#idk how i always manage to set myself up for failure

[thelaststarfalling]

just once i'd like to complete one (1) bigger project that i can actually be proud of

[vulcan-moon]

Yknow, its completely up to you if you want to answer this or not. But.

I always believed people with similar troubles understand each other to an extend others cant do. Your art, the way you draw, I don't know, it tells a story that is too familiar to me, too close to home. Not that it got any better for me, Im trying to clean up still an addict some might say. But thank you. I also really hope you're okay. 🫶

i think there is a kind of solidarity in being able to recognise in other ppls art similar experiences. i hope it does get better for you - even if you look at yourself now and compare it to where you were last year, any improvement is improvement. i am reluctantly accepting myself that healing takes a long, long time. i'm as okay as i can be right now, i'm learning to use healthy coping mechanisms like art and writing as an outlet, but it's always going to be a journey and i'm always going to have bad days. i'm learning too that there's no one right way that recovery looks like.

[m1ckeyb3rry]

Synopsis: You haven’t gotten along with Tabito Karasu in a long, long time. However, when a chance encounter with a mysterious woman leads to the two of you switching places, you find out that maybe there’s more to him than you realized.

BLLK Masterlist

Pairing: Karasu x Reader

Chapter Word Count: 8.4k

Content Warnings: crack fic, reader is implied to be smaller/weaker/less athletic than karasu, miscommunication of the sort you’d expect from a k-drama, VERY unserious and stupid, crude humor, non-explicit mentions of karasu’s dick, reader explicitly does NOT have a dick, i haven’t watched the movie freaky friday in ages so don’t expect it to follow that plot or anything, random old lady’s divine intervention saves this dumbass girl failure x boy loser relationship

A/N: to be honest i have nothing to say for myself. there is 0 reason for this to be as long as it is considering how legitimately idiotic of a plot it has LMAOAO but i couldn’t help myself from writing it…i watched an edit of **** and ***** from jjk set to the song ‘freaky friday’ and i was like. inspired. idk. if this is your first time reading smth by me i promise i usually am better than this 😭

The margins of your Mathematics notebook were littered with intricate sketches, pretty birds and flowers arcing alongside the equations that you copied down from the board when you remembered to look up at it. If anyone else in the class could see how little you truly paid attention, they’d likely be furious; after all, you consistently had high marks, often even managing to be first in the class despite your constant distraction.

One person in particular would likely have a heart attack, but considering you liked him the least out of everyone in the entire school, the prospect filled you with a sort of joy and determination to continue in exactly the manner you had been. Tabito Karasu — in his honor, you drew a crow next to the swoop of an integral that you had not bothered with solving, and then, for your personal satisfaction, you crossed it out.

“Yo.” You had not noticed the bell ringing, so caught up were you with shading in the petals of a sunflower, the tip of your pencil growing dull from the heavy, repetitive strokes. “My mom told me to tell you that yours left her purse at our house, so if you could come get it after school, that would be great.”

You glanced up at Karasu, who was standing in front of your desk, his bag slung over one shoulder, his lopsided smile noticeably vanished. It always was when he spoke to you, his face never anything but solemn on those occasions.

“Again?” you said. “Sure.”

“Cool,�� he said. “See you then, I guess.”

You wrinkled your nose at his receding back, gathering your own things and following him sedately out of the classroom before splitting off to head to your next period, not even affording him a farewell in return for his half-hearted attempt.

There had been a time, when you were both very young, that you and Karasu had been friends. It wasn’t really your choice, of course. Your mothers had known one another since their college days and thus had been determined to raise their children side-by-side, but neither of you had minded too much.

When your minds were innocent and plain, things came easily and simply. You would make castles in the sandbox of the playground by his house, racing one another down the slides as your mothers watched you and conversed. It had been nice. Back then, Karasu had been a person you could be fond of, and so you had been. He had been your best friend, your only friend, really, and he had even sworn to you that he would always be so, interlocking his pinky with yours and saying that it was a promise.

Anyways, promises were easily made and easily forgotten back then. Not so long after you entered grade school, he abandoned you entirely, sneering at you if you dared to approach him, turning away whenever you waved at him in the hallways. You understood quickly enough what he meant by it, and you grew to resent him as much as you had once cared for him.

It had happened long enough ago that now, there was just an awkward sort of tension between you two whenever you spoke. He must’ve known that you didn’t like him, hadn’t for a while, and he never really pressed the issue, though he never did anything to fix it, either. You doubted he cared; after all, he only ever spoke to you if he absolutely could not avoid it, and you operated by the same policy.

“Hey, Y/N, we’re all thinking of staying after school to study for the Chemistry exam,” your best friend said to you as you settled into your seats for Economics, the one class you both shared. “Wanna come? I know you don’t really need it or anything, but it’d be fun if you were around.”

“You just want me to explain everything to you so you don’t have to read the textbook,” you said.

“Guilty,” she said with a grin that suggested she did not feel very guilty at all. “Sorry, but it’s a really boring textbook.”

“It’s a drag,” you agreed. “I’d say yes, but I can’t. My mother forgot her purse at Karasu’s house when she was visiting, so I have to go with him and grab it on my way back home.”

Your best friend winced. “I’m sorry. Will you be okay? I can come, if you want.”

“There’s nothing to be done about it,” you said, shaking your head. “It’ll be alright. You need all of the studying time you can get, so don’t concern yourself with me.”

“If you say so,” she said reluctantly. “Call me if you change your mind, okay? I think my exam grade is well beyond the point of saving now, so I don’t mind giving up some studying time to help you out.”

“All the more reason for you to study longer,” you said. “Seriously, relax. It’s not like I’m planning on staying there for long. I’ll be so quick that there won’t even be any time for things to get weird.”

The day was over before you knew it, and then you were trudging out of the building, scanning the front entrance for Karasu and finding him leaning against the brick wall of the school, gesturing wildly as he laughed at something one of his teammates had said.

You waited for his teammate to leave, and only then did you approach, stopping a distance away from him and folding your hands behind your back as you waited for him to notice you. He did so almost immediately — he was keen like that, ever aware of everything happening in his general vicinity — and his back straightened, the mirth from earlier dropping into the melancholy you were more used to.

“Let’s go,” you said.

“Yes, let’s,” he said. “Come on. If we cut through town, we’ll get there faster.”

“Okay,” you said.

The two of you walked in silence after that, Karasu’s hands shoved in his pockets as he shuffled along beside you. You hugged a never-opened Economics textbook to your chest, your heart beating against the hard cardboard of the cover.

“How have you been?” Karasu said after a while, when the quiet must’ve grown to be unbearable for his typically talkative self.

“Fine,” you said.

“Same,” he said.

“I didn’t really ask,” you said.

“Right,” he said, “Sorry.”

“There’s no need for any of this,” you said. “We’re not friends, so don’t act like we are. I’m going to your house to pick up my mother’s purse, and then I’m leaving. That’s it.”

“Right,” he said again. You thought he must be relieved that you had given him leave to disregard you. Thus assured that he would leave you alone, you allowed your mind to wander, mulling over the assignments you had due the next day and figuring out a plan to complete them that would require the least amount of effort possible.

“Excuse me!”

You both were passing through a part of town that you did not frequent when the door to a storefront swung open, revealing a wizened old lady. Her thick gray hair was gathered in a knot at the nape of her neck, and her posture was stooped over but her expression was no less intense for the age she showed. You jumped at the abruptness of her exclamation, and you sensed Karasu had been equally as surprised, though he remained far more collected than you had.

“We don’t want to buy anything,” he said bluntly, without even waiting for her to explain.

“It’s not wares I sell,” the woman said. “It’s fortunes.”

“Not interested,” he said, though not without glancing at you, so briefly that you almost believed you had imagined it.

“Listen, boy, I don’t look into the future for just anyone. It’s a rare soul that attracts my attention, and here I have two in front of me! You’ll avoid a lot of misery if you agree to it,” she said.

“We’ll take the misery,” Karasu said. “Like I said, we’re good. Leave us alone, old crone.”

“Be careful who you’re rude to,” the woman said, her irises gleaming. “It’s already cost you once, hasn’t it?”

A muscle in his jaw twitched from how hard he grit his teeth at that. “You’re just saying things.”

“Ma’am,” you said, finally deciding to speak up. This entire conversation was such a waste of time, and furthermore if Karasu was irritated, then you felt as though there was a chance he’d lash out and you’d be the unfortunate victim. “Every minute we are delayed here is another minute I must spend with him, and considering I don’t like him all that much, I’d prefer if we could get on with it.”

“Is that the case?” she said, and then she beamed at you, her lips peeling back in a more sinister form of the expression than she ought to have been capable of. “But wouldn’t you give anything if you could go back to how things once were? I know that he would.”

“Shut up,” Karasu snapped, his face uncharacteristically red. “What the hell do you know about me, anyways? About either of us?”

She began to laugh, and it was a rattling, wheezing sound which made even your own chest ache. Karasu glared at her, but she ignored him completely, cackling and cackling, slapping her knee as if he were an award-winning comedian who had just made the joke of the century. Despite yourself, you inched towards him; he was far from your preferred partner, but you thought that if she were to suddenly lunge at you or something, he was probably your best bet at survival.

“I have seen many versions of you in my lifetime, and you have all said the same. What do I know about you?” the woman said. “Well, well. I’d wager I know quite a bit about you, indeed. How about this? I’ll give you a gift — on the house, of course. Then we’ll see who knows what.”

“We don’t fucking need any gifts,” Karasu said. “Y/N, let’s get out of here. She’s crazy.”

“You can’t deny a gift that’s been freely given!” she shouted gleefully after you as you strode away. “It’s yours, whether you like it or not. Enjoy yourself, baby crow — you may thank me yet!”

Whether it was a placebo borne of the woman’s odd behavior or a symptom of the atmospheric pressure dipping before an out-of-season storm, you noticed that there was a headache mounting behind your left eyebrow. You kept silent about it as you dutifully followed Karasu towards his house, but it was definitely uncomfortable, and whenever he looked away, you’d press the pads of your fingers against the source of the pain in a fruitless effort to alleviate it.

Neither of you said anything until you reached his porch; he had been jarred by the conversation with the woman, though he disguised it with a scowl — it was obvious from the tension of his shoulders, however, and as for you, you relished in the tranquility, which was what you had been seeking the entire time.

“She was full of shit,” he informed you as he unlocked his front door and motioned for you to go inside. It sounded like he was trying to convince himself as much as he was you, but you had long ago come to the conclusion that the woman was just searching for a way to make a quick sale, so you were unruffled.

“I didn’t think otherwise,” you said. You hadn’t been to his house in a while, but it still looked the same as you remembered it, down to the Siamese cat curled up on the couch — although, of course, far more gray peppered her muzzle than the last time you had seen her. You scratched her under the chin as you waited for Karasu to return with the purse, and without even opening her eyes, she purred at you, rubbing her face against the back of your palm.

“Here you go,” he said, tossing the purse at you. You reached up and caught it with the hand you weren’t using to pet his cat, and then you offered her one last stroke in farewell before heading back to the front door.

“Thanks,” you said.

“Right,” he said. “Anytime. Later, Y/N.”

You glanced at him over your shoulder before nodding, figuring there was no harm in one final act of politeness. No matter the grudge you held against him or how justified it was, you supposed you could be the bigger person this singular time. “Later, Karasu.”

The walk between your houses was not so long, but for some reason, it dragged on and on — a symptom of your headache, maybe? By the time you reached your own doorstep, the world was spinning, and after returning your mother’s purse to her, you stumbled up to your room, flopping face-first on your bed.

A few minutes later, there was a knock. With a groan, you rolled over so that you were lying on your back, a hand covering your eyes so that the fading twilight did not worsen the pounding that had spread from your left eyebrow to your forehead and the back of your neck.

“Come in,” you mumbled out. Your mother poked in her head, a bowl of soup in her hands, a kind frown on her face.

“Are you alright?” she said, sitting beside you and setting up your pillows so you could lean against them.

“My head is killing me,” you said. She pressed her hand against your brow, pursing her lips.

“Doesn’t feel like a fever,” she said. “Here, have this.”

She handed you the soup, which she must’ve been making for dinner. You accepted it gratefully, the heat of the bowl against your skin helping, if only slightly. Taking a sip, you sighed and offered a smile.

“Thanks,” you said. “I’m just going to do my homework and then sleep early. Hopefully it’ll be gone by tomorrow.”

“It looks like there’s going to be a nasty storm tonight, so that could be what’s messing with you,” your mother said, confirming your earlier thoughts. “On the bright side, your father and I won’t have to water the plants.”

“That’s good,” you said as she got up, pressing a kiss to your forehead and closing your curtains so that only your dim, warm lamp lit the room.

“Text me if you want me to bring up some ibuprofen for you,” she said. “But finish that soup first. It’s not good to eat on an empty stomach.”

“I’ll keep you posted, but I think just getting to bed is going to do the most good at this point,” you said. “Thanks again, mama.”

“I miss when you used to call me that all of the time,” she said. “Now my baby’s growing up. Soon you’re going to get married and leave your father and I all alone.”

“Not for a while,” you said with a smile. She scrunched up her nose and blew you a kiss.

“I’ll leave you alone. I hope you feel better soon, honey. Try not to work too hard,,” she said, shutting the door gently, so that it did not slam.

Your homework took you a couple of hours, and it was dark by the time you finished. Only the thought of the further aggravation it would bring should you not complete it managed to push you through the maddening exercise, as your headache had not lessened any in that time. If anything, the steady process of your schoolwork only made it worse, and it was all you could do to get ready for bed before diving in between your sheets and burying your face back in your pillow, drifting off to sleep almost immediately.

You had many dreams that night, most of them unrelated, though the common thread was Karasu. He was in all of them, whether in the background or as a main focus, and indeed when you woke up gasping and in a sweat, his face was the only thing you remembered.

Based on the sun streaming through the window, you had slept for the entire night. An unfamiliar alarm was blaring from your nightstand, and you reached out to silence it before pausing.

The room you were in was not your own. It was different, the sheets a deep navy shade, the blanket a plain gray, an L-shaped desk with a PC on it in the corner. There was a shelf beside the desk, books shoved in between gold soccer trophies — soccer trophies?

“What the fuck?” you said before clapping your hands over your mouth, your jaw dropping as you scrambled out of the bed, your limbs flailing about when the drop ended up being smaller than you had anticipated. Grabbing your phone off of its charger — what the hell was with that bland case? — you raced over to the mirror propped up by the closet.

Upon seeing the reflection in it, you screamed, because for some reason, instead of your own body, it was Tabito Karasu’s staring back at you. You raised one hand and then the other, hoping and praying that it wasn’t real, that you were hallucinating or something, but the reflection followed your movements exactly. When you pinched yourself, that, too, hurt, which meant that somehow, this was happening.

If you were in Karasu’s body, then what about your own? Was he in yours, or had it just vanished or something? You turned on his phone, unlocking it using Face ID and opening the call app. You doubted he had you saved as a contact — after all, the two of you had stopped being friends long before either of you had gotten cellphones — so you went straight for typing in your number, pausing for a moment as it suggested a contact name.

Y/N <3

“What?” you said. There were so many things that needed to be unpacked there, but you decided it wasn’t even worth considering. You had more pressing issues; namely, how had this preposterous situation even developed?

Clicking on the Y/N <3 contact, you held the phone up to your ear, hoping that whoever currently had possession of you would pick up instead of ignoring the call.

“Hello? Who is this?” Hearing your own voice on the other end of a call would ordinarily have been one of the most disconcerting things to happen to you in the last twenty-four hours, but considering you were still reeling from whatever body-swapping nonsense had just transpired, it ended up being kind of underwhelming.

“Karasu?” you said. There was a pause on the other end of the line, and you prayed they would not hang up.

“Y/N?” he said after a moment.

“Yes!” you said.

“So you’re in my body? I was wondering what might’ve happened to me…” he said, trailing off thoughtfully.

“What the hell is going on? Why am I you, and why are you me?” you said. “More importantly, how do we switch back?”

“How would I know? I’m just as lost as you are. By the way, um, why don’t you have my number saved?” he said.

“That’s what you’re choosing to focus on?” you screeched. “There is a dick attached to me! I have a genuine, bona-fide dick right now, and more specifically, it’s your dick! How about we focus on that?”

“Sorry,” he said. “But also, I was trying not to think about that. This is already weird enough, why’d you have to make it worse?”

“I’m trying to impress upon you just how dire our situation is,” you said. “By the way, while we’re on the subject, don’t even think of looking down my shirt. I’ll kill you if you do.”

“I wouldn’t,” he protested.

“Uh-huh,” you said. “Whatever. What are we going to do now?”

“How did this even happen?” he said. “Maybe if we work backwards, we can figure out what we have to do to fix it. What were you up to last night?”

“I just did homework,” you said. “And then I slept. I had a really bad headache, so I didn’t do much.”

“Wait, I had one, too,” he said.

“That doesn’t really mean anything. It’s not like headaches are uncommon,” you said.

“It’s a start, okay? I’m trying here! Why can’t you be cooperative for once?” he said.

“Why can’t you be cooperative for once?” you muttered under your breath, finding that the mockingly high-pitched voice sounded much more derogatory in Karasu’s harsh tones than it ever had coming from you. “Fine. When’d your headache start?”

“While we were walking back from school,” he said. “To my house.”

“That’s about when it happened for me,” you said. “Now that you mention it, it was right after—”

“—right after we talked to that old lady,” he completed for you. “Two steps ahead of you.”

“No, you just cut me off. That doesn’t mean you were ahead of me,” you said. “It just means you’re rude.”

