#i cannot look my parents in the eye and tell them that i spent money on a png. im soooo sorry.

[michaelenthusiast]

MICHAEL IN THE STYLE OF CHEYE SKUNKES CHIBIS

check out his art ♥️ @skunkes

[mostlysignssomeportents]

AI’s productivity theater

Support me this summer on the Clarion Write-A-Thon and help raise money for the Clarion Science Fiction and Fantasy Writers' Workshop!

When I took my kid to New Zealand with me on a book-tour, I was delighted to learn that grocery stores had special aisles where all the kids'-eye-level candy had been removed, to minimize nagging. What a great idea!

Related: countries around the world limit advertising to children, for two reasons:

1) Kids may not be stupid, but they are inexperienced, and that makes them gullible; and

2) Kids don't have money of their own, so their path to getting the stuff they see in ads is nagging their parents, which creates a natural constituency to support limits on kids' advertising (nagged parents).

There's something especially annoying about ads targeted at getting credulous people to coerce or torment other people on behalf of the advertiser. For example, AI companies spent millions targeting your boss in an effort to convince them that you can be replaced with a chatbot that absolutely, positively cannot do your job.

Your boss has no idea what your job entails, and is (not so) secretly convinced that you're a featherbedding parasite who only shows up for work because you fear the breadline, and not because your job is a) challenging, or b) rewarding:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/04/19/make-them-afraid/#fear-is-their-mind-killer

That makes them prime marks for chatbot-peddling AI pitchmen. Your boss would love to fire you and replace you with a chatbot. Chatbots don't unionize, they don't backtalk about stupid orders, and they don't experience any inconvenient moral injury when ordered to enshittify the product:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/11/25/moral-injury/#enshittification

Bosses are Bizarro-world Marxists. Like Marxists, your boss's worldview is organized around the principle that every dollar you take home in wages is a dollar that isn't available for executive bonuses, stock buybacks or dividends. That's why you boss is insatiably horny for firing you and replacing you with software. Software is cheaper, and it doesn't advocate for higher wages.

That makes your boss such an easy mark for AI pitchmen, which explains the vast gap between the valuation of AI companies and the utility of AI to the customers that buy those companies' products. As an investor, buying shares in AI might represent a bet the usefulness of AI – but for many of those investors, backing an AI company is actually a bet on your boss's credulity and contempt for you and your job.

But bosses' resemblance to toddlers doesn't end with their credulity. A toddler's path to getting that eye-height candy-bar goes through their exhausted parents. Your boss's path to realizing the productivity gains promised by an AI salesman runs through you.

A new research report from the Upwork Research Institute offers a look into the bizarre situation unfolding in workplaces where bosses have been conned into buying AI and now face the challenge of getting it to work as advertised:

https://www.upwork.com/research/ai-enhanced-work-models

The headline findings tell the whole story:

96% of bosses expect that AI will make their workers more productive;

85% of companies are either requiring or strongly encouraging workers to use AI;

49% of workers have no idea how AI is supposed to increase their productivity;

77% of workers say using AI decreases their productivity.

Working at an AI-equipped workplaces is like being the parent of a furious toddler who has bought a million Sea Monkey farms off the back page of a comic book, and is now destroying your life with demands that you figure out how to get the brine shrimp he ordered from a notorious Holocaust denier to wear little crowns like they do in the ad:

https://www.splcenter.org/fighting-hate/intelligence-report/2004/hitler-and-sea-monkeys

Bosses spend a lot of time thinking about your productivity. The "productivity paradox" shows a rapid, persistent decline in American worker productivity, starting in the 1970s and continuing to this day:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Productivity_paradox

The "paradox" refers to the growth of IT, which is sold as a productivity-increasing miracle. There are many theories to explain this paradox. One especially good theory came from the late David Graeber (rest in power), in his 2012 essay, "Of Flying Cars and the Declining Rate of Profit":

https://thebaffler.com/salvos/of-flying-cars-and-the-declining-rate-of-profit

Graeber proposes that the growth of IT was part of a wider shift in research approaches. Research was once dominated by weirdos (e.g. Jack Parsons, Oppenheimer, etc) who operated with relatively little red tape. The rise of IT coincides with the rise of "managerialism," the McKinseyoid drive to monitor, quantify and – above all – discipline the workforce. IT made it easier to generate these records, which also made it normal to expect these records.

Before long, every employee – including the "creatives" whose ideas were credited with the productivity gains of the American century until the 70s – was spending a huge amount of time (sometimes the majority of their working days) filling in forms, documenting their work, and generally producing a legible account of their day's work. All this data gave rise to a ballooning class of managers, who colonized every kind of institution – not just corporations, but also universities and government agencies, which were structured to resemble corporations (down to referring to voters or students as "customers").

Even if you think all that record-keeping might be useful, there's no denying that the more time you spend documenting your work, the less time you have to do your work. The solution to this was inevitably more IT, sold as a way to make the record-keeping easier. But adding IT to a bureaucracy is like adding lanes to a highway: the easier it is to demand fine-grained record-keeping, the more record-keeping will be demanded of you.

But that's not all that IT did for the workplace. There are a couple areas in which IT absolutely increased the profitability of the companies that invested in it.

First, IT allowed corporations to outsource production to low-waged countries in the global south, usually places with worse labor protection, weaker environmental laws, and easily bribed regulators. It's really hard to produce things in factories thousands of miles away, or to oversee remote workers in another country. But IT makes it possible to annihilate distance, time zone gaps, and language barriers. Corporations that figured out how to use IT to fire workers at home and exploit workers and despoil the environment in distant lands thrived. Executives who oversaw these projects rose through the ranks. For example, Tim Cook became the CEO of Apple thanks to his successes in moving production out of the USA and into China.

https://archive.is/M17qq

Outsourcing provided a sugar high that compensated for declining productivity…for a while. But eventually, all the gains to be had from outsourcing were realized, and companies needed a new source of cheap gains. That's where "bossware" came in: the automation of workforce monitoring and discipline. Bossware made it possible to monitor workers at the finest-grained levels, measuring everything from keystrokes to eyeball movements.

What's more, the declining power of the American worker – a nice bonus of the project to fire huge numbers of workers and ship their jobs overseas, which made the remainder terrified of losing their jobs and thus willing to eat a rasher of shit and ask for seconds – meant that bossware could be used to tie wages to metrics. It's not just gig workers who don't score consistent five star ratings from app users whose pay gets docked – it's also creative workers whose Youtube and Tiktok wages are cut for violating rules that they aren't allowed to know, because that might help them break the rules without being detected and punished:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/01/13/solidarity-forever/#tech-unions

Bossware dominates workplaces from public schools to hospitals, restaurants to call centers, and extends to your home and car, if you're working from home (AKA "living at work") or driving for Uber or Amazon:

https://pluralistic.net/2020/10/02/chickenized-by-arise/#arise

In providing a pretense for stealing wages, IT can increase profits, even as it reduces productivity:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/01/11/robots-stole-my-jerb/#computer-says-no

One way to think about how this works is through the automation-theory metaphor of a "centaur" and a "reverse centaur." In automation circles, a "centaur" is someone who is assisted by an automation tool – for example, when your boss uses AI to monitor your eyeballs in order to find excuses to steal your wages, they are a centaur, a human head atop a machine body that does all the hard work, far in excess of any human's capacity.

A "reverse centaur" is a worker who acts as an assistant to an automation system. The worker who is ridden by an AI that monitors their eyeballs, bathroom breaks, and keystrokes is a reverse centaur, being used (and eventually, used up) by a machine to perform the tasks that the machine can't perform unassisted:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/04/12/algorithmic-wage-discrimination/#fishers-of-men

But there's only so much work you can squeeze out of a human in this fashion before they are ruined for the job. Amazon's internal research reveals that the company has calculated that it ruins workers so quickly that it is in danger of using up every able-bodied worker in America:

https://www.vox.com/recode/23170900/leaked-amazon-memo-warehouses-hiring-shortage

Which explains the other major findings from the Upwork study:

81% of bosses have increased the demands they make on their workers over the past year; and

71% of workers are "burned out."

Bosses' answer to "AI making workers feel burned out" is the same as "IT-driven form-filling makes workers unproductive" – do more of the same, but go harder. Cisco has a new product that tries to detect when workers are about to snap after absorbing abuse from furious customers and then gives them a "Zen" moment in which they are showed a "soothing" photo of their family:

https://finance.yahoo.com/news/ai-bringing-zen-first-horizons-192010166.html

This is just the latest in a series of increasingly sweaty and cruel "workplace wellness" technologies that spy on workers and try to help them "manage their stress," all of which have the (totally predictable) effect of increasing workplace stress:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/03/15/wellness-taylorism/#sick-of-spying

The only person who wouldn't predict that being closely monitored by an AI that snitches on you to your boss would increase your stress levels is your boss. Unfortunately for you, AI pitchmen know this, too, and they're more than happy to sell your boss the reverse-centaur automation tool that makes you want to die, and then sell your boss another automation tool that is supposed to restore your will to live.

The "productivity paradox" is being resolved before our eyes. American per-worker productivity fell because it was more profitable to ship American jobs to regulatory free-fire zones and exploit the resulting precarity to abuse the workers left onshore. Workers who resented this arrangement were condemned for having a shitty "work ethic" – even as the number of hours worked by the average US worker rose by 13% between 1976 and 2016:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/01/11/robots-stole-my-jerb/#computer-says-no

AI is just a successor gimmick at the terminal end of 40 years of increasing profits by taking them out of workers' hides rather than improving efficiency. That arrangement didn't come out of nowhere: it was a direct result of a Reagan-era theory of corporate power called "consumer welfare." Under the "consumer welfare" approach to antitrust, monopolies were encouraged, provided that they used their market power to lower wages and screw suppliers, while lowering costs to consumers.

"Consumer welfare" supposed that we could somehow separate our identities as "workers" from our identities as "shoppers" – that our stagnating wages and worsening conditions ceased mattering to us when we clocked out at 5PM (or, you know, 9PM) and bought a $0.99 Meal Deal at McDonald's whose low, low price was only possible because it was cooked by someone sleeping in their car and collecting food-stamps.

https://www.theguardian.com/us-news/article/2024/jul/20/disneyland-workers-anaheim-california-authorize-strike

But we're reaching the end of the road for consumer welfare. Sure, your toddler-boss can be tricked into buying AI and firing half of your co-workers and demanding that the remainder use AI to do their jobs. But if AI can't do their jobs (it can't), no amount of demanding that you figure out how to make the Sea Monkeys act like they did in the comic-book ad is doing to make that work.

