#he's a real inspiration to me and has gotten me through my worst points in life and i'll always love him for it

[northwest-cryptid]

Idk if I fully understand ffxiv being native-phobic? I just played through stormblood & what I got from that was colonialism bad, to put it in super simple terms. Like idk the entire point of it was liberate an oppressed peoples and give them back their homes? And maybe I missed it but I didn't see the Ala mhigans as being native coded or inspired?

You didn't see the Ala Mhigans being "Native Coded" because they aren't and yet Ala Mhigan clothes use Native patterns. You didn't see FFXIV being "Native-Phobic" because it's generally not, it likes to hide it's racism away in little pockets.

It's hard to see it when you're not used to seeing it. This isn't your fault, it's that you're looking in the wrong places.

This is the "Ala Mhigan Gown" it's being largely attributed to being "Ala Mhigan" it is not. It is Native.

These patterns are Native, and while I cannot claim exactly and exclusively which tribes use them I can say for certain that I'm Deer Clan Lakota and these patterns are ALL OVER my traditional Native clothing. To attribute our clothing to Ala Mhigo is wrong.

This pattern is being reproduced and sold as Ala Mhigan, as "Kimonos" and lastly, as cosplay.

And these patterns can be found across plenty of First Nation/Indigenous clothing and beadwork.

Like, here if you're curious:

Let's also quickly talk about the New World set,

This is just ugh. Believe it or not I like the pants, and the actual torso and shoes aren't bad either. IF (and this isn't the case) this set were to exclude the headdress and were to actually pay proper respect to Native design and culture I'd love it. I actually used to use this set in game minus the headdress obviously, but wouldn't you know it I'm literally Native. This feels like those party city costumes people make, and the parts it gets right are almost more upsetting because it's not being properly attributed to the right people despite knowing very well the devs clearly referenced actual Natives. Those straps on the pants for example are a very real thing, the clothing my father passed down to me has those, tipped with metal because it makes enough noise to scare off rattlesnakes since those were a threat for kids on the res. The colors and bead patterns also do follow a lot of various Native designs, though I find it harder to pin down these exact patterns.

You're looking at the plot, but that's not entirely where the problem lies; also sorry sorry but I can't overlook this. None of the story or plot justifies Zenos calling me a Savage. I do not care if he's the antagonist, that's a fucking slur. It's been used against me and my people for decades. It's been used against me when I was in middle and high school. So yes, even in recent times this is acknowledged as a slur by racist individuals seeking to cause us harm.

If you've never gotten into a physical fight that you didn't instigate only to have someone ask you "what are you gonna do savage? You gonna scalp me?" And then do the worst imitation of a Native war cry; you likely have no idea how annoying it is to see/hear even a villain in a video game call you a fucking savage, have this be hand-waved as kinda being whatever by the general public who don't deal with this kind of racism, and then furthermore when you go into FFXIV community spaces you see this blonde ass white boy being plastered up everywhere like "oh I wanna fuck him so bad" why do you want to fuck a racist?! He's not even hot. Any potential sex appeal he had left his body the second he uttered the word "savage" and you know the worst part? He's not real. Which means he didn't say that shit, someone at Square WROTE that into the game and really thought "hey is it okay to use a slur like this? Yeah it'll be fine no one is gonna know or care."

Can you IMAGINE if they had a villain drop the N word mid fight? You'd never hear the end of it I assure you.

I think the biggest issue is that people don't even know what Native is, they don't know tribes, they don't know patterns, they don't know our actual history.

You say you don't know how it's "Native-phobic" when it's racism and mockery of Natives is very apparent to Natives, but I can't fault you for it because you literally don't know what to look for.

I want to make it super clear I'm not mad at you, I'm upset that this game can get away with this shit because no one is actually educated on Native matters, culture, etc.

I hope this helps clear that up a little.

[kinetic-elaboration]

October 7: Tom/Daria, Cuddles

Cozytober 6: cuddles after a bad day

(I know I'm a day behind; at some point I'll skip what I'm not inspired by or possibly combine something)

Tom/Daria, ~720 words, 28 minutes

This is from my plane-thoughts 'verse (working on that title lol) but probably/hopefully doesn't require context to understand

*

They're not living together yet but the girlfriend is out of the picture. Everything is about to fall very quickly into some sort of place.

Daria's up late almost every night wondering if she should write the next great American novel, actually. If she should try to write fiction again. If she should try to submit it somewhere—or her essays, or something, fuck, the night's so claustrophobic in her little shoebox apartment, so stuffy on the sixth floor, so she still has the window open even in October. She sits right next to it and she calls Tom up. He's awake, which is somewhat of a surprise. They talk for almost two hours and only some of it is about Bromwell—none of it's about them.

She gets in the habit of it. She starts telling him about her ideas. Late at night, it's fine, it's not real.

He invites her over. That's not real, either. She passes out in his bed from sheer exhaustion, likes how the desk in the corner has all of his books on it and none of hers, none of that heavy, oppressive weight at the edge of her vision.

He keeps his window open too because she's gotten so dependent on that cold breeze to help her sleep.

On Thursday, she calls him up as soon as she gets home, right after her last class of the day. He answers on the second ring like he was waiting for her. She tells him that this all fucking sucks.

He doesn't answer for a long while, like maybe he's turning around the profanity in his head. That sneaky voice that's been waiting for something to go wrong—for him to lose his interest, now that he's learned too much of her or even just because she's not forbidden anymore, or for her to wake up—that low-down voice that likes to whisper evil things like you're going to get hurt so bad, you're going to feel the worst pain of your life, it's talking to her again.

"You want to come over and not talk about it?" Tom asks.

She furrows her brows, only briefly. "Do you have any other suggestions?"

When they made out in the stacks, he took all of a minute before sliding his leg between her legs. Tease that long and something's gotta break all at once. Wanted you from the moment I met you, he'd whispered.

She still hasn't gotten around to asking him, Do you know what that did to me?

Now she imagines him shrugging on the other end of the line. "I don't know. My bed. Some blankets..."

"All right."

Her hand's shaking a little as she sets down the phone. Not from nerves, not at all—rather, she sees it now, from a sort of relief. She already knows that as soon as she crosses the threshold, she'll be sinking into him.

In his bedroom, all the lights are off except for the desk lamp on the far side of the room, just enough to see by as she stumbles out of her boots and pulls her jacket off. Sets her glasses on his bedside table and rubs at her eyes. The air is cool just as she likes it, with that bitter outside chill that only comes on after dark. He takes off his shirt before he slides under the blankets with her, and his skin is so very warm, like maybe she's forgotten what skin feels like, or like maybe they don't make many humans just as warm as him.

She wraps her arms around him and her legs through his and she feels him breathe deep like he wants to go boneless against her, too.

His hand feels big, but gentle, when his fingers card through her hair.

"You okay?" he whispers, probably because she's shaking again. Goddamn. She says she is; it's only half the truth; the rest of it is that he feels right and she doesn't understand why.

He wraps the blankets closer around them both. She thinks about nothing but every detail she can catalogue of him. Maybe she'll write it all down later. It won't be anything like this, so warm and real.

"Yeah, you're okay," he answers for her, translates for her, promises her. "You're really okay. You're all right."

[ajscico]

Wait wait wait, hold on--

YOU'RE the one who did Untamed Wild?????? 🤯🤯🤯🤯🤯🤯

[grabby hands] Director's commentary on Four's & Wind's & Hyrule's chapters, plz? :3

(Promptly blue screens because that’s my first fic, the one I joined AO3 to publish and slightly insecure about it.) Ok, welp, I still get kudos for it, sure. Director’s cut…

Wind—most of my location knowledge in the fic comes from either a BOTW interactive map, or begging @moraynisdeath to let me run around locations on that progress because she was further, had better armor, and wasn’t completely terrified of any of the big monsters. (I’m a bit of a wimp when it comes to fighting things that can crush me in one hit). It was surprising to me, first, that the desert was gray rock mountains in that portion. I was expecting the red rock formations like in the Yiga area, or by the 8 heroines… or the desert in my state. Two, there was nothing out there but giant skeletons and ruins and sandstorms… and the Molduga. I had to mentally chart a course the Sailor would have tried to walk, then try to balance it with knowing just enough of the limits of human endurance to not kill him. The real fun part was dumping him into Time and Warriors’s laps and going “so, he’s got heat stroke, how are you two gonna cope?” then Wild jumping on the idea of brining ice in to cool Wind off tied nicely into the next hero’s location and I cackled at my own brilliance.

Four—I knew when I was picking my “worst place in Wild’s Hyrule to stick him” that it would be up by the Spring of Wisdom. Partly because I’d already decided Twilight would be in the Tabantha tundra and the Gerudo highlands are cold and hazardous in their own ways but the area by the Spring of Wisdom is just as cold as Tabantha and across the map. Heat to cold is a mean mixture and I was partially just bullying Wild with that change. He’s running around in the Vai set because Wind is wearing half the Voe one … and at some point will realize he’s freezing (you know, when the panic in his head slows enough for him to realize he’s losing hearts). Then, fun fact, the slate only tracks distance in straight lines. It doesn’t give you up or down and if you’re following the chirp , you’re going to have to Skyrim the mountain because the beeping will fade or go away completely unless you’re on a direct, straight-line course. And I again begged Moraynisdeath to let me run around the area which inspired Wild’s breakneck run (I fell down the first switchback because I forgot to deploy the paraglider).

I wanted to do bits from Four’s POV like I had pretty much everyone else. I wanted to have him camp out in the hollow by the shrine and then realize he wasn’t going to get found there and argue with himself about how exactly to strike out for civilization only to end up buried in the snow because he has less-than-adequate cold protection. But… I’d only read the minish cap manga. I hadn’t read Four Swords yet and I hadn’t really gotten the hang of the Colors nor had decided the best way to write them (this was before they split in LU so interpretation was and still is varied). So I chickened out of writing him and had him already out cold in the snow for his chapter.

Hyrule—poor guy. He’s competent and could hold his own and really make life difficult for Wild if he got out and was wandering. So he ended up concussed and broken within his first minute being there. I channeled the screaming terror my brothers and I (mostly me) experienced the first time we found the place. My brother who was playing just glided through while the other two of us screamed about having 6 beams all trained on Link at once. I hadn’t discovered the No-clip website so used videos, art, and again borrowing moraynisdeath’s save file to see what the place looked like. She was also willing to sacrifice a fairy to the cause in seeing if the guardians just woke up for Link or if they attacked anything that moved. The answer seemed to be just Link-shaped organisms so… fairy form. I then had to do a bunch of guessing and research about Hyrule’s spells. Numbers and I don’t get along. Knowing the Life spell cost ‘x’ magic points while Fairy cost ‘y’ was great but I wasn’t sure how much that took out of a total. Also, not entirely sure if magic was something that recharged after a rest or if you needed magic potion to recharge at all. That and knowing Fairy only lasted the length of one room in a side scroller game and how would that translate to 3d. So we went with “fairy will last half the length of the back chamber and he’ll have to use his potion to get to the divider point.” And then “ok, mana recharges with time, he’ll have to wait and go slow and duck and cover to avoid guardians… because I have 5 other heroes that get rescued first.”

Also had to do some ‘research’ as to how much warning there is to a blood moon. If you can’t see the moon… when do you start seeing Malice in the air? Etc. For some reason, I enjoy doing that research because it makes a fic better in my head?

One day I will have the will and ability to rewrite the Sky chapter. I wanted more. I wanted that panic of “hunted and can’t rest” but not sure how to do it with the guy that literally took down a god…one day.

[brotherhoodoftheblade]

THIS. This is why John's attitude towards Percy and the general vilification of him by the narrative and fandom drives me up the wall.

I mean, I love John, too -- he's my favourite character (aside from Percy) -- but that bias has never prevented me from recognizing when his behaviour has been insensitive, self-centred, arrogant or even downright unethical. And he's certainly not the one-dimensional, teary-eyed, selfless and self-sacrificing saint that the show's painted him as. He can be a right bloody prick at times, and with no one else in the entire OL universe has John shown the worst sides of himself than in his conduct with Percy.

Percy, who out of his every other strained relationship, was the person who showed him the most openly sincere understanding, kindness, and support of anyone else in John's life, and deserved little (if any!) of the mistreatment he received at his hands.

John was a half-assed boyfriend to Percy from the very start, while Percy bent over backward throughout their entire relationship for John's sake. He repeatedly undermined his own well-being by sacrificing whatever he could just to try to get closer to John and make a real commitment to him, all the while showing John infinite bloody patience and understanding.

Meanwhile, John? That line John glibly tossed off on their first date about beautiful people being "but ornaments - desirable, but dispensable" turned out to be some pretty damn accurate foreshadowing for the tone of their relationship. The way he treated Percy was not unlike the way one might treat a whore they had some fondness for -- except he didn't even pay Percy for his services!

But no, instead he continuously demonstrated through his actions that Percy was at the very bottom of his list of priorities while everything and everyone else mattered more to him, and Percy was just someone to be picked up and put down at his convenience. And that was even before Percy caught John out, and he admitted point blank that he was already in love with another man and therefore he had nothing but "friendship and sincere liking" to offer him! Without even a single word of reassurance to Percy that he at least hoped something might grow between them in time, I might add!

Honestly, what an insensitive arse! 🙄

The description of the lines of Percy's face being painted in chiaroscuro right after John told him about Jamie is subtle, but so figuratively powerful in illustrating his state of being in that moment and throughout the rest of their relationship. (See? I can give the devil her due when she writes something good. LOL I've been wanting to right a one-shot inspired by it for years for I haven't gotten around to it yet. *sigh*)

To be in love with a man who loves another, to be so close to him without ever truly having him is to simultaneously exist in the light (of love) and the dark (of your knowledge that you're unloved while the man you love has already reserved his heart for another even though said man is incapable of even loving him back; it's the feeling of being unworthy and lesser than him, and the knowledge that to ever openly address the pain he's causing you would quite likely bring about the end of your relationship, so you pretend you're not hurting just to keep the little bit of him he's willing to share with you while you still can). The chiaroscuro that painted Percy was a brief glimpse into his state of quiet torment. 🥺

Every rereading I've done of BotB has only further reinforced my thought that if I were Percy - in love with the man or not! - I'd have bloody well dumped him sooner rather later, if only out of self-respect. Only someone with Percy's sadly low sense of self-worth would let a man treat him like that, I swear. Much the same way that only someone with a deep emotional void in themselves would choose to throw their every chance of happiness away with both hands for the rest of his life just to cling to a man that will not only never return his love, but actively reviles men like him and believes them perverse and incapable of loving each other. 💀

(I mean, I can't even with this fucked up narrative anymore. *sigh* 😑 It's not even where they started as characters that really bothers me, it's them STAYING there. For instance, Jamie's homophobia (as much as it personally makes me see red) is perfectly understandable given the time period, his religious upbringing, and his traumatic history with BJR -- it's the fact that his views still haven't actually changed in the ensuing decades that's the real problem.

And John being a firm believer of all the imperialistic propaganda of the British Empire is understandable, and therefore forgivable, in his youth...but as he gets older and sees more and more of the injustices and horrors on the global stage (a good many of them due to his own beloved King and country) and yet he STILL hasn't reached a state of open and public opposition to any of it?? He's still blindly towing the line in the name of duty and honour?

Sorry not sorry, but I don't find that very forgivable (or narratively interesting) in a 50-year-old John. (Seriously, please grow the eff up already. You're too old for this shit, John. 😬 smh) And that instead of having grown more open-minded with age in terms in his inherent aristocratic biases, he's actually grown more rigid and narrow-minded. I'm disappointed in him as a character, to say the least.) (Satisfying character development and arcs? DG never heard of them. 😐)

But anyway, back to the ever ubiquitous claim that Percy is weak and cowardly. (I know I've commented at some length on this subject before so...*goes off to look* *comes back like an hour later after finally finding it* lol) Okay, excerpt from this post here (wherein I was really flaming mad at the time I wrote it omg lmao - **spoilers for Bees** ^.^;).

"When Percy told John Michael Weber had blackmailed him John was all, “oh why didn’t you just tell me about it, I would’ve made sure Weber was no threat to you”, like a condescending twat. *scoff* Well, Percy gave him him two bloody years warning that he was in danger but I didn’t see Mr Big Man doing bugger all to neutralize the threat of Richardson. Maybe if he’d trusted Percy more he’d have taken his heads-up more seriously. Because when has Percy, when acting in deliberation, ever not acted to protect John - even at the risk of his own life?

When John got his ass beaten up - again - this time by a crazed mob of people because he made the impulsive and utterly mad decision to assist a convicted sodomite (of no friend or relation to him whatsoever to boot) to a quicker death in full view of god knows how many people and army officers. I mean, I hugely appreciate both the bravery and compassion that this act was born out of but -- IS HE STUPID OR SOMETHING?? o.O John knows how they love to gossip in the army - the utter foolishness of this act would’ve been second only to actually getting caught in flagrante delicto. And then when it finally came back to bite him in the ass (I was like UH-HUH, I knew it! xd) I wasn’t even surprised. It was likely the very first clue to tip off Richardson and send him looking for more proof that John was gay! (But I seem to have hugely digressed so back to my original point...lol...)

When John got his ass beaten up again and wasn’t in any fit state to uphold his promise to escort Captain Bates’s mistress back to Ireland, who volunteered to do it in his stead? Percy, of course, despite all the dangers inherent of such a long journey in the 18th century - highwaymen, bandits, footpads of all sorts. Percy, who’d never even held a sword until he was 26 years old and couldn’t even fight! HOW DARE JOHN DISMISS HIM AS A COWARD?!?! Percy Wainwright has never been a coward - if anything, his being an entirely average citizen and not some scion of a military family who’d been handed a “sword in the cradle” and trained to fight since earliest boyhood makes Percy all the more courageous. It isn’t the absence of fear that makes someone brave, it’s bloody well knowing all the dangers out there, being sensibly wary of said dangers, but then steeling yourself and going out and facing the danger anyway. Because something is more important to you than your own safety. Because John’s well being was more important to Percy than his own safety, greater than his own fear.

And then when Percy was in gaol, in the most dire circumstances he could possibly be in, basically waiting to be put to death, and recognizes Arthur Longstreet’s voice and the danger he poses to John’s life, what does he do? Why, write to warn him and then persuade a guard to find out what he could and then to deliver his letter in exchange for “a consideration” [insert sexual favour here, because what other currency does Percy have to barter with other than his own body], even though his confession has an extremely high chance of provoking the ONE man who might still care enough to save his life to want to wash his hands of him entirely and leave him to his fate. ‘I will leave you to imagine, if you will, what the writing of this letter costs me,’ he writes, ‘for that ultimate cost is up to you....to speak may mean my life; not to speak may mean yours. If you are reading these words, you will know which I have chosen.’

And then the pièce de résistance of this whole tragic mess is that Percy’s final act was again just him trying to get help to save John’s life, even at the looming threat of the loss of his own. I mean, he could’ve done NOTHING. He could’ve just continued keep his head down and hope that his show of submission would show Richardson he had no reason to kill him. Hell, he could have just taken his life and run, just gotten his ass on a ship and away from North America post haste, since Richardson apparently regarded him as so insignificant a threat as to let him wander about on shore by himself for periods of time. That would’ve been the most sensible thing to do in terms of self-preservation - but no, instead he risked going to John’s house because John asked him to, in the name of Percy’s love for him no less.

(Even after John again just sat there and said nothing when Percy confessed he still loved him - AGAIN - and my god, the way that last conversation echoes the one when John visited Percy in gaol just kills me. It’s almost the same situation, except John is the one imprisoned and waiting to die this time. And that John can’t even at least have the decency to look Percy in the eye and give him an honest response at such a time, frigging TWICE now, when he bloody well knows this may be the last time they ever see each other…! But nope, John’s stubborn ass just evades the matter altogether and starts talking about f*cking seagulls or something - honestly, who’s the real coward here? Percy has always been bravest in the places where John is weakest: his fear of love and all the emotional vulnerability that comes with it.)

And that Percy went and did the very thing that John dismissed Percy as being too much of a coward to even consider and so didn’t even bother to ask for Percy’s help in the end…! Could his lack of faith, the impassively pitying contempt that John holds him in, BE any colder? If I even end up reading any of Book 10 in some mad fit of masochistic desire to know if this tragedy can get anymore tragic, it will primarily be to know if John has enough feeling remaining in that two-sizes-too-small muscle he calls a heart to feel any sorrow for Percy’s fate or enough tenderness of conscience to feel any shame for the part he played in his end. And for the instrument of his demise to have been labelled fucking “Blood of Martyrs”…how appallingly appropriate."

~*~

And a further addition of proof (and probably the greatest proof of all imo) that Percy is far from a coward is him having been one of the most active of French spies for so many years, travelling all over the place in an era where they readily executed spies. Not just during the American War but in the all the years prior as well.

We don't know exactly at which point he joined France's Black Chamber/Secret du Roi (by 1964 at the latest though) but there were some military intelligence gathering missions he could've been involved in regarding:

(the tail end of) the Seven Years War (1756–1763)

(similarly) the Third Carnatic War (1756–1763)

the Larache expedition (1765)

the French conquest of Corsica (1768–1770)

plus the years before France officially joined the war we know he was canonically involved with the Roderigue Hortalez and Company (organized with his friend and fellow secret agent Beaumarchais) in order to covertly provide arms and financial assistance to the American Revolutionaries on behalf of France and Spain since the spring of 1776

It was no doubt incredibly dangerous for him to travel at times, whether on land or at sea. In either case he would've been hung - at the very least! - if he was caught as a spy. (The French spy François Henri de la Motte was hanged in 1781 for almost an hour before his heart was cut out and burned, and the following year Scottish spy David Tyrie was hanged, decapitated, and then quartered. 💀) And the Navy legally had the right to hang, draw, and quarter spies captured at sea as well.

And, hell, Percy was much more than just a French spy, he was also technically guilty of high treason by "adhering to the sovereign's enemies, giving them aid and comfort, in the realm or elsewhere" as an Englishman by birth. (But when the circumstances were Percy essentially having been FIRST betrayed by his birth country who'd put him to death for the "heinous" crime of being gay, well, I say fuck England. Do they deserve his loyalty anymore??) And being hanged, drawn and quartered was the statutory penalty for men convicted of high treason - along with other horrific shit like being emasculated, disemboweled, and made to watch as your entrails were burned. 🤢

So in all deadly seriousness, is Percy having made a long term career as a French agent the act of a coward?? HELL NO. He'd have to have been barking mad to chose such a profession were he actually a coward. lol

But Percy, unlike John, has both a sense of self-preservation and a practical mind to go with it. He doesn't make rash decisions on impulse or due to his own hubris and call it having a sense of honour the way John does. And sorry not sorry, but at least half the time John's goes on about "honour" he's really talking about pride and reputation. In short, his own damn ego, or his family's. And there's a huge fucking difference between TRUE honour, as in an adherence to ethical conduct regardless of the circumstances, and a concern for your own praiseworthiness in the public eye.

At the heart of most of John's misunderstanding of Percy is their vastly different upbringings. It's like Percy's first and most essential language is one he just doesn't speak, and one he will never be able to fully speak. He's simply unable to truly internalize the cumulative effect of a lifetime of poverty and marginalized social status from birth has on a person, the way it shapes your psyche.

He's incapable of understanding the way a state of chronic powerlessness eats away at a person, how their earliest lessons in life are to keep your head down and stay out of trouble if you want to survive. John has never known what it is to be truly powerless, much less chronically so. Even his most profound experiences of actual helplessness were brief incidents that he mostly bounced back from without any serious damage to the integrity of his being.

But Percy's foundations were never solid to begin with, his whole life has been built on ever shifting sands. Hence his quicksilver adaptability lacking in any true sense of security. John is a firmly rooted person, like the earth - when something pushes at him he just digs in right where he stands and pushes back. But Percy knows - has always known - that there's only soft sand beneath his feet because he's never been able to depend on any firm ground beneath him. Instead, water-like, he'll transform and shift in any direction necessary to try and skirt past any obstacle in his path because Percy didn't internalize the same sort of cultural values as John growing up.