“Sure, sure, whatever,” he said. “Do you think this is that gift the old lady was talking about?”

“Hm,” you said. “You think she was serious about that?”

“It’s as good a guess as any. Back then, I figured she was full of bullshit, but what if she actually does have some kind of supernatural powers?” he said.

“Then this is all your fault!” you said.

“What?” he said.

“You heard me. Why’d you have to be such an asshole to her, huh? Like always. Jeez. You can’t help but be a jerk and fuck things up, can you?” you said. “Well, we’re going to be late for school if we don’t get a move on, so I guess the only option we have is getting through the day and then going to visit her after classes.”

“I don’t — do you really think so?” he said.

“Obviously? She’s the biggest suspect at the moment, but I’d really prefer if we didn’t miss school. What with board exams and all coming up…” you said.

“Never mind,” he said. “Anyways, why do you care? It’s not like you do anything but draw in class.”

“How’d you know that?” you said. “Are you some kind of stalker or something?”

“I’m not a stalker. I just…pay attention to people,” he said.

“Sure,” you said. “And you put little heart emoticons after everyone’s contact names, too. How’d you even get my number?”

“You saw that?” he said.

“How do you think I called you?” you said.

“Oh,” he said. “We were in a class group chat together in seventh grade.”

Now that he mentioned it, you did recall something along those lines, although of course, you had not saved his number in return. You hadn’t seen a need to — out of everyone in that class, you would’ve texted him for help last.

“Okay,” you said. “Bye.”

You hung up immediately, finding the entire discussion to be unproductive, and then you sighed. It seemed that, for now, you were stuck as Karasu; massaging your sore jaw, you gave up on procrastination and began to get dressed for the day.

Somehow, you were able to get through it with minimal embarrassment, and you even shaped his hair into the style he preferred, which you were particularly proud of, given how absurd it was. You could only hope he was showing your own body the same kindness you were reluctantly giving his.

“Good morning, Tabito,” his mother said absently when you strolled into the kitchen.

“Morning, Mrs. — Mom!” you said. “Mom. Good morning.”

It would be a little strange if Karasu began referring to his own mother as Mrs. Karasu. You had to keep in mind that to everyone else, you were no longer Y/N L/N, and if you didn’t want them all to treat you like you were insane, you had to play the part of Tabito Karasu in a convincing manner.

“Time for breakfast?” she said. You nodded.

“Do we have any cereal?” you said. She furrowed her brow at you.

“Cereal? You made us throw it all away because it was too sugary, remember? Your energy bars are in the pantry, though, and there’s apples in the fridge if you want,” she said.

Your eye twitched. A health freak, really? His body and soccer career were impressive, but did both really take so much maintenance that he restricted himself from even cereal?

“Thanks,” you said, rifling through the pantry, picking out a random bar and an apple to snack on as you walked to school. “See you later!”

“See you,” Mrs. Karasu said, not even looking up from the laptop she was working at. You frowned, used to your own mother, who always responded with as much energy as you gave her. Brushing it off as the relationship she and her son must’ve had, you bit into your apple and vowed not to think about it further.

The energy bar was absolutely disgusting; you weren’t sure how Karasu could stand to eat them on a daily basis. It was some German brand with an umlaut in the name, and it tasted like cardboard coated in glue. You were barely able to force it down your throat, but you knew a mere apple wouldn’t last you until lunch, so you had no other choice. Still, it put you in a foul mood and set the tone for the day, which, considering what tone had already been created by your migration into Karasu’s body, was not a good thing.

“Karasu! Hey, Karasu, wait up!” You had no idea what his name was, but as soon as you walked into the school building, a boy was shouting out after you, panting as he sprinted to catch up. From your vague knowledge, he was one of Karasu’s friends and soccer teammates, though not one he was particularly close with. “You deaf or something, man? I’ve been trying to get you to slow down for ages! What’s the rush?”

“Rush?” you said.

“Why’re you walking so fast? First period doesn’t start for another ten minutes,” he said.

“Sorry,” you said. There had been no intention behind your pace, actually. It was just that you were unused to the length of Karasu’s stride and so found yourself going along at a far greater clip than you meant to. “I didn’t realize.”

“Okay, Captain,” he said. “I get it. Some of us are just average guys, you know, so let’s keep it nice and easy, alright?”

“Yup,” you said. His friend squinted at you.

“You’re being oddly nice today,” he said. “I don’t like it one bit.”

“We’ve been speaking for all of two minutes, how can you tell that already?” you said. His friend cocked his head at you before elbowing you in the side. You blinked at him. He blinked back, and then he punched you in the arm. You barely even felt it, so you didn’t react, which only caused his friend to wail.

“See? What are you plotting? You only act this nice when you’re planning to be really mean later! What did I do to you? Is it because I went and studied with L/N’s friends? I’m sorry! Just hit me, please, and let’s get it over with!” he said.

“Why would I care if you studied with my — with L/N’s friends?” you said. “And I’m not hitting you, dude, calm down.”

“You’re always calling them mediocre,” he said. “Though I guess you call everyone mediocre, so that’s not really saying much.”

“Of course,” you said dully, unconvincingly. “Mediocre. That is what I think of them. Absolutely.”

His friend shrugged. “They’re not that bad, though, in all honesty. You shouldn’t be so hard on them just because you wish L/N was friends with you instead. She doesn’t even like you, bro. You should just give up.”

Your mind went blank at this. “I wish that who was what with who now?”

“Oh, are we back in the denial stage? My bad,” his friend said.

Karasu wanting to be friends with you? It was a laughable idea. He was the one who had left first. Your dislike was only a symptom of that, of the act which he had never explained nor apologized for, and he knew that as well as you did. He was popular, too, even more popular than you were — which was saying something — so what use would he have in befriending you? This boy was delusional. Or maybe there was another Y/N L/N at the school. You doubted it, but wasn’t it technically a possibility? At any rate, it was more plausible than Karasu harboring any kind of affection for you.

When you entered your first period classroom, you almost made the mistake of walking to your normal desk. In fact, you were about halfway there when you realized that your desk partner was giving you an odd look, her face souring with every step you took. For a moment, you considering asking her what was wrong, since the two of you usually got along well, but then you remembered — you were Karasu at the moment, and though you had never told her in your own body how much you detested him or why, she had picked up on it through the course of the semester.

Turning on your heel, you made a beeline for Karasu’s normal seat. His partner was unfamiliar to you, but you couldn’t recall Karasu ever talking much to him, so it probably didn’t matter much that you had no idea who he was.

“’Sup, Karasu,” his partner said.

“’Sup,” you said, omitting his name and hoping he didn’t find it strange. Thankfully, his partner only nodded at you before returning to his homework, which he was completing in the seconds before the bell, for some reason. You rifled through Karasu’s bag and pulled out his own paper, which was perfectly done, missing all of the adornments which often littered your assignments. You believed that this week, you had drawn a little cat playing with a ball of yarn next to your answers. You were sure it would delight your teacher immensely, at least based on her reactions to the previous doodles you had included, though you also had a sense Karasu would judge you when he saw.

The class passed by even slower than it usually did. If you started drawing to while away the time, you’d make your desk partner suspicious, so you had nothing to waste your energy with, bar watching the minute hand creeping along against the clock.

After all, Karasu was an attentive person, raising his hand in class to answer every question the teacher asked, the first to know how to solve a problem and the first to explain it upon prompting. It was another one of those things that made him so well-liked; despite his brusqueness, he really was willing to help people out if they needed it, in his own insolent way.

It was unnerving. When did you learn so much about Karasu? You thought you had been ignoring him quite successfully. You could hardly even tolerate him, so why were you so knowledgeable on the kind of person he was, his routines and friends and quirks? Was it an old habit that, even now, you could not quite put out of your mind? A remnant of that former friendship? You had not understood until you took on this new role how much of him you were still familiar with, how much of him was still the same as you had remembered.

At lunch, you headed over to the table where Karasu’s friend group was waiting, giving your own friends a mournful glance as you did so. Karasu was sitting in your normal spot, listening to your best friend as she ranted about something. There was a small frown on his — your? — face, as if she was saying something that he didn’t agree with but was too scared to speak up against.

“Bro, enough with the longing stares. This shit is embarrassing.” You were shocked out of your trance by someone socking you in the abdomen. Doubling over with a cough, you glared at Karasu’s best friend, wondering why every one of his relationships was so violent.

“What was that for?” you said, shoving your shoulder into him so that he would move over. He did so willingly, albeit not without a snicker as you set your lunch down beside him.

“Just saying,” he said. “Now that we know what your deal is, you can hardly expect us not to mention it.”

“My deal?” you said.

“Told you he’s back in the denial phase! As if we didn’t just have an hour long confessional video call last night,” Karasu’s teammate from earlier said.

“Huh?” you said. Karasu hadn’t mentioned anything about an ‘hour long confessional video call’ when you had been discussing what you had done the night before the body switch. Actually, he hadn’t mentioned anything at all. You had brought up your headache before he had gotten the chance, and then the two of you had jumped topics to the old lady, so he hadn’t needed to.

“You don’t remember?” his best friend said, clearing his throat and lowering his voice in what you were sure was meant to be an impression of Karasu’s. “I miss Y/N so much. Sooooooo much. Sosososososo much.”

He burst into laughter, high-fiving their teammate. You gave them an unimpressed look, which only made the duo laugh harder. The rest of the table seemed similarly amused, though they had the dignity to not giggle about it aloud.

“It wasn’t like that, exactly,” a different one of Karasu’s teammates said, taking pity on you. “But I definitely recall you going through a crisis about how you wished you could be friends with her again, and how you secretly miss her and whatnot.”

“You mentioned some freaky lady, too,” his best friend said. “That’s what prompted you to spill your guts to us, wasn’t it? She started going on about how she knew your past, and then L/N said she didn’t like you and didn’t want to spend even a minute more with you, which made you so depressed that you yelled at the old lady and L/N.”

“Um, I don’t think I yelled at Y/N — L/N,” you said. As far as you could recall, he hadn’t said anything out of the ordinary to you, though perhaps it was just that you were used to him being caustic and had brushed it off.

“What’s with you?” his best friend said. “Just yesterday, you were throwing a fit about how you’d never be able to fix things with her, and now you’re all nonchalant about it? You need to see a doctor.”

“Why would I even want to fix things with her?” you said. “We’ve not liked one another for a while.”

His friends all exchanged looks before his best friend, apparently the designated spokesperson, shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

“Are you feeling alright?” he said.

You could not answer this truthfully. Of course, you were, at the moment, feeling the furthest thing from alright, but how could you say that to them? Oh, actually, I feel shitty, mostly because I’m currently stuck in someone else’s body. Wait, did I forget to mention that? Well, surprise, I’m Y/N L/N! Not Tabito Karasu. By the way, am I supposed to aim when I take a piss, or is this like a freestyle thing? They would have you hauled off before you could say ‘creepy old bat with possible witch powers.’

“I’m fine,” you said.

“Okay,” he said slowly. “Did you, uh, get into your dad’s liquor cabinet last night by any chance?”

“Not that I know of,” you said, which was as sincere as you could get. Whether Karasu was an underage drinker or not was none of your business, but for what it was worth, you didn’t think that you were hungover at the moment, so either he complied with the law and stayed sober, or he handled his alcohol better than he probably ought to at this age.

“Right, then,” he said. “Just let us know if anything changes and you need to skip practice or something.”

Practice? There was no way you could go to practice. Even if you were piloting Karasu’s well-conditioned body, you had nothing resembling his soccer know-how or field awareness. You’d fail miserably if you had to attend, and what then? He’d get kicked off of the team and be denounced as a fraud, maybe, and it’d be your fault. It was a worst-case scenario, but it was still a scenario, and one you didn’t want to consider further.

“You know, I do feel a bit queasy. Maybe you guys are right,” you said. “I think I’m off today.”

“For you to be admitting that aloud means the problem is worse than we realized,” one of his friends said.

“We’ll let the coach know you had to go home sick,” his best friend assured you. “Don’t worry about it. You haven’t missed a practice yet, so he won’t be mad.”

“That’s right! Rest up, Captain. We need you at your best for our game this weekend,” another teammate said.

They were kind of sweet when they weren’t pummeling one another, you thought. It wasn’t in the warm, affectionate, supportive way of your friends, but they showed their caring in whatever manner they could. You didn’t prefer it, but you could see how someone would.

It wouldn’t have seemed like a role reversal to anyone else, but you alone recognized it for what it was. Waiting in the spot that Karasu had been yesterday, you made designs in the dirt with the toe of your left sneaker, periodically glancing at his phone for the time.

“You waited for me!” he said.

“Ahh!” you said, jumping backwards, your back smacking against the wall. Being this close to your body, hearing your voice and knowing it wasn’t coming from you, was perturbing, and you narrowed your eyes, leaning forward and inspecting it. “Hey. Looks like you didn’t fuck things up too terribly. My hair is its original color, and I’m not breaking out anywhere, so it’s a success story in the end.”

“What about you? D’you go around doing dumb bullshit to make me seem like an awful person?” he said. Though it sounded like you, the words were so utterly Karasu that it was obvious he was the one speaking.

“Why would I do that?” you said.

“Dunno,” he said. “Apparently you hate me more than I realized.”

“And that came as a surprise?” you said.

“Kind of,” he said as you began walking towards the part of town where you had met the old lady. “I thought you were just indifferent to me. Didn’t know it was that bad.”

“Do you even know why?” you said. “Or do you just think I’m mediocre and unreasonable and annoying?”

He looked at the ground instead of at you. “Yeah, I get it.”

“You don’t,” you said. “You went and you made your new friends and that was that.”

“Wait, what?” he said in surprise. “What are you talking about?”

“What am I talking about? What are you talking about? I’m referring to why I don’t like you, of course,” you said.

“Isn’t it because I’m not good enough?” he said. Before you could stop yourself, you were scoffing at him. His shoulders slumped.

“Are you fishing for compliments? Save it, jerk. You haven’t changed a bit,” you said.

“I don’t get it,” he said. “That’s the reason, right? You’re Y/N L/N. You draw all over your homework and are still the teacher’s favorite, you’re good at school without even trying, and you only talk to people you approve of.”

“What about you?” you snapped. “You think I’m perfect? You’re the captain of your fancy-ass soccer team, everyone at school loves you, you’re smart and talented and good-looking, and you know it! You walk around like you think you’re better than everyone — like you think you’re better than me! You told your entire group how you wished you could be friends with me, right? We were friends! Until you decided that, for some reason, we couldn’t be.”

“I didn’t decide that,” he said. “You stopped talking to me.”

“What did you expect, that I’d just keep hanging around someone so horrible?” you said. “You completely ignored me once we started school. I tried to talk to you, to acknowledge you, but you just acted like you had no idea who I was. Why would I ever, ever be friends with someone like that?”

“That’s why?” he said. “You’re mad about how I acted when I was six? That’s a little immature, don’t you think? We’re obviously not in grade school anymore. I mean, it’s a little unwarranted for you to be holding a grudge for this long.”

“You were my only friend back then,” you said. “You were my only friend, and you left me alone. I don’t want anything to do with you. You were a pain as a child and you’re a pain now.”

“A pain?” he said. “You wanna talk about being a pain? You decided you didn’t like someone when you were a kid, and you’ve refused to change your mind about them in the years since. It’s not like I haven’t tried! Do you think your mother was incapable of driving over and grabbing her purse? Do you think mine suddenly forgets the route to your house every time she leaves something there? I want to see you. I make up excuses to be with you, but you’re so damn hostile that it doesn’t matter! What am I supposed to say? Hey, Y/N, I really like you. I think you’re cool. I wish that things were as effortless for me as they are for you. And that side-eye of yours? Totally appealing.”

“Because appealing to you is my life goal,” you said, rolling your eyes.

“I don’t think appealing to anyone is in your playbook,” he said. “You just do what you want, and it works out somehow.”

“As opposed to you?” you said. “Whether it’s an innate skill or an earned talent, at least I don’t have a stick up my ass about it. I would ask you if it’s uncomfortable, but considering I’m in your body right now, I can answer that it’s not, really, which is impressive, considering how big it must be. Got some preferences you want to share?”

“Seriously?” he said. “You’re pulling out that kind of joke now?”

“Just trying to method act,” you said. “Since I’m you and all. It’s your modus operandi, isn’t it? You can’t help but criticize people, even when they’ve done nothing wrong. Even when you’re the one who's done something wrong. You’d rather blame me than apologize, but despite what you say, it doesn’t matter how long ago it happened. It hurt my feelings. The fact that you don’t recognize that is all the proof I need that you’re just as self-centered now as you were back then. Forget about trying to be friends with me. You’re right: I only talk to people I approve of, and you’re not one of them. The second we’re back in our original bodies, I want you to leave me the hell alone.”

Karasu’s body’s superior athleticism allowed you to put enough distance between you two that you could clear your mind. This was the first time that either of you had had anything resembling a proper conversation since you were kids, and it had not exactly gone the way you had wanted it to.

What had you wanted? You weren’t sure. Maybe for him to apologize. Grovel and tell you that he was sorry, that he hadn’t meant any of it, that he had an explanation for why he had treated you like a stranger instead of a friend, some magical clarification that would make everything better again.

Somehow, he caught up to you. You must’ve slowed down as you were thinking, the speed of your mind and the length of your stride not quite correlating. He was huffing, though, which did bring you some measure of gratification — which vanished when you remembered that it was your body which was struggling in comparison to his and not the other way around.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “Really, I am. I didn’t want to hurt you. I know that I did, but it wasn’t — it wasn’t my intention. It just happened, and then before I knew it, it was too late for me to stop things from blowing up. And once they did, I avoided the mess I had made as best as I could, because I was too afraid of facing your distaste to do anything to remediate it. I thought it would be worse if I brought it up and you still kept avoiding me than if I never made an attempt at all.”

