “Lil?“ “Here!“, the voice of a child piped up. The little girl waved with one hand from her place between Alessia Russo and Kyra Cooney-Cross. In the other hand, she held a crumbly granola bar. Jen walked towards her, a big grin on her face; “What are you doing here? Having a snack?“

“Yes, Lessie gave me something. And Wally promised to do my hair.“, Lily nodded with pure joy. Jen ruffled her hair; “Lucky girl.“ “Comes from the one who only ever wears a bun on match days.“, Lia laughed while she pushed past Jen and took Kyras place.

Carefully, she started brushing Lilys hair. “It’s the least complicated and most effective hairstyle.“, the Scot defended herself with a shrug. Kim rolled her eyes; “And it makes you even taller than you are.“

With raised eyebrows, Jen made a point to look down at her captain; “How can you even tell that from down there?“ “Rude.“, she replied before turning towards the toddler whose hair was now in a high ponytail, “Lil?“ “Yes?“ “Tell her to stop making fun of small girls.“

Lily nodded determinedly, causing Lia to start over with braiding her little ponytail; “I’ll.“ “We’re done.“, Lia smiled a minute later, satisfied with her finished work. Lily happily jumped up on the bench, standing on her toes to eye her new hairstyle in a mirror. Laughing, Jen picked her up; “Good. Because these girls have to go out and play and important game now.“

“Good luck!”, Lily hummed. Gratefully Lia patted the shoulder of the little girl:” Thank you, Lily.” “Can you give me a hug as an extra motivation?”, Alessia asked her with a big smirk on her face. Enthusiastically Lily nodded, opening her arms up to hug the tall forward:  “Of course.” That sight alone melted Jen’s heart in the blink of an eye.

In her bossy tone which was such a contrast to her relatively smallness Kim clapped motivated into her hands:” Alright girls, time to get out there.” While the playing footballers went on to the field Jen and the toddler took their seats on the bench.

Big eyed Lily pulled on the defender’s jacket: ”Jen?” “Yes?”, attentively the Scottish player put her little hand into hers. Deeply amazed Lily whispered: “This is huge.”  “I know, right?”, Jen solemnly agreed. Not long into the game Beth Mead scored the first goal which made Lily jump from her seat shouting happily:” Yes, Meado!”

“Good job, Beth! She’ll be so happy about that girl.”, the defender commented with a satisfied smile. A bit less enthusiastic the girl added:” Mum told me she had a bad injury.”  “Yes, she didn’t play football for almost one year.”, the Scottish Woman replied seriously.

Quite taken by that she mumbled: “ That’s forever.” “And her girlfriend Viv had the same injury.”, Jen explained the past situation to her.  Moved by those words Lily observed: “That’s not fair.” “No but it happens in football.”, the defender reminded her.

The mood was lightened when the little girl was catching where the older woman’s eyes were wandering:” Jen, you keep staring at mum!” Caught of guard the Arsenal player’s cheek turned red:” I’m not I was just looking if she’s looking.” “Sure.”, Lily giggled.

After the match she ran to Alessia, telling her visibly very animated:” Lessi, your goals were soo cool!” “Thank you, Lily! You were our lucky charm today.”, the forward declared beaming.

After the live recording ended you greeted Jen with a huge grin, while she was wrapping her strong arms around you::” Hi love, did Lil behave?” “You know her of course she did. She’s too focused on the game in front of her.”, the Scottish woman answered cheerfully.

Glad about that news you changed the topic easily: “Good. Remind me, where are you taking me out tonight, again?” “You’ll see when we’re there.”, Jen smiled mysteriously. Excited about what the evening would contain you said: “I’ll be right back I’ll be just saying goodbye to Lily and tell her that it might get a bit later tonight, so she doesn’t need to try to stay awake until we’re back.” “Alright.”, with that word the Arsenal player let go of you for now.

A few minutes prior Kim wanted to know from the toddler:” Have you decided whose jersey you want, Lily?” “Can I have yours?”, she asked innocently. The captain was surprised by that wish:” Mine?” “Yes, please.”, Lily nodded quickly.

Flustered the older woman gave the little girl her jersey:” Oh, sure. Here you go.” “Thank you.”, the toddler gratefully pressed the shirt onto her.  Trying not to show how touched she was Kim waved it off:” You’re welcome.”

Lily was already wearing the oversized jersey when you entered the dressing room. Your daughter happily ran into your arms. You wrapped her into a tight hug while you told her; “Hi Lily, I just wanted to say goodbye for now and that Jen and I’ll be back tonight. But I’m sure you’ll have a lot of fun with Kimmy.“

You shared a quick smile with Arsenals team captain. “Okay, have fun, Mum.“, Lily replied, obviously already distracted by what was happening around her in the dressing room. You pressed a quick kiss to her forehead before saying goodbye; “Love you, Lily.“ You could feel your daughters eyes on you while you caught up Jen outside.

Kim realized that Lily was confused by the situation so she kneeled down in front of the toddler; “Tell me, Lily, what do you want to eat now?“ “Can we eat pizza?“, the little girl asked with big eyes.

While Kim nodded, Leah Williamson joined the conversation; “Can we join the pizza party?“ “Please?“, Laura Wienroither added, her facial expression almost identical to Lilys. Kim nodded with a sigh before turning back the toddler; “Sure. How about we make our own pizzas, Lily?“ “Yes!“ “Alright, let’s go.“, the captain decided and got up to grab her bag. She took Lilys hand in hers while Leah and Laura followed them.

At Kims home, they immediately got to work, making small individual pizzas. “I’m jealous. Yours and Kims pizza looks so good.“, Leah complained, eyeing the ham and mozzarella pizza that Kim just took out of the oven. “It’s because Lily and I are a good team.“, she replied, holding up her hand for Lily to high-five. “True.“, the little girl agreed.

Laura laughed; “Not bad, Little team.“ “Thanks.“, Kim said, only partly annoyed by the pun. Excitedly, Leah took her pizza out of the oven next; “Time to eat our pizzas.“ But there was a loud bang that told everyone in the room that Leahs pizza did not even make it to the table. “Oh no.“ “Leah!“, Lily yelled, amused by the mess the tomato sauce and hot cheese made on the tile floor. “Yeah, I know, very funny.“, the defender sighed.

Kim immediately turned back to the kitchen table; “It’s okay, we can make a new one.“ “Lee, you can have a bit of mine.“, Lily offered, gently pushing a piece of pizza towards the defender. Gratefully, Leah picked it up and took a bite; “Thank you, Lily, you’re very sweet.“ “You don’t need to tell her that, she knows.“, Kim grinned while making more pizza. “Still. She shared her pizza with me!“

Finally, the captain admitted; “Yes, okay, it’s cute.“ “See, that’s adorable.“, Leah said. Laura disrupted their conversation, pointing towards the toddler; “Oh my god, girls. She fell asleep with her head next to her plate.“

A soft smile appeared on Kims lips as she watched the child sleep, a piece of pizza still in her tiny hand; “I think it was a long day for her. Winning against Chelsea is exhausting.“ “Very true.“, Leah agreed with a laugh. Carefully, Kim picked the girl up; “I’ll bring her to bed.“ “Good night, Lil.“, Laura whispered. Lily blinked tiredly and yawned against Kims shoulder; “Nighty.“

Meanwhile, you looked at your surroundings being in awe of the restaurant your girlfriend chose:” Jen, this is so fancy here.” “I told you; I’d take you somewhere nice.”, the Arsenal player replied with a warm smile.  Proudly she kept holding your hand until you reached your table and took a seat each. “Yes, you weren’t lying about you.”, you had to admit delighted.

In an honest tone she stated: “As much as I love Lily, you also deserve to be treated to something nice.” “She loves you too, in her kindergarten she refers to you as her mum.”, you confessed, cheeks flushing. Surprised but flattered Jen asked:” She does?” “Yes.”, you nodded cautiously, unsure if this information was too much for your girlfriend.  

The defender let out a shaky breath: “Wow.” “Sorry, if that was too much.”, you stammered an apology. Immediately she reassured you:” No, I like that.” “Anything you would recommend from the menu?”, you tried to lighten up the mood, but the football player was taking your hand meaning you to pause for a second.

Softly the Scottish woman said:” Love..”  “Yes?”, you looked up to her, your free hand was nervously putting a loose string of your hair behind your ear. A deep sigh escaped Jen’s lips, before she confessed: “I want to be honest with you. I never wanted to be a mum; it just wasn’t one of my life goals like it is for other women. But I’d love nothing more than being Lily’s mum.”  

“You’re already a great one.”, you confirmed visibly moved by her words. Equally touched Jen answered: “Thanks. That means a lot.” Because words couldn’t encompass how much her confession meant to you, you kissed her, hoping the kiss could encompass everything you felt in that moment. “I love you.”, the Arsenal player whispered. “I love you too.”  Her voice was filled with gratitude:” I’m so glad you were writing that book.” “It’s coming out soon.”, you announced happily.

Hopefully Jen wanted to know: “Can I read it first?” “Of course, I’ll leave you a copy on your nightstand.”, you promised her excited. A bright grin was on your girlfriend’s face: “Thank you. I can’t wait to read it.”  “I hope you and the team will like it.”, you bit your lip.  “I’m sure we will.” From that on you two had a very pleasant date night.

After the dinner you gratefully greeted Kim in her home:” Hi Kim, thanks for watching after Lily.”  “You’re welcome. She was really tired and already fell asleep at dinner.”, the Arsenal Captain told you. Understandingly you nodded:” To be fair it was a long, exciting day for her.” “That’s true. I hope you had a good date night.”, Kim smiled at you both. Beaming Jen replied:“ We did.” “That’s good.”, the midfielder seemed pleased by the happy faces in front of her.

“Mums?“, Lilys voice interrupted your small talk. The little girl stumbled into your direction, her eyes were barely open. “Yes?“, Jen answered. “You’re back.“, your daughter yawned. You crouched down, your arms outstretched and Lily let herself against your chest. “We are.“, you confirmed as you carefully picked her up. Jen reached over, ruffling the little girls hair; “Yes, and we’re going home now.“ “Okay.“, Lily mumbled, almost asleep again. Jen chuckled quietly; “She is so cute.“

You said your goodbyes to Kim and made your way back home. You placed the sleeping Lily in her bed, carefully tucking her in and placing a gentle kiss on her forehead; “Good night, Lil.“ “I think she had fun today.“, Jen commented from where she leaned on the door frame. You grinned; “Yes, they had pizzas together.“

“Oh, Kim just texted.“, Jen said in surprise. You watched her read something on her phone; “What did she write?“ “That she hopes we got Lily home without waking her up.“, your girlfriend summarized the message quickly. You shrugged; “Kind of. She’s asleep now.“

With a smile on your lips, you took Jens phone out of her hand to snap a photo of your daughter, fast asleep with her favourite plushie in her arm. Grinning, Jen followed up her message to Kim with the photo while you both left Lilys room. “She and the girls seem to like being aunties.“, Jen thought out loud. You nodded happily; “They do. Even though Kim always pretends to be annoyed when you ask her to babysit.“ “Yes, but she secretly loves it.“, Jen replied with a laugh. “Oh yes.“, you agreed while you both slipped into your bed.

Only as your head hit your pillow, you realized how tired you were. Yawning, Jen slipped an arm around your waist and gently kissed your neck once. Just before you two were about to fall asleep, Jens phone screen lit up again.

As she held up the phone and blinked against the brightness of the screen, you caught a glimpse of the message. It was from Kim, reading; “Haven’t seen you that happy in a long time. You deserve this, Jen.“ You could feel a smile spread on your face, similar to the one on your girlfriends and you couldn’t deny that you felt a little bit honoured by that message.

Jen put her phone back on the nightstand and pulled you closer to her. You both didn’t need any words to express how right it felt to be there in each others arms.

[sports-on-sundays]

Can request one where y/n is the sister of a f1 driver ( u can choose) and they find out she is dating either Fermin,pedri,or gavi because she appears at one of the games?!

found us out / Fermín López

Summary: Fermín x Sainz!girlfriend!singer!reader - Things don't blow over well with Carlo Sainz when you're caught dating a Barcelona player.

Warnings: censored cussing, a little bit of Spanish, reader being a singer isn't really important at all- i just made it a fact in order for things to tie in together and made more sense, mention of nausea, this ended up being pretty long

Requested?: Yes.

Author's Note: Boy, what a crossover! As I was reading this request I literally started giggling in excitement to write this because I knew how fun this would be. I think it's clear that this has to be the sister of Carlos, though. Always good when there's a little bit of drama.

You exhale, fiddling with your fingers under the table as you listen to your father and your brother discuss plans.

You wish that exhaling would release not only the carbon dioxide from your body, but also all the unnecessary stress building up in your chest.

The plans they're discussing are for a small party. Of course, it's a little party that you're expected to go to. It is an entire family event. Or so you've heard...

On the surface, having a family gathering surrounded around Real Madrid playing a literal fourth-tier team (Arandina) in the Copa del Rey sounds really lame. And secretly, you do think it's really lame. But the point is looking forward to watching them slaughter the underdogs. Which is fair enough.

Suddenly you interrupt: "Isn't El Derbi next week? Wouldn't that be better for a family get together?" You're sure they've already thought of that, but if there's any possible way you could get out of this, you'd love to find it.

"Haven't you been listening?" your father questions. "Carlos has plans already. He needs to leave Monday morning, and won't be back until Friday. That won't work."

You clench your jaw. No, you weren't listening, because you were stressing out about your plans for that weekend.

You figure if you're going to tell your brother and father, right now is just as good a time as any other time. You sigh and say, "Well, I'm busy on Sunday, actually..."

Both pairs of brown eyes snap to you, and Carlos says, "What do you have going on? And the Madrid game is on Saturday, anyway- shouldn't it be fine?"

Really, why shouldn't it be fine? What lie will you come up with? Because you can't really say what you're busy with on that day. You manage out, "Some friends... we planned weeks ago to go out that day. Have some fun, you know... Sorry. I guess... Would it be fine if... Surely I wouldn't be missed...? The, uh, thing he have planned is... for Sunday night...."

Carlos sighs, leaning back. "Come on, Y/n. You can't cancel? Family over friends, right?"

But you shake your head as you finish your meal. You stand up with your plate, knowing that if you stay any longer, you'll be guilt tripped into doing what they want you to do, despite what you want to do. So you say, "What's done is done. You can still have the party without me." And you walk out of the room.

Hours later, you're laying in bed. You should be sleeping, but instead you're staring up at the ceiling and thinking.

'Family over friends, right?'- Carlos' words from earlier play through your head in the exact tone he had said it. Yeah, family over friends, Carlos. You've been seeing him and the rest of your family on and off frequently for the past month. But the one you really want to see? You haven't seen him in over a month, and you miss him, dearly. You just want to be able to see him. To surprise him.

And you know he misses you, too, by the constant text messages he sends you.

And, with perfect timing, your phone buzzes on your bedside stand next to you. You pick it up right away and smile to yourself when you see it's him. Telling you he can't sleep. Asking if you want to face time.

You don't even respond, and just call him first.

A smile immediately sneaks up on you when you see your boyfriend. His golden brown hair is all messed up, as he's leaning on a soft pillow, and he has a blanket pulled up all the way to his chin. His brown eyes look even deeper in the dim lighting, but they light up when they view you across the phone. "¡Hola, mi corazón!"

Immediately you feel butterflies fly up in your stomach at his little pet name. "Hey, Fermín," you say, much more casually. "How are you doing?"

He shrugs, and his eyes flutter down a little. "I can't sleep... I wanted to hear your pretty voice. And see your pretty face."

You smile softly, but ask in concern, "Why can't you sleep?"

But a cute little grin appears in his face, and he laughs a little. "Because I'm thinking about you."

"Oh!" you chuckle. "I see..."

You continue chatting together softly for who knows how long. But this is what you do. One of you calls and you can't help but just chat for minutes or hours or however long.

You just love the sounds of each other's voices and the sparkle in each other's eyes.

Saturday evening, just as family member are starting to arrive at the house, you walk to the door, pulling your hair into a ponytail, about to walk out. Your brother stops you, saying, "So you are really going?"

You turn, meeting his eyes as you grab your black long coat. "Yeah, I am. I'm sorry, Carlos..." you add when you see the disappointment in his big brown eyes.

He shrugs, and says what he always does: "Alright. Well, just be careful. And have fun. When will you be back?"

You hesitate. This is the very question you didn't want him to ask. "Uh... Probably Monday morning... I'll text you, though."

His eyebrows knit together even further. "Monday morning? I thought you were just having a night with your friends."

"One of them suggested we could stay at her house and spend the following day doing something else," you lie, nearly effortlessly now."

"Why not just come home?"

You sigh at the question. The truth is, you booked a hotel so you could catch Fermín as soon as possible in the morning and spend more time with him, since you'll have to get to Madrid right away again afterwards. You just want to get going. But you know Carlos only asks questions because he cares. Being nine years older than you, he's always been very protective of you. Too protective. But you know it's just because he cares.

He just cares too much, and it makes you angry. It's hard to keep secrets from his honest eyes.

"Because I was invited to hang out more and I haven't seen this friend in a while!" This one is only half a lie.

"Oh..." he slowly nods. "Well... where does this friend live, then? Far enough for you to just stay there, or... I mean, you haven't seen this friend in a while, so I'm assuming they don't live in Madrid?"

"Nothing- er, yeah, we, uh... she lives in, uh, Sigüenza! Yeah, Sigüenza! And, well, you know, she just moved there and there's uh, you know, it's Sigüenza! The cool stuff there, in... Sigüenza..." You've lost it. You're literally pulling sh*t out of thin air now.

And Carlos can tell. "You're lying. Where are you really going?"

