#everyone else seems to be a big fan but some of that consistently gets on my nerves

[3416]

i know steve dangle's overenthusiastic overinvested thing is his shtick, but i think it's legit that kind of talk that just like... contributes to the nightmare way ppl talk about the leafs in media lol. like we wonder why it's so bad but there aren't a ton of levelheaded people at the center of leafs fandom in any way.

[procrastinatingsoicanreadfanfics]

snowfall

summary: when she’s young and in between foster families, she meets a scrawny kid named Simon. Simon sits to the side while the other kids play, and she gives him her sandwich. When he leaves, forced to go back to his dad, she feels bad for him.

Then, when she gets older, she realizes that Simon was the lucky one. He made it out.

notes: based on the song snowfall, bc I’ve been listening to it and thinking about this fic a lot lately

warnings: mentions of abuse, human trafficking and childhood trauma. Violence. Allusions to smut? Afab!reader

taglist: @majesticwren @obsessiveformiyatwins (hmu to be added to any taglist!)

masterlist | requests are OPEN!

You’re back to square one, where you always end up when a foster family lets you go. A big, grey house that was built in the sixties and not once painted afterwards, that’s square one. Makeshift beds and damp rooms, showers that smell of piss and food that has the consistency of cardboard.

The house is so terrible on the inside that everyone flees into the parking lot, a barely better place to be. In the dirt-poor areas of Manchester, it’s all anyone can ask for. The younger kids play with chalk or run around, chasing each other, while the ones your age pass cigarettes and other stuff to each other.

None of you know each other’s names, but you’ve all seen each other in passing. Kids that were left on their own, that don’t trust easy won’t talk to each other either. Not really.

It’s rare to see a new face, so the teen sitting off to the side while the others talk catches you by surprise.

He’s massively tall already, but scrawny as hell, his hair in the awkward stage between short and being grown out. His eyes flit around, meeting no one else’s.

“Haven’t seen you before.” You greet, and he barely looks up. You offer him your name, and he pauses before he responds.

“Simon.” He says finally. There’s a short silence, broken by his rumbling stomach, and you hand him your sandwich without thinking twice. You’re not a big fan of tomatoes. He hesitates, inspecting it before he takes a bite. He barely nods as you tell him you don’t like tomatoes, and you doubt he even heard you.

“What are you doing here? Never seen you before.” You attempt, trying to make conversation. He shrugs in response, and you don’t pry further.

Simon sticks to you like glue in the days afterwards, a silent shadow that towers over you. Timmy, a kid that joined a gang after feeling overly confident, tries to approach you twice, but apparently, Simon’s glower is more intimidating than his stature.

After a week and a half, a social worker interrupts a game of Uno between you and Simon, pulling him away for a conversation. That usually means one of two things: going home, or going to a family of strangers.

You never get to find out which one it is, because Simon doesn’t say goodbye. You tell yourself that he made it home, or at least made it out. He seems like the type.

***

Against your hopes, and in line with all odds, you don’t make it out. Bouncing between foster families leaves you frustrated, angry and alone. A recipe for disaster, and you know it. Two years after Simon left the grey house that smelled like a germaphobe’s nightmare, you did as well.

Barely eighteen, with no one to back you up and not a single penny on your name, that went to shit quicker than you might have thought, and you found yourself exactly where you did not want to end up: the crime scene of Manchester.

It started off with little favors. Timmy convinced you. He said it wasn’t hard to sell drugs. That you’d only have to do it a few times, and then you’d have enough money to start yourself off with a real job. Something honest.

Something that would finally get you some real security. A sense of permanence.

Over the years, little favors turned into bigger favors.

Timmy, of course, didn’t know batshit about anything, and he certainly did not care to look into things more than he had to for you. And by the time your idiot, barely not-adolescent brain realized that, you were in too deep.

You’d done everything wrong, because selling drugs for a few days ‘wouldn’t hurt anyone’.

That was how you ended up as the cliché character of anti-everything prevention movies they showed you, back in the grey house. Abused, beaten-up, trafficked, sold, and not even out of your twenties.

Each time you thought about it, you wanted to laugh at yourself, to try and stop yourself from missing the gray house and the exhausted social workers that weren’t paid enough to care for any of you.

Just this time, you couldn’t go back to the gray house. You weren’t a child anymore. This time, people came for you to make sure that you’d pay them back what you owed them. Technically, what Timmy owed them.

They, whoever they were, took you away from Manchester, the only semblance of home you’d ever known. You found yourself in an abandoned cargo hall, freezing cold. From what you could see, it was snowing outside, the chill creeping inside. The girl next to you was out like a light, either from drugs, exhaustion, the cold, or a combination of all three.

You could make peace with the fact that you would never get out. You could just accept it, like you’d accepted everything else in your life. A voice in your head screamed that it wasn’t fair, and it felt like that scream was becoming more and more real. There was a ridiculous notion in the back of your mind, telling you to get up.

It bled into the screech from the gates of the cargo hall, protesting as they were opened. Your captors pointed their guns, but thick, white smoke filled the building, and you felt yourself become suddenly sleepy.

The last thing you saw were shadowy figures storming the hall, gunfire ringing out, smoke filling your nose and mouth.

***

When you came to, the smoke had dissipated, but you were still in the cargo hall. A group of men in camouflage walked around the hall, checking the men that were lying on the floor. One of them approached you and the others.

Almost automatically, you slinked backwards, out of his reach, but he gave you a soft smile.

He was young, too young to be in a place like this, with a sweet expression on his face that felt too saccharine to belong in the midst of this violence.

“I’m Gaz.” He said. “I’m with the British army, and we’re here to take you home. Are you hurt?”

Varying reactions came from the people around you, and you felt yourself numbly nodding. Home. Had a God heard your prayer and then decided to turn it into a joke?

The doctors arrived a while later, taking a look at everyone that had been with you. Some of the girls around you were drug addicts, and going into withdrawal was never pretty. The cargo hall quickly filled with the stench of vomit and cold sweat, but it meant that you got the time to look at the men that had stormed the hall. A gruff man with sideburns, a Scot with a mohawk that was chattering away with Gaz and-

He was hulking, a mountain that wore a skull instead of a face. You’d never met someone like him in your life, but he paused when he saw you, and you knew that he’d seen you before, this behemoth of a man.

***

It takes two more days before you’re back in England, but it doesn’t feel like a homecoming. Some of the girls have people waiting for them, parents, children, boyfriends, girlfriends to run into their arms and hold. Some are like you. No one comes, and they leave on their own.

You want to follow them. You can’t go back to Manchester. You’ll only return for your papers, if those still exist, and then you’ll leave.

You’re about to finally lift your feet from the cold, concrete floor when you feel a pair of eyes burning into your back.

Turning around, you see it’s the one they call Ghost. He’s standing off to the side, and it reminds you of something. You can’t figure out what it is, even though you try so so hard to just remember.

“Thank you for getting us out of there.” You blurt out, and he looks like he wants to say something, his jaw almost cramping together as he makes a tiny movement. You think it’s towards you.

“I owed you for the sandwich.” He says. The shrug looks forced, and you know that he can’t bring himself to say something more honest. “No tomatoes, of course.”

The seconds it takes you to understand seem to tick by outside of your brain, like a clock hammering with each moment passed. Then, your jaw falls slack.

“Simon?” you ask, too loudly, and the Scot named Soap snaps his head around to stare at you.

He doesn’t reply, and he doesn’t have to. You recognize his height, his eyes, the awkward standing off to the side so suddenly that it hits you like a fucking train. How couldn’t you see it before?

This is Simon. The kid that-

“You left without saying fucking anything!” you accuse, and you’re sure the others think you’re exes.

He just nods, and that almost infuriates you. But he made it out. He made something of himself, and you have to respect that. It’s all you want, always slipping away from your grasp, and Simon got it. Carved it out for himself, by the looks of it.

And finally, after an eternity, Simon steps forward and holds out a bag with the yellow-and-green subway logo on it.

“Hope you like it.” He mumbles, and it’s an almost adorable gesture. There’s no tomatoes, as he promised. Someone remembered something from your childhood.

You take the bag, and then you take the step separating you and hug him tightly. Are you overstepping a boundary? Is he going to push you off roughly?

He doesn’t hug you back, but he does allow you to wrap your arms around him (or, as much as you can do that with his new size).

His teammates stare, but you don’t let go. Not for a while.

“You got a place to stay?” he asks, when the others have gotten over the shock of your interaction. There’s genuine concern in his eyes, and a part of you hopes that you’re special in this, because you helped him too. Somehow.

“McDonalds is always open, and I’ve got…” you reach into your pocket, finding a crumpled note. “Enough for a large drink.”

He shakes his head. He offers his apartment, his home up to you and you should say no because he could traffic you, or rape you, or hurt you just enough to make you drag yourself back to Timmy.

You get into the car with him, and your mind screams danger. Your gut’s feeling alright though, so you ignore it.

The first change beyond the obvious of his massive frame that you notice is that he’s gotten even quieter. While you drag yourself up the dark staircase with some effort, he stays true to his name, not a single scrape coming from his combat boots.

In the apartment, he switches on the light, and you take in the spartan interior. A small kitchen, a sofa, a TV, a coffeetable with a mug still on it. No dinnertable, but three pictures on the refrigerator.

A young boy, a woman that reminds you of the younger Simon (maybe his mother?) and his teammates. Gaz, Soap, the older guy, two men that you don’t recognize, standing in scenery that looks almost tropical.

He lets you stare, before he quietly shows you the bathroom. You let the lock click behind you, even though you know that wouldn’t make much of an obstacle for the person he’s become.

You shower as quickly as you can, slipping back into your underwear. You hesitate for a moment, and then you grab the big, fluffy bathrobe hanging over the towel rack. Someone had vomited on your shirt, and you refused to put it on again.

The robe was too big for you, black with white skulls on it, and you highly doubted that Simon had bought it for himself. Maybe the Scot that cracked jokes with, or rather at him, had bought it for him and he’d caved to using it.

When you walked out, Simon was pulling clean sheets over the bed in his bedroom. He lifted his head when he heard you, and even through the balaclava, you knew he was lifting a brow at you.

“You’re wearing Soap’s bathrobe.” He commented.

“Someone vomited on my shirt.”

Simon did not reply, but he did turn around to rummage in his closet, throwing you one of his old shirts. You went back into the bathroom to put it on, and decided to not comment on the fact that it looked like a midi dress on you.

He closed the door behind him when he went to sleep, and the click of the lock felt a little insulting to you. Yet, you couldn’t expect him to trust you.

Sleep did not come easy to you, and when it did, you only had nightmares.

After a particularly bad one, you woke up with a start, only to find yourself face-to-face with one of your captors, face hid behind a balaclava, and you screamed.

Only after a few moments did you realize that it was Simon.

Between your panicked apologizing, and his nervous tea-making, it took a while for either of you to speak.

“I’m sorry for not telling you I was leaving.” He said finally, sitting across from you on the sofa, and still managing to take up three fourths of it.

“You didn’t have to. You didn’t know me.” You replied.

“I clung to you.” He said under his breath, as if it was an admittance of weakness.

“I liked it. Made me feel less alone.”

Your hands found each other in the dark, his fingers curling around yours and you swore that you could feel his heart hammer in his wrist.

“I don’t want to go to Manchester alone.” You whispered. It was an admittance of defeat.

“I’ll go with you.” Simon replied. He had no incentive to.

In the dark, it didn’t feel as preposterous or dangerous to move closer to him. He stilled when your knee bumped against his leg, and you held your breath, waiting for his rejection.

It didn’t come, only a shaky breath from Simon that gave the smallest of hints about how he was feeling. His hand was still holding yours, warm and a little rough, but it felt real. It made you move closer, to try and lean into his touch.

His hand slipped from yours, and for a moment, you thought that you’d done something wrong, but then you felt it on your waist, and Simon pulled you onto his lap. Your hands flew to his chest to steady yourself, and you could feel his hammering heart beating under his shirt.

