#hear me out ... borderline the turning of events. between season two and three.

[nonsupe-a]

“   i need you to trust me.   ”           there is that word again.     trust.     sentiment that barely exists in him these days out of extreme caution and,      frankly,      a sense of paranoia that has kept him alive for years.      trust that he’s not often willing to give just anyone.      he knows to keep to himself,      reserve for only those he knows wouldn’t dare to drive a knife between his vertebra when he had his back turned.      but @firedblanks​ isn’t just anyone.      she’s colby.

she knows the ins and outs of him regardless of how much he thinks he’s hidden away in a dark far away corner out of some sense of precaution.     for himself or her is yet to be known,      even after all this time.      he’d like to believe it was a sense of duty that kept parts of his life in the dark even now.      to believe that it came from his sense of duty to her,      to protect or spare her from the watchful eyes in his life,      the awful brutality and insanity of his job,      but truth is   --   some small part of him will always be reserved.      not because he doesn’t trust her,     he does,     more than anyone and with his life,       but because its been burned into him that he can never trust anyone.     words of a old teacher come to mind:   trust makes you vulnerable,     vulnerability makes you weak,      and being weak gets you killed.

but she is colby.

the same colby who holds his face in her hands when the world has become too heavy for his shoulders.      the same colby who looks at him with compassion even when he feels like he deserves very little.     colby who still sees the man in him,      not the monster or the machine they have created.      he knows that she trusts him.     surely the least he could do is the same.      right?       right?

“   i do.   ”          said with conviction.      definitively.      there’s not another soul in this world that he trusts like her.      her above all else.          “   i trust you.   ”

[marjansmarwani]

Who You Gonna Call? 

A Ghost Hunting AU - 4.9k

[Read on Ao3]

A charity event brings together the two most notorious internet ghost hunting teams: Marjan and TK of the borderline irreverent Spirit Squad and Paul and Carlos of the historically accurate Paranormal Investigators. Their task: investigate Austin’s notoriously haunted Littlefield House. The twist: they have to swap partners for the night to do so. It should be entertaining, if nothing else.

Or, The Ghost Hunting AU literally no one asked for.

I didn’t write anything for Halloween because I’ve been busy with work and have a few other projects going on, but I did write this ghost hunting AU back in May. I figured I would share it here again because it definitely has the spooky vibes, plus some excellent TK & Marjan and Paul & Carlos friendships (plus flirting Tarlos!). Some of you may have seen this the first time around, but it was a while ago so who knows! Either way, I hope you enjoy! 👻

Oh, and Happy Halloween! 👻🎃

--------

A chorus of swearing greeted Grace as she unlocked her front door. She entered the kitchen to find her husband messing around with the Keurig, which was apparently the subject of his ire. She shook her head fondly and crossed the kitchen to wrap her arms around his waist, “Struggling there, my love?”

 Judd relaxed ever so slightly at her touch, but didn’t back down, “The goddamn thing never works for me! I don’t understand why we can’t just have a regular coffee maker instead of this infernal thing.” 

 Grace scoffed, “We have that because it was a Christmas present from my parents, and because you broke the coffee maker, remember?” 

 Judd deflated a bit at this, but continued his grumbling, “I still think it’s too complicated. I just want some coffee and it’s messing with me I swear!” 

 Grace leaned around him and reached around the back to flip the power switch. The machine beeped and began to brew the pod Judd had put in the chamber. Judd turned to face her, face sheepish, “Have I told you lately how wonderful and talented you are?” he asked. 

 Grace laughed and leaned into him, “You may have yesterday, but it’s always good to hear. Now, what’s up with you that’s got you so flustered you can’t figure out a simple machine?”

 Judd’s scowl returned, “I have that job tonight, and I’m not looking forward to it.”

 Grace frowned, “The charity one? Why are you upset about that?”

 “Because it’s a bunch of kids playing ghost hunters. They’re ‘youtube people,’ I’m sure they're going to think they’re too good for this and be whiny and just annoying kids in general.”

 Grace burst out laughing and Judd looked at her, bewildered, “What’s so funny?” he demanded.

 “I’m sorry Judd, I just didn’t realize I had married a Scooby-Doo villain. You do hear yourself, right? You’re about one rubber mask away from “you meddling kids” and frankly, I think it’s adorable.” 

 Judd tried to scowl, but he couldn’t hide pleasure that his wife’s laughter brought him. “Just you wait,” he told her, “they are going to be ridiculous and needy and probably get themselves into all sorts of trouble, and it’s going to be up to me to save their asses.”

 Grace nodded with mock sympathy, “Well, I guess you’d better go before you’re late,” she said handing him the travel mug now filled with coffee, “you wouldn’t want to keep those meddling kids waiting.”

 Judd shook his head as he leaned down to give his wife a kiss, “You’re a menace.”

 “But you love me anyway.” 

 “That I do.” 

 --------- 

“We’re here at the hauntingly historical Littlefield House on UT’s campus. The house was--”

 “Cut!” Marjan called, looking up from her camera. She raised an eyebrow at her partner, “Hauntingly historical? Really TK?”

 “It’s alliteration, Marj. It’s good storytelling technique!”

 “It’s cheesy is what it is. Why don’t you try it again without the cheese factor, or I can do the intro.”

 “You did the intro last episode, we rotate these things Marjan.” 

 “But this is a special episode outside of our regular season, so our usual rules don’t apply.”

 “You’re only saying that because you like the spotlight.” 

 “No, I’m saying that because you should give the people what they want!” 

 “That hurts, Marj.” 

 Marjan’s retort was interrupted by the appearance of two men weighed down by bags of equipment approaching the house. “Hello,” the taller of the two shouted as they grew closer, “you must be the Spirit Squad, TK and Marjan, right?”

 The pair nodded and walked forward, intercepting the pair halfway down the front walk. “And you must be Carlos and Paul; the Paranormal Investigators. It’s good to meet you both,” TK said, reaching out to shake both their hands.  

 “The P.I.s for short,” Paul reminded him, returning his greeting. 

 There was a flurry of handshakes and polite greetings before they all turned to look at the building in front of them. 

 “Looks pretty imposing,” Paul noted, “are we sure there’s only one ghost in that whole place?”

 Marjan shrugged, “Only one agoraphobic mental patient at least. Who’s to say what else?” 

 They all studied the house, a stately victorian, for a few more silent moments. 

 “Well,” said Carlos, breaking the silence, “shall we?” 

 TK gave an exaggerated arm flourish and a beaming smile, “After you.”

 Paul and Carlos continued their journey up the walk and TK turned to join them, but paused when he saw Marjan shaking her head at him exasperatedly, “Two minutes and you’ve already started with the flirting,” she said mournfully, “Tonight is going to last forever, isn’t?”

 “Lay off Marj, have you seen him? How could I not?”

 Marjan took a deep sigh and looked up to the sky in exasperation, “What did I do wrong in a past life to get stuck with you?” 

 TK rolled his eyes, “Don’t even start, you know you love me.”

 “Don’t get too cocky Casanova. There are plenty of windows in this place, a tragic accident might just happen.”

 “You’d miss me.” 

 “But think about the peace and quiet I could have.” 

 ---------

Judd sipped his coffee as he watched the 4 kids enter the property. He was so not looking forward to this. He understood why the university was hosting this; he just didn’t know why he had to be the one in charge of them. He hadn’t been exaggerating when he told Grace how much he was dreading tonight. He just knew this was going to be a long, pointless night. As they cleared the entrance and began looking around he heaved a weary sigh and set his mug down on top of the piano he had been leaning on and walked over to them. 

 “Welcome to the Littlefield House,” he said with what he hoped was a passable imitation of enthusiasm - or at least tolerance. “My name is Judd Ryder, head engineer for UT’s campus. I’ll be your contact tonight. If you have any questions I’ll try to do my best to answer them and I’m going to go over some ground rules before you get started. Any questions so far?”

 The small group all shook their heads and Judd carried on, “Good. Rule number 1 - don’t touch anything you don’t need to. Everything in this home is old, valuable, and much of it was donated by some of the University’s very generous benefactors. You break it, you buy it. Rule 2: don't do anything stupid. I'm not looking to spend tonight pulling anyone out of a hole or anything of the kind. Follow those two rules and we'll get along just fine. Any questions?"

 Carlos nodded, “Mr. Ryder,” he asked, “Would you mind giving us a little background on the house and it’s supposed haunting?”

 Judd looked at him incredulously, “On camera?”

 Carlos nodded patiently, “That is how we tell our stories sir. I think our viewers would appreciate having it come from an expert - it makes it all seem more reliable. I’m sure as a highly respected employee of the University you must have some first-hand knowledge of the history, and may have seen some of the instances first hand. Your input would be invaluable. 

 Judd straightened, “Well,” he began, “I suppose that I would be uniquely qualified.”

 Carlos smiled warmly, “Excellent. Let’s get it set up.”

 Judd was busy flattening out the wrinkles in his shirt; he didn’t notice the fist bump that Carlos and Paul subtly exchanged or the look that passed between TK and Marjan.  

 ----------- 

“The Littlefield house was built in 1893 for Civil War veteran George Littlefield,” Judd began, “at the time of its construction it cost $50,000 dollars to build. As I’m sure you can imagine, it would cost a pretty penny more to build today.” 

 “Three guesses which side he was on,” Paul muttered and Carlos swatted at him, motioning at Judd to continue. 

 “Major Littlefield even went as far as to have a Himilayan Cedar imported and planted on the property. It is still standing today and is one of the most distinctive trees on campus. You can see it through that window right there,” he said gesturing towards the window to their left, “When his wife Alice Littlefield died in 1935, she donated the house and its property to the University, or which she and her husband had always been big supporters. These days the ground floor has been maintained in its former glory for hosting events and tours, while the second floor houses offices.” 

 “What about the third floor?” TK asked from off-camera. It looks like there are turrets from the outside, are those accessible.

 Judd looked thoughtful, “I think they might be used for storage. To tell you the truth, no one really goes up that far much. It gets real hot up there on those upper floors.” 

 “Can you tell us more about the spirit that supposedly resides here and the activity that people have witnessed?” Marjan prompted. 

 Judd nodded, “The ghost is said to be that of Alice Littlefield, the widow of Major Littlefield. People say that she still haunts this house as she never really left it even in life. Some say that she was agoraphobic, others say that her husband kept her locked in the attic. No one knows for sure, but everyone agrees that she didn’t get out much and that’s probably why she is still here.”

 “What kind of experiences have people reported?” 

 Judd scoffed lightly, “people say that they have seen a ghostly figure walking past the windows at night or wandering the grounds. A few even claim they’ve heard the piano playing when there was no one there to play it.”

 “To clarify, you mean this piano, right?” Carlos asked, panning towards the grand piano next to them.”

 “That’s the one,” Judd confirmed with a nod. 

 “What about you Mr. Ryder, have you ever had any experiences with this spirit?”

 Judd shook his head, “No, can’t say that I have,” he said evenly. 

 “Wonderful,” Carlos exclaimed, shutting off his camera, “That was great, thanks so much for your time Mr. Ryder.”

 Judd nodded as they began sorting through equipment, “Not a problem. Listen, the university has me on call tonight for y’all, so if you need anything let me know. I’ll be around. And please,” he added as an afterthought, “don’t break anything. I hate filling out that paperwork.”

 The group gave him solemn nods as he exited, sighing heavily and muttering something about kids under his breath. 

 The group watched him leave and then looked at each other, each trying their best to hide their grins. 

 “So,” TK asked, “shall we get started?”

 ---------

The deal was this: a charity had asked the two most popular ghost hunting teams on the internet to get together for a special fundraising episode, with a twist (to be decided by a vote from their viewers). A week of polling provided them with the result - the two teams were going to be partner swapping tonight. 

 According to charity’s PR rep, fans had commented that they wanted to see this partner swap because the two teams were so different. The P.I.s were very fact-driven; their show erred on the side of documentary. The Spirit Squad, on the other hand, was much more sensational. Sure they did the facts, but their show revolved a lot more around their antics than the history. Fans were eager to see what kind of dynamic a mashup would bring. 

 Which brings us back to this moment as the two teams divvy up their equipment and head to meet their new partners for the evening. TK hands a microphone pack to Marjan, humming to himself all the while. She levels a glare at him, “Would you stop that?” 

 “Stop what?”

 “Stop being so pleased about this!”

 “Marj,” TK began emphatically, “Of course I’m happy. I get to spend an evening with Mr. Paranormal Heartthrob over there. I’m fucking thrilled.”

 Marjan rolled her eyes, “Great. While you are off doing salacious things on company time, I am going to be stuck with Mr. Encyclopedia.” 

 “Come on, he doesn’t seem that bad.”

 “TK, you’ve seen their show. The dude somehow knows literally everything and can spend multiple minutes talking about the significance of various wood types in regional architecture. I might not be pushing you out a window tonight, but I might end up jumping through one.”

 Now it was TK’s turn to roll his eyes, “Give the guy a chance Marj. You know how it can be when you’re filming. He might be a completely different person off-camera. You might be surprised and actually end up liking him.” 

 Her expression softened incrementally, but her voice was still firm, “We’ll see.” 

 Across the room, a similar conversation was happening. 

 “You can’t seriously expect me to spend a night working with her do you, Carlos?”

 Carlos raised an eyebrow, “What’s wrong with her?” he asked skeptically.

 Paul seemed to falter a bit, “I mean, it doesn’t seem like she takes much seriously. She’ll probably be off-task all night. Besides, she’s the one who’s catchphrase is ‘come at me demon!’ Actually, I feel like the fact that she even has a catchphrase is telling enough.” 

 “I think you’re being unfair.”

 “Unfair? I would never!” 

 Carlos narrowed his eyes at him, “I can’t tell if you’re being sarcastic or not right now and it is honestly concerning to me. You need to give her a chance.”

 “No, I don’t think I do.” 

 Carlos sighed, “What did we say about not being a dick around people who don’t know you’re always kind of a dick?”