"No, no! I am going there! My friend just moved there! There's castles and sh*t she thinks is cool and she wants to show me! And like go around like I think there's a restaurant she likes and... yeah! And then we'd probably just maybe go to a club for an hour or two or something tonight and then go back and hang out at her house!"

Carlos looks thoroughly unsure. "Is it good for you to go to a club...? Be careful..."

"Oh, come on!" You're speaking too quickly. "There'll be a few of us, and we're not stupid! You know that, Carlos! Don't worry about it, we'll be fine! I'm an adult, for God's sake!"

"Well..." he murmurs, "I hope you're not lying to me. I hope you wouldn't do that."

You swallow, but nod, and feel terrible as you say, "Of course I wouldn't. Why would I lie about something like this?"

"I can think of lots of reasons, but I won't get into it." Carlos says with that look of concern still in his eyes. "Well, be careful. I can see you're impatient to go, so I'll let you. Have fun. Te amo, Y/n."

"M-hm!" you say, and rush out the door. You didn't want to be leaving this late, but you figure you'll just have to hope you get there at a reasonable time.

Fermín nods as João (Félix) discussing the upcoming game with him, watching the Portguese man's eyes as he speaks his thoughts. So he catches it when João raises his eyes, looking over Fermín's shoulder.

You grin, bringing your finger to your lips as you walk down the hall towards the two, behind Fermín's back, making eye contact with João. João subtly nods, makes eye contact with Fermín and says, "Nothing. I was just seeing things."

You thoroughly appreciate João's playing along. And his good acting.

"Seeing things?" your sweet boyfriend asks his teammate. You reach Fermín just as he's turning around to look anyway. He he lets out a confused, "Uh- oh!?" noise when you pull him into a hug, before (pretty much) yelling, "Wait, Y/n?!"

You giggle, and nod your thanks to João, who's smiling and practically chuckling himself. He nods and gives a small wave, before turning to saunter away, a smile on his lips. "So, how's my Fermín?" you ask softly.

Your boyfriend hugs you so tight, it slightly hurts, but you don't complain. You're probably hugging him tighter. He's giggling, and starts showering your cheeks with kisses, before exclaiming softly, "Very good, now that you're here! But why are you here, huh? ¡Mi corazón!" He's so adorable about your little surprise arrival. "Why didn't you tell me you were coming?"

"So it could be a surprise! And so I could see you acting all cute and surprised like this!" You grin up at him, your hand on his chest.

"Stop that!" he laughs, touching his nose to yours, holding you close. But then he gets a little more serious. "How long of a drive was it? I'm assuming you were in Madrid?"

"Madrid to Barbastro? It wasn't so bad. I would drive any difference to get to you, though..."

This makes him chuckle and give you those soft little lovey-dovey eyes that you love to see. He strokes your hair as you rub his back a little, before murmuring, "You were staying with your brother? What did you tell him?"

You smile at this question. Fermín- he always thinks deeply about a situation- especially if it's involving you. He always worries and makes sure everything went well with you. He really cares. "Just told him I'm staying with a friend," you chuckle and add, "In Sigüenza!"

"Sigüenza? Have you ever even been there?" He smiles, clearly amused.

"Uh, maybe, like, once. Not sure if he completely believed me, but I got out of there. So that I could come here and see you! Figured a game like this would be better for me to come to. You know, maybe since it'll be such a small stadium, it'll be actually easier for me to just get in and hide in the crowd."

Fermín nods, gently stroking your cheek, looking into your eyes and says, "If you think so." He's just so focused on taking in your presence.

He leans in and kisses your cheek again, when (of course) Ferran Torres turns the corner, slaps Fermín on his back, and says in a teasing voice with a chuckle, "Got to get going, Fermín. Glad you're having a good time with your girlfriend, but-"

"Oh, Ferran!" you snap, pulling away from your boyfriend to glare at the older man. "Would you shut up?! We haven't seen each other in forever. But I guess you wouldn't get how it feels, since clearly you could never pull-"

"Hey, hey!" Fermín laughs, putting a hand on your shoulder. But he's grinning. He loves your spunk. "Leave the poor guy alone. He's right, corazón. I do have to get going now."

Ferran just waves as he walks off, giggling mischievously. You roll your eyes and turn back to Fermín. "So annoying." But you're grinning. You hug him a last time, peck his lips, and murmur, "I'll go to my seat now. I'm excited to watch you do great out there, mi chico guapo."

He grins and says as he starts to turn to walk the way Ferran walked a minute earlier, "You just watch. I'm going to go out there and score a goal. For you. Okay?"

You grin back and nod as you pull on your mask, hat, and sunglasses- hopefully enough to hide your face from cameras. "I'll be watching for it."

He nods, that lovely adorable little smile on his face, waves to you, blows a kiss, and walks away from you.

Adrenaline fills every cell of your body as the ball hits the back of the net. A goal. But not just any goal.

Your Fermín's goal!

Your muscles send you to your feet, and you cheer, clapping your hands together, watching your boyfriend. You're sitting in a seat very close to the pitch, and you know that if he wanted to, Fermín could come over and hug you right now. But he knows he can't. He understands and respects that you can't be being pointed out. It has to stay a secret.

So, instead, he eyes you, with all the joy in the world.

You grin back, nodding at him. You can't help but giggle.

After the game, you return to Fermín's arms immediately, as if there's a magnetic force between you and him. "Hola, mi prícipe azul," you mutter softly with a little chuckle, before squealing and saying, "You did so good! What a goal! You're amazing!"

"Stop..." he murmurs back, but is clearly loving your praise.

You smile and lean up, about to kiss him, when suddenly your phone starts buzzing and ringing in your back pocket. You hesitate, eyes locked with your boyfriend's, before sighing and leaning away. You slip your phone out of your pocket. "Oh..." you stare at the screen. "It's Carlos."

Fermín nods understandingly and leans away. "I'll keep quiet. I know you have to answer it."

You nod, sending him a grateful smile, before leaning against the wall and answering the phone with a bubbly, "¡Eh, Carlos! ¿Cómo te va?" You hope you don't sound so cheery that is sounds like you're faking it. Well, it's not like you're not happy. You are!

Carlos completely ignores your question, cutting right to the chase. "Where are you?"

"Uh...? I'm at my friend's house. In Sigüenza. Why?"

"Really?" Carlos asks slowly. "How far of a drive is it from Barbastro to Sigüenza? Because I doubt it's under fifteen minutes."

You feel your heart drop to your stomach, and you lean more heavily on the wall behind you as your knees start to shake. Fermín sees this and takes a step toward you. He opens his mouth to say something, but you prevent that with simply a shake of your head. You swallow and put on a confused voice as you respond to your brother, "Sorry...?"

"You heard me. Y/n, what the hell? Why the hell did you lie to me? Why the hell are you in Barbastro? Why the hell are you at a Barcelona game, instead of on the sofa next to me right now?"

"Listen-" you cough, nervousness pounding in your head. Your eyes sprout tears, but you wipe them. Fermín- bless his heart- puts a hand on your shoulder, and gives you the eyes that seem to say, Just say the word, and I'll stand up for you.

You give your boyfriend another quick nod before responding into the phone, lies coming to your brain naturally, on the spot, "Listen, Carlos. I'm sorry for not telling you. My friend in Sigüenza I guess is a fan, and she thought it'd be so fun for us to all go to the game together. So, you know, there wasn't much I could argue with when someone buys you a ticket to a football game. You... You know? I'm sorry for lying. I really am. I just didn't tell you because I knew you'd be upset. You know, about me going to FC Barcelona's game instead of staying home with my family and watching Real Madrid's the night before. I really am sorry, Carlos. I hope you'll... forgive me. But... How did you even know I was at the game... Carlos?" You swallow, waiting for the answer. Fermín takes your hand and give it a gentle squeeze.

"The television showed you. Over and over. The commentators were pretty fascinated to see Y/n Sainz at a Barcelona game. Especially the one in Barbastro."

"Oh, f*ck that!" you snap. "My f*cking disguise didn't even work! Why don't they get their stupid cameras out of my life for once! Ugh!" you say angrily. Fermín gently rubs your shoulder, which is at least some ounce of comfort. "So, what? How did you see it, anyway? Have you just been caught red-handed watching a Barcelona game, too?"

"No. I was flipping channels, and there you were. But there's still something that's not making sense." Your eyebrows scrunch together as your grip on Fermín's hand tightens. Was there a hole in your lies that you missed...? Then Carlos asks, "Where were your friends?"

The lump in your throat grows larger. "What do you mean?"

"You were sitting next to some fat old man with a jersey from twenty years ago and a bunch of snotty kids on the other side-" Carlos has never been one to go out of his way to compliment anything associating with football club Barcelona. "-so where were your friend sitting, then?"

It feels as if all the muscles in your body flex at this one. Your mind goes blank, desperately searching for yet another lie to save yourself from telling your older brother the truth. It's like you've dug yourself in a hole that you're desperately trying to climb out of. It feels like you've nearly reached the top-

but your hand just slipped, plummeting you straight back down to the bottom, where you started.

And you break.

Tears stream down your face, and Fermín immediately tries to grab the phone from you, but you pull it away, swallowing as you blubber into the phone, "I don't know, Carlos... Okay... I don't know..."

There's a second or two of silence on the other end, before Carlos says, now in a more tender, less interrogating voice, "Y/n, all I asked is where your friend are. Is everything okay? Are you alright? Y/n, you're worrying me..."

"Please, Carlos... I'm fine... Just... Please..."

"Can you please just tell me the truth?"

"No..." you sniff, leaning into Fermín more and more. "I can't, because you'll be mad at me... It will ruin our relationship..." You don't know if you're talking about your relationship with Carlos or your relationship with Fermín.

"This is ruining our relationship! You keeping stuff from me! Y/n, you're my little sister! I don't want anything bad to happen to you! Just tell me what's wrong, and I can help!"

"You're the one making it all wrong. If you'd just leave me alone-"

"No. Y/n, you need to be honest with me right now, okay?"

"No, I don't. I don't, and I f*cking won't." At this, you hang up and fall into Fermín's arms.

He holds you there, close to his chest, before whispering, "I'm sorry..."

You look up slowly, sniffing, and wipe your eyes. It doesn't do much, since your tears are still coming. "For what?" you whisper. "You've done nothing wrong... It's just... Everything is messed up. Nothing went how I wanted it to... Fermín, I'm scared."

His eyes are tender, and he strokes your cheek. "My Y/n... I hate to see you cry. There's nothing to be scared of." He puts his arm around your back and starts leading you down the hall. "If Carlos finds out, Carlos finds out. He loves you, and you know that. I know you've spent all your energy hiding this, but mistakes happen, okay? I'll be by your side, but what's done is done." You nod, wiping up your soaked face with your hands, and let him lead you, until you get to the street. He sighs and murmurs, "F*ck. Missed the bus back to the hotel..."

"Oh..." a wave of guilt washes over you. "Fermín, I'm sorry... Isn't your team worried about you?"

"No, no. Don't worry about it. Either they completely missed my absence, or they got the memo that my girlfriend has just arrived and I might have other plans. Let's hope it's the second one, because that would be just a tad bit too silly if they just flat out forgot about me." There's a teasing tone in his voice, in an attempt to lighten the mood. Make you feel better. "You drove here? Where is your car?"

"Oh... yeah, right..." you sigh. After all the rush and emotions, you completely forgot you had your car here. You glance to Fermín, and catch in his expectant eyes a glint of excitement, too. You smile softly, understanding completely what this is from. You roll your eyes. "And no, Fermín. I didn't pull up in a Ferrari. That would draw too much attention." You can't blame him for being excited. You have driven a Ferrari before, (and many other super sick vehicles) and you know Fermín would love to go for a spin in one (or another of the insane sports cars you've driven.)

Fermín thinks they're cool, and as the daughter of Carlos Sainz Sr. and the sister of Carlos Sainz Jr., you tend to be able to get your hands on some pretty luxurious cars, it just so happens. And it's not like your family (especially your brother) won't jump at the drop of a hat to lend you something like that. You're Carlos's baby sister, and he'd do anything to treat you. So when you take advantage of that, every so often Fermín gets to go for a ride.

And you suppose Carlos has no idea of that.

Yet.

And just like that, you feel nauseous again.

When you arrive at Fermín's hotel room, you immediately both put on pajamas and get into bed. All night, he holds you close, never letting go. You lean your head against his chest, basking in the comfort. He knows it's hard. He understands what you're going through.

"Te amo," he whispers, just as you're drifting off to sleep. You never get a chance to say it back, because you're asleep before you can.

"I'm coming back to Barcelona with you."

"Lo siento, ¿qué?" Fermín asks, his head whipping up from tying the drawstrings of his sweatpants as he exits the hotel bathroom. His light pink lips are slightly parted as he stares at you, eyebrows raised.

"You heard me. I'm coming back to Barcelona with you," you repeat, locking eyes with him.

Fermín crosses the room and slips onto the hotel bed next to you, gently placing his hand on your thigh. "Mi corazón..." he mutters. "Of course I would never complain- I would love it if you came back to Barcelona with me. But don't you think that's not the best idea? Don't you have things to deal with back home in Madrid?"

You hesitate and mutter. "Sure I do. But I'd rather come with you back to Barcelona."

He frowns, nodding. "When are you going to go back to Madrid? And what will you tell your brother?"

Suddenly you snap, slipping out of bed, "I don't care, Fermín! And I don't plan to tell my brother anything! I know he'll call, but he can't make me pick up. I'm sick of him pretending like he's in charge of my life!"

"Y/n, come on. We both know he just cares about you. You know how worried sick he'll be if you randomly cut off communications and don't even tell him what happened to you. You can't do that to him. I know if my sibling did that to me, I'd be worried sick, too, and you and Carlos are very close. And he's much older than you. You know how he thinks of you. You can't do that to your brother," he tries, looking for eye contact. But you continue looking down.

"Fermín, no." You speak quietly, but firmly. "I won't. I'm scared, and I don't want to deal with him right now. And I know you said you'd be by my side, but I know you can't be. You can't possibly come to Madrid with me, and then get back to Barcelona."

Fermín sighs, and takes your chin, forcing you to look him in his eyes. "I understand you want to avoid your brother, but you can't have him worrying like that. It's just not right. He's only so concerned and protective because he cares, Y/n."

Your jaw clenches. You try to look away, but he doesn't let you. You swallow, looking at him, and murmur, realizing there's not much you can do, "Alright. Can we compromise?"

Fermín looks a little surprised at your sudden giving in, but nods. "Maybe. What are you thinking?"

You sigh. "I come back to Barcelona with you, but I still text Carlos. But I tell him I won't call, and if he wants to talk to me, he has to come to Barcelona himself and do it."

Fermín's immediate reaction is to protest with, "You expect him to drive from Madrid to Barcelona? You know how long of a trip that is!"

"Well, too bad, Fermín!" you snap. "It's what I'm willing to do! If he cares enough, he'll drive up. And trust me- he does."

Your boyfriend frowns, considering this, and finally nods. "Okay, then... I guess it's fair enough." And that's that.

You sit between Fermín's legs on the couch, watching the television as you munch on buttered popcorn and Fermín plays with/braids your hair. It's been three weeks since when Barcelona faced off with Barbastro, and since then all you've communicated with your brother is that if he wants to discuss anything with you, he's got to come to Barcelona and do it himself.

Do you miss your older brother? Yes. Yes, you one hundred percent do. Are you scared of your brother's attitude and reaction? Yes. Yes, you one hundred percent are.

As Fermín leans close, now stroking your arm with one hand, your phone buzzes in your lap. You give the bowl of popcorn to your boyfriend and pick up your phone.

You stare in shock at what you read on your phone. Fermín leans over and reads the text from Carlos along with you:

Carlos: I just arrived in Barcelona. I'm hoping we can meet somewhere in the morning, if you're not busy? I've been worrying lots

Fermín's hand gently moves to your waist, and after a few seconds, he whispers, "What will you do, my Y/n?"

"I don't know..." you sigh in hesitation.

"Can I make a suggestion?"

You look up at him from behind, meeting his eyes. You can't help but giggle at each other. He sighs, before turning serious again and saying, "Just send him my address and tell him to be around at 9:00 A.M."

"Fermín!" you snap, as though he's a complete lunatic. "You think we can just do it, just like that?!"

"Sure," he nods, cool headed. "I'm not scared of him, just because he drives cars fast and he's got big muscles. I run fast and... have slightly less big muscles than him." He grins, and you can't help but smile, too, at this. Fermín has a way of making serious things light-hearted. "Anyway, if you do it this way, I'll be there with you. Maybe it'd be easier to show him rather than tell. And I'll do the talking that you're still nervous to do. I will." He looks at you with sincere eyes.

You stare ahead, considering this for a while as Fermín slowly and absentmindedly rubs your thigh. Finally you sigh and mutter, "I guess that's the best thing... It's a shame it has come to this."

Fermín laughs softly, shaking his head, but you don't mind it. "You knew that at some point it would come to this. Y/n, you know this will be fine. It will be. I promise. Your brother loves you too much to do any of the stupid things you're scared of happening."

You frown, but then turn around hug him tightly. "Okay... Fermín." You look him in the eyes. "Okay. I know. It's still nerve-racking, though."

"I know, I know," he responds.

You sigh, take out your phone, and, despite yourself, text him.

Fermín gives your upper thigh a little pat.

You look up and study his handsome, lovely face for a few seconds, before kissing him all over. He lets you, chuckling a little. He always seems to laugh when you show him lots of affection, and you love it.

And before long, the two of you are fast asleep there.

When the doorbell rings at 9:01 A.M., your heart drops to your stomach. You knew it would happen. You prepared yourself. But you still can't help but shiver with nervous.

Fermín is trying making breakfast, and you're sitting at the island in the kitchen. He looks up from the food and is about to speak, but you say before he can, in a hurried tone, "I'll get it. You just stay here and keep making breakfast."