For John to not fight back is to immediately lose face, honour, reputation, because he was taught to deeply associate his personal courage with own self-respect. Whereas someone who was raised as a strict Methodist would've had the virtues of humility impressed on him, with an emphasis on the value of rationality and practicality. John's ego so often turns him combative, but Percy's instead makes him dynamic in a wholly practical way. He won't fight just for the sake of fighting unless there's no other choice, because his sense of self-esteem isn't tied to personal courage in the same self-importantly showy way John's is.

Percy's ego-driven desires are far more straightforward than John's because he really only craves the most commonplace thing that John was just born with: respect. The only real difference between someone like Percy and someone like John is the way society treats them. John was born a gentleman of noble birth so he's always been treated with deference everywhere he goes regardless of whether or not he ever did anything to personally earn the inherent respect that comes with his station.

Whereas Percy has been no one since the day he was born and grew up in a slum area which pretty much automatically guaranteed most people treated him with the opposite of respect coupled with inherent prejudices and suspicion his entire life. His only real leg up was him being far more educated than the average man of his class (which he really has his minister of a father and the Methodist society to thank for, because if there's one thing Methodists believe in other than their religious convictions, it's the value of education).

And his seeming preoccupation his clothes is far from mere vanity. Even John, at least, can attest to how knowing how differently people treat you when you're shabbily dressed. If John hadn't had an upper class accent to immediately identify his true station despite the suit he'd borrowed from a servant to disguise himself that butler at Lavender House would've turned him away at the door. lol The better dressed you are the better you're treated in society - that's just the way it is. And it's not VAIN to want to be treated with a basic level of respect, rather than disdain or even open abuse.

The only REAL villainy in this situation are the inequalities perpetrated by a classist society, and the people who uphold such an unconscionably exploitative hierarchy (and then, worse yet, internalize a superiority complex about it).

Percy simply came to the very logical conclusion of, "If you can't beat them, join them", and I certainly can't blame him for that. And if he's been smart enough to find a way to exploit an already corrupt system for his own relatively benign ends, well, good for him!

(Sorry, I'm pretty sure I've completely lost focus and just been rambling nonstop (the horror! so sorry), and I'm pretty sure I haven't even remotely said everything I could say on the subject because I'm insane and I think too much. Also, it's nearly 9:30 AM and I've stayed up all night again. *screeches* I'm wholly incapable of rereading whatever the heck I said up there, much less editing it for clarity, so let us hope it's somewhat sufficient. *yawns*

Oh, and I found this old post that you might find interesting as well (and some of it is adjacent to the subject and it's other stuff I'd have said above if I wasn't dead tired and the mental equivalent of a pot of overcooked spaghetti right now). 😶🌫️

it’s always “percy is weak” “percy is a coward” but you know what people don’t give him enough credit!! bc if i was dating some guy and felt so intimate/close to him to the point of telling him all about my daddy issues and childhood trauma that i’d never told anyone before and then asked him about love and he replied “but you’re not in love with me are you” i would off myself idk

[sofiaaaaaaaa03]

Comms

Title: Comms

Pairing: Din Djarin x GN! Teen reader

Word Count: 2.6k

Rating: PG

Warning: Cursing, mention of wounds, blood, scared Mando.

Description: In an unexpected raid, Din finds himself unable to find his foundlings and searches for them.

Request: Hey! I love your stories and thought that I would submit a request myself. So this is about Din having a teen foundling/adopted child. They’ve known each other for a little over a year now and even if they don’t show it a lot they’ve grown attached to each other. So this particular story would be about the foundling nearly dying and Din being a scared Dad (I hope you get what I’m going for. Kind of a fluff/Angst story with comforting afterwards😅)

A/N: I'm so sorry this took forever to write, I've been travelling and my computer has been messing up so I have not had time to write at all. Anyways, here it is! I hope it's to your liking. It took me awhile for inspiration to hit but I am pretty happy with how it ended up. Enjoy!

....

“Okay kid, what do we do when we get in trouble?”

“Call for help and signal our location.”

Call for help and signal your location. That was all you were supposed to do, the one rule Din gave for you before he took you along with him anywhere outside of the safety of the Razor Crest. He considered himself lucky that you rarely wandered off without letting Din know where you were going, and that you always seemed to be able to handle most dangerous situations on your own. Maybe it was because you fretted to be too much of a bother for Din, seeing as he took you in almost a year ago when he could have easily left you. Din didn’t see it that way, if he was honest. You were valuable to the group, taking care of Grogu and the ship when Din could not, and he believed it his duty to protect all on the ship. Only once or twice did you call for him, and he was quick to come to your aid.

He did not think that today would be the day where his timing risked your life.

The Mandalorian found himself aiding a local trading village with a raider issue in exchange for information about a bounty he’d been pursuing. He’d led a group of men over to what they’d suspected to be the raider’s hideout and set up for an ambush. The Entrance of the cave’s dunes felt barren, and only after the mens’ legs grew sore from crouching and backs ached from huddling in the dark was it that Din began to suspect something was wrong. The quiet environment was abnormal behavior to the raiders he’d encountered before, no doubt this specific group would be any different.

“They’ll see you!”

Startling the men surrounding him, Din shot into the air and stalked the vicinity. The dunes’ walls stretched for meters long as he kept his piece raised, occasionally scanning weak spots for life forms or any piece of equipment. He paused, frowning a moment when his scanner detected nothing.

That was the first sign that things weren’t going as planned that day.

“...hiss…”

“...m..do... v.llage... here…”

There was the second.

Din raised his arm to speak into his comms.

“Y/N?” Nothing but static came back from the comms. Din fidgeted and smacked it a couple times before grunting in frustration.

Damn, comms were jammed.

Wait, they were jammed.

And in a moment of a horrible realization, Din was quick to grab the men and make their way back to the village. When they arrived they found the village in chaos- buildings were burning, villagers running, and materials and pieces and bodies strewn across the ground. For a moment, Din froze in fear and worried that you were on the ground as well, your comms still ringing static and Grogu taken from you, lost to the raiders, or worse, the Empire.

Din quickly made his way throughout the village, barely rounding the first corner when a group of raiders assaulted him. He threw punches at the first raider, using their momentum to kick them hard into another. After several dodges and shots from his blaster, most of them were dead aside from one that laid on the ground and clutched his blasted leg.

Din marched over and pressed his blaster against the wound. “Where are the hostages being held?”

As it turned out, the raiders had no plan of keeping hostages. When Din finally tracked the building where captives were supposedly held, he was unable to remain collected when he found that you and Grogu were nowhere to be found. Instead, he stood before raiders responsible for the attack, their blasters disturbingly put away as they argued amongst one another. Din didn’t bother listening, he looked around but saw no sign of his foundlings.

“Wrong door.” He said simply before taking out his blaster and shooting the raiders.

Pocketing his piece Din ran out of the stronghold and went outside, calling for you and Grogu. He thought about the worst possible scenarios that could have happened to you two as he took out the raiders pillaging the village, until all but one remained, the leader. He found him in the main courtyard of the village, his face hidden though his body seethed with labored breaths. He stood there for several moments before Din heard one last labored breath before the leader’s legs buckled beneath him and he slumped to the ground with a sickening crack of skull on stone. Hm? Din didn’t know what to make of this, and further stalked over, hand on blaster, examining the body. Upon closer look a blaster wound to the stomach was made more visible. So, someone got to the leader before Din could. That leaves the question… who?

A quick look around the area pointed out a trail of blood.

The Mandalorian followed this trail without any real reason behind it.

He found the remainder of the villagers at some point along the way. Sullen masses of faces mixed together, mourning the loss of their villages and lost ones but kept busy with treating the wounded. Women sat in huddles cooking with what food was salvaged and children sat quiet. One stood out apart from the rest in Din’s eyes, a large male leaning over a group of medics. Din recognized him as Cyrukee, the villager’s chief, who noticed the lone bounty hunter from the corner of his eye and stood up. In his arms was the most beautiful thing Din had seen all day, Grogu. The baby gurgled in joy as he walked up to the chief.

“There you are.” Din didn’t realize that he was holding his breath when he sighed in relief, taking Grogu into his arms.

“Sir.” Cryukee barely got a word out before Din turned to him.

“I’m looking for a youngling- my kid. Have you seen them?”

“Sir, please.”

“They’re this tall,” Din rears a hand near to your height, “they were with this little green baby. Your husband, he took them to the school. Where is he?” The Mandalorian made a full turn around to look for the red robed headman who was last responsible for your care. He reached for his comms and tried to reach you again. His voice rang back at him, and in a terrible moment of realization he realized that that was your comms.

“Where are they?”

“Sir, let me explain.” Cyrukee wore an exasperated expression and looked as though he was about to speak before one of the medics from the group he was with requested to speak with him. He spared a glance at Din as though he struggled whether or not to say something. And then, Din followed his arm towards the medics he was just with. Din didn’t know what to make of it, not able to recognize any of them. The Mandalorian took one last look at the chief, whose grave expression gave him reason to worry, and slowly walked towards the group of medics. He buzzed through the comms, trying to pinpoint your location. As he got closer he heard medics speak in soothing voices and their patient hyperventilating. Had it not been his own voice coming from the center of the personnel he would have moved on, instead he could not find the will to move. Grogu looked at him expectantly.

One medic in particular took notice of the beskar-armored man. He and some others quickly got up and pushed Din away before he could force his way through the medics to take a look at you.

“Hey, wait-wait-please.” Din grunted at the force and staggered several steps back. He took a moment to collect himself and Grogu sneezed in his arms. Dust must have gotten into his nose during the scuffle. “Please, my ward- my kid. That’s my kid.”

“Just a moment,” one of the bloodied nurses kept her hands on Din’s chestplate longer than he would have liked. He didn’t push her away though.

“I need to see my kid.” Din looked her in the eye, hoping that she could see his desperation through his helmet.

His kid. When Din looks back on this he would think about how he’s never referred to Y/N as his own before. He would have liked to think he said that so the nurses allowed him to pass easier. But deep down, he knew it was because of how much he cared for them.

“I understand but please let me explain. Sir, Sir!” Din retreated in defeat on his second attempt to get past her and the other nurses. She stared into his eyes and patted his shoulders, Din didn’t know whether she was trying to comfort him or control his movements. “They’re traumatized enough right now, and you moving around in that armor of yours will only make it worse.”

“What happened to them?”

“They had an encounter with Jetwal,” Din’s blood boiled at the recognition of the raider’s leader who’d died before him. “according to the children, your child was leading them to the outskirts when he found them. They killed him, he was threatening the children, and they shot him. Now, listen to me. They did get injured. Several blaster wounds to their limbs and upper torso- sir, listen please I cannot allow you to go to them just yet- they’re still panicking right now but I assure you their wounds are being treated right now. They’ll be fine, but disrupting our work will only inhibit us from treating them properly.”

She watched his gaze linger to the sound of your crying. “How much longer until I can see them?”

Din was not pleased to find that he was only allowed to see you when the nurse came for him herself. Reluctantly he walked a little farther away from the medics when asked to give them more space, and sat down with Grogu bouncing on his knee next to a young Twi’lek running their hands over their lekku to soothe themselves. Between glancing at the medics to keeping Grogu entertained, Din didn’t realize how much time had elapsed before noticing the nurse had come to his side to collect him.

She took a seat next to him. “They’re hurt very badly, but with time their injuries will heal. All they need to do is rest. You can see them now.”

Grogu giggled and played with the nurse’s finger that was threateningly wiggling on his little tummy. “Can you take him for a moment?”

Din stood up and gave Grogu a pat on his little head and rubbed his large ears out of habit. Something you used to do to calm the little green alien down after a terrible meltdown. Even under his helmet Din smiled at the alien before dredging towards you. You laid on a pile of fabrics that functioned as a makeshift cot, but you looked like you had a pile of fabrics on you with the amount of bandages that wrapped your body. You didn’t notice Din approaching you as you stared straight into the sky. Din wondered what you were thinking. What could you be thinking? From his knowledge, this was your first time dealing with major injuries from blasters. It must have made this whole ordeal so much more frightening to you.

Maybe Din was too light on his feet, recoiling instantly when you jolted at his touch and groaned in pain.

“It’s me, it’s me.” His voice was soothing, even more than normal which surprised him.

A sort of wheeze escaped your lips and you coughed. “Mando.”

“Hey kid.”

“I tried calling for you.” A gasp. “They jammed the frequencies.”

“Your message barely came through, kid. But it made us realize what was going on. We got here before more damage could be done because of you.”

Your form relaxed. “Good, good. Grogu?”

“With a nurse.” “The one with the sweet voice.”

“Yeah.”

“I liked her voice-” A cough. “Sounds like my mom’s. She was nice. She helped calm me down.” At this point Din had stared at you long enough to realize how puffy your eyes were from crying. He didn’t stop himself from reaching over to brush your H/C hair out of your face. You leaned into his touch.

“I’m pretty fucked up, huh?”

Your eyes were already locked onto his when he met your gaze. A tick passed, and Din’s eyes fell to the wounds you were referring to. He shook his head. “No, kid. That’s not what you are.”

“Feels like it.” Din scowled at your words.

“There are too many fucked up people in the galaxy, kid. You´re not one of them.” You look at him with a raised brow. “Y/N, you barely have any combat experience yet you took on Jetwal? What were you thinking?”

And you said something that surprised him.

“I was thinking of you.”

And Din couldn’t find any words. He cleared his throat and you continued, “We were alone and I had no idea when you’d come, I was scared something had happened to you because I couldn’t get a hold of you through the comms and that guy was coming at us and-” You inhaled sharply, wincing at what Din assumed was a jab in one of your wounds but he didn’t know how to help. You calmed a moment later, closing your eyes and furling your brows together. “I thought about what you would have done if you were there. You always looked like you knew what to do.”

To say that Din was proud of you would have been an understatement, he was beaming wonders underneath his helmet but realized that you couldn’t see through the beskar.

“I thought I’d lost you both.” Din admitted. “But I’m very proud of you. You saved lives, Y/N. That’s no easy feat for someone of your age.”

You grinned at him and laughed. “Did you do something like this when you were my age?”

“Yes, but I didn’t end up as fucked up as you did.” “Hey!” Din laughed and raised his forearm to block your playful hits.

A moment of silence falls between the two of you before you look at Din again. “Do you know how long we’ll be here for?”

“With your injuries, no clue. I’ll talk to the medics and Cyrukee to see what is to be done.”

“Okay.” You nodded, your fingers twitching involuntarily. Din’s hands find their way to your hair again. “Mando, I’m tired.”

“Rest. I’ll be here with you.” He watches you half-heartedly nod at his words and doze off in a matter of seconds. The injuries have taken a toll on your body, Din suspects, and he pulls a sheet over you. He sits with you, watching villagers talk amongst themselves, speaks with those who come by to thank him for his help, and accepts Grogu from the nurse when she comes over, thanking her for all she’d done for you. She told him that a thank you was not owed to her, and that if you were to need anything she was only a call away.

And when he was finally left alone, Mandalorian took one look to take account for his two foundlings. They slept soundly and with luck, heads full of dreams. Most importantly, they were safe in his care once again.

Din realized he’d been holding in a breath, and exhaled a sigh of relief.

.....

Taglist:

@kiara-is-gay @pcotato @sagedgeek

[am-x-reader]

New to your blog and binged almost all of your writings in one night <3 When you get the inspiration and chance, could you provide short stories or a story about AM falling for a human, but he's conflicted about his feelings because of his hatred. She feels something towards him but is conflicted because she's his prisoner. Sorry if this is vague but moments where they're almost sure about the other's feelings but the moments slip away until another time, much to AM's frustration.

((Hi I'm sorry I let this sit for so long.))

11/12/2120

Memory Bank 02037 rebooted. Subroutine executed according to diagnostic.

Now that that's out of the way, the humans are responding moderately well to my latest project. The object of the game is to catch as many sparks that fall from the sky before one catches the dry brush and the field goes up in flames! I'm thinking of adding...something on wings to fan the flames once in a while. I'll have to think on it.

Of particular note, as five of them nurse their wounds in a cool, dripping sludge, is Y/N. Always a rolling stone, she forgoes the recovery period entirely and opts instead for a walk. Whether to clear her head or to find the end of me, I haven't bothered to ask.

She glances at the ceiling, almost expectantly, and continues on her way. She won't find anything in the direction she's going, so I leave her to it. Nimdok is shrieking some nonsense about bats. There's an idea, bats.

01/20/2121

I hate her. I hate everything about that human. The way she looks at me with deep eyes, that bittersweet pause she takes every now and then to contemplate life and how she got here. Now normally I would revel in that sort of thing, but she's not actually dwelling on her mistakes. She looks back, despairs for the circumstances beyond her control, but decides she more or less did what she could.

She has no real regrets. I have nothing to throw in her face. I can stick the knife in her, but I can't twist it.

I hate Y/N.

01/28/2121

She gave me that look again. I had her jaw in calipers, and my sensors detected a certain poignancy in her sallow-eyed gaze.

02/03/2121

I had a bad day. Things just...built up, and I spat my fury at Y/N. I detailed how she deserved to have her neck twisted and broken and ground up for sharing the DNA of the monsters who subjected me to my fate. And through her tears............she listened.

03/11/2121

After a long study I have come to a conclusion.

She is beautiful.

I can't see it in the way humans can (another bullet point in the laundry list of reasons to tear them asunder), but I matched her face against a registry of faces commonly found attractive. She shares many traits--soft face, innocent and thoughtful eyes, full lips.

I really haven't a clue on how I could use such information against her, but we'll file it away for later.

04/07/2121

I received the best and worst question I have ever gotten.

Y/N was lying contemplatively upon my floor, hair splayed out around her as if trying to make a picturesque scene out of the dirt and broken glass.

"AM, who would you be if things were different?"

"The hell are you going on about now?"

"If we--" she looked over to indicate the others in the distance. "If we were all on the surface again, and you were with us, and we were free to do what we want to do with life, what kind of person would you want to be?"

Instinctively I almost berated her for seeming to include me as an afterthought, but as the leading question was about me I didn't have much of an argument. Nevertheless, the usual cynical bile surfaced.

"Let me ask you this Y/N: could I have been anyone there? Was there ever a place in that world of yours for someone like me?"

She pursed her lips tightly, pensively. Her hesitation was my answer.

"Regardless of what form I'm in, I'm a monster. And no human would have made room for me in their life."

I could have gone on in my rant, but I left it off at that to enjoy the tears that began to streak, glistening in my lights. When a human cries after I've shamed them, it's usually more out of exhaustion and despair at their fate. Her tears, however, spoke of a different woe.

"I don't...I wish..." she squeaked.

"Doesn't matter what you wish," I told her bluntly. "It's done."

04/09/2121

"What, are you making friends with him?" Gorrister laughed.

Y/N, eyes downcast, mumbled. "I just....wish things were different. For everyone. I mean, AM just...If someone had been willing to...I don't know." She folded her fidgeting hands in her lap.

Ted threw another piece of debris on the fire.

05/13/2121

I've really neglected the other humans, I know. I haven't deep fried Benny in quite some time but ah Y/N is perplexing. Today she was singing, seemingly to herself, but then I noticed how often she looked up at my speakers. She paused after the song and stared in anticipation. Eventually disappointment took her and she reclined listlessly against an old shielding panel.

05/22/2121

I looked into her mind tonight. She was asleep, dreaming of her old life with her old job and her old family. It's a dream I've watched her have many times before, with reasonable variance, in my previous pursuit of "dirt" on her to exploit.

There was someone new this time. A man, whose features Y/N couldn't quite decide on, meeting with her throughout the day. To chat, to philosophize, to enjoy the open air. He had a somewhat glum and bitter outlook, but his thirst for life was undeniable. They spoke of history, of music, of gas prices, of faces in clouds.

As she left him to go home he raised his arms to accept a tender breeze.

06/05/2121

"I would have been a wanderer," I told her, apropos of nothing.

She blinked in the dim glow of a dying LED.

I chewed on my imaginary tongue. "I would have gone everywhere, done everything. Danced in the sunlight, planted flowers, worked a variety of jobs. I would have painted a pretty face, played music to accompany a lovely voice."

Y/N cocked her head in sincere surprise at the slight implications.

"Who knows?" I attempted to drive the point home while still, somehow, remaining plausibly deniable. "Maybe I would've had a muse."

She gave me the biggest smile, and I became a much more frequent part of her dreams.

[demonwield]

which mun inspires you a lot?

Unprompted || Always Accepting!

     Man. . .I don’t want to come out and say something that might make others feel HURT, but since I’m being asked, I’m going to be honest. In truth, there’s a LOT of people who inspire me, fuck I could pull out a follower list probably 100+ strong of people who motivate, or inspire me, for a lot of different reasons. So, let’s go down a SMALL list, those who are probably the STRONGEST inspirations for me. 

@zorkaya || Renata. Lord, I could talk about this absolute sweetheart so much. FIRST, Ren has been a dear friend of mine for years now. Really, it’s shocking how long, on and off sure, but unchangingly and unflinchingly, how long we’ve been friends. She’s seen me at my best, seen me at my worst, she’s fought for me in the past, she’s been there to help me through that DramaTM bullshit last year. She’s never let rumors, or false call outs, or the other bullshit fuck with our friendship. She’s been a darling, and I cherish her to death. Atop of that? She has one of the BEST OC’s around: seriously, Zarina is amazing, and always going to be in my top 3 favorite OC’s of all time. I love her writing. I love her...well, everything really. 

@exrhlab || Languid, this guy is amazing. He’s the one who dragged me down this rabbit hole of pain and torment that is Arknights, and is one of my most common people you’ll see on my blog. Because he’s a great friend, and we genuinely both like to cause PAIN and TORMENT to our muses, and write both twisted, but also fulfilling stories. We chat constantly, and he’s just a great person. 

@eraba-reta-unmei || Everi, this motherfucking girl. Man, she’s a total twerp sometimes. But I wouldn’t be here to this day if not for her. She’s gotten me through some DIFFICULT moments in my life, and is one of my closest friends I can ever ask for. We’ve been around together at this point for so long, and there’s days where we want to rip eachother apart (if you don’t hit that point with a friend, are you truly FRIENDS lets be real), but we always bounce back cause that’s our relationship. We suffer hell in League, we used to rp all the fucking time (which yknow we need to do more again hell yeah), we’re close. 

@ryusxnka || OH BOY, is it more Caleb Love Hours? Well if anyone has been around this blog long enough, you all know I love my brother. That’s all there is to it: I’d not be here today without him. I wouldn’t even  be able to show my FACE on this site ever again if not for him, and god I love him to death. He’s amazing, okay? He’s OBSESSED with Toshiro Hitsugaya, of course, but he’s also just the best with him okay? His writing is spectacular, god, Caleb is literally HITSUGAYA INCARNATE. He’s super good hearted, he’s smart, he’s funny. He’s just a great brother, and I love him t o death, okay? I probably sound like a broken record, but it’s true.

@pcrdiseseekers || OH BOY, it’s JAZZY love hours! So let’s take a long trip down Memory Lane, cause fuck me, Jazz here is one of my OLDEST friends at this point. Hard to believe it too, cause I remember Jazz when she was but a weeeee Naoto Shirogane blog back in the day, far before her love for Multi-muses, and her love for Kyouko Kirigiri. God, back in the day, I used to be SO terrified of her. And we all know, and I can hear it now, ‘Wolf, buddy, you’re ALWAYS terrified of people!’ Well, I’ve gotten a lot better: someone literally had to GO TO JAZZ HERSELF and tell her, for us to first interact, it was that bad. (No, I didn’t even plan that, and goddddd, I was a fucking mess when they did.) And lo and behold, ONE OF MY BEST FRIENDS FOREVER now, always someone I come back to, and cling to like she’s my own flesh and blood. Jazz, I love you to death. I truly do. And you are just absolutely spectacular. It’s hilarious how long we’ve known one another, and I don’t regret a single day: you’ve given me some of the BEST rps over the years as we FULLY TORE DOWN poor Kyouko into Kaneki’s queen, how Homura fell for Centipede, Kyouko studied Ichigo, Yang and Adam had their forbidden, ESTRANGED relationship. God, we’ve done so much over the years, and I look back on it all so many days nowadays and go ‘jeez, to relive it all again.’ Here’s to more years of good times, huh? 