“Why’d you even do it in the first place?” you said.

“You want an explanation?” he said. You nodded. He shrugged. “I’m sorry. There really isn’t one. Sometimes it’s just like that. I was dumb, and when the other boys in class told me it was lame to be friends with girls, I believed them. I know it’s not right, but that’s really all there was to it.”

“Oh,” you said.

“Expecting fairness from a six year old is a little much, don’t you think?” he said, not unkindly. “I should’ve apologized earlier, I would’ve, but I didn’t realize that that was the reason you spurned me at all. I thought it was because, well, I mean…you’re so you. You’re amazing, and now that I’ve lived your life, that fact is only all the more evident to me. You’re so wonderful, Y/N, and I’m just the mediocre Tabito Karasu. It was only natural that you left me behind. I’ve spent this entire time trying to become someone you’d look at again, but no matter how much effort I put forth, it was never enough. You never did.”

You both had wanted the same thing. For all those many years you had run from one another, you and he had only ever wanted to be with each other. But you had thought Karasu had abandoned you, and he had thought you were too good for him, and so you both had denied yourselves that very thing, which had always been within your grasp, if only one of you had made a genuine effort to reach out and take it.

Stopping, you turned to face him. Squeezing your eyes shut — it was a little awkward, after all, gazing into your own eyes when you were being so vulnerable — you extended your pinky finger out to him, waiting for him to interlock his with yours, like you had when you were children.

“Let’s be together again,” you said, the moment he did so. “For good this time.”

“For good,” he agreed. A cold, slimy sensation slithered down your back, and you opened your eyes with a shiver, only to find yourself looking up at Karasu’s face, his actual face, not the one he had borrowed from you. His lashes fluttered open, and when he noticed you standing in front of him, back in possession of your own body, his eyebrows drew together in confusion before his expression cleared with understanding.

Not even bothering to detangle your pinkies, he interlaced the rest of his fingers with yours. Then, for the first time in years, he gave you one of his sweet, genuine, lopsided grins.

“What the hell? I could’ve sworn this was where she was!” Karasu said, pointing at the storefront where you had encountered the old lady. Somehow, miraculously, it had vanished, replaced with a bustling restaurant that seemed to have been there forever.

“How’d they set up a new restaurant in the span of a day?” you wondered. “That wasn’t there before, I’m sure of it.”

“I was going to give that woman a piece of my mind,” he whined.

“Watch your mouth, baby crow,” you said. “Who knows? Next time you yell at her, she might turn you into one.”

“Would you kiss me and turn me back into a prince if she did?” he said, puckering his lips at you.

“Prince, my ass. You’re still on thin ice, so don’t push it,” you said.

“Alright,” he said amenably. “You know what? Maybe it’s for the best that she’s gone. I think she’s one of those people that you’re only meant to meet once in your life.”

“Very wise,” you said. “The time you spent in my body must’ve had a positive effect on your mentality.”

“Ha, ha,” he said. “Hilarious. C’mon, you have to hang out with me today. You’re the reason I’m missing practice, so entertain me.”

“I guess I don’t have that much homework to do, so I don’t mind,” you said. “Okay. Your place or mine?”

“You pick,” he said. “Though we are over halfway to my house already. And my cat does miss you. Just saying.”

“Convincing argument,” you said. “Lead the way.”

As the two of you turned in the direction of Karasu’s house, your conversation flowing as easily as if you had never not been friends in the first place, the owner of the restaurant ducked out to flip the sign from open to closed.

“Oh, are you shutting down for the day already?” a young man said, frowning at her. The old lady only smiled at him mysteriously.

“Once my work’s done, it’s done,” she said. “Why would I stay open longer than that?”

The man gave her an odd look before wandering off, perhaps aware that arguing with the eccentric old lady would be more trouble than it was worth. The old lady paid him no heed, folding up a stray menu and holding it to her heart as she watched you and Karasu disappear into the distance, chuckling self-indulgently all the while.

Welcome to Freaky Friday! Ask your server about our special — critics call it life changing!

[nananarc]

Gonna disclose my income as a freelance artist because I feel like it might give some perspective. And mostly bc I'm feeling a bit burnout and I want pity points ok? Lol.

Context 1: For sake of simplicity, all figures are net income (minused all fees, charges, insurance, benefits, etc)

Context 2: I live in a big city in Việt Nam and the cost of living is relatively low. A salary of 1000$/month is considered really good for someone living alone with one pet, no family or children, no debt or other liabilities. Entry level jobs usually start at around 200-300$/month.

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Let's start in 2021 because that's when it can be considered when I started doing art professionally.

In 2021 and 2022, I was juggling between art school, a part-time online side gig, building social media for my art, and of course try to get commissions. But coms were few and far between, mainly because I didn't have an online present before and I only hang in relatively small fandoms. So all I earn through side gig and art were only some change, in total avarage to about 40$/ month. Some months made up for no income months.

In 2023, things starts to be a bit better as I get more confident in my skill, but coms are still few and far between and months with no income is still common. Side gig was few and far between too and pay less. Overall I'd say it goes up to about 80$/month.

This year 2024, art school is done, I can finally do art full time. But I was severely burnout because all the accumulated stress since waaaaay before catch up with me and i couldn't cope anymore. I have to spend a lot of time resting instead. Fortunately, I received a decent amount of coms each month, and the new patreon surprisingly got a few supporters (I fully realistically expected it to sit at 0 for at least a year). Overall, I have an 8 hours 4 days work week: 4 hours a day on com and managing social media and other stuff that actually makes money; 4 hours a day on my own projects and personal indulgence that doesn't directly make money. As of now, my income is about 180$/month.

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You are probably wondering how the fuck do one live like this in this economy.

It's because my family is middle class and can afford a freeloader like me in their house, receive their pocket money and tuition fee. I'm privileged.

But of course my family isn't rich and if just one catastrophic event happens to us, we'd be in bad shit. I'm constantly in anxiety of money, work, and the future. It doesn't help that I'm late 20s and many people around keep reminding of how I'm not making money yet still leeching off parents. It doesn't help that, for years all i hear about art is it will just lead to failure and no money.

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But still, I am thankful of my family for letting me stay here. And all my friends and supporters for giving me money oc lol, but more importantly, believing in me more than I ever do in myself. I read all of your little tags, your keysmash and compliments, and I keep them all dear to my heart, and I went back to them everytime I need motivation. I can't see where my future as an artist will be, but I cling to your support and love as the will to keep going. Thank you all so, so fucking much. I'd have been literally dead in a ditch somewhere without you guys.

Anyway, idk, I've always been adamant about wage transparency (especially in a corporate setting) but I rarely see this in freelance artists. except to flex, to promote the hustle culture, or to sell some courses they made. Most of us don't want/can't subscribe to the grind and have nothing to flex either. All we have is this shit economy. I'd wish we could have been more open about this and many of us wouldn't have to feel so lonely and despair all the time.

[acheronist]

RAHHHHH ok 71 posting time.

empress is a beautiful interpretation and honestly probably more valid than my own bullshit. but to ME dylan's card is temperance

having a clear vision of what he wants (detroit to win. and be a dynasty again. very similar to when steve was drafted and he looked at the shambling mess of the detroit dead wings and said Huh. Okay. Well I guess i'm gonna be the one to fix this!)

being patient and devoted (and/or devout? how much do we want to delve into hockey as a lifestyle vs hockey as religion) enough to the team that he's willing to sign eight years after five years of rebuild depression soulrot failure misery just to be there and see it happen

having a genuine sense of balance / harmony flowing thru him (which i think is actually something he kind of lacks? having watched this guy skate since 2018 i think i'm allowed to say i have a good sense of how he plays and how he thinks just from observation) but he's always been very on/off. in the sense that his only immediate emotional reactions tend to ricochet between the extremes of "OH WE ARE SO FUCKING BACK 313 DETROIT RED WINGS FOREVER BITCH" and "i would to kill myself to repent for this failure except i'm the leader and thats a bad example to set so i'll just sit here with tears in my eyes and guilt in my heart while fielding impersonal media questions" and yet the way he acts as captain? is somehow the perfect line of being fair and reserved and moderate but still firm and fair in every regard. like if he wasn't captain, idk if i would give him this card, but he is, and when he's out there talking down the refs who want to skew detroit's chances over again with his big terrifying brown eyes and snarling grin while his giant european teenaged sons loom behind him waiting for HIS permission to stop being gentlemen and stand up for themselves in the corners, i do think Ohhh. He Is Temperance. He's the one setting the standards and showing the younger guys: in this town we don't get much help, but we uphold a certain decorum, and we are not violent for violence's sake. we stand our own and our wrath is not an easy thing to provoke.

being capable enough to manage a lot of moving parts. being captain in detroit is not as much of a frivolous thing as it is elsewhere. it doesn't change often. we dont retire every number of a guy who was kind of important. we would rather have years with four alternates rather than rush someone into role of captain (again, stevie's attempts to protect dylan from the insane psychological problems he had to take on as a rookie captain leading a horrendous team parallels are at it again) and even without that official patch on his jersey, everyone knew what a leader he was, how much of his heart was in this, how dedicated he was to taking care of the rookies and supporting the veteran guys whose bodies are falling apart and facing media questions and standing up proudly despite despite despite despite!!!!!! and never taking a moment to collapse or cry or throw up his hands and say I can't do this anymore. he literally is going to multitask this team to a cup and you all better say thank you when it happens.

taking matters into his own hands. in the temperance card, the figure pours water back and forth between two cups, seeing it change and become something else as it moves and transforms. this is exactly what his role in the team is: to be the one on the inside of the locker room that's shaping and transforming expectations, work ethic, devotion... to a lot of guys in the nhl it seems like it's a job, and they can do their role on a team in any city. dylan can't. he's on the front lines of improving the detroit red wings (reputation, alliances, rivalries, technical gameplay, or otherwise,) or he's not actually doing his job correctly. he can't just pack up and play in canada and be a third line center. that's not what he's meant to be doing.

@crossbackpoke-check hi

[necro-hamster]

the way kids are genuinely just like. often not taught how to study so long as they do well in school truly sets them up for failure. ive literally had to teach myself how to study as an adult in college bc i always managed to get thru school without it. like. idk. just feels like this could've been prevented to some extent

[akamikazae]

K & S <3

thank you for the ask<333 Answering these out of order just in incase u wanna avoid the angsty answer 

S: Any fandom tropes you can't resist?

-Oohhh I love a one bed trope—either platonically or romantically (but I ike both those set ups to be a bit different tho) -hurt/comfort  <333 bc I live for angst  -I love an enemies to friends to lovers. Just adore watching two people’s relationships grow and change thorough years, slowly coming to see eye to eye, forming an unbreakable bond and falling in love. But theres always that teasing nagging way they pick on each other present —So also love a slow burn !   -Also have recently been very into historical aus! Its so much fun to research and the possibilities and different periods are endless! 

K: What's the angstiest idea you've ever come up with?

Oh god there are so many to pick from, published and unpublished. I loveeee angst, and making myself cry ahah  Most recently I’ve been working on something w my oc—not sure if it’ll make it in the long fic or not but its about how she deals with the concept of motherhood and failures and the lingering loss of war/shinobi life. 

Putting it under the cut just in case tw pregnancy, miscarriage/still birth?, Death, grief  

Akami sustained a pretty severe injury in the field as a teen (Danzo’s failed assassination attempt) she managed to drag herself home, but was forced to very poorly patch the wound herself with fire and ice. As a result was told she couldn’t have kids—she was young at the time and so focused on Anbu it never bothered her.  Sasuke changes things, and after 4 years of domestic bliss miraculously she finds herself pregnant—she has lots of conflicting feelings about it, considering both sasuke/kakashi’s thoughts and making them worse in her mind. Akami's relationship with her own mother had always been strained--feeling unloved and unwanted by Umiko.  They eventually decide to go for it—though she makes it rather far along, it doesn’t last due to her old injury. It nearly kills her.  So does the loss, not only because of the death but because of her self-perceived failures and inability to create life. She feels more like a monster than ever, because all she’ll ever be good for is death and decay. She feels rotten from the inside out.  It strains her relationship with both Kakashi and Sasuke, not because of the loss but because of her anger, shutting down and shutting them out.  

If you made it this far sorry ik it's a lot haha😅I have a lot written for it, idk how it happened sort of just spiraled from me one day—I feel like it might be too much, so not sure if it’ll ever make it to the long fic, but I find myself thinking about it often, and adding more to it often—probably b/c of my own confusing thoughts on motherhood. 

[get-shiggy-with-it]

#1 Victory Royale

✧ pairing: college student!spinner x student!afab!reader

✧ word count: 4.4k

✧ warnings: college au/no quirks, light angst, mostly soft/fluff, smut, could be hate fucking if you squint, afab reader but no pronouns, this is pretty tame, by like my standards, I wrote this at work, not really a warning, but it felt like you needed to know that

✧ summary: relationships suck and Spinner is starting to think maybe he does too

✧ ao3 mirror

✧ a/n: Hey y'all, welcome back to more college au bs from me. This is set in the same universe once again as all my other college pieces. A very sweet anon asked if we'd ever get to see more of Spinner, so here he is! Also with another cameo from shiggy's bitch (endearing) cause I can't help myself.

“Ughhhhhh….”

Spinner’s groaning echoed through the tiny apartment, the heavy sound of creaking couch cushions under his weight following.

“What?” his long-suffering roommate shouted out their bedroom door, rapidly shoving clothing and a toothbrush into an overnight bag.

“Uggghhhhhhh!”

He let out with another, louder dying animal wail. He’d been like this since they woke up—wallowing in some strange concoction of self pity and Red Bull on the kitchen floor when they walked in for water two hours ago.

“Motherfucker,” they mumbled, tossing their bag to the floor and marching, more than a little disgruntled, into the hall. “What do you want?”

Spinner was sitting upside down on the couch now, feet up against the wall tapestry and cotton candy hair splayed out on the floor. He stared blankly as his friend came into view—arms crossed, frowning at him from the end of the hall—and opened his mouth once more, letting out another garbled grunt that had one of the neighbors pounding twice on the wall to shut his dramatic ass up.

“Dude seriously, are you gonna tell me who pissed in your cereal or are you just gonna scream until the guys next door kick a hole through our wall?”

They almost felt bad as he looked away, sniffing and letting himself slump farther off the sofa until he was sprawled completely on the hardwood and staring, glassy eyed, up at the ceiling.

When he finally spoke a full sentence, his gaze was locked on the water stain above him from a year ago when the upstairs neighbors flooded their apartment trying to make jungle juice in the bathtub.

“I don’t know, I’m just in my feels as the kids say,” he sounded so dejected—strange for someone who was perpetually energized to a frustrating degree—that their shoulders immediately slumped from a hardass square to a softer, more sympathetic angle

They padded over to join him on the floor.

“Care to elaborate, oh roomie of mine?”

There was a pause and Spinner tapped his nails against the hardwood idly before responding.

“I guess I’m just feeling, like, fucking I don’t know,” he sighed, knocking his head against the dusty boards, “left out I guess? That’s not quite right, but it’s just Magne mentioned last time she came to The League meeting that Jin was seeing somebody and it just got me all introspective and weird…”

“Hm,” his roommate hummed thoughtfully and studied the way the textured white ceiling gave way to the rings of brown water damage, like a dead and dying flower, “I thought you and Jin weren’t ever that serious?”

“We weren’t,” Spinner groaned again and rubbed his eyes. “We went on like, one date a year ago and I haven’t thought about it really at all since then. I’m not sure why hearing he’s got someone else now made me so fucking...jealous I guess.”

“I mean, maybe you just never really gave yourself the time to process it?” they asked and received only an annoyed huff and accompanying groan. “Sorry, should have asked if you were looking for advice or just wanting to rant. My bad.”

“No, it’s fine. I think it’s just…”

Spinner trailed off and they shifted as the hard floor bit at their back and made it ache. The muscles were sore already as it was, and Tomura blowing their fucking back a few times a week wasn’t really helping. They’d created some kind of perpetually horny monster, but something told them cracking a joke about it wasn’t really going to help the situation much. Thankfully, Spinner found his way to filling the silence a minute later.

“I don’t think it has anything specifically to do with Jin. Yeah I liked him, we’re still really good friends and I don’t feel like I need him to be more than that. It’s just that—and this is gonna make me sound like a massive asshole—but with you and your new fucking boyfie and now even Jin finding someone to date I just keep seeing reminders everywhere of how motherfucking isolated I am.”

“Oh,” they felt their face burn a bit, guilt frothing as they were forced to acknowledge the fact that in all the time they’ve spent holed up with Tomura, Spinner had been discarded like an old Steam game, bought impulsively on sale and never played again. “I’m sorry I haven’t been prioritizing you—”

“No, no, no shut the fuck with that,” he waved his hand to cut them off and pushed himself up on his palms. “I know I’m not being fair about it, and I really am happy for you guys, but idk man….I just feel like I’m never gonna find that you know?”

Beside him, his roommate remained sprawled out on the floor like a homicide tape outline and was just as deadly quiet.

“I just,” he continued, running an angry hand through his hair, “I know I could be such a good partner. Like I’m funny and I’m not a fucking creep, which is actually a plus to most people.”

He shot a side glance down and they rolled their eyes, sitting up and knocking his shoulder roughly till he toppled back to the dirty floor and they stood above him.

“Fuck off,” they chuckled.

His roommate watched as the laughter seemed to infect him like a bad cold, creeping down the back of his throat and shaking in his chest.