He hesitates for a moment, but then nods. "Alright... Call if you need me. And he's welcome to come in, too."

You nod and then head to the door. You exhale slowly, before opening the door.

Immediately, you're wrapped in a huge bear hug from your strong older brother, and he snaps, "What the hell? Why have you been avoiding me like this?! Are you embarrassed? It's fine! I've thought about it, and if you're dating a Barcelona fan that's fine... As long as he's a good guy, it shouldn't matter that much, right?"

You blink in surprise, leaning back, away from him, and meet his eyes, which are very similar to your own in shape and color. He's not stupid. Clearly he's tried to figure it out. But the concept of me dating an actual player for the club is so ridiculous, he just expects it's some random culer dude? Just this concept makes your heart (which was already in your stomach) seem to fall down to your knees. You swallow and awkwardly smile. If you could speak, you would, but no words whatsoever come to mind, and your mouth feels much too dry to form any words.

"So... I'm assuming this is his flat? Is he here? Can I meet him? What's his name?"

You allow yourself to breathe a little, and swallow. "Yes, this is his flat... And he's here... In the kitchen... You- You can meet him..." You open the door wide for him, and have to try a few times, before your voice finally allows you to call, "Fer- Fermín!"

"Fer...mín? That's his name?" your older brother asks. You nod slowly meeting his eyes again. You can't imagine that Carlos would know who Fermín is... right? It's not like a gives really any of his attention to any football club other than Real Madrid... Perhaps just the name sounds familiar? Well, it's not like Fermín has a super uncommon name or anything...

Your head is starting to hurt from all this overthinking. You swallow. "Yeah, yeah... That's his name."

You watch with dread (which you never though you'd feel at the sight of him) as your boyfriend enters the room. He has a smile on his face, but he's eyebrows are knitted together.

For a moment, the two stand there.

It's strange, for you. Here are (probably) the two people you care about most. The two people you spend the most time with, the two's whose opinions you value the most. Here they are, together. Two who you care about so much, but have always been separate. And you've always kept it that way.

It feels off, to have the two in the same room, right here, in front of you.

Their heights don't differ much, but Fermín's younger, gentler features contrast with Carlos. Fermín has lighter, nicer kept hair, while your brother of course has the same shock of dark hair you have, and right now, it's grown out a bit, curling at his ears.

You stare at the two.

You swallow as something like very vague recognition is reflected on Carlos's face. He says slowly, holding his hand out to shake Fermín's, "Hola... Have we met before...?"

You can't help but shake your head a little. Carlos, not recognizing a first team Barcelona player when he's right in front of him.

Or, pretty much first team, anyway.

A (cute) little nervous crooked smile appears on your boyfriend's face. He sends you a brief little glance with only those chocolate brown eyes, before looking back to Carlos. He shakes his hand as he swallows and says, "Well, you know, I... uh, I actually play for FC Barcelona."

Carlos opens his mouth, shuts it, and opens it again. "Okay..." he says slowly. "That... It makes sense, now... that Y/n was at the game in Barbastro..." he seems to be talking more to himself. He glances to you, and his eyes linger, before shifting back to Fermín and saying, "Fermín... Fermín Gómez...?"

That crooked little smile appears on Fermín's face again. "López."

You watch as your older brother nods, and then looks to you slowly. "Y/n, can I...?" he trails off, glancing to Fermín.

Fermín seems to get the hint that you didn't even pick up and nods, saying, "I'll go finish making breakfast. Carlos and Y/n, you're welcome to just stay here in the living room." He gives a cute little awkward smile, and walks out of the room.

Now you don't want him to go.

But your brother gently takes your wrist and tows you to the couch, forcing your eyes to wander from the doorway that Fermín just left through. You look to Carlos and swallow. Those eyes. So incredibly earnest. "You're not... mad?" you murmur softly.

"Mad? I'm disappointed you hid it from me, and didn't trust me. A part of me doesn't feel right about you dating a Barcelona player, but it's not like the club someone is playing for decides how good of a boyfriend he is, or if he's meant to be with my sister or not. I'm shocked- I was expecting it's a Barcelona fan, not a player. But whatever..." He trails off, swallows, and finishes, "No. No, I'm not mad."

"Oh... Oh, okay... I'm... I'm sorry."

He nods, not looking at you. "I forgive you. I'm sorry, too. There had to have been a reason why you didn't trust me. So I'm sorry."

You say, "I forgive you," though you're not even one hundred percent sure what you're forgiving him for.

If you thought introducing just your older brother to Fermín was just terrible, introducing him to your whole family is like actual hell.

Fermín keeps his arms tightly around your shoulders as you sit on your couch. You feel stiff and rigid as Fermín manages the awkward questions and empty small talk. Your family is always so open, but with Carlos insisting everyone meet Fermín here, it's unnatural.

Why don't they accept him? They accept other people's friends, girlfriends, etc., much easier. Fermín is acting so sweet and polite.. like he always does... What don't they like about him?

Unlike Carlos, do they really care that much about stupid football club rivalries? Gosh, there are plenty of fans of different clubs who get on just fine.

How is Fermín being a player any different?

He's a culer, just like any fan, right? I mean, I don't know what I am. Am I a culer?

Who cares? I'm Fermín López's girlfriend and Carlos Sainz Sr.'s daughter. Think that's enough for one person!

Suddenly you're pulled out of your racing mind when Fermín's hand settles on your waist and he says, "...right, Y/n?"

"Uh, huh?" you ask, looking at Fermín just as he pecks your lips with a little laugh. You blush and murmur, "Gosh, Fermín, not here."

But he pulls you tighter to his side and says with a soft, slightly defiant little smirk, "I'm so happy that you all have accepted me as Y/n's boyfriend, Sainz family." The faces of your family members span from confused to uncomfortable to (only a few of them) genuinely accepting. But Fermín adds with a chuckle, kissing your cheek, "Although, of course, your opinions, or anyone's, about our relationship doesn't matter to me." He meets your eyes with those deep brown ones.

You swallow and nod, getting up the courage in that moment to respond with, "Yeah, Fermín... You know, I think I agree with you..."

[sevenop]

Billie Eilish x Fem!reader: Can you open up the door?

A/n: she takes you to her home, lovingly sheltering you from the heavy downpour so rare in LA. Takes you, and it seems, your love and all the inner contradictions along with fears caused by the public.

Inspired by the atmosphere of "CHIHIRO".

You know perfectly well that arguing with Eilish's decisions is a losing proposition, not in all cases, but in the vast majority of them. Your clothes are soaked to the skin, and the wind, though not quite cold but assertive, hints that all this will leave a mark on your immunity in the near future. Only as long as you can hear her voice on the other line, you don't care at all, frankly. You clench your chilled fingers a little tighter and hold the phone closer to your ear, because the rain noise makes it hard to hear her.

"You don't even know where I am right now."

"I know and I'm on my way to Amir's Garden to pick you up," she says uncompromisingly, and you realize Billie is really serious when you hear the click of a seatbelt and the noise of an engine in the background. Fucking hell! A puzzle quickly forms in your head: surely Finneas must have told her everything, knowing your plans. You think, you're need to talk a little less about yourself.

"Wow, what a commanding tone, Ms. O'Connell," - your pathetic attempt at defensive irony is immediately shot down by her chuckle, but you don't want to end this game. - "Do you like to lead?"

"Do you still doubt it?" - the slight hoarseness in her voice awakens a short-term flash of current in the back of your head, dispersing a pack of goosebumps on your hands and speeding up your heartbeat. You almost exhale deeply into the tube, but you pulls yourself back in time - it's too ambiguous a gesture, she shouldn't know. Not now. There is a slight mutual silence on the wire and you are content with the barely perceptible rustle of wheels, bringing thoughts and feelings into relative order.

"Just don't go anywhere, okay?"

"I was waiting in the garden, contemplating, beg your pardon," - you smirk softly, humming the now so appropriate line.

"It's not fair to mock me with my own songs, girl."

"Leave me at least something, Eilish," - you smile, imagining her childishly sly expression frozen in imaginary offense.

You drop the call and lean your back against the trunk of a tree with a spreading crown. Well, all that's left is to wait.

×××

"Damn, you're all wet!"

"Can we be a little less blatant, Billie?" - you plop down into the passenger seat next to her, slipping your seatbelt on in one motion until it clicks into place. It's impossible to wipe the smirk off your face after this joke. Naturally, you lost in your verbal altercation and Eilish arrived as she wanted, but no one forbade you to get even at the expense of lewd jokes, right?

"Shut up, you know what I meant," - Billie snorts amusedly, blue eyes sweeping over you from head to toe. - "I just want to help you, my underdog and... I missed you."

You meet her eyes and sparks shoot up in the back of your head again, like multi-colored fireworks, and the cog of anxiety that has been a regular in your head lately starts to slowly spin, revealing before your eyes the endless lines of negative comments you've read today. What bad timing.

"Is something wrong?" - and you're not even surprised. Billie reads people like an open book, her incredible talent that you sometimes get a little jealous of.

"A little later, Bils, I promise," - the gray highlights merge with the infinite blue of her irises - understanding mixed with worry. You gently touch her hand resting calmly on the gearbox and deftly interlock your fingers, creating an overall perfect puzzle. The feel of her skin makes you feel so warm inside. - "I missed you too, love."

Eilish blurs into a smile, clinging to the last word, which is new to both of you, and your heart does a somersault. You've only been dating for a week and you need to get used to this. Going from being friends to lovers is a strange but pleasant thing.

"Shall we go?"

"You don't deserve her!", "Another affair, pfft...", "Disgusting!" - The cog speeds up, causing your single nervous exhalation to shatter the silence of the cabin as if you had shotgunned the roof above you two.

Her lips touch your knuckles on the palm still closed with her, saving you from the captivity of the stinging words of Internet strangers. The sound of rain rhythmically drumming on the body of the Dodge suddenly fills your ears. She seems to know everything.

"Please, can I stay with you?" you look at Eilish as if she were a prayer altar: blue eyes reflecting your deep hope mixed with fatigue and helplessness. Warm smile of her beautiful lips is your impulse to confessional.

"I wasn't going to let you go, silly."

×××

You reach her house in silence: no unnecessary questions and jokes, just the sound of a non-stop downpour. Billie is completely focused on the road, and with your finger you are already drawing the eighth heart on the fogged window, like amulets from voracious thoughts. Dodge smoothly pulls into the parking lot, and you don't really remember how you find yourself in her bedroom, sitting lost on a huge bed.

"Hey, my girl," - the back of her palm touches your cheek incredibly softly, causing you to immediately stare at her. Eilish is kneeling in front of you, in her arms a warm red sweater with two white stripes in it, and her eyes are pure silver steel. It's not clear if she's mirroring the frowning sky looming outside the huge panoramic bedroom window, or if anxiety is stirring so strongly within her, crowding out all the peaceful blue of her irises. - "Put it on, I don't want you to get sick."

"It's from the CHIHIRO shoot, right?" - you take off your wet T-shirt and folding it accurately, as if won't throw it in the wash. Billie pulls the sweater over you, nodding affirmatively. The gray steel of her eyes doesn't open from you for a second. - "I've never seen 'Spirited Away'. It's silly, but as a kid I was always scared about those pigs and turned off the TV right away, and over time I just plain forgot I wanted to watch it to the end."

"Do you want to watch it together?" - her hands touch your waist, gently stroking your sides as if supporting you through the touch. If you were in a different frame of mind, you'd let go of a million jokes. The domineering Eilish kneeling in front of you is quite a display.

"I don't think the person who wrote an entire song about this anime would be interested," her palms calculatingly slowly slide off your waist to obligingly offer you warm house shorts. - "You've probably reviewed it back to back."

"With a girl like that, looking so mind-blowing in my sweater, I'm ready to look at least a thousand more times," - she moves a little closer to your face, lifting herself slightly on the arms on either side of your hips. Her lips, where you instantly shifted your gaze to, now have the hottest smirk you've ever seen in your entire life. You feel the flame of embarrassment flicker across your cheeks. Billie bites her lower lip and you immediately look at the top of her head, out of harm's way. For the first time, you notice that she's a little wet herself, running out of the car with you.

"Only if you wear a sweater too so you don't get sick, O'Connell." - you kiss her gently on the forehead, because kissing on the lips is still embarrassing. She agrees.

×××

"Haku, you know, my mom told me... I don't remember much myself. When I was little, I fell into a river once. Now the river's been filled in. They built houses there. But I just remembered! I remembered what it was called." - You watch the little girl fly on the dragon under the moon itself, holding onto its horns, and suddenly you feel Еilish's hands pull you closer into her arms. You only rest your head on her shoulder, relaxing completely and covering your eyes for a second against the coziness around you. - "It was called - Amber River. Kohakugawa. Your real name is Kohakugawa."

"I know everything, y/n. I know they write everything," Billie whispers softly, scorching your ear with hot breathing. You immediately jump up, open your eyes abruptly, and stare at her with an understanding and frightened look, echoing exactly the emotion of Kohakugawa himself. - "Hey, hey, hey! Relax, baby, I'm right here."

Billie deftly grabs the remote and pauses the footage with a barely audible click of a button, and your anxiety cog is spinning in your head again, winding up your sanity at an insanely fast pace. Again a shroud of avatars with mostly pictures of her, again a cluster of venomous the letters, "You don't deserve her!", "She's probably with her out of pity.", "Billie has everything but taste in girls." Click, click, click! You put your hands on your head like you're covering your ears. O'Connell reaches her hands toward you, and you leap out of bed in one strong and sharp, the word of a bucket of boiling water being splashed on you. It becomes so damn hard to breathe. The steel in her eyes, even in the semi-darkness of the room is intense and red-hot to the extreme.

"Y/n..."

"They're all right, Billie! I don't deserve you! I'm such a fucking coward!"

You grab desperately at the collar of your sweater, the word that imaginary lump in your throat is about to cause asphyxiation if you don't. Your hands shake uncontrollably, your gaze darting from side to side, clinging to the huge plasma, to the chair, to the corners of the sheets hanging from the bed, but returning to her each time. You see her slowly rise from the bed. You see it, and you immediately run to the stairs without even thinking about it. The cog clicks wildly, drowning out even the sound of footsteps that immediately overtake you. Your hands cling to the railing as you twisted your ankle on a hurried descent. Close your teeth tightly against the waves of acute pain and run, run, run!

But you realize you can't, leaning back powerlessly against the wall, already near the door. You can't because it hurts too much to run, and you can't because you love her too much. Billie pushes you against the wall even tighter in a second, looming over you like a hurricane. Arms spread on either side of you. You're trapped. Her breath hitches a little, scorching your neck, but her face shows nothing like anger, only seriousness and concern. She stares at you so intently that you think the wall behind you is about to crack and fall to dust.

Confident, yet lost in words, she finds nothing better than her own lines

"Open up the door, can you open up the door?" - she touches both palms to your face and you feel for the first time how much they shaking, - "I know you said before you can't cope with any more..."

"That's my favorite line from your song," - you flap your nose, realizing you really can't take it anymore.

"I know."

And you cry, shamelessly and right in front of her. You feel the salty, clear paths from your eyes dripping down her arms, see the worried silver in her eyes change to their usual tantalizing ghostly blue. You feel her clutch you in hers tightly, sliding down the wall with you. You hiss at the pain in your ankle and she shudders fearfully, fingers touching your chin and lifting your head. Your gazes meet and you see the weeping oceans opposite, so bright against the pinkish whites. She is crying along with you.

"Did you fall? God, y/n, we have to...," - her pleasant husky voice twitches with worry and tears, and you cover her neat, plump lips with yours, silencing her. She responds immediately, biting your lower lip lightly in a silent plea for more. You obediently open your mouth, immediately meeting her tongue. You feel the salt from your tears and the heat in your heart. True, and much lower, too.

"I'm scared, Billie," - you say honestly, palms resting on her collarbones. The cog in your head immediately fall with a clatter, crack in two. - "I said I wouldn't be afraid of some strangers' opinions, but it turned out not to be like that at all. I seem to be hated now, even for just breathing."

"I understand, my heart," - Billie put her arm around you, her hands stroking your back. From your shoulder blades to your tailbone, over and over again. - "But I chose you, not any of them, remember. You are my conscious choice. You are my love."

You hear her reply, finally finding the reassurance you need. "You are my conscious choice." The storm of words subsides as you standing this phrase on a shelf in your head like a trophy. The wreckage of the cogwheel of worry dissolves altogether, disappearing into infinity.

Eilish catches your smile and kisses you immediately. Your hands cling at her neck, and she moans gutturally as she gets what she wants. But she pulls away immediately:

"We need to take care of your ankle first, dumbass. I'll dial the number of a docotra I know."

"And then?" - you ask so childishly naive as Billie helps you gently stand up and you walk leisurely toward the couch in her living room.

"And then we'll watch this anime and I'll take back every kiss you owe me when I've been gentlemanly patient." - She sits you down on the soft couch, plopping down next to you. With her hand, she immediately pulls out her cell phone from the pocket of her home shorts. - " To make sure you heard exactly what I said."

"Thank you. For everything."

And later you do make out to one of Hayao Miyazaki's great masterpieces, just as she promised.

[david-talks-sw]

I got a good feeling about "The Acolyte"

Not even kidding. Like, I've spoken before about why I'm wary of it.

George Lucas' Star Wars is something that intentionally has black and white morality, rather than shades of gray. Those movies are meant for kids and projecting a "gray" morality onto them then proclaiming it was George's vision all along is doing so in bad faith.

The narrative of the Prequels doesn't frame the Prequel Jedi in as negative a light as Leslye Headland, Dave Filoni, etc etc do.

See here for more details, but bottom line: yeah, a show that has a darksider as the underdog is bound to demonize the Jedi (who are the actual underdogs in the Prequels), and obviously that rubs me the wrong way.

BUT.

The trailer looks fucking cool. It really really does.