As screwing workers and suppliers produces fewer and fewer gains, companies are increasingly turning on their customers. It's not just that you're getting worse service from chatbots or the humans who are reverse-centaured into their workflow. You're also paying more for that, as algorithmic surveillance pricing uses automation to gouge you on prices in realtime:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/07/24/gouging-the-all-seeing-eye/#i-spy

This is – in the memorable phrase of David Dayen and Lindsay Owens, the "age of recoupment," in which companies end their practice of splitting the gains from suppressing labor with their customers:

https://prospect.org/economy/2024-06-03-age-of-recoupment/

It's a bet that the tolerance for monopolies made these companies too big to fail, and that means they're too big to jail, so they can cheat their customers as well as their workers.

AI may be a bet that your boss can be suckered into buying a chatbot that can't do your job, but investors are souring on that bet. Goldman Sachs, who once trumpeted AI as a multi-trillion dollar sector with unlimited growth, is now publishing reports describing how companies who buy AI can't figure out what to do with it:

https://www.goldmansachs.com/intelligence/pages/gs-research/gen-ai-too-much-spend-too-little-benefit/report.pdf

Fine, investment banks are supposed to be a little conservative. But VCs? They're the ones with all the appetite for risk, right? Well, maybe so, but Sequoia Capital, a top-tier Silicon Valley VC, is also publicly questioning whether anyone will make AI investments pay off:

https://www.sequoiacap.com/article/ais-600b-question/

I can't tell you how great it was to take my kid down a grocery checkout aisle from which all the eye-level candy had been removed. Alas, I can't figure out how we keep the nation's executive toddlers from being dazzled by shiny AI pitches that leave us stuck with the consequences of their impulse purchases.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/07/25/accountability-sinks/#work-harder-not-smarter

Image: Cryteria (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:HAL9000.svg

CC BY 3.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/3.0/deed.en

[megamett44-lover]

can you do the reader seeing matt with a little kid (around 5 or 6) and getting some crazy baby fever? thank youu <3

UGH I LOVE THIS

Matt Sturniolo x Reader

Summary: In which Y/n brings Matt to her family reunion

Warnings/Notes: She/her pronouns

Requested? Yes!

Dress Up

Bringing Matt home with me for my annual family reunion was insisted upon by my parents. My whole family absolutely adored him, always asking me to bring him around more. Hence why now, here we were, about a ten minute drive away from my grandparents home, where everyone would be meeting.

Having never met my extended family before, it was understandable for Matt to be nervous. He held my hand as he drove, lightly brushing his thumb over my knuckles every few seconds.

“You okay?” I ask, squeezing his hand lightly.

He looks over at me, trying to hide his nervous expression. “All good.” He says.

I nod, turning my attention back to the road. “You don’t have to stress, everyone is gonna love you.”

He chuckles. “If I can win your dad over, I’m sure I can do anything.”

I roll my eyes. “Please.” I say. “You never had to win him over. He was practically calling you ‘son’ before he even met you.”

“Right.” Matt laughs.

Siri breaks our conversation, telling us to turn left and our destination would be on the right. As we pulled into my grandparents drive way, a wave of nostalgia hit me. The long gravel path leading to an old white plantation house surrounded by the most beautiful flowers. I had helped my grandmother plant different flowers in her garden for many Summers when I was younger. The neatly trimmed hedges wrapping around the edge of the porch that my grandfather always insisted on keeping up himself because “nobody else could do the job right.”

I noticed many other cars parked out front, indicating a lot of my family members were already here. As we parked, I kissed the back of Matt’s hand. “Ready!” I asked.

“For sure.” Matt smiled.

As we walked onto the porch, the sound of laughter could be heard from inside. We didn’t even have a chance to knock before my grandmother opened the door.

“My Y/n!” She said, embracing me. “I’ve missed you so much!”

“Hi, Gran.” I say, returning her hug.

As we pulled away, she noticed Matt beside me.

“Now this must be the young man I’ve heard so much about.” She smiles at Matt.

“All good things, I hope.” Matt chuckles nervously.

I laugh. “Gran, this is my boyfriend, Matt.”

“Pleasure to meet you dear.” My grandmother says, embracing Matt as well. Pulling away, she smiles at us both. “Well come on, everyone has been asking for you.”

Walking instep with my grandmother and Matt slightly ahead, she leans in and whispers softly. “He’s handsome!”

“Oh, Gran!” I laugh.

“I’m serious!” She says. “If I was only 60 years younger, I’d give you a run for your money.”

As we walked into the crowded parlor, we were greeted by a chorus of “Hey” and “Welcome home”. A lot of family come up to me, since the last time I had seen most of them I was young. Most of them were eager to meet Matt, having heard I was dating a “famous Los Angeles boy”.

Excusing myself for a moment, I go grab a couple waters for Matt and I from the kitchen.

“Oh hey, Y/N.” My aunt says, seeing me enter. Her and a collection of other family members were working on tonight’s dinner, the smell immediately making me hungry.

“Smells great in here.” I compliment, grabbing two bottles of water from the fridge.

“Thanks!” She beams at me. “Oh, your cousins are around here looking for you. They wouldn’t stop talking about how excited they were to see you.”

I laugh. “I’ll keep a look out for them.”

My aunt and uncle had two twin girls, Charlotte and Katherine. They had just turned six and they were adorable. I had spent a lot of my youth babysitting them, resulting in me having an older sister relationship with the girls.

Walking back to the parlor, I notice most of the family had gone to the back yard. Scanning the yard, I cannot seem to see Matt anywhere. I grab my phone to text him, but then I hear giggling coming from down the hall followed by a deeper laugh that I recognize to be Matt’s.

Walking down the hall, I notice the light in the playroom is on. I hear a few voices coming from inside.

“We’re going to make you look so pretty.” I hear a young voice that I recognize to be Katherine’s says.

“Oh, really?” Matt asks.

“Yes!” Charlotte assures. “Y/n is going to love it!”

I peek in the doorway to the playroom to see Matt sat on the floor, with my cousins braiding his hair. I notice he has a few hair bows in, along with a feather boa around his neck.

I giggle softly, watching my cousins give him a makeover.

“Can we paint your nails?” Charlotte eagerly asks.

Matt looks down at his nails, the old paint peeling off of them.

“I think I’m in need of a manicure, so sure!” Matt agrees.

“Kat, grab the princess stickers and pink polish!” Charlotte demands.

Hearing this, I accidentally laugh too loud, giving my position away. All three of their heads whip in my direction.

“Y/N!” Charlotte and Katherine say in unison, running up and hugging my legs.

“Hi, girls.” I say, bending down to hug them. “I see you’ve stolen my boyfriend.”

“Don’t you think he looks pretty?” Katherine asks, motioning towards Matt.

“I think he looks gorgeous.” I say, making eye contact with Matt, who chuckles softly.

“We were going to paint his nails, do you wanna help?” Charlotte asks.

“Of course!” I say, eagerly.

“Yay!” Both girls say in unison.

Sitting down, we begin painting Matt’s nails a bright shade of pink, complete with princess stickers on every other finger. When we were finished, we slowly walk Matt over to the mirror to check out his new look.

“I look awesome!” Matt says, bending down to the girls level. “Thank you, girls.” He opens his arms for a hug, as both girls practically tackle him.

I smile softly, my heart warming at the sight.

“I think next time, we should bring our princess dress for you to wear.” Katherine says.

Matt laughs. “I think that would be amazing.”

“Yeah, but we have to bring the Cinderella dress.” Charlotte says. Katherine raises a puzzled eyebrow. “To match his eyes, duh!”

“What do you think, Y/n?” Charlotte asks.

“I think he would make a beautiful Cinderella.” I smile, causing Matt and the girls to laugh.

A loud voice interrupts our laughter from the kitchen.

“Girls, dinner!” I hear my Uncle call.

“Our dad wants us!” Katherine tells Matt. “But we’ll finish this makeover another day.”

“I’ll be counting on it.” Matt winks, ruffling her hair.

The girls laugh as they run down the hall to the kitchen. I look at Matt, who’s covered in glitter from the feather boa.

“I’ll be their Cinderalla, as long as I’m your Prince Charming.” Matt says, pulling the boa off.

I laugh. “God, you’re cheesy.” I grab his hands, looking at the pink artwork on his fingernails. “I can’t wait to have this life with you one day.”

He pulls me into a hug, covering me in glitter. “I promise, one day, we’ll have all of this.” He says. “Every day.”

I lean back, grabbing one of the braided strands of hair. “I’m really digging these braids, though.”

“Yeah?” Matt laughs.

“Yeah.” I smile, pressing a small kiss on his lips.

“Now c’mon, I’m starving!” I say, leading him to the kitchen.

Matt stops on his tracks. “What, dressed like this?” He asks.

I smirk. “What, you embarrassed?”

“Never.” He replies, putting his boa back on before we exit the playroom.

[xocasper]

it’s beautiful how dynamic life can be.

when the internet found me, i was sick. i wasn’t dying, it wasn’t terminal, but i was undoubtedly decaying with every passing day. i spent weeks in bed, sleeping and starving, and some nights i’d mindlessly wander through dark parts of town. and i can tell you with 100% certainty that none of that is as poetic as it sounds.

when i left tumblr, i was nearly dead. genuinely. i would not like to trigger anyone, so i am warning you now that the next paragraph will cover a severe eating disorder.

i will keep it as simple as saying that i had a bmi of 13. i couldn’t leave my room. i was on a mood stabilizer that decreased my appetite. my body physically rejected and regurgitated everything i ate. my stomach was swollen to the size of pregnant person. i looked like i was a good seven months along. my body was holding onto every nutrient it could find. i lived with my parents at the time, and they body shamed me and constantly commented on the size of my stomach. my dad stood in my bedroom and watched as i chugged an entire bottle of magnesium citrate because he believed it was constipation, not starvation. no one wanted to help me in the ways i needed. to this day, i have no idea how my body survived that much trauma.

that was a year ago.

in a single year, i gained twenty pounds. i fell in love. i discovered that i am not aromantic, but simply cannot harbor romantic feelings towards men. i faced years of internalized homophobia due to religion with that realization. i had my first true heartbreak. many of them, over and over with the same person. the relationship was so toxic towards the end that they caused me to get re-diagnosed with type 1 bipolar. and no, i am not passing blame. i faced harassment and lies and stalking from them and their friends. it sent me into a manic episode so severe that i flew thousands of miles away because i believed that if i stayed, i would end my life—hence the re-diagnosis.

this is not all a trauma dump though.

life IS dynamic.

i finally think i’m beautiful. i’m learning to love my body. i’m accepting of weight gain. i’ve decided to enroll in college and will be leaving an incredibly toxic environment to stay on campus. i got a better position at work. i have wonderful friends. i stopped drinking excessively. i saw one of my favorite music groups live. i went on vacation for the first time in years. i left a debilitating relationship the day before my birthday. i must’ve cried too much the day i broke up with them because for the first time in years, i didn’t cry on my birthday. i got a surgery that changed my life in a million ways.

i’ve felt things i didn’t know were possible. i’ve cried until my eyes were swollen shut the next morning. i’ve had pregnancy scares. i’ve had ER visits. i’ve earned money and i’ve burned it. i’m in love with a girl.

i’ve learned that life is not fixed. change is possible. love is possible. the internet is not lying when they say that the sickness won’t last forever. the pain is temporary. this is not the end of the road.

i have more notifications than i can count. i have more followers than i ever imagined. but this isn’t about the numbers—it’s real, tangible proof that people will love you when you’re gone. you will not be forgotten, so do not leave. it’s worth it to stay. it’s okay to take a break, it’s okay to hit the bottom of the well, and it’s okay to stay there for a while before you have the strength to pull yourself back up.

i’m incredibly grateful for everyone who read my work. whether you clicked on one or devoured my masterlist, thank you. you appreciated the only thing i loved about myself. i’m proud to say that there are so many things i love about myself now, past my writing and creativity.

you are all beautiful, kind people. it’s not always easy to see that, but existence is the most beautiful thing in the world. every day, you exist, and that in itself is a remarkable thing.

so thank you, for everything. i hope to hear from you soon.

xo,

casper

[krikeymate]

Please except this as my random fic title “For the love of God… Put. It. Down!”