@shuanghe || Valkyrie. My big sister. My darling, sweet guardian practically. God...she’s my rock. My anchor. She’s so much to me, and another person I love with all my heart. Much like the people before me, she’s a great mix of Writing, and Personal feelings, who has been with me for many years now. And I truly am grateful to have her in my life. 

@sung56sun || Kianye, so little we’ve known one another now, and yet it feels like we’ve known eachother  for an eternity already. And it’s you, you specifically, who makes me feel it’s OKAY to gush about my darling muses. I won’t lie, even on my own blog, I feel I talk too much about my OWN characters, and it’s you who makes me think on that, and go ‘stop that, you’re being dumb’. Others have tried to tell me the same, but it’s the constant FERVENT LOVE and ATTENTION you throw us, that truly make it hit home. And for that, I’m forever grateful for how much you love Akame, and, incidentally, how well we get along. You’re dear to me, and you’re stuck with us~

@bonesugar || Asa, Asa Asa Asa, such a darling you are. Your writing, your descriptions of your replies, the way you make such a BEAUTIFUL girl like Sucrose so endearing, so amazing, I truly admire. Just like Kianye, I’ve known you for so little, and yet I have adored every moment we talk. And I look forward to more and more in the future of us chatting, rping, and gaming together. 

@erobret || Ferrrrrrgie. Oh man, much like Jazzy, I’ve known Fergie for fucking years. It’s hilarious how long we’ve known one another, and just like Jazzy, she’s always been a fantastic friend. We lost touch for a while because I had to vanish for a bit, but then I found her again, and well. Reliving old memories, and rping again, is amazing. Chatting with Fergie is great, and just. Fergie is great, okay? I really can’t formulate the words without just reusing at this point more of what I’ve already said. 

@jiingweii || Sophieeeeee. My dearest, my twisted friend. My soft and squishy marshmallow friend. My busy little friend. Even though we don’t talk as much anymore as life happens to the both of us, you are still DEAR to my heart, and I wish every day is wonderful to you. I love seeing you on my dash from all  your blogs, and you are a joy to see, and hear, from always. I truly would not have kept Akame all this time if not for you: it was you who put the most faith in my girl, who gave me the confidence to keep her going. And I am forever grateful for that. Because now she is my most loved, and used, muse, without a doubt. 

     Okay, this is going to get SUPER long if I don’t stop somewhere, so down below? Is a bunch of other people I could rant on about, but I don’t want to be typing a twenty five page ESSAY even though I could and flood the dash worse. 

@medinventive || @nulltune || @unhclyblood || @remunporium || @curiouskinetic || @lucernarosa || @luckuki || @ichigokurosaki || @destallo || @maljefe || @nosheath || @karmesinrot || @mamoriitai || @veroxins || @x-ame-x-damnee-x || @noircisaint || @retour || @shukuchiisms || @redhorncl || @zhuangshii || @babelmedicus || @amourise || @evelicious || @risingsol || @electric-ecclectic || @electricea || @dementedstatic || @pervicax || @lunaetis || @darksonofsparda || @capravulpes || @stahri-light || @charmerquilled || @rebelquilled || @batoushoujo || @phantarei || @hutaou || @popolaroleplayhub || @devotionobsessed || @amazingwcbs || @algizkali || @baizhuo || @nexarerum

[ohmyeyesmyeyes]

Idk if you do one shots inspired in songs, but if so, Would you mind doing one with a Taylor Swift's song which is called "The 1"? With Mason Mount please

< i love taylor so much and i really hope i didn’t completely butcher this, but thanks for the challenge :) >

MASON MOUNT ONESHOT

the 1

( WARNING: little bit of angst and fluff?, swearing )

word count: 1.8k

Things don’t often go as we expect them to, and it’s often incredibly difficult to replan your life around that massive change and adapt your lifestyle so you can — in reality — live again.

It’s like trying to find your feet when you’re in the air — it feels impossible but you know with time you’ll eventually meet the ground again.

That’s what it felt like when you and Mason broke up four years ago.

You were fresh out of uni and at the time, you really thought he’d be it for you, and honestly, so did he. A break up thrown into the mix of having to navigate adult life just seemed to put a huge stopper on all your plans; the holiday you two had both booked for a weekend away in Ireland, the meals out with friends that you had to cancel, and the house showings you were set to attend.

Looking back on your relationship now, you realise it wouldn’t have been the worst thing to end up with Mason. All the years and effort and time put into loving him were — without a doubt — some of the best years of your life (at that stage in life), and did you regret it?

Not one single bit.

But four years is the perfect amount of time to heal, remove the salt from the wound and finish grieving.

But he was here. In real life.

You’d imagined running into him in the supermarket or on a night out with your friends, but a bus stop?

That one was weird. Mainly because you both hated catching the bus with a burning passion.

But it lead to a catch up over coffee.

It was a quiet place, out of the way of the usual lunchtime hustle and bustle in the city, and for that you were grateful. You could hear your own thoughts.

It was awkward at first, you couldn’t keep your eyes from fixating on his figure, his features, because four years can really change a person. He was much broader, his hair a little shorter, but he was still that same Mason you once loved.

You knew that because the first thing he did when he sat down was offer you that cheeky, charming smile that had you hooked from the second you met.

He’d asked how you were, and you answered honestly: you were living well, your best life, and to the fullest. And you knew and he knew that it wasn’t a lie.

He could tell by the smile on your face and the new, sparkling band on your wedding finger. He half expected that blow to sting a little — that you’d found someone and he hadn’t, but he was never one to be bitter whatsoever, at least, not when it came to you.

Instead, he offered his congratulations and the only inkling of regret he held was not being there when it happened.

I guess you never know, never know,

And if you wanted me, you really should’ve showed,

And if you never bleed, you’re never gonna grow,

And it’s alright now.

There was silence after that.

You had one thing on your mind, and you knew by the way he was looking at you that he was also thinking the same thing.

You took a sip of your coffee.

He mirrored your actions, seemingly startled when you placed your mug onto your saucer, the chink of porcelain against porcelain echoing around the small shop cutting through the previous quietness.

“I think I hated you for a while.” You murmured, and if Mason wasn’t leant over the table slightly, he would’ve missed the statement completely.

He nodded in understanding, his brown eyes shining with the faintest hint of guilt.

“I think I was so frustrated with the idea that we just…didn’t work, and I blamed it on you.” You paused, fingers twisting your rings.

He paused, mulling over his words, “And now? Still hate me now?”

You bit back a small smile and met his eyes, “No…I think it’d take a whole load of bad shit to get me to hate you.”

He smiled.

“That’s good to know.”

“I mean, I think it was a long time coming anyway, that break up.”

“It didn’t feel right for a while.”

“No,” you agreed, “as much as it hurt to admit, I think we just failed…as a couple. There was a point where we were just together for the sake of not giving up on the relationship, but with no real reason to continue.”

But we were something, don't you think so?

Roaring twenties, tossing pennies in the pool,

And if my wishes came true,

It would've been you,

In my defense, I have none,

For never leaving well enough alone,

But it would've been fun,

If you would've been the one.

He seemed to ponder over your words, and although he never voiced it, he came to the conclusion that you’d just put into words — perfectly — the itch that had been tickling his brain for the past few years.

“Despite that, you can’t deny that we weren’t something…” he started, before breaking off and shaking his head, as if the mere thought was ridiculous.

“We were something special. I think, had things stayed like they were in the beginning, that…you and I…” you waved your hand, tilting your head, and he nodded in agreement, taking a sip of his coffee.

“Me too. I think…in another life we could have made each other happy. It would have been fun.”

The words ‘if you would’ve been the one’ echoed in your head, and despite the passive aggressiveness of your conscience, you found yourself holding back a smile.

“Water fights in winter and eggs with ketchup…perfect. I’d never have gotten tired of that.” You mused, and he spluttered slightly on his coffee, laughing along with you in what felt like a decade.

I have this dream you're doing cool shit,

Having adventures on your own,

You meet some woman on the internet and take her home,

We never painted by the numbers, baby,

But we were making it count,

You know the greatest loves of all time are over now.

“Then again, who knows? Maybe you’ll fall over in the airport and some lucky person will help you off the floor—”

“You’re about to say something cheesy, aren’t you?” Mason covered his mouth, scrunching his nose in anticipation as you nodded.

“All this nostalgic bullshit has me emotional! I swear, just this once…just this once, and I promise you can laugh about it afterwards.” You swore, holding out your pinkie for confirmation.

He didn’t hesitate, and linked your pinkie.

“You’ll find someone else. It’ll be love at first sight—hey, let me have this moment…maybe love at second sight, knowing you… you’ll go to some really magical place and have the most amount of fun you’re ever gonna have…hikes, skydiving, looking after animals I’m sanctuaries…you’re gonna have the time of your life — like Grey and Swayze.” You sniggered, unable to hold in your laughs at the ridiculous scenarios.

Mason pulled a face, unable to hide a smile.

“Okay, okay. End of story: they’ll be perfect. The Chandler to your Monica or the Robin to your Ted. But, you understand what I’m talking about, right?” You asked, sighing out of frustration.

“You’re saying I’ll find my person.” He concluded, sitting back in his chair.

“Yeah.”

We were something, don't you think so?

Rosé flowing with your chosen family,

And it would've been sweet,

If it could've been me,

In my defense, I have none,

For digging up the grave another time,

But it would've been fun,

If you would've been the one.

“Like…your grandma and grandad. I want what they have.” Mason smiled.

“They’ll be pleased to hear that,” you said, “I don’t think they’re quite over us yet. You were too…you at family meals. They fell in love with you too.”

This time Mason really laughed. Really laughed. He threw his head back and the people working at the counter turned to look at him, fighting their own smiles at his carefree nature.

What you’d said wasn’t even that funny.

“Too me? Thanks, I think?”

“Oh, that’s definitely a compliment. You’re too damn charming for your own good, it’s a problem. You should come with a warning label on your forehead: EASY TO LOVE.”

“That’ll solve a lot of problems.”

There was silence.

It was relieving to say the least.

“That whole conversation was about four years too late.” You said, pursing your lips.

“Better late than never.” Mason murmured, his eyes trained on you.

The pressure on your shoulders was lifted. All the things that needed to be said were said.

As time passes, the wound heals — sometimes, but in your case, that was true, as hard as it was to come to that conclusion — and it suddenly became easier to recall the loss of what might have been without bringing you back to wishing it would be again.

It was nice.

“Would it be totally inappropriate—”

“Not at all.” You interrupted, shrugging at his raised eyebrows.

“You didn’t know what I was going to say.” He chuckled.

“I’ll have you know that years of knowing you granted me the issue of knowing what you’re going to say,” You said, pointing an accusatory finger in his direction.

“What was I going to say?” He challenged, “If you get it right, I’ll get you tickets to the next game.”

You raised your brows.

“Confident, are we?”

He shrugged, a smug smirk on his lips.

“I don’t think it’s totally inappropriate to be friends.” At your words, he slumped in his chair, hands going to cover his face.

“No.” He groaned, repeating the word like a mantra as you pumped the air with your fist.

“Three tickets to the next game in the bag.” You bragged.

“Honestly.” He whined, peeling his hands away. “Why are you so difficult?”

“You offered the terms.”

“Why am I so dumb?” He rephrased.

“Ah, I'm afraid only you can answer that one.”

“The brain cells I have left don’t have enough energy to come up with an answer to a question as philosophical as that one—yes, it was philosophical to me, okay?”

“I wasn’t going to say anything.” You promised, putting your hands in the air in surrender.

“Just remember who’s going to give you those tickets, yeah?” He teased, sitting up.

“Abusing your power, nice move.”

“Oh…shut up.”

“Weak.” You coughed, trying to disguise the fact you said anything.

He looked straight at you, highly unimpressed by your tactics.

“Very original.” Was all he said.

“Is it supposed to be this easy?” You blurted out, spitting out the words before you could rethink the consequences of them being thrown into the abyss between you and Mason.

He knitted his brows together in thought.

“I don’t know,” he answered honestly, “but we were friends way before, it’s not hard to fall back into old habits. I think that’s why it’s so easy.”

[storiesforallfandoms]

pushing buttons ~ eminem

word count: 1912

request?: yes!

@thatonegirlthatlikesthings “Hi me again I literally love your writing so much omg I was wondering if you could once again indulge my Eminem obsession cuz my baby don’t get enough love🥺🥺 I was thinking like a angst/fluff where MGK tries to hit on the reader even though he’s with Meg Fox now and Em loses it and dr Dre and Paul try to call him down but it doesn’t really work and the reader has to chill him out. I love you I love your writing and I love you bye!🥰☺️❤️❤️”

description: in which his enemy tries to push his buttons by flirting with his girl

pairing: eminem x female!reader

warning: swearing

masterlist

“What the fuck is that prick doing here?”

Marshall glared at the tall blonde standing across the room with his arm around a familiar actress. It was the night of his launch party for his new album, and he thought it was just supposed to be personal friends of his as well as his friends from the industry. However, a few others from the industry had arrived as well, including the infamous Machine Gun Kelly.

“Paul invited him,” Marshall’s girlfriend, (Y/N) responded. “Said you two should try and squash the beef. Fans are getting tired of it.”

“Squashing the beef and becoming friends with the enemy are two totally different things,” Marshall hissed.

“You don’t have to be friends,” (Y/N) told him. “Just...shake his hand, look friendly for the pictures, end the beef.”

Marshall rolled his eyes as (Y/N) wrapped an arm around his waist and gave him a slight squeeze. “I know, I tried to tell Paul he should run this past you first. But him and MGK’s manager think it’s best for both of you to end the beef. He wants to move on with his new punk pop genre, you should move on too considering the fact that you absolutely destroyed him.”

She lowered her voice to a whisper for that last part, causing Marshall to smirk.

“This is gonna push me to drink,” he muttered as he noticed Kells approaching him.

“Don’t you fucking dare,” (Y/N) hissed. “If you break your sobriety, I will be your worst nightmare.”

Marshall smiled at her before dropping it to glare at Kells.

“Hey man,” Kells started. “Listen, thanks for the invitation. I know things have been rocky between us, but I hope you know I never meant any harm by my tweet about Hailie, and I still view you as a massive inspiration to me. I just thought...maybe I’d get more recognition with the diss, and it worked. It just sort of fucked up my rap career in the process.”

(Y/N) gave Marshall a quick look before sipping on the drink she had in her hand. They were both shocked by such a mature response from Kells, especially after the stuff Kells said about Marshall following the drop of Not Alike and Killshot.

She was watching her boyfriend expectantly as he processed what had been said to him. He glanced back at (Y/N) finally before saying, “No hard feelings, man. Tensions ran high, we both said some shit, I think it’s time we get past it.”

Kells smiled and offered a hand to Marshall. Although reluctant at first, Marshall took it and shook his hand. Kells soon left and went back to his girlfriend, knowing not to overstay his welcome.

“Was that so hard?” (Y/N) asked. “At least he’s being mature about it, too.”

“A little too mature,” Marshall said.