And more importantly? I've done some research... and Leslye Headland is ticking a lot of good boxes, in my book.

1. The Acolyte won't be a 10-hour movie.

I've criticized Disney Plus shows before, explaining that a big source for most of their issues is that these series are being structured as "long movies" rather than, y'know, actual shows.

But in this interview with Collider, Headland addresses that: it'll be a series. Not a long movie that you need to watch across four weeks.

Thank God. You have no idea how much that comforts me. Finally a showrunner who's, y'know, actually running a show.

And this goes hand in hand with what she told IGN, here, about how she's going about building suspense.

Yes! Exactly! That's how it's supposed to be!

Like, compare this to Baylan Skoll's storyline in Ahsoka.

In no possible way was that emotionally-fulfilling. For 8 episodes we had no idea what he was after, and the season ended where we still don't know. What does he want? What is he after? Your guess is as good as mine, it's something Mortis-related.

So yeah. Maybe getting the Emmy-nominated trained screenwriter on board to run this was a good idea.

2. Maybe the Jedi will not be as demonized as I originally thought.

Don't get me wrong. 80% of what she says about the Jedi makes me cringe. It's the typical fan's interpretation and y'all know I disagree with that interpretation.

It's painful to see her refer to the Jedi as an institution (not how the Prequels' narrative frames them) and to see her frame "Balance" in the "oh there's so many of them and just two Sith, that means the Force is out of balance" meaning... but at least she acknowledges the Jedi are a benevolent institution.

They're not an "elitist force hiding in their ivory tower" as others have described the Jedi.

Moreover, there'll be a variety of Jedi POVs, many personalities.

Yord Fandar, is described as a strictly by-the-book Jedi Knight and guardian from the Jedi Temple, is an overachiever and a rule follower.

The question now becomes: will the narrative frame him as "your typical Jedi" or is it just this one guy? I'm hoping it's the latter.

I also like how her reasoning goes re: Jedi drawing their lightsabers.

Which explains the hand-to-hand combat seen in the trailer.

This teenager is coming at Carrie-Ann Moss with a dagger, of course the Jedi won't draw her saber.

3. She's a fan of Star Wars... but a screenwriter first.

You can tell in the interviews she's a fan. She's using words like "BBY" and "EU" casually. In the above-linked interviews she's bringing up the Nightsisters, Timothy Zahn, The Clone Wars, she mentions she has a tattoo of Ralph McQuarrie's concept art of Leia, the High Republic books, etc.

She's done her homework. She's a fan.

But the vibe I'm getting from these interviews is that she's weaving in these various lore-elements in a more organic way, rather than in the "fan-servicey" way Dave Filoni has been doing in his shows.

The references and Easter Eggs will be there, but the narrative won't bend over itself just so you can get it. Crafting a good story comes first, and Andor is a beautiful illustration of why this is true.

Which is why I was never bothered about one of the writers never having watched Star Wars before getting the job. You need those fresh eyes when you're tackling something of this scale.

That makes sense to me. Maybe it's because of my own screenwriting experience, but yeah. That out-of-the box perspective is precious.

And like, obviously, that writer watched the films eventually, but for some reason everyone who bitched about Headland omitted that detail and opted for a more bad faith interpretation.

Hm. Wonder why.

Maybe it's the same reason that months ago this clipped audio circulated socials without context, in which she debates whether Star Wars only came from George Lucas and only Lucas is the key.

The FULL context of that interview reveals that she's actually:

debating the "autheur director" myth and positing that it was achieved by a collective of excellent filmmakers and craftspeople that George was skilled and smart enough to recruit...

the studios now think it's a simple as hiring one guy and throwing money at him, because they have no idea what the fuck they're talking about. See Napoleon (2023) for example.

Yes, she also does a jab to the Prequels, which speaks to the generation of fans she's a part of... but overall she's giving Lucas props whilst also stating an ideological difference, that's it!

George is a proponent of the "autheur" theory, Leslye isn't.

However, guess what, in like half the talks George gave post-selling Star Wars? He's giving shoutouts to everyone who helped make the first film, even remembering their names.

So I'm not even sure he'd vehemently disagree with Leslye, in fact they'd prolly have a conversation about it and immediately bitch about how stupid studio executives are :D

But that's not as incendiary, is it? Again, the more I do the research, the more it feels like the reason most of these influencers are hating on her is purely sexist.

I mean, on IGN she's even acknowledging that she does plan on taking stock of fan reactions for Season 2.

It's not a guarantee that she'll incorporate the feedback, but at least that's more consideration than, say, JJ Abrams or Rian Johnson gave the fandom.

She's even bringing the moral ambiguity that the Gray Jedi-loving edge-lords love so much.

"No, she's a woke feminist! Anything she does is evil! Eww, girls!"

🙄

Needless to say... I'm gonna give it a shot.

I think it's gonna be a good show, I think it's gonna be a solid story.

I'm crossing my fingers that they won't as biased against the Jedi as it seems they'll be. Even if they are... if it's still an enjoyable experience, I'll gloss over it.

As @gffa states in this post:

Worst case? It's not a story from George. I can dismiss it from my headcanon without a moment's hesitation :D

[peaches-creek]

Jason was looking for something. Not just someone, Homer, author of The Odyssey. He had been on a mythology kick, and wanted to read something more sophisticated. For a 9 year old this kid knows how to read, it was the only thing he could do during the day, waiting for nighttime to act up. So he taught himself to read at a very young age, and kept at it. He’s at a high school reading level. He would immediately come to the library after school, and would stay until closing hour. He had seen a reference somewhere that said, “Of all creatures that breathe and move upon the earths, nothing is bred that is weaker than man.”

His thought’s were then interrupted.

“Excuse me, I just have to get something by your feet really quick.” It’s a girl, about his age, one who doesn’t wait for his answer, just crouches by his feet and rips out a book. Not just any book, Neil Gaiman’s Norse Mythology.

That has him in awe, what kid his age knows how to read anything like that?

“Hey, you know how to read that?” He asks. You scoff at the implication.

“If I didn’t I wouldn’t have grabbed it, now would I?” You sarcastically reply.

That was the start of a very important relationship to Jason. Every day after school you would meet there, and argue about various topics, whichever ones interested you for the week. You guys would stay til close, and he would walk you home. You became important to him very quickly, he liked your gentle hands and kind way about yourself. When talking about characters you would always stick up for the underdog, just like in real life.

He remembers walking home with you one day, through the park when you both stumble upon a scene. Three boys a few years older, and a younger boy. He saw you stop, tears filling your eyes. He turned, about to say something.

“You know he’s a person? What makes you do something like that?” She yelled, crying at the same time.

“Why the fuck are you crying?” One of the boys sneers. Jason’s fist clenches, wanting to bruise this fucking kid’s liver, but decides against it, he is terribly outnumbered.

You say nothing, but walk up to the boy and grab his hand, walking away with him. You hear protests and sneers behind you. You bring him to the swings, asking him where his parents are. He points to two people arguing in the distance. You and Jason say nothing. He looks at you, the tears have stopped but the sniffles haven’t.

“Well then, let’s just play until they are done talking.” You say.

The three of you did exactly that.

You had taught Jason something about humanity that day. He knew he loved you in that moment. For someone so little to know exactly how to show someone else that they are loved.

The walk home had felt bittersweet that day.

“Can you hold my hand?” You say suddenly.

“Why?” He asks.

“Because I’m sad, and I want to hold someone’s hand.” He always forgets that you are a year younger than him, you don’t act it.

“Okay.’ He says, grabbing your hand.

“Why did you do that today?” He asks you.

He didn’t understand kindness like that, no one had shown him kindness before you, but he didn’t understand how you did it so effortlessly. When he first met you, he thought you were acting, lying to him about who you were. But then he realized that you’re just a girl, a girl who loves people.

“Why did I do what?”

“You know.”

“Oh, well, he didn’t deserve that, I don’t have to know him to know that he didn’t deserve that.”

“I see.” Is all he says.

“Kinda like you,” you start, “I don’t know how your life is hard, or why, but you don’t deserve it. I know that.”

“My life isn’t hard.” Is his answer

“Alright, sorry.” You apologize.

“Don’t apologize.”

He didn’t like to think about his life. Drug addict mom, alcoholic father, bills not being payed, going to bed hungry. You were the one good thing to him. Always offering him your spare mittens, sharing your snacks, helping him with his math homework. He didn’t like his life, but he liked you, that was enough.

“Y’know tomorrow is a half day, my mom said she would give me some money to get sandwiches on the way to the library. Which shop should we go to?” You ask.

“Daveny’s, they give you a pickle with your sandwich.”

“I hate pickles, so you can have mine, deal?” You say.

“I’ll share my chips if we have enough to get them.”

“We will, I saved the five dollars my Papa gave me last week.”

“Gotta love him.”

You continue on your way home, only stopping when you reach your steps.

“See you tomorrow Jay.”

“Since when did you call me that?”

“Since now, I think I have earned nickname basis.”

“Sure,” He smiles, “see you tomorrow, don’t forget the five dollars.”

“I wont, I wont.”

You walk up your stairs and into your house. He waits until he sees the lights go on in your room, and begins his trek to go and mess something up, maybe steal some hubcaps.

[jofiel]

I originally started Flourished Peony because I kept seeing people say they couldn't quite understand the 2ML (and because I missed watching a show at the same time as other people) and while I'm still catching up I'd like to say that I find him to be an incredibly easy character to understand (as well as an incredibly easy character to hate).

“Enlightenment is ego's ultimate disappointment.” - Chögyam Trungpa

Liu Chang is a deeply egotistical man who needs a certain level of suffering to excuse his own mediocrity. However his self confidence is so fragile this suffering needs to be self inflicted. The moment it's pushed onto him by another party he becomes unstable. His graceful demeanor drops and he'll adopt any extreme method to show his anger - as long as it's within the lines of what's socially acceptable. He won't step outside of those lines because he's deeply concerned about his image. Although he justifies this chasm by telling himself, and everyone who'll listen, that he's really an outstanding scholar who sticks to his morals.

You can see this in the beginning when he first married He Wei Fang. In his mind he was better than her because of their class difference. Ironically he didn't feel the Princess was better than him because of their class difference. He's always the main character and always the victim, so back then him falling for a princess just made his story more tragic and intriguing. He's an underdog among beasts. He also thought He Wei Fang was using him (when he's the only one who should be able to use people) so he refused to sleep with her not only because it'd cause the people in the household to look down on her (and potentially lead to people gossiping about her if the servants told others about it) but because she wouldn't be able to get pregnant and be permanently tied to him. If they had a son together her position in the household would rise. She'd potentially be more important than him because she has a son and money.

Instead he chose to suffer by falling in love with a princess (when he was arrogant enough to believe that his work would quickly lead him to become renowned and worthy of her father's permission before her father would marry her off to someone else) and he chose to maintain this suffering by hanging her portrait up after she was married off and vowing to never fall in love again.

He slowly begins to change his mind on He Wei Fang when he sees her working hard in the garden. She didn't order the servants to do the work for her. She didn't complain. She did it herself and in his delusional mind he thinks that's what he's doing. Every time he rejects an offer to skip ahead of the line and become an official, he's imagining himself with a scythe in one hand and the fruits of his labor in another.

The real reason why he fell out of love with the princess is because he realized that marriage with her would still leave him powerless. Before, if he became a famous scholar and powerful official they'd be on equal ground. But marriage with her now would mean that he's forced to give in to her every desire. Why suffocate himself when he already has a wife at home who he now believes is similar to him? It'd also be a complete murder of his ego. If his initial plan were successful then that's something to brag about. But now he'd simply be known as the husband of a princess.

There's a scene where He Wei Fang is talking to one (or potentially both I can't quite remember) of his parents and she accuses them of manipulation. It's like a light bulb goes off in Liu Chang's brain because he himself said nearly the same exact thing to his parents. Now there's another prisoner in his cell and they're suffering nearly as much as he is. (Nearly because, of course, nobody can suffer as much as poor Liu Chang)

"Ego implies unawareness. Awareness and ego cannot coexist." - Eckhart Tolle

"Doesn't he get that she doesn't want him? Isn't it crazy for him to act like they can still be together? Why won't he let her go? Why doesn't he listen to what she's saying???"

Because! He's! Arrogant! His arrogance is overshadowed by his soft voice, timid personality and modest values. But above all else he's arrogant and while you can be confident and knowledgeable, arrogance and ignorance go hand in hand. He doesn't understand her desires because they're not his and they don't align with what's desirable in the society they live in. He thinks he's a great man. He belittled her for a year and attempted to assault her when she tried to leave because these are all things within the lines of what's socially and legally acceptable for men at the time. He promises her that nobody would bully her anymore and when she hurt her head he offered to help her - and to him this is what makes him a good man. He acts according to the norms but also shows a level of what he considers to be benevolence.

His problem is that he genuinely believes he's like He Wei Fang. An outsider glancing at the four main characters (He Wei Fang, Liu Chang, Jiang Chang Yang and Princess You Zhen) would pair him with her and the princess with the Floral Envoy. But he's a sandcastle and she's an entire empire. While her soft spoken demeanor might seem like it's compatible with his, her attitude is much more comparable with the Floral Envoy's. Because while the princess and the ex husband might act like they're willing to be seen as unconventional, He Wei Fang and Jiang Chang Yang are actually willing to do the work and be unconventional.

If Liu Chang were truly willing to go against the grain he'd listen to what He Wei Fang has to say. That's radical. Instead he brushes her off because she's a woman, and he's a great man, and what woman would prefer to be alone instead of with a great man? Even when he's told that her mother died because of his family it almost feels like it goes completely over his head because he proceeds to carry on with the same beat, tone and excuses.

He's partially obsessed with her because he hates the fact that this is another situation where he's not calling the shots but I think he's also dead set on having her because without her he'd truly be alone in his house again. If he's with the princess he's getting pushed around by everyone: the princess, his mom, his dad, her dad, state officials, businessmen she does dealings with, social rules, etc. If he has He Wei Fang then there's someone else who's suffering with him. This time around, if she gives him children, it's a good thing precisely because he believes it means he'll always have her. And yes I'm purposefully saying "has her, have her" and not "be with her".

This also plays into him repeatedly saying, "I won't let you be wronged." Because she exists as a reflection of him and if she's been wronged, he's been wronged. If he can prevent her from being wronged, he's preventing himself from being wronged or maybe even correcting the ways he's been wronged in the past. If he could do that then he still has power over his own life. But it's an unnatural and impossible task - just like the promise he made to the princess when they were both young. Just like the pledge he made to the princess's father.

You can really see the difference between Liu Chang and Jiang Chang Yang in their treatment of Yu Lu. Liu Chang doesn't even really acknowledge her death, he shrugs it off as "just" a maid dying, and he only moves to put his cape on He Wei Fang because there's a crowd and she's not really following etiquette (although he'd characterize the moment as him being a thoughtful gentlemen who's preventing her from getting sick). Chang Yang immediately softens after learning that the jade pendant belonged to Yu Lu and he refused to profit off of her. He goes along with He Wei Fang's revenge when he didn't have to. Surface level actions mean nothing to He Wei Fang. These moments of dependability mean everything. (See also: One begs to get her back while the other helps her leave)

It'll be interesting to see Liu Chang's development as a character - if he develops at all in the drama. With his personality he could easily devolve into someone much worse.

[thewertsearch]

Ask Comp 01/07

Anonymous asked:i think youre the first liveblogger ive seen to actually remember that orphaner dualscar was eridan’s flarping name?

Mindfang clearly describes the Serkets, so I wonder if Dualscar says anything about the Amporas?

Eridan's greatest enemy does have a duality theme, after all - and he was certainly scarred when the guy stole his crush >:)

@captorations asked:i have terrible news regarding homestuck and the good place: https://x.com/nbcthegoodplace/status/1039908767763259392?lang=en not to mention that. well. the two share more than you've encountered yet. it's very likely not a coincidence. have fun! oh and. re: my ongoing campaign of pointing out the homestuck ancestry of tlt characters. please compare aradia's "i am very much alive and i intend to stay that way" with dulcinea's "i'm not in the river and i won't ever be again"

...oh my god.

On reflection, this makes a lot of sense. Homestuck's fandom is pretty large, and some of its members were bound to be involved in the production of mainstream media. Still, it's wild to see a Homestuck reference - or, technically, a Sweet Bro and Hella Jeff reference - on the official Twitter for a show this big.

And Aradia does have a lot in common with Dulcinea, doesn't she? For one thing, they didn't really start influencing the plot until after they died.

Anonymous asked: Not really important anymore, but looking at what Gamzee has in his Strife Deck, it doesn’t look like he has any ranged options: he’s got the bowling pins, what appear to be a discarded sickle and lance from Karkat and Tavros respectively, what I’m PRETTY SURE is a whip of some sort, and the Zillyhoo hammer. The closest to a ranged weapon in that stack is the whip, or maybe the pins if he’s willing to throw them, but neither seem like they’d work very well against Vriska. Barring some secret power or other plot twist, I think Gamzee would genuinely be the underdog in that matchup. (Which feels weird, because Gamzee’s been mutating into a slasher villain while Vriska’s still very much an antihero protagonist. Usually the power balance is the other way around with those archetypes!)

On the face of it, Gamzee didn't seem to have great odds in that fight - but it's hard to know for sure with this pesky Bard. His Strife Deck contains plenty of cards we haven't seen, and whatever he did to the Black King is still shrouded in mystery. Everything's just so uncertain with him.

@mimescantscream asked: I've really been holding back all this time, but now that we've met the Grand-highblood, it really is extra painful to see a Gamzee who was once incredibly loving of his friends (despite their constant ridicule) end up falling down the path that fate seems to have pre-ordained for him. Was he truly always meant to repeat echoes of the past? Could things ever have gone differently for him?