Simon was so massive that he engulfed you, drowned out everything around you, and you loved it. There was nothing but him, and that didn’t scare you. It made you feel unfathomably safe.

He hugged you suddenly, a mirror gesture to what you’d done at the airport, his thick arms wrapping around you, pulling you even closer, until your lips were almost on his and he looked up at you with something in his eyes that you couldn’t place, because no one had ever looked at you like that.

You couldn’t help kissing him. Slowly, asking, almost begging, you peeled up the lower half of his balaclava, waiting for him to tell you to stop. Instead, even in the darkness, you knew that the stubble on his jaw was blonde, because it was impossible to forget someone like him. Your lips found his and it felt so right that your hands snaked up to his jaw, cradling his face in the hope that he’d know you cared for him.

Simon returned your kiss equally as hungry, demanding the air you breathed from you, his embrace swallowing you, and you wanted to give it all to him. Your hands shook as you reached to slip them over the band of his sweats, still unsure if he’d reject you, or let you do it.

Cautiously, your hands slipped under his t-shirt first, his skin feeling like it was burning in comparison to your cold fingers, warm to the touch, and safe.

“I thought about you a lot.” You admitted between kisses. “Wanted to know what happened to you.”

Simon stilled at that, his gaze shifting, warping from one unreadable expression to another.

“Nothin’ good.” He replied finally. You felt like an idiot. Like you’d just ruined the moment.

“I’m sorry.” You said, because you had no idea what else to say. His hand found yours, and you felt like whatever was going to happen to you, it was going to be okay.

[lieswetell]

IFHY (Jordan Li x Alt!Reader) PT 1

Tags~ roommate au, enemies to lovers, alt reader, tattooed reader, slow burn, supe!reader, afab!fem!reader

Warnings~ angry sex, jordan might be a lil mean, porn w plot bc im freaky like that, drugs, alcohol, gay shit

Monday, August 7th

“It’s only one semester. This will be over before you know it,” Mia said.

You want to hear her out and try to be optimistic about the situation, but it’s complicated. Having your own dorm was rare in Godolkin. Students who did usually paid an ungodly amount for the extra privacy or were gifted one because of their current sponsors. For you, in your previous two years, it had been a mixture of both.

“This is bullshit.” You complain and have to force yourself not to roll your eyes at your phone.

Mia hadn’t done anything wrong. She was doing everything she could to get you what you wanted. However, it wasn’t playing out in your favor this time. You were still in your dorm, trying to cling on to that last bit of single dorm life you could, even though you were moments away from the move.

“Look. I love you, but there isn't anything else I can do. Some of these kids will probably be out in a few months.” Mia tried to help you look on the bright side of the situation.

You have yet to respond to what your assistant was telling you. Instead, you just kept looking around the now-empty dorm with a mournful gaze.

“Shetty says it’s a large roo-” Mia added.

“My room was plenty big enough,” You complained again. This time, the words came out in a sort of whine that would remind anyone else of a toddler.

 You got up from the floor and wiped your hands on your pants. After taking a deep breath, you closed the last bin in your room.

“One semester.”  You sighed.

“One semester,” Mia said, her voice a lot more positive than yours.

“When are you recording that video for-”

“Alright, look at the time the moving team is here. Can’t be late.” You cut her off and blew her a kiss before hanging up on her.

The moving team wasn’t anywhere near your room, and you knew that. If you focused, you could hear everyone in the building. There wasn’t a trace of dickheads with whistles anywhere near you.

The Godolkin University moving team usually consisted of sophomore students with too much strength to know where to put it. Many were from various clubs or programs that forced them to help incoming students. 

You started to stack your bins and luggage outside of your room on your own. Typically, the moving team would assist the students. Still, it was effortless for you to carry the items, and you thought if you looked around your dorm for any longer, you might burst into tears. That wasn’t very productive or good for your image if anyone were to see it. So you popped in your earbuds and started to lift the bins. When finished you put the label on your crate 465.

 With the headphones in your ears, you didn’t notice just how much more lively it was. Most of your floormates were in other single dorms with other upper-level students. So you would only really run into a few people if any, daily. With the influx of incoming students moving in, you would easily have trouble avoiding anyone. According to your assistant Mia, every dorm room was filled(yayyyy godolkin for not allowing students to live off campus).

After skipping an array of songs, Spotify somehow thought would suit your style, someone poked you on the shoulder.

“You’re 17#, right? Big fan, honest.”The boy said. Something you noticed everyone said after they wanted to snap a quick picture with someone. You couldn’t complain, though you had no proof this person was lying to you.

“Nice to meet you.” You said and copied the same amount of excitement. The perfect amount to seem genuine but still cool enough to feel above them in that weird way you can only get from social media. You extended your hand, and he shook it eagerly.

You didn't feel that way, of course. That’s just the game and how you needed to perform. All to get where you needed to be. Being a hero was a machine full of moving parts, and Mia has been training you since you were fourteen.

“Can I get a picture?” He asked, and you nodded before he could get the sentence out.

Always…

“Always always…” you answered happily. You quickly adjusted your hair and gave the boy a side hug.

The selfie came out nice. Cute and wholesome. You made sure he tagged you on the picture and used a few of your hashtags. You gazed around, wondering who was assisting him with the move. He just looked around at your bins before looking back up at you.

“Is there anything fragile in there?” He asked awkwardly. It seems he hadn't shaken off the nerves from meeting you. It was so silly to you. You weren’t Homelander or Queen Maeve.

“Yeah, the fragile stuff is in that box right there. Marked fragile in bold red tape…”

The boy then looked back at you with a look you couldn’t place. Before you could even realize what was about to happen, his arms stretched out to unnatural lengths as if he were made of rubber. He lifted all of your bins simultaneously. He wrapped and stacked them into the carts and secured them as if his arms were bungee cords. It was astonishing. You had never seen that power before, and although it was slightly disgusting, it was cool.

Just as you went to pat him on the back, a box on top crashed to the floor. You heard the glass shatter and knew instantly it was the fragile box he so kindly placed on top of everything to avoid it getting crushed. Just my luck. That was definitely the bong in there that you’ve had for a few years. 

“Oh, I’m so sorry. I've been stretched out all day. Things are starting to fall out.” he apologized genuinely.

“Lemme guess you are usually super tight?”

Your roommate was finished moving all of her things to the other side of the room. It definitely started as a struggle, but after a bit of time, Jordan started to get the hang of it. Early in the process, he was just bitching to himself about having to do this in the first place. He didn't really have anyone to complain about it to. His friends were rooming with each other, and he was the only one stuck rooming with a new person.

 His parents didn't understand his frustrations, and instead, they were just happy he would be rooming with a girl. Jordan tried explaining his irritation to Brink, but that was also a no-go. All Brink did was reframe the situation by saying it could somehow make Jordan a better hero.

“Are there seriously no fucking quads in this place?” Jordan complained to no one.

He sat on his loveseat on his couch and scrolled on his phone. He debated not being in the room when his new roommate arrived. Jordan heard that people had done that, but he was too nervous to do it himself. What if you stole something? What if you wanted to put your stuff on his side? Maybe you were a weird freshman? Or worse, a fan of him?

He sat back on the couch. His feet were planted firmly in front of him, and he scrolled on his phone. It was a position he often found himself in. In this form, his feet were actually able to reach the floor when he sat all the way back on the couch comfortably. In the other one, her feet dangled and gave off a less intimidating look than the one he was currently in.

There was a soft knock on the door. Jordan rolled his eyes and stayed in his position. Why would he open the door? If they were supposed to be moving in, they surely would have a key, right? He looked at his door open. Jordan wasn’t really sure what to expect to be standing in the doorway. 

When the ugly beast finally reared its head, Jordan finally exhaled. He hadn’t realized he was holding his breath until you waved at him.

“Hi” You said

It’s all you can offer him at the moment. The little helper you had assisting you barged in soon after you greeted Jordan. Jordan didn't even say anything to you. He just looked at you from his spot on the loveseat then his eyes trailed over to the freshman who couldn’t maintain eye contact with you.

“Looks like! Holy shit Jordan”

“Yeah.” He just nodded, confirming that he was indeed Jordan Li

The freshman stood awkwardly with your things and stared at Jordan. The interaction was just already a lot weirder than it needed to be. So you stood at the door and tried to think of a way to intervene in the impromptu staring contest.

“Thanks. You can just leave it right here. I can do the rest.” You thanked him with a big smile

With another resounding crash, he let go of the bins, and you winced. Jordan even was taken aback by the sound and rolled his eyes

“Are you sure, ma’am?” he asked 

He sounded genuine even though he treated your belongings like they were indestructible. You buffered for a moment and realized what he said

“Ma’am? How old do you think- never mind, just leave thanks.” You shooed him away and exhaled softly

“Bye”

He watched you. You unpacked your things, and he stayed put and just watched you. He was cycling through so many things in his head. Being so last minute, this situation didn't give him any time to prepare. The only thing he did was clean and move his shit to one side of the room. He was grateful that he could at least recognize you from the ranking. The unknown was scary like that. Jordan knows you have been slowly climbing your way to the top. Your reputation was squeaky clean. Your brand was sweet, innocent, and confident. 

Your brand didn't mean he trusted you, though. Anyone with more than two fucking brain cells at this school knew that your ‘brand’ or ‘online presence’ meant absolutely nothing. Just because you waltz in here with your big smile and wave doesn't mean he will let his guard down. Roommate or not, you still had the potential to be a big fucking dick.

“Yeah, just don’t touch any of my shit, and we should be fine.” Jordan said without looking up from his phone.

He sat comfortably slumped on the sofa. The uninterested appearance he’s in pissed you off. Oh, so he’s just like this? You could do this, though. You wouldn’t let him see that you were frustrated. People like him lived off of that shit, and you wouldn’t give him what he wanted. You just nodded and gave him another smile, one real enough to be convincing.

“I understand. You do have some nice things. Probably wouldn’t want anyone getting into it either.” You said in that cheerful voice that you had been trained to perfect. 

That time, Jordan did look at you. He was now thoroughly annoyed and over the roommate situation. In his eyes, he tried. In the twenty minutes you had been in the room, Jordan considered everything he had done ‘trying’. This situation wouldn’t work, though. He just wasn’t built to share rooms with a random person.

-

-

-

Wednesday, September 27th

“Jesus Christ, do you ever fucking fucking knock?!” Jordan shouted

You did knock. You dented the door to your room because you were banging on the door for about ten minutes. You even shot Jordan a few texts saying when you would return to the dorm. Of course, she hadn’t responded to any of them; she never did.

So you said fuck it and broke the lock on your door and walked into the room. Jordan was riding some junior in her bed. The sight wasn’t new to you, so you were unfazed. Seemingly to you, Jordan never really cared about you seeing her naked. It was more of the fact you were interrupting her that was the problem. In the two months you have been rooming with Jordan, you have walked in on her having sex four times.

The first time, it came as a shocker. You squealed and covered your eyes, immediately leaving the room and shooting her a few apology texts. When you left, Jordan just continued on like it was nothing. Like you were just a temporary pause. This time wasn’t like that. You walked in and closed the door behind you.

So you waved at the man who was underneath Jordan on the bed. He looked at you with a confused look, then turned to look back at Jordan, who was bewildered.

“You're not usually my type, but I think I could be down for both of you,” The man said, then looked back up at Jordan curiously.

You just walked toward your desk, sat down, and started up your laptop.

She climbed off him and huffed, “Get out”.

Then the man shuffled awkwardly around the room and tried to pick up his clothes. He slipped the condom off and didn't know what to do with it, so he tried to hand it to Jordan. She pointed towards the door, so he just nodded and held it as he left the room. His clothes were still crumpled in his other hand, covering his dick. You shook your head slightly, knowing that type of thing was far too normalized in this school.