 Paul looked at least slightly chastised, “Fine, I’ll play nice.” 

 “That’s all I ask. Now,” he said cheerfully, snapping the last of his gear on, “it’s time to go meet our new partners!”

 “You know, sometimes I kind of hate you.” 

 “I’m okay with that.” 

 ------------ 

Marjan swung her flashlight around the grounds as she walked. She and Paul had taken the grounds and first floor while TK and Carlos would be tackling the upper floors. So far all she had seen was a lot of grass and awkward silence. 

 “So,” she began, turning to face her companion, “any thoughts on what we’ll find?”

 Paul shrugged, “Not too sure. All the lore says that if we see anything, it should be Alice so I’m hoping we’ll find some evidence of her. The reports make it seem like she’s pretty active, I’d love to catch some of that.” 

 Marjan hummed in agreement, “That would be cool. I’m a slut for some good audio evidence.”

 Paul raised an eyebrow at her. “What?” she asked defensively,

 He shook his head, “Nothing. I just figured you were more about the video evidence. You know, where you could be seen doing something crazy.”

 She scoffed, “Yeah, that stuff’s fun, but when it comes to actual evidence, I find audio to be more reliable. There are just too many factors when dealing with video evidence. Besides,” she added as she crossed to the other side of the yard, “It’s not that I don’t enjoy doing all that stuff, but it’s all for ratings. I know how to make a brand.”

 “You know Marwani, I might have been wrong about you.”

 “You can’t believe everything you see on the internet Strickland.”

 Paul laughed, “No, I suppose you’re right.”

 They continued in silence for the next few minutes, each studying their devices. After completing a full circuit of the yard Paul sighed, “Guess that was a colossal waste of time.”

 Marjan shrugged, “I guess it depends on how you look at it. I’m just glad we were able to put entire floors between ourselves and that,” she said, gesturing over her shoulder towards the second-floor window that revealed flashlight beams moving. 

 “You mean the flirt fest? Yeah, I’m not too broken up about missing out on that either.” 

 Marjan nodded emphatically, “Don’t get me wrong, I love TK like a brother, and I want nothing more than for him to be happy. But I don’t feel the need to be in the room as it happens.”

 Paul hummed his agreement, “Carlos is my best friend but when he is infatuated with someone, he is basically unbearable. I’ll take ghost hunting outside over witnessing that any day, thank you.” 

 Marjan glanced back up at the window, “How gross do you think they are being right now?”

 “On a scale of 1 to 10?” 

 “Sure, why not?”

 “11, definitely.” 

 ----------- 

“So,” TK started awkwardly, “how’d you get into ghost hunting?”

 “I watched my family die and have been determined to find their spirits ever since.” 

 TK’s eyes grew wide, “Seriously?” he asked. 

 Carlos chuckled, “No. I just liked scary movies and ghost stories as a kid and have always believed. You?”

 TK shrugged, “I guess I’ve always believed too. My dad is huge into this stuff, so I learned a lot about it growing up. Then I met Marjan and we hit it off and she needed a partner so I just kind of, did it.” 

 “Are you and your dad close?”

 A small smile spread across his face, “Yeah. He’s the best. He’s a firefighter, and growing up I always wanted to follow in his footsteps, but this came along and kind of just fit, you know?”

 Carlos nodded thoughtfully, “Yeah, I think I do. If you had told 15 year old me that I would be ghost hunting for a living, he would have thought you were crazy. But, I like it. I get to see new places, meet interesting people, and spend time with my best friend.”

 “Well,” TK said, “I think it was a good choice.”

 Carlos looked at him curiously, “Why’s that?”

 TK grinned suggestively, “Because it means we met.” 

 -------------- 

So far, the inside was not much more interesting than the grounds.

 Marjan was starting to get antsy. She knew that ghost hunting was generally a “hurry up and wait” kind of situation, but she hated the long periods of nothing. At least she normally had TK to banter with. Tonight, she was stuck with a companion who was studying an abstract painting with far too much interest.

 “I think this is an original Kelpe,” he said eventually.

 “A what?” Marjan asked incredulously.

 “A who,” he corrected, “Paul Kelpe was an American painter from about the 1930s until he died in the 80s. He was known for abstract art and retired to Austin before he died.”

 Marjan stared at him, “How in the actual hell do you remember this stuff?”

 “My mind is like a steel trap.”

 Marjan had several things she’d like to say in response to that, but before she could even begin eerie music floated down the hall, effectively ending their conversation. 

 They looked at each other, and Marjan was gratified to see her excitement reflected on Paul’s face. “Is that...” she started to ask at the same time Paul exclaimed “The piano!” 

 They looked at each other for just a moment more before they hurried down the hall, back towards the piano. 

------------

It took a few tries, Carlos managed to get the door to the turret room open. He and TK walked inside slowly, shining their flashlights around the room. 

 “Wow,” TK said, and Carlos nodded his head in agreement. 

 The room was filled with the scattered paraphernalia of life. It looked like everything had been left as is, as if the resident of the bedroom had just walked out the door, ready to start their day. If that day had been about 80 years ago, judging by the dust.

 “It doesn’t look like anyone has been in here in ages,” TK noted as he gently brushed the dust off an ornate hand mirror.

 Carlos was studying the doorway, “I think you might be right. It doesn’t look like there is any kind of lock or reason it should have been stuck, but it definitely did not open like a door that is commonly used.”

 “I wonder whose stuff this is?” TK muttered as he examined the contents of the desk. “Whoever’s it is either loves antiques or it has been sitting here since it was new.”

 Carlos had halted abruptly in his own exploration, staring at something on the table by the door. When he spoke, his voice was shaky.

 “I think you might be spot on with the later,” he said.

 TK turned around, frowning. “What makes you say that?”

 Carlos picked up the item he had been studying and turned so TK could see it. It was an antique calling card, yellowed with age, but the name printed in delicate script was still legible; it read “Mrs. Alice Littlefield.”

 “Well, shit.” TK breathed. Carlos nodded.

------------- 

They reach the piano at the same time, equally out of breath. They each examine their various devices. “I’m getting some pretty strong readings,” Marjan noted.

 Paul nodded, “Me too. He moved around the piano, examining it, “I don’t see any wires or triggers, or anything that suggests that this could have been caused by another person.”

 Marjan ran an experimental hand across the keys. They played normally. She hit a few notes, but they all sounded as they should. “It seems to be working just fine too.” She lifted the lid and they each shone their flashlights inside.

 “Everything looks normal in here too,” she noted after a while. She looked around the room and gestured at one of the cameras they had set up. “Maybe the static cam caught something.”

 Paul nodded, pulling out his phone to make a note, “I will definitely look. Hopefully we got good audio too.”

 Marjan nodded, “This is so cool,” she gushed.

 Paul smiled, “It is, isn’t it?”

----------- 

Tk looked around at the contents of the room, “It doesn’t look like anything has been touched since she died.”

 Carlos nodded, gently fingering a lace handkerchief on the bedside table, “It looks like she just up and left. It’s kind of sad, actually.”

 TK looked at him curiously, “What do you mean?”

 “I mean, it doesn’t seem like she had anyone who cared enough to go through her things after she died. Once she died it seems like she just…stopped existing and the world went on.”

 TK didn’t really know what to say to that. He glanced around the room and then back at Carlos.

 “Unfortunately, I think that is generally what happens, no matter who is left behind. But if it makes you feel any better, if people are right about Alice being the ghost here, she apparently had different plans.”

 “I honestly don’t know if that makes me feel better or worse.”

 TK shrugged, “Me neither.”

 “I guess what really bothers me is the thought of what will happen to us when we’re gone. I don’t have much family left as it is, and not too many friends outside of Paul. Would there be anyone left to remember that I existed, or would it just be a room full of stuff that says Carlos Reyes used to exist?”

 TK studied him for a moment before speaking, “I know where you’re coming from, believe me. All I have are my dad and Marjan. But I think that it’s more a matter of what we do than what we leave behind.”

 Carlos smiled at him, “That’s pretty wise.”

 TK grinned, “I do my best.” He took a few steps closer to Carlos. They were so close now that he could every nuance of brown in the other man’s rich, warm eyes. “If it makes you feel any better,” he said softly, “I’d care if you were gone. I’d help to keep your memory around.”

 Carlos smiled at him, “Then I guess that means I should do the same for you.”

 “It’s a deal then,” TK replied, sticking out his hand. Carlos took it and the shook, but their hands lingered for several moments longer than necessary. Carlos was the first to pull away, albeit reluctantly.

 “I guess we should keep going with the actual investigation part before our respective partners hunt us down and murder us.”

 TK nodded solemnly, “True. What good is our pact if we both die at the same time, murdered by our perfectionist co-workers?”

 They exchanged a grin, but Carlos frowned as TK’s expression shifted and his gaze drifted past him. “Everything okay?” he asked hesitantly.

 TK didn’t answer right away, “I’m not sure,” he said eventually. “I thought I saw something but...I don’t know. Probably just a trick of the light.” 

 Carlos looked like he wanted to say something, but the sound of his phone alarm cut off whatever it was that he had to say. He pulled it out and glanced at the screen. “That’s the 15-minute warning. We have to be out of here pretty soon. We should head back downstairs and help the others gather the equipment.

 TK nodded and began to disassemble the camera they had set up in the corner of the room. “Hey Carlos?” he asked as he worked.

 “Yeah?”

 “We make a pretty good team, don't we?”

 Carlos grinned, turning away to hide the blush darkening his cheeks, “Yeah, I think we do.” 

--------- 

A few days later, TK was walking up the sidewalk towards Paul’s house when he heard his name being called from behind him. He turned to see Carlos rushing to catch up with him. He couldn’t help the little flutter his heart did at the sight of him. He paused, letting the other man catch up.

 “Hey,” Carlos greeted as he reached him, “What are you doing here?”

 TK shrugged, “Honestly, I have no idea. Paul called me and asked me to come over.”

 Carlos frowned, “He asked me the same thing. Which, is not weird since we are friends and business partners, but you being here too is strange. No offense,” he added hastily.

 “None taken,” TK assured him. “Honestly, I was thinking the same thing.”

 They stood awkwardly on the sidewalk for another moment before Carlos shrugged, “I guess the only way to find out is to head in.”

 TK nodded and gestured towards the door, “After you.”

 Carlos let them in and led TK towards the office. When they entered the space, they were even more surprised that Paul was not alone.

 “Marjan?” TK asked incredulously, “What are you doing here?”

 Paul answered, “I called her first because I needed someone else to confirm that you two are as big of idiots as I thought you were.”

 Marjan nodded solemnly, “And I can confirm, you are the biggest idiots.”

 TK and Carlos looked at each other, baffled. “What did we do?” TK asked defensively. 

 Marjan and Paul simply exchanged a look before Paul turned his laptop around for them to see. There was a video feed paused on it. It seemed to be one of the feeds from the turret room. Carlos gave the other two a confused look, “What does that have to do with anything?”

 “Oh, just wait,” Paul said, reaching down to hit play.

 They all watched silently, Marjan and Paul watching their companions more than the video. TK and Carlos watched as they moved through the frame, getting closer. TK blushed as they grasped hands. He knew what part this was, he just had no idea how sappy they actually looked. He was just grateful there was no sound. As he watched, he saw a figure appear over Carlos’s shoulder. His eyes widened. That couldn’t be…

 “Is that an FBA?” Carlos asked weakly, looking up at Paul and Marjan. Paul glared at him, “Just watch.”

 They all turned their attention back to the screen to see as the figure became more solid. There was no denying that it was the ghostly figure of a woman. She remained there, just past Carlos’s shoulder, for a least a minute before vanishing as quickly as she had appeared.

 Present Carlos and TK looked at each other. “I guess you did see something,” Carlos said weakly. TK was still too shell-shocked to respond. They had been in the same room as a Full-bodied Apparition – the holy grail of paranormal investigating – and they hadn’t even noticed.

 He looked over at their partners, who seemed torn between amusement and frustration. He understood the feeling.

 Eventually, Paul spoke, “Correct me if I’m wrong, but it seems to me that you two were so busy flirting you did not notice a literal ghost not even two feet from you.”

 Carlos ran a shaky hand through his hair, “Yeah, I think that about covers it,” he said weakly.

 Marjan snorted, “Actually, it looks like she yeeted herself out of there as soon as possible. Face it – you guys are so gross that even the dead don’t want to deal with you.”

 TK and Carlos locked eyes. After a moment Carlos shrugged and TK groaned, “The shippers are going to have a field day with this. We will never have another moment of peace.”

 Carlos considered this for a moment, before a sly grin spread across his face, “Maybe, or we could just beat them at their own game?”

 TK frowned at him, “What do you mean?”

 “TK Strand, would you like to go on a date with me?”

 There was a beat of silence before Paul and Marjan groaned and TK grinned, “I thought you’d never ask.”

 Marjan looked at Paul, “Our lives are ruined,” she said mournfully.

 He nodded grimly, “Let’s be real though; we never stood a chance.”

 Notes: 

I actually did a lot of research for this one and since once an English major always an English major or something like that, you can find my sources here, here, here, and here. If nothing else it's worth it for a look at the house (which is a real place) because it does give off some serious spooky vibes in my opinion. 

[Read on Ao3]

[whatshockey]

one for the road - a.m.

in which two people who were committed to hating each other find an activity much less draining. or at least emotionally.

word count: 3,921

warnings: mentions of alcohol, drugs, cursing. and smut! the whole shebang.

a/n: i really hate this man. like really hate him. i’m so obsessed with him, it’s disgusting. so i attempted to write something to make me feel better. and let’s face it - the only reason we find auston attractive is bc he plays hockey. i said what i said.  

-

She strutted into hell in heels so high they could be used as weapons, carrying her demons on both shoulders and her head held high. Bodies were strewn, one with another, in every corner of the room, attacking each other’s lips in some fatal attempt to feel alive in the exchange of body heat. It was so warm that the apartment itself could snap a cigarette awake, and she could feel her skin burn with every sip of poison she continued to take. He was no criminal, that much she knew. But the way he looked at his next victim, with mocha tinted eyes soaking every crevice of her skin and bones, should’ve been considered a crime itself. And she couldn’t take her eyes off of him no matter how hard she tried.