Yeah, I've been having similar thoughts. His PoV seemed completely sincere, so I don't think his original personality was a fabrication, or anything. I think there is a part of Gamzee that cares about his friends - and maybe even he wants it back.

@jade-harley-real asked: […] I want a rant on the bad doctor from you pls pls pls

Scratch is straight up the scariest character in Homestuck.

What's he up to now? Hard to say since we're not telling him what to do. Guardians can never be told what to do.

The aura of menace he's cultivated is incredible, especially considering he barely even moves. He's playing the entire cast like a fiddle, armed with nothing but a typewriter and his own supercharged brain - and there's no doubt in my mind that his confidence isn't a mask. He knows he's going to win in the end.

English is coming. He's basically already here.

@elkian asked: I'll probably never be a Vriska FAN, but I gotta admit, she really never had a chance, what with the only adults in her life being: a trollvorous spider 1 missed meal away from eating her, Marquise "I do what I want" Mindfang, and Doc Scratch. Some role models! @manorinthewoods asked: So, now that Mindfang has been revealed, here's a question for you: how much of Vriska's Vriskyness is because she's Vriska, how much is because of Mindfang, how much is because of her lusus, and how much is because of Alternia in general? ~LOSS (20/6/24)

This is why I don't think she'd be like this on Earth. At this point, it's obvious that none of her Incidents were the result of her personality as it naturally arose.

I mean, look how anti-Aradiacide she was! They weren't even really friends!

Anonymous asked: ‘AA: there are all sorts of friends to meet AA: ones you already know and ones you dont’ I mean…couldn’t she just be referring to various doomed selves? I don’t see why the dream bubbles would just be confined to the alpha timeline seeing as the furthest ring is weird in terms of time and space

I was assuming that only Alpha Timeline deaths would be preserved by the Bubbles, but you're right - I'm not sure that was a reasonable assumption.

The Horrorterrors seem to eschew the concept of the Alpha Timeline. and, they've coordinated with both Doomed and Alpha versions of Rose and Dave. Plus, yeah, there is no time in the Ring, so timelines are probably meaningless there. Why would it only interface with the Alpha?

If the Bubbles do preserve doomed souls, then we might also run into the John who died to Typheus, and the Jade he couldn't save. That's a pair of ghosts I'd be very interested to meet.

Anonymous asked: If every Aradia comes back from every doomed timeline, the number would double each time, so you could get over a thousand of her with only ten doomed timelines.

Fair point- although, if an already doomed Aradia went back in time again, she'd be double doomed. Is that even possible? Would she die twice as quickly?

@mhafanlol2000 asked: Your issues with quirks and speech-to-text are pretty simple to explain. If a troll were to speak into a non-modified speech-to-text program, it would output text with their quirk. Because they, quite literally, speak in their quirk. Terezi probably isnt actually saying “YOU H4V3 LOST TH3 G4M3”, each number at a time, but the vibes are definitely there. I don’t know, this is hard to describe if you don’t inherently get it.

I think, jokes aside, it is indeed about the vibes.

In the troll intro pages, you get told a little about how each troll talks, and I think that's how we're supposed to translate their quirks to an audible medium.

Anonymous asked: i think ppl in the fandom have over time kinda built up a like, generally separate understanding of quadrants from how theyre described in the "official" explanation. which is like, not representative of how these terms are used in homestuck, but probably more useful for describing Good relationships that Do Not Suck. like basically making moirails equivalent to being queer platonic partners, making blackrom more about having a healthy fun rivalry, that kinda stuff.

It's funny, actually - I don't think I've encountered a single asker who accepts the quadrants as they're originally described.

The main issue is that, with the possible exception of matespritship, we haven't seen a single troll relationship with reflects the infodump's explanation of the quadrants. I think Hussie might just have jumped the gun a little when dropping it.

Anonymous asked: Shoutout to Karkat poking his friends in the background! Terezi (crying over Dave) and now Soloux (talking to Terezi). Karkat isn’t sure what the right response is but wants to be included! Reminds me of actual cats, just putting a paw on you for no discernible reason. @manorinthewoods asked: I'd like to note that Karkat poking Terezi's tears is the same sprite (and same 'poooke'!) as Karkat poking Sollux's burnt-out eyesockets. ~LOSS (12/6/24)

My man just likes poking.

@alicesoinions asked: not much to say just wanted to say I really enjoy your liveblog!!

Glad you're enjoying!

I've actually got a few new followers recently. Maybe I'm showing up in people's recommendations?

@heliotropopause asked: Dream bubbles are pretty neat, eh? Neat enough to inspire half of HtN, I'd bet.

…wait.

Oh my god, you're right. It's literally a River Bubble. They're both located in afterlives, for crying out loud!

Anonymous asked: Wanted to thank your liveblog for reminding me of a lot that I had flat out missed in canon, due to not putting it together or just reading too quickly. Most recently and notably on my mind right now, is that Feferi is the one who set up the dreambubbles!!! I had always thought that they were just a part of the world that readers didn’t know about yet, like how we weren’t yet introduced to Alternia and it’s moons until act 5. This went right over my head and it has me absolutely REELING (fishing pun included just for fef!!)

Feferi truly is the MVP.

I wonder what happened to dead Players before the Bubbles?

They're certainly not the only type of afterlife in the multiverse. Alternia has at least two types of undead, which implies that the Players are very, very lucky to have retained their personhood postmortem. Imagine this was what Feferi looked like in Jade's dream.

Anonymous asked: Knowing sollux, he probably already had coded his tech to recognize if his speech ever changed, and gave himself a different typing quirk for it, long ago. Not because he knew or thought it would happen, but because he thought it would be a fun coding project ((I know nothing about coding))

And yet, you somehow know exactly how we think.

Anonymous asked: Something I hadn’t really thought about, until I started reading this liveblog, is how much VRISKA ((autocorrect decided to caps that and I’m leaving it in lol)) was manipul8ted into a lot of her violence. Scratch pushed her towards vengeance against Aradia, and she didn’t want to go through with it. Did VRISKA ever tell anyone how much of her live she spent resisting these forces, or even really acknowledge it? She didn’t hide Spidermom, and arguably her need to kill other trolls was to prevent herself from being killed. BUT on the other hand, VRISKA voice would make it sound like a compliment “I almost didn’t kill you why don’t you appreciate me!!!!!!!!”

The thing is, VRISKA probably felt a lot of social pressure not to tell people she was coerced into her crimes. That would reveal that she was reluctant to kill, which is the opposite of what the Empire wants.

@manorinthewoods asked: You could have written a great Homestuck if you'd been Hussie. I think your style, if translated from reacting-to-comic to making-comic, would work great with what Homestuck is, and could have made a better product. I think you'd make a cerebral Homestuck, which would have been cool to read, except I would have botched reading it like I botched reading Homestuck in our Alpha Timeline. ~LOSS (11/6/24)

Thank you! I've tried to write before, actually, but whenever I reread my stories, they come off as esoteric, stilted and a little hard to follow. It's not an insurmountable problem, of course, and I really need to take a writing workshop at some point.

I'd love to make a webcomic, too, but my art also leaves a lot to be desired. I can adapt sprites just fine, but original drawings are hard, guys. Did anyone else know about this?

Anonymous asked: i counted just now, and only like 24 out of all 54 paradox space comics have zero spoilers. some of them are certainly more substantial than others (e.g. i counted ones that include jade’s consorts that you havent seen yet as spoilers) but a lot of them have Very Big Spoilers

It would have been awfully messy. I'm probably just going to read it once I've reached the Gigapause of 2013, and no longer need to worry about spoilers.

@bladekindeyewear asked: “Nepeta wasn't trying to pacify Equius, nor did she seem to be fulfilling any rigidly defined 'role' in his life. They just came off as very good friends, and their relationship was much better for it.” Well, maybe we ought to look at it through the lens of real relationships between friends? Once a healthy dynamic and boundaries are established, perhaps Moirails stabilize as long as they’re together.

That's a good way to interpret moirallegence - although, it does raise an issue with the quadrant that I'll be discussing on its own post, once I've finished the comp. There's no point in prehashing what I'm about to say, so I'll see you there!

Anonymous asked: karkats message didn't go through because of trollians narrative awareness feature, where it'll display something different in service of one of the several "all"-seeing entities, of which the reader is one <3 watsonian and doylist explanations are kissing with tongue

Since the fourth wall is an actual, physical piece of technology in this world, this isn't even that far-fetched!

@sashonya asked: So, as the session's timers continues to count down, what do you think will happen after The Scratch?

Beyond 'the session ends', it's difficult to say for sure. I think the two most likely possibilities are that the kids start exploring other sessions, or travel to a location completely outside the current scope of the comic. I am, of course, hoping for both.

@ericvilas asked: "I still believe that out of all the trolls, Karkat’s traits were featured the most prominently in humanity" yeah, I guess even humans aren't free from the effects of carcinization

CG: THERE IS ONLY ONE STEP. CG: AND IT IS ME.

[thestarminstrel]

don't very often come into the tag to post my thoughts unprompted, but finished challengers and. eugene.

what did pacat do to him.

i already wasn't expecting great things just based on the preview where eugene, my poor boy, just gave a weak thumbs-up at getting benched. but i had faith and hope as foolish as it was.

like, you're telling me that eugene labao who spent years working to get on the fencing team, every year told his mom "this will be the year", and gave a training camp his all just. gives a forced smile at being booted off the team for state?? what?? if pacat wanted to go with a eugene that cares more about the team than his personal resume, fine. okay. but eugene is allowed to be more upset. he should be. he was given everything he dreamed of by williams saying that they could have two reserves, and now it's gone. i don't care how much a team-player you are, that's devastating. especially as a high school junior (in america and australia i GUESS). if you want to go to college for fencing, i imagine the state competition is a great way to get scouted. also, you miss out on fencing with your teammates for the last or second-to-last time. getting benched as a freshman sucks but you got some more years in your high school career. but eugene's a junior, this is his first year on the team, so now he's fencing state maximum once. that's just a cruel stab in the back by williams, genuinely. he should have been given time to be upset onscreen whether it was privately or with friends.

which then, what the fuck williams. you literally said that you could have two reserves- that you FOUGHT for two reserves- and all the sudden eugene can't compete. i never did high school fencing and maybe things are different in australia, but that seems a little ridiculous to me. like wtf did the higher-ups tell her? "yeah you can have two reserves for one competition but that's it" ???????????????? did pacat have an experience like this or something bc i have no clue how that's a logical train of thought a high school sports organizer can have. i will admit that one could argue she's competitive and wants to win. like sure but then why have a second reserve. could she not decide and was always planning to cut nick or eugene depending on who did better at the camp? what kind of coach is that?? none of the other coaches did that - not even donati and she is neck to neck with williams in this rivalry. it doesn't matter how much she wants king's row to have this gold medal- if williams was intentionally doing any of this, uncaring of whether or not she hurts one of the fencing boys, she should not be a coach actually. period. again, i love early fence williams. but oh my god the way she handled this was so bad.

which then brings me to: what is the point of eugene.

i love eugene, he has been one of my favorite characters since 2020 when i first read volumes 1-3. he is one of the reasons why i get so excited about fence and makes me so happy as a character. but honestly? you could cut eugene out of fence and nothing would change. i know he's not haiden or nichoji, but he was put there for a reason that i think pacat forgot. he never has any signficant screentime unless it's to be comedic relief or be a supporting character to nick, the other "underdog" on the fencing team. i really do hate to say it, but reading challengers really made me wish pacat had written out eugene sooner or not written him at all. he's not treated well as a character, and at this point, i don't understand why eugene is even in this story.

another point i want to make is nick. what the hell is wrong with nick. you're telling me that the same nicholas "zero" cox who was about to give up his scholarship and chance to fence so that eugene, a guy he barely knew at the time, could finally be on the team is the same nicholas who only says "but coach--" when eugene gets kicked off the team? that is a terrible friend. i'm not saying nick should have said "i'm not going to state if eugene isn't!!" but he should have called williams out on it, found eugene later and say "dude i'm so sorry this sucks" -- literally ANYTHING!!! but no, nick bever acknowledges it outside of this panel and is too busy at state apparently to notice eugene being bummed about, you know, not fencing with him. it's so, insane to me that nick became this person that doesn't bother checking in on his bro. that tells me he's more concerned about fencing and seiji - which to each his own but i would drop anyone who did me like that. can't even manage a "how r u doing" text what the actual fuCk. i can not stress enough how much i do not like this nick right now.

in conclusion: i need eugene to have a good cry with his mom or his bros about this bullshit and to eat so much good arroz caldo. please save my son from the narrative, it keeps being mean to him :(((

[sturnstvs]

just a bet - chris sturniolo

summary: y/n finds out some unfortunate news at her prom

warnings: use of y/n, hateful words, suggestive in some parts, random name for y/n's sister, fluff? angstttt

y/n was a underdog to say the least. she wasn't as popular as her sister or as stunning as her best friend. she was just average. it all came to a shock to her when chris sturniolo of all people came up to her and asked her out. hesitantly she said yes. the two went on their date and y/n had way more fun than she expected. chris was one of the most popular boys in school so she was expecting him to act like a huge dick, however he wasn't. surprisingly he was actually really sweet and a gentleman unlike the people he hung around with.

chris had asked y/n to be his girlfriend not long after and y/n was more than thrilled. it was of course a shock to the school when chris and y/n came in those big glass doors of the school holding hands.

y/n let her guard down for chris. she let him take her most treasured piece of her body. he made her feel like she was worth something and not just the silly little girl her parents and sister thought that she was. chris made her feel like she was her own person and that she wasn't just haley's little sister.

her relationship with chris grew over the few months that they were together. they both had really fallen for each other. as chris got to know y/n better he realized she wasn't just some girl who wasn't as popular as him, she was a girl that he had really fallen for all over again. and that was the problem.

y/n heard all the rumors. she heard everyone saying that there was no way the chris sturniolo would ever go out with a girl like y/n without getting something out of it. people warned her too, however she didn't listen. why would she when she was down bad for the boy that called her his. she should have listened though. she should have listened to her sister who knew that chris was who he was.

with all these rumors and doubts going around y/n still cared for chris the same way she did from the beginning. she fought with her sister saying "he would never do something like that to her" haley started believing it to. everyone had seen the way chris's face lit up when y/n walked into the room or was brought up. people knew he changed. he himself thought he changed for the better as well, but as they say your past can always come back to haunt you.

it was the night of the prom and chris had asked y/n to accompany him as his date. now y/n wasn't shocked he asked considering they have been dating for about 5 months at this point. y/n spent hours getting ready trying to look perfect for her boyfriend. she knew this night was going to be an eventful night, what she didn't know however, was what way it was going to be a memorable night. chris had picked her up (more like his brother matt had picked her up considering he couldn't drive) y/n always thought the fact that chris was unable to drive was hilarious and she teased him about it all the time, chris didn't mind though it was funny to him as well.

the couple and chris's two brothers arrived into the gym where the prom was held. chris and y/n immediately found the dance floor where they began to dance for a few songs. a slow song was coming to an end when chris whispered in her ear

"I'll be right back I'm going to get up a refill on drinks okay" making y/n nod before he walked to the drink table.

y/n went over to find a seat when she overheard a conversation being held about her. now this wasn't a surprise, a lot of people talk about her and shit talk chris but this one specifically caught her attention. it was chris's friends

"when is he going to dump her already?"

"I don't know man, he was only supposed to go out with her for like 3 months just to get her in bed"

"honestly I think he might have really fallen for that pathetic excuse of a human"

y/n couldn't believe it. every word that they shout out was like a punch to the gut. but they were just kidding right? no way chris, the boy she had fallen in love with had agreed to this.

"adam tell chris his 100$ bet is up"

the boys laughed at every shot taken and the last sentence let y/n believe that this was probably true.

on the other side of the gym chris was done filling the drinks up and he was super ecstatic to go back to y/n. he had really fallen for her, the boys had told him to date her for 'fun' however unbeknownst to them he had liked the girl prior before any money was involved but he just chose not to show it and it ended up with money being involved.

chris saw y/n standing alone with her arms around herself and he walked over to her faster, concern all over his face

"y/n are you-" chris started

"why would you care? I'm just a bet aren't I? you can get your money now" y/n spat honestly more calm then she thought she would be

"babe, let me explain" chris tired face dropping from y/n's words

"no, you don't get to call me that I thought you really liked me! I fought against everyone who thought different because I thought I knew you, I thought 'chris the boy that I fell in love with, the boy that actually cares for me would never do that' I guess I was just one of your girls on your list, and probably your last one huh? have you gone through everyone in the school and I'm your last choice because I'm that bad?" y/n yelled starting to walk away from the dance as she spoke while chris followed her.

when she got out of the school doors, she noticed that it was raining, great. tears streaming down her face as she continued walking unable to hold them back any longer

"y/n, I love you, I don't even know why I took that bet in the first place, maybe because I liked you before we even started dating" chris confessed trying to get y/n to look at him

"I don't even believe a word you say anymore! I can't believe I was this dumb to fall for someone like chris sturniolo of all people. of course I was a bet! oh my god why the fuck did I ever let my guard down for you? was I really that blind with love to notice that I wasn't worth it for chris sturniolo? at least all the other girls that you have slept with, at least you wanted to sleep with them. but me? no I wasn't even a single thought. you had to have money to make you even consider sleeping with me." y/n ranted laughing at herself for being so naive.

"y/n that's not true okay, I love you, my friends-"

"no this has nothing to do with you friends you did all this by yourself, you know what-i-i-im done with you I never want to see you again" y/n muttered before taking off the necklace that chris got her for their first date

"y/n don't do this. what can I do to fix this?" chris asked tears cascading down his face mixing with the rain as he tried to keep the necklace on y/n neck.

at the simple action of chris trying to keep fighting for them y/n let out a sob which broke chris's heart more.