“No I’m serious, I would be such a fucking great boyfriend. I give goddamn top quality cuddles and I actually know how to do laundry, what more does one need truly?”

“Damn bro, you’ve known how to fold your own clothes this whole time?”

The giggling spread into the quiet space, rocking through both their shoulders and leaving the air feeling light—fresh like the first nights of Spring. When it finally petered out into friendly silence, they were both far lighter.

“I just like the way you fold my t-shirts, the sleeves don’t get those weird creases when you do it,” he muttered and stood, doing his best to fix the wild pink locks that stood on end from his fidgeting.

“Yeah I’m sure,” his roommate rolled their eyes and turned back down the hall.

When they left for the night to stay over with their boyfriend, Spinner tried not to acknowledge the way he subconsciously glared at their back as they walked out the door, skipping yet another League meeting to swap spit with that guy from their English class.

He tried even harder not to think of how their bed would be warm and their legs would have legs to tangle with, their chest have a chest to lay against, while he heated up instant noodles in the microwave and fell asleep alone on their living room couch.

Not to mention that tonight was the big tournament with that new group on campus. He was really banking on his bff (best fucking friend as they were always sure to clarify) and him teaming up to crush those assholes from The Commission or whatever they called themselves.

Fucking lame as shit name in his opinion.

In any case, he’d have to settle for Magne again, and she was such a loose cannon they were sure to get their asses handed to them. She was a great fucking tank, he’d be the first to admit, but strategy was not a strong point of hers and they desperately needed that tonight.

He could feel the sinking weight of failure rolling in the pit of his stomach already even as he dragged himself into his room to tug on an old pair of jeans.

It bothered him way more than it should, the idea of losing some gaming tournament that, by all means held little to no actual significance.

Spinner knew the stock he’d started placing in games was growing to an unhealthy degree.

He knew that.

But self awareness rarely did anything to alleviate the irrational fear of failing at one of the only remaining consistencies in his life.

It stung worse when the tournament kicked off and by the third round, Spinner was the only remaining League member in the brackets.

“Fucking shit…” he muttered to himself, the small basement room alight with the blue glow of the monitor and the sound of frantically smashing controllers.

Behind him on the couch—stolen long ago from the theater building—Magne held him by the shoulders as he grit his teeth and leaned into the movement of his avatar on screen.

“You got this babe,” she shouted, cheek pressed up to his ear. “Make ‘em eat shit for me!”

“I would if you stopped distracting me,” Spinner hissed back.

Really it wasn’t Magne’s aggressive and somewhat bloodthirsty style of encouragement that shook his focus so badly.

It was his opponent.

The fucking president of The Commission sat, thighs spread and pressed to his, resting your weight on your elbows and snarling beside him in the couch.

Your face was split in this heart stopping grin as you quite deftly dodged all his attempts to get a hit in and managed to land a few of your own in the process.

And you looked really hot doing it.

Which was definitely just a side effect of the punch he (didn’t) drink and the body heat fueled temperature of the room—sweaty skin against sweaty skin making his mind wander against his will.

The shifting in his seat was absolutely just to illogically make him move faster and had nothing to do with how tight his pants now seemed.

So much for not being a fucking creep.

Your teammates were gathered in a circle behind you, enraptured and exuding the kind of smug confidence that said quite clearly The League was fucked from the second they walked in.

Not even two minutes later your hands were thrown up, punching the air and your team piling over the back of the couch to drown you in a sea of celebratory limbs.

Spinner felt himself deflating even as he was toppled off the couch by your screaming members and The League collectively cursed in the background.

Truthfully he’d known the chances of winning were slim.

Ever since his roommate started getting busy with classes and clubs that ‘looked good on their resume,’ The League had gone downhill rapidly. It was a problem since long before that Shigaraki guy swooped in and stole them away, but Spinner couldn’t stop himself from lowkey holding that against him.

The League had consumed so much of his life in college, functioning as a haven where he was finally respected and belonged to an extent he’d never experienced before.

The stink of failure and loss, not of the game but the only space he’d ever really occupied without complaint, burned his face and made the room feel more suffocating than usual.

Magne looked as though she wanted to give him one of her signature—and admittedly very comforting—hugs, but the deadly look of disappointment on Spinner’s face must have made her think twice.

The rest of his team seemed to read this sudden downward shift in the room as they began to filter out, climbing the steps onto street level and away from the suddenly stuffy, uncomfortable meeting spot. Normally everyone would stay and finish off the drinks snuck past the janitorial staff, eating Doritos until well past midnight. This time they couldn’t wait to be rid of him.

He couldn’t really blame them.

The multimedia building was a strange place after hours. Once Spinner might have called it something rare and liminal, now it felt more like a prison.

He stood, packing up the consoles a bit more roughly than necessary when someone cleared their throat behind him.

He turned to see you, standing alone with hands on your hips and scowling like you were the one who just got their gaming reputation ruined.

“Dude what the fuck was that?”

Spinner bristled at the knife sharp point of your tone.

“Really?” he asked incredulously. “You seriously waited around to rub your win in my face?”

You rolled your eyes and took a step closer around the couch. “I’m not talking about the fucking game dumbass. Why the hell are you pouting like I stole your fucking candy or some shit? You ruined the vibes man.”

“If anyone was ruining the vibes, it was you and your cocky ass team.”

Spinner felt himself stepping closer too, pulled in by the celestial weight that accompanied any kindling argument.

“Me?” you pointed to your chest and scoffed, “Wow, I was really hoping you’d actually possess a bit of emotional maturity, but if this is how you get after a loss I’m not shocked your fucking club is bleeding members.”

At some point the two of you had gravitated close enough that he felt the puff of your last breath on his cheeks. Two comets, ready and willing to collide.

“I’m not being the asshole in this situation, you know that right?” Spinner glared down his nose at you, heart pounding in his ears. “Maybe you shouldn’t make fucking unfounded assumptions about people you don’t know.”

“So then why are your panties in a twist over a fucking game?” you retorted.

He was peripherally aware that your eyes had taken on the same laser focused quality as they had during the last round. Determined and locked onto him without sparing a glance to anything else.

It was this same undivided attention that he’d envied in you as you played, and as Spinner felt it trained on him, his pants once again felt uncomfortably restrictive.

“It’s not about the fucking game okay!?” his voice came out hoarse and far more petulant than he’s been aiming for.

Though he quickly felt the embarrassment give rise to a secondary heat as you both breathed each other’s air and searched the face across from you.

“Then what is it about?”

That strange, unexplainable, inexplicable rush of potential filled the small gap that remained between your bodies—the kind of tension Spinner was beginning to think he’d never feel again.

He’d kissed plenty of people. Almost more than he’d like to admit, or that they’d like to admit more accurately.

But when his flickering eyes found your hard stare still and unwavering from his, it felt incredibly natural to lean in and press his lips against your fading frown.

It was slow going, the few centimeters that separated you seemed like miles as he moved slowly, never breaking eye contact until his mouth was finally slotted over yours and you weren’t pushing him away.

There was still a bit of lingering confusion, as this was decidedly not what either of you appeared to be expecting from the prior conversation. That coupled with the fact that Spinner wasn’t entirely sure he remembered your first name made the feeling of your tongue prodding at the seam of his lips all the more startling.

When he gasped, you slid your hands up his chest and licked into his mouth. Tongue tangling between breaths, Spinner felt himself getting lost in the familiar and coveted taste of another mouth, another body, another hand that grasped, that desired, that wanted him.

***

Your knees dug into the cushions on either side of Spinner’s thighs as you bounced in his lap. He fought to keep his eyes open against the pleasure of his cock sinking into you over and over again, so he could watch the way your head was thrown back and your chest heaved with the exertion.

He dug his hands into your hips and let his head hit the back of the couch, feet planted on the floor to help his hips thrust up into you, earning him some of the prettiest, stifled moans he’d ever heard.

Truthfully, he had not expected to fuck you. He figured you might be down to just make out for a bit until the cleaning staff came and booted you from the building, but both your pants had quite quickly and naturally found their way to the floor.

Neither of you spoke much, which he was thankful for. That would have been far too complicated of a conversation, especially considering you really didn’t know each other all that well.

Spinner usually liked to do a bit of ‘getting to know you’ type activities before he hooked up with people, which he did with surprising frequency for somebody so starved for a long term thing. Sex just fucking felt good and it was this eagerness that was his downfall. Most people he’d fucked around with seemed to read the urge to get into their pants as a diminished interest or emotional attraction and Spinner ended up with more friends with benefits than actual friends...or benefits.

Regardless, it was fine by him that the only form of communication passing between you for now were scattered groans of pleasure and the wet slap of your ass against his thighs.

He’d nearly forgotten how fucking amazing pussy felt.

For no particular reason, Spinner had always found himself fooling around with bodies more similar to his own. Not that he had any real preference, though the lack of experience often made him a bit nervous in the whole ‘pleasing your partner’ department, despite many helpful lessons from his roommate.

That was all to say that Spinner was incredibly thankful you reached down to guide his hand that had clumsily begun rubbing circles on your clit. That is until you simply knocked it away and went back to riding his dick like a fucking champ.

Then he did speak.

“Wanna make you cum,” he mumbled and really did sound like he was pouting this time.

You peered down at him, slowing your pace so you sat flush in his lap, grinding his cock deep against your walls. Spinner keened as you clenched around him, pussy so deliciously warm he felt himself near to drowning in the feel of you.

“Mm fuck,” you panted, leaning in to steal a few more messy kisses from him before lifting up and enveloping him in the slick heat all over again. “Don’t worry about it.”

“No,” he nipped at the column or your throat, careful not to leave any lasting marks just in case. “If I’m finishing, you’re fucking finishing.”

You pulled back and stared at him for a moment. He felt you purposefully tightening around him just so he would squirm under your curious gaze. After a moment you smirked and rolled your eyes again, taking his hand and guiding his fingers back to that little nub just above where his thick length was seated inside you.

Spinner was proud of his dick, it was hefty but not so long that it was a hassle to fit—just enough to reach all the important bits. He was sensitive as hell too most of the time, so just about any pressure felt amazing. But the best part of it was watching whoever he was fucking fall apart on his goddamn perfect cock.

So when you whispered, “Like this,” and showed him the rhythm and motion you liked, he pulled himself back from the brink to pay attention, speeding up until that look of cooled control slid right off your face.

“Ahh, yes fuck...” the words tumbled from you freely now. “Shit, yeah just like that—”

Spinner could get fucking drunk off the low groan that left you as he planted his feet more firmly and bucked his hips up. He must have hit something good by the way you choked and moaned boarding on too loud, though he had neither the heart nor self control to stop you.

“Feel good?” he grunted, picking up the pace and force he thrust into you, so that you had to loop your arms around his neck and hold tightly as he speared you on his cock.

“Fuck...yes..” you whimpered into his shoulder which did wonders for his ego.

Spinner kept up his rubbing frantic patterns on your clit and feeling the gradual constriction of your walls around him—the coil growing tight and ready to snap. He nudged your cheek with his until you pulled back a bit to face him.

“I want to see you,” he murmured, sucking your tongue into his mouth for a moment and tearing himself away so he could watch as you came undone around him.

You gave him a strange, soft look and pressed your forehead to his, eyes zoned in on only him.

The rest of the room, the whole fucking basement and campus melted away under that stare.

Your nipples peaked through your shirt, brushing against his as you were jostled into him by the movement of your hips. As you reached your peak, words devolved into increasingly breathy gasps. It took Spinner an incredible amount of concentration not to fucking paint your insides then and there.

Your pussy was so goddamn tight and warm and milking him just right, it was a fucking impressive feat to remain staunchly at the edge of his peak as your mouth fell open and your fingernails scratched at his back when you finally came—the telltale spasms around his cock and the near sobs coming from you more than enough indication.

He lost himself well and truly then.

Lost in the false sense of intimacy that came with being allowed to see you fall apart, this person he barely knew yet made him feel immensely important in that moment. Your breath and spit was in his mouth, the smell and feel of you soaking his length pushed him beyond the realm of conscious thought.

There was only a deep and burning need to be closer to you. So, so much closer.

His hands moved of their own accord, hooking under your thighs and flipping your bodies so your back hit the cushions and he hovered above you. The angle allowed him to slide deeper, pulling out and thrusting his hips in fast, hard strokes that hurtled him towards release.

Spinner couldn’t keep himself quite now either, panting and moaning and gasping unashamedly with his eyes screwed shut as you took his cock so unbelievably well.

It wasn’t until your hands, softer than he’d imagined, cupped his jaw and pulled him down to meet you that he was brought back down from whatever higher plane of existence his impending orgasm whisked him too.

Your lips weren’t nearly as frantic as the rocking of his thighs, the slap of his balls against your ass. The sweetness was an odd but welcome contrast.

“I’m gonna—fucking mm...” he tried so hard to get his tongue to form the words but he could feel himself slipping further as you started clamping around his length again.

“I know,” you breathed against his lips, faces pressed together and unmoving eyes steady on his own. “Ahh, inside if you want.”

He did want.

Oh fuck did he want nothing more in that moment to stay sunk in your warmth and pump you so full, but the last few remaining logical braincells reminded him that was not a great idea. Not without a more in-depth conversation neither of you was in a state to have.

“Shouldn’t...” he groaned and moved to pull out but your ankles locked around his ass and forced him back down.

“It’s okay,” you huffed and rocked into him, squeezing around the sensitive head of his dick just once, just right and that did him in.

It was something in the way you looked at him, so that he could feel nothing but secure—nothing but safe wrapped up in you. Something about the way you pressed him closer, in the movement of your thumb on his cheek.

It scratched some deep seated, lonely itch in Spinner.

Made it feel like this meant a hell of a lot more than it probably did.

In seconds he was blowing his fucking load right into you, milking himself in your heat until he was spent and overstimulated. You were kind enough to pull him to you, turning your bodies so you laid side by side on the coach, his softening cock slipping from you in a gush of release.

For a minute or so, neither of you spoke, just stared, long and comfortable at the stranger you’d just fucked on the gaming club couch.

Well.

Fucked wasn’t really the word he’d use at that point to describe what you’d just done, but anything more than that felt presumptuous.

You broke the silence as he nuzzled into your palm.

“You really needed that didn’t you?”

Spinner couldn’t help the familiar, infectious laugh that rattled in his chest. He liked the smile it earned him, far more genuine than any others you’d worn that night.

“Uh, yeah,” he said. “Yeah, I guess I did.”

You hummed, nodding in response. “Mm, me too.”

And somehow, for no real logical reason, Spinner knew you understood. That you felt the same isolation, the same starvation for love, for holding weight in someone else’s world.

That the games were just a placeholder, a way to fill the space, to get lost in other lives, in other stories where he did matter. Where his actions had foreseeable and measurable worth. That’s why it hurt to lose. Not for the glory, but for the destruction of the only remaining diversion from how empty his reality felt.

Even if it wasn’t really.

Even if there were friends and benefits and friends who offered both. His roommate could let him rest his head in their lap on movie nights or sleep in his bed on occasion when the heat went out and he got cold too quickly. But none of that quite filled the hole like you now, holding his face and knowing the struggle without him having to explain it.

Nothing like you pulling him in and kissing him too familiarly for someone he’d only known a day.

Magne used to say something about shit like this. Something like how people bond in train cars when there’s a rat eating a slice of pizza and you all watch it happen. Some weird camaraderie forged in the shared experience of life being a little fucking freaky a lot of the time.

That was how it felt when you slipped your leg between his and brushed your lips together again. Content to lay, half naked in the media building basement, making out with some guy you beat at Smash and fucked right after.

Reveling in the brief but meaningful feeling of mattering in some small, strange way to someone else.

Of holding weight.

Of being held.

[ardett]

all dead hearts to you

Description: George and Dream have never met in person. It isn’t a problem until Dream calls George to tell him he’s going to kill himself.

check this out on Ao3 if you wanna be cool!

Author’s Note: Not me crashing recklessly into another fandom (also this is assuming sapnap went home to Texas after living with dream idk let me live)

title from Dead Hearts by Stars

also I'm new here, anyone wanna give me a welcome to the boys?

warnings: suicide warning (obviously) but no actual suicide, general anxiety and panic attacks

It’s 3am when George gets Dream’s call. 

Late, but only really for him. It’s still before midnight in Florida, right around 10pm. He’d like to say that he’s so practiced with converting time zones that he doesn’t even have to think about it but he still has to count backwards on his fingers, thinking on the jump between late late nights and early mornings.

He’s still awake but the leds in his room have been turned to red, set to the dimmest mode. He was streaming with Quackity up until about half an hour ago and his room has settled back into quiet again.

He feels the thrum of anxiety as he hears the ringtone. Dream usually only calls him when George is about to sleep through something important or if he’s on the road. George wonders if he forgot something today or maybe he let something slip on his call with Quackity.

Now that it’s on his mind, he realizes that he hasn’t heard from Dream all day. Or yesterday?

They’ve both been busy, though George has been busy with the usual things and Dream said something about needing to put his affairs in order or whatever that meant. They usually text at least but even that has been quieter.

George grabs his phone off his desk and picks up the call.

“Dream. What’s up?” he asks. George runs a quick hand through his hair, checking his screen quickly. It’s a real phone call, not even a discord call. “Hey, I’m putting you on speaker. I’m gonna put on my pajamas.”

He’s about to set the phone on his dresser when Dream says, “Oh, I probably shouldn’t be on speaker.”

There’s something off in his tone. Something flat. It sets George’s nerves on edge. 

“Yeah? Okay.” George tucks the phone back by his ear, slumping back on his bed. “Did you have something you had to tell me?”