Her friend noticed rather quickly, chuckling as he picked out her scowl that grew by the minute. His smile shone brightly in the dimly lit space, and he had to crouch over her shoulder to reach her ear, gently moving a lock of hair behind.

“Careful,” he warned, his velvet voice soothing the dull ache in her head. “If he catches your stare, he might turn to stone.”

She was quick to shove him off with a scoff, rolling her eyes at his remark to the Greek mythological character, and in turn took an audible gulp of the drink that caused her face to tighten up as it rolled down her throat. 

“Fuck off, Freddie.”

The wallflowers hadn’t moved much the whole night, finding refuge in the corner of the kitchen of his teammate’s apartment rather than finding another to occupy their time. Had it been any other night, she could be spotted with her back pressed against a stranger of the opposite gender, and sometimes, if you’re lucky of course, one of the same connected to her front, lips dancing dangerously closer as their bodies tangled. The dane next to her, however, always watched the scenes unfold around him, and at times she wondered what sins his gaze held.

The two became good friends over their shared love for the tainted drink they both held at the moment, meeting each other at a bar amongst mutual friends while the rest of his teammates worried about buying drinks for women they’d spotted there. Admittedly, that had been his original intention, but the two laugh about it now. She’d actually been the one who insisted to pay for his drink, pretending she hadn’t known who he was as she bid goodbye with a sultry “congratulations” for the team’s win of the night. And it was safe to say she’d occupied his thoughts for the rest of the week, so much that he found himself revisiting the place they had met just a week later, spotting her at the same spot, and this time alone. He hadn’t missed a beat to acknowledge her, and invited her to sit with the rest of the team, a rosy grin to match his hair dawning on his face as he recognized the younger woman who made him feel as youthful as the rest of his teammates he had come with.

They had all quickly welcomed her into their exclusive group, warm smiles stretching across their features and jokes uttered around. The young professional was well known around the Toronto area, recognizing a few of the players from past events she’d attended. One of the players, however, held an arrogant smirk alongside his outstretched calloused hand, engulfing her contrasting soft small ones. His eyes took her in, from her bare legs to her blackened eyelashes and tousled hair as one of his dropped down into a sly wink. And she was quick to drop his hand within the same second, watching him for the rest of the night from in between two of his teammates, both taking turns in inquiring with questions about her work life and interests, to which she put on her most dazzling smile and answered with her well versed responses, ignoring the feeling creeping up her stomach when she saw the player across the bar with an arm hung loosely around the waist of a woman surely meant to be seen on a magazine cover.

She had been doing the same now, finding refuge with her closest friend of the bunch as she refilled her glass for a second time now. It was now nearing the end of the season, and the lot celebrated the victory of reaching the playoffs, knowing as the pressure picks up, this could be very well be one of the last celebrations for a while. The atmosphere felt oddly similar to that of the first night they all had met each other, which had been followed by their first home win of the season just months ago. Except this time, they had all been packed into a penthouse, expensive booze flowing through their systems and eyes red in exhaustion from a tough season, and no doubt a few drugs passed through some that were not apart of the team. She, however, stayed put, ignoring the few men who had approached her, possessing no professional association with the sport itself, and instead engaged in casual conversations with the few friends she had there, all while attempting to ignore the one man who managed to get under her skin.

He’d seen her now as she leaned elegantly against the stone countertop in a statue-like pose, and lethargically raised the hand that contained his drink towards her direction, a mocking gaze spreading across his features as he toasted to her, the reason why only he’d known.

“What a fucking asshole.”

Her friend’s deep laugh vibrated into her chest, and perhaps she would’ve found the situation amusing as well had it been between a different person. However, the man who’d taunted her from across the forest of legs in between them had proven to be everything she despised in a person, and couldn’t blame this on small interactions that prohibited a deeper connection. In fact, the two happened to spend a large amount of their free time together, with their entire friend group implementing traditions of dinners and drinks at least once a week. While all seemed to get along and truly enjoy their time together, he used his voice to boast about his latest sexual endeavor or to spit an unnecessary and borderline rude remark towards her direction, to which she just rolled her eyes and attempted to avoid confrontation about it all. It was only a matter of time, however, that the others began to notice the tension between the two personalities, both of which they had adored and desired their presences at their plans. But the shift in air would never be brought up.

“I know you don’t want to hear it, but you’re a lot more similar than you’d think,” Freddie sighed, taking a final swig of his drink and pushed it onto the counter behind them, holding his hand out in place as he motioned over to the surprisingly empty pool table. “You want to play?”

The two engaged in friendly competition, playing in pairs against Tyler Ennis and Morgan Rielly, the remaining members of the infamous single boys club she had spent so many evenings along with. They played two, maybe three rounds, and it was enough to place a smile and laugh in her throat as one of them scratched and the other sunk a ball into a pocket. Soon the rules had been replaced with their own, and the quartet hadn’t noticed the gathering of a few onlookers who shared a laugh in the chaos as well, each betting on which team would win and deciding what the losing pair would have to do as a consequence.

That hadn’t been explored, however,  as the voice of the man she had long forgotten about rang through her ears, causing her partner to turn around at his presence.

“Hey, man,” he clapped the giant on his back, squeezing his shoulder as he slid by. “Mind if I take over?”

She made eye contact with the model that, just a minute ago, was draped across his shoulder. Her piercing eyes sliced through her chest, holding a threat that pooled around her irises, and she began violently shaking her head in response at the exact moment.

“I’m actually kind of tired. You guys go ahead.”

What appeared to be a frown flashed across his features, tracing the edges of the maroon worsted cloth that lay on top of the wooden table as he took the pool stick from Freddie’s hand who’d offered it immediately.  

“You’re on a role,” William called from a little ways away, an arm around his girlfriend that was perched on his lap who immediately began nodding in agreement.

“Yeah, don’t worry,” Freddie insisted, smiling as he took in her pleading, and increasingly angered expression. “I’ll take the next round.”  

She internally cursed for having such a gentleman as a friend. His charm and patience went unmatched amongst the younger bodies in the room, and the way he leaned against the wall as a new game began made her stomach lurch. If it weren’t for the extra set of eyes taking in her reaction, she would’ve grabbed his bulky arms and begged him to stay, or followed him like a puppy afterwards. And she could almost hear him laughing at her.

Chalking the tip of her stick as she began setting the table up once again, she could feel his presence behind her as she leaned over the table to reach into the pockets for the remaining balls, defeatedly setting the table into a new game. The pair won yet another round, and that had gone to no shock against the arrogance of her new partner.

“No surprise there, eh boys?” he’d laugh, and as thrilled as she should’ve been for winning, his voice caused her to roll her eyes.

He had yet to say anything directly to her the entire night, but as she moved to leave the area, a large hand moved to grasp her own dainty wrist. 

“One on one?” he offered, a devilish smirk gracing his plump lips, squeezing as he waited for an answer.

Her body recoiled, disgusted that he would even have the nerve to touch her, and her cheeks burned in fury. The opposing pair had eventually forfeited, having lost yet another round prior against her new partner, one she didn’t want to spend a waking moment of her life with. But as her eyes casted over the rest of the apartment and she noticed her friends that she had arrived with were nowhere in sight, she let out a sigh and finally lifted her gaze to meet his, shuddering at how soft they actually appeared to be up close.

“I’m heading out,” she sneered, pushing away his hand and trying to get around his frame blocking her.

“So am I,” he replied, stepping closer to her as she crossed her arms in defense. Her heart was beating faster, and she didn’t waste her time wondering why.

Looking over his shoulder, she saw no one paying any attention to the two enemies. Even the glare of a pair of perfectly lined eyes and darkened lids appeared to be missing.

“Where’s your girl?” she asked, moving her feet impatiently

“My girl?” he began to laugh, shrugging with a smile that refused to falter even as she glared at his reaction. “Told her to go home.”

She looked at him with an eyebrow raised, expecting him to continue and explain why he sent the dime away.

“She got a little boring.”

“Oh of course,” she started to laugh, faking her realization as she attempted not to roll her eyes. “You need to be entertained at all times like a child.”

He grabbed her waist this time, tattoos flexing across his forearm as he turned her around,pushing her into the edge of the pool table with arms on either side of her short frame.

“You’re the only one here who has a problem with me.”

“Well, we can’t all be your mom.”

His face twisted, clearly upset with the jab she took at his close relationship with his family member. And had she had any lower of an ego herself, she’d apologize, and instead voice how endearing their close relationship was.

“Why are you always such a fucking bitch?”

“I don’t have a reason to like you.” She jabbed a finger at his chest, growing more upset and far too claustrophobic for her liking by the minute.

“You treat women like absolutely shit as if you’re the most attractive player on the team, which we both know you’re not. And the only reason why you do so is to make up for the fact that you’re insecure.” She stared up into his eyes, and if she truly was Medusa like her friend had said, the snakes she’d have for hair would undoubtedly hiss in threat. “So I’m not going to waste my time trying to tolerate a little boy who parades around in designer clothes like he has a big dick, when it holds absolutely no comparison in size to his inflated ego.”

He laughs, and as beautiful as his voice was, it sounded soulless and lonely, cracking as he bit his bottom lip in narcissism and hunger.

“You’re one to talk, babe. How many blokes have you had in your bed, huh? Probably enough to get you ghosted, and that’s why you’re always so pissed.” He chuckled, taking in her low cut top that threatened to spill over any time she bent over the table before. “Or maybe that’s just it. You need someone to fuck you senseless, to let off steam or something.”

Her palms moved against his chest, attempting to push him away. But he continued, refusing to budge.

“Yknow, it’s a shame you won’t ever shut up,” his eyes flickered to her lips, bringing a thumb to her bottom one and pulled it from from her top teeth. “Such pretty lips that could be used for so much more.”

“If you come any closer, I’ll bite you.”

He raised an eyebrow, stifling a laugh. “Oh, so you play like that, huh?”

It was then that she noticed how exhausted he truly looked, small bags drawn under his eyes and his otherwise youthful face held no color. He’d looked more lifeless than he ever had, in fact most of the players did reaching so far into the season, and yet she could honestly say he also never looked more handsome. But she’d never dare to say that out loud.

“The Uber is three minutes away,” he began, daring to edge even closer to her, breath fanning over his face as their noses touches. “I’ll tell them to wait for two, and if you’re not in the backseat with me after one, I promise to leave you alone until the day we die.”

Her eyes narrowed, skin burning under his touch that he had yet to remove on her waist.

“And how do I know you won’t break your promise?”

He smiled, bright and perfectly carved teeth that could blind her vision traced her ear as he dipped down to whisper.

“How do I know you don’t want me to?”

And with a final wink, he turned his back to her and left, never turning around to send her his infamous smirk or remotely any confirmation that she had heard him correctly.

Her feet moved before her mind did, and suddenly she was tripping over he own heels to catch him on his way down on the elevator, her foot coming in contact with the two doors about to close. She could barely manage a “thank you for having us” to the host before she found herself sharing a brief gaze with the man who stood waiting, and within a split second she was backed against the mirrored walls of the elevator just seconds later, legs hiked up against either side of his waist as the throbbing in between her thighs grew. His lips attacked her neck, bruising her on every inch of skin that was left uncovered and accessible, and she could see her reflection over his shoulder with a hand cradling his head to her collarbone, lips parted in a dangerous pout, vulnerable to allowing any noise to slip past.

He groaned against her throat as the elevator dinged, signaling that the two had reached the bottom floor in what felt way faster than the speed an elevator normally ran at. His hand moved from under her thighs to her own, setting her back down onto the ground and dragging her body out of the doors behind his own, opening the door to the car waiting outside and motioned for her to climb in. Before she could get properly settled, she felt his mouth back on her neck, this time dipping lower to trace the curve of her breast as he pulled the sleeves of her top down her shoulder.

They were being so reckless, and the awkward cough from the driver omitted no less. He had forced a moan out from the back of her throat without a care in the world, groaning just as he heard her voice in a state of such desperation, and he didn’t give her enough time to feel embarrassed before ghosting a hand over her clothed core.

Her eyes flew open, and she hadn’t even realized that they were closed before, making immediate eye contact with the driver in the rearview mirror that left her feeling both nervous and extremely turned on. She attempted to shake him off, or at least before they earned a low Uber rating, but instead pushed her deeper into the cramped back seats, sucking and biting harsher against her jaw and throat. And it was certainly not the first time she caught the driver watching them after.

Not long after, or what could’ve been a long time she had no clue whatsoever, the car eventually slowed down, and the back door on his side had flown open before it came to a full stop. He jumped out, muttering a quick thanks to the driver with a strong grip on her hand.

“Hey, you’re Auston Matthews right?” the driver called after him, but half came off muffled as she climbed and held her back to him.

“Nope, never heard of him.”

He slammed the door shut, stifling the laugh that left her mouth with his own, teeth pulling her bottom lip into his.

The two practically ran into his place, and her feet ached that she began wishing he’d been the type to massage her after they’d messed around enough to satisfy each other. Instead, he kicked the door closed behind her, pressing her against the door which caused to wince as the doorknob dug into the bottom of her spine, pushing her chest into his.

He led the two towards his bedroom, throwing her clothes off to the side and expertly unlatching her bra to connect his lips to her breasts. She began kneeling, mouth watering and eyes desperate for her thirst to be quenched as she fondled with his belt buckle to feel a strong grip in the back of her hair, balling it into his fist as he tilted her face up to look at his own.

“As much as I’d love that, we’re not wasting any time tonight, beautiful. Turn around.”

She pouted, but he had given no option as he swiftly picked her up and twisted her body so that she face the wall behind the headboard, soft sheets rubbing against her hardened nipples and knuckles gripping the expensive material in anticipation.