"there's nothing you can do to fix this and you know that, I was only a bet to you, its okay you can move on to a better girl" y/n whispered feeling numb finally being able to take the necklace of placing it into chris's hand before running off leaving chris heartbroken and also numb in the rain.

all y/n was in the end was a bet and she couldn't even be surprised.

note: i hope you all enjoyed! if you would like to be added to my tag list comment there

[numberonetacostan]

I like foreshadowing so I wanna talk about it, mainly foreshadowing about the twist because I think it's fun to look at because a good twist is difficult to actually pull off, atleast I think it is.

I believe Brian has confirmed that the twist has been in the writers mind since 2015, so around episode 8 of S2 so any foreshadowing before around that time would more likely than not be a coincidence but I want to also look at how older episodes have aged in the context of the twist.

Like the fan created contestants, I bring them up since the show specifically calls them that (a bit of a stretch but they just kinda came into existence).

Speaking of coming into existence the s1 contestants don't have much of an intro they're kind of just stereotypes for a while and not much else.

Crappy Aniversary's whole thing with Mephone changing the animation style (and subsequently getting rid of Bow and Apple) i think it's worth putting into the context of the twist that he could change the style at any time, same goes for the s2 and s3 animation style change.

It's been said on this blog before but Taco saying she was "built to win could both be intended as her being the one with the best strategy that should have won, OR that mephone 4 created her to be the underdog to win in the end, with that not happening thanks to Bow a contestant who he never actually wanted in the show in the first place or atleast never planned for (I like to think she was made for her ads to play during break, atleast that's what I came up with).

"These are the new stereotypes" feels self explanatory.

Also the recovery system deserves a mention, while not technically being foreshadowing since it's not exactly an exclusive thing to ii it comes more from the recovery system being Mephone himself.

As Cobs stated, it's weird how Mephone 4 got arrested for just 1 day, the reason is probably just that this entire court case is nothing but something that Mephone 4 made himself. They might have found an actual court but considering the island seems to be basically uninhabited aside from animals when things are deleted so I doubt it, also what court would use a sentence of one day.

It basically goes without saying since it's one of the biggest ones but every contestant is connected to their stereotype or gimmick, and while most do become way more than just that, their stereotype/gimmick is still part of their whole being.

S2 EP.7: "You don't understand it's just a game show it's not even real" Well he doesn't really know yet with the memories he says it's not even real when to the contestants it very much is.

Cobs says in Theft and Battery that it's not real and honestly just that whole scene speaks for itself, as far as I can find the time this episode came out is also around when they started planning it.

Cobs mentions his parents, which is the first time the show properly acknowledged parents as a concept. The contestants all stand in an awkward silence, which at first I thought was just a joke about Cobs' parents not talking to him anymore, but now in the context of the twist could be seen as the contestants not knowing how to respond to a conversation about parents, they know what parents are as a concept (from Cabby and Bot's conversation) but other than that nothing's there.

Every contestant has the literal need to have a role both in the show AND even outside of it, as OJ shows that he still has a role in the hotel even when outside the show, as the caretaker.

Soap's whole thing about not being able to get rid of her cleaning supplies and the urge to clean, struggling to get out of her predetermined gimmick (till Mic does it for her atleast)

Paintbrush bursting into flames when angry enough being part of their gimmick too.

Marshmallow starting to question the show itself is another hint at the reveal that nothing on the show is actually real (well technically, it is real in the way that they experience it and it feels real enough to them, very philosophical and stuff, I just use that since it's easiest to explain).

Bow considering herself a lower being to the contestants just because she's no longer a contestant is another example of how every contestant has the need to be in a reality show and that she views the show as a way to feel alive again. Most of the contestants feeling incomplete without it generally, ignoring those like Taco or Marsh who ended up hating the show eventually.

In Mine Your Own Business Fan can't figure anything to say about himself beyond his love for the show since he was made to be the number one fan.

Fan glitching in episodes 14 is a pretty big one.

"you speak of your reality show but beyond that who are you"

Defective outcast" If it's right about Taco being created with the purpose to win II, the choice of words defective outcast is honestly more evidence for that since she is defective in the way she didn't do what she was meant to.

"History is re arranged to credit those who win the glory" being real here a lot of Taco's tirade is evidence for built to win "reality is changed and they edit when they spin the story" is another one.

S3 Episode 1, OJ being so nervous about a vacation because of the gimmick.

Seems like every S3 newbie was created with the idea of them being JUST fans, without knowing what they're fans of, could be atleast that's what it seems like to me.

Cabby and Bot's whole conversation on parents, yes Cabby has memory problems in general but this one specifically stands out because of the topic of parents since the lack of that memory isn't unique to her.

"A machine can't make art" When you take in the fact that Mephone 4 created the contestants as well, you could interpret that outside of the ai 'art' parallels in that episode.

"When I was born into the game" self explanatory again.

Example on Mephone 4 wanting to continue wanting to host going on to a s4 without having to worry about Cobs, because he knows that getting back to S2 would have led to having to get back to that issue.

"I was programmed JUST for you Mephone" feels like it should be included.

(Interviews)

Test Tube doesn't really go in details about her origins, mostly because she doesn't have an origin.

Paintbrush admits that they have no idea where they got the flames from, as they say they've had this feature for as long as they can remember.

Silver does say he had a good life before the show but doesn't go into detail (He says it'd pain him too much to remember since he misses it so much but again in the context of the twist as well as Cabby saying it hurts her trying remember but that might just be her memory issues paining her)

In Fan's Fantastic Features Tissues says he's had had the condishawn for as long as he can remember.

(Sorry about how long this is but I wanted to talk about foreshadowing since I think it's cool how they pulled it off, looking back the foreshadowing's there enough to realise on rewatch but not enough to see right through it straight away and I feel like that's hard to do, I see a lot of plot twists which either foreshadow too much and everyone calls it before it happens or too little and it seems like it came straight out of left field)

-🌸

Hi Flower!!^^ Welcome back, and thank you for sending in an ask!! :]

I'm not too sure what to add here, since you did quite a good job listing plenty of moments of foreshadowing for the twist!! Also, my cat is blocking my screen with his tail so I can see about 1/2 of what I'm typing right now. I don't mind the long ask at all, I agree that the little hints leading up to the big reveal are all so very interesting!!!

You're correct in saying that the twist was planned around 2015/s2 ep8, but regardless of whether or not some foreshadowing was unintentional or not I still really like how some old pieces fit in the puzzle, like the example you gave with Taco having been built to win, and even Mephone's ability to change the animation style at will.

And even the newer hints with the contestants mentioning certain things having gone on "as long as they can remember" is really neat!! Because it shows off how they are programmed to rationalize or ignore their lack of memories. Silver saying it would "pain him to remember" since it was 'so great' reads to me as him rationalizing the pain that Cabby mentions when she tries to remember her parents, yeah?

[seasurfacefullofclouds1]

Hello. I am sure this week you are swamped with notes. But I feel compelled to contact because of discourse around one direction. I’m a middle aged mom who didn’t know the band in their hey day but my daughter who is now in her 20s did for sure. She is now what I guess is called a Harrie. During quarantine I stumbled onto Tumblr and read about the band including all the drama of bbg, hiatus, later xfactor gigs. Harry’s pop hits are impossible to avoid but it’s Louis’ music that I really love probably because I grew up on Green Day, Oasis, etc and have diverse music taste. I think that makes me a Louie? Anyway I have to say your takes on the industry and the boys’ personalities seem spot on to me. You have no reason to care about my opinion. But as an older fan I am confident Louis is the real deal. His bio and vibe formed an authentic human with so many relatable qualities. I tend to cheer on the underdog in life, maybe that contributes to my fanning for him. But I have no doubts. Call it middle aged sixth sense having dealt with all sorts of people in my private and professional life. Louis is lovely- flawed and human as are we all- but lovely to the core. I’m so glad his fandom enjoys you at the helm. I really appreciate your Tumblr! So thank you and keep up the good work lol!

Hello and welcome to the madness!

Thank you for sending a message. Yours is a kind, reasoned voice in the wilderness. Believe me, it is rare and much appreciated. 🥰💕

It’s understandable that most people know Harry Styles better and are more likely to be his fans. He was heavily promoted and now he’s everywhere, a marketing tour-de-force. Most casual listeners want ambient background music; Harry’s music is all ear worms. He wanted to be a sex symbol and now he is. The world is his oyster.

It’s especially great to hear from people who have had some life experiences, because for you (and me), perhaps disappointment, career ups and downs, heartbreaks and grief aren’t hypotheticals on a page. In our early twenties, we made mistakes that in retrospect were impetuous and unwise. We know we wrongly cut people off, or were selfish, or didn’t return love the way we should have. Now it’s too late to undo some stuff.

I think Louis is relatable on this level— he’s not perfect but very human. He has made some bad choices. He has regrets and feels remorse. He’s incredibly successful but also just a normal person.

The genius of Louis Tomlinson is that he’s able to express all of this in three-minute pop songs, in a way that doesn’t wave away the responsibility or regret but nevertheless gives us grounding. His songs let us pause to breathe, to reset and regroup, and finally to find joy in being human, being alive, belonging to a community of caring. “This one is a thank you for what you did for me.” Louis gives us the gift of empathy: even in the worst of times, we don’t have to go into the dark woods alone.

Louis gives us permission to forgive our past so that we can believe in a better way. He also allows us to acknowledge the pain in the details, to recognize that grief ultimately comes from love.

There have been times in the past that I’ve driven for miles in sadness, not knowing who to talk to or where to go, alone except for Louis’ music in the car. Sometimes we are faced with dilemmas without happy solutions. We want to talk to people who have passed away. We yearn not to have to go through fire. We think the darkest thoughts.

Somehow it helps to hear very simple words sung honestly. “It comes/ it goes/ we’re driving down a one way road to something better.”

So, welcome.

[thesixthcavalier]

Having now started poking at the manga for Magilumiere, I can confidently say that it's proving to be a really fun read, and it makes me even more excited for the next episode. I am loving the care and attention to detail that has been shown in crafting this world, and it's awesome how it manages to be both a fun look at magical girl tropes in a new and interesting light, and also a pretty damn powerful stab at the world of corporate business and the general rat race that is trying to find and work a job.

Koshigaya is wonderful as the tough but friendly mentor and what I have seen of her thus far has put me in mind of a somewhat more experienced version of the classic brawler/shield character, eager to get into the fight, protect her team, and being a bit hot headed at times. The fun thing this story is able to do with that though is move beyond the normal trope where Koshigaya's arc would be one of learning when to back off and trust other people. She's already there, she can accept someone else making the smart call and doesn't just rush into danger without any thought, but you still get the fun of a strong character who does tackle things with a lot of confidence.

And of course Sakuragi is incredibly relatable. She's got a good head on her shoulders and she's willing to put in the work and do the extra that helps get her prepared for things, but she's fresh out of school with all the uncertainty that comes with that, especially on the tail end of a job hunt that was going nowhere. The glimpses of uncertainty and fear, of wondering if she isn't good enough and lamenting that she has nothing special to give her a leg up, it's all very fun to play with and balance the amount of power suddenly put upon her as a magical girl, and her mix of booksmarts and uncertainty is a nice counterpoint to the confidence and intuition of Koshigaya.

And I couldn't forget the others of course, Shigemoto, Nikoyama and Midorikawa all bring their own unique personalities to each panel they're in, and it creates this fascinating mix of magical girl/superhero "guy in the chair" tropes combined with the scrappy underdog of business fighting against bigger companies that is usually more a staple of cyberpunk and mildly dystopian genres. The fact that we get all of this in a very upbeat story, and that every time we see a character fired or brushed aside by big business we get a little closure snippet that tells us how much happier they are having gotten work elsewhere, is a really interesting little treat, and I for one can't wait to see how the anime handles a lot of this stuff!

[illumins]

𝘾𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙊𝙣𝙚: 𝘽𝙧𝙖𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙮 𝙄𝙨𝙣'𝙩 𝙁𝙤𝙧 𝙀𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙮𝙤𝙣𝙚

The morning sun bathes the towering facade of Daylight Academy in a warm, golden glow, casting long shadows that crawl across the intricate masonry like tendrils of a climbing vine. It's a building that speaks of prestige, its ivy-draped limestone walls and soaring Gothic arches more befitting a castle than a school. I push open the heavy, oak front door, the old hinges complaining with a familiar creak that reminds me I’m home—well, as much as a school can feel like one.

As I step into the grand entrance hall, my footsteps echo off the polished marble floors and the vaulted ceiling high above. Banners of deep blue and silver, the school colors, hang from the walls, fluttering slightly as the breeze from the open doors breathes life into them. It's quieter than I remember; the usual buzz of excited conversations is muted, probably the nervous energy of the first day pressing down on everyone’s shoulders like the thick, humid air.

I’m Liya Faulkner, a senior now, though it feels like I just walked these halls for the first time yesterday. I'm not what you might expect for someone at an academy like this. Short, more comfortable in sneakers than heels, my brunette hair pulled back in a practical ponytail that sways gently as I move. My grey eyes might catch the light for a moment, hinting at thoughts that whirl faster than they probably should. Today, I'm dressed simply—jeans and a soft cotton shirt that falls just right, not too tight, not too loose, with a backpack slung over one shoulder.

Lucky—that's the word everyone uses. Lucky Liya, they'd say, to be accepted into Daylight Academy, the kind of place that promises a future brighter than the morning sun streaming through these high windows. Dad says it's a miracle, his lens always focused on capturing the underdog story for the city's news. Mom would have said it was fate. She dreamed of this for me, her hopes stitched into the very fabric of my being, and even though she's gone now, I carry that dream. It's a heavy mantle, one made of memory and desire—her memory, my desire.

Dragging a hand along the cool stone wall, I let my fingers trail over the rough texture, each bump and groove a testament to the history contained within these walls. Around me, the murmur of other students grows, a crescendo of anticipation for the year to come. I should feel excited, maybe even a bit scared, but there’s a calm in me, a steady beat of resilience that drowns out the usual flutter of first-day nerves.

"Heads up, Liya!" a voice calls out from behind me.

Instinctively, I duck as a football zips over my head, narrowly missing the ancient oil painting of the academy's founder. It crashes against the locker with a loud bang, the sound ricocheting off the walls.

"Sorry about that!" The culprit, a tall boy with a sheepish grin, jogs over, retrieving the ball. His apology is genuine, but his smirk tells me he’s gotten away with worse.

"No harm done," I reply, my voice even, betraying none of the annoyance flickering beneath my calm exterior. I'm not one to hold grudges, especially on such a sunny, promising morning. "Just try not to knock out the new kid, okay?"

"Deal," he laughs, then dashes off toward the gym.

The encounter leaves a small smile tugging at my lips as I head to my first class. Today marks the beginning, not just of the school year, but of the final chapter of what started all those years ago when Mom first whispered to me about Daylight Academy, her voice soft and full of certainty.

This is it—the culmination of years of dreaming, of striving, and of holding onto hope even when it felt like there was none left. I can almost hear her in the quiet between each bell, her laughter mingling with the echoes of my footsteps.

This is for her. This is for us.

I pull out the crisp sheet of paper from my front pocket—the schedule that seals my fate for the year. Chemistry, first period. Mrs. Henderson. Room 213B. The numbers and letters blur for a second, my fingers tightening around the edges of the paper as if holding it harder might make me feel more prepared. I tuck it back into my pocket and head towards the science wing, my sneakers squeaking softly against the freshly waxed floors.

As I turn the corner, the noise level increases—a cacophony of laughter, chatter, and the occasional loud greeting. The door to Room 213B is propped open, inviting yet intimidating. Taking a deep breath, I step inside, the scent of wax and whiteboard markers immediately filling my nostrils. The room buzzes with the energy of students reconnecting after the summer break, their voices echoing off the tiled floors and high ceilings.

The classroom is almost full, bodies clustered in groups, some leaning against desks, others standing in the aisles. I scan quickly for an empty seat, my gaze flitting over heads and backpacks, searching for any sliver of space. Most spots are already claimed, belongings sprawled out as territory markers—notebooks, pens, and colorful folders.

Then, amidst the hum of teenage dynamics, a laugh cuts through the noise, clear and familiar. My heart skips, just once, very slightly—as if nudging me. Mark Lee. There, leaning against a lab table near the window, his brunette hair catching the sunlight, making it look like threads of gold are woven through it. His eyes, warm and inviting as a summer’s dusk, crinkle at the corners as he laughs again. Those high cheekbones, more pronounced now, frame a smile that’s disarmingly genuine.

He’s definitely gotten cuter over the summer, not that he needed any enhancement. Mark, with his effortless charm and easy laughter, surrounded by classmates but somehow still standing apart. As usual, he’s beside Haechan, his best friend, who’s animatedly gesturing with his hands, telling some story that clearly amuses them both.

I hesitate at the door for a heartbeat longer, unnoticed. The warmth of the room seems to grow, or maybe it’s just me, feeling suddenly too aware of my own heartbeat, the slight tremor of my hands. I take a quiet breath, tasting the lingering sharpness of cleaning products mixed with the subtle fragrance of someone’s floral perfume.

Pushing past my initial reluctance, I step further into the room, my eyes locked on a small open spot near the back, away from Mark. I can’t sit near him; not if I want to keep my composure, not if I want to focus on anything other than the way his laughter seems to make the whole room brighter.

As I weave through the desks, I feel the cool metal and smooth plastic under my fingers, the occasional bump against my hip or elbow—a physical reminder of the space I occupy in this teeming sea of adolescence. Reaching the empty chair, I slide into it, unpacking my notebook and pen with deliberate slowness, arranging them just so.

From here, I can see him, watch him without being obvious. Mark, who looks even sweeter when he’s listening, his gaze fixed on Haechan as if every word matters deeply. There’s a calmness about him, a steadiness that draws people in, that makes you want to stay in his orbit just a little longer.