“Yeah. George, I’m going to kill myself.”

Everything in George stills.

And then starts to spin.

“What?”

“I’m going to—”

“You’re not serious.” George jerks upright, ignoring the lightheaded feeling sinking its fingers into his skull. “Dream, this isn’t funny.”

“I don’t think it is. It’s just going to happen.” 

There’s not even a tremor in Dream’s voice. George can’t feel anything past the bone deep shock in his system.

All he can think of is Dream, wrists bloody and split open. Dream, fingertips dusted white with the residue of unnamed pills. Dream, rope burns fracturing the long line of his neck. 

Dream, dead.

How is he even going to do it? Is he actually going to do it? George wants to ask but then he realizes he doesn’t want to know.

He imagines the first time he sees Dream in person is when he attends his funeral.

He imagines all the words he’s held in for so long, waiting and waiting for the moment he could say them to Dream face to face, finally being said to dead air.

But George can’t say that so all he manages is an obstinate, “No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“Stop disagreeing with me.”

“George,” Dream laughs. Laughs.

George feels dizzy with the disbelief swirling inside him. Surely this can’t be happening. What reason would Dream have to make this up though? Dream would never joke about something like this. Why is he laughing? 

How can Dream be so casual when George’s world is shattering? 

He doesn’t know what a future without Dream looks like.

They’ve always lived miles apart but Dream has never felt so far away. George has never felt like this. Like he couldn’t reach him.

“Dream.” Dream’s laugh cuts off as soon as he hears the plea in George’s voice. “Is something wrong? Are you— I can come there. I can be with you tomorrow. Sapnap can stay with you again. You don’t have to do this—”

“I know. But I want to. So I’m going to.” Any trace of mirth is gone. Dream sounds the same way he did when he decided he was going to break a world record or make YouTube work for him.

Determined. Steadfast. His voice has the steely confidence of knowing he won’t fail.

Usually it’s inspiring but now the familiarity of it just makes George sick. He’s never known Dream to be someone content with failure.

George's phone digs into his palm as his grip spasms. He tastes blood.

And he doesn’t even know why yet.

“What happened? Whatever it is, we can fix it.”

Dream sighs. “Nothing’s wrong, George.”

“There has to be something wrong. You can tell me,” George insists. Then he changes tactics and lies through his teeth. “I swear I won’t tell anyone else. We can work this out together, just the two of us. Just tell me what’s wrong.”

“I already told you nothing’s wrong,” Dream repeats.

“Then why would you… do that?” George trips over the word, rephrases it instead.

And then Dream rips that tiny defense to shreds.

“You can say it you know,” Dream says. “I’m going to kill myself. You should probably get used to it actually. People are going to ask you about it. I’m sorry about that,” he adds as an afterthought. 

The harsh, blunt words sting against George’s skin.

“Don’t apologize,” he strangles out. “Don’t apologize for that out of everything. Just don’t do it.”

“George,” Dream breathes, exasperated.

“I just don’t understand,” George begs. For the first time, his voice wavers.

Dream, cold gun in his cold hands. Dream, long limbs hanging over the railing of a bridge as he stares down. Dream, slumped over his table with a bottle of vodka nestled near his feet. 

Dream, dead.

Dead.

Dead.

“Don’t cry, okay?” Dream’s voice softens. George forgot how gentle Dream could be with him when he wanted. 

“I didn’t want to make you cry. Look, it’s just…” Dream trails off. Eventually, he continues even quieter. “This is it, you know? This is the top, this is the peak. It can’t go on like this forever, crazy numbers on videos and trending on twitter and all that shit. I’d rather go out like this than wait to hit the bottom. Doesn’t that make sense?” Dream persuades.

“No,” George insists, all the air leaving his lungs at once.

“Come on, George. Can you even picture yourself growing old? What happens when we’re 30, 40, and all of this is gone. Do you want that?”

The sick part of it all is that George has imagined the future. He imagines it lovingly, not viciously. Not like this.

He imagined a future with Sapnap and Bad and Karl and Quackity but most of all with Dream. He wants so badly to be with him. Sapnap talked about living together, how great parts of it had been, how he would have stayed if he hadn’t had to return home for family, and George so selfishly wants that for himself.

And he’s always known that’s not what Dream pictured. Dream doesn’t want what he wants. Dream doesn’t want to grow old with someone, much less George.

Can you even picture yourself growing old?

It hurts because George can and he always wanted it to be with Dream.

“What are you even saying? Do you want me to kill myself too?” George bites. He scrubs viciously at his eyes and stabs at the power button of his computer, teeth piercing into his lip as he waits for it to turn on.

“No, no, of course not. I would never— Come on, that’s obviously not what I’m saying.”

George fumbles with his keyboard, pulling up his discord messages with Sapnap.

He just needs someone else to help him, someone else to know. Someone who can do what he can’t. Someone who isn’t as fucking helpless as him, who doesn’t live an ocean away and who has never seen Dream in person and has never touched Dream, not once, has never known what the sun feels like in Florida.

Of course he was lying when he said this was going to stay between the two of them.

This isn’t the kind of thing he can do alone.

 George: Sapnap dream says hes going 

George: to kill himself

George: you have to get someone to him

George: call 999 

George: 911

 Sapnap: what

 George: please now sap Im on the phone with him

 Sapnap: are you joking

 George: no

George: do it

George: please fast now

 “Are you typing?” Dream questions, a note of warning in his tone.

George jerks. “No, I—”

He’s cut off by a beeping from his phone. 

His heart stops.

“What’s that sound?” Dream asks.

Sapnap is calling him.

George can picture him, knee jumping as he clutches his phone, hoping against hope that George is joking. He can practically hear the adrenaline trembling in Sapnap’s voice, can see the way Sapnap stands and paces.

He can’t answer though. He can’t leave Dream.

George declines the call, hand shaking.

“Who was that?” The question is flat.

“No one,” George says too quickly.

“No one?” Dream repeats. Only a second or two passes before George hears the same beep through his phone speaker, this time coming from Dream’s end. “Wow look who’s calling me. Sapnap. Wonder if he changed his name to No One,” Dream says without emotion.

 Sapnap: fck are you serious

 George bites his tongue, wincing.

“Dream—”

 George: y

 George can’t manage to type anything more before Dream snarls, “You’re such a fucking snitch, you know that? It’s fine though, I thought this might happen. I was gonna call him after you, for the record.” It almost sounds like Dream is smiling. George’s heart twists. Why is he smiling? “I know you have to try as a friend to save me, or whatever you want to call it, but you really don’t have to. I want to do this. I’m going to.

“It’s not like you could really stop me anyway,” Dream continues. “You don’t even know where I live. You barely know what I look like. What, are you going to ask the police to search the entire state of Florida?”

“Sapnap knows,” George whispers. 

He tries to shake off the savagery seeping into Dream’s voice. He tells himself Dream is defensive, Dream is nervous, Dream is scared. Dream isn’t thinking about what he’s really saying.

Though things have never mattered before, the fact George has never been to Florida, that George has never seen Dream in person. But now Dream is weaponizing them against him, forcing George to acknowledge that for everything their relationship is, it can never replace an in person friendship. And Dream has always been a better fighter than George.

“No, he doesn’t. Me and Sap rented a house, remember? We never went to my house. I never sent him my actual address, I checked.” And Dream sounds so smug. Like he won.

George’s gaze darts back to his computer. 

But he already knows Dream isn’t a liar.

 Sapnap: I dont know his address

Sapnap: fuck

Sapnap: Im calling bad

Sapnap: dont let him hang up

 “People are so dumb about it, you know? They tell all their friends and then they get caught before actually doing it,” Dream goes on, not paying attention to George’s disconsolate silence.

“But you’re telling me,” George mutters. Hopelessness strings through him.

Sapnap isn’t writing anything else. George can only hope Bad picked up.

“Yeah but you’re literally in another country. What are you going to do about it?” 

George can’t manage any words. He doesn’t even know if he remembers how to breathe. 

Dream is right, he always seems to be right. George just wishes it wasn’t about this. Anything but this. He has to believe that Sapnap and Bad will figure something out. He has to trust them.

“Just think about how many people are found before they actually do it,” Dream goes on in George’s quiet. “Because they can’t commit. Most people are cowards. It’s dumb honestly. Just do it or don’t.”

“Don’t then,” George whispers.

His eyes burn with unshed tears. His fingers spasm on his bedsheets.

He doesn’t know what Dream wants. Does he want George to beg? To get on his knees and plead with him to save his own life? Because he would in a heartbeat but he doubts it would make a difference. 

Dream sighs. “I feel like you’re not listening to me, George.”

“No, I am.” George’s voice rises with his wrath. Suddenly all his terror and frustration comes to a bursting point. “I’m listening. I’m listening to you talk about killing yourself. I just think you’re wrong. I think it would be a lot fucking braver to stay alive even if your views go down, even if you’re not fucking famous, Dream. What the fuck? You’re a fucking coward for trying to leave!” George’s breaths heave through the staticy phone microphone. His fear and anger wind him.

There’s a moment of emptiness.

Then, lip curling, Dream says, “Trying to leave you?”

George chokes.

“What?”

“Don’t try and pull this card, George. That’s what you’re trying to say, isn’t it? I’m a coward for leaving everyone behind? For leaving you?” 

Dream’s voice drowns out George’s. George flinches, though Dream can’t see it. 

“Don’t be so fucking selfish. I hate that, you know that?” Dream growls. “Everyone thinks they’re enough to save someone all by themselves. Wow, the sheer force of your love just fucking yanked me back from the edge of a cliff, give me a fucking break,” Dream scoffs. George’s ribs feel tight. “You can’t just reverse psychology or guilt me out of this.”

“Jesus, Dream, is it so hard to believe that maybe I care about you and I don’t want you to fucking die?” George grits out. 

The room swims before him. He can’t remember how to uncurl his fingers.

“Well it’s not up to you, is it?” Dream practically smirks.

And that’s it, isn’t it? The winning phrase. Because Dream’s right. 

It’s not up to George. 

George can only listen helplessly as Dream considers his own grave. He’s a constant witness to the storm that is Dream. He was always grateful to be dragged along in Dream’s hurricane winds and now he dreads the day they calm.

“You’re being cruel,” George murmurs. His aggression leaves him as soon as it came.

“I’m being honest,” Dream contends.

George sinks his head into his hands. “Why did you even call me then? To— to gloat?”

Dream’s voice goes low and quiet, vulnerable. George’s insides twist and melt and contort. “No, no, I just… I don’t know. I just wanted to talk to you one more time.”

“Don’t say that,” George hisses. The words are half muffled into his palms.

“Don’t say what?” Dream asks defensively.

“Don’t say one more time. You can’t— you can’t—'' It all hits George at once. He’s going to lose him.

He’s going to lose Dream.

Before he knows it, he’s sobbing into the phone, loud ugly heaving sobs. “Don’t do it, Dream. I’m serious. Please— Just wait for one of us to get there. We can be with you. We can help.”

Dream’s voice hardens again. “You mean you can stop me.”

“Dream—” George starts to beg, trying to figure out how to lie without Dream catching him.

But Dream beats him to it. 

“I’m gonna hang up now—”

Panic rips through George. The shock of it physically hurts in his veins, in his heart.

“No!” he almost screams. “Dream, Dream, don’t hang up—”

“Oh my god, relax. I’m calling Sapnap. I’m not doing anything yet.” He can almost hear Dream rolling his eyes. It’s not comforting.

George sniffles. He knows it sounds pathetic. He’s not one for pity but if it gets Dream to keep talking with him, he’s willing to stoop to any low. He just doesn’t know if he can believe Dream.

“Can’t you just… stay on the phone with me?” 

“What, forever? Is that your plan? Just keep me on the line until someone inevitably finds me somehow?” Dream mocks.

Yes.

“No,” George says instead because he thinks it’s what Dream wants to hear.

Dream switches tactics. George recognizes the persuasion in his tone. 

“Don’t you want me to call Sapnap? Shouldn’t he also get the chance to talk with me?” Dream questions.

Guilts rests against George’s ribs. 

Of course he wants Sapnap to get the chance to talk to Dream. What if this is their last chance to talk? But George is too selfish to think about it much.

“That’s not what you’re asking me. Don’t try and pull that shit. You’re asking me to hang up. You’re asking for me to say goodbye and I’m…” George’s voice drops, almost inaudible. “I’m not ready.”

“George…” Dream’s voice trails off. His next words are nearly silent, something bitter and mournful about them. “You know I love you, right?”

“I know,” George mumbles.

“Are you gonna say it back to me?” Dream demands. George doesn’t know what holds him back now but something does.

“You know I do, Dream, why—”

The dial tone rings in George’s ears.

Dream hung up.

-

Not even 30 seconds pass, not nearly enough for the abrupt end of their call to sink in, when George’s phone is ringing again. He fumbles with his screen but manages to pick up.

“George?”

George’s heart sinks. It’s not the voice he wants to hear. That he needs to hear.

“Bad?”

“Yeah,” Bad affirms. “Are you okay?”

“Am I okay? Am I—” George scoffs and it feels like it rips his throat. He feels like he wants to scream. Like he wants to punch a wall. Like he would give anything to be somewhere warmer right now. “No, I’m obviously not okay, Bad. He’s going to— to—”

“I know. Sapnap told me.” 

Bad’s voice is collected, even. It just makes George more frustrated. How can everyone be so fucking calm about this? 

“George, just try to take some deep breaths, okay?” George ignores the suggestion. “Sapnap is on the phone with Dream. He just hung up on me to talk to him. I’m driving there right now, okay?”

George pauses. Something cold washes over him. He doesn’t know yet if it’s relief.

“You’re— you’re driving to Dream?”

“Yes,” Bad affirms. “We just have to keep him talking to someone for the next hour—”

“Hour? Are you serious? That’s too long!” George knows he’s screaming now. He doesn’t care.

“George—”

“We have to call an ambulance, the police. There has to be someone we can call.” 

George squeezes his eyes shut, trying to think of other ways they could possibly get there in time. He comes up blank. He can’t accept it. He can’t.

Dream, alone. Dream, bereft. Dream, dead.

“I know but I can’t— I was trying to tell you.” Bad’s words are muffled. It sounds like he’s biting the inside of his cheek. He confesses, “I don’t know his exact address. Sapnap is going to try and get it while he talks to him. I’m driving to Orlando and hopefully Sap knows it by the time I get there but we’re just—”

“No, no, no—”

George thinks of Bad arriving just in time to find Dream’s body still warm. He’s going to be sick. His chest hurts. His lungs burn.

“Try and take some deep breaths—” Bad placates as George speaks over him.

“I’m never going to talk to him again. He’s going to kill himself.” George is spiraling. He can’t stop himself.

“George, I’m going to get there in time.” But Bad doesn’t sound sure of himself. George zeros in on the weakness.

“You don’t know that,” George hisses.

“This is hard for all of us, George!” George startles at Bad’s yell. He’s heard Bad raise his voice before but never at him, never seriously. “I’m sorry,” Bad apologizes, words quieting again. George hears a sniffle through the phone. 

Bad’s crying. 

God, George is a terrible person. He didn’t even think to check in on Bad. Bad’s the one who might find Dream halfway there or already committed. He’s the only one who’s even close to being able to do something and maybe that’s the worst position to be in.

To be so close and lose a friend anyway.

“You don’t have to apologize. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t… I know it’s hard for all of us. I know you’re doing everything you can. You’re doing more than me.” George tries to laugh but it gets stuck in his throat. It’s not funny anyway.

“It’s going to be okay,” but it doesn’t even sound like Bad believes himself.

“I don’t think I can talk about this anymore,” George murmurs. He feels exhausted. There’s so much adrenaline coursing through him that it hurts. “Can we just talk about something else just… just for a little?” he begs. Like anything could distract him from this.

“Yeah George.” George can hear the sympathy in Bad’s voice. He’s too far gone for the pity to bother him. “Let me— Let me tell you about what I did this weekend on the SMP.”

George sucks in a sharp inhale. “Not— not the SMP. Can you talk about something else?” 

“Of course,” Bad agrees easily. “So last Friday I went to visit my family…”

George lets Bad talk in the background. Every once in a while, one of them will sniffle or sob or take a breath that’s too shaky to be normal. Neither of them mentions it.

George listens to people walk past his window, their voices carrying up into the stars.

The noises of the highway drone on through his phone.

Bad drives.

-

George thinks about what it would be like to go on without Dream.

He’ll never be the same, he already knows. It will haunt him for years. For the rest of his life. The thought of being so close to someone and then losing them.

Death is natural. He knows that. But it’s the intentionality of it that aches the most. The idea that Dream would leave behind everything for something so painful and unknown.

And George just knows… part of him will die with Dream and never come back. 

George doesn’t know who he’ll be with that part missing.

part 1/3, though the next update won’t really be an update but it will be soon

[parachutingkitten]

Season 5 Analysis

STANDARD DISCLAIMER: I am going to be applying the concept of criticism to a TV show you presumably love and adore as much as I do. If you do not want your idea that the show is immaculate to be challenged, I would not advise reading past this point.

Additional Disclaimer: This includes criticism of Nya’s arc, so if you’re the type of person to get catty about this subject, turn back now.

Mood for this season: It’s spoopy time.