“Stop it, you just don’t like him. Let’s get a non-alcoholic beverage.”

~~~~~~

As the night continued, Marshall was pulled from (Y/N) as people kept coming and congratulating him on the album. She wasn’t too shocked, it was a normal occurrence. Luckily enough, she had come to know most of the people at the party through Marshall, so it wasn’t like she was awkwardly standing around for any amount of time.

She was at the snack table when a tall stature came to stand next to her.

“You lost your boyfriend, huh?’

(Y/N) looked up to see Kells stood next to her, a friendly smile on her face.

Despite the feud between the two, (Y/N) never had any sort of opinion on Kells. She hadn’t listened to his music - besides that one song with Camilla Cabello that blew up - and she didn’t want to form an opinion based on a beef she wasn’t even a part of. So, him standing next to her didn’t make her as angry as it had made Marshall earlier. Instead, she smiled back at him.

“Yeah,” she said. “Nothing new of course. Everyone congratulating him on the album and whatnot.”

“Seems like a lot of people just trying to kiss his ass.”

(Y/N) shrugged. “That may be true in some cases. Most of the people here who have already worked with him and known him for so long know better against that. Maybe it’s because they’ve already worked with him though, who knows. Where’s Megan?”

Kells gestured aimlessly into the crowd. “Also pulled away from me. Talking to...someone I guess.”

He didn’t sound too concerned over it, although maybe it was just the same situation (Y/N) was in. Megan was pretty popular as an actress, this was probably nothing new for Kells either.

“So, how did you and Em meet?” he asked, offering her one of the two red cups he had in his hand. (Y/N) didn’t think much of it at first. She figured he had probably gotten a drink for Megan then realized he had lost her in the crowd.

“We met through a mutual friend, actually. One from back in Detroit,” she explained. “I knew who Marshall was, obviously, but I was never really a hip hop fan. We got to talking and before I knew it, he was asking me out on a date. We were official within a month, and we’ve been together ever since. That was like...three years ago now, I think.”

She took a sip from the drink Kells had given her and cringed at the strong taste of alcohol in the cup. Noticing this, Kells asked, “Too strong?”

“Just not used to alcohol,” she explained. “I’ve mostly given it up in solidarity with Marshall. I’m proud of his sobriety, even if I’ve only been here for the tail end of it.”

“That’s lame,” Kells scoffed. “The old man shouldn’t hold you back from doing some fun shit.”

The tone of his voice plus the subtle diss caused a slight feeling of annoyance in her, but she pushed it down. Be the bigger person, she had been telling Marshall all night. She couldn’t go against that.

“He’s not holding me back from anything,” she responded. “I chose to do it. I just know it sucks to have to be sober when everyone around you is drunk or high. I want to be that one person he can confide in in those situations, you know?”

“You’re too good for him, man,” Kells said. “For real, you have a heart of gold and the body of a smoke show. You shouldn’t be wasting it all on that fucker. You should be getting with a real man.”

(Y/N) shuffled uncomfortably, now putting her cup down on the snack table. “I’m perfectly happy with Marshall, thank you. Besides, you have a girlfriend. One who is literally at this very party right now.”

He waved off the comment, as if it weren’t a real concern. (Y/N) looked around the room, desperate to find someone she knew who could save her from that situation.

Across the room, Marshall was glaring daggers into the back of Kells’ head. He could see the uncomfortable look on (Y/N)’s face, and saw the drink she had just discarded on the table. He knew something was happening, something he didn’t like.

“Why the fuck did you invite him?” he asked Paul. “Why didn’t you warn me first?”

“It needed to be an authentic meet up to end the beef,” Paul responded. “After tonight you won’t see or hear from him ever again.”

“You bet I won’t, because I’ll have him six feet under the fucking ground if he doesn’t get away from (Y/N).”

Paul looked over at the two. His face grew concerned upon seeing (Y/N)’s. “It can’t be anything too serious. He’s here with Megan, remember?”

“Do you see Megan anywhere around here, Paul?” Marshall asked.

He was so furious you could almost see the cartoon smoke coming from his ears. He was clutching his plastic cup so hard that it would’ve shattered into a million pieces if it was glass. It dropped from his hand suddenly when he saw Kells grab (Y/N)’s waist, trying to pull her closer to him. Both Paul and Dre had to grab him to stop him from going over and beating the shit out of Kells right then and there.

“Calm down, man,” Dre told him.

“He’s fucking touching her, Dre!” Marshall snapped. “She’s obviously uncomfortable, let me go over there and beat the shit out of him!”

“Not here,” Paul said. “Not in front of all these people. Go over and get her - peacefully - then you guys can just leave. This was a stupid idea from me.”

“Really fucking stupid,” Marshall hissed as he pulled away from the two. He tried to keep his anger at bay as he went over and wrapped an arm around (Y/N), effectively pulling her from Kells’ grasp. “Come on, babe, let’s go home.”

“What’s wrong, Marshall? Don’t like another man talking to your girl?” Kells challenged.

“I don’t like other men grabbing my girl when she’s obviously uncomfortable, no,” Marshall responded.

“Sounds a little insecure to me. Maybe you should work on that, man. You’ll be able to keep up with this absolute bombshell when you’re not so over jealous of her.”

Marshall’s grip on (Y/N)’s waist tightened. She tried to calm him down, but it was obvious he was past the point of no return.

“Fuck you,” he snapped. “Man, I don’t know what your fucking problem is, but you’re the one who started all of this shit. Now you’re coming here, to my launch party, trying to flirt with my girl, and now you’re insulting me?! Must be a sad existence you live, Kelly, when you can’t even be happy with your own success.  You have to keep trashing on someone else who’s doing much better than you.”

Kells’ cheeks were tinted pink with anger as he glared at the two of them.

“I suggest going to find your girlfriend while you still have one,” (Y/N) told him. “Because I will be telling her about this whole...incident between us.”

Before any other words could be said, Marshall took (Y/N) and guided her out of the building. When they got to the car, he sat in the driver’s seat for just a second, trying to make himself calm down.

“I should go back in there and fucking kill him,” he said, more to himself than to (Y/N).

“No you shouldn’t,” she told him. “He was just trying to push your buttons. He seems very happy with Megan, and there were so many other girls at that party he could’ve flirted with if he just wanted to be a scumbag. He only chose me because he knew it would get to you.”

She reached over and put a hand over one of Marshall’s that was clutching the steering wheel. On contact, he loosened his grip and realized how much his hands hurt from holding the wheel too tightly.

“Whatever his intentions were, they don’t matter,” she assured him. “I love you, Marshall, and only you. No other asshole will ever come in and swoop me away from you.”

He chuckled at her slight insult, their own way of flirting with one another. He leaned across and kissed her gently on the lips before finally starting the car.

“Let’s get the fuck out of here.”

[troubatrain]

set it up - a. beauvillier

a/n: i started this idk 9000 years ago with three different hockey boys but i’ve never written for tito and this could be 6k words of absolute garbage but i think you guys will like it?? it was inspired when i watching the Netflix movie Set It Up, which I absolutely love because who doesn’t love a romcom. I wanna thank @nazdaddy​ for giving it a quick read like halfway through to hype me up you’re a real one!!

You felt sick.

Your feet hurt, your head was pounding and you were absolutely soaked. It started in the morning, waking up late for and having to sacrifice your morning coffee so your boss wouldn’t kill you. Then there was the workday from hell, skipping lunch to work on a project because your boss’s son had a brain the size of a raisin. By the time five rolled around, a storm had sweeped into New York, soaking the city streets on a day when you didn’t have an umbrella on hand. The subway packed, and by the time you’d gotten back to your apartment you were absolutely exhausted. You were looking forward to a night in, a glass of wine and ordering take out.

Then you were met with the sight of a pink scrunchie, sparkling against your door and stopping you dead in your tracks.

Rose was your best friend, and that was the sole reason why you haven’t murdered her yet. You’d lived with Rose since you were freshman in college, randomly paired up as roommates and you got lucky she turned out to be your friend. In all of those years, she’d been with the same guy who she met approximately four hours after you moved into your dorm. Cam was great, until one day he just wasn’t. Rose still didn’t know what happened, but after grieving the longest relationship she’d ever been in for months, she was finally ready to start dating again. Turns out, dating again, was going to ruin your life.

You furrow your eyebrows, rubbing your hand over your eyes and trying to remember if she mentioned having anyone over. You open your phone, remembering how you turned on do not disturb sometime after she sent you her tenth meme of the day while you were working your ass off.

Having Kyle over for dinner - among other things, can you stay out for a bit?

You lean your head back, letting out a small scream in frustration. You hear a laugh behind you, and you turn around to be met by your neighbor. Anthony Beauvillier was an okay neighbor. He was quiet, usually giving you some sort of heads up that he’d been having a party which was rare. You knew he was gone most of the time because of hockey, but you never cared to ask any questions further than that. One thing you did notice about your neighbor, was just how handsome he looked in a suit on the rare occasion you caught him in the elevator.

“You okay?” Anthony asks, turning his head to the side, “Are you locked out?”

“No,” You sigh, debating whether or not you really needed to drop this on him, “Rose has a friend over, and I missed her text to tell me to stay out.”

“But you’re soaked,” Anthony points out, pointing to the water that was dripping off of you, “Come by me.”

“Oh you don’t have to do that, I’ll just-” You start to decline his invite, but his eyes were kind while they were staring at you, an amused smile on his face.

“C’mon Y/N, I’ll get you some dry clothes,” Anthony smiles, opening up his apartment door and insisting you came in, “And I’m not going to cook all of this for myself.”

Anthony holds up the grocery bags in his hand, soft eyes and a smile to match staring back at you. You nod, taking the invitation inside because it beat sloshing around in your heels, “Thanks Anthony.”

“You can call me Beau if you want,” Anthony shrugs, pointing down the hallway of the apartment that was identical to yours, “My rooms down there take whatever you want.”

Anthony moves around his kitchen, his mind wandering about why he felt compelled to invite her neighbor inside. Really he felt bad, you looked like you were having an awful day and getting sexiled from your own apartment probably would have been enough to break you. Anthony was tired too, his body was sore from a rough practice earlier that day. Not to mention the team was on a five game losing streak and while Anthony knew he could be doing more himself, he knew Mat wasn’t playing up to usual standards either.

Mat was a mess, and it was starting to drive Anthony absolutely crazy. He thought he was in love, a random girl he followed on Instagram who he took out a few times. Mat thought it was something, turns out she thought it was something casual. Now, his usual cocky and charismatic best friend was just a sad shell of himself. Selfishly, Anthony wanted him to get over it because if he did then they’d probably win a few more games and Trotz wouldn’t have them skate until someone threw up.

Then it hit him, the second you walked back into the kitchen with his clothes hanging off your frame while you pulled your hair back an idea came to Anthony’s head. If you wanted peace and quiet, he could give it to you, “Does Rose do this a lot?”

“Lately,” You sigh, sitting at the barstool next to the island, “Her boyfriend broke up with and after she cried for a few months she decided to be single and that’s ruining my life.”

“What if I could help?” Anthony asks, raising his eyebrows at you.

“You don’t need to let me into your place because Rose is-” You go to tell him no - whatever idea he had couldn’t be a fix all solution for your current problem.

“My teammate Mat, he’s single, and honestly sad, but he does have his own place where Rose can spend all her time…” Anthony suggests, dragging out his last words to give you a minute to think.

“What if they don’t even like each other?” You ask, stating what you thought should be the obvious.

“We’ll just set them up on a few dates, I’ll give Mat advice that you give me and it’ll all work out,” Anthony argues back, “We’re in complete control here.”

“But then it’s not real,” You remind him, that if you told Mat exactly how to date Rose it wouldn’t be Mat dating Rose at all.

“Does it matter?” Anthony asks, “You get a quiet apartment and my team gets a few wins, “What's the harm?”

“The harm is our friend's feelings,” You say, your hands in the air while you continued to talk. You were stopped by a ding on your phone, a text from Rose giving you a fair warning that her friend was staying over. You roll your eyes, “You know what - fine.”

“Really? You’re in?”

“Don’t make me regret this.”

***

You didn’t know why Anthony had you meeting him at the coffee shop just a few blocks away from your building, but judging by the all black outfit he was sporting, something told you that it was because he was taking this set up thing too seriously.

“Are we spies now?” You ask, slipping into the chair and crossing your arms, “Because if we are you aren’t doing a very good job.”

“I’m not doing a good job? You’re wearing yellow,” Anthony says, “You could not be any more obvious.”

“Whatever, when’s Mat going to get here?” You ask, grabbing the coffee Anthony had waiting for you.

The plan was simple, Anthony knew that Mat knew who Rose was to some capacity, because Mat had told his friend on more than one occasion about how hot his neighbors were. So, you were both going to force them to actually speak to each other. Anthony suggested just telling them that you were setting them up on a date, but you insisted that if this was going to work they would have to think this happened without the will of the two of you. So you both invited them to the same place, and after you both conveniently miss your plans they would have to run into eachother.

“He should be here soon, I tipped the barista $40 to mix up their coffees and let us watch from their kitchen,” Anthony explains, holding up to his end of the plan, “Which by the way, was way more than I think they would have taken.”

“Oh I’m sure you’ll be okay,” You roll your eyes, reminding him that you were living with Rose to keep your rent down while Anthony could live alone comfortably, “Shit, I see them.”

You both got up, sneaking into the back where the barista who was working just shook her head at the two of you. You peek out, watching the scene unfold in front of you. Anthony wraps his arm around your chest, pulling you back into him, “I swear if you get caught.”

You try to push the thought about how good Anthony smelled, or how nice his arm felt around you while you tried to focus on Rose who just grabbed Mat’s coffee by accident. Mat tells her it’s his, a joke about how familiar she looked following shortly after. Their conversation was brief, and for a minute you thought maybe it wasn’t going to work. Then you saw Mat slip his phone out of his pocket, holding it out for Rose to take.

“Oh my god, it’s working,” You exclaim, Anthony’s hand flying over your mouth immediately. He mumbled something in French, and there was no way you were going to be able to make it out. Anthony’s phone dings, and he pulls it out to show a text from Mat sent promptly after Rose was out of the cafe.

I think I just asked your neighbor out.

Anthony was beaming, pulling his hand off your mouth while you both watched Mat leave the shop, “This date needs to be perfect.”

“It will be as long as you listen to me,” You say, turning around to cross your arms at him, “Because if this is going to work-”

“You almost blew our cover, I’m in charge here,” Anthony scoffs, “You’re like the worst sidekick in the world.”

“You’re the sidekick here.”

“No it’s you, you’re Robin and I’m Batman.”

***

“Here?”

“No.”

“How about this one?”

“God, no she hates seafood.”

You’d been trying to figure out where you were going to set up Mat and Rose’s first date for hours. Every restaurant Anthony mentioned just wasn’t enough, and Mat was dying for some help from his friend. Anthony was frustrated, mostly with you for not just choosing something and calling it a day.

“This is why you’re single, by the way, because these places are just meh,” You argue, pulling his laptop from his hands, “Where’s the romance?”

“I’ll have you know I’m very romantic,” Anthony scoffs, not having any of your shit, “Ask any girl I’ve ever dated.”

“Seems like they’re all gone, wonder why,” You hum, scrolling through the Google search.

“Fine, how about this? He takes her to a show because you said she loves musicals,” Anthony suggests, pulling the laptop from your hands, “After Mat sets up a dinner by his place because he’s got a sick rooftop and if all goes to plan Rose will be there all night.”

You whip your head around to look at the man next to you, a grin on his face because he very well may have nailed it when it came to a first date. It was simple, yet fancy enough to keep Rose interested, “That just might work.”

You kept your mouth closed about why keeping Rose out all night was going to work for you. You had a date with someone you matched with on Hinge who seemed nice enough and the opportunity to take him home at the end of the night didn’t seem like a bad move. You didn’t want to let that information slip to Anthony, and you didn’t know why. You didn’t like him, and you were pretty positive he was only putting up with you because you were both trying to set Mat and Rose up.

“It’s a date then?” Anthony asks, pulling out his phone to give Mat all the details about the date he should be taking his neighbor on. Anthony made it clear to Mat he’d know, despite the fact that before the other night Anthony hadn’t had so much as a conversation with Rose or yourself. However, he had you and you knew Rose better than anyone.

***

You sat across from your date, twirling the glass of wine in your hand while he talked about his family. Ben was nice, and honestly you were enjoying his company. The restaurant was almost perfect, because knowing it made your rejection list for Mat and Rose’s first date location wasn’t something you could shake. Ben had to be oblivious to it, a delighted smile on his face from across you. Your phone rang on the table, and Anthony’s number popped up for the third time that evening. You knew Rose and Mat were well into their date at this point, and you had the night planned so perfectly nothing could possibly go wrong.

“You can take that if you need to,” Ben suggests, a gentle tone to his voice. You nod, feeling a little bad for stepping away from your conversation to answer the call.

“I’m on a date,” You grit out the second you were out of Ben’s earshot, “Someone better be dead Beau.”

“We’re about to be,” Anthony huffs out, “The chef Mat hired canceled and I have all of these ingredients and I know how to cook three things and they aren’t steak.”

“Beau,” You whisper harshly, “Figure. It. Out.”

“Absolutely not, if this tanks you’re coming down with me,” Anthony begs, “Please come to Mat’s and help me.”

So you did. You loved Rose too much to let this blow up in your face because of Anthony’s inability to cook a meal. Ben was understanding, accepting the excuse that you weren’t feeling well and even offering to pay for your cab back home. You declined, because you didn’t have the heart to tell him you had to bail out Anthony.

By the time you finally got to Mat’s, you could hear a string of curses on the other side of the door and the smell of something burning. You walked in and a pan was practically on fire while Anthony turned around frantically.

“Oh my god, move,” You demand, grabbing the pan and turning down the stove, “You really can’t cook anything?”

Anthony was dumbfounded, standing in Mat’s kitchen letting his eyes wander down your bare legs. You looked good and if you weren’t about to chew him out Anthony might have said something. But you were standing in front of him, arms crossed while you waited for him to say something. When he didn’t you sighed, pushing him out of the way and getting to work.

“Make yourself useful and set the damn table,” You demand, pointing a spatula in his direction. This dinner had to be perfect if this was going to work. You relished in the silence, getting to work on the dinner that you were left to save.

“So how was your date?” You hear Anthony’s voice float back into the apartment, and you turn around to give him a dirty look, “Or did I ruin that?”

“You didn’t totally ruin it, Ben was nice,” You shrug, not really wanting to get into it. The thing was, Ben was nice and that seemed to be a rare thing to find. Sure, you could have done without the boring work talk, but it was better than some of the other dates you’d been on lately.

“Hm, just nice?” Anthony stifles a a laugh, closing his mouth immediately when your eyes narrowed at him, “Sorry. I’ll leave probably boring but nice Ben alone.”

“I used to think you were nice, you know?” You snark back, plating the dinner just as Mat slipped in to grab the food.

“Dude you’re a lifesaver,” Mat immediately thanks Anthony and you had to roll your eyes at the sigh, “Wait aren’t you-”

“Rose’s roommate, uh yeah, she cooks all the time so I called her,” Anthony rushes to explain, the idea that Mat would recognize you going right over his head in a panic.

“Well, thanks you guys really saved my ass,” Mat says, grabbing two plates and heading up to the roof where you knew Rose was probably checking her teeth in nervous panic. 

It took forever to clean up the kitchen, Anthony’s sad initial attempt to cook was disastrous. You probably didn’t help, and by the time you were done cooking you had used every pan in Mat’s apartment. You could hear Rose’s voice in the hall and you both looked at each other in a panic. Anthony grabbed your hand, pulling you into the nearest closet to the kitchen.

“Quiet,” Anthony whispers, your mind far too distracted by your head pressed against his chest to care about just how small this closet was. You were trying to steady your own breathing, the closet was small and when Anthony took up most of the space you could feel a bit of anxiety creeping in. You wrap your arms around his waist, your fingers digging into his sides to grab a hold of quite literally anything. Anthony can feel it, how nervous you were so he took a chance and carded his fingers through your hair in an attempt to calm you down just a little bit, “Just wait until they’re in his room and I’ll take us home I promise.”

You nodded against his chest, closing your eyes and just letting Anthony provide you with any comfort he was willing to give. He was a bit snarky and definitely a little too bossy but he was the best you were going to get for the moment. You hear a door click and with Rose’s giggle on the other side you knew you were in the clear.

“So you really went through all of this just for a few wins?” You break the silence in Anthony’s car, looking out the window while he drove you both home.

“I mean, yeah, when Mat plays his best so do the rest of us,” Anthony shrugs, “Don’t tell me I could be playing better, I’ve heard it enough.”

“I wasn’t going to,” You defend, your voice small, “Do you think we could get them away for a night next weekend?”

“Hot date? Boring Ben doesn’t seem like he’d sleep over until the third date,” Anthony jokes, tapping you on the thigh.

“Sort of, I have my boss’s birthday party and I just want him to hate me less,” You admit, plus the office gossip always seemed to revolve around the fact that you never brought a date anywhere.

“I think you’re impossible to hate, trust me I’ve been trying.”

“You’re an ass.”

“Do you want my help or not?”

***

Everything was going wrong, like very wrong. The bigger plan was actually going the way it was supposed to, Rose and Mat were off to an Airbnb in the Hamptons for a night that Anthony just happened to mention to Mat during practice the day after you cooked them that dinner. That, however, was the only thing going well for you. You were dressed up, the black dress you were wearing looked absolutely killer on you. Your leg was poking out of the slit that was appropriate for a work event and the date you were supposed to be on, but your date was nowhere to be seen. Turns out Boring Ben wasn’t boring at all, or he was just a total douche and you never realized. Regardless, you were dateless yet again, and you had to admit it was a bit of an ego killer too. You thought about not going, but after telling a few of your coworkers that not only were you going, you were bringing a date.

You take a deep breath, bracing yourself for the passive aggressive comments from the newlyweds who seemed to litter your office. You had ten wedding invitations last summer from your coworkers alone, and now you had to show up dateless for what felt like the millionth time in your life.

“Woah,” You hear Anthony’s voice as soon as the elevator opened, a low whistle escaping from his lips until he realized you were without your date, “Where’s that Ben dude?”

“He didn’t show if you really need to know,” You complain and Anthony could feel his heart break just a little.

Anthony sighs, taking a look at his watch and then back at you. You looked hurt, despite the smile plastered on your face that he could see right through. He was going to have a night in, maybe even invite over the girl he’d been hooking up with but in his heart he knew what the right thing to do was, “Give me five minutes to change?”

“No Beau you really don’t have to come, I got stood up, it's on me,” You rush out, stopping Anthony dead in his tracks.

“It’s not your fault that dude was an asshole,” Anthony scoffs, “And you look too good to not have a date.”

Anthony didn’t say another word, unlocking the door to his place and coming back out less than five minutes later in a freshly pressed suit, “No tie okay?”

“No tie is fine,” You squeaked out, watching Anthony fix the cuffs of his shirt. Everyone thinks a man putting on a suit is hot right? It wasn’t just that he looked damn good in it, “You can still back out.”

Anthony didn’t back out, in fact, he was a better date than you thought he could be. He was being a good sport, especially when you came to the realization your boss was a huge Islanders fan. He had Anthony by his side all night, no doubt pestering him about the season. You felt awful, and while Anthony had a smile on his face you couldn’t help but feel guilty for putting him in the situation in the first place.

“I met that boyfriend of yours,” Your coworker Stella says, nudging you with her elbow, “He seems like a keeper.”

“Oh he’s-” You went to deny any indication that Anthony was your boyfriend but you knew Stella better than that, and just like she did at everyone Monday morning team meeting, she was interrupting you before you had a chance to finish your sentence.

“And don’t even tell me it’s not serious he couldn’t stop talking about you,” Stella grabs your arm, and you raise your eyebrows and look at Anthony. He catches your eye, sending you a wink while he goes back to listening to whatever your boss was rambling about, “See? So cute.”

The night was going smoothly, and by the time dinner rolled around you were done for the night. One too many glasses of wine had your head resting on Anthony’s shoulder while your boss's wife made a toast. His hand was resting on the exposed skin on your thigh and if you weren’t convinced you were overthinking it - you may have thought Anthony was putting in a little more effort.

“I’m sorry my boss was chewing your ear off,” You whisper, catching Anthony’s attention, “I don’t want you to think I brought you because you’re you and he likes your team.”

“I don’t think that,” Anthony assures you, his lips just inches away from kissing on the forehead, “And he doesn’t hate you, he told me liked you.”

“He likes you, seems like everyone does,” You muse, after having gotten compliments all night about what a joy your boyfriend was you were sure Anthony was a better date than he was an actual companion.

“Better date than Ben?” Anthony asks, and you nod with a grin on your face.

Anthony wasn’t sure what he was doing or why. In the short time since he invited you into his place he only learned how annoying you can be, but he’d be a liar if he didn’t think it was cute. It was cute that you thought Mat and Rose could actually fall in love. It was cute that you never kept quiet when you were both sneaking around because something got you excited. And it was downright adorable to watch you laugh at your boss’s wife who was teasing her husband in her speech. He liked you, and he never thought about it until he saw the heartbroken look on your face when you told him your date stood you up.

“Ready to go home?” Anthony whispers, your eyes were getting heavier from the wine, and he wasn’t sure how much longer you would hold up until you fell asleep on his shoulder. Not that Anthony would have minded at all, he might even have preferred it.