I settle in, forcing my attention to the front of the class where the teacher’s desk sits empty, waiting for Mrs. Henderson. My hands fold over my notebook, fingers tapping a silent rhythm, as I steal one last glance at Mark, letting the sight of him anchor and unsettle me all at once. This is how the year starts—with chemistry, both the academic and the unresolved kind.

The classroom door swings open with a decisive motion, heralding the arrival of Mrs. Henderson. She steps in, her presence filling the room like a brisk autumn breeze sweeping through stagnant air. With sharp, efficient movements, she places her leather briefcase on the desk—a thud that demands attention, pulling eyes away from mid-conversation smiles and whispers.

"Good morning, class! Let’s find our seats, please," she announces, her voice a smooth alto that rolls over the chatter, tapering it down to a murmur. I watch as students shuffle to comply, the scrape of chairs and soft thumping of backpacks setting a new rhythm for the room.

Mrs. Henderson is a woman of commanding presence, her gray-streaked hair pulled back into a tight bun that seems to pull her eyebrows perpetually upward, lending her a look of constant scrutiny. She sweeps a gaze over the class, her eyes lingering momentarily on me before moving on. I feel a tiny jolt, as if that brief eye contact was a test I hadn’t studied for.

She begins the class by introducing the syllabus, her hands moving with precise gestures as she points to the projected slides. “Chemistry is not just about reactions and equations; it’s about understanding the essence of materials, predicting outcomes, and—most importantly—applying this knowledge. Expect to be challenged, expect to learn, and expect to be surprised by what you can achieve.”

As she speaks, I try to focus on her words, but my attention is like a poorly tied knot, slipping away repeatedly. My gaze drifts to the front of the room, landing on the back of Mark’s head, his hair catching the light every time he moves. He’s three rows ahead, far enough that every detail shouldn’t be clear, but somehow, each shift and nod are distinct.

The chair beside me scrapes against the tile floor, and a girl with a cascade of curly hair and a nervous smile plops down next to me. “Hi,” she whispers, her voice threaded with the eagerness of making a new acquaintance.

“Hey,” I reply, my smile automatic, a well-practiced curve of lips that doesn’t quite reach my eyes. I turn back to Mrs. Henderson, trying to anchor myself to the lecture about atomic structure and periodic trends.

Mrs. Henderson’s enthusiasm for the subject is palpable; she talks about the elements as if they are old friends she can’t wait for us to meet. “You’ll get to know them, work with them, and yes, occasionally, they’ll surprise you—much like people,” she says, a twinkle of amusement in her eye.

I jot down notes, the scratching of my pen a steady sound that helps me focus—or at least pretend to. Beside me, the curly-haired girl is also taking notes, her handwriting a flurry of loops and whirls. Our elbows brush occasionally, a reminder of the proximity grounding me back to the present.

My pen pauses over a diagram of an atom, the nucleus and electrons laid out in neat orbits. I glance up again, my eyes seeking Mark despite my intentions. He’s leaning back slightly in his chair, his profile etched against the bright light from the window, every line and angle of his face a familiar map that I’ve traced in my thoughts more times than I care to admit.

Mrs. Henderson’s voice pulls me back, her words about chemical bonds suddenly mirroring my own thoughts on connections—how some are strong and enduring, while others are too weak to withstand much at all. I look down at my notebook, the ink from my pen bleeding slightly into the paper, indelible and stark.

As I force my attention back to the front, focusing on the molecular structures dancing across the screen, I can’t help but feel the tug of an invisible bond, one that connects me to the boy three rows ahead, made of curiosity and yearning—a compound as complex and unstable as any we might study this year.

My mind can be a peculiar place. Here I am, sitting in my first class of the senior year at Daylight Academy, and all I can think about is how the intricate dance of electrons around a nucleus somehow parallels my orbit around Mark Lee. It's almost laughable, this cosmic tug between a girl and the boy she's been quietly crushing on for years. How was his summer? Did he travel? Explore? Or maybe just lazed around like any normal teenager would?

I often found myself wandering past his neighborhood on my way to the grocery store, a detour that was slightly longer but infinitely more interesting. This summer, though, the streets that held his house seemed unusually quiet, his familiar silhouette conspicuously absent. I'd catch myself lingering a bit longer at the corner, hoping for a glimpse. Nothing. It was odd, his absence, but then, chastising myself for the stalker-ish tendency, I'd laugh it off and move on. My infatuation could be overwhelmingly silly at times.

As I'm tugged back to the present by the sudden cessation of Mrs. Henderson's lecture, I realize the girl next to me is leaning slightly towards me, her voice a careful whisper designed not to travel far in the hushed classroom atmosphere. "I'm Jenna, by the way."

I turn to face her, pulling my focus from the front of the classroom and giving her my full attention. Jenna's curly hair frames her face in a wild halo, strands escaping here and there, giving her a look of someone constantly in motion. Her eyes, bright and curious beneath thick lashes, hold a spark of friendliness that's instantly warming.

"Oh, hi, Jenna," I reply, my voice equally subdued. It dawns on me then—she’s the yearbook girl. I'd seen her darting around school events with a camera, her presence ubiquitous yet unobtrusive, capturing moments most of us would miss in the blur of our high school days.

She gives me a quick, conspiratorial smile, as if we're sharing a secret in just introducing ourselves. "I think I’ve seen you around, with the art club, right? You guys did that mural last spring?"

"Yeah, that was us," I say, surprised she remembered. My involvement in the art club was more behind-the-scenes, a detail not many would notice.

Jenna nods, her interest genuine, and I find myself appreciating the connection, brief as it is. Her presence is like a grounding wire, redirecting my scattered thoughts from their usual path marked by an all-too-familiar infatuation.

The bell rings, shrill and abrupt, like it's slicing through the thick tension of the room—a tension that's only really palpable to me. Around me, students shove notebooks and pens into their bags with a hurried, indifferent clatter. Jenna, with her smile waning into a frown, leans in slightly. "So, do we have the next class together?" Her voice carries a hopeful undertone that feels like a warm breeze.

I zip up my own bag, feeling the weight of her expectation. "Biology," I reply, my voice more of a whisper than I intend. The way her face falls, just a slight downturn of her lips, makes my chest tighten. "I'll see you around then," she says, trying to mask her disappointment with a brisk nod.

"Yeah, see you," I murmur, slinging my backpack over one shoulder. As I step out of the classroom, I watch Mark stride out ahead of me. He doesn’t look back. I take a deep breath, my heart pounding against my ribs like it's trying to escape. Get yourself together, Liya, I scold myself silently, stepping into the bustling hallway.

The corridor feels more alive now than it did this morning, pulsing with the chaotic energy of teenagers released from the confines of their first period. I navigate through the crowd, my steps hesitant but determined. The sounds of laughter and disjointed conversations create a symphony of normalcy that I crave yet feel detached from.

I catch the eye of a tall girl with paint-stained jeans—Mia from art club. Our eyes meet, and I offer a small, tentative smile, which she returns with a quick, bright flash of recognition. We don't stop to talk; our friendship, if it can be called that, consists of shared nods and occasional brushes of conversation about mediums and murals. It’s comfortable yet distant.

As I move past her, I nod to a couple of other faces from art club. There’s Jonah, who’s always sketching in the margins of his notebooks, and Elise, who’s more into sculptures than sketches. They know me, or at least, the version of me that holds a brush or a palette knife. But outside those art club walls, our interactions dwindle to these brief acknowledgements in crowded hallways.

It’s always been like this—me, drifting on the edge of circles, touching the surface of friendships without ever really diving in. People know me. I know people. But the connections end just as they begin to deepen, leaving me floating in this liminal space of near-but-far, together-but-alone.

As the hum of the corridor dwindles behind me, I pull out my crumpled schedule from the front pocket of my bag. My fingers trace the printed lines, double-checking. Biology, Room 210, Mrs. Hawthorne. I exhale, a puff of relief that feels almost tangible in the stagnant air of the hallway.

Stepping into Room 210, the atmosphere shifts palpably. Unlike the rigid order of Chemistry, this classroom thrums with a relaxed buzz. Students are scattered across the room, draped over desks and chairs like casual confetti, their voices weaving a tapestry of soft laughter and fragmented stories. Mrs. Hawthorne, a wiry woman with streaks of silver in her hair, sorts through a stack of papers on her desk, her glasses perched precariously at the tip of her nose.

I slide into an empty seat near the back, my backpack feeling lighter as I set it down. Relief seeps through me—not just at escaping the fraught energy of Chemistry, but at the absence of Mark in this classroom. Maybe I can actually pass this one, I think, allowing a small, hopeful smile to curve my lips.

As I settle in, scanning the room, my eyes snag on two familiar figures—Renjun and Jisung, part of Mark’s usual entourage. They sat diagonally from me, their heads bowed together in quiet conspiracy. Their presence pricks at my tranquility, a reminder of the orbit I circle but never enter. Still, they seem absorbed in their own world, a barrier invisible and yet palpable, separating them from the rest.

Mrs. Hawthorne clears her throat, the sound sharp enough to slice through the chatter. “Alright, everyone, let’s bring it in,” she calls out, her voice firm yet not unkind. The class gradually falls silent, attention turning towards her as she begins to outline the syllabus. Her words, crisp and precise, paint the semester ahead in broad, promising strokes.

As the bell rings, a symphony of relief and chatter floods the room. The class had rushed by, a whirlwind of historical dates that blend together in a blur—just the way it always does. Our teacher, Ms. Hawthorne, with her perennially furrowed brow, had walked us through the Civil War in less than an hour. Everyone is still buzzing about how, under her stern gaze, even the Battle of Gettysburg seemed to last only a minute. I pack my books, the edges frayed and covers battered from use, into my backpack with a practiced haste.

As I zip my backpack shut, anticipation pulses through me. Lunchtime means a momentary reprieve from the relentless pace of classes. I sling my bag over one shoulder, feeling the familiar tug at my muscles, and push my chair back. It scrapes against the linoleum, a harsh sound that seems too loud in the suddenly quiet classroom.

Stepping into the hallway is like diving into a river at its peak flow. Students flood the corridors, their voices a cacophony of plans for the afternoon, complaints about the homework, and the latest gossip which I tune out. I weave through groups of chatting students, my steps quick and light. Being small has its advantages; I slip through gaps between bodies and backpacks with an agility that keeps me from being swept away in the tide of teenagers.

Finally, I reach my locker, tucked away in a less chaotic corner of the hall. The combination lock clicks under my fingers, a sequence so familiar I could do it in my sleep. As the metal door swings open with a creak, I quickly stow away my History book. My stomach rumbles, thoughts of the cafeteria's offerings today—hopefully pizza, but more likely the soggy tacos—distracting me for a moment.

That’s when I hear it: a loud call, piercing through the buzz of the crowd. “Mark!” The voice is unmistakable—Jaemin. I freeze, a book half-shoved onto the shelf. My heart thumps painfully against my ribcage, a bird frantic to escape its cage. I turn slowly towards the sound, my movements stiff.

Jaemin and Jeno stand a few lockers down, their heads together, eyes scanning the crowd. Their gaze locks onto something, or someone, beyond my line of sight. Curiosity prickles at me, urging me to follow their stare. I lean slightly, peering around a cluster of students, and there he is—Mark, surrounded by Jisung, Renjun, Haechan, and Chenle. They're all animated, a dynamic cluster of energy and laughter, so different from my quiet observation.

As the voices crescendo, Mark and the others, caught in their own orbit of jokes and jabs, move like a comet trailing through the crowded hallway. They pass by me, close enough that I catch snippets of their laughter and the tail-end of a joke about Renjun's latest art project, which apparently includes more glitter than is strictly necessary. The air shifts around them, the way the atmosphere bends light around the sun, drawing eyes like moths to a flame.

I lean back against the cold, dented metal of my locker, pretending to search for something in my backpack while I watch. There's a palpable energy that buzzes from them, an invisible shield that seems to part the waves of students automatically. Some of the other girls stand a little straighter as the group approaches, their laughter ringing clear, like the peal of church bells on a quiet morning. One girl, with hair the color of autumn leaves, watches them with such open admiration that I wonder if she realizes her books are about to slip from her grasp.

"Do you think they ever notice?" The words slip out, soft and more to myself than anyone else.

"Notice what?" The voice comes from Jamie, who’s appeared beside me, her eyes bright with curiosity. Another friend I’ve met through the art club.

I jump slightly, not having noticed her approach. "The way everyone watches them. Like they're characters in a movie or something."

Jamie chuckles, a low, knowing sound. "I think they just enjoy their bubble too much to care." Her gaze lingers on the group, thoughtful. "Must be nice, living in your own little world where everything's a joke or a game."

I nod, the words hitting closer to home than I expect. The boys' laughter fades as they turn the corner, and suddenly the hallway doesn't seem as bright or as animated. The chatter around us fills in the void they’ve left behind, the ordinary concerns of high school life knitting back together like fabric after a pulled thread is reworked into place.

Time skates by as I sit alone in the back of the cafeteria, my lunch tray an island in a sea of noisy school life. The table, round and perpetually sticky, usually hosts only me and occasionally others who drift in with nowhere else to sit. Today, though, it's just me and my thoughts, with the distant clatter of forks and knives playing background music. I pick at the cafeteria's attempt at lasagna, more a mushy puzzle of pasta and sauce than anything else, and lose myself watching the swirl of students around me.

The lunch period ends too quickly, a rushed affair of eating and observing, and I'm the last to leave. I remember today is the first day back from summer and the dread of facing algebra with Mrs. Jensen after a carefree break nudges me forward. My steps quicken as I dart out of the cafeteria, swinging my bag over my shoulder. I make a quick detour to the bathroom, checking my reflection in the mirror not for vanity but to reassure myself I can face the rest of the day.

By the time I exit, the halls are ominously quiet, the absence of the usual hustle a clear sign that I'm late. My heart races as I approach the closed door of the algebra classroom. I stand there for a moment, hand poised above the handle, the metal cool and slightly grimy under my touch. I shake my hand, trying to dispel the nerves that buzz through my fingers like static electricity, and then, summoning every ounce of courage, I turn the knob as gently as possible.

The door gives a soft click, but it might as well have been a gunshot for how quickly the room falls silent. Heads turn, swiveling towards me as if connected by strings, and there in the sea of faces, I see a mix of curiosity and annoyance. Mrs. Jensen, mid-sentence, halts and fixes me with a look that's more weary than angry.

"Liya Faulkner, glad you could join us," she says, her voice dripping with a politeness that everyone knows isn't genuine.

I stumble into the room, my words tripping over each other as they come out. "Sorry, I—I got lost for a second there." My cheeks burn with the knowledge of how lame the excuse sounds, my classmates' eyes boring into me like tiny drills. Internally, I kick myself for not thinking of something more believable.

Mrs. Jensen nods, her expression softening a fraction as she gestures to an empty seat. "Just try to be on time, please. We were just going over the syllabus."

As I make my way to the seat, my backpack feels heavier than ever, loaded with more than just books—every step weighted down by their silent judgments and my own echoing embarrassment.

As I hastily sink into the only empty seat left in the room, the chill from the metal chair seeps through my jeans, a cold reminder of my tardiness. My hands fumble for the zipper of my backpack, movements jerky with nerves as I pull out my mathematics textbook, its edges worn from use. The syllabus, a looming specter of upcoming challenges, is notably absent from my desk. I try to steady my breathing, to dispel the flush of embarrassment still burning my cheeks like a slap.

That's when a sheet of white paper slides across my desk, drifting like a lost feather until it comes to rest beneath my startled gaze. I reach for it, fingers brushing the smooth surface, and glance up to thank the provider. The words die on my lips when I see it's Mark, the same Mark who was the nucleus of laughter just minutes ago in the hallway.

He gives me a smile, soft and unexpectedly reassuring, like the first warm breeze of spring after a harsh winter. "You're really okay," he murmurs, his voice a whisper meant only for my ears, "you haven’t missed anything." The simple kindness in his tone, in such stark contrast to the cacophony of the algebra class, makes my heart sink further into an ocean of foolishness.

For a moment, I'm rendered speechless, struck dumb by his casual grace. Words scramble like startled birds in my mind, but none take flight. His presence, the ease of his smile, narrows the world to just this small interaction, erasing the rows of curious eyes still glancing our way.

I manage a nod, a small, tentative smile stretching my lips as I clutch the syllabus a little tighter. It’s an anchor, a tangible reminder that this moment, however fluttering my heart feels, is just a fleeting connection in the mundane rhythm of school life. The room gradually fills back with the hum of teenage voices and the scratching of pens on paper, but the echo of his words lingers, a soft chord in the clamor.

The rest of the algebra class passes in a blur of numbers and letters, each equation Mrs. Jensen scribbles on the board another missed opportunity for my concentration to latch onto. I make a silent vow, keeping my eyes rooted to the white gleam of my own paper, steering clear of even the faintest temptation to glance sideways at Mark. But the resolve of the mind and the will of the heart are often at odds; the latter sneaks peeks when it can, betraying the former with each stolen glance.

From my peripheral vision, framed by the scuffed edges of my textbook, Mark seems absorbed in the lesson, but occasionally, his attention wanders. It drifts forward, like a leaf caught in a gentle stream, landing invariably on Amy-Jane. She's perched right in the middle of the front row, flanked by friends like stars around a moon, her laughter quiet but resonant, her notes meticulous as if each letter were crafted for display.

During one such moment, when my courage gathers enough to let my gaze linger a second longer, I catch Jaemin's elbow nudging Mark. Jaemin's whisper is lost in the space between them, but his grin speaks volumes, teasingly obvious. Mark's response is a sheepish smile, a subtle shrug that doesn't quite reach his eyes before he redirects his attention back to his notebook, his pen moving in bursts of renewed focus.