You don’t need to, but if you are interested, and haven’t seen my analysis of past seasons, you can find those here:

Pilot - Season 1 - Season 2 - Season 3 - Season 4

You can also find all of these, and future installments, on my blog using the tag #analysis 

Hey everyone! I’m still doing these things! Let’s see, when was my last one? Over two years ago...? Yikes, I owe y’all an apology. I really didn’t mean to put these off that long. Anyway, get ready to hate me, cuz although (for the most part) this seems to be the fandom favorite season… I think it’s overhyped. I know, don’t kill me. I’ll explain myself. I don’t think it’s bad or anything, it’s very well structured, but I definitely wouldn’t rank it among my favorites. First, for a little context, I am making a one second of every ninjago episode video right now, so I’ve been binging the series and all it’s shorts back to back, so I think I’ll have a bit more to say about connective tissue between seasons, and hopefully you guys can look forward to more of these analyses between now and the new year when I’m releasing that video. I’m also officially a film major now so… sorry if I come of as extra pretentious or get too deep. Anyway, let’s jump into the thick of it, shall we? 

Plot

This is probably the area I have the fewest number of complaints about. This season has a breakneck pace and it keeps everyone busy. I think that’s why people like it. Everyone’s favorite has something to do. Which brings me to the question… which ninja’s season is this? Lloyd is on a lot of the promotional stuff, but he’s possessed and out of the picture for over half the season, so that can’t be right. Cole turns into a ghost, and the season is a ghost season, but that can’t be right cuz I don’t know that I’ve ever heard anyone claim it was his. Nya reaches her true potential, maybe it’s hers? Well, she does have a large b-plot, but she is consistently not a part of the a-plot. Kai has a whole thing with being protective of Lloyd, he has his fear of water, maybe it’s just another Kai season? Thing is, it’s no one’s. It is an ensemble season, and I think that’s a healthy thing for ninjago to keep doing. The more we label certain seasons for certain ninja, the more complaining we’ll get about who’s turn it is for screen time that we’ll miss out on telling a good story. Also, If the season is focused on a ninja you don’t like, you are less likely to like the season (see my next analysis for that can of worms). Again, this season tells it’s story really well. Morro directly ties into the ending of last season, and Nya’s getting water powers was foreshadowed the season before. That’s some cool connective tissue to start. The opening episode establishes the three different things the ninja will be looking for, and for once they’re actual tools instead of a series of weapons, blades, masks, whatever. I like that. Jay has some really good humor, Zane has his speech changes, Kai has his irrational fears and protective instincts, Cole has his ghost angst, Lloyd has to deal with his father’s passing, Nya is a new water ninja, Wu has a shop to run and a student to reconnect with, even Ronin has an arc about developing morals and gaining friends. There’s the mystery about how to deal with the ghosts, what the rules are, there’s the leader subplot, the ninja’s money situation, and lore of the different realms, they even worked in Skylor and Borg, there’s a lot of cool stuff going on. This is a tightly woven script that manages to include a lot of new concepts that you get pretty quick. I don’t feel like there’s even that much fat to cut. The opening is a little slow and strange, and the cloud kingdom episode feels a little unnecessary, but I do like the idea of visiting a different realm early in the season so the audience isn’t caught off guard in the climax. Again, the plot all works for me, it’s the other stuff I find myself pretty meh on.

Characters

Ronin

I’m pretty sure Ronin is the only new (non villain) character introduced. I like him a lot. Ninjago needed a true wildcard to shake things up and be unpredictable. I also think he’s pretty nicely woven into the action of the plot. I think his introduction is a bit strange. Like, the ninja already know him, but we’ve never seen him before? Just the way they talk about him sounds like they’re quickly recapping who this guy is for those who missed previous episodes. It’s fine if the ninja already know him but either 1) Introduce or foreshadow him a season earlier or 2) Introduce their dynamic to the audience before it becomes plot relevant. Maybe the ninja are grumbling about him being a nuisance while tea shenanigans are going on or something. Or maybe you have a scene of him stealing the scroll and making snarky remarks about the ninja while he does it. Idk. just something so his sudden plot relevance isn’t out of nowhere. Also, I don’t hate his and Nya’s dynamic, but I know a lot of people love it, and I’m just not totally here for it. Is he supposed to be a father figure for her? Mentor? Frienemy? Just plain friend? (love interest???) it’s not super clear and I could have used some clarification. I also like his use and tie to the next season, so overall, well integrated character.

Nya

I’m adding in Nya here cuz she goes through a major character change, and how she’s handled is one of the things that rubs me the wrong way about the season. A lot of people will probably disagree and/or hate me for this section of the analysis so… here we go! The thing she has to get past to reach her true potential is fear of failure (supposedly) and the solution to that is to just… not care as much? First of all, I know this isn’t supper important, but the fun thing about the ninjago elements is that every elemental master matched up personality wise with their element. Jay is the energetic master of lightning, Kai is the hothead master of fire, Zane is the calm and calculating master of ice, Cole is the strong and dependable master of earth, Lloyd is the literal child master of energy. This especially goes for all the new season 4 masters. So what qualities are often associated with water personalities? Well, serenity, control, flexibility, elegance, patience… calm. You know, like a Zane type character (the element directly adjacent to hers). These are things that Nya isn’t - or at the very least don’t define her. (there’s also something to be said about water and its ties to more feminine qualities, which Nya has been actively shown to reject, but I won’t go into that rant here.) She was designed as the fire master’s sister, and when you try to fit a fire personality into a water shaped character mold… it doesn’t exactly mesh well. It doesn’t make sense. But, like I said, whatever. Maybe that’s the point? Like she has to change her personality to be more in tune with water? Sure. But let’s talk about this fear of failure thing. Because that’s the stated thing that dialogue tells us she needs to overcome. But when has Nya ever been afraid of failure? Fear of failure means avoiding doing something because of fear. Nya is ridiculously persistent, always has been (you know, fire personality). She tries training when no one tells her to, she makes her own alter ego to try and be a hero and save the people who would constantly tell her she wasn’t ready. Wu says she only wants things that come easy, but that’s never been her character before now, she has carried the team with her tech, research, and covert ops that no one forced her to do, all things which are not easy. Fear of failure is usually characterized by what if questions. If Nya is so afraid of failure, why don’t we hear her saying stuff like “but what if I’m not strong enough, what if I can’t save them in time, or worse, what if I lose control of my power and end up hurting people?” Cole shows much more of a fear of failure this season surrounding his insecurity about being a ghost. He wants to sit out from missions because he’s not sure he’ll be able to do it - he’s afraid of failure. But whatever, the writing isn’t clear at expressing her true setbacks, but she does display a real problem that a lot of people have and I think could have been well done if set up correctly. She shows an undying persistence that gets her too close, and makes her increasingly incapable. She lets her frustration hinder her progress (again, fire personality trait), and I think that’s interesting because I don’t think ninjago has done this character arc yet. The supposed solution to this problem is that she just needs to… care less? And yes, I kind of see where they were going with this, we sometimes cloud our natural potential by thinking about it too much, but saying “you need to stop caring” is the absolute wrong way to word it. Caring is not her problem, the problem is her control over the emotions that come from her caring. Caring is a good thing, and teaching kids that if you’re ambivalent about your problems, they’ll go away is not a good message. What she needs to do is take a step back. She needs to take a break, stop to think, and look at the big picture instead of hyper focusing on the roadblock directly in front of her. The usual and much better wording of the moral I think they were going for is “stop overthinking things”. Teaching kids to look at a problem from a different angle and give themselves time to cool down is a great thing. And just think of it, in the climax she could have this ah-ha moment where she steps back and looks at the bigger picture - the whole town, surrounded by the ocean - and gets the idea to sink the preeminent into the water, you could even easily tie that back into the bucket exercise, and that’s what triggers her true potential rather than the current… I’m honestly not sure what. Random flashbacks and the end of the season approaching quickly. Alternatively, you could tie it more directly into samurai x, and make her struggle with letting go of the past and allowing yourself to give up something good in your life to progress to something better. Anyway, I don’t think this was a bad decision long term, she needed to be solidified on the team as a full fledged ninja, I just think this season doesn’t handle the transition that well. Anyway, whatever, I’ll be waiting for your hate comments in the notes.

Romance

Um… there’s none this season? Like there’s a few Wusako moments that are still as weird as they were in season 2, but they’re really not prevalent. There’s also the Jay seeing the future thing which has some weird implications next season (again, some interesting connective tissue between seasons), but that’s about it. Maybe that’s part of why I don’t love this season? Like where’s the pixane? Lol, I’m kidding. But maybe that’s why a lot of people do like it. If you don’t like the canon ships… this is a nice little safe haven for you. Rare for a majority of the series.

Villains

So Morro is a good idea… in theory. I know he’s the fandom’s favorite edgy boy, but idk I think the brand of angsty teen they ended up with was more of an angsty 13 year old than 17 year old. His voice is really grating and I always want to yell at him to just… go get some cough drops. Stop throat screaming, use your diaphragm man! Also, everyone goes on about his last minute redemption, but as far as season 5 goes, he has like half a second of a change of heart. Literally, when Wu comes over and he’s drowning, he’s still being a persistent little idiot like “you never cared about me nooooo!” and it’s only at the last possible second that gives him the crystal, and even that he does it kind of saltily. The preeminent is pretty cool, I like her concept, her design, all that. All the other ghosts are fine I guess. Nothing super memorable out of them, although their aesthetic, especially when there’s a bunch of them swarming around is pretty cool. One last thing was I never understood how Morro “becoming the green ninja” worked and what exactly it was that… did for him? Like he didn’t actually get the power of energy, right? I don’t remember him using it. Did just him defeating Lloyd make him the green ninja? How does that transfer work? And why did he need it to take over the world or realms or whatever? Like I get that it’s supposed to give him more power and what not but idk, it wasn’t super clear. That’s a minor thing though.

Climax

Pretty cool. I like the ATMOSPHERE. Green light is a hard thing to use and justify correctly, but it works really well here, especially with the dark kinda gray blue sky complimenting it. When the preeminent starts walking into the ocean, it’s genuinely terrifying, but you understand exactly how it works and why she’s strong enough to do it. Nya’s true potential is again a little out of left field and could have had some better motivation put behind it. Like what is it Nya learned in that instant? To not be afraid to protect people? She’s… been doing that. Idk. I’ve hit on that enough for now. Overall, there was good variety. I like the green ninja fake out, I like the realm hopping, I even like the little Garmadon visit and Lloyd getting the robe. I feel like we didn’t need a part one and two, you could have had different titles. I mean come on. But hey, now we know, if Pix had only been there, the whole climax would have been wrapped up in like 10 minutes apparently. Pix for the win.

Humor

Really good. Like I’m surprised how much I laughed. Jay wasn’t annoying humor, it was good stuff, there were some good running gags, there’s a solid fourth wall joke about who the lead ninja is at the beginning of the season. Overall, I am pretty impressed. My favorite joke was perhaps the bit where Jay is sarcastically positive, the voice acting is just really solid. Then again, there’s also the whole Borg scene where he roasts half the ninja, that’s solid stuff right there. There’s just some really solid character interaction this season and the humor feels a lot more natural and less forced.

Drama

Okay, we’ve got a lot this season. Y’all know how I feel about Nya’s arc by now. It does not work for me. Ronin’s relationship with her is alright, but kind of comes out of nowhere. Ronin’s solo plot about kinda working for the ghosts works. Cole’s ghost angst works for the most part, although I wish he would have actually skipped a mission and then gone in to help save his friends once they can’t do it without him. That was probably the most solid drama of the season. The other main thing we have this season is Kai’s whole… fear/protective streak. This also doesn’t really work for me. Like, I get that Lloyd and Kai are friends and stuff, like his whole true potential was centered around Lloyd. But like, why does it have to be framed so weirdly? Sometimes in trying to make it seem like Kai is protective of him, it seems like the other ninja just like… don’t care about him? Not all the time, but there are some weird vibes. Also, it doesn’t really go anywhere. No one learns anything about themselves from this subplot, nothing comes of it, there isn’t really a payoff. Also, Kai has yet another irrational fear, this time of water, which really comes right the hell out of nowhere. They try to explain it away like “Oh, Kai feels powerless and so water can get to him” but like… what? That’s the exact situation he was in at the end of season 2 and he seemed perfectly content to literally swim across the ocean (which um… what do you mean the sworn protector of ninjago can’t swim?). Where is this coming from?! Again, it doesn’t really go anywhere, there’s not a point where he has to learn to confront it or he grows because of it. It’s just pointless stuff added cuz the writers like giving Kai vague trails to try and develop him. The cloud kingdom is kinda cool. That last minute twist about them working with Morro is… stupid and unnecessary though. 

Spotlight Episode

I really like the Spinjitzu master tomb episode. Some cool riddles, I like the first two rooms a lot. I do think the third room is a bit strange. Like, the clue was “don’t look ahead” and the solution was to look beneath them, which is the exact same solution as the previous room. Like, you already have magic ice that shows the future, why not play into that? Don’t look ahead could maybe mean don’t look to the future, the opposite of that being the past. Maybe they have to draw on their past adventures to solve it somehow? Learning from the past is a good lesson, right? But overall, I really like it. Some real solid humor this episode. This episode has the sarcastic Jay optimism, Kai totally stalling for time, Zane dealing a pretty sick burn on Cole, just a lot of fun stuff. I like it. It just has great energy and nothing feels like it’s drawn out for too long.

Misc

The aesthetic this season… can be inconsistent, but the main ghost vibe displayed in the opening theme is really solid and I really like it

Speaking of the opening, Ghost wip is great and the opening in on par with last season’s (which is my fav) for sure

Ice age references… okay.

Chima references…. OKAY...

Okay, but like Deepstone can… kill ghosts? Or not? Is it just something ghosts can touch? It’s supposed to be like water in weapon form, right? Like that’s how I understood it when they first introduced it. Wouldn’t the deepstone bars kill Ghoultar then? And then like, Cole’s bike is made of deepstone. He uses it as a weapon. Wouldn’t it kill him? It kills other ghosts when they touch it. How… how does it work?! I need answers!!!

The captain of the steam boat says they’re going as fast as possible, but later Ronin comes in and cranks it up like twice as fast… that always bothered me like, why would he lie about that? Who is this captain and why is he so chill about everyone’s lives?! And then later Wu cranks it up yet again, like the ship had slowed down to it’s previous speed. What the hell is happening with the controls of this ship???

So pissed that the nasty CGI nightmare cloud monster that chases the ninja is named Nimbus. Totally forgot about that. I have an OC with a cat named Nimbus… I promise, there is not going to be a stupid twist bout the cat being the monster thing in Mists of Fate. That would be very stupid.

I was all excited that season 13 gave us minecart chases, but I totally forgot season 5 gave us one first. I really like the return to the caves of despair btw, good reuse of a known location.

How many times this season did we do the: 

Kai: Oh, I don’t like water, I can’t do it uwu  Cole: ...You serious?

Thanks for reading! And if you got this far… I don’t know. I would love to hear your thoughts if you have any! These are just my opinions, so don’t think too much of it if you disagree.

-Kitten

[cinnaminsvga]

Holo... Numver 60 with namjoon? Hope your writers block will go away soon! Have a nice day. Bye~~

premise: “you look like you could use a hug.” genre: fluff, canon compliant?? || wc: 1K+ a/n: i told myself i’d never write reader insert canon compliant fics but yenno... might as well try everything once?? idk it’s 4am i haven’t slept in 24 hours rip

Namjoon’s brain feels like it’s going to explode. No, scratch that—the tense is wrong. Namjoon’s brain felt like it already exploded.

His studio looks like a set for a WWII movie. Scraps of paper everywhere— balled up or otherwise, 20% of which were filled with rejected lyrics and 80% of which were finished sudoku puzzles. Take-out boxes, half-empty iced americano cups, his laundry from three days ago when he had showered at the office: he felt like he’s swimming in his own filth and failure.

This is not unexpected: The toil and trouble of pre-comeback season means more hours spent staring at a blank screen than anything remotely enjoyable for Namjoon. The bags under his eyes could very well be designer, and Namjoon contemplates selling them to a crazed hipster fashionista (read: Hoseok) for OOTD inspo, but he wouldn’t even make it two steps out his door without collapsing, so that plan is buried and gone. He could, instead, maybe order more jjajangyeon for a snack. It’ll be his fifth snack within the last six hours, but whatever. That, he supposes, is something he could accomplish at the very least.

This is not expected: It is 4 in the morning, and the last thing he expects is for a knock to come from outside his door. 

It takes too long for Namjoon to respond, mostly because his fatigued brain mistakes the rhythm for one of his samples from two days ago. Also, he’s really lazy right now and he desperately hopes that whoever is behind the door would go away and leave him and his suffering artist self alone. 

“Please don’t come in. I want to die alone, please,” he pleads. “Let me enjoy my lacklustre melodies and limp beats for another hour at least.”

But of course, the universe refuses to listen. Or rather, you refuse to listen.

“Kim Namjoon, this is an intervention,” you greet, the door opening with a bang when you finally manage to pick it open. You brandish your bobby pin with a smirk, much like how a heroine might wield her sword to face a dragon to save her one true love, which in this case was a semi-incoherent boy shaped like a ball of anxiety. 

Namjoon glowers at the pathetic excuse for a lock his studio has, once again wondering why Yoongi-hyung had managed to persuade their manager to install a hi-tech number pad for him. Curse you and your lock-picking skills.

“I’ve come to get your ass to bed! A real bed, by the way. Not this stupid couch you bought for 10 million won from an artisan furniture maker,” you huff. "Girlfriend’s orders!”

“Y/N,” he sighs, slumping onto his desk. He hits his head accidentally, but he’s too fuzzy to even notice the growing lump on his forehead. “I am going to turn into dust soon. There would be nothing left of me to bring to bed. Leave me here to join my deceased creativity.”

“I could always borrow a broom from one of the janitors,” you shrug, skipping over to him. You poke him in the side boob. He wiggles for a moment, but not as much as you had hoped. “Earth to Joonie? You in there bud? Marco?”