Sam was having... the worst time. She honestly thought this night couldn't have gotten any worse... and then Tara took out the knife.

She thinks she must be losing her mind.

She's not crazy, right? This was not how the board game was supposed to go, right? There were rules... right?

Not according to anyone else, apparently.

Sam had been wary when Mindy barged into the apartment with a Monopoly box earlier in the day. She'd thought she was going to have to spend all evening joining them in an extremely boring and unfun game.

It turns out that her kids don't know the meaning of boring and unfun, and had their own methods to... liven it up a bit.

They forgot to warn Sam about how they play, however.

She'd spent the game so far irritated and horrified as she watched Chad - the banker - continuously miscount the cash in a way that she's now getting the suspicion may have been deliberate.

Her sister had proven herself to be the world's worst decision maker, which... tracks actually.

She can never repeat that.

The twins had been taking advantage of her sister the entire time, convincing her with silver tongues to make subpar trades or purchases. Sam had thought about intervening, but she's been trying to coddle Tara less, and besides, it's just a game.

It's. Just. A. Game.

Or, it was, up until Tara whips the kitchen knife out of nowhere - prepared and ready to be used - and holds it to Chad's throat.

"This is a robbery," she says, smirking.

Chad, to his credit, looks surprised, but not scared. He slowly raises his hands, plastic money slipping from his fingers and fluttering down.

"Please," he whispers, "I have a family. Take what you want, take it all, just don't hurt me. I'll do anything!"

Sam doesn't have time to digest the weird display or Chad's suddenly southern accent - and not a good one - before Mindy is groaning beside her.

"EUGH. Please keep your weird roleplaying to the bedroom!"

Sam snaps her head between Mindy and Tara, the implication making the room feel stuffy and her chest feel tight.

"ALRIGHT," she says - louder than intended - as she climbs to her feet. "I think that's enough for tonight." She needs to bleach her brain, maybe read a rule book.

"Aww what, but I was finally making money," Tara whines, knife held sloppily in one hand, the other bursting with fake cash.

"Yeah!" Chad agrees, despite being the one with a fucking knife to his throat.

Sam cannot be the only adult in this room right now. She looks down at Mindy and gestures to the scene, a silent beg for her to do something.

She does not.

"Nah," Mindy says, leaning back on her hands, "I want to see where this goes."

"No! No you don't- I don't- This is... the game is done," Sam stutters.

"But who won?" her sister asks, blinking up at her as if that's what's important right now.

Sam stares back at her for a moment, trying to determine if she's fucking serious. She is. Of course she is.

"Nobody won, you're all going to jail. Robbery, embezzlement, insider trading. You're all going down for it," she says dryly, wishing she could get the last four hours of her life back.

Mindy sniggers and Sam only has a second to be filled with regret before she says "Yeah, horny ja-"

Sam cuts her off with a box lid to the face.

With a heavy sigh, she turns back to the other two. "For the love of God... Put! It! Down!" she demands, gesturing at the knife.

Tara gets a look on her face, the one that says Sam's being unreasonable again.

She watches her roll her eyes and slowly put the knife on the floor with so much attitude that Sam feels the overwhelming urge to tell her that she's grounded.

Sam's too young to be a parent, look what they've reduced her to.

Bending down to snatch the knife from the carpet, she holds it up to her sister.

"Your knifework is sloppy and you could have easily been disarmed in a real combat situation, I'm disappointed in you."

The indignation on Tara's face kind of makes it worth it.

[cookies-and-music]

The Scam of a Lifetime.

Aleksander was tired.

Centuries of feigned deaths and new identities had worn him down.

Every day, upon waking, his mind chose a reason why existence was no longer bearable, and he spent the day brooding over it.

That day, it was about the King. Each time the king died, Aleksander had to gain the trust of the new one, prove his worth, and bow to people he could crush with a fingertip.

It had to end.

And it would end with her.

He approached her after the show. In centuries, Aleksander had seen many good actors, but none as skilled as the girl before him. Anya was young, around 16, with brown hair and light eyes. The only thing special about her was the uncanny resemblance to the Queen. It seemed that fate had spared him.

'Let's see if I understand, General Krignan.'

'Kirigan,' he corrected.

'Kirigan,' she echoed. 'Are you telling me that there existed a second daughter of the tsars, unknown to anyone, who disappeared right after birth, and the king is looking for her?'

'Correct.'

 'It seems crazy,' she crossed her arms, leaning on the back of the chair. 'But then, why is he looking for her, after all these years?'

'He is very ill,' Aleksander began.

'The tsar is dying?' the girl widened her eyes.

'Remember that everything we say is confidential, Miss Anya,' he said with a slight undertone of threat, and she nodded. 'The tsar claims that the disappearance of the second daughter is his greatest regret, and he cannot die peacefully until he finds her.'

She seemed to reflect on it for a while; Aleksander could see the gears in her brain turning. When she finished, she raised an eyebrow. 'So, I should go there, give him the farewell kiss, and then what?'

'Then you would retire to the quiet life you know and prefer, in a villa located in the countryside far from Os Alta, with more money than you can count, never worring about working ever again.'

Anya sensed it, the smell of bullshit. 'And what do you gain?'

'A peaceful passing for my beloved sovereign.'

The coldness with which he said it made the hairs on the back of her neck stand.

She took a second to think about it, but even if she knew he would gain something, Anya thought she didn't care much, as long as she came out of it alive. And rich. Terribly rich.

[][][]

During the carriage journey to Os Alta, Kirigan instructed Anya on everything she could say and, above all, what she shouldn't say. The lost princess Katarina had grown up in an orphanage on the border of Shu territory, never knowing who her parents were. When she was old enough to leave, she became a seamstress. They met in a shop where she worked and sold him gloves.

'But I don't know how to sew,' Anya had objected.

'You'll learn along the way,' Kirigan had replied without looking up from his lunch.

Anya had raised an eyebrow but didn't comment.

Apart from that, the journey was mostly silent and terribly boring. The black carriage they traveled in had dark curtains that prevented them from seeing outside, making it difficult to distinguish morning from evening.

For three days, the General was her only company, as he had forbidden her to talk to anyone else to maintain secrecy.

Just beyond the gates of Os Alta, the terrible silence surrounding the carriage was broken by the chaos from outside. Intrigued by the commotion, Anya reached a hand toward the curtain and pulled it slightly.

Outside, an adoring crowd had gathered around the carriage. They threw flowers and shouted, 'Glory to the tsar, glory to Ravka.'

'I didn't know you were so loved, General,' Anya turned to Kirigan, who, with his dark and heavy clothes and long legs, seemed to take up all the space in front of her.

Kirigan moved a flap of the curtain with a finger.

'They're not cheering for me, Miss Anya.'

The girl looked confused, and he handed her a newspaper he had next to him.

'What am I supposed to do with this?' Anya waved it.

'Usually, people read newspapers, Miss Anya.'

She clenched her jaw, swallowing. 'The. P- Prin-cess. Princess.'

Aleksander furrowed his brow. 'Miss Anya... you can read, right?'

'Of course!' Anya seemed almost offended. 'I just don't like it that much.'

Aleksander almost laughed as he watched her straighten up and furrow her brows as if facing an indecipherable puzzle. 'The princess re-tu-returns ho-me.' Anya tossed the newspaper on the cushion beside her. 'I don't understand,' she sighed, looking at Kirigan.

‘They’re here for you, Princess Katarina.' He gave her a half-smile, and Anya's jaw dropped.

'I had never received applause before the performance.'

Aleksander almost laughed.

Around an hour later, the carriage stopped.

'Well, Miss Anya, the show is about to begin.' Aleksander opened a door and stepped out before reaching his hand inside to help Anya get down. As her eyes adjusted to the outside light, Aleksander took her arm and crossed it with his. For a moment, Anya was surprised by such chivalry until she realized that the proximity was necessary only to ensure that no one heard him when he whispered, 'And know that if you back out, no corner will be dark enough to hide you from me, Miss Anya.'

[saras-devotionals]

Quiet Time 4/1

What am I feeling today?

Well I cried yesterday but I feel that I got it out of my system. I’m looking forward to today, I think I’ll be very productive and it’s also the start of a new month! Time to lock in though because only one month left until my last final for this semester and I have a lot of work to get done😅

Luke 16 NIV

(v. 4-9) “I know what I’ll do so that, when I lose my job here, people will welcome me into their houses.’ “So he called in each one of his master’s debtors. He asked the first, ‘How much do you owe my master?’ “ ‘Nine hundred gallons of olive oil,’ he replied. “The manager told him, ‘Take your bill, sit down quickly, and make it four hundred and fifty.’ “Then he asked the second, ‘And how much do you owe?’ “ ‘A thousand bushels of wheat,’ he replied. “He told him, ‘Take your bill and make it eight hundred.’ “The master commended the dishonest manager because he had acted shrewdly. For the people of this world are more shrewd in dealing with their own kind than are the people of the light. I tell you, use worldly wealth to gain friends for yourselves, so that when it is gone, you will be welcomed into eternal dwellings.”

I have to be honest I don’t completely understand this so I’m going for some commentary:

This lowering of the bills is the perfect analogy of the manner in which the scribes and Pharisees lowered the standards of righteousness as a device for keeping their hold upon the people

(v. 10-12) ““Whoever can be trusted with very little can also be trusted with much, and whoever is dishonest with very little will also be dishonest with much. So if you have not been trustworthy in handling worldly wealth, who will trust you with true riches? And if you have not been trustworthy with someone else’s property, who will give you property of your own?”