“God, you have no idea how long I’ve wanted you like this,” he choked out slightly out of breath, taking her in as he rubbed slow circles along her dampened core that ached for his own.

“If you’re going to talk this much, at least say something worthwhile.”

A harsh sting came across her ass, sending sparks of electricity and desire racing through her veins as she said something other than his name followed by a few moans in the past hour.

His fingers threaded through her hair again, catching in knots and tangles as he pulled her back against his chest.

“The only time you’re allowed to talk is to ask for permission.”

She would’ve bit back with another snarky remark had he not slid in so easily, forcing her to catch herself from asking for permission to cum right then and there. It was almost embarrassing how wet he managed to get her by barely touching her, that the only plausible theory would be that he’d somehow left her turned on from every encounter they ever had. Except this time around, he had her fully stretched around him, hugging and squeezing his length in every way imaginable. She’d never felt so full and so good with a man before, and she couldn’t remember how to fake an orgasm even if she had tried.

Stumbling forward, she pressed her face against the sheets as tears clouded over her eyes, the only sounds that could be heard in the room were her cries and his groans at the sound of their skin slapping against each other’s. His large palms engulfed her thighs and hips, twisting her body so that he could still see her face in pure bliss

“So this is what you wanted all along? To get properly fucked, huh?” he pushed into her at an incredible force. “Well, sweetheart, all you had to do was ask.”  

“Auston,” she begged, hands cramping as her grip on the sheets tightened. “Please.”

It had only taken a few more strokes before he reached a hand down in between them where their bodies connected, collapsing on top of her as she cried out at the added pressure and groaning into her neck for a final time that night as he pulled out to finish on her stomach. And if she had any bit of logic left in her system, she would’ve slapped him for it. But she had been in so much pleasure that it almost hurt, and instead she focused on calming her own heart race, struggling to open her eyes to face reality.

A muscular arm wrapped itself around her torso as she began to get up, this time gently and almost needy. She found it amusing that although he would never voice it, he was in fact encouraging her to stay. And she was allowing herself to fall for it.

“Oh, so you cuddle now?” she teased, falling back into his embrace as his breathing began to already slow down.

“It’s apart of the special we have going on.”

She snorted, rolling into his chest as his arms wrapped tighter around her. She could still feel him still half hard against her thighs tangled with his own, but the two had been too exhausted to continue. There had been so many thoughts beginning to race through her mind. Had anyone seen them leave together? Did she have work tomorrow? What day even was it? She decided to relax for now, finding little care as her body remained buzzing from the work out she had just put it through.

And the guy next to her whom she claimed to absolutely loath? She’d deal with that in the morning.

[jawnjendes]

bonus: prettiest girl at the party | shawn mendes

university au, shawn x goth oc

AN: this aint the sequel yet, its just a little extra bit, a flashback if you will. and it includes a NAME REVEAL. oh and the end kind of hints to whats gonna be going on in “season 2″ of this fic :)

**let me know if u wanna be added to the taglist

masterlist

“Those shoes remind me of the time we first met,” Shawn said, nodding down to the huge black platforms on my feet.

I was at least five inches taller in these fashionable death traps. My feet were aching and blistering whether I was sitting or standing because of the plastic material, but it was all for the look. Shawn may have been taller than me despite this, but I felt more powerful and confident. He had his eyes on me from the moment he saw me tonight, so damaging my feet may have been worth it. However, I was confused by his statement.

“I’m pretty sure I didn’t wear these bricks to the coffee shop,” I replied.

“No, not that time,” he told me. “It was a little bit before that.”

“What?”

~

It’s one thing to be caught in the middle of a walk of shame the morning after said shameful events. It was something else to be caught in this walk only fifteen minutes after the fact. Shawn had clearly lost track of time, checking his watch before fixing the collar of his shirt and ruffling his hair back into place. The elevator doors opened to the dorm lobby, and Brian was standing on the other side, probably waiting to go up.

At least it was Brian. He always knew that Shawn was either in class, at work, in the studio, or "visiting" a friend. He didn’t judge, unlike other friends. Camila always asked Shawn when he was going to tie himself down to a proper relationship. She knew what he really wanted deep down.

Shawn had bigger things to worry about at the moment.

“Just tell me it wasn’t who we’re about to go visit right now,” Brian said, stepping into the elevator next to his friend.

“Who? Camila?” Shawn asked, resisting the urge to laugh out loud. “No way!”

“We’re not going to Camila’s,” Brian reminded him. “We’re going to her friend’s dorm. She’s got a Switch and booze.”

The doors opened to the second floor of the building. Brian led the way to the right room, and just as the approached the door to B24, Camila turned the corner from the end of the corridor.

She smiled wide and greeted the two boys. “Hey! We’re right on time!” She was about to knock on the door, but Brian quickly grabbed her wrist to stop her.

“What’s your friend’s name again?”

“Her name is Stella Martinez. And don’t grab me,” Camila replied pointedly as she harshly pulled her arm away. Her brown eyes trailed over to Shawn. “You might wanna fix your shirt. The buttons are mixed up. And I hope that’s lipstick on your neck.”

Shawn’s cheeks flushed as his hand went up to the crook of his neck. Just as Camila had said, there was something there. He felt the slimey, glossy substance under his fingers and then rubbed it away. Looking down at his white shirt, he found that two of the buttons in the middle had gone missing. He totally did not know how that happened.

Finally, Camila knocked on the door, and answered the famous Stella Martinez. Although, she answered the door a little too fast, like she had been waiting on the other side. "Hi guys! I'm so glad you guys made it!" She hugged all three of them, despite never having met Brian and Shawn before.

Actually, Shawn knew her… barely. He met Stella through Camila only once, when she had crashed their chorus class and pretended to sing along with everyone else. All he remembered was that she could carry a tune.

The dorm looked and felt like an apartment, it was very big for only one person. Shawn himself didn’t live on campus, but he knew not all of the dorms were as spacious as this one. It was almost as big as his apartment, plenty of light would come in if it wasn’t for the thick curtains on the windows.

Stella happily invited Shawn, Brian, and Camila onto the couch and then she dashed into the kitchen, her light brown hair bouncing behind her.

“Is your place this cool?” Brian asked Camila. So he had been thinking about it too.

“Not even. I’m in the other college,” she said. “First years get jack shit. Stella's a second year with a fuck ton of credits, so she got priority in choosing classes and living space."

Stella returned from the kitchen holding four open Corona bottles. She placed them all on the coffee table and the other three reached for their own bottles. Stella sat down on the floor facing them.

“Oh, here,” Shawn said, immediately standing up and gesturing to his seat.

Normally, there was a minor “no, you’re the guest” debate, but Stella wasn’t one for that. She happily sat next to Camila, so Shawn sat on the floor leaning against the arm of the couch. He noticed a random object on the table, a black and teal something… like a Swiss army knife. Interesting choice for a centerpiece.

“So,” Brian spoke up after a while, “where’s the Switch?”

“Oh yeah!” Stella exclaimed, jumping to her feet. “I’ll be right back!”

The way she moved and carried herself was almost spastic. Stella was clearly very excited to have guests over, and what she lacked in height was made up for in her energy. Shawn had a feeling he would probably adore her by the end of the night.

He watched her go up to one of the bedroom doors, and that was when her energy faltered a little bit. She knocked almost timidly and then went inside the room.

“Does she have a roommate?” Shawn asked the other two. Surely he couldn’t have been the only one to notice the lack of other life in the vicinity.

“Yeah, she does,” Camila replied. “I don’t know her, though. She doesn’t leave her room that much, from what Stella tells me.”

Her words were immediately contradicted as a new girl came out of the room. She was holding a rectangular dock, 2 cords, and a grey Nintendo Switch. Stella followed after her, and the two separate energies became very apparent in the room, and it wasn’t just from their appearances.

Stella had a bounce in her step and a ghost of a smile permanently on her face. She was dressed for guests, in her red blouse and ripped blue jeans. Her hair was in a neat braid, and her perfume was strong, but also inviting. She was very easy to approach and get along with. You could tell you would end up being friends with her in just a few short minutes.

The roommate radiated something else. Not only was she in a torn and tattered Rise Against t-shirt and tiny black shorts, she also had the most neutral, borderline scowl on her face. She greeted the three guests on the couch with a nod of her head when Stella introduced them. She didn’t say anything more as she leaned down to plug the dock into the back of the TV, her long, dark hair covering her face. She looked like someone you did not want to cross. She could probably kill you with one glare, and it wasn’t just from the amount of eyeliner she had on.

Stella and her roommate were obviously very different. So guess which of the two girls Shawn felt inexplicable attraction to.

It was probably the legs. While this mysterious roommate wasn't the tallest person in the room (taller than Stella, at least), she had some killer legs coming out of those tight little shorts. Her olive skin almost glowed in that area. At least something on this girl was glowing. Shawn tore his eyes away from her body as she addressed the group.

“I’ve got three controllers total,” she said, her voice as neutral as her face was, “the joycons for the Switch.” She held up two small grey controllers, and one black gamepad. “And I have one pro controller. If anything messes up, let me know.”

She placed the controllers on the coffee table and simply turned on her heel to leave.

“You don’t wanna join us?” Stella asked her.

Yes, please join us. You’re kinda creepy looking but I need to talk to you.

“I’m still unpacking,” the roommate called over her shoulder.

Shawn was puzzled at that answer. He shared a look with Camila and Brian, who were just as bemused.

“It’s October,” Brian pointed out.

The roommate stopped at her doorway and turned back to him. "And what about it?"

Again, if looks could kill. She was definitely someone you don’t wanna mess with.

Shawn was mildly tempted, though. He watched her go into the room and shut the door non-too-gently. If this was a full blown party, Shawn would have been able to work up the courage to sneakily follow her and hit her up. He could have disappeared with the prettiest girl at the party and his friends would be none the wiser. But this was a much smaller setting, and it would be rude for him to ditch his friends for a stranger. Not to mention, this girl's energy and general presence made Shawn just a little nervous.

Instead, he watched the other three play against each other at Mario Kart. Stella practically screamed every time she was hit with a shell, while Brian cursed every time he lost to Camila. Shawn played a couple of rounds (finishing last), but he mainly nursed his beer, eyes flickering between the TV and the roommate's bedroom door. He really shouldn't have been so quick to take interest another girl, given where he was not that long ago. Was he really that desperate? Was he more of a horndog than he thought?

Between races, the group would hear tearing noises and cardboard shuffling around from the room. There was also faint rock music playing as well, but it wasn't anything Shawn recognized. If only the roommate would leave the room so he could ask her what she was listening to… and things like that. He couldn't though, he promised he would see that other girl again, even though Shawn was quickly losing his interest. Was it a dick move? Probably, but this was something he couldn’t really explain.

The second the roommate finally did emerge from her room, Shawn took another gulp from his beer and averted his eyes back to the screen. Way to show some interest.

"Stella, have you seen my knife?" she asked from the doorway.

Not surprising in the slightest. And they've all known her for about thirty minutes.

"No, what have you been using to open your boxes?" Stella asked.

"A pencil, and it sucks."

"You're using a-"

"Yes, you can stab with any item if you try hard enough!" the roommate said impatiently. "Now have you seen my pocket knife? It's black and teal?"

Shawn didn't know what possessed him to snatch up the item on the coffee table and hold it up to the roommate. But he did it, and he could only hope he didn't look crazy. "This one?"

Her dark eyes lit up as she took the item. "Thanks, dude." With a flick of her finger, she switched the blade open and swiftly went back to her room.

Was Shawn drunk or was that kinda hot?

Like magnets, Shawn and Brian turned to each other with similar looks on their faces. They both silently agreed, yes, this girl is probably definitely a badass and kinda hot. Did you see the legs on her? Shawn quirked his eyebrows and paid attention to the TV again, even though they were in between races.

"I know that look," Stella said, her bubbly tone turning for the first time that evening.

Talk about being a deer in headlights...

"What look?" Camila asked.

"You know, when we see a cute person and silently agree on how cute they are. And you silently decide which one of you is gonna make a move."

"Oh, that look." Camila smiled, glancing at the two blushing boys.

Shawn wanted to argue, but his mind was on a pair of beautiful legs and a sexy knife. This time, when the door opened again, his heart skipped a beat. What the hell is happening?

"Hey, Stella," the roommate said again. She was holding a pair of thick, platform ankle boots. "Do we have any shoe polish?"

The boots alone put Shawn's mind on overdrive. He had to have this girl. He had to see those legs with those boots. He took another hefty gulp of his beer and tried to settle his… everything. He was very much attracted to this girl, but it's not like he could perform again after doing so a couple of hours ago. That's what was so weird. Shawn was physically spent, but he still found himself eyeing someone new. He was insanely curious about this girl, and not just her legs. Why does she have boots like that? Why was she wearing such a beat up t-shirt? Why was she so late to unpack?

"I don't have any, I know that much," Stella told her, and back into the room she went.

"Is she seeing anybody?" Shawn asked, unable to control herself.

Stella raised her eyebrows, surprised. "She doesn't want me telling you her business."

"So that's a yes?"

"It means I'm not telling you her business."

"Oh, so I should ask her directly?"

"No!"

"Can I talk to her?" Brian asked.

"No!" Stella snapped. She sighed and glanced at the bedroom door. Then she leaned in towards the group and spoke quietly. "She's going through something right now. If either of you try anything, she will bite your head off. Trust me, I've seen it happen."

Shawn chuckled, only taking this as a challenge. "A feisty one, eh? Nothing I can't handle."

Stella looked him dead in the eyes. "She has a pocket knife, and she's not afraid to use it."

It was silent apart from the game's music playing from the TV. Then, Camila spoke up.

"You two are some of the thirstiest people I've ever met. Just have fun with your friends and stop thinking about getting laid for a second!"  She lightly smacked Shawn on his shoulder. "You literally had a one night stand before you got here!" Then she turned to Stella. "And what kind of people do you room with? She's so unlike you! Like, I have so many questions."

So it wasn't only Shawn and Brian who were curious about this mystery girl.