That interaction, simple and fleeting, stings sharper than I expect. A twinge of something akin to envy, but more complex, twists in my chest—a knotted thread pulling tight. It’s not just the pang of an unspoken crush noticed by others; it's the silent acknowledgment of my place on the periphery of this social cosmos, orbiting distant stars, invisible in their bright presence.

I press the tip of my pencil against the paper, the lead soft and slightly giving, as I force myself back to the problems laid out before me. The numbers blur, smudging into mathematical probabilities that don't account for the human heart's odd calculations. Each theorem feels like a cold reminder of the logical world, one where emotions are outliers, not data points.

The library unfolds in rows of tall, dark wooden shelves, laden with books that range from timeworn classics to modern paperbacks with spines barely creased. Above, the ceiling stretches high, dotted with small, round lights that cast a soft, golden glow, mimicking the stars that might soon blink awake in the evening sky. Between the shelves, large windows offer views of the schoolyard where autumn leaves flirt with the wind, their dance a quiet chaos against the orderly backdrop of the library.

The bell, like a final exhale after a long-held breath, releases us. I linger in my seat, thumbing through the colorful tabs of my planner until the numbers and periods align to tell me what I already hope for: a free period, a pocket of peace before the day ebbs away. I feign a deep dive into the cavern of my bag, rummaging through its contents—a tangle of pens, a frayed notebook, a half-eaten granola bar—anything to look occupied, to avoid unwanted conversations, especially with Mark still nearby.

My fingers brush the cool, smooth surface of a calculator, the textured spine of a textbook, while my ears tune in to the dwindling sounds of classmates dispersing. The shuffle of feet, the zip of backpacks, the low murmur of parting chatter fills the room. I don't lift my gaze until the sounds thin out, signaling that Mark, with his effortless smile and easy laughter, has left.

I choose a secluded corner table, nestled between sections of history and literature. It's an intimate nook where the sun, in its last act of defiance against the coming night, throws slanted beams across the wooden surface, turning dust motes into swirling galaxies. Here, in this carved-out space, I finally unclasp the tight ponytail, letting my hair cascade down in a relieved sigh, shadows playing in the light brown waves. As I settle, the chair creaking slightly under my weight, the library's calm wraps around me, a soft embrace promising solitude and stillness.

The library's quiet wraps around me like a blanket as I dig through my backpack and pull out my sketchbook. It's got a few creases and worn edges from being toted around so much, but I kind of like that it looks used—it's got character. Flipping through it, I can't help but smile a bit at the sketches filling the pages. It's neat to see how much better I've gotten over the past few months. The lines are smoother, the shading more precise, making the random faces and places I've drawn look almost real.

I grab my trusty pencil from its usual spot in my bag—it's short from all the sharpening but still perfect for drawing. Leaning back against my chair, I can't stop the memory of Mark's smile from earlier today from popping up in my mind. That smile had somehow made the whole awkward moment in algebra feel less intense.

I start sketching, letting my pencil lightly trace the outline of a face with that same easy smile. Trying to get his expressions right is kind of tough, but it’s a good challenge. I focus on the way his eyes had crinkled up when he smiled, trying to capture that. It feels a bit weird, drawing him like this, but it's also cool to see it come together on paper.

As I draw, everything else fades away—the sound of other students whispering, the rustle of pages turning. It's just me, my sketchbook, and the memory of that brief, bright smile. My heart does this little fluttery thing, kind of silly, but it makes me push on, adding more details to the sketch.

As I'm getting the smile just right on my sketch of Mark, a shrill, piercing sound cuts through the quiet of the library—the fire alarm. Everyone's heads jerk up, eyes wide. The librarian, Mrs. Finch, is suddenly all business, her voice firm as she herds us towards the exit. "Books down, everyone, let’s move quickly and calmly," she instructs.

I shove my sketchbook and pencil back into my bag, my movements hurried and a little clumsy. The alarm is insanely loud, making it hard to think. I zip up my backpack and sling it over one shoulder, glancing around to see if anyone else looks as frazzled as I feel. Everyone's just shoving their stuff into their bags, not talking much, their faces tense.

As we file out of the library, I can see teachers in the hallways, directing streams of students toward the exits. They look serious but controlled, like they’ve done this drill a hundred times. We all know the drill, but the suddenness still sends a ripple of anxiety through the crowd. I keep my head down, following the crowd, but I’m super aware of everything around me—the shuffle of feet, the occasional cough, and the loud buzz of the alarm echoing off the walls.

Passing by one of the senior literature classrooms, I spot Jaemin and Mark coming out, looking more alert than everyone else. Their eyes scan the crowd—sharp, focused. It strikes me as odd, their intensity. As they find the rest of their group—Jisung, Renjun, Haechan, Jeno, and Chenle—they weave through the crowd with a purpose that seems out of place in the chaos.

I can’t help but watch them, curiosity piqued. They’re trying to act normal, but it's like they’re on some secret mission, looking around cautiously. And then, right by the auditorium, it happens: Chenle bumps into Mark, not gently either. They both go down in a tangle of limbs, and the other guys quickly huddle around them.

The teachers and some annoyed kids just pass by, accepting the clumsy fall at face value, but I can’t shake the feeling that something else is going on. Amidst the fuss, I catch a glimpse of Mark slipping into the auditorium, quick as a shadow disappearing at dusk. The others stand up, brushing themselves off, and keep moving like nothing happened.

Once we're outside, everyone's clustered into little groups on the front lawn of the school. The teachers shuffle around, keeping a keen eye on us to make sure nobody drifts toward the busy street nearby. It's chaotic but organized, like some bizarre outdoor class assembly. I spot Mark's friends, still together, looking unusually alert and tense. They're whispering among themselves, glancing back toward the school building every now and then. What the hell? I think, my brow creasing with worry. There could be a real fire or something dangerous going on inside, and they just let Mark stay in there?

As I watch them, I find myself drifting closer to their group without even realizing it. My feet have a mind of their own, pulled by a mix of concern and curiosity. But as I get closer, reality snaps back. What am I doing? Panic flutters in my chest like a trapped bird. I'm about to turn around, to just walk away and maybe text someone to check if Mark's okay, but then it's too late.

Chenle’s eyes lock onto mine, his expression morphing from focused to confused in a split second. He nudges the guy next to him and subtly points at me. My heart hammers against my ribs, loud in my ears over the buzz of the crowd. Great, just great. Now what? There's no backing out now without looking totally weird.

Feeling a mix of irritation at myself and a stubborn set to my jaw, I keep walking toward them, trying to look like I meant to come over all along. The closer I get, the more I wish I could just melt into the grass and disappear, but I’m too far gone now. Chenle’s watching me approach, and I can almost hear the unasked question in his look: What does she want? I just hope I can think of something to say that sounds halfway reasonable.

As I get closer to the group, every step feels like wading through mud, thick and pulling at my ankles. I'm rehearsing lines in my head, trying to figure out how to casually drop into a conversation that, hey, I saw your friend sneak back into a potentially burning building. I mean, I'm not being nosy, right? I'm just concerned. But rationalizing it in my mind and actually saying it out loud are two different universes.

When I finally reach them, they're all looking at me with a mixture of curiosity and mild suspicion. Their faces are like an unread book, the kind where you're not sure if it's going to be a horror story or just a really awkward comedy. I don't blame them for the wary looks; we've never spoken before. To them, I'm just that girl who sometimes sits alone at lunch, maybe not even a blip on their radar.

Jaemin breaks the silence first. He leans against the school's brick wall, one hand casually tucked into his jeans pocket, his eyebrow arched. "Hi?" he says, making the word sound like a question, as if he's puzzled by my sudden appearance in their orbit.

"Hi," I reply, my voice squeaking a bit more than I'd like. Great, just great. I clear my throat, trying again. "Hi, I... um, saw what happened earlier, with Mark. In the hall, I mean." The words tumble out in a rush, and I mentally kick myself for sounding so chaotic.

They all exchange looks, their expressions shifting from curious to alert. I shuffle my feet, feeling the weight of their gazes like a spotlight that’s a bit too bright.

"Mark?" Chenle asks, his tone guarded, eyes narrowing slightly.

"Yeah, when the alarm went off," I continue, pushing past the awkwardness clamping down on my chest. "I saw him... uh, he went into the auditorium. It looked like he did it on purpose, you know? And I just thought... well, it's kind of dangerous, isn't it? With the alarm and all."

There's a pause, heavy and thick, where I can almost hear their thoughts clicking into place. My heart thumps loudly, the sound a drumbeat in my ears as I wait for them to either dismiss me or—hopefully—take me seriously.

Jaemin straightens up, his casual demeanor tightening. "Thanks for letting us know," he says, his voice smooth but his eyes sharp, analyzing. "We’ll... um, handle it."

I nod, not sure what else to add, feeling like I've stepped into a stream that's flowing much faster than I anticipated. "Okay, just, you know, wanted to make sure someone knew," I mumble, already backing away, ready to escape the intensity of the interaction.

I'm halfway turned, ready to escape the heavy air between us, when it hits me—like a cold splash of reality. They're acting clueless, but I saw them, saw how they helped Mark sneak into the auditorium. I can't just walk away, not now. I stop, my heart drumming a frantic beat, and I spin back around, my resolve hardening.

Taking a deep breath, I march back towards them, my steps more determined. As I face them again, I can feel the flush on my cheeks, but it’s not just from embarrassment now—it’s from frustration, too. "You know what, no," I say, my voice firmer than I feel. "You helped him get in there for whatever stupid reason, and what if he gets hurt? What if there's actually a fire?" I throw the words at them like they're stones meant to wake them up.

The boys exchange looks—some amused, some just plain annoyed. Jeno steps forward, his expression darkening. He's taller up close, his presence imposing. He pokes a finger towards my shoulder, not touching me but close enough to make his point. "You saw nothing," he says, his voice low and threatening, yet there's a sharp edge to it, like he’s not just advising me but warning me. "Mark can take care of himself. But I'll let him know you were worried," he adds, his tone softening just a fraction, as if that's supposed to comfort me.

Just as I open my mouth to fire back another retort at Jeno, a loud boom erupts from inside the school. The ground trembles beneath our feet, a jolt that travels up through the soles of my shoes, making my heart skip. Instantly, the scene transforms into chaos. Nearby, cars screech to a halt, their drivers craning necks out of windows, while others honk incessantly, adding to the cacophony. The blare of police sirens grows louder as officers start spilling onto the scene, shouting commands and herding students further from the school building.

As I stand there, frozen, the reality of the situation hits me hard—the possibility of Mark, alone in the auditorium, maybe in danger, causes my stomach to clench. Behind me, some students are half-joking, half-serious, wondering aloud if this is the kind of scenario where Spiderman would show up. I roll my eyes at that. Spiderman? Really? I think as frustration is bubbling up. I'm not about to stand here waiting for some hero to swoop in.

Driven by a mix of fear and determination, I mutter to myself, "Fine, I'll do it myself." The words are barely a whisper, a breath lost in the wind, but they seal my decision. I drop my bag with a thud on the grass and start sprinting towards the school entrance. Calls of "Stop!" chase after me—some from the boys, some from other students, and sharply from the police trying to maintain order. But I don't look back. My legs pump harder, each step fueled by the urgent need to make sure Mark is safe, to not just be a bystander.

I can hear my name being yelled, a distant echo that I push from my mind as I focus on the school doors ahead, the heavy double doors that might just lead me to Mark—or into something way over my head. But right now, none of that matters. Only one thought propels me forward: I have to find him.

[the-average-melli]

Melli is the tallest twink frolicking through Hisui

When I saw Volo, I thought he would be the tall guy™ for Pokémon Legends Arceus since his height is emphasised in his concept artwork. I was sorely mistaken. There is another stinky, smelly contender for this distinguished honour of tall guy™--an underdog, if you will.

This thing twinkie is rediculously tall. He has no right to gallavant through the fields of Hisui as such a long boi. For the sake of my self-indulgent fanfictions general curiosity, I decided to guesstimate how long this boi actually was. (Was? Is? He lived in the past. He was.)

The Volussy has a canon height of 190 cm in his concept art. Thankfully, they included some kind of canon height for one of these characters. The Pokémon game designers rarely add info like exact height or age, forcing silly humans such as myself to hyperfixate at 4am on such random details.

Using generator, am gonna assume that Akari is about 135,5 cm based on where she stands compared to Volo in the concept art. My estimates are in increments of 5 because they are a very rough estimate. Pls add more canon heights in the future for characters, Pokémon

There is immaculate HD wallpaper for Pokémon Legends Arceus featuring the literal GOAT Dialga✨️, and Akari standing beside the leader of the best Clan. The wallpaper shows both characters in the foreground which makes it easier to imagine the height difference. Hurrah!

After adding them into the graph, I would venture to say Adaman is somewhere around 170,5. Not in the same league as Volo, but size doesn't matter kings!

In his stinky concept art, sMelli is announcing how amazing Adaman is and for once, he is recognising someone outside himself as amazing.

He he's screaming! Andhehasanicevoice

I adjusted Stinky sMelli's pose to better see the difference between the two. The shoulders are slightly raised because of the pose. His knees are no longer weak and his palms are no longer sweaty.

The top of Adaman's head is somewhere slightly below sMelli's stinky shoulder. Adding him into the graph with this general difference leads me to speculate that this atrociously stinky twinkie is approximately 215 cm. He is well over 200 cm no doubt, which means only Zisu of the Security Corps could possibly rival him. She is super-ultra-mega tall!

I had to make a meme in light of this fantastic revelation

I can now understand how sMelli bodied every guard posted outside the Galaxy Expedition HQ. RIP Beaureguard. He invited himself and shoved his way up the stairs to include himself. He didn't even bring any of his Pokémon with him so I like to imagine sMelli either went for the cheap shots and kicked each guard in the pokéballs, or he threw them aside. He is apparently one of the tallest characters in this game, so I would expect nothing less out of a pissy twinkie like himself.

[clarabowmp3]

hate brigade? I'm sorry but joe alwyn is directly responsible for a lot of the mental hurt that taylor will have to deal with for the rest of her life. I don't understand how people can hear sll, half the songs on midnights not to mention the anxiety ridden lover album and not see the emotional gaslighting joe was putting taylor through! Like that takes a toll and fans qnd the general public alike has a right to call that out. Now he's saying ish about tayvis when none of this concerns him?? Like if that's not manipulative, my name is Bennett cuz he's literally re inserting himself into the ex he resented' life. Unhinged if you ask me. So I don't think it's fair to characterize people as doing the most in this case. Alwyn could have just kept quiet and ate and ate food but now he deserves the dragging. Peace.

wowww wow okay so a couple of things:

we don't know much about their relationship. all we have is speculation based on taylor's lyrics, but we have to remember she is an unreliable narrator, so at best we can take them with a grain of salt. that is excluding how she might have modified certain things to present herself in a favourable light. I'm not saying she did or didn't, but it's a possibility. I say this because of how she's written music about her cheating. She very obviously focuses on how she was feeling and what led her to cheat, rather than her considerations of how it would affect her partner, which I think is yet another manifestation of how she perpetuates her victim narrative. I'm not saying all cheaters are villains, there's definitely some complex emotions involved, but she writes in such a way so as to encourage the reader to root for her by default.

This plays into her desire to be seen as the underdog or hero that everyone wants to support. She did this with Miss Americana too where she spun this whole standing up for women and other marginalised groups narrative, which I think contributed to being a swiftie becoming a trend, along with her whole 'relatable' schtick, fostering personal relationships etc.

There is nothing wrong with liking her music (I'm not gatekeeping), my issue is with people who treat becoming a swiftie as some girl scouts patch to earn by ripping into her 'enemies,' most popularly her exes. Naturally, he has been put through hell on social media since the break-up, up till ttpd dropped and the attention shifted to matty instead.

I agree that many of her love songs from as early as lover are anxiety-ridden, but I think that speaks more to her personality rather than his actions. Certain events may have transpired and he might have acted in a certain way which made her feel insecure etc but we have no reason to think he did it maliciously. What we do have is reason to think this is extremely unlikely. 2016 was rough man, no one knew if she would ever recover from #taylorswiftisoverparty, and yet he still stuck around. To me I think that shows he genuinely cared about her, something taylor has also thought.

Could you elaborate on the emotional gaslighting he has done, (and hence the "mental hurt" he has caused her) keeping in mind all those other reasons why her music is not an accurate source of info ^^?

getting more specific with sll, I don't see how he did anything wrong? I don't want to get too much into it but I know what it feels like to be burdened by someone else's mental health issues, and I do feel irritated by it at times, even though at the end of the day I know it's something they can't control. There's nothing wrong with creating art about difficult emotions, but I think she did not need to release it for the whole world to hear, knowing that they know who she is talking about. The song itself isn't too egregious, she just expresses her frustration with the whole situation ("you'll find someone," "I'm not the one" -> even she doesn't blame him for anything let alone the emotional gaslighting you're accusing him of anon what are you on 😭) the main problem is when people like you use it to villainise joe. like explain to me what part of it shows his gaslighting

For context here is what the whole deuxmoi thing is about, taken from this post:

You can clearly see that he was expressing an opinion on what he thought was a private enough setting. How could he have known he was going to be overheard and it was going to leak to the internet and eventually reach taylor (if any of this ie even true)? She is his ex of 6 years and it's only been a year since their breakup, I think it's fine that he's still somewhat emotionally occupied with her. We don't know if he obsesses about her every day and since the London travis thing is pretty recent, maybe it was just on his mind that day? Also why does he have to keep quiet? taylor can write whatever she wants in her songs, I think he is more than justified to have a conversation in public. We have no reason to think he meant for this to get out or to "[re-insert] himself into the ex he resented' life," as you put it.

to end off, anon I really think you should touch grass (and I'm not trying to be condescending here) because it feels like you're blowing up select details out of proportion to fit the narrative taylor has created through her music. We don't know how accurate that narrative is.