“Do you purposely do that?” Jordan asked you sharply. It was more of an accusation. He barely spoke to you, and when he did, it was always intending to fight.

“Do what?” You asked and logged into the Godolkin portal.

“Wait until I’m using the room to appear out of thin air” She complained and stepped closer to you.

Whenever Jordan spoke to you, it was like they were a nagging little voice that you had to physically restrain yourself from losing your cool with. You didn’t want to risk an argument with Jordan, no matter how much of a bitch she was. It just wasn’t worth it. It would be optimistic to think that Jordan wouldn’t somehow get you lousy press from the situation. It was also optimistic of you to think that one day, Jordan would just stop trying to fight the fact that they would have to live with someone.

Every day you felt like you were seconds from Jordan finally saying fuck it and starting beef with you publicly just to fuck up your rank. Being ranked seventeen wasn’t the best you could be, but to most people, being in the top one hundred was quite an accomplishment. Job security was a hard thing for supes to find, and you weren’t going to fuck up your brand just because Jordan was having a bad day.

“Oh, please. I texted you, Jordan. Multiple times,” It came out with a little more emotion than you intended. Patience wasn’t your strength today.

“You didn’t,” She said flatly.

You huffed and pulled your phone out of your bag. When you pulled up the text chain to show her. You looked away awkwardly when she turned around to grab her phone. For some reason seeing her ass suddenly felt invasive, although she was so chill about it. Once again, she was more pissed about the fact she didn't cum.

“That’s not even my number.” She showed you her Apple ID and rolled your eyes.

“Who’s fault is that?” You asked her this time; your tone couldn’t have been mistaken for anything but annoyed.

Jordan realized what she did and grabbed your phone out of your hand. You scoffed at the action and tried to snatch it back, but she was faster than you. Probably in both forms, unfortunately. Jordan just updated the contact info and handed you back your phone(which you snatched out of her hands immediately).

“You could’ve knocked,” Jordan said, and you did a sharp inhale.

You looked up at her, then back down at your phone at the updated info. It was hard not for you to be pissed about the fact he lied to you. So many arguments could’ve been avoided, but of course, she couldn’t even give you her number.

“I did. For about ten minutes. Maybeyouweretoobusycreamingondicktohearaboutit” 

The words came out as a rushed whisper. The struggle of trying to hold your anger was starting to become not only a mental challenge but a physical one.

“What did you say?”Jordan asked. This time, he almost seemed kind of excited, which didn't help you calm your nerves in the slightest.

“The locks broken, by the way. You locked me out, so I had to break it open. I’ll schedule a maintenance worker to check it out around five,” You told him. The facade was back up. You were no longer spewing attitude at him.

The maintenance request was sent, and Jordan was left confused at the sudden change in demeanor. He was excited for a second that it seemed you finally had a moment of real fucking emotion with him. Jordan would much rather be alone in his dorm, but your unwavering positivity threw him off more than he intended.

Jordan could recall a few times he would complain and rant about you to his friends during smoke seshes. It had only been two months, but he felt like he wasn’t even rooming with a natural person. Something about you was too perfect, too clean, just all around, too bland. He was excited to talk to a person for that quick moment there. It's not the brand you posted for everyone to see. 

He went back to the other side of the room in defeat. He sat on top of his bed. Jordan never stopped looking at you. You slipped up, and maybe that gave him hope(he would never admit it).

“I need the room at five,” Jordan said.

You furrowed your brows and looked over at the calendar on the wall. Each day that passed, scribbled out with a blue Sharpie. You shook your head and looked over at him.

“You have class. It’s Wednesday,” You said matter of factly.

Jordan rolled his eyes and mumbled

.“No, I don’t.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at him. He could be so petty sometimes for no reason, and this was one of those moments.

“Did you just disagree with me just because?” You asked him.

Jordan couldn’t think of a comeback or words to say. You talked to him in that weirdly positive tone despite clearly being irritated with him again. Maybe his dick twitched a little, but he ignored that.

“Jordan, put some clothes on, okay?” 

“Fuck you”

“Your dick is out”

“Have a great day”

Maintenance fixed the door problem by 5:13 pm. It was a simple fix. A new doorknob was installed, but a couple of dents from your early frustration remained a reminder. Afterward, you were alone in your dorm, struggling to wait forty minutes to join a lecture.

  It was a struggle not to nod off in front of your computer. Online classes always felt like a good idea when you signed up for them, but you soon realized they were a trap. It is a carefully crafted trap for you to waste your time on the course because you couldn't keep your eyes open long enough to listen to your professor drone on about the importance of… You fell asleep.

You needed the relief anyway. It was a struggle to keep holding up the illusions you were. The influx of incoming students fucked you over. Having a roommate who hated you meant you were always using your powers. You couldn’t trust him not to try and ruin your brand. The only times you would have a break from having to cast an illusion was when Jordan was out doing whatever the fuck he did besides training and sulking.

Illusions fell around you—your side of the room that was once pale blue and pink warped into black and purple. Your hair, which once seemed to be tied tightly in a bun, fell around your shoulders. The pink sweater you wore was replaced with a black hoodie you had for years. The illusions you had concealing your tattoos shattered. The ink from your arm sleeve peaked out from the wrist of your hoodie.

-

-

-

“Who are you texting?”Andre asked 

It was late. Jordan sat on the couch in his friends' dorm and tried not to be bitter that there were only three bedrooms. He typed in his phone, angry you weren’t responding. Why does he have to deal with this? He’s pretty sure when he leaves that, all three of them just crash in the living room in a pile like cavepeople anyways. Andre’s room was always too fucking clean for anyone to actually stay in there.

He leaned over on the couch to try and take a peak at Jrdan’s phone. Jordan leaned away, mildly irritated with his friend. Andre just shrugged and made a face at Cate. Cate rolled her eyes, already knowing where this conversation was going to go. It was the only thing Jordan talked about the past couple of weeks.

“My hell of a roommate,” Jordan complained and rolled his eyes.

You hadn’t responded to the last ten texts he sent. He was trying to be better to you. He might've felt a bit guilty about giving you the wrong number for that long. So now he was trying to do what you would have done for him. He planned on bringing the same guy from earlier back over, but you wouldn’t respond to him.

“Oh, she cant be that bad?” Cate said, trying to be positive about the situation.

“Cute, you guys are texting,” Andre whispered.

Jordan heard him, however, and switched. Before Andre had a chance to react, Jordan slapped him in the back of the head. The touch was light but quick. Andre chuckled softly and then raised both of his hands.

“Well, I’m trying to tell her I'm on my way back to the dorm. Might need it in a few,” Jordan explained and put his phone away.

“Why do you look so stressed?” Luke asked.

To be honest, he was the only one not caught up on the whole Jordan hating her roommate thing. He thought she would get over it in a week, but clearly, that wasn’t the case. Jordan still hated you basically for existing at this point. Luke tried to lock in on the situation, but he was still pretty high from the session that just ended.

“She isn’t fucking responding,” Jordan whined.

“It’s fine. It’s only been like ten minutes,” Luke stated.

Luke’s eyes looked around the room for whatever the fuck he was missing. Cate just laughed beside him.

“Since the last text I sent. I texted her five hours ago,” Jordan added, her arms crossed in front of her.

“It’s probably nothing,” Luke assured her, although he didn't understand why the situation was that. 

Serious. Cate understood it, though. Even if, at the time, Jordan didn’t understand, she could have seen it already. Cate had a weird way of just knowing.

“Yeah, what are you so worried about?”Andre asked, raising his eyebrows in a suggestive way.

Jordan looked away and flipped him off. Cate and Andre shared another look, and Jordan wanted to flip the couch over. She didn’t though

“Fuck off, Dre.”

“Who is she again? Freshman?” Cate asked

“No, junior.” Jordan answered.

“Who is it?”Luke asked, hoping that maybe that would explain Jordan’s frustration.

When Jordan answered, none of them had much of a reaction, which wasn’t very satisfying for Jordan. Andre didn’t even know who you were talking about(he didn't pay attention to the rankings much). Cate just nodded, taking in the info. It was always funny to her how the most liked people could be some of the worst. Luke didn't run with Jordan’s opinion of her roommate. He knew how dramatic Jordan could sometimes be, and he was pretty sure she would've hated any roommate she was assigned to just because they were an inconvenience to Jordan.

Jordan didn't like the feeling of being interrogated, so the hangout was cut shorter than normal. Once she answered one question, it was like he opened Pandora’s box of bullshit, and everyone wouldn’t get the spotlight off of her. So, she gave up on reaching out to the guy from earlier and instead was banging on the door of her dorm room like a mad woman.

“Dude, open the fucking door!”Jordan shouted.

He didn't want to break the door again, but the longer he stood outside, the more appealing of an idea it became. Inside the dorm, you were still fast asleep at your desk. The exhaustion from overusing your powers took a severe toll on your body. You had been out cold the entire time. All illusions previously placed on you and your things were deactivated.

“C’mon, this is really petty. Just open up.” Jordan said again, but you couldn’t hear him.

A hard alarm sounded in your ear. You shook your head awkwardly, then scrambled to check your laptop.

Take your pill

You nodded and stood up to take your birth control. You made it three steps before you fell because of the loud bang at your door. Shit. Jordan’s voice yelled something behind the door that you couldn’t quite make out at the moment. All you knew was that you needed to hurry and get all the illusions back up. You waved your hands a bit, trying to tap into Jordan’s psyche once you were confident enough that the illusions were back up, and you dry-swallowed your birth control and made your way to the door.

Act normal

“Hey, sorry I got caught up in studying?” You answered the door with a smile.

“Fine, whatever. I texted you, though.” Jordan looked at you, partially confused

It didn't make sense to him. You went hours without answering him, and your excuse was that you got caught up studying. What the fuck? You didn’t even look tired? Jordan hated you. You closed the door behind him and sat on your bed.

[azzibuckets]

At the end of the day Paige gets the attention she does because she’s truly one of the best college players we’ve seen. But Azzi has the talent to be that too. It’s unfortunate for Azzi because she’s been dealt a bad hand but besides injuries I feel like no one holds Azzi back more than she does herself. Yeah she’s had a few incredible games at UConn but her dropping 30 one game and then single digits the next few game isn’t gonna cut it this year. To be considered as one of the best players she has to consistently drop those big numbers which she’s more than capable of doing. At one point in high school some would argue that she was better than Paige and Paige has surpassed her even when dealing with her own injuries. Paige does also play passive sometimes but it’s nowhere near the way Azzi does. I’m a true fan of Azzi and she has the potential to be so much more than what she’s shown. I know she hasn’t been able to play in as many games as she would’ve liked to so far but even in the ones she did it seems like she’s never had the confidence that she played with in high school. It sucks that it seems to be a mental thing with her because if she believed in herself the way everyone else does she would take off. I really do hope this year she reminds every one of who she is.

very well said

[5h-epilogue]

“ . . . and as you’ve grown up, I continued with running my companies, starring in movies, making music, and I produced my play. Everyone else eventually found happiness in one way or another, thank goodness.”

Nia had wondered how her parents were so rich, how she was able to enjoy such comfortable seating out on the patio she glanced around at now that overlooked an enormous pool — the big, outdoor flower and vegetable garden to the right of it — and the patio also had two flat-screen televisions, a gourmet outdoor cooking area with a grill, and, appropriately, ceiling fans and a fire pit.

“Wow, mom. That’s . . . wow.” The young girl was in a bit of shock. She understood why a filmmaker wanted to make a movie about you. A countless amount of questions ran through her mind about you, her mother, who was considered to be a living legend.

Your beloved chef came outdoors and served you and your daughter a bowl of strawberry chicken salad, your favorite summer meal, which she now knew reminded you of your old, deceased lover, Armin Arlert.

“Thank you,” you said to the chef. “Would you mind bringing me my photo album?”

The photo album.

You mentioned it in your story.