He can feel your gaze burn the back of his neck, but his head feels to heavy to move and face you. “Polo,” he manages to mumble back. He can feel himself drooling onto the table, but he can’t bring himself to care. He knows he’s being a giant baby about this, so he might as well act like one. “No, I am not in here. I am everywhere. I feel like Scarlett Johansson in that Lucy movie. Like I’ve unlocked 100% of my brain and I’m traversing through space and time.”

You nudge him gently to his side so that he wouldn’t suffocate himself to death. He takes a deep breath, humming thankfully. “I highly doubt that, because if you did, then you would have finished this album weeks ago.”

“That’s harsh, buddy,” he pouts, glaring at you. Which normally wouldn’t be effective anyway since he’s as intimidating as a newborn panda, but it’s even worse now that he looks the part, too. 

“Buddy? Geez, didn’t know you were getting this bad if I got demoted from girlfriend to buddy,” you snort. You begin plucking off the trash from his desk, whistling both in horror and admiration at the sizeable spill that had somehow solidified into a large hulking mass beside his keyboard. “Joonie, I know you’ve been holed up in here for a minute, but I sincerely hope for my sanity that the white stains are from carbonara sauce and not something else.”

“I honestly don’t know, and I don’t feel like lying if I knew anyway,” he sighs. He begins the torturous motion to straighten his back, his spine popping like an EDM beat. He melts back into his backrest, looking up at you with sad, tired eyes. “Help me?” he whines, lower lip wobbling for extra effect.

You roll your eyes, but the smirk on your face tells him that you’re amused and not actually annoyed. He’s normally not this dramatic, and you both know it. Perhaps he’s been spending too much time with Seokjin lately, or more likely, it’s you who has been spending too much time with his hyung, and indirectly rubbing off on him in the process. 

“Need me to call an ambulance? Get you a wheelchair? Subscribe you to Life Alert?” you ask.

“No, I’m good. Just gimme a moment to... recalibrate,” he says, closing his eyes. Wow, have his eyelids always been this heavy? Maybe he could doze off a little and you wouldn’t notice...

“Namjoon, you’re snoring. Wake up,” you lie, but time doesn’t feel real to Namjoon right now, so he could have fallen asleep for ten days and wouldn’t have known either way. You gently cradle his cheeks, massaging his face into weird positions for your own amusement. Then, “Okay, buddy. I’m gonna lift you now.”

“You can’t,” he mumbles sleepily. You push his cheeks together until he looks like a puffy goldfish. “Yow a toofpick compawed tew me.”

“True,” you hum, but your arms are already wrapping around him. He sags into your touch immediately, only just realizing how much he misses this, misses you. Misses human connection, and not just his hand cranking his junk. He nuzzles into your neck, sighing in relief. 

“This is an excuse to hug me, isn’t it?” he says, but he doesn’t make a move to pull away. Neither do you, queen that you are.

“You just looked like you could use a hug,” you say, rubbing his back. He smiles into your skin, kissing you chastely there. 

“Thank you, my love. I kinda needed that,” he yawns, pulling away far enough to kiss you properly on the lips. “Love you, Y/N.”

“Love you too buddy,” you smile, pinching him lightly on the cheek. “C’mon. Let’s get your tired bones to a bed.”

[rotationalsymmetry]

Been reading this Captain Awkward and comments:

Thinking about how college classes habitually involve more assigned reading than it’s actually possible to do in a reasonable amount of time. 

 (I was a math major at a moderately laid back college, so I didn’t run into this too bad as an undergrad, but I got a nice catch-up in grad school. “Nice.” And somewhat ironically, I was more overloaded in high school than in college. Or grad school. The only time I had really bad problems in grad school was when I was in two serious romantic relationships; I didn’t attempt school and even one relationship back in high school.) (That was sort of by design though. If I wanted to be more overloaded in college than I’d been in high school, I could have managed it.)

 But I digress. Point is: I’ve been just kind of accepting it that classes should involve more work (especially reading) than students can realistically do, and that learning to prioritize is part of the deal. But… why should it be part of the deal? That implies that it’s normal and acceptable for workplaces to also assign more work than can possibly accomplished. But, at a job you at least can talk to your manager and say “x, y, z, I can do two of them, which do you want?” and that’s not how it works in school.

...I mean, presumably you can go to your teacher and say that, but you might still get marked down for not doing z. It comes across as failure.

And likewise, if you're running your own thing (your own business, a FNB cookhouse, self-publishing your own book, doing your own laundry, etc), there's consequences to not doing everything. God, I know that, my partner normally does the housework due to me being big sick, and last weekend the vacuuming didn’t happen, and now I’m full of snot. Consequences. But that’s completely different from school, because it’s your call, you decide what tradeoffs are worth it. I might occasionally get pissed at my partner or myself when things don’t get done when I think they should. But… idk, it’s different.

What if school wasn’t that way? What if it was more: ok, here’s your core assignments, your good-to-do assignments, and your strictly optional extra assignments, and it was actually doable? Like…for exceptionally slow readers/learners, doing just the core assignments could always be done within, say, 40 hours a week, including class time and breaks. (As in…if 4 classes is a standard courseload, each one takes up 10 hours a week.) (Or less…the thing about learning is you really do need downtime for your brain to incorporate what you’ve learned. You can’t spend as much time studying as you would spend working at an especially demanding job and expect to actually have good retention.) For middle of the road learners, you could get core plus good-to-do assignments in the same amount of time. For especially fast readers/learners, you could get the entire set done in that time. Or it’s set up so faster learners take more classes at a time and slower learners take fewer ones, and it’s not treated as a huge deal to take fewer classes.

What if school was set up so you weren’t constantly feeling overwhelmed. What if it was like a non-exempt job and you clocked in and clocked out, and once you clocked out you were done, whether all the assignments were done or not? What if school wasn’t (intentionally?) designed to prepare adult workers to overwork themselves and then blame themselves for not being able to get it all done.

Shit, I know better than this and I still on some level accepted that it’s normal and appropriate for classes to involve more work than it’s actually possible to get done. Why?

Just because it is that way doesn’t mean it has to or should be that way.

[bucky-iss-bae]

Reminiscences - Peter Hale x OFC (Part 2)

Hello againnnn - so I’m finally back, finally going to be active. 

My life has been a mess, I’ve not been motivated, and mentally I’ve gone through a lot the last 10 months, got thorugh University, Graduated, got a job, was a shit job, got another grad job during quarentine, and it’s been good and bad... 

Sorry for never posting and being bad at this, but I want to bounce back, so now its timmmeee. Also this Fic is actually completed. 

Want to post more, and just give you guys good content xoxo 

Fandom: Teen Wolf

Pairing: Peter Hale x OFC (Calla)

Word Count: 2900 (Sorryyy, idk why it’s so long) 

Warnings: None - Slow Start I guess

Summary: Calla has grown up as Derek’s best friend, she’s known the Hales her whole life,she’s known their secrets and everything in Beacon Hills. Things in Beacon Hills are quiet, the pack are a family, and Calla realises that Peter knows more of her secrets than she realises.

A/N: Hope you all enjoy, any feedback is welcome x

Masterlist Fandom List

Peter Hale x OFC - Reminiscenes Part 1 

Part 2 

The days following that evening I completely ignored Peter. I saw him whenever he was lurking around Derek’s, I even went to the efforts of walking the complete opposite direction as him when I went grocery shopping. But if he remembers, everything every single thing I told him. Then I may as well die now. Especially since he’ll use that against me. This is Peter we’re on about.

“So you’ve apparently been ignoring Peter?” Derek asked once he settled onto my couch on Thursday.

I rolled my eyes, “And. There’s nothing wrong with that, he’s a psycho”

Derek huffed out a laugh, “There is when it makes him mopey. He comes around to mine in hope that you’re there you know”  

“Well, maybe he should stop trying to be such a stalker” I told his nephew. It was weird that there was such a large but short age difference between Peter and us. He wasn’t ever seen as the adult when we were younger, he had a boyish smirk, he had charm, and wit, and was so different compared to how he is now. He completely changed because of the fire, and the 5 years of solitude almost. He grew up, yet I didn’t see this change despite being the only person visiting him. I didn’t know he was the alpha yet I made a fool out of myself by being there for him, and he couldn’t even trust me.

“You sure it’s that?” Derek asked.

“Derek. If you’re here to talk about Peter then you can just leave. Actually no you can’t you don’t have an option, stop talking about Peter, tonight is about us. If you want I’ll send him a text saying hi later and then ignore him”

Derek shook his head a small smirk on his face. I felt a bit bad that I was taking Derek away from his boyfriend. But I needed my best friend sometimes as well.

“Good, now how are things with Stiles going?”

Derek huffed out a laugh, “They’re going well. Really well actually, never really thought that I would end up with him, but it’s the best thing that’s happened to me in a long time. And I sound like a soppy teenager. So let’s talk about your love life”

I snorted, “Right, what love life? Actually, I went on a date last week, it was a complete failure. I’m just glad that the girls who set me up with him don’t work in the same department as him”  

Derek started to laugh, “How comes I didn’t know about this?”

“Because I didn’t tell anyone. I didn’t even... it wasn’t even a big deal for me. I wasn’t excited, I just wanted to get it over and done with, and the worst thing is when I was getting into my car at the end of the night he tried to kiss me. And Derek I still cringe, what happened was I turned my head so fast he kissed my hair. Completely missed the cheek”

This caused Derek to laugh, loudly, at me. “Wow Calla. Who would’ve thought huh?” He asked.

I rolled my eyes at him, “Shut up. It was a mess, so I rather not talk about that. Instead, I’m going to set up a tinder profile.”

Derek still had this amused smirk on his face, it was nice seeing him like this. For the first time in years, he was happy. His life was on track, sure there were constant threats to the town, but that happens, that’s part of the job description of being a werewolf, and with Derek being a complete shifter, it makes a difference.

But being with Stiles makes a difference, you can literally see the way that he looks at him, and I haven’t seen him this happy in a long time. He’s almost that young cocky guy he once was, but a more matured version who has a history to him. Who has so much more to himself than ever before, and I’m proud of him. Proud of everything he’s gone through and defeated. I know his mom, and sister would also be proud of him, whether he’s an alpha or not, he’s still so powerful, and has such a good heart.

“Let’s get started then” He grinned at me.

I rolled my eyes and rather than Pizza we ordered Chinese food, and rather than watching a film we created a tinder profile for me. It was terrible, Derek called in the big guns and Stiles was on Face time with us, which made it even worse for me. But I didn’t mind, I love stiles, and boy let me tell you he added spice to my basic profile. And obviously gave my pictures a yes or no.

“I’ve helped you guys this far, let me help with the swiping” Stiles said through the phone.

I scoffed at him, “Derek say bye to your man he’s helped enough”

Derek shook his head with a small smile on his face, “You heard the boss” He said to him.

“All that help, you better show me your matches or who you’ve spoken to over the next few days Calla. I’ll know if you don’t”

I laughed at him and Derek soon hung up, “Come on, let’s see who’s around then”

Both Derek and I started swipping through these guys, commenting to each other, and swiping left or right. Mainly left. Let’s be honest. Most of these guys either looked like guys who were balding too early in life, or others who were after a quick fuck. Despite everything I did manage to swipe right a few times.

“Please let’s stop now. Like, if you think I’m going actually going to find anyone through tinder its... not likely. It’s just a bit of fun, could lead to a quick lay”

“The same way Stiles and I getting together wasn’t likely”

I grinned at him “I should’ve called it. When you constantly wanted to get mad at him, way back when, and you just couldn’t. But that itself feels like years ago”

“Yeah, the same way my uncle spared your life?” Derek said back.

I glared at him and hit his arm, “I hate you, and I’m pretty sure your uncle is a sociopath”

“Yeah. Same but, let’s be real here. He has a soft spot for you Calla”

“Derek, I will stab you if you don’t shut up.”

“I would love to see you try”

I narrowed my eyes at him, “I will call Argent right now and get him to help me out”

He laughed, “Alright, I’ll shut up now. I’m sorry”

I nodded, “You better be sorry... Also why do you keep bringing up your uncle of all people to me?” I asked curiously.

Derek knows nothing of what I done whilst he was away, he knows nothing of the feelings I once harboured for Peter, maybe I still do which is why I’m so defensive, but no one needs to know this. But still, there’s got to be a reason behind Derek’s madness right now. Maybe Peter wormed his way into his head? It’s a possibility.

“You just said you wanted me to shut up”

I shrugged, “Just curious. Then you can shut up, and we can watch something”

He shook his head, “The way he acts around you I guess. He’s a prick towards everyone, including you don’t get me wrong, but he’s a different type of prick round you. And he cares about you, he gets protective, worries, cares”

I would be lying if I said that didn’t affect me, but it does. Although it means nothing.

“Derek, are you forgetting that I was basically raised around him. Wherever you were, he was, or the other way around. Like he’s been a constant figure in my life for a very long time. Sure he wasn’t mobile for a few of those years. But he was still in Beacon Hills. So maybe that’s why, maybe he has something that slightly resembles feelings from when he’s younger and he sees me as the kid that he used to teach basketball to, and just putting this out there I am amazing at basketball, which has got to be the meaning behind this madness, and this is because of him, and maybe a little you, but still”

“Really? We live in this town, and that’s what you call madness?” He asked.

“Yes Derek. That is madness, you’re forgetting I’m just a human girl who only just knows how to defend herself and I rather have that as my type of madness instead of anything else”

“How have you actually been?” He asked me giving me a serious look, “Like... you’ve literally been thrown into this world again, months after your parents passed away, and sure that was a couple of years ago, but you rarely see your younger brother because he’s working abroad, and the only other family you have is us. But most weekends we’re off fighting something supernatural, and you’re just at the loft, waiting.”

I shrugged, “I’m fine Derek. I’m happy... sure I miss my parents a lot and that set me back a lot. That made me want to constantly curl up into a ball and just cry. But having you back, having this normal-ish again. These last few months, I’ve gotten better. Ive also got my girls” I said with a smile, but he looked at me, waiting for me to elaborate causing me to sigh and twist my body completely towards him,

“Derek, I’m working an amazing Job, sure it doesn’t pay the best but I don’t need the money. I have money, instead I’m doing something I enjoy, and they’re easy shifts. I’ve always wanted to be an elementary teacher, but without the stress so a teaching assistant is the best thing. And I have Fridays off, and I do talk to my brother. Just not as often as I want because he’s doing so well for himself in London. And I have you Derek, I have my life long best friend. After everything we’ve been through we’re both here and we’re both happy. Sure my life could be further along than it currently is, but I’m finally in a good place”

He nodded at me, “Good” He whispered, “I’m happy to hear that”

“I hate you” I said shaking my head, but in reality he knows that I love him and he is my absolute best friend no matter how much I want to kill him.  

**

Apparently Lydia and Malia found it amusing that I now have an online dating profile. Everyone did, all aside from one person. That person I’m still avoiding but he still finds a way to worm his way into my life, especially since I’m currently sat with the girls, who are judging each and every guy whose photo I scroll through, and his face pops up.

Malia was laughing, seeing her father’s face on my phone, and Lydia finding it as amusing made me realise I need more friends other than Derek my age. Especially since Lydia decided on swiping right.

“Well, well, it’s a match” Lydia laughed, “But it makes me think, whats the maximum age you’re hitting here”

I rolled my eyes with a small scoff, trying to keep my heartbeat in place, “Well, if I wanted to talk to him. I would, yet I’m not, and you just swiped for me, that’s not fair, and guy my age are… I don’t know” I said to them.

“Well he clearly wants to talk to you” Lydia murmured.

I scoffed, “He wants to get under my skin. It’s what he does. Anyway don’t you girls have I don’t know other stuff to do?” I asked trying to change the subject.

“Nope, completely free tonight.” Lydia grinned.

I internally groaned but only seconds later was I literally saved by the bell, my phone started to ring, and Derek’s name popped up.

“Hello” I answered.

“Where are you?” He asked.

“I’m at Lydia’s place. With Lydia and Malia. Why?”

“No reason. Just, a few threats about, tell me when you’re going to leave to get home, and message me when you get there alright”

I rolled my eyes but had a small smile on my face, “Yes of course Derek. Do you know who or what it is?”

“Not sure yet. Probably isn’t something too dangerous. But whatever it is, they’re drawing other hunters to town. And now we have twice as much to look out for.”

“Stay safe then Derek. Does Chris know the hunters?”

“He’s looking into it”

I nodded, “Alright then. Just make sure you’re all safe and everything ok”

“Yeah always. Remember to message me when you get home” He then hung up and I looked at Lydia,

“What’s happened?” She asked me,

“Something else is out there, along with some hunters. And now I’m worried that these hunters will obviously know about our boys, and one thing will lead to another and someone might get hurt”

She had a worried expression on her face before looking at Malia who was on the phone to Scott, “We’ll figure it out. We always do”

I nodded, although I didn’t get involved as much considering I’m human with no special ability at all, and no badge, and well I’m not the smartest of the bunch. I just make sure everyone’s safe and worry about them all whilst making sure they eat and do their homework. That’s obviously the teacher side of me coming out there, no matter what ages I teach even if I am only a teaching assistant who works 4 days a week.  

“So Scott just said that Stiles and Chris are trying to find out who the hunters actually are, and that he Derek and Peter are going to find whatever’s out there. He told me to stay here...”

“You’re not are you?” Lydia asked.

Malia smirked and shook her head, “Nope. And I’m pretty sure you two won’t either, so who’s going to drop me off at Scott’s house?”

Both Lydia and I looked at each other before sighing and getting up, we got our stuff together, she called out to her mom telling her that we were going to Scott’s before we all left.