Basically we have to be trustworthy with whatever we have been given. If we can’t show that we can be trusted with a little bit, how can we ever be trusted with anything more? And furthermore, with riches that are not of earth!

(v. 13) ““No one can serve two masters. Either you will hate the one and love the other, or you will be devoted to the one and despise the other. You cannot serve both God and money.””

I don’t believe that I’ve made money a master. Then again, I don’t make much to begin with, a lot that is spent on my behalf comes from my parents. I worry that when it’s solely my own income I will become tight fisted because I won’t have anything to fall back on but I’ll cross that bridge when I get to it.

(v. 15) “He said to them, “You are the ones who justify yourselves in the eyes of others, but God knows your hearts. What people value highly is detestable in God’s sight.”

I needed just a bit of commentary here too because I wasn’t sure who was referenced in terms of “you”

The men Jesus addressed here "tended to connect earthly prosperity and goodness. Wealth was a sign that a man was a good man." However, mere material prosperity, unsanctified by spiritual motivation and consciousness of stewardship under God, is here called an abomination in the sight of God

(v. 25-26) ““But Abraham replied, ‘Son, remember that in your lifetime you received your good things, while Lazarus received bad things, but now he is comforted here and you are in agony. And besides all this, between us and you a great chasm has been set in place, so that those who want to go from here to you cannot, nor can anyone cross over from there to us.’”

Once you have arrived at your station in the afterlife, whether that be heaven or hell, you’re there for eternity. There’s no opportunity for you to move from one or the other which shows the importance of what your life is here because it will dictate your future.

(v. 31) ““He said to him, ‘If they do not listen to Moses and the Prophets, they will not be convinced even if someone rises from the dead.’ ””

Was this a foreshadowing of Jesus? That even if some people witnessed his resurrection or heard about it, they would still not believe in him?

[norgbelulah]

Listen you said as many as I wanted, you said that:

“Baby,” Boyd said, taking Raylan’s face in his hands. “We’re going to be fine.” He was talking true here, Raylan knew, but his expression changed and he didn’t look him in the eyes as he added, “It’s easy to start over with that kind of money. We wouldn’t even have to go nowhere--”

“And watch them rip apart the hills? Pollute your precious hollers?” Raylan hissed, pulling away. He couldn’t talk about it without getting pissed. His head hurt so fucking much.

“Raylan--”

“Later,” Raylan said, pulling out his phone. “I wish you’d’ve said something, really, because I have to call Art now. Her wanting the property puts me far enough in this shit that I can’t be a part of the detail. It’s a conflict of interest, no matter what we do now.”

“What we do?” Boyd asked quietly. “It’s still just your land, Raylan.”

“Fuck off, Boyd,” Raylan growled. “I’d have married you years ago if that was something we could do.”

Boyd leaned back in his chair, eyes wide, at that and Raylan wondered if that was something he shouldn’t have said when they were fake fighting like this.

They stared at each other for a solid minute at least and Raylan couldn’t hold it in anymore. He said, “I’m sorry I said, fuck off and then that, I--”

Boyd smiled and shook his head. “Go make your phone call, baby.” He didn’t even add anything about the fake argument. “Tell Art--”

Omggggg. I'm SO glad you picked this to ask about because just right before this part is one of my favorite exchanges I have ever written. It's basically what I now think of the thesis of this entire fic series. Boyd and Raylan could never have come this far together if not for Raylan letting Boyd live in his house and nest in his heart and refuse to leave. Okay??

This part:

“We can start over,” Boyd said. “We’re good at that.” Raylan looked at him like he was crazy. “No, we’re not.” They’d never started over at anything. The only reason any of this was happening was because of the house, that they needed, because they couldn’t make a change without a crutch. It was just built up and built up from everything that happened before and the house was the foundation.

And then Raylan spirals because he can't see a way out of this situation even though he knows Boyd is actively taking it in hand. (He's going to figure it out, Raylan!!) And part of Boyd's plan is to get this exact reaction from Raylan, because he needs to convince Carol Johnson he really is on her side and also make things difficult for her because Raylan is so adamantly opposed to selling. But! He doesn't expect Raylan to profess his unshakeable commitment to their relationship in that very moment!

Boyd in this fic, even up until now, does not think about the house in Harlan as theirs, per se. It's Raylan's house. Always has been. He thinks of their apartment in Lexington way more as something they share. But he spent so much time over the years working on the house, specifically FOR RAYLAN, that it's like really hard for him to take on any kind of ownership for himself until Raylan is like, yeah but we would be married by now???? If life was fair??? SO ITS YOUR HOUSE TOO BOYD.

I'm also like perpetually *kisses fingers* at myself for immediately having Raylan apologize. He's Just! So! Hungover! that he cannot control his mouth or his emotions and they are all over the place because he is so! pissed! off! at Carol Johnson! This "oh shit I really said that just now" moment for Raylan is so funny and sweet. I love them so muchhh.

AND THEN THEY GET INTERRUPTED.

Anyway this is a great little collection of scenes and writing about how good it is is actively making me want to rewatch through season 2 so I can try and fucking untangle what needs to happen to end this beautiful story! AND THEN I want to write several little short fics about parenting Loretta and getting married for real and and and

[bf-skz]

24 to 25 days of SKZMAS | December 11th - Changbin

pairing: Seo Changbin x Reader

genre: second chance

synopsis: By an odd chance Changbin runs into his ex in a shopping mall while doing Christmas shopping. Unfortunately, he is accompanied by his current toxic girlfriend. However, no one can deny the clear sparks between them.

warnings: -

words: 817

11th day of SKZMAS

December 11th

Changbin hates to do this. He really, really does but he cannot shake the weird feeling in his stomach. He is almost sure he is wrong, though… time to find out.

“Babe?” he asks where he is packing out the takeaway boxes from their bag. He is not a fan of pad thai, but she always convinces him to get dinner from the weirdest (and most expensive) places.

“Yeah, baby?” she asks back, lighting a candle on the table. 

“I have been doing a little calculating…” he says slowly, taking a glance at her. She isn't looking at him, and he takes it as a good sign. “And I've realized we have a little less left for the holidays than I originally thought.”

“Oh, how come?” she turns around, tilting her head. 

“I don't know… I was completely sure we had some on my spare card, the prepaid one?” he says, and she looks clueless as ever. “I think I should cancel that card. Someone must have stolen the details and now they’re using it.”

“Now, don’t make rushed decisions like that, boo.” she chuckles nervously, stepping to him and placing her hands around his arm. “I’m sure that no one stole the card. You must have used it and forgot it in the haze of the holidays.” she waves him off. “Besides, you would be able to ask for money from your parents, wouldn’t you?”

“Well, I would, but I don't need it.” he says with a frown. “We are not completely broke, we will just have to watch how much we spend now. Good thing we have ordered the food for the holidays in advance.” he smiles at her as he carries the food to the table. His girlfriend still has a sour expression on her face, so he goes on.

“Hey, don't worry, okay? We don't need money to be happy together, do we?”

“Well, I guess not.” she huffs. “But how will I have an outfit for Christmas and the New Years this way? I need at least 3 for the holidays and if we visit your parents then 4.” she explains with an exasperated sigh. “I need accessories for it, too.” 

“Thought we already got all of it last week.” Changbin says, caressing her arm. “When we spent a smaller fortune in that designer shop… remember that blue dress? It looked amazing on you.” 

“Yes, that was one dress.” she counters. “I was planning to surprise you with some more.” she pouts, poking his cheek. 

“You don't need to.” Changbin says, pulling her in to kiss her cheek. “I like it most when you don't wear anything anyway.” he whispers to her with a chuckle. “How about I get the card blocked and then we take this to the bedroom?”

“No!” she breaks down, pushing him away. “That is my card!” she screams at him hysterically.

“It's- what?” Changbin asks and his eyes grow in shock. What did just happen…?

“I was using that card.” she sighs dramatically. “I figured since it’s prepaid, you wouldn’t mind and it was my spending card… clearly you wanted me to have it, otherwise why would you keep it?”

“Jesus, and you didn't think of telling me? I've been trying to figure out who is taking all the money for a week now!” Changbin exclaims. “Why didn't you tell me? And what did you buy anyway? I thought we got everything together this month? From my actual credit card?”

“I needed some shoes and gifts so that they will look better under the tree.” she exclaims. “It was a necessity and an emergency!” 

“You should’ve asked me!” Changbin tells her and then, it hits him. “You- I think you should give my card back.”

“What? Why?” she gasps, clutching her purse defensively. “I have to pay for your gift tomorrow…” she lies and Changbin knows she didn't have anything planned for him. She always said she isn't good with gifts.

“Okay, then I will go with you and pay for it.” Changbin says, not backing down. He is losing his patience now and that’s really not like him.

“But, baby…” she smiles, touching his arm to distract him with her looks.

“No.” Changbin says, taking a step back. “I need to go.” he turns on his heels and grabs his coat from the hanger.

“Where are you going, honey?” she rushes after him, batting her lashes. “Come back! I will put on my cutest lingerie for you.” 

“Don't wait up for me.” he says, and closes the door right before she could follow him.

In a few minutes, he is sitting in his car, driving on the streets of the city without an destination in mind. He has always found comfort in driving around, it clears his head better than any walk he could take.

He doesn't want to think about all the red flags; all the times his friends told him to beware of gold diggers, all the returned birthday presents that just “weren't the right color”, all the vacations overseas… he should've known better. Not because he has dealt with countless people who wanted to use him for money, but because of the ones who didn't.

He thinks about you. You, who were happy to receive a hand-drawn card for you birthday from him. You, who cooked for him when the fridge in the dorms was empty. You, sweet, selfless you whom his mother always adored.

Before he knows it, he is parked in a small, dark parking lot, and he doesn't take a second to realize where he is. He knows the place so well he could find his way here without trying.

It was your place, the two of you. You showed him this hidden little underground bar in the outskirts of the city, looking cold and untrustworthy on the outside but once you enter, it is warm and cozy. The exact opposite of his current relationship, he thinks bitterly as he walks in.

There is some quiet music in the background of friendly chatter and hearty laughs from the few desks in there, and it comforts Changbin instantly. He walks up to the counter to order some juice – he still needs to drive home – and he is ready to find a seat when-

There you are. Sitting at your usual table, holding something that looks like a mug of sweet mulled wine, watching him.

“Fancy seeing you here.” You call out with a sweet, comforting smile that makes his heart flutter. You pat the seat next to you and he walks over with the brightest smile that you adore so much.

to be continued...

[topperscumslut]

Selfless - The Dark Side of the Enneagram Type 2

My grandmother never told my mother she loved her

I would know, my mother has reminded me every chance that she gets. She has since I was five.

She promised herself that with me, she would never make the same mistakes her parents did. In a way, she succeeded.