Several minutes later, your chef returned with a brown, hardcover book that Nia had seen a countless amount of times in a reserved spot in the library, but never had she touched it. She couldn’t anyway, as it was on a pedestal display underneath protective glass.

Opening the pages, you showed her several photographs of your younger self.

“These were taken by Levi Ackerman,” you said softly.

“You look really pretty,” Nia mumbled, taking the photo album from you, as you were flipping through it too fast for her liking.

She glanced down at a selfie of you and a dark-haired man at the beach, the decades-old date catching her attention.

“Is that Levi?” She asked.

“Yes,” you replied.

Then, she saw the letter Levi had written to you. She only skimmed across it, having already known its contents from your story, and then, she explored the other pages: where Levi told you to continue filling the photo album with pictures from your past, present, and future.

There was a picture of you with a kind-looking, blonde-haired man, standing side by side in a bakery, hands covered in flour.

There was another picture of that same man in a selfie with her father, who seemed so young.

It was clearly Armin. Not only could she gather that from the details your story provided, but he was one of three people in every photo she stared at who she hadn’t seen in her entire life.

There was a photo of you and Jean in a studio together, you writing something down on a notepad as he studiously adjusted something on the soundboard mixer.

“Wait, was this CS Records or Arlert Records?”

You leaned over, looking at the photo.

“CS Records. See the date? Jean and I were more than likely working on my first few songs during the Eldian Devils tour. I can’t remember who took the picture, though.”

Nia hummed in response.

Next, there was a picture of you and Eren getting married for the first time as young artists in Las Vegas. Underneath it, there was a picture of you and Eren getting remarried in Europe.

The other photos consisted of you, Reiner, and his family the night he proposed, you and Mikasa having lunch near a bridge, a group of friends playing cards around a table, a few pictures of you on stage, on film sets, and at awards shows, Eren’s family, and other pictures of you and your friends who she lovingly recognized.

It was odd to know that, as she looked at all of the photographs of people who she had just seen last week, there were two people in some pictures who would never, ever age. The photos of Levi and Armin existed as a permanent reminder of how they will always be known.

Towards the back of the photo album, there was a picture of you with another man she didn’t recognize, but it wasn’t Levi. It wasn’t Armin.

“Is that Connie Springer?” Your daughter leaned over to show you a photograph of you and Connie dressed in suits and gowns for some sort of event.

“Yes,” you said. “That was my album release party. It was the first night Connie let me out of my bedroom after locking me away.”

“Uh,” Nia frowned. “That’s really-”

Nia interrupted her own sentence, distracted by the very last photo in the photo album.

It was a picture that was much older than the other ones. Not only did the date give it away, but the horrible camera quality as well.

It was a photo that couldn’t be found online. A photograph that was worth more than diamonds and gold.

Four young teenagers, standing in front of beautiful trees and bushes, smiling brightly, were photographed by her grandmother, Carla Yeager.

Nia read the little description below the childhood photo of Eren, Jean, Connie, and Marco: The original Eldian Devils. So long & farewell.

Below that, there was a photo of two young children trying to catch fireflies in a patch of high grass underneath a streetlight, photographed by her other grandmother, whom she had never known.

The little description below that childhood photo read: First loves. So long & farewell.

Nia closed the photo album.

“I think I’m gonna cry, Mom,” Nia started to bury her head in her hands. But then, she suddenly perked up and pushed herself out of her seat. “I gotta go see Dad!”

The young girl speed-walked through the enormous home. At this hour, she was certain where to find him.

Opening the door to the family room, there he was, strumming his guitar.

“Hi angel,” Eren smiled, soft wrinkles by his emerald eyes appeared as he greeted his beloved daughter with her favorite nickname, but upon seeing her eyes glistening with sadness, he immediately put down his guitar. “What’s wrong?”

He motioned the girl over, who quickly ran to him and sat down, wrapping her arms around him.

While he didn’t know why she was so upset, he had years of experience soothing her cries.

“It’s okay, it’s okay, I’m here,” he repeated.

Nia was a touch more sensitive and incredibly empathetic compared to the average person, that much was true, and right now, she could only think about all the pain her father experienced. The abuse. Almost dying. Losing friends.

And it hurt terribly, especially because she had only known him as the kind-hearted man who was a phenomenal father.

“I’m glad mom picked you,” Nia mumbled. “Thank you for always watching The Parent Trap with me . . . showing up to all of my shows and stuff . . . reading my papers . . . and just . . . you’re a great dad. I love you.”

“Aw, I love you too.” Eren hugged his girl even tighter. “Of course, sweetheart. Always.”

When you stepped into the room, smiling softly, Eren gave you a confused look that silently asked: What’s going on?

You held up the photo album, and he immediately understood.

Eren then motioned you over. Once you sat beside him, he kissed your forehead and wrapped his arm around you as well, holding on to the two people he cherished more than anyone or anything else in the world.

“I love you, mom. You’re so strong, and pretty amazing, too.” Nia reached out, touching your arm. “I hope I can be like you when I’m your age. Older you. Not younger you. You used to be a mess.”

For a while, the three of you sat there, hugging one another, experiencing nothing but pure love and joy.

—

A few months later, it was Thanksgiving.

The heartwarming event was hosted at your house, as it was every year, and familiar faces were gathered around the enormous dining room table covered with warm plates of food.

This year, Nia approached everyone and asked them more specific questions about their lives, wanting more details about the story she heard.

Aunt Hange was more than happy to answer just about everything after having too much wine.

Everyone was lovingly questioned by the teenager, and she shared what you had told her with their children as well.

After having dinner, Jean and his wife were sitting in the living room, playing cards with Erwin and Hange.

Reiner and his wife, who had flown in from Tennessee, were socializing with Annie, her girlfriend, and Sasha — who brought her husband, Niccolo, and their son.

Nia hung out in the recreation room with Reiner’s three children, who both had hair as blonde as his and were slightly younger than she was.

Mikasa, who had settled down in Washington after seeing the world, wanting to be closer to her friends and family, was telling you and Eren about one Thanksgiving year that she had spent lost in the middle of a forest.

A little while afterward, once dinner, laughter, and board games came to an end, Eren found you outside on the patio, staring at the glowing fireplace.

“Hi, baby. Everyone’s gone,” Eren sat down beside you. “Nia’s asleep, or she’s pretending to be, I’m not sure.”

“She’s probably tired, so I’m guessing she's actually asleep,” you said with a grin. “Today was fun. I miss everyone already.”

“Me too,” Eren smiled softly. “I’m glad everyone’s doing well. I hope it stays that way.”

“It will,” you suddenly yawned.

“Come on,” Eren stood up and reached his hand out, and you took it. “Let’s get ready for bed.”

“Someone’s excited to cuddle, huh?” You teased, expecting him to deny it, but proudly, he grinned wider and said, “Of course I am, so hurry up.”

After having a shower together, you and Eren both cuddled up in bed, falling asleep in each other’s arms.

That night, you dreamt of your past — making cinnamon rolls in a bakery and staring at stars from a rooftop.

It was a dream that you often had, but not out of regret. Not out of pain. But out of reflection of just how much you healed. How much your life had changed.

There were some people you wished you could bring back — Armin and Levi.

Some questions went unanswered — who your stalker was all those years ago, and whether it was a stranger or a lover.

But, even so, after having five husbands, and after every beautiful experience and painful memory, you could finally say that you had found contentment, and your one true love was the happiness you experienced as you grew old with your friends and family by your side.

— ONE MONTH LATER —

Five years.

That’s how long Eren had been trying his hardest to visit Connie in prison.

And a month after having Thanksgiving dinner with his family and friends, Connie allowed him to come.

What a stubborn man Connie was, but Eren’s persistence had won.

Eren couldn’t lie. He was nervous. The last time he laid eyes on the CS Records owner, he was testifying against him in court, both of them as young men. Both of them wishing that the other person would simply fall over and die.

But now, as the man in his forties sat in an uncomfortable chair in a private room, waiting for Connie to arrive on the other side of the thick glass, he couldn’t help but wonder what made Connie finally allow him to visit.

But he wouldn’t have to wonder much longer.

His leg, which shook with anticipation, halted its movement when a door opened and a prisoner was escorted out in chains, two correctional officers standing at his side.

It was him. Connie Springer.

Eren’s brows unintentionally furrowed, his face twitching as he fought the urge to both smile and frown.

It was Connie — the same man that tried to take his life. A murderer. Torturer. And yet, it was Connie, his old childhood friend who had aged just as he did, and despite being behind bars, he looked rather well.

If Connie was as shocked to see Eren after years upon years, Eren couldn’t tell, as the prisoner simply blinked at him as he was escorted to his seat on the other side of the glass, his face expressionless. Intimidating.

And he just stared at Eren.

The former musician was the first one to pick up the phone hanging on the wall to communicate. Connie did so as well a few moments later.

Pressing the phone to his ear, Eren’s emotional, shiny eyes darted away from Connie’s, down at the new tattoo on Connie’s left arm, and back up at him.

“Hey,” Eren spoke first.

Connie didn’t respond.

He just stared at Eren.

“I’m here because I wanted to see how you were doing,” Eren spoke yet again.

Connie’s chains rattled as he shifted in his seat.

He just stared at Eren.

With a frown, Eren questioned, “Why did you let me come visit you if you weren’t going to talk to me?”

“You didn’t give me a choice. I thought you’d give up . . . after five fucking years.”

Finally.

Eren couldn’t help but smile a bit. Hearing his voice again after forgetting what it sounded like was rather startling.

“You only said yes so I’d leave you alone?” Eren asked.

“Yeah.”

“Alright. I’ll take what I can get,” Eren softly sighed. “I never thought that I’d ever want to see you again, but here I am.”

“You really did all this to check on me?” Connie’s question was fired rather abruptly, nearly cutting off Eren’s sentence. “I put a bullet through your chest. I’m the reason you only have eight fingers left. I killed your friends, and I could keep naming shit I’ve done. Why are you here?”

Eren glanced away, adjusting the dark green phone in his hand.

“Time heals all wounds.”

“That something your therapist came up with?”

“Yeah.”

The corner of Connie’s mouth twitched as, this time, he was the one fighting the urge to smile.

“What I’m trying to say is that I can’t forgive you for what you did to Armin and Levi, and it’s not my place to or not to. But I forgive you for what you did to me.” Eren’s eyes glistened with subtle sadness. “I guess I’m just hoping that after all this time . . . after all we’ve been through . . . I can talk to my friend again. Not CS Records owner, Connie Springer, but my friend. I haven’t spoken to him since I was fifteen, and I woke up with two new gray hairs today.”

It was a soft noise, one that was very brief and vanished as soon as it had arrived, but Connie chuckled.

“You’re saying some corny stuff, man.”

Eren’s smile brightened. “That’s what happens when you have a kid. All I do now is think of dad jokes, and try to-”

“You have a kid?”

Eren’s face faltered in utter confusion, but as he stared at Connie’s slightly shocked face, he could tell that the man wasn’t messing around.

Nia’s birth was worldwide news. It was a steady hot topic for an entire year — one would have thought that a new member of the royal family had been born.

But then, Eren realized that for the most part, behind bars, the outside world ceased to exist. Especially in maximum security facilities.

“Yeah,” Eren said. “I have a daughter. She turned fourteen a month ago.”

“Is her mom around? Who’s she?”

“Her mom is Y/N. And, yeah, she’s around. We’ve been married for years.”

“Seriously?” Connie couldn’t hide the shock and surprise. A look of amusement appeared upon his face as he raised his eyebrows. “Well, uh . . . congratulations. How’s Y/N?”

Eren couldn’t help but smile as he thought about you, his beautiful wife. “She’s good. She’s great. Her companies are still going strong, and she’s finally happy.”

“Didn’t wanna come see me?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Yeah, I get that,” Connie nodded.

Then, his face fell into a small frown, hazel eyes darting down to the corner of the glass, staring at nothing in particular.