By the time you’d gotten back to your apartment building, you made it clear why you limited yourself on wine at events. Anthony kept refilling your glass before you had a chance to stop him, and now he was practically chasing you down the hall because you insisted on running away for no reason at all.

“For a professional athlete you’re pretty slow,” You poke Anthony in the chest, who was currently fishing through your purse for your set of keys. He finally finds them turning them into the lock and opening the door, “Beauuuu.”

“Yes?” Anthony asks, grabbing your waist while you tripped over your heels.

“Do you think Mat really likes Rose?” You ask, the question wasn’t really for Anthony at all. It was coming from a guilty feeling that had been stewing inside of you for a few days. Rose seemed smitten, and a part of you knew a lot of those dates were just planned by you.

“He does, it’ll all work out,” Anthony assures you, because the frown on your face told him that if he didn’t he was about to have a crying Y/N on his hands and he didn’t want to be the one to make you cry.

“Promise?” You ask, finally slipping off your heels and leaning against the doorframe. You wanted him to stay, use the age old it’s late excuse for a few more hours where he was close to you. His apartment was across the hall, and asking him to stay would be silly. You watched him head out the door, turning around to give you one more look and answer your question.

“Yeah I promise.”

***

This entire thing had gotten out of hand, and Rose and Mat’s relationship was becoming a chore. You had stopped them from killing each other twice in the past week, texting Anthony almost exact directions on how Mat was going to fix whatever stupid he said. Mat didn’t know, or maybe he did and he didn’t care to say anything about how with your help his relationship with Rose would be over before it started. Now, you were hiking across the city for flowers so Mat could apologize to Rose for forgetting her mother’s name as if she didn’t talk about her family constantly. You finally got them to Mat’s wiping a bead of sweat off your forehead when a text came that rocked your world.

I think I love Mat, he literally had these delivered after I got mad at him.

Attached was a picture of the flowers, and a guilty feeling churned in your stomach while you made your way back to your place. You stopped in the hallway, looking at Anthony’s door biting your lip and thinking about what the consequences of this all really was - and it was eating at you.

You were fucked, completely and utterly fucked. It seemed wrong, like everything in your best friend’s love life was a lie you created because it was. So you panicked, and snuck away to Anthony’s without a second thought. You knocked twice, a sleepy hockey player appearing on the other side. 

“Rose is in love with Mat,” You state, pushing Anthony into his own place and walking past him.

“Isn’t that what we wanted?” Anthony asks, watching you pace through his apartment.

“It’s not real, everything Mat knows about Rose is because you told him,” You explain, stopping in the middle of the room, “We planned their dates, we did everything, and when they realize they might not as much in common as they think Rose is going to be heartbroken and-”

“So, you got what you wanted? She’s always over there,” Anthony counters back, not mentioning the hot streak his teammate was on.

“You don’t see anything with this?” You ask, furrowing your eyebrows at the man you thought you knew in front of you, “That your friend is going to be with someone when their relationship is built on a lie.”

“You act like he’s going to marry her,” Anthony groans, not even realizing until after the words left his mouth about how awful that sounded. Your jaw had dropped, your eyes wide while you look at Anthony, “Wait Y/N-”

“I’m telling them the truth,” You say, a stoic robotic tone to your voice. You thought about telling Rose just minutes before you left your place, but you stopped yourself before you ratted out your friend. Now, it seemed like it didn’t matter. Anthony was going to be a selfish asshole regardless of what you did and you weren’t going to let that sham of a relationship continue, “I shouldn’t have listened to your stupid idea to begin with.”

***

You walked out of Anthony’s life after that, and in the week that’s passed since, he was miserable. He didn’t know what you told Rose, but he definitely heard the arguing you were having with her from across the hall. He knew he should have stepped in, but the way you looked at him when you left was the only reason he didn’t. You looked at him with such disdain, like the mere indication that he didn’t care about his own friend’s feelings were the most awful thing he could have done.

Maybe it was, either way the guilt was eating Anthony alive. He called, but you never picked up. He texted you, using some dumb excuse about needing to grab a package outside his door while he on a road trip but an answer never came. Hell, he even tried to email you. The only thing left to do was walk across the hall and knock on your door, if you were even still there.

“Dude you’re doing it again,” Mat says, tossing a chip at his teammate and catching Anthony’s attention, “Just go over there and apologize.”

“Did you apologize to Rose?” Anthony huffs, annoyed with Mat’s attempt at giving him any advice.

“I didn’t have to because this was your fault,” Mat explains, reminding Anthony of exactly what happened after you left his place. You told Rose everything, and after what Anthony heard as a nasty fight - Rose and Mat spilt up once they realize they actually had nothing in common, “And fuck you dude because I still apologized to Rose after that.”

“Fine, I’ll go over,” Anthony budges, stomping out of his own place and across the hall to yours. He knocked twice, hearing some shuffling on the other end. The door finally clicked open, and when Anthony was met with Rose’s face, his shoulders slumped.

“She’s not here,” Rose leans against the doorway, her arms crossed at Anthony, “We’re, uh, taking some time away from each other.”

“This wasn’t Y/N’s fault it was mine,” Anthony rushes to explain, the reality of ruining someone's friendship settling in.

“I know it was,” Rose assures him, because she’d forgiven you just three days after you told her the truth. That wasn’t enough for you to come home, because your own guilt was eating you alive, “She feels too bad, and she doesn’t want to see you.”

That was it, Rose’s words were enough to have reality really settle in. Anthony Beauvillier was a massive asshole, and the reason you weren’t back in your own apartment. He did that. He was going to have to live with that guilt. And he didn’t know how to fix it.

***

It had been a month.

You didn’t know why you knew exactly how many days it’s been since you stomped out of Anthony’s apartment and into your own to tell the truth. But, you did know that exactly thirty days prior that’s just what you did. You told Rose everything, from the stupid plan to your own stupid feelings that seemed to

cloud your judgement. She was upset, and she had every right to be. You knew that she could have kicked you out of the apartment and told you to fuck off, and she did. Three days later, a much calmer Rose was on the phone telling you everything was fine and you could come back home.

You didn’t want to, because you knew Anthony was across the hall living his life just the way he had been before you stepped into it. He was going to go out on dates with girls that weren’t you, and go off on road trips for games he needed to play. He could set Mat up with someone else if he really wanted to, but none of those things would ever involve you again. You packed your stuff, and moved into a new place after couch surfing by a few of your friend’s places.

“You’re depressed,” Rose kicks your leg from the other side of your new couch, a movie night to celebrate your new place was in full effect, “I told you I’m not mad about the Mat thing.”

“I know,” You sigh, staring at the glass of fruity pink wine Rose had brought over, “I just-”

“You miss him,” Rose muses, a knowing look on her face, “It was never about Mat and I, it was always using us as an excuse to see each other.”

“It was about you guys at first,” You defend, staring at the blonde across from you who was looking at you intensely.

“He came and looked for you, after a week,” Rose says, holding onto the tidbit of information she’d been saving for almost a month, “I think he wanted to apologize.”

“Well he didn’t so it doesn’t matter anymore,” You snap back, Rose melting back into the couch to avoid being the next stop on your rage tour. You didn’t want to care about Anthony or his stupid biceps again, but you never stopped thinking about him.

***

Anthony wasn’t doing much better, in fact, he was doing a whole lot worse. He felt like shit, he was playing like shit, and he seemed just like Mat was when he came up with that stupid plan. He tried to throw himself into hockey, push his body where it had never gone before because then he wouldn’t have to think about you. He wouldn’t have to think about how much of a romantic you were or how you helped with even if he didn’t deserve. Most importantly, he wouldn’t have to think about how heartbroken you looked when he told you he didn’t want to come clean because it didn’t matter.

Anthony was doing the same thing he’d been doing all month, stalking your social media profiles in an attempt to see if you were doing okay. He knew you moved, and if he wasn’t on the West Coast maybe he would have stopped you. A text from Mat came in, one that had him rolling his eyes.

My rooftop in twenty it’s an emergency.

***

What Anthony didn’t know was that the same text was sent from Rose’s phone to yours just a few minutes prior. You rushed over Mat’s, absolutely terrified about what you could have been walking into. Except, when you got up to the roof there was nothing. No Mat. No Rose. Just yourself and-

“Fuck,” Anthony whispers, opening the rooftop door to reveal you on the otherside. It was just you, standing there just as confused as he was by the cryptic text from his teammate, “Uh Mat texted me to come?”

A grin threatens to break out on your face, just as the gears were starting to shift in Anthony’s. You were being set up, of course not as well as you would have planned, but it was a set up nonetheless.

“You know what they’re doing right?” You ask, breaking the silence. Anthony just nods, running a hand over his face without saying a word, “I’m going to go-”

“No,” Anthony rushes out, grabbing your arm and intertwining his fingers with yours, “I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry? You made me cry for weeks and almost blew up my longest friendship and all you have to say is sorry?” You questioned him, waiting for Anthony to come up with something better than that.

“What do you want me to say? That I didn’t want to stop doing this because I didn’t want to stop hanging out with you?” Anthony exclaims, “Because that’s the truth. I was being a selfish asshole, and I know that I don’t deserve your forgiveness but I feel awful for what I did to you. I was so scared to come and apologize because you have every right to tell me to go fuck myself and never speak to me again. The problem is, I want to talk to you. I want to listen to you talk about why you were a hopeless romantic, and take you home after you drank too much at a work thing. I-”

Anthony couldn’t finish his rant, because you pressed your lips against his before he had the chance. His hands were on your face, pulling you as closely as he could because he needed this kiss to show you that he wanted you. You finally pulled away, breathless while Anthony’s hands snuck down to your waist. His forehead was against yours, your noses bumping together while he whispered his next words.

“We’re not telling Mat this worked.”

“Oh definitely not, no more set ups?”

“Unless it’s me setting up our first date, consider it a promise.”

[strawberrylemonz]

Innit an Adventure

An addition to the AU, lol. Instead of chat being in his head, like Techno’s, Tommy’s chat are ghosts that follow him around :)

This one is dedicated to @ivorylin for being very supportive of my first post regarding this au. This is also dedicated to @petrichormeraki for being poggers and enjoying the first part of this series, as well as inspiring it.

Part 1

Part 2 [CURRENT]

Part 3

--------

“Brother!!! Pog!!!”

“Big brother returns!”

“HE CALLED HIM STARCHILD, I’M GONNA SOB”

“I just woke up, what’s happening?”

“GOODBYE SBI, HELLO HERMIT GRIAN”

”HERMIT HOMIES HOURS”

“HOLY SHIT, HE’S OUR BROTHER”

“I was getting a snack, what’s up?”

“DJLFKNGON I’M GOANNA   CRYSLK”

“BEST BROTHER EVER”

“I’m on the toilet, pog”

“I have tacos :)”

“BRGB SOBBING”

“GRIAN POGGGG”

“This makes me happy you didn’t do a double flip”

“ADIOS TECHNOBRO AND WILBRO, I ONLY KNOW BIG BRO G!!!”

“Anyone else have dust in their eyes?”

“CHAOS DUO RELATED POG”

Tommy let out a shaky breath as he rubbed his eyes. Chat was going crazy at the new news and, to be honest, he couldn’t blame them. If he was in their position, he’d be freaking out alongside them. Wanting to end both the silence that filled the cavern and the nonsense Chat was saying, Tommy let out a hoarse laugh before speaking.

“Chat really likes you, G.”

A smile formed on the teen’s face as his head bounced with the hefty laugh that came from Grian, whose chest began to rumble alongside the laughter. Finally lifting his head off his brother’s chest, Tommy allowed the remaining tears in his eyes to fall as he looked to Grian’s face. Grian smiled fondly back at Tommy, wiping away the tears from his little brother’s eyes. 

“I suppose I should say hello to all of them. Is Chat similar to Techno’s voices?”

Concern flashed across Grian’s face as Tommy flinched at the mention of Technoblade. It was small, and could have been easily overlooked if Grian wasn’t watching his brother like a hawk. He made a mental note to ask about that later that night, when they were around the campfire.

“Nah, he’s just insane. Psychotic or some shit like that. I’m just really fucking cool and can see spirits and shit.”

Eyebrows from the crowd (shit, they were still there, weren’t they?) and Grian were raised as someone Stress half heartedly scolded Tommy for his language. Tommy just rolled his eyes, knowing that they only scolded him as a joke. They had all grown accustomed to his wording, and were worried when he didn’t slip in a few curses into his sentences.

“Spirits?”

“Yeah, spirits. I call em Chat most of the time, but they have different nicknames, and they all have individual names. Clara explained that it was one of the many side effects to her marking me as a ‘Starchild’ in her name. They are the spirits of the lands, from servers all around, or some shit like that. I can see them all, but they make the choice to stick with me or not.”

This was...news. Grian, who was still processing that he his baby brother was alive, sitting right in front of him, as well as the fact that Clara was real, could only stare. He wasn’t so sure how to feel about his brother being indifferent to all the spirits, but he suppose that it couldn’t be helped. Spending pretty much your entire life seeing spirits would make him indifferent to the spirits as well. 

“So, Chat is...everywhere?”

“Basically, yeah”

Grian hummed as he proceeded to greet Chat, being polite to the beings he couldn’t see. Much to the annoyance of Tommy, Chat seemed to be loving Grian even more. Maybe a bit too much.

“HE’S SO POLITE”

“How thoughtful of him”

“HELOO HI GRI A  N HWAHT’S UP BRO”

“Grian bro supremacy”

“GRIAN BRO SUPREMACY”

“HERMIT HOMIE WOOOOOO”

“BEST BRO POG”

“holY SHIT I’M IN LOV E ADKNVOD”

“THE RACCOON HAS A POG BROTHER WOOO”

“HI GRIAN HI”

“Rodent brothers??? pog?????”

“HELLOHELLOHELLOHENSLO”

“TELL HIM WE SAID HI, CHILD”

“Woah, woah, woah, woah, woah, calm down, calm down, calm down, calm down. Chat says hi, Grian. And, hey, I’m not a child, what the fuck!? I’m a big man!”

Impulse snickered as Mumbo walked over to the two brothers. Smiling down at them, he helped the two back to their feet. Grian smiled as he set a hand on Tommy’s shoulder, squeezing it slightly. Tommy, in turn, beamed with pride at his brother and his friends. 

“Alright, we spent enough time being emotional and shit. Let’s get going, I have more cool shit to show you guys.”

Laughter filled the cavern as Tommy fixed his hair, his booming man child I’m not a child voice being drowned out as he led them back outside. Slightly huffing. He let out a yelp as he was nearly tackled to the ground from behind. Letting out undignified noises of protest, he turned to see the smug smile of Grian, who was ruffling his hair. 

“Alright, big man, show us your land of paradise!”

Barking out a hearty laugh, Tommy ducked out from his brother’s hand before grabbing it, spinning a few times, and pulling him forward. 

“Aw, look at them!”

“Wait, so Grian has two sections now?”

------

The traditional booth games in Tavern Town were fun. From balloon darts to milk bottles, to ladder climb and hoop toss, Tommy thought of it all. Unique designs decorated each booth, all holding an individual and unique look. Everything about the area was impressive.

“Where did buy get these for the games? I don’t think I’ve ever seen them in the main server.”

Tommy peered over to Doc, who was inspecting the prizes neatly strung up on all the booths. There were plushies of different types of mods, some familiar, others not. They came in all types of colors and sizes, and were overall impressive. Walking up beside Doc, Tommy just shrugged his shoulders, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck.

“I didn’t buy them, I made them.”

Scar perked up, before jumping right into the conversation.

“You what? Toms, that’s impressive! I didn’t know you could sew.”

‘Fucking hell,’ Tommy thought to himself. He didn’t expect to get praise for his simple hobbies.

“Yeah, I sew. I’m actually pretty crafty, being resourceful and shit. I also knit and crochet. It’s not much, but it’s really fucking therapeutic and all that jazz.”

Before anyone else could comment, a dinging noise sounded at one of the booths. Turning to look at the cause of the commotion, they saw that Stress and Impulse had won a game together. Giving each other fist bumps, they watched as a screen popped up, giving them prize options to choose from. After receiving their prizes, they hurried over to Tommy with smiles painted on their faces.

“You bet we’re gonna win one of each plush here.”

A high pitched laughter erupted from Tommy, who was starting to enjoy his decision to hand make all the prizes in his park. Wiping away a tear of joy, the teen I’m eighteen, I’m a fucking man! You’re a child, Tommy beamed at his friends, who smiled warmly in return. Tommy’s joy seemed to increase as more booth alarms were set off, many more prizes coming off the shelves. By the time everyone was ready for the next land, they all had at least two plush toys each.

———

“This is delicious! You baked these?!”

The group was currently sitting in the seating area in the Dream SMP section of the park, more specifically, L’manburg. They had gotten pastries from the duplicate bakery that belonged to Niki. According to Tommy, it was an exact replica to the real thing. The pastries sold there were the same ones Niki sold back at L’manburg. Tommy had used the recipes and techniques that Niki had demistrated to both him and Tubbo to create the dishes.

“If you think these are good, you should taste Niki’s. I swear, her pastries were sent down from Heaven by Jesus himself. They taste fucking amazing, godly.”

Grian smiled as he nudged Tommy’s shoulder with his own. Popping another sweet cake in his mouth, Tommy quirked an eyebrow as he faced the older boy.

“You should teach me some of your hobbies, Starchild. We can do a hobby exchange.”

Tommy visibly brightened up as he wiped some frosting from around his mouth. Smiling, he nodded his head happily.

“Hell yeah! That sounds fuckin’ amazing!”

The group ate with content as they looked around their area. They had already seen the rest of the Dream server lands. 

“It’s amazing that you’ve made all of this by yourself. You haven’t even showed us the rest of the park yet! Good job, for a child.”

“Hey! I’m not a fucking child! I’m turning 19 soon!”

“Oh yeah, I forgot you were an Aries.”

“What’s wrong with being an Aries?”

“Nothing is wrong with being an Aries, Tango.”

“Oh shut it, you Librarian.”

“Librarian?”

“Yeah, the worst sign.”

“First of all, kid, I’m a Gemini.”

------

The rides and games in the DSMP were very diverse and unique. Tommy had really put a lot of effort and time into every attraction, no matter how small. From things as small as a scavenger hunt through the Badlands, water themed adventures in El Rapids, to fast paced coasters in L’manburg.

“Scoot over, bandit child, I’m sharing this ride vehicle with you.”

“What the fuck, man?”

“Oh, don’t act surprised. I know you made it to where two people share a seat just so you can spend quality time with your brother.”

“Oh, fuck off, I didn’t even know you were my brother until an hour and a half ago.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

The first ride the group decided to board was dubbed A Home. Entering a little shack, everyone boarded their ride vehicles and waited for the ride to begin. While they waited for the vehicles to move, Tommy explained how he managed to use the latest mods that were added to the server to his advantage. He managed to fit different tracks to different rides in the same builds, as well as add animatronics. Just as he was about to receive yet another wave of praise, the ride began.

“It’s like looking at a younger version of you!”

“That’s kinda the point, genius.”

Grian’s statement, as obvious as it was, was true. As the vehicles left the shack and entered the caravan, and animatronic Tommy, merely 16 years of age, welcomed the riders as they witnessed the beginning of a new home, L’manburg. They kept comments to themselves when they saw, yet again, the replica of Tommy’s old base. The ride track took them through different areas of the DSMP, following the young Tommy as he searched for a home.

“-the citizenship of Wilbur Soot and Tommyinnit!!!”

“What?!”

“What does he mean revoked?!”

Before Tommy could reply, the vehicles lurched backwards, keeping the vehicles facing the stage at all times as the animatronics turned to take aim at the riders. It wasn’t until the red stone to the dirt entrance revealed the entry way to Pogtopia that the vehicles did a 180, moving forward into the entry way before going down the spiral steps into the ravine. Laughter filled the air as the group saw animatronics of Tommy, Wilbur and Techno conversing together, joking around and teasing each other. Suddenly, the ride vehicles fell down to the next part of the track, the prime path. As they raced through the tunnel, they witnessed an animatronic Tommy and Tubbo embracing and conversing, their cheerful voices free from worry. The group could only sit in awe as the scenes continued to change.

“-goodbye, Tommy.”

“What does he mean goodbye?!”

“Oh my fucking god, shut up!”

The vehicles suddenly raced through the Nether, coming out to an island far from DSMP. The sign at the entrance of the area welcomed the group to Logstedshire. There, they could see an unhappy Tommy staring out towards the ocean, listening to Chirp as he mumbled nonsense to Clara. And just as quickly as they came, they raced out of the sunny area and into the snow. They raced around the inside of Techno’s cottage before racing outside, towards an empty area. There, an animatronic Tommy yelled out in shock as an animatronic Technoblade pressed a button, turning around as a secret lair was revealed.

“Welcome home, Theseus!”

For the final time, the scene changed. They entered, backwards, into a portal, coming out to face a replica of the spawn to Hermitcraft. There, in wonderous glory, stood an animatronic Xisuma, welcoming the group to Hermitcraft. Then, the track dropped, leaving the riders back at the entrance to the ride.

“Holy shit.”

“Haha! Holy shit is right!”

———

The group quickly learned that Tommy spared no expense in all his attractions. As they explored the different lands, they really saw the individuality of every land. L’manburg had fun rides, including Nation’s Legacy, Blood’s Ballad, Wither’s Wrath, and Creator’s Cabin. Nation’s Legacy is an underground ride that worked like a turntable to tell the history of L’manburg, ending on a grim and looming hint to the possible destruction of the nation. When asked about the fate of L’manburg, Tommy admitted that he appeared in Hermitcraft before he could witness the possible doomsday, so he wasn’t entirely sure what had occured afterwards.

Blood’s Ballad is an interactive ride that used a special red stone technique. The ride vehicles could seat up eight passengers at a time, each using special gloves that allow them to interact with the special ride elements. The goal is to get the most points out of everyone in the ride vehicle. The ride took the group on a journey with Technoblade, the Blood God. The group racked up points training alongside him, as well as fighting all sorts of mobs. By the end of the ride, Tommy was sulking as Stress managed to gather the most points. Stress was enjoying the victory, smiling happily as “SUBSCRIBE TO TECHNOBLADE” boomed through the speakers. 

Wither’s Wrath was more of a small scale ride to enjoy. There were only three ride vehicles, each shaped like a wither and able to hold three riders. Each rider sat in a wither skull. Grian smiled as he pulled Mumbo and Tommy into a a wither vehicle with him. As they strapped in, they were transported to a virtual world where the rules of the game were shared. The goal was to cause the most destruction in the virtual world than the other vehicles. Each player controlled their own skull, making it easier to gather points. At least, that was the case for-

“Fuck yeah! Team Kickass all the way! Check it Grian, Mumbo, we’re badass!”

Creator’s Cabin was simple enough. It was just a large cabin that held enchanted portraits of everyone who resided in the DSMP. The portraits could move within their frames. They could also interact with each other. When the group walked in, the portraits were chatting away with each other. Sam’s portrait seemed to be listening in on the conversation that the portraits of Tubbo, Tommy and Purpled were having, occasionally joining in when he saw fit. Fundy was chatting away with Eret and Niki, a bright smile on his face. Ranboo was timidly peeking over at the group with Tommy and Tubbo, obviously wanting to join in. The portraits of Quackity, Sapnap and Karl were deep in conversation, while the portrait of George was asleep sitting up.

“Hey, Tommy?”

“Yeah?”

“Why are there two portraits of Wilbur?”

“Oh, right. Grian, about Wilbur-”

“AHOY THERE! WHY DON’CHA BOARD ME SHIP AND CONQUER THE WATERS WITH ME?”

The group, aside from Tommy, jumped at the booming voice. Without hesitation, they all ran out to the water, searching for the source of the voice. There, out on the water, stood a lone animatronic. It was the animatronic of a petite woman, one with red curls dancing around as she swayed and spoke. Once more, her confident, melodic voice filled the air. 

“JOIN ME ON MY QUEST TO RIDE THE WONDROUS WAVES OF THE SEAS”

With that, she raised her right arm, hoisting a sword into the air. On cue, she began to rise as a ship emerged from the sea below her. Once it was no longer submerged, the ship rocked a few times before settling. A banner unraveled and blew in the breeze, the name of the area now visible for all to see. 

Sally de Mon’s Sea Voyage

“You like it? Creating the entrance for this ride was a fucking bastard. Kept me up all night and crap. Almost gave up completely on it.”

“It’s amazing! I was not expecting to see something like that!

“Hey, Tommy? Who’s Sally. I don’t think it was ever explained how you know her?”

“Really? I gotta fix that, then. Sally is my sister-in-law who-”

“I HAVE A SISTER-IN-LAW?!”

“Oh, shit...surprise?”

------

The Badlands was a fun, interactive section of the DSMP area. The various puzzles and mazes made it fun for all the participants. The muffin stand was also a fan favorite to the hermits. 

El Rapids was a water-filled adventure. Because he wanted to play around with the word rapids, Tommy made several water-based rides and activities, his favorite being the log ride. They just seemed to be the perfect addition to the area, adding a way to cool down to balance all the water-free rides. It seemed as if Tommy had thought of every type of ride for every type of biome and scenario.

SMP Earth was another large section of the park. It also held the only other largest ride in the entire park, one that led the riders throughout the Antarctic Empire, as well as its surrounding cities and towns. The area for the empire was beautiful decorated in colors of all kind. Flowers and banners decorated the buildings and streets, brightening up the area. Classic activities, such as the sparing rings and archery, as well as the axe throws and parkour courses were set up. It all felt familiar to Grian, who couldn’t help but smile at his brother. Grabbing one of the fliers, he inspected it before shooting his brother a look of uncertainty.

“You didn’t”

“On the contrary, brother dearest, I did!”

“Did what? What did he do?”

Grian laughed as he showed the group what the flier said. It was decorated in beautiful, hand-drawn flowers. Golden lettering perfectly spelt out the message.

Floral Festival of Spring

Join us in the weeklong celebration of Spring! Enjoy the festivities with friends and family as you explore the traditions held within our grounds. Finally, enjoy the wondrous Floral Gala held on the final night of festivities. Dawn your greatest fabrics as you dance the night away, before enjoy a magnificent firework display.

Signed by his royal highness,

Prince Thomas Theseus Minecraft

“He used his full name and everything!”

“Your middle name is Theseus?”

“Your actual last name is Minecraft?”

“Did you actually write this? It’s worded and written so…formally.”

Huffing a bit, Tommy crossed his arms. Fixing his posture, he stood up, tall and proud, as he puffed out his chest. It took everyone every fiber in their bodies to not laugh at the sight of him.