"She is my friend," Stella firmly replied. "We have things in common that have nothing to do with how we dress ourselves. And again, she is not in a place for whatever Tweedledee and Tweedledum have in mind."

Her optimism and perkiness was long gone. She was completely serious and defensive, so Shawn let it go for now. Besides, it's not like he didn't have another option in the floor above. Although, that didn't seem so appealing anymore. He hadn't seen anything like this mysterious roommate, and he was interested in solving that mystery.

"What's her name, anyway? You gotta tell me that at least," he said to Stella.

"Ann. Annalise Flores."

Little did Shawn know, Annalise Flores would be the one to give him the air he breathes.

~

I chuckled, completely blown away by this little anecdote. "How do you remember this and I don't?"

Shawn shrugged, his eyes still on the road. "You were busy, and probably isolating yourself, so that's why you don't remember. No one has ever stood out to me so much in the span of five minutes the way you did. I knew that night wouldn't be the last time I saw you. And I was right."

My cheeks were burning, and I couldn't help but smile. "Well, Stella was right. I had just broken up with Luca at that time. The depression set me back a little bit, so that's why I was unpacking so late. And I didn't want anyone trying to pursue me. So I'm glad you didn't make your move that night."

It was a soft moment in the midst of the weird, awkward circumstances we had put ourselves into. Shawn knew how to bring light to times like these, and it reminded me of why I adored him so much.

_______

taglist: @normalcyisoverrated-beyou @ilsolee @mendesromano @1-800-khalid-mendussy @kitykatnumber @strangerliaa @dylshoney @iloveshawnieboi @poppyshawn @shawnsunflower @shawnvvmendes @calyumthomas

[amisbro]

My UtaPri Concert Report

So today I saw the UtaPri Concert “Maji Love Live Kingdom” today and it was an interesting experience.  It was interesting in that it shows me sometimes why I need to NOT let people hype up something to me before I see it/play it (if we are talking about a game) because sometimes people overhype something to a point where there is NO WAY it can live up to the expectations that were put forth by a fandom. So let me get into this First off the fact that I am actually UP is a testament to the fact that I drank a lot of caffeine...and its event day in EnStars so I got that to look forward to at 2 AM! I left for the theater at about...8:40 (in the Morning) and got there at about 10:30 ,got my ticket and then went and got some popcorn and a drink to get ready to settle in...that took me a minute though because the Auditorium it was being shown in DIDN’T have a sign but to be fair they are also showing “Tokyo Ghoul S” this week so I can give that a pass...still confusing but I figured it out on my own after about 10 minutes! The next part I need to explain the seat configuration So in the theater there are like rows of seats and then space so people can walk.  I was in the first section where I came into the theater (Section D I think) and took my seat which was right near the stairs so I could walk out when I needed to.  For anyone that has anyone that is handicapped you will be happy to know that they have seats that are clearly marked for Handicapped patrons in each row...this doesn’t come into a factor with me but I thought I would point this out. The actual show started at about 11:02-05 and it went through some of the usual credits but when it actually started it was...”interesting” So the thing opens up and when it does they decide they are going to shoot it so that you can’t see the bottom half of the characters but you COULD see the footwear.  This is borderline dumb since we have seen the trailers by now so trying to conceal the identity of the characters (considering we already know the cast) is kind of “Eh�� but we roll with it because when they do the actual “Roll Call” for the characters its at least clever enough that you go “Oh well that’s cool” and it can still get you kind of amped for it After the character intros this way (and it wouldn’t be the last) we see the train really head off to the Tokyo Dome for the big concert NOW...we are going to talk about the actual setlist but before that a little detour Do y’all remember the ‘”Feather in the Hand” and “Egoistic” events in Shining Live?  Yeah turns out that the events with Masa/Camus and Ran/Natsuki were pseudo spoilers for the movie...sigh! Now to talk about the actual show but really...there isn’t a lot to talk about and by that I mean this! For some reason ,when they did the set list, they made a conscious decision to NOT have the songs be played in full unless it was all the group songs which I found curious.  We already bought the shuffles so WHY would you have them do the “Abbreviated” versions?  It makes legitimately no sense because...I can play all the songs from the movie IN FULL and wasting $15 to hear a “Medley” of the shuffles is kind of dumb.  I think people need to really think about that and make a bit more of a stink about it because doing that makes it feel like its a rush job and the irony of that is that I don’t think we had any stages that were under 2 hours except MAYBE the first one ever.  The fact that they would make an Animated one shorter than a real one and at a real one they have an EVEN LONGER set list is kind of stupid in my opinion.  I came to see a concert and not people speedrunning songs You know what they took their time with though? THE MCs! Okay so to put this in perspective there was the MC that we have just about all seen the trailer for ,a series of MCs that dealt with each song (and I will tell you now:  When “Feather in the Hand” came up I legit checked out mentally) and then they did one after they did another medley of group songs Okay so I won’t gloss over this:  Here was the order that they did the two group medleys in (and I will tell you also the ones I liked the most in them) 1st Medley STARISH - Fantastic Prelude (I think that was the name of it right?  I played it in SL once) QUARTET NIGHT - World is Mine HEAVENS - GIRA SEVEN (This was legit my favorite of them all for this one) 2nd Medley HEAVENS - Secret Shangri-La QUARTET NIGHT - FLY TO THE FUTURE (This was my personal favorite of the three) STARISH - Ultra Blast Legitimately speaking:  These two medleys and the MCs were what took up the majority of the concert time.  I think I legit said this out loud in the theater “You know...if you didn’t have these long ass MCs you MIGHT be able to get more songs in...I hear HEAVENS had some singles not used” For almost all of the actual shuffle performances I audibly said “I don’t understand the concept they are going for here” I REALLY said this when Kira and Reiji did the motion where they were clawing at their arms...I had NO IDEA what the f**k that was all about Oh and I also said this during the MC for “Feather in the Hand” “F**k you Maeno” (Really I should have said “Camus” and not “Maeno” but I was still legit pissed at that trio) For reasons that still are lost on me they decided to replay things from Season 4 and especially one of HEAVENS’ lowest moments...not that any STARISH fan that was in that theater would have given a crystal s**t but they did and I was cluess as to why but then again I was still clueless why we had a long ass MC before the final song which was “Maji Love Kingdom”. I went in wanting to like this concert so much and I think if I get to see it again without trying to review it MAYBE I will like it more...still won’t be happy about the whole thing with the Eiji/Camus/Masa shuffle and between “Egoistic” and the one from Reiji/Ren/Kira those songs confused me greatly in concept and that is something I look for greatly when I have to watch a performance.  I can watch the Joker Trap one and get a better idea of what they were doing than damn near any of the MLKingdom ones Alright I have to give this highlight The first MC right:  We don’t get Camus calling us “Fools” BUT we do get something ELSE! When Reiji addressed the audience at one point he said “My Girls” AND “My Guys”!  The best part about that was Reiji made male members cheer louder when he said “My Guys” and it was awesome! Now...was this a “bad” experience for me?  No not really...just wasn’t what I was hoping for when you get a “concert” and instead of getting an experience where they are playing “full songs” it felt like a “Lighting Round” which made me wonder really “What did you do for 3 years?” I also have this issue with any of the groups calling the others rivals...STARISH and QN?  Okay that works but HEAVENS saying it is like SANADA in New Japan saying Okada was his...the difference there was in real life SANADA actually got a win and HEAVENS can’t buy one and have to lick STARISH’s boots from now to eternity...yeah that pisses me off! ANYWHO Go see this if you are dying to see a UtaPri concert Animated and if you are a STARISH or QN fan (and I am a definite QN fan) then you are in HEAVEN (Pardon the pun) If you are a HEAVENS fan...it almost felt like STARISH wants to have the door close on us so they don’t have to take the L on the way out...despite the fact that they DID lose in real life to HEAVENS in the Oricon but why sweat the details right?! Anywho you take care and I shall talk to you later

[nardaviel]

after the fire: an analysis of kinshirou with borderline personality disorder

The headcanon that Kinshirou has Borderine Personality Disorder has been going around for a while, often with little explanation to follow it. This is probably partly my fault, since I’m one of the first people who voiced it, back near the end of season 1. So it’s time for a post explaining the reasoning for my headcanon that Kinshirou is heavily coded as BPD, and the reasons why this headcanon is so close to my heart, even compared to my other slightly self-inserty mental illness headcanons about my faves.

First off, a disclaimer: I’m far from an expert in the field. I’m not totally ignorant either, I don’t think? I’ve been diagnosed with BPD by a psychologist and done a fair amount of reading about abnormal psychology, as well as taken a class, not about BPD, but about a different personality disorder. Still, that doesn’t take the place of a degree in medicine or psychology.

People with BPD are like people with third degree burns over 90% of their bodies. Lacking emotional skin, they feel agony at the slightest touch or movement. —Marsha Linehan

To start out with, let’s define Borderline Personality Disorder.

...is how I’d like to begin this post, but it’s hard to do. BPD can be a nebulous disorder, and it has a lot of overlap with other mental illnesses, most notably PTSD. As well, it has a history of being poorly understood and stigmatized, even within the healthcare field. Calling a patient “borderline” in conversations between those in the field often really means “uncooperative patient I don’t like to work with”. Outside the field, it gets real bad, real fast. I myself have been shocked by an otherwise wonderful loved one spilling anti-BPD vitriol to my face after hearing my diagnosis. It’s to the point where there’s some confusion with diagnosis; difficult non-borderline patients are diagnosed as borderline when the psychologist is at their wits’ end, but conversely, people who have the disorder are often not formally diagnosed in order to avoid having that stain on their medical record.

I’m telling you all this because the concept of stigma will become important again much later in the analysis. Remember it.

Even if it’s hard to define BPD, we have to start somewhere. Since there’s nothing better that’s easily available to us, we’ll just go with the DSM-5.

Borderline Personality Disorder Diagnostic Criteria

A pervasive pattern of instability of interpersonal relationships, self-image, and affects, marked impulsivity, beginning by early adulthood and present in a variety of contexts, as indicated by five (or more) of the following:

Frantic efforts to avoid real or imagined abandonment. (Note: Do not include suicidal or self-mutilating behavior covered in Criterion 5.)

A pattern of unstable and intense personal relationships characterized by alternating between extremes of idealization and devaluation.

Identity disturbance: markedly and persistently unstable self-image or sense of self.

Impulsivity in at least two areas that are potentially self-damaging (e.g., spending, sex, substance abuse, reckless driving, binge eating). (Note: Do not include suicidal or self-mutilating behavior covered in Criterion 5.)

Recurrent suicidal behavior, gestures, or threats, or self-mutilating behavior.

Affective instability due to a marked reactivity of mood (e.g., intense episodic dysphoria, irritability, or anxiety usually lasting a few hours and only rarely more than a few days).

Chronic feelings of emptiness.

Inappropriate, intense anger or difficulty controlling anger (e.g., frequent displays of temper, constant anger, recurrent physical fights).

Transient, stress-related paranoid ideation or severe dissociative symptoms.

As well as the diagnostic criteria from the DSM, I should note that factors that are thought to lead to BPD include genetics, brain abnormalities, and childhood abuse or neglect.

Now that that’s done, we can start talking about Kin-chan, which is what you were really here for all along. I’ll just say up front that I don’t believe Kinshirou shows signs of all nine symptoms, but that’s okay. He doesn’t need to.

“Frantic efforts to avoid real or imagined abandonment” can be generalized here to overwhelming abandonment fear, a key facet of BPD. It interacts unpleasantly with the black-and-white thinking mentioned in criterion 2, also known as splitting, and the extreme emotions in criterion 6. The effect of all those symptoms mixed together is that a slight rejection, real or imagined, is seen as the final, inarguable abandonment, the borderline’s worst fear but one that they knew would inevitably become real. The despair, anger, and sense of betrayal overwhelm the borderline. Idealization turns to devaluation; in other words, the loved one that they idolized and saw, perhaps, as unrealistically perfect is now perceived as a shameless traitor, the worst person to have ever lived. I’m not exaggerating.

From the outside, this might look like, for example, your friend refusing to talk to you for years because you got food with someone else, and in doing so, broke the solemn oath of eternal friendship that you didn’t actually make. It’s a bizarre experience. People can be forgiven for being taken aback.

So that’s what happens to Kinshirou. Atsushi doesn’t even intend to slight him, but he sees the curry incident as a total abandonment. He must, in order to think it amounts to breaking their oath.

His devaluation wavers a little in season 1, episode 7, when Atsushi offers him a hand while he’s lost and disoriented. But when En speaks up, it flares back, as strong as ever. Then, at the end of season 1, when Atsushi makes it clear that he still wants Kinshirou’s friendship, you can almost see the switch flipping back to idealization. Kinshirou yells at him, sure, but it’s more along the lines of, “Why are you so kind? Why weren’t you meaner to me, like I deserve?” Self-loathing is another common element of BPD, by the way. It’s a possible manifestation of the unstable sense of self-image.

You can also check out Kinshirou’s reaction when he thinks Atsushi hasn’t showed up at the airport. Could he be late? Could it be that he was delayed by something? It doesn’t matter. The meaning of Atsushi’s new promise is enough to make the scene poignant even without the BPD diagnosis; Kinshirou has trusted Atsushi to keep the promise, even though his faith was broken before, and as far as he can tell, Atsushi has failed again.

But he looks for all the world like he’s starting to believe that he was wrong, and Atsushi didn’t bother to come because he doesn’t care about Kinshirou and never did, and Kinshirou should just give up on all this friendship stuff he’s been trying to learn, &c. He has literal tears in his eyes when he sees Atsushi outside his window. Again, that’s in line with the emotional extremes and reactivity described in criterion 6. In general, Kinshirou tries to seem very stiff and composed, but at this point I don’t think any of us are fooled. He has a lot of feelings.

So that’s criteria 1, 2, and 6. Three of five, and probably the most obvious ones.