Every scolding, beating, berating was dripping with love. Because when you despise something, you cannot become it. Or so we’re told. If you detest the loveless, than every act of evil becomes an act of love

In my mother’s eyes, all good canceled out all bad. All loving intentions demolished fleeting fits of anger. Hitting, kicking me, pushing me to be perfect, using me as a therapist, it all melted away and ceased to exist as long as she was tucking me in every night, telling me she loved me every chance she got, hosting the perfect birthday parties and baking the perfect cakes and buying me the perfect clothes, spoiling me rotten with time and money she didn’t have as an act of generosity

But it’s not the dresses and cakes and jewelry and parties and laughing together that come back and haunt me in the middle of the night

I don’t believe my mother is a bad person, or at least I don’t want to. Firstly because I love her, and secondly because I spent the first nineteen years of my life living, if you can call it that, as an extension of her. The perfect, happy daughter, with perfect, loving parents and no discernible problems or trauma, that she always dreamed to be. To this day, I can’t look in the mirror without seeing her. I see it in the eyes of those I loved more than myself, more than this world, that I bent over backwards and extended more than I could give, and then resented them for not doing the same, as they walk out of my life again and again

And this person is screaming at me, and in their eyes I see myself screaming at my mother. And they’re screaming and screaming, “you’re a horrible person, you hurt me, you’re so selfish!”

Selfish

That’s why I could never hate my mother. Because we’re the same. Because we’d both rather take a dagger to the heart a thousand times over than to be called selfish even once.

We spend our lives killing ourselves day and night for those we love in the hopes that maybe someday, somehow, we’ll be loved and cared for in return. And when we’re not perfect at it, or worse, the other person isn’t, they’re not as grateful as we’d like them to be, we destroy them from the inside out, but you’d never see it coming. Not from someone so kind, so caring, so empathetic, so loving. So selfless.

[wanderingrain]

Thoughts on Never Let Me Go Ep 5

I really don't like Palm's dad. There is no excuse for treating your kid the way he treats Palm. If someone tells Palm "it's because he loves you" I'm going to scream. People don't abuse and neglect their kids out of love.

Oh it wasn't a panic attack after all. Cross it out of the books people. We're back to one (1) accurately portrayed panic attack in BL. (You're My Sky)

Anybody want to help me make Palm's dad mysteriously dissappear?

Neung's mom says "You are the most important person in my life." And i can see Neung mentally being locked back up inside his birdcage. Look at his face.

Neung trying to give Palm what his dad refuses to. I know a lot of people probably just want Neung to say sorry right now but I don't think he knows how. Also it's not really the place to have any sort of emotional talk. But he saw Palm ask his dad to care for him and get denied so he's trying to do what Palm asked for. He's saying 'I see you and I care' while also trying to stay nonchalant.

Now he's kind of trying to say sorry with writing on the cast.

I will enjoy any sweet little moment you throw my way. Them looking into each other's eyes will get me every time.

Oh no Ben. I can never tell if he's trying to shade Palm or if it's just the subtitles that make it sound that way.

This poor cast of kids who feel like who they are isn't enough because of their crappy parents. It's hard when there are parts of yourself that you find joy in but you know you can never share them with your parents because they would ruin it and turn it into something bad.

Literally cannot decide how I feel about Ben. This is maddening. Are you friend or foe? I blame Tumblr.

The orange of Neung's horse's tack matches the orange on Palm's shirt.

Maggie thank you for the product placement but please stop this. Please find a new crush, preferably a girl. I'm so tired of girls who are only in the story because they have a crush on one of the leads.

Why do Thai BLs choose Christmas music in the most random of scenes? It baffles me every time. 🤣

Every time they show me the outside of Neung's house, I'm reminded how dark this show is. I keep trying to turn up the brightness on my laptop. I respect it as an artistic choice but I do wish the show was a bit brighter.

Ahh yes the 'you already spent money/ time on this thing for me but I'm giving it back to you' trope. Otherwise known as the "I may be poor but I don't want your handouts" trope. Annoying. Been done before. Encourages people to be the "right type" of poor person, like if you just work hard enough you can stop being poor as if it's that simple.

Oof this whole conversation. That's all I'm going to say about it.

Maybe I'm not the target audience for this show. Anybody wanna round up all the parents in this show and make them disappear? I knew I would hate Ben's dad but wow is my blood boiling.

Finally a person speaking up for themselves in a situation like this.

I honestly don't blame Ben for caving. His dad seems like the type who would beat him for being gay. It's really not safe for him to come out in that situation.

I can breathe again Chopper is here! Perth is so beautiful. Chopper's hand on Ben's. I love him and I'm almost positive nothing he does will change that for me.

What? Cast? Why? Huh? Moving on I guess.

I love a good breakdown when it's deserved and boy was this deserved. I feel so bad for all these boys. Neung's been bullied and/or used by every kid in his life at this point. Poor baby was gonna crack.

Neung's face is in purple light and Palm's face is in pink light. I don't know what it means but it feels significant.

There's the apology.

Was not expecting Palm to be the one to make the first move. Also yeah that is definitely a kiss.

Neung leaning into Palm makes me so soft

Oh wow so his mom does notice that he represses himself around her. Ok Khun Thanya is the only parent we save. Let's hope that she sticks by what she says when she realizes Neung doesn't want the business. If this show ends with him running it I will be very angry. I'm sick of shows where parents force their kids to give up on their dreams in order to run the family business and it's seen as a good ending.

Not Palm being unable to stop smiling. 🥰 His dad's about to ruin it I can tell.

"I don't care about your happiness." Dad tells son who smiles in front of him for the first time.

"Other people should be afraid of you." Uhhh how about nobody's afraid of anybody? That's not a weird and suspicious thing to say at all. (Sarcasm)

Show I literally just took Khun Thanya off the kill list, what are you doing?

It's interesting. Neung literally just said "I'm not going to run away" and then immediately the people who have power over him forced him to run away. Every time he tries to take power for himself, he's pushed back down and told that it's not his to take.

I don't watch the previews for next the episode because i like to go in blind so if you comment please don't talk about the preview. Thanks for reading!

[icy-book]

@justablah56 I'm back on my bullshit and this time we're bringing Hermie into it

About 5 weeks into teaching Hermie, Terry Jr realised there's something weird about him. The shapeshifting that other people don't really seem to notice, his name, the fact that he doesn't even go here he just showed up? When he accidently singes the stage curtains and immediately puts it out, it pretty quickly clicks for Terry.

So, naturally, right after meeting Nicky again and finding out that the Close-Foster-Freemans are back in town, Terry Jr casually messages Jodie, "Hey I think I found your missing son. He's not quite dating Henry's grandson" and then does not respond for 10 hours because he has coursework to mark and lessons to plan

Next time Terry needs to call a parent-teacher conference about Hermie, he doesn't go to his legal guardians but instead calls Scam and Jodie separately, without telling them that the other will be there, and locks the door the moment they enter his office. "Right. You two are going to sort out your son's behaviour, because if you don't then these will keep happening and you will be forced to put up with each other continuously.

"It was a very effective threat.

There are multiple betting pools, both in the PTA and the drama students, about how the Cassandra/Veronica/Terry Jr/Nicky love square is going to turn out. Some people think that Veronica and Terry's marriage is going to fall apart, some think that Cassandra and Nicky will end up heartbroken, some, sensibly, think this will all be sorted with a polycule, and some think this will somehow end up with Nicky and Cassie getting back together and then divorcing again. Glenn found out about these when he went to help with show set up (he'd agreed to do a lot of the sound stuff) and promptly put down $100 on the polycule. He did, however, start several contradictory rumours to get other people to put more money into the other options

Terry Jr is the most unhinged teacher at times. He often plays background music whilst people are working, but none of the songs in his playlists are actual songs. They're either insane mashups (such as the All I Want For Christmas x Welcome To The Black Parade one), parodies, or covers in completely different styles (think Postmodern Jukebox). The only normal songs on there are showtunes and the albums make by Glenn and Henry

(One time Cummingtonite came on accidently during class and Terry fucking Dove for the phone because that song traumatised him)

He also frequently hangs upside down off the catwalk, using only his legs to grip on. The first time Nicky saw this, he has to physically restrain himself from making 20 vampire jokes, and instead settled for making a wizard joke. He also called Terry Jr an OSHA violation with the absolute softest look in his eyes that even Taylor noticed

Nicky has several true crime podcast episodes dedicated to his random disappearance that also then link in the kidnappings and events of AMoD. One of the PTA members who also went to school with them does a true crime podcast (but because of the Doodler kidnappings, refuses to cover any case that is less than 7 years old, and also refuses to cover that specific case) and cannot wait for the several people she's either collabed with or gotten into some form of Twitter feud with to find out that he's just,,, back. Nicky has agreed to do a completely innocent-seeming "Oh, ran into my old high school friend again" insta post with her in order to stir shit

Veronica finally got the courage to talk to Cassandra. She complimented the cake she made for a school bakesale. They both spent the entire day blushing and not talking to each other again

Consider, if you will, AU (either with canon post-s1 pre-s2 events but D.A.D.D.I.E.S. solves things before season 2 would start, or no Doodler/betrayal but Nicky still has to leave because FBI or other reasons) in which Terry Jr is the full time drama teacher for Teen High. Nicky returns from wherever he's been and is like "Well I want to be an active part of my kid's life and try and make up for lost time. I should go to his parents' evening, find out how he's doing in school, and meet his teachers. Especially this Mr Marlowe guy, Taylor seems to think he's awesome." And walking right into that classroom/hall to find his ex-boyfriend best friend sitting there in a dorky sweater and tie combo

Cue Terry, without missing a beat, greeting them as if nothing is wrong

Internal: when the FUCK did he come back and oh my god this is so awkward fuck I have to be professional how do I tell this guy that his kid is a loveable little shit after everything that's happened oh god oh fuck

Externally: "Hello Taylor and Mr Close-Foster-Freeman. I'm Taylor's drama teacher" *shakes hand* "Would you like to take a seat?"