“How’s Jean doing?”

“Jean’s fine. He’s retired from music. He married a pianist.” Eren paused. “Everyone else is doing fine too. Reiner has kids and a wife, and they all have Southern accents — it’s funny to hear. Mikasa finally . . .”

For a while, Connie listened to Eren ramble on about the progressive lives of the people he once knew.

As his old friend spoke, he couldn’t help but wonder how his life would have turned out if he had made different choices.

Sadness pricked at his heart, sending a small ache throughout his body.

If only he wasn’t such an idiot back then.

No. He was worse than an idiot.

He was a monster.

“What about you, Connie? I know you’re locked up, but how are they treating you here? Knowing you, you probably run this place, huh?”

Truth be told, Connie was rather surprised to know Eren cared. It was just as touching as it was shocking.

“Damn right,” Connie said.

And it was true, but not in the way one would imagine.

He intimated who he needed to. Ruined lives when he needed to. But, over the nearly two decades he had been behind bars, he had done it solely to stick up for the defenseless prisoners, both young and old, who didn’t deserve to be treated as he once was when he was locked up the first time.

It wasn’t some change of heart that had occurred over the last several years, either.

From the very first day he entered as a younger man, he was both starting fights and finishing them to protect others.

He couldn’t explain why he did such things. It was no secret that he didn’t mind letting other people get hurt, considering he excelled at harming others, but this was different.

Somehow, it just was.

“Can I ask you something? And be honest with me,” Eren paused, carefully thinking over his words before he dared to utter them. “Do you regret it? Any of it?”

Connie ran his hand down his lower face.

It was a difficult question, and not because he didn’t know the answer, because he did, but rather, he wasn’t sure if the truth was an acceptable response.

Telling the truth meant showing weakness. Losing power.

Letting go of that mentality was rather difficult, especially behind bars where weakness was preyed on.

But he didn’t care about those former beliefs anymore. He was getting too old for such stupidity.

“Telling you I regret it will give you closure, right?”

“Surely you want closure too.”

“I regret everything.” The prisoner looked into his old friend’s eyes as he spoke. “I wish I . . .” He clenched his jaw. He couldn’t speak anymore — but there were, perhaps, no words in the English language that could properly express what he felt in his heart.

“Well, uh, how about this,” The other man sniffled softly as spoke. “You’ll have to be under constant supervision, but, in a few years, how about we work on getting you out of here . . . letting you see the sun again? What do you say?”

Fighting the urge to cry was an incredibly difficult battle. The prisoner nodded, his teary eyes shining with guilt and hope, and the other man nodded along with him.

“Okay, well,” the former musician smiled sadly, “I’ll see you later, okay?”

“Okay.”

The visit ended with goodbyes and promises that they both intended to keep. Your dear husband couldn’t be certain what the future held, but as he did the day he first met you all those years ago, approaching you backstage with great curiosity, he’d trust his gut.

For it had led him to his one true love, and he’d listen to it — always.

Thanks for reading! What did you think? Please let me know by like, reblogging, and/or commenting on the last chapter, or in my inbox!

[lucysgraybird]

modern!billy with a farmers daughter!reader but not in the cute silly way?

youve grown up on a farm, ik billy is western but im actually thinking something more midwest; iowa/missouri/kansas

for the express purpose of the vibes of a once-great steel or railroad town, now resigned to notice by road trippers and academics researching the fall of industrial america

with this you've been kind of isolated; you had friends in high school but they've all either run as far as they could from their childhoods after graduation or languished in the remorse of not being able to escape

you. you didn't really want to escape; you're happy with your quiet ghostly life of taking care of your animals and avoiding talking politics with your parents

you grew up religious in a way that taught a god who was fear, you have made peace with a god who is your friend. knelt by your bed he has heard your deepest secrets told as girlish, gossipy whispers; your most outlandish, complicated questions asked like you are up too late at a sleepover

you are quiet for the most part, happy to twist your thoughts around into your head until they either make a pretty shape or break in two, and when you're not working the farm, you're wandering aimlessly through creeks and cemeteries and abandoned buildings

billy is, like everyone not born in a place like this, just stopping through - you meet him through your wanderlust, traipsing down a dead and dying main street as he pulls his equally moribund truck up to the curb, asking you for directions to the nearest mechanic

mechanic is the only one for miles and thus extortionate, but your father is handy and ready to help a stranger, so you tell billy that if his truck can make it a few miles up the road, he'll have a fixed engine for a reasonable price

he, of course, accepts and leans over to push open the door to give you a ride. you get to talking, learn that he was born in new york and has been living in new mexico, he's just travelling for a new job atm. he learns that you have lived here your whole life and have no real desire to move, have never had a reason to have that desire, and he smiles and tells you that he respects comfort in consistency, that he wishes he had a place he felt that settled

when you get back to your house your father helps billy fix his truck and your mother has you take iced tea out to the men, which you also drink a glass of while sitting on the cluttered porch and watching billy bent over the open hood

he's pretty, sure, but you cannot decide whether he is worth loving. if he is as transient as everything else that blows through this town like tumbleweeds, if - and a big if - you fell in love, would it flit away just as quickly as businesses seem to be closing down?

you pray those questions that night, as cricket song and sticky, heavy heat presses through your open window and gets circulated by a white box fan that stays on more for the comforting noise than any kind of cooling

god doesn't respond in words, because that's not how god works, but the next morning when you're in the grocery store squeezing plums to find one that is a little bit further from overripe than the others, billy finds you and tells you that he'll be staying in the motel in town for a few weeks (you make a face, he laughs) because his job has been delayed and maybe if you'd like to go out with him sometime, you could go to the one nice chain restaurant in town and if you decide you trust him (and his truck, which is still...questionably functional, even after repairs) enough, maybe you could drive out a little ways, just towards some of the corn fields? he would show you the stars?

and oh, you realize, this is god's answer and love and guiding hand. maybe it is time to move on.

[90percentstudios]

What D&D classes would the CKC cast play as, and what would be their playstyle?

cody - changeling rogue. he'd get obsessed with trying to ride on the back of a hill giant instead of just freakin' killing it, and would probably forget he can do stuff like shapeshifting/bonus actions/etc 80% of the time. he's pretty deadly when he's locked in though, but it'd take some proof and convincing that an enemy is worthy of death. he'd also doodle while playing, heavily distracting him, but at least by the end of each session there's a bunch of silly drawings his friends can flip through.

mini - changeling cleric. the twins are both changelings cuz of everyone in the series, i think they're the only ones that've achieved being losers, cool kids, gods, averaged, AND banned. she's actually a big fan of making overly complicated plans, whether it's a heist, a jailbreak, you know she's got a dozen pastel gel pens to plan it all out! unfortunately she's got horrific luck, consistently rolling under 10. at least the plan goes well when someone else is carrying it out.

peter - human paladin. he has perfect recollection of all the rules and likes the game to be as immersive as possible, because convincing himself he's really a heroic paladin that people like and respect was his copium as a loser. that being said, post-series pb would have a bit more fun, especially with cody there to involve him in all his crazy antics.

juvie - tiefling barbarian/fighter multiclass. they frequently have to reassure their team they're not a violent psychopath irl, it's just that if you're playing in a world where you can do anything, why WOULDN'T you give every kobold a uniquely gruesome death and decorate your camp with their guts as a show of force? anyway they're very combat focused.

peggy - wood half-elf druid. any chance she has to transform into a unicorn she takes (it's not technically allowed but daniel allows her to turn into a horse that has a horn for flavor). she mostly trots around, eats apples, gives people horsey-rides, makes friends with other animals and often demands that daniel allow them to resurrect their friends (ahem cody) whenever they miraculously die.

holden - human bard. he actually brings his guitar and plays a short tune whenever he uses bard magic, it really adds to the immersion! he's also the party-face, meaning he's in charge of persuading the guards not to imprison everyone just because juvie tested the flammability of the local tavern's liqueurs. after a dozen of these instances he's gotten in the habit of telling guards "i've never seen that tiefling in my life."

daniel - elf wizard, (though he'd focus on dming, he'd probably include his own character in the campaign at peggy's request because "he'd be left out" if he didn't). his character would offer important exposition when it's already too late and punish the others for their reckless shenanigans by not helping them when they're in a bind. "it's better for character growth" he says.

gigi - sorcerer. she'd immediately grasp the rules, min-max the hell out of her character, remind people to use their ability modifiers and always be on the hunt for the best equipment, often getting holden to help bargain for them with his high charisma stat. her gamer-brain's also got a good memory for the lore of the campaign. "where was the grand exchange again?" "it was north east of kragmaw, remember?" "..." "in that cave in the side of the mountain?" "..." "you caused a cave-in that cut the water supply off from the local town, displacing hundreds?" "... ooooh, right."

rhyme - astral elf. would join the campaign a bit later than the others since she'd still be getting used to the friend group and all. everyone would welcome her in and they'd all grow as friends. she's annoyingly good at everything as always, yet somehow whenever she's near, mishap seems to follow. juvie's certain she's up to no good but no one believes them, until some pivotal moment when daniel reveals he'd invited her to play as a double agent on the side of evil and in order to complete the quest they must all fight to the death. when asked why the hell he'd do something like that he says "dammit i told you cody, FOR CHARACTER GROWTH!!" rhyme has stellar acting and everyone fights her with teary eyes, until... i dunno, they find some secret option of exorcising her of evil and completing the quest and no one dies and yadda yadda happy ending. anyway juvie gives a very well-deserved i told you so and rhyme admits her being the secret villain was a bit on the nose but she enjoyed the theatre of it all.

[scarlet--wiccan]

have you seen the news about david&tommy breaking up? the reasoning seems so flimsy and i feel like tommy is going to be used even less now, tho hopefully they’ll bring him into wanda’s stuff again sometime. but what was the point of canonizing that ship for basically no content or storylines besides brutalizing david for shock value?!

I'm gonna let you guys in on a secret-- canonizing the ship for basically no content or storylines besides brutalizing David-- and traumatizing Tommy with his mom's corpse -- WAS THE POINT. Everyone is talking about how this was the ship that fans shipped so hard, it became real, but no one wants to acknowledge that that is textbook fanservice. Leah Williams was doing fanservice, and she didn't even bother to justify it with substance or care-- Tommy just became one more ~quirky queer character~ in her parade of unfunny tumblr dialogue and unearned, often racist brutality.

They weren't even a proper couple-- the whole time, they were being written as non-committal friends with benefits. There is no real romantic content or relationship development between them in an any actual comic book. The only time they had any degree of substance was when non-X-Men writers squeezed it in to Unlimited comics and Pride specials. The first and last time they were actually called "boyfriends" was Tommy's cameo in Scarlet Witch, which is now effectively a post mortem on their relationship.

I'm not trying to be a hater, but I need everyone to get serious and admit that this pairing was not what y'all have been pretending it was. These writers have been treating it as a disposable afterthought the whole time. NYX was the perfect opportunity to actually change that-- it's a street level book about mutants rebuilding their lives after Krakoa. It would have been very easy to bring Tommy in as a consistent supporting cast member now that mutants are mingling more freely with everyone else. David just went through a traumatic death that had a big impact on Tommy as well-- giving them room in a book like this to unpack that would be an organic, seamless way to deepen their bond and cement their partnership.

But that is not what Lanzing and Kelly are doing because they do not see this relationship as worth preserving. They have other things in mind for David, and his relationship with Tommy is inconsequential enough that they're just going to brush it aside, and for some reason, everyone's acting like the writing hasn't been on the wall since day one.

[youkaiyume]

So, Rise of the Beasts!!

I saw it twice of the weekend, and I want to put down my honest thoughts.

Overall, I had a great time and I definitely think it's worth watching. Ignore the critic reviews for some reason they are offended that a Transformers movie exists to sell toys. You know, their sole purpose since the very beginning of inception. But OF COURSE I have THOUGHTS so...

Spoilers under the cut!