On a more subtle level, there are elements of Kinshirou’s personality that shift, either abruptly or gradually, in response to major events. Criteria 3 and 7 are intertwined in much the same way as the three others I just discussed. A borderline often feels empty, as if they have no personality of their own. In response, they latch on to whoever they’re around and take on those people’s characteristics. They therefore seem to others to have a flighty or insincere personality, when on the inside, all the different, contradictory selves are genuine at the time.

So, Kinshirou. In the ep4 flashback and in the beginning of the ep11 one, he seems sweet enough. He’s anxious and a little clingy (again, abandonment fear), as shown by his wish and way he just wilts when Atsushi says he’s not coming over. Also, the way he watches Atsushi from behind a post, and the fact that Atsushi didn’t even feel like he could say where he was going. Why not? How did he think Kinshirou would react?

He’s the follower in their friendship, not the leader. We can infer that Atsushi is the one who took them out to see the stars, since Atsushi is the one who says, “Meteor showers are cool, huh?” as if to say, I told you this would be fun! Kinshirou tells Atsushi his wish is childish, which is itself a subtle sign of anxiety when it comes from a tiny child. But even though he doesn’t think there’s a point to wishing on stars, he does it when Atsushi does. He molds himself around Atsushi’s action, discarding his previous idea in favor of being like Atsushi.

All that vanishes when he decides Atsushi has abandoned him. Atsushi was his favorite person, or FP, an important concept in BPD. The FP can be a friend, a romantic partner, whoever. They receive the greatest part of the borderline’s devotion and affection, which are considerable, but they also bear the brunt of the borderline’s instability and abandonment fear. And to all appearances, Kinshirou only had one friend. There’s nowhere for him to turn, no new person to latch on to. He’s completely alone, with no one to fill the emptiness he saw inside himself.

At the end of the episode 11 flashback, Kinshirou radiates fury. But more than that, there’s a contempt to the noise he makes when he turns away from Atsushi that seems out of place for the Kinshirou just a day ago, before their split. Within that one day, he’s started to collapse in on himself and become the boy we meet at the start of season 1.

And that boy has his own issues with identity. For a person with such a high regard for his own sense of morals, Kinshirou is shockingly morally flexible. It’s always important to note that while we know that the student council’s plot is laughable, they believe in it. We know that the monsters will be defeated in the end, and that in any case they’re sort of silly. And now that season 1 is over, we know that the whole thing is a charade anyway. But each time Kinshirou makes a monster, he hopes that this one will be able to defeat the Battle Lovers and...

...and do what? Destroy the world? Bring order to it? How? Their plan is incoherent, and seems to rely largely on Zundar’s ability to goad Kinshirou into cruelty. And that’s a lot easier than it should be, until you consider that Zundar plays an important role in Kinshirou’s emotional life for a while. He listens to Kinshirou and validates him, and is probably the closest thing he’s allowed himself to have to a new FP; it seems that he can’t bring himself to trust the student council with overt friendship in season 1.

But despite Zundar’s encouragement, when Kinshirou first begins to act as Aurite, he needs Zundar’s explicit instructions, and he seems a little uncertain of himself. The uncertainty fades over time, and he becomes able to discern promising victims on his own. By the end of the series, he wears a cruel smile as he watches Rui run by or turns Uriya into a monster. He doesn’t grow as a character through most of season 1; instead, until episode 11, his arc is one of rapid moral decline.

When he finds out that Zundar has been lying to him the whole time, he doesn’t fly into a rage, as many of us expected. He refuses Zundar’s order with admirable composure, but there’s a hollowness in it, as well. And then he just stands there, empty. But then! His FP crashes back into his life, and he becomes a blushy, awkward tsundere.

That is an oversimplification. He still has a lot of issues, and he needs to work hard to change his negative patterns of thought and behavior. It’s a process that’ll continue past the end of the series. But, like I said earlier when I discussed splitting, it’s incredible how quickly much of it happens. With Atsushi back in his life to anchor him again, his personality undergoes another rapid change.

That’s 3 and 7 down. With 1, 2, 3, 6, and 7, we’ve hit our requisite 5 criteria, all of which are some of the strongest indicators of BPD.

So let’s talk about 8. Let’s talk about Kinshirou’s temper. On the whole, he controls himself, although sometimes it looks painfully difficult. You don’t see the frequent flare-ups of destructive temper that people usually associate with BPD. Instead, "constant anger” might be the closest descriptor. Kinshirou is an irritable person, particularly in season 1.

But then, of course, there’s Dark Aurite. I still think it’s up for debate how much control he had over his actions as Dark Aurite; he seems a lot like a sort of semi-monster to me. But that’s a topic for a different post. My point is that that entire scene is an example of destructive temper. He transforms into Aurite in a fit of anger, probably in order to intimidate, and then blows up Atsushi’s curry because Atsushi says the wrong thing. In the most generous interpretation, one where he has limited control over himself as Dark Aurite, he still chooses to become Dark Aurite, presumably knowing that it’ll grant him increased power to attack Atsushi. And in interpretations where there’s no alien technology affecting his mind, the entire battle is one long example of destructive temper.

Impulsivity for criterion 4 is a tough one, because he keeps such a tight rein on himself. That’s the opposite of impulsivity, really. But there’s a glaring example that has to be mentioned anyway: He goes around the world to Japan in about fifteen minutes because Atsushi didn’t answer a text message. That’s one area, then: impulsivity in his role as Aurite, which at one time was a source of comfort to him. Impulsivity in borderlines is typically just poor attempts at self-soothing. It probably helps Kinshirou to feel like he’s powerful and can control things that frighten him, such as Atsushi’s impending death.

Incidentally, that’s also another example of splitting, and, in a way, brutally suppressed fear of abandonment. It can’t be that Atsushi just lost his phone, no. Kinshirou is trying his very best to trust Atsushi, but true trust (or perhaps just reasonable, nuanced thinking, free of a borderline’s extremes) would take into account the possibility that Atsushi left his phone at school, or is in the middle of a tense conversation but will get back to Kinshirou as soon as he can, or whatever else might be the case. But in Kinshirou’s mind, Atsushi definitely won’t betray their friendship now, which means answering Kinshirou’s fake-casual texts unless his very life is in danger.

In the end, I’m not sure there’s enough evidence to say he qualifies as impulsive by borderline standards, but it’s worth noting that he can have tendencies in that direction.

Now I’m going to take just a second to cross off the criteria that I don’t see in Kinshirou.

It’s entirely possible to headcanon suicidal ideation or even self-harm in Kinshirou. I have some sympathy for that headcanon myself. But in this post, I’m talking about canon Kinshirou, and there’s no canon evidence to suggest anything listed in criterion 5. Nor is there any sign of transient psychosis or dissociation, as in criterion 9. There is that time he stands there, frozen, up on the roof at the end of season 1, but he snaps out of it pretty quickly when he’s in danger, so it doesn’t read as dissociation to me.

So if BPD is so strongly linked to childhood trauma, why would Kinshirou have it?

Well, he could have a genetic predisposition, you know. If you have that, sometimes it doesn’t take much extra prodding. But honestly, this is where it gets into headcanon territory. I can explain how he fits the diagnosis, but as for the causes, there’s not much to say one way or the other. The only hint we have is in chapter 9 of the seifukubu manga, where he and Arima seem to connect. Arima, certainly, is miserable and lonely, and there are worried little creases under his eyes that Kinshirou shares (and that Atsushi notably does not). So does that mean Kinshirou faced a childhood of abuse or neglect? No. Not necessarily. It’s not nearly enough evidence that we can decisively say anything like that. I have my own opinion, but I can’t support my BPD headcanon by just citing another headcanon. So it doesn’t really matter what I think.

Okay, that’s fine, Libby. But why does it matter so much to you?

Remember that stigma I was talking about?

Here is Wikipedia’s list of BPD examples in fiction.

Common cultural tropes associated with borderline personality include the “crazy ex-girlfriend,” “crazy mother,” and pretty much every “crazy woman” stereotype out there. ( x )

Look at all these tropes about love, rejection, and “craziness”. Look at the tone they generally take towards the woman in question—because let’s be real, it’s usually a woman. No one wants to be thought of that way, and yet those stereotypes all echo BPD, or popular perceptions of it. Borderlines see ourselves in these tropes and these stories of unhinged, typically irredeemable characters.

The second segment of this video discusses the inescapable “crazy ex-girlfriend” trope, and mentions the way studio audiences changed the ending of Fatal Attraction because they disliked an ending that was more sympathetic to Alex. Society is actively hostile towards sympathetic portrayals of the crazy ex-girlfriend. Maybe that’s why our representation is so bad.

The segment also features this quote: "There are no male equivalents [to this trope], are there? Can you think of a single film where a man would behave in such a way?" There are probably some examples, but generally, it's a trope for women, the same way BPD diagnoses are skewed along gendered lines for various unfortunate reasons that you can read about at length elsewhere. All I want to say about them here is that it’s lovely that Boueibu included a character who fits the crazy ex trope so well. It’s genuinely heartwarming to me to see representation for BPD men, especially those who present more the way people expect BPD women to act.

But the real reason I love this headcanon so much has more to do with the treatment and the fate of borderline-coded characters. Our representation in media is more or less what you’d expect, if you’ve read those links about how people see us. That is to say, it’s about as bad as it gets. Even when the character isn’t intended by the writers to have BPD—as I’m sure Kinshirou himself is not—the borderline coding shines through in the general crazy ex-girlfriend stereotype and its various relatives. Irrational, prone to taking things out of context or far out of proportion, often hysterical, sometimes dangerous... oh, and, without much actual personality. The role of the borderline-coded character isn’t to be a person. It’s to lose resoundingly, so that the real characters and the real people consuming the media can feel pleased and satisfied. 

Kinshirou fits the borderline-coded crazy ex trope, but he isn’t like that. He’s humanized, not dehumanized. He’s a person, with his own wants and hobbies and favorite foods, and a past trauma that we get to see and understand, even if it seems weird to a lot of us. He has friends, people who love him. Atsushi loves him, even though he’s been awful to Atsushi. Atsushi is willing to forgive him and give him another chance. And when Kinshirou finally gets that through his skull, he gets up off the ground and declares that he’s going to do better.

And then he does. He does start to do better. He’s capable of it. And even though it’s awkward and it doesn’t happen all at once, he’s accepted as he is, while he’s still a work in progress.

That’s so, so, so rare. I don’t want to say it’s never happened before, because there’s nothing new under the sun and so on, but I’d certainly never encountered anything like it before the end of season 1. Nuanced, ultimately positive borderline representation in a character I already loved, from a show I already adored. It’s probably the best thing Boueibu has given me, beating out such contenders as my first-ever period of normal mental health function. It's that important to me.

(And yes, by the way, I'm aware that there are stories out there about borderlines, written by borderlines. I think that they're valuable. But it means more to me when it comes from people who aren't actively trying to write about sympathetic borderlines, and the story probably reaches more people as well.)

On a less maudlin note, it’s important to everyone, the same way all representation is important. It gives borderlines hope, even if they aren’t consciously thinking in terms of representation or seeing themselves in the media they consume. It shifts non-borderlines’ perception of people who act like Kinshirou, hopefully in a positive direction.

That’s it for this post! Thanks to @vashtijoy for all her help, and thank you for reading this enormous wall of text, wow.

[jodyedgarus]

The Warriors And Rockets Have Reinvented Modern NBA Defense. Yes, Defense.

HOUSTON ��� The NBA Finals are considered the crown jewel of the playoffs for obvious reasons, but it’d be hard to argue with anyone who views this vaunted Western Conference finals matchup between the Golden State Warriors and Houston Rockets as this year’s main event.

The Warriors have two of the best three players in the world in their starting five, have won titles in two of the last three seasons, and appear borderline annoyed having to face questions about whether they’re concerned to be starting a series without home-court advantage for the first time in their recent championship era. The Rockets won an NBA-best 65 regular-season games, have likely MVP James Harden and future Hall of Famer Chris Paul in their backcourt and possess a group of sweet-shooting teammates who stretch the floor as if it’s made of Play-Doh.

The offensive firepower — Golden State and Houston finished No. 1 and No. 2 in offensive efficiency, and virtually averaged the same number of points per 100 plays — guarantees we’ll hear plenty about how well these teams score. But because of that, something else about the Rockets and Warriors may fly beneath the radar: The NBA’s two best clubs are even further ahead of the curve on defense. In a league that’s more reliant than ever on the pick-and-roll offense, these two defenses are unmatched when it comes to their versatility and ability to switch assignments on the fly.

Houston defended a screen-and-roll by switching on 1,406 possession chances during the regular season, while Golden State orchestrated 1,075 switches of its own, according to data from Second Spectrum and NBA Advanced Stats. The teams — who more than doubled the switch totals compiled by 20 other teams — were outliers from the rest of the league: The Lakers were the only other club that broke 800 switches over the course of the 2017-18 season.

https://fivethirtyeight.com/wp-content/uploads/2018/05/rox.mp4

And it isn’t just that the Warriors and Rockets switch a lot. They also use the strategy to fuel their high-octane offenses. Houston forced 3.5 turnovers per 100 switches, while Golden State forced 2.4, the best rates in the league, according to Second Spectrum.

https://fivethirtyeight.com/wp-content/uploads/2018/05/warriors.mp4

That ability — to be able to have two similarly sized players trade off their defensive responsibilities quickly enough during a pick-and-roll to where the offense doesn’t gain an edge because of it — speaks to the length and versatility the Western Conference foes have. And it takes on added importance in a matchup like this, where the Warriors and Rockets often use an array of screens (albeit differently1) to unlock their most lethal shooters beyond the 3-point line.

“You have to cover more ground than ever before. It’s amazing: Sometimes I’ll turn on the classic sports channel and find Lakers-Celtics games from the 1980s — some of the best games ever — and the game is played in this tiny little radius. Now it’s way out on the perimeter,” said Warriors coach Steve Kerr. “Every possession was, you dump it into the post, a double comes, and you might see six or eight threes taken in a game. But everything was different. The rules were different. The talent is different. Very few low-post players anymore. The league’s adapted. Coaches have adapted. Things are ever-changing. And you have to change along with that.”