[findmeontheisle]

chasing the ocean: part 14

author’s note: okay i’m not even gonna bother lying, i lowkey was giving up on this fic again but as always, i logged in to this account with the intention of deleting it and stopped myself when i saw how many people were still finding this series or coming back to read it again and i just pushed myself to finish this draft. i have no clue when or if there’s gonna be a next part, but i promise to not delete this series.

warnings: curse words (yall know the drill), rumors

masterlist

previous chapter next chapter

weeks crawl by and slowly, my frustration with the rumors builds.

after the first few days back at auradon, harry and i decided to not be extremely public about our feelings. it's not that either of us were ashamed or embarrassed, we just didn't want to answer the questions that would inevitably follow. there was no way that we could have known that this option would've been so much worse.

it started with some of the other royals mentioning that they saw harry at the erodan ball. i should've known from their hushed tones and how their eyes sparkled with an intense curiosity that there were underlying questions laced into it. so, i just shrugged and confessed that harry spent the break at the castle with me and my parents so of course he was invited to the festival and ball.

from there, people took note of how harry wasn't acting quite the same anymore. his brooding nature never changed, but he wasn't pushing his way through crowds or threatening people with his hook. the cherry on top was when one of the vk's mentioned that they hadn't seen him flirting with anyone at lunch or in the halls in a while.

when i first got wind of that rumor, it peaked my interest as well. i tried to remain as nonchalant and pretend to be oblivious to the stares that harry and i received everywhere we went even if we were separated. but i found my gaze wandering until i could catch sight of harry at lunch daily. and that rumor was true.

in his time at auradon, harry had flirted with practically everyone in the school. no one was safe from his mischievous blue eyes or his raspy charm. but for a week and a half, he kept to himself in the best way that harry hook could manage.

girls still flocked around him frequently, but he always just maintained enough interest in the conversations to not visibly look like an asshole until they would give up and sulk away. each time, he would sigh in relief to find some reprieve from them and then his eyes would trail around the open lawn where everyone ate until our gazes met. my cheeks would instantly turn red and i would roll my eyes after he would send me a wink.

but now...

now, everywhere i go, people are staring and whispering as if i'm completely unaware.

i bet they're hooking up.

really? i heard that he's stringing her along for her money.

aubrey told me that he's still talking to like four other girls, but y/n thinks that she's the only one.

oh my god, that's so embarrassing. who's gonna tell her?

gritting my teeth, i adjust the strap of my backpack and duck my head down as i continue the walk to the attic. just as i'm approaching the door to the stairwell, i feel a tap on my shoulder.

when i turn on my heel to find evie, it takes everything in my to not let out an exasperated sigh because despite how much i love evie, she loves to gossip and i mentally cannot handle any more of that right now.

"hey y/n, i've been hearing a bunch of rumors going around the past few days-"

the look on my face is enough to have her pause midsentence, but she offers a small smile and meekly finishes, "and i just wanted you to know that if you need someone to rant to about it, i'm here."

mustering up the energy, i smile weakly at her before shrugging a shoulder, "thanks evie, that means a lot, but maybe another time. i'm just really tired from classes and dealing with all of that so i'm boutta go nap for a while."

she nods understandingly and as i open the door, she casually reminds me about some upcoming assignments in our shared classes. i thank her again and make the trek up the stairs to the attic.

shutting the wooden door behind me, i groan in relief at the sight of the safe space i've formed with harry in the attic. our walls have a combination of art from both of us and harry's slowly began to leave some of his personal valuables out on display. most of it is just vintage-looking pirate tools, but on his bedside table, i've noticed some pictures with worn edges. out of respect for his privacy, i haven't taken a closer look, but i have a general idea of what could be in the pictures.

tossing my backpack on the ground next to my desk, i kick off my shoes and pull off my jacket before finally falling onto my bed peacefully.

the sun has yet to even begin to set, but my eyes still droop with exhaustion. pulling myself up further onto my bed, i curl up and rest my head on my pillow. the warmth of the sun streaming in and the softness of my blankets have me sighing contently and letting my eyes close peacefully.

but i quickly realize i can't sleep.

my thoughts are still racing from all of the stress from the past few days and the rare moment of silence feels deafening. my first few years at auradon were spent basking in the glorious retreat into the attic due to the seclusion and peace i found from it. but in the past few months, i had grown used to hearing harry spray paint the walls or whistle a little tune or play the ocean noises i once couldn't stand.

an idea struck me and i was lifting myself from my bed before i could consider it further. my eyes find the device in seconds, already knowing it's location from the nights of listening to it softly play.

the speaker that i had gifted him was resting on the chest at the end of his bed, the nob turned down significantly from what it would've been when he first arrived. harry and i had come to an agreement to still have the ocean noises through the night as long as it was a background noise and not rattling the ear drums of anyone in a mile radius.

i pick it up before glancing all around, as if the miscellaneous objects that harry and i filled the room with were watching me.

hitting the power button, i hear the quiet roar of the waves hitting land and smile to myself. i set it back in its rightful spot and then without a second thought as to why, i grab harry's blanket and carry it to my bed.

laying down with the blanket pulled over my shoulders, i inhale deeply and for a moment, it's as if harry is laying right next to me. his unmistakable scent surrounding my senses. my eyes close and the waves make me think of the nights that we've spent under the stars together.

i feel myself drifting off into a peaceful sleep as a smile slowly pulls my lips up.

harry's pov

"hey hook, i got a question for you."

my jaw ticks and i feel my face sink further into a grimace. i barely refrain from continuing my walk towards the attic, but i slow my pace enough for carlos to catch up.

his cheeks are flushed and he's breathing heavily from the short run. i don't let him notice the amusement in my eyes at his lack of athleticism as i stare straight ahead and grumble, "better make it count, carlos. i'm not in the mood for an interrogation."

that was the most truthful thing i've said all day.

everywhere i've gone, i'm followed by stares and whispers, but the worst part were the few that were bold enough to ask questions. the range of conspiracies on why me and y/n were seemingly getting along now honestly shocked me. i had been asked if i'm getting paid or if i'm stealing from her or if i'm planning on overthrowing eroda. the questions never stopped and i would simply be left glaring at them as i wordlessly pull my hook from my belt loop. that was enough of an answer for most of them.

but as carlos comes to a stop in front of me, i get the feeling that i won't escape this as easily.

carlos smiles brightly and shrugs, “you and i both know you won’t do anything.”

stepping closer, i instinctively grab my hook and my voice drops into a low rumble as i argue, “unlike ye, my bite is much worse than my bark, deville.”

the smile stays prominent on his stupid face as he replies, “yeah, but y/n would not be happy about that.”

i don’t even process myself moving until i hear the thud of carlos’s back hitting the wall, my fingers tangled in his shirt as i hold him slightly off the ground.

“don’t ye dare bring her into this.”

to give carlos credit, he didn’t even flinch, which is impressive considering how well i remember him shaking and cowering back on the aisle.

carlos rolls his eyes at me and snaps, “she’s what i was gonna ask you about, dipshit. now, put me down before someone sees and snitches to her.”

narrowing my eyes, i glare deeply at him before slowly lowering him to the ground. bringing my hands back to my sides, i nod at him to continue, but i don’t back away or break from my stance towering over him.

he takes a moment to straighten his clothes before he stares up at me and there is no anger or amusement or any of those feelings in his brown eyes. just curiosity. carlos keeps his voice quiet, despite us being the only people in the hallway currently.

“what are you trying to do, harry?”

the question catches me off guard, but i don’t let it show as i force a chuckle and sarcastically snap, “well, carlos, i was trying to go to my room to avoid annoying people, but instead i got stopped by one of them and asked a dumb question.”

i turn on my heel to storm off, but his hand catches my arm and this time, his voice is more stern as he asks, “no, harry, i meant what are you trying to do with y/n?”

groaning, i throw my arms in the air in disbelief and huff, “of course ye believe the fucking rumors.”

everything in me wants to walk away right now. to just drop this stupid conversation that i should’ve avoided and go back to the attic. maybe i could paint or shine my hook. maybe i could lay on y/n’s bed and just listen to her hum as she does homework.

but then some small part of me thought about the idea of her hearing the same rumors that i have. that i’ve been using her or have some ulterior motive or am just playing with her feelings. the thought then plants an imaginary picture in my mind of her forcing a smile to look unaffected even though her eyes get duller with each rumor. for every conspiracy, her lip trembles and she turns away so no one can see how much those words hurt her.

and that’s enough for me to shake my head and grit my teeth as i growl, “listen. i’ve done some shitty things in the past and i’ve hurt people before. my reputation is practically me shadow from how much it’s gonna follow me for the rest of my life. i’ve accepted that.”

carlos stares up at me with wide eyes filled with fear and slight awe, but i pay him no attention. my voice is getting louder as i get angrier, flashes of all the times that i overheard the whispers in the halls.

“ye can say anything you want about me and it won’t bother me. but the second, ye bring her into the rumors… i’ll drag ye off the plank and into davy jones’s locker me self.”

my accent is thicker now and my chest is heaving as i rant, but i’m not quite done as i level carlos with a glare and snarl at him, “i’ve done terrible things, but i plan on being the best i can be when i’m with her. so ye can take that and go tell everybody that they can keep her name outta their mouths. if i catch wind of one more rumor that involves her, imma handle things the way i did on the isle.”

taking a step back, my throat feels raw and that’s when i realized that i had been yelling. i roll my shoulders to try to loosen my stance and i feel an ache in my jaw from how hard i had been clenching my teeth.

walking away, i hear carlos call my name once more. i stop, but don’t give him the satisfaction of me turning back to face him. my hand rests on my hook and for a moment, i wonder if y/n would forgive me for using it on one of her friends.

“thank you, harry.”

my shoulders stiffen again and i feel like a statue from my incapability to move. for a moment, i wonder if i imagined the words coming out of his mouth, but then he speaks again.

“she hasn’t been talking to any of us at lunch, but we can all tell the rumors are getting to her…. so, thank you.”

clicking my tongue, i don’t give him any acknowledgment to what he said and continue to walk away.

but by the time i’ve reached the attic, his words are swirling in my brain. i had noticed that at lunch she didn’t look as engaged as she typically did, but i had chalked that up to her being stressed about her history class again. but now all of her quiet sighs and moments of zoning out while we were on walks, they all made more sense.

i push the door open and frown at the wave noises that feel out of place when there’s still daylight, until i catch sight of her napping.

she was curled underneath a blanket that had been given to me a few days before i was transferred off of the isle. it was one of my few possessions that i didn’t steal or have to scavenge for. and now, as she sleeps with a distant smile and the material of the blanket tucked against her face, i would happily let her keep it for the rest of eternity.

i shut the door as quietly as possible and begin to tip toe towards my bed, cringing when i accidentally step on the creakiest board i’ve ever encountered in my life.

humming sleepily, y/n lifts her head and rubs her eyes with the back of a hand as she mumbles, “hey harry?”

sighing in disappointment at myself for waking her, i smile at how adorable she is with her eyes half-closed and her hair all messed up.

“yes, darlin’?”

she smiles vaguely at the nickname and then her hand lightly taps on the space of the bed next to her.

it’s an invitation that i simply can’t pass up on so i hurriedly pull off my boots before slowly sliding onto the bed next to her. wordlessly, she pulls the blanket up to partially cover me as well and then she curls into my side. her head rests on my arm and i swear i feel part of my heart melt as she happily sighs, her entire body relaxing against me.

she quickly drifts back off into her nap, but i feel my brain still lingering on the conversation i had with carlos. and as i gently tuck away a strand of hair that had fallen in her, i feel even more certain that i will stop at nothing to be the best that i can for her. starting with putting a stop to the rumors.