I liked the human characters for the most part. Noah's sudden onboard motives for going with the autobots to Peru was not as convincing but adventure needs to happen so I gave it a pass.

Mirage is like, DTF with Noah. Like he is SO ready for that tiny bf bff. It's obvious that Bee spoke so much about Charlie (cuz it seemed he was the only one who did talk positively about humans in their group) that Mirage was just. HIS BODY WAS READY.

CHARLIE WAS MENTIONED!!! AHHHHH!!! That was the one tiny smidgeon of a crumb that I wanted and they gave it to me. Granted it was implied when Optimus says "I know one was good to you, Bee" But I was told that the Latin America dub had him say Charlie's actual name. There was a SCENE that was cut out according to the Hollywood Reporter--that Bumblebee had also pulled out a polaroid pic that Charlie took of them together from the first movie here to show OP. HE'S BEEN CARRYING AROUND HER PICTURE ALL THESE YEARS I DIE WHY DID YOU CUT THIS OUT!!!

Mirage's abilities seem very arbitrary. And I do not like this. He can turn into several alt modes which seems to be only a thing that he can do... he can mass shift--which I know mass shifting is a thing but when he turns into a truck to sneak past the museum security I was like??? I was always under the impression that the bots could turn into a vehicle relative to their own actual size so this just confuses me. There is supposedly an earlier cut of the film where it was more clear that the trailer was another illusion. which I wish they kept in. Also when he becomes Noah's symbiote suit at the end?? Like, as a shipper and rule of cool I am into it, but as a person who wants rules to ground my science fiction I don't like how Mirage is just a swiss army knife for the writer's convenience. It feels lazy instead of taking the time to actually worldbuild. Nobody else can do these things.

The arbitrary mass shifting of him being as big or as small as he wants (like when he becomes Noah's exosuit) really falls apart when they keep insisting that they need the humans because only they can fit into small spaces. Well, clearly not cuz you can just do it yourself. AGAIN, PLEASE BE CONSISTENT WITH YOUR RULES.

Airazor x Elena. Anyone else????

speaking of which, I am very upset about what happens to Airazor. And we never even got to see her transform. tragic.

Optimus sure was a negative nancy which--I understand why but I hope they ease up on edgy "i will rip everyone's faces off" Optimus because it feels disingenuous to his character to keep it going for too long. Like I get it, they killed your fave child so I will forgive you but also I want more of "Be strong enough to be gentle" Optimus. Not the edgelord Bayverse Optimus that they are clearly going for cuz the know certain :ahem: fans like that.

Beeeee. They put him out of commission which again, according to interviews they did just so they could make sure he doesn't steal the spotlight and give a chance for the other characters to shine lmao. He is too powerful. But also because we shots of him in the trailers, I was not too worried about Bee staying out of commission. But goddamn when if I still wasn't hyped as hell when he made his comeback. 10/10 he proves he's still the GOAT.

I hate Pablo/Wheeljack. No, after seeing the movie my opinion of him did not improve in fact it got so much worse. His design was the LEAST of his problems. Every moment he was on screen was deeply cringe. And he barely did anything!! He could have not been in the movie at all and it wouldn't have made a difference and I genuinely believe it would have been a better film. All this hullaballoo over Pablo and this is what we got. Wheeljack fans lost hard after all that defense I'm sorry this ain't it.

Hey speaking of bots that barely got any lines or screentime, wtf was up with Rhinox and Cheetor? My boys got shafted :(

There was a moment where OP is asking the bots if they detected the terrorcons and Arcee WHO IS SITTING in the pablo van was like "lol nope" and I was like GURL how could you, you're in a van. And it made no sense because don't you also have an altmode??? Shouldn't you be scouting outside to cover more ground???

I firmly believe the only had Arcee sitting in there like a dumb duck because they wanted Wheeljack to make a dumb joke in the original cut about how it was a long time since she was inside him. UGHUGHUGH.

Did I mention how glad I am that they cut the majority of Wheeljack's screentime since it was so awful especially his and Arcee's implied romance? Especially since they killed off the other femmes so the only one we got now has to have a mandatory romance. No thanks. Glad that nonsense is gone.

The Maximals' robot modes were very minimal. and they went by so fast I never got a good look at their designs.

I loved how the Maximals were harmoniously living with the native tribe--and speaking their language!

Scourge's face reveal seemed to be treated like it was a big deal but when we saw him it was just... guy without his wig on. Literally the surprise is that he is bald.

Noah x Mirage is very strong good. I have no doubt the fandom will be all over it since they seem to eat up BL romance much more readily and I am all for it. They also have all the great ingredients for it--flirting, drift compatibility, self sacrifice for the other. Another human x transformer ship for the books.

I'm sure there are some ppl who like the ending. but I.... did not. I do not want to see G.I.Joes in my transformers I'm sorry. I don't want the return of military propaganda or more introductions to several human characters that take away from the transformers. I don't want to see them exploited or used for our own human affairs--even if it's a fictional cult-- when they could be literally fighting Decepticons or Unicron or whatever. People might have wanted them in Bayverse cuz it was heavily skewed Military in those films but I don't want to see it again. It was a terrible, dark time. the Joes might be presented as good guys but I don't trust the military in general and I don't see their motives as altruistic--especially if their goal is to use them for their own purposes. Why would they help them get home? They wouldn't, if just to keep their best weapons--and Noah is bait. He is bait and he will fall for it hook line and sinker because they are bribing him with his brother's healthcare and the fact that he is struggling to find work elsewhere.I hope if they are to be involved at all it will be relegated to characters here and there but they stay in their own movies if they have to ride on Transformers coattails to revive an irrelevant struggling franchise.

There was minimal human injuries/death and I appreciate that. They did the DBZ thing where they took their fight to remote locations. This probably won't keep up if they introduce the Joes :/

Overall, 8/10. I had a fun time. I didn't love it as much as Bumblebee but it was definitely miles better than Bayverse (a low bar I know). The action was clear, the characters likable, the CGI mostly stellar. I have hope that they will bring back Charlie maybe. But hey, I took my parents to it the second time around and my Mom liked Mirage and my Dad did not fall asleep so I will consider that a stamp of approval.

[canisvesperus]

I’ve seen some discussion on this, so allow me to explain something.

Some people do not seem to grasp why artists like me draw so much fashionable Eridan. He’s not fashionable at all, just look at his canon outfit, they say. Well, it is simple. Eridan is one of the few trolls actually experimenting with fashion at a young age in the comic. Look me in the eye and tell me you too weren’t a hot mess trying to dress “fashionable” in middle school. Yet, chances are that if you had that awareness and drive early on, you will also develop a sense of style and grasp on aesthetics earlier in life compared to your peers. This was my experience. I was well known for being very stylish as a kid, but this didn’t happen overnight. Indeed, if you were one of these kids you most definitely started off with some odd or disharmonious clothing combinations that you threw together in an attempt to express yourself aesthetically despite inexperience in that type of self-expression. I can’t speak for everyone else, but I usually draw young adult Eridan. Obviously given some time, his tastes would develop and mature into something derived from those original aesthetic visions, but far more cohesive.

It’s clear he’s trying to assert his individualism and status in his clothing choices, and most of y’all shrug him off as having bad taste while not also foreseeing the intent and vision behind those choices. I see it, and so do other artists. We differ in how we portray this derivation because there are frankly a dozen different directions he could take it depending on the circumstances of the post-canon/fix it scenario. This is why you may see me refer to the Eridan in my depictions as “my Eridan”. I don’t presume to depict something identical to Homestuck proper, nor am I particularly interested in doing so. If you’re the type of person who is married to the events of canon and cannot consider a scenario involving an older Eridan who was allowed to grow and change, this is why we are not seeing eye to eye— and I’m certain this is the root cause of various other discourses as they pertain to portraying the character in post-canon fanworks. That’s fine. That’s your choice. My choice is different.

Eridan consistently demonstrates concern (an excess, really, which backfired for him in the cruelest of ways poor thing) with respect to how he is perceived, hence the consciously thought out image-crafting and classic Eridan façades that his own peers call him out on for being poorly executed, transparent, and otherwise not believable. They were kids. This is normal. Of course he doesn’t have himself figured out yet. It’s a process. Some people in this fandom believe his façade in the most literal and uncritical of ways but this is all a story for another day. Is his drip game shit though, without regards for fan interpretations? If you’re asking me, I don’t think it’s really that bad considering his age. I really don’t think it’s that bad. That kind of scarf with the cape is a bit much to wear around the neck. Maybe he’ll swap the big scarf for something similar in function and category but less top heavy— a cravat, jabot, bandana, or lavallière? If the cape is too overwhelming for the rest of the outfit, a smaller caplet, shawl, or a coat will work. To accommodate some of the alternative neckwear, a shirt with a collar would be preferable. What many people perceive as a turtleneck sweater, need not be entirely sacrificed. Put a sweater vest on that boy. I see lots of complaints about the shoes and pants. More discreet pinstripes and more formal shoes (field boots, paddock boots, oxfords) will work. Of course he can go in the opposite direction, less formal, in that case the cape can go and the long scarf can stay, get some cool sneakers, consider denim bottoms or casual slacks in a single color, accents welcome. However this isn’t the derivation I pursue so I feel less qualified to speculate. He could ditch all of it even. Start new and fresh especially if he were to go through a markedly subversive reclamation of identity and character redemption sort of process. In any case, he can work with it!!! You just have to believe in him.

I believe Eridan had a lot of narrative potential that was wasted, possibly out of disinterest for the character. It’s only predictable that artists like me simply want to devise a world in which these characters had a chance to actually live their lives. I truly do not understand why there has to be so much confusion over this. That‘s all.

[blossom-works]

Home for My Heart: The Secret Life of Kylian Mbappe

Inspired by ArrDee’s “Home for My Heart”, featuring Cat Burns

Writer’s note: Since I’m a little self-indulgent, I’ve made the reader Asian 😁

---

“What is this? It looks like a woman has come down to the field and is comforting Mbappe after his confrontation with ___.”

“If I didn’t know any better, it looks like she’s trying to calm him down.”

Like everyone else in today’s stadium, the two sport anchors are confused at the interaction. No one knows who this woman is and her relation to the star athlete. The woman, dressed in a warm, coat has her hands on Kylian’s face, making him look at her. Their conversation is inaudible. When this mystery woman did this though, she mistakenly shows off her engagement ring to the whole world. 

The camera that is on them zooms in on her finger. The crowd erupts (more than it already was). 

“Holy! Is this woman Kylian Mbappe’s fiancé?”

“I don’t know Aaron, but it seems the entire stadium seems to think so.” 

By now, hundreds of people have pulled out their phones to record and document this news. Some are recording what is being shown on the big screen and others who are close enough, are recording the actual (potential) couple. Sure enough, what solidifies everyone’s suspicion is a kiss being placed on Mbappe’s lips. The roaring of the crowd sends vibrations through everyone’s bodies. 

Kylian Mbappe heads back onto the field, mind cleared from seeing red, and takes his position as a forward. The woman, now known as “Kylian Mbappe’s Mystery Woman”, stands on the side lines with the Real Madrid coaches and manager. She internally thanks her subconscious for bringing her things with her when she went to the field. Even if her seat is in the VIP section of the stadium, she can bet that someone would want to snoop through her personal items. 

You do not know what ___ said to piss Kylian off so much, but that is the least of your worries. Due to his outburst, a press conference is going to be called for and reporters are going to want to know what your relationship is, and for how long you have been together. 

Never did you think that you would be dating the famous footballer, Kylian Mbappe, but it happened. He was on a family vacation in America and happened to stop by the gym you frequented with your sister and her husband. He came up to you to say how impressive your lifting was. You thanked him while trying to keep a straight face. You thanked the Lord that your face was already flushed from your workout, because you knew you were blushing. Being a football fan, you knew who Kylian Mbappe was. 