Anyone who’s followed the Warriors’ dominance these past few years knows a huge chunk of that success stems from Golden State’s ability to go small and play Draymond Green — who may not even be an ideal height for a traditional small forward — at center. That alignment, with Andre Iguodala, gives the Warriors four long-limbed clones who are laterally quick enough and strong enough to cover almost anyone. Because of that defensive speed, Golden State has the luxury of being able to gamble a bit more on that end as it knows opposing offenses generally won’t be able to find mismatches, even if a switch has taken place.

“At the end of the day, It’s really just another way for us to cut off the other team’s options with our versatility,” said Green, the league’s reigning Defensive Player of the Year, who sometimes will call an audible — and move a teammate out of the way — before a screen even occurs to put himself in position to thwart a play.

https://fivethirtyeight.com/wp-content/uploads/2018/05/dray.mp4

Houston’s also made life difficult for opponents with its versatility on defense. By and large, the Rockets have been far more successful on defense than most would have guessed, jumping to sixth in defensive efficiency this season after ranking 21st and 18th in 2015-16 and 2016-17. Adding the sticky-handed Paul certainly factored into that improvement. But plugging free-agent signings Luc Mbah a Moute and P.J. Tucker into the lineup likely did even more for the team.

“Their ability to guard 1 through 5 makes it so much easier for us. That’s why we’re so much better on defense this year,” said Houston guard Eric Gordon of the duo, which sometimes shares the frontcourt despite neither man standing taller than 6-foot-8. (Nonetheless, the lineup pays dividends. Houston, trailing by 14 heading into the fourth at Portland in December, came back to win by seven while using Mbah a Moute and Tucker at the 4 and 5 the entire period.)

Mbah a Moute, in particular, has become a vital piece for Houston on defense. According to a defensive dashboard created by Nylon Calculus contributor Krishna Narsu, the wing’s versatility was highly unusual. This past season, he was one of just seven NBA players to spend at least 15 percent of his time on guarding each of the following positions: point guard, shooting guard, small forward and power forward.

Unsurprisingly, the Rockets struggled in his absence in the middle of the campaign, enduring a season-long five-game losing streak. Houston’s 101.2 defensive rating with Mbah a Moute on the court this season would rank best in the league on a team scale, while their 105.4 rating without him would have had them just slightly above average, at No. 12.

Above all else, Mbah a Moute and Tucker carry so much importance because they make Rockets coach Mike D’Antoni — one of the game’s brightest offensive minds who was never really known for switching with his defenses — more comfortable utilizing this style of play.

“To even have a chance against a team like Golden State, you have to make a point of not being put into rotations. They’ll kill you that way. So I’m just happy we have a roster full of guys to where it makes sense to be able to switch the way we do,” he said.

To be sure: Neither team is reinventing the wheel with this strategy on defense, even if they are using it far more than everyone else. On some level, this is no different than what the LeBron-era Miami Heat did when they rode small ball to a championship in 2012. (In fact, Kerr would be the first to tell you that he really never envisioned Green playing the rim-protection role he currently fills when he first took the Warriors’ job. “We didn’t know Draymond was Draymond yet,” he told me.) Beyond that, it wouldn’t be fair to gloss over how unbelievably dominant these teams are on offense, given how big a role their scoring plays.

Yet there are reasons to think that creative, well-timed switches will heavily factor into this series as the chess match of hunting for what they perceive to be mismatches unfolds.

The Warriors have made no secret of the fact that they like to post up Kevin Durant if and when they can spot him being guarded by Paul following a screen.

https://fivethirtyeight.com/wp-content/uploads/2018/05/durant.mp4

Meanwhile, Harden and the Rockets are even less shy about attacking Curry — they’ll often run multiple pick-and-rolls until they can get him on an island for a 1-on-1 matchup. In fact, they used this tactic six times in a seven-possession span during the final four minutes of the last meeting between the clubs in January.

“We’re just gonna watch film and find ways to attack them offensively,” Harden told me when I asked specifically about those sequences. “We’ll take our shots, play unselfishly. Pretty simple.”

Curry thinks this will mean isolating him the same way this series. “I hope it’s every single play,” he told The Athletic’s Anthony Slater. “When you look at the Hamptons Five lineup that’s out there, I would probably do the same exact thing if I was coaching against me. You’ve got Klay, Andre, Draymond and KD out there. I embrace those opportunity to get stops and to make it tough in those iso situations and just do my job.”

A likely MVP seeking out a former MVP for a 1-on-1 matchup, for the right to play in the Finals. A pretty cool outcome, all because of how these juggernauts force and handle switches.

from News About Sports https://fivethirtyeight.com/features/the-warriors-and-rockets-have-reinvented-modern-nba-defense-yes-defense/

[madpicks]

New Post has been published on https://www.madpicks.com/sports/mlb/autopsy-angels-ninth-inning-comeback-mariners/

An autopsy of the Angels’ ninth-inning comeback against the Mariners

Did the Mariners play bad baseball? Did the Angels play good baseball? Was there a lot of dumb baseball mixed between? Yes.

My Dearest Mariners fans,

This is a cruel post. Do not think for a moment that I am unaware of this important fact. However, it is a fair post. It was less than a year ago that we were in this same spot, talking about an impossible Mariners comeback. This is the spiritual sequel to that game.

In this sequel, our hero wakes up drunk and disheveled, which lets the audience know that a lot has happened between the first movie and now.

Again, apologies. But there’s a part of me that knows Mariners fans have had it too easy lately, so it’s time to dig into the Angels’ seven-run comeback in the bottom of the ninth inning on Sunday.

The reason is simple: Baseball is defined as a series of meaningless events that occur between innings like this. Every time you’re watching the ninth inning of a game with a team down by six, there’s a large part of you that’s wondering why in the heck you’re wasting your time. There’s a much smaller part of you that realizes there’s still a chance Cliff Pennington could rope a 98-mph fastball into the gap the second time he bats in the inning.

This is a victory for that small, foolish, and dominant part of your sports brain. This is why you’ll waste hundreds and hundreds of hours in your life waiting for comebacks that never happen. And we need to play a game while performing the postmortem. Was this the Mariners playing bad baseball? Or was this baseball being a jerk?

Before rolling the tape and going batter by batter, I’m going to assume it’s both. It’s probably both. If you want to duck out, I understand.

Batter #1 – Albert Pujols (home run)

I have selected the new cover for my children’s book, Don’t Throw Albert Pujols a First-Pitch Fastball There, Dummy, in which I use a classic Goofus/Gallant setup to praise smart kids and excoriate dumb ones. This is the cover:

The camera angle makes that look more outside than it was. From Brooks Baseball, here’s what the pitch looked like from the catcher’s perspective:

However, it’s not fair to jump on Casey Fien for that pitch. He had a six-run lead. What, you want him to nibble? Throw a breaking ball? Risk getting behind in the at-bat because you’re scared that a museum exhibit was going to turn on it? The only thing worse than that pitch location was any location out of the one. That would have meant getting behind 1-0 and putting a runner on for free.

Fien should be commended for challenging the hitter. Let me just take a big sip out of this “Fien should be commended for challenging the hitter and not walking him” coffee mug and see how the rest of the inning went down …

Bad baseball or baseball being a jerk? I want it to be the latter because no pitcher should be reprimanded for a get-it-in fastball with a six-run lead, but … well, there’s no getting around how Pujols-friendly that location was.

Ruling: Bad baseball

Batter #2 – Cliff Pennington (walk)

Pennington was a defensive replacement, because of course he was. He’s hit .209/.283/.293 in 382 at-bats over the last couple years, and those are numbers that help players retire early. If you were surprised he was on a major league roster, don’t be. If you had asked me before yesterday, I might have guessed that he was active from 1999 to 2007.

And on the fifth pitch of the at-bat, he hit the baseball so poorly, it went about 14 inches from home plate.

It was foul by this much:

These aren’t things the hitter or pitcher control, really. If this seems like beginner-baseball to you, I apologize, but after about 15,000 hours watching baseball in my lifetime, it still blows me away. Before every big hit, every huge baseball moment, there’s probably a batter screwing up and not doing what he wants to.

If you think about it, every foul ball is a batter screwing up and not doing what he wants to, he says, wide-eyed and dead serious, as smoke swirls around the dorm room.

So in a way, you don’t want to be too hard on Casey Fien because he almost did his job. Technically, he did do it. He got Pennington to hit the ball where he didn’t want to.

In another, more accurate and important, way, Fien walked Cliff Pennington with a five-run lead in the ninth inning.

Bad baseball or baseball being a jerk?

Ruling: Bad baseball

And how!

Batter #3 – C.J. Cron (single)

There’s a mound visit before this at-bat, in which Mel Stottlemyre Jr. probably growled something like, “You know that was Cliff Pennington, right?” The overall message likely had something to do with throwing strikes, perhaps with some swear words, or at least a grawlix mixed in.

So Fien threw a strike. Or, at least, he tried to. It was an inside curveball that might have been a ball, according to Brooks Baseball and PITCHf/x:

Looped over short for a single. Finally, we have an unambiguous one to give to the Mariners.

Bad baseball or baseball being a jerk?

Ruling: Baseball being a jerk

Two on, no outs, but the lead is still five. No big deal. Just can’t walk anyone else, ha ha.

Batter #4 – Ben Revere (BB)

You cannot walk Ben Revere to load the bases with a five-run lead. Of all batters, up to and including a few pitchers, this is the one active player who absolutely cannot be walked in this situation. Walking a player with six career home runs in 3,044 plate appearances is a mortal sin against the sport.

To be fair, the first pitch might have been the worst non-strike of the young season:

Alas, but it missed the target, which forced a catcher-stab.

That’s Carlos Ruiz behind the plate, which is an ironic name for the rookie, considering that it’s the same name as a long-time veteran catcher. Unless … no, it can’t be.

After another borderline call for ball, Fien completely loses his feel and throws two pitches that aren’t even remotely close. He did it. He walked Ben Revere to load the bases with a five-run lead.

I can’t have been the first one to do this, but just in case …

Bad baseball or baseball being a jerk?

Ruling: The worst baseball

Batter # 5 – Danny Espinosa (ground out)

Edwin Diaz, a minotaur wearing human skin, is in the game now, and he’ll surely restore some order. A couple of batters might get lucky against him, but not three or four in a row, right?

Danny Espinosa grounded out on the second pitch, a 96-mph fastball that was just above the knees. Really, I’m in favor of Espinosa getting credit for a single in the box score, just for making contact. Moral victory.

This is baseball being a jerk, however, because Espinosa hit the ball so poorly, the Mariners couldn’t turn a double play, and it brought a run home. It makes me pine for an alternate timeline where baseball evolved to have a judge who could reverse the outcome of a play if the contact is crappy enough.

ANNOUNCER: And, yes, Judge Joe West is on the field, and he’s ruling that a double play. The crowd doesn’t like it, but that’s the right call.

I don’t see how that could possibly go wrong.

Bad baseball or baseball being a jerk?

Ruling: Baseball being a jerk

Batter #6 – Martin Maldonado (strikeout)

Maldonado took the first pitch, which was a 97-mph fastball roughly where Pujols’ home run pitch was. That was probably the pitch to swing at.

As is, Diaz did what he needed to do, which was get some quick outs. Maldonado struck out on a wicked fastball down in the strike zone, as one does against Edwin Diaz.

This was the fifth pitch of the at-bat, and PITCHf/x had it as being right on the corner:

All catchers stab throughout the season. Some catchers stab more than most. I have no idea which one Ruiz is, but it’s probably something to watch, Mariners fans.

(Also, I am completely aware that every last Mariners fan has already closed the tab, and I’m free to write incredibly nasty things about them. Ken Griffey, Jr. was overrated! Edgar Martinez shouldn’t be in the Hall of Fame! Harold Reynolds is your fault!)

Bad baseball or baseball being a jerk?

Ruling: Perfectly normal baseball

Batter #7 – Yuñel Escobar (double)

Not every moment of a seven-run comeback will be fair. That’s the point, see. The Mariners are in a death spiral early in the season, and it feels like everything is going against them.

That’s because it is!

Escobar pounded the fastball right into the ground, which is most assuredly what he did not want to do. Good job, Edwin. That is some good pitching.

Double.

Not only is it a double, but it brings the tying run to the plate. Now Diaz can’t pump fastballs down the middle, daring hitters to make contact. Now there has to be nuance. Now there has to be precision.

Bad baseball or baseball being a jerk?

Ruling: Baseball being a jerk

Batter #8 – Kole Calhoun (walk)

And where there has to be nuance and precision, there just might be the tendency to grip a baseball a little tighter. Whatever you do, don’t look in the on-deck circle, because there’s absolutely no one in there, certainly not Mike Trout. I SAID DON’T LOOK, EDWIN, why would you look?

Diaz walked Calhoun on four pitches, and the first three pitches weren’t even close. The fourth pitch, well …

And if you’re wondering about the framing …

I’m not an expert on catching. I would also assume that catching Edwin Diaz is one of the hardest jobs in baseball. Don’t take three GIFs and turn them into a narrative. Carlos Ruiz might be a fine defensive catcher in his advanced age.

According to StatCorner, though, he’s been among the worst framers in baseball over the last four seasons. The next time you hear someone making fun of pitch-framing metrics that overestimate the value of a plus-framing catcher, remember this game. With a superior framer, the Mariners might not have blown a six-run lead in the ninth inning.

Still, the first three pitches were on Diaz, and he needed to throw a pitch down the middle there, not nibble on the corners.

Bad baseball or baseball being a jerk?

Ruling: Bad baseball

Batter #9 – Mike Trout (walk)

In which Mike Trout represents the winning run.

You would have done the same damned thing.

Bad baseball or baseball being a jerk?