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//tag list: @kitkatgaming @reblogserpent @marichat4lyf @thomaslefteyebrow @newtshairdryer @thoughtsoftheantagonist @myalupinblack @rintheemolion @aquaamethyst96 @notyuralycat @aquaamethyst96 @3sriracha

[enha-doodles]

CHAPTER 1 || ♫︎❣

Master list || Next

➸ʚ Genre ɞ : Yandere and Horror ( killer au )

➸ʚ Pairing ɞ : enhypenxreader!

➸ʚ Warning ɞ : gore, violence , cursing , killing , blood , betrayal , lot of plot twists

➸ʚ Featuring ɞ : Enhypen , Y/N , TxT , Chareoyoung ( itzy ) , Sana ( twice ) and winter ( aespa ) and more ..

➸ʚ Plot ɞ : Several people are chosen to be in a game of "serial killer" which telecasts all over the world . 15 people Vs 1 killer . The people are unknown to who the killer is . You could think what can go wrong ? The path where the killer has to kill people on reality to win . If the people find out who the killer is , they win . Winners will get 1 billion won each . To confirm the killer , they will have a meeting and a voting will be held . The killer cannot kill after the meeting has been declared till the meeting day is over . If you vote out the wrong person , they'll be eliminated . Will money be the end of thier lives ? Will money be the cause of friendships ending ? Will the need of money cause betrayal and pain ?

➸ʚ Disclaimer ɞ : This is all a work of fiction and my imagination . Credits of the GIFs to the owners . None of the members have the same personality or resonate the traits mentioned below . I apologize in advance for making the idols mean / rude .

'Feather University' . A place to study but mostly escape plan for many students .

Coming from problematic families is the thing that motivates the students to stay more focused on studying . Well that's what the director of this uni thought that made him change the admission rules . Only allowing children that seem to have a pathetic bond with thier families so they can only study and make this university on top . But he didn't seem to think of the corupted minds of the children . Problems gives trauma . And trauma makes a person go insane , offc not always in a manner that they would go on a killing spree but in a manner that would stop the positive thoughts , in a way that they'll go so numb that nobody would really care about what is being spoken to them or if they will ever live . But some people are different . They end up becoming their own death :)

It was another boring day of uni and Y/N had woken up to yet another fight of her parents . It didn't really matter since all she had to do was ignore as she always did . She got a text from her best friend Niki telling her to hurry up as he didn't wanted to be late again . She sighed and went to her bathroom. She came out freshened up and hurried downstairs to the door still hearing her parents fighting again over a silly thing . She didn't bid them a "goodbye" as always but from the looks of it , her parents were too much into the fight to even notice their so called daughter leaving . While walking she noticed how it was too early for uni to start "ahh that little- he tricked me again " . She met up with Niki on the way "Let's stay in the park for awhile , I don't wanna go to uni this early " Niki said grinning. Y/N knew she couldn't be mad at him but she decided to pretend , pulling him by his ear she brought him close "Yah , why do you always call me this early " Niki was hissing in pain "I just wanna spend sometime with my bestfriend , jeez it that too much to ask ?" He said rolling his eyes and pulling Y/N who was laughing at his reaction . They spent some time at the park thinking it was the time to go they left .

Finally arriving at uni they walked to class together like they do everyday , passing funny jokes or sassy comments on whatsoever they were talking . Sadly their seat wasn't together so they had to part their ways . As soon as Y/N sat on her seat she was greeted by her friends . Sana loudly cheering " hello y/n " . She smiled " morning " Chareoyoung clinged to her arm " I forgot to do my math homework and now I would have to go the detention" she pouted . "My chae chae , don't worry I will accompany you to the detention , there is no fucking way I wanna go back to home instead staying with y'all " chae's eyes lit up " omg yay , I am sure Sana would come too " sana who was collecting her things which she dropped looked up and smiled " offc I didn't do my homework too " the 3 friends burst out laughing while there were few eyes watching Y/N laughing with her friends . Cute . They all thought .

On the other hand Niki went towards his friends . "Ugh can we go somewhere , I seriously don't wanna go home today" said Sunoo . "Yes plz , I don't wanna see my father's face too , that bitch litteraly said he will send me to a boarding school if I continue this attitude " said jungwon . "I am gonna get detention so I guess i got my escape ?" Said jungwon . "Wahh then let's go to detention together , we'll annoy the crap out of Mrs. Lee" said Sunoo sitting on his bench . Niki heard you say that you will go to the detention so he thought why not . "Sure " "Is that because you don't have any option or your 'bestfriend' is coming too Niki?" Asked jungwon with a teasing glint but something was hidden in it . "Both I guess" Niki answered nonchalantly . Few sparks of jelousy burnt in their chests but they weren't the only ones jelous of Niki .

It was lunch time and you went to eat with Niki . "You got detention?" You asked while sipping your chocolate milk "yep , just for you" Niki said winking at you . "Pfft , stop" you laughed . Niki flirting with you was normal . You heard 2 seniors whispering about something like "I heard they will chose them from this uni " but you payed no mind to it . After eating , you , Niki and your friends went to watch the school basketball match . Your school team had the best players . They are all the famous seniors . Heeseung , Jake , yeonjun , taehyun and more but these were the most popular . Near you sat the class press group . They were called that because all the people in that friend group were the class president of their own class . Sunghoon , soobin , jay and huiening Kai . Beside you sat the boy that everyone kinda feared . Beomgyu . He was short tempered and usually got into fights . Gotta stay polite , we don't want a black eye now do we ?

The match was over with your university's team winning and everyone on the benches shouting and cheering thier lungs out . Now all of you had to attend classes again , Groaning everyone went on thier way . The classes were over but you still had detention . Things were gonna change a bit from this detention ...

A/n : I apologize for posting this late but in my defense I had no idea how to start it out so I hope it's okay . This is not proofread . I am sorry if there are any typos .

Taglist : @axartia @nikipedia07 @lovesickxmina

[warmblanketwhump]

safe enough to fall

a little university-themed thing I wrote using @sicktember prompts: comfort item, sneaky temperature check, medicine, unlikely caregiver, and lightly inspired by these prompts

the grip of the winter’s cold was their constant, unrelenting companion - but sometimes, B just wished it would be a little less faithful.

It doesn’t ease in the morning, when B wakes up coughing with a cold nose and stiff limbs. It stays as B shivers through the lukewarm shower and the hurried layering of clothes over damp, goosebumped skin. It sticks to them like cling wrap on the bus, in the lecture hall, the windy walk to their next class, makes them tense their rattling jaw, and leaves them hunched over and huddled up, desperate to conserve any scrap of heat.

This was a fact of their university existence - that after the pleasant crispness of fall, their poor, scholarship-funded body was plunged into four months of frozen hell. They didn’t like to complain - after all, they were getting a free education. But no one told them how brutal their university’s winters would be, nor that dorm heating was little more than a few puffs of warm air every hour, or that regardless of how many layers they pulled on, they’d be chilled to the bone until late March.

Their final class of the week is in a drafty science lab, and they hold back a groan. The cold's not the only source of their dread - it was the thought of spending 90 minutes with their perky, overly friendly lab partner, A.

A, whose parents were well-off, well-known benefactors of their university. A, who lived in a nice house with proper heating and had the money for a warm winter coat. A, who obliviously chattered on about anything and everything. Besides that, they were just so...happy. All the time.

The can afford to be, B thought miserably. There was no way all that sunshine could be real.

B really tried to tamp down their bitterness, but it was hard to listen to someone gush on about their amazing weekend their family spent on some tropical island when B spent the same weekend wrapped up in blankets, trying to stay warm enough to study their nomenclature notes.

Two minutes before class, A bounds into the lab like a freed golden retriever and begins their usual volley of caffeinated questions, which B responds to in short, clipped answers. Suddenly, the questions stop and A’s brows furrow.

“You look cold. Are you okay?”

B shifts on their stool and tucks their fingers into the sleeves of their worn secondhand coat, pulling it tighter with a shudder. “I am cold. It’s winter.” They cough weakly into their elbow - the nagging cough has gripped them for weeks now.

“Are you sick?”

Direct, then. That was new. “No. At least, I don’t think so. I don’t have a fever or anything.” In truth, they had been feeling a little lower than usual the past couple of days, the chill a little deeper, the aches more pronounced, the cough a bit more painful. But in their book, that was hardly enough call themselves sick. B sniffles and A opens their mouth to comment further, but the professor calls the class to attention, and the moment is gone.

90 minutes later, they’ve got their work cut out for them - a ten-page lab report that’s going to count for nearly a quarter of their final grade. And as luck would have it, it was a partner project, which meant B got to spend more time with the equivalent of human rocket fuel.

“So...do you want to just knock this out tonight?” A's eyes dart around nervously.

B frowns - it’s almost the weekend, and they figured A would have plans with friends this evening. But B sure doesn’t have anything going on., so they don’t protest. “No… I s’pose we should get as much done as possible while it’s still fresh. Want to go to the library?”

“Ugh." A cringes. "Do we have to? That place is like a tomb.”

B huffs indignantly. “It's not that bad," they mumble in a weak defense of their favorite study spot. A shoots them a glare, and B rolls their eyes. "Do you have somewhere better? It's Friday, so most places are closing up.”

“Well, my parents decided to go on some last-minute ski trip to the Alps again, so my place is free," A says as they step out into the biting wind. "Plus, I have a ton of food and it's actually warm in there, unlike these buildings.”

The promise of decent heating and food that wasn't from the dining hall was enough for B. "Fine. Your place." The pair trudge through the bitter wind as the sun begins to set, and soon they arrive at A's parents’ home - a beautiful, winding estate just a couple minutes away from campus. B has to bite their lip to keep their jaw off the ground - in the blustering snow, this place looks straight out of a Christmas card. Another reminder of how they don’t fit in this world.

Will you stop? B chastises themselves. A having money isn't a personal attack on you. Just enjoy the free food, finish the assignment and get over it.

Despite the towering exterior, B's house was quite cozy, colored in warm neutrals and filled with soft, comfortable furniture. Just past the mudroom, they spot a big living room filled with with an enormous overstuffed couch, squashy-looking pillows, and soft throw blankets. Everything about this place screams warm. A rubs their arms, suddenly aware of how cold they are. The heat nearly makes them dizzy, and they can feel the temperature difference as it seeps into their cold skin.

"Want some cocoa?" A tosses their bag into the corner and heads for an electric kettle in the kitchen, and B follows. "It always helps me warm up." B nods. A couple minutes later, A pushes over a steaming mug with the top entirely covered in marshmallows.

B wraps their chilled fingers around the mug and takes a sip, and the warm, rich liquid feels like heaven to their cold body. "That's amazing."

