#i honest to god try to like him but the nepotism really makes it harder than it should be

[300iqprower]

HRU Preview: Gawain

Yeah that's a good rankup all things considered. Should have been survival focused instead of even more unga but hey if you HAD to give him even more unga this would probably be how to do it. Heck i'll probably add the Sunlight based Star Gather thing my own NP rank up for him later.

Just like with Sabby, i'm gonna also show a passive I plan to give him cause it's kinda necessary to show why I made this rankup what I did.

New Passive: Miraculous Baptism (Solar)

While an ally or enemy has the [Sunlight] field status effect: - Increase Defense by 33% - Increase NP Damage Resist by 66%

Excalibur Galatine A+ -> ‘A+’

Deals damage to all enemies.^ Inflicts Skill Seal for all enemies (1 turn). Apply [Sunlight] field effect to self (2 turns). Slightly increase your NP Gauge while field is [Sunlight] each turn (4 turns). <Overcharge> Apply Burn for all enemies (5 turns).^ Apply Spreading Fire to all enemies (5 turns).

[namelessblacksheep]

CAREERS GUIDANCE FOR THE INSANE

The worst thing for me about life is being forced to work for a living. I don’t recall ever being consulted on having to do shit just because I was once expelled from a birth canal. It was all totally against my will too.

So, now here I am a mindless minion trained to take shit for the rest of my life and be a victim to servitude.

Some people think that to work is to give people a purpose. these people clearly have never read a book or binge-watched series after series of Game of Thrones or some other brilliant show.

What’s probably worse than having to work is that it takes up five days of your week, puts you into contact with people you wouldn’t be seen dead with and only pays you enough to get by and perhaps have access to Netflix.

All the people making real money are either utterly miserable trying to prove how much better they are than everyone else and selling their souls for the privilege. Or, they work at a company run by their Dad and make lots of money exploiting others. 

I’m so tired of hearing how great billionaires and CEOs are - most of these people are where they are through luck, nepotism, exploitation or compromised social values. Or a combination of the above. Fuck them though, my point of this post is to consider what job would be cool to do, but sadly are unobtainable via a conventional interview process.

1. Angel of Death

Seriously, when I was at school and had that dubious ‘careers guidance’ session if they had offered me the chance of a set of wings (in black with red flecks) , a scythe and the responsibility for taking people’s souls away, I’m pretty sure I would have signed up right there.

Instead, I was offered more ‘normal’ type roles like a teacher, lawyer and postal worker. Needless to say, it didn’t exactly motivate me to try harder at school.

Such a job would definitely require a catchphrase or slogan though. You could do an ‘anti-Spock’ one: ‘die fast and wither’, or more of an Anne Robinson: ‘You are the weakest link, time to die’.

You’d have plenty of time on your hands to come up with something better.

2. Karma

Now, this is what I am talking about. I have a great sense of social justice and my careers officer was throwing law degrees and solicitor type nonsense my way.

Imagine being ‘Karma’. That would be fucking awesome. I could give puppies to kids who had just been cured of cancer and then to knee cap the cunts I have to listen to in meetings about meetings. Life would be so much better.

I’d shine my Karma badge every morning and dish that shit out so that the victims got to actually see it happen in front of them. I love the idea of karma, but hate that you almost never get to see it take place. If I was Karma, I’d commit to making that a more publicly engaging experience. Damn, I’d even join Facefuck and Twatter just to keep everyone abreast of developments. Imagine the likes and shares. Mindblowing.

3. Superhero

This would probably be one of my favourite occupations. You get to wear cool outfits, kick the shit out of bad guys without getting prosecuted and you don’t seem to have to pay for anything. All damages caused are paid for by some other mugs (I think they call taxpayers).

Seriously, I watch a lot of superhero movies and shows. I think of it as ‘work experience’. I do not recall a time where any of these people worry about paying rent, going to the shops or dealing with bailiffs.

Your best friends would be people like Batman and Thor. Plus all the cool gadgets and hot women really do make this a very appealing option. Then people worship you and pay attention to every detail of your X Factor backstory. Sure, on the odd occasion Thanos or some other bastard will try and destroy the world, but at least you’d never be bored and have reason to constantly stay in shape.

4. Unicorn Trainer

Sadly, because that dickhead Noah forgot to put them on the Ark, this awesome profession, sadly, cannot exist in reality (unlike the other three).

The beardy boat bloke’s fuck up aside, I could definitely see myself petting and training these wonderful beasts. The idea of galloping over rainbows and shooting laser beams from the horn at former colleagues would bring immense joy.

You could also get involved in the breeding side of things mating Unicorns with Pegasi. Imagine a future Grand National winner flying over the jumps and winning on the line by a horns length. Ah, sheer bliss.