Kylian had asked you if you knew a place to go that was family friendly and recommended the aquarium in the city. Every time you take your nieces and nephews there, you guys end up staying at the aquarium for about five hours. One thing led to another, and you somehow agreed to have a brunch date the following day. 

When things got serious, you two had a night-long talk. 

---

“Are you sure you want to continue our relationship?”

Four months have passed since you two agreed to start officially dating. Most of your dating life consisted of phone calls, FaceTime, and text messages. A total of six months since you two first met. When you agreed to date the athlete, you knew what you were getting yourself into. You knew your relationship would have more downs than ups. It was a risk you were willing to take. 

Recently, Kylian has been busier than usual. For about two days, you two did not talk to one another. Not even a text message was exchanged on his end. You do not blame him. Sure, it broke your heart a bit, but you know it broke his even more. Hence, the current conversation. 

Looking at his face on the screen, you can see how guilty he feels. 

Turning the question around, you ask “Do you want to continue our relationship?”

Kylian says nothing. Yes, he wants to continue dating you because he really likes you. He likes how patient and understanding you are with his lifestyle. Never once have you complained about how he is not able to spend a lot of time with you. Nor are you unreasonably asking him to go out of his way to make that time for you. He likes that you have so much love to give and yet, so sassy at the same time. You never miss a beat to tease him. Every time Kylian has something witty to say, you out-wit him. Your big heart is what made you choose to be a child life specialist. It is one thing you both have in common: a shared love for children. A thought he will not admit aloud, but it is an aspect that makes Kylian think your relationship can be permanent. 

Kylian’s prolonged silence signals that you should take the lead. 

“Look Ky, I get that you have a demanding job. You have to be in one country one day, and in the following days, in another. You have promotional work and all that too...So what?”

Your question catches the Frenchman off guard. 

“How many relationships have you or one of your girlfriends broken it off cause shit got a little tough? Sure, I wish you could have more free time, but that’s not the reality of things. The reality of things is that you are a busy man whether you want to be or not. I knew that going into this relationship.”

You continue ranting and then you finished off with this, “If everyone broke up because things got too tough, we would all be single.”

When Kylian reiterated that to his family, they already took a liking to you.

---

Since then, you and Kylian have worked your asses off to keep your relationship going. It worked and you ended up moving to Spain and are now engaged. 

Thanks to his assets, you two have been able to date in secret. Kylian would rent out restaurants and other buildings. He would even go as far as to make the present employees sign an NDA along with whomever owned the building. Just like you, Kylian was persistent in keeping your relationship a secret, and to keep you in his life. But now that your relationship has been revealed to the world, you just know that this will test your commitment to one another. You only hope that you two can navigate through the scary woods. 

After a two-hour game, Real Madrid won the match 7-4. Kylian and his team are jumping on top of each other in celebration as the Madrid fans are going just as crazy. Your heart swells with pride. Especially since Kylian scored the last three goals. Every one of them was dedicated to you as he would run up to you for a kiss. He left you blushing each time. 

That night, Kylian posted his first picture of you two on his Instagram. The caption: “Donatello and his April ❤️”. 

One Week Later:

“Mon amour, regarde combien d'articles sont écrits sur nous.” Kylian shows you, his phone. Since the game, Kylian’s phone has been blowing up news about you two. Many journalists have been contacting him and Real Madrid to get some kind of a statement. My love, look how many articles are written about us.

Sure enough, Kylian has notifications popping up left and right. He has also been tagged in many posts and videos about the game. Hundreds of people are wondering who you are. Checking your Twitter, the top hashtag is “Mbappe’s secret woman”. 

Jokingly you say, “I guess we’ll have to up security for the wedding.”

Your joke did not resonate with Kylian. His brows are furrowed, showing his usual forehead wrinkles. Turning around so you two are chest-to-chest, you say, “Hé, tout ira bien.” You try to smoothen out the wrinkles, but the worry does not leave his face. Letting out a loud sigh, Kylian hugs your body, making you lay right on his chest. Hey, everything will be fine.

“No, it’s not. People are going to try to find out who you are and then target you. I don’t want the media following you around while pushing a camera to your face. I also don’t want you to lose your job because of me.”

“No one is losing anything, Kylian. Not you. Not me. We’ll find a way to get through this, okay? You and me.” Kissing his cheek you continue, “We’ve been able to keep our relationship a secret for three, almost four years now. We were able to keep things stable, and we can still keep things stable. It’ll just be a little hard for a while.”

Your words did not comfort the man, but it did pull him out of his pessimistic head. Thanking you, Kylian kisses the top of your head. Of course, sweet moments only last so long. Your stomach lets out a loud roar. Kylian lets out a deep chuckle. 

“Allons vous chercher quelque chose à manger.” Let’s get you something to eat.

Jumping up, you jog straight to the freezer and pull out a bag of pork dumplings with a beaming smile. Since you moved in with Kylian, you changed your diet to match his. Though, by not much since you were already eating a gut healthy diet. Since you got engaged, you gave up pork completely, but the Asian in you is begging for some pork dumplings. The chicken and vegetables ones are just not cutting it out for you. The wedding is soon, so you think that eating a few (or the whole bag) of pork dumplings should not affect how you look. 

Kylian rolls his eyes with a smile on his face, snatching the plastic from you and pre-heats the air fryer. Just as the machine beeps, Kylian’s eyes blow wide like he figured out how to make a working time machine. 

“Cherie? I think I have a plan to calm the press down.”

Two Weeks Later:

Lights. Camera. Action. 

On the sides of the streets are loads of reporters and photographers from all over Europe and even the USA. A red carpet has been set up with a backdrop of today’s sponsors. Footballers arrive in their nice cars wearing even nicer clothing. FIFA’s annual awards show has come to Paris, and people are going crazy. The best footballers, new and old, are going to be in one building where the best of the best get trophies.

Another big van pulls up to the curb and a group of security guards open the sliding door. Out comes Real Madrid’s one and only Kylian Mbappe. Clad in a classic dark brown, silk suit. One of his many Hublot watches is around his left wrist. But Mbappe himself is not what has the large crowd going crazy. It is the fact that the footballer turns around and escorts a lady out of the car. 

In a matching, formal dress you make your debut in Mbappe’s world. Officially. 

Taking the late Princess Diana’s tactic, you hold your clutch up to your chest to prevent any cleavage from being exposed. Dainty earrings and a necklace add some sparkle to your silk look, and your hair is neatly slicked back into a French twist. Makeup done to perfection to highlight your features. 

With a deep breath you wrap yourself around Kylian’s arm as he leads you to the red carpet. The bright flashes of the cameras blind you for a bit before your eyes semi-adjust to them. Kylian tucks you to his left, his hand never leaving your waist. Shaking your head to get your hair out of your face, you put on the best smile you can. The way you are holding onto your clutch, photographers are capturing the metals and diamonds on your finger. 

---

“Ky! Stop it! I’m doing the dishes here!”

“C’mon bébé. Let’s dance.”

“After I do the dishes.”

“The dishes can wait!” Kylian takes your hands out of the sink and pulls off the silicone gloves. His hips sway with the Spanish music as he leads you away from the kitchen island. You do your best to give him an annoyed look, but who are you kidding? Kylian’s goofy smile and stupid dance makes everything forgiven. Moving to the beat with him, you join the horrible dance. 

Twists. Spins. Dips. Weird arm waves. Pointing. And horrible singing. 

Kylian’s playlist went from R & B, hip hop, classical, rap, pop, and now cheesy love songs. The one people slow dance to. 

You two sway in a small circle within the privacy of your shared home. Dishes still in the sink, long forgotten. A table that still needs cleaning and floors that need sweeping. But all of that sinks into the back of your mind. Lost in your own little world with the man you love. 

“We should do this more often, Ky.”

“What? Dancing?”

“Yeah. It’s nice.” You say as you look up to him. You were not blessed with the “height” gene, so you have to look all the way up to Kylian. He has to tilt his head all the way down to make eye contact. If Kylian had to name the five things he loves about you, your height would be one. He just loves that you have to hop onto the kitchen counters to get something from the top, cabinet shelves. The menace in him sometimes hides the stool you bought just to see you “Spiderman”. It is even funnier and cuter when you pull the seat all the way up to the wheel in order to drive. 

Kylian kisses you square on your forehead. “Alright, cherie. We’ll dance more often.” 

As the song ends and another plays, Kylian asks if you can grab his phone on the edge of the counter behind you. Taking four steps you pause the music and click the “off” button. 

“Here you go-”

Holy mother of baby Jesus. 

Down on one knee with a ring box in hand, and a diamond that shines from the lights above.

“I used to not love anything more than football. Of course, there was my family, but my love for both was almost equal. But with you, I know that I love you more than football. Kylian Mbappe is known for many things, but I want one of them to be your husband. Épouse-moi.” Marry me.

---

When you decide that you have had enough of people taking your pictures, you signal to Kylian that you will wait for him at the entrance door. Kylian nods and sends you off with a good smooch to your lips (you wonder if people’s fingers ached from clicking the camera buttons of their devices). He makes sure that a couple of security guards follow you to the building. 

Clearing his throat, the Frenchman fixes his suit jacket. The cameras flash thrice as fast, and the screams get twice as loud. After a couple more photos, Kylian says goodbye to the crowd and makes his way to do one or two interviews. 

“Mbappe! You look great!” An interviewer compliments.

“Thank you. Thank you.”

“So, I’m guessing that the beautiful lady with you is your mysterious fiancé?” 

Smiling, Kylian confirms. 

“How long have you two been together? And why have you kept your relationship a secret for so long?”

“Well, you see, I don’t like to talk about my private life, you know? I spend a lot of time on camera and on the field, so I want to spend the rest of my time in peace. No cameras. No microphones. When I’m not out, I want to be with my family and the people I care about as me.”

“That’s very understandable and honorable of you Mbappe. Can you give me any information about your fiancé? Like her name and what she does?”

Kylian shakes his head. “No. No. No.”

“Oh, can you tell me anything about her then? I’m sure the world would like to know who stole Kylian Mbappe’s heart.”

Looking directly at the camera, Kylian says “She’s the love of my life. No woman can replace her. No woman. She means everything to me. If I had to choose football or her, I would always choose her. My family loves her, and I love her family. There’s no Kylian Mbappe without her. There’s no home without her. She makes everything I do worthwhile. She’s my best support and I will do everything in my power to protect her.”

The interviews awes into the microphone and before she can ask more questions, Kylian walks away. With a big smile he takes big strides up the stairs to meet your guarded figure. Re-tucking you into his side, you two disappear behind the glass doors. 

By tomorrow morning, the world went into a frenzy as pictures of you and Kylian waved the internet. Oh, and pictures of Kylian wearing a wedding ring too. That one got its own headline.

---

I’m really thinking about making an Mbappe series. Similar to my Hades series. Should I give into my delusions or should I keep it satisfied with this fic?

[not-goldy]

Hey Goldy!

We know Jimin is an amazing person. I very much appreciate his high emotional intelligence. It's sad to see some fans belittling Jungkook and saying that he's not enough for Jimin. Especially when he decided to release Golden instead of spending time to be hands-on w/ his solo album.

What do you think of those people saying that Jungkook should do more for Jimin, bec it looks like Jimin is the only one who's open to show how much he cares for Jungkook? I mean, I don't know if those people even took the time to appreciate the support Jungkook gave Jimin during Face, still, it seems like it's not enough. How do you see Jungkook's way of loving and appreciating Jimin?

Thank you!

Thanks so much for the respect you have for Jungkook I feel sooo at ease with you. Just thank you.

I think it starts with appreciation no one will get anywhere with me if the conversation is about belittling all the good work Jungkook does towards especially Jimin. The question is not that he's not doing enough- its should he or could he and does he need to do more for Jimin???

On that my answer is, they could all do more for eachother there's always room for improvement and sometimes they have to choose eachother fuck every one and everything else.