A smiles. "It's the good stuff." They sip in a surprising silence for a few moments, before A sighs in resignation. "As much as I wish this was just a social call, this report isn't gonna write itself." They grab a bag of popcorn and nod their head toward the living room, and B follows dutifully. A flicks on the gas fireplace and tosses B a throw blanket, and the pair gets to work.

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

After a couple hours of studying, three instances of indignantly thrown popcorn, and a dramatic reading of the periodic table, B realized that they may have misjudged A. Deep down, under the bubbly exterior, A was a genuinely kind, sweet person. It wasn't an act - they just were human sunshine. And the longer they spent time with them, the more B realized they didn't mind their company at all.

"Alright." A drops their pencil and rubs their eyes. "If I have to balance one more equation, my brain's gonna explode. Study break time." A flips on the TV and puts the volume on low.

B leans their head back on the couch and pulls their throw blanket to their chin, trying to ward off the shivery feeling in their core. Despite the heat of the fire, the mug of hot chocolate, and the thick blanket, they just can’t seem to get warm.

Their face feels hot, but their blood feels chilled and heavy, the weight of it making them ache deep down in their bones. B wraps their arms around their knees, trying to rub away the throbbing pain and get some warmth into their skin. They glance out the picture window at the now-blowing snow. It's gonna be a miserable walk home.

"B, you're shivering." A's turning to look at them now.

B startles. "It's-It's nothing. Just a chill." The concern in A's voice triggers their flight response. "I....I should probably get back to the dorms. It’s late–" They're cut off with a hacking cough that leaves them breathless and they wince at the ache in their chest.

"B, it's snowing, and you haven't even had dinner-"

"Where's my jacket?" They push themselves up and toss the throw blanket off, instantly regretting it as the air invades their pocket of hard fought warmth. They’re trembling and dizzy and desperately freezing, but they cannot stay here. Then, the world tilts and they fall back on to the couch. For a moment, they're just laying in an icy, spinning world, trying to catch their breath, when warmth suddenly envelops them.

A's tucking the same thick grey blanket around their shivering form. As they pull away, their hand lightly brushes over B's neck, then freezes. B twists away from the gentle touch, but it’s too late. Realization floods over A's face. Caught. "You lied. You are sick."

B groans, even as their fingers weave into the chunky knit and pull the warm layer closer. "A, please. Just let me go home. I'm probably contagious. You don't want me here."

"B, you look like death warmed over. I'm not sending you out in a blizzard when you're feverish like this. I won't do it." There's a spark in their eyes and a set to A's jaw that dares B to challenge them.

B leans back, defeated. Even though they want nothing more than to run out of this room, they're too weak to stand and too cold to move. So here they'll stay.

It's okay. Someone's here. You can give in now.

No. I can't. I can't let them see me like this.

What choice do you have? You already look awful. Let them help you.

A covers them with another blanket and places a gentle hand on their back, rubbing slowly. The firelight flickers, casting light and shadow across their solemn face. “B. Tell me what you're feeling, and I'll get you what you need.”

B swallows down the rising panic, the helpless vulnerability they feel, and takes a shallow, shaky breath. “I…I guess I just feel….not right. I’m always cold...but it's...worse.” They sniffle weakly, trying to still and order their swirling thoughts. “Chills, fever, cough, sore throat, kinda stuffed up. And it just hurts everywhere.”

A nods slowly, then leaves the room. They return in a few minutes with a few small bottles, carefully scanning the labels and holding them up for B to see.

“Can you take this? Any problems with this one?” B had to take a moment and match the brand names with their usual knockoff brands, but soon they had a couple over the counter medicines picked out, along with something for their cough.

A glances at the medicine labels once more. "This one says to take with food. I've got some leftover chicken and dumpling soup I can heat up - does that sound okay?"

B nods almost imperceptibly. "Sounds wonderful." A gets up to heat the soup, and B feels the anxiety rising in their stomach when they're not in the room with them. A returns with a mug and manages to gently spoon a few sips of broth into B's mouth before B starts falling asleep, clutching the grey blanket even tighter to their shoulders.

A smiles sadly. “That blanket's my favorite whenever I'm not feeling good. It's the best thing you could have to fight off what you’ve got. Trust me.”

B curls into the soft fabric. It was as if the warm environment of the apartment and the comfort of the blanket had been a signal that it was safe to leave survival mode, rest for a moment, open the floodgates that had been holding back whatever had been ailing them for weeks.

After B takes their medicine, A’s eyes shift awkwardly around the room. “So….when you’re sick, do you like having someone with you? Or do you want to be by yourself?”

A sudden rush of emotion crashes over B. They’d so rarely had the choice. It takes all they’ve got not to throw themselves around A and beg them not to leave. “Stay, please,” they ask in a small, trembling voice. “If it’s not too much trouble.”

A smiles halfway and gently pats B’s leg. “Seeing as how I live here, I don’t think that’ll be a problem.” They take their spot at the end of the couch and pull B’s legs over their own, flicking the TV to a familiar movie. B tries to keep up with the plot, but they keep falling in and out of a fitful, restless sleep, tossing, turning, unable to get comfortable enough.

When B’s about ready to cry from exhaustion, A’s there, covering them up with another blanket, bringing them a glass of water, gently stroking the damp hair off their forehead before laying a cold cloth over it. They flinch at first, but the cool dampness eases the fire of their fever, even for just a moment. The last thing B remembers before falling unconscious is a gentle hand squeezing theirs.

It could be minutes or hours later when they jolt awake from a fever dream in a cold sweat, choking and coughing. They’ve kicked off their blankets and the cloth is nowhere to be found, but the chills are back in full force. A appears in B’s blurred vision, hand held to B’s forehead. “Poor thing. Your fever’s worse,” they murmur.

B’s still gasping for breath, curled up in the fetal position, body wracked by the shakes as they try force the words through their chattering teeth. “A...It's so cold. I’m so scared.”

If B was more lucid, they’d see something in A’s eyes crack wide open at their weak, fearful cries. A pulls the trusted grey blanket from the floor and wraps it back around B, rubbing their arms to try and make them feel warmer. There's something in the tenderness of the gesture, and B’s panicked gasps turn into soft, quiet sobs. They try and cover their face with one hand, but A’s hand is there, catching their wrist and wiping the tears away with their thumb.

“Hey. You’re gonna be okay. We just gotta get through tonight, alright?” A’s voice matches their usual cheery demeanor, but B can see the fear in their own eyes. They don’t know what they’re doing either.

“Why are you helping me?” B whispers in a tear-roughened voice.

A shrugs. "You're sick. You need help. Is it that so surprising?"

B's eyes flash a delirious spark. "You don't get it. I'm a broke scholarship student. I'm nothing like you. I'm not fun, or bubbly, or rich, or any of those things you are, and I don't fit in here. So why?"

B can't stop the words now, every single insecurity laid bare. "Why do you try to talk to me when I'm nothing but rude to you? Why'd you invite me here? Am I just a project to you? Why are you helping me? I'm not worth it!" The words spill out before B can stop them, and the raw hurt in A's eyes nearly rips B's heart out of their chest.

B claps their hand over their mouth, tears flooding their eyes. Now they've done it. They've laid it all out there. A's gonna kick them to the curb. And B won't blame them one bit.

But instead, A just looks at them, and pulls B into a hug. Their voice wavers only a bit as they whisper in B's ear: "You're not a project. You are completely worth being cared for. And you’re not the only one who knows what it feels like to not fit somewhere. Trust me.”

Alone. In a big, empty house. Studying on a Friday night. No plans of their own.

A, are you lonely, too?

Their words are so simple.

And yet they're everything B didn't know they needed to hear. A's got one arm around their shoulders, and one hand threaded through their sweaty, fever-damp hair, and they're cradling B so tightly it’s like they're the one who needs to be held.

B can't find the words to apologize or comfort them back. They're too tired for that. But they wrap their other arm around A and let their head rest on their shoulder. They stay like that for ages until their head begins to drop, and A shifts so they’re both laying down, B curled against A, A’s arm wrapped around their shoulders as they tuck a blanket around them both.

And finally, finally, B lets go. It's safe to fall, this time around. Because for the first time, there's someone there to catch them.

[mazm-imagines]

MazM week day 2 prompt for betrayal! Okay this one still kinda sucks but im getting better maybe. Of course I wrote something extra under the cut :)

‘I can’t believe I’ve done it…’

‘I can’t believe I incriminated my best friend…’ 

Pollie had finally done it, she’d finally ruined a life beside her own. The police had spent all day looking for the “Maid Burglar.”

The burglar was a maid, just not the one they suspected. Said maid was hiding in a dingy alleyway, stolen report in hand.

With the way she was loitering at night, she could get implicated and taken in. They put quite the bounty on Kate’s head, enough to save Alan’s family. He was far too kind to turn her in. However, that couldn’t be said about anyone else.

A part of her was content at the idea of it. It’s her fault everyone was panicking. Maybe it was what she deserved. She already worried them with her gambling addiction. If she was gone, it’d be a burden off their hands. 

She didn’t have any time to pity herself anymore as a man turned around the corner. The sudden arrival made her nearly shout before her eyes darted to the black suit.

Ah shite, that was faster than she thought. 

“As per Bishop’s last request, do you have the report?” His voice was crude and low, enough to intimidate her. 

She wished she didn’t, but she knew what happened when you disobey the queen. If only she had the spine. 

“Yes…” Pollie’s normal chatter whittled away to punctual answers. Her tongue-in-cheek would’ve gotten her head bashed in this moment otherwise. 

‘Don’t you ever shut up?’ Kate had said once to her insistent teasing. If only she knew now. 

No time to think like the present. Wordlessly she lifted the document up from her side. For all her grace, it was snatched away equally as roughly. 

“For this service we had taken quite a bit off your debt. Be thankful Ms. Bishop is merciful.”

“Can you tell me something?”

“Better be quick.” His gruff tone nearly made her rethink, but she wanted to do at least this.

“Will Kate be alright if Bishop takes her in?”

“I cannot promise but it is what we are hoping for.”

If she was as merciful as they had said, would Pollie really be in such hot water? The man had offered up a slip of paper which she took mindlessly. Without a word of departure, the man left, it was now her alone in that alleyway. 

She couldn’t bring herself to open it. She knew what would be written, but she didn’t deserve to receive the relief it would give. The money she gambled away could’ve been used otherwise.

Why did she waste what her parents gave her? Alan had been struggling to make ends meet, but every pound he earned was honest. Kate was insufferable, but what she had been doing for Jekyll was honest work too. And what was Pollie doing at that moment?

Selling that honest friend away as well. Stupid pathetic Pollie, a dishonor to the Gump family name, a dishonor to Poole’s, and a dishonor to Dr. Jekyll.