5. God

I don’t think it would be that hard to do a better job than the divine realm to be honest. Whenever I look out at the world, I shudder with fear at what the future holds.

God is just a slightly more well-known politician. Those guys fuck everything up and never seem to get the blame for anything. In fact, God is just Donald Trump with a beard with more power and reach.

The problem with the current God is that nobody really believes in him. he has all that alleged power and somehow never uses it. Perhaps the Archangels get him all tied up in red tape in their divine bureaucracies or maybe he’s all thunder and no lightning.

I imagine if I was God, I’d probably fire off more lightning bolts, dole out more karma and kill off more tyrants than the current liberal dude. I’d probably demand more taxes to be paid by the fuckers I made rich so that all in my image could live a more ‘blessed’ life. But maybe that’s the point.

It’s probably not as easy as it looks: sitting on a cloud watching our shitty dramas play out like a terrible Reality TV show. Or maybe that’s exactly how it is. Who knows.

Given I hate reality TV, I’d probably put a few more superheroes out there and definitely kill less innocent children.

Let’s face it though, the beardy one on a cloud as far less cool than the dancing elephant one. That boy’s got rhythm and style. OM to the motherfucking G!

[atlaswriting]

“I’m looking for the truth,” I say, setting his hand back down on the table, “I know when you’re not being honest with me. I know when you’re hiding something—,”

My fingers wrap around his wrists and finally I pull away, “Sure.” I say, “Blame the tequila.”

Once again I try to distance our bodies, and I almost do—but then he stands and uses his hips to pin me against the counter, “Nothing is wrong. I’m just stressed and I haven’t been sleeping. I’m cranky and taking it out on everyone around me—my teammates, Ellie, you. I’m sorry, okay? I won’t make jokes about the past anymore.” He leans down, presses his mouth to my ear and says, “I need to shower after dinner, will you join me?”

Ellie comes back juggling way too much food for three people. As she sets it down I look up at Abram, “I’ll think about it.”

She starts opening takeaway containers stealing food from each one before finally grabbing the plates, “I might have to leave in a little bit, I’m just waiting on a text from—,”

“Oscar?” I ask, staring at her over the steam, “Twice in two days, things aren’t moving a little fast are they?”

“If she wants to bang the English teacher, let her do it,” Abram shrugs, “Maybe it’ll bring all of our grades up.”

I roll my eyes, “I don’t need nepotism, Abram. And I wasn’t talking to you.” Focusing my attention back at on Ellie, I lean down on my elbows, “Alcohol?”

She shrugs, “Maybe.”

“What does he drink?” Abram asks, “He seems like a whiskey drinker.”

“Shut up, Abram.” Ellie bites, “Elise, I’ll be fine. There’s nothing you need to be worried about. It’s different this time.”

Stabbing a few soggy fries with my fork I shake my head, “What makes you so sure? You deserve to be more than some booty call. What makes you think he isn’t going to go running back to—,”

“Elise!” Ellie shouts, slamming her fists down on the counter.

“You know what? I’m not even hungry,” I push away my plate of food, “I have to go help Knox with an assignment anyway.”

♡ ♡ ♡

Click to down MMS message.

Abram!

Well you didn’t stay long enough for the shower.

So I wanted to show you what you were missing.

You do realize I’m not alone, right?

Yes.

Did Justin like what he saw?

I’m not even with Justin.

Are you jealous?

Lol.

Why would I be jealous?

We both know you’re mine, anyway.

I can prove it to you later.

Add some more marks to your neck so he knows.

What do you say?

message read, 10:24 pm.

♡ ♡ ♡

I would be lying if seeing Abram glide across the ice, handling the puck with ease didn’t make my annoyance start to fade away. He keeps a firm hand on his stick, moving through bodies much larger than his, aiming and then sending it over the goalies shoulder and into the net.

UCLA pride sweeps through the rink as students and family rise to their feet, shouting drowned out only by the goal horn.

Ellie arrives late into the second period, sweater pulled up to her chin and hair falling over her shoulders with purpose, “What did I miss?” she sits in the empty seat beside me.

“Abram scored one, the kid Abram hit—I forget his name—,”

“Brantley.”

“Yeah, him, he got a hat trick. But, UConn’s goalie couldn’t stop a parked car, so I don’t think that’s saying much.”

Ellie sinks against the back of her seat, “Maybe winning will help him sleep. He’s been up a lot, lately. When he does sleep all I hear is yelling.”

My lips are weighted down with revelation, “His nightmares are back? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I thought they would stop. They started up again after you two ended things, but went away. I thought they would this time.”