Ruling: Good baseball, probably

Batter #10 – Albert Pujols (single)

In on the fists at 97 mph. Pujols was late. This is the hit that tied the game.

Before we chalk this up to baseball being a jerk, though, let’s side-eye Danny Valencia, who was making the 29th start of his career at first base. The ball wasn’t hit that hard, was it?

Seems like a ball that should have been knocked down, at least, but that’s a subjective judgment.

If you’re wondering how many opposite-field grounders Pujols got hits with last year, FanGraphs has the answer.

So, again, we have Diaz doing what he wants to do, combined with a hitter screwing up because he wasn’t ready for it. At the same time, we have a fielder who took three steps and fell down, but didn’t do it in time to stop the ball from leaving the infield. What to do in this case?

How do you grade this one?

Bad baseball or baseball being a jerk?

Ruling: Baseball

Batter #10 – Cliff Pennington (double)

When a pitcher throws a first-pitch 98-mph fastball low in the strike zone to Cliff Pennington, he should feel like he’s done a Very Good Baseball Thing.

Pennington, of course, murdered the baseball.

Mitch Haniger’s route to the ball was more of a ¶ than a , but I’m not sure how many right fielders in baseball catch that. Just like the note up there about not being too skeptical about catcher-framing metrics, maybe this is a play you can remember the next time you’re furrowing your brow at Jason Heyward’s perceived defensive value.

Regardless, Pennington ripped it, and it deserved to be a hit, even if Diaz made his pitch.

Bad baseball or baseball being a jerk?

Ruling: Baseball

Maybe the whole “baseball being a jerk” construction was unnecessary. Baseball is already in there. Calling it a jerk is being redundant. Baseball is the kind of game that leads to Cliff Pennington being covered in baby powder.

And it’s the kind of game that can lead to this collection of extremely Mariners faces:

This was the game the Mariners put on their credit card last June, and they’ve been ignoring the minimum payments for months. It was incredibly unfair to Edwin Diaz, who got two quick outs and made just a couple of mistakes. It was incredibly unfair to Mariners fans, who were probably the only people who bothered watching the ninth inning.

It was the kind of ninth inning most of us dream about over and over when our teams are in a seemingly impossible situation. We dream and hope and what-if our way through the entire ninth inning, even though it never happens.

And then one day it does. It’s what keeps us coming back. The Angels came back from six runs down in the ninth inning, and they did it with walks, poorly hit baseballs, crushed baseballs, sketchy defense on the other side, and everything in between.

It was a very normal inning, in other words. You just have to stretch your definition of “normal,” which baseball is very good at making you do.

[junker-town]

An autopsy of the Angels’ ninth-inning comeback against the Mariners

Did the Mariners play bad baseball? Did the Angels play good baseball? Was there a lot of dumb baseball mixed between? Yes.

My Dearest Mariners fans,

This is a cruel post. Do not think for a moment that I am unaware of this important fact. However, it is a fair post. It was less than a year ago that we were in this same spot, talking about an impossible Mariners comeback. This is the spiritual sequel to that game.

In this sequel, our hero wakes up drunk and disheveled, which lets the audience know that a lot has happened between the first movie and now.

Again, apologies. But there’s a part of me that knows Mariners fans have had it too easy lately, so it’s time to dig into the Angels’ seven-run comeback in the bottom of the ninth inning on Sunday.

The reason is simple: Baseball is defined as a series of meaningless events that occur between innings like this. Every time you’re watching the ninth inning of a game with a team down by six, there’s a large part of you that’s wondering why in the heck you’re wasting your time. There’s a much smaller part of you that realizes there’s still a chance Cliff Pennington could rope a 98-mph fastball into the gap the second time he bats in the inning.

This is a victory for that small, foolish, and dominant part of your sports brain. This is why you’ll waste hundreds and hundreds of hours in your life waiting for comebacks that never happen. And we need to play a game while performing the postmortem. Was this the Mariners playing bad baseball? Or was this baseball being a jerk?

Before rolling the tape and going batter by batter, I’m going to assume it’s both. It’s probably both. If you want to duck out, I understand.

Batter #1 - Albert Pujols (home run)

I have selected the new cover for my children’s book, Don’t Throw Albert Pujols a First-Pitch Fastball There, Dummy, in which I use a classic Goofus/Gallant setup to praise smart kids and excoriate dumb ones. This is the cover:

The camera angle makes that look more outside than it was. From Brooks Baseball, here’s what the pitch looked like from the catcher’s perspective:

However, it’s not fair to jump on Casey Fien for that pitch. He had a six-run lead. What, you want him to nibble? Throw a breaking ball? Risk getting behind in the at-bat because you’re scared that a museum exhibit was going to turn on it? The only thing worse than that pitch location was any location out of the one. That would have meant getting behind 1-0 and putting a runner on for free.

Fien should be commended for challenging the hitter. Let me just take a big sip out of this “Fien should be commended for challenging the hitter and not walking him” coffee mug and see how the rest of the inning went down ...

Bad baseball or baseball being a jerk? I want it to be the latter because no pitcher should be reprimanded for a get-it-in fastball with a six-run lead, but ... well, there’s no getting around how Pujols-friendly that location was.

Ruling: Bad baseball

Batter #2 - Cliff Pennington (walk)

Pennington was a defensive replacement, because of course he was. He’s hit .209/.283/.293 in 382 at-bats over the last couple years, and those are numbers that help players retire early. If you were surprised he was on a major league roster, don’t be. If you had asked me before yesterday, I might have guessed that he was active from 1999 to 2007.

And on the fifth pitch of the at-bat, he hit the baseball so poorly, it went about 14 inches from home plate.

It was foul by this much:

These aren’t things the hitter or pitcher control, really. If this seems like beginner-baseball to you, I apologize, but after about 15,000 hours watching baseball in my lifetime, it still blows me away. Before every big hit, every huge baseball moment, there’s probably a batter screwing up and not doing what he wants to.

If you think about it, every foul ball is a batter screwing up and not doing what he wants to, he says, wide-eyed and dead serious, as smoke swirls around the dorm room.

So in a way, you don’t want to be too hard on Casey Fien because he almost did his job. Technically, he did do it. He got Pennington to hit the ball where he didn’t want to.

In another, more accurate and important, way, Fien walked Cliff Pennington with a five-run lead in the ninth inning.

Bad baseball or baseball being a jerk?

Ruling: Bad baseball

And how!

Batter #3 - C.J. Cron (single)

There’s a mound visit before this at-bat, in which Mel Stottlemyre Jr. probably growled something like, “You know that was Cliff Pennington, right?” The overall message likely had something to do with throwing strikes, perhaps with some swear words, or at least a grawlix mixed in.

So Fien threw a strike. Or, at least, he tried to. It was an inside curveball that might have been a ball, according to Brooks Baseball and PITCHf/x:

Looped over short for a single. Finally, we have an unambiguous one to give to the Mariners.

Bad baseball or baseball being a jerk?

Ruling: Baseball being a jerk

Two on, no outs, but the lead is still five. No big deal. Just can’t walk anyone else, ha ha.

Batter #4 - Ben Revere (BB)

You cannot walk Ben Revere to load the bases with a five-run lead. Of all batters, up to and including a few pitchers, this is the one active player who absolutely cannot be walked in this situation. Walking a player with six career home runs in 3,044 plate appearances is a mortal sin against the sport.

To be fair, the first pitch might have been the worst non-strike of the young season:

Alas, but it missed the target, which forced a catcher-stab.

That’s Carlos Ruiz behind the plate, which is an ironic name for the rookie, considering that it’s the same name as a long-time veteran catcher. Unless ... no, it can’t be.

After another borderline call for ball, Fien completely loses his feel and throws two pitches that aren’t even remotely close. He did it. He walked Ben Revere to load the bases with a five-run lead.

I can’t have been the first one to do this, but just in case ...

Bad baseball or baseball being a jerk?

Ruling: The worst baseball

Batter # 5 - Danny Espinosa (ground out)

Edwin Diaz, a minotaur wearing human skin, is in the game now, and he’ll surely restore some order. A couple of batters might get lucky against him, but not three or four in a row, right?

Danny Espinosa grounded out on the second pitch, a 96-mph fastball that was just above the knees. Really, I’m in favor of Espinosa getting credit for a single in the box score, just for making contact. Moral victory.

This is baseball being a jerk, however, because Espinosa hit the ball so poorly, the Mariners couldn’t turn a double play, and it brought a run home. It makes me pine for an alternate timeline where baseball evolved to have a judge who could reverse the outcome of a play if the contact is crappy enough.

ANNOUNCER: And, yes, Judge Joe West is on the field, and he’s ruling that a double play. The crowd doesn’t like it, but that’s the right call.

I don’t see how that could possibly go wrong.

Bad baseball or baseball being a jerk?

Ruling: Baseball being a jerk

Batter #6 - Martin Maldonado (strikeout)

Maldonado took the first pitch, which was a 97-mph fastball roughly where Pujols’ home run pitch was. That was probably the pitch to swing at.

As is, Diaz did what he needed to do, which was get some quick outs. Maldonado struck out on a wicked fastball down in the strike zone, as one does against Edwin Diaz.

This was the fifth pitch of the at-bat, and PITCHf/x had it as being right on the corner:

All catchers stab throughout the season. Some catchers stab more than most. I have no idea which one Ruiz is, but it’s probably something to watch, Mariners fans.

(Also, I am completely aware that every last Mariners fan has already closed the tab, and I’m free to write incredibly nasty things about them. Ken Griffey, Jr. was overrated! Edgar Martinez shouldn’t be in the Hall of Fame! Harold Reynolds is your fault!)

Bad baseball or baseball being a jerk?

Ruling: Perfectly normal baseball

Batter #7 - Yuñel Escobar (double)

Not every moment of a seven-run comeback will be fair. That’s the point, see. The Mariners are in a death spiral early in the season, and it feels like everything is going against them.

That’s because it is!

Escobar pounded the fastball right into the ground, which is most assuredly what he did not want to do. Good job, Edwin. That is some good pitching.

Double.

Not only is it a double, but it brings the tying run to the plate. Now Diaz can’t pump fastballs down the middle, daring hitters to make contact. Now there has to be nuance. Now there has to be precision.

Bad baseball or baseball being a jerk?

Ruling: Baseball being a jerk

Batter #8 - Kole Calhoun (walk)

And where there has to be nuance and precision, there just might be the tendency to grip a baseball a little tighter. Whatever you do, don’t look in the on-deck circle, because there’s absolutely no one in there, certainly not Mike Trout. I SAID DON’T LOOK, EDWIN, why would you look?

Diaz walked Calhoun on four pitches, and the first three pitches weren’t even close. The fourth pitch, well ...

And if you’re wondering about the framing ...

I’m not an expert on catching. I would also assume that catching Edwin Diaz is one of the hardest jobs in baseball. Don’t take three GIFs and turn them into a narrative. Carlos Ruiz might be a fine defensive catcher in his advanced age.

According to StatCorner, though, he’s been among the worst framers in baseball over the last four seasons. The next time you hear someone making fun of pitch-framing metrics that overestimate the value of a plus-framing catcher, remember this game. With a superior framer, the Mariners might not have blown a six-run lead in the ninth inning.

Still, the first three pitches were on Diaz, and he needed to throw a pitch down the middle there, not nibble on the corners.

Bad baseball or baseball being a jerk?

Ruling: Bad baseball

Batter #9 - Mike Trout (walk)

In which Mike Trout represents the winning run.

You would have done the same damned thing.

Bad baseball or baseball being a jerk?

Ruling: Good baseball, probably

Batter #10 - Albert Pujols (single)

In on the fists at 97 mph. Pujols was late. This is the hit that tied the game.

Before we chalk this up to baseball being a jerk, though, let’s side-eye Danny Valencia, who was making the 29th start of his career at first base. The ball wasn’t hit that hard, was it?

Seems like a ball that should have been knocked down, at least, but that’s a subjective judgment.

If you’re wondering how many opposite-field grounders Pujols got hits with last year, FanGraphs has the answer.

So, again, we have Diaz doing what he wants to do, combined with a hitter screwing up because he wasn’t ready for it. At the same time, we have a fielder who took three steps and fell down, but didn’t do it in time to stop the ball from leaving the infield. What to do in this case?

How do you grade this one?

Bad baseball or baseball being a jerk?

Ruling: Baseball

Batter #10 - Cliff Pennington (double)

When a pitcher throws a first-pitch 98-mph fastball low in the strike zone to Cliff Pennington, he should feel like he’s done a Very Good Baseball Thing.

Pennington, of course, murdered the baseball.

Mitch Haniger’s route to the ball was more of a ¶ than a \, but I’m not sure how many right fielders in baseball catch that. Just like the note up there about not being too skeptical about catcher-framing metrics, maybe this is a play you can remember the next time you’re furrowing your brow at Jason Heyward’s perceived defensive value.

Regardless, Pennington ripped it, and it deserved to be a hit, even if Diaz made his pitch.

Bad baseball or baseball being a jerk?

Ruling: Baseball

Maybe the whole “baseball being a jerk” construction was unnecessary. Baseball is already in there. Calling it a jerk is being redundant. Baseball is the kind of game that leads to Cliff Pennington being covered in baby powder.

And it’s the kind of game that can lead to this collection of extremely Mariners faces:

This was the game the Mariners put on their credit card last June, and they’ve been ignoring the minimum payments for months. It was incredibly unfair to Edwin Diaz, who got two quick outs and made just a couple of mistakes. It was incredibly unfair to Mariners fans, who were probably the only people who bothered watching the ninth inning.

It was the kind of ninth inning most of us dream about over and over when our teams are in a seemingly impossible situation. We dream and hope and what-if our way through the entire ninth inning, even though it never happens.

And then one day it does. It’s what keeps us coming back. The Angels came back from six runs down in the ninth inning, and they did it with walks, poorly hit baseballs, crushed baseballs, sketchy defense on the other side, and everything in between.

It was a very normal inning, in other words. You just have to stretch your definition of “normal,” which baseball is very good at making you do.