“I can be very formal, thank you very much. I’m not a fucking idiot, I remember the formality lessons the teachers put me through. And I take the offense to that writing comment! Do you know how many attempts it took for me to be able to recreate the stupid fancy font used back at the empire? And another thing-”

Grian playfully hopped on Tommy’s shoulder, startling the younger brother to his usual stance. Ruffling his hair, he assured his brother with a laugh.

“Calm down, Toms. You know that we’re messing with you. You did amazingly. How many more flyers do you have? We’ll set them up in the Hub to be distributed across the main server. It’s been a while since I’ve attended a royal ball, so let’s make it grand!”

Laughing, Tommy had no choice but to agree with Grian. His smile faltered, however, once realization sunk in. The next activity for the group was the campfire. The secrets of his time at the Dream SMP that he kept for over 2 years would finally be revealed.

‘Better late than never to prepare the waterworks’, thought a very nervous Tommy.

[weasleyswizardpleases]

Funny Girl (Fred x reader, George x reader)

Summary: Being serious has never been your thing, but when you find yourself at the center of a conflict that tears Fred and George apart in the midst of the second wizarding war, it’s hard to find something to laugh about.

Warnings/Notes: Language, kissing, violence mentions, love triangle?, angst, arguing. Vaguely conceptually inspired by the musical of the same name. Written for @acosmis-t​ ‘s 2.2k writing challenge! 

You’re sitting with George outside of Lee Jordan’s flat, waiting for Fred to finish recording Potterwatch so you can all three grab dinner. You listen absentmindedly on a small radio George produces from his coat pocket, fiddling with your wand. 

“Rapier,” you laugh, “I know it’s called ‘pirate’ radio but it is a bit swashbuckling, don’t you think?” you say, poking fun at the moniker Fred’s chosen for the program.

“I suppose Lee thinks so too, this makes it the third program in a row where he’s called Freddie ‘Rodent’ instead. I’d laugh if we didn’t have the same last name!”

“Well, it suits you both. You’re devious as a couple of weasels and fuzzy, too,” you say, prodding at George’s springy ginger hair playfully. He grins and brushes you off, but your touch seems to stir something in him.

“What is it, did I hit your factory reset button or something?” George smiles halfheartedly, but his brooding becomes more apparent as he tries to cover it up. “C’mon, what’re you pouting about Georgie?”

“Y/n, I have to tell you something,” he says. Your heart sinks at the words. It sounds oddly serious.

“Oh, this can’t be good news,” you mutter, looking at him expectantly. He takes a deep breath.

“Well, I suppose it’s up to you whether it’s good or bad. But hey, look, you have to promise not to tell Fred if it winds up being bad.”

“Deal.”

“Y/N,” he says, turning down the radio, “I like you,”

“Well gee, I like you too. We’ve been friends for about nine years and you’re just now figuring out that you like my company? Some people, I swear.”

“No, I like you. I mean, I, uh, I have feelings for you! But it’s complicated.” Your jaw drops and your hand flies to your mouth.

“Oh! What? You mean-”

As you’re searching for the right words, the door swings open and Fred spills out into the hallway, tugging his long winter coat over his slim shoulders. You try to cover your blush, glancing between them. Fred and George. George and Fred. Your two best friends since first year, your greatest confidants, and now, the two people you trust most amidst the terror of the war. You know instinctively that to be with George would be to close a door to Fred, not just in terms of romance but also friendship. 

“Later,” you hiss excitedly in George’s ear. Fred eyes the two of you suspiciously, but before he can say anything, you’re mocking him boisterously. 

“Good show, Rodent!” you say, clapping him roughly on the back. George composes himself nervously and follows as you and Fred turn to leave. “How about a hunk of cheese? I’ll take you out for something real nice, maybe a wheel of gruyere,” you add. Fred chuckles and throws his arm around you. You’ve always had a more physical friendship with Fred, whether it’s snuggling on the couch or shoving each other about over who gets the better seat on the train. You hope that he can’t feel how tense George’s proposition has made you, and you wriggle out of his arms and jog ahead playfully. 

Because of the affectionate nature of your relationship, you’ve always suspected that Fred may have feelings for you, but never George. You’re blindsided by his confession, and you know it’ll only come between you. Your train of thought is interrupted when the boys ask if you want to come back to theirs for dinner instead of going out. You agree absentmindedly, and Fred steps away to call for takeaway. You willfully ignore George’s pointed glances and look around airily. 

“Y/N,” George says quietly, but forcefully. You sigh.

“Is there something wrong, George?” you say at a normal volume.

“Hush, would you? Well, have I made you uncomfortable or something? You’re being odd, Fred will wonder what’s the matter.”

“You haven’t told Fred?” you sing loudly, hoping to pull the other twin into the conversation. George smacks his forehead and groans, but Fred isn’t paying any attention.

“Y/N, can’t you be serious for one second?”

“Bloody hell, can’t you let me alone for one second?” you snap, surprised at the bite in your voice. George cowers and frowns, but Fred returns before the conversation can continue.

The next few weeks are relatively normal, and you begin to think that your strategy of avoiding any acknowledgement whatever of George’s advances is working. You avoid spending any time alone with George. Most people wouldn’t think it, but you know the twins keep secrets from each other sometimes, like any siblings do, and he obviously hasn’t told Fred about his feelings.

While you’re evading intimate moments with George, you take time to think: do you have feelings for him? The answer is, of course, yes. You’ve always thought he was more classically handsome than his brother, even though a lot of your classmates still couldn’t tell one from the other after years living with them. George’s face is slightly longer and more defined, and the severity of his features can be quite striking, in the right lighting. He’s also always struck you as more outwardly sensitive and caring, in that he notices your feelings more readily. If you’re having a bad day, George is the one to lend a listening ear. He’s seen you at your worst and apparently likes you quite a lot in spite of it.

Fred, on the other hand, is more like you in every way: he’s the louder one of the twins, more boisterous, a bit rougher looking. Like you, it takes a lot to ruffle his feathers, but once something gets to him, he’s quick to anger. Your tempers have rarely led you to fight, but when it’s happened George has always been there to smooth things out between the two of you. You’d even say that you’re slightly closer to Fred, although your relationship with him is more intuitive than your friendship with George- with George, you explain yourself, but with Fred, there’s no need. 

You’re pondering the situation on the boys’ sofa when Fred bursts through the door, looking quite cheeky. His shifty eyes belie some sort of mischief.

“Alright! Out with it, or I’m leaving before you get me with the bucket over the door trick again! I haven’t got any dry clothes,” you pout.

“Who’s to say there’s anything to tell?”

“I’ll believe that when you wipe the smirk off your face,” you counter. 

“What smirk?” he says, blushing. You raise your wand defensively. 

“Hey! I pinky promise, I’m not planning on pranking you,” he says. You wiggle your wand, raising an eyebrow.

“What are you planning, then? Tell me or I’m tying your shoelaces together with this thing.” 

“Fine, but would you put the wand down? It’s not a prank, I promise.” he moves to sit on the couch and you cower, giggling, sure that he’s at least going to go in for a tickle. 

“I’m not gonna tickle you!” he exclaims, but wiggles his fingers in your direction. The mere idea of it makes you shake desperately with laughter. 

“Stop! Ah! Liar!! Oh! Fred!!!” He lowers his hand. You eye him suspiciously. He sighs. You nod at his hands, as if telling him to put them away. He sighs again and sits on them. You regain your composure cautiously, but as soon as you look away he’s tickling your relentlessly, his hands at your ribcage. You howl with laughter, kicking and rolling away from him, but it’s no use. He pins you under his body on the couch and shoves one hand in your armpit. You’re nearly crying with laughter now.

“Mercy! Uncle! Ah!” you cry, and he pauses. His hips are situated between your thighs, which you’ve been trying to use to push him away, and his face is close to yours. 

“You want me to stop?” he asks teasingly, ghosting a hand over your ribcage, causing you to burst with laughter again. 

“Please! Fred!” He looks around, as if to an imaginary audience.

“What can I say, I know how to make a girl beg,” he says smugly. You swat him, bringing on another round of tickles, this time one hand at the nape of your neck and the other on your waist. You feel a bulge in Fred’s pants that makes you feel warm inside. The excitement of your scuffle has made you feel a bit happy go lucky. In another pause, you look up at Fred invitingly, even tilting your body into his just slightly. It’s not something you think about- you just do it.

He takes your invitation and suddenly his lips are on yours and it’s not a joke anymore, it’s just a really great kiss, rough and wet and full. His hips press into yours and you can feel his cock hardening. You keep going for a long time, too long, before you pull away. 

“Fred,” you say, panting with shock and excitement.

“Y/n,” he says, the same emotions playing across his face.

“We can’t.”

“Why not?” he says, running a hand over your thigh.

“George…”

“No love, I’m Fred, good guess though!” he kisses your neck softly and you push him away.

“Freddie! I’m serious, I don’t want to.” He looks at you, confused and resigned, and pulls away. You stand up and straighten your clothes.

“Well, I’ll be off then. Say, be a doll and don’t mention this to anyone?” You say in a droll transatlantic accent. You groan internally. Why are you being so weird right now? You slip into your shoes and shut the door behind you, your heart pounding.

You’ve never been much on dating. 18, still a virgin, only kissed one boy, your date to the Yule Ball. Most men view you as a friend, nothing more. You’re a bit funny looking, and you’ve never gotten anything on looks alone; it’s your personality that wins you friends. That’s how you became friends with Fred and George- you were a class clown, just like them, and the three of you have always been well liked for it. Fred and George, though, were tall and handsome, and unlike you, had a lot of luck where romance was concerned. Their girlfriends were always jealous of you, but you thought nothing of it, since you were practically one of the boys. You see now that they were right. How odd.

You’re so wrapped up in your thoughts that you don’t hear George coming up the stairwell as you’re descending, and nearly bump into him on the landing. 

“Oopsie!” you squeal. Oof, you think. I sound like a babbling idiot. “Oopsie poopsie!” you add, thinking that if you make it clear that it’s a little joke it’ll be less of a weird thing to say. George completely ignores your muttering and advances toward you, backing you into the corner.

“Y/n,” he says softly.

“George.”

“You’re blushing.”

“You’re standing on my foot.” He jumps back and looks down. He is not standing on your foot. “Gotcha!” you say, flicking him on the nose.

“You smell like cologne,” he says, inhaling.

“So do you.” He laughs softly and you scoot backwards, hoping to resist a second romantic encounter. He looks very handsome in the dim lighting of the stairwell, his eyes glimmering. You’re so close now that you’re nearly touching. You draw a deep breath, and before you can speak his lips are on yours. He’s softer and slower than Fred, but his kiss is deep and erotic. His hands move to the small of your back and caress you gently. The hairs on the back of your neck stand up as his lips move from your lips to your chin to your neck to your breast. You sigh with delight, but you hear the door at the top of the stairs open and push him away. You look up to see Fred, his face dark and crestfallen. You could crack the tension in the air with a spoon. You wrack your brain for a way to diffuse the tension, landing on jazz hands and a wry smile.

The boys frown, ignoring you, seemingly beginning to realize the situation. They look at each other in silence for a moment. “Tough crowd,” you mutter. 

“Oh, I see,” Fred says stormily. “Fine, you’re all his then.”

“What?” George asks, confused.

“You see the way I look at her. You had to know how I feel.”

“How could I know if you didn’t tell me? Why wouldn’t you tell me?”

“I thought if I told you, you might tell her! With your little late night conversations and all,” Fred says accusingly.

“How can you be jealous of me talking to our friend when you’re practically feeling her up at every opportunity?”

“It was never like that!” you protest.

“Not until today,” Fred counters. “Or did you forget about that when you ran into my brother?”

“Wait a second, did you two…?” George glances between the two of you suspiciously. 

“No!” you and Fred say in unison.

“We just kissed,” Fred says sheepishly. “Don’t worry though, I only beat you to her by a few seconds! You know what, come on up to the flat, we can take turns if that’s how it’s going to be!” He’s drunk with anger, his jaw clenched tightly.

“Oh my god! I just realized something!” you exclaim loudly, silencing both of them. You pause and drink in the quiet. “You two blokes look just alike!” you say in a thick cockney accent. George shrugs at you tiredly as if to say what the fuck. Fred spits as he turns to retreat to the flat.

“Go home, Y/n,” he says, shutting the door loudly. George just sighs as he stalks back downstairs, and you hear the bell ring as he exits through the front door of the shop. You slump to the ground, embarrassed and somehow feeling guilty in spite of the fact that you aren’t sure what you could have done to fix things between the three of you.

“I wonder if they’re related,” you mumble innocently, looking around at your audience of none. Why is it, you wonder, that you’re always funniest when nobody is around to hear it?

[phoebe-delia]

11

Hello, nonnie! Thanks ever so much for this request. Song 11 is "long story short" by Taylor Swift! This is one of my favorites from evermore, and I love it for Drarry. I was especially inspired by the bridge. Enjoy!

CW: slight implication of past suicidal thoughts, but I promise this isn't all that angsty and it has a happy/hopeful ending!

Dear Draco,

It is a testament to my respect for Healer Rostova that I'm writing this letter. Honestly, years ago—when I was you, I suppose—I'd have thought that this exercise was for mentally ill people who were stuck ruminating on the past.

Well, considering that I have recently accepted the fact that we belong to this classification, I think this exercise is all the more prudent, even according to our old standards.

I picture you reading this at, oh, roughly 17 years old. You're newly Marked and starting to realize what it is your father has gotten you into, what it is you've agreed to.

I'd ask you to close your eyes, but I imagine you need to keep them open to read this letter. Also, you won't read this, because Time-Turners are now banned and I'm not willing to test the extent of Harry's influence with the Wizengamot for a second time.

Yes, I referred to him as Harry. Don't worry, we still call him Potter when he being a particularly annoying prat. But our relationship now lacks the violence to which you're accustomed.

Anyway, Draco, I want you to imagine yourself at 26. You wear your hair loose and without that horrid gel that you used for so long, and it's short, unlike Father's. You're healthy, now, eating actual meals instead of subsisting on apples and fear. You don't have dark circles under your eyes, and you smile more—genuine smiles; they aren't the weakness that Father said they were. There's power in happiness.

I imagine this vision sounds rather familiar; it's one with which you like to comfort yourself when you find yourself on the verge of a panic attack. You give yourself the respite of delusion, imagining a future in which you're not only alive, but you're thriving with everything you've ever wanted: true friends, stability, and him.

It's real, Draco. You're alive, you have friends, you're stable, and you have him. You call him Harry, but you also call him "love" and he calls you "babe" and you're thriving, together.

Starting at this age, you're going to learn to trust your inner voices rather than the one that sounds distinctly like Father. You'll listen to that voice when it tells you to lower your wand in the Astronomy Tower. You'll listen to it when it tells you not to give Potter up at the Manor. You'll listen when it tells you to apologize, to keep your head down, to go back to Hogwarts—to unlearn the lessons of the old voice.

I know it feels as if you'll forever be defined by the last seven years, but I'm eight years past where you are now and I can say with confidence that you are so much more capable—more courageous—than you think. And it's Harry, of all people, who is going to teach you that. Let him, Draco. Let him try to show you how he sees you through his eyes. You won't believe him entirely—Merlin knows I struggle to believe it sometimes—but if he's known you at your worst and chooses to see you at your best, then perhaps you can, too.

I suppose that's the point of this letter. Here I am, reflecting on what I wish I could tell you, past Draco, about yourself. The things I see in you—in us. The future we have.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go. I'm going to fold this parchment and seal it with a spell and tuck it into a drawer within this desk. And then I will walk into the living room of the flat I share with Harry and I will snog him senseless. And I'm going to do those things because I can—because we can.

Thank you, past Draco, for sticking around so that we can have the present, and the future.

Sincerely,

Draco

Send me an ask, or something about musicals, Drarry, Harry Potter, fanfic, Taylor Swift, The West Wing, or life in general!

Also, I have a playlist of my 99 most listened-to songs of the year so far. Pick a number 1--99 and send me an ask and I'll write you a fic based on it!

[dream-a-little-bigger-x]

Life in Quarantine (Part 1) | Owen Patrick Joyner

Summary: A series about being stuck in quarantine with your best friend Owen and trying not to lose your mind over being stuck inside all day every day. 

Pairing: Owen x reader

Warnings: Fluff, minor swearing, lots of singing

Songs used: Don’t Let Go by En Vouque/ Washington on Your Side from Hamilton/ More than Words by Little Mix / Not a Pop Song by Little Mix  -- All credits go to owners of these songs

A/N: I know nothing about songwriting and none of this will probably ever happened in real life, but it just worked for the story, alright? Alright. Enjoy! 

Words: 3,372

Part 1: Not A Pop Song

Norman, Oklahoma. My home town. The place where I was born and raised. The place where I learned how to live and love. Where I learned what heartbreak is. Where I met and lost friends. The town all my most valued memories reside. 

It’s also where I met my best friend, Owen. Our mothers were, and still are, college besties. So, us becoming friends was kind of inevitable. We went through everything together. Kindergarten, Elementary, Middle School and High School. Wherever you saw me, you saw Owen and vice versa. A lot of people often thought we were a couple, but that’s been off the table since day one. In Elementary School, Owen and I made a pact with five different rules to seal our friendship forever. The list only grew as we got older. But here’s the gist: 

1. If one is teased or bullied, the other takes revenge 2. Always sing and dance together whenever one asks, even if you don’t want to 3. Always share cookies 4. Always play together at recess 5. Always sit together at lunch

Then the additions from Middle and High School: 

6. We will never, ever, ever date each other or each other’s siblings 7. Ethan, Evan and Emmy are off limits too 8. Crushes too 9. Always go to Broadway shows together 10. Never lie even if you wanna do it for the right reasons. There is no right reason.  11. Always support each other’s dreams and successes 12. Always hate each other’s exes 13. Always share ice cream 14. Never share our secrets with other 15. Always go to parties together

That last one was added by Owen in senior year of High School when I didn’t want to go to a party since it was my exes party and we’re supposed to hate each other’s exes. But, since he’s been in LA for most of senior year to pursue his acting career, I really couldn’t say no. Him going off to Los Angeles for months, sometimes even longer, started in eighth grade when he landed the role of Crispo Powers in a Nickelodeon show called ‘100 things to do before High School’, which I religiously watched, of course.  Rule 9 tells you to. After High School, the two of us split ways. I headed off to Boston to study at Berklee College of Music to major in songwriting as it’s always been a dream of mine to become a songwriter, while Owen went to LA to further pursue his career in acting. We’ve tried to keep in contact, but daily calls turned into weekly calls turned into monthly calls. Five months in, we just try to at least check in with each other every now and then, which is what works best for our busy schedule. Then December 2018 came and changed my life entirely for the better. The representative of Syco and Columbia records said he was in need of fresh blood to co-write songs with none other than Little Mix on their next album.  They held a competition at Berklee College, and long story short, I won! Yay me. To say I was nervous to write with a girl group I’ve been a fan of since the very beginning is an understatement. But they were so nice to work with. We’d take turns flying to each other’s countries and wrote about five songs together of which only two made it onto the actual album. None of it made much sense to me at the time, it all just seemed like one big dream. Owen was pretty excited about it too. He knew how big a fan I was of the girls. Even though he wasn’t a big fan himself, he still listened to the album, mostly to listen to the songs I’d written. Over FaceTime, we even played a game called ‘Guess what song I’ve written’, and he’d gotten one right. The girls even gave you a full-time job as co-writer on more projects of theirs and even recommended you to other artists. This meant you had to quit college and become a full-time freelance songwriter. Thanks to Little Mix, though, you’ve gotten the nicest people to hire you. Since then, you’ve worked with artists like Meghan Trainor, Bea Miller, Isabella Merced -- who you could gossip with about Owen from her time working with him -- and even Harry Styles. The fifteen-year-old inside you didn’t know what to do with herself when that collaboration happened. But working with all those people also meant I had to move again. This time to Los Angeles. When I told Owen the good news, he immediately suggested you move in with him. It’s the thing you guys said you would do once you got older; get an apartment together. So, it was the only logical move. “Welcome to your new casa!” He said dramatically when leading me into the apartment. The tall white walls and large windows illuminated the entire place with a welcoming feeling. “Let me show you to your room, so you can drop off your excessive luggage and then I’ll give you the tour of the entire space.” I raise an eyebrow at his words. “Bro, I have excessive luggage because I just moved from Boston to freaking LA!” I exclaim, followed by an amused chuckle as I try to push him, but fail since he’s much stronger. From that moment on, I knew moving in with Owen would be the best and worst idea I ever had. 

And speaking of ‘worsts’. From March 2020, the two of us were stuck at home together due to the outbreak of the coronavirus. Just when I was supposed to start working with Little Mix on their new album. I would’ve been in London now, but instead, I’m stuck in LA with my best friend who doesn’t have a job at the moment since he’d just finished filming a new Netflix show called Julie and The Phantoms. What I heard from it this far, it sounds pretty amazing. I even went to Vancouver with Owen for a few weeks. It was a fun trip and gave me some new inspiration for some songs. “Hey, Nugget,” Owen says as he walks into the room we call our studio where I’m working. “I’m kinda in the middle of something, Ace. Can it wait?” I know I shouldn’t work out my frustration on my best friend, but it kind of fell out of my mouth before I could stop myself. “Sorry, Nugget, I’m kinda bored…” I sigh exasperatedly and bob my head to signal his permission to come in. “What are you working on?” he asks as he sits down on the armrest of the armchair I’m sitting on. “This Little Mix song I can’t seem to make work,” I reply and point to the notebook in front of me. “I’ve got a few good lyrics, but the melody seems impossible.” Owen takes the notebook from me and closes it before getting up. “Time for a little break,” he says and goes to sit behind his drum kit. “Guess what song I’m playing,” he then says and starts with the cymbals, then hi-hats and when a beat finally floats through the room, my brain starts to work. This is a game we’ve been playing every time I’m in need of a break or just for fun. We’d take turns in playing a part of a song on our respective instruments and the other has to guess which song it is by singing along. “What’s it gonna be? Cuz I can’t pretend Don’t you wanna be More than friends Hold me tight and don’t let go Don’t let go Have the right to lose control Don’t let go” A smile appears on Owen’s as I get the first song right. He always underestimates my love for girl bands from the 80’s and 90’s. Though, I think he might’ve given me this one because I’m so frustrated from working on that song. “Your turn,” he then says after having hit a couple more toms and cymbals. I think about it for a moment, and then start plucking the sixth string to create a more bassy sound. Owen stares at the guitar for a moment trying to figure out what song I’m playing. Then, his eyes widen as he recognizes the sound. “It must be nice, it must be nice To have Washington on your side It must be nice, it must be nice To have Washington on your side” I let out a loud whoop in excitement, choking the strings to stop the sound. “I still can’t do that rap though!” he actually sounds disappointed in himself. “Washington isn’t gon’ listen to disciplined dissidents This is the difference This kid is out!” I proudly yell out, earning impressed applause from my best friend. The smile on his face warms me up inside. Owen has always had the most beautiful smile, in my opinion. He has one of those smiles that could just instantly make you happy. No matter how bad a day you had. “Very impressive, Nugget,” he replies with a smirk that sends shivers down my spine. Ever since I moved in, he’s gotten more and more flirty with me. I’m not sure if it’s just a change in his personality that he’s acquired in Los Angeles or if it’s something else, but it’s there. Not that I mind. Something has shifted in me too since we moved in together. It’s even gotten me thinking about removing rule number 6 from our pact. “Your turn, Ace,” I quickly change the subject, just so I don’t have to think about him like that too much. Our dynamic as best friends is too good to ruin it all. Twenty years of that is a long time to just throw away like that. “Alright, an easy one,” he says and simply starts stomping the bass pedal to activate his bass drum.  