**

“What are you all doing here?” Scott asked once we walked in.

“You think we’re really going to let all the boys have the fun?” Malia asked her boyfriend, “And come on, I know those woods better than anything” She shrugged.

No one could deny that, both her and Chris were the best hunters here. As in being able to physically find something with the given clues.

“And I’m here to assist Stiles and Chris apparently” Lydia shrugged, everyone easily let that pass before all eyes were on me.

“I thought I told you to go home. It’s dangerous”

I shrugged, “I know. I really didn’t have any other choice” I said nodding my head towards Malia.

“Well you should just go home then. You’ll just be in the way otherwise” Peter snapped at me.

I rose my eyebrows at him, silently cursing Lydia for swiping right on his stupid face.

“I might just stay, make sure you don’t snake anyone out” I spat back to him.

“What and you think you’ll be able to stop me?”

“Peter won’t do anything, we’re not even sure what the problem is at the moment. So just go home Calla” Derek told me.

I felt a bit taken back at how blunt and rude he was at that, and considering no one decided on saying anything, I just grabbed my bag and left without a word. Because hey there’s nothing new there, being treated like I’m nothing despite seeing everyone as family. I would’ve expected a bit more considering they’ve got literal kids in there helping yet I can’t. Even if it is to make sure they’re all safe and not making stupid plans. I was there when Talia was alpha, I know how things work. Instead I just get embarrassed surrounded by my friends, and left to feel worthless because I’m of no help.

As soon as I got in my car, I knew that all I needed right now was a glass of wine, and some trash TV.

Which is exactly what I done when I got home, wine, some trash TV, and the comfort of my own apartment. And as petty as I may sound, I just hate feeling this way, and knowing that it’s something that constantly happens, I don’t see why I get involved in the first place. It’s the same old thing, I try and be there for everyone, they shut me out whenever shit goes down and I just keep running back. But no this isn’t going to keep happening because this week I will make the time and effort to go out with my girlfriends. I’ll dress up and have fun without worrying about anything else. Derek won’t be there to stop me, Peter won’t be there with his snarky remarks, and I won’t be surrounded by teenagers.

Which is exactly why I messaged my friends that I’m always talking to yet never have the time to see because I’m constantly with everyone else. We spoke for a little while before I asked when everyone was free for drinks, and guess what this girl is doing on Thursday after work. A night out, with my girls, and I can’t wait.  

Because I really felt in the mood to treat myself, I also planned on going shopping with one of the girls tomorrow after work. So no harm done there, I’ll buy myself a new outfit, some new makeup all ready for Thursday.

Peter Hale x OFC - Reminiscences Part 3 

[todayisawthewhxlewxrld]

Yay!!! Let's start with Astoria!! So back when she was alive (the times of Ancient Egypt 🏜) she was known as the Pharoah's high priestess (idk how Egypt royalty works so bare with me) This basically means she's Atem's right hand woman along with Seto. She was known to be very empathetic and understanding as well as very curious. When she wasn't helping Atem with his duties, she was in the library going through scrolls and ancient texts to learn as much as she could. It's actually why her soul room (before Eliana seals herself in it) is a library. She still carries her empathetic and curious nature with her even after death. That part I'm still figuring out. The only thing I got is that she joins Atem in the spell that sealed him into the Millennium Puzzle except it was the Millennium Earring for her.

As for the whole past confrontation I have like a small scene in mind? Um something like this.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

She walked closer to the door feeling the temperature of the room drop around her. Her breath came out in sharp pants as if a weight was settling deeper and deeper in her chest. When she twisted the knob and pushed open, an almost taunting darkness awaited her. Before she could blink, she was sucked inside and left breathless as the door slammed shut.

It wasn't long before whispers sounded all around her in a chanting like rhythm. 'All your fault' 'Why did she choose you' 'Pathetic' 'Useless' but the most painful of all 'You FAILED us'. All of them swam around her head in a constant loop while she replayed her past failures. It seemed too much. Maybe she should give up and let herself be taken by the pain. After all, isn't that what she deserves?

Suddenly, as if lulling her towards it she heard a voice. A calming tune that guided her towards it. Something about the tune was familiar, though she couldn't recall. However the longer she listened the lighter she felt. It wasn't until the voice sang that she realized why the tune was familiar.

War is not freedom

Over your shoulder

I see a clearer view

It was a lullaby her mother sang to her. She remembers the dimly lit area of her bedroom with her mother leaning over her. The warmth that she gave as she caressed her small cheeks.

All for my family

Reason I'm breathing

Everything to lose

The training sessions she had with her father. The way his eyes twinkled when she got a move right and how he ruffled her curls whenever she got pouty for getting it wrong. His bear hugs that always felt safe.

Should I ask myself in the water

What a warrior should do?

The trembling face she held as her parents went on another mission, trying to hold back her tears. How her mother kissed her forehead and told her to "be strong for mama and papa".

Tell me, underneath my armor

The cries she let out realizing her parents weren't coming home. The burning tears that ran down her face as she screamed her denial and anger at no one. The gaping hole in her heart where they once occupied.

Am I loyal, brave and true?

Am I loyal, brave and true?

The determination in her eyes as she stared into the mirror. Affirming to herself and Astoria that no one will die by his hand any longer.

Losing is easy

Winning takes bravery

I am a tiger's fool

"Again," she commands as the boy gets up and wipes a small bit of blood from his mouth. He nods before setting his fists in front of his face. The two continuing to spar until they've exhausted themselves.

Out in the open

No one to save me

The kindest of whispers are cruel

She snapped to attention while taking out another one of Marik's goons. She barely managed to look before dodging another punch. Unlike what truly happened however, the goon's taunts sounded more and more like the whispers she heard in the dark room she first entered. That thought was all it took to snap her out of memory lane. She looked over only to realize she stood in front of a mirror. Her reflection looked different somehow. It had the same dark skin tone, long curly hair, and dark brown eyes but the clothing and stance were different. Her clothing represented that of a priestess in ancient times. Her white silk robes as well as her golden wrist and arm bands expressed regality. The stance she held also showed that of someone with high status and a shrewd mind. Despite that she still felt warmth radiate from her being.

Cold is the morning

Warm is the dream

It didn't take long before she recognized the voice as the one she heard earlier. She stared a bit longer before finally realizing who the reflection was.

Chasing the answers

'Til I can't sleep

She was confused at what Astoria was trying to do by singing the lullaby or why she was still there. In fact, aside from what her end goal was supposed to be she had no clue what she was supposed to do. The only thing she could do was follow Yami's lead and offer her support anyway she can.

Will I be stronger?

Or will I be weak?

When you're not with me?

She sang the lines with blinding clarity as she felt the first tear stream down her face. The question she so desperately suppressed hit her full force as the weak line left her lips. Could she really live up to her own and others expectations of her?

Though as she stared deeper into Astoria's eyes she seemed to remember a saying her father always told her. "An army always needs more than one person you know."

She was so used to being the one responsible for everyone and everything that she unintentionally shut everyone else out. Her tears fell harder and faster knowing she contributed to her own downfall.

Who am I without my armor?

Standing in my father's shoes

She knew that she couldn't keep going like this. It was time for her to follow his advice and end this pity party. She looked into Astoria's eyes and nodded. She smiled and raised her hand up to the mirror. She sang the final lines as she lined her hand up with hers, seeing her silhouette glow gold before encasing her in warmth and energy.

All I know is that it's harder

To be loyal, brave and true

After encasing her, the golden glow she radiated dimmed back to nothing. She turned back before realizing that everything was silent. The more she looked, the more the darkness around her faded to look more like a room. She quicky noticed shelves that held books of different kinds as well as stray boxes sitting nearby appearing slightly opened.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I am well aware that turned into a song fic but I needed to get that shit out of my system. And yes the song is from the Disney soundtrack. They make bomb ass songs that won't leave your head.

‐🐋 anon

OH MY GOD??? UR WRITING IS LITERALLY SO GOOD IM IN LOVE WITH IT

[tearosewater]

idk anymore

I had my job interview on Tuesday and it was a lot of talking from the hiring manager and not a lot of questions. 

It made me realize that maybe this role isn’t the one for me. It was touted as being perfect for someone with a writing background, and there is some writing, but I’m seeing its a lot more working with a small team and having a lot of meetings on how to fix things in the company. Also whoever would be my manager if I were to get the job wouldn’t be an internal hire, so they’re just going to have no clue how the company or anything in it works? That sounds like a headache.

I’m more of a “give me my tasks and leave me alone” type worker. I freely admit that I am not a team player. I can’t trust other people to do their job correctly and I am not one for picking up other people’s slack. 

Plus, I would be stuck in the 9-5 office life and as much as the money sounds enticing, I just know I would be miserable. It all comes back to my original feelings about how I’d rather live simply and make less money than dedicate my entire life to a job for more of it.

It’s also admitting to myself that my mental health just doesn’t allow for that kind of grinding, deadline-driven, analytical work. The pandemic, being forced to be around my abusive mother, life in general has really worn me down and I’m not in the right head space to take on a job like that.

It makes me feel weak and lazy.

I’m fine with my job now, I like working part-time from home and I make above minimum wage, but it isn't QUITE enough to sustain myself. I just need to find another supplemental side gig I can do to make up the extra cash and I’d be set. Jason is looking into some work for me, and I’m going to help with his web business by offering my writing/editing/social media services to his clients.

I feel like if we really work at that and build it up, we can have the life we want. A small place of our own, working when we want, and having the free time to travel or do things that aren’t survival shit. 

But getting there has been stressing me out. I’m not sleeping. I’ve always had issues with sleep, but its been bad lately. I sleep maybe 3-4 hours a night and have for the past 2 weeks. I haven’t felt well-rested in so long.

Anyway, I’m hoping they don’t pick me for the second interview. I don’t want to have to turn it down. It’ll make me feel like shit if I do. It’ll make me feel like I suck at being an adult and I should just suck it up and work like everyone else. Even though I know that’s not what I want, nor does that define my success in life. 

I know things will get better, I just gotta remind myself to chill the fuck out. I just have to remind myself that we’re all struggling, we’re all stuck, it isn’t just me being a failure, it’s me living in a shitty capitalist society during a plague.

[rivkahstudies]

Hi, i've been having big troubles with wanting to be better at academia and stuff but im not really sure how to get started... i sorta feel like an imposter a lot but im trying to not let it affect me but sometimes i just have moments of excruciating executive dysfunction where i can't move because I want to do so many things and my body is fighting against me... Idk if i even have a question really but it feels better to tell you this... i really look up you a lot and have for a long time...

Hi nonnie! It’s incredibly brave of you to drop this in my inbox. Yes, even anonymously. It takes a lot to even type that kind of honesty out. So thank you, and I hope you take a moment to thank yourself.

Secondly, thank you for touching my heart by your kind words. I hope you realize as you look up to me that I have the same kind of feelings, as do many studyblrs–and I’m dedicated to being honest about it so you don’t feel as if you have to live up to a perfect (and impossible, and fake) standard. I go to therapy regularly despite being in a lot better place than I used to be, because it’s almost like going for a mental check-up or gym session, and my therapist helps me sort through even tiny things so I can build better habits and mindsets. But I still remember feelings of dysfunction well, and I still battle with imposter syndrome!

The most important key ideas here are attainable goals and self talk. Both of these ideas don’t come easily, they do take work, but they’re tools that make other difficult things easier over time, with persistence.

When your body is fighting you (and really, more than anything with executive dysfunction, your mind is fighting you and making your body less functional), even baby steps can be difficult. For you, it could be anything from exercising to studying to eating to showering. Big or small, it’s totally valid that you may or may not struggle with it, and it doesn’t make you desperate for attention, or fake, or pathetic.

Let’s take your desire to “get better at academia.” That could mean a lot of things, so I’m going to latch onto one facet of it as an example. If it doesn’t apply with that exact example, that’s completely okay! Just alter it to apply to what you are struggling with, or desiring.

1. Big, abstract goal: to get better at academia

2. What that means (for this example): developing better study habits

3. What kind of things constitute that? That’s still a big, abstract goal that sounds quite formidable and unattainable. List out as many things as you can that you are striving to do or would want to try. Not everything might work for you!

Managing time better

scheduling study time

being accountable via apps or with family/friends

being efficient or effective (i.e. not getting distracted 

Finding study habits that work for you and for the class’ requirements

flashcards

typed computer notes

handwritten computer notes

handwritten paper notes

infographics

youtube videos

interactive online exercises

conversations with classmates, tutors, or professors

podcasts

mind maps

journal entries

presentations

self-made study guides

practice tests (self-made or provided, online or on paper)

Feynman’s technique–writing a summary of what you’re studying, and then comparing it to the actual material. Whatever is missing is what you need to focus on, because my mantra is that it will always appear on the test.

ranking the subjects or topics by what you know most to least and studying from the bottom up. I can post a more detailed guide to this if you want! just hit me up again.

Also changing the way you treat and care for yourself

setting a stable routine

eating better (this means different things for different people–maybe you need more Vitamin C, so you should focus on more fruits in your diet, or iron, so vegetables, etc… consult with a doctor or registered dietician, not a nutritionist since they don’t have to have a degree or certification)

going to bed at a routine time

if you have to choose one, make the wake up time set. that way, if you do go to bed late but wake up at that time, it’ll reset your body clock to be sleepier earlier the next day. it’ll eventually even itself out. 

drinking more water

setting up or revising your skin care routine

taking measured and unmeasured breaks away from studying to allow the information to set in your brain and to give your mind and body a much-needed reprieve

setting limits on how much screentime you want yourself to add

Self-talk

This is the big one I want to impart on you before this post is over.

You can’t just try to implement these better habits. You also have to focus on what you’re thinking when you’re doing or not doing them, and how you’re psychologically treating yourself. This isn’t easy! It takes a lot of time. And that’s okay. You aren’t going to be free of this stuff overnight. I’ve been working on this stuff actively since I was about 17 and I’m still struggling with it. But I’m also much better at addressing it than I was almost three years ago.

Be aware

Recognize when you’re treating yourself harshly. Acknowledge those times you say “I’m not good enough” in the very back of your mind. Because a lot of times we aren’t even fully conscious of how much we say “I hate myself” or “I’m stupid” or “I can’t do this.”

Once you’ve done that, start calling attention to it.

Hold yourself accountable. If this were someone hurting a friend of yours, you would likely be calling them out for the whole world to know their cruel behavior isn’t acceptable. It’s the same thing for yourself! Those awful thoughts in your brain might live there from self-doubt, mental illness, or other reasons, but you do get to decide if they pilot your actions and your mentality, even if they’re whispering awful things about how you don’t have a choice but letting them be in control. 

I will freely admit on here that I’m attending therapy, because I seek to destigmatize it. I’m not at rock bottom. I’m not pathetic. I just noticed some things about me that I need to change, heal, and/or improve, and I wanted a professional to help me! Much like if I sprained my ankle or got a cold and needed to see a doctor. And one of the things that my therapist told me was as much as my anxiety felt debilitating, I am the one piloting my body and I am the one who gets to decide whether my self-talk is going to change.

And do it gently.

Not “you’re an awful person for saying these things about yourself.” You don’t solve bullying with bullying, and you definitely don’t solve putting yourself down or feeling like an imposter but doing more of the same. Instead, show compassion to yourself. 

Have a conversation with yourself.

“Why do I feel like this?” 

“Where is this coming from?”

“What makes me say that?” 

“What can I say instead?”

“What would make me feel better?”

“What could change my mindset about this problem?”

The choice is up to you how you do it. But pretend you’re pulling someone who is misbehaving or acting cruel aside, and instead of reprimanding them, you just gently put your hand on their shoulder and say, “I’m here. What’s going on? What’s causing this behavior?”

Do the same exact thing with yourself! Offer that compassionate hand. If you’re anything like me, your imposter system is probably coming from undue pressure on yourself, self-doubt, previous bad experiences, fear of failure or rejection, insecurity, anxiety, or any number of other things that could make you doubt your beauty, your talent, your work ethic, your ability to succeed.

And a lot more people have it than you think! Just don’t compare yourself to others when, even if you know them well, you can’t know them 100%. I’m sharing my experiences because I want you to know that you’re not alone. And I also want you to know that you can only fix yourself, you can only control yourself, and the same goes for others–they have no business (and probably aren’t thinking of having any business) judging you or controlling you. If they are, screw them. Your job is to take care of and focus on yourself.

Once you know where it’s coming from, start substituting the language.

You can’t do this. “You may not be able to do this yet, but with some effort, you’ll be able to–or, you’ll be close to being able to.”

You’re a failure. “Everyone makes mistakes or fails. It doesn’t define you.”

It was just luck that got you this far. “It was hard work, passion, and effort. Keep hanging onto those things.”

You’re not good enough. “You are enough, and you don’t exist for others. You exist for yourself.”

People will get bored of you. “You don’t exist to entertain or please others.”

There’s a million more I could go through, but hopefully these examples are enough for you to apply it to your own doubts.

This might be a good exercise to journal. Because then you actually have to get the thoughts out instead of them staying scrambled in your brain. Feel free to do a bulleted guide for yourself like this one!

Etc, etc, etc… Any one of these single bullets could be an entirely distinct post, but I hope this is enough to start you off, nonnie. I want to apologize for taking my sweet time responding, but I really hope you’re still out there, somewhere on tumblr, and you see this post. You are loved, nonnie, especially by me, and I’m always here if you need something. If you message me again, call yourself something, like “self talk nonnie,” so I know I’m still talking to you.

You are all loved! You are all enough! You are all valuable and beautiful as long as you stay true to yourselves.