“Ellie.” I say, guilt sinking into my bones. I don’t react to Abram’s second goal, body feeling more like a comet, displaced and moving too fast. She brushes her hair back, and the sight alone is enough to jar me from my own thoughts. Quick hands pull at the neck of her sweater and tug it down as far as the fabric allows. “Ellie!” I say again, “God, did he strangle you?”

“With his mouth.”

“How are you going to explain this to Abram? He’s going to find out you and—,”

“It’s like a divorce,” Ellie explains, “you don’t tell the kids you’re trying again because then they’ll get their hopes up. I’m not falling back into love with him, Elise. We’re just having sex when we’re drunk.”

Another buzzer signals the end of the game, “I don’t know who’s going to hate you more—Abram or your liver.”

♡ ♡ ♡

“I’m surprised Brantley is even inviting you over, considering his face has your name written all over it.”

Abram shrugs, “We don’t take fighting that personal.”

“Seemed pretty personal to me.”

“Elise let it—oh, what is he doing here?” The three of us stop and look up at Justin as he starts walking toward us, arms wrapped around his body, despite it still being over eighty degrees.

“Don’t hate me, I invited him.”

He stops short, “I didn’t know if I should go in.”

Abram’s face pulls into a childish pout, “That’s normally what you do at parties.”

Sending my elbow into his ribs, I release Abram’s hand and loop my arm through Justin’s, “Knox and Jolie were going on a date, I didn’t think it would be polite to leave him home alone on a Friday night.” I explain, “Have you even tried to make friends here yet?” I look over at Justin, “Silly question, of course you haven’t.”

Once inside, Abram and Ellie make a straight line for the drink. “I wish you had come to the game, it’s a lot of fun.”

Justin rolls his eyes, “For some reason, I doubt that.”

“This is why people don’t like you. You’re stuck up.” I grin up at him, “Next game, you’re coming. I don’t care if I have to drag you out myself.”

Music takes the place of any sense and there’s something satisfying about watching people check their inhibition at the door. My eyes fall onto Ellie and Abram dancing, alcohol splashing over the sides of their cup—if they weren’t so tragically platonic, I could see why Brody or Natasha would think what they did.

At one point, Abram reaches up, fingers touching Ellie’s neck and she slaps him away. He lets his hand fall to his side, confusion settling across his face as he watches her storm away.

“Abram!” Shouts another voice from across the room, booming over the loud music, “Come collect your girlfriend’s boyfriend before he gets his ass kicked.”

I look at my side, noticing just now that Justin wandered away—we both reach him at the same time, watching as he argues with the goaltender whose cheeks are turning redder by the second.

“All I’m saying is that: I don’t understand why you want waste your time chasing a ball—,”

“Puck.” Someone corrects him.

“Puck. Like a bunch of Neanderthals? I suppose it could be because you don’t have two brain cells to rub together and this is your only chance at a life above a fast food restaurant.” Pleased with himself, Justin turns around to face me—but instead is met with Abram’s fist.

“Abram, you idiot!” I yell. “What is wrong with you?”

Pulling his beanie off his head he stares down at me, “Me? What is wrong with him? He’s surrounded by hockey players, talking shit about hockey players, Elise. That seems like something someone with no brain cells would do.”

“Il est comme un chien sauvage.”

I almost want to step away—allow Abram another hit, but the thought of him spilling anymore blood makes me sick and I drag Justin away. I ignore Abram yelling until we’re outside and the disappearing music makes it harder to.

“You’re really going to choose him over me, Elise?”

I should have stopped walking—should have listened to my gut as she tells me to drop Justin and turn back, but I don’t. There’s a bigger part of me, loaded with passive aggression that pushes me forward.

♡ ♡ ♡

It’s concerning that Ellie and Abram don’t bother locking their doors, despite living in Los Angeles. So when I sneak in, I lock the door behind me.

It’s quiet—there’s a light over the kitchen on but for the most part, the apartment is undisturbed. I slip off my heels at the door, letting my bag fall off my shoulders and start toward Abram’s room, apprehension sitting like a fist in my stomach; my hand hesitates at the door.

Leaning back, I peak into Ellie’s empty room and the desire to call her, pull her back from making a bad decision outweighs wanting to apologize to Abram—until I hear him start to yell.

Soft at first, begging just above a murmur but soon the quiet turns into a scream and full on thrashing. I rush into the room, trying to shake him from his nightmare but it does nothing. I crawl on top of him, lock my legs around his waist and try to keep him pinned beneath my body—but like a mechanical bull; it’s hard to stay on.

Finally I lean down, hold his cheeks between my hands and press my lips to his—his fight slows and hands fall to my waist, I pull away only when his breathing as levels.

“What are you doing here?” His voice is hoarse, scratchy with fear and hard liquor.

“Saving your life, apparently.”

I move off, slip between the blankets next to him and wrap my arms around his torso, pressing my forehead against his neck.