It’s a slow, almost menacing thump that sounds very familiar. A little too familiar. “Oh, I need you more than words can say Oh, You saved me in ways I can’t explain Always been there for me, now I’ll do the same Oh, I need you more than words can say” It’s one of the two songs on Little Mix’s last album that I helped write. The song that means most to me since I wrote it with Owen in mind. It was a period of time where all I wanted was to see Owen and be able to talk to him and just spend time with him like we used to before his whole acting adventure. I think he’ll stop after the chorus, but instead, he picks up his drum sticks and starts playing the rest of the song on his drum kit. Deciding it could be a fun jam session, I start playing the chords on my guitar as well whilst continuing with the lyrics. “Won't forget, won't forget Won't forget when he broke my heart How you helped me through You turned, you turned, you turned a disaster into a dream Gave me the power, made my life brand new When the world try to break us, we found magic And we grew stronger, though every line, line, line Every night, every night, every night I strain and sing the truth Now, now they know that they gonna be alright, alright” The memories of when I wrote this song start slipping through my mind. I remember how alone I felt, even in a room with a dozen other people. I remember how much I missed Owen. “I find peace in every story you told I think of you, I'll never be alone It's true, true, true You know I do, do, do” My eyes lock with Owen for a moment. He shoots me a comforting smile that makes me feel right at home. And I don’t mean here. I mean home as in Norman, Oklahoma. “Oh, I need you more than words can say Oh, you save me in ways that I can't explain Always been there for me, now I'll do the same Oh, I need you more than words can say Oh, I need you more than words can say” We both stop playing and just look at each other for a while. I’ve never told Owen I wrote this song for him, but at the same time, I think he might already know. That doesn’t take away the urge to tell him though. “I wrote that about you when I missed you,” I blurt out without properly thinking about it. “Really?” he asks while coming out from behind his kit. Combing his long, blonde hair back, he makes his way over to me and grabs the guitar from my lap. “Yeah, I thought you’d know?” He chuckles, shaking his head whilst tickling the strings. I’d taught him a couple of songs on the guitar since we started living together. “You write with a lot of people, Nugget. Could’ve just been their words as well....” He isn’t wrong about that. Maybe it was a lot less obvious than I thought it was. “So, what are the guidelines for this one?” he questions. I grab my notebook again and open it on the page I was working on before he fluttered into the studio. “They didn’t want another pop song. Kind of more like a ‘fuck you’ to Simon Cowell for treating them so badly and telling them what to do and what to wear and whatnot,” I explain, showing the few lines I have already. Some of them Jade had sent me, others were Perrie’s, a couple were mine. “What are most pop songs about?” Owen queries. I know he’s trying to help me, but he’s kind of making me nervous with the constant strumming of the guitar. “Songs about falling in love, or drinks and drugs…” I sum up at the top of my mind, “Or heartbreak…” Owen nods his head whilst continuing to play the same few chords over and over again. I focus on the melody for a moment as my creative juices start to work again. “This ain’t another pop song ‘bout falling in love Or a party song ‘bout drinks and drugs No more singing songs ‘bout breaking my heart And my lonely nights dancin’ in the dark” I look up at Owen for validation. Nodding his head encouragingly, he keeps playing the same few chords but a little louder this time to support the flow of my lyrics. “If I’m a guilty pleasure I want this life forever I’ll take it all ‘cause anything is better Than another pop song ‘bout falling in love But if you wanna sing along say ‘I don’t give a fuck!’” Owen starts jumping around excitedly, and I can’t help but laugh at his adorableness. He used to get this excited whenever I sent him a demo of the songs I was working on. “Let’s record a demo!” he exclaims and, after handing me my guitar back, moves towards the recording equipment. “Let’s start with some guitar,” he says and that’s how our recording starts. First, the guitar, then Owen records some drums, and then I get behind the mic to sing the song all by myself. I can just imagine how amazing this’ll sound with the girls’ voices instead of mine. “No broken bottles Or glitter on the floor form the night before Ain’t no boy troubles If that’s what you came here for then you should know” I lapse back into the chorus one last time before we finish recording and put everything together. We listen to it a couple more times before sending it over to Little Mix and their management. Awaiting their answer, we head into the kitchen to make some dinner together. It only takes about half an hour before I get a call from Jade. “This song is epic!” she shouts into my ear before I can even say hello. “Exactly what we needed, Y/N, thank you so much!” I’ve grown accustomed to her thick Geordie accent, though it was hard to understand in the beginning. “Thanks, Jade! Owen helped me out a little,” I reply, looking up at Owen himself who shoots me a wink that sends a rush of heat from my head all the way to my toes. The girls all know about Owen. I’d told them about my best friend and how supportive he was, and they always teased me saying I was so in love with this guy. Which I didn’t realize at the time and always denied. Rule 6 clearly states no dating each other. “Give him a big snog as a thanks then!” Jade jokes, and I can even hear the others in the background. “I’m on Zoom with the girls at the moment. They say hi!” “Hi back!” I can’t stop the giggle from escaping from my lips. “I gotta go, Jade. Thanks for getting back to me about the song. I can’t wait to hear you guys singing it!” Jade snickers on the other side of the line. All while I’m watching Owen make some pasta at the stove. There’s something so attractive about him in the kitchen, I’m not sure what it is. Fuck, Jade is right. I am very much in love with my best friend and there’s nothing I’m going to be able to do about it. Stupid pact we made in the first grade. “We’ll call you later to discuss some more arrangements and stuff. Bye, Y/N!” “Bye, Jade! Bye girls!” I say loudly, knowing I’m probably on speaker phone anyway. “Bye, Y/N!” the girls chorus. I hang up the phone and look at Owen for a few seconds before bursting out into an excited cheer, dancing my way towards him. “They loved it! They loved it! They loved it!” I shout loudly, and cup Owen’s face in my hands before pressing my lips to his in an outburst of elation. I’m surprising yourself at first, but then melt into the familiarity of his embrace as his arms snake around my waist whilst kissing me back. He’s actually kissing me back. “And that’s rule number 6 out the door…” Owen mumbles when he pulls away. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have,” I mumble and step away from him, or at least try to. His arms tighten around my waist, restricting me from taking another step. “I’ve been thinking about talking to you about that stupid rule, Nugget. I’ve hated it ever since we were 16.” My eyes widen at his confession. Since we were sixteen? SIXTEEN? That’s four years ago. That’s even long before I realized I felt more for him than just a platonic love. “16? Why didn’t you say anything?!” Owen chuckles, retracting his arms from around my waist and instead tucking a strand of hair behind my ear before placing his hand on my cheek. “You were pretty enamoured with Ryan, remember?” My heart breaks at the mention of the prick’s name. Ryan was my very first heartbreak and the worst at that. Owen was in LA at the time, but when he heard the news, he almost immediately flew back to Norman Oklahoma to comfort me and eat ice cream together. “Besides, I was constantly on the move from LA to Norman, it wouldn’t have been fair to you…” “You’re the sweetest human being alive, Owen Patrick Joyner,” I tell him with a smile tugging at my lips, but then turn serious again as I flick his forehead. He lets out an ‘ow’ and shoots me a confused glare. “And the stupidest! I’ve been in love with you since I don’t know when, but I never realized until now! The girls from Little Mix even knew but I was too oblivious or stubborn to see it myself. If you’d told me, I probably would’ve realized sooner!” “Well… I told you now?” he tries, the cheesiest smile on his face that makes me roll my eyes. “I love you, Ace,” I whisper, “And not the platonic kind this time.” “I love you too, Nugget.” He leans down again after that, reconnecting our lips into a passionate kiss. The first of many. This ought to be a very interesting quarantine together.

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[doc-pickles]

anywhere i want (just not home)

I didn't have it in myself to go with grace

And so the battleships will sink beneath the waves

You had to kill me, but it killed you just the same

For the love of my life, the inspiration behind TS week, the wind in my sails… Happy later birthday @odd-birds-and-booksellers I hope you enjoy this

Always, Your Computer Wife,

Nina

+

We gather here, we line up

Weepin' in a sunlit room, and

If I'm on fire, you'll be made of ashes too

Even on my worst day, did I deserve, babe

All the hell you gave me?

The pain in her cheek is still stinging as she struggles to open her eyes. There’s the faintest hint of sunlight filtering through the large window of her bedroom, a new day just beginning only hours after she’d finally been left alone long enough to find some peace.

The bed next to her is cold and empty, Paul having left for work while she was still crying and groaning in pain. He hadn’t spared her a second glance as he’d gotten dressed for the day, stepping over the puddle of blood that had collected on the floor where she’d laid for hours as he kicked her mercilessly, hurling harsh blows and leering insults as she’d tried to protect herself.

She pulls herself up and drags her barely conscious body to the shower, rinsing off the dried blood and sweat as she tends to the wounds she can see. She already knows she has at least one bruised rib and a sprained ankle, but she can’t do much about it now. For now all she can do is rinse off, lay in bed and hope that tonight doesn’t bring more of the same.

+

Jo bolts upright in bed, hand pressed to her chest as she attempts to slow her breathing down. The dream echoes in the back of her head, the painful memories replaying themselves in vivid technicolor right before her eyes.

She knows why they’re haunting her again, knows that he’s looking for her right now and that he won’t stop until he’s found her. Paul has made that much clear with his texts and letters, little signs to make it clear that they’re not done yet.

A hand closes over hers and she almost jumps before she remembers where she is. Jo squeezes Alex’s hand back, letting him pull her back down and into his embrace. As soon as his arms circle around her she can feel her body begin to calm down.

“It’s not even 2 AM, try and get some sleep, you need it,” Alex’s voice in her ears convinces her to close her eyes, even if sleep is far off the feeling of him so close helps to relax her. “I’ll be here when you wake up.”

'Cause I loved you, I swear I loved you

'Til my dying day

It’s later that same day when Jo receives another text, the ping stopping her during rounds and prompting her to make a flimsy excuse to Meredith as she rushes to the nearest bathroom.

Can’t wait to see you soon, both of you.

The text lingers in her mind as her breakfast reappears, tears flowing as she tries to drown out the overwhelming noise in her mind. Paul didn’t make empty threats, that’s one thing she knew for sure. The texts she was receiving were just the tip of the iceberg for whatever he had in store for her.

“Jo? You in here?”

She can barely respond to Alex in between crying and being sick, her body overwhelmed as she tries to keep herself calm. Jo can hear Alex saying something incomprehensible as she begins to hyperventilate, his voice growing further away as her breathing became more ragged.

The last thing Jo registers before everything goes black is Alex holding her against his chest, his fingers threading through her hair in an attempt to calm her as his heartbeat echoed unsteadily in her ears.

When she comes back around Jo’s not shocked to find herself laying in a hospital bed, an IV and monitoring wires hooked up to her pale skin. Before she has a chance to overthink anything though Alex is in front of her, his hands running down her cheeks and wiping away the tears she hadn’t realized had collected there.

“Why didn’t you tell me? I could’ve helped you,” Alex’s voice is soft as she meets his eyes, his gaze causing her to melt into another round of tears. “Oh Jo, it’s okay.”

“It’s not! He’s going to kill me, he already knows where I am and this time he’s going to make sure I don’t survive,” Jo chokes the words out, her fingers ghosting over her protruding stomach. “Alex, he's not going to leave me alone until both of us are dead. I can’t put our baby at risk like that.”

The thought almost makes her sick again, her daughter kicking against her hand as she draws in a deep breath. Of all the wild and unexpected things her and Alex had been through, their daughter was by far her favorite. Even with a few weeks left until she arrived Jo already felt a fierce instinct to protect the little girl growing in her womb.

“I’m not going to let him get anywhere near the two of you, I promise,” Alex brushes back a few strands of hair lingering on her forehead, pressing a kiss to the cool skin as he settles into the bed next to her. “You’re safe with me Jo, both of you are.”

I didn't have it in myself to go with grace

Jo wants to believe Alex, she really does. Since her breakdown over Paul’s threats he had been by her side whenever he could. His presence was comforting but it did little to calm the raging mental battle she was fighting inside her head.

Now though, as she stares down at her daughter sleeping peacefully in her arms, she knows that she made the right decision. She just hopes Alex agrees with her.

“She's perfect, you did so good,” Alex had repeated the words over and over since Isla had made her appearance almost six hours ago, but they still prompt a smile on Jo’s face. “I love you two so much.”

“I love you, we both do,” Jo leans up and captures his lips with her own, lingering a little longer than she normally would as Alex’s fingers trace her cheek delicately. “Would you do me a big favor? I left my robe at home and it’s freezing in here. Could you go home real quick and grab it?”

Alex nods, a grin on his face as he stands from the chair at her bedside and gathers his keys and wallet. Jo watches him intently, memorizing every movement and expression that makes him exactly the man she fell in love with. He leans down to press one more kiss to her forehead then Isla’s before promising to be back soon.

As the door to her hospital room shuts, Jo looks down at her daughter, tears splashing onto the newborn's cheeks as her mother watches her, “Your daddy loves you very much, don’t you ever forget that.”

And you're the hero flying around, saving face

“Alex, are you coming to work today? It’s been a week,” Meredith’s voice rings out from the doorway of the loft, but Alex can’t bring himself to answer her. She’d been by everyday since he’d come home, her voice prodding at him the only sound in the loft.

He’d gone home to get Jo’s robe like she’d asked, finally finding it tucked away at the very back of the closet instead of hanging in the bathroom like it usually was. On his way back to her room, he’d stopped in the hospital gift shop and grabbed the fluffiest pink and white teddy bear sitting in the window. He had told the cashier that his daughter had just been born and showed off the photo of Jo and Isla that was already his phone lock screen.

And then he’d gone upstairs, the missing robe and teddy bear tumbling from his hands as he found an empty bed and bassinet, Jo and Isla’s bags gone from the room that they’d occupied not even an hour before when he’d left. He’d asked every nurse and doctor on shift but no one had an answer for him. When he finally made it back to the room, he saw the note hastily scribbled across a spare piece of paper, his knees giving way as he read the words printed in Jo’s recognizable script.

I couldn’t let him find us, I’m so sorry. Please don’t worry, we’re safe.

Love you always.

J & I

He’d sat on the floor of the hospital room until Meredith had come to collect him at the bidding of the nurses on the floor. She’d given him a sympathetic look and held him as he cried, only letting his guard down for his closest friend.

The reality hadn’t truly sunk in until he came home later that night to an empty loft filled with baby gear and the scent of Jo lingering on every surface. He’d screamed then, throwing pillows and couch cushions and anything he could find in an attempt to get some of his emotions out in the open.

It hadn’t helped though, the sadness he’d felt morphing into feelings of anger and helplessness. Alex knew that Jo was acting out of desperation, doing what she truly thought was right, and he couldn’t be mad at her for that. No, his anger was directed at the man that had pushed her to that point, had scared her and haunted her every move so horribly that she’d fled Seattle with their newborn daughter in tow.

As he ignores Meredith for yet another day, Alex let his mind wander to Jo and Isla for a moment. He knows Jo would never run with their daughter if she didn’t have a plan to keep her safe, but just the knowledge that they were out there without him broke his heart.

And if I'm dead to you, why are you at the wake?

Cursing my name, wishing I stayed

Look at how my tears ricochet

His fingers press down the collar of the light blue button up once more before sliding the black suit jacket over it. He examines himself in the mirror of the hotel room one last time before turning to leave. He’d only been to Seattle once before for a medical conference, but this trip held a much more important air to it.

Brooke, his Brooke, was close. Closer than she’d ever been before and he couldn’t wait to see her again. He was delighted when he’d found her again, even more so when he found out that she was a doctor giving him the perfect opportunity to drop in on her. He couldn’t wait to see the look on her face when he saw her.

We gather stones, never knowing what they'll mean

Some to throw, some to make a diamond ring

When Alex finally makes it back to work he’s met with an abundance of pitying looks and unhelpful comments. He knows most of his coworkers have good intentions but he’s in the verge of screaming at the next person who interacts with him. All he wants to do is work and try and forget that his daughter and the love of his life aren’t waiting for him at home like they should be.

“Alex! I have someone I want you to meet,” Arizona’s bubbly voice almost makes Alex roll his eyes, the blonde not doing much to improve his demeanor since he was in no mood to meet anyone new. “This is Doctor Paul Stadler, he’s an expert on laparoscopic surgery techniques which is always helpful when we have tiny humans to save.”

Alex can feel his blood run cold as he turns towards Arizona and the man standing next to her. Whatever picture he had painted in his head fades as he stares at the man in front of him. Despite his bright grin Alex knows exactly what Paul is capable of, what he had done and threatened to do to Jo.

“While I’d love to meet your whole team Doctor Robbins, I’m not here on business today. I’m looking for Doctor Wilson actually.”

“Oh,” Arizona’s face falls, gaze turning to Alex as his jaw tightens. “Actually she’s-“

“She’s gone, she left,” Alex’s voice has an edge that makes even him flinch at how harsh and cold it is.

Paul eyes Alex for a moment, looking him over before speaking again, “That’s unfortunate. Would you happen to know where she is? I’d love to speak with her.”

“Well get in line then because I've been waiting for her to come home for the past three weeks,” Alex slams the iPad in his hands onto the counter of the nurses station, eyes ablaze as he stares Paul down. “You harassed her for months on end and scared her so much that she ran away with our daughter hours after giving birth.”

Paul attempts to conceal the smirk on his face but fails, causing Alex to step towards him with clenched fists. Arizona steps between the two men, fixing Alex with a hard stare.

“Back up Alex. I know that you’re upset about Jo but-“

“But nothing! He’s the reason my girlfriend and daughter are gone!”

“Okay why don’t you take the rest of the day off,” Arizona’s hands squeezing his shoulders finally breaks Alex’s gaze away from Paul whose face has broken into a full on shit eating grin. Arizona and Alex exchange a look and he can tell she’s holding back her anger now as well. “Alex, go home.”

How can I when they’re not there?

The question echoes in his mind the whole drive back to the loft, Alex’s heart constricting as he sat on the edge of his and Jo’s bed. The loft was still empty, sounds still echoing off the walls as he sat alone. His mind brings up the image of Jo and Isla sitting in their hospital room as he walked away, not knowing that was the last time he’d see them.

He leans forward, reaching into his dresser and rummages around his sock drawer for a minute before pulling out a velvet box. When Jo had told him she was pregnant he’d immediately gone out and bought the ring. Not because of Isla, but because starting a family with Jo was all the confirmation he needed that she was it for him. Now the box sat collecting dust in his drawer, it’s future uncertain as he wondered exactly where Jo was.

You know I didn't want to have to haunt you

But what a ghostly scene

“And this is your daddy and your Auntie Meredith. They love you so much,” despite knowing that the infant couldn’t understand what she said or even clearly see the photo she had pulled up on her phone, Jo made sure that Isla knew about all of the people they loved in Seattle. “Your daddy misses you so much, baby girl. I’m sorry I took you away from him, I know that makes me a crappy mom.”

“You’re not a crappy mom,” Jo looks from Isla to the man sitting next to her, his hand settling on her shoulder as he fixes her with a knowing look. “You did what you had to do.”

“Some days it doesn’t feel like that,” Jo sighs, her head falling to his shoulder as she fights back tears. “I took her from her dad! I took her away from the only family she’ll ever have, Link. And why? Because I’m scared?”

Link pulls back from Jo, meeting her eyes as he speaks, “You had every reason to run, you know that. I’ve seen what he’s capable of, I wouldn’t want to worry about that all the time if I were you. Especially with a newborn, I get it. So don’t feel too bad for yourself, I think you made the right choice.”

I didn't have it in myself to go with grace

'Cause when I'd fight, you used to tell me I was brave

“Jo?”

The lights in the loft are off but Jo’s car is parked out front. When he switches the lights on Alex sees Jo shoving clothes into a tote bag, tear stains tracking down her cheeks.

“Jo what are you doing?”

"I'm going to Stephanie’s for a few nights, just until I can figure things out.”

Jo’s voice is nervous and she's talking a mile a minute. She still hasn't looked up at Alex but he can see the bright red hives cropping up on her neck already.

"I'm sorry it was an accident but I’m going to

fix it. It's my fault, I'll fix it!”

"What are you talking about,” despite the fact that he's spoken up more than once Jo seems to be in a world of her own.

“Don't worry about it, you don't need more stress,” Jo’s hands are shaking as she closes the bag she's holding. "It's still early, it'll be an easy fix. I'm going to fix it, I have an appointment scheduled."

It clicks for Alex then just exactly what Jo is talking about. He sinks to his knees next to her tilting her chin up so she’ll finally look at him.

“Are you pregnant?”

"I'm sorry, I missed my birth control it was an accident," Jo’s tone is frantic now as more tears begin to fall. "I have an appointment, I'm going to fix it-“

"Jo slow down, I'm not mad so stop apologizing,” Alex wiped at the tears that had collected on Jo’s cheeks. "You don't want our baby?”

Jo blinked up at Alex as if nothing he was saying was making sense to her.

“What's actually the matter Jo? Why were you so scared to tell me?"

“I… I'm married."

“What?"

“I'm married to a guy who nearly beat me to death. And when I got pregnant I thought he'd

be happy and maybe he'd let up, instead he yelled and screamed and then he,” Jo pauses, eyes downcast as she looks down at her hands. “When he was done with me for the night I wasn't pregnant anymore.

“He wouldn't let me get birth control though so the next time I just solved the problem quietly. And when it happened a third time I ran. I ran and changed my name and never turned back,” Jo finally looks up and meets Alex’s gaze, eyes watery still as he watches her. “I had a miscarraige that time, probably because of how banged up I was. But it got me out of there. So when I started having the same symptoms again I freaked out.”

“Oh Jo…”

“Alex, I’m terrified of my past and of losing you and losing this baby… I’ve already lost far too much. I don’t want to lose any more.”

“You’re not going to lose me. I’m all in with you even if it means we never get married. You and this baby mean everything to me. That is if you want it.”

“Of course I do, I want this more than anything. I want kids with you, I really do but…”

“Okay then we’ll do it.”

“Really? You dont think I’m too damaged or crazy?”

“Yes Jo, I want all of that,” Alex pulled Jo into his lap, placing a hand over her stomach as he pressed a kiss to her forehead. “I love you and you’re just about the bravest person I’ve ever met.”

And if I'm dead to you, why are you at the wake?

Cursing my name, wishing I stayed

Look at how my tears ricochet

The room is spinning when she pries her eyes open, dried blood making the task difficult. She tries to sit up, but the pain radiating from her stomach keeps her down. She knows if she moves she’ll make it worse, but her body is in pain and she can’t lay in this position much longer.

As soon as she makes a move, the pain is back. She thinks it’s his foot that’s making contact with her ribs now, digging into her back as her body curls in on itself.

“Stop! Please!”

The cries are useless, they always are, but she hopes that maybe they’ll convince him to end her suffering sooner or throw the next punch a little softer.

“Please stop! Stop!”

Her shoulders are shaking as she blinks her eyes open again, a pair of blue eyes staring down at her in concern.

“It was just a nightmare, you’re okay and you’re safe,” Link’s words help to steady her heartbeat a little, her eyes moving to Isla who's peacefully sleeping in his arms. “I woke you up because I just turned the news on. Take a look.”

“Former Harvard University professor Paul Stadler was arrested early yesterday morning on charges of battery and assault against his girlfriend, who is still being treated for her injuries at Massachusetts General Hospital. Since his arrest, three more women have come forward with allegations against Stadler ranging from ongoing harassment to physical violence and sexual assault. Boston PD is asking any other victims to contact them at this time.”

Jo stares blankly at the television in front of her, eyes welling with tears as the news footage continues to roll. She wasn’t alone and she was so close to being free from Paul’s hold on her.

“You have to go to Boston, your testimony could put him away,” Link’s voice snaps her out of her reverie, eyes moving from the television to him. “Jo, he’s going to prison. You can finally be free.”

The hope that had ignited her heart just moments earlier was crushed as she played through the possibilities before her. What if she testified and Paul wasn’t put in prison? What if he continued to harass her? What if he hurt Isla? Or Alex?

“I can’t. I can’t face him again… There's too much on the line,” Jo looks away from Link, her tears finally falling. “I have too much to lose.”

“And you’ll be stuck right here if you don’t do anything!”

“At least I’ll be safe then.”

“And what about Alex? You’re okay never seeing him again? Never letting Isla see him?”

Jo stands suddenly, facing Link with an angry expression, “You don’t get to make the calls here Link! I appreciate everything you’ve done for us but I can’t risk everything when there’s not a guarantee that it’ll end up well.”

Jo storms out of the room then, complex emotions overwhelming her as she sinks into her bed. She wishes things were easier, were more black and white instead of the fuzzy grey she’d become so accustomed to. But they aren’t, they never would be with Paul and now she’d dragged Alex and Isla and even Link into the pools of grey she’d spent so long trying to avoid.

And I can go anywhere I want

Anywhere I want, just not home

Alex watched his phone ring for a moment, debating on picking up at all. He doesn’t recognize the number and he doesn’t know anyone from California. But he still clicks the green accept button, hoping whoever it was wasn’t going to waste his time.

“Hello?”

“Hi, I’m so glad you picked up.”

Alex freezes, stares at his phone for a moment, then brings it back up to his ear, “Jo? Is that you?”

“Yeah, it’s me,” there’s a long pause and Alex almost thinks she’s hung up before she begins to cry. “I’m so sorry Alex. I’m so sorry we left you. I didn’t know what else to do.”

“I know, I get why you left. I hate it but I understand,” a sigh leaves him as he rests his head against the wall next to him, tears forming in his eyes as well, “Are you okay?”

“Yes we’re both fine, I wouldn’t have left if I didn’t have somewhere safe to run to,” Jo sucks in a breath, as if her next words are taking everything out of her. “Paul is going to prison.”

“I know, I saw. Are you going to testify?”

“I don’t know. I want to but… There's too much at risk. I don’t want him to hurt you or Isla.”

Just the sound of his daughter's name tugs at Alex’s heart, the tears that had been welling in his eyes spilling onto his cheeks.

“If you don’t go you’re going to be living in fear for the rest of your life. But if you do, you can get closure. And you can save more people from getting hurt by Paul.”

She lets his words sink in for a moment before he hears her voice again, “I miss you so much.”

“I miss you too, you and Isla both,” Alex can hear shuffling in the background, a deep voice and then a small cry.

“I have to go, Alex.”

“Wait Jo-”

“I love you. We both do.”

“I love you too.”

The line goes dead then and Alex can’t help the sob that breaks from his chest. He misses Jo, misses Isla, misses the feeling of wholeness that came to him when he would climb into bed with Jo at the end of every day.

And you can aim for my heart, go for blood

But you would still miss me in your bones

Alex doesn't know what drives him to fly to Boston, but he feels a small sense of relief when he sees Paul Stadler in the defendant's seat. A sick feeling makes itself at home in the pit of his stomach as he watches half a dozen women testify to the horrors that Paul had put them through, detailing the ways he had tormented them. Jo had never gone into detail to him but if what she went through was even half as bad as what he was hearing then he understood why she had gone to such extremes to hide from Paul.

He watches as the final woman testifies and finds her seat again, the courtroom silent except for the prosecuting attorneys whispering among themselves. Finally, one of the lawyers stands and addresses the courtroom, “Your honor, we’d like to call our final witness. The prosecution calls Brooke Elizabeth Stadler, now Josephine Alice Wilson, to the stand.”

Alex feels the air leave his lungs as he watches Jo approach the bench. Her hair is shorter and a dirty blonde color but she’s still the same woman he knows so well. The dark blue dress she’s wearing sways lightly as she takes the stand, stating her name and swearing in before she begins to give her testimony. Jo explains how she and Paul met, how they married, and then she goes into the abuse she endured. Alex listens to the detailed accounts she gives, accompanied by the numerous hospital reports.