They all have their strengths. Between the two I think Jungkook risks his career more often for them than Jimin does while Jimin is the one more prone to consistent show of affections between the two.

Jungkook doesn't show out often but when he does show up he shows out- the earth quakes the sky bleeds our butts shiver and Hybe passes out from the stress of it.

Jimin is naturally kind warm and affectionate and he does care for Jungkook in a way that says it's obvious Jungkook means more to him than anyone else- even V whom he calls his soulmate.

I love when at the round table the members were asked to guess who Jimin wrote his letter to and everyone said Jungkook- I think Jin is the one who says Jimin is very predictable in that way.

It's nice to see him cater to Jungkook consistently. If it's an act he never breaks character and he takes that role seriously and he is not afraid to make big gestures too for Jungkook and I see why people love that about him. In fact I love that about him a lot.

But I love Jungkook too. I love how he's quietly losing his mind most times, quietly loving him impatiently- it's like a boiling water in a pot. Just because you only see it when the lid is sliding off don't mean the water wasn't boiling all along.

It takes real maturity to understand Jungkook. It takes depth and nuance to appreciate the kind of person he is. He is impatient with his love and over the years nothings tested his patience more than loving Jimin the way Jimin wants to be loved.

I think Jimin knows what Jungkook is capable off. I know what Jungkook is capable of. He is not a coward. He's a storm constantly being tamed and restrained.

Jimin self regulates he's the epitome of control- well not when he was young though dude was all over the place messy but the man he's grown into has worked on mastering his self control.

I don't think it's fair to compare them this way. They are two unique individuals what Jimin does for Jungkook should matter only to Jungkook and no one can appreciate Jungkook better or worse than Jimin himself.

It's a relationship. If they are not happy with each other's efforts in the relationship they are free to exit the relationship or stay and work it out🙂

But I'm not gonna lie, I love Jungkook very much for Jimin very very much😩

If I went shopping for a boyfriend for Jimin I'll take Namjoon Tae Suga and drop them at the counter cos Kook is all I can afford 🙂

[blazehedgehog]

It's interesting that you say what Sonic fans want equals bad press, but I am curious now, what IS it that fans want? And what does "everyone outside the cult" want? Personally I'd argue proper momentum physics reinstated as a core element of Sonic gameplay seems to be the most consistent direction fans seem to want (due to the amount of fangames made attempting it), but tbf I don't think I'm as in-tune with the Sonic community as you are. I could be wrong about that.

I'm digging so deep in my inbox now I don't even remember what "what Sonic fans want equals bad press" is in reference to. Probably just in reference to how insular the wants, needs, and desires Sonic fans can be. Sometimes they want things that don't actually matter.

I think people "outside the cult" just want a good game. And by that I mean: a game with smooth, polished controls, a strong visual identity, and one that doesn't fall apart if you look at it funny.

Like compare Sonic Frontiers to Super Mario Odyssey and what do you get?

Super Mario Odyssey is a game where all the mechanics sing the same song. Everything feeds into everything else in a simple, clear, obvious loop. Mario's movement is always consistent and player-driven. You rarely if ever lose control. Every single world is visually distinct, creative, and colorful, while maintaining the same overall aesthetic. It is unquestionably a Mario game, as even new mechanics fit like a glove into the ongoing evolution of this franchise. Nothing ever feels out of place.

Sonic Frontiers is a game where half the worlds look identical, and there's clutter awkwardly dumped on top of everything. All of the cyberspace levels reuse existing level designs but beat all the personality out of them by recycling generic aesthetics. Sonic feels stiff and heavy, and after decades of not being able to get Sonic's controls to feel good, Sega just gives you a bunch of ability toggles and acceleration sliders and expects you to figure it out yourself. No matter what you pick, it's not hard to break the game's physics systems, either intentionally or more often by accident. Yet another attempt to add combat depth just proves how little anyone at Sega understands what's supposed to make Sonic the Hedgehog special or unique, instead falling back to "shonen anime hero" tropes.

People "outside the cult" want a Super Mario Odyssey level Sonic game, and that doesn't mean they want Cappy transformations or a food volcano level. They want a coherent, polished, enjoyable game that feels like it was made by people who weren't just duct taping table scraps together that they fished out of the garbage at the last second.

Sonic fans will stand up and say "I liked [xyz] about Sonic Frontiers" but that's not what this is about, because those same people would also be happy with a coherent, polished, enjoyable game that feels like it was made by people who weren't just duct taping table scraps together.

It's the same argument I used to use back in the day when I was getting people defending Sonic 06 on my Youtube video: You want better games, don't you? Some people are too busy sifting through the weeds and have no concept of the big picture.

Everybody should be happy with a good product, in or outside of the cult. But Sonic games are more often made for the cult than not.

[mattdillon]

So how bad is the outsiders musical?

for people unfamiliar with the source material or not big fans, they seem to be eating it up

everyone else.... not so much.

the most neutral view i have taken from the la jolla previews and what we have coming out is that from the general outset, it fails to be a musical. people tend to praise the score while universally, the songs have not been well received. a lot of reviews and people online have stated that the songs aren't memorable and they tend to forget them in a day which is crazy when it's, you know, a musical and your first aim should be creating memorable music. they also state the boys are shirtless way too much on stage and some of it is inconsistent.

secondly, the character choices are bad. i'm still waiting for more confirmation/flat out spoilers for the changes they've made. from last year at la jolla it was pretty much confirmed and stated that (1) cherry has a huge romantic role with ponyboy, (2) sandy was turned into a soc and was made to get an abortion, (3) the entire message about police brutality was removed, despite the musical mandating the only two greaser characters that die be POC. it seems as if cherry's romantic role has been pared down a bit but she still has too great a role with romantic overtones and too willingly crosses class lines she adamantly refused to cross in canon. dallas' death was modified but he still is not gunned down by a cop.

so, well.

the thing i've read and heard consistently is that the staging is good and the rumble is the best part. that's it. there's one obvious sponcon account on tiktok trying to push a fandom but the official accounts across the board have low views, particularly for this age group. i'm waiting to hear more and get more spoilers.

(in delulu news though: i do like that darry openly doesn't like dallas getting close/being friends with ponyboy. i'll take that for fanon fic fodder. that's it.)

[st4riel-the-w1tchling]

My Intro Post!!

Hello and welcome to my blog!! My name’s Ari, but you can call me whatever idc. I’m a girl, a minor, an Aquarius if that matters to you and I have 2 younger brothers.

I lived in Australia for lots of my childhood however moved to Spain last year. I’ve done research and while different people seem to have different definitions of the term, I identify as Hispanic as I’m quite immersed in the Spanish culture, language, etc, never plan on leaving and have been raised like a Spanish kid (my parents have wanted to live here since they were kids so they’ve been preparing us for life here since we were newborn) even though I’m genetically Australian. If you believe I don’t fit the term idc that’s your opinion but this is how I identify.

I’ve been practicing witchcraft since late 2021 and believed in the Greek gods since I was a kid (because of PJO lol). I call myself a Greek pagan witch with animist and omnist beliefs, I believe the terms Hellenism and polytheism may apply but idk enough about them to use them to describe myself.

I started working with Aphrodite 4 days into my practice cuz I’m a bit silly however I’ve gotten more consistent and comfortable with my worship over time. Now working with her is just a part of my daily life, I love all her different epithets (I think is the word) she’s just so cool. I want to start working with King Hades and Queen Persephone in the future.

I’m trying to get better at note taking cuz I often forget. This blog is for saving notes #info, #paganism, #animism and #witchcraft stuff, I’ll post stuff related to #greek mythology under its own tag if not practitioner based, all deity/entity stuff is under its own tag (eg. #aphrodite, #hermes, #odysseus, #telemachus, etc).I also post related fandom stuff here like; #hades game, #pjo, #epic the musical, etc and stuff I’m more critical of like; #anti Madeline miller, #anti lore olympus under their own tags. My posts and asks are under #stariel posts and #stariel asks, all reblogs and queued are #stariel reblogs and #q, if I add a bit of my own input to a post it goes under #stariel convos, if I’m interacting with the community/mutuals it goes under #stariel community and #fave contains well all my fav posts.

I love spirit work and when I’m more experienced I plan on working with ghosts and animal spirits though currently I’m content just talking to my plants, house, divination tools and Aphrodite. I also want to start Ancestor Work soon. I’m a big fan of baneful protection magic and glamour/love magic. I’m pretty proud of my clair senses, intuition and divination abilities, I’ve always been an empath (my definition is; good at sensing energy and emotions) so I’ve put lots of effort into improving these skills which I’m quite happy with the strength of now.

You may also see special interest junk here (I’m neurodivergent) however I’ll try keep it at a minimum and it’ll only be posted if it is related to the topics of this blog (eg. Marvel comics [that and witchy stuff are my 2 big things] and also other interests like #Hermitcraft).

I’m a nickname person, I have some of the best nicknames ever (Stariel was one and now it’s my user for everything) so now I give everyone/thing nicknames lol. Just a warning, if we become friends I’m giving you 10,000 nicknames. I’m also a yapper as you can see below, irl I’ve learned to contain and summarise my paragraphs but on tumblr I let myself go wild and add as many irrelevant details/thoughts I have so I apologise in advance for the essays.

I personally believe hugely in free speech so there’s no DNI for this blog. Everyone is welcome as long as civil discussion is maintained no blatant straw manning/mud slinging if you want to debate me or someone else here on a topic make sure to be respectful about it, thanks.

And that’s about all I have to say right now, I seriously should make intros for my other blogs. Enjoy your stay!!

[louisisalarrie]

i guess he’ll have to stop singing “i love him, i hate it” then. who else would it be about? simon cowell? like please.

This whole thing is weird, everything about it.

yep! Such an obviously timed denial that it’s basically transparent. I will reiterate my points here again, because this has frustrated me dearly as someone who is actively in the industry and has seen successful pr stunts and coverups. His team can’t crack the larries tho.

1. Timing - pre recorded denial dropped for promo as he left LATAM to go MIA before going back to tour in a few weeks + everyone will cool off by then

2. Urgency - there are no current media publications or any GP chats suggesting Louis and Harry are together, and there hasn’t been for a long time now, so there’s no damage control to be done (unless something hasn’t come out yet and it’s in preparation for said thing, BUA perhaps)

3. Content - drops the “my son Freddie” during it as well, boosting that stunt because it’s been pretty quiet since AOTV and a couple of tweets ages ago. again, no explicit denial and poor body language

4. Blacklisted Topic - we saw the other interviewer shut down the F thing, and he’s had many interviews where Larry and F aren’t brought up at all. It’s a topic put in there when it’s useful

5. Relevancy - not relevant to tour or current media presence whatsoever

6. Consistency - all interviews we have gotten recently have been strictly about his career, his festival, tour, inspirations etc., and we have one very personal and touchy topic randomly brought in with no context whatsoever

But I think what is making people stressed about this particular denial is because there was nothing calling for it. No media stir, no mentions of their names together or directly tied in media, no scandal or damage control (unless something breaks), so it seems more genuine and not just like he’s trying to clean up a mess like so many times before. But it’s also very obvious promo. Dropped as soon as he leaves LATAM? And everyone will cool off by the time he’s back. Absolutely standard and poorly done PR.

I don’t think managers know what they’re getting into when they start handling a 1d boy, frankly because our fandom is truly one of a kind. But, as much as I hate to say it, the Azoff’s have done what louis’ team should have done too. Stay silent about it, it’s not necessary to comment unless something big happens and it needs damage control. you’re only attacking your fans here, bud.

so, anyway… the patterns of every other denial have led to a BUA, a scandal, or their names being tied together and Larry being of public interest. Or have come from those things prior. However, this denial will probably pick up in the media, and tie louis’ name to Harry’s once more, to boost him a bit to sell some tickets.

everything was going so well, it was great to see him not talk about his personal life. so, it’s foreshadowing and a poor promo move, or just a poor promo move.