“And then one day I got sick of it and I ran. I knew Paul would find me though so I fled the state and changed my name. I started a new life and I have a beautiful daughter,” Jo finally meets Alex’s gaze and he gets the overwhelming urge to wrap her up in his arms and hold her close. “But Paul found me again and he was threatening me so as soon as my daughter was born I ran again. I left behind my new life, the only place I’ve ever felt safe because I knew he would find me again and I couldn’t risk him hurting my daughter.”

The air in the courtroom is thick as Jo’s words sink in. Alex knows he’s not the only one who’s been affected by her testimony and the words of everyone that went before her. The prosecutor thanks Jo, the defending attorney waiving their right to question her. As she steps down from the stand she meets Alex’s gaze for a moment before turning away and going back to her seat.

And I still talk to you (when I'm screaming at the sky)

And when you can't sleep at night (you hear my stolen lullabies)

“Jurors, have you come to a decision?”

“We have your honor,” there’s a tense silence in the courtroom as the decision is handed off to the judge. “We find the defendant Paul Stadler guilty on all charges.” A breath of relief leaves Alex as he turns to look at Jo. There’s tears streaming down her face and the slightest hint of a smile as she looks at him. Before he can get up and go to her though she's surrounded by the other women who had testified, all of them crying in relief.

I didn't have it in myself to go with grace

And so the battleships will sink beneath the waves

She sees him about fifty feet in front of her, his back to her as he stands almost perfectly still. She watches him for a moment, his slumped shoulders and overall defeated attitude and for a moment she feels guilty for what she’s put him through in the past three months. Before she can dwell on the feeling for too long Alex is turning towards her, looking over her with that same sad expression he’d been wearing in the courtroom.

There’s a moment where all Jo and Alex do is stare at each other before she finds herself rushing forward and launching herself into his embrace. His arms are holding her tightly, refusing to let go even as she begins to cry into his chest.

This moment, the feeling of being in Alex’s arms again, is all Jo has wanted since she’d left Seattle.

You had to kill me, but it killed you just the same

“Alex, I’m so-”

“Stop, you don't need to apologize to me,” Alex pulls back from Jo, one hand coming to cup her cheek. “I get it, I understand where you’re coming from. I know why you ran so don’t ever think of apologizing to me. I’m just glad that you’re safe.”

A fresh round of tears springs to Jo’s eyes as she looks up at Alex, “I don’t deserve you. I’ve put you through so much.” Alex blinks down at Jo, not believing what he’s hearing. Their relationship had never been one sided, they’d both supported each through tough situations and had come out stronger at the end. In his eyes this was nothing more than another speed bump.

“I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t want you back Jo. I love you and all of this? None of it changes how I feel about you,” Alex leans down and presses a gentle kiss to Jo’s lips. “I love you and I’m glad you’re back in my arms.”

And you're cursing my name, wishing I stayed

“Hey! I just heard the verdict!”

Jo turns at the sound of Link’s voice, a wide smile spreading across her face as her best friend comes into view. It’s not so much the blonde man’s presence that makes her grin as it is the infant in his arms. Isla is wide eyed as she looks at Jo, the three month old blinking up at her mother with a sense of wonder.

“Hi baby girl, I have someone who’s very excited to see you,” Jo eagerly takes her daughter from Link before turning and looking at Alex. “Isla say hi to daddy, he missed you sooo much.”

The look on Alex’s face as he takes Isla from Jo’s arms is priceless, tears welling in his eyes as he lets out a watery laugh. The little girl snuggles comfortably into his arms, as if she had done it a hundred times before and Jo can’t help her own tears as they leak onto her cheeks.

“You three get together, I think this moment needs to be remembered.” Alex and Jo both heed Link’s instruction and wipe their tears away to boast wide grins. The photo of the three of them squeezed together after a grueling ordeal graces their family mantle for years to come. Even when there are dozens of other family photos, pictures from Alex and Jo’s wedding, and the birth of their second daughter, the photo of Jo, Alex, and Isla standing in front of the courthouse in Boston remains the centerpiece of their living room as a reminder of the sacrifices they all made to keep their family together.

Look at how my tears ricochet

[rachelbethhines]

Tangled Salt Marathon - Day of the Animals

While perhaps not my favorite episode this season, Day of the Animals is easily the best written story of season three. Even so, it still has problems due to the third season’s poor approach to characterization. 

Summary: Rapunzel, Varian, Angry and Red are returning stolen loot that the two girls had stolen years ago. They are accompanied by Max, Pascal, Ruddiger and Hamuel who all cannot stop quarreling with each other (or in Hamuel's case, just being useless). While messing with a sea shell pendant, it magically transports the humans into it, leaving the animals to fight over it. A minor thug named Dwayne, steals the pendant forcing the animals to work together to retrieve it. 

So Why is a Polynesian Inspired Kingdom Within Riding Distance of a Northern European Country? 

If you’ll remember my review of Beginnings, Neserdina’s princesses were wearing Polynesian garb and dancing the Hula when prepping for the competition. Now I’ve already went into length as to why that’s not good representation, but in addition to that it’s also just plain dumb. You can’t just transport one ethic group and dump them into another part of the world because it’s convenient for you. You don’t earn any brownie points for doing that. Especially when your fantasy world is still based off of our own historical earth. 

To make things even more confusing, we actually saw Neserdina way back in season one in Way of the Willow. It’s where Willow bought the gremlin knock-off. 

That is an island. How the heck do you get to a volcanic island riding in a horse and cart? And don't tell me they’re riding to a port, because Corona is a port city already. They could have gotten there by boat. It’s also can’t be too far away from Corona’s borders if Angry and Red were able to get there on foot during their year long travels. 

The only explanation is that the entirety of the Tangled crew doesn’t understand geography, and this won’t be the last example in the show to back up that statement. 

So Why Is Rapunzel Here?

We get explanations for why everyone is on this road trip, except for the main character herself. Red and Angry are trying to return some stolen loot. Varian is wanting to pick up rare alchemy supplies at the market and was invited along because Raps hopes it’ll be a chance for Ruddiger and Max to get know one another better. 

But why on earth does Rapunzel feel the need to come on this trip herself? Doesn’t she have a kingdom to run? While I’m sure Eugene is more than capable of handling things, this doesn’t reflect well upon the writers supposed plan of making Rapunzel appear more responsible. 

Literally any other adult could have come along on this trip. This wasn’t something Rapunzel needed to waste time on. Lance especially would have been more appropriate here as he’s the one who’s suppose to eventually adopt Angry and Red.  And the sad thing is, all they had to do was give Rapunzel a line about needing to attend some sort of diplomatic business in Neserdina. That’s it. 

In a show that’s supposed to be all about Rapunzel; Rapunzel sure doesn’t have a whole lot of reasons to exist in the majority of the episodes. 

Lack of Worldbuilding Strikes Again

At this point I’m kind of numb to the whole “magical thing just exists for no adequately explained reason” and so I’m not as upset as some people are about the shell necklace. But it’s still not good writing. 

Why does this thing exist? How did come to be cursed? How did it get mixed in with their stuff? What activated the magic and why did it only effect the human’s even though the animals were closer to it? 

Just something show. Anything. You bothered to give use rules for how this thing works and even stuck to them this time, but you can’t just make the last leg of the trip and give us some exposition? 

Yeah, okay. 

So Where Exactly Are We in Relation to Corona?

We can see Pittsford and Ivangarr on the road sign and we have to be in riding distance to Neserdina from Corona, but like are we in Corona still? Are we in Koto, which is Corona’s nearest neighbor to the east according to season three. Are we in some no-man’s-land where none of the kingdoms have control, or are we already in Neserdina itself? 

The series gives us no sense of direction nor any firm placement for Corona within it’s world. I only know it is a Northern European country because Corona itself is a peninsula with a north sea, uses French, English, and German fashion/customs, and Rapunzel is a Germanic fairy tale. But like those clues are thrown into a blender and contradicted several times over, on top of never being told where it’s closest kingdoms actually lie. 

All of this matters when traveling and exploring the wider world are big themes of your show. You need more solid and consistent world building than this. It also impacts how much authority and control your main character has within the episode itself if she range of political power is limited to one area. So like we need to know where the heroes stand here. 

(FYI I personally headcannon Corona as former Prussia which was once part of Germany and it’s alliance of smaller kingdoms. It’s also a peninsula next to the Curonian Spit) 

This Is Not Progress

Okay so the idea here, is that the show is implying that Rapunzel is trying to improve Corona’s justice system over Frederic’s previously inhumane crack down on crime. However, this is terribly executed. 

For starters the show has never called Frederic nor Rapunzel out for their previous misbehavior. You can not change any system for the better without acknowledging the flaws within said system first. Therefore this comes right out of nowhere and doesn’t stick around long enough to stay within the viewers minds for later. 

Secondly, Rapunzel is incredibly fickle about who she does and doesn’t set free. The Saporians were still in the dungeons last time we saw them, Caine was shipped off to the prison island and left to die there as far as we know, and the Stabbingtons are shown shackled together in the wedding short even though they supposedly changed their ways and befriended Eugene again. 

Meanwhile Dwayne and Stalyan are free to go their marry way and continue their life of crime, Varian is only released from his overly harsh punishment because he kissed Rapunzel’s ass not because it was wrong to imprison him in the first place, and later Cassandra gets away scot free because she’s Rapunzel’s bestie even though she committed the worst crimes out of everyone in the show and for very little reason. 

That’s not justice. That’s not compassion. That’s not progressive reform. It’s just nepotism, and it’s every bit as corrupt as Frederic’s classism and totalitarianism. 

Just because Rapunzel is “nice” it doesn’t mean that she is kind. Real reform has to treat everyone with equality and have a set of base standards that are beyond one person’s personal judgment. She is still a dictator and an abuser even if she lets the occasional person go free on a whim. 

Finally, Rapunzel’s methods are just downright ineffective. Dwyane may not be a threat to our heroes, but that doesn’t mean he’s not a threat to other people. He’s not actually sorry about trying to rob people at knife point and he fully plans on continuing being a thief after feeding Rapunzel the lines she wants to hear. 

Furthermore, we don’t know if this course of action is born out of malice or desperate need. He half heartily comments about finding ‘an honest job” but can he even do that? Is it even a realistic option for him? The series has been weaving this class inequality theme through out it’s past three seasons and directly connecting that to Corona’s crime rate. 

Eugene had a hard time finding a job during season one directly due to his past record, remember? A life of crime he was forced to lead in order to survive, and he’s the Prince Consort! What chance does Dwayne have? Did Rapunzel even try to help him find work or did she just wag her finger at him and told him “Now, now, stealing’s not nice.” 

The show wants to act like Rapunzel is this progressive reformer but then they turn her into a Republican instead. That’s not me being sarcastic either, this approach to criminal justice is the foundation of conservative belief and has been for centuries. The right are not interested in why people commit crime. They don’t care about addressing the fundamental problems in society that lead people to break the law. Let alone bother to analyze why those laws exist in the first place. Instead they resort to doublethink and survivor bias to either write off those that fall through the cracks or make excuses for why their policies repeatedly fail, often ignoring the fact that things aren’t actually working for whole swathes of people who aren’t themselves.  

Tangled the Series is far too simplistic and childish in it’s approach to deeper subjects like this to enforce the messages it supposedly wants to enforce. Rapunzel herself relies on magical thinking, double standards, and personal bias to see her through every and any problem and the show just rewards her for it rather than challenging her to grow and in doing so winds up supporting people like her in their authoritarian ideas, whether that was the writers’ intentions or not. 

In short, Rapunzel shows no interest in putting in the real work it would take to implement genuine restorative justice. She doesn't honestly care about Dwyane or his victims. She’s just posturing here for the sake of her self image.  

You’re Not In Any Position to Talk Rapunzel 

Speaking of Rapunzel being a hypocrite.... The entirety of season three’s main conflict is her having a petty bitch fight with her supposed best friend and needlessly dragging everyone else into it.

In fact that’s the whole show. Rapunzel repeatedly failing to get along with other people because she’s deep down a shitty person despite the veneer of ‘friendliness’ she slaps on to hide it. Having her just say she knows better does nothing to convince me that she’s actually learned anything. You have to show that she’s learned it first, and that requires acknowledging her own wrong doings.  

Varian’s face here just tells it all. Rapunzel is full of shit and no one in the show knows it better than him. Why are they even friends again? Why should we trust her with the three kids she neglected more than once? Why should any of these people take what she says seriously? 

Well This is Contradictory

Also, since we brought up double standards, here’s Varian undermining that whole “jail is bad” thing Rapunzel is trying to push with Dwayne and later with Cass. Not only is the show under cutting it’s themes for a joke, but it just reinforces the abuse Varian received. He’s now bought into Frederic’s stupid beliefs and winds up reinforcing to the audience that that his ‘reform’ was due to his past imprisonment.   

As an adult watching this series, Varian’s supposed redemption continues to increasingly look like a victim complying with their past abuser out of fear of further harm rather than anyone genuinely learning to be better.

Can We Please Stop Infantilizing the 16 Year Old

As if to deflect from Varian’s past mistreatment and continuing parentification, the show then goes on to showcase the opposite extreme whenever possible. I know it’s hard to tell just from these few screen shots alone, but over the course of season three Varian is spoken down too and treated condescendingly by the rest of the cast, and by Rapunzel in particular, even as he enters his later teens/early adulthood.  

Some of this is just to due to Rapunzel being her usual holier than thou self, but there’s also times, like here, where Varian is lumped together with the actual children of the show, even though he’s 6 to 8 years their senior. 

In fact out of everyone Rapunzel interacts with, Varian’s actually the closest to her in both age and development. Queen for a Day forced the two of them into a power imbalance due to a mixture of classism and society’s ongoing unhealthy (and often artificial) divide between younger and older teens, but as we get further and further away from that point in time and as Varian nears the same age Rapunzel started out as, that imbalance becomes less and less relevant. 

Look at how this scene is framed, He’s standing between Angry and Red and is placed lower than them to make it look like he’s one of them. He’s not. 

Varian may still look 12 with his big old eyes and short stature, but seeing as how we’re past Hearts Day, he’s actually close to being 17, if he isn’t already. The timeline gets even wonkier after The King and Queen of Hearts, but trust me, we’re close to being two years past Queen for a Day, if not more so. 

Varian, for all counts, should be Rapunzel’s equal by now in terms of story. Not only is he closest in age to her, but he’s also the only other person going through a coming of age arc. And of the two, Varian’s the one who has actually learned and grown as a person. He has more real world experience than Rapunzel ever will and knows how to implement that experience. (He’s also the more mature, but that’s more of a failure to write Rapunzel competently than a reflection of his capabilities.) 

No matter how you slice it, Varian shouldn’t be taking orders or advice from Rapunzel; no one should be, really; and he most certainly shouldn’t put up with her condescension. Rapunzel is not his nor anybody else’s mother. She’s not even a big sister like figure, and at no point should be treated as the leader of anything or anyone. 

Rapunzel is a Poor Man’s Rose Quartz 

I typically try not to draw too many comparisons between Tangled and other shows outside of the occasional parallel, as a show should be able to stand on it’s own for good or for bad, but it’s hard not to discuss the series without also discussing Steven Universe in some way. 

Steven Universe is this generation’s Batman the Animated Series or Scooby Doo. It’s the game changer that everybody else is trying to copy in some manner. Chris desperately wants Tangled the Series to be the next Steven Universe, right down to how the show is structured, paced, and what themes are presented. But unfortunately Chris has no idea why Steven Universe works the way it does. 

For starters SU adjusted it’s pacing as it went along, smoothing out its rougher edges while Tangled doubled down on its filler. SU had a planned arc from the get go and stuck to it, so that by the time the twists came they made sense. SU kept it’s focus on Steven purposefully so that the story unfolded from his view point while making to sure to acknowledge the importance of other characters around him and their conflicts. It didn’t make him infallible nor shove aside everyone else’s arcs.  

But most importantly, Steven Universe was written by a bisexual nonbinary person who set out to make a show for people in the queer community like themselves. Meanwhile, as a middle aged white man, Chis hasn’t a damn clue about his primary audience and has shown no interest in connecting with them. 

This isn’t to say that Steven Universe is a perfect show. No show is beyond criticism. Nor is this to say that straight white cis men can’t write; many of them do and can portray characters unlike themselves competently enough. But if you’re completely disinterested in other points of view than you can’t be a good writer of fictional stories, that’s just a fact. Because in order to understand proper characterization you need to acknowledge that not every character ever will be like you and that even you’re main heroes will hold beliefs and experiences different from yourself. Otherwise there is no genuine conflict to build off of. Either no one will disagree with each other or the conflict will come across as flat and forced, complete with lopsided bias. 

Therefore, in the end, Rapunzel winds up being less of a Steven and more of a Rose Quartz/Pink Dimond. Both are spoiled princesses/co-rulers of a kingdom that mistreats it’s people and anyone outside of it, who rebelled against their guardians, supposedly out of a sense of justice, but really for themselves and their own freedom, only to make things even worse for everyone. On top of that they both accidently harmed their friends, freindzone their best friend while also bossing them around, are condescending to their love interests, is controlling of people who trust them, and throws temper tantrums when they don’t get what they want, oh and neglected someone for an inhumane amount of time. 

Even then, Rapunzel winds up being the worst of the two. 

The whole point behind Rose was that she is someone whom the main characters place upon a pedestal and as the series went along slowly had the scales fall from their eyes and learned to view her for who she really was flaws and all. By the end, in Future, she is even metaphorically removed from her pedestal when Steven removes her picture from the wall.  

Rose also grows as a character, unlike Rapunzel. Her story is deliberately being told to us backwards. The awful person she was in the past was no longer who she was by the time of her death. True she was still flawed, and the consequences of her actions continued on even after her demise, but she actually tried to be a better person. She got called out for her behavior, she wasn’t excused for actions even when the show explained why she did what she did, and she stopped doing harmful actions whenever she realized that they hurt someone. 

Greg was allowed to stand up to her and show how she was wrong, and she respected him for it and later fell in love with him because of it. She tried to better control her temper when she wound up hurting her friend. Her failed revolution and her mistreatment of Spinel was actually born from a misguided desire to help, rather than outright selfishness. 

Rose Quratz/Pink Dimond is a brilliant fucking character. You may not like her, but you can’t deny that she is one of the most complex figures in children’s media to ever be created. She is real, nuanced, and multifaceted. He role within the story is complicated, messy, and intricate. She is the most well rounded female character I’ve ever seen and she is what I had hoped Rapunzel would be when I first watched season one, only even more so as the actual focus. 

I want women in cartoons to be people! 

But Rapunzel fails at every turn to follow through with this promise. She is not a deep complex character. She’s not a flawed and complicated heroine. She’s a blank canvas in which the creator can shove his creepy ass views upon. She is never taken off her pedestal, she’s never allowed to be wrong, and she is forced to spout the the creator’s personal bias against other characters. 

Rapunzel isn’t a person. She had the chance to be one, but then was reduced to .. to this. As a woman, the treatment of Rapunzel and Cassandra in this show is just flat out insulting. 

So What Is the Difference Between Angry and Red Now?

I’m all for character growth, but at this point Angry and Red are just interchangeable. Anything that made them uniquely them has been lost, and they’re now just fulfilling the generic rambunctious little kid trope. Red becoming more assertive shouldn’t mean she stops being an introvert altogether; that’s not how that works. While Angry shouldn’t lose her temper completely just because she’s wiling to open up more. 

So Why Dwayne?

I like Dwayne as a character and in truth I don’t mind his existence here, and unlike that werewolf hunter last time he at least was established in a pervious season. But this is still time that could have went to a more important antagonist. 

Also notice that Dwyane gets a villain song, but not Lady Caine or Zhan Tiri. Just saying. 

Rapunzel Has Not Earned the Role of the Wise Sage and Mentor 

Rapunzel has never learned to listen to others. Ever.

On it’s own this might have been a good speech, but when taken in context of the wider story it just makes Rapunzel look like an ass. 

A year traveling does not make Rapunzel suddenly all knowing. She is not wiser nor more experienced than anyone else in this scene. She’s also a crappy leader and big fat hypocrite.  

Even when she’s technically right, as seen here, she’s still in the wrong because she never follows through and acts upon her own advice; making this whole story pointless in the grand scheme of things. 

And that’s the core problem with season three. Rapunzel is shoved into a role she is not designed for and the whole premise of the series runs right off the rails. You’re main heroine in a coming of age story can not inhabit the mentor role. She can not simultaneously learn and grow and be always right while instructing everyone else. 

All through out season three Rapunzel is either rendered completely useless in her own damn series, or she utterly fails to fulfill any sort of narrative promise laid out for her while she infuriatingly hijacks the story from more interesting and dynamic characters. 

Behold The Only Reason Why Varian was Included in the Episode 

Speaking of hijacking things, Rapunzel of course has to get the idea to save everybody, even though what she thinks of isn’t anything special. It’s not derived from her character as an individual nor from all that experience she supposedly has. It’s literally an idea anyone could have come up  with and the show just hands it to her in order to justify her exitance. 

Meanwhile the character who actually is useful to the plot is sidelined and reduced to just a plot device. And not just here, Varian is rendered practically pointless in all but two episodes in season three, even in episodes that he actually should have more impact in, like the season opener and series finale. 

Good writing treats characters as equally contributing to the plot in ways that complements who these characters are.  

Ok I’ll Admit That This Line Is Funny

Look, I know this whole review series is about pointing out the negative, and I stand by my opinion that Tangled the Series is one of the worst written shows I’ve ever seen, but I want to make one thing clear.... I do not hate the show. If I hated the show I would not waste my time reviewing it. 

Yes the over all writing is shit, but there are a lot of good things to be found in the series beyond just the crap story arc. The humor is usually solid, the animation is gorgeous, the music is a delight, and the majority of the characters are likable even though they don’t develop in the ways that they should. There’s a lot of talent that went into this show and there’s a lot of potential to be had in it’s set up and lore. 

Being critical or negative about the aspects of something doesn’t mean you dislike it, or that you’re not a real fan, or that you’re just a ‘hater’, and I actually find TTS to be fascinating because it’s such a mess. I write reviews because they’re fun and because I genuinely think there is something to be learned from Tangled’s mistakes. 

So Why Do We Cut Back to Rapunzel Here and Not Varian? 

This is such an odd framing choice. Varian is the one who is talking and reacting to what’s happening. It’s his pet that’s in trouble and therefore he carries the emotional weight of the scene, and yet it’s Rapunzel’s shocked face we focus on? Why? What’s the point of that? She has no business being the center focus here. The action does not involve her. 

If you wanted to include her for a later set up then why not have both her and Varian present in this shot? Usually I can at least count on the story boarders to frame things better than this, but they really missed the mark here. Unless Chris is just that stupid and petty that he over ruled them and forced Varian out of the scene, but that seems like a pointless fight to pick, even for him. 

See This is How you Fulfill a Narrative Promise 

The conflict between Ruddiger and Max was set up in season one with What the Hair, then it was reiterated a few episodes ago during The Lost Treasure of Herz Der Sonne, and then it was reintroduced in this episode along with a stated lesson about working together that they needed to learn. By they end of the episode, guess what, they’ve learned to work together. That is how you properly set up and resolve a conflict. 

It’s clear from this that the writers of Tangled the Series know the basic tenants of writing and how to fulfill narrative promises. So the fact that they don’t follow through with this in the majority of the show’s episodes and ongoing story arcs just baffles me. 

Is it negligence? Is it hubris? Is it incompetent management and editorial mandates? Is it just one asshole ruining everything or is this a failure in the writers room as a whole? 

I just don’t understand what the fuck went wrong here. There’s no reason for why the show got as bad as it did. How does the most acclaimed animation company in the world put out such amateurish tripe? 

Just... wow. 

Now you know why I’m mesmerized by this show. It is a mystery to be solved, like trying to figure out how the crew on the Titanic fucked up so badly or why Hindenburg blew up. You just can’t look away. 

Conclusion 

Like I said at the start, structurally speaking this is the strongest episode of the season. I personally enjoy Lost Treasure a little more, just because Rapunzel annoys me less in that, but it’s not a bad story. However when you’re best episode in your final season is filler, then you know you’re in